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little-big-fan · 2 months

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Preference - One Direction

Tema: Ele precisa de uma "ajudinha"

Aviso: conteúdo sexualmente explícito, linguagem de baixo calão, +18

Zayn

Joguei o corpo para trás, exclamando uma série de palavrões. Precisava entregar aquele arranjo ainda hoje, mas nenhuma das minhas ideias parecia boa o suficiente.

Fiz e refiz uma dezena de vezes e sempre parecia medíocre.

— Talvez um banho me ajude. — Resmunguei para mim mesmo, me erguendo na cadeira onde estive nas últimas horas.

Meu corpo inteiro reclamava de estar praticamente na mesma posição há tanto tempo.

Entrei no quarto em silêncio, sabendo que S\N devia estar dormindo, já que recém estava amanhecendo.

Vestindo apenas uma camiseta minha e uma camiseta minúscula, minha garota respirava de forma lenta. Abraçando o meu travesseiro, como se fosse eu quem estivesse ali a acompanhando.

Não deixava de me sentir culpado por não poder dar a devida atenção à minha namorada. Mas tinha um prazo a cumprir.

Tirei minhas roupas e as joguei de qualquer jeito no chão do banheiro. Liguei o chuveiro quente e deixei que a água relaxasse meus músculos. Não sei quanto tempo fiquei com os olhos fechados, apenas aproveitando a sensação.

— Amor? — Uma S\N sonolenta chamou da porta do banheiro. — Está tudo bem? — Ouvi seu bocejar.

— Sim. Eu só precisava relaxar um pouco.

O box de vidro estava embaçado, mas eu podia ver sua silhueta, tirando a camiseta do corpo e baixando a calcinha. A porta foi aberta e minha garota me deu um sorrisinho, como quem pedisse permissão. Chamei-a com o indicador.

Dei um passo para o lado, deixando que ela molhasse o próprio corpo, e me perdendo nas gotas de água que desciam por sua pele.

Faziam dias que sequer nos tocávamos direito. Que eu apenas deitava na cama, exausto e apagava.

E, por mais que estivesse bem cansado agora, meu pau parecia discordar de mim.

S\N jogou a cabeça para trás, molhando os cabelos compridos com os olhos fechados. Deixando o pescoço esguio totalmente à mostra.

— Conseguiu terminar o arranjo? — Perguntou ainda com os olhos fechados.

— Ainda não. — Minha voz saiu mais grossa que o normal, o que a fez me encarar.

Os olhos castanhos desceram pelo meu corpo, parando exatamente na parte que implorava por atenção. Não consegui deixar de me sentir levemente envergonhado, ela não havia entrado lá para esse tipo de coisa, provavelmente só queria passar algum tempo comigo.

Mas o sorriso sacana que se abriu nos lábios avermelhados fizeram meu íntimo ter um espasmo.

— Você precisa relaxar, hum? — Falou baixinho. — Quer ajuda? — Acenei com a cabeça. Não sabia o que ela pretendia, mas estava completamente sedento.

S\N desligou o chuveiro, me empurrando pelos ombros até que encostasse na parede fria. Encarei seus movimentos, totalmente transtornado enquanto ela se colocava de joelhos. Lambendo os próprios lábios antes de me fitar com os olhos cheios de uma falsa inocência.

A mão pequena me tomou, me fazendo arrepiar. Não consigo desviar os olhos de sua figura, capturando o momento exato em que ela coloca a língua toda para fora, pincelando meu pau como a porra de um pirulito.

Encosto a cabeça na parede, sem conseguir segurar o gemido que me escapa.

Sem aviso prévio, S\N me toma com a boca. Engolindo tudo que pode.

— Caralho. — Resmungo.

Os sons molhados e de sucção são a perdição, assim como a sensação de sua boca quente à minha volta.

Ela me chupa de forma lenta, se deliciando e me levando ao limite. Embrenho uma das mãos entre os cabelos úmidos, guiando sua boca perfeita em um ritmo mais rápido.

A cena à minha frente é suja.

Minha garota de joelhos no chão do banheiro, os pingos de água escorrendo por sua pele, os mamilos duros em puxa excitação e a boca que me engole com devoção.

Sinto um orgasmo se formando aos poucos e perco totalmente o controle. Enfiando até bater em sua garganta. Lágrimas se formam nos olhos castanhos, mas S\N geme.

Fazendo sua boca tremer e reverberar em todo o meu corpo.

Afasto seu rosto, segurando ao máximo. Mas ela nega com a cabeça, segurando minhas coxas para que eu não me movesse.

— Amor, não vou conseguir segurar. — Aviso quase sem fôlego.

— Não se segure. Quero sentir você. — Ela sorri com os lábios inchados e volta a me abocanhar, com ainda mais vontade.

Jogo a cabeça para trás, revirando os olhos e gemendo alto quando o orgasmo me atinge. Mas ela não para. Engolindo até a última gota, sem deixar nada escapar.

Orgulhosa, ela se levanta. Limpando os resquícios do meu gosto com a língua.

— Me deixa cuidar de você. — Sussurrei me aproximando, mas ela liga o chuveiro.

— Não. Sua nova meta agora é terminar o arranjo. Quando estiver pronto, vai poder fazer o que quiser comigo. — Piscou um olho.

De repente o prazo já não me preocupa mais. Tudo que eu quero é terminar aquela merda e foder a minha mulher até perder os sentidos.

Liam

Equilibrei a bandeja com lanches em apenas um braço enquanto abria a porta do estúdio improvisando, fazendo o meu melhor para não fazer nenhum barulho.

— Amor? — Chamei baixinho, quando vi que Liami não estava gravando nada. Ele girou a cadeira de rodinhas em minha direção, me dando um sorriso cansado.

Já faziam duas semanas que ele trabalhava sem parar em seu álbum.

Entrei no estúdio, largando minha bandeja na mesinha de canto e indo em sua direção. Passei as mãos em seus ombros, fazendo uma pequena massagem. Liam curvou o corpo para a frente, encostando o rosto em meu peito, aproveitando o carinho.

— Posso fazer algo para ajudar? — Ofereci. Ele abriu apenas um olho, erguendo levemente o rosto para me olhar.

— Um abraço e um beijo bem gostoso? — Pediu fazendo beicinho, o que me fez rir.

Tomei o rosto lindo entre as mãos, tocando meus lábios nos seus de forma leve. Mas, ele não pareceu satisfeito, me puxando para sentar em seu colo e aprofundando o beijo com sua língua quente.

A cadeira se moveu com o peso extra, mas ele pareceu não se importar. Segurando minha cintura com força enquanto sua língua explorava cada cantinho da minha boca. Soltei um gemido involuntário. Minha menstruação havia acabado há poucos dias e eu estava mais do que sensível.

Senti quando ele sorriu durante o beijo, me puxando mais para baixo e pressionando a ereção crescente contra mim.

— Preciso tanto de você, babe. — Sussurrou, desviando seus beijos para meu pescoço.

— Mas e o álbum? — Perguntei com dificuldade.

— Pode esperar um pouquinho. — Afirmou.

Sem dificuldade nenhuma, Liam se ergueu comigo no colo, segurando minhas coxas para apoiar meu peso. Seu corpo estava muito diferente desde que havia voltado a frequentar a academia, ele estava mais forte e sua condição física estava muito maior.

Por mais que entendesse seu empenho com o álbum, ficávamos longe por tempo demais e parecia que a chama entre não precisava de mais do que um beijo para virar brasa.

Ele me carregou até o sofá de couro no canto do estúdio, sentando comigo ainda por cima.

Movi meu quadril, soltando um suspiro alto.

Liam parecia não conseguir esperar. Ele ergueu o quadril, empurrando a calça de moletom e a cueca em um único movimento.

Enfiando a mão por baixo do vestido florido que me cobria, ele sorriu ao sentir o tecido fino da calcinha completamente ensopado.

Ele passeou com os dedos longos por ali, separando minha carne e me fazendo soluçar com os espasmos que me atingiam.

— Pare de provocar. — Implorei.

Os olhos castanhos tinham um brilho diferente. Sem esperar que eu pedisse uma segunda vez, o homem enganchou o indicador em minha calcinha, afastando-a para o lado o suficiente para que tivesse acesso.

Era impossível não gemer toda vez que ele me preenchia. Era sempre como a primeira vez. Tão bom, tão quente…

— Tão apertada, amor… — Sussurrou em meu ouvido, fazendo a um caminho molhado pelo meu pescoço com sua língua.

Eu adorava a dualidade dele. Um amor de pessoa com os fãs, o amigo legal.

E o lado que apenas eu conhecia, o pervertido.

Comecei a movimentar meu corpo para cima e para baixo, intercalando com algumas reboladas, como eu sabia que ele adorava. Em resposta, Liam mordeu meu queixo e desferiu um tapa ardido em minha bunda, me fazendo ir ainda mais rápido.

— Gostosa. — Murmurou. — Assim mesmo.

O vestido começava a me incomodar, mas eu não deixaria que aquilo atrapalhasse. Estava tão molhada que sabia que ele podia sentir escorrer em seu pau. Apoiei as duas mãos em seus ombros, pegando ainda mais impulso e fazendo com que ele soltasse uma série de palavrões, misturados a gemidos.

— Porra, linda… você é tão boa. — Murmurou. Os cabelos meio curtos grudaram no suor de sua testa e a expressão de prazer que se formava em seu rosto era o suficiente para me enlouquecer ainda mais.

Liam passou um braço em minha cintura, trocando nossas posições sem dificuldade nenhuma no sofá. Ele me puxou pelas coxas, fazendo com que minhas pernas ficassem bem abertas e voltou a entrar.

Joguei a cabeça entre as almofadas. Quase derretendo em tanto prazer.

Quanto mais minha sanidade me abandonava, mais ele metia.

O som de nossas peles se batendo preenchiam o pequeno estúdio, assim como nossas lamúrias de puro tesão.

O orgasmo me atingiu sem aviso prévio, me fazendo gritar e apertar a camiseta que ele ainda vestia. Minhas paredes apertavam junto com os espasmos que meu corpo sofria e não demorou muito para que o corpo forte desmoronasse sobre o meu, jorrando forte a ponto de escorrer para fora.

Liam sorriu satisfeito, deixando um selinho demorado em meus lábios antes de desfazer nosso encaixe.

— Eu amo você. — Sussurrou, ainda sem fôlego.

— Amo você. — Respondi, sem forças.

Niall

— Ah, sim. Perfeito. — Murmurei depois de ouvir uma longa explicação sobre o novo patrocínio.

Já faziam quase duas horas que estávamos em reunião, depois de longas horas de ensaio. Estava exausto. Só conseguia pensar no quanto queria comer alguma coisa e ir descansar.

Meu celular vibrou no bolso da calça e aproveitei que o homem engravatado havia engatado em uma conversa com meu agente.

A foto que S/N havia mandado enviou um recado direto para meu pau dentro da calça. Não era nada além do que ela costumava fazer.

