#uh andrew garfield | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

devilfic · 6 months

Text

❝late-bloomer❞

plot: you've never been kissed before. on a completely unrelated note, what if your best friend offered to be your first? pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: post-tasm 2, gwen stacy mention, angst, self-deprecating thoughts about being undesirable and insecurity in love, best friends to wouldn't you like to know, eventual fluff, attempts at andrew garfield accurate rambling, he definitely talks you through it I mean who said that. words: 4.3k.

a/n: entirely self-indulgent because I wrote this after crying over being a late-bloomer for an hour ahahaha

Peter is reading something for research when you suck in a breath and finally ask, "What was your first kiss like?"

You hear his voice die in his throat. The small whispering of test results and calculations fall short, but you don't dare to look back. You're hunched forward so he won't see the way your eyes burn and brim with tears unshed because if he did, he'd ask about it and then you'd really start crying. Instead, you busy yourself with your phone, idly scrolling as if your question was pure curiosity alone.

You watch his ankles uncross, hear him sit up and then lean against the headboard again, fumbling for your train of thought, "Uh... sticky, 'cause I was six," Peter laughs, "You should know. You're the one who kissed me."

No matter how many times he tells you this, you can't remember the day you'd been so bold as to plant one right on Peter Parker's lips. You felt like you'd remember that, but you'd been such an impulsive child back them. Bolder. Thicker-skinned.

But Peter remembers, and so does Aunt May who swears up and down that she'd caught it on camera ("If only I could find that damned photo album"). You're the only one who doesn't. It's like it never happened, "No, God... no. I mean like your first real kiss."

"Like with tongue?" You hear the humor in his voice and even your sullen mood doesn't stop you from smacking his knee. "I dunno what you're talking about. That kiss was real to me."

"I'm serious, Pete."

He hums. You're so, so tempted to look back and see what he's thinking, but it would give you away too easily. "It was... it was a kiss. I mean, Gwen- you know. You know. I was crazy about her. I didn't think I just... kissed her."

"How did it feel? Do you know?"

"I felt like I needed to do it. I felt like if I didn't, I'd throw up. Not actually, just... like I'd explode with all the feelings I had for her."

Your finger hovers over a tweet. In your wondering about that feeling of almost nearly exploding, you try to picture that rooftop kiss that Peter had relayed to you between classes, with hushed whispers and childish laughter. It was windy, and I was breathless, he'd said, and I wanted to lay myself bare. And I just... pulled her in. Shot a web and swept her up and kissed her. I think I've lost my mind. You remembered pressing your back against the school lockers to cool yourself as you imagined the scene, the steps it took for you to settle the uneasy churn in the pit of your chest. The euphoria and panic upon realizing that your Peter was growing up.

You felt overwhelmed just imagining it. You barely hear Peter ask why you want to know. "No reason. Was just curious."

You think that Peter accepts that as good enough reason because the room is silent again. You keep scrolling, keep taking subtle deep breaths to keep the tears at bay. You see a picture of a couple on your timeline and scroll faster.

A few minutes of peace pass before Peter broaches the subject again, "What about you?"

"Hm?"

"I don't think you've ever told me about your first kiss."

Your shoulders tense. No good effort hides the strain in your voice, "I haven't?"

A beat passes. You glance over your shoulder and see Peter staring right at you, his lips upturned in a small, resting smile, but his eyes are inquiring. He's trying to read you. Perhaps he's just noticed the heavy cloud hanging overhead. "Nope." He pops the "P". He's waiting.

You could lie. You could say it was Flash Thompson who stole it, mention that field trip to the zoo in middle school when he'd sneaked next to you at the peacock exhibit and pestered you about you and Peter. Peter wouldn't question Flash about it. Even if they'd made amends, any conversation about him would send him over the edge with memories of his childhood bully and how much he pitied you for having your first kiss with him. And all of you were far too old now; Flash Thompson had gone to another state to play football the minute he got his diploma. It'd be so inconsequential, such an easy lie.

But the longer it takes you to deliberate on it, the worse it makes you look. You should've offered up an answer easily, jovially, unbothered. It should be inconsequential. Anything more and Peter would call your bluff because he knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes.

At some point, you feel the brush of a lone finger at the base of your spine and it startles you. Peter's slipped his finger under your shirt, stroking along the middle of your back, "I won't laugh. If that's what you're thinking." He says softly.

Of course Peter wouldn't laugh at you. As much as your relationship was teasing, he knew where you were tender.

But it wasn't laughing you worried about.

"I know." You say, in lieu of a real answer. You fear you've given yourself away.

Now there are two fingers stroking your skin, "You don't... you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," but you can hear the discomfort in his voice when he says it, like the thought that it's something you don't want to tell him concerns him, "it's up to you."

Just lie. Your breath shudders and immediately you regret it. There's no way he hadn't heard that.

Before you can recover, you're feeling the heat of his entire hand on your back now as it slips further up, as he sits up in bed beside you and rests his chin on your shoulder. The closeness of his breath makes you feel claustrophobic all of a sudden, "Hey, hey. I'm sorry. Did I push? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

You struggle to shake your head, but now your eyes are burning again and you don't think you can stop the tears this time, "You didn't." You insist.

"You're crying, bub," he laughs (not mockingly, never mockingly, never when you cry) and reaches a thumb up to brush away the first warm tear, "what's wrong?"

There's a million things you could say. I've never been kissed before, I don't know what it feels like to be longed for like that, I want to be longed for like that, why haven't I been longed for like that? But it all feels so heavy. Peter picks his chin up to kiss your shoulder and that really does it, "It never happened."

Peter's lips still against your skin. Their warmth slowly peels away, though you feel his breath ghost over the curve of your bone, "What hasn't?"

"A kiss. A first kiss, Peter. I've never had one."

"That's..." Peter sounds almost shocked, disbelieving. He never picks up that thought.

You turn your head away and toss your phone onto the bed, no longer interested in pretending you could distract yourself with anything else. You try to shrug your shoulder out from underneath Peter's mouth but he's quick, the hand at your back locking around you and you can't escape him even though you want to, even though you need to get away from his sweet smile and lovely heartbeat that thuds a little faster against your side.

It was already so much to tell him you hadn't had your first kiss yet, to admit to your best friend who—despite popular Midtown High opinion—has always been so irresistible to lovers, that you haven't gone as far as something so... simple. Something teenagers running your old stomping grounds have probably experienced ten times over by now. You don't think you can handle his pity too, "Peter, please."

"There's nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. Everyone moves at their own pace."

You hiss through your teeth. You don't mean to, but the spite overwhelms you like red hot heat for a minute, "It's easy to say that when you've done it already."

You catch Peter's eye and immediately regret it. His untamed brows are drawn together, expression more analyzing than pitying. Even though you're brimming with feelings, he seems as if he's trying to wade through them, search for the gnarled root at the center of it all.

Then, and he says this so carefully that the meaning takes a moment to catch up with you, "There's nothing wrong with you."

It's the sincerity that does it. You shove his hand off of you, jerk away from him in a scramble to stand, but Peter is fast and lithe and he's always been two steps ahead of you even before the bite. He's up on his feet before even you are, coming to stand in your way when you go to grab for your bag, "Peter, move."

"Look, can we... can we talk about this?"

"I really don't want to. Move."

"Why are you shutting me out?"

"Because I want to go home. Move."

"Is it because of what I said?"

"Yes!" You blurt, growing frustrated the longer he blocks your path, "yes. Because I'm sick of being told there's nothing wrong with me when clearly..." Your voice tapers off, afraid to give him the reason he needs to worry about you, "Please. I'm just tired. It'll go away on its own, it always does, I just can't be here right now."

The standoff between you two lingers, feels like you might have to fight him just to escape. It takes everything in you just to keep eye contact with him and not burst into tears.

Peter clearly doesn't want to let you go. You can see that genius brain of his running every possible scenario in his mind in which he convinces you to stay, cry it out, leave happier than you came. None of them come soon enough. You brush past him when he realizes he's got nothing, and even the hand that grabs for you is halfhearted, shrugged off with little force.

"I'll see you later, Pete."

You let his front door shut on its own.

It hasn't been great.

What typically took a few hours to shake off had settled over you like a dark cloud ever since you'd stormed out of Peter's place. Even though you texted him like everything was fine (and dodged any phone calls so he wouldn't hear the truth with those freakishly good best friend senses of his), you had yet to see him again. Had yet to let yourself be seen.

You told yourself that it was just you missing Peter, and you believed that to be true, but you also believed that when he looked you in the eye and told you "there's nothing wrong with you", you hadn't been prepared for the nakedness of it all. He'd dug deep, right to the source. That kind of thing was hard to move past.

So you avoided him. If he came by your place, you pretended you weren't home. If he showed up at your work to take you to coffee, you lied and told him you had plans with a coworker. It had been several days now and you felt more and more cowardly by the minute.

It was Peter. Of all people, it was Peter. Your best friend. You could tell him anything (most things, some kept a little closer to the heart). You should be able to.

And it was silly. Being embarrassed about not kissing anyone. Plenty of people were in the same boat as you and they didn't ice their best friend out about it.

Ugh, now you were just making yourself feel worse.

You'd had enough. You'd end this pity party today. As you make your way through your apartment door, you promise yourself that after you've showered, after you've made yourself a filling dinner, after you've settled into bed, you'd call Peter and ask him to meet for pizza this weekend. You'd talk like civil adults who understand that life isn't a race. You'd share your couch, laugh about the whole thing, and maybe, just maybe, the hollowness in your chest that longed for someone's desire to fill it would finally-

He's sitting in your kitchen.

Legs dangling off the island, mask rolled up to his nose, and a spoon clattering out of his mouth and into a bowl of ice cream. Your front door shuts gently behind you.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. Then you glance through your bedroom door, cracked open just enough for you to see the breeze rustling your curtains. You turn back to Peter, who's cleaning off his bottom lip of raspberry sorbet. "Did you climb through the window? You have a key."

Peter sets the bowl down beside him, shrugs, "You weren't returning my calls."

Your shoulders sag and you drop your things to the floor, "Peter-"

"No, no," you watch him slide off the countertop and bounce over to you, and the nearness you aren't prepared for makes you back away an inch or two, "No Peter. I'm not Peter. I'm Spider-Man. See?" He gestures to the suit.

You reach your hand up and pinch his exposed cheek, then narrowly avoid his teeth before he tries to nip you, "I'm not in the mood. I said I'd call you later, I'm just... busy."

"Busy avoiding your best friend."

You can feel him trail after you as you walk away, beginning to undress. He catches your coat when you throw it toward the couch and hangs it up all neat on a hook. He kicks your shoes to a wall and tugs your belt from your fingertips once you've undone it. Then, unexpectedly, he hooks said belt around your waist and yanks you back to face him.

The momentum throws you fully into his chest but he's sturdy, unmoving as you grip his shoulders and give him the most hostile look you can muster. You attempt to wiggle out of the trap but he pulls the belt tighter, forcing you closer, and then you start to panic as the space between you both disappears, "I haven't been avoiding you, I just needed space." You quickly explain.

"And I get that," he admits, "but you scared me. I've never seen you like that before. Not with me. Not ever."

Of course he hadn't. It was why you kept all of this a secret in the first place. Because you knew he'd worry, and you knew that there would be nothing he could do to fix it. Not like he usually could.

"It was a... brief lapse in self-esteem. That's all. You're making it into a bigger deal than it should be."

"It's not a big deal?"

"No! That's what I keep trying to tell you."

"So it doesn't matter at all."

"Correct."

"Right."

"It's just an arbitrary milestone that means nothing." You grip the leather of your belt but you're nothing against his superhuman strength. Pleading with your eyes, you do your best not to slip back into that vulnerable place all over again. Peter made you feel safe to do that. Way too safe to do that. "I promise. I'm not avoiding you."

You get sick of staring into the whites of his mask and so you grab the edge of it and pull it up to his hairline, little tufts of curls poking out as his face is fully revealed to you. You stare into those sharp, probing eyes of his, forcing yourself to stand the test of Peter Parker's perception.

Suddenly, you're released.

You stumble back a bit, the belt clanking against the floor, as Peter throws his arms up in defeat, "Alright, alright. I get it. I should've let you breathe the other night. I was just worried, is all."

You smile, "And I appreciate that."

Peter quickly glances at you and then away, making an exaggerated show of kicking imaginary dust off the floor. "First kisses really mean nothing then, huh?"

"Zilch. Nada."

"So... doesn't matter when it is, who it is..."

You watch him carefully, "If this is about when we were six-"

"No, no, I know that didn't count. You don't even remember it," his face contorts in a wince, "I was just thinking. Something."

Your eyes narrow, "Uh-huh."

"Well, I mean, is that why? Because you don't remember it? Or... is it because it was me?"

"The kiss?" Peter blows a raspberry, looking more bashful by the second, and nods without looking at you. "It's... it's because we were six. And we didn't know what we were doing. I was just mimicking what we saw. We didn't know anything."

"And now we do."

"Yeah. What are you getting at, Pete?"

He sits on the back of your couch and kicks his feet out in front of him. "If all that matters is that we both know what we're doing, and a first kiss is just a meaningless milestone to you, then I thought that maybe we could give it another go. You know. So when a real kiss comes along that actually means something, you'll have an idea of how it's supposed to go."

You're six years old again.

You and Peter Parker are sitting in the dirt, mouths covered in sticky ice cream that the summer sun melted right up. You're both talking about Flash Thompson's trip to Florida and the hilarious sunburn he came back with when you spot an elderly couple across the park, pressing their mouths together over and over.

You're looking over at Peter and asking about it, sure it couldn't possibly feel good, and he's telling you that when Uncle Ben kisses May good morning in the kitchen he always looks away because it's gross.

And you're thinking... you start thinking something.

You're thinking it would be funny—that Peter would hate you for it, but you're just so curious—and you're pressing your lips to his so quickly that he doesn't get a chance to pull back before you're giggling in the grass. And May's voice flutters in the background, a shrill and delighted, "I caught that!" that makes you both turn tail and run toward the swings.

