#like fuck OFF AND OUT OF HERE and keep your island fantasy away from here unless you really just want to relax!!

[hunkydorkling]

I know I should be seething in rage at the fact that tone-deaf white tourists are now pulling a Very Tourist Thing and begpacking their way into staying in one of our islands when there is clearly a shortage of labor opportunities for natives of that place.

And I am, steamingly, very angered by this, and I'd love to snap some necks

[channieshaven]

Primal

genre: smut

pairing: bang chan x reader

word count 1.2k

warnings: primal play, dumbification, chan is aggressive but it's all in good fun

~~~

You sat on the couch of your shared home, waiting for Chan to come home. He had promised you this morning to indulge in a fantasy you had brought up several nights ago, thinking it over and wanting you to prepare for it. So here you sat. Impatiently. Nerves building in your stomach. Suddenly you hear the front door unlocking, your eyes darting to it. Chan walks in and he’s carrying himself in a much darker way than he had been when he left this morning.

He stares at you and grins devilishly, “Aww sweetheart, are you not going to even try to run?”

You snap out of the haze you were in and feel a shiver run down your spine at his words, dashing off from the couch and out of the living room. Your mind deliberates on where to run to, and out of desperation you run to the kitchen.

You can see Chan approaching you as you make your way around the island.

He approaches the other side of the island and brings his hands down hard to grip it, making you jolt.

“You silly little girl.” He tsks, his voice dripping with venom.

You stare at him wide eyed, and begin to run away from the kitchen, barley skirting past him as he lunges forward to grab you. The next place you make a run for is upstairs. Perhaps not the best choice but it’s all your mind could think of in its current panicky state.

Your feet are racing up the stairs quicker than you can process and before you can get your bearings you feel yourself slip just as you make it to the top floor.

Chan couldn’t be happier to find you in the perfect position for him, stomping up the stairs menacingly.

You look back to see him and attempt to bring yourself to your feet but your legs fail you, letting a whimper out in frustration.

Chan hovers over you, feet planted on both your sides as he lowers himself to be on top of you, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking your head up with it.

“How could you be so stupid, baby? Did anything run through that brain of yours?” He mocks.

He leans forward to bite harshly into your shoulder, causing you to let out a cry. “Little bunnies shouldn’t even try, should they? They should just let the big bad wolf have them, huh?” He questions.

You struggle to form a response, choosing to let out a whine instead.

He scoffs, “Are you that dumb, baby? Can’t even say anything back?”

He shifts from being on your back to fully standing up, his hand still holding a firm grip on your hair, pulling you up and dragging you to the bedroom as you attempt to keep up with his fast pace, trying to not stumble over your own feet.

Chan throws you onto the bed and begins attacking your neck in a mixture of kisses and bites as you lie down, squirming beneath him as he smirks into your skin.

He pauses his assault on your neck to rip the top adorning you clean off, which had you thanking yourself for wearing an old lousy top you won’t miss.

“Mine.” He grunts out as he paws at your breasts, mixing in kisses as he feels you up. You watch him take a nipple into his mouth and swirl his tongue around it before lightly grazing his teeth on it, causing you to arch your back into the sensation, feeling him grin around you.

“I bet my naughty girl is soaked right now.” He growls out before moving to yank your shorts down to the floor.

He steps back to admire the wet patch forming in your panties, chuckling he says, “You like when I rough you up, huh?”

All you can do is nod in response, already feeling so fucked out. He moves back to hover over you, caging you in with his arms as he admires his prey prettily lying beneath him.

“Oh my pretty girl, I’m going to ruin you.” He says smiling, voice sounding soft, but his intentions are anything but. “Bet I don’t even need to prep you. You’re so wet right now I’m sure I could just slip right in, isn’t that right, baby?” He teases, stroking your hair softly.

You shake your head, responding with, “I’m ready. Want you to stretch me out. Make it fit.”

He sucks in a breath, obviously effected by your words. “That’s right. I’ll make it fit.” He pulls your panties down harshly to which you kick them off.

He unbuckles his belt and discards it to some corner of the room before unzipping his pants and getting his pants off just enough for him to unveil his cock. Despite seeing it several times by now, you can never get tired of the sight of it, taking in the view standing before you. He takes notice of your reaction and smirks to himself.

You’re so swept up in staring at him that you don’t notice him lining himself up with yourself until you feel him plunge into you, gasping at this motion. He gives you no time to adjust, thrusting into you at a relentless pace. “Fuck. Taking me so well.” He moans out, throwing your legs over his shoulders to feel you deeper, hitting just the right spot you needed him to. It feels like air is being knocked out of you with each thrust and you can’t get enough of it, digging your nails into Chan’s back.

“I thought bunnies didn’t scratch” he all but chuckles.

You whine incoherently, “C-Chan- need- please- fuck.”

He grins at your desperation, “You don’t even know what you’re begging for, do you, baby?” His fingers sinking into your thighs, guaranteed to leave marks.

You look down to watch him pummel into you and take notice of his cock bulging through your stomach, gasping at it.

“Fuck. Look at that.” He grunts out and places your hands over the bulge, his hands laying atop yours. “Feel that.”

The moans continue to escape your lips, “Chan, I-I’m gonna-“

“Yeah c’mon, baby. Wanna feel you clench around me.”

His words send you over the edge, encouraging you to finally come undone for him and Chan isn’t far behind. Once again biting into your shoulder as he releases inside of you with a string of moans. He takes a moment and steadies his breathing, pulling out of you and stepping back. “My favorite sight. Watching my cum leak out of you.”

You blush at his vulgarity, feeling shy somehow after all you both just did. He lies down beside you. “Was that what you wanted?” He asks.

Turning to face him you nod, breathing heavily still. “That was exactly what I wanted.”

“It wasn’t too much? I didn’t hurt you right?

I-“ you plant your lips on his to shut him up. “Hey, quit overthinking it. I loved every second of it.“ You comfort him.

He smiles softly, embracing you. “I’ll get you cleaned up but can we lay like this for a moment?” You simply nod, savoring his soft touch, thanking him for indulging in your fantasies.

[jadedxhearts]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞…

Having studied plants for years, you've become very familiar with the "aphrodisiac" type. And finally, you have an opportunity to experience your secret fantasy, with Law supervising.

Warnings: smut, fem bodied reader (no pronouns/gendered names), Law gets jealous of a plant, also probably one of the weirder smut fics I've written...

Having spent your last few years studying all sorts of plants, you now knew many of the different types like the back of your hand; including the islands that they were native to. So, when your crew was making a stop to an island that you knew to have certain types of plants, you decided to divulge in a secret fantasy you’d had for some time now…

In all your years of studying botany, you’d become familiar with the plants labeled as “aphrodisiacs”. In particular, you’d always been fascinated by the type that could sprout tentacles from their roots. You knew the common physical traits, their locations, everything. But you had yet to see one in person. You could hardly remember when the filthy desire had started, but you did know for certain that you’d never wanted to try something the way you wanted this. And today you seemed to be in luck, as your crew stopped at a tropical island, one where the locals only lived near the beaches, away from the jungles. While there could be animals also driving them away, you knew of one plant that lied in the jungle, something that would certainly keep most people away. And you intended on finding it.

Law, your boyfriend, was skeptical of the whole thing. He could always tell when you were lying, and even though you’d told him “there’s some plants inhabiting the jungle that I’d like to check out”, a seemingly innocent thing to do, he’d somehow seen right through it. So, with some embarrassment on your end, you admitted your true reason about why you wished to find the plants. And to your surprise, Law was intrigued, agreeing to accompany you on the little journey.

So now, here you were, traversing the jungle with Law trailing behind you by a couple feet, katana in hand. You walked along the clearest path you could find, occasionally stopping to check out some plants. You were nearly an hour into the hike when you started to find hints of striking gold. The first thing to hit you was the sweet aroma of the air, the scent’s purpose to draw “prey” in, lure them directly to the plant you sought. The next sign was a clearing beginning in the dense vegetation. With an eagerness you’d never felt before, you headed straight for the center of the clearing, finding the exact plant you’d been searching for.

“Here it is!” You shouted back to Law, who was still standing at the tree line, clearly finding the whole thing odd. 

Hesitantly, he headed out from the trees and into the clearing, joining you about ten feet away from a small plant in the center of the clearing. It had some large leaves sprouting off the sides, with one beautiful pink flower in the middle of it. Its roots were slightly visible, and you knew very well exactly what some of these roots were capable of. Glancing between you and the plant, Law looked at you suspiciously. 

“This is it? I thought you said it was supposed to… you know…” he trailed off, averting his eyes.

“It will, it just needs some… waking up, I guess,” you explained. “Um… maybe, take a few steps back? Since I’m the one who… you know…”

Law nodded, not needing to be told twice. He headed closer to the tree line, leaning against one of the large trunks. He’d expressed not wanting to “get fucked by a plant”, as he’d called it, hence his apprehension to the whole thing. At the very least, he could enjoy watching you. 

You started by undressing down to your bra and panties, tossing your other clothes over to where Law stood. Then, you crouched down, waving a hand over the flower. It puffed out some sweet-scented dust, which you were able to identify as the aphrodisiac part of the plant. Upon breathing in the slightest amount, you found that you were already growing restless. Your heart rate picked up, and you could feel yourself aching from your core, growing more pathetically horny for this plant by the second. Still, through your cloudy mind, you were able to remember everything you needed to know about the plant. So next, you prodded at the plant’s leaves, gently stroking them to rouse it. Within seconds, there was a rumbling in the ground underneath you, and you watched with fascination as the plant’s roots began sprouting, green tentacles squirming around, searching for whatever dared to get too close. 

Standing back up to your full height, you waited, cunt throbbing as you observed the tentacles growing around you. Your mind was so foggy now, the desperate need to have the appendages take you blocking your regular thoughts that you didn’t even notice it when the tentacles headed for something else.

It wasn’t until you heard a shout that you some sense was put back into you, and you watched with wide eyes as the tentacles slid up Law’s legs and tangled around his arms, dragging him away from the trees and closer to where you stood.

“You said they wouldn’t bother me!” He shouted to you, trying to escape the plant's hold. 

“I-I didn’t think they would,” you replied, unsure of what to do. 

“Well tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do now!”

“Um, it’s best if you… just let them… have their way,” you timidly said, looking down to the tentacles wrapped around his legs, now prodding around at the top of Law’s jeans.

Groaning with annoyance, Law decided to just do as you’d said. It’s not like he could argue with you now away, as the sweet-smelling aphrodisiac pollen reached him, sending him under the same effect you’d had. You couldn’t lie, it excited you to be watching the scene unfolding before you. Only you wished the plants would pay some attention to you…

After seemingly struggling for a couple minutes, the tentacles were able to get Law’s jeans undone, pulling his hardened length out from his clothing. The plants squirmed with what you could only guess was excitement, as the smaller ends of the tentacles began wrapping around his cock, squeezing him and slowly jerking his member.

Law let out a deep whine, his head falling back as the little suckers on the under-side of the tentacles began sucking at the skin of his cock, one appendage taking its spot at the head of his length, suckling and smothering itself against his tip. Before long, hot spurts of seed began spilling from his cock as the tentacles worked at his length quickly.

The sight had your cunt aching, clenching around nothing as you wished so badly they would come and play with you, too. Any thought of being worried about Law was gone, your mind being overtaken by the affects of the pollen. Somehow, you needed to get the plant’s attention. Not knowing what else to do, you got on your hands and knees, raising your bottom into the air and trying to gain the attention of the tentacles. Swaying your ass around, you finally managed to get a few of the green appendages to wander over to you. Letting out a whiny sigh of relief, you drooled onto the jungle ground as you felt them creep up your legs, wrapping around and squeezing your thighs as the ends of the tentacles began prodding at your panties, looking for a way in.

Yes, yes, you thought, feeling them begin to wrap around the sides of your panties, tugging them away from your skin. Please fuck me…

When the first tentacle dipped into your dripping folds, you moaned in delight, pussy throbbing as you wanted nothing more than to suck it in and be stuffed. Agonizingly slowly, the tentacle slid into your aching hole, wriggling around and doing what you could only refer to as licking your velvety walls. As it reached deeper inside you, you began to cry and arch your back, the girth of the appendage stretching your cunt wide open. And as you moaned more and more, you caught more of the plant’s attention, other curious tentacles exploring your body as it seeked ways to please you. 

A few of the tentacles pulled at your bra, eventually tearing it from your chest as it grew impatient with the clothing. They began swarming your breasts, their little sucklers finding your nipples with ease. With a long, high-pitched moan, you allowed your mouth to hang open as you drooled from the pleasure you felt. 

One tentacle chose to take advantage of that, though, as it poked at your lips before sliding into your mouth, forcing you to suck on it. The plant seemed to like your reciprocation, and it began spurting some odd substance into your mouth, but you swallowed without question, finding that it tasted incredibly sweet. Though you figured out that it was only pumping more aphrodisiac into you quickly, as the effects started within seconds.

Your body felt so incredibly hot, your entire mind being overcome with lust as you could only think: more, more, more. You’d completely forgotten Law was even there, not caring about anything around you; only about what was in you. 

More and more tentacles joined the others already tangled around your body, pulling you closer and closer to the little flower. They fucked your holes roughly, rocking your entire body back and forth. The tentacle in your mouth was having fun making you choke on it, while the one in your cunt thrusted into you hastily, pumping its warm seed into you. Letting out choked screams around the appendage in your mouth, you began cumming around the other one, still not feeling satisfied and simply wanting more.

After the tentacles had cum inside you a few more times, leaving no more room for its seed as it spilled out from your cunt, they all suddenly went completely still, and all the horny confusion was instantly cleared from your mind. Feeling like you’d just awoken, you looked up to find that Law had sliced the plant apart, stopping it from using you any longer.

“Law,” you whined, shuddering as the aphrodisiac-seed pooled out of your pussy and around your thighs. “I wanted more…”

“Then I’ll give you more,” he grunted, tossing his katana away and practically pouncing onto you. 

“That thing wasn’t going to give you up,” he growled, pulling his cock out and quickly shoving himself inside your cunt. “And I wasn’t going to let it have what’s mine.” 

Moaning, you clutched at Law’s jacket and wrapped your legs around his waist. He’d never fucked you so hard or with such feral desire before, and god did it feel good. 

After stuffing you full of his own seed, and you cumming around his cock multiple times, it seemed the sex-pollen had finally cleared yours and Law’s systems, leaving you both a sweaty, exhausted mess.

[idabbleincrazy]

Never a Wish Better Than This Ch. 4

Fandom: Smallville

Rating: E

Pairing: Clex

Word Count: 3760

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, masturbation, foreplay, rimming, anal play, oral, deep throating, face fucking

Summary: time for a little show and tell

A/N: look who finally got to the smut! at least one more chapter coming, maybe more. and i've a feeling this will lead to a series that rewrites the tail-end of s4 and probably going into s5.

Lex's POV:

Christ, he's beautiful like this. The urge to see him keeps my eyes from staying closed as I kiss him like his saliva is quenching the thirst I felt back on that island. And, I know I'm babbling again, words bitten out in harsh whispers between licks into that supple, pliant mouth, but I don't give a damn. I've wanted this for so long, dreamed of this a thousand different ways, and the reality is so much more than I ever could've prepared for. 

Hearing he was jealous of Victoria, of Desiree, of Helen, of all the flirtations and dalliances in-between, made me harder than I've been all night. That he had had feelings for me, just about as long as I'd had feelings for him…that he's been thinking about this for so long…

"Tell me", I husk out against his lips. "Tell me what you think about, what you imagine when you're alone at night, up there in the privacy of that loft. Wanna hear what you jerk off to, Clark. Tell me."

And I do want to hear it, now that I know I'm in those fantasies. I hear him gasp at the request, his hips bucking up into mine. He's as hard as I am, I can feel it through all the layers between us, and I can't hold back a groan. 

"Shit." 

Why is it so inexplicably hot to hear Clark curse? To know I've finally made him use his big boy words. Wanna hear more of those words that would probably make him blush again if he weren't already too hard to care.

"Tell me."

"'K, yeah…Christ, which do you wanna start with? What I imagine doing to you, or what I imagine you doing to me? Or, what I picture when I think of you, all alone in this huge-ass mansion, and how you might look when you jerk-off? So much to choose from, Lex, tell me where to start."

Oh, Jesus fucking Christ! Maybe it was a bad idea, after all, asking him to give details…might not last to actually play out either of our imaginings. I'll give it a valiant fucking effort, though. Luthor image to maintain here. And then, the idea pops into my head, a way to get us both some relief, without embarrassment; I've no doubt his teenage libido will have him ready for another go in no time, and my own refractory period is still a testament to my youth. 

Giving Clark one more hard kiss, I force myself off his lap, my cock twitching at the grunt of loss he makes, his hands reaching for me as I twist away and sprawl myself across the other side of the bed. 

"Tell me what you imagine me doing when I'm on my own, Clark. Tell me, and I'll show you it, exactly as you describe." I turn my head towards him, taking in the look of aroused surprise on his face. Pupils so blown, there's barely a thin ring of sparkling green around them. "Oh, and Clark? Feel free to touch yourself while you talk."

Clark's POV:

Jesus Christ, I'm so turned on right now, I can barely think, and he wants me to talk? To tell him what I picture him doing to himself? My cock is aching against the zipper of my jeans, and I can feel all the words I never say aloud coating my tongue, trying to force themselves past my lips. Have to remind myself that I'm an adult now, those words are no longer forbidden. Need to try one out, see if it gets the same reaction as the first…

"Fuck, Lex." And, oh, yeah, his eyes flutter closed for a second, like he's savoring the sound of my voice saying those two words. Like he knows that's exactly what I want, to fuck Lex. "God, when I picture you, alone, hard, and so fucking needy…sometimes, you're in your office, but sometimes, you're in your bed, spread out just like now. Not ready for sleep yet, so you're still wearing clothes. But not for long."

"Good."

Can't help a chuckle at that, at his eagerness to be naked for me.

"You like to tease yourself, in my mind, so you do it slowly, unbuttoning your shirt one at a time." Except he's not wearing a button-up this time, so he improvises, lifting the hem of his shirt up, little by little, baring an ever-widening strip of pale flesh to my gaze. "Yeah, such a tease, Lex, just like always."

He slides the shirt up, up and further still, my eyes taking in each inch of revealed flesh. His belly button, that I just wanna lick into. Subtle abs I want to trace over with lips and teeth. And nipples, pink little nubs that I ache to bite at, tease them into hardness. God, he's beautiful.

"Take it off, Lex."

He lets out a moan at the firm command and immediately complies; I file that away for later contemplation. The shirt flies over at me and there's a smirk playing on his lips as I catch it with a low growl. 

"I don't recall saying that you're in a playful mood right now."

He merely shrugs and stretches back out against the sheets, his hands stroking along the comforter, head nestled into the pillow. I look over the long planes of skin revealed to me, and get the sense that he's preening. I bite back a groan and get back to the task.

"When I think of you like this, once your shirt is off, you start toying with yourself, like you're seeing how much you can take, how long you can wait until it's too much." Lex takes a little initiative and strokes a hand along the side closest to me, long, thin fingers sweeping up his torso. "Sometimes, you let out this sexy moan of need, and start plucking at your nipples, tugging at them, makin' 'em all pretty and perky. Yeah, like that, all flushed and waiting for teeth to sink right into them."

Another moan, unbidden, escapes that kiss-reddened mouth of his, and I have to cup myself, squeeze my dick to stop from losing control. 

"Clark…"

"Yeah, you do that in my head, too. Call out my name so fucking needy like that. One hand twisting at your tits", and Christ, when did my tongue become so bold, "the other slipping down your stomach, teasing along the waistband of your pants, fingers dipping just under it."

My hand rubs at my groin as I watch him follow my instructions, his neck arching back, soft sounds of pleasure falling from his lips almost constantly. I can feel heat starting to rise behind my eyes, and I hurry to tamp it down. He's not even completely naked yet, and already my control is straining. 

"You unbuckle your belt, open your pants, just a little, just enough to relieve the pressure some." He does, and I'm not surprised to see he's not wearing anything under the slacks; I am surprised by the sparse layer of red hairs there. Arms, armpits, and chest, so far he's been completely hairless, so the change is a little shocking. "Sl-slipping your hand inside, you give yourself a short stroke, just a taste of what you want, and you can't help but buck up into it. Always so fucking hot when you do that."

He does, and I can see how it pains him to rein in his need, to not just keep stroking till he comes. 

"Oh, God, Clark…baby, please."

I gasp at the pet name, surprisingly aroused at him calling me anything other than Clark, or Kent. I like it more than I thought I would. 

"You keep it up though, teasing your nipples, other hand only stroking down your aching cock", loud, drawn-out moan from that, "every minute or so, never enough, until you're squirming against the sheets, like you're trying to get away from the torture. Only then, when you're so hard you can't stand it, only then do you slip off your pants."

Lex groans loudly in relief and scrabbles to hurry out of his slacks, kicking them carelessly off the bed and flopping back against the mattress. His legs are spread, knees bent and feet braced against the bed, and I scoot over to the end of the bed, facing him, taking it all in. He's completely open to me like this, his long cock hard, pointing up towards his stomach and leaking, the head red and painful looking. The base is surrounded by a thin sprinkling of the fine red hairs, same as his balls below it. I can just see the curve of his ass, the shadowed crevice that hides the spot I want to bury myself in. His legs, like the rest of him, are hairless, sleek and pale, deceptively lean, and I can see the powerful muscles in his thighs clench as he shifts slightly under my scrutiny. I wanna touch him, want to taste him. But I resist, and continue the game, my voice huskier than I've heard it even in the back alleys and clubs of Metropolis. 

"You stroke yourself more steadily, now, your other hand sliding down to cup your balls, rolling them. My name falls from your lips again, not quite begging, not yet, but still so sweet." It does, and it is. He's scooted further up the bed, to brace his back against the headboard, legs still spread, and my eyes flicker between the motion of his hands and the wanton look on his face. And, dammit, I've got to stop reading Lois' trashy romance novels, I shouldn't even know that word. "That's it, Lex, just like that. This, this is when you start to imagine me there, kneeling just like this, in front of you, just out of reach. In your head, I find you too hot, too much, and I just sit there staring, watching you pleasure yourself. I won't touch without being asked, and you don't ask yet, but you want to see me, too, so like a good little fantasy-Clark, a blink of your eyes and my shirt is gone."

I super-speed out of my shirt before he can even follow through on the order, my chest bare before his eyes flutter all the way shut. His hands stutter in their rhythm for a beat, a gasp followed by a low groan as he roves his gaze over me. 

"Don't stop, don't speed up. You never speed up, not yet, not till you see everything." My hands are on my jeans now, fingers slowly undoing the button, slipping the zipper down, tooth by tooth. Oh, God, he whimpered. My dick is throbbing now, and I'm afraid to even touch it enough to pull it out of my boxers, don't wanna go off before I see him come for me. It's a close call, and his responding hungry growl at the sight of my cock nearly 'causes me to set the curtains on fire, but I bite my lip hard and manage, barely. "You keep stroking as you watch me watching you, your other hand drifting down, between your legs. You tease yourself there for a minute, your fingertip just circling 'round the rim. You see my eyes glued to where your finger is hidden, hear the groan of need, and know what I want. And you give it to me, spread yourself open more, so I can see all of you."

The hand around his shaft grips tightly at the base, but he does as bidden, gripping just beneath a thigh to part those pert cheeks, revealing the perfect pucker hidden between them. It clenches and unclenches as I stare, and I can just see his hand resume pumping out of the corner of my eye. Want him. Wanna touch and taste and feel. 

"You're so close now, and I haven't even touched you yet. And you want it now, want me to come closer, wanna feel my hands replace yours, feel my mouth on you. You always want it, now, and that's when you beg."

That's all the permission he needs, and the babble turns back on, everything spilling out that he's kept in so far, his hand slowing again.

"Clark, please. I want it, baby, I do. Christ, so much. So fucking hot, Clark, hearing you talk like this…didn't know you had it in you. Fuck, baby, touch me, suck me, anything…want your sweet fucking mouth, those strong fucking hands…c'mon, Clark, show me, show me how it happens in your fantasy. What that Clark does to that Lex. Show me."

Lex's POV:

And he does. Oh, God, he does. His clothes are gone completely in a blur and he's kneeling between my wide-spread legs. Jesus, he's gorgeous, all golden skin and sweeping planes of hard muscle. And that cock…fuck, that cock…knew he'd be big, but like everything else about him, it exceeds expectations. At least two inches longer than mine, and thicker than I think I've ever seen outside of porn. Uncut, too, the foreskin nearly completely retracted from the ruddy, leaking head. 

I lose track of taking inventory of his enticing figure as his hand replaces mine on my cock. Can't help the cry of surprise as his warm fingers grip almost painfully tight around the shaft, starting a slow, firm stroke, his thumb swiping over the slit, smearing the pre-cum that bubbles up anew under his ministrations. 

"Oh, baby…yeah, touch me, please, taste me."

He smirks up at me, and oh, I've awoken a monster; that wolfish twist has never played along those plump lips for me before. His eyes lock on mine as he lowers his head, his tongue flicking out to rasp over the head of my cock.

"Fuck!"

"Soon, Lex. Soon."

I bark out a shaky laugh at his very un-Clark-like tease, the sound turning into a groan as he licks me again, swirling his tongue around the tip, collecting the fresh drops of pre-cum with a hum of pleasure. He's still fisting me slowly, his other hand sliding up my thigh and over, cupping my balls, squeezing them gently between thick fingers. I try to buck up into his mouth as he teases, but he pulls away, turning his head to press hot kisses to the juncture where thigh meets hip. I did not just whimper?! God, I haven't felt this much of a needy slut since my teen years, when I was just learning all the pleasures to be had, but I can't help it, don't even want to hold back the sounds anymore, not when he so obviously enjoys it.

Clark gives a quick nip to my inner thigh, and dips his head again, but not to my cock. I feel the slick wet of that devious muscle lave over my tightening sac, and down, over the sensitive strip of skin beneath my balls. His shoulders nudge my legs wider as he goes lower still, his tongue slipping down between my cheeks. As I feel him lick over my twitching hole, it's all I can do not to cum, a sharp cry falling from my lips as I writhe beneath him. 

Had I really thought him to be so innocent? Where is that shy, virginal farmboy now, and who is this confident young man working his mouth over that most private of places? A flash of jealousy jolts through me at the thought of Clark doing these things with other people, learning just how to touch and tease someone so perfectly. The tip of his tongue breaches me, driving out any thoughts of envy, leaving only the need for him. I thrust down as much as I can, taking him in further, knowing neither of us will sleep tonight until it's his cock pushing into me and shattering me into pieces like this.

"Oh, God, Clark! Fuck, baby, yeah, like that…just like that. Christ, this what you picture, Kent? Huh? Me begging for it, aching for it, fucking myself on your tongue? So fucking hot, Clark. Holy shit, baby…gonna make cum like this, so close, Clark, so fucking close…"

I feel myself open for him, feel his thumb tugging at my rim as he pierces me with his tongue, a slow, steady rhythm of thrusting that matches his strokes on my throbbing cock. He presses in deeper, and I lose it, cock spurting its load in body-racking pulses as his tongue presses against my prostate. I think I'm screaming his name, can't tell from the haze of pleasure stuffing my ears like cotton. And then my mouth is covered by his, the dark taste of myself on his tongue making me shudder out another spurt of cum as I somehow manage to wrap my arms around him, clutching him close. 

His thumb is still there, dipping in and circling around, bringing me down slowly from this unexpected high, his other, cum-sticky, hand soothing lightly along my side. He's murmuring wordlessly against my mouth, and I will my brain to turn back on, knowing there's still so much more to do; he hasn't cum yet, and I want to touch, to taste, to see him fall apart for me the way I just did. To show him a little of what I imagine when I'm alone and thinking of him.

His hand is gone from between my legs now, his fingers trailing through the puddle of cum on my stomach. I feel my cock twitch in renewing interest as he raises them to his mouth, licking away the sticky drops and letting his eyes flutter closed at the taste of me. As he enjoys himself, I gather my wits enough to turn us over, pushing him onto his back and quickly sliding down his broad, hard body, to settle between his legs. Looking over him, I promise to take my time on the next go, but the sight of his reddened leaking cock is proof enough that he probably won't mind quick and dirty right now.

"Lex?"

"Wanna taste you, Clark. Wanna show you part of one of my own fantasies. That okay, baby?"

"Fuck…yeah. Do it, show me."

Flashing him a devilish smirk of my own, I waste no time in swallowing him down. I want him hot and heavy in my mouth, filling my throat like I want him filling me elsewhere later.

"Oh, my God, Lex! Jesus Christ, so good." My eyes flick up to him and his head is thrown back against the pillow. I can tell he's holding back, not wanting to hurt me by thrusting, his hands clenching the sheets. I swallow around the thick length, earning a restrained buck of hips. "Fuck, Lex, baby, not gonna last, too good."

I want to see him undone, so I grab one of his hands and guide it to my head, moaning around him at the feel of that huge paw sliding over my scalp. He forces his eyes open, looking at me like he's asking permission, and I grant it with a slow blink and another swallow.

"Oh, fuck, Lex…thank you…", he groans out, understanding, giving in.

He doesn't push against my head, just holds me steady, and I let my hands slide under him, gripping handfuls of the firm globes of his ass as he bucks up into me. I let my throat go lax, letting him fuck my mouth, and I know my voice will be raw and raspy later, a reminder of this. 

He's babbling now, broken sentences of wonder and praise, and I feel a surge of pride at being able to reduce him back to the bumbling boy I fell in love with. I squeeze the cheeks of his ass, urging him faster as he gets closer, wanting him to spill. I let my tongue work at whatever part of the huge cock stretching my jaw I can as he slides in and out of my throat, the round head pressing against my esophagus as I will my body not to gag; it's been so long since I've deep throated anyone, and never one this big, it's probably only through the sheer force of my desire that I manage at all.

A clench of his hand on the back of my head and a stilted cry of pleasure is all the warning I receive before he buries himself deeply, his cock pulsing against my tongue as he cums. I pull back slightly, catching the last few spurts on my tongue as I suck around the head of his cock, savoring the salty, heady taste of him before swallowing it down with a satisfied hum. Slightly thicker than I'm used to, but not bad, just apparently a different consistency than human semen. The scientist in me can't help but catalog the difference, file it away for later consideration. If I weren't so worried of anyone else getting ahold of his DNA, I'd probably save some to put under a microscope, just for personal edification. 

I suck at him, drawing every drop I can, until he pushes lightly at my head, his cock no doubt sensitive after such a release. I let the half-hard length slip from my mouth as I kneel back up, licking my lips for any spilled seed.

"Knew you'd taste good, Farmboy. Like fresh churned butter."

Clark stutters a breathless laugh, shaking his head incredulously and I just smirk back at him. He pulls me up his body, draping me over him, and pulls my head down for a deep, tender kiss. He lets out a soft moan as he licks at my tongue, his cock twitching against my stomach, obviously enjoying what he tastes. 

Breaking the kiss gently, I roll us onto our sides. He cups my face, his thumb swooping along the line of my cheekbone, and I arch an eyebrow at him. For someone obviously experienced enough to rim me without hesitation, there's certainly an odd look of wonder on his face.

"You're amazing, Lex", he voices an answer to my unspoken question. 

Letting my hand drop between us to feather my fingers along his reawakening cock, I let my lips twist into my teasing smirk. He lets out a hiss, bucking into the light touch. God, he's magnificent like this, and he's not even fully fucked-out yet. But he will be. Leaning forward, I kiss my way along his jaw, nipping at his earlobe.

"You ain't seen nothing yet, Spaceboy."

******

@leatafandom

[popcornforone]

Broken

Attending Mr York additional chapter

Master list

Sorry Javi P is taking a while & I want to get it right so here is an additional Dave York Universe chapter. Yea you all remember them. Happy Dave York Saturdays people.

Synopsis:- You’ve been working for the Yorks for a few weeks but your personal circumstances have changed & one morning it all just gets too much.

Word count:1800

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 DAVE YORK ALWAYS COMES WITH HIS OWN WARNINGS! Considering this is Dave it’s tame, break up, manipulation, affairs, sexual fantasy, pining, seducing, swearing. There is no sex here but it give you an idea about how controlling & manipulative Dave can be .

Thanks as always for the read peoples. All feed back is always appreciated.

After dropping the girls at school & nursery, you have a few things to sort out at the Yorks. You’ve been here now 6 weeks & you’ve worked out their routine finally. A few mishaps but you’ve got there. They are happy for you to make a few mistakes they know you’re still learning, but being on time, keeping efficient & doing everything for their two girls is making both Dave & Carol happy. The rest of it they know will come with time & they really appreciate that you often go above & beyond for them.

But you need to keep busy at the moment. If you stop to think it will break you. You’re a bit shocked when you return back to the Yorks on this Thursday morning to see Dave going through the laundry.

“Mr York?” You ask. You’d crept up on him & he jumped a little. Clearly he wasn’t used to people sneaking into a room. He almost knocks over the washing bundle. “Sorry sir I didn’t mean to startle you” you say as you make your way over to what you are about to wash. Dave scurries through the pile faster. He’s not a man of many words at all. “Maybe if you’re after something I could…” you go to start flicking through the basket.

“NO!” Dave snaps & the firmness of his loud sharp voice makes you jump. Your elbow flys back & the two glasses from the mornings breakfast fall of the central island counter & crash on the floor. One of them you know Molly has attachment issues with.