Uma foto sua dentro de um provador, perguntando se eu gostava do vestido que havia acabado de comprar.

O tecido vermelho não era revelador demais, terminava no meio de suas coxas e o decote redondo salientava os seios deliciosos.

Não respondi, apenas me despedi daqueles que estavam na mesa inventando ter um outro compromisso que não poderia esperar e saí de lá o mais rápido possível, fazendo o meu melhor para esconder a ereção que havia dentro da calça.

Assim que entrei em meu apartamento, caminhei em passos largos até a cozinha. S/N cozinhava distraída, usando seu novo vestido.

Me aproximei lentamente, sem que ela notasse e segurei sua cintura. Minha namorada deu um pulinho de susto e sorriu ao me ver.

— Amor, achei que chegaria mais tarde. — Falou desligando o fogão e se virando para me abraçar.

Sem conseguir esperar mais, ataquei sua boca com a minha. Como sempre, minha garota correspondeu, embrenhando os dedos em meus cabelos e puxando alguns fios com delicadeza.

— O que foi isso? — Perguntou baixinho, ainda com os olhos fechados.

— Você não tem noção de como sua foto me deixou. — Sussurrei em seu ouvido antes de morder o lóbulo.

— A foto? Mas não tinha nada demais… — Suspirou ao sentir que minhas mãos apertavam sua bunda.

— Você ficou tão gostosa nesse vestido, meu amor. Não consegui pensar em mais nada além de vir aqui e te comer bem gostoso. — A pele de seu pescoço arrepiou, me fazendo sorrir.

Puxei o corpo da garota para cima do meu, caminhando com ela até o nosso quarto.

Não consigo pensar direito, o tesão corre solto em minhas veias.

Ataco sua boca com a minha antes de jogar seu corpo sobre o colchão. S\N solta um gritinho de surpresa, mas o sorriso sacana que se abre em sua boca mostra que ela está gostando.

Puxo os dois lados da minha camisa, fazendo os botões voarem por todo o quarto. Tiro o cinto e jogo a calça social longe, junto com a cueca. Não estou em condições mentais para aguentar joguinhos. S\N leva as mãos até a barra do vestido.

— Fica com ele. — Peço, fazendo-a assentir.

Subi na cama, caminhando de joelhos em sua direção. Enfiei as mãos por baixo do vestido, puxando a calcinha minúscula para fora.

O ar parece quente ao entrar em meu pulmão, o calor é insuportável. S/N coloca uma das mãos pequenas em meu peito, me empurrando para sentar e então vindo para cima de mim, passando uma perna de cada lado do meu corpo.

Puxo o decote do vestido para baixo, libertando seus seios mas aprisionando um entre meus lábios em seguida. Ela embala a cintura para a frente, esfregando minha glande pelo entrada molhada e me fazendo gemer contra a sua pele.

— Não brinca comigo, amor. — Avisei.

Não preciso dizer mais nada. S/N coloca a mão entre nossos corpos, me encaixando antes de afundar em meu colo. Reviro os olhos com o aperto, impulsionando o corpo para cima.

Nosso encaixe não é nada delicado. S/N praticamente pula em mim, gemendo alto e jogando a cabeça para trás. Eu ergo o vestido, fazendo com que fique embolado em sua cintura, e a imagem de como meu pau a preenche me deixa ainda mais sem controle. Afundo os dedos em sua cintura, metendo o mais forte que posso. S/N segura meus ombros, sorrisos misturados a gemidos.

O orgasmo atinge a nós dois sem nenhum aviso. Ela deixa seu corpo cair sobre o meu e eu enfio o rosto em seu pescoço. A corrente elétrica ainda percorre nossos corpos, tentamos encontrar o ar depois de tudo aquilo.

— Como foi a reunião? — Ela pergunta com um sorriso debochado.

— Eu não lembro. — Respondo com sinceridade.

Harry

Acordo assustada quando Harry sai da cama praticamente correndo. Ele parece esquecer que eu dormia em seu braço quando simplesmente se levantou de qualquer jeito.

— Amor? — Chamei ainda cheia de sono, fazendo-o para no caminho para o banheiro. — Está tudo bem?

— E-está. — Responde, mas o fato de gaguejar deixa claro que é uma mentira.

— O que aconteceu? — Sento na cama e ligo o abajur, iluminando o ambiente. — Teve um pesadelo?

— N-não.

— Amor, me deixa te ajudar. — Falo ainda encarando suas costas.

— Ah, porra. — Resmunga, me surpreendendo, já que ele raramente fala palavrão.

Levanto da cama, tocando em seus ombros, mas Harry se esquiva.

— O que está acontecendo, Styles? — Reclamo. O homem solta um suspiro alto, virando em minha direção finalmente. Seu rosto está completamente vermelho.

— Eu estava sonhando com você, okay? — Murmura, sem encarar meu rosto.

— E isso é ruim? — Pergunto ainda sem entender.

— Não, mas, é vergonhoso. — Bufa.

— Vergonhoso por que? — Franzo as sobrancelhas, confusa. Mas qualquer confusão some quando vejo o volume que preenche sua calça de moletom. — Oh…

— Desculpa, amor. — Ele suspira. — Eu vou tomar um banho e já… — Harry começa a se afastar, mas eu seguro seu pulso. Ele me encara, os olhos arregalados.

Por mais que sua personalidade expansiva não deixasse transparecer em frente aos outros, Harry era extremamente tímido para algumas coisas. Talvez fosse o fato de que cada passo que ele desse fosse sempre tão vigiado, mas, às vezes ele sequer conseguia aproveitar alguns momentos. E, mesmo que fosse extremamente carinhoso desde o começo do nosso relacionamento, há poucos meses, Harry não era o tipo que compartilhava suas fantasias ou falava obscenidades durante a transa. As poucas vezes que esse tipo de coisa aconteceu, havia bebida envolvida.

— Me conta sobre o sonho. — Pedi baixinho, puxando-o em direção da cama. Observei como seu pomo de adão subiu e desceu.

— A gente tava… — Começou, mas a timidez o tomou mais uma vez.

Sentamos lado a lado, e eu já podia sentir o calor começar a me tomar. Minhas mãos coçava para tocá-lo, mas não queria ultrapassar nenhum limite.

— Continua, meu bem. — Incentivei, colocando uma mão sobre seu joelho. Harry fechou os olhos e soltou um suspiro. — O que eu estava fazendo no seu sonho?

— Você estava… — Sussurrou a última parte, sendo impossível que eu ouvisse.

— Não entendi, meu amor. — Falei, com a voz um pouco mais manhosa, subindo a mão por sua coxa e sentindo os músculos enrijecendo.

— Porra. Você estava me chupando. — Não consigo conter o suspiro que me escapa. Isso é algo que nunca fizemos. — É nojento, me desculpa.

— Não acho nojento. — Murmuro, arrastando meu corpo para fora da cama. Styles observa cada uma da minhas movimentações. Paro a sua frente, ajoelhando entre suas pernas.

— O-o que está fazendo? — Pergunta baixinho, soltando um gemido estrangulado quando passo a mão em sua ereção por cima do moletom. Seguro a barra da calça, puxando-a para fora do seu corpo junto com a peça íntima. — V-você não precisa fazer isso. — Ele diz alto, nervoso.

— Eu quero. — Encarei seus olhos. — Não quer que eu te chupe, babe? — Tombei a cabeça para o lado, fingindo uma inocência que em nada combina com o meu atual estado.

— Ah, caralho. — Harry jogou o corpo um pouco para trás, apoiando o peso nos braços.

Com os olhos fixos aos seus, deixei um carinho por toda a extensão da carne dura e quente. Fazendo-o soltar todo o ar que prendia nos pulmões.

— Não respondeu a minha pergunta, H. — Passei a língua entre os lábios. — Quer que eu te chupe?

— Porra, eu quero.

Passo a língua pela cabeça avermelhada, seus suspiros preenchem meus ouvidos, me encorajando a continuar. Sugo a glande gorda, e vejo como Harry começa a perder o controle. Ele respira fora de ritmo e aperta o lençol entre os dedos.

— Tira isso. — Peço apontando para a camiseta branca que cobre seu peito. — Quero ver você.

Ele me obedece rápido, jogando a peça pelo ombro, me dando a visão privilegiada de seu peito, ombros e barriga. Os músculos estão tensos.

O levo até a boca mais uma vez, mas agora indo um pouco mais fundo. Harry solta um palavrão quando sente minha garganta. Não sei exatamente o ritmo que deveria estabelecer, então o chupo de forma lenta, saboreando seu gosto.

Styles leva uma das mãos até meu cabelo, enrolando em volta do pulso e me fazendo aumentar o ritmo. Seus olhos têm um brilho que eu nunca havia visto, mas estava adorando. Os lábios cheios estavam entreabertos, soltando gemidos, as sobrancelhas franzidas e uma camada fina de suor começava a se formar em sua testa.

Sinto quando ele fica ainda mais duro em minha boca, seu gosto ficando mais forte, misturado a minha saliva que escorre para fora.

— Para. — Disse, me afastando, me deixando confusa mais uma vez.

— Achei que estivesse gostando. — Sussurrei.

— Ah, eu estava adorando. — Falou com a respiração desregulada. — Mas agora, eu preciso foder você. — Me puxou pelos braços para a cama.

Um frio na barriga me atingiu. Harry nunca havia falado de forma tão explícita, e isso me fez escorrer ainda mais.

Ele parecia outra pessoa, completamente dominado pelo desejo.

Empurrando meu corpo pelo colchão, as mãos ágeis arrancando meu conjunto de pijama e a calcinha antes que eu pudesse sequer pensar em fazê-lo. Então ele me empurra mais uma fez, fazendo ajoelhar em frente a cabeceira da cama, colocando minhas mãos ali como apoio. Sinto o calor de seu corpo em minhas costas, mesmo que ele não me toque.

— Me avise se for demais. — Sussurra em meu ouvido, deixando um beijinho em meu ombro.

Um arrepio percorre minha pele com a promessa silenciosa da melhor transa da minha vida.

Harry leva a mão até minha cintura, me fazendo empinar em sua direção. Ele me provoca, esfregando a glande em minha entrada. Empino mais e resmungo, fazendo-o soltar uma risadinha rouca.

Estou pronta para xingá-lo pela provocação, quando sinto seu membro me preencher por inteiro de uma vez. Solto um grito, minhas paredes o apertam e eu solto a cabeça para a frente. Ele fica alguns segundos parado, para que eu me recupere da surpresa, mas então começa a investir com violência.

Sua pele bate contra a minha, causando estalos tão altos quanto os nossos gemidos. Uma das mãos segura meu seio, brincando com o meu mamilo entre os dedos.

— Você é tão gostosa, bebê. — Sussurra, a voz rouca como nunca antes. — Você desperta um lado meu que eu não sabia que existia.