Peter's still staring at you, waiting.

Part of you feels like it's pity. Like he doesn't want you to feel bad about yourself. Like he doesn't know how else to fix it, because he has to fix it. He has to fix everything. He has to be your hero.

But the other part? A restless and selfish part wants to take it; it's curious.

You take a step forward, the two of you watching each other, waiting to see if the other might back out at the last second. He stays exactly where he is, legs parting slowly, and the silent invitation makes you feel hot under the collar.

When you're standing between them, you feel his knees bump your legs on either side, his hands planted firmly into the couch cushions. You notice the grip he has on them, "Are you sure?" You pause.

Peter tilts his head in that strange, spider-like way. As if he cannot fathom why would you ask such a thing, "Of course. I'm the one who offered."

Your hands shake as they consider where to put themselves, and you get about halfway to his shoulders before he takes them and places them on either side of his face, mumbling something about how it might help you feel more in control, quell your nerves a bit.

Peter's cheeks feel so warm in your hands, and you can feel each swallow he makes the longer you take in his expression. "Should... I move in first? Or..."

He laughs, short and high-pitched, "I guess I can go first."

You know you're supposed to close your eyes, but as he comes in close, you can't help but keep them lidded, taking in every twitch of his mouth as he inclines his neck, shuts his eyes, and kisses you.

Your brain reacts a half-second after his lips touch yours. You've probably stopped breathing, and you have to force your lips to unstiffen so that you could actually feel him. His lips are a little wet—he'd been rolling his bottom lip between his teeth since he'd sat down—and they taste faintly of raspberry. They're not cold though, and the feeling isn't unpleasant.

You don't know how to react to it, don't know if you should move or not, and so instead you curl your fingers into the silk of his nape and wait for the pounding in your chest to stop.

You feel him mouth at your bottom lip just once, and then pull back. "How'd that feel?"

You recall the sensations that went through your brain (all that it can recall anyway, when Peter's looking at you like that), "Slimy...?"

Peter's face falls, and then he bursts into laughter, shakes with the force of it, and drops his head on your shoulder. "There's got to be a better word than that."

"I don't know! I was just thinking about the feeling."

"I don't want to know what it felt like, I want to know how it made you feel. Did you like it? Hate it?"

"I don't know. I'm- I'm nervous."

"Hey, that's okay," his hand rubs your hip, warming the skin there, and you find yourself leaning into it for comfort, "everyone is their first time."

Peter is so, so gentle. Your heart feels like it might give out, but a little less now that it's over and he's not looking at you in disgust. You don't know what you expected, but... this was better. By far. That part of you that felt selfish takes over again, "Can we try again?"

His eyes widen a bit, but he's immediately nodding, "Okay. Yeah. Okay. We can try as- as many times as you want."

You nearly choke on your spit. "Can we?" Your voice comes out a meek whisper.

Peter nods. He brings his legs in so that he's sitting properly now. "Of course. You wanna move me? I can sit somewhere else. Or you can sit if you want."

"No, I like you here," you say, feeling your stomach tighten when his thighs lock against your legs, "um. Is there anything I can work on? How did I feel?"

"Warm. Soft. Just try to loosen up, alright?"

You force yourself to release the tension in your body and move in first this time. Images of rom-com kisses flood your brain, how you memorized their rhythms and the placement of their mouths. You try your best to mimic it, make it feel as good as it seemed to look, when you feel one of Peter's hands slip behind your head and angle you away just a hair, "You're tensing up," he warns, making you pause, "it doesn't have to be perfect. It's just you and me. Breathe for me, okay? Turn your brain off."

You feel your stomach flip a bit, and nod along mindlessly. You try again.

This time, it feels a little different. Not wet or stiff, even if it is still awkward. It almost overwhelms you when, as you're mouthing at Peter's lip, he returns the favor, but you keep your brain empty. You can't focus on the details because it won't feel right. You can't focus on the way it looks because it won't feel right.

So you focus on Peter. You focus on the hand on your hip drawing you closer and the hand on your neck rubbing circles into the knot there. You focus on the feeling of his suit under your pinkies. You focus on the small hum he makes when, with quite a bit of building up to it, you pass your tongue over his.

Almost as soon as you do it, you pull back. Peter is flushed and it makes the beauty marks on his skin stand out more. His eyelashes flutter, a half-smile on his lips that are kissed red. By you.

You open your mouth to ask but he beats you to it, "I think you've got it now... yeah. Definitely." You're so relieved you sigh, sagging away from him, but he catches your hands before they can can leave his face completely and holds them in his lap. You don't dare move them. "How about you? Did you like it?"

You nod, speechless.

Peter laughs and squeezes your hands in his, "Okay, good. Good. I love you, you know? I know it doesn't... replace what you're looking for, but you're wonderful. You're insane and funny and stunning and there's nothing wrong... you know? You're perfect. Take it from your loser best friend who had to get bit by a radioactive spider to get to first base."

You snort, "I mean, if that's all it takes..."

Peter shakes his head and stands, but his hand remains on your neck as you follow his eyes to his full height, "So, we good? No more ignoring me?" You bite your lip, nodding your head. Peter smiles. "Good, cause I'm starving and I need you to split a pizza with me."

"You just polished off a tub of ice cream and you're still hungry?"

"I'm a growing spider, honey. And I missed you." Without warning, the hand on your hip hooks around your back and hoists you into his body, throwing you off balance once more, "I'll swing us there and cover cheese sticks too. Sound good?"

You know you don't have much room to argue when he's being so generous. And not when he's beaming at you, so genuinely relieved to have you back that it would knock you off your feet if he wasn't holding you up.

He was right; this wouldn't replace what you were looking for, but it gets pretty damn close. Closer than you expected, actually. But it's just the adrenaline. This didn't change anything.

Did it? You stare up at Peter.

"We can try as many times as you want."

You might have a very different problem than you started with.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes

#peter parker x reader #peter parker scenarios #peter parker imagines #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman scenarios #spiderman imagines #spiderman fic #spiderman fluff #spiderman angst #andrew garfield #spider-man #marvel #mjwrites #tasm

1K notes · View notes

deadsetobsessions · 3 months

Text

Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).

I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.

Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2]

——

Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.

He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.

His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.

He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.

“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”

Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.

“Stay still, you motherfucker!”

“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.

“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”

“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.

Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?

Huh. His options for dinner was limited.

“Take this!”

Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.

“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.

“Get him!”

God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.

Great.

Oh, speak of the devil!

“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.

“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.

The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.

“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”

“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”

“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”

The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.

“You have a lawyer?”

“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”

“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”

“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.

“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”

This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.

“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”

“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.

“Like, Dare Devil good.”

“You know Matt Murdock??”

“Sure do.”

“He… he’ll take on our cases?”

“Dang, all of you?”

“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”

“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”

“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”

“Got it. Sorry.”

Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.

And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.

“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.

And Spider-Man

——

Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.

He twisted.

“Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.

“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”

“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”

Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”

“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”

Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”

“I know!”

Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.

——

Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.

“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.

“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.

First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.

That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.

He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.

He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.

He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.

The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.

With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?

Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”

Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?

Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.

He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…

Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.

“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”

His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]

Peter stared at the words, gut churning.

Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.

Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.

“Fuck.”

He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.

——

Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.

“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”

Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.

He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.

“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.

“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”

Five things.

1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!

2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.

3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.

4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.

5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.

Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.

Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.

Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.

3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.

Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.

Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.

“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.

Now… People of Interest.

This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.

Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”

“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.

And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.

Subcategory B: Local celebrities.

“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.

“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”

“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.

“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.

Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.

Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.

Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.

So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.

Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”

And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.

And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.

Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.

He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.

For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.

He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!

Oh my god.

Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.

Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.

Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-

“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.

“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”

The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”

Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”

“Food, duh.”

“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”

The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”

“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”

“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”

Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.

“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”

Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.

“I’m Peter!”

“… Frank.”

He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.

“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”

Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.

“Uh. Hey.”

Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.

“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”

Peter chewed faster.

Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”

Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”

Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!

“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”

Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!

“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”

“That was easy.”

Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.

“Ow!”

“Whatever, shrimp.”

Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.

Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.

“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”

“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.

“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.

“You’re looking for a place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”

Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.

“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”

“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.

“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”

“Dunno? Probably not.”

“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.

Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.

“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”

Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”

“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”

“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”

“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.

——

They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.

“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”

“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”

And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.

Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.

“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”

“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.

They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.

“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.

“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”

“No-” Frank had started.

“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.

“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”

Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.

“Uh.”

“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”

“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”

Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”

Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.

“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”

Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.

“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.

“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”

“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”

“I can use a cart.”

And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.

“Can you even reach the handle?”

“I’m not that short!”

Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.

“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.

“Okay!”

Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.

“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.

——

As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”

Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.

He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…

He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.

Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.

He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and

He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.

All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for

So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.

“Hey.”

Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”

Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.

“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”

“Rude. No, of course not.”

Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…

“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”

The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”

“Nice! We can eat on this!”

——

When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.

“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.

“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.

——

When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.

An hour later, he met his first vigilante.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”

“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.

“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.

Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”

“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?

“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”

Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”

“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.

“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”

“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.

“Photography buddy!” He cheered.

They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.

“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”

“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.

——

Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.

“Red Robin to Nightwing.”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.

“… What?”

“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”

“Copy. Oh, that kid…”

“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”

“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”

“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.

“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.

“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.

“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.

——

Peter: lay low and get home

Also Peter: talks to a vigilante

None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.

581 notes · View notes

andylantsov · 2 years

Text

i have

E N E R G Y Y Y Y Y !!?!?!

my device is out of B A T T E R Y Y Y Y Y

#andrew garfield #uh buh bye #i have a party to go to #and that party is my tuition class #ok bye

1 note · View note

shallanspren · 2 years

Text

the acting in under the banner of heaven is so good. but some of the dialogue. my god it’s so cringe.

#i know a decent number of mormons and uhhh #i can count on one hand the number of them that talk Like That #you would think that since the show is made by an exmo #that he would uh....get this bit right but????#andrew garfield is out here acting for his LIFE with some cringe ass dialogue #he deserves an emmy

1 note · View note

g4yforethan · 8 months

Text

need

pairing: peter parker x male!reader

summary: peter sneaks into reader's room for a steamy night ;)

warnings: top!peter, bottom!reader, smut, cursing

a/n: i love andrew garfield so much and im pissed they didn’t do more with his version of spider-man :(

it was a rainy night in downtown New York and you were in your room finishing up the rest of your chemistry homework. you were halfway through your notes when all of a sudden, you hear a knock on your window. it startled you so you went out to the window to check. facing across the glass window, it was peter in his spider suit drenched in rain. you open it and let him in. "peter oh my god are you okay?" he took his mask off and noticed that he had bruises across his face. "oh yeah just a little issue with a robber a few blocks down." "well here lemme get you a towel." you dry his hair for him and get a bandage for his cut.

"are your parents home tonight?" "uhh no not tonight. they're away on a business trip in new jersey until monday." he seemed delighted to hear this and had a mischievous look on his face. "what? what are you tryna do?" "i mean i was kinda wondering if i was able to stay the night with you.probably do a little more since you're home alone." you blushed considering you were open to the idea. peter gets closer to you and pulls you in for a kiss. you get ahold of his waist as he does your neck as you two leave passionate kisses on each other's lips. you both pause for a moment to breathe. "peter..." he looks at you."yeah baby." "fuck me please." you say this with a look in your eyes that turns peter on even more. "i gotchu baby boy."

the two of you race to get your clothes off and kiss while doing so. you start to reach down and kiss and tease his dick while makes him moan in pleasure. he grabs onto your hair the entire time shoving his dick down your throat. "stop, stop i'm gonna-" you stop and peter tells you to get on all fours. you do so as he smacks your ass and begins to rim your hole. his tounge runs up and down your ass as he jerks you off simotanuelosy. he does this for a few minutes before he taps your hole with his dick. he teases you before going in with slow and deep strokes. each stroke became more passionate and intense as he went faster and grabbed onto your hair. "you like that baby?" "yes peter fuck." "good boy. take my dick."

he lays you on your back and grabs your legs as he sticks his dick back inside you. there, you felt his dick hit your g-spot even harder and you started to roll your eyes back. peter starts to leave hickies all across your neck and chest as you leave scratches all over his back. you moan in his ear telling him how good his dick was. he starts to jerk you off at a high pace and you were ready. "peter i'm gonna- i'm gonna-" you moan as you release a substance you were quite familiar with all over your stomach. without skipping a beat, peter cums as well leaving it on your stomach and face. "stomach i'm fine with but the face. really peter?" he laughed and gave you a kiss. "i'm sorry baby. it was in the moment."

you both clean up and put on pajamas and lay in bed. you give peter another kiss as you lay your head on his shoulder. you put on a movie, specifically back to the future since peter insisted you watch this "80s cult-classic." the rain downgraded to a light drizzle and the setting was comforting now that you were in bed with your boyfriend. you give peter another kiss as he brings you in closer so that your body is almost on top of him. "so uh how long are your parents gonna be gone." "until monday. why?" "oh nothing just wondering. it's gonna be a hot weekend though." you laughed and snuggled next to him.

#male reader #male reader insert #malereader #peter parker #andrew garfield #spider man #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x y/n #men #peter parker smut #andrew garfield x reader

692 notes · View notes

pleasingforharry · 8 months

Note

Hi!! Is there any chance I can request a oneshot with actor y/n x harry, where Harry is y/n's plus one to her new movie premiere which she stars in as a romantic lead with another famous actor but he gets jealous and overprotective as he has to sit there and watch the steamy and sex scenes with his girlfriend and her costar he has a keen dislike for, and has to try not explode watching that, then going to the after party watching the actor trying to flirt and share small touches (holding her waist to walk past etc) then when harry and y/n get back to their hotel room he shows her just how much he wants and loves her, to the point he wants that actor to hear her scream harrys name a few doors down

this is so jahshdkrkbwaksocjwnw

you know my other bae andrew garfield had to make an appearance ;)

actress!yn

WORD COUNT: 17.9k words... whoa sorry.

