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the-eclectic-wonderer · 4 months

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As promised - here's my final thoughts on The Golden Girls, my way of honouring this show that has kept me such good company in the past few months. Before I begin, I'd like to thank all the people who have liked/reblogged my rants about this series: I've appreciated each and every one of you, and while we might be few, it's been nice knowing I wasn't alone shouting into the void. I hope you had as much fun as I did.

Be advised: this is long and rather messy, but if you're interested, here you go - under the cut!

Let me preface by saying that I knew basically next to nothing about TGG before I started watching, last September. I had seen the couple of very famous posts about it circling around tumblr, which gave me the idea that it was an old but relatively progressive and very good show, and I knew that Betty White, beloved American actress, starred in it - so, in general, I had a favourable disposition, but being both non-American and born in the late 90s I had literally no idea what I might be getting into.

To be honest, I knew I wanted to watch it eventually, but I would have waited even more if not for a certain occurrence - that is, I read the Good Omens book. It is mentioned a couple times in there that Crowley considers TGG one of his favourite sitcoms (there's even a scene in which hell communicates with him via Rose). I was at the time (and still am...) completely obsessed with GO S2, and in need of something to distract myself: I took the bait, expecting it to be a good way to spend some time.

I did not expect to like it this much.

Some stuff you probably already know - it's really very progressive, especially for its time, and it's certainly got an original premise: how many shows do you know in which the main characters are all middle-aged and old women? And, of course, you probably know that it's a funny comedy show. Here's the thing, if you've never watched it: it is way, way funnier than you think. Yes, funnier than that. My God, is this show hilarious. I am, in general, an emotive person when watching stuff, but I've never watched a show that had me laughing so much, so loudly and so consistently during its whole airtime (B99 got close, but nowhere on this level). The writing is (almost always) great, the jokes and gags are delightful, the characters all have amazing chemistry, and the actresses are EXCEPTIONAL. Rue McClanahan, Bea Arthur, Betty White and Estelle Getty deserved all the praise and awards they got for this series, and even more. It's almost miraculous how so much talent - in the cast and crew alike - managed to end up in the right place at the right time like this.

Let's delve into a little more detail, shall we? So - the writing. As I mentioned, the premise is already original in and of itself - a show about four ageing ladies living as roommates in Miami would be groundbreaking even now, let alone in 1985. Not only that: it's a show in which four ageing ladies live as roommates with very full, enjoyable lives, fulfilling hobbies and platonic relationships, romances and sexual relations; it's a show in which four ageing ladies deal with life, death, old age, health problems (especially "feminine" ones: that episode about menopause was scandalous!), family, love, sexuality and a plethora of other subjects, while at the same time embarking on shenanigans and incredible adventures.

I always say that, while the opposite is not always true, great comedy actors are also great dramatic actors, and this is true for the writing as well: the same actresses and writers that make you laugh until you wheeze one second will have you a sobbing mess in the next one. The girls face together a lot of heavy subjects and events (Blanche's relationship with her estranged children, Dorothy's first marriage and divorce, Phil's death, Rose's childhood in the orphanage and the identity of her parents, and so, so much more), which creates the space for some truly moving performances by all actresses. Hell, there's a scene in S7 that lasts less than a couple minutes, in which Rose talks to a dog, that still makes me tearful when I think about it.

Not only that: this show delves into a lot of themes that are still controversial today, and while a few jokes here and there might be outdated by today's standards (although there's much, much less of these than I expected), you can always tell they treated these issues with love, care, and genuine respect for all the people involved. The episode dealing with AIDS has already reached tumblr fame, but just off the top of my head I remember episodes about the life of immigrants, queer identities (both in terms of sexuality and gender identity), artificial insemination, racism, poverty, homelessness, ageism & the treatment of people in nursing homes, assisted suicide (yes, you read that right). Compare this with sitcoms aired years later (I'm looking at you, F.R.I.E.N.D.S. and The Big Bang Theory), and then tell me this isn't a Very Special show.

Above all this, though, TGG is a show about four ageing women who become a family - who sometimes fight, sometimes keep secrets from each other, sometimes get involved in absurd circumstances, often bicker, but always, always, always have each other's backs and take care of each other. That's why, while the series finale was touching (once all the circumstances are taken into account: I wouldn't have forgiven such a hurried romance for Dorothy if not for the very strict constraints the writers had to work within), the actual, real finale to me was the next-to-last episode, Home Again, Rose: Part 1&2. Let me explain why.

There's an episode in S4, E22: Sophia's Choice, which deals with the condition of people in nursing homes, and how so many slip through the cracks of the system and live out their old age in horrible situations, alone and without any support. The three younger girls are understandably shaken by this thought: old age is growing closer for all of them - what if they end up slipping through the cracks too? What if they have to live out their days in solitude and abusive conditions? In the end, Rose (met with enthusiasm by her roommates) finds this solution:

I know, girls: let's make a pact that we'll always take care of each other. That we'll never desert each other, no matter what.

and in Home Again, Rose, Dorothy restates this same promise to Rose's daughter, Kirsten:

Honey, we made a pact a few years ago that if anything happened to any one of us, the other three would take care of her. Sort of an extra insurance policy.