“Fuck” you shout & drop to your knees straight away in a hurry. Dave can see you’re fumbling about. He tuts continuing to go through the basket in a hurry, not noticing how you’ve suddenly gone quiet.

“If that’s Mollys don’t Worry we have a whole set hidden away to replace them” he says as he finds what he’s after. His ID badge & his shredded black shirt that was slashed at last week when he got into a fight with a bodyguard for an unfortunate. He’s waiting for you to say something like thank you or maybe a little joke back but nothing comes from your mouth. He then hears a very small whimper. He tries not to look at you, but he feels in his bones he should.

You sit there with the three pieces of Mollys glass that fell off the counter, in your hands. Your body shaking your lip quivering & the small whimper makes your eyes, that have been holding in tears for the last 10 days, ready to burst. This is the moment you let it out.

“Hey” a friendly large firm hand of the man you fancy goes around your shoulder. He kneels next to you. “Everything…” he doesn’t need to complete the sentence. You start to cry & fling your arms around Daves neck & bury your head into his firm chest. You know this is inappropriate hes your boss, but you need comfort. Dave initially doesn’t hold you, he’s shocked you’d do this. But the harder you hug him & the more you cry, he can’t help but wrap his arms around you. You both sit on the kitchen floor hugging for a few minutes in silence. Dave doesn’t usually do empathy or emotions or comfort unless it’s to his two little Princess. He knows you need this however & it’s only when he starts stroking your hair & inhaling your scent that he knows he’s going a step too far. He lets go with one arm & pushes back a bit. His large hand lifts your chin so you are facing him. Your eyes look back at him. You’re so vulnerable in this moment, & yet what is racing through Daves mind for the first time since you go here is will that mouth be able to take all of me. He’s never considered having sex with someone else as a full flung affair, Sex is still on the cards with Carol but two kids & her new job as well as Daves demanding one, means it’s not as regular as it once was. Maybe you being here on tap would be nice to try once. He could then fire you for something stupid. Maybe he could do that with a few different nanny’s & house keepers. Carol doesn’t like when he sometimes gets home with an itch to scratch at 3am after an adrenaline rush of a mission but you looking like that, lips parted, adoring him from the look in your eyes that you don’t know that your doing, well that could be a nice dalliance every now & then. Just sex, that would be all.

“Tell me” Dave coues, making his eyes larger & licking his top lip “tell me what’s wrong, more than just a stupid glass”

“My boyfriend” you whine a little. Dave then feels shivers. He had forgotten you were in a relationship. “… I… he… I walked in on him. He was having sex with another woman”

“What?” Dave asks in shock. “What a jerk when?”

“Almost 2 weeks ago” you wipe your tears into the sleeve of your top. “He says it was a one off & was a mistake, but i then looked at his phone & there’s been dick pics & pictures of other women all over his phone. All in suggestive situations. Nothing like we’d done, we’re very vanilla” you start to turn red with anger. “I had a message to say he was going out that night so I thought I’d surprise him at his place for when he got home, but when I got there, he had her sitting on his face while he was pleasuring himself” your sorrow starts to build into anger now. “I just I really thought he was the one Mr York”

“Oooh sweetheart” Dave says it’s the first time he calls you that. “He clearly didn’t deserve you, otherwise he wouldn’t dip his wick else where, your better than him, you need a man to look after you” Dave strokes your hair & his thumb rests on your chin. You take some deep breaths as you look into those dark brown eyes that have entrapped you. To kiss him would be so wrong but your body is crying out for a touch, a kiss, to be satisfied. But no Dave is your boss, a very important man & is married. You aren’t a home wrecker.

“Look, you know we have a spare room that if you don’t want to go back to an empty flat, that you can stay in. Carol & I were actually thinking of increasing your salary already, give you more responsibilities & ask you to stay on Sunday nights” Dave has not yet confirmed this with Carol. It was a thrown about chat 3 days ago but neither had actually said yes to it. Dave is taking the initiative.

“Really? But I’m a crap…”

“No you aren’t!” He snaps & shoots you down & him raising his voice arouses you. “Yes there’s been a few things, but any house keeper or nanny would muck that up straight away. You’ve worked out im a perfectionist whose standards can never be met, & you are learning. More importantly the girls love you & both girls are doing better at school & nursery now you’re here. I’m happy you agreed to come & work for us. You almost feel like the missing piece.” If he’s making this up to give you a confidence boost it’s working. But Dave means every word he says.

“Thank you Mr York, I love being given more freedom & that I’m pleasing you.” As you take your sleeve to clean your face, Dave raises an eyes brown suggestively at the idea of you pleasing him. I wonder what she’d be willing to do to satisfy me? Would she meet my every need & want? He’s snapped out of his little fantasy of you lying in the spare room, moaning into a pillow while he fucks your arse, when he sees you start to stand up. He jumps up & helps straight away. You notice he’s having a small day dream.

“Sorry” Dave says, “I have a lot in my mind, works busy, it suddenly thinks of something important I need to act on.”

“Thank you Mr York” you say & hug him again now you’re both standing. “You’ve made me feel a bit better. I guess I just kept all those emotions packed in & I needed to crack & let them out”

“Well I’m glad I could be a shoulder to cry on, no that I’m good with effection” he says.

“Well please Mr York if you need anything above & beyond what I do, please let me know” his mind wonders again as you offer any service. “… such as your tshirt” you point & go to grab it but Dave snatches it away. He scowls as well.”ooh sorry Mr York”

“Well this is my thing I have to deal with, you can go back to doing whatever it was you were up to, Mollys glasses are in the garage we don’t put the car in” Daves gone back to his usual self. Soft slightly caring Dave was here for 5mins but he has now left the building.

“Yea Mr York” you say & grab a dustpan & brush to clean up the mess “lunch will be about 1pm”

Dave after working from home & having lunch, watches you leave to go pick up the girls & he smirks. He grabs his phone & calls a number.

“It’s me” he says & the voice replys “yes it worked, you’ll see the rest of the money transferred into your account” he bites his bottom lip as he listens to the voice. “Nope she suspects nothing” & he hangs up the phone. Dave then goes to his second draw & finds his file on you & the one he had on your ex. The one with your ex has more notes than yours, but the last page says remove from the equation. Dave had paid a lower level female assassin to seduce him, drug him & have sex with him. She was told it was part of her training, but it’s technically not. Dave paid her well. He doesn’t know how he’s gonna start having a relationship with you. Having an affair isn’t what he frequents, it’s usually a bar to motel hook up after a job, he’s not a saint, but it’s not entirely his fault he’s married to Carol. He was doing the right thing for his kids. But Dave is now planning what to do with you. He should be planning how to succeed in his next mission, but now you’re on the market, he needs to plot how he can seduce & plunder you.

[bowelfly]

while i usually keep this blog focused on art and bugs, movies are my third big passion, and since i don't believe in streaming services i don't have a spotify wrapped for 2022 to show off but i do have a letterboxd account so i felt like going through my 2022 movie watching stats. this post is basically for me alone and will be obnoxiously long so i'll put in a read more thing here out of courtesy:

ooh so close to almost 1000 hours of movies! still 718 films is pretty good, though that does also include around 80 or so shorts, mostly animations, that i also logged.

i was averaging around 2 movies per day for the year. being 500 miles away from all your friends, family, and partner does give you a lot of free time it turns out. the most movies i watched in a single week, december 10-16, was 28. the weeks i only watched a couple things were either when i was visiting my partner or too depressed to even watch movies

one of the things i've done this year to keep myself sane in isolation was to stream movies for friends. however since i have multiple non-overlapping friend groups, there were a number of movies i watched multiple times because i have a deep psychological and emotional need to share weird shit with the people i care about. NOVA SEED, FANTASY MISSION FORCE, and BUDDHA'S PALM were the triple crown winners this year.

i only watched 7 movies that came out in 2022. my sweet spot is genre movies made from the late 70s through the mid-90s which you can see clearly if you look at my lifetime stats. predictably, i have very strong opinions about practical effects and stunts and film stock

my ratings spread for 2022 is about what it normally is for other years with a lot of things ending up in the 3.5-4 star range. maybe i'm just generous with my stars or maybe i just like what i like and try to not watch things i won't like unless they're bad in a fun way but i really feel like i've been moving away from the whole so-bad-its-good thing over the years and focusing on things that i unironically like--though these are often films that other people do categorize as bad or so-bad-its-good.

my most watched actors is a bunch of golden age hong kong dudes because i went super hard on the kung fu and wuxia films this year. like about half of these are big name stars and the other half are less well-known character actors that still are in like 200 movies playing assorted emperors and evil administrators. really glad to see my main man lo lieh running away with first place. he's most well known for playing evil white-haired kung fu masters usually named pai mei or variations of that, but he's also played the protagonist or antihero of a number of great films like FIVE FINGERS OF DEATH or THE FUGITIVE (1972, not the harrison ford one). my favorite role of his is without question Bi Gu of East Island the rascally kung fu wizard who hollers his name from offscreen before every time he enters a scene in BUDDHA'S PALM (1982).

also very pleased to see one of my favorite american character actors, brion james squeaking his way onto the list, though sad that he got separated from his best friend and frequent collaborator tim thomerson, who i think is just below the cut here.

most watched directors. i've been a huge fan of the very recently deceased albert pyun for years now, largely on the strength of his absolute god-tier masterpiece NEMESIS (1992) though he has a number of other very entertaining movies (RADIOACTIVE DREAMS, CYBORG) and also a cavalcade of very bad movies that are nonetheless all fascinating in their own ways. i could go on about him at length but this post is long enough. maybe another time.

other than that, chor yuen (THE MAGIC BLADE, DESCENDANT OF THE SUN) and chang cheh (CRIPPLED AVENGERS, FIVE ELEMENT NINJAS) are gods of early wuxia cinema and fucking rule, and keita amemiya's 90s work (ZEIRAM, MECHANICAL VIOLATOR HAKAIDER, CYBER NINJA) are pinnacles of kickass japanese practical effects work.

i also watched a lot of russ meyer and john waters films because i'm a pevert.

this is mostly just a reminder to check out my WUXIA WIZARD WARS tumblr post and letterboxd list if you like movies about wizards shooting lasers at each other and summoning fucked up monsters and shit like that

finally, because i have a brain disease, i made a list of the 100 best films i watched this year, mostly first-time watches but probably like 15-20 rewatches that i especially enjoyed or think more people should know about or give another shot. if i didn't already have way too many projects i'd consider setting up another sideblog just going through all these one by one with reviews and screenshots but that's a lot of work and i am a tired old man. i might give an occasional highlight post like i did for THE BARON AGAINST THE DEMONS

and i guess that's about it? this has been an especially heavy year for golden age hong kong kung fu and wuxia films but i explored a lot of other interesting places and times and genres and microgenres and have a lot more i plan on checking out next year. i've got stacks and stacks of unwatched japanese V-cinema and pinku violence and kaiju and tokusatsu films; tons of giallo and hammer horror and eurotrash lesbian vampire flicks; classic westerns, revisionist westerns, spaghetti westerns; SOV horror, eastern european stop motion, hong kong CAT III sleaze, russian postapocalyptic dirges, poliziotteschi, krimi, and noir films; AIP and PM Entertainment action schlock; italian mad max ripoffs, italian alien ripoffs, italian conan ripoffs; approximately 300 movies with NINJA, BLOOD, or SHAOLIN in their titles; and probably some other shit too.

finally, if you've made it this far and you're a nasty little film freak like me i'll let you in on a secret: i have copies of every single one of these movies on my hard drive. literally thousands of movies dug out of dozens of digital dumpsters with my own two greasy grabby raccoon paws. if any of them particularly catch your interest but you can't find a copy, well you can maybe slip old professor bfly a little private request and get yourself a copy of whatever you need. it may take some time since i only have so many google drive accounts unless someone wants to subsidize a deluxe mega.nz subscription for me to mass-upload things to. i also have a soulseek account sharing the entire hoard but it's very slow and not always online but you can DM me for that as well. again though you may have to be patient because i am old and tired and slow and have a full time job and a hundred dumb hobbies and social anxiety and generalized brain damage

happy new year everyone now go watch a movie about some dudes kicking the shit out of each other for me

[megarywrites]

👻🌙🌧️

thank you!!

👻 ghost | can you tease some wip ideas that have been haunting you/something you want to write in the future?

do you mean my entire series? lmao that'd take too long, i can talk about some of the others tho I really think it'd be fun to do a fantasy murder mystery...like, Agatha Christie style. I've never written a murder mystery though but it is my favorite genre outside of fantasy so....someday... I've had this idea for a haunted circus that I'd love to weave into the framework of Dracrie someday...orginially I was gonna have be set in like 1910-1920 Coney Island, but I'd really like to have all of my books set in Dracrie so I'll just have to adapt it to fit Another idea that i would l o v e to write is about a creepy forest. I already have the perfect place in Dracrie for it (there's a rainforest in Woji that is chock-full of fantastical plants) so now I just have to conjure up a plot for it lol the last one I can think of atm is I'd love to do Jane Austen adaptations, but set in Jou'eou. it just sounds like a fun challenge, but who knows when the fuck I'll get to it lmao

🌙 moon | do any of your OCs have dark backstories or secrets they’re trying to keep?

for Seafoam, there are several lurking secrets, and they'll all get revealed in time, but I don't want to get too spoiler-y lol the ones who have the biggest secrets are Solera, Sosta, Geros, Cilia, and Omero, but where I am right now in the draft, only Omero's has been fully revealed (and dealt with)

🌧️ rain | share a sad or emotional scene from your wip!

okay this i have in spades for Seafoam lol this is from Chapter 2 Rocks jutted out of the sea, scattered a little ways out. Further than I had ever swam. Pa never let me go out too far without him. Said it was too dangerous. “Did—” I started to ask, my voice cracking in my throat. “Did anyone else get thrown overboard?”  Zeno was quiet for a moment. I didn’t look away from the furthest rock I could see. There was a little tree growing on it, despite the raging sea.  “No. Just your father.”  “Wasn’t there anything—” My throat tightened, speech becoming impossible. Zeno grabbed my hand in both of his, the rough calluses almost soothing, in a way. “Thala, I’m so sorry.” My head bowed, my shoulders shook as tears overcame me once more. The waves churned around me, around us. If it hadn’t been for Zeno pulling me into a tight embrace, I might have let the sea sweep me away. Carry me off to a distant land, where I would forget all about this pain.  In fact, I would have welcomed it.  His hands rested on my neck and back, holding me close. “It’ll be alright. I’m here.” He turned his head, pressing the lightest of kisses to my hair. “I’ve got you.”

send me autumn asks?

[sagewritings]

Late Night Talking - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

pairing: steve harrington x fem!henderson reader

synopsis: being dustin henderson’s older sister made you involved in their fights with the upside down, which also led you to become closer with steve harrington. after spending months with each other, and a particular encounter with billy hargrove, steve realizes that he found who he was looking for.

word count: 5.3k

warnings: violence, mentions of blood, curse words, insults/bullying

request: [anon] Can you do a Steve Harrington imagine set after season 2 before season 3 for Steve and the Henderson!reader  where Billy just keeps trying to push them to fight him but she and Steve make a deal to make sure the other doesn't so one day she needs Steve calms her down after Billy (verbally) goes after Dustin so Steve talks about their future and accidentally confesses because they're in love with each other?

a/n: hello everyone! here’s a steve harrington fic based on a request. thank you so much to the person who sent this, it’s really fun to work with! also, as you may have noticed with the title, this story is briefly based on harry styles’ late night talking too :3 i honestly didn’t expect this one to be this long (i was planning to keep it between 2-3k words lol) but i just had to establish the story first.

if you’d like to check out my other works, you can check the pinned post in my blog :>

i hope you’ll like this fic! happy reading!

｡.｡:∞♡*♥

If you're feelin' down

I just wanna make you happier, baby

Wish I was around

I just wanna make you happier, baby

We've been doin' all this late night talkin'

'Bout anythin' you want until the mornin'

Now you're in my life

I can't get you off my mind

It all began on that one eventful afternoon.

You thought your brother had gone crazy when he barged in your room, panicked while he explained something about a demogorgon. You weren’t foreign to the word, having heard it multiple times whenever his group of friends would come over to play their fantasy game. But when he confessed how he kept one as a pet and became more than ten times its size after eating your mom’s cat, you almost laughed at him.

And then you saw it crawling above the kitchen island. You didn’t know whether you wanted to protect Dustin or feed him to the creature for letting it inside your house.

“Out of all the animals in this world, you chose a fucking demogorgon as a pet.” You hissed at your brother, and both of you crouched down to peek through the wooden door of your mom’s tool shed.

“I didn’t know it was a demogorgon.” He argued back, glaring at you. “Oh, shit. There he is.”

You looked forward, watching the creature eat the ham slices Dustin laid out.

“Yes, yes, yes.” He mumbled to himself when it reached the basement. Dart, who seemed to know that he was being watched, stopped and turned around, looking directly at the shed. “Shit.”

You gasped, pulling Dustin away slightly. Your brother heaved and pulled his hockey stick tighter. Your eyes widened when you realized what was going on in his head. “Dustin, you are not going out there– fucking hell!”

You barely had time to hold him steady when he slammed the door open and ran outside. The demogorgon screeched, lunging at your brother with its wide mouth and sharp teeth.

Dustin struck at the monster using his stick, successfully sending it downwards to the basement. Both of you ran quickly and held each side of the door closed before it could regain its balance and climb up.

“Get a lock and a chain!” You ordered Dustin, leaning to his side to position yourself in between the two doors.

He ran back to the shed to get what you needed, hastily wrapping the handles together when he reached you.

When you were sure that the demogorgon wouldn’t be able to escape, you looked at your brother sternly. “What the hell was that?!”

“I just saved our lives, in case you missed it!” He screamed.

“Yeah? What if that thing was stronger than you and ate us both?”

“Well, it didn’t!”

You groaned. “Where did that come from anyway?”

“Nothing.” He gulped, remembering that you had no knowledge of the upside down. “I’m gonna go to the Wheelers.”

“Absolutely not.” You stopped him, glaring threateningly. “I knew there was something going on with you since Will went missing. And now I just witnessed a fucking alien in our house. So either you explain to me what’s going on, or I’ll call mom this instant so you’ll be grounded for life.”

Dustin sighed. “Fine. But I need you to drive me to Mike’s first. I’ll tell you everything on the way.”

And so he did. Your brother filled you in with everything; the gate in the Hawkins lab, the upside down, Eleven, demogorgons. You didn’t even think about doubting him anymore, not after what you’ve just seen.

When you reached the Wheeler residence, the two of you stepped out of the car, both sweaty and stressed. It didn’t help that Mike and Nancy were not in their house either, and Dustin couldn’t help but mumble curses under his breath while walking back towards your car.

Another car pulled up at the back of yours, revealing a distressed Steve Harrington holding a bouquet of roses in his hand. You were familiar with the boy, having seen him numerous times because you two were both seniors in high school, but that was it.

You ignored him, not surprised why he stopped over because you knew he and Nancy are dating. But your brother had other plans.

“Steve.” He called out, stopping Steve in his tracks as he looked at you and Dustin. “Are those for Mr. or Mrs. Wheeler?”

Steve questioningly looked at the flowers. “No.”

“Good.” He pulled the bouquet out of Steve’s hand and started walking in the direction of his car.

“Dustin! Where are you going?” You called out after him.

“Hey! What the hell? Hey!” Steve ran too.

“Nancy isn’t home.” Dustin turned around to face Steve before looking at you. “Steve can help us.”

“Help you with what?” Steve asked.

“We have bigger problems than your love life.” Your brother opened one door in the backseat of Steve’s car. “You still have that bat? The one with the nails?”

“Why?”

“I’ll explain later. I just need you to drive.” He sat inside. “Now!”

Steve scrambled after Dustin, a confused expression on his face but he didn’t protest. You were left standing, not knowing if you should follow them while hesitating to leave your car in the Wheeler’s driveway.

“Y/n! Get your ass in here!” Dustin yelled.

You inhaled sharply, feeling nervous, confused, and annoyed all at the same time but you obliged.

On the way back to your house, you and Steve took turns to question Dustin. It surprised you how much you agree with the boy, nodding whenever he would make a scolding statement at your brother.

The events only worsened when you reached the basement and found that the demogorgon escaped, digging through the wall and dirt.

Following Dustin’s plan, you three walked to the junkyard, joining groups with Max and Lucas. The boys were stunned when they realized how quickly the new girl warmed up to you, immediately attaching herself by your side after ten minutes of knowing her. It was probably because you were the only other female there beside her, you thought.

The rest of the night was chaotic. You and Steve took turns in protecting the three children, grabbing them out of the way whenever one of the adolescent demogorgons would attack. Your group had to gather with the rest at the Hawkins laboratory when the creatures ran away.

And now you found yourself at the Byers’ home, following Mike around as he points at Will’s drawings.

“Here, right here. This is like a hub.” He said, kneeling on top of the paper sheets. “So you got all the tunnels feeding in here. Maybe if we set this on fire–”

“Oh, yeah? That’s a no!” Steve said.

“The mind flayer would call away his army.” Dustin continued for Mike.

“They’d all come to stop us!” Lucas added.

“We circle back to the exit. By the time they realize we’re gone–”

��El would be at the gate.” Max finished.

“Hey! Hey! Hey! This is not happening.” Steve clapped his hands to gain their attention. He saw Mike open his mouth and quickly spoke before him. “No buts! I promised I’d keep you shitheads safe, and that’s exactly what I plan on doing. We’re staying here, on the bench, and we’re waiting for the starting team to do their job. Does everybody understand that?”

“You’re not the only one in charge of us.” Max pointed out, looking at you.

“Don’t ask me anymore. I’m with Steve.” You shrugged. You saw Steve smile smugly while Dustin threw a glare at you.

The sound of a car engine interrupted your conversation. Max was the first to run towards the window, a look of shock and fear on her face when she recognized the mobile.

“It’s my brother.” She whispered. “He can’t know I’m here. He’ll kill me. He’ll kill us.”

“Cover the windows. Now!” You instructed, and the kids pulled down all the blinds. Steve walked to the front door before you stopped him. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll make him turn around.” He said simply.

“I don’t know how you’re planning to do that, but I don’t think your charm will work on him.” You said. You didn’t know a lot about Billy Hargrove, but you’ve heard enough to know that he’s more on the violent side.

“Okay, ouch. But I have to try. Just keep them hidden.” He instructed, pointing at Dustin and his friends who were watching anxiously from the window.

You groaned, standing by the door so you could faintly hear their voices from outside. You were confused about what was taking them so long until you heard the children gasp, throwing themselves aggressively back on the couch while mumbling curses.

“What happened?” You asked them, shocked when you were thrown aside from the impact of the door opening.

You winced when your back hit the wooden drawer behind you. You didn’t have time to register until you were face to face with Billy, blocking his path while your younger friends hurried behind you.

“Stay the fuck away.” You gritted, still feeling the pain in your lower back.

Billy met your eyes, angered but smirking when he saw you. “Ah, Y/n Henderson, right? I didn’t expect such a bad mouth from a girl like you.”

“You’ll get more than a curse word if you don’t leave.” You threatened him.

“What are you gonna do? Punch me?” He taunted, stepping forward.

You laughed, which seemed to catch him off guard, before raising your right fist and aiming at his nose. You were surprised by your own actions. If your mother knew you punched someone, she would be in hysterics. But you didn’t care, you were too tired and angry by everything that has happened, and seeing Billy Hargrove’s face just marked your boiling point.

He stumbled back, stunned but furious when he felt blood dripping from his nose. He lunged at you, reaching for your waist so he could throw you down. “You little bitc–”

You stepped away swiftly, leaving him to grab air while you reached for the iron stick beside the couch. You slammed it against his back, hurting him slightly but he was able to grasp your ankle, making you lose balance as you fell directly on your back.

You groaned at the impact, your back, and head both in pain. Billy stepped over you, breathing heavily. “Never come in my way again, Henderson. Or I won’t hesitate to kill you in front of your brother.”

He turned his attention to Lucas, the poor boy was frightened but he couldn’t do anything when Billy picked him up.

Dustin ran to you. There was a mixture of amazement and concern on his face. “Can you get up?”

“Yeah, just give me a moment.” You croaked.

Steve entered the house, a few scratches on his face but still rushing over you when he saw you laying on the floor. “What happened?”

He guided you to sit up slowly, but you pushed him away. “Don’t worry about me. Billy has Lucas.”

Your words alerted him as he walked to the kitchen, prying Billy off of Lucas. Unfortunately, Billy was stronger. In a matter of seconds, Steve replaced your body on the ground of the living room, the other boy hovering above him as he threw continuous punches.

You didn’t know what to do as you watched with the kids, your arms spread horizontally to shield them away from the fight. You looked around for any weapons that could knock out Billy until your eyes landed on a syringe on top of the drawers.

Max followed your eyesight, grasping your thoughts. She reached out before you could move, plunging the needle at her brother’s neck without hesitation.

Billy fell back, rapidly losing his consciousness but Max threatened him first before he could close his eyes. She grabbed his car keys, throwing them towards you.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“Woah, hold on.” You said, making them all look at you. “Where are you planning to go?”

“The hive,” Mike answered.

“Didn’t we have this conversation earlier? You are not going. And we can’t leave Steve here!” You panicked.

“Then we’ll take him with us,” Max said.

You were about to disagree when Dustin stepped in front of you, looking as serious as ever. “Look, Y/n, either we stay here and do nothing, or we could go out there and help our friends.”

“No–”

“Please. Distracting them is the least we could do.” Dustin insisted.

You groaned, looking at Steve’s knocked-out body. “Fine. But no one goes anywhere without me. Got it?”

You waited for all of them to nod before starting Billy’s car, coming back inside the house to help Mike and Dustin lift Steve’s body to the backseat. Lucas and Max picked up everything they needed in the process, including some lighters and gasoline.

Mike and Dustin were huddled in the middle, keeping Steve’s body steady while Lucas took charge of the equipment at the back. Max was seated beside you as you drove, her eyes focused on the road signs and map.

It wasn’t long before Steve woke up, panicking when he found himself in a moving car. The rest of you tried to comfort him in an attempt to maintain the silence before he opened his eyes.

A few minutes passed and you reached the field, dressing with masks and glasses to avoid inhaling the air from the upside down. You and Steve went down to the tunnels first, making sure that there is no creature waiting to devour any of you.

You stayed in front of your group while Steve positioned at the back, shielding the kids effectively until they lit the hive on fire, all of you running back to where you came from after hearing the demogorgons.

You were all panting from fear and exhaustion when you returned to Billy’s car. Steve let you drive again back to the Byers’ house, admitting that he couldn’t see properly from all his injuries.

By the time you reached the house, Billy was sitting silently in the living room after he regained consciousness, but still groggy enough to feel any anger. It was an advantage on your side when Hopper and Eleven arrived almost at the same time as you, and the chief was successful in scaring Billy away.

The boy glared at you and Steve before going back to his car, Max following him. You were hesitant to let her go with him, but she assured you that Billy will never lay a hand on her as long as they live in the same house with her mother.

Joyce offered to make a quick dinner for everyone before parting ways, briefly panicking when she saw the dead demogorgon in her fridge that Steve and Dustin placed earlier. You settled for a sandwich, thanking her quietly before stepping out to the porch to sit on the bench.

Your mind was still processing everything that had happened in a span of four hours, feeling every sort of emotion while simultaneously thinking of an excuse for you and your brother when you returned home.

You could hear their voices inside the house, your brother’s laugh standing out from the others. The sound of the creaking door made you look up and you made eye contact with Steve, the boy sitting beside you with a can of soda in his hand.

“You look like shit.” You tried to hide your concern as you took in his face.

“I feel like shit.” He shrugged.

“Hargrove did a number on you, didn’t he?” You asked. “How will you explain that to your parents?”

It was a simple question for you but Steve stiffened, covering the tension in his voice with a chuckle. “It’s a good thing my parents aren’t home all the time, then.”

You didn’t reply, taking a bite of your sandwich instead. You weren’t oblivious to reading people’s emotions, and you knew that there is much more to Steve’s statement.

“Is your hand okay?” He pointed at your right knuckles. “Your brother wouldn’t stop talking about how you punched Hargrove.”

You smiled to yourself at the mention of your brother before tilting your hand to inspect it. There was nothing major aside from the reddening area of your joints. “It’s all good. My back hurts like hell, though.”

“Can you imagine his face when we see him back in school next week?” He spoke, eyes widened slightly at the thought of seeing Billy eye to eye again.

“He can’t really hurt us in school, can he? Unless he wants to be kicked out.” You shrugged.

“You know, aside from the part where I got beaten up, I had fun.”

You snorted at his words. “Fighting monsters was fun?”

“Yeah. And, I got to talk to you. You’re pretty cool.” Steve looked at you playfully.

“Pretty cool? Come on, Harrington. I’m more than that.” You said with confidence.

“Okay, you were amazing.” Steve rolled his eyes at your pleased smile. “I wish I could’ve seen you punch Billy.”

“Hey, as satisfying as that feels, I don’t fancy doing it again.”

“Alright, let’s make a deal.” He turned his body to fully face you, reaching his hand out. “No more fighting Billy Hargrove.”

You looked at his hand with a smirk before shaking it. “No more fighting Billy Hargrove.”

====================

You and Steve stuck together since that night, and you even applied to the same colleges. Sometimes you still wonder how that single experience from six months ago suddenly shifted the way you looked at him. From the asshole popular student who always finds himself in trouble, to this softhearted older brother material to children.

You were also introduced to Eleven, who warmed up to you as quickly as Max did, and would always invite you over to their cabin. It was fascinating to witness her powers, and you were always left in awe whenever she would use them.

Billy Hargrove didn’t leave you either. He couldn’t do something physically harmful, but that didn’t stop him from throwing unpleasant statements at you and Steve. Although, it seems like he chose a different victim for today.

After your classes, you made your way to the parking lot where Steve promised to pick you up. It was another advantage of your friendship with him, free rides for you and Dustin whenever you wanted.

From the distance, you stopped walking when you spotted him leaning against his car, talking with Nancy Wheeler. You felt something tug in your chest but you quickly pushed it away, pretending to be unbothered at the sight.

But you weren’t unbothered. You remember the day you fought those creatures, how you and Dustin found him walking towards the Wheelers’ house with flowers in his hand. You are not an idiot to not realize who it was for. And from what you and Steve have talked about, they didn’t have any closure.

It would be untrue if you say that you didn’t have feelings for Steve. Even El told you that she noticed how your smile is always brighter whenever you’re with him. It was hard not to admire the boy, especially whenever you would see him bond with your brother.

Though, naturally, your mouth remained shut. You convinced yourself that this crush will pass, but it’s been months and you find it harder to hide.

You waited for Nancy to leave, waving her hand at Steve before joining Jonathan in his car. Your friend watched her with a smile when she walked away, only turning around when he heard your voice.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” He smiled at you.

“I’ll just pick up Dustin.” You said, starting to walk to the next building where Hawkins Middle School is located.

Steve jogged up next to you. “I’ll go with you.”

You chuckled, nodding as the two of you made your way to your brother. But the sight that you caught made your blood boil.

Dustin would always wait for you and Steve at the drop-off area, but he wasn’t alone at the moment. Towering over him was Billy Hargrove, smirking as he looked down at your angry brother.

As you come nearer to the two of them, the more you can hear Billy’s insults.

“You little shit. You think I’ll let you talk back to me?” He hissed at Dustin. “You’re nothing but a piece of dirt, you hear me?”

When Dustin didn’t reply, he became angrier.

“I said, do you fucking hear m–!”

“We heard you, asshole.” You cut him off as you and Steve stood in front to protect Dustin.

“Ah, look who it is.” Billy grinned wider. “Harrington and Henderson. Nice to see you again.”

“You know what’s nicer?” You smirked. “Seeing blood running down your nose after a girl punched you.”

Your words made him drop his smile, breathing heavily as he tried to contain his anger. Steve senses the change in his emotions and pulls you backward.

“Fucking bitch. You’re just like your brother. Useless and patheti–”

You lunged at him, morals are damned. But Steve held your waist before you could throw a punch at Billy. He whispered your name repeatedly, attempting to calm you down and remind you of the deal you made months earlier.

“Let’s go. He isn’t worth our time.” Steve said aloud, holding your hand and wrapping an arm around Dustin’s shoulder.

You jeered at Billy’s face, not letting go of Steve or you might end up bruising his face again.

“If there’s anyone that’s pathetic here, it’s you. No wonder why even your own sister can’t stand you.”

Your words tore through him, replacing his anger with despair. If you didn’t know who he was, you would feel sorry for how he looked like he was about to cry. But your words were nowhere near all the insults he gave you and your brother since that night.

You walked away without regret, feeling nothing but resentment when you saw Dustin with his head down. Steve glanced warningly at Billy too, trying to remain calm for your sake.

The drive back to your house was silent. You and Dustin were leaning against the car doors, distracting yourselves with the sensation of the wind flowing through your hair. Steve would occasionally glance between you two, waiting for you to speak first.

Your mother welcomed you by the door, oblivious to your gloomy mood.

“Hi, sweetie.” She greeted Steve who walked you and Dustin. “You want to stay for dinner?”