WARNINGS: Uh... SMUT. and yeah smut :)

You and your boyfriend, Harry, are in your hotel room, changing quickly for the premiere of your new movie, Hot Shot. It's been a long few months filming this, especially because you just finished advertising The Good and Bad Days, which you starred in with your boyfriend.

“Harry, can you zip me up, please?" You ask him as you stand at the wide, full-length mirror. Your body is showered, shaved, and glowing—soon to be sucked into your tight dress. You and your stylist wanted to make a statement with your two outfits; for the premiere and for the afterparty. Hours were spent trying dresses on, gagging at some, staring blankly at some, struggling with some, falling in love with some, debating with some.

But you finally have the two that will make you feel beautiful, sexy, and confident on your day. You're feeling great about tonight.

Harry emerges from the hotel bathroom while clearing his throat, hair finally tamed.

Only twenty minutes ago were you two completely naked and handling some serious sexual tension after seeing each other in your premiere attires. This is the second time you're putting on this dress, thanks to Harry.

"Of course, I can, baby," Harry says, gladly slipping behind you to admire the tan on your back. As Hot Shot was filmed in Florida, you were under the beaming sun for months, and Harry has never been so attracted to a simple tan.

He takes his time leading the zipper up your back. Your eyes shift to his through the mirror, and you both hold a long stare. It's filled with another potential round of tension.

Harry's eyebrow cocks up. Yours does too, in a tease. "One more round?" He speaks suggestively. Your hand reaches back to hit him on the forehead. It's ignored, though, as he continues to stare with hope.

Your boyfriend is a horny, horny man when it comes to you.

"Absolutely not. I can't be late to my own premiere," You scoff at him with an apparent look through the mirror.

"Sure you can," Harry shrugs, finishing the zipper, before wrapping his arms around you from behind. He presses a soft kiss to the crook of your neck. "Taking care of my beautiful girlfriend is worth the tardiness. Make her scream my name and tug on my hair because she just loves when my tongue plays with her pretty, pink clit so good, hmm? When it’s all swollen and sensitive. Spread her legs wide so she's all open for me. Her come sticking to her thighs that I'll lick up. How's that sound?" His mind seems stuck in a daydream as he trails his mouth to your ear. His hot breath shoots instant shivers down your neck.

You bite your lip and let your head fall back onto his shoulder. Your dress is slim, thin, innocent in pink but also seductive and sneaky enough to replicate your character in your film. Harry's hands can't help but wander down your sides and land on your hips. He unexpectedly bumps his thickened pants against your ass with a smirk.

"Trust me, we can be late, baby."

You sigh and slither around in his hold—facing him correctly. Your hands rest on his shoulders as you lean forward to kiss him. He eagerly waits to envelope your lips, holding you tighter at the hip.

"Just think—“ you whisper against his mouth—nude lipstick plumping your lips, "as soon as the afterparty is over, we'll have hours to do whatever we want. You can have me in any way, and I can take you from anywhere, for the rest of the night." If Harry wasn't already throbbing in his tight, dress pants, he is now.

"I can't wait," he responds breathlessly, before putting himself out of his misery and kissing you properly. He holds you loosely as his hands squeeze at every curve pulsing your body shape. He loves everything about you. And you're all his. But not for the whole day.

You pull back from the kiss and smile. "Ready, plus one?" You wink.

He laughs, "This is weird. Now I have to stand aside while you take pictures, huh?" You shrug.

"We’re too sexy-looking for the cameras to handle. It's for their own good," You joke. Harry grins, loving your voice, your humor, your smile. You. And he knows it's gonna be a long premiere with him having to share you with the world.

"Alright, let's go before I throw you on this bed. Again," Harry teases—one last kiss for good luck.

"Y/N!"

"Y/N, over here!"

"Y/N, who are you wearing?"

"Y/N, you look amazing, darling. Look here!"

"Y/N, what do you think about—“

Your name is being yelled out in all directions as soon as you step out of your car, finally arriving at the Hot Shot premiere. Your hand hovers over your eyes as you wait for Harry to round his side. He finds his arm around your waist and whispers, "Ready, superstar?"

"More than ever, rockstar," You say back, before letting him and your crew bodyguard you to the carpet. Tabloids have been waiting hours to see what you'll show up in. News channels have been pushing each other around in hopes to be the first to talk to you. Your fans have been nail-biting anxious to see how the premiere will treat you.

Today is going to be interesting, you think to yourself as you squeeze closer to your comfort person, Harry.

Hot Shot is your movie about a trained assassin, your character, who is being hunted down and chased by an ex-police officer, played by your co-star, Andrew Garfield. It involves a lot of action and sex scenes as the two characters have a big love-hate relationship.

This movie is different from what you've done before, and you're proud that it's finally out and people are going to see your hard work. That's what you tell the interviewers that stop you every few heeled steps.

Harry stands with your manager, waiting and watching patiently as you do your thing. A year ago when you two were at the premiere for your movie, The Good and Bad Days, Harry was by your side answering questions with you. But not anymore. As much as Harry loved to shoot the film and have his actor era with you, he missed touring and making music. That's why he's fine watching you instead of joining you.

"And yeah, I was a little nervous during—“

Suddenly, a heap of screams come from the fans at the barricades. You look over your shoulder at Harry, who simply shrugs. His height helps him slightly see over the crowds of people. But then his eyes focus on the man stepping out of his car with that award-winning smile.

Andrew Garfield.

You continue to answer questions, wanting to get all of your interviews out the way. And as everyone is asking the same thing, it's getting a little boring.

Andrew starts walking down the carpet, waving at fans, before quickly splitting away from his crew to take pictures with them. Harry watches from afar, his hands fisting at the one person he knows he’s going to have to deal with all night. Your main co-star.

As the two leads in the film, Harry knew, just like during promo season for The Good and Bad Days, you and Andrew would be together a lot. And you guys were. Three weeks of promo meant three weeks of Harry watching his girlfriend obliviously be flirted with.

You finish another interview, before your manager snatches you away. You thank them tremendously, before searching for your boyfriend. And he's standing patiently off to the side, making sure he's not drawing any attention. As famous as you were, Harry is also a popular face. And he wants to make sure he's not affecting your moment in any way.

"Okay, me and you. Pictures," you say as you approach Harry. He immediately finds his hand around your waist, pulling you into his chest. And you can feel the flashes of cameras on your back.

"Yeah, I'm ready," he nods while fixing your hair that got messed up from the slight pick up of wind.

Your manager stands next to you guys, explaining the next few steps. But it's nothing new to you two.

"So then, after this, Y/N, you'll come back for pictures with Andrew, and then the whole cast, okay?" Your manager says. You nod in understanding, missing the slight pout casting on Harry's face. He ghosts his eyes from you to find Andrew in the same position you were just in; answering questions for different news channels.

But as your back is to everyone and you're solely facing Harry—the only person you want to look at—you don't see how Andrew turns sideways to motion the premiere set as he answers a question. His eyes absentmindedly move to you and Harry, and the warm smile he had on forms into a devilish grin for a split second. He looks directly at Harry, before shifting to the backside of you. And the examination he gives you in your thin dress has Harry sidestepping so only he is in Andrew's line of vision.

"Hey, you okay?" You ask while tapping Harry's chest. Your makeup crew finishes their touch-up your face and disperses, allowing your full attention to be on Harry and his shift of mood. But he simply smiles at you in reassurance.

"Yeah, of course. You're just making it really hard to not get a dent in my pants," he leans forward to whisper in your ear. Harry enjoys the laugh and swat to his shoulder that you give him. And he doesn't miss the glare he gets from Andrew.

Your manager holds onto your arm to get your attention. "Alright, the carpet is ready for you two. Good?" They ask. You puff out a breath and slip your hand into Harry's. He kisses your cheek gently.

"You look gorgeous, baby. I'm kinda upset all these people are going to have pictures of you on their cameras,” Harry makes a joke, simply to see that smile.

Your head tilts back to laugh, stretching the cleavage that tips over the neckline of your dress. When you look back at Harry, he's unabashedly staring at them. You swat him again.

"Pervert," you mutter while he snickers. "Come on, boyfriend. Let's look hot for the cameras, once again." Harry nods, staying right by your side. And the slight shift of Andrew's jaw ticks as he watches, already over doing interviews.

You and Harry look amazing—you're a worldwide loved couple. And it shows as he swiftly stands in front of you, blocking the cameras, when you have a slight wardrobe malfunction with your dress.

"Fuck," you panic under your breath. Your hands shake as they tug up the neckline. Harry holds your waist, trapping you between himself and the backsplash.

"I got you, baby. No one can see, you're so small under me," He teases. You look up at him and copy the suggestive smirk on his face. "I love when you're under me."

"I'm sure you do, pervert." He earns a flick to his forehead. The cameras do catch that, and they aww at the intimacy of their favorite celebrity couple.

You two do multiple rounds of pictures—alone and together—taking a few steps to the side to get to your next checkpoint. Harry is holding you by the waist, but you take the attention from him with your gorgeous dress and perfectly posed face. Your eyes are thin and seductive from your eyeliner, but your dress screams sweet and innocent. The cameras can’t get enough of you.

After your fifth round, you two finally make it to the end, but only for Harry. You still have to go back and take pictures with Andrew and the rest of your cast.

"Alright, I'll be around, baby," Harry says as he helps you fix your hair again. You nod and pucker your lips. "Don't mind if I do."

Flash!

"They just love us, huh?" You laugh with your tongue out.

Before Harry can response, your name is being called. You look over your shoulder and there awaits Andrew with a friendly wave. You light up, returning the gesture to the best friend you’ve made over the last few months.

"Okay, bye, baby," You send Harry off without looking back and playfully skipping over to Andrew. He lifts his eyes to Harry and waves. The façade Andrew is holding up in front of you is infuriating Harry, but as you look back to see if he responded to Andrew's gesture, he sighs and sucks it up with a wave back.

Even though there are many, many cast members, people are only interested in you and Andrew. The chemistry between you two is sterotypical and front cover worthy. But you don’t see it as that serious. It just feel as if you're hanging out with your best friend—nothing more than that.

Harry is watching with your manager, and he can't hide the frown on his face. He hates this. He hates jealously.

The way Andrew holds you securely as you both smile at the camera is boiling his insides. The way Andrew leans down to whisper in your ear, and the way the smile that breaks out on your face makes the camera flashes spark quicker is hurting Harry's heart. He wants to be the only one who can make you do that. But he stays calm because every time your eyes find him, the look of pure love you give him is enough to keep him at bay.

Then it's time for the group pictures of the cast, and Harry's shoulders can relax because you and Andrew aren't alone. But you are together. And Andrew makes sure of that. He squeezes his thin body around everyone to find a space next to you. But it looks natural for him to do because you two are the leads in the movie. Of course, you two should stand together.

"This dress looks marvelous on you, Y/N," Andrew compliments you once again as the whole cast stands together for more pictures. You bump hips with him and smile.

"Thanks, but I think you'd look much better in this than me," you joke. Andrew uses that as an excuse to stare longly at your dress—Harry watches annoyedly—before nodding.

"Oh, yeah, for sure, darling." Oh, the accent. You can't help but shyly look away, especially from the pet name.

Your co-star on your other side holds your hand and squeezes it for your attention. You look away from Andrew to focus on them, laughing at an inside joke that the paparazzi zoom in on to take a picture of.

You are the star point of the red carpet.

They finally allow you to break off as it’s now time to watch the movie. Andrew continues to hold onto your waist as you both walk side by side to your crew.

"Yeah, took me two hours to get my hair to stay this way," He says.

"Wait, so you didn’t just wake up and your hair simply looked this good? I thought you were Andrew Garfield or something," You tease, reaching up to softly pat his head.

"Ha ha, Y/N," he rolls his eyes. You giggle and shy away from his eye contact by staring straight. But that makes you look at your boyfriend with his hands deep in his dress pants. You could moan from how hot he looks. Especially with that unapproachable expression etched on his face.

You glance up at Andrew and pat his back, where your hand is resting. “You remember Harry, right?" You ask as you approach your melancholy boyfriend. The only reason he perks up is simply because of you being close to him.

Andrew nods with his lips smirking innocently at Harry. His arm stays around you as his other sticks his hand out. "Long time, no see, Harry," he laughs, and so do you.

Harry smiles thinnly and takes Andrew's hand. But his eyes are trained on the arm that’s around your waist. "Yes," he slurs.

"How are you feeling, baby?" You ask, releasing yourself from Andrew to step into Harry’s space. Your hands rub up his arms, before they lay on his chest and rise. You stop when you're caressing his jaw.

Harry basks in the affection, especially because it's in front of Andrew, and all he can do is watch.

"I'm good. Ready to watch the movie," he replies, pushing hair behind your ears. Andrew grows a smile at that.

"Me too. Can't wait for you to see Y/N in it. She did amazing," he revels you.

You roll you eyes and reach to swat Andrew’s chest. Harry tick his jaw in jealously—you usually only do that to him. "He's just talking about himself but doesn't want to admit it," you say to Harry with a laugh. He only does it back because of how beautiful you are. His hands hold your waist loosely.

"No, Harry, you'll see," Andrew pushes again, and solely winks at him.

You scoff and grab Harry's arm before stepping away in search for your manager. "I'll see you in the theater, And and Drew," You wave to depart.

He laughs heartily, much more than you expect. "I'll get us a popcorn to share," he says, which you gasp at.

"A large?"

"Of course," he answers with raised shoulders, as if it's obvious. You mouth a loud cheer. Andrew can't wipe the whipped smile off his face. He sighs softly, finally switching his attention to the grumpy man your holding by his thick arm. "See you later, Harry," he calls out as you drag your boyfriend away. Harry only seesaws his eyes on Andrew, before turning away to let you lead him.

Harry totally forgot that the cast sits together. And of course, you're going to be next to Andrew. Great.