— Qual? — Pergunto com dificuldade. Ele mantém o ritmo alucinante, fazendo minhas pernas tremerem.

— O pervertido. Porra, eu quero estar dentro de você o tempo todo. — Confessa. — Eu chego a sonhar com você, S\N. Te comendo em todas as posições possíveis.

— Haz. — Gemo e ele afunda ainda mais os dedos em minha cintura.

— Eu tento me segurar ao seu lado, mas, porra, você é tão boa, amor. — Deixa beijos em meu pescoço. — Eu poderia te foder todos os dias pelo resto da vida, e mesmo assim sempre vou querer mais. O que fez comigo, garota? — Viro o rosto, para deixar um beijo em seus lábios.

Suas palavras obscenas, o ritmo enlouquecedor, as mãos em meu corpo, é tudo demais para aguentar. Me desmancho em seu corpo, gemendo seu nome alto e sinto quando Styles perde o restinho do controle, investindo ainda mais forte e gozando tão forte que uma parte escapa, pingando pela cama.

Sentamos na cama, completamente exaustos e saciados.

— Posso realizar seus sonhos sempre que quiser. — Falo, tentando esconder o sorriso que se forma em meus lábios.

— Vou contar com isso.

Louis

Duas semanas de repouso absoluto. Com exceção apenas de idade ao banheiro e com ajuda.

Essas eram as exatas palavras do médico após a lesão grave do meu namorado.

Fiquei completamente desesperada quando Lottie me ligou em uma noite qualquer para avisar que Louis havia se machucado durante o ensaio e eles estavam no hospital.

Os primeiros dias foram tranquilos, o o homem estava adorando ser "mimado". Mas foi no momento em que neguei sua primeira investida, lembrando que ele estava proibido de fazer esforços físicos que meu calvário começou.

Mesmo precisando ficar quase 24h em cima da cama, Tomlinson parecia estar subindo pelas paredes. E era difícil demais negá-lo quando eu também estava sedenta.

Ele fazia questão de fazer carinhos cheios de mãos bobas durante a madrugada, me provocar com beijos quentes demais e depois ficava frustados quando eu fugia para um banho frio.

A noite estava quente em Londres, e eu decidi dormir com minha camisola mais confortável. Saí do banho já pronta para deitar e vi como os azuis se ergueram do celular quando saí do banheiro.

— Puta que pariu, você quer me matar. — Pronunciou alto. A perna engessada permanecia na pequena torre de travesseiros, me lembrando que eu não podia ceder.

— Você já me viu com isso um monte de vezes, amor. — Lembrei.

— E em todas elas eu fiz questão de tirar! — Disse em puro desespero.

— Quer que eu troque?

— Eu quero que você venha aqui e me deixe te foder. — Caminhei até a cama, deixando um beijinho em seus lábios.

— Só mais uma semana, amor. — Prometi.

— Eu vou morrer até lá! — Bufou, afundando a cabeça no travesseiro.

— Quanto exagero. — Falei rindo.

— Exagero? Você sai desse banheiro com uma camisola minúscula, com esse corpo delicioso e espera que eu faça o que?

— Durma.

— Você me odeia. — Disse em uma expressão fechada, quase me fazendo rir.

— Você sabe que eu te amo.

— Se me amasse mesmo, me ajudaria com isso. — Um sorriso sacana se abriu em seus lábios quando ele pegou em meu pulso e largou minha mão sobre seu membro endurecido. Um arrepio percorreu minha coluna. — Preciso tanto de você, love. — Sussurrou, me fazendo fechar os olhos.

— Não, o médico disse...

— Que eu não posso fazer esforço físico. — Repetiu revirando os olhos. — Mas ele não disse nada sobre a mão e a boca da minha namorada deliciosa. — Sugeriu.

— Eu não sei...

— Prometo ficar quietinho. — Fez um beicinho.

Apertei seu pau sobre a cueca, fazendo-o soltar um gemido estrangulado. Já me sentia quente, estava louca por ele. Éramos um casal com a vida sexual extremamente ativa, um cenário onde passamos mais do que três dias sem sexo era improvável até agora.

— Promete?

— Prometo, amor. — Balançou a cabeça rápido.

Empurrei a cueca preta para baixo, vendo como seu pau pulou para fora e sentindo minha boca salivar.

Deixei alguns beijinhos por sua extensão, ouvindo suas lamúrias. Me sentia completamente quente com tudo aquilo. Engoli o máximo que consegui, usando minha mão para acariciar o resto.

— Me deixa te tocar, linda. — Sussurrou.

Tomando cuidado para me mover na cama sem mover sua perna machucada, ajoelhei próximo ao seu tronco, voltando a engolir seu membro. Louis soltou alguns gemidos, a mão grande erguendo minha camisola e se enchendo com a pele da minha bunda, logo depois deixando um tapa ardido, o que me faz gemer contra a sua pele. Ele empurra a cintura para cima, querendo ir mais fundo.

— Quieto. — Aviso, me afastando apenas o suficiente para conseguir falar.

Louis murmura algo em concordância, e então afasta o tecido da minha calcinha o suficiente para ter acesso à minha intimidade. Seus dedos separam minha carne, subindo e descendo devagarzinho. Solto o ar pelo nariz, com a boca cheia dele. Dois dedos me preenchem, indo fundo, lentamente, de forma torturante e deliciosa.

— Sua boceta é tão linda, amor. — Sussurra, me fazendo empinar ainda mais em sua direção. — Por quê não senta em mim, hum? — Viro para olhá-lo.

— Por mais que eu queira, isso pode machucar a sua perna. — Lamento.

— Foda-se isso, amor. Eu preciso de você. — Resmunga, manhoso.

— Lou…

— Se você não sentar no meu pau agora, eu juro que arranco esse gesso e te fodo sem dó. — Sua voz é firme, o tesão estampado em seu rosto deixa claro que ele fala sério.

— Você precisa ficar bem paradinho. — Avisei, passando as pernas em sua cintura.

— Anda logo! — Bufa, quase me fazendo rir.

Posiciono seu membro em minha entrada, nosso encaixe perfeito.

Não quero perder o controle. Não posso.

Mas, porra…

Tê-lo dentro de mim é bom demais.

Me movo lentamente, tomando o maior cuidado do mundo. Mas não parece o suficiente para Louis. Ele segura minha cintura, me fazendo subir e descer mais rápido. Tento reclamar, com medo de piorar sua situação, mas um tapa forte em minha bunda me cala.

Reviro os olhos, sentindo quando ele ignora completamente as ordens médicas e começa a investir contra mim.

— Porra, que saudade. — Ele fala com dificuldade. Seguro seus ombros com força, tentando controlar pelo menos um pouco a situação. Louis espalma as mãos em minha bunda, fazendo minha cintura ir para a frente e para trás.

Nossos movimentos se tornam ainda mais rápidos, a cama range e por um momento, não consigo pensar em seu ferimento.

Tomlinson ergue o tronco, atacando meus lábios. Castigando-os com os dentes e chupões fortes. Enlaço seu pescoço, sentindo o orgasmo me atingir. Ele geme alto contra a minha boca, chamando meu nome alto e me preenchendo com força uma última vez.

Respiramos fora de ritmo, trocando alguns selinhos já mais calmos.

Saio de seu colo, sentindo meu corpo exausto.

— Você está bem? — Pergunto, ficando preocupada de repente.

— Estou ótimo. — Sobra a resposta, com um sorriso vitorioso em seus lábios.

#imagine #lary #harry #one shot #louis #niall #zayn #lari #imagines #liam #preference1d #1d preferences #preferênce1d #preference #imagine 1d

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hexsdexs · 5 months

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No but MY roman empire is the fact that 16 year old harry styles moved in with a guy he just met (louis), and then because he was underage; made louis HIS LEGAL GUARDIAN??? Imagine all of a sudden this guy you just met is your new mom. Absolutely bonkers.

#harry #harry styles #louis tomlinson #larry stylinson #louis tommo #louis 1d #louis and harry #1d #one direction preferences #one direction

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latenightdev1l · 3 months

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hi everyone !!

is the 5sos fandom still active on tumblr ?? because if so im taking requests ! will write anything within reason

fluff, smut, angst, headcanons, fics .etc.

lmk !! 😽😽

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harry-writings · 10 months

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Light My Love sneak peek to hold y’all over since I am sc*m 🤠

He notices the way his eyes linger on every child he walks past and when he finally looks away, he has tears in his eyes. He notices how his stomach clenches and heart aches when he looks at two people happily in love, living in a moment he once did, as if they were ghosts of his past compelled to haunt him for his loss.

The last time he walked this strip, Y/n had her arm looped around his with the brightest smile on her face, occasionally laying her head against his shoulder and planting kisses mindlessly upon his cheek. He can’t explain how depressing it feels to walk this world without her now, this far away from her, after everything they’ve been through together.

The hurt only gets worse when he sees the bouquet of flowers on display in its very same place, screaming her name in just the same way they did the last time. And anything that calls to her calls to him, and he couldn’t imagine how much more guilty he’d feel if he left another part of her behind, even if it was just her ghost.

He brushes his fingers against the petals the same way she did.

“Where’s your special lady?” An unknown yet familiar voice questions.

Harry lifts his head up slowly.

“Excuse me?”

“The one you bought three of my bouquets for.” The vendor continues, to which Harry sulks even further where he stands. He isn’t ready to talk about her. He isn’t ready to accept the fact that they’re no longer together. “You know, you’re still the only lad that’s ever done that.”

#harry styles imagine #one direction imagines #harry styles #harry styles preference #one direction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #one direction preferences #1d

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1d1195 · 2 years

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Made to be I

I moonlight as a teacher by day. I don’t have a choice, I’m sorry.

Warnings: sensitive topics included (toxic/borderline abusive relationship, sad, angsty poor student home life, etc.) This is gonna be a couple parts.

He had only known her for the better part of a couple months at most, and he was certain she was his soulmate in some form or another. Harry was certain that the love poems start to make sense when in love.

September/October

She was a history teacher in the room across the hall from Harry’s English class. They stood across from each other in between classes saying hi to their students and making each other smirk and laugh from across the way.

“Are you guys in love with each other?” One student asked Harry in the middle of class when she kindly brought and then left a coffee on his desk without a word. The students were reading a passage Harry had assigned while he wrote a few questions on the board. He gave her a small nod in thanks and grinned at her smiling face as she retreated across the hall. Harry chuckled at the student.

“No,” Harry shook his head with an eye roll. “And don’t go around saying that. If she gets in trouble, I will blame you,” he said knowingly.

But the boy wasn’t wrong necessarily. At least it wasn’t for lack of trying on Harry’s part. Because while they were not in love with each other, there was no way around the fact that he was in love with her. She looked so adorable every single day. The sweet girl admitted in passing that she had a shoe addiction and Harry certainly wasn’t interested in feet, but he made sure to note every pair of cute shoes that adorned her feet each day. He loved her floral outfits and bright colored blouses that made her rosy skin look like the finest porcelain even under the harsh fluorescent lights of the school. She was so graceful, it looked like she tiptoed around the school and certainly in her classroom while she bounced around the room helping her students memorize dates and people from the past.