She says this after an entire episode where the theme is that of family by blood vs chosen family: an episode in which the girls are barred from seeing Rose, who has to undergo an operation that might leave her dead or unable to take care of herself alone, because they're not her relatives; an episode in which they spend hours upon hours at the hospital anyway, waiting and hoping, and they are ready - they actually suggest the idea - to put themselves in horrible debt to cover Rose's medical expenses, because while they might not be related, they are family. It's just like Blanche states at the end of the very first episode, S1E1 The Engagement:

I was humming. And humming means I'm feeling good. And then I realized, I was feeling good because of you! You made the difference. You're my family, and you make me happy to be alive.

Do you see? They set the scene for how these characters interact in the very first episode, and then spend 7 seasons showing how true it is, up until the very last second. Sure - the girls argue, they bicker, they hurt each other at times, but you never doubt that they love each other deeply (except in the very, very rare occasions when the writing wasn't up to par - and even then, the doubt is very fleeting and quickly resolved). All of them have both blood relatives and romantic relationships (although not all of those are happy), and yet these other bonds are never portrayed as more important or more significant than what they share with each other. This is the very heart of the show, and it's a heart that beats thunderous and warm throughout all seven seasons of it - it's what makes TGG such a beloved, well-remembered sitcom.

(Since this is tumblr, aka the shipping old people site, and since you've all read my comments in the past few months, let me also spend a couple words on the queer romance reading of Blanche/Dorothy/Rose. For my own enjoyment, and because I needed some old woman yuri in my life, I decided in S1E1 that these three were in an open polycule and watched accordingly; can you blame me? They're always touching, they send each other some quite smitten Looks, they have great romantic chemistry, they're committed to each other, and quite a number of scenes are actually explicitly suggestive in that sense, although it's usually as part of a bigger comedic setup. I like to think that maybe, in a different and kinder world, this series would have ended with the three of them staying together as partners - if only for the fact that such a romance would have had incredible comedic potential. In any case, the point stands: these women love each other, whether there's some romance in there or it's all platonic, and that's the beating core of the show.)

Of course, even the best plots won't work if the characters involved fall flat; luckily, all the characters in TGG are spectacular. They're all very distinct, identifiable personalities without ever becoming stereotypes or growing stale; they have incredible chemistry in a comedic setting, but are so well-rounded that they work perfectly in a more somber setting too.

I've already commented in the past on how great a decision it was to keep Sophia a main character of the show, instead of just a recurring one: her special brand of caustic sarcasm is a crucial part of the dynamic between the main girls, and her one-liners are always iconic. Her bond with Dorothy is so sweet and realistic, and the way she gradually becomes Blanche's and Rose's mom too was delightful to watch. Dorothy herself, of course, is my very first love: the character that left the best impression on me in E1, and the one I resonate with the most. Her stares are iconic, her comebacks are legendary, and her regal poise and steadfast delivery make for a uniquely enjoyable kind of humour that I don't think I'll ever find anywhere else. And this is only her comedic side: her sweet and dramatic moments are equally memorable, and make her a favourite in no time. Rose is a testament to both the genius of the writers and Betty White's one-of-a-kind talent: her gimmicks and traits would have left me bored after a while in any other show, but in this one they just make her endearing. Giving her a heart of gold (on the good side) and an incredibly competitive streak (on the bad side) were clever choices, and they combined with her naivety and absurd anecdotes to make a character that is always, always funny, and always, always lovable. And finally, Blanche - oh, Blanche! I didn't expect to like her this much. I'm guessing this is equal parts due to the amazing character writing and to Rue McClanahan's exceptional ability - it might be because she's wonderfully charming in her usual, confident self, and even more compelling in her rare moments of vulnerability. What I can tell you with certainty is this: at some (early) point while watching I realized that I couldn't get enough of her character, and the feeling never went away, up until the very end.

You really can't help but love them all! The way they interact with each other, they grow with and thanks to each other, they support each other - it all makes for such compelling characters and dynamics that it's impossible not to enjoy. Betty White stated once, during an interview, that these four ladies are nice to visit for a half-hour every week, to see what they're doing, and I agree with the sentiment (although much more than 30 minutes a week would be wonderful!): they feel like real people, with real lives, and you just want to know what they're up to this time and how they're going to power and laugh through it. To misquote what Neil Gaiman once said about Aziraphale and Crowley in Good Omens: you could lock these four in a dark basement for a half hour and you'd have an entertaining show.

There's so much more I'd like to talk about (it's real hyperfixation hour, boys!) - from the amazing work of the costumes department to more character analysis to specific plotlines and themes, I could stay here rambling on for literal hours. However, this post is already long enough - I'll just keep this steam to fuel my creative endeavors.