When you find your manager, they break down how the theater part of the premiere is going to work. While you listen, you stand in front of Harry and back yourself into him. He quietly wraps his arms around your front and traces your stomach. Your hands land on his, letting them follow whatever trail he's making.

"I wish we were sitting together," you say with your head facing the side—for Harry to look at.

"I do too, baby," he sighs against your cheek, meaning it more than ever.

"But I do more," you pout, and he laughs, kissing at your jaw. You're hidden in a corner from the red carpet. No one is around but your manager and your crew as they decompress. "I want to talk to you during the film and tell you all the secrets and how I did my stunts and stuff."

"I'll hear about it later, yeah?" He tries to sound cheery, just for your sake, and you nod sadly. Harry’s hands go rogue, traveling to your breasts that are begging to either be pushed in or out of the neckline.

You stay quiet with your lips parted, looking down at your boyfriend's hands. He turns you two around so you're facing a wall—him blocking you from everyone's eyes.

He kisses at your jaw again, sneakily sucking for a quick second before you can react. "You look so fucking beautiful, baby," Harry says, making you blush and mumble a thank you. "Best person dressed today. You stood out so much in those group pictures." His hands softly grope your breasts, and you peep out the quietest moan.

"Yeah?" It sounds like a whimper.

"Mhmm. And I get to call that beautiful woman mine," he smirks against your ear. The dent in his pants has made a return as it pushes into your ass. "Am I wrong, baby?" You quickly shake your head.

"Again," You gasp, before biting your lip. Harry chuckles and squeezes at your breasts while pushing his hips into you. He traces a finger at the spot where he guesses your nipple is. And he isn't wrong. Your back arches off of him, making it a little obvious that something is going on in this corner.

So, Harry lets go and turns you around. "Soon, my perfect girl," He promises against your lips before capturing them in a passionate kiss. You are breathless when he pulls away and smirks down at you. He finds your throat to hold and quickly squeeze the sides of before dropping his hand just as fast.

He's trying to rile you up.

"Is this punishment for not being seated with you?" You ask in a giggle. Harry shrugs and holds you right beside your breasts. His nails scratch at your shoulder blades.

"If I'm going to have to suffer, so will you," His tone is evident. You pucker out your bottom lip in a pout, and Harry easily kisses it. "Have fun, my love.” With a solid wink, he steps back and turns away. He follows one of your crew members, who leads him inside the building.

You stand there and watch him, breathless and unsatisfied. And as if he knows, Harry looks over at you and grins, before he disappears.

"Ready, Y/N?" Your manager gets your attention. You adjust your dress and nod. "Good, let's go inside and find your seat."

You immediately earn loud applaud as you enter the theater. The room is pointing their attention to you as you wave, walking up the aisle to your seat. While doing so, you search for your boyfriend. One, to scowl at him, and two, because you want to be able to watch his reactions during certain scenes.

As you're trying to discreetly find him because everyone is still staring, Andrew waves at you. You give up looking for Harry, for now, and sit down by your friend.

His smile is wide as he motions to your seat. "For you, m'lady," he bows slightly.

"Thank you, Andrew," You laugh and fix your dress as you sit. "Excited?" You ask, before your teeth sink into your lip. Andrew watches while nodding.

"Very. My friends are here," he says, pointing up higher in the theater. A group of people notice you two staring and wave.

"Hi," You mouth.

"Where's Harry?" Andrew asks. You frown with a shrug.

"I have no idea. But I want to find him before the lights dim," You speak more to yourself.

Andrew nods in agreement. "Well, I made sure to get us that popcorn," He averts your attention, leaning down to grab something between his legs. It's a big bowl of popcorn. "Extra butter," he winks.

"You know me so well," You sarcastically sigh, resting your head on his shoulder—pretending to be swooned.

"I'll be honest, I was already going to get extra butter. I just wanted to see how you'd react. That solely was going to make or break our friendship." Your head throws back to laugh as you swat at his chest.

And Harry sees it all as he sits higher than you and on the other side of the theater. He has a perfect view of you and Andrew, especially when you guys lean over to talk.

This is going to be a long movie.

When you told Harry about the dynamic between your character and Andrew's, he was fine with it, at first. You're an actress—you act out mature scenes all the time. But as he sits and watches you ride Andrew's lap, your moans taking over the room, Harry can't help but feel a level of rage over everyone watching this.

"I hate you so much," Your character, Anna, growls but it comes out as a moan. She holds Andrew's character, Maddy—yes his name is Maddy—by his shoulder. The frame shows your collarbones and up, sometimes wandering lower where your breasts, that Harry groped earlier, show.

"It's mutual," Maddy snaps back, before his jaw drops agape. Anna starts to jump, her head facing up to display the thin layer of sweat on her neck. Harry runs his tongue along his teeth. "You've made my life hell,” Maddy mutters with his lips against her chin. Anna suddenly smirks, and the camera angle changes, showing a front shot of her face looking down at Maddy. She looks sexy and dominant. Harry has to shift in his chair as he stares mesmerized by you.

Anna leans down so she almost kisses Maddy. "If you don't make me come in the next minute, you'll be wishing you were in hell than the place I'll send you." Her voice is raspy and it's demanding. Harry's favorite side of you. The camera shows Maddy, and the emotions masking his face as he takes in her words.

Harry uses that second to dart his eyes to you and Andrew. He's leant over his chair to whisper to you. He points to the screen and whatever he says makes you nod. What are you guys taking about? What happened when you guys were filming this scene?

When Harry turns back to the movie, Maddy smirks widely and flips them to missionary, lifting Anna's legs to lean against his chest. "You know what? I need to fuck this absolutely irritating attitude out of you. That's the issue." Then it shows Anna on her back—you looking so fucking sexy to Harry—as she pops an eyebrow up.

"You can try, officer."

Harry has to cast his eyes down to ignore the jealousy of someone else taking you like that—even though it obviously didn't actually happen. But he listens to your voice as you bobble out stuttered moans. He possessively wants to imagine that your sounds are only for him.

When the scene is finished and Harry can look up, he glances at you and Andrew. But he almost flinches in his seat when he sees Andrew already looking back at him. He smiles softly, motioning his head to the screen. Harry fists his hand, planting them on his thigh. This fucking guy.

Andrew gives Harry only a second more of his attention, before turning away. He holds out the bowl for you, which you gladly steal some popcorn from. You're fixated on the scene, not even knowing about the exchange. Or that your boyfriend is literally fuming in his seat.

So, the movie had multiple sex scenes. Ha, who knew?

Harry pouts and sighs and groans and adjusts and looks away and peeks an eye and curses and shifts and bites his lip and groans again. He does a lot while stuck in his seat, watching you and Andrew, and your characters on screen, from afar.

The movie finally ends with Anna smirking smugly at Maddy with a knife in her hand. She twirls it recklessly as she hums. The audience watches, waiting to see what her next move is. But Anna simply mouths symbolic words to Maddy before there is a loud sound of sliced skin. The audience gasps in unison as the screen goes black for a while before turning back on for credits.

The room erupts into cheers, most of them pointed at you and Andrew, while the lights flick back on. Andrew smiles over at you and pulls you in for a side hug.

"Congrats on an excellent movie, Miss L/N," Andrew jokes under his breath.

"And same to you, Mr. Garfield," You nod. "Maybe one day we'll see each other again for another movie."

"Oh, you're not getting rid of me. You're my bestie now." You bellow out a laugh, but quickly cover it when you realize how loud that was. Andrew leans down in his seat to laugh like you guys just got caught talking in class.

You stand up from your seat and look around for Harry. This time, he makes sure to get your eyes on him. He waves coolly but enough to catch your stare. And his heart jumps when a big grin breaks out on your face.

You mouth, "What did you think?" The only opinion that matters in this room to you. Harry nods and blinks ten fingers before doing it again to show ten out of ten.

You do a little dance in your spot, making him laugh. He casts his eyes to Andrew, who's solely watching you and your dancing. He says something to you that makes you stop and roll your eyes.

Harry is quick to join the line of people exiting the theater. He finds your manager and stands with them, knowing you'll eventually be here after getting the praise you deserve for the movie.

Despite hating your co-star, Harry loved the movie and everyone in it. You did amazing. But Harry already expected that. You did your own stunts and executed them flawlessly. He can't wait to show how proud he is of you.

And how predatory he is. He already knows exactly what's going to happen when he gets you back in your hotel room.

You're slow to leave the theater because of the people stopping you every two seconds. They aren't even waiting until you're out the theater. You have a whole afterparty to mingle and get praised, but people want to do it now.

But thanks to Andrew and his charisma, he helps maneuver you away from the crowds politely and to your crew.

"Thanks, Andrew," You say, turning to hug him because you know this is where you part. "You're a great movie partner. Especially with sharing popcorn."

Andrew snorts against your neck. "Thanks, Y/N. It was an honor." He pulls back, his height showing off as he stands straight. "See you at the afterparty?"

You nod and shimmy a little. "You know it!" He smiles as you turn and saunter off.

Harry watches, leaning his shoulder against the wall as you approach your crew. You first hug your manager and accept their praise and kisses.

"That movie was amazing. You were amazing," they say as you both pull away. Your smile is shy and thankful, still not comfortable with compliments. "Think you still got something in you to survive the afterparty?" Their eyebrows raise.

You giggle and nod. "Definitely. I need something to drink."

"Alright, honey. I'll see you then, okay?" You nod and thank them.

Your manager steps away, allowing Harry to have you all to himself. Your eyes meet his, and your teeth sink into your lip as you contemplate leaping into his arms. He chuckles softly as you take wide steps to close your distance.

"Hi, baby," He says as you wrap your arms around his neck and instantly engulf him in a hard kiss. Harry sighs within it—all the tension that was building inside of him whisking away.

You speak against his lips. "I didn't see you during the movie. I'm sorry.” Harry puckers so he slightly kisses you.

"I was kinda far so it's alright. But I saw you," He answers, grabbing at you everywhere to make up for the time you were out of reach and in Andrew's. Speaking of him, as you have your back to the commotion of people, only Harry can see Andrew in the crowd. He talks to who he assumes is his manager, but his gaze is pointed to you and Harry. Well, specifically you. But his eyes do glance at Harry when he realizes he's staring back.

"Damn, that's no fair. I wanted to see you squirm at that scene," you giggle, tugging on Harry's neck to keep him close as he tries to look somewhere else.

After not seeing Harry throughout the movie and watching those scenes without him, you are needy. And horny. You press your front against Harry's, searching for the dent that still hasn't been taken care of.

Harry knows what his girlfriend is doing and lifts an eyebrow at you—no type of interest in Andrew anymore. Only in the woman who's looking up at him with the same seductive eyes as her character.

"Well, I can assure you, I was definitely squirming. The poor lady beside me was going to get an eyeful if she looked down at my lap," Harry says, swiftly swatting at your backside, close to your ass.

Your smile widens. "Really? You liked it?"

"Of course, I did, baby. I loved it."

You sigh in his arms and Harry frowns in confusion. "I wasn't sure if you were going to enjoy it because of Andrew, you know?" Your voice is soft. Harry takes a few steps back, leading you guys into the shadows.

"I mean, no boyfriend wants to see another man have his girlfriend like that, but it's the world of acting," Harry shrugs. "And I wasn't focused on him, I was completely transfixed by you." He watches your eyes grow with a slight shimmer.

"Okay, good," you sigh in relief, before hiding yourself in his neck as you hug him. "I love you."

"And I love you, beautiful," Harry replies, eyes on the crowd in front of him. No one is paying attention to the couple as they are all trying to find their ride home. Andrew even gave up when he saw how focused you were on Harry. He knew he wasn't going to get your attention at all. He'd just have to wait until the afterparty—patience.

Harry leans down to stuff his nose into your soft skin, sprits with honey and vanilla perfume. "Ready to head back to the hotel?" You nod, slowly pulling away. You look over your shoulder at the crowd. Harry finds your hand to hold and lifts it to his lips. "Good, come on."

In the car, Harry can't help but smirk at your neediness. It's his favorite thing about you. Your lips continue to grab his every few seconds, intoxicated by his taste. And the sound he makes when you try to pull away for a breath. His big hands are groping every spot they land on, and as the partition is up, you don't mind letting out your soft whines.

When you two arrive at your hotel, Harry helps you to the entrance as numerous flashes of cameras attack you. He tells you to cover your eyes while you fist his dress shirt. Now that the sky is dark, the flashes are more prominent, and they sting. You'll never be used to this.

You two make it inside, and the loud calls of your name ringing in your ears die down. "Are you okay, baby?" Harry asks you while walking to the elevator. His arms swarm your body, even though you're safe in the building. Your head continues to hide in his chest, now enjoying his warmth. "No one is around. It's just us."

"The best news I could ever hear," you smile sincerely, looking up at him. Harry chuckles and swiftly captures your lips to kiss.

"Me too, beautiful."

The ride is quiet to your floor. Harry moves you to stand in front of him as he leans against the elevator wall. His arms are around you, luxuriating the last moments of you in this thin dress. He finds your ear to whisper in.

"Are you gonna let me have you before the afterparty?" He asks, holding your jaw and turning it so you're looking at him from the side.

Your nude lips plump, before your teeth sink into them. Harry is quick to yank them out. And he watches as it jiggles.

"We won't be going to the afterparty if I do," You laugh.

"I promise you that we will," Harry says. "Just wanna love on my baby first."

You sigh and shake your head. "I don't trust myself. But we have all night afterwards." Harry tries to fight your decision, squeezing at your body and trailing his hot breath along your face. Of course, you're dripping wet in your panties and want nothing more than to take this man any way he wants, but you have to make an appearance at the afterparty.

Harry is pouting while you two walk to your hotel room. You continuously poke at his indented dimple and swing your joined hands with the other. "I can't believe people finally saw the movie. Do you think they liked it?" You ask, hoping to distract your boyfriend.