She was made to be a teacher. Harry thought the only way she could look any better was if she wore a flower crown on her pretty head, but he was also certain if she did, he would lose it in the middle of the school hallway.

The pair had met the first day for teachers of the current school year. She was a new to the school, and this was going to be Harry’s third year in the building. Harry introduced himself when he saw her struggling to carry a heavy box and open her classroom door all at the same time. “Ooh, hey there,” he said gently and hurried to unlock her room. He shoved the door open and grabbed the box from her without asking. “You okay?” He asked sweetly setting it down on the empty table. She stretched her fingers and arms, cramped from holding the box in one position for so long.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she said softly. “Thank you,” she said. She knew she was staring a bit, confused that he was helping.

“M’Harry, I teach English across the way. You’re the new history teacher?” He asked her.

She stuck out her hand to shake his and offered her name. Harry wondered if she felt the electricity coursing through her hand as much as he did. She smiled so sweetly at him and nodded. She tried to remember how to speak. Harry was very attractive, and she was going to be across the hall from her the whole year? “History, yes...I’m...I’m pretty nervous. This is my third school in as many years...budget cuts and the like,” she explained. Harry nodded understandingly. It was a major issue in the education realm. He was lucky to keep his job here for so long, but also lucky that some of his peers had left the department after he arrived for one reason or another.

“You’ll be fine, and m’right across the way if y’need anything,” he said seriously. “We have a lot of teacher turnover, but I’ve been here three years and s’challenging at times, but I love it here and I think you’ll enjoy it.”

She took a deep breath. She sounded relieved. “Thanks, I appreciate it. I don’t really know anyone here, so thank you for the help,” she said softly.

“Course, love. Do you have anything else you’re bringing t’your room?” Harry asked.

“Um...nothing I can’t handle. Thank you, though,” her smile was gorgeous to say the least. Her teeth weren’t crooked, but her smile seemed to rise higher on the left of her face than the right. Her cheeks turned into tiny apples that made Harry want to kiss each of them, cup his hands around her face and stare into the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen all day long. He felt as if his heart turned to liquid, and he hoped he wasn’t drooling over her. She was lovely and he already adored her and would do anything to see that smile.

“Do you...” he didn’t want to make it obvious that he wanted to hang out with her some more, but he still wanted to be polite. “I have t’do a few things in my room, would you like a tour of the building? I can show you the ins and outs of the copy machine too. I’ve had m’fair share of battles with that monster.”

She giggled. “That would be really nice, thank you. I’m just going to set up a few things here but let me know when you want to do that.”

“Okay, great,” Harry could hardly contain his excitement. He felt like a literal kid in school meeting a new student and helping her out. “If...if you need help with anything in the meantime, just give me a shout, yeah?” He asked. “Seriously, no bother at all,” he said walking backwards out of her room with a grin and wave.

While Harry wrote the opening day activities on the board, he thought about how adorable she was, and he wondered all kinds of things about his new coworker, and he hoped he would get to discover them all. The smile on his mouth couldn’t be removed and he was suddenly more excited for the poetry unit he’d be teaching and imagined a few of his own love poems in his head, too.

She didn’t elaborate much about her personal life. She had two younger sisters, her mom and dad separated when she was young. She was closer with her youngest sister but of course adored them both with all her heart. Harry still hadn’t figured out if she was single or not—it wasn’t his business. It was probably entirely inappropriate for him to have a crush on her, but he couldn’t help it. Not when she was effortlessly lovely and adorable. He thought about running his fingers through her hair, letting them get tangled at the back of her head. He imagined she tasted like sugar because she was just so sweet and how could he not believe that?

She was already working on her master’s degree and if she wasn’t a history teacher, she would want to be an accountant or a statistician. “Math?” Harry said wrinkling his nose at her while they shared their lunch time in her room.

“Statistics is very nearly an English class, Mr. Styles,” she rolled her eyes knowingly at him. “I fared much better in stats than I did in algebra.”

“Somehow I doubt it,” he chuckled.

“I had to work probably three times as hard in Algebra than I did Stats.”

He knew she was brilliant. She always downplayed it. But it was obvious. He saw it when she was afterschool with students helping them with other subjects because they liked her more than their actual teacher. She seemed to know everything and was always willing to help any student—even the ones she didn’t have in class.

“Did you always want to be a teacher?” Harry asked her while she rewrote the objectives on the board in her neat script.

Her cheeks burned at his assessment. She wasn’t embarrassed but she liked the idea that he thought about her. “Is it that obvious?” She smirked.

“Yes, but it’s...it’s perfect. It’s like you were made to be a teacher.”

“My mom said that,” she giggled cutely. “Tried teaching my baby sister to read fresh out the womb,” she snickered.

Harry smiled. “Well? Did you teach her to read?”

She paused her writing, tilted her head to the side and nodded slowly. “I had a hand in it, yeah,” she realized. “Never really thought about it.”

“A natural,” Harry said simply.

Harry shared his personal details as well. Mum, sister, always wanted to live in the states, fell in love with English. Went to a classroom to help a friend with a unit he had spent extensive research on over his second to last semester, fell in love again.

And he wanted to tell her that he fell in love with her too, but since she didn’t offer her love story, he thought it best he would keep his own to himself too.

It was late October when Harry realized he was truly in love with her. And it wasn’t only because she was beautiful and intelligent. No in fact, he was almost certain it had nothing to do with either of those things (but he would tell Gemma later that night he was the luckiest man in the world to work across the hall from an angel). Instead, it was just her demeanor and her kindness that made his heart tap out this rhythm he had never heard before while his brain swam with thoughts of her.

A student was screaming from her room. Harry was on his break period, and he looked up from his computer to the room across the hall—his coworker glanced at the door as well and hearing nothing crazy out of sorts, continued on. But Harry was still on alert because he would probably strangle a student if she was harmed in anyway. He could hear her gentle voice murmuring as the student just yelled louder. Harry moved from his desk toward the hallway, he was ready to intervene if it escalated any further, but she managed to convince the student to step in the hall, so Harry stopped at his whiteboard and busied himself by rewriting the agenda, the date, the objectives on the board, and the like. Harry was happy to eavesdrop just in case.

“Hey,” she said softly when in the hall. “What’s the matter?” She asked.

Harry watched as the boy stared at his feet. “Why don’t you just send me out like every other teacher?” He snapped.

“Well, this is our time together. If I send you out, I don’t get to teach you and then that means I’m doing a bad job,” she explained. “And I don’t like doing a bad job.”

He snorted. “I’m not going to learn.”

She shrugged. “You’ll learn something,” she said knowingly. “Might not be history, but you’ll learn.”

They were quiet a moment and Harry was watching in awe. The boy was taller than her by at least a foot, but he refused to look at her. He looked small. Harry was worried by the sheer size of him that he could seriously injure her if he got angry enough. She was standing with her hands behind her back looking adorable in her flowery dress. She wore ballet flats and her hair had two soft curls pulled on either side of her head. She was as beautiful as ever and he wasn’t giving her the time of day. Harry wasn’t as worried as when he first heard the yelling, but she didn’t even look prepared to brace herself in the event he got angry again. He wondered how she kept her cool like that, or maybe she really didn’t think he would. “Are you going to write me up?” He asked her with a huff.

“Depends,” she shrugged. “I don’t have to if you want to tell me what’s wrong. If you’re comfortable with that. Or I can send you to someone that you do want to talk to,” she said softly. “But I’m only going to write you up if you continue with this out of character behavior today. I can’t have you yelling at me like that in class. It’s not really fair...I don’t yell like that because honestly, that hurt my feelings,” she told him. “And I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings. I also wouldn’t want to make you look bad in front of everyone else, and you sort of did that too...and that wasn’t cool. But you never act like this, so I’m letting it slide if you promise it won’t happen again.”

He glanced up at her briefly and was quiet for another moment while he thought about all the logical things that she deduced from his short episode of yelling at her in front of everyone. She had endless patience, she leaned against the wall and waited while he stared at his shoes. Harry was organizing the markers and erasers on the shelf of the board; he rearranged the magnets into different shapes wondering where she stored all this patience. Harry was in awe of her unending kindness and understanding. “I haven’t eaten,” he said eventually.

She nodded, almost if she expected the answer. “I get pretty hangry myself,” she said knowingly. “Definitely hard to focus when you’re hungry...Were you running late, skipped breakfast?” She questioned gently. She didn’t want to pry and make him tell her something, but she wanted him to know she was listening.

He shook his head and was silent.

She nodded and swallowed. She knew what was coming next. It was so frequently true in their school that this happened to so many students. Worse yet, it wasn’t just their school this happened. It became an increasing problem every day in every school. Harry knew too, nearly broke his heart and she was so quiet when she asked her next question. “Did you eat dinner last night, honey?”

He was still a moment. Shook his head once. “No,” he breathed.

She nodded. “I see. Well, that simply won’t do.” She glanced across the hall. “Mr. Styles,” she said with a grin. Harry smirked at his board and turned toward the pair in the hall with a gentle smile. “Would you mind if he sat in your room for a bit?” She asked. She knew that Harry heard every word, the student did not.

“Not at all,” he said simply.

“Just a minute, honey,” she said pressing a hand on his arm and tilted her head toward Harry’s room. Harry returned to his desk as the boy sat warily at one of Harry’s seats.

She disappeared into her room for a moment and returned with a plethora of snacks and a water bottle. “Eat whatever you want,” she said as she settled the granola bars, fruit snacks, and animal crackers on the desk. She also had two pieces of candy as well. She walked out of the room and back across the hall without another word. The boy stared at the snacks for a moment and Harry could see the confusion, the gratitude, and everything else that was hurting his heart on his face.

He started to munch on the snacks. “Do you need anything else?” Harry asked as he ate.

He shook his head. “I...I feel bad I yelled at her,” he said quietly.

Harry shrugged. “Happens to the best of us,” he said simply. “I don’t think she minded. You can always apologize.”

The boy nodded and ate quietly. Ate every snack she offered. “I’ll go back to class now,” he said.

Harry nodded. “Have a nice day,” he said.

“You too.”

Harry never really had students yell at him. He was utterly aware of how female teachers were treated differently than male teachers. The standards may have been the same, but they were subject to the yelling she just experienced so much more frequently than Harry and his other male coworkers. He knew she felt pressure in that situation. It was practically a power struggle while the rest of the class continued working on her assignment. Harry wasn’t sure how he would have handled that situation, but he knew it wouldn’t have been the way she so elegantly and wonderfully did.

He spent the remainder of his break period typing up the scenario exactly as he heard and saw it. With the printed copy, he delivered it to his principal’s office just so he knew how lovely his coworker was and it would be a shame to lose her this year—even though the year had hardly started. Harry would leave the school if she did too.