Just briefly - so, what's next? Technically speaking, there's still The Golden Palace to watch, but I haven't made up my mind about it yet. According to the internet, Bea Arthur left TGG in part because she felt the writing was declining in quality, and I can see why she thought so; although the general level of the show always remained high, I also had my issues with some episodes in S7, and from the few reviews I've read about it it's a decline that's felt in Golden Palace as well. There's also the elephant in the room of Bea Arthur's departure: I think it was once again Betty White who said that Golden Palace felt like a table with a missing leg, without Dorothy there, although I'm sure Don Cheadle and the other actors did their best to compensate for her absence. This being said, I do love Sophia, Blanche and Rose, so I might decide to watch it eventually - although I'll probably opt for something else for a while, now.

If you've gotten this far, thank you so much. Watching this show and sharing my love for it with you all has been a delightful experience, and I'm truly grateful for it. I'll keep interacting with the fandom, of course (I have so many ideas for stories and vignettes!) - and I'll be sure to rewatch an episode here and there anytime I need to wrap myself in laughter and warmth. To you all, to Sophia, to Dorothy, to Rose, to Blanche: Thank you for being a friend!

#im so emotional you all have no idea #i feel like this show has planted some fruitful seeds in my brain that will help me so much as i age #ive never really felt that 30 is the end of life #but tgg has certainly given me a newfound appreciation and hope for what comes after #ive noticed it so much in the past few months. so many of my friends are worried about 30 approaching and stuff #while im honestly so excited to keep living my life and doing stuff and learning new things and and and #and i think it's in a lot of ways thanks to this show #thank you for being a friend indeed #i could go on and on about what i feel i've learned but once again #this is already a divina commedia as we say in italian #so farewell for now #the golden girls

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buck2eddie · 1 year

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fic moodboard inspired by and my heart beats by @henswilsons

It’s Chimney, who brings it up first. “At this point I don’t think I know how to be anything except a dad.”

Or, Christopher grows up. Eddie plants a garden.

#it's been a while since i made one of these so im feeling rusty but this was fun to search for!!!!#tried to fit in moments from the fic that will pass the vibe hopefully i managed to do so #you got the therapy sessions with frank; the tomatoes of course; fancy restaurant and drinks with alex; buck helping with the plants;#some hand holding; and the plants condoms 🫶 i did not type that into the search engine but it was close akshgdkdn #ok hi mia again it's me i hope you like this and thank you for this fic it's been on my mind since i've read it 🫶🫶🫶#not to like. unload childhood memories in the tags but my grandma used to raise tomatoes and she will always wait for me to be the one to-#pick them off. we would come once a week to my grandparents and she always waited for Saturdays when we arrived #so yeah this unlocked fond memories in my brain with eddie and his tomatoes so thank u 🫶#ok gonna post this and rum everyone go read this fic!#buddie #fic moodboard #m*mbs #OH ALSO i had to include the plant store that is open at night cause that part made me laugh so hard god eddie you silly man 😭💀

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trollbreak · 6 months

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Worst part abt my energy vanishing: brain determined to convince me that I’m annoying and give me psychic damage every time I take breath to wanna ask if I can clink my characters with someone else’s characters abt it

#brain: ok but what if they don’t WANNA be on abt that character rn. what if that’s not the vibe #logical brain: shut up that’s a decision for them to make #rude dumb brain: ok but what if they’re TIRED-#it’s like oh my god I just wanna ask if more folks can go on the nature walks where folks get soso excited abt things and can teach their #friends abt it #puppet and eiteth r rambling abt decomposition and podsol goes :0!!! about a bug they’ve not seen in ages and dex is helping identify plants #so podsol doesn’t end up dealing with poison ivy (again) and

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autoneurotic · 2 years

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being a human is so silly. your brain will get soooo so hellbent on melting down and sometimes u just have to trick it! no time to think endlessly about these things if i’m staring out the window counting birds and trying to memorize cloud shapes !

#watched a video my mama sent me ab physical tricks for phaycological ailments #stress: two inhales one long exhale rinse repeat #anxiety: take a WALK. burns the energy and chills out your amygdala #angry so angry you can’t think: look outside and let your gaze fuzz out #resets your brain in a way and helps u think clearly again #like putting up a screensaver haha #anyway #everyone take care of yourselves. go take a walk sit in the sun look at the green plants and blue blue sky #sketch clouds read a book clean your place up whatEVER #today is a wonderful day and i’m gonna get shit DONE

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hartigays · 2 years

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me starting to froth at the mouth for rafebarry again after reading MY OWN FUCKIN FICS has got to be the most on brand thing for me i stg

#those boys………they’re planting their roots again #god now i have steddie AND rafebarry rotting my brain today #help #sarah speaks

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flamboyant-king · 2 years

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Does harvey have any bad flashbacks?