“Oh, uh, sure Mrs. Henderson.” Steve smiled.

It wasn’t the first time your mom invited him over, knowing that Steve usually spends his time alone without his parents. She appreciates him, seeing the positive impact of his presence in your and Dustin’s lives.

Dustin made his way to his room, mumbling something about homework before slamming his door shut. You sighed at your brother, planning to talk to him alone later.

You and Steve went to your room and did schoolwork for an hour, only leaving the room when your mom called for your assistance in preparing the plates. Dustin was silent the entire time, looking down at his food as he avoided any conversation.

You volunteered to wash the dishes with Steve’s help. Your mother excused herself early, entering her bedroom with Mews. You noticed that Dustin was about to do the same and you called for him, stopping at his door before he could close it.

“Hey, Dusty.” You smiled softly. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.” He lied.

It was unusual for your brother to go beyond hours without making any playful remarks or swearing. “I don’t know what Hargrove told you, and I won’t push you to tell me if you’re not comfortable. But I want you to know that none of them are true, alright?”

He looked down, not saying anything. You crouched a little and placed your hands on his shoulder.

“I mean that. You’re the smartest and bravest person I know. You even battled with demogorgons! Hargrove got nothing on you.”

You were surprised when Dustin reached forward and hugged you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You two barely hug, but you knew he needed one at the moment.

“Thanks, Y/n.” He whispered, letting you pull away first before softly closing his door.

You exhaled, dragging your feet as you walked back to the kitchen.

“How is he?” Steve whispered to you, wiping the plates that you had washed earlier.

You leaned your back against the counter. “I don’t know. I still don’t know what that scumbag told him.”

“You almost lost control back there.” He stated, standing beside you.

“I just… I didn’t mind it whenever he would push my limits. But I just got so mad when I heard what he said to Dustin.”

Steve let you speak, doing nothing but listening and nodding.

“You’re a good sister.” He whispered after a while.

“He’s a good brother, honestly.” You shrugged. “He treats you like his brother too, you know.”

Steve’s head snapped to look at you, a hopeful look on his face. “Yeah?”

You nodded, chuckling. “Yeah. You have no idea how much he talks about you.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile. If he was being honest, he also treats Dustin Henderson as a brother. He was somehow grateful that he got involved with all these upside down phenomena because he got to meet the kid.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

“For what?”

“For being in Dustin’s life.” You met his eyes. “We didn’t really grow up with a father. He would only rely on my mom and me, sometimes on his friends too when he has a problem. And then you came, and he became twice as happy.”

Your words warmed Steve’s heart, trying his best not to show his reddening cheeks. He averted his eyes around the kitchen until it fell on an envelope near the fridge. Even from afar, he recognized the university seal.

“Is that…?”

Confused, you looked at where he was looking, realization filling your mind. “Oh, that? Yep. I got in.”

Your flat tone made Steve turn to you with furrowed brows. “You don’t sound excited.”

You sighed heavily before confessing. “I’m thinking of taking a year off.”

“Seriously?” His eyes were wide.

You nodded. “Yeah. I talked with my mom already, and I told her that I want to save up first. Get a job or something so I can help her. She was fine, thankfully.”

“What job will you take then?” Steve sounds genuinely interested.

“I don’t know. But I saw an opening at the library. They needed two assistants.” You grinned. “What about you? Heard from any university yet?”

Steve’s smile fell. “I got two results yesterday, and I didn’t get in. I’m still waiting for one more. I’m screwed if that fails too.”

“Oh, Steve.” You lean closer to him until your arms are touching.

Steve looked down at you, taking the chance to admire you without you knowing. He would be lying as well if he denies that most of his thoughts weren’t preoccupied with you.

He tried to persuade himself that what he feels for you is platonic, strictly brought by the fact that he experienced his first real friendship with you. But as he looks at you, knowing that despite your sarcastic and carefree attitude, you were a kind, generous, and loving person.

He looked away when you raised your eyes.

“I saw you with Nancy earlier.” Your tone was playful, trying to make it sound like you were teasing him and not as if you were trying to snoop on what they talked about.

Steve scrunched his nose, chuckling slightly. “It was nothing.”

“Nothing? Nothing how?”

“She just asked for permission if they could use the swim team for this year’s school paper.” He explained.

You let out a small sound of understanding. “Steve?”

“Hm?”

“Do you… still love Nancy?” You decided to ask him before you could take it back.

Steve raised his brows when he looked at you.

“I’m sorry if that’s weird.” You said quietly.

“No, it’s not.” He chuckled. “I’ll always love her, but I’m not in love with her.”

You shot him a confused look, signaling him to elaborate.

“I guess I always knew that we weren’t as perfect as we seem and that she always loved Jonathan instead of me. Which is why I didn’t really ask for a closure anymore, ‘cause we both knew it was failing but we were too scared to be alone.”

“Damn, that’s deep.” You whispered which made him laugh.

Steve stared at your eyes. “But I did find a girl.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. I’m torn, though. I convinced myself that I like her, but I think I already fell in love.” He said softly, not disconnecting his eyes from yours.

You ignored the feeling of envy that was currently brewing in your chest as you took in his words, faking an interesting look to let him continue.

“I feel like an idiot for not talking to her sooner because she’s the smartest and most loving person that I know. I’ve never experienced so much laughter and sarcasm until I met her. And I knew that I fell when I realized how she made me the happiest person this past few months.”

“This past few months?” You repeated his words, mind failing to grasp what he was trying to say. You tried to think about all the girls he became friends with recently, but there was none other than you.

Steve grinned at your confused face, finding it adorable. He didn’t know if the words he was about to say would ruin your friendship, but he didn’t care. He needed you to know. “She has a brother too, which is great because he’s funny and smart like she is. And surprisingly, we make a good team as babysitters.”

Your mouth opened slightly when the puzzles connected. You blinked slowly, not knowing how to react.

Steve, who was anxiously waiting for your response, asked. “What do you think?”

“A-about what?” You stuttered, a smile forming on your face.

“About the girl.”

“She sounds nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“What about the guy?” He asked nervously.

“I think he has nothing to worry about.” You shrugged, grinning. “Because she fell for him too.”

You saw his eyes brighten, a huge smile covering his face at your reply. “She did?”

You nodded, laughing softly when he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you closer.

“You’re not playing with me, aren’t you?”

You faked a gasp of hurt. “I would never do such a thing.”

He lowered his head to yours, one hand raising to move your stray hair away from your face. “Do you think he can kiss her?”

You chuckled again, gazing at his lips. “Absolutely. He’d be an idiot not to.”

And he did. He closed the gap between your faces as gently as possible. Neither of the two of you moved, allowing you to memorize the sensation first. You can feel him smiling against the kiss. He held you tighter as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You remained like that for a few moments before you heard Dustin shout.

“What the fuck? My eyes, my eyes!”

You gasped as you pushed yourself away from Steve, turning around to see Dustin covering his eyes aggressively.

You rolled your eyes at your dramatic brother while Steve held his laugh behind you. “You can open them now.”

Dustin hesitantly lowered his hand, breathing heavily as if he had just run for miles. “What did I just see?”

“What are you doing here?” You ignored his question.

“I came here for a glass of milk!” He exclaimed before you shushed him, saying that your mother has gone to bed. “Are you two dating?”

You raised your brows at his stern voice. “No.”

“Not yet.” Steve corrected you, sending you a flirty smile.

Dustin groaned, glaring at Steve for almost a whole minute before he sighed. “Look, I’m not going to pretend like I didn’t know you like my sister, and I’d rather have you date her than anyone else. But please, never ever kiss in front of me, got it?”

Steve nodded obediently, but Dustin had another threat.

“And don’t you ever hurt her, Harrington. Or I would have El open another portal and bring you to the upside down.”

[yuujispinkhair]

Summer Paradise with Yuu (Chapter 1)

I swear you put the sun up in my sky, so hot it's like the middle of July

When you agreed to join your friends on a spontaneous summer vacation, you didn't expect to a) get pulled out of the ocean by some random guy who thinks you are drowning and b) that this guy is hotter than the summer sun.

Pairing: Yuuji x Reader (female) Genre: fluff, smut, Lifeguard AU but not really lol Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: 18+, smut in later chapters, falling into the ocean. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

This will be a short summer series because Yuuji is my sexy summer boy, and I am obsessed with the idea of summer vacation with him! I'm trying to keep the chapters short!

Masterpost Chapter 1: I swear you put the sun up in my sky, so hot it's like the middle of July Chapter 2: All your kisses taste like Malibu Chapter 3: Touch me like a summer night, you feel like a holiday Chapter 4: Back to Summer Paradise with you

Chapter 1

Summer vacation with your two best friends on a beautiful island with a beach right out of a fantasy. It sounds like paradise. And so far, it has been that! But right now, the summer paradise is about to turn into summer hell because you are about to make a huge fool of yourself.

You squeal loudly as your Flip Flop catches on an uneven plank of the idyllic wooden pier you are currently strolling across, making you stumble and lose your balance. You reach out for something to steady you, but your fingertips only manage to graze your friend's elbow before your fate is sealed, and you tumble very ungracefully off the pier, right into the ocean.

Of course, something embarrassing like this has to happen to you! 

Above anything else, you are angry at yourself. Who the fuck falls off a pier? And now everyone is pointing at you and probably laughing.

Your pretty sundress is soaked with salt water, and your brand new Flip Flops are lost somewhere in the ocean. Luckily your friend is holding your bag, so at least your phone and money didn't fall into the water.

It's only a little comfort, though, because the embarrassment is too big. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you are filled with shame as you cough and spit out the water you swallowed.

Fear of drowning is the last thing on your mind. Because after all, you can swim and the ocean is calm and warm. The shore isn't far away either. But you feel nauseous at the thought of having to swim all the way there while all eyes are on you.

Oh god, there will probably be funny videos of you all over social media! You hate it! You want to hide away forever.

Just as you start your swim of shame towards the beach, you are startled by a loud splash behind you. And then something wraps around you and pulls you against a solid object.

Another squeal escapes your lips, this time a scared one. What is going on?

You struggle against the tight grip, trying panicky to get away from the thing. Are there any big fish here? Is something trying to pull you underwater?

"Shhh, it's ok! It's ok! I got you! Please stop struggling! You aren't drowning! I got you!"

What the fuck??

You blink rapidly, looking down, and suddenly you realize that the things wrapped around your body are arms. Strong arms! You can't see who they belong to, but they are muscular and hold you in an iron grip.

Oh no! Did you cause a lifeguard rescue mission? This is the last thing you want! Now there will be an even bigger commotion.

"Hey! Stop! I don't need help! I'm not drowning! I am fine!"

"It's ok! You are safe with me! I will bring you to the beach! I got you!"

Either he didn't hear you, or he doesn't believe you. You try to shake him off again but to no avail. The mysterious stranger is strong! And he is on a mission to "save" you. Before you can argue more, he has already started swimming towards the beach, dragging you along with him, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist.

You want the ocean to swallow you whole and never let you go again. On the hitlist of your most mortifying moments, this is probably in first place.

You lift your face to look up at the pier but regret it instantly. A little crowd has gathered by now, watching the "rescue mission". Some have their phones out and are recording it.

It feels like forever until you reach the sandy beach and the water gets shallow enough for you to stand. You try to put one foot in front of the other, but your savior is having none of it.

"Stop! You are too weak for that! I'll bring you to safety. Don't worry, please. I'll help you! Everything's gonna be ok, sweetie."

By now, you have resigned to your fate. It can't get any more embarrassing, right? And so you don't even put up a fight when your mysterious Baywatch guy lifts you up into his beefy arms and carries you bridal style towards the beach.

People are cheering and clapping upon seeing the hero carrying the poor damsel in distress, while you groan and hide your face in your hands.

Why is this happening to me?

You still have no idea who that guy is who pulled you out of the water. But now he has reached the shore and carefully lays you down on the warm sand.

The first thing you see is pink hair. It's plastered to a tan forehead which belongs to a handsome face with pretty honey-colored eyes that watch you worriedly.

Water droplets are dripping down the short pink hair and get caught in long black lashes before they fall down further and land on strong muscular thighs, which are kneeling next to your head.

You gulp hard.

Your personal Baywatch guy is hot! And fucking ripped! No wonder you stood no chance when you tried shaking him off. His bare torso is adorned with buff muscles, toned biceps, and big pecs. He looks so strong. All muscles and smooth tan skin.

You watch dazedly as small water rivulets run down his defined abs before they disappear in the elastic band of his red swim trunks.

His voice sounds worried when he addresses you while his big honey eyes scan you for any injuries.

"Are you ok? Do you hurt anywhere? Did you swallow a lot of water?"

You are too stunned to answer. Your mind is still trying to catch up with the whole situation. Falling into the ocean, embarrassing yourself, and getting pulled out of the water by this hot guy.

You want to tell him you are ok. You really do! But those muscles and the damn water droplets glistening on his skin are too distracting!

But your savior seems to take your stunned silence as an indication that you aren't ok at all. His pretty eyes widen in panic.

"Shit! Oh my god, I think you swallowed too much water! Fuck, fuck fuck! I have no idea how this works! But I won't let you die! Come here!"

Your mind is working too slowly. You just stare at your "savior" in confusion, trying to make sense of what is happening. What does he mean he has no idea what to do? You thought he was a lifeguard! Or isn't he? Did a random stranger jump into the water to rescue you?

And before you can do anything, your mysterious savior leans down. His large shadow falls over you, and the next thing you know, two strong hands are cupping your cheeks.

And then a warm mouth gets pressed onto yours.

Your eyes widen. What the fuck? You don't understand what is happening. Why would that guy kiss you so out of the blue?! Is he insane? Is he some pervert?

Your hands come up instinctively to push against his broad chest. But he doesn't even seem to notice and instead keeps fumbling around on your face with his hands while his mouth moves over yours.

You feel his hot breath on your lips. And that is when it dawns on you. This doesn't feel like a kiss... He is trying to blow air into your mouth!

Oh.

He is trying to give you CPR!

If your mouth wasn't covered, you'd burst into hysterical laughter. The whole situation is so fucking awkward. Your eyes are wide open, and you can see the legs of the crowd surrounding you and your mysterious lifeguard.

And just when you think things can't get any worse, you feel your savior's lips leave yours, and his fingers wander over your face and up to your nose. Apparently remembering that he should pinch your nose, but before he can do that, you react and do the only thing that comes to your mind: You turn your head and bite his finger.

"AAARGH!!"

Your savior is sitting back on his heels, shaking his hands and looking with big eyes at the finger you bit.

Finally, you find your voice, and it comes out as an enraged cry:

"Stop it already!! I wasn't drowning! I am fine! I told you I am ok!"

"What?"

Honey eyes meet yours, and Mr. wannabe lifeguard blinks at you in confusion.

You sigh and try again, calmer this time. After all, you know you shouldn't be angry at him. The only one to blame for this awkward mess is you and your inability to walk down a pier without tripping!

"I am fine. I wasn't in trouble. And I didn't swallow any water. I am just super embarrassed about the whole commotion this caused, and I would very much like to just disappear."

"Oh? So.. um... you weren't drowning?"

You shake your head,

"No, I wasn't."

"But I thought...oh crap! I am sorry!!"

Your personal lifeguard scratches his pink hair, blushing and making a sheepish expression. He looks really cute, if you are honest.

Suddenly you feel bad about snapping at him. He is a good guy! He literally jumped into the water to save your life. How was he supposed to know you didn't need help?

And so you force yourself to smile weakly at him.

"No, don't be sorry, please. It's nice that you wanted to help. Thank y..."

But you can't finish your sentence because at that moment, a girl appears behind your mysterious savior and grabs his shoulder.

"Itadori! What the fuck are you doing? Just because you're wearing red swimming trunks doesn't mean this is Baywatch or something! You're embarrassing all of us! Leave the poor girl alone!"

You blink up at your still blushing hero and a girl with ginger hair and indignant brown eyes, who is leaning over your savior's shoulder to gaze curiously down at you.

"Hey, are you ok? I apologize for this idiot! He is a bit dumb but means well."

The only thing you manage to do is nod as you watch in stunned silence as the rather petite girl pulls the wannabe lifeguard called Itadori to his feet. He towers over her, tall and muscular, but the girl is unrelentingly tugging on his arm and cussing at him while his honey gaze meets yours again, and he smiles apologetically.

"I'm so sorry for this mess!"

"Shut up! You're just making it worse! Now get back with us!"

Your gaze wanders from him to the girl and back again, but before you can say anything, the girl already drags Itadori along. He holds up a hand in an awkward little wave, grinning sheepishly at you,

"Sorry again! Enjoy your stay at the beach!"

You weakly lift a hand as you watch him stumble after the girl and hear them both bickering.

"Oi Kugusaki let go of me! I was just trying to help!"

"You are so fucking dumb! Can't take you anywhere!!"

You sit up slowly, staring dumbfounded after the pair. Your drenched sundress clings uncomfortably to your body, and you are sure you look absolutely horrible. But your gaze is still glued to the muscular figure of your savior, and you catch yourself thinking that his smile was really pretty. As bright as the sun somehow.

Luckily the crowd around you gradually dissolves, saving you from further embarrassment. But you still sigh miserably as you think about having to walk all the way back to the pier and search for your friends.

That's when you see two familiar figures run towards you. Apparently, your friends already found you. They are both out of breath, panting heavily as they bombard you with worried questions.

"(Y/n), are you ok? How did this happen? Is everything fine again?"

"What was that guy doing? Who is he? Are you ok?"

You blink up at them, and suddenly the whole story seems so stupid that you can't help but snort with laughter. You take your friends' offered hands and let them pull you to your feet, where you try to smooth down your ruined dress and finally manage to get out:

"Yeah, I'm ok. As ok as I can be after tripping and falling into the ocean in front of everyone and getting pulled out of the water by a stranger who decided to play lifeguard because he thought I was drowning! And everyone was watching and filming it! I have never been so embarrassed in my whole life! I will never be able to show my face again on this beach! But yes, physically, I am fine!"

More laughter erupts from your mouth as you gesture down the beach towards where Itadori is walking.

Your friends both turn to stare after your "savior," who is still getting dragged along by the ginger-haired girl, bright red swimming trunks and pastel pink hair clearly visible across the sandy beach.

There are two types of people in this world, and so when your friends both start talking at the same time, one of them says compassionately:

"Well, that's super embarrassing. I'm sorry this happened to you!"

While the other one whistles lowly under her breath and announces in an amused tone:

"Ooooh, Mr. "I jump into the ocean to save random girls" has a cute ass and a nice broad back! You are so lucky!"

Itadori chooses that moment to look over his shoulder back at where you are standing. When he sees you looking at him, he lifts a tan hand to wave at you and smile that bright sunshine smile once again. Even from a distance, he looks dazzling. And the movement of his arm makes his toned biceps flex beautifully.

He might not be a real lifeguard, but he sure as hell has the body of one of those Baywatch guys you saw on tv.

Your friends grab your arms at the same time and dig their nails into them. The one who was already gushing over Itadori adds in an excited whisper:

"Damn! And his face is really nice too! And those arms! He is fine as fuck! He could pull me out of the water every day!"

You don't know why you do it, but before you can stop yourself, you mutter:

"He gave me mouth to mouth."

There's a stunned silence for a moment, and then both of your friends turn to you simultaneously and scream.

"Oh my god, he did what? He kissed you?! Hot Baywatch guy kissed you? This is the stuff romantic movies are made of! You are living the dream, girl!"

"We must find him again so you can go on a date with him! Oh my god, this is so exciting! He's gonna be your summer romance!"

You hide your face in your hands. Ok, maybe there is only one type of person among your friends, and it's the crazy type!

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this little summer romance with sunshine boy and wannabe lifeguard Yuuji ;) I am losing my mind about him A LOT!! And I hope you find him sexy too! If I wanted someone to pull me out of the ocean, Yuuji would be my first choice.

Please let me know what you think about "lifeguard" Yuuji! Comments and reblogs make me happy!

Chapter 2

[iiraven]

Odyssey

Pairing: Poseidon!Armin x Reader

Genre: romance, smut

Warnings: slow-burn, minor character death, manipulation, stalking, possessiveness, Yandere behaviour, puppy play, piss play, body worship, throne sex, implied age-gap, oral(male receiving), hair pulling, collaring (without consent)

Word count: 9.8K

Synopsis: Armin’s quest for revenge leads him to you, daughter of a merchant and object of his infatuation.

Author’s note: thank you @bubbleteaimagines​ for hosting this collab and allowing me to join <3 Also, thank you @onyxoverride​ for teaching me how to write about pee!

Attack on Titan Masterlist

Present day:

If the river could speak, you wonder what it would say.

In the silence that surrounds the rushing of the water, you’re sure you would hear it. Sometimes, you’re sure you can hear it, but then you remember the dangers of trusting unfamiliar voices. Especially unfamiliar voices in a place like this.

No one goes near the river Shiganshina. And you forget the reasons why much too often.

It’s rocky, slippery, there’s no path to walk on, and the nymphs grow sharp teeth when men approach them, hissing and eyes glowing red. But that’s what makes it perfect for you.

Sasha first mentioned the river months ago, recalling the places on the island that her and her father avoided whenever they went hunting. You hadn’t paid much attention to it until days later, when Connie recounted with round eyes how Floch’s body was found beside the river Shiganshina, mouth full of water and eyes gouged out. You knew you needed to go there yourself.

A pearl necklace is what you stole. And under the guise of going to wash clothes at the well, you made your way south of your small island with only Sasha’s vague instructions and your intuition guiding you.

You could hear the ocean as you walked through the untouched woods, your heart hammering in your chest every time the waves crashed against the island’s cliffs. You weren’t allowed to see the ocean- you weren’t allowed to be around any large body of water, for that matter- but you still knew your island well enough to know that a step in the wrong place could lead you tumbling down the cliff.

You would die before you got to feel the water on your skin and that, you thought, would be the most tragic part.

As your feet began to sink into the muddy ground, you could smell the salty water, and a slight metallic scent behind it that only drew you in closer until you reached a clearing. It was small, crowded with foliage with only a few dead plants on the ground where you could only assume people had attempted to step foot.

And there was the river. It was small, its water emerging from underground before the tide pushed it to the edge of the island- to a waterfall. So loud that it could drown out any noise, any screams. You shivered. For a moment, you just stood back and watched. The water was was green, but so clear that you could still see the fish swimming beside the floating objects. Coins, silver, small statues, and whatever else hopefuls had tried to offer. You pulled out your own offering and whispered a short prayer before throwing the necklace in.

It could have been your imagination, but the water calmed. It was quieter. And, like that, you felt as if the river had opened up its arms to you. Strong arms that you have to be cautious not to spend too long within lest you get trapped.

Thankfully, you’ve learned to read the signs. You know when the river wants you to leave, when it wants you to keep your distance, when it wants to keep you close, and even when it wants you to bathe. Those are the special moments. It’s rare the river is calm enough for you to dip your naked body into, but surrounded by the cool water, you feel like you could stay their forever.

If the river could speak now, however, you’re sure it would tell you to fuck off.

Either that or it would tell you to come back when you have something more to offer its god than a single golden bead from your grandmother’s necklace. Only three are left on the thin string, though you think you might keep the last one to honour her death. After that, you’ll have to go back to offering coins and whatever other trinkets that will keep the god of this river sedated long enough for you to dip your feet into the cool water, maybe take a sip, and then return home before your father realises where you’ve been, much less where you’ve been unchaperoned.

The latter is hardly your fault. Sasha and Connie are too scared to step foot in the Shiganshina forest, let alone the river itself. And you can’t trust anyone else to accompany you, especially the servants whose tongue could slip at the drop of a golden coin. Your father would never forgive you for spending time in the territory of the God of the Ocean or- as he liked to call Armin- the destroyer of seas. And thus, being left alone seems to be the only way.

Well, that’s unless Mr Arlert decides to join you.

The owner of the stable who appeared on the island out of nowhere is the last person anyone would expect to be brave enough to spend time at the river Shiganshina. He mostly keeps to himself, only ever seen tending to his horses or immersed in scrolls of literature and poetry. And yet, he’s here almost as often as you are, almost as vulnerable as you are.

Despite his solitary nature, Mr Arlert has been quick to make himself adored. Mothers swoon over his charm, scholars constantly indulge in his curiosity, and sailors are fascinated by his knowledge of the world and its oceans. He’s no warrior, and already in his late twenties, but he’s still without a doubt one of the most eligible bachelors on Paradis. And, yet, to any marriage proposal sent his way, he declines with a polite “A husband is not what I am fated to become”. Even Annie Leonhardt- whose father Mr Arlert would constantly visit- had her heart broken. But no one blames Mr Arlert, of course, who was there to comfort Annie, to make her realise that she just needs to be a better person, that’s all. It’s not his fault her heart broke, Mr Arlert reassured.

Thinking about it now, you’re amongst the handful of women who haven’t been offered to the tall blond. And with that comes a sigh of relief as you drag your fingers through the water.

It’s not like you dislike him- the opposite, actually- but being with Mr Arlert is like taking the hand of an invisible man in the dark and letting him guide you.

His words constantly have your thoughts spiralling in directions that they shouldn’t be. Thoughts about leaving the island, thoughts about going to the ocean, thoughts about becoming a priestess. Thoughts you aren’t allowed to have.

You fate is bound to the home you were born in, a thick rope tied to your ankle, only letting you go as far as this very river. And Mr Arlert sits beside that rope, a knife in his hand, blue eyes staring into your soul, waiting. You’re not sure what he’s waiting for. But what you’re sure of is that to be taken away from the life you know of is an inconceivable fantasy. The unknown is a dangerous thing, after all.

The small island of Paradis may lie far away from the rest of the world, but their core values remain the same. A woman must grow up to either serve her father or her husband. Your fate has already been decided for you. And, frankly, if it means not having to share a bed with an old man who marries you for your dowry, you’re very happy with taking care of your father until the day that he’ll be put into the ground.

But then there’s always the third option. A woman who serves neither her father nor her husband will serve her god. 

You had never been given that option by your god-hating kin. Simply suggesting a future as priestess would earn you at least five lashes, so why… why can’t you stop thinking about it? Your instincts have you blame Mr Arlert, but you know that your fixation began before he arrived on the island; all he’s done is vocalise your thoughts.

As a gust of wind blows the leaves and the salt from the sea gently caresses your cheek, you wonder who your god would be. Do you resonate with Pieck’s beauty, or Zeke’s creativity? Maybe. But as you look into your reflection, you know that your god is no other than Armin, the god of the ocean. The fates must think this is hilarious, but you just want to scream.

“It’s getting late. I wouldn’t want your father worrying about you.”

You jump at the sudden voice, turning around at the familiar face, leaning against a tree with a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Mr Arlert.”

His footsteps are so gentle, as are his apologies.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve come to invade your space, after all.”

“It’s not my space, it’s Armin’s. The god is only letting me stay here.”

He smiles a knowing smile, one that you would usually find patronising on any other man. But Armin is charming, too charming for you ever to think that of him. “I suppose you’re right.”

He comes to sit down beside you, taking his usual place at your right- the voice of reason. It’s quiet for a moment, before you remember.

“Lemnos,” you say.

The blond smiles. “I’m not named after a place.”

And you roll your eyes, as you’ve done every time he’s given you a useless hint. “That hardly narrows it down.”

“Well, I can’t make it too easy of a game.”

“You can’t make it impossible either!”

“It seems like I already have.” And you’re not sure if you want to wipe the smirk off his face or just stare at it.

“What about Tree?”

Arlert laughs. “No, but you have one guess left.”

“What?!” You sit up straight, eyes wide. Now you really want to wipe the smirk off his face.

“You have seven guesses, and in the eleven months we’ve known each other, you’ve used up six.” His explanation is calm and rational enough for you to almost convince yourself that the rule has been there from the start.

“Wait- wait. I never knew about this!”

“I thought everyone did. It’s traditional wager rules.” Mr Arlert’s tone is sorry, but you know he’s everything but. So, you cross your arms and pout, hoping that staring him down might at least give you the smallest chance of winning your wager.

He leans forward, mirthful and you feel a shiver go down your spine. “What is it, little puppy, sulking because you’re afraid you can’t win?”

You flush at the implication of your loss- “No- no not at all- no”- before registering his actual words are and only then can you feel the heat rise and you’re sure it’s doing you no service. “I know I can win!”

“I know you can too,” he assures you.

You frown. “Are you being sarcastic?”

It’s his turn to flush. “No, not at all! You can win- the water god favours you, after all.”

And although you shrug, his words stick. They always do.

Before you go home, you pass by Armin’s temple and place at the foot of his statue the remainder of your grandmother’s necklace.

A year ago:

Amrin knew how fickle the gods were and he thought that this knowledge made him impervious to those feelings. He watched how Eren jumped from woman to woman daily, how Reiner picked and chose his battles without a care, how every single fixation a deity would have never lasted more than a year. He thought of how stupid it was to spend a life of immortality indulging in such temporary pleasures. And he looked down on his kin for that very reason.

It was only after one argument too many that Armin finally let it slip. The god of the sea was usually quiet, offering soft smiles, casual conversation, and minimal conflict. That was his only rule: keeps quiet before the gods of the pantheon as he takes his anger out on the humans below. But that day, he forgot about his rule.

Maybe it was the years of silence that caused the Eathshaker’s outburst, or maybe it was just Eren’s bored expression as he talked about his mistresses in front of Mikasa. Armin couldn’t take it. Gathered at a marble table beside all the Olympians, he scowled and told them how stupid they all were.

“Don’t you realise? You’re all wasting your immortality by being so idiotic, so fickle! Everything you touch becomes a temporary pleasure, ruined by your inability to act like real gods.”

He should have stopped; he really should have stopped. But the crack in the glass bridge had been there for years, and now the shards of glass were dropping down into the sea. “You might as well be human!”

The room went silent. Eyes went wide, and mouths gaped, but the gods opted for silence. Every deity wanted to speak up, maybe even draw their swords, but they were more intelligent than Armin was in that moment, which was more unusual than one might think. He had never snapped so violently before. Armin may have been aggressive, but he knew his place. Knew when to be docile. Now, he felt like he could crumble Olympus itself with his rage and bury the Olympians with their dead parents.

The king of the gods, however, leaned forward. His emerald eyes were unmoving, devoid of emotion though his lips tilted into a monstrous grin.

“You’re just as fickle as the rest of us, brother,” was all Eren said.

When Armin lunged at him, knocking the fine glass off the table, it was Mikasa who pinned him down. Arms locked behind his back, all Armin could do was watch as mirth flooded Eren’s face, and the god of the sky laughed. The bastard laughed and laughed and licked the small wound on his hand from a shard of glass. It healed immediately. Even their pain was temporary.

And like he had been doing for the past millennia, Armin found solice in his only rule: if he couldn’t take out his rage on his brother, Armin would take out his frustration elsewhere.

His first instinct was to find a woman, but the thought of seeking out temporary pleasure, from a mistress no less, reminded him too much of Eren. So, he descended to earth, trident in one hand as the other gripped the reigns of his horse and they rode for three days and three nights. That’s all it took for the god of the sea to find what he was looking for- someone deserving of his hatred.

There are many humans like the merchant. But most of their hatred is silent. And when it’s not, blasphemy often falls upon deaf ears. The merchant just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time when his drunk rambles led him up on the deck screaming out Armin’s name like it was venom in his throat, until he could scream no more. He was drunk, but the merchant’s hatred for the god of the sea did not cease when he was sober.

And when Armin heard his name, the god wasted no time calling forth a storm to sink the merchant’s ship. He took care to ensure that the arrogant man watched each and every one of his men be swallowed whole, their bodies only resurfacing lifeless, before the storm calmed.

It took five days for the merchant to swim back to his island.

He never returned to the sea.

As the weeks passed, he relocated his home to help him stay away from any body of water and made sure that his family followed suit.

But Armin followed, and the merchant’s father died weeks later with saltwater water found in his lungs.  

Unfortunately, that was not enough to sedate the god of the sea’s need for vengeance. Fortunately, it was not enough to sedate the merchant’s hatred either. The hubris didn’t leave him. Instead, it just grew and grew and grew until the merchant considered himself more of a god than Armin would ever be.

“Oh, oh.” Armin couldn’t help but smile as he watched the man urinate before his temple. “This is perfect, so perfect.”

Armin was going to show his uncaring brother how different he was from the rest of the miserable Olympians. As he stood above the island of Paradis, golden hair blowing in the ocean wind, the god vowed to begin his Odyssey. An eternal Odyssey. A journey that would last longer than the ten fleeting years he had with the Greek hero- a journey that would last longer than the universe itself.

And he knew exactly where to begin. A man’s most valuable possession: his child.

It was only after your grandfather’s death that Armin noticed you. When he first began watching the merchant’s household, under the guise of either a guest or a bird, he had been surprised to learn that the blasphemous man had no wife, nor children. Armin only realised his mistake one night, when you came to lay a blanket on the drunk man’s barely conscious body. The merchant had pulled you towards him, muttering apologies and you had wrinkled your nose before offering him a soft smile. “It’s okay, papa”.

A daughter sheltered from the world, it seemed.

The god had initially thought you were one of the servants. There were only two in the house, and your tasks were all similar. But as Armin began to watch you closer, he saw how you did have a life outside your home with friends, interests, men- a life your father was blissfully unaware of.