But as wonderfully as she handled that situation, not every one of them could be like that. So, when the yelling started a few paces down the hall from her door and the two boys dropped their bags, Harry was floored to see her cute being fly down the hall to their sides as one swung his fist into the other boy’s face. Harry ran as quickly as he could to pull the pair apart, but she was still shoved against the locker as she pulled at the boys. She winced quickly, seemed to hold her breath from the pain. Harry felt his pulse quicken at her pain. He yanked as hard as he could to shove the boy away from the other one. She gripped onto the other boy’s arm, all the while she was shouting, nearly the only time he ever heard her voice take on such an octave.

She reached her free hand to the back of her head, and she winced again as she touched the tender spot. Harry nearly lost it. He wanted to shove the poor teenager away, gather her in his arms and make sure she was alright. The assistant principal finally made his way to the still arguing boys. Once relieved of her duties she started ushering everyone back to class loudly while the bell rang. Harry was still holding one boy at bay, and she stood in the middle of the hall directing her students to get into class and then telling Harry’s to get their writing journals out for the prompt on the board. If he wasn’t so worried about her head, he would have been floored she knew what Harry asked of his students at the beginning of each class. Maybe it was because he had no idea what she had her students do at the beginning of each class. He wanted to remedy that soon.

Harry was finally able to leave the boy’s side and he hurried back to her side in the middle of the hall. She flinched as he touched the back of her arm in surprise.

“Love, are you alright?” he said quietly while the halls finally dispersed of students. He was desperate to know she was okay, and he knew she was but the way she flinched wounded him. He wished he had quicker reflexes than her to see that scenario coming about and stop it before she got hurt. “Do you need some medicine? Or the nurse to check you out?” He asked nervously.

“Um...no, just banged my head a bit.” She wondered what her face looked like because Harry’s face was unconvinced that she was okay. “Just a little bump, seriously, I’ll be fine,” she promised. She gently squeezed Harry’s forearm and then meandered toward her room. “Thanks for stopping them, though,” she said over her shoulder.

Harry brought her medicine and water anyway, and she smiled gratefully when he exited her room while she was teaching her next lesson, unfazed by seemingly everything.

They were staying late for the fall athletic awards ceremony that was starting at five. It was fairly short, offered free food and was a great way to get to know the kids a bit more and how some shined as leaders on the field so to speak versus the classroom.

They both decided it didn’t make sense to go home and come back. For which Harry was very excited to spend the next three hours alone with her uninterrupted by other coworkers or students while they chatted away. Harry got a quick take away for the two of them from the Mexican place down the street from the school. They ate in Harry’s room and talked about everything they could think of. Students, parents, books they were reading, holidays, birthdays, childhood memories, vacations. Again she didn’t elaborate too much, but Harry really felt like he was starting to know her.

“Hey, would you mind helping me move my desk?” She asked after they finished eating. “I...I wanted to try this arrangement you have going on here,” she smiled. “The kids have mentioned it on occasion they like your room.”

He nodded. “Course, love,” he said softly.

He lifted the desk with her help. She wasn’t going to just stand there while Harry did literally all the heavy lifting. She did hold her own, but the desk was heavy. “Oof,” she grunted when they settled it into place.

“Y’okay?” He asked, his eyebrows pinched together.

“Yeah...just uh...” She shook her head. “I got a bit of a cut,” she wrinkled her nose. “Sharp edge.”

“Oh, that’s no good,” Harry said worriedly. She wasn’t gushing blood, but it had to be sore. He pulled her back to his room where he had a small first aid kit. “These desks are old, who knows what you cut it on,” he said holding her hand in one of his while he put some antibiotic cream on her fingertip. She gasped a little and Harry glanced up at her. Her lips were parted in shock, her eyes wide as Harry took care of her. “Y’okay, love?” He wondered quietly. She nodded, didn’t say anything as Harry rubbed the cream over her fingertip. They were silent while Harry bandaged her finger. Her hand sparked fire along his palm and he patted the inside of her hand when he was finished but didn’t dare release his grip from her. She was staring at her finger and Harry waited until she glanced up at him.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed. “Thanks,” she whispered.

“Course, love,” he answered. His eyes stayed trained on her then slipped to look at her lips. They looked like two little pillows, and he could feel her warm breath breezing over his hand. He closed his eyes a moment and his head inched the tiniest fraction toward her because he really wanted to kiss her, but he knew it wasn’t in their best interests being coworkers at a school.

“I have a boyfriend,” she blurted then clapped her hand over her mouth.

Harry dropped her other hand immediately. “I’m sorry?”

She closed her eyes and removed her hand from her mouth. She shook her head rapidly wincing as she did. “I...I’m so sorry. I just...I want you to know that...should have told you a long...” she looked at the floor and then shook her head again. “I don’t know why...” she sighed. “I...I like you a lot, and I don’t want to ruin our friendship...but I think it’s...” she pressed her lips together and there was such a long pause before she spoke again. “I just want you to know,” she swallowed what looked like a rock in her throat.

Harry only heard that she liked him a lot. While his heart was breaking that she was taken, he did adore her regardless. He would never want to lose her as a friend, and he would probably wait forever for her. He had only known her for the better part of a couple months at most, and he was certain she was his soulmate in some form or another. Harry was certain that the love poems start to make sense when in love. “Love, it’s...S’okay,” he shrugged. “Uh...s’not....” he shook his head and bit his lip. “Probably wise we don’t give the kids some ammunition, y’know,” he chuckled. She blushed this beautiful rosy pink, her lips pressed together, and she cast her eyes down for a moment.

She looked up at him. “You’re...I haven’t had a friend in a really long time,” she said softly glancing back at her feet. Her hair fell from behind her ear and hid her beautiful face.

“Then that’s what we’ll be, love,” he assured her and pressed a kiss to her cheek because he had to, or he was certain he would die. Her skin was so soft, and he was glad he did it. Harry never thought he would experience this all encompassing love. The type that knocked him off his feet. Whenever he thought of her a smile pulled his lips across his face. His pulse raced. He never believed in love at first sight. But he had never seen her before. She was everything to him. No matter what. She was made to be a teacher, sure. That much was obvious. But she was made to be in Harry’s life. She was his soulmate, he was absolutely sure of it. “M’happy t’be your best friend. Let’s move the rest of your desks.”

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amorchai · 9 months

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just wrote a peter parker preference of each one... i'm obsessed.

#preferences were my 1d thing when i was 12 felt so nostalgic #— ꒰꒰ °·˚tiempo por chai ₊˚⊹ ꒱꒱#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #tasm peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter x y/n #atsv!peter parker #peter b parker x reader #peter b parker x you #peter b parker imagine #peter b parker

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midigated · 3 months

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I'm probably in the minority with this but I wish the first 3 arcs of Sailor Moon Crystal were a two-part movie series (like they did with Eternal and Cosmos.).

This will probably make the Crystal fans seethe at the mouth bc God forbid anyone has an opinion different from them. But we probably would've avoided a lot of the embarrassing poor animation choices had they turned the material into two-part movies for each arc. They'd have more time to focus on the good bits that moved the story along. They'd have more time to also focus on the animation quality of the movies.

Maybe, as a result, they could've spent more time honing their character designs versus getting better after three FULL seasons of SMC.

Sorry not sorry, the designs in Eternal and Cosmos are way better than the poor attempts to copy Naoko's style that plagued the first 3 seasons of SMC.

#yeah i said it. i think the infinity arcs character design sucked balls #before anyone goes ugh youre a 90s fan ... all i have to say is: and? so what? i like versions of sailor moon and will criticize all of them #nothing is above criticism you dinguses #the musicals? the bandai ones are a YMMV in quality. the later ones are good but sometimes the songs suck.#manga? inconsistent artwork but i actually like that about the manga tbh - gave it a lot of 'action' in its line work. but 1d baddies #90s anime? theres a lot of filler. some of the filler is good. others are BORING. series does not grow w/ audience after 3rd season.#90s anime pt.2? the aging up of mamoru and him having a relationship with rei. ew ew ew. they ruined mamoru for me lol #pgsm? nothing. its perfect. oh wait one criticism is that they only did the first arc. le sigh. woudve loved to had more #crystal? questionable designs. questionable additions that deviated from the manga. kept in some stuff that sucked about the manga #crystal pt.2? like keeping in haruka kissing usagi to uh intimidate her??? really fucking dumb and huge yikes. the first 3 seasons r boring.#crystal pt.3? which is funny bc its far more condensed vs the 90s anime but somehow manages to be just as boring as the 90s filler eps.#manga addition: i like the manga and i still prefer it over crystal any day of the week.#we good? good. now keep your reply in the drafts #incel + crystal = cryscel fans #btw this is true w/ dragon ball super. they decided to adapt the movies into the series and the series ended up having 🥚#🥚very questionable animation choices that were fixed but still didnt look that great. like id rather watch the movies they came from.#because if im going to get disappointed that they didnt give vegeta the final strike on freiza - it may as well look good.#still mad about that. vegeta deserved so much more and no one will never change my mind #vegeta being denied from killing freiza was the same as denying venus landing the final blow Beryl. YOU KNOW IM RIGHT.

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imagines-1directioner · 2 years

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PREFERENCE #14: HOT TALK 🔥

Trouxe um preference diferente dos que já criei por aqui.. pra quem gosta de mensagens quentes e provocativas, aproveitem!

Como o tumblr não deixa postar mais que 10 fotos por publicação, vou deixar a continuação ao final do post

Gostaria muuuuito que me contassem o que acharam e se querem esse tipo de conteúdo com mais frequência. Inclusive tô aceitando pedido de fake message com qualquer mino

curte e reblogue o post para me ajudar 🫶

Harry Styles

Liam Payne

Louis Tomlinson

Para continuação com Niall e Zayn clique aqui

_________________________________________

Feedbacks são sempre bem-vindos e de extrema importância para quem escreve. Se possível, não esqueça de deixar um comentário sobre o conteúdo lido acima na ask! Adoraria saber o que achou :)

xoxo

#harry styles #liam payne #louis tomlinson #niall horan #zayn malik #hot #1direction #1d #preference 1d #preferences

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rimouskis · 7 months

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I'm going to preface this story by saying: I don't necessarily believe in karma, but

I may have been walking through today with a vague sense of disbelief tainted with unkind smugness after my tiktok fyp was flooded with poor fans who tried to get presale ticket to one mr n. kahan's new tour only to find that demand was through the roof and GA pit tickets were seriously going for $300, in presale, and even the "worst" tickets in the lawn were going for $70

and while I undoubtedly think it's deeply unethical for both platforms (thanks ticketmaster) and artists to allow such dramatic ticket cost inflation, I also generally don't relate...