Oh, of course, yeah. One of his triggers is fire/smoke. The smell and the lack of visibility. Skewing what is real and what is a delusion just based on what’s there when the smoke clears out. He tries to be aware of when he knows one is coming up, but doesn't know when it actually starts.

In the year or so of recovering from his burn wounds, he would have them often that he just had to lock himself up in his home, because he knows he’s safe there and everyone else is safe out there. He would go out to get groceries and if he needs food, he would order takeout since he won’t use the oven.

The thing with Cammy is the dichotomy between his flashbacks and Cammy, so Cammy’s existence keeps him grounded or pulls him out of it. “Why do I smell flowers on the battlefield?” or “It’s dark, so why do I see pink?”

#There’s time between the scar on his face and the burns incidents. He went to seek help with the armed forces provided counselors.#He had flashbacks in between the two and his barrack mates would ‘gently’#Snap him out of it. He depended on them for that but also they kept him social. So if theyre out in public they kept him ‘with them’#After the second incident he just lost the energy to ‘keep up’ every flashback just sucked the life outta him #The flashbacks panic attacks hallucinations and what not just broke him #but he still got up everyday….slowly….there’s still something driving him #Theres people he still needs to see again but he cant remember who #Months and months of some ‘will’ in him that gets him up in the morning go by #And then cammy shows up! And harvey’s just like ‘huwuh….this is new. My brain’s getting creative…’#All the oxygen from the plants helps his brain get back together. Clear out the blockage to his old self or at least pieces #Ya know…the new normal ya see. But im just saying words. Keep this here i might need it later hfhsj

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ln444 · 6 months

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★ how does f1 drivers react when you call them pretty. . .

norris, piastri, leclerc, sainz, hamilton, russell, verstappen

cw: fluff, slight suggestive (verstappen), f!reader.

now playing: pretty boy by the neighborhood

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✹ lando norris

lando would be the type to act annoyed but absolutely loves it. he just won't admit it but you know it.

"hey, pretty boy", you whisper against his lips, leaving a sweet peck on it just to be met with a pouty and flustered lando. "i told you to stop calling me that!" he whines, but deep down he hopes that you'll never stop. you look at him with a playful smile, softly caressing his hair. "okay, i'll stop if it makes you uncomfortable", you wait impatiently for his reaction and as you excepted, lando start to panic. "i mean... you can but you know... just not in front of other people", he laughs nervously, hoping that his excuse is good and his cheeks start heating up. you can't help but laugh softly, pulling him close by the neck and lando pouts again, "stop making fun of me!", your smile softens and you plant another kiss on his lips, "sorry, you're just too cute, my pretty boy". lando's cheeks are now completely red and he tries to hide it by pulling you in a long and warm kiss, feeling the butterflies going crazy in his stomach.

✹ oscar piastri

oh my god, please don't do this to him. as soon as he hears the word, his brain starts malfunctioning.

"you did so good!", oscar pulls you for a warm hug, holding you as tight as he can. he loves seeing you after races and hearing how proud you are of him no matter what he do. you pull out, staring at him like his eyes holds stars and oscar can't help but feel overwhelmed by all the adoration he sees in your eyes. you put your hand on his cheek, stroking it softly. "i'm so proud of you, my pretty boy" and even though you mean it, a hint of teasing can be heard and oscar groans, pulling you in a new hug to hide his face in your neck "if you call me that again, i think i'm gonna die" he mumbles against your skin. you laughs, one of your hands slides in his messy curls, your fingers playing with it. you will never get over how cute your boyfriend is when you call him pretty.

✹ charles leclerc

he absolutely loves it and won't deny it, even if he gets a bit shy when you call him pretty. he can't control it, his heart gets warm and the butterflies in his stomach goes crazy.

you were getting ready for a cute date and charles was wearing a new shirt, with flowers on it. as soon as he's ready, you lock your arms around his neck and you look at him with a big smile on your face. after planting a sweet peck on his lips, one of your hands cup his cheek. "you're so pretty, baby", your voice is full of adoration and honesty and charles' smiles gets wider. "thank you, chérie", he says softly and he immediately pulls you for a gentle kiss, hoping that you didn't notice the way his cheeks has redden, but you didn't miss it.

✹ carlos sainz

he loves it, like really loves it. he finds it funny tbh. and he won't hesitate to give the word back to you.

"woah, what a pretty boy", you look at him showing you his brand new haircut. he laughs, posing in front of you a little more before joining you on the sofa, pulling you on his lap and placing a kiss on your nose. "got pretty for my pretty girl, we are such a pretty couple", you both giggles before sharing a kiss, laughing and smiling against each other's lips. but, even if he doesn't want to admit it, carlos can feel his heart beating a bit faster and a sweet feeling in his stomach when he hears you call him pretty.