The merchant hardly left home- playing the part of the sick man- and you took care of him- playing the part of your dead mother- in a happy sort of agreement.

You didn’t speak about it to your friends, but you detested your doting role. Armin could tell. The way you wrinkled your nose every time your father walked through the door, the eye-roll when you were given a load of laundry. The god couldn’t help by laugh at how pathetic the merchant was that not even his only daughter- his lifeline- cared for him. The merchant didn’t know, of course. Your fake smiles and gentle hands were enough to deceive him, keep him sane. But Armin was going to break that pattern.

The merchant didn’t deserve the care of a woman. He didn’t deserve anything. So, Armin was going to take you away from him.

His initial plan was to kill you. Simple, efficient, quick. And then he thought of dumping your body somewhere far so that the search for you would break your father’s spirit even more. He hesitated, though, he wasn’t sure why, but he did. And then, you changed your routine.

After meeting up with the two individuals you called your friends at the Sunday market- instead of going back home- you carried on walking. Through the houses on the outskirts and into the dense trees, you almost stung your sandal-clad feet twice before reaching a river. The river had no god of itself, but you still threw in an offering and muttered. Stupid human. And then you sat beside the river and- nothing. Your routine was boring, obviously a ritual to let you escape from reality. Yet, he couldn’t tear away from you. The woman at the river Shiganshina was a different one than the woman who served her father. The one here relaxed her shoulders, cursed at the world around her, smiled- albeit randomly but it was real. He decided there that he would kill you tomorrow.

But when, the next day, you led him back to the river, Armin was lost in you again. Lost in your honestly, lost in your need to escape. He wanted to see more, he needed to see more. Metaphorically, of course. But when you began undressing, the pleated robes dropping to reveal soft skin and tender curves, the god of the sea realised that he wouldn’t mind literally seeing more of you. Armin had been with goddesses and nymphs and, hell, even Aphrodite herself, but never had he been this awestruck. He had to hold himself back. Even though the way you were bathing made it seem like you were worshipping him, water dripping from your body, wet hair hiding the swell of your breasts. Armin’s breath stuttered. He couldn’t reveal himself. He couldn’t.

So, he watched, and watched. Trying desperately to take in everything you were from a distance. Armin didn’t count the number of times he visited you before finally decided that killing you was no longer an option. He told himself that his change of mind was progressive. A practical choice to draw out his revenge into the most painful and convoluted Odyssey. To do that, he couldn’t kill you. No. He was going to take you for himself. Armin was going to turn the daughter of the merchant into a servant of the one God he detested.

Putting the thought into your mind was pathetically easy. As you walked past his temple on your way home, an echo of laughter emerged from the marble building. You paused for only a moment, but it was enough for Armin to catch the look in your eyes. It was one of longing, mixed with a curiosity that threatened to pull you in. But you seemed to catch yourself in the act and hastened yourself home.

And so, Armin’s true Odyssey began. 

For his journey to progress, he had to meet you. Not as a bird or a horse or through glances as a guest. He had to meet you properly. This was the only way to draw you in, he told himself. The only way for you to submit completely and willingly.

Armin could have forced you too your knees, but he had to ensure that your father watched has his daughter chose Armin over him. And chose Armin you would. Every piece was in perfect place. The fates seemed to have woven a beautiful cloth of gold for the god of the sea.

What he failed to realise was that the cloth was in fact a snare- a trap which he will never be able to escape from.

Eleven months ago:

A short gust of wind had the pears in your thin basket tumbling down onto the rocky ground. You rushed after the fruit, crouching down to pick it up when a shadow appeared, and a hand reached out to pick it up for you. The sandal-clad feet were pale- paler than anyone living on this warm island and the robes a fine, ironed white. He somehow seemed to glow brighter than his clothes, and you purposefully let your fingers graze his as you picked up the fruit.

“Thank you,” you said, standing up.

You were hoping that he wouldn’t catch your staring. But even if he did, you couldn’t tear your eyes off him. He was lean, taller than you but not intimidatingly so and his eyes were like oceans that you found yourself staring into as he introduced himself as Mr Arlert. Just Mr Arlert. The new owner of the stables with a voice so soft, it took a moment before you remembered to introduce yourself.

“Y/N. And thank you, again.” It isn’t appropriate for an unmarried woman to be talking to a man on her own, but you couldn’t help but ask. “Do you have a first name Mr Arlert?”

His smile was contagious. “I do. But names are a powerful thing. I’m afraid I can’t give mine up freely.”

“Oh.” You scrunched your nose. “Can I pay for it then?”

You were dead serious, but the blond man laughed. How can someone look so pretty when they laugh? You wondered.

“I’m serious! I can pay you; name your price.”

Mr Arlert looked down at you, blue eyes twinkling. “I’ll think about it.”

“So, is that a no?”

“It’s a no, for now. One day I’ll tell you my name.”

He was sweet, so sweet, but you still gave him a sceptical frown, nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowing. Mr Arlert in turn gave you a sorry look before his eyes lit up and he pulled out from his brown satchel a small book of yellowed pages and a dusty blue cover, the gold embossing hardly visible. You nose only scrunched further.

“My name is in this story. It’s mentioned few times, but it’s an important one,” he said to you.

You took the book and flipped through the worn pages, immediately recognising the tale of Aphrodite and Ares. The lovers.

Why the challenge? You wanted to ask Mr Arlert but you knew the answer you your get would be too cryptic. Besides, you think, I like a challenge.

“How long do I have?” You asked instead.

“A year and a day.”

“And what will I get if I figure it out?”

At this, he pondered. But it seemed feigned, and you wondered, just for a split second, if the man had planned this from the beginning. But why? This was another one of your questions that went unanswered that day. Because before you could say anything more, Mr Arlert leaned forward and said, “Your reward will be divine”. And he walked away.

Nine months ago:

Life was well after Armin arrived. There was no other way to put it. Your father was confining himself to his room more often than before, and you were finding more opportunities to visit the river, leave the house and, eventually, you met the handsome baker’s son. Jean was kind, a gentleman, but not the arrogant type like most the men your age. You didn’t even feel too much guilt when you thought that spending a future with Jean- taking care of him and his home- wouldn’t be too bad. It’s quite pathetic that your life had been reduced to not being “too bad”, but the idea of marrying Jean sat on the comfortable line between reality and fantasy. Safety.

And then you were visited at the river.

Mr Arlert wasn’t even surprised to find you there, he had just smiled and sat beside you as you clenched your fists and forced yourself to smile back at him. You had always enjoyed him, his company, his challenges, but now it was like he was provoking you. The river Shiganshina was your river, your special place away from the hellscape that was the town. And now Mr Arlert had brought himself and his ordinary life into it.

You pulled your sandals back on, the crease in your brow evident. He clearly couldn’t get the hint. But before you could stand up, he spoke, and you paused.

“I wish I could jump in and swim away,” he said.

Curiosity got the best of you, as it often did with the man.

“The waterfall would kill you.”

The awkward laugh again. It had an effect on you so that your jaw couldn’t help but unclench. “If it means that I get to touch a waterfall, I wouldn’t mind, you know?”

You knew. You knew exactly what he meant. But you didn’t tell him.

“Didn’t take you as the suicidal type,” you said.

“I might get saved, who knows.”

“If you’re counting on me to jump after you, I’m letting you know I won’t.”

“I know,” he laughed. “I was thinking of more of a divine rescue.”

You finally looked at him, and- unsurprisingly- his blue eyes were glued to yours. What was surprising was his unwavering tone, his straight face. Mr Arlert was being serious. Why was he opening up to you this suddenly? So far, your interactions had consisted of him staring, you trying to guess his name, and him continuing to stare. In that order. You knew there was more to him, but it’s only now that you found yourself wanting to seek that out.

“You think Armin would save you?” You didn’t miss Arlert’s smile.

“I’m hoping I’ve gained his favour- done enough for him to allow me freedom via waterfall.”

It was your turn to smile. “You probably have, You’re at the temple often.”

“Thank you.” He blushed and you quickly pushed down the thought of how cute he looked. Sitting beside you, trousers rolled up and feet in the water, Mr Arlert looked more than cute. He looked like he belonged. You weren’t sure how that made you feel but, in that moment, you didn’t mind him entering your world.

“I think you would also be saved if you jumped into the waterfall,” Mr Arlert said.

You laughed. “Is that your way of saying I’m a nice person?”

“Something like that.” He paused. “I think Armin would appreciate your- uh- honesty. You’re like a priestess.” He laughs nervously at your expression. “You know, they have this personal affinity with the water and such.”

You knew exactly what he meant. How a stranger could read you so perfectly, you weren’t sure. But as you hid your smile between your hands, you wondered whether you were prepared to face the fear of the unknown. Maybe, with Mr Arlert, it would be a bit less unknown.

A few days later, Jean was announced missing. A search party was sent out and even Mr Arlert, on his recently acquired brown horse, couldn’t find him.

Present day:

Armin isn’t sure if he likes playing the part of the nice boy or not. Humans are simple creatures who praise him continuously and, without divine responsibilities, there is no need to take his rage out anywhere. But a god is who he is, and every day, he yearns to be seen as one. To be seen as one by you. He watches as you worship him, but you never look at him- not like you do the statues, or even the small river which you think is your only true connection to the god of the ocean.

You both want more, and you both know that, but you only ever admit it to each other when you sit beside that very river. There, in those moments, Armin feels a bit more like a god. Whenever he’s around you, he feels a bit more like a god.  

He’s told you before, but your perfect honesty has made it easy for him to unravel around you. He wants to unravel around you in other ways, too, and he wants you to unravel around him. Armin can’t count the number of times he’s sat beside you at the riverside and wanted to do nothing more than to kiss those lips of yours, to press the hard cock that he hides inside of you and watch as your eyes roll back, and you call out his name.  

But the God of the Sea is not Eren. Armin will earn you. And he’s very close to doing so. Not Mr Arlert. You have no interest in human men, that much is clear. You yearn for something more powerful. And you’re right. Only a god is worthy enough to stand beside you, lay between your legs, be in your arms. Mr Arlert is simply a means to push you to realising that the god in question is Armin.

In the meantime, he’s been nothing but patient.

It’s only when you come to his door one night, eyes puffy and red, that he lays his hands on you for the first time. He rubs your back as you cry and cry, fat tears refusing stop falling. You tell him about bout your father. About how, since he got better, he’s been refusing to let you out of the house, snapping at every moment and accusing you of being a filthy god-worshipper.

“He s-sai-d- he said we’re ‘gonna move away- said we’re gonna get as far away from the s-sea as possible.” You can hardly speak, though the tears have stopped, your voice still shakes violently. But Armin listens, he holds you close to him and repeats that everything is going to be fine.

You can’t stop thanking him as you leave, and he promises that his door is always open for you. “Whenever you call for me, I’m here,” Armin tells you. “Right beside you, always,” he adds as he watches you walk away.

He’s reached a new chapter of this Odyssey.

Present day:

You suppose your father’s death should have been expected. He was an old man, obviously depressed, and his only lifeline was his daughter who hated him.

You also suppose you should feel guilty. You don’t.

Familiar faces give their condolences and whisper questions of what is to happen to you now. You only pay heed to Sasha and Connie, though, who give you a soft hug before Sasha tells you that her family would be happy to take you in. You reassure her and everyone else that you have a plan, though your best friends are the only ones who seem to believe you.

“I heard Marie has a son who’s single, maybe they can-“

“You’re not actually talking about marriage here are you?”

“Well, the girl is all alone in the world, now! She needs a man to lead her on the right path.”

The old women are wrong, so very wrong. You don’t need a man. You’re fucking sick of men- sick of them all- everything they’ve created and everything they stand for.

What you need is a god.

The head priestess of Armin’s temple in unsurprised when you knock on her door with nothing but a bag and the clothes on your body. Those clothes are burned soon after, along with many of your other things, leaving your old life behind.

She tells you that you’re lucky there’s a place for you. The last priestess left running off with a man, “Which is a cardinal sin”, she makes sure to repeat every-so-often. The head priestess seems to hate men more than you do, sneering whenever Connie comes by.

Sasha and Connie are unsurprisingly shocked at your choice of work and even if they visit almost every day, they always tell you that they miss you. They think you’ve come the temple out of desperation- everyone does- and you let them believe. Because despite cleaning the marble floors or whatever other arduous duty you’ve been given, a smile is never far as you realise that you’re free from man. Indeed, explaining the truth to anyone would be far too difficult.

Well, except one person.

You’ve never missed anyone before. Not with your father keeping you so sheltered for most of your life. But as you push through the Head Priestess’ relentless schedule, you can’t help but miss Mr Arlert. He disappears after your father’s funeral, so you leave him a note at the empty stable with your final guess. You like to think he decided to follow his own path, you also like to think that he too wishes you were beside him, a guide in the unknown.

Present day:

The room is a box of marble, with a throne sat upon a dais at the centre and one fountain at every corner, each one sculped into a horse. The object of your interests, however, is the large bowl of water on the floor in front of the throne.

This is your initiation. You will emerge from this room not as an apprentice, but a Priestess.

You kneel down and lift the pot of clay to your lips. The head priestess kept on repeating how important it is to not put it down until you’re finished. So, you gulp the water down until you can see the image of Armin. You’re the one who selected the pot, with its faded paint depicting Armin and Hange’s fight for patronage of Sina. It’s a powerful image, but when you put the pot down, you come face to face with something very different. Armin is standing in a room-this room, you realise- and crouched down before him is a young woman, looking up in awe. It takes bit longer of a moment for you to realise that the woman is you.

Looking up slowly from the pot, the first thing you see is sandal-clad feet. Golden sandals, just as fine as the robes he wears, draped in perfect waves. The first word you think of to describe him is divine and it’s indeed accurate because-

“Mr Arlert.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

But you know that’s not correct. The man- no, not a man- before you is taller than Mr Arlert, by a foot and a half at least. His muscles are more prominent that the stable boy’s ever were, strong legs visible through the large slit between the layers of fabric draped over the god’s figure. Half of his shoulder-length hair is tied back using a golden pin whilst the rest frames his perfect, perfect face. You can’t help but think that Armin looks nothing like his statues- no medium of art could capture the ocean within his eyes, glowing in the dull light of the room. Then again, the stories didn’t capture the way the god acts either.

“Armin,” you say, this time your voice louder.

Now, you know.

His sad smile is familiar, but there’s something there that never was. “Oh dear,” he says. “I’m afraid you’ve lost out wager.”

Armin can’t help but compare you to a puppy, with large eyes staring up at him from your crouched position and an expression a perfect mix of excitement, curiosity, and shock.

You reach out a hand tentatively, but it hovers in the air between the two of you once you notice Armin’s raised brow. But he doesn’t rebuke you for it. After all, it’s only your first encounter with the god. He can’t expect you to behave perfectly, to adopt the right etiquette- no, he’ll have to train you first. Like he would a baby mutt. The thought makes him smile.

“I’ll accept any consequences, my god,” you say. Your voice sounds so sure of itself, so unlike your usual ramblings, those that Armin could and would listen to for hours. Right now, though, the certainty, it’s laced with desire that sends blood rushing south. You don’t notice. You’re too lost in his eyes to notice anything.

When he places his hand on your chin to hold it up, he can feel you shiver. “Such a perfect little worshipper,” he says. “I couldn’t possibly punish you.”

Armin can swear he sees disappointment in your eyes before he turns around and walks up the dais. The marble of the throne is cold beneath him, but the sight of you looking up at him with such longing is enough to warm him up. Now, Armin is sure you’ve noticed his growing erection because you crawl towards the dais, not yet climbing it, but close enough to see and lick your lips.

“Let me thank you at least, Armin.” He almost groans at the sound of his name. God, he wants to hear you say it over and over.

“Come here.”

And you climb up the dais only to pause before Armin leans forward and grabs your hips. Two lips, as if led by an invisible string, meet. You kiss like you’ve been waiting years for Armin and, in a way, you have. His tongue is inside your mouth quickly and he’s kissing, sucking, letting his teeth gently graze your lips as he revels in the feeling of you. As your bodies lean against each other, you can feel his heart hammering against your own. His chest is stone, but his lips are so soft and your hands find his golden hair. It’s also softer than it looks, and Armin can’t help but let out a moan as you gently tug.

When you pull back, his pupils are blown. “Thank me, then,” Armin says, breathless.

Sitting between his legs, your hand is tiny compared to his cock, and you can’t stop staring at it. Long and somewhat slender, but veiny with a flushed red top- he can see you gulp before you take an experimental lick at him. Armin’s hold on your hair only tightens and you look up at him, doe eyed and seemingly innocent.

“Put it in your mouth, pretty girl,” he says, guiding your head gently. “So obedient- Yes, exactly, just like-ah- just like that.”

But he doesn’t need to push down- no- he lets you set your own pace only because you do it so perfectly, almost as perfect as the wet noises you make. Armin doesn’t have time to be surprised, he’s just able to react fast enough to suppress his own moans so he can hear your wet tongue caress the base of his cock, as your lips create the perfect o-shape to accommodate him. Your drool is everywhere in a matter of seconds- his balls are coated with it, and so is your lap, where the spit seeps through the thin white fabric you call a robe.

“Like a puppy,” he murmurs. And you look up quizzically. “You’re drooling over me like a desperate puppy- a puppy in heat,” he grunts. “You just want to please me, don’t you? ‘S alright, puppy, I’ll let you do that.”

If you could nod your head, you would. Instead, your cheeks burn, and Armin is so lost in the way that you look- not even able to take his entire cock in his mouth- that his hips begin to buck unconsciously. He hits the back of your throat, and you gag at the sudden impact, but he hisses and murmurs “What a good, wet hole. So good, good-”

The earthshaker is afraid that if he speaks any louder, his voice will slur into incomprehensible sultry sounds. But as you struggle to take his cock even deeper into his mouth, he lets out groans that go straight between your own legs. You moan around him, and the reverberations make his head roll back. God, you could stare at him forever. And he would let you.

“Look at me,” he says whenever your eyes go astray. “Look at your god.”

As his hips buck more violently, Armin can feel the pressure in his lower stomach, the impending orgasm and he wants to stop- wants to hold out the way he always has. But he can’t, it’s too much and he just cannot pull out of you. He simply pushes further and further into your tight throat, repeating your name like it’s a blessing. “fuck, puppy, ‘m going to- I’m going to cum down your throat. You want that, do you you’re your god’s cum- ah, fuck, ahhh”-

Pushing your head down to the base, both of his hands at the back of your head, Armin cries out you name and you can feel the warm liquid go down your throat, thick ropes filling up your mouth, some of it dribbling out. Armin reflexively pushes it back in your mouth, ordering you to swallow it all, to show how grateful you are. Of course, you oblige. But before you can even regain your breath, Armin suddenly pulls you off his cock. His pupils are dilated, and he wears an expression- anger? Shock?

“You’re not a virgin,” he hisses, teeth gritting against each other. His breath is frantic, uneven. It’s not a question and you begin to recognise his expression. Rage. “You’ve done this before.”

Fuck.

The God of the sea has his fair share of consorts and mistresses. Some of them virgins- though he never chases them the way Eren does- some of them not, but none have made him cum so fast. He would like to blame it on the year of pining, of restraint, but he knows better. It’s you. You do this him. You make him so wild, so willing, so pliant even. 

In that moment, as he looks your worried face, so desperate to please, he thinks that he’ll never be able to let it go. You’ve consumed Armin and he wants to do nothing more than burn eternally. You must understand that- that you exist as his beacon, that’s where you’ll be your happiest, but those thoughts are too complex for a human. You, in your fragile state, can’t understand. It’s alright, he’ll just have to show you bit by bit that you’re his. But to do so, he must first take on the role he’s familiar with. That of the punisher.

“Who is he?” Armin snaps.

“It was only-“

“Who is he?”

You pause. Memories of nights spent together, huddled close and trying to keep quiet already fading. “Berthrolt Hoover.”

Armin’s shoulders relax, “I see.”

His breathing slowly goes back to normal, and, at the back of your mind, you know you’ve signed the young warrior’s death. But your worry is fleeting as Armin grabs you by the neck and hoists you over his knees, laying you down on your stomach effortlessly. “A priestess who isn’t a virgin?”

You look up as see Armin’s familiar sweet smile, but it’s laced with mirth that makes you forget the Mr Arlert he was before. You cry out at the first slap of his hand on your ass, more out of surprise than pain.

“I don’t think the people of Paradis will be very happy to hear that,” he says. “An unmarried woman giving herself away to a pathetic boy.”

Slap!

“I’m sorry!” you cry out. “It was a mis-”

He slaps you thrice.

“No excuses, dumb little puppy. I’m afraid you’ll have to endure this punishment.” His voice is deceptively soft, as if he is actually sorry. And when you look back up at Armin, his face betrays no malice. But it doesn’t show any cruelty either. Instead, there’s a fascination.

Armin has you sprawled across his lap, at his mercy and he is discovering you bit by bit. As a god. His cock twitches and then suddenly he tugs off the fabric of your robes and they disappear.

The way you squirm is half- hearted, and Armin has to laugh. “Embarrassed? Now of all times? I didn’t know you were such a prude. Or is this all just to compensate for the fact that you’re a whore in my temple?”

You shake your head, “I swear, I’ve never belonged to any man!”

Fingers trace the expanse of your naked body, soft enough to send shivers down your spine. “Oh? Really?”

“Yes yes, I swear, ah!” His fingers find your naked ass and they grab onto the flesh, massaging, groping, feeling you. Armin’s other hand rests on top of your head, stroking it gently and you’re so lost in his touch that you almost forget to speak.

“I belong to no man, I never have. Only you. It’s always been you, Armin.”

The god’s eyes widen, and he gently pulls you up from his lap only to seat you on it, upright and, this time, there’s so much more to admire. “You’re right,” he says. Armin captures your lips and this time, it’s longer, rougher. He doesn’t want to pull back, doesn’t want to lose the feeling of your soft lips against his, but his hands have already found your breasts and soon, his tongue joins them. You moan as he begins to lap at your breasts, leaving hickeys and spit in his wake as his finally finds your nipples and begins sucking them like a child as you whine and lean into him.

“You do belong to me,” he finally says, his voice partially muffled as he loses himself in the worship your breasts. “You’ve always belonged to me.”

And you can do nothing more than nod your head as your fingers tangle in Armin’s hair and you’re pulled into another kiss. His hand goes down your body, squeezing every single mound of flesh as if it needs to be touched so that when he finds your cunt, Armin can’t help but smile at how wet you are.

“Already, but I’ve hardly done anything to you?”

What a liar, but you don’t have a chance to tell him before he plunges a finger inside of you. “Oh, puppy, my puppy,” he groans at the contact the same time you moan, pushing your hips against his digits. “You like my fingers like that inside of you?”

“Yes, yes, I do, I really love them- it feels, oh my god, it feels too good!” you grip his shoulders, unable to do anything but desperately buck your hips at the smiling Armin. He knows what he’s doing, he knows that his fingers are giving you just that satisfaction, but it’s still not enough to bring you over the edge.

“Please Armin, please.” You squeeze his shoulders.

“Tell me what you want, tell me, I’ll give it to you- I swear.”

“I want to feel you, all- ah- all of you. I need to feel you inside of me!”

You’re not sure at which moment Armin removes his robes, but as he moves both of your legs so that you’re straddling him, your hands are on his bare, lean chest. The god’s nipples are flushed pink and pert, practically calling to you and you respond by brushing your fingers over them and watching him twitch ever-so-slightly in response. You withhold the urge to take them into your mouth, even as Armin rubs his cock against your cunt, releasing the sweetest of sounds.

He’s already leaking precum and it mixes with your juices so perfectly, his cock being dragged back and forth, only making you gush even more. “So messy,” he mumbles as he uses his tip to spreads your juices across your thighs. At this point, you can practically feel it throbbing, ready to be sheathed inside of you and the whimpers of your desperation echo against the temple walls.

When Armin slips inside of you, simultaneous gasps escape your lips. The god pulls your body closer to his as you throw your head back, stars in your eyes.

“Look,” he whispers. “Look how easily I slip in- it’s- it’s like your cunt is made for me.”

“Armin,” you whisper back. “Armin, Armin- ah- Armin.”

He sinks you down slowly, the stretch hitting every single spot that leaves your legs practically limp. The god is holding you up, whispering his own mantra that you can’t hear over your bliss. Once inside, your eyes look lock with Armin’s and he’s staring at you in a way he’s never done before. You’ve never seen pupils so dilated and the two of you stay like that as if making up for the moments when you should have been connected in this way. An eternity, it seems, the two of you have needed each other.

“I’m your god,” Armin finally says. “I’m your god and- hng ah-” He begins moving you up and down his shaft. “And I’m going to make you cum all over this cock- okay? All over your god’s cock.”

You nod your head pathetically as he lifts your hips and slams them down against his own. He is strong, ruthless in the way he bucks his hips up every time he lifts you from his cock, as if he can’t bare the empty feeling of not having your tight pussy clamped around him. At this relentless pace, you’re sure that the sound of your connecting bodies could penetrate even these marble walls. And yet, you don’t hold back. Thanks and praises spill from your swollen lips and Armin can’t help but lean forward and push his tongue between your mouth, as if he can absorb all of your word. “So good, so good, it’s- uah- I just want more, more of your cock, you fill me up so good!”

Armin can’t deny you. He pushes your thighs to your chest and picks up your entire body to fuck himself. He manoeuvres your body like a toy and as your tongue rolls out and your eyes become glassy, you begin to look like one too. The only sounds coming out of your mouth are incomprehensible, even as Armin attaches his mouth to one of your bouncing tits, you can only squeal.

“Such a good puppy,” he says between kisses. “Letting me use her holes like this. A god using a puppy’s holes- you should be- you should be grateful! Tell me, tell me you’re grateful!”

“I am!” you cry out. “I am grateful!”

“Good girl, good puppygirl.”

When Armin flips you over, you’re sat on his throne and he fucks into you harder, harder than he was doing before, and you swear his moans are louder too. He’s looking down at the movement of your stomach as if hypnotized by the way his cock disappears into you. And, in a way, he is. The fascination of being inside of you- just the idea even- is enough to make him want to cum.

The sudden position has him hitting new spots and the build-up is so fast, you hardly have the time to warn him. “Armin, Armin I’m cum-“

He grabs your face as you release around his cock, body spasming but unable to look away as Armin’s gaze burns through you. “Good girl,” he says. “Show me, show me how you cum. Just like that, just like that.”

He continues to plough his hips into yours and the spasms of your pussy leave him unable to hold back. “Inside of you,” he practically growls. “I’m going to cum inside of you- yes, yes, yes I am puppy. I’m going to cum inside of you and you’re going to show me how you take it yeah?”

You’re too far gone to even register the implications of what he’s saying, but he buries his cock in your warm walls and releases his cum inside of you with a heavy groan. “Just like that, just like that- I’m going to fill you up with my seed, puppy, my puppy.”

Armin feels like he’s emptied his balls- two powerful orgasms which leave his legs shaking violently. And yet, he pulls out of you slowly and stands back up to his full height, cock in front of your face. Almost instinctively, you rub your cheek against it, giving Armin soft kitten licks and he coos at you, stroking your hair. But he doesn’t push, he just holds his cock there and pumps softly as he stares at your fucked out face. Messy, covered in his spit, his hickeys, his bites, his cum- you look perfect, divine. Only one thing is missing. “I’m going to give you everything I have, puppy. And you’re going to take it, okay?” You nod and open your mouth for him and, immediately, a strong stream of pee emerges.

At the bitter taste on your tongue, your eyes roll back, and you spread your legs even wider, a welcome to the mess he is about to make. Armin accepts and angles his cock to release his pee over your chest, then your stomach, and then your already-throbbing cunt. He lifts a foot to rest on the throne and Armin doesn’t think he’s even seen such a beautiful sight in his life.

As if guided by an implicit will, Armin’s foot hovers on top of you and suddenly, he presses against your lower stomach. Your eyes snap back into focus as you whine out for him to wait, wait just a moment “I just had water,” you cry out. “It’s gonna- It’s gonna come out!”

But Armin simply grins. “Let it come out,” he says and presses his foot down harder. “Pee yourself dumb little mutt, be a good puppy for your owner.” The trickle that emerges is involuntary, but Armin’s grin is wider. “Yes, good girl, just like that. Let me see more, let me see more of you.”

The pressure that was holding the bowl of water back broke and you felt the warm liquid against your thighs before you realise what’s happening. Armin practically moans as he watches you whimper and struggle to hold your pee back as it spreads over the throne, the dais, and even Armin himself. He doesn’t stop until you’ve given it all to him.

You expect Armin to disappear. 

You’ve given him everything. His goal is complete, you think, he has nothing more to do with you. But, as he has done many times before, the god surprises you. Armin’s body is heavy against yours when he collapses on top of you, but the weight is comforting. Despite the malaise of urine and cum rubbing against both of your bodies, you wrap your arms around the god of the ocean and hold him close. 

Even as you close your eyes and lean your head back on the marble throne, Armin doesn’t leave you. Even as you open your eyes back up and see blue ones staring back at you, the look he gives you is so familiar and long hair in such unfamiliar disarray that you can’t help but smile.

He doesn’t ask why. Instead, Armin calls forth a stream of warm water from the adjacent fountain to clean the both of you. It feels like a fever dream the way floating droplets caress your bodies, and when Armin stands you up, his hands not leaving you, the perfume that suddenly envelops you is heavenly.

“Can I give you a last kiss, please?” you ask when your robe appears once again. And Armin leans forward to capture your lips, dragging his tongue on your bottom lip as if to taste you.

It doesn’t feel like a final kiss. You’ve had many of them- Jean, Sasha, Berthrold, your father, and even your mother, though you can’t remember it. This kiss is different. It feels less like a kiss and more like a promise, a vow. a shiver runs down your spine. 

“I am your god,” he says and lifts his both of his hands slowly to wrap around your neck. “And you’re my worshipper.” You gasp as a cold sensation spreads around your neck, just below Armin’s fingers. It’s sudden, and heavy and when he removes his hands, yours fly to your neck and there’s a metal band there where there was none before.

“It’s sculpted from Hephaestus’ gold,” Armin says as he strokes his fingers along the metal. But he’s not looking at his gift, instead he looks at you. 

“Armin- I- this is. But why?”

For the first time, he can’t read your expression. But it doesn’t matter. You belong to him. You always have, but now you know. And if it takes time for you to understand, Armin can wait. He’ll wait right beside you, always, always there to guide you.

“This is not the end of my Odyssey. My Odyssey is eternal,” he says before giving you another short kiss and disappearing, the warmth of his lips still present.

The gods might not all be fickle, you think, so you just smile sadly. But the gods are all selfish, so you touch the collar around your neck.

A/N: This is my first ever collab and I was- as still am- a bit insecure about how this story turned out so I appreciate all of your support ❤️. I would also like to apologise to my fellow history nerds for the historical inaccuracies. 

[watchmegetobsessed]

ALL IS FAIR

a/n: woohoo!! finally a harry fic! lol sorry i got very into marvel these past weeks but im finally bringing you some harry content! this one was originally requested by an anon sometime and then we kept talking about it until i actually got around to write it! hopefully you’ll like it and if you do, please like and reblog!

pairing: ceo!Harry x ceo!plussize!reader

warning: sexual content

word count: 16.7k

masterlist

“Stop being such a stuck up dick, it’s your birthday, bro!”

Harry rolls his eyes at his friend who walks into his penthouse as if he owned. Niall Horan was so well-known in Harry’s building that he could have easily walked into any homes in the tower and people would still welcome him warmly. It might have a few things to do with the fact that half of the residents in the Compass Tower are women who are hopelessly in love with either Niall or Harry, hoping for a chance to drag either of them into their bed one day. They have a lot more chance to do that with the Irish bloke than with Mr. Styles. Not that Harry doesn’t find them attractive, but he is not the type to have one night stands, something his friend gives him quite a lot of shit for.

“Would you fuck off for twenty more minutes?” Harry sighs, shooting him a look as he covers the speaker of his phone, in the middle of a call.

“You have ten minutes and we are leaving. I’m not letting you work on the night of your thirtieth birthday!” Niall warns him before walking into the kitchen to roam the always full, neatly stocked fridge.

As much as Niall Horan comes off as an irresponsible cocky child, he is quite the businessman himself as well. As the Lawyer of one third of New York’s most influential people, he surely doesn’t have to worry about making a living, enjoying his luxurious apartment a few streets away from Harry’s place on the Upper East Side. It’s not as expensive and impressive as Harry’s penthouse on the top of the tower his father built in the heart of the posh neighborhood most people only know from TV shows, but he couldn’t complain.

“Another designer refused to sign with us, H. We are running out of options,” Lambert’s voice rings through the phone as Harry turns to the floor to ceiling window, staring out to the city skyline in front of him.

“We have quite a few left, right?” Harry asks clenching his jaw.

“Yeah, but I heard that Cometa is planning on announcing something big next week so I think a lot of them are waiting for that to happen.”

“Do you think it’s another collab? But they just had fucking Chanel have a line sold through them!” Harry growls, his blood boiling at even just the thought.