I (VERY LUCKILY) gravitate towards smaller acts, and the most I've paid for a ticket all year has been, like... $90 for a ticket to beyonce, which got cancelled and I was refunded lol. if I look back at all my receipts from shows this year, most have been around $50/ticket after fees, and several have been closer to $20. my favorite show I've seen all year was a $15 ticket.

it's mostly luck—I tend to like smaller acts, and I've been seeing mainly rock acts this year, and those tickets simply don't run as high as pop acts. and part of me is honestly very grateful that I haven't been swept into any of the really recent huge acts.

I think of all the people scrabbling for boygenius or taylor swift tickets and how much money they've had to shell out... how a lot of them don't even GET to see the acts they want to see because they've been priced out or tickets sold out. I can't remember the last time a show I wanted to go to sold out lol. maybe bastille in london?

and again, it's just a matter of luck that I'm not really into any of these megastars and therefore don't have to compete in the gladiator arena to try to see shows I want to see, but sometimes luck manifests as a feeling of self-satisfaction, you know? who among us hasn't experienced a little self-superiority from time to time.

look, if YOUR tiktok was flooded with people saying concerts have been awful since 2021 (including rock and metal shows), but every concert YOU'VE been to since 2021 was amazing and the crowds were really good and you always got tickets and it never broke the bank, you'd feel pretty validated in your choice of musicians and the crowds they attract too, alright?? sue me! I felt frugal AND undeservedly clever!

anyways back to karma. guess who got invited and subsequently agreed to shell out $70 to sit in a lawn and listen to mr. n. kahan sing. I'll give you a hint, her tumblr username starts with an r and ends with an s

#I KNOW LIKE. A SINGLE ONE OF HIS SONGS.#the thing about me is I'm earnestly really good at not judging other ppls music taste because:#I have a whole 1000-song playlist dedicated to music I love but don't play for other ppl bc I regard it as my Fun Time No Taste Music #and it's not that it's bad it's just not as curated as I prefer my music showed to other people lol #and that means I don't judge people for getting really into a band that doesn't do it for me personally #but. I will admit that I have that deeply annoying personality trait wherein if a billion people get into something...#for unknown reasons my own desire to learn about and get into that thing plummets. hashtag hipster. hashtag annoying #so that's kinda why I've never explored a lot of mega-popular musicians #(see: hozier; mitski; boygenius; taylor swift; one direction; noah kahan; etc etc)#+ obviously I don't make quality judgements off of that. I've heard some hozier songs. he's very good. I like handfuls of TS and 1D's music #but I don't have the drive to Also Get Into It #which means I never have to fucking melee for tickets in the queue ahaha and I am very grateful for that #but idk. I think there's something to be said for purposefully seeking out midsize or small acts. I don't really like stadium shows!#my fave concert this year had less than 100 attendees and the lead singer walked right off the stage into the crowd #everyone was chill and gave him space (this was the friday pilots club show)#and I think I can compare it to big vs. small fandom #small fandoms tend to be well-behaved bc everyone knows everyone and beef poisons the whole space lol #and also it's a matter of numbers! the more people who are in a space... the higher likelihood someone's an asshole #and I've been in tiny fandoms that blew up (hellooooo omgcp) and saw that happen firsthand #and I sort of suspect that rule holds true for concert spaces/music fanbases! more people = more variables = higher likelihood of foolery #hell I think of when I was really into 2010s alt rock DURING the 2010s and had to deal with assholes at alt j concerts hahahah #and it was just because I *was* into the music that WAS of-the-time in 2015!!!!#and now as an agèd 20something who likes metal shows I'm just chilling and watching pits form at lowkey 1400-capacity venues #because that's the scene! and I'm not in the thick of it with the current Music Of The Hour #anyways all this is to say that I don't think noah kahan is bad or untalented or unworthy of seeing!!!!#clearly he is if I'm going to fork over $70plusfees to see him with my friend #it's just that I'm grateful my tastes have veered into the cheaper side of the music industry.#I think I'd keel over if my favorite artist was TS and I had to deal with. all that. to go see her.#stronger than the marines etc etc

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luchia13 · 1 year

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please reply to this with a link to a really good fic, any fandom at all (although rpf is not preferred - no shaming intended, just not for me). i do not have enough brain to even choose something to read.

#AGAIN no shaming intended whatsoever but for example purposes 1D is the pinnacle of Not For Me fic #fictional characters or self-made fictional versions of people are preferred pls

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breakingfreebri · 2 years

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These made me laugh. Old 1D memes man

#one direction #louis tomlinson #niall horan #harry styles #zayn malik #1d #liam payne #i miss one direction #one direction imagine #one direction preferences #one direction memes

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stylinson28-blog2 · 1 year

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Niall: *walks into room*

Niall: “What’s that noise?”

Louis: It’s Harry, he’s crying

Niall: “What why?”

Louis: He had a dream where I kissed you.

Niall: *baffled* “What?! Why would I kiss you?!”

Louis: “Exactly.”

Niall: *opens the door slowly*

“Harry lad get over yourself it was a dream.”

Harry: “MORE LIKE A NIGHTMARE!”

Niall: “OW!”

Louis: “What? What’s wrong?”

Niall: “He threw a book at me!”

Harry: “You’re Lucky it wasnt something harder!”

#harry styles #harry and louis #louis and harry #larry au #larry stuff #larry stylinson #niall horan #zayn malik #one direction #1d preferences #1d imagines #louis tomlinson

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imagine-that-one-thing · 1 year

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Her Majesty || Chapter 28

Harry's pov

I despise airport security; it's a pain in my ass. They always give me a difficult time, no matter what I do. They always pet me down, take my guns and attempt to act like I am not who I say I am. They operate countless checks and double-check my license and all my documents; I'm not sure what it is they don't believe. I'm part of the Royal team when I'm quite literally with the royals themselves. I recollect one night the King and I were stuck in the airport; we were attempting to get home before a severe storm hit, and they held me up for two hours. It wasn't until the King pulled rank that they let me through and gave me back all my things.

Anastasia refuses to exercise her privilege and skip any lines; instead, we are both compelled to stand in endless queues. We've been standing for an hour. I'm exhausted and can't wait to obtain a bed and fall into it. As much as I despise the number of pillows Anastasia has on our bed, I would do anything to fall into each of those bothersome pillows and fall to sleep. Anastasia rests her head on my shoulder, her body leaning on mine slightly. I place my arm around her waist, "No sleeping," I whisper, hearing a chuckle fall from her lips.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Anastaisa jokes, "Do we have to go back to the Palace?" Anastasia challenges with a touch of a whine to her voice.

As much as I have loved our very belated honeymoon, we cannot hide out and neglect our responsibilities. Running off to Greece is still not an option, although, I won't lie, I have thought about it. I believe that if by any chance, we were to abolish the monarchy for whatever reasons, we would run off to Greece and live there. There is no doubt in my mind. But, for now, the monarchy stands tall, and there is no chance of it crumbling anytime soon, not while Anna has any say over it. Even if she wanted to, she could not conclude the monarchy. Her father made sure to have it in writing. Nobody can end it at the moment.

"Duty calls," I respond, nudging Anna carefully while the queue commences moving, and I discover myself emptying my pockets into the petite white box to go through security. I take out my license from my wallet to show the guards who I am as I place my pistol in the white box. For once, they don't scramble to detain me. Instead, they look towards Anastasia and hold their hands out to see her passport.

"Do you want airport security?"

"No," Anastasia responds, "I have my own," Anastasia takes back her passport and hands it to me to hold, as usual. Anastasia is gestured to walk around the metal detector, and as she steps around, the men carefully look her up and down. As they watch her, I keep my eyes on them. I don't like them separating us, even if it is for a few metres. Finally, Anastasia looks over at me, and I give her a nod, assuring her that I am still watching, ready to leap into action at any moment.

The men look at each other before they gesture for me to walk through, and I do as I am told. The system sounds, and I heavily sigh, a new airport procedure being a nuisance to me.

"I have metal plates and screws in my left shoulder," I quickly inform the men, aware that they are going to rush to me and treat me as a threat.

A man stands in front of me and operates a security detector over my body—the alarm sounds.

"Pet him down," one informs the other, and I roll my eyes, gazing towards Anna as they stand between us. "Take the jacket off." One barks, narrowing his eyes on me in an attempt to intimidate me. I am not intimidating; in fact, I am irritated, if anything. They seem to have sticks up their asses and need to be brought down a peg or two. They may be airport security, but they are pricks.

I slide off my jacket; the man takes it and flings it to the ground. I bite the inside of my mouth, not desiring to provoke a disturbance. Then, I take a breath and hold my arms out, complying with the security as they operate through their procedures. Finally, they hit my shoulder, and I cringe, glaring at the man who knew I had plates in that shoulder. Prick.

"Do you have anything in your pants?"

I raise a brow and glare at the man, refraining from being a smartass. I have one thing in my pants, and I don't think it is their concern. "No."... "Everything is in the basket. I know the procedure. As I said, I have plates in my shoulder from surgery. Would you like to see the scar?"

"Are you being smart?"

"No?" I question, unsure of what else they need to do unless they detain me. Finally, I dryly respond, "Am I free to go?"

The man signals and I walk to pick up my jacket, sliding it up to my arms as Anna grasps my watch, phone and wallet from the white box that went through the security system. I go to reach for my pistol, but I'm prevented, "You're not taking that." The man states, blocking my hand from my pistol.

"It's mine," I respond, eyeing the man as he takes it.

"These are prohibited."

"I am allowed to carry a pistol when on duty. I am on duty; the Queen is right here," I gesture towards Anastasia, who seems a bit nervous as she plays with her engagement ring on her hand.

The man shakes his head, "I will hand it to your leader."

"I'd feel more comfortable if I had it," I respond, "I have a duty to keep her safe."

"And I have a duty to keep the airport safe."

"For fucks sake," I mutter, shaking my head disapprovingly. "SO14 and Armed Personal Protection Officers are required to carry."

"Not today, you are not."

I heavily sigh and run my fingers through my hair, tugging the ends before looking at the man, "I need my pistol."

"You can get it from your leader, Matthew."

"So, you're going to leave her unprotected?" I question, exasperated at the moment.

The man shakes his head, "You are trained to protect her without a weapon, I am sure." The man presses his hand to her arm.

I want to deck him.

"Don't touch her," I instantly hiss.

"Harry, it'll be okay," Anastasia immediately steps in, noticing my frustration and crinkled eyes as I stare at the man. "Can you just tell us where our plane is?"

"I'm not sure I like his attitude.".... "The plane is waiting for you at the very end of Terminal eighteen, gate C."

"You'll have to forgive him; he hasn't slept yet." Anastasia uses her sweet smile to soothe the man. I don't believe he needs to be comforted. I am the one who needs to be settled, but what the fuck ever. He will pay his price when I get on that plane. Asshole.

"Even more of a reason why he shouldn't have a weapon," the security man shakes his head, transferring my pistol off to someone else.

Today might be the day I lose my shit in the airport and get arrested. Handcuffs are not my thing unless specified to be used in kinky situations. This, however, is not kinky.