✹ lewis hamilton

he would get so shy, make it seems like he doesn't like it and it annoys him but he can't hide it for long, he always ends up with a big smile on his face and a heart beating faster than it should.

"ahhh, stop it y/n", he whines as you continue to leave kisses all over his face, sitting on his lap. "but, you're so pretty!", you say, cupping his cheeks to look at him in the eyes. he groans, acting annoyed by pulling you out of his lap and you try your best to fight the smile creeping on your lips. you both know that he's just flustered and wants to hide his red cheeks. "come on, baby, let me finish my kisses", he doesn't fight you when you climb back on his lap but he crosses his arms, trying to hold onto his character and you laugh softly, going back to leaving small pecks all over his face. it doesn't take long before he finally smiles, his hands finding your waist to pull you close and kiss you back. he just can't resist you.

✹ george russell

he always tries to ignore the way it makes him feel and act unbothered but he can't fight the way his body warm and a smile instinctively forms on his lips. he just loves getting praised by you.

"baby, can you pass me the knife, please?" you ask, preparing the vegetables and george, who has been helping and watching you cook for an hour now, hand you the knife as fast as he can. you turn to face him, placing your free hand on his neck to pull him close, "thank you, pretty boy", you says softly and he places a kiss on your lips, smiling softly "you're welcome" he says, trying to sound as neutral as he can and you pout, acting disappointed, "what? you don't like when i call you that?", you know that he do. you just want to hear it. he looks at you, a playful smile forms on his lips. "i know what you're doing", he chuckles and pulls you for another kiss. you end up both laughing, george's heart feeling full.

✹ max verstappen

he gets all nervous and doesn't know how to act anymore. like, if you want to make a mess of this man, just call him pretty.

max have been acting flirty all day, enjoying teasing you and seeing you all flustered in front of other people. you tried your best to keep your cool all day, playfully punching him from time to time or just laughing it off. but when you two end up alone at the end of the day, you're finally able to get your revenge. you start making out, getting more and more touchy and needy. "take off your shirt, pretty boy", you whisper in his ear, and max almost startle. a playful smile forms on your lips and you don't even have to look at him to know that his cheeks are now red. after a good minute of no reaction from him, you finally meet his eyes, giving him a confused look. "is everything okay?", you try to hide your teasing tone but max doesn't miss it, a playful grin finally forming on his lips and he chuckles; "naughty girl".

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#f1 x reader #f1 fluff #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #george russell x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #max verstappen x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 drabble #f1 fic

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eudikot · 1 year

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I have so much creativity building up while I am force to focus on finals so when I have time again...

#How do I keep this in my mind these are all constantly circling but I can only work on one at a time #Some of these are more finished than others #Like the AMV is at least 50% if not more and I have easy access to all the clips I need now #Next PSR page is sketched but not lined or anything #If I could draw shoes I would have had the AU art finished by now #The fanfic I'd work on already has 6368 words but that was from a two day draft period #and it is not cohesive or into chapters at all but I would like to work on it again #Grabbing Reigen's outfits would be pretty easy and I'd also do Serizawa. I just love how many outfits mp100 has #Swamp Reigen is actually finished I've just been holding onto him until I felt y'all deserved him #No idea for any memes atm but I do love making them #... and that esper analysis... that one will take a hot sec because I know exactly what I want to talk about but it is very in-depth #and relates heavily to my major because my brain is so fine-turned to finding those patterns and relating them to what I know #The Minegishi comic also has an analysis on the carnivorous plants they use I just don't want to draw the detailed images yet #Okay I think that's a bit about everything that needs an explanation. Not that anyone will read this esp not before voting #But I love using tumblr to help my indecisive brain #Also yes all of these are mp100 related. Fanfic and 500 wips could relate to other things but likely won't at this moment #tumblr polls #polls

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pseudowho · 5 months

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Men With Big Noses

(help me find the Higuruma artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

You accidentally let on to Hiromi Higuruma that you find his big nose sexy-- so he shows you exactly what he can do with it.

Warnings: 18+ as always, Higuruma is nearly face-sat to death and would absolutely die a happy man.

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"Why have you poured me another glass of wine?"

"Why not? You've had a long week. I've had a long week. And I don't want to finish the bottle alone, so..." Hiromi pressed the glass into your hand, planting a deliberately sloppy kiss on your cheek as you laughed, slapping him away, "Drink up."

Feigning disgruntlement, you mumbled into your wine as you shot Hiromi a side-eye.

He loped, slim and wiry, to the windows, swirling his wine glass thoughtfully, one hand in his pocket as he stared out over the Tokyo skyline. Your relationship was new, only just into the early stages of physical intimacy, but you caught yourself looking him up and down over the rim of your wineglass.

It was his brain that had attracted you at first. Fiercely intelligent, Hiromi appeared to see straight through you, and adore you anyway. His passion certainly wasn't limited only to his career. He was dry and sharp, but conversely so mellow at points. He kept you guessing, but never about how he felt about you. You had never found a partner so unusually thrilling as him.