He nods sternly. "Of course, they did. It was really good, Y/N. I promise," He tells you. "And I'm not just saying that because I'm your boyfriend."

You smile shyly. "Okay, good," You speak softly. Harry chuckles, pinching your chin, before unlocking your room door. The cool breeze invites you in, and that alone makes you want to end the night early. "Unzip me?" Harry chuckles at your eagerness. He unzips your dress, watching the tension leave your body as you're not trapped in that tight material anymore.

"Better?" He asks, before kissing your shoulder blade. You nod lazily with a moan from your skin getting the circulation it needs.

Harry watches you brush pass him and fall back onto the bed. Your breasts finally spill out the top of your dress, but you don't care at this point. Your arms stretch over your head as you moan out a yawn.

"How much time we do have?" Harry asks, approaching you at the bed. He stands at the end, where your knees hang off. He leans down to grab the hem of your long dress and begin to roll it up.

"I don't know. I think the party starts right away, so, soon?" You respond, sitting on your elbows to watch him. The room is quiet while Harry bunches your dress up your legs. He gets it pass your knees so you can finally spread them, giving him space to stand between them. His eyes admire your perfect body, before they stare at the straps on your shoulders. You notice and slide them off—slowly to come off suggestive. A smirk curls on both of your lips.

"You sure we don't have time?" Harry utters.

You shake your head, now a shit-eating grin on your face. "Nope." Harry sighs and continues to push your dress up. He gets it over your stomach, and the sight makes him lean down to press a wet kiss there.

"Are we one hundred percent sure, baby?" Harry drops his voice while your dress is over your breasts that perfectly spill on your chest. "Just five minutes?"

"No," You laugh, pushing at Harry's head when he aims for your puckered nipple. "We'll never leave."

Harry groans dramatically. "Fine," He huffs, finally getting your dress off of you. He stands up straight, looking down at his favorite, naked sight. Your eyes are warm as they stare up at him.

The way your boyfriend has made you feel over the past year has grown your confidence. You aren't embarrassed or quick to cover yourself anymore when his eyes are on you. Now, you feel sexy as his gaze darkens, and you can only imagine the things going on in his head.

Harry sucks in a sharp breath, taking a step back. You sit up on the bed. "I'm gonna head downstairs to wait for you," he says in a clipped tone, trying to avoid his lingering stare on your body.

"Why?" You whine, standing up. Harry puffs out a sigh—his eyes wandering on the ethereal sight he gets to call his.

He holds your sides and squeezes. "Because I will do very bad fucking things to you, baby, if I stay any longer," He answers, seriously. His hips snap forward for you to feel the pain in his pants. You gasp, before laughing. "For your own safety, I'm gonna go. Just meet me downstairs when you're changed, okay?"

You playfully pout, doeing your eyes. Harry leans forward to nibble on your lip. The sound that comes out of your mouth forces him to step back and clear his throat. Especially because you're still naked and probably wet in your panties.

"Yeah, I definitely need to leave." You giggle. "This gentleman boyfriend thing I got going on is not gonna last long."

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'm done messing with you," you say, swiftly kissing him. "I'll be down soon. I'm just gonna change into my afterparty dress. My makeup is fine, right?"

Harry nods. "Perfect. You're perfect."

You shyly swat at his chest and turn away. Your hair doesn't hide the light shining down your back and ass as you swing your hips while walking away to the other room, where your new dress hangs.

Harry sighs and quickly steps out the hotel room. When he's on the other side, he presses his forehead against the door and groans. "Fuck, Y/N," he chuckles while shaking his head.

"What? You got kicked out?"

Harry jumps, thinking he was alone. His head whips in the direction of the voice, and his expression immediately drops when he realizes who it is.

Andrew fucking Garfield.

"Of course, you're on our floor," Harry scoffs under his breath.

"Yeah, next door actually," He shrugs. Andrew stands tall and smug with his hands hidden in his pants pocket. He stalks over, looking Harry up and down.

"And I'm meeting Y/N downstairs," Harry answers Andrew's earlier question, walking away to the elevator. Andrew takes wide strides to catch up to him. Both men are long and leggy, but Harry still beats him in height. It does make him feel better. Especially because you've made it known a lot that you love height on a man.

"How is Y/N? Is she tired after the premiere?" Andrew asks while Harry clicks the button for the elevator.

"A little, but she's set on going to this afterparty," Harry entertains the man, trying not to get agitated with him around. The last thing Harry wants is for you to think something is wrong with him. You'll easily find out just from one look. You know your boyfriend like the back of your hand.

"Oh, good. I can't wait to see her outfit," Andrew speaks his thoughts out loud. Harry grimaces, and luckily the elevator arrives to save him from responding how he really wants to.

The men step inside the elevator, and Andrew clicks for the lobby, before leaning against the opposite wall as Harry.

"She looked incredible today. Don't you agree?" Andrew asks the obvious, cocking his head to the side.

Harry nods, "Incredible isn't enough. Don't think there's a word to describe how amazing she looked." Andrew pauses, staring at Harry. He notices that Andrews gone quiet. "What?"

He shakes his head. "No. It's just... I agree."

Harry and Andrew are quiet for the rest of the ride down. Harry is very thankful for that. The less he has to speak to Andrew, the fucking better.

When the elevator dings, announcing that they've made it to the lobby, Andrew suddenly turns to Harry.

Harry's eyebrow cocks up as he stares back.

"Hope you don't mind if I steal your girlfriend for a while tonight." Before Harry can speak, Andrew is gone, taking a fast but smooth pace out the hotel. Harry growls, shifting his jaw annoyedly.

Yeah fucking right.

You arrive in the lobby, searching for Harry. You don't notice how his eyes immediately find you and widen at your dress. It's so... short. But you still look beautiful, and Harry knows eyes are going to be on you, all fucking night.

"Baby," Harry calls out for you while standing up. As you have the worst awareness, Harry has to wave as well because you still couldn't spot him.

But when you do, a wide smile spreads on your lips as you quicken your heeled steps to him. Harry chuckles as you fall into his chest, swiftly kissing his neck.

"How do I look?" You ask, spinning in his arms—his hands gripping at your body like he's in pain.

"My honest answer would give me a reserved spot in hell, so my respectful answer is gorgeous," Harry states, kissing your forehead. You laugh loudly, brushing your nose against his jaw. "Are you ready?"

"Mhmm," you nod, before sighing. "Let me just enjoy this, real quick. I have a feeling people are going to be stealing me away from you tonight." Harry's eye twitches from you using that specific word—the same as Andrew.

Harry holds you closer. "No one can take you away from me," He whispers. You nod in agreement.

"And vice versa," You look up at him. "If I catch one woman speaking to you, I'll be kicking ass at my own afterparty." Harry laughs, your words music to his ears. Another thing he enjoys the most about you is your jealously. It makes his feel tame.

"Come on, baby," He says, finding your waist to hold as he leads you out the hotel.

The afterparty is dark and beaming shades of red to replicate the aesthetic of yours and Andrew's character dynamic. You continue to gasp the further you and Harry walk in.

"This looks incredible," You exclaim, tugging on Harry's arm. The sound of mingling is loud, so you lean in for Harry's ear. "Doesn't it look incredible in here, baby?" Harry turns his head to you and nods.

"It does. You like it?" Your answer is formed through a kiss, before you continue to look around. Harry leads you two to the bar, ready to start your rounds of drinks to warm you up. As the left side of your waist is showing, Harry finds his hand resting there. One, to touch your cool, smooth skin. Two, to cover it.

He loves how you look and wants the world to see it too, but he can't help his predatory senses trying to cover you up. He's already having to deal with your legs being on display for everyone to gawk at. They're long and beaming against the neon lights before they meet your tight stilettos.

You walk shyly, already feeling eyes on you. Harry finds your ear. "This is going to be a long night for me. I hope you know that." Your nerves disappear as you focus on your boyfriend—his objective.

"Yeah?" You giggle. You two finally reach the bar and snag a seat. Harry decides to stand behind you, holding your waist loosely and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"You love to tease me, huh, baby?" He smiles against your ear. You shrink in your spot, smiling like a school-girl. The pet names get the best of you. Harry squeezes your thigh, before moving to stand beside you. "What do you want to drink? Champagne?"

You nod, leaning your elbow on the counter with your head facing Harry. Your eyes are too transfixed on how fucking handsome he is that you don't feel another presence on the other side of you until he speaks.

"Hey, favorite co-star." You almost jump from how close the voice is. Both yours and Harry's head turn to look over at Andrew.

You sit up straight and gasp. "Hey, you made it!" Your arms open for him to step into. Harry immediately places his hand on the small of your back, slowly crawling to stretch around you.

"You made it too," Andrew laughs. He glances at Harry with a short, challenging glare. "Hey, Harry." But doesn't give him the time to respond because he's focused back on you.

Harry rolls his eyes, now distracted by the bartender as he asks for drinks. You promptly turn to Harry, swiftly kissing his cheek, as he places your orders. "That's it?" He asks you. A nod is your response.

Andrew leans against the counter to speak to the bartender afterward. "I'll get what they're having too." You smirk at Andrew, getting two different reactions from both men.

"Oh, so you’re copying my drink order again. That didn't end after filming, huh?" You tease. Andrew shrugs, turning his body to face you but keeps his elbow on the counter. Harry wants to pull you into him as your body language shows interest in Andrew.

"Yeah, I still can never decide on a drink. It's just easier to copy you. We basically have the same taste," He says with an innocent smile but Harry sees right through it.

He clears his throat loudly, but when he realizes you didn't hear him, he then gently kisses your shoulder. You glance back at him, lifting an eyebrow. "What happened, baby?" You ask, reaching a hand back to search for him. He easily takes yours and intertwines your fingers with his.

"So, Harry, did you enjoy the movie?" Andrew asks Harry before he can get a word out to you. Your eyes light up at the question, and so does Harry's heart. The look you stare at him with makes his rival with Andrew a little more meaningless. He'll never get the eyes you give him.

"I did," Harry nods, tickling your chin. "You both did great." You smile widely, and Harry consumes the gesture inside him. It gives him instant butterflies—your smile.

"Thank you, H," Andrew interrupts your small, intimate moment. "Hey, no hard feelings about, you know, those scenes, right?” His smirk is knowing. You gasp at Andrew and swat at his chest—a little more force than usual. But he doesn’t mind. "Hey, what did I do?" He teases, shriveling his nose.

Harry's jaw ticks again. "Oh my god, Andrew. Shut up," You laugh. One of your arms are naked as the other is long sleeved from the design of your dress. The nude arm is on Andrew's side as you reach up to wrap it loosely around his shoulder. He hums as he gets to feel your lukewarm skin on his neck. "You're the worst. You know that?" You joke, locking your arm tightly.

"I'm your favorite co-star. Don't lie to the people," He replies, motioning to Harry. He enjoys every tick and growl and huff he receives from him.

You remove yourself from Andrew—too soon for his liking—and scoff. "That's a lie," You say, trying to avoid a smile. But Andrew gasps and squeezes at your arm.

"Leading me on, huh?"

You roll your eyes, before smiling at Harry. "He's a handful," You pretend to whisper but Andrew obviously hears it. Harry entertains your joke with a nod while you find your arms slithering around his neck. Your fingers play with his hair and tug on it to test him.

Harry grins, at both your PDA and Andrew awkwardly watching the exchange. Harry adores that you will love on him anywhere, anytime, no matter what.

"Here's your drinks," The bartender returns with three glasses of champagne. Harry starts to grab both of yours, but Andrew moves quicker and takes yours.

"Here, darling," He blurts while holding the drink out for you. Harry grumbles under his breath, fisting one of his hands. You stare at the drink before lifting an eyebrow at Andrew. That was weird. "What?" Andrew shrinks at your offended stare.

You let one arm fall from Harry to take the drink. "Thanks," you slowly speak. Your attention is back on Harry as he grabs his own. "Cheers?" His smile returns when your face approaches his to make this moment about solely the two of you.

"To you, baby," He says, intimately. Your blush is saved from being seen because of the shaded lights in the room. But Harry knows you too well. His thumb picks at your bottom lip. "No need to get all shy on me."

You push his hand away from your face. "I'm not shy," You scoff.

Momentarily forgetting Andrew is there, you jump when you feel him against your side. He has his drink lifted, waiting to clink with yours.

"Cheers to you, Y/N," He says.

You smile nicely and raise your drink. "Cheers to us," You correct him. Andrew chuckles and tips the rim of his glass with yours before downing the sparkling liquid. You swiftly turn back to your boyfriend and repeat the gesture. Harry's heart throbs for you at the simple move.

"Cheers," You whisper and sip at your drink. Andrew finds his hands on your shoulders to squeeze.

"I can't believe we did it. Today was amazing," He beams as you spin in your seat. Harry continues to jealousy drink with his elbow on the counter to clearly watch your exchange.

You nod in agreement. "I've been waiting for this day since we finished filming. Can't believe it happened." Andrew raises his eyebrows.

"I wonder what everyone thought."

"I don't," You laugh. "I rather not know." Harry takes that as his cue to butt in and kiss your cheek. Your lips instantly curl into a smile.

"Don't worry about everyone else. You did amazing, baby, that's all that matters," He tells you.

Andrew lifts his glass at that. "H is right." Harry wants to snap at him to quit it with the nickname. But as another presence approaches, he stops himself.

It's your manager, grinning ear-to-ear. You finally slide off the bar stool to properly hug them.

"Hey, superstar. How are you feeling?" They ask you. Both Harry and Andrew watch solely you and how you expressively answer the question. Smirks find their faces from the thoughts invading their minds.

Your manager holds your hand then looks at Andrew. "Everyone wants to speak to you two. I say stay together and kinda circle the room. Okay?" Harry groans out loud, not caring about your manager's scold.

You giggle and back yourself into your boyfriend. He still huffs while holding onto you protectively.

"I'll take good care of her, Harry," Andrew sounds assuring to you, but Harry can read him just by the look his face. You pat Andrew's chest for his attention, which he easily gives you.