When it comes to fashion in the virtual world, there are two businesses that totally dominate the industry. In the men’s wear, Twisted is definitely the number one selling place. The idea started off as just a freshman school project that originally wanted to sell tech stuff, but a few years into the project Harry met Lambert who was already a rising star in the fashion industry and they joined forces, creating the most classic yet affordable and user friendly online empire: Twisted. Though Twisted mostly features men’s clothing, they’ve been trying to venture to the field of women’s fashion, but it hasn’t been as easy as they thought it to be. And the reason for that is Cometa.

Cometa was originally a website where anyone could sell their own clothes, make their online wardrobe sale. But eventually the business grew itself out and stepped up a few levels, collaborating with various designers and brands, selling exclusive lines and a highly praised seasonal variety four times a year, earning a well-deserved top spot in the online fashion industry. It’s hard to compete with what Julia Bianchi built up through sweat and blood and Harry Styles has been working on stepping up to be a major competition for Cometa in women’s fashion, with not much luck so far.

To top the cake with a delicious looking cherry, Cometa has been trying to set feet into men’s fashion as well in the recent years, bringing out several lines with some mentionable designers, but they never made it be as big as Twisted. The two businesses have been trying to outdo each other for about a decade now, with not much luck so far and Harry’s patience is running low by now.

“I don’t know what it is, but keep an eye out. I’ll call you on Monday, alright?” Lambert sighs through the line.

“Okay, thank you,” Harry nods, feeling a little defeated.

“And happy birthday, man. Go and celebrate!” he chuckles, making Harry’s lips curl up as well.

“Thanks, have a good weekend,” Harry bids his goodbye before the call ends.

Wandering into the kitchen Harry finds Niall with the thickest ham and cheese sandwich between his hands, sitting at the kitchen island.

“So where exactly are we going tonight?” he asks, grabbing himself a granola bar as he joins the Irish lad on the stool next to him.

“Oh, that’s a surprise,” he grins, mouth full as he chews mercilessly. Harry grimaces, not sure how this is the same man who can convince a judge about basically anything, wearing his designer suits, putting on an intimidating and serious act for his cases.

“I have a switch,” Niall once told him when he asked how he does it. “I just turn it off when I’m off the clock.”

“You know I hate surprises,” Harry informs him matter-of-factly, but Niall doesn’t seem to be bothered by his comment.

“You’re thirty now, no one cares what you hate.”

“Says who?” Harry huffs.

“Me,” he grins, making Harry roll his eyes.

The bass is throbbing, red tinted lights illuminating the exclusive bar in the heart of Manhattan where Niall chose to gather some of Harry’s close friends to celebrate his thirtieth birthday. Sitting in the leather couches at a restricted area at the back of the place, they are hidden enough not to draw too much attention to themselves but still feel like they are part of the party.

“Cheers to three decades of this cocky motherfucker!” Niall beams as their glasses meet in the middle, everyone laughing and wishing Harry a happy birthday before they all chug their drinks.

Harry is not necessarily the type of person to enjoy going out too often, but he admits it’s been a while since the last time he let loose. It feels nice to have the evening to himself, leaving the business behind for just a couple of hours before he returns to his busy everydays.

Though the occasion is Harry’s birthday, Niall is surely enjoying the evening a tad bit more than his friend. After Harry sees him send down three tequilas in a row he realizes it’s not gonna end well if he doesn’t get some water into his system as well. Excusing himself from the group he heads to the bar, pushing his way through the dancing bodies until he finally reaches his destination.

Given how it’s a Friday evening, the place is packed and he waits in the line patiently while the bartender is fixing up the order of a group of girls a few stools down from Harry. Leaning onto the counter Harry runs his gaze over the dancing crowd, tapping his fingers against the surface to the beat, even bopping his head a little when he feels a push from behind him.

“Oh, sorry!” A female voice calls out and as he turns around he spots the owner of it, a young woman, her curvy body wrapped in a tight mini dress that leaves very little to Harry’s imagination as his eyes run up and down her figure. He has never seen a curvy girl as confident as her, she is radiating, drawing every male’s attention to herself like she is feeding off the hungry stares and dirty thoughts birthed by her.

Her eyes meet Harry’s gaze and the sly smirk that tugs on her perfectly shaped lips gives it away that she is not that sorry to be bumping into him.

“No worries,” is all he manages to say, the urge to drop to his knees right then and there stronger than anything he has ever had to fight.

“He won’t notice you,” she tells him and his eyebrows knit together in confusion. “The bartender. If you just stand there like that… he will never come here,” she explains.

“I’m not sure I have what catches his eyes,” he jokes, making her laugh and he swears his stomach drops at the heavenly sound.

“May I?” she arches an eyebrow and Harry nods, letting her step in front of him. He stands tall above her, eyes fixed on her figure as she leans onto the counter, the marble pushing her breasts up just enough to spark the bartender’s fantasies when he glances in her way. She waves at him with a charming smile and a moment later the guy is standing in front of her, ready to please her in any way she desires.

“Three vodka sodas and…” she turns in Harry’s way, her lips slightly parted and his breath hitches in his throat. “What did you want, handsome?”

“Just, uhh—Just two water, please.”

Her eyebrows rise, but she doesn’t comment on it, just adds the two water to her order. The bartender nods and disappears to fix up her drinks. Harry takes a deep breath and sticking his hand out to her he introduces himself.

“I’m Harry, by the way.” She takes his hand, shaking it firmly.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you, Harry. Are you here alone?”

“Um, no. I’m here with a few friends,” he replies nodding towards the back of the place. “Are you here with someone?”

Please don’t say your boyfriend, please!

“A few of my girlfriends,” she smiles, brushing her hair over her shoulder, flaunting a better look at her naked neck and just one glimpse is sending a whirl of dirty thoughts into Harry’s mind. He wonders how soft her skin would feel under his lips, what her moans would sound as he sucks on it, leaving a mark on her, letting every man in the house know that he made her feel good.

“Are you guys celebrating something?” Y/N asks, a knowing smile on her lips as she most definitely saw Harry staring at her.

“Actually, yeah,” he chuckles a little nervously. “It’s my birthday.” Y/N’s eyes brighten up as she beams at him.

“Really? Happy birthday then!”

“Thank you,” he smiles shyly. “Are you guys celebrating something too?”

“Well, I…” she starts, her thoughts wandering off for a second before she continues. “I kind of got promoted,” she explains and Harry smiles down at her warmly.

“Congrats then!”

The bartender returns with the drinks and she is already about to get her card from her little clutch when Harry pulls his card out, handing it over to the guy behind the bar.

“Birthday boys shouldn’t pay for others,” she smirks, but doesn’t try to fight him that hard.

“You can pay me back later,” Harry shrugs with a suggestive smirk on his lips. He doesn’t want to part ways with her, but she is obviously expected to be back with her friends and he needs to get back to Niall as well before he absolutely loses control. Stepping closer to him, Y/N slides a hand up his chest, her palm resting at the base of his neck as she leans to his ear.

“Save me a dance, birthday boy?” she murmurs into his ear, her lips brushing against him for a split second before she steps back, grabs her drinks and winking at him one last time she disappears from the bar. Harry stands there for a few more seconds before the bartender hands him back his card and snatching the waters from the bar he heads back to his friends.

 Luckily, Niall is slowing down a little, The water does him well and Harry finally doesn’t feel like he’ll have to take care of him, dragging him home once the night is over. Sitting by the table Harry is trying to focus on the conversation, but his gaze keeps wandering over to the dance floor, looking for one particular curvy figure in the sea of dancing bodies.

It takes him some time to spot her, but when he does, he is not able to tear his eyes away from her.

She is almost perfectly in the middle with her friends surrounding her, lips and shoulders swaying to the rhythm perfectly. He catches her chug down the last sips of her drink before she disregards the glass and gets back to dancing. Watching her every move intently, Harry feels his lips slightly part at the sight of this angel who is for sure a devil in the sheets. He can’t stop himself fantasizing about what it would feel like to dig his fingers into her thighs, kiss her neck, her cleavage that’s on show now, how her curves would fit into his hands perfectly. He wants to praise this woman, make her feel good and not just because he wants to be selfless and please her, but also because seeing this woman reach her high because of him would be the biggest ego boost for him and he just needs that.

“Go dance with her!” Niall wiggles his eyebrows at him when he catches Harry staring at her.

“What? No, I’m not a dancer,” he shakes his head, shifting his eyes away from the dancing goddess on the dance floor.

“Oh come on, don’t be a pussy!”

“I’m not a pussy, I just—“

“You’re a pussy. I saw her looking in your way as well, she wants your dick!”

“Jesus, Niall!” Harry whines rolling his eyes. He doesn’t like it when he gets so vulgar, but luckily no one heard their conversation. Glancing back in Y/N’s way Harry sees how men are eyeing him, probably building up the courage to go up to her and that has his blood boiling. He needs to be the one to touch her.

Chugging down the rest of his drink he snaps the glass on the table before standing from his seat, ignoring Niall’s cheering as he makes his way into the crowd.

Harry didn’t lie when he said he is not a dancer, he feels uncomfortable, awkward and uncoordinated most of the times he tries to dance, but he is pushing all of those to the back of his mind for now as his eyes are set on one person in the crowd.

When Y/N spots the man approaching her, she can’t push a pleased smile off her lips, slowing her movements down as Harry finally reaches her, leaning closer to her ear so she can hear his voice over the music.

“Here to collect that dance,” he smugly tells her, making her laugh, though the music is too loud to let him hear her. She just nods and turning around she presses herself up against him, her backside fitting his front perfectly. Harry’s hand snake around her waist, his large palm smoothly moving through the silky fabric of her dress as they start moving together.

She is intoxicating, makes Harry feel like he is some kind of horny teenager, like he hasn’t dealt with women before, but in a way, she makes all of his past flings appear to be only girls. Her confidence in her own body is easily one of her best traits, the way she handles herself, moves her body, the look in her eyes, Harry is getting drunk on just watching her and now he is able to touch her as well.

When he feels himself getting hard in his pants, he knows he should be at least a slightly bit embarrassed by himself, but as Y/N turns around in his arms and he sees the pleased smirk on her lips, the feeling vanishes in a heartbeat. She wraps her arms around his neck as she pulls him close, her lips brushing against his lips.

“Enjoying yourself, birthday boy?” she prompts before pressing a kiss to the soft skin under his ear and he can’t hold a growl back. The friction is almost unbearable, as his hands slide lower on her back, stopping on her ass, he knows he won’t be able to control himself any longer. Luckily, he is not the only one having this inner fight.

Snapping around Y/N grabs his hand and starts pulling him through the crowd towards the hallway of the bathrooms. He follows her eagerly, lucky for them, the club doesn’t have restrooms with several stalls, but single bathrooms with a lot more comfort and privacy. Just what they need right now.

They find the third bathroom empty, pushing their way inside and locking the door before Harry pushes her up against it the moment it’s just the two of them, their mouths hungrily meeting in the middle. He almost grunts against her lips, she tastes even better than he imagined and the way her tongue is the first one to come into action has got his mind blown. His hands roam up her body, running up all her curves until they reach her face and he cups it in his palms, pressing his hips against her. She moans against his mouth when his hard cock pokes against her, both of them desperate to take it further.

Tumbling further into the small bathroom, he helps her up to the counter next to the sing, her legs instantly opening for him, her tiny dress rolling up her thighs, revealing her clothed sex. Harry eagerly kisses his way down her neck and chest, her skin feeling so smooth under his lips. His fingers hook under the thin straps of her dress, tugging them down so he can push the dress past her full breasts and thank God she is not wearing a bra underneath!

“Fuck me, you are so hot!” he breathes out, making her chuckle at his reaction.

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” she cockily answers before Harry’s mouth attaches to her nipple, his hand working on her other breasts before he switches.

He quickly gets down on his knees, pushing her underwear to the side before his lips and tongue meet her sensitive clit.

“Oh shit!” she moans, a hand coming to tangle in his hair while she tries to hold herself steady with leaning on the other one behind her. There’s no time for teasing now and they both know that.

She is so lost in the experience, Harry is licking and sucking just the right spots and she tries to close her legs, locking his head between her thighs. His arms come to curl around them, ring clad fingers digging into her flesh and the situation might be a little suffocating for him, but he doesn’t mind it a bit. In fact, if he died this way, he would die a happy man.

She doesn’t let him finish what he started, pulling him up, his lips still glistening from her own juices as she kisses him messily, wiggling herself out of her underwear while he undoes his pants as well.

“Shit, do you have a condom?” he breathes out when his palm wraps around his throbbing cock. She nods, reaching for her clutch she dropped to the counter and digging into it she grabs the package, smacking it against his chest playfully. “Were you planning to do this tonight?” he grins cockily as he rips the package open and starts rolling it down his hard length.

“No, I’m just smart, unlike you,” she retorts, her sass dripping from her tone and it just riles him up even more.

Grabbing her thighs he yanks her to the edge of the counter, a gasp leaving her plump lips as she tries to find her balance quickly.

“Don’t be a brat,” he growl against her lips before kissing her, while he lines himself up with her, the head already pushing in.

“Then fuck me, birthday boy,” she challenges him again and it’s the last straw.

Harry slams into her, both of them moaning at the sensation before he starts thrusting in a fast pace, needing all the friction he can make to get them to finish as soon as possible. Y/N’s head falls back as she holds onto the back of his neck, her other hand on the counter behind her again and Harry glances down, watching her breasts bounce every time he rails into her, slamming his whole length into her every time their hips meet.

She reaches for one of his hands that’s holding her thigh and she boldly brings it to her core, tapping his fingers to her clit, letting him know that she wants some extra effort. Harry doesn’t say it, but he is blown how she didn’t just do it herself, she made him do it. It’s got to be one of the hottest things he has ever seen.

“Fuck, go harder!” she gasps, wrapping her legs around his waist as he picks the pace up, feeling his orgasm building rapidly with each thrust.

They both are a whimpering, moaning mess, the bass of the music is thumping outside and for a moment, Harry feels like he is finally living his life to the fullest.

“I’m gonna cum!” she breathes out, his name falling from her lips moaning after that and when she pulls him down to kiss him, biting into his bottom lip and tugging it, he loses himself.

He feels himself jerking inside her, still sliding in and out of her as he grunts, releasing himself into the condom. He flicks his fingers on her clit at the same time, creating just enough friction to push her over the edge as well. He is coming off his own high when her walls tighten around his cock, dragging his orgasm out even longer as she basically screams, gasping for air, riding her orgasm out to the last bit.

Leaning down he kisses her again though they are still panting, this time making it a lot less rushed than the time their lips met for the first time. Her legs fall from around his waist and he pulls out, both of them cleaning themselves up in the aftermath of their little session.

“I know this was quite rushed and all that, but can I have your number?” he asks, even feeling a little nervous. She puts her underwear back on, smoothing her dress down as she smiles up at him, cupping his face in her palm.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to skip on that,” she tells him simply, shocking him for sure.

“D-Do you have a boyfriend or something?”

“No,” she shakes her head and now Harry is confused.

“You didn’t enjoy it?” he then asks, trying his best to figure out the reason behind the rejection.

“I did. But it was a one time thing. If it’s supposed to turn into more…” she sighs, grabbing her clutch from the counter. “Then I’ll leave it to fate if we ever meet again,” she shrugs before turning around she just unlocks the door and walks out, leaving Harry stand there in complete and utter shock.

This is definitely a first for him, a woman who doesn’t want to see him again. He is not that egoistic to think that everyone is in love with him, but he never had an encounter similar to this. Not after the most amazing sex ever.

Harry fixes himself up, still not believing she walked out that easily, but there’s not much he can do now. Walking back to his table, he acts like nothing happened and when his eyes scan over the crowd again, he can’t see her anymore.

Harry lets out a tired sigh when Zayn, head of the graphic design department walks into his office with a familiar brown paper bag with the logo of Harry’s favorite Chinese restaurant.

“Has it started already?” Zayn asks, though glancing at the big screen on the wall he can see the stream is still waiting to be started.

“No, I’ve been staring at it for like twenty minutes,” Harry grumbles, pushing himself away from his desk to join Zayn on the couch in front of the screen as he unpacks the food. “What do you think it’s going to be?”

Today is the day of Cometa’s big press conference and no one knows what they are about to announce. It’s been keeping Harry on the edge for the past few days, because whatever it is, it has got to be major. Julia Bianchi is not the type of person to hold press conferences, she is a private person who has managed to keep most of her life behind closed doors. That’s something Harry admires in the woman even though they are competitors in the business. He can relate to wanting to keep her life just for herself, he has been doing the same thing. No public appearances, no lengthy interviews, no photoshoots. He likes to let his work talk for himself and it’s proved to be a successful move so far.

“I don’t know, but I hope they don’t suddenly announce a full graphic makeover right before our update,” Zayn chuckles. He has been working on an entirely new appearance for the website these past weeks and it’s supposed to go live sometime later in the month. A change for Cometa would totally throw their attempt off, making them look like they are just copying Julia’s move.

They eat and wait for the stream to start when the screen finally comes alive. There’s an empty stage shown with just two mic stands in the middle and nothing really happens for a few minutes before clapping is heard from behind the camera and Julia finally walks on the stage.

The woman is a real diva. Wearing a matching pant suit with bold floral print all over it, her short hair is neatly straightened into a bob cut, her red lips smiling lightly as she waves around in the room. Julia has been in the fashion industry for almost three decades now and she surely made a name for herself, sitting front row in every fashion show she attends, her words on any new trend being basically the standard.

Stepping to one of the mics, she clears her throat as the clapping dies down and her calm, gentle voice rings through the speakers.

“Welcome, everyone, thank you for coming, as you might already know I’m Julia Bianchi, head of Cometa, the world’s best online women’s fashion house.”

Harry leans back in his seat, eyes fixed on the woman on the screen as he is patiently waiting to hear what she’s got for the people this time.

“I’ve spent twenty-seven wonderful years in the business, building my own one for the past two decades. I fell in love with fashion as a child and moved to Milan to study designing from the bests. Though designing has always and will always hold a special place in my heart, I saw an opportunity in the early years for a brand that would hold together every other brand in the industry, bringing it to everyone’s home thanks to the rapidly developing technology. Cometa has always been my little baby and I’m proud of everything I achieved as head of such a great company.”

Harry realizes what it’s about before Julia could even say the words herself. The phrasing, the nostalgic tone, it’s all adding up to the obvious: Julia is about to announce her retirement.

“I gave the best years of my life for this company and I regret nothing, but recently I’ve realized that it is time for me to slow down for a little bit and enjoy a life that’s not filled with work anymore, and spend more time with my beloved husband, Fabio and my family who supported me on my long way here. Therefore, I am now announcing it with an aching heart and a lot of excitement as well that I am stepping down from my role as CEO of Cometa. I might be leaving now, but my business will not. So it is a pleasure to introduce you the person who will carry my legacy on, my amazing niece, the absolutely most perfect woman to carry on the work I started, Y/N Y/L/N.”

The moment another woman comes into the picture Harry almost chokes on his own saliva, seeing the same curves he had his fingers dug into last Friday. Y/N smiles and waves around as she steps to the other mic next to her aunt, exchanging a short look with her before turning towards the people in the room and the camera that’s streaming the event.

“Dude, you alright?” Zayn asks, patting Harry’s back a few times as he is still struggling to breathe normally.

He refuses to accept that the woman he fucked in a bathroom on his birthday, the one that made him moan like never before, is the same woman who is going to take over his biggest competitor.

“This has got to be a joke,” he breathes out with teary eyes from all the coughing.

“It is an honor to be here,” Y/N starts speaking as the clapping dies down once again and the two men are staring at the screen. “Just like to be the one to step into the perfectly stylish shoes of my aunt. I hope to live up to not just her and everyone else’s expectations, but also to mine as well. I grew up watching my aunt build up this empire with basically dust so to be the person to take her place is a dream come true. I promise to keep the quality the same and work on improving Cometa to its possible best while being in charge.”

As she finishes talking, questions are thrown in her way, but Harry doesn’t pay attention any longer. Standing up he walks to the window, staring out to the city as he chews on his bottom lip anxiously.

“What the fuck is your problem, H? It wasn’t as bad as we expected, right?” Zayn questions.

“It’s fucking worse!” he snaps turning around. “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

“Would you just tell me what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that… I told you about what… happened on my birthday.”

“The bathroom fuck, oh yeah,” Zayn chuckles with a playful shine in his eyes.

“Well, that woman… the woman I fucked was her.” Zayn stays silent for a moment before he turns towards the screen, eyeing the woman on the stage as she is still answering questions, standing confidently in her tight, black dress and red heels.

“You fucked Julia Bianchi’s niece? And she is now taking over Cometa?” he raises his eyebrows at Harry who just nods, pressing his lips together into a thin line. “And she is also the one who didn’t give you her number?”

“Don’t… bring that up. But yes, it’s her.”

Zayn starts laughing, clearly finding Harry’s misery entertaining, but Harry doesn’t feel like taking it that easy. He wonders if she knew who he was, if she did it on purpose or it was fate’s horrible joke on both of them.

“Ah man, that charity event on Saturday will be one hell of a show then!” Zayn points it out and Harry’s face falls. He totally forgot about the charity event he was invited to, one that would have the biggest names in the fashion industry together in a ball room to raise money for a chosen good cause. It happens every year and it’s a major event, the perfect place to network and also to see your biggest enemies. That means that Harry will see Y/N again in a few short days and if he is being honest… he is not ready to face her, not after the information he learned today. Sighing he steps to the minibar he insisted on having in his office and though he never drinks during the day, he now thinks that now might be an exception. He pours himself some whiskey and before he chugs it down at one go, he lets out a long, tired sigh.

“That’s just my luck…”

Leslie helps you with the zipper of your dress, the silky, red fabric hugging your body like a second skin. She smoothes the wrinkles out while you fix the straps, staring back at yourself in the mirror with judgment. You need to look perfect, this is going to be your first time appearing at an event as CEO of Cometa, your big entrance into the industry, you can’t let anything go wrong.

“You look gorgeous, babe,” Leslie smiles at you, bringing your hair behind your shoulders as her eyes meet yours in the mirror. Leslie might be your assistant, but she is a lot more than that. You’ve been friends for almost a decade and when she lost her job a few years ago you didn’t hesitate to offer her a spot next to you. You wouldn’t be here without her, she doesn’t try to use her privilege of being your friend to not do the work, she is always on top of her game and you’ll always be grateful for her to not make it awkward at all.

“I think you need some diamonds though,” she winks at you, stepping to the table where all kinds of jewelry is sprawled out. She reaches for a simple one, not too much, quite elegant and you nod as she holds it up for you. Walking behind you she brings it around your neck, the diamond brilliantly sitting on your chest now, giving that little extra shine to your outfit.

“You’ll make every man fall in love with you,” she smiles at you and breathing out you nod, hoping to believe that everything will go perfectly.

While you make a few last minute calls she gets dressed as well before the car arrives for the two of you. She is wearing a less daring but still beautiful black dress, her curly hair pinned up into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, her heavily freckled face bright from her happy smile as the two of you make your way to the event.

“I know it’s ridiculous, but I tried to memorize the faces and names from the guest list,” she grins at you, earning an eyeroll.

“Les, I told you, this is not The Devil Wears Prada,” you chuckle softly. She is obsessed with that movie and hasn’t shut up about feeling like she is literally living in it since your aunt has shared her plans with you about your future position last year.

“I know, but it might be impressive if you already knew everyone!”

You have to give that to her, it would earn you a few good points if you knew the names already, you’re just still nervous about the whole thing. So many things could go wrong and you want it to be perfect.

 At first you feel intimidated by all the influential people around you. Everyone here is one of the bests in their own field and you feel like an impostor, but then you remind yourself that you earned your spot. Your aunt wouldn’t have given you the company if she didn’t trust you entirely with it. You worth no less than anyone else in this ball room and that reminds you that… you’re that bitch.

Leslie’s knowledge of names actually comes handy. You love seeing people get shocked when they try to introduce themselves to you, but you already greet them saying their names. It earns you some appreciative looks as you make your way around the room. Everything is going smooth, right until you spot one particular man in the crowd.

You’re in a little circle with a few designers when your gaze falls on Harry who is standing across the room, talking to two men. The champagne almost slips from your hand when you realize it’s him.

“Leslie,” you grab her wrist catching her attention. “Les, who’s the man in the blue Gucci suit?” you ask in a whisper and she follows your gaze, finding the man in talk.

“Oh, that’s Harry Styles, head of Twisted.”

“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath as you quickly excuse yourself from the conversation and head out to the balcony to get some fresh air before you faint right on the spot.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Leslie follows you.

“I messed up,” you squeak as you step outside, the chilly evening air hitting your uncovered skin immediately. “I messed up big time!”

“What? Why? What happened?”

Stepping to the edge, you wrap your hands around the railing, staring out into the void for a moment. Leslie Stands beside you, quite puzzled about your sudden panic.

“Remember the guy I told you about from Friday night?” you ask, keeping your voice down even though there’s no one really around. Leslie nods. “Well… he was the guy.”

Leslie glances back inside and then at you before her eyes widen and lips part in shock.

“You fucked Harry Styles at a club’s bathroom?!” she whisper-yells at you and you feel like a teenager who is getting scolded.

“I didn’t know who he was! And I genuinely think he didn’t know me either, how could he?! But now he is here and… Oh God, this is so bad,” you whine, your head dropping backwards as you let out a frustrated growl.

“Okay, don’t panic. Maybe… maybe he doesn’t remember you.”

“You can’t make me believe he doesn’t remember me after fucking me on a counter,” you tell her giving her a look.

“Alright, alright. Then… you just have to suck it up. It’s not like you can unfuck him,” she shrugs and though you know she is right, you just wish you could leave right now.

You never planned on seeing him again. Your bullshit speech about letting fate decide it was just an excuse to not give him your number. You didn’t want to because you thought he is not the kind of man that would be good for you. From his look you thought that he was either a fuckboy, not willing to commit to anything serious, or the kind of man that seems all nice and respectful at first but then turns out to be a total asshole and you’ve had enough of those in your twenty-eight years.

Soon enough you head back as the auction is about to start. Luckily, your seat is far away from Harry and it seems like he hasn’t noticed you yet. Though you wish to keep it that way, you can feel it coming already.

The auction goes by fast, you buy a new painting that will look amazing in your living room and almost twice as much money is raised through the evening that was the goal. You leave Leslie behind at the table as you go to the bar to get yourself another drink, probably your last one of the evening if you don’t want to end up making a fool out of yourself.

Patiently waiting at the bar you’re already thinking about watching Grey’s Anatomy when you get back and out of this tight dress. You look hot, but it’s not the comfiest look, if you’re being honest. There’s only one more person in front of you when you feel a little tap on your shoulder and turning around your stomach drops when you see the man you’ve been trying to avoid all evening.

“Fancy seeing you here, Y/N,” he nods shortly, his expression is quite blank, but he is definitely not shocked to see you. You tighten your jaw before looking away from him, squinting your eyes a bit.

“You don’t seem surprised,” you point out.

“I was kind of expecting to see you here tonight.”

“So you knew who I was all along?” you snap at him, but he shakes his head.

“Not until the stream this week. I was pretty shocked when you walked on stage.”

Nodding shortly you brush your hair over your shoulder and you catch Harry glimpsing down your body, but decide not to comment on it.

“Did you know who I was?” he then asks, digging his hands into his pockets.

“No, I wouldn’t sleep with my biggest competitor willingly.”

“Just from the abrupt ending I had a feeling that you might have known me.”

“Just because a woman doesn’t throws herself into your arms after a fuck, doesn’t mean she had ulterior motives,” you scoff. “Get off your high horse,” you add before turning back towards the bar so you can order your drink. Unfortunately, Harry doesn’t want the conversation to end just yet. His hand is laid flat on the counter in front of you as he stands on your right, a little too close to your liking. You can smell the expensive cologne on him, the same that hit your nose on Friday as well and suddenly your body is betraying you.

However crazy the situation is, you can’t deny that he gave you one of the best times last Friday. Men you dealt with were more concerned about their own pleasure and most of them didn’t even get you to finish. But Harry made it happen so fast and didn’t even bitch about it when you made him rub your clit. He just obeyed like a grownup man who is willingly take care of his partner. That almost made you change your mind about leaving, but once you came down from cloud nine, you returned to your original plan.

But not as he is standing in front of you and you can smell him, your senses trick you into thinking that you’re in that bathroom again, almost aching for him to touch you the way he did then. He leans closer to your ear as he speaks up again.

“Leave the drink, dance with me,” he tells you as the bartender places your drink in front of you. You debate what to do before grabbing the drink and chugging it down in one go. You’ll need the alcohol if you are about to dance with your enemy.

Harry takes you to the dance floor in the middle of the ball room, one of his hands finds the small of your back while the other takes your hand as the two of you start swaying to the gentle music played by the band.

“Your aunt set my company back in women’s fashion every time I tried to take a step forward. Are you going to do the same?”

“She didn’t do anything to set you back but to build her own company. Not everything is about you.”

“You sound a little naïve, Love. It’s pretty clear you are new in the business.” This statement riles you up big time. How dare he degrade you like that? He knows nothing about you, yet he assumes things that are not at all real.

Smirking to yourself you lean back enough so your gazes can meet. Your hand slides up from his shoulders to the base of his neck so your fingers can gently brush against his skin and you notice the shudder than runs down his spine. He is not the only one having flashbacks from your last encounter.

“Wanna know what I know about business?” you purr, his eyes glued to your red lips as you speak. “I know that… Twisted was one of the last sites to participate in personalized ads on online platforms, failing to reach it’s targeted audience as fast as literally everyone else. I know that your company and my company use the same security system in our server rooms yet I can assure you that it cost me twenty percent less because we waited a month before installing it and got a huge last minute discount because the security company was trying to boost their numbers for their end of year closing. And I also happen to know that you are working on a new design for your website that could easily be outshone if I just did the same before you could do it.”

Harry’s lips part, probably mostly at the last information. He has no idea how you know these stuff, but you have a wide circle of connections in the city, you have an insider at every big companies in the industry without them even knowing. You’ve given countless tips to your aunt through the years, that’s how she managed to stay on top of her games.

Leaning closer your lips almost brush against him and you see how he weakens, he is expecting you to kiss him and he wants it. But you just smile at him, your eyes snapping down to his lips before up to his eyes.

“I will not do the same as my aunt, Harry,” you softly speak, your fingers grazing the back of his neck. “I will do way worse things.”

And with that, you slip out of his arms and walk back to your table, leaving him standing there alone at a complete loss of words.

“What the fuck had gotten into you?” Niall grimaces upon hearing everything he told you on the evening of the charity event. And quite frankly, Harry has no answer to that. He has absolutely no idea what had gotten into him to act like such a dick when you didn’t do anything against him.

The situation just messed with his head, seeing you in that breathtaking dress, mingling with everyone, smiling and laughing, oh how he wished you were laughing on his jokes! But then you seemed so tensed when he came up to you and something just switched in him. He wanted to take dominance, to somehow get out of it on top, but he miserably failed. When you brought up their plans to change the design he completely froze.

“No idea, okay? I just…lost it,” he growls, sinking into the couch. When Niall found out that Harry met the woman from the club again he insisted on coming over with some wine to talk it out, but he was not expecting this kind of story at all.

“Dude, you just put yourself on her radar big time, maybe she wouldn’t have even bothered to compete with you like her aunt did, but you surely changed her mind now.”

“I know, Niall!” Harry growls, not in the mood to be scolded like a little child. “Do you think she’ll change their design before we do?” he peeks at his friend, but Niall just shrugs.

“No idea, but I would try to speed it up before she actually does it.”

 Harry made you into a ticking bomb and you successfully got under his skin about the whole design project so first thing the next morning he went to Zayn to discuss a possible earlier debut for the new designs. Though it would be a close stretch, they agreed that it would go live by the end of the week and that got Harry somehow a little relieved, but in the middle of that he failed to put the right amount of effort into finding designers for their female lines.

When he meets up with Lambert a few days later he is not there to deliver great news. Apparently, three out of the four designers they were negotiating with recently pulled out of their deal and signed a contract with Cometa.

“We have one last designer on the list, but then… we are out of the bigger names,” Lambert sighs as Harry chews on his bottom lip anxiously. He feels like he has fallen into a hole a while ago and instead of climbing out he is just digging it deeper underneath him.

“Okay, do we have an appointment with them?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, I’m meeting her this afternoon.”

“I’m going with you,” he nods before standing from his chair and opening the door he calls out for his assistant. “Rebecca, please clear my schedule for this afternoon, I’ll be out of the office.”

Rebecca nods behind her desk, already starting to make calls about Harry’s meetings and appointments.

It’s obvious he is anxious about the meeting, because if it falls through they are forced to look for less known designers and that won’t bring the change for the company they’ve been seeking for a long time. Arriving to the showroom where the designer is working, Harry is setting his thoughts straight, determined to convince her to sign a contract with them. The two men are let into the building by the nice assistant working at the front desk and she shows the way to the showroom where Kennedy, the designer is waiting for them.

Harry is confident, he trusts his skills to make this happen, but when they walk inside he instantly freezes upon seeing an all too familiar figure standing with Kennedy

A maroon colored pantsuit is hugging your curves, a Hermés handbag hanging from your arm, your hair falling in loose curls. As if you could sense his presence, you peek over your shoulder, a devilish smirk on your lips when you see the shocked expression on Harry’s face.

“What a great surprise!” you beam, selling how happy you are to see him and in a way, you are. You wanted to see his face drop when he realizes you snatched yet another designer from him.