But you couldn't deny...there was a certain something about how he looked that made the gears deep in your belly whir, puzzled and magnetic in your attraction towards him. But you couldn't work out what that something was.

You approached him slowly, breathing in the heady fumes of your wine as you appraised him; his eyes, and the way they turned into pools of pitch black when he looked at you? No. His fine-boned hands, so articulate and clever, that you wondered what else they could be clever with? No, not that either. His body, lithe and slim but deceptively strong? You sighed, unable to puzzle it out. You were halfway through your third glass of wine now, feeling loose, warm, intimate--

"I can't work out what it is that you find attractive about me."

You jumped, your remaining wine sloshing as he turned to you, his sloped eyes sparkling with curiosity, inquisitive and dark. You gaped for a moment, your brain short-circuiting as you swore he had read your thoughts, and said the first thing that came to your head--

"Your nose." Hiromi snorted into his wineglass, hand over his eyes now as he shook with mirth. His hand lowered, fingering his big, hooked nose, and he laughed again.

"Be serious," he chastised. Your inhibition had abandoned you, emboldened by the alcohol.

"No, I...I mean it. There's something sort of...sexy about it. Men with big noses."

"Oh?" He approached you slowly, hand still in his pocket, a slow, sloping walk, "All men with big noses? Is that a kink?" Oh, those eyes. Dark and glowing, like little coals in the dark, and looking at you like that, you felt heat rush through you, so scrutinised--

"Or-- or maybe-- just yours I think. A you-specific kink. I wonder what you could do with that nose, other than-- other than--" You flushed, downing the rest of your wine. He was close now, and your skin felt electric. Not breaking eye-contact as he stared into you, he slowly reached out to take your empty glass, draining his own now and placing them both on the table.

Pulling you in with one hand on the small of your back, and the other creeping up the side of your face, he leaned over you. Still teasing you, his big eyes hooded, he ghosted the tip of his nose over the side of your neck, tracing shapes against your pulse point.

You pressed one hand against his chest, the other into his hair as you shivered.

"--other than?" he prompted. He laughed again, rich and bold, "My nose," he scoffed, "Where would you like my nose?" You blushed, mortified, and tried to shove him away for teasing you, but he held on tight, rubbing his nose gently against yours now. He kissed you, leaning you backwards, deep and convicted in his hold on you.

Your head wasn't swooping just with the wine now. Plaiting your fingers behind his neck, you suddenly didn't feel embarrassed to tell him what you wanted. You pulled away from his kiss, and he leaned his forehead against yours, nose to nose, as he stared into your eyes, your gaze shy and averted.

"Between...between my legs, maybe." You regretted it the moment you said it, hands up to slap over your eyes, cupping your red-hot cheeks, and Hiromi still didn't let go of you, his nose and lips pressing soft, tipsy kisses to your decolletage. He whispered to you, only deepening your regret.

"You could sit on my nose, if you like. Undressed, obviously." You felt his hips pressed against you, and felt his cock against you, now half-hard and growing--

You nearly imploded, stammering, "Oh please, no man actually likes that. Face-sitting is just one of those stupid things you joke about. Men don't actually like giving women oral," you scoffed, cynical and embarrassed. Hiromi raised his eyebrows, releasing you now, looking mildly offended.

"Oh dear. Another sceptic. Were your other boyfriends that bad?" You swatted him with a cloth.

"Pretend I never said anything!" You shouted in from the kitchen, "Forget about it! I'm going for a shower. There's more wine on the side if you want it."

You honestly considered drowning yourself in the shower. You'd barely even got past heavy make-out sessions, and you'd just told him you wanted his nose between your legs, you could just die of shame--

Stepping out from the shower and into your bedroom, you squeaked to find Hiromi lying on his back on your bed, the top of his shirt unbuttoned, and as he saw you, he smiled loosely and rubbed one of your pillows over his face.

"What are...what are you doing?"

"Polishing your seat, of course."

You melted against the wall, mortified, gripping your towel in one hand and covering your eyes with the other. You heard slow footsteps creep up behind you, long-fingered hands pulling you against a hard torso, feeling Hiromi's nose rub behind your ear. Despite yourself, your eyes fluttered closed, wanting him.

"I think you'd like it," Hiromi insisted, voice low and convincing, "and I like it when you tell me what you want. It's...bold. Honest. Sexy." You moaned softly as he pressed into you from behind, his cock hard and insistent against your body, and he loosened the front of your towel to snake his clever fingers to your breast, fingers brushing it softly at first before cupping and giving an appreciative squeeze.

"So please sit on my nose. And the rest of my face." You bit your lip...and slowly nodded. You felt warm air huff out of Hiromi's nose behind your ear, "Good girl."