"So, what you're saying is that you'll speak for me, and I don't have to talk to anyone," You joke, making everyone laugh. Harry squeezes your sides and presses a kiss to your shoulder. Your naked arm wraps behind him to land in his hair. The other brings your drink to your lips.

Andrew clears his throat. "That's exactly what I mean. Just need you to smile and wave." You cheer theatrically. Your manager claps their hands.

"Perfect. I'll guide you two around. Let's go." Andrew already moves to follow them, but you lag behind, waiting for him to step away. When he's gone, you turn around in Harry's arms. You two meet eyes and stare at each other, lovingly.

"Gonna miss me?" You ask, sipping at your drink.

"Don't know how I'm gonna manage," He sighs playfully. And his heart throbs again at the sound of your perfect laugh. "You owe me a dance, though."

"I'm saving all my good moves for you, Styles," You giggle. "Now kiss me, please." Harry doesn't hesitate to hold you in a passionate, champagne tasting kiss. Tongues are swiftly included, but you pull back before it continues.

"Am I allowed to find someone to hang out with while you get Garfield?" Harry asks, both of your foreheads touching. Your eyebrows furrow.

"You're asking if you can talk to anyone in this room besides me? Absolutely not." Your face is serious when you answer. Harry laughs and can't help his craving for your lips. "Go ahead and mingle, grumpy. I'll try to be as quick as possible," You say while caressing his cheek in your hand.

Harry nods as you step back. "Alright, you need to leave or I'm going to have no choice but to take you on this bar counter," He says. You glance over at the bar and pop up a suggestive eyebrow. Harry pokes at your breast to stop you from testing him.

"I'd be down, but I don't think that would be sanitary," You shrug.

"With the way you come, definitely not." You gasp, swatting at his shoulder.

"Goodbye, Styles." You spin on your heel and lift a hand to wave. Harry unabashedly watches your ass sway as you walk away from him. He sips on his drink, leaning back on the bar.

You catch up to Andrew and your manager—Harry keeping eyes on you. Andrew's eyebrows raise when you show up beside him, and his hand wraps around your waist. It looks polite and friendly to everyone surrounding them but Harry's hand squeezes around his glass at the action.

Just fucking wait until he gets you home.

You are tired and horny as Harry leads you out of the afterparty building and to the car. He doesn't give you time to give anyone a proper goodbye, especially Andrew, because he physically drags you away. He's a man on a mission.

"Why are you making me walk so fast, Harry? My feet hurt," You whine at the pounding throb in your heels. You notice the dimple indenting his cheek as he chuckles. You childishly pout, knowing he's laughing at you. "Meanie," You mutter.

When you two get outside, the cameras instantly hit you, forcing you to hide against Harry's chest. You feel the groan he lets out as he holds you. The one thing he hates more than your co-star are paparazzi. Especially when they swarm you like this. Harry has been a star since he was a teenager—he's used to this.

But he can feel his ears smoke with rage when you get attacked by paparazzi. There are guards surrounding the two of you to help. So, Harry becomes your eyes as he guides you blindly into your designated car.

You hear a door handle being pulled. "Get in, baby. I got you," Harry yells over the loud voices calling out to you. He helps you slide into your seat before he's following behind you. An arm still stay around you as he finds your chin to lift to him. "You okay, baby?" He asks, pecking the corner of your mouth. Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the dimmed car. The tinted windows block the camera flashes that punch against the glass.

"Yeah," you more or so whine. Harry laughs and softly kisses your lips.

"Good, gotta make sure I always take care of my baby, huh?" He breaths into your mouth. He tastes like champagne and fruits—platters of them were being passed around. You moan within the kiss to ask for more. Harry will gladly give you anything you want. He moves his hands down to squeeze at your curves while sucking on your lips.

Something suddenly turns on inside of you that makes your body completely crave for your boyfriend. The car takes off and speeds down the populated road, hiding the moaning couple behind the wide windows. Harry grips your sides to assist you on his lap as you plead for him.

"Love being close to you," Harry groans when you sit on top of him and press your chest to his. Your slightly taller height makes his chin tilt up to stare at your floaty eyes. "What do you want, Y/N. Tell me." Your hands are around his throat—for balance as the car takes sharp turns, and to force out the vocals that escape him as you squeeze it.

"More," You puff out, before finding his lips again. They don't break away as you slowly start to grind yourself on the dent in his pants.

As your dress is short, Harry grabs the hem and lifts it so only your panties are in the way. You gasp at the new sensitivity.

"Go on," Harry says, groping your ass cheeks as you move on him. He slaps one cheek before digging his nubbed nails into them to claim what's already his. “Use me.” Your hand moves to his shoulder while the other grips the seat behind him.

Your moans are against his mouth as both of your jaws freeze agape. Harry's breath is hot as it brushes yours. He can feel you wetting his pants, but he keeps his hands tame on your ass instead of finding your cunt.

He's waiting until he gets you upstairs and next door to a certain someone before unleashing himself. He has hours of raging, predatory emotions that need to be thrusted inside of you. Whether it's in your mouth or cunt, Harry needs to have you. He's let some other man have you for far too long.

You reach between the two of you to hook a finger in your panties. Harry knows what you're trying to do, so he gently stops you. Your eyebrows furrow at him. "Why?" You choke out, still continuing to brush your clit against him. It shocks every nerve when he nudges you.

"Just... not yet. Wait til we get upstairs, okay?" He says, looking up at you. His eyes suddenly dilate at the sight. It's the same angle from that scene in your movie. But instead of getting the smug smirk of Anna—her hissing voice taunting Maddy, Harry looks up at begging eyes and pouted lips that push out a whine. He gets a you only he's privileged to see. It causes a drunk smile to form.

"What?" You question from his new look. He only shakes his head, before leaning forward to kiss you. "Why can't we? Please."

"Be patient."

As he says that, the car hits a pothole, causing you to accidentally push down against his cock. You gasp loudly, tightening your hand on his shoulder. Harry has to shut his eyes to calm himself down as he's one more thrust into taking you right in this car.

The rest of the drive home feels longer than to the afterparty. Maybe it's because of Harry trying to hold back from yanking himself out his pants. Or from the sight of you hovering over him, your temptress lips trailing his jaw and puffing out a fruit-scented breath.

You weren't making the car ride any easier for him. You don't know why he wants to wait, but you could care less. You discreetly rotate your hips, pretending like you're simply adjusting in your spot. But the tut Harry gives you makes it obvious that you're chasing for a release.

Harry has to physically lift you off his lap to stop you. The wet stain on his raised pants has him biting his lip. He can almost taste you on his tongue.

You whine at the disconnection and lean forward to kiss him, hoping to distract his hands. It works for a moment as they slide up your back. So, you swiftly drop back down on his lap, both of you moaning.

"Baby, just wait," Harry tells you, holding you up again. "I'll give you everything you want, okay?"

"I want it now," You complain like a child, pushing at his hands to release them from your sides. But his grip only tightens. Harry laughs at your weak slap to the back of his hand. You huff and decide to finally listen so you don't end up in a punishment.

"Good girl."

"Stop riling me up," you say and flick him. His nose shrivels to laugh.

"I'm sorry."

"But you're not," You snap, pinching his chin. Harry smiles widely at your perfect, frowned face.

"I am," He argues playfully. You sigh and rest your head on his shoulder, your body calming down.

"I miss when you had the hormonal tendencies of a caveman."

Harry slaps at your ass. "You mean when I had to carry you around because you couldn't walk."

You nod on his shoulder, before kissing it. "Princess treatment and good sex? I was spoiled. The good ol' days."

Harry smirks but you can't see it. "Oh, I can make it happen again. Just wait until we're upstairs."

You lift your head to look at him. His expression is smug and dangerous. Another shockwave pulses in your cunt.

"Yay me," You snicker.

As soon as the car pulls up to your hotel, paparazzi are waiting to give you a not-so warm welcome. Harry holds you like before and guides you inside. The rapid, cold flashes of the camera hits him instead, which he's fine with. He'll do anything to protect you.

The hotel doors close behind you two, and Harry walks further inside the lobby before letting you go. You sigh while stretching your muscles straight. Harry fixes your hair that he accidentally messed up.

"You okay?" He asks you with a gentle smile. You step into his space, finding an arm to round his neck. Your answer is a nod, and a long, loving stare that widens his lips. "Good, I love you." Harry gives you a short kiss that you hum into.

Goosebumps run up your naked arm that's around his neck. Harry turns his head to kiss a trail. You watch with your teeth sinking into your lip. You two don't even realize the public setting you're in as your only focus is each other.

Harry takes your arm from his neck to interlace your hand with his. He leads you the elevator and away from the windows of people.

"Now will you let me sit on your cock?" You beg in a broken whisper from how desperate your body suddenly becomes. Harry raises his eyebrows in amusement, looking down at you.

"What a dirty mouth you have, missy," He teases you. You roll your eyes, exaggeratedly. "Don't do that." He pinches your side.

"You're annoying," You groan.

Harry shrugs. "You love me," He smiles.

"Don't assume that. Especially when you rejected me in the car."

"I just told you to wait," He argues with a laugh. Your frown is so pretty. The way your plump lips cast downward, and your brows meet your soft eyes. You're trying to look mad but Harry only finds it cute.

"Yeah, and now I'm dripping and unsatisfied," you point a finger at him.

"I'll gladly take care of that," Harry snorts, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

As you two are walking, ignoring the rest of the guest in the lobby, you guys don't notice a figure jogging up to you.

"Good because—"

"Y/N! Harry! Wait up."

Harry immediately tenses up at that voice, and the dent in his pants dies down.

Fucking Andrew Garfield.

You turn and meet eyes with your co-star. A disappointed-hidden smile finds your lips as you wave at him.

"Hey, Andrew," You say, cheerfully. Harry's hand squeezes yours, and you look over your shoulder at him. His face is hard while staring at Andrew. "Nice dog," You tease and push your ass against him. That earns a raspy groan.

Andrew reaches you two and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Hey, guys. I didn't see you leave. Thought you ran to the bathroom or something," He chuckles.

"Nah, I got tired and needed Harry to help me escape," You say. "Sorry about that."

Andrew swiftly waves you off. "No worries. I'm glad I found you, though." You playfully aww and pat his chest.

"Miss me that much?" You tease him. The honest words were behind his eyes that only Harry notices. He takes a step closer to your back, feeling your warmth against him.

Andrew only gives Harry a half glance before he's focusing on you. "Of course. Who else could I suffer a million praises with?"

"Yeah, that felt never ending, huh?" You shiver at the amount of mingling your manager put you through before Harry thankfully took you away.

"Felt? No, it was," Andrew raises his eyebrows, making you laugh. "But luckily, I was able to escape too. Unfortunately, I didn't have a Harry to help me." You chuckle and look over at your boyfriend. He only cracks a smile because now you're watching at him. His face was stone cold moments before, glaring at Andrew.

"Well, it was nice seeing you again," You attempt to end the conversation. Harry takes that as his cue to motion you to the elevators.

Andrew's long legs keeps him up to pace with you two. "My room is actually on your floor. Mind if I join the ride up?" He asks, but it's basically rhetorical as he follows.

You groan under your breath—Harry can tell and laughs. "Sure," you shrug, before turning to Harry. "Tired, baby?"

Tired is the complete opposite of what Harry is feeling, but he knows what you're trying to do. He nods and forces a yawn out. "Very," he sighs.

"Same. At least we'll be in bed soon," You respond and reach for the elevator button.

Andrew clears his throat. "It's been a long day, huh?" He asks, specifically you. Harry leans a shoulder against the wall and swings your interlaced hands. Absentmindedly, he brings the back of your hand to his lips. Andrew notices how you sigh lovingly from the gesture.

"Long isn't enough to explain today," You joke. "I'm going to sleep so well, as soon as I hit that bed."

Andrew chuckles. "Yeah, if you hear me snoring loudly, you know why," He says. "I'm next door to you." Your eyebrows raise.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah," He nods. "If Harry gets too annoying, you're always welcome over." The only reason you laugh is because it's expected.

Harry ticks his jaw, just like Andrew wants.

"I'm alright, I can handle this big grump," You say, pressing into your boyfriend.

Luckily, the elevator opens to kill off this conversation. You three step inside—you and Harry taking one side while Andrew leans on the other. He watches as you wrap an arm around Harry's waist and press your head into the crook of his neck. The gesture is intimate and gentle. Your eyes shut, knowing you're safe against your boyfriend.

Harry turns his attention to Andrew and smiles—it looks friendly, but Andrew knows it's anything but. Harry holds the back of your head, and you hum in approval. The soft piano music and the rhythmic ding of the elevator reaching another floor fills up the silence.

Andrew reaches for his tie, loosing it. "So, Harry, when's the next time you think you'll do a movie again?" He asks your boyfriend. Harry shrugs with his lips puckered.

"Not sure. Focusing on music for now," He answers. "But I enjoy just watching Y/N in movies." Your ears stay attentive to the conversation. Even though he can't see it, Harry knows you're smiling at his words.

"Well, I think next time you do, we should be in it together. Would be fun, don't you think?" Andrew says. You suddenly pop your eyes open with a loud gasp. Both men flinch from the sound, surprised, as they stare at you jolting up and clapping your hands.

"Imagine!" You exclaim. "You two in a movie together? The world would go crazy. I would go crazy."

Andrew perks up. "Really?" You nod wildly. "Hmm, maybe you should be in it with us."

"Pretty sure you'd steal all the attention," Harry says and squeezes at your side.

"Well, obviously," You playfully shrug. They both laugh at that. "But you two as partners in crime? Harry Styles and Andrew Garfield? I'd pay good money to watch that movie."

Andrew pops an eyebrow up "Just that good looking, huh?"

"Too good looking." Even though it was a harmless compliment, Andrew took it straight to the heart. He couldn't help the shy smile on his face.

You look up at Harry and hold his shoulders. "Then you can get back at me when all the women in the theater gawk over your character."