“Oh, Mr. Styles!” Kennedy smiles nicely at him and he finally snaps out of his trance, shaking hands with her and then turning to you, doing the same but in a lot colder manner.

“Y/N, nice to see you again,” he fakes a smile as your hand falls from his palm.

“I could say the same. But I’m heading out now. Great talk, Kennedy. I’ll be waiting for your call,” you wink at the young designer who seems to be thrilled by your words as she walks you to the exit.

“Fucking hell,” Harry mumbles under his breath and Lambert shoots him a look before Kennedy returns.

The three of them take a seat on the couches in the corner of the room and Harry is quick to get down to business, trying his best to make his offer appear more appealing than anything you told her right before their arrival. Kennedy listens intently, even takes notes and then she shows him some examples of what she was thinking about for her next line and Harry is beyond thrilled.

Unfortunately, soon comes the painful part.

“Harry, I’m gonna be honest with you,” Kennedy starts and Harry already knows what she is about to say. “Your offer is very tempting and it would be an honor to design a line for Twisted, but in my situation it would be more beneficial if I collaborated with Cometa. It is nothing against your company, it’s more about my personal path and growth.”

Harry can feel his stomach dropping and he clenches his jaw as he listens to Kennedy’s worth. He understands, of course he understands, she has the right to selfishly look at her own benefits upon signing with a new company, but he wished she would take the risk and chose his company instead of yours.

“I’m keeping the offer open for you still,” he forces a smile on his face. “If you change your mind, Twisted would be more than happy to work with you.”

Kennedy walks the two men out and the fake smile quickly vanishes from Harry’s face upon stepping out of the building.

“What are we going to do now?” Lambert asks, clearly worried about how they’re gonna move forward with their last chance falling.

“If Y/N wants a war, that’s what she’ll get,” Harry growls, revenge burning in the greens of his eyes.

It’s a quiet Friday afternoon, only hours left from the day before you are headed home finally. You’re sitting in your office with Leslie, going over next week’s schedule to make sure everything is set and clear.

It’s been almost an entire month since you stepped into your aunt’s shoes as head of the company and though the start was a little rough, especially with finding out who Harry was, but you feel like you have everything under your control by now. After all, you didn’t learn business for years from the bests for nothing, right?

Harry’s comment on you knowing nothing about the industry made you bitter, because he knows nothing about you and the struggle you went through your life to get to this point. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbow, being Julia’s niece might have been a hugely influencing aspect of you taking over, but you worked your ass off to be the best leader you can and not just ruin everything she built up through her whole life.

Though you didn’t always want to be the one following her, but you like to think that things worked out to your favor and you are where you should be.

“Alright, everything is looking fine,” Leslie smiles at you over her laptop. “I’ll send you the notes from today’s meeting.”

“Thank you. Can you call in with the delivery company about next month’s transactions?” you ask her and she nods, already adding it to her list of tasks for the rest of the day. “Alright. I’ll do the rest of the signings and then we can head out,” you smile at her.

Leslie is grabbing her things from the table when there’s a soft knock on the door. You give your permission and one of the tech support guys walk in with a worried look on his face.

“Miss Y/L/N? I’m afraid we have a problem,” he clears his throat and you can already feel your anxiety crawl up on your spine.

“What is it?” you ask firmly. The guy steps farther inside, fumbling with his fingers as he presents the issue.

“There’s been an attempt to break our software’s security system where we keep our data about the sellings. A-And I’m afraid it wasn’t just an attempt, they succeeded.”

You take a deep breath, glancing over at Leslie for a moment before you follow the man to the tech department to investigate the issue further. You don’t know shit about these stuff, but from what he said you know the trouble is huge and if you don’t solve it as soon as possible, valuable data could leak out to the public. They try to explain you what they are working on as of right now and that there’s not much you can actually help with.

“Make sure to put your extra hours on your attendance sheets and let me know when you are able to restore the system,” you tell them and you earn quite a few thank yous on your way out for actually paying the overtime. Then you turn to the guy that first came to your office. “Do you have any information about who it could have been?”

“We weren’t able to track them back, but whoever it was, they’re surely professionals and they might know the system from the inside.”

“What do you mean from the inside? Someone did it from the company?” you ask, eyebrows knitting together as you fold your arms on your chest.

“No,” he shakes his head. “We would have been able to track that back. I mean that they know the system, maybe they worked somewhere where the same one was used and they could see into it.”

It takes you a few moments before you realize what this really is and it has your blood boiling right away. Nodding shortly you exhale sharply through your nose.

“Thank you, please call me when it’s up and running again, I’ll take care of the rest,” you tell him before turning around you walk away.

When Leslie sees you approaching your office with a head practically turning red she is quick to jump to her feet, following you into the office.

“What’s happening?”

“Harry Styles, that’s what happening,” you snap as you grab your phone, purse and coat before heading out, not wasting another minute.

“What? Where are you going now?”

“To the devil himself,” you growl back and enter the elevator, leaving her alone with her questions.

Sitting in your car on your way to the headquarters of Twisted, you imagine every scenario you want to make happen when you arrive, most of them including hitting the man across his ridiculously handsome yet annoying face. He crossed a line with breaking into your system and stealing valuable data. Though you’re sure he wouldn’t dare to sell or publish it, because he would be in a big legal trouble if he did, he still had a glimpse into your numbers and that’s already an advantage. He is playing dirty and you’re not having any of it.

Arriving you burst through the doors and demand to see him. Though the woman behind the front desk tells you that you can’t see him without an appointment, you still get her to make a call up and naturally, Harry allows you to see him. The fucker might already have been waiting for you to show up. As you stand in the all glass elevator, on your way up to meet him you take a few deep breaths to keep your cool and not snap like a maniac, however it all vanishes when you see him waiting for you with that shit-eating grin on his face when you step out of the elevator.

“You’re lucky I didn’t go straight to the police with your little stunt, you fucker!” you snap, not able to hold back your swearing any longer.

“Do you have any evidence?” he tilts his head to the side and you don’t miss how his gaze runs down your body as you march towards him. You’d find it flattering in another situation, but right now you just want to punch him in the face.

“I’ll show some evidence down your throat, Styles, if you don’t stop messing with my security system,” you growl back, standing so close to him now that you see every tiny freckle and blemish on his face and the way how he clenches his jaw, holding his gaze on yours.

Without a word or invitation, you walk into the room that you suppose is his office and he follows with a soft chuckle.

“Did you hire a hacker just to mess with me?” you throw the question at him as he closes the door so his employees don’t hear everything.

“What if I did?” he shrugs, stepping to the tray on his desk that already has a glass of whiskey on it. He grabs the glass and simply lifts it to his lips, taking a tiny sip from it. “Oh, excuse my manners. Would you like a drink?”

“I’m driving,” you answer shortly. “You crossed a line, Harry,” you warn him.

“What line?” he chuckles, rather entertained by your rage. “After what you pulled with Kennedy, I think I went easy on you.”

“I didn’t pull anything, I just gave her a better offer! It’s not my fault she has better chances with my company!” you snap back, feeling your heartbeat fastening from the anger that’s boiling in your veins.

“You knew I wanted her to design for me, why couldn’t you just let one person out of your endless list? You already have everyone else, she was my last fucking chance!” Harry barks back, clearly having some built up tension in him as well.

“If you didn’t act like an arrogant asshole at the charity gala, I would have happily let you work with her, but then you felt the need to fucking degrade me! That’s why I didn’t let you get away with it!”

Harry opens his mouth to answer, but he quickly closes his mouth, probably knowing well you’re right. He did act shitty towards you that evening and he has no excuse for his behavior. You walk closer until there are just a few feet between the two of you, your eyes glued to his burning green gaze that’s staring back at you, but before you could speak up, he cuts you off.

“Well, you know. All is fair in… war and business,” he shrugs and you honestly barely can stop yourself from laughing at how stupid that just sounded. You can’t miss the twitch in the corner of his mouth as well and you can’t believe how easily he made you break out of your rage.

“Don’t try to make money out of writing slogans,” you huff shaking your head and now he is grinning widely. “Do you have the data?”

“I don’t,” he answers and you narrow your eyes at him.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he chuckles. “I had it, but I already deleted it. I know it wasn’t ethical so as soon as it was handed to me I deleted it. I didn’t even look into it. I just wanted to scare you.”

“And how do I know your hacker doesn’t have it either?”

“Because he signed a contract that would cost him millions to break and I don’t think a junior in college who is still living in a dorm can afford that,” he points out and now you are somewhat convinced. You stare back at him for a few more seconds before nodding.

“Stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours, how does that sound?” you offer generously.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he questions with a smug smirk that makes your arch an eyebrow at him. “What are you doing tomorrow evening?” he then asks and you can’t mask your surprise in front of him.

“That does not concern you, Styles,” you scoff, though it boosts your ego that even through all the hate you’ve been targeting at each other, he still wants you the same way he did at the club that evening. You can’t deny, this rivalry has sparked a few thoughts in you as well, but you are not going to fall into the same mistake you made that evening. You pay him another smirk before turning around and heading towards the door. “Stay out of my way, Styles!” you call back without looking at him, but you just know he is grinning at you, a growing sexual tension thickening the atmosphere in the room.

“Or what?” he smugly questions and you stop at the door, glancing back at him over your shoulder.

“Or… You said it yourself. All is fair in war and business,” you smirk before walking out of the office.

Following your visit to Harry’s office things take a… playful turn in your rivalry. The attempts and competing don’t stop, both of you are on each other’s radar, ruining and messing with each other’s projects and works whenever and wherever it’s possible, but it’s not as hateful as it was at the beginning. If something, it even helps you to always be on your toes and watch out for possible threats, not just from Harry but from everyone else.

Neither of you succeeds in evolving in each other’s field, Cometa keeps thriving in women’s fashion with a quite small variety offered for the gentlemen while Twisted fails to grow out of men’s fashion and venture to the ladies, but somehow it’s not as frustrating as it used to be before.

Harry keeps up his flirty acts and tries to ask you out every time your paths cross each other, but you relentlessly turn him down every time, only fueling him to keep chasing after you more the next time. It’s a thrilling and flattering little game, knowing that even with all the rivalry between the two of you, being the biggest competitors in the business… he still wants you.

New York fashion week rolls around and it’s by far one of your favorite times in the year. You managed to snatch an exclusive deal with YSL to release a special line just for the fashion week and it sold out in the first two hours, now waiting to be restocked in a few days. Cometa is thriving and your aunt has expressed her pride towards the work you’ve been doing at the company, so things are heading the right direction.

You knew Harry would be attending the same shows as you, but it’s fate or just luck that you are seated next to each other at one of the shows, giving you the chance to talk without any of you attempting to corrupt the other this time.

Harry is already sitting in his seat when you arrive wearing a custom made Gucci dress, something that immediately catches his eyes since he is a huge fan of the brand himself.

“Your fashion sense never disappoints, Y/N,” he beams up at you as you take the seat next to him.

“Hope that’s not surprising, Styles,” You smirk at him, taking a glance at his own Gucci outfit, the checkered pants fitting him perfectly while the pussy bow adds some spice to the whole outfit, you have to admit. He looks good, he always does.

“Any plans after the show?” he asks right before the lights go out and the show starts. You leave him without an answer, just let out a soft chuckle as you glue your eyes to the first model who walks the runway.

Once the show is over you head out with Harry by your side, having an actually entertaining discussion about the designs you just saw. He might not be an expert in fashion, but he has developed a good sense through his years.

As you make your way out of the venue you are stopped by an interviewer and Harry remains on your side as the woman asks you a few questions about the show.

“I’ve always wondered, does it bother you that you couldn’t be on the runway yourself? You’ve been sitting front row the past years, but you once had aspirations of being a model yourself, is that right?”

The question makes you tense up and you can feel Harry’s puzzled look on you from the side.

“It’s not like it was my fault for not making it up there,” you sass back, forcing a smile to your face.

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” the woman chuckles and it has your blood boiling, because you know the real meaning behind her words.

It’s your fault you didn’t become a model because you were never thin enough to be one. It was your fault and not the industry’s to hold impossible standards to women who wanted to succeed as a model.

The smile falters from your face and you take a long, judgmental look at the woman in front of you. Because if she is brave enough to talk like that to you, you’re not gonna shy away from bringing her spirits down either.

“Judging from your appearance and attitude you wouldn’t make it either,” you spitefully reply and her smile quickly fades, clearly shocked at your answer. You open your mouth again, ready to continue, but then you feel a hand on the small of your back and you realize Harry is still standing next to you.

“Come on, we have somewhere to be, right?” he smiles kindly as you just simply nod and walk away from the woman before she could offend you again.

Harry senses your tension as the two of you leave the venue but doesn’t try to talk to you and that’s a wise choice from him. As you step out of the building you realize that if you went home now you’d probably get drunk on your own and let that comment get to you more than you should. So instead of doing that you turn to Harry.

“So, what are our plans?” you ask and you don’t miss the small smile on his lips as he stares back at you.

Not in the mood to stay around people at a bar you accept Harry’s invitation to his place, since it’s also close. The contrast between his extravagant penthouse and your cozy but still quite modern townhouse in Park Slope is major, but you didn’t expect anything less from the man.

You’ve managed to calm down since you left the venue, but you’re still quite bitter about the comment the woman made. Harry hasn’t tried to ask you about it, but you can tell he is dying to know more about the situation that’s behind the madness.

He fixes you a drink and you find yourself sinking into his comfortable and probably ridiculously expensive couch in his living room area.

“I used to want to be a model,” you start, breaking the silence that settled between the two of you. “When I was a teen. I was a lot thinner, I was a competitive dancer until I was seventeen, but I had a knee injury, so I had to quit.”

Harry sits on the other end of the couch, listening to you with patience as he sips on his own drink.

“I was never as thin as the other models at the agency I was trying to get into, but I definitely wasn’t overweight. Yet, they labelled me as a plus size model. I was a healthy, strong young girl with a perfectly good body, yet they told me that I was too fat to be a model.”

Glancing at Harry, you can tell that he is surprised at the information he just learned. He is probably picturing you thinner now, going to model castings and if you’re being honest you enjoyed that part. The trouble came when you got rejection after rejection, telling you to lose weight and come back after that.

“I quit my whole plan to be a model and studied fashion and business instead, consciously working my way towards this point. But I never got over how the industry made me feel less of a person because I wasn’t a size zero.”

For a few long moments Harry just stares at you and it’s actually nice that he doesn’t try to make you feel better right away, praising you how you are perfect just the way you are. Because you’re not, but that’s fine because no one is.

“I’ve honestly never seen a more cruel industry than fashion before,” he then speaks up. “I didn’t grow up in it and still don’t really have that much and deep connection with it, but I know how fucked up it is. And it’s nice to see that you know your worth even after everything that happened.”

Your gaze meets his and you’re looking for any sign that gives away that he is just messing with you, but it’s all genuine. You just shoot him a small smile before lifting your drink to your lips. It’s the most intimate moment you’ve shared with him, including the ones you had in that bathroom.

“Okay, now you tell me something about your life,” you prompt, wanting to divert the conversation on him a little bit.

“What do you want to know?” he asks with a soft chuckle.

“Why did you name your brand Twisted?” you ask. The question has been on your mind for a while.

“It’s coming from my mum’s name. Anne Twist.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, you weren’t expecting such a deep and personal reason behind the name, connected to a family member.

“Why her?”

“Why not?” he smirks shrugging his shoulders. “She raised me and my sister up, I wouldn’t be here without her. It was obvious I would make her be part of it in some kind of way.”

“That’s actually very nice. Who knew that you could be something other than an egoistic asshole!” you joke, making him laugh as well.

“Okay, what’s the meaning behind your brand?” he then turns it back around.

“Well, my aunt met her husband when they were very young, maybe eighteen. She fell in love with Fabio on her trip to Italy and being the impulsive and adventurous woman that she is, she stayed for a month there just because of Fabio. He is a very passionate man and he was always ready to bring the stars down for Julia. He always used to tell her that he would even catch a comet for her, if that’s what she wanted. And that was my aunt’s favorite saying from him. Cometa is comet in Italian. It’s her tribute to the love of her life.”

“That’s easily the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Harry hums and you just smile nodding at him. It really is like a fairytale and it’s also one of the reasons why you were so happy to take her place at Cometa. Julia is still just as in love with Fabio as she was at eighteen and she deserves to spend more time with her beloved husband. She earned the time off after all the sacrifices she made for the company and all through them Fabio stayed by her side. It’s their well-earned happy ending now.

“You know a lot about romantic things?” you cock an eyebrow at him, finishing up your drink.

“Actually, I’m a quite romantic guy.”

“Are you now?”

“Yeah, you just never gave me the chance to show it to you.”

“Oh, so now I’m the bad guy?” you chuckle, handing him your glass when he stands from the couch to get you a refill.

“Exactly!” he chuckles holding up your empty glass on his way. “I hope you know you absolutely broke my heart when you didn’t give me your number that night.”

“Oh, you poor little thing,” you chuckle, resting your head in your palm, your elbow on the back of the couch. “I’m not sorry though. You didn’t give out the right vibes.”

“The right vibes?” he huffs as he returns with your drink and now sits a little closer to you. “What vibe did I give you?” “The vibe that told me I shouldn’t mess with you,” you simply answer as you take a sip from your refilled drink.

“You were so keen on hating me even before you knew who I was, I can’t believe you,” he chuckles shaking his head.

“I’m just cautious!” you protest. “I’ve dealt with some problematic men in the past, I can’t let myself walk right into another one that easily.”

“What did they do?”

“Some men just can’t treat women right. Especially confident ones with a body like mine,” you simply shrug.

Men like to think that bigger girls are so terribly insecure about their body that they need the validation of a male to feel good about themselves. But when you’re confident and feel good in your own skin without needing them to praise you, they think that you’re egoistic, so full of yourself and they are quick to try to drag you down. That’s something you can’t tolerate. You don’t need a man to feel good about yourself, you don’t need anyone for that. You know your worth and that’s all that matters.

Harry’s eyes travel down your body, taking his time on your curves and you smile shaking your head as you reach out and cupping his chin you pull his head up so he is looking into your eyes.

“I honestly can’t see what problem anyone could have with your body. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since our bathroom fiasco,” he bluntly comments making you chuckle, even flattered by his words.

“You are such a flirt,” you grin at him and he doesn’t try to protest.

You stay for a couple more drinks and you drop the heavier topics, venturing over to music, fashion and any funny stories that come to your mind. Harry is actually amazing company when you’re not trying to jump at each other’s throat and for a few short hours you forget that he is supposed to be your competitor.

You’re a little tipsy, but you are definitely not drunk, so when Harry offers you to stay the night you turn it down, calling yourself a car since you are not in the right state to drive.

“I’ll come and pick my car up in the morning,” you breathe out as you put your heels back on that came off your feet sometime during the evening, making yourself home in his place.

“I’ll text you the security number to the garage,” he nods, walking you to the elevator.

“Thank you. And… I guess thank you for the evening,” you smile at him, turning to face him. He is standing close, but still takes a step closer, one of his hands finding your waist as he pulls you against his chest. Your palms lie flat on his chest as you try to get yourself to the right mindset to leave now before you regret doing something. Leaning down his nose nudges against your cheek, before he presses a soft kiss under below your ear, a sigh escaping your lips.

“I should go, the car is here,” you breathe out, but don’t move.

“Mm, okay,” he hums, his lips peppering kisses on your jaw and your cheek, as if you didn’t say a word. You want to continue it, not just because of the alcohol but because the sexual tension between the two of you has been growing since that charity gala, but the remainder of your rationality stops you before your lips could meet.

“Bye Harry,” you smile at him softly as you push him away and you walk into the elevator, leaving him hanging. Again.

“Bye Y/N. I’m still going to try to ruin your company!” he calls after you as you turn around to face him, the sliding doors slowly closing between the two of you.

“Same back at you, Styles,” you smirk before the door closes and you are taken down.

Well, that was a lie. Following your evening at his place neither of you really tries to work against the other, leaving each other be without any fuss. It might also have something to do with how you kept in touch after that day. You’ve been texting occasionally, attending some events together, even had a business dinner together with a few other peers from the industry. Things have been quiet and you’ve been feeling content with the current state you’ve managed to reach. Or so you thought.

It was a silent agreement between the two of you. You both put your projects aside that targeted the other’s profile. Harry stopped looking for designers for his women lines and you put your men department to the side as well. There were a lot to work on beside these fields so you felt like you were in peace. Right until Leslie bursts into your office on a casual Tuesday.

“Have you seen this?” she asks, placing a tablet in front of you with an Instagram account open on it.

You want to ask what you’re supposed to look at, but then you realize what it really is. A shiny new account for a new brand that promises to take online shopping to the next level; female and male as well.

“You think it could be…?” you ask, not quite convinced that Harry is behind this.

“Well, the wording is similar to theirs and creating a new brand might be a solution to their gap in women’s fashion,” she points it out, though you don’t want to believe he could have been working on this all along, basically in front of your face.

But it’s a possibility and you have to consider this option before jumping into defending him without any proof.

“Men can’t be trusted,” you grumble under your breath before jumping into work.

What you didn’t know is that an eerily similar situation goes down in Harry’s office as well when Zayn bursts in, showing him the ad he found for the new brand called Farfalla.

Harry immediately digs up everything about the company, though there’s not much other than their new Instagram account and heavy marketing that started just yesterday.

“What is Farfalla even?” he grimaces leaning back in his chair.

“It means butterfly in Italian,” Zayn explains and Harry’s eyes flicker up to him.

“Italian? You think it’s her?”

“It’s possible,” Zayn nods. “Starting a new brand to finally reach men’s fashion is a good idea.”

“She wouldn’t have done this,” Harry shakes his head in disbelief. Could you be working on this all along? Was this your plan from the start? To make him fall for you and forget about business while you built up your new empire to ruin him?

“What if she did?” Zayn prompts and in a way his suspicion is valid, but Harry is having a hard time believing it. You would never play him this dirty, not after how the two of you have grown closer in the past weeks, almost became friends.

“What are you going to do?” Zayn asks him as he pushes himself away from the desk and quite obviously starts getting ready to leave.

“She is not getting away from this,” Harry mumbles under his breath as he grabs his coat and phone before storming out of the office.

It’s past six when Harry gets to Cometa’s building and he is informed that you’ve already went home. He could have just come back in the morning, but he knew he would just stew in his own anger if he didn’t talk to you as soon as possible. So using his charm he gets the woman sitting behind the front desk to share your address with him, saying that he needs to talk to you urgently. That’s how he finds himself heading to Park Slope, slightly surprised you are not living somewhere in the heart of Manhattan.

As the scenery around his changes, skyscrapers turning into brick buildings and townhouses, Harry tries to figure out what he even wants to say to you. Should he just get straight down to business and accuse you? Snap at you? Or should he give you the chance to explain yourself? He can’t really make up his mind, mostly because he still feels like you betrayed him even though he can’t be sure Farfalla is yours.

Parking down at the address he got from the woman, he stares up at the deep red brick townhouse, a simple, black door at the top of the stairs that’s lined with a few potted plants and flowers. This is not what he would have imagined your home like, but now that he is standing on your doormat, he realizes it kind of suits you.

Ringing the bell he hopes that you’re home and not out and about somewhere in the city, but when he hears the familiar sound of heels clicking on the floor he knows you are on the other side. When the front door flings open and you come into his sight, for a split second he forgets why he is here and his anger vanishes. As always, you look amazing, a tight, black dress hugging your curves, the middle part appearing like it’s a corset, emphasizing the dip of your waist. Your hair is let down in loose curls and your feet are bare, but he knows you probably wore heels all day. You must have gotten home not long ago and as your eyes fall on the man at the door, your expression hardens on him.

“You really had the balls to come her, huh?” you cock your head to the side, keeping your eyes on his green ones for a moment before you let him inside.

“Did you think you could get away with it?” he huffs walking into the hallway and stopping as you close the door and turn to him.

“Me? I could say the same! You thought I would just ignore it or what? I proved you a few times that I’m not stupid, Harry,” you retort, folding your arms on your chest as you walk past him, into the kitchen and he follows.

“You surely are not stupid, playing me so dirty behind my back!” Harry spats standing his ground. “Playing all friendly and nice and then make a fool out of me!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you question narrowing your eyes at him as you lean against the kitchen island’s counter. “If anyone played dirty it’s you! And you have the balls to come here and talk like this to me in my own fucking home?!” you snap, walking closer to him, keeping your deathly glare on him.

“What the fuck did I do?!” he scoffs throwing his hands into the air.

“You created a whole new brand just to fuck with me! Or did you think I wouldn’t find out about it?!”

“Me? You made a new brand! And you didn’t do a great job hiding the fact that it was your work, even the name is Italian, like your current one!”

You stare back at him, tilting your head to the side as you process what he is talking about. All along, the two of you were accusing each other of something neither of you did.

“Harry,” you breathe out, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Farfalla is not my brand.”

“And I’m supposed to believe it?!”

“Well you better be because it’s the fucking truth!”

“Prove it!” he hisses at you, taking a step closer, his face only inches away from yours now.

“Until about twenty seconds ago I thought that it was your new brand, Harry. I thought that you were the one who backstabbed me!” you snap back, standing up for yourself in this giant misunderstanding you fell into, accusing each other without any proof.

Harry stares back at you, his gaze burning into yours as he stands his ground and you can almost see the gears turning in his head as he processes your words.

“So… it’s not yours? You didn’t do it to fuck me up?”

“Of course not!” you breathe out, suddenly quite tired of all the anger that’s been eating you away through the afternoon. “I thought that we had a kind of silent agreement not to mess with each other so I wasn’t planning anything anytime soon. That’s why I got so mad when I thought you did it!”

“I thought the same!” he growls shaking his head. “I thought you did it all to just make me look stupid, that the friendly act was just so I wouldn’t notice a thing and I fell right into your trap.”

“There was no trap,” you simply tell him and you hope he senses the hidden meaning behind your words.

Luckily he does. But for your biggest surprise there’s no snarky comment or smug smirking, he just steps closer and before you could even protest, his hands find your waist and he pulls you against his hard chest, lips hungry attacking yours. He makes you back until you bump against the kitchen island, his hips pressing against yours as he pushes you against the hard surface, his hands wandering on your sides and back, up and down, exploring every curve of your body while his kisses never slow down, your tongues meeting in the middle.

Bringing up a leg you curl it around his hips, your heel digging into his round ass as he leans forward, making you arch your back, leaning onto the counter as his lips move from your lips to your jawline and neck, his fingers digging into your waist and the thigh that’s lifted by his side. He nibbles on the soft skin of your neck, definitely leaving a mark, but you just comb your fingers through his hair, letting yourself get lost in the sensation.

“As much as I would love to fuck you on a counter again, can we take this to a bedroom?” he mumbles as he kisses his way back up to your lips, smirking against them as he captures them again.

You don’t answer, just grab his hand and pull him upstairs with you, right into your bedroom. He is all over you, lips, hands, tongue, pressed up against you as the two of you stumble your way to your king sized bed. Harry’s fingers fidget with the corset on your dress, but he soon realizes it’s a little trickier than he expected, so leaning back he furrows his eyebrows as he glances down at the dress, still trying to figure out how to get you out of it.

“Harry,” you smile at him softly. “It’s faux. There’s a zipper at the back,” you inform him and he sighs in defeat as he kisses you again, his fingers quickly finding the zipper. The dress pools at your feet and you rid him from his jacket and shirt, revealing his inked chest, a sight you’ve been thinking about way too much lately.

By the time the two of you fall to your bed, neither of you are dressed in more than just your underwear. Because both of you like to be in charge, you roll around for a while, trying to get on top of each other but eventually Harry stays up when he starts going down on you, kissing his way through your heated skin. You don’t shy away when his hands snake under your back and easily unclasps your bra, being bare in front of him is not something that makes you feel uncomfortable or insecure. The way he looks at you, the way he makes you feel brings you so much confidence, you have absolutely no problem being nude.

When your bra flies to the floor, Harry leans back a little to admire you lying there, before his lips find their way over the curve of your breasts, down your stomach. Hooking his fingers into the elastic of your panties he tugs them down easily as you lift your hips, your thighs parting as you bare yourself in front of him.

“Don’t be shy about screaming my name,” he smugly tells you before his lips and tongue meet your clit. Your fingers lace through his hair immediately as you gasp out at the sensation, his tongue drawing the whole fucking alphabet to your bundle of nerves. His arms curl around your thighs, ring clad fingers digging into your flesh as he sucks on the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, Harry! Yes!” you moan out, tugging on his locks when he teases his tongue around your hole, your walls tightening around nothing as you are growing desperate to feel something inside of you.

You pull on his hair, signaling him that you want to get it on with, Hands reaching down to get rid of his boxer briefs before you blindly pull out the drawer of your nightstand, grabbing a condom. His lips eagerly meet yours as he wraps his erected cock and though you would love to have a taste of him like he did with you, you just want to feel him inside you.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he growls against your lips, teasing you with running just the head up and down your slit.

“If you don’t fuck me right now I’m gonna rip your guts out,” you warn him, earning a soft chuckle as he kisses you again, tongue pushing into your mouth as he finally pushes inside you, his long, thick cock filling you up perfectly and it somehow feels even better than the first time.

“Go hard,” you gasp, a hand coming to grab his ass as you push him even further into you. He doesn’t need more, he starts slamming into you, his hips meeting yours roughly with each thrust, his whole length disappearing inside you every time.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, licking and sucking on the soft skin. You almost think about telling him not to mark you, but it just turns you on even more so you let him do whatever he wants.

“I want to see you on top,” he pants, lifting his head so his gaze could meet yours. You nod, before the two of you turn around and you straddle his hips, guiding him back inside you as you sink down his length. Your hands are sprawled out on his hard chest as you find your balance in the position, Harry’s eyes roaming your body up and down, not able to get enough of how blissful you look, sitting with his cock buried inside of you, enjoying yourself to the fullest. His hands run up your thighs and upper body until they find your breasts, kneading them as you start moving your hips up and down, back and forth. When you moan his name or gasp because his cock reaches that one particular spot inside you, those are the moments he wishes he could capture on camera and watch whenever he wants.

“I want it from back,” you pant as you lean down and kiss him roughly. That’s all he needs, he helps you get off of him before you get on all four, pushing your butt up in the air while Harry kneels behind you, the sight in front of him hardening his cock even more, if that’s possible. His hands grab onto your waist as he pushes inside you, making you both let out a satisfied moan before he starts moving again.

“Fuck, you look so good like this, Y/N. I love your ass,” he growls, giving it a smack that surprises you, but you absolutely love it.

“Harry, go faster!” you whimper, feeling your orgasm nearing as you grip the comforter on the bed, desperate to reach your climax. You’re just about to reach down between your legs to play with your clit when Harry not only picks his pace up but also reaches around you, two of his fingers starting the circling motions on the bundle of nerves, making your legs shake from the pleasure.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me, cum all over my cock,” he growls, railing you from behind without missing a beat.

“Harry!” you scream when he thrusts into you so harshly, your whole body rocking in the motion.

“Come on, angel. Cum for me,” he murmurs and leaning down he wraps his arms around you, bringing you up straight, your back pressing against his sweaty chest, his hands coming to cup your breasts as he keeps thrusting up into you, pushing you over the edge.

You moan and gasp and scream his name as your walls tighten around his length, riding out your bliss and it helps him reach his own high, his hot breath hitting the back of your neck and shoulder, grunting and cursing under his breath as he fills the condom.

As his thrusts come to a halt, he sinks into a sitting position, bringing you with him, you lean against him feeling like jelly as you’re still just trying to catch your breath. Harry peppers your shoulder with small kisses before you muster the energy to break the position and lie down on the bed.

“Towel is in the bathroom,” you tell him knowing that’s what he’ll look for as he stands from the bed and you point at the door that leads to the joined bathroom. Harry nods and pads his way in there, cleaning himself up before he returns with a small damp towel, doing the same for you. He drops it to the floor next to the bed before joining you, cradling you into his arms as you take a breather together.

One hand is on your shoulder, fingers dancing on the naked skin, the other one is holding your thigh that’s across his lap while your head is resting on his chest.

“You really thought I would backstab you like that?” he hums after a while, breaking the comfortable silence.

“You did the same,” you answer, lifting your head, resting your chin on his chest.

“Touché,” he chuckles, before leaning down he kisses you shortly. “So, if neither of us did it, then we have a quite major problem on our hands.”

“I know,” you hum. “That shit looks promising and they can easily ruin both of us.”

Harry stays silent for a little, but you can see the gears turning in his head. When his gaze snaps back at you, you know he has an idea.

“Unless… we join forces.” Your eyebrows arch as you stare back at him. “I know it’s a risky move, but this is the only way to stay on the top.”

“How much you want to be joined?”

“We could start with just one line, the men part designed by someone from me and the women by someone from you. And if it presents well we can just figure out where to go from there. Obviously, the men part would be sold by us and the women by you, but we could join the pages and direct users to each other’s sites in connection with the lines.”

“That could… actually work,” you nod shortly, thinking about the idea. It needs a lot of planning, but it could actually be a big hit if you do it right. “And you’re willing to partner with me?” you ask cheekily as you push yourself up into a sitting position, Harry doing the same.

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m willing to do about anything with you,” he chuckles, making you smile at his playful answer. “I hope you know I’m not talking about just business,” he then adds with a meaningful look.

“You are still so keen on this?” you sigh, tugging your hair behind your ear.