Spinning you round, Hiromi pulled you in for a deep kiss, the wine heavy on both of your tongues as he slipped his against yours, probing, curious. You accepted warmly, your hands tracing down to untuck his shirt from his trousers, your hand slipping flat against his abdomen and trail of dark, wiry hair, and Hiromi shivered, tongue trembling against yours.

He fell back onto the bed, pulling your legs up to straddle his lap, panting and kissing the sides of your throat as you unbuttoned his shirt, your fingers gliding over the taut muscles of his shoulders in appreciation. He nuzzled you, hooked nose rubbing over the shell of your ear, unintentionally bucking his cock up against your unclothed sex as your fingers grazed his nipples in their exploration of his torso.

"I can't wait...I want to taste you," he insisted, breathless, his eyes dipped and flinty as he fell back onto the bed, pulling you with him, but holding you upright by the hips. Suddenly shy, so aware of your body with those smouldering eyes looking up at you, Hiromi sensed your hesitation and grabbed your knees, scooting you up his body so you were straddling his upper chest.

With your legs parted, you felt his breath roll over your folds, now so wet with your arousal, and Hiromi stared up at you, seeming grave in his devoted assessment of your face as he traced his hands up your thighs, two fingers slipping idly between your legs to rub a long stroke from entrance to clit and back again. He sighed, thrilled to feel you plant a hand on his abdomen, grounding yourself as he started to rub smooth circles over your clit.

"You're perfect, and those other guys didn't deserve you," he insisted, slipping his fingers teasingly close to your entrance as you let out a breathy moan, and Hiromi stared at his fingers, scientific in his appreciation of how your arousal was glazed over them.

Raising his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean, Hiromi stopped, considering. He placed his wet fingers over your towel instead, gripping your hips.

"No," he puzzled, "I want to taste you straight from the source." You squeaked as he dragged your knees and hips upwards again, your pussy now hovering directly over his face. Hiromi lifted his face, looking at you with a glint in his eyes, "Sit."

You hesitated, and Hiromi pressed his nose up, nuzzling it between your folds and pressing it firmly against your clit, holding your hips tightly as you jolted and gasped, never realising that nose could feel so good on your aching core. Thighs trembling, you lowered your weight until you sat directly on Hiromi's nose, mouth and chin.

Hiromi got to work like a starving man, groaning with desire as he nuzzled his nose and mouth between your puffy folds, his nose rubbing firmly over your clit as his tongue sank as far as it could into your hole, and you cried out, gripping his hair tightly with one fist, and grasping his hand on your hip with another.

As the firm tip of his nose rubbed insistently on your clit, making you burn with pleasure, you involuntarily ground your pussy down onto his face, and mewled when his shaky moan vibrated through you. Hiromi began to move your hips above him, encouraging you to hump his mouth and nose while his tongue alternated between dipping into you, and flicking against your clit as Hiromi sucked it into his mouth.

Your pleasure building, your cries and the hand grasping his hair becoming more and more urgent, Hiromi squeezed his rigid cock through his trousers, determined not to embarrass himself by cumming untouched while you humped his face. But as precum leaked through his trousers, wet on his thigh, Hiromi was drunk with the taste of you, sweet and natural, and he felt his cock throbbing as he neared his release.

Hiromi rocked your hips urgently against his face, his nose creating a constant alternating pressure on your clit, and you felt your belly tighten, pressing yourself down on his nose in a desperate need to cum, babbling his name in sweet praise.

With one last determined nuzzle against your clit, you shook, waves of pressure breaking through your whole lower body and Hiromi moaned, hips bucking against the air as he tasted and smelled you, overwhelmed by the authentic intimacy of the moment, feeling streams of cum soaking his boxers as he came completely untouched.

You moaned, short little mewls as you came down from your high. Gathering yourself, you shifted yourself down onto Hiromi's chest, looking down at him, blushing and concerned. You had never seen a man look so delighted with so much cum on his face. You were baffled, and of a mind to marry this man.

"Any man that actually likes women, sweetheart," Hiromi panted, dazed, "Would happily die like that."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Love you Hiromi Higuruma, MWAH! 😌☕

#jjk #higuruma x reader #i love him #jjk higuruma #higuruma hiromi #higuruma #higuruma smut #higuruma angst #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk headcanons

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ervotica · 5 months

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“C'mere, sweetheart-“ & “Breathe, just breathe-" with finnick please 🤍

a life of our own

pairing: finnick odair x reader

summary: finnick helps you find yourself again when you’re rescued from the capitol. you’re desperate to trust him again.

warnings: hurt/comfort, a lil fluff, a lil angst, r was tortured and brainwashed in the capitol after catching fire (i got sooo carried away with this but i luv it! hope you enjoy, please remember to like/comment + reblog!)

hunger games masterlist

Your chest is red-hot with anguish; it’s all you feel lately. Confined to this white room, locked in, spending all your time waiting for something that won’t come.