I bite down on my lip before breathing out heavily through my nose. "Let's go, Anna. I'll sort my pistol out in a minute," I inform her, knowing I should walk away. But, unfortunately, I can't fight them without backup, Matthew and the King are the ones to get me out of these situations, and I don't think Anna knows what to do.

I pass around security and caress my hand to the small of her back, "Next time, you cutesy to your Queen," I comment, not too pleased with their lack of etiquette. I know Anastasia doesn't expect them to be courteous, but I sure do, especially if they want to be jackasses. "Dickhead," I murmur under my breath. "At what point can I use my title?" I challenge, wandering away from security.

Anastasia chuckles, growing reserved for a moment before deciding to speak, "At any point, you could have, but then they'd have wanted signed proof, and we don't carry that with us. So we wouldn't need public proof if you let the Palace announce it."

"No," I instantly shake my head, "I don't want the public up my ass any further than what they are."

"Then don't complain," Anastaisa grins, moving away from my body before taking my hand, "Your highness, don't frown."

"Don't call me your highness," I comment, trying to conceal my smirk as the word 'Your highness' leaves her lips. They fall effortlessly and cause my head to spin and my heart to flutter. I am not sure what it is; perhaps her delicate nature of finally mocking me after years of me mocking her is what causes me to grin.

"Your Majesty is the correct term," Anastasia corrects herself. "Will the King accompany me to our flight?"

"The King will not, but your husband will," I nod my head, gently pulling back towards me and kissing her cheek.

"You think we can make it through the airport without you getting arrested? You were pretty close."

I shake my head, "Perhaps, the only handcuffs I like are the ones used in the bedroom."

"Shut up," Anastasia nudges me, "The real reason is that you don't look good in orange."

"Darling, I see you have not set foot in a prison here."

"I try to avoid crime," Anastasia responds. "Unlike some, I am not a royal by day and assassin by night."

I roll my eyes, "The attire consists of a blue t-shirt, and a grey jumper, both of which are more comfortable than my work attire," I inform Anna, "You need to stop watching American movies, next you're going to tell me you know how to shank someone with a toothbrush."

"Maybe I do," Anastasia shrugs, causing me to laugh. "Come on, baby. I'm sure Matthew is waiting."

We stroll on the tarmac and Anna takes a deep breath inhaling the charming scent of petrichor before a downpour. I much prefer to stroll a tarmac towards the plane than to sit in an airport terminal observing individuals at random run back and forth across the airport with suitcases in tow, endeavouring to find their next destination. Although the tarmac has some hustle and bustle, it is a little calmer. We walk towards our plane in leisurely movements with no desire to return to our not-so-normal life. The second we stride onto that plane, our lives go back to being burdened by the monarch and enduring whatever turmoil is thrown at us.

As we walk closer to the stairs locked in at the plane, I take notice that it isn't one of the Queen's fleets, it isn't a military plane, and it isn't a commercial flight— something looks slightly off. I study the plane, taking note of the four gold stripes vertically by the side of the door about five centimetres long. This isn't one of the RAF VIP Voyager jets, and it isn't a chartered British Airways plane.

I grasp Anastasia as my instincts kick in. My hand wraps around her wrist, and I draw her back powerfully, jolting her as she pauses in her tracks and turns to stare at me with wide eyes, "This isn't our plane."

"You're hurting me," Anastasia points out, and I let go of her wrist as my eyes fiercely dart around. I deemed my in-ear interference from all activity at airports; it doesn't always work and is cut off from air traffic control. But I'm starting to think otherwise. I glance at my phone and check the location of Matthew. I stare up at the stairs to the aeroplane, and my stomach twists at the thought of entering. We've been misled here and not for any good reason or an accident. I observe him, an ominous figure passes one of the windows on the plane.

Fuck, this isn't good. I am unarmed with no backup at the moment. A delightful late honeymoon is about to turn into something I prayed it wouldn't. Right now, it is run or be killed. Before I can speak, I feel someone grasp me from behind.

I am agile on my feet and move to defence mode, using my elbow to jab the man. I continue to jab the man with my elbow until I can move my position to face him. Fury colours my vision red, "Anna, run," I bark, before meeting the eyes of the man who deemed grabbing me from behind a sound idea.

He has piercing brown eyes with a hue of red to them, almost as if he has been drinking his life away. After this, he will wish he had spent his life drinking. I curl my hand into a fist and swing, knocking his perfect jawline. Pure rage crosses the man's face at the impact of my swing. For a moment, he looks perplexed, but the wrath in him intensifies, and he takes a swing at me. I move just enough for his stroke to be cut short, and he pounds my shoulder before I take matters into my own hands. We grapple for a moment, and I feel a few weak punches to my rib cage. I let out a breath, escalating this fistfight and bringing my knee into contact with his stomach. The man doubles over with a grunt, struggling to grasp air. I show no mercy. I throw more punches, having no regret as I catch a glimpse of Anna a few metres away.

I told her to fucking run.

I charge him, fists flailing. He struggles against my power, unable to get a swing in as I keep hounding him. One last fast straight punch to the man's unprotected jaw and his head whips back, all of his momentum failing him, and he lands against the concrete with a thud. However, his clever thinking surprises me when he applies the last of his strength to use his foot to tangle around my ankle and draw my feet from under me. I attempt to catch myself but collapse. I fall to the barren ground, and the man takes advantage of my state, taking no time in punching me in the jaw.

Fuck, that is going to hurt in the morning.

"Now you're just pissing me off," I grumble, using my arms to block his punches, fighting his strength and wrestling him. Finally, he has me pinned down.

I stare up at him, trying my best to turn the tables and get the upper hand. I hear the sound of material ripping, and the man's eyes grow wide as he growls out in pain. He flings his arm behind him, and as he turns around, I see him knock a body off its feet. I am quick to stand up and see the man with blood falling from his back, inching closer to Anastasia.

"Son of a bitch," the man yells, his hands grabbing Anastasia. My blood boils at the sight of his hands touching her, shoving her like she's a rag doll. She fights him off of her, kicking and elbowing him, forcing him to release his grip on her, gaining an upper hand and threatening him with her knife before my hands pull him back by the material of his soaked shirt. I thrust him to the concrete.

"Anna, go!" I growl, watching as she holds her knife in her hand.

With a heavy breath, the man refuses to give up, scrambling to his feet again, coming for me. "You're like a dog with a fucking bone; give it up," I huff, beating the man at full force, not giving a damn about whether he lives or not. He made a mistake by trying to go for Anna. I nail every inch that I can, utilizing every part of my body to defend myself. It's the final straight punch to his jaw that does it. He stumbles back dizzily, his hand grabbing my arm and yanking on me as he falls. I manage to catch myself as he lets go, and I take a heavy breath and shut my eyes for a moment, praying to God he hasn't pulled my bad shoulder from its socket. I feel the pain, but it isn't as excruciating as I expected.

I move to the man and kick him in the ribs, making sure to gain myself enough time to run. "If you ever touch my wife, I will bury you. That's if you survive once you bleed out," I mutter, watching the man roll on his slide and spit out blood. I give him one more swift kick. He won't be getting up any time soon. The wound on his back and the damage I have done with my beating should be enough to buy us some time. Unfortunately, I don't foresee him surviving. He will die a painful death, bleeding out from where Anna sliced his back and bleeding internally from my beatings.

I swallow hard and let out a breath, dropping my hand to my side and glancing over at the man on the ground, his eyes staring at me as though he's plotting my death. In fairness, I'm sure he is planning my end, but I am not dying tonight. Perhaps tomorrow, but not tonight.

Anna holds her hand out to me, and my fingers interlock with hers, "Let's go!" I instruct, wasting no time dragging her away from the mass destruction that is about to occur. It is only a matter of seconds before they realise how close we were to getting on their plane and becoming their prized position.

I begin to run, my hand holding hers tightly as she runs behind me, both our feet hammering the concrete of the airport, the lights partially blinding me as I dart around for some sort of escape.

I weave in and out of different carts moving luggage, the aeroplane lineups at terminals being extremely hectic. "Harry—"Anastasia attempts to speak, but her voice fades off as a plane's engine starts, nothing but vibrating solid noise pervading our ears and a heavy draft making it more arduous to run.

I turn to glance over my shoulder, making sure I've lost sight of the man I'm avoiding at all costs. We almost fell for the trap, and I'm not sure how deadly it could have been, but I don't plan to find out. I don't know how we could have missed this and fallen into chaos, but now I can't think of it. My main priority is getting the Queen to safety; Everything else is a mere blur to me. Matthew, the plane that's ours is waiting, and the best I can do is make sure we get to that plane before the man from behind gets to us. I am not concerned about him getting to me. It is Anna I have to protect at all costs.

I pause for a second, my eyes investigating every inch of the airport I can recognise in an endeavour to compose a clean escape to where I need to go. But, of course, there is no way I can make it to the plane if we run in a straight line without being detected, but there isn't a way to zig-zag in and out of planes to get to where we need to go. They paid off-airport security, and they customarily give me my pistol back when I walk through the terminals, but today, they confiscated it. It all leads to this. I am unarmed and fucked. The longer I stand here, the more crucial seconds I waste, but I am at a loss.

"On a scale of one to ten, how fucked are we?" Anastasia urges, breathless as she tugs on my arm, and I take a moment to glance at her.

"Just a five," I lie with a cheeky smile, doing my best to disguise the fact that I am grappling to come up with a safety plan. I don't want to scare her, but I am a bit scared. We are cornered, and my shoulder is fucked and painful.

When we are chased down a fucking runway with no end in sight, no amount of training prepares you for this exact moment. I am prepared for being tied up, having a gun aimed and fired at me, and being a hostage and talking myself out of hostage situations. I am prepared to save the royal family in every case except for this one.

If I take Anna inside the airport, I risk being ambushed inside by whoever may be inside watching. I do not know what awaits us if I take the chance to go in. If I stand here, the men on the aircraft will shoot us. I am sure he has people patrolling from the tower. I can only assume he paid off the entire airport to take over.

Then, I hear a gunshot. It's powerful, and I know it isn't an assassination shot; it is a warning shot. Anastasia's eyes grow wide at the stomach-curling sound. I do my best to keep my facial expressions neutral. "Okay, I lied. We need to go," I raise my voice, the engine of the aeroplane we are standing under commencing to roar. If we don't move, we will either be shot or run over by the wheels of this A380. So, again, we are off with my lead. I draw Anna around the airport in the most innocuous way I can, weaving in and out of planes, pulling her behind cargo and doing my best to attain the swiftest way to get to the aircraft without overexposing us on the straight run to the stairs.

I notice our plane's insight, and I observe the lights of the plane flickering, an indication it is ready to take off and speed down the runway as soon as we get on board.

Anna lets go of my hand, and I freeze in my tracks, instantly turning around to view her. At first, I'm outraged, not specifically at her but in general. But, I don't need any more delays; we are so close to her safety.