“Do you not like being with me?”

“I do, surprisingly,” you roll your eyes, making him laugh.

“Do you not like having sex with me?”

“I think the answer is pretty obvious to that,” you give him a look as he smirks back at you.

“Yeah, but I want to hear it.”

“I enjoy having sex with you, Harry,” you roll your eyes again, but he just kisses you short but hard before leaning back.

“So then why shouldn’t we date?”

“Because we are competitors?”

“We just agreed that we should join forces. We are partners now.”

“You are running a little ahead, Harry,” you cock an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know, I haven’t been in a relationship in ages. I probably suck at it at this point,” you shrug, but it’s just a lame excuse and you both know that. Leaning closer Harry smirks at you smugly.

“I have something else you can suck.” You smack his chest at his nasty remark, but can’t push a smile back. His hand finds the back of your head as he pulls you in for another kiss. “I want you, Y/N. I really do. You are all I think about even when you are an annoying piece of shit, getting under my skin. I still want you.”

“Wow, so romantic,” you chuckle shaking your head. “What if we can’t get over our differences in the business? That can easily poison any relationship.”

“Then we’ll have a lot of mind-blowing angry and makeup sex. Those are the best. We can put all our frustration into sex, I think that’s just perfect.”

“What are you, a horny teenager? Sex is all you can think about?” you chuckle.

“It is when I’m lying in a bed with you naked. You can’t blame me,” he grins smugly and you want to hate him, you want to hate him so badly, but you can’t. You want him just as much as he wants you.

“So… partners?” he prompts, tilting his head to the side with a sweet smile as he waits for your answer.

“Partners in business and life?”

“Mhm, that’s the plan,” he nods, his smile growing wider with each passing second.

“Alright,” you breathe out. “So… it’s not—All is fair in war and business?” you ask teasingly, using his own words from earlier.

“Just shut up and kiss me,” he laughs, pulling you in for another kiss.

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

[loversandantiheroes]

Okay my whiskey fantasy. It’s a holiday, anniversary, I dunno. But he comes home. You’re in lingerie, teddy, the garter belt, the thigh high tights (I am having an absolute brain fart and can not remember the name), the high heels. you’re cooking him dinner in it. Somethin real texas for dinner. He wants to immediately fuck yiu, BUT NO he has to WAIT bc its dinner time and you worked hard. He’s waiting, and he’s watching you, you’re bending over at the stove, all that. Dinner is served, you —-

You lounge on the table to eat like a decadent and gorgeous pain in the ass, so he can see you’re whole body while he eats, forced to be patient. You’re being an absolute menace. He’s running his mouth the whole time OBVIOUSLY. Then he fucking wrecks you

No Candles Necessary

As I am a bonafide yeehonk foole (and I have the t-shirt to prove it), I could hardly resist this idea. Nonny, I hope like hell I did you proud.💗

Shameless Whiskey/F!Reader smut (18+ and yes that means you), 5.3k+ words (they just wouldn’t shut up), mildly beta’d and lightly edited.

Warnings: established relationship, unsafe food preparation practices, light foodplay (it only goes in appropriate places I swear), egregious dirty talk, improper use of a dining table, Switch!Whiskey returns, Switch!Reader by extension, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating, PIV sex, unprotected sex (do as I say, not as I fictionalize), cream pie (bc I’m lazy quite frankly), actual pie (peach!), a little soft schmoop in between the smut just because I can.

Permatag: @missredherring​ @dovesnroses​ @astroboots​ @magpierhymes​ @alienprincesspoop​ @aasimarr​ @maythxthirstbxwithyou​ @recklesswit​

Pedro Permatag: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa​ (sorry bab, more yeehonk) @corvueros​ @thirstworldproblemss​ @littleferal​ @krissology​ @frannyzooey​ @forallthstarsinthesky​ @princess76179​ @keeper0fthestars​ @venusandromedadjarin​

Cooking your boyfriend a birthday dinner in lingerie is probably not the best idea you've ever had. The man isn’t even home yet to witness the trouble you’ve gone to, still wrapping up a day’s work at HQ after closing out another mission. So you didn’t jump right into cooking in your frillies. No, you did the bulk of the work in sweats and a t-shirt, only stopping to change once you were down to the last stretch and the steaks had come off to rest. You've got sense enough at least to put on an apron, not wanting to risk getting hot grease on the delicate fabric or the vast amounts of bare skin the thing doesn't cover, and while you've already donned the garter belt and stockings you've left your heels up against the island counter so you can slip them on quickly when you hear the door. Still you can't quite help but feel less sexy and more silly as you stand there carving up a pair of garlic butter basted steaks while your forehead prickles with sweat and your ass, covered by neither the teddy or the apron, feels ice cold.

The things I do for love of a goddamn cowboy, you think with a shake of your head. Your whole plan is honestly on the high end of ridiculous. But then Jack is a ridiculous man, and he always seems to drag you headlong into absurdity with him. Some days it's his only saving grace - the boyish playfulness that tempers his arrogance into something charming rather than infuriating. It seems only right to be a little ridiculous for the occasion.

Once the carving’s done you give yourself a second to go over the spread and make sure everything's ready to go. It's early yet, but you're expecting to hear Jack's key in the front door any minute. He's made no mention of returning home early, of course, but he is every bit the sort that would try to surprise you on his birthday, and you’ve developed an uncanny ability to anticipate his moves ahead of time.

As it turns out, you have just enough time to slip on your heels before you hear the front door open and Jack calls out your name. You allow yourself a moment of satisfaction - you do love being right when it comes to this sort of thing - and slip into your heels.

“In here, baby,” you call back, stepping out to lean against the door frame.

“Somethin’ smells like heaven,” Jack says, rounding the corner into the dining room. He stops dead when he gets a look at you, mouth falling open in surprise. He’s hung his hat at the door, his hair already flopping over in a revolt against the slicked-back way he styles it in the morning, his suit jacket still on and buttoned. “Looks like it, too,” he finishes, the corner of his mouth curling into a grin. “I feel overdressed all of a sudden.”

You can’t help but answer that grin. “Happy birthday, cowboy,” you tell him, beckoning him over.

He all but rushes across the room to slide up against you, hands curling around your hips and playing with the tie to the apron. “Sure as hell is now,” he mutters. His palms slide down, cupping your ass to pull you in close. You bite back a hiss at the warmth, and he gives a low approving hum at the expanse of cool, bare skin. “Looks like I don’t even need to unwrap my present.”

“Patience,” you insist, pushing his shoulders back and grazing your lips over the tip of his nose as you evade the kiss he tries to pull you into. “No dessert until after dinner.”

“Dinner can wait-”

“No it cannot. I did not just spend the afternoon trying to keep hot butter off my tits so you could get impatient and let your supper get cold.” He traces a finger across your cleavage as you talk, tugging at the top of the apron to get a better look at the skin underneath. You feel the quip coming before he even opens his mouth, so you take the opportunity to give him a little push and show him just what he’s in for tonight. You bring up your hand, fingers curling under his wrist, turning his hand away and using it to pull him flush to you, the line of your thigh landing against the covered denim crotch of his jeans with just enough force to make him jolt.

“Be a good boy, Jack,” you say against his open, breathless mouth, “or you won’t get any dessert at all.”

Whiskey pouts, but his eyes have that dark glint that says he knows he’s in for trouble and he is just as pleased as punch about it. “You mean to torture a man on his birthday, honeybee?”

The smirk you give him makes his heartbeat kick up a little faster - you can feel the quickening of it in the pulse point against your fingertips. “Absolutely.” You stretch up enough for one brief, warm kiss and then step back, jerking your chin towards the dining table where there’s already two glasses of wine poured at the ready. “Sit. I’ll bring out dinner.”

He nods, tongue rolling slowly against his bottom lip. “Yes ma’am.”

His gaze is a heavy weight on your body as you walk away, raking down across so much exposed skin. You hear him groan at the sight, low and appreciative. He’s always been fond of seeing you wrapped up in lingerie, even more fond of tearing up the expensive scraps just to get you bare for him. You’d chided him about it the first time - the bodysuit he’d ripped clean in half from gusset to tit hadn’t been cheap, even though that little display had thrilled you far more than you’d ever want to admit - but he always replaced what he ruined without fail.

When you come back, divested of the apron with plates in hand, Whiskey is sitting just as instructed, elbow on the table, chin resting on his knuckles. He tracks every move you make, every sway of your hips, a playful smile hiding the effort of his restraint as you set his dinner in front of him. He barely spares the food a glance when you elect to forego your own chair and simply hop up onto the table, setting your plate near his and dragging over your glass of wine.

“You’ve outdone yourself, honeybee,” Whiskey rumbles, sliding a hand up your knee to your thigh, and he could not be talking less about the food.

You only smile, taking an unhurried sip. “Somehow I thought you’d prefer this to a new tie. How old are you now, anyway?” you tease.

“Sweet sixteen,” he says dryly, hiking an eyebrow while he squeezes your thigh for your cheek.

You chuckle. “Uh-huh, and I’m Mother Theresa.” You lean in, spearing a slice of steak on his plate with your fork and holding it out for him. “Now, I worked very hard on this, and I am going to be very disappointed if you try to skip dinner on me just ‘cause you can’t quit eyeballing your dessert. Open.”

He tips you a wink before dutifully opening his mouth, letting you feed him. The soft, indulgent moan that leaves him as his eyes slip closed is too subdued to be anything but real. “Honeybee that is gorgeous. My compliments to the chef.” 

“The chef is glad to hear it.” You swipe your thumb over his lip, collecting the sheen of juice and garlicky butter and bringing it to your own mouth, delicately sucking it off. “Could’ve used a bit more rosemary.”

Whiskey shakes his head. “Mm-mm. This is perfection on a plate, baby. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

The smile that earns him is genuine, and you bend to give him a quick kiss. He presses it, just a little, a swipe of his tongue that you open for just enough to nip at before pulling away. “Eat.” You gesture meaningfully at his plate.

All told, there isn’t actually much on it. Steak, roasted new potatoes, and asparagus with hollandaise sauce. You’ve only served up maybe half of what you’d usually set in front of him for dinner, opting for more reserved portions. It’s a favor to you both - his patience wouldn’t last through a full meal without the need for physical restraints. There’s more in the kitchen, of course, and an actual pie for dessert if you happen to get that far. You’re both bound to be hungry again after.

Whiskey tucks in, fork in his left hand while his right stays comfortably curled around your thigh, slowly creeping higher and higher until he’s playing with the lacy top of your stocking. You give him a warning tilt of your head, your own fork poised halfway to your mouth. All you get in return is those plaintive, innocent puppy dog eyes of his, but his hand doesn’t advance further.

All in all you’re rather proud of his restraint, at least until one spear of asparagus manages to drip hollandaise down onto your cleavage. Suddenly that quietly repressed hunger cracks and he’s surging up towards you, mouth half-open and tongue peaking out, ready to clean you up.

But that won’t do. Not yet. Your reflexes might not be as good as his, but they’re nothing to balk at, either. You brace yourself back on one hand, leaning away and planting one of your high heels against his shoulder to shove him back into his seat. The look on his face is priceless; mouth agape and pupils blown. 

Slowly you shake your head. “You know better, Jack.”

His eyes track up the inside of your thigh to the crotch of your bodysuit - or rather, the lack thereof - and the split strips of lace that don’t cover your mound, but frame it prettily for him. “Fuck, honeybee,” he mutters breathlessly. 

Dinner and a show was always the plan. So you take your time, dipping your finger and swiping up the stripe of creamy yellow and holding it out to him. Whiskey stares you down as he takes the tip of your finger into his mouth and sucks dutifully, his tongue plush and soft and working against the pad of your finger the same way he worries it over your clit. A rush of heat rockets through you, leaving your belly warm and a sweet tingle tripping down your spine in its wake.

Biting your lip hard to rein in the impulse to just slide into his lap, you drag your finger out of his mouth. It’s what he wants; to make you break first, to make you lose at your own game. And where’s the fun in that?

“It is your birthday, so I’m going to cut you a little bit of slack, but if you can’t mind your manners and do as you’re fucking told, you’re gonna get a lot worse than a birthday spanking, pretty boy. Now, I told you: no dessert until you finish your dinner.” There’s precious little left on his plate; a few scraps of steak, a couple potatoes, one lone spear of asparagus. You stab this last with your fork and hold it out to him. “Last chance, baby. You open your mouth for me and be a good boy, and you can have me any way you want.”

Whiskey looks dazed; seething and starved and love-struck all at once. You don’t even need to look down to know he’s hard. But he hesitates just for a moment, whether it’s deliberate or accidental you’re not really sure - sometimes the man just really wants to be punished - but in that space you see his body jerk, hunching slightly as his abdominal muscles contract involuntarily. You follow the movement with your eyes and sure enough, there he is. Full mast and straining hard against thick denim.

Smiling sweetly, you wave the fork at him. “Your choice, Jack.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he says, and the roughshod timbre of his voice says it’d be a fine way to go.

Whiskey opens his mouth and takes what you give him.

You’re slow about it. Careful. Admonishing him when he tries to chew a little too quickly. Whiskey stares you down with eyes like coal seconds away from ignition. He holds your gaze while you slip another bite of food into his mouth, then lets his eyes slip down until they fix firmly on your half-exposed and already glistening cunt, and you know the moment you give him an inch he’s going to wreck the hell out of you for this.

When the last bite passes his lips he curls his hand around your ankle, squeezing. Always pushing his luck, this man of yours. You set his plate aside, glancing away like it’s no effort at all as he very methodically wipes his mouth with his napkin.

“Now can I have my dessert?” Impatience roughens the low gravel of his voice into something dangerously sharp.

You smile, leaning back on one hand. “There’s peach pie in the kitchen.”

He presses forward, left hand sliding big and warm up the inside of your thigh. The motion presses the leg you’ve used to pin him to his chair back until your knee is nearly flush with your chest, opening you up wider, the rush of air between your legs now shockingly cold against the wetness that had gathered there.

“Woman, the only pie I want a piece of is the one sitting right in front of me.”

The stretch along the back of your thigh burns, so you shift, hooking your leg over his shoulder instead. “I haven’t finished my dinner yet,” you protest cooly, reaching down to snag a strip of steak off your still half-full plate and popping it into your mouth.

Whiskey’s hands slip higher, and this time you don’t stop him, too busy sucking the buttery juices off your fingers. When the very very tips of his fingers brush the spread lace at the crux of your thighs he freezes, waiting for the rebuke, for fingers around his neck or your other heel to plant square in his chest. You consider it, sure; it’s certainly not a prospect without its merits. A man that enjoys being under your thumb is satisfying in a way that few things in life ever fully measure up to.

But honestly, you’ve worked hard enough tonight. Time to let him put in a little effort.

A tilt of your head and a curl of your foot against his shoulder is permission enough; slipping off the leash by way of a gesture, and the low smolder in his eyes blooms to a full burn. Whiskey stands to his full height, looming close enough for you to feel the heat bake off him as he shrugs off his jacket and unbuttons the cuffs on his dress shirt, rolling them up with a few quick turns of his wrists.

“Can’t let my girl go hungry now,” he hums in a voice like burnt molasses. “Lemme give you a hand there, honeybee.”

Smirking, Whiskey wraps an arm around you, brushing the tip of his nose against yours as you wriggle against solid heat of his body. His left hand wanders out of sight on the table as his lips meet yours, teasing your mouth open with the barest brush of his tongue, while his right hand trails warm and slow around your side and down and down to cup your mound.

It’s hard to believe you ever felt cold. You’re burning up now, skin flushed hot as his mouth grazes yours and breathes out: “Open up for me.”

And just like magic, you do. No input needed on your behalf; your mouth simply drops open and your legs shift wider in accommodation for him. There’s a clink of silverware and then he’s waving a fork at you, a strip of steak speared on the end. Whiskey’s eyes glitter as he pushes it into your waiting mouth. Each bite he feeds you is accompanied by a teasing dip of his fingers into your core, feeding you with his left hand while he touches you with his right. Your slickened folds part smooth and easy as he pushes his fingers inside you, a welcome but all too brief intrusion, before they trail up again to stroke at your clit. Again and again you rock your hips up, trying to encourage him to slip into you deeper, to give you a taste of the fullness and pressure of his cock, but every time his touch retreats.

You whine; a strange mix of frustration and pleasure. “Tease.”

“Takes one to know one,” he coos, the hand between your legs working faster. Heat builds quickly under his fingertips, a friction far more appetizing than anything else you’ve set on the table tonight. “You made the rules, honeybee. No dessert until after you finish supper. You do want your dessert, don’t you?”

He brings the next bite up, holds it tantalizingly close. You stretch out and he draws it back, and suddenly his fingers are rubbing a firm, determined circle on your clit. Your whole body jolts, gasping air with a pitiful little whine. There’s nothing but mischief on his face as he watches you, tongue sweeping against his bottom lip. He slows his fingers, brings the fork down again, closer this time. The food brushes your bottom lip before he pulls it away, fingers quickening again.

“Jesus,” you all but squeak. “Jack, don’t be mean.”

Whiskey gives you a considering hum, leaning forward to suck the sheen of butter off your bottom lip. “Oh darlin’ I would never,” he insists, punctuating the sentiment with a kiss that’s tender enough to be very nearly sincere if it weren’t for the fact that the motion of his hand never slows. A sweet, bright heat begins to build under his fingertips. “How could I be mean to my girl when she worked so hard for me, hm? I’m just paying that back in kind is all. You wanna come on my fingers, baby, you can do that all you like. I’ll make you come ‘til those pretty little legs can’t do much more than shimmy. You know I can. But you ain’t gettin’ nothin’ else until you clean your plate like a good girl.”

“H-ha-ah, fuck-how much more?”

He grins devilishly. “Just this last bite.”

“Oh you f-fucking jackass!”

Whiskey laughs. “Guilty as charged. Open up, baby, take what I got for you.”

He pushes the last bite past your lips and immediately delves his fingers into your warm and waiting cunt. The breath shudders out of you, fingers digging into the tablecloth as you try to hang onto enough composure to remember to chew and swallow. He’s slow for a moment, pumping and curling his fingers gently while he watches you eat. There’s a clink of silverware as he discards the fork and puts his arm around you, pressing his lips against your forehead.

“Good girl,” he murmurs sweetly.

Mouth empty now, you nudge your nose against his chin, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Jack-”

And then his grip becomes determined. The fingers inside you flex, the heel of his hand pressing hard against your clit and all you can do is cry out against the soft skin of his neck and hang on for dear life while he works you up and over the edge with shocking speed.

Trembling, you lock your legs around him as you come down, dragging his collar aside to bite lazily into the place where his neck and shoulder meet.

“Fuck,” he groans, hips rutting up against the back of his hand between your legs. “How do you want me, honeybee?”

That earns him a breathless laugh, goosebumps raising along his neck. “It’s your birthday, Jack. What do you want?”

Whiskey’s eyes drop to your mouth and he makes a considering sound, pulling back to suck you delicately off his fingers. “I think I want your mouth. And then I think I want to fuck you right here on this table until that divinely sweet little pussy wrings me fucking dry. Sound good to you, honeybee?”

“That can be arranged.” His eyelids flutter as you reach down to his zipper, not even bothering with his belt before you reach inside his jeans and the button fly of his boxers to tug his cock free, cupping your fingers to draw his balls out, too.

You move to stand and he shakes his head, caging you in. “No. Not on your knees, baby. On the table. I wanna see you all spread out for me. My pretty little present.”

He helps you. Sweeps your hair back as you lie flat on the dining table, scooting back to let your head hang just a bit. It’s not exactly comfortable. The edge of the table digs into your neck a bit, and the way the blood rushes to your head is not entirely pleasant either. But you watch Whiskey pace around you to take his place in front of your waiting mouth, cock bobbing and just barely beginning to leak for you, and you feel a gorgeous rush of heat at the sight.

Whiskey slides his palm up your stomach to cup one barely-covered breast. “Gorgeous,” he mutters, squeezing. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“Jack.”

“I know, darlin’, I know. But my God you’re a picture.” He cups your cheek, absently brushes the corner of your mouth with his thumb before sliding his hand back to give your head a little support. “Open up for me, angel.”

And once again, you open up for what he gives you. The angle makes it strange, the topography of Jack’s body less familiar as he slips into your mouth, your tongue dragging wet and slow over foreign terrain. The taste of him, hot skin and the tang of bitter salt, that you know well enough. You close your eyes at it, bring your hands up to his hips to tug him slowly forward and listen to the way he moans.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers, breathless and a little awe-struck. “Jesus fucking Christ. You spoil me, baby. Sweet as fucking honey, my god.”

A light touch against your breast makes you shiver, goosebumps raising as it draws lightly over your skin. A single fingertip, sliding the lace of the bodysuit aside to bare your breasts to the chill of the room and the warmth of Whiskey’s hands.

He mutters sweet things as he begins to move; sweet, tender, unconscionably filthy things. All the things you do to him. Do for him. The rocking of his hips is gentle at first, feeding you his cock inch by cautious inch. When he hits the back of your throat he pulls back on reflex, but the light scrape of your teeth and the sudden tightness of your grip on the plush meat of his ass sends him forward again. The angle eases the motion, and you relax into the pressure as he pushes in and in and...oh.

You feel the resistance at the back of your throat give gently; strange, but not uncomfortable. Above you, Whiskey lets out a pained groan.

“Shit. Oh shit yes, honeybee. Take it. Ohhh s-shit. Take all of it. Every goddamn inch. Fuck.”

And then his hips are flush with your mouth, the soft skin of his balls pressed up against your nose. Panting, he wraps a hand around the stretched column of your throat, swearing breathlessly. He moves, a small, careful thrust, and you can feel the tremor that ripples through him at the feeling.

“Just a little more baby,” he mumbles, pulling back until just the head of his cock rests within the warmth of your mouth. You suckle at it, working it eagerly with your lips and tongue while you breathe raggedly through your nose. Your hips jut up into thin air on their own accord, just as eager for him as your mouth is.

“I got you, honeybee.” The hand at your neck slips down, skimming over skin and lace until he finds your clit. The first touch jolts you, your cry stifled on his cock as you shudder up against him. “Good girl. I got you, baby. Jack’s got you. Keep going. Just a little more. Just a little more and then I’ll fill you right on up. Fuck my sweet girl’s brains right out of her head. Prettiest fuckin’ thing I ever fuckin seen, baby, holy fuck.”

You moan something against him - pleasure, acquiescence, god only knows - but the sound of it is lost as his cock slides steadily back into your mouth. The pressure in your head is distracting, tears prickling your eyes when he pushes in deep, but the stroking of his fingers and the feel of him in your mouth, sliding hard and slick and effortlessly down your throat is far more consuming than the discomfort.

He rocks into you. Fucks into you. Moans and gasping praises falling thick and fast from his lips as he moves. You don’t need to feel the way his balls draw up tight to know how close he is, how tight he’s riding the line between what he wants to do and what his body wants to do. You’re lost in it all the same; his pleasure and the fraying thread of his restraint. Your own pleasure, building quick and low and locking down the muscles in your thighs until they tremble. You float in it, overwhelmed and dizzy, until, very suddenly, you break.

Whiskey curses, pulling back to listen to you cry out, to let you curl up and clutch at him as he pants above you, muttering broken, desperate please of: “yes god yes honeybee all of it, gimme all of it, every last bit.”

You’re a wreck in the aftermath; pliant and limp, face teary and slick with spit and precome. He draws you up, wiping your face with a clean napkin before pulling you into a kiss that steals away whatever remained of your breath. He gathers you up, turns you until you can wrap your still-tingling limbs around him. Nudges his hips against yours, his wet cock dragging against slick skin and fragile lace.

“You okay, baby?” he asks, trailing soft kisses over your face.

You have to clear your throat before you can respond, the sound of it harsh and ragged like an engine turning over. “Y-yeah. Yeah I’m good. Dizzy, but good.”

“You ain’t the only one, honeybee. Almost didn’t make it in time. Wanted to fill up that pretty mouth so bad. You just about did me in.”

He laughs and you join him, breathing ragged joy into each other’s lungs.

“Still want me to fuck you?” The question should be coarse, but somehow isn’t. Not with his sweat-slick forehead pressed to yours and his lips ghosting kisses against your mouth with every breath.

“So sweet,” you mutter, combing your hands through his hair.

“LIke hell,” he scoffs, holding you tight to his chest. “I ain’t and you know it.”

“You are to me,” you insist, pressing a kiss against the tip of his nose. He smiles, softens everywhere but that place that throbs with impatient heat against you. “Now fuck me, pretty boy.”

A flash of a grin is the only warning you get before he’s hooking his arms under your knees and pulling you to the edge of the table. “Yes ma’am,” he says obligingly, planting a hand between your breasts to push you back against the table as he lines himself up, sliding into you with one smooth, achingly deep stroke. 

You moan, knees drawing up as his hips meet yours and he fills the space inside you that’s been aching for him all day. Whiskey lets out a groaning sigh, leaning into you like he wants to bury himself whole inside you. He hoists one of your legs up against his chest, nuzzles the inside of your knee while he tries to find his breath again. The length of him inside you is rigid as steel and blindingly hot, still so close to his own end that he has to wait, worrying his teeth over your skin, until the urge to just rut against you like an animal until he comes finally passes.

And when it does, when he opens his eyes at last, he looks down at you with a dazed, hungry smile. He presses a kiss to the tip of his finger and brings it down to your lips.

“Love you, honeybee.”

Heavy-lidded and so wonderfully full, you kiss his finger and arch your back. “Love you, too, cowboy.”

And that’s the last intelligent thing you manage to say. Finally - finally! - Whiskey fucks you, each pounding swing of his hips making the china rattle like nervous teeth. Your arms strike out, curling and flailing, trying to find something to grab onto as he fucks you. The heel of your hand strikes one of the wine glasses and sends it tumbling to the floor where it shatters. The breath leaves your body in tiny bursts with each impact; little monosyllabic cries punctuating each one.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” Whiskey murmurs. He cups your breasts, thumbing the pebbled sharpness of your nipples before his hands slide lower, finding the deep notch of the bodysuit between them. “Wrapped up so pretty for me.”

The lace tears away like it’s nothing, a clean rip down the center. Oh well. He’ll buy you another.

Whiskey folds over you, pulling you down closer so he can get an arm under your back, his hand grasping the back of your neck and pulling you up to meet his mouth. He’s still wearing his tie, the drape of fabric laying cool against your chest. Blessedly he’s not wearing his usual belt buckle. Foresight or oversight you’re not quite sure, but you’re grateful all the same as he grinds into you, a press of cold metal and leather against your belly.

He’s not going to last long, but it hardly matters. You’re too worked up, two orgasms down already, cunt so swollen and sensitive it’s hardly an effort to get you there again. But the feeling of him inside you turns that bright burn into something lower, deeper. Something that makes your muscles lock and tremble, straining up against him and gasping into his mouth.

“Jaaaack,” you whine, arms locked around his neck.

“Yes, baby,” he groans, voice quivering with every thrust. “Fuck yes I’m right there too, c’mon. Come with me, honeybee, come with me.”

His rhythm falters, grinding deeper and deeper, and all that strained tension in your body snaps like a rubberband. You sob, grabbing fistfuls of his dress shirt, twisting and jerking as you come apart under him.

All Whiskey can do is growl as you bear down on him, gritting a litany of “yes, yes, fuck yes, god yes, that’s my girl that’s my girl that’s my fucking girl.” And then he’s gone, too, driving into you with a sudden jolt and crying out against the side of your neck as he comes.

You’re holding him too tight, clutching him to you as you both lie there, panting and shuddering, a spreading stain of red wine pooling next to your head.

“Jesus,” he whispers, tries to shift up to find your mouth, but even that amount of drag on his oversensitive cock is enough to make him hiss and jerk. “Fuck.”

“Mm-hm,” you agreed dumbly.

Whiskey lets out a growling hum, smoothing your hair. “You good, honeybee?”

You trail kisses up to his ear, still breathless. “What do you think?”

He wheezes a laugh. “I think I gotta replace a lot more than your frillies this time.” The laugh turns giddy, and Whiskey presses his forehead against your temple. “And I think I’m hungry.”

“Pie in the kitchen,” you mumble, too drowsy to do much more than nuzzle into the damp tangle of Whiskey’s hair.

“What kind?”

“Peach.”

He hums, smiling drowsily. “My favorite.”

You give a slow nod. “I know. Happy birthday, Jack.”

He kisses you, slow and sweet. “Best I ever had,” he murmurs.

[tooweirdforyou]

The OP Boys & Their Personal Dirty Secrets pt. 2

A/N : Hey hun! I hope you like this! ( i can’t tag you idk why ) I saw you wanted a part two to this and decided to do it because it was fun. I guess, lol. anyways hope you like this! :>

Soooo, don’t judge the gif I couldn’t find anything else. Also I’m kinda tired ;-; alsooo. these ones are a LITTLE bit dirtier.

Warning : NSFW AHEAD! PROCEED WITH CAUTION! ⚠️ ESPECIALLY W/ THATCH.

kid and mihawk don’t have specific dark secrets since I couldn’t think of anything that would yk connect to them. ;-;

Summary : All of these boys and their personal, hidden dirty secrets. PART TWO!

-

Doflamingo

Oh boy, this male, despite his possessiveness, has a bit of a voyeurism kink. He hasn’t yet, but he DEFINITELY wants to turn on the country wide announcement, ( like those screens whatever used in Dressrosa when he talked ) and just fuck you as everyone watches throughout the island. He dreams of it, and one day, HE WILL make it a reality.

“How does it feel?” The lick of his lips and the shit-eating grin was on display all over the island for the people of Dressrosa to see, the image of Doflamingo’s hips thrusting and making contact with your rear.

“Does it feel good to have the whole island watching you being fucked senseless, by me? Their king?”

You couldn’t respond, lost in the insane amount of pleasure that ran through your body, specifically your lower regions. You didn’t even care that you were being watched, basking in the euphoria you were given at the moment.

Doffy’s strings suspended you partially in air, the material binding your body so you couldn’t move in the slightest as he took you from behind.

Arms wrapped around your bare figure, one holding you thigh tightly while the other wrapped around your torso, his hand grasping your throat and his fingers, pressing itself onto the flesh of your neck.

If you were fortunate, your face was cut off from the screen to be visible but your exposed body was seen by everyone who watched.

Doflamingo felt glory and power, as he continued to fuck you for all to see, your sweet, melodic moans echoing through the island as he did this.

What a fantasy that will soon become a reality.

-

Kid

Literally anything but also nothing. I couldn’t think of anything.. so here’s a kink he has! Dominant Submission. (?) basically, he LOVES the submissive ones, but those who really fight back. Feisty bitches yk? But like, he knows you’re all talk because he’ll have you begging for him on your knees once the two of you really get started. ;)

You’re teasing the hell out of Kid. You’re being bad by ignoring Kid and disobeying his orders and the Captain has had enough.

He barges into your room, slamming the door shut with the lock clicking on and before you could react, he has his hand around your throat and your back shoved to the wall.

“You think you’re being funny?” He growls into your ear, instantly using his free hand to rip your clothes off in a swift pull.

Despite the lack of air you had, your face still formed a sly and cheeky smirk in response. “I..I think it’s.. hilarious. Ha.”

Kid scowls before slowly smirking himself and tightened his grip on your neck a little bit more, but not enough to actually kill you. ( he cares after all :> )

“Tch. Looks like you need a punishment.” He drags you over to your bed and shoves you roughly done onto him, unbuckling his pants and pulled the belt out from the loops and pressed the two ends together so he had an able whipping belt. ( make sense? )

You merely grin at this and tilt your head. “Oh? Is that for me?” You hum and sat up, legs up and spread for him to see your already getting wet pussy, arms over you knees.

The sight of it made Kid growl lowly before he walks closer to you. “Time for you to face the consequences of pissing me off.”

With one hand, he forces you down onto the bed, breasts against the mattress and your ass forcefully in the air.

And with the raise of his other hand, it was only seconds before a loud whip was heard.

Tears stings the corner of your eyes but you still held strong, biting your lip. “Is that all you got? Guess you weren’t so angry.” You laugh and Kid didn’t respond, only whipping you once more, a little more force.

“Don’t you worry. I have all night long.”

[ I could write a whole OneShot about this, I had to stop lol ]

-

Marco

Little bit harder, buttt, come on. Sex in the air? Marco’s dream, for sure. And if he’s going to admit it, yes, he has done sexual activities in the air, where no one would be around.

The blonde doctor soars across the sky, a little ways away from the ship, not too far to lose sight but enough where he wouldn’t be seen, regardless of it being the time of night.

He’s only ever done it once or twice, but the no matter how many times Marco would do it again afterwards, the first time experience couldn’t ever be bested.

Sexual activities in the air.

Yet, that didn’t mean Marco didn’t love the thrill and excitement it brought him, especially when he did it so often in his younger days.

Extending his bright cyan blue wings out and around him, Marco palms himself through his pants, shutting his eyes before slightly lowering his pants enough to release his cock into the exposed cold air.

Marco shivers before reeling back and moving so he was laying down, his wings as support. One left propped up and his fingers wrapped itself around his shaft, his touch slow.

With nothing but the moon lighting down on him and the refreshing night breeze in the midnight sky, Marco felt at ease as he continues to rub his length in a teasingly slow motion, only increasing in speed seconds after.