Harry rests his hands on your hips. "I don't need to get back at you. And I don't need women gawking at my character."

You roll your eyes and cross your arms. "Ugh, stop being such a fictional man. It's making me uncomfortable." Both Harry and Andrew laugh at your comment. As does the elevator with the sound of the doors sliding open. "Oh, that's us."

The men follow you out, both catching a quick glance at the backside of you. Your black dress hugging your curves, and your naked arm displaying your glowing, smooth skin as you stretch. Your legs powerfully walk down the hall—subconsciously swinging your hips. Harry easily finds his cock tightening against his pants once again.

"You're one lucky bastard," Andrew mutters for only Harry to hear as they trail behind you. A smile grows on Harry's lips.

"I am," He nods. "And you're soon going to be one unlucky bastard," He says, holding Andrew's shoulder for a short second.

He frowns at Harry. "What? Why?"

"You'll hear."

Andrew starts to ask again, but you appear, grabbing at Harry's open suit jacket. You smile kindly at Andrew, "Have a good night, Andy. I had fun!"

With that, you're yanking Harry into your room. But he's quick to wink at your co-star, before you're shutting the door behind you two.

Harry is suddenly being pushed against the same door with you dropping to your knees. You are swift to unbutton his pants and tug them and his boxers down in one go. Your mouth is physically watering from the sight of his cock. Harry lets out a much-needed sigh, finally being released from his tight pants.

"Someone's eager, I see," Harry chuckles over you.

"Whatever," You mutter, looking up at him. "Now are you gonna fuck my throat or what?" Harry's eyes widen in amusement, and his cock twitches from your words.

"Is that what you want, pretty girl?" He leans down and grasps your jaw. It's a hard grip, forcing a whine out of you. His thick thumb pushes pass your lips slowly. You hum and circle your tongue around it—mimicking familiar gestures to his cock.

Harry uses his other hand to fixate your hair into a ponytail. "I love when my girl is so desperate for me—hmm. Yeah, is that what you are?" You nod, sucking on his thumb to rile him up. It works because he hisses under his breath.

"I want to choke on you, H. So bad. Please," You whine, muffled. His thumb pushes down on your tongue, before pulling away and running along your bottom lip.

"Yeah, you were thinking about my cock down your little throat, baby?" Your body shivers from his tone.

"All day," You answer, digging your nails into his thighs to stop yourself from grabbing at his cock that hangs in front of your eyes. Harry hums, taking himself in his hand and pumping slowly. His abs clench, and his head rolls, showcasing the underside of his jaw.

As much as you want his cock inside of your throbbing cunt, you don't have time to wait for that. You need him in you somehow, even if it means coughing and gagging on his cock. Harry is anything but small, and you whine from the thought of him pushing against the walls of your mouth and throat.

Harry continues to pump himself while also dragging the tip of his cock along your lips. Your tongue swipes along the bottom, collecting the come that transferred.

You adjust on your knees, unable to stay still. Harry smirks widely at the sight of you squirming for him. It's all he could ever ask for. For you to only want him.

"Alright, baby, gonna let me choke you now?" Harry pushes down on your lip to separate them.

"Yes, please," You say, before sticking your tongue out without him even needing to ask you. His desperate girl.

Harry's hand tightens on your hair to get a good grip. You suck in a breath, preparing yourself as he leans his hips forward. As soon as his tip slides inside your mouth, you're a moaning mess. He's heavy and warm with a lingering taste of salt.

Harry curses under his breath as he watches himself disappear into you, slowly to laver the feeling of his cock being warmed up. The noises you let out vibrate around him. His legs instantly lock up from it.

Your eyes stay trained on Harry and his hard expression. He softly taps on your chin, silently asking you to open wider. You do your best to widen. The stretch to your throat as he pushes farther already causes you to gag.

Harry gasps, pausing his movements. You feel him tighten his grip on your hair. "Fuck me, Y/N," he groans, fluttering his eyes shut. "Already about to make me come." He whimpers. A sense of pride blossoms inside you.

Being praised is already a kink of yours, but it's grown since being with Harry. Having that assurance that you're making him feel good is always great to hear.

You have to shift again as your feel yourself dripping in your already filled panties. You let go of Harry's thighs momentarily to pull the hem of your dress over your ass. The whiff of cold air hitting your clit against your panties makes you moan. And that goes straight to Harry's cock.

He snaps his hips forward, pushing as far as he can. "Oh, god, baby. Fuck... fuck... yes," Harry mumbles. He brushes his thumb against your cheek. "Not even gonna give me a chance to fuck your mouth? So desperate for my come, aren't you?"

Your eyes are apologetic but also taunting. Harry smirks, slowly pulling his cock from you. You both watch him escape, slick with your saliva, and the drool connects from his tip to your mouth. His jaw falls agape at the sight.

"Okay, you ready for me?" He holds himself straight. You nod and open your mouth. "Just stay there and look pretty for me." You giggle and nod again.

Harry slips into your mouth. The wet noises and gurgling you let out fills the room. You try to relax your mouth, focusing on breathing before he starts his bullet pace.

Harry pulls back again, but not all the way. He pauses for a second that you flick your eyes up to him. The expression on his face is a dangerous smirk that widens to a devilish smile.

You don't have time to process what's happening as Harry suddenly snaps his hips forward—beginning a speedy pace. You gasp a moan, holding his thighs, tightly.

"Good fucking girl. Always—god—always taking me so well," Harry praises as he watches himself pump into your mouth. Your eyes suddenly swell with tears. You fight the gag that boils up every time he hits the back of your throat. But that doesn't last long as you choke on a deeper thrust.

Harry drags out a raspy moan, twitching inside of you. This isn't the first time you've taken him like this, but it always feels as if. You're always caught off guard by his size as it stretches your mouth sore. Him simply sliding slowly down your throat has you choking, so he usually needs to prepare you for his throat-fucking pace.

You whimper from the man hovering over you. His eyes are lidded and drunk-like as he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. He traces his focus on your facial features with a lazy smile. He moans incoherent words under his breath, unable to form a sentence.

Harry's hips don't slow down, snapping forward to a high tempo beat. The noises of his cock hitting your throat so recklessly is his favorite sound. Partnered with your muffle whine for more.

"Fuck, Y/N. You don't even know you good you feel around me," Harry lets the words wander out his mouth without thought. "Taking me like no one else can. Claiming my cock, aren't you?" The question is rhetorical because with the grip he has on your hair, you aren't able to properly move your head to nod.

You feel Harry twitch again inside your mouth. And the way he chokes out a gasp, you can tell he's close. Drool dribbles down your chin, but the thick white coat of it reveals that it's accompanied by Harry's come.

"Milking me dry, baby. Can't save any for your cunt, huh? Gotta be greedy and take it all. God, I got such a fucking greedy girl." Harry tilts his head to the side, giving you a degrading look that you moan around his cock. He smiles slowly at your response. "Yeah, you won't even deny it. Fuck. M'gonna come and give you what you want. Think you deserve it?"

With his pace making it hard for you to keep up, you answer by squeezing at his clenching thighs as they assist his thrusts.

Harry suddenly yanks you out of his mouth. You immediately gasp for air—the sting in the back of your throat feels sore and raw. Harry covers his cock with his hand, pumping it just has fast as his previous pace.

You whine at the sight, subconsciously letting your mouth open. You're desperate for his taste on your tongue. It sticks out, signaling his aim to be in your mouth.

"You better fucking swallow it all, Y/N. If you're my good girl then you'll take all of me, right?" Harry leans down to kiss the tip of your nose. You nod and wiggle your tongue to taunt him. He smirks and quickens his pace on his cock.

Harry is suddenly groaning a noise from the back of his throat—it's gravelly and monotone. He knocks his head back for a second as his legs lock up. You shift your mouth slightly to line yourself with his cock, ready for him.

Ropes of come shoot out Harry's tip, mainly aiming in your mouth, while some lands on your chin and cheeks. Your tongue swipes all of it back in your mouth, though. Harry is able to loll his head down to watch weakly as you collect every drop of him.

"You're perfect, baby. So fucking good to me," He wavers, before pressing a hard kiss to your lips. You moan within it, grabbing at his neck to keep him close. Harry chuckles from your desperation. "I got you, baby."

You're lifted from the ground and in Harry's arms. Your dress rides up higher as your legs wrap around him.

"Gonna let me take care of you now? I can have you however I want?" Harry whispers against your lips. You giggle with a nod.

"However you want."

You are laid out on your bed, placed there by Harry. He stands at the edge, examining every inch of your body in silence. You wait cautiously, slightly squirming from his intense stare.

Your small dress was peeled off you, only the lace pieces of your undergarment hugging you. Harry, on the other hand, is completely naked. As soon as he got you undressed, his limp cock instantly grew again.

Harry finally reaches for you, circling your legs to hold the underside of your knees. The hot touch of his hands forces you to gasp, but you quickly roll your lips inwards to shush yourself. Harry smirks, loving how a simple touch to your skin triggers you.

"For hours—hours—I had to hold back from dropping in front of you and eating that fucking cunt in front of everyone." You whine from his words. "I wanted to kiss all up your body, bite your skin to make marks for everyone to see," Harry speaks softly, leaning down to meet your knee. His plush lips press light kisses that lead to your thighs. He drops to the ground and lets the underside of your knees rest on his shoulders.

His head continuously turns to give equal attention to each thigh. You shiver from the sensitivity, the more he moves to the inside. His eyes flick up to you as his tongue sticks out and swirls a pattern. You watch in a trance. His eyes are soft and filled with adoration for you.

You smile gently and reach for his hair to twirl your finger around. Harry finds himself sucking on your thighs. "I remember watching Andrew between your legs, just like this," Harry speaks against your skin. His teeth swiftly bite down, causing you to gasp. "He was kissing your soft thighs, getting a whiff of your dripping cunt."

You suddenly frown, sitting up on your elbows to get a better look at Harry. "What?" You say.

"Mhm, he kissed down your thigh like this—" He presses harder kisses to your thighs, moving his head closer to your center. "Your head threw back as his lips pressed to your covered cunt. He said you smelled so good, and you moaned just from that."

Your eyes look sad and confused when Harry glances up at you. "No," You whisper. "I was acting."

"And he hooked a finger around your panties—red because he told you it was his favorite color," Harry continues. The ones you're wearing are white—Harry's favorite set. And they can't hide the obvious wet spot. "You were being a good girl and lifted your ass to help him slide them off. Like you were so desperate to have him on you with no barrier." Harry cocks a brow up when you don't move.

Your expression is hurt as you stare at your boyfriend. "Why are you saying that?" Harry smiles and rests his cheek on the inside of your thigh.

"I'm going to do exactly what he did to you. But I want you screaming louder. I want you whimpering and whining because you can't take it anymore but you still greedily want more. I want you squirming from the pleasure, and trying to shut your legs closed. I don't want the memory of you wanting him, I only want to see you want me."

You pause dumbfounded. Harry acts as if he didn't just say that and juts his teeth out, reaching for your panties. He grips the lace right over your clit. Your eyes are still widened as you lift your hips to assist him. His dimples give away his smirk.

Harry holds your legs up while he peels your panties away. His height stretches when he rises up straight. He spits your panties off to the side, before leaning down to rest his hands next to your breasts. Your legs are bent with your feet plant weakly on the bed. With your cunt on display and Harry's eyes staring unabashedly at it, your legs wobble from the intensity surrounding the room.

"So, you remember what happened next?" Harry speaks up, hovering over your face. You do.

"Yes," you answer quietly. Harry smirks, closing the distance between your faces so his breath is grazing your skin.

"Tell me then, babygirl," He says.

You shake your head, sadly, "But I don't want to be them. I want to be us." Harry's eyes soften for a moment. He sees the way your eyes turn glossy. He can't help but capture your lips. You gladly accept the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Move back," Harry speaks before grabbing your lips again. You push up the bed, and he crawls over you. When you feel the pillows, you stop—your legs now able to stretch out straight.

Harry starts to lower himself, letting his weight top you. He stares down at your face cautiously. Your throat forces out a whine from the warm, heavy body of your boyfriend weighing on you. This is one of your favorite positions because you love to feel Harry press down on you. It makes you feel safe as you're surrounded by only him.

"I don't want to be Anna and Maddy either, baby," Harry starts to speak. "I want to be just us too."

"So, why are you—"

"He needs to know that it's not Anna and Maddy. It's only us. It'll always be us," Harry interrupts you with a pained look. You hold Harry's jaw, finding his eyes filled with unwanted thoughts.

You press a kiss to his nose. "Who? Who needs to know?" You ask. Harry only stares at you, and that's all you need to understand. A sinister smirk peeks on your lips. "Oh. I see."

Harry replicates your face, glad you're on the same page. "Now, baby, do you remember what happened next?"

You bite your lip, pretending to look deep in thought. Harry chuckles, quickly nibbling on your neck, before looking at you again.

"I think he lifted my legs to my chest," You say. Harry nods and moves from on top of you. He sits on his knees—not missing the opportunity to quickly flick at your nipple. You look up at his glistening chest, scattered with your favorite tattoos. His chest heaves as he picks up your legs and pushes at them.

"He made you hold them, huh?" Harry asks when your hands find the back of your thighs to press to your breasts. You nod at his question, and tilt your head at his disapproved tut. "I'd never make my baby do the work. All she has to do is lay there and take it."

Your hands are smacked away with a surprised gasp. Harry grabs your shins, keeping your bent legs against your chest. From the force, your ass slightly lifts off the bed, and now your cunt is in the perfect spot for him. He smiles down at it, impulsively licking his lips.

"I remember you trying to keep quiet," Harry speaks while lowering himself to a comfortable position. He grazes his lips over the skin beside your cunt. "But with me, Y/N, I want to hear everything."

You nod rapidly with a whine from his tone. It's demanding but pleading, as if he needs to hear you.

Harry rims your cunt with his warm tongue. He licks at the sticky juices that also ended up in your panties. Your neck strains as you try to watch, but you already feel your limbs growing weak.