Nothing is real anymore. Your life is a thick fog that you can’t decipher, can’t tell which bits of it are real and which were planted by the Capitol. They made you a weapon against the revolution, against Katniss and Coin and Finnick.

You know him, that much is evident in your unconscious reactions. The way your chest tightens and squeezes when he walks into a room, how your breath catches and you hunger after his touch despite not knowing exactly why. But you know that he’s familiar and that - at one point or another - you loved him.

He visits routinely like clockwork, every day at around the same time. And each time you don’t push him away, don’t flinch at his touch like you do the others, his confidence grows.

Your doctor has been practicing memory games with you, which parts do your life are real and which are fabricated. You repeat them in your head over and over and sometimes they slip out when you’re talking, too. You’ve been incorporating opinions on top of the basic facts you know, and you’ve been including what you know about him.

You rock on the bed with your knees to your chest, feet tucked underneath you as you recite everything you can remember about him. You mutter it under your breath, tongue clicking as you whisper.

The door creaks and you stop dead mid-sentence. Finnick slips in without a word, pulling a chair up to sit by you. He doesn’t miss the way you eye him warily, watching every movement, every tick of his jaw and twitch of his muscles. You’ve always been perceptive- it’s one of his earliest memories of you. How you watch people.

He sits and watches you in return; you trace every inch of his body with your eyes, the bruises on his arms, the points of his shoulders, the slope of his nose and chin, the curve of his jaw.

“Finnick,” you say. He smiles; his fingers rest on the edge of the bed.

“That’s right.”

You reach out to touch him; he stays dead still as instructed by your doctors, but lets you lift his hand to place it in your own much smaller one. You turn so you’re sitting cross legged facing him, holding his hand in your lap. His heart could burst with the way you’re looking at him, a cocktail of fear and longing in your eyes. Something else lies deeper than that, like you’re being pulled through the rubble of your own mind and to the surface. Something a lot like love.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice is small, more timid than he’s ever heard from you.

“Anything.”

“You love me. Real or not real?”

“Real,” he murmurs.

“I think I love you, too. I know I did before. I just don’t know which parts of my brain are real.” You fiddle with his fingers, the pad of your thumb rubbing over his knuckles methodically. If this is the only way you’ll ever touch him again, he’ll take it. He’ll take every scrap, every morsel of affection he can eke out of you. Whatever you’re comfortable with.

“We can figure that out together.” He’s soft as he speaks to you and it’s a voice that you remember. A very distinct one in your memory.

“Finnick,” you say again. He nods and shifts closer.

“Sometimes you call me Finn,” he starts, pressing lips to your knuckles. “Or honey. Or idiot if you’re mad at me.”

You smile and he catches a glimpse of you in there, engulfed by everything you’ve seen, everything you’ve been told. But he knows he can pull you out.

“I don’t think I’d ever be mad at you,” you mumble. He purses his lips thoughtfully.

“Well, sometimes I am an idiot. And I know you tell me that because you want to keep me safe.”

You’re in agreement there, not knowing everything but knowing undeniably that you would do anything to protect Finnick.

You shuffle over in the bed and tug at his arm. He tilts his head curiously, knowing what you’re asking but not wanting to be presumptuous.

“You want me to come sit up there with you, sweetheart?”

“Yes please.”

“Okay.” He settles himself next to you, legs outstretched where yours are tucked up tightly to your body. “If it gets too much, you tell me and I’ll go, okay?”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Then I won’t.”

You shuffle round and swing your legs over his own so you’re almost completely in his lap; his arm comes up and over your shoulders automatically, like muscle memory. This is how you are in your clearest memories- together, a tightly knit partnership. He’s holding his breath, waiting for you to realise what you’re doing and lose composure, but that moment doesn’t come. You just sit and close your eyes, ear to his chest, listening to his heart beat.

“I’m tired,” you croak.

“You want me to leave you to sleep?”

“No.” Your voice is thick and uneven where you’re full of all these new emotions that you can’t quite place. “Will you stay?”

“I’ll stay as long as you want.”

He pulls the thin blanket over your body and smiles as you needle in close to him, face in the juncture of his neck. Hiding with him instead of from him.

“C’mere, sweetheart.” You relax at the pet name, your body going lax against his own as you start to fall asleep.

You can’t be asleep for more than 30 minutes before you start to stir. You’re muttering in your sleep as you start to twitch and reach out for something.

Your brow knits and it forms a crease in the middle of your forehead as you start to cry.

“Honey, c’mon,” Finnick murmurs, his hand pressed to your neck in an effort to rouse you. “It’s just a dream.”

His chest aches; he can’t bear seeing you in this state, knowing there’s not much he can do to make it better. Thinking it’s his fault for not getting to you in time.

You scream and wake with a start, wide-eyed and frantic. Your eyes flit around the clinical looking room as you try to gauge your surroundings and reorient yourself.

“Honey, it’s okay. It was just a dream, you’re safe.”

You scramble back and push him away, curling yourself up into