Marco won’t lie, when it came to his release, he often did it into his hands and a bit dripping down onto his hips and chest,

but it felt good letting his cum spurt into the ocean.

-

Thatch

It’s pretty known that Thatch is a real perv with large sexual desires. ( at least to me because of @ honeybakedthatch lol ) however, this personal secret is his dirtiest one yet.

Thatch bit his lip as he grunted out a soft groan, feeling the rest of his warm, bitter cum shooting out from his tip and into the leftover mixture of cream and condensed milk he made for the cinnamon buns.

Pulling his pants up and zipping it tight, Thatch made sure to thoroughly mix the cum and mixture together with a plastic spoon before drizzling it over the cinnamon buns he left out just for you.

The plastered grin Thatch wore merely widens as he watched the ordinary looking cinnamon buns look identical to the others, but he knew the pleasant surprise in taste that differed.

Just as he finished drizzling the cream, the door opened, you having walked in. “Thatch, I smell something good! What is it?”

The cheery, innocent smile you had made Thatch smirk a bit, the imagination all too pleasant, the thought of you eating his delicious cinnamon buns.

“I made cinnamon buns. Here, I made these especially for you.” Thatch holds out the separate plate he had and walks closer to you, placing a sweet kiss on your temple before letting you take the plate and fork.

“Enjoy. If it’s a bit too bitter, let me know and I’ll.. sweeten it up for you.”

-

Mihawk

This stoic ass man is such an intimate, romanticist, he doesn’t quite have very dirty secrets.. but, one kink he secretly has is bondage and slight corruption. He won’t ever mention it but if you bring it up, he’ll voice his opinions on it.

“Now, now, love. You should be careful.”

Mihawk’s strict but amused tone was evident as he sat in his chair and watched you writhe in the tight black silk ribbons that bounded you on the ground.

Your arms were tied behind your back, your vision blocked by a silk blindfold and your legs were forced spread by a ankle bar, exposing your bare heat towards Mihawk.

You were leaning against a table/chair, and the only thing you could hear were Mihawk’s praises and warnings, along with the humming vibration that came from the vibrator strapped to your clit.

“You might loosen the binds, and you know you don’t want that, do you?” Mihawk sternly questions and you shook your head, biting your lip to prevent yourself from moaning out too loud.

“Oh? You aren’t responding?” Mihawk smiles slightly as he leans on his hand, elbow on the armrest of his chair. “I asked you a question.”

You gasp out in realization and stammered out, trying to close your legs from the shock and orgasm you keep receiving.

“I-I mean no.. h-hah.. ah.. I, I don’t want it to loosen.” Your blush darkens at the embarrassment you held, but you loved this, just as much as Mihawk did.

-

Shanks

I could come up with a bunch of things but the first thing my mind went to was — sex tapes. Shanks is all for EVERYTHING but I feel like sex tapes seal the deal. Especially since he hooks up with so many women, I’m sure.

Shanks watches as the woman below him arches her back and curls her toes in pure bliss and euphoria.

The loud moans escaping her lips and filling the motel rooms only edged him further.

His tight grip on the woman’s left thigh glides up to grab the soft mound flesh on her left, his fingers twisting the little perky bud as he thrusted his hips roughly into her, eliciting a louder pleasurable cry.

The sound of skin slapping was the only thing heard other than the heavy grunts of Shanks and the mewls of the woman being fucked into oblivion.

Shanks, despite having the time of his life and was nearing his climax as he continued to thrust into the two small and tight lips, it’s walls clenching around him, could only think about the recording camera on its designated position on top of the drawer.

As much as he loved the real experience at the current moment, he couldn’t wait to rewatch the recording of it and relive the experience that way.

-

A/N: here you go, hun! I know you wanted a part 2 with these characters and I hope this went out you expected and wanted! :>

A few don’t have proper endings but it’s gooddd enoughhh for me. :p

jus wondering, what do y’all think Kid has? Master, sir, daddy or captain kink? Or none and just his name?

Law def has a “doc/doctor” kink lol but since I’m at it, I don’t think Marco has that.

[hoodieofholland]

Congrats on 600!! What about reader telling tom that she has a huge exhibitionism kink and he surprises her with something? 🌷

Thank youuu! Yeaaah, this is such a concept!!

Warnings: smut (+18), use of toy, exhibitionism kink, dirty talk.

It was always a joyful moment whenever Tom's family came to lunch on Sundays. You and Tom would spend a really good time in the kitchen, cooking something special and fooling around like a married couple. There was something so domestic on it that made Tom be grateful for every weekend and realise that he couldn't imagine a life where you wouldn't end up being his wife.

And even though he was pretty sure he knew everything about you, every little curve of your body, every little thought of your intelligent and creative mind, he caught himself out of guard when you admitted something to him.

"I kinda get turned on when thinking that someone could catch us... y'know, right in the act".

It was just a couple of nights ago, when you were both teasing each other while you grinded on his crotch, his hands all over, and since then he couldn't get that out of his mind.

Back then, he didn't find any sight of embarrassment on you, but you didn't bring it up again. So he thought to himself that maybe he could try something out and surprise his lover. Sundays lunch just seemed the perfect moment to feed your little kink.

After finishing cooking and washing the remaining dirty dishes, you and Tom set the table before his family arrives. The moment were filled with his praises for one of the dishes you cooked, even though he helped you with everything else, and with slight and teasing touches here and there.

"Sorry", he murmured under his breathe as he passed behind you, his crotch grinding your ass lightly. You can't help but giggle.

"Okay, boy, you better stop it, your family is about to arrive", you say, turning around to put a hand over his chest. He looked particularly good today, wearing a dark blue t-shirt that fits his body perfectly, and larger jeans, his hair slicked back, still wet from his recent shower.

"Not my fault I have such a hot girlfriend", he smirked, putting the spoons he was caring to set at the table aside, before getting closer to you and lowering his head to press a soft kiss on your neck. "We could always cancel it and have a day to ourselves..."

"No way, Holland", you smile, withdrawing him with your hands on his chest.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot it doesn't actually matter", he said, a huge smile making presence on his soft features, a teasing tone on his voice. He brings his hands to rest on your waist, squeezing it to bring you closer one more time. "You like the thought of being caught. I think you'd even rather if I did you with everyone in the living room".

You were shocked by his words, mouth hanging agape as you tried to come up with something to say. Your cheeks were heating as the realisation that Tom still remembered what you told him about your fantasy hit you.

"I-", before you cold say anything, the doorbell rang, and Tom left you to welcome his family.

The whole time before lunch was set up on table, you couldn't get your mind out of what Tom said, being dragged back whenever one of the twins called your attention to the conversation.

"I'm gonna take another bottle of wine, what you think?", Tom asked when everyone finished their main dish, raising from his seat. "Oh, and Paddy, another glass of juice for you?"

Paddy nodded, and Tom turned to you with the tiniest smirk on his face. "Could you help me, love?".

In other occasions, you would find it very strange of him to call you just to bring some wine and juice, but you knew something was up. So you didn't argue and got up quickly, smiling at the other as you followed Tom to the kitchen.

You stood next to the kitchen's island while he was walking around and picking everything he needed. Bitting your lips, you notice the way he behaved as if you weren't even there. He was teasing you and you knew it.

Clearing your throat, you cock an eyebrow when you get his attention. "So, what do you need my help for?".

Tom smirked and walked towards you, putting the bottle of wine on the island. "Thanks for asking, darling. Very attentive of you", he licked his lips. "You seem very disappointed with what you assumed I called you here for. What was that?"

Your heart fasten inside your chest, at the sight of his hand moving inside the pocket of his jeans. "I- I don't know. I thought you wanted something, like...".

He clicks his tongue in disapproval, "Don't lie to me, love", he smiled, taking his free hand to the hem of your dress. "I bet you thought I was gonna take you right here, didn't you? What were you expecting me to do? Eat this pretty pussy out?"

Your mouth goes dry. Tom's hand slide inside of your dress, reaching the waist of your panties and playing with it. "No, I thought- I thought that maybe-"

"That I would give you my cock?", he whispered, giving your lips a soft peck before stepping back. "This would take us time, darling. Everyone in that living room would notice it, for sure. And though I know that's what your dirty brain wants, that couldn't happen, could it, sweetheart?".

You shake your head and observe attentively as he takes something from his pocket, hiding it in his fists, his free hand holding your waist while he kneels down in front of you.

"So this is how it will work", he keeps his voice quiet, though his actions weren't so soft. He slides his hand under your dress, pulling your underwear until it hit the ground. Tapping your ankle twice, he commends you to take it off, and you as you're told. "You're gonna wear this while we have a nice conversation back in that table", he lifts his fists and shows you a small vibrator that you were so used to, before taking it to your core.

He lifts your dress up until he can see your bare pussy, already covered in some wetness, enough to enjoy the sensation as the vibrator is positioned inside of your pussy. "Like that, good girl..."

When you're used to it, Tom helps you to slide your panties back, holding the vibrator better at place. He smiles as he watches you squirming at the sensation. Bringing his face closer to your heat, he presses his nose against your covered clit, moving his head slightly to create the tiniest friction. "Can smell you already, love".

You bite your lip, avoiding letting any noise come out of your mouth. Tom kisses your center through the panties, where a nice wet spot was already set.

"You're gonna wear this, and when you're close enough, you're gonna excuse yourself and come here again. I want you to be on edge, so we can make it quick enough to not be suspicious. This pussy is only getting my cock when you're dripping, do you understand me?"

You nod fervently, too weak in your dizzy state to say something else, but Tom disapproves, "Words, darling".

"Yes, I got it", you swallow hard, gripping tightly on the counter.

"Good", Tom smiles in approval, pressing a tight kiss to your center as he closed his eyes. "Fuck, wish I got time to have a taste before we get back", he mumbles, and before you can start to enjoy the feeling of his lips against you, even over the fabric of your panties, he get away, lust covering his usually soft brown eyes.

"Don't forget, get here whenever you feel you're close", giving your cheek a soft kiss, he whispers in your ear, "So I can have my dessert in the kitchen".

Join hoodie 600's sleepover

[yeojaa]

stay gold.

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  blond!jk being a good boy?  idk.  that’s literally it.  wc. 3k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif​, ofc.  author note.  this was meant to be pwp but i cannot shut up so here is this mess that is neither pwp nor something with a legit plotline. 🤠 blame blondie.

Having a content creator boyfriend is fun.  Usually.

You get to go on cool trips, he gives you all of the random shit his sponsors send him, and you get to preen like a cat that ate the canary when his DMs blow up with hundreds of messages.  

Sure, there are the downsides.  All his stupid pranks - the ones that piss you off when you’re trying to do your makeup, the ones that have him dunking ice cubes on you while you’re in the middle of a shower - and his perpetual recording, camera glued to his hand and if not that, then his phone.  There are the rude comments - the oh, that’s his girlfriend? He could do better was a common one - and the long hours he spends editing, holed away in his office;  the beyond inappropriate packages he gets in the mail, thongs and other things that he immediately tosses away with a reassuring tilt of his pretty head.

You don’t mind it though.  He enjoys it, thrives on it, and you’re there to support him.

But you’d never expected this.

This Adonis standing in the doorway, freshly styled strands pushed back from his forehead, glimmering gold falling across his eyes.  He looks, for lack of a better word, unreal.

(You’re not often speechless.  Can’t be, when you’re dating someone like Jeon Jungkook and everything he does either makes you laugh or infuriates you.  Boring isn’t a part of his vocabulary and you’ve learnt to keep up with his antics over the years.)

(Still, this comes close, stealing all the air from your lungs.)

“Hey, baby.”  It’s his usual greeting, offered without hesitation as he crosses the threshold and tosses his keys into the catch-all by the door.  Kicks off his chunky sneakers and peels his sweater over his head, effectively tousling the tawny threads.

He’s so handsome it’s outright disgusting, leaving you gaping up at him from your post on the couch.  Gives you very little to work with as he shimmies down the hall, grabs an apple off the kitchen island, and then not-so-gracefully plops himself down beside you.  

You still haven’t found your words by the time he takes two gigantic bites, flesh crunching between his teeth, big doe eyes sparkling like he’s stepped right out of a Disney film.

“D’you like it?”  

Did you?  Well, obviously.

You’ve never imagined Jungkook blond.  He’d gone through a phase in college, colours of the rainbow rotating through the ends of his hair.  Brown, red, orange, blue.  You’d loved each hue but this was something else entirely.  (Different even from the two months he’d spent as full-on ginger, committing far too hard to his Haikyuu!! Halloween costume.)

This version of him is steeped in some twisted fantasy, a dream crafted by years of bedtime stories and happily ever afters.  It screams Prince Charming and has you reaching for him before you know what you’re doing, threading fingers through the surprisingly soft silk that curls over his ears and looks so lovely next to the silver of his piercings.  

You mean to be gentle, to comb delicately through flax but fuck.  He looks so good you want to devour him.  (You can only imagine your face - a lovesick puppy brought home from the pound.)

There’s still apple in his mouth, juice tracking down his chin because you’re really making it quite hard for him to chew when you’ve got him like this, two hands on either side of his face, holding him in place.  Inspecting him like a piece of meat as he peers at you, deceptively innocent and amused.  “That’s a yes?”  

An answer comes in the form of a kiss, of limbs rearranging and settling directly into his lap.  Knees wide, chest to chest, you can’t even be bothered by the sickly sticky feel of his skin, the way his hands are too cold to be creeping up beneath the hem of your - his - shirt.

(Where had he put the apple?  You know it’s not finished, two bites in and left to roll all over the rug.  You’ll give him shit for that later, when you’re not so distracted.)

“You look like Barbie,”  you mumble against his lips, into the warmth of his mouth.  You ignore the way he laughs, swallowing it down with a pass of your tongue and too much spit swapped, a string of saliva caught between you when you come up for air. 

Somehow, you’re still lightheaded, all your thoughts framed into the familiar silhouette of the boy beneath you.  Cherry red lips - your fault, from all your biting and teasing and the balm you’d applied earlier - and blond hair.  Who would’ve known that was your weakness?

(Deep down, you know Jungkook as a whole is the issue.  That it’s your stupid handsome boyfriend with his lopsided smile and bunny teeth, dimples and that scar on his cheek.  This is just a new layer to be explored, another reason you love him added to the Jungkook Best Boy jar that sits front and centre in your mind’s eye.)

“Don’t say that,”  he groans, equal parts reproach and affection, palms resting where they belong, nestled over your spine.  Long fingers toy with the soft cotton of your thong, brushing over the seamless material with small repetitive motions. 

You realise then his hands aren’t the only things heating up.

The two of you have an understanding, an abiding awareness of the boundaries of your relationship and the roles you take on.  Best friend, occasional sucker for the sake of a TikTok, lover.

He knows how much you hate your dirty laundry being aired - does his very best to never post anything that might be misconstrued, ensures he only ever portrays you in a good light because the internet could be cruel.  (Even if he argued with you in the quiet of your home, he’d keep you safe outside of the four walls.)  

You know how he needs his quiet time but that sometimes, a night out was unavoidable, a part of his life he - and by extension you - couldn’t always say no to.  (Even if you were achy and tired by midnight, glaring down at your phone as he made his rounds, exchanged contact details and rambled about shit that meant nothing.)

He’s learnt to make your eggs the way you love them:  soft in the centre, covered with too much pepper.  He never washes your clothes in hot water (not after The Great Sweater debacle) and he always makes sure not to use your special memory foam pillow.  

You kiss him goodnight without fail and play with his hair until he falls asleep;  you bury your face against his chest when he’s had a long day, signing your love with the felt-tip of your lips.  You bring him fresh cut fruit when he’s been working for more than three hours and wash his hair when he’s stressed. 

Knowing each other was easy;  loving each other was like breathing.

This, though, is different.  New.  Special.  

He’s never been like this before, glazed over in the eyes, patience wearing thin.  Sat so well, picture perfect beneath you and cornsilk crown lighting his entire expression up like a halo, he’s ethereal. 

“Baby,”  he whines, grits through his teeth as you roll your hips that much slower, the glide impossibly smooth thanks to the lychee watermelon lube he’d received to his PO box.  (One of the items you hadn’t thrown away from that package, together with a handful of other toys that’d come in handy over the months.)

You’re shameless, soothing a hand across his cheek, thumb slipping past his lips.  (You ignore the noise of indignation, meet it with a twinkling laugh of your own.)  It sweeps over his tongue, pressing down in tandem with the second sound - one that echoes out of his chest, a growl that pitches into a whine and makes your ears buzz.  “Hi, baby.”

“Stop teasing.”  It’s practically begging - or as close to it as Jungkook will get.  It draws a smile and another pass of your thumb, gliding across his gums to slot against the interior of his cheek.  You’ve got him fishhooked, immobile, even as he glares up at you.

(He’s so, so handsome.  Looks utterly out of it even as he tries to harden his gaze, coerce you into doing what he wants with that stare that makes your heart lurch pathetically in your chest.)

“You don’t like this?”

You know he does - that he loves being pampered.  That he’ll rarely ask, instead pouting at you from wherever he sits until you turn to putty under his gaze and smother him in all the love you have to offer.

“I do.  I just—”  The rest of his words don’t come, stolen by a gasp when you grind against him, swollen head of his cock bumping against your clit.  He’s making a mess of you both, back arching, hips rising, hands fisted into the sheets even as he chases friction like a dog does its tail.  The warmth between your legs is so close he looks as if he’ll lose his mind, rutting against your cunt like just the right angle might get him what he wants.  “Fuck, baby.”

“I’m trying,”  you retort, mouthful of teasing that only earns you another glare, some poor semblance of one as he bites into the webbing of your hand, bucks up impatiently.

“Please.”  He tries again, a different tactic this time, all sugar-spun sweetness.  Strawberry shortcake rather than sour cherry pie, so eager to get what he wants that he’s not above pulling out all the stops.  A hand risen from the sheets, digits decorated in ink swimming over your skin, sinking into the meat of your thigh.

(He doesn’t push though.  Knows you’ll pull the moment he does.)

“Please?”  An echo chamber, endlessly teasing, and a ducked head, lips finding the sweat-slick column of his throat.  Just one drag of your tongue has him crumbling further, careful composure slipping with each swivel of your hips, the edge of your teeth.  There’s nothing but desperation radiating off him, demand choked back when you drift lower, tracing over his chest, teasing him in the ways you know best.  

It’s all so unnecessary, drawing out what he wants until he’s a goner, three seconds from combusting beneath you.  You’d give him anything he ever asked for - offer it all up on a silver plate, a meal fit for a king.  This is just fun, different and exciting. 

You relent with a minor adjustment, settling yourself against him, face dropped into the crook of his neck.  “Slowly.”

He repeats after you, uncertain and hopeful;  his hand falls further, warmth descending to pull you close, hold you still.   As much as he needs this - needs you - he loves the slow burn just as much.  The stutter of his pulse gives him away, erratic beneath your touch.  He’s a thousand miles above the clouds, floating on cloud nine;  every second passed is another tingle of his toes, a tightening of the coil in his stomach.

When he aligns himself against your core, pre-cum pearling over his tip, he does exactly as you’ve asked.  Sinks into you at such a leisurely pace you wonder if you might be the one who splinters apart, shatters into a million tiny pieces at the way he splits you open.  

“Good?”  Jungkook asks so nicely it’s impossible for you to say no, to deny him this tiny bit of reassurance.  

(Maybe it’s the way he looks, crowned in glittering gold, painted by Fra Angelico.  Or maybe it’s how his smile spills like sunshine, a peachy pink horizon dragging over the apples of his cheeks, burnt red like their namesake.)

(Whatever it is, it’s everything you want, packed perfectly and pouting.)

“Good boy,”  you purr, breath hitching once he’s sheathed to the hilt, seated so deeply within that you swear you can feel him in your throat.

You’ve never felt so full before - close to overflow, taunted and taxed by ridges and veins, each flex of his hips that drives him somehow further within your fluttering walls.  So full you might burst, that you can’t possibly hold yourself together when he begins to move, fucking you tenderly, as if he can feel the weight of the moment.  

There’s something happening.  A shift in the air, in the axis of your planet that revolves around him.  It falls on its side, spins wildly out of control, and you’re emotional.  It’s not just his hair - that gilded crown he wears, heavy heavy heavy like aureate coin - or the impossible dark of his eyes - blown out, an entire galaxy devoured by the supermassive black hole that is his pupils.  It’s the things you can’t see, the pieces beneath skin, soft and jammy, the tongue-tart sweetness.

(The thing with Jungkook is that he doesn’t let go, refuses to fully submit, always so careful to regulate his voice when things get to be too much.  He’ll blink back his tears, stifle a sob, even as his breath disappears from nothing but a delicate brush of his chest.)

You take his vulnerability as a treasure, hold it close and craft a chest for its home, promise to keep it safe even while you're the one who poses the most danger.  When it’s your teeth and tongue that eviscerates the soft of his flesh, makes him keen and gasp, heart pounding like hooves, beat imprinted against, under, into your palms.

When he begs you to move - manages the request in a broken articulation that makes you giggle - you give, swivel your hips in a figure eight, an infinity of motion that never ends.  

You take all he has to offer and sing your praise into the wet of his mouth.  Lick over teeth and gums and trade spit for love;  know there’s only more where that came from, that the fountain begs to overflow as he finally - finally - breaks that much more, gripping your hips gentle as can be.  Hands soothe up and down, an unspoken plea in how he thumbs your hip bones, taps hopefully over the small of your lower back.

He doesn’t need to speak for you to hear him. 

It’s more than a kiss forming against your skin.  It’s a confession of adoration, sealed by the frame of his mouth, cemented by the sting of his teeth.  It’s I love you without saying it, plastering the pecks along your spine, placing them safely in all the spaces you’ve created for him.

It’s also an apology, because he’s just torn your castle to pieces, shattered your entire fantasy into smithereens.

He hadn’t expected you to react the way you had, rolling off him as if he hadn’t just been chasing the sweet bliss of release, splitting your walls and making you wail above him.  It has him pouting, utilising the one thing that melts you down like candle wax.  

“Baby,”  he whines, reaching for you, needy and horny and so hard he imagines all the blood has rushed from his head straight to his cock.  Everything spins when he moves with you, scrambles across the California king to paw at your hip.  

He’d been so good for you - wasn’t that enough?

“Don’t,”  you grumble, searing his insides with just one look.  (It shouldn’t be as hot as it is.)

“But—”  A plea punctuated by groping hands, eager as always, smoothing over the swell of your ass, flesh squeezing between knuckles.  He’d normally let this go - fuck into his closed fist in the shower after he’s done something to cut playtime short - but he can’t help it now.  He’s been on the edge for so long, lit up in neon that demands to be seen, heard, felt.

“Don’t dye it again.”  

Oh?

That has him reeling, laughing, such a stupid grin across his face.  It devours everything else, spearing dimples into place as he pulls you against him.  You can feel his smile forming against your skin, the wet drag of his tongue as he sucks a welt into the sensitive spot of your shoulder.

“You wanna play with Barbie, baby?”  It’s such a stupid line - utterly sophomoric and riddled with teasing and yet the delivery has you shivering in his arms, equally childish huff splitting your lips.

Jungkook doesn’t listen to you often - not about silly things like this - but he figures he can, just this once.

“I won’t,”  he chirps, sneaking another kiss, stamping another smooch.  It’s working exactly as he wants, stilling your protesting limbs as he cages you to him, slips his hand back where he most wants to be.  The glide is perfect, a mixture of arousal and fruity lubricant;  he slips a finger in without resistance, grinding his palm against your clit. 

“R-really?”  Of course you don’t believe him.  He messes with you too often, plays too many pranks.  (He deserves that.) 

His promise comes too easy, driven by how nice you feel, how pretty you sound when he presses another digit in along the first.  The scissor of his fingers is languid, exploring for the spots that make you breathless as he hums a noise of affirmation against your neck;  he fucks you open as if he has to, as if you aren’t already dripping, eagerly sucking him in.  “Really.”  

“Put it in then, Ken doll.”

He laughs - and then he does.  In bed, with your knee hooked over his, pace slow and sure and sinful.  In the shower, bent over with his hands bruising your hips.  In the kitchen for a late night snack, another apple in his mouth and your hands in his hair.

Maybe blonds did have more fun. 

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ @codeinebelle​

[oskarwing]

I really wanna talk about the parent child relationships in Midnight Mass

I’m not sure if I’m good at writing this sorta Meta but here goes nothing. Very many spoilers follow.

Let’s start with the adults: 

First we have Erin who suffered so much at the hands of her mother and later because of her mother’s abuse. We don’t get much detailed info on Peggy Greene but from what we can gather she was a lot like Beverly Keane, who seemed to idolize her (though that probably got easier for her after Peggy was gone), in her self-righteous over-pious manner. She just happened to be Beverly with an alcohol problem and a daughter who she could take all her anger at life for not working out her way for God loving her just the same as everybody else out. The dove scene is really such a good scene. But Erin was stronger than her mother, stronger than the abuse that was about to repeat itself and when she found out that she would have a child of her own she left and tried her best to give her kid a better life than the one she had. And she found the strength I think with the help of the same God her mother most likely used as legitimation for her abuse (don’t get me wrong I believe it was Erin’s own strength but she also clearly found something in religion that helped her gather it) and it helped her to carve out a path for herself and her unborn child.  

Sarah’s relationship to her parents is such an interesting one because we get to see the end of it. The man who she believed to be her father has been dead for a long while and her mother is suffering through the late stages of dementia. And Sarah showed up for it. As a doctor she most likely knew what would be happening as soon as Mildred started to show the first symptombs but she wasn’t going to leave her mother. That kind of care for an elderly parent shows something that is proven in Mildred’s character time and time again: She is a very devoted parent and the love between mother and daughter flows both ways in every scene they are in together, after the birth of her daughter her world turned around Sarah and she loved her with all she had. There are a few scenes that show that Mildred’s understanding of the duty she felt towards her family came from the old values of her time. She wouldn’t have taken off with John and their child not for a lack of love but because in those times, in catholism still at least where I’m from, you can’t just marry a priest. You can’t just have a child with a priest eventhough you’re married and then fuck off with him. As a woman, as a wife and mother you have to stand with your husband, stand with your child and you have to stop running after fantasies I’m sure Mildred had. I’m saying this all from her perspective btw, I don’t necessarily think running away with John, in the way he wished to, would have been good for Sarah but honesty might have been and her old fashioned values were also what kept her from being truly honest with her daughter.  To John on the other hand Sarah is a fantasy, a dream he couldn’t reach. His daughter, his baby, so close and yet so far away getting to watch her grow into an adult but never being able to really be her father as in her Dad instead of her priest. And it’s painful to him, he clearly loved Mildred, loved Sarah but he was also kinda selfish in his love that in the end took Sarah away. At first he isolated his child by starring at her giving her the creeps and the feeling that she had done something wrong that he knew she was gay and dissaproved and then he took it upon himself to ‘cure’ Mildred in the same way he was. Sarah wanted to take care of her mother wanted to be there for her in those final months and John decided it was up to him to give Mildred a youth potion to make it so she’d never die. And with that he took away from Sarah what is without doubt a hard but for many people a very important last part of the relationship between child and parent. John was a complicated man and would maybe have been a great Dad he certainly showed a lot of fatherly love for his altar boys but he couldn’t have the family in the way he fantasized about and in the end it was that fantasy that made him act the way he did.   

Riley Flynn causes his parents a lot of pain. Him killing that girl in the beginning, his alcoholism, him simply not liking the place, the home they build for themselves through hard work causes the Annie and Ed so much pain and financial loss and you can see how tired they are, how much guilt they feel for failing their son. Ed calls out his own guilt and says that he doesn’t belive it could be Annie’s fault because ‘your mother’s a saint’ but what I truly love about Annie and Ed Flynn is that they both aren’t saints. As a mother Annie is very much overprotective and suffocating, wanting to keep her children on crocket island and hating the notion that they might leave her, even though she is kind and sweet and loving. And while Ed seems rather checked out as a father but he is the more honest parent, never talking down to Riley and telling him as it is, telling him about the pain he caused him while also admitting to the guilt he feels. The Flynns are flawed people even in their religious practice (I think the way Annie speaks about Ali showing up at church when Hassan seemed to be nothing but nice to her spoke very loudly to the fact that Annie is rather misguided sometimes) but they are good people at the core of it and their parenting might have been part of Riley’s way into alcoholism but it wasn’t only them. There were things they couldn’t change and things they had no influence over like his heart being broken by Erin running away, the sort of people he went out on parties with and so many other things...  Yes, they may have shaped their son in a way that made him vulnerable to addiction and the party scene of the stock and tech market and brought him to the point where he killed a child but it doesn’t happen through parenting alone and they also shaped him in the good ways. Him not losing himself when Pruitt changes him, him being brave enough to warn Erin, him standing up for what he believes in those things were also shaped by Ed and Annie. They are one of the best example of flawed but good hearted Christians I have seen in recent media and their portrayal was one of the most heartbreaking ones. 

Now the kids: 

Let’s start with Leeza. Little Leeza Scarborough who before it comes to her wonder gets treated with pity and overprotectiveness from her parents and the island community at large. Leeza was injured by Joe Collie transforming him into the island’s villain and her into the ever present victim.  What happened to her is without a doubt horrible and I understand why Wade and Dolly started to become these overprotective parents, why they were so easily sucked in to John’s and Bev’s scheme. Their little girl was almost taken from them eventhough Wade is the mayor, one of the most powerful people on the island he had no influence over what happened to Leeza even was the one who took her out that day and what followed the accident was as we can gather from their conversation with Sarah a lot of pain and financial burden though they say they would have done it all over for Leeza. In fact a lot of places in crockett island are wheelchair accesible and I am sure that Wade as mayor made it so (I can’t really imagine that a small place like the island was very inclusive though I may be wrong).  After Leeza is healed they don’t want to question in don’t want to think about what might have been the cause for it. In fact they stop questioning anything after that point, after Leeza walks again they are completely vulnerable to Bev’s manipulation and them letting that happen, them just going along with everything, Wade protecting John after he kills Joe long after Leeza forgave him and with her forgiveness send Joe on a better path is what in the end makes them lose her. Because Leeza isn’t that little victim who needs pity and help, she is a strong minded, strong willed young woman with a lot of wit who similar to Erin finds strength in her faith but in a way that isn’t devotion without question and when the Easter vigil is held she doesn’t follow her parents eventhough she loves them deeply. She forgives them I think, because that’s what Leeza’s character is about in it’s core but her parents were two of the instigators behind what happened on the island, without Wade’s protection John and Bev couldn’t have come as far as they did and they put their trust in them because they loved their daughter so much they didn’t stop to question if maybe what made Leeza walk again was also a bad thing. 

Ali and Hassan don’t have it easy and I as a white person really can’t speak much on the racism and religious discrimination they face.  I can say this I think: The first line spoken about Ali before we even really get to look at him is “You didn’t invite Aladin” and already sets us up for what both of them know: They are the outsiders. Not only because they just moved to the island but also because in their faith they are different from their peers and religion can often be a community building event for people before it is anything else. Ali starts balming his father a little for that, for not trying to fit in more with the community, for moving after his mother’s death and then not trying to be closer to the people around them and for the pain all the pain the two of them went through before Crockett island. It isn’t oly peer pressure though of course that brings Ali to St Patrick’s. Sure, Ali wanted to be part of the community but also desperately wanted to believe that there was a devine power who could if he just did it (it meaning faith) the right way he might find a way to avoid the pain of his parents. Hassan knew that and he warned him that that wasn’t how it worked. Hassan was a protective Dad and maybe he overdid it from time to time but his worries were never without reason, his need to keep his son safe from a world that hated him for a crime that happened when he wasn’t even born yet never unfounded and him wanting to make sure his kid kept the memory of his mother alive never anything but the wish of a griefing man and loving father. In the end when they pray together there is peace in them. They face their ends with the dignity Ali’s mother would have wished for and they face it as father and son. While Beverly the true religious terrorist of the story burns away without it. 

Warren is the youngest Flynn and it is never directly stated yet omnipresent that his coming of age happens in the shadow of his older brother’s mistake.  Annie warns him away from drinking when he goes out he in fact doesn’t drink. He never drinks because of what his brother did.  Warren would have been 12 when Riley killed that girl and so he would have seen and felt what his brother’s actions did to his parents fully without being yet old enough to maybe see the nuance.  Annie and Ed probably try to right the wrong they believe to have done in parenting Riley with Warren and that’s a lot for a kid. I do think it’s pretty usual that parents of multiple children especially when there’s a larger age gap try to do better with the younger children, but that isn’t fair is it?  Warren is his own person not a second chance to do it over.  And yet seemingly he does what is asked of him. He’s alter boy, he’s charming and helpful and sweet, he doesn’t drink (even when he does smoke pot) and he helps his father where he can with his work.  But in the end he feels guilty because he thinks he wasn’t enough and says at that last dinner he would have been different if he had known he wouldn’t see his family again. But Leeza is right they know and they love him and Warren deserved to not be perfect all the time. 

Littlefoot saved Erin and Erin payed her back with all the love she had. She was never born but she gave her mother the strength and willpower to leave.  In her speech to Joe Leeza said he reached through time and took things from her she didn’t even know she had yet.When Erin left her husband she reached through time and saved Littlefoot from a childhood like hers and when John gave Erin the angel’s vampire’s blood he reached through time and took away her child, a child who would have been loved and cared for. A child with an amazing mother and probably a great step-dad.  Littlefoot’s story is tragic because she never got one.