In a quick move, Harry plunges his tongue inside your cunt, mimicking the curl of his finger to reach a specific spot. You let out a surprised scream, gasping and grasping at the sheets. Harry smiles against you, getting exactly what he needs.

He keeps you open and at his mercy as he attacks your cunt with his tongue. His thumb assists by flicking and circling your clit. He switches between being gentle to play with your sensitivity to suddenly pinching your clit and yanking a pained but pleasurable moan out of you.

His tongue swirls the letters of your name—a familiar motion. You let out a scattered hum, but the dark look Harry flicks up at you changes your previous reaction. "Fuck Harry!" You yelp, before digging your teeth into your lip. "Yes! Please." Harry's cock twitches under him from the growl lingering in your voice.

Cold rings start to knead your ass, causing you to flinch. Your body is on fire that his hands on you sound a sizzle. "Always taste so good, baby. Never can get enough of you." Harry's lips graze your cunt as he speaks before plunging his tongue back in you like a starved man.

Your head is digging back into the pillow—back arched at the perfect angle for Harry. "More! Please, more, Harry," You beg, wanting him deeper and faster while also pushing his head away because it's too much.

Harry will always be proud to admit the power you have over him. You have him wrapped around your little finger. Just from your plead, his cock is already thick and throbbing. He runts against the sheets for slight relief.

Your voice cracks as you release another extended moan. It rings around the room. Harry gets sloppy from the sound. He moves to suck on your clit, knowing how to push you over the edge. His fingers replace his tongue and pump in your cunt. He searches for a certain spot before curling them, and you gasp loudly from it.

"Let him know, Y/N," Harry dares you, pressing wet kisses around your clit. You take him up on that dare and yelp out his name, Harry's groan against your clit vibrates through your whole body.

"I'm gonna come, Harry. Fuck!" You cry, holding the back of his head. With Harry's fingers distracted by your cunt and playing with your ass, nothing keeps your legs open, so they instantly close around his head. Harry thinks to push them apart, but your scent is trapped in the inclosed space.

It's not so bad in there.

Harry quickens his flicking tongue on your clit and plunges another thick finger in your cunt. Your feet find the bed, and you're lifting off the bed, chasing Harry's mouth.

He laughs and kisses your clit. "I got you, baby." You feel your release creeping on you. And Harry knows it too because he focuses on your clit, nibbling on the sensitive nub.

"Harry!" You get out before you're coming. The noises you scream are pornographic, worst than the ones you practiced with your intimacy coordinator for the movie. Harry drags his warm tongue along your clit to guide you through it.

You're panting and mumbling curses under your breath. Harry finds your legs to push back down on the bed. He follows the trail of come on the inside of your thigh to lick up.

You flinch at his delicate touch. Your throat is completely dry as you breathe out harshly.

Harry is suddenly hovering over you with a smug smirk. You don't have the energy to comment on it as you catch your breath.

"Hi, baby," He chuckles, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth. You hum tiredly. "I'm gonna take your bra off, okay?" You nod slowly and arch your back to help him.

Harry slips the undergarment off of you and tosses it away. You're now completely naked and shining under the dim light in the room. Harry smiles down at you proudly, crawling down your body.

He finds a nipple to latch onto and sucks softly. You hold the back of his head, tangling your hand in his curls. He kneads your other breasts, before switching to give it a wet suck.

When Harry looks up as sees you coming back to him, he smiles softly. You tug on his hair, asking for his lips, which he gladly gives you.

For a while, you're stuck in a passionate, hot and sloppy, make-out session, bodies warm against each other. Harry's cock ruts against your cunt, causing you both to jump and gasp.

"I don't think he's heard us enough," You suddenly whisper in the air. Harry looks down at you, and a wide smirk forms on his lips.

"Yeah? You don't think so?"

You shake your head shyly. "I think we should keep going."

"Me too, baby," Harry chuckles, sitting up on his knees. "Now, if I'm remembering correctly, I think Maddy took Anna like this—" Harry is gentle with flipping you around til you're on your stomach. You turn your head so your cheek is in the pillow. "What a fucking sight." Harry moans softly and he doesn't waste another second kneading your ass.

He leans down to kiss both cheeks, sucking for a short second. To your surprise, you feel your cheeks being spread apart and Harry's hot tongue pressing against your hole. You try to clench closed, but his strength overpowers yours, so you just have to take it.

"Harry," You gasp. Harry chuckles against your cheeks, before stopping and rising. Your knees push into the bed for leverage. You lift up on your hands and arch your back—actually assisting him. Harry holds his cock with one hand, continuing to knead your ass with the other.

"Arch a little more, baby," Harry says softly, and you do as told. Your cunt lips spread, causing your boyfriend to groan and slip a finger inside you.

You don't expect it, so you squeeze around him in a flinch.

"You're so tight. Think you can take me this cock?" Harry smirks, and you look over your shoulder at him.

"Easily," You tease with a little wiggle to your ass. "It's all mine."

Harry sighs. "Yes, it is," he says more himself with a gentle smile. That's all he ever needs to hear. He pumps himself a little faster, hardening himself completely. He's thick and veiny as his tip nudges your entrance.

Harry has a tight lip smirk on his face as he thrusts inside you—faster than you expected. Your jaw drops agape as you let out a loud yelp, followed by, "Fuck, Harry!" He slaps at your ass for your language.

His fingers dig into your hips as he shifts them to match his pace. Skin smacking against each other loudly, but not reaching the level of your moans. You want to bit into your arm, thinking you're too loud, but Harry surprises you when his hand comes around to slap at your clit.

"Not loud enough," he scolds. "Guess I'm not fucking you good enough, huh?" He chuckles—it's dark that it makes you shiver. You shake your head, disagreeing with him. "No? Then why can't he hear you?"

You fall to your elbows as your arms grow limp. Harry lets go of one of your hips to grab at your hair and keep your head up. The sudden yank to your roots makes you yelp. "F-f-fu-fuck—" you slur out, "you're so—god—"

"I'm so what, babygirl?" Harry asks teasingly, planting a foot on the bed to change his thrusting angle. His cock is in heaven, stuck inside your warm, silky walls. The grumble that emits in his chest bursts to a raspy moan out his mouth.

You whine, reaching a hand back for him. Harry untangles his hand in your hair to let you grab at his arm. His thick, sweaty bicep clenches when you dig your nails into it.

"So deep," You say in a whisper, almost losing your voice. Harry's thrust gain a force that jolts you forward. The bed hits the wall continuously—creaking to the same beat as your moans. "My stomach—" you cry.

Harry curses under his breath, his cock twitching. "Fuck, baby. You feel me deep in your stomach?" You nod against the pillow. Tears rim in your eyes as he bullets into your cunt. The pain is pleasure.

Harry's palm pushes into your lower abdomen, and he feels his cock against his hand. He gasps, fingers curling into you. "Oh, FUCK!"

Your knees give out, dropping both of you on the bed. Harry's heavy weight and his cock still stuck in your stomach, causes you to whine.

"I'm so close," You cry out a whisper. "Don't stop, please, Harry." Your clit, now against the mattress, throbs from being stimulated. You follow Harry's movements and hump into the bed, playing with yourself. He realizes what you're doing and groans from it.

"Fucking into the bed, babygirl?" You nod slowly.

"It feels so good. You feel so—oh my god."

Harry continues to push his cock in you, slower than before because he's starting to feel weak himself.

With him close, his lips find your ear to kiss. "I'm gonna come so fucking hard in you, baby. Can't get enough of this cunt. It's so good—" Harry hums, before groaning at you squeezing around him.

His hands find the back of yours and curls his fingers around you, pushing both of your hands under the pillows. Your head is facing the side, crying under him.

"I want it so bad. Please, please, please—" You continue to beg for him, and Harry could come just from that. But he always makes sure you get there first. He loves when you clench so hard around him and warm his cock with your come.

Harry presses long kisses to your ear, allowing you to listen to his sweet groans. His hips push into your ass, short but bullet thrusts, knowing your body and how this gets you off faster.

He lets go of your hands to travel his under your body and to your breasts. They're pushed into the bed, so he digs for them. His big hands grope both, before flicking at your nipples.

"I love you so much, Y/N," Harry says to you. "Please give it to me. Come just for me, baby. Squeeze this fucking cunt around me. Yes! Just like that—" You're clenching so hard, feeling your release exploding inside you.

Harry continues a slow thrust while you're coming. He moves his lips to the corner of your mouth as you scream out his name. His weight pushing you into the bed squeezes the sounds out of you.

You're gasping and crying when you come down. "I can't—too much," You whisper from the sensitivity. You try to escape his cock as it knocks against your sweet spot.

"I know, babygirl. I know. Just take it, okay? Be good for me," Harry kisses every spot on your face. "Already being such a good girl. Just a little more. I know it's so much, huh?" You nod, whimpering again. "But you're doing so fucking good. I'm gonna give you all of my come, okay? I'm almost there."

You still whine and try to squeeze his cock out of you. Harry plays with your nipples to distract you.

"Pretty breasts, just fit so perfectly in my hands." He gasps at your walls tightening around his cock. "And this cunt. Just so fucking perfect. Don't wanna be in any other cunt but this one. This cunt is only for this cock. Right, baby?"

You sniffle and answer verbally. "Yes, just for you, H. I—please."

"Then let him know that. Ask for my come. Tell him you only want this cock fucking you like this." Harry gets on his knees but keeps his chest against your back to stay close. "Go on, beg for this come."

Your hands reach behind you to Harry's ass as they clench when he thrusts in you. You try to clear your throat as it's hoarse. "H, please come in me. I need your come so bad!" You yell over the bed banging against the wall. "Fuck! I love your cock, baby. Just this one. Please, fill me up. I want it!"

Harry groans with his lips against your cheek. With one final thrust, Harry is spurting thick ropes inside of you. You're clenching as tight as you can to milk him.

He's a moaning mess against you. He's breathing heavily, and you softly squeeze his ass to help him through his high.

"Make sure you take it all, baby," Harry says as he pushes his cock as deep as he can. "Mmm, never wanna leave. Gonna live in your cunt forever." You giggle, as he chuckles from the sound of you, before sighing.

Harry lays on top of you for a little while longer, whispering sweet nothings and attacking you with kisses, before he captures your lips.

You're sensitive and sore everywhere. Harry softly kneads your body to comfort you through it. He waits until your breathing goes back to normal to relax. Another kiss to your lips as a thank you for allowing him to take care of some much needed release.

"So," you start as Harry sits up on his knees and flips you on your back. He sets back on you, but holds some of his weight by leaning on his elbows. "Are you done being so possessive?" You cock up a playful brow.

Harry rolls his eyes. "Never." Then a wicked smile finds his lips. "Actually, I don't think I'm done."

"What?" You basically gasp when Harry moves down your body. Your legs clench, but Harry is quicker to grab them. "Har—" But you can't finish as you're moaning and arching off the bed once again.

Two more quick orgasms are pulsing out of your cunt as Harry tongues at your cunt and flicks at your sensitive clit. You have to physically push his face away and clench your legs together to stop him.

Your voice is completely gone by the time Harry helps you to the bathroom and gets you ready for bed. When you're both under the covers, Harry enters a sort of sub space, wanting to be held and comforted.

You both lay facing each other—Harry's head is against your breasts that he suckles on, looking up at you with sweet, doe eyes. Your fingers tangle in his hair, which he hums appreciatively at.

"Why were you so jealous today?" You ask him. He only shrugs, pushing further into your breasts, if that was even possible.

"I'm sorry," he answers instead.

"Don't be," You find his jaw to tilt his head up at you. You smile softly, before kissing each of his eyes. "I know it's not easy to share me. Or watch me act in a movie like that. But I would assume it's easy to remember that, at the end of the day, I'll always come back to you."

Harry suddenly feels ashamed that he even thought about you wanting Andrew over him.

"Hey," You get his attention. He starts to apologize, but you shut him up with a kiss. "I want you, Harry Styles. Yesterday, today, tomorrow, and every day after that."

The smile that forms on his face assures you that he understands. "And I want you, Y/N L/N. Yesterday, today, tomorrow, and every day after that."

You suddenly frown. "Uh, you fucking better or I'll be beating some bitch's ass for making you think otherwise."

Harry laughs loudly. His nose shrivels from how hard he does. "And I thought my jealously was bad."

"I deal with woman wanting you every single day, just because you exist. My jealousy is ten times worse than yours." Harry sighs, looking at you longly.

"I guess I should be comforting you every day."

You shake your head. "You do without even noticing. I know you love me."

"More than you will ever know, baby."

You two share a long, silent stare, filled with love that can't translate into words. So, instead, it turns into a kiss that sends you both to sleep.

You're still knocked out when Harry wakes up with a glow to him. He's all smile as he stretches and yawns. He looks over at you, now the little spoon—somehow turning into that position when you both slept.

Harry slips away from you, not without kissing up your neck and jaw. You hum in your sleep with a lazy smile. Harry chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth, before getting out of bed.

He quickly throws on appropriate lounge clothes to leave the room with. He heads downstairs to the breakfast buffet, hoping to find something you'll enjoy. Sometimes you are picky when it comes to breakfast.

When arriving, he sees minimal people there. He walks inside and grabs two plates.

He hums in thought, deciding what to put on your plate. While doing so, he notices another person also scooping up food from the trays.

Andrew Garfield.

But after your conversation last night, Harry doesn't feel that boiling pit of anger in his stomach when he looks at him. He simply shrugs him off and starts making your plate.

Andrew feels another presence and looks over at Harry. The men meet eyes—but the usual tension isn't there.

Andrew suddenly frowns, whipping his head away and continuing to fixate his plate.

"You heard?" Harry speaks up.

Andrew frowns and nods once. “Yeah, I heard.”

Harry smirks, turning away to work on your breakfast. “Good," he says more to himself.

well.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles x yn #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles oneshot #harry styles smut

656 notes · View notes