"I need to get you on that plane before they kill us. We are close." I inform her, catching my breath for a minute, my eyes glancing around. They're getting closer, but they're still far enough at bay for me to take a second.

"I can't breathe," she's excessively breathless, as to be expected from the unexpected run across a fucking airport runway.

"You can! It's run or fucking die." I take her hand and encourage her to keep going.

She yanks back on me, and lets go of my hand, our fingers slipping from each other. I turn around, "We are so close. Just a bit further," I press with a slightly raised voice.

I can see the stairs to the plane just a hundred metres away. "Come on," I gesture, starting to feel anxious as I notice figures in the distance getting closer. I'm not sure if they're airport staff, but I'm not taking the chance. I know they are not airport staff, but the idea of the possibility gives me a little bit of hope.

She holds out the knife she used to help me, and I take it from her.

Only we would bring a knife to a gunfight.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, today is not the day anyone dies on my watch. No.

I look down at my phone, my fingers tapping the screen excessively, doing my best to get the fucking thing to work and call Matthew. He picks up on the first thing, thank god. "Draw all guns, now, I'm about a hundred metres from the stairs, and I've been followed," I inform Matthew with a heavy breath before continuing. "Shots have been fired, nobody harmed, but I need backup, now, I'll try to move from open space," I demand, dropping my phone and holding her hair back.

"I need to get you down," I instruct, forcing her to take a few steps forward. I lower Anna to the ground. I turn my back to the strange shadows and position myself behind her, shielding her from what may happen.

I want to lose my mind and yell, but I know this isn't her fault.

We are in a compromised position, and there's nothing I can do to fix it. I try to shake away my thoughts, and I rub Anna's back, feeling each heavy breath. "It'll be okay," the words leave my lips, and for a moment, I am not sure who I am trying to convince more, her or myself. There is nothing okay about this situation. I should never have compromised us by allowing them to take my pistol. Instead of allowing Anastasia's good nature to drive me to let it go, I should have listened to my instincts. I should have had Matthew and Oliver stay with us, but I didn't. Instead, I let Anastasia's desire to have an ordinary moment compromise us. It isn't her fault, but it doesn't make things easier.

This was meant to be a sweet honeymoon, and these fuckers have gone ahead and ruined it. I am convinced we cannot go anywhere without them.

"We have to move, can we go back to the airport?" Anastasia questions, flicking her head to the airport.

"No," I point towards an aircraft, "The wheels are large enough for us to hide until Matthew can get to us." I discreetly stand up and assist her.

The second we reach the rather large wheel, Anastasia presses her hand to the cold metal and bows her head, the other caressed to her stomach. I encircle my arm around her, my eyes shooting around. Rarely, I don't know what the fuck to do, but I genuinely don't know what the fuck to do.

"You think we can make a run for it to the plane in a second?" I propose, seeking to utilise all options I have.

Silence permeates the space between us while I stroke her back and try to concoct a plan— all of which don't have a prosperous path. I look down at my left hand for a second, noticing the swelling, but I don't have time to concentrate on its discomfort. "If you give me just a second, I can make a run for it with you."

"Sure, we have all the time in the world," I mutter, my eyes darting around to watch the distance. "Since this isn't the time for conversation when the fuck did you find a knife?" I question.

"I had a feeling we may need it. I hid it in my jeans, knowing there was a chance they would not search me like they didn't when we landed here."

"Smart," I nod, "But I am meant to do the saving."

"I like to reverse roles sometimes. So you're welcome," Anastasia responds.

"Thank you, darling," I roll my eyes, releasing a breath of relief when I see help on its way.

I swear the moments leading to recognising all guns drawn from all security detail at the plane, with three moving towards us, felt like forever. I hold my breath, shielding Anna as a gun fires, and I hold her tightly. These warning shots are starting to piss me off. If you're going to shoot, get it over with and do it.

"Is she hurt?" Matthew asks while I'm handed the gun that customs took from me.

I nod my head. "I'm fine, just needed to breathe, knocked the wind out of me and I cramped." Anastasia responds for me.

I position myself in front of her, not liking how my back is turned. Nevertheless, I maintain my pistol, holding it over Anna's shoulder, aiming just in case I need to fire. "Anna," I call her name. "I need to get you on this plane. I'm not trying to scare you, but this is a fight or flight situation," I inform her, feeling extremely regretful that I have to be like this. If we don't fly right now, we will have no choice but to fight, and I do not want to risk her. "If we don't move, it's going to be a bloodbath." I have kept her sitting under this plane for as long as possible, but the warning shots are getting closer by the second.

"I'm fine. What's the plan?" Anastasia asks, looking between Matthew and me.

I clear my throat, "Matthew takes you to the plane. I stay down here with the team." I respond, watching our men move forward. "Go."

Anna shakes her head, "You're nuts if you think I am leaving you down here."

"Now is not the damn time for any of these conversations. Anna, go!" I raise my voice.

This has always been the protocol, save Anna.

Anastasia takes the knife from my hand and shakes her head. "They're here because of me. I am not leaving you to fight my battles. The monarch has done this to you. I'm not fucking leaving you again. I did the first time this happened, not now." Anastasia is firm on her demand.

"Go, you're in command. I will have your back. Take her to safety." Matthew instructs, not bothering to argue with her, "We don't have time to argue, go."

I'm forced to trust he'll have my back with every move I make and make it to the plane with us. I do not doubt that he will, but I've never been put in a situation to have to turn my back to the ring of fire. We have trained for this; we have been prepared to have each other's backs, but it doesn't make me feel any better about the situation. I have never left Matthew. I am his right hand. If he goes to battle, I go. Leaving him behind, not knowing whether any of us will make it back to the plane, leaves me anxious.

I grab Anastasia, and she gives me a nod before we bustle towards the plane, gunshots causing my breath to hitch as I reach the stairs. Anastasia jerks and pulls away from me, looking back to look at me. "It's okay," I assure her, "GO!" I instruct, and we climb the stairs, reaching the top of the stairs to the plane.

I enter the plane, and I'm thankful we have gotten this far for a brief moment. "Tell the pilot to go as soon as Matthew is on board."... "And get me another fucking pistol," I demand towards Oliver as I press my hand in the small of her back, urging her to the middle of the plane. "Get down," I instruct, and Anastasia gets down, kneeling on the floor and away from any windows.

She leans her head on the side of an armrest. Oliver's hand comes into view, and I snatch the pistol from him, "Anna, don't move. Stay low," I whisper, already aware that there's very little chance of her moving. The adrenaline is wearing off, and she's scared. I am too. "Take this. If anything happens, use it. Do you hear me?" I hand her the pistol, the gunshots outside causing both of us to go stiff and swallow hard.

Anna nods, resting the pistol in her lap, "Be careful, please," Anastasia instructs.

"I love you," I nod my head, and I stand to my feet, her voice reminding me she loves me as I storm my way towards the door of the plane, drawing my pistol and becoming the lookout.

My eyes grow wide at what I see below me; Matthew and our other security are about to be swarmed by at least ten armed men. "Matthew," I yell, straining my voice, but it is no use. "Oliver!" I shout, "Get here. Red Hopper, Red Hopper!" I instruct, having no choice but to do what I am about to do. I have no communication with Matthew and the others. If I don't step in, they will be blindsided. There is no way the three of them can see the ten mum storming their way. They're all coming from different angles. I am at an advantage because I can see the whole picture. Matthew and the others cannot. "OLIVER!" my voice is like bottled thunder.

Oliver stands beside me as I aim and fire.

"Shoot to kill?" Oliver challenges, needing my approval.

We are not trained to kill. We are trained to go for the legs to give us enough time to get away unless essential. Saving our security team and the Queen is vital.

I nod my head, and he holds his pistol, aiming and firing in the distance. I did not anticipate my belated honeymoon to turn into a killing spree. I thought I left that behind me on the ship in Grease with the King. Perhaps shooting to kill will ultimately get the point to leave us alone.

I retract my gun and point it down, our job is done, and our men are safe. I turn to glance towards Oliver before flicking my head into the aeroplane. I step in, and Oliver follows behind me, "Are you okay?" I challenge him, and he nods his head. It's a lie. Neither of us are okay.

"Glad you have a good aim," I pet his back.

"Does it get easier?" Oliver softly questions.

This poor kid. In his first year, he has done more than I ever did.

My first year was nothing but a breeze. I never got the chance to draw my gun out unless it was practice shooting. Oliver, this kid, has earned his stripes in his first year. Oliver has helped save the family twice, and he has done what he is required to do. His first trip with us was to Grease, and I know that was unfavourable to him. Oliver spoke to me about what he witnessed while Oliver hid Anna and did what he required. He told me some gruesome moments of that day. We both have some frightful memories of that day, he had to make his first kill, and I had to shove the King overboard while ducking bullets.

I shake my head, "Mate, I don't think so." I answer honestly, "Get in, watch Anna while I stay here," I instruct, turning back around to look at the bloody mess left on the airport runway. I don't foresee us being allowed back at this airport anytime soon. It is best I turn Oliver away from this mess. When Matthew is unable to, I am in command, and I don't want him to need more therapy than he already does. I look at the mass chaos that has diminished. As much as I have trained for this, seeing multiple people lying on the runway in agony makes my stomach twist. I didn't expect things to go as they have.

Matthew reaches the steps and climbs them, his eyes meeting mine. "We can thank airport security for putting us all in danger," Matthew mutters as he steps inside the plane. "Get us the fuck out of here. This place is never good to us."

I nod my head, aware of the rage in his eyes, "Pilot!" I call, "Take off," I instruct, my voice echoing the plane as Matthew closes the plane door, and the plane begins to move, knocking us off our feet at the intensity.

Matthew piles on me, and I hear a crash from the back of the plane. I grunt against the floor, my eyes glancing up to see what happened. Matthew pulls himself off of me and extends his hand to assist me to my feet. "Personal space just isn't a thing apparently," I joke.

"I'm fine!" Oliver shouts.

"Nobody asked, Eaglette," I respond, stepping towards Anna, who, for once, listened and hadn't moved from where I left her. Anna is defiant and fights me in numerous circumstances, especially regarding security. Her not asking questions, moving or panicking is a clear indication, something is wrong.

"We need to get her in a seat before we all end up sliding to the back of the fucking plane." Matthew reminds me that the plane is speeding down the runway and moments away from inclining. Anastasia places her hand on the edge of the armrest in an attempt to pull herself up. I take the pistol from her hands, and she pulls herself up, sitting down. Her hands shakily take the seat belt, and she heavily sighs as she clips the strap in. I sit beside her and buckle myself in, wasting no time double-checking her seatbelt to make sure. I tug on the belt and let it settle into her lap, satisfied with its security. Anastasia lays her hand on my thigh, and I place my hand over hers, extending her a slight smile, "You alright?" I request.

Anastasia nods, "Mhm," she hums, and I rest back on the chair as the plane inclines and the wheels lift off the ground. "God save the fucking Queen," Anastasia mutters bitterly, her head leaning back on the chair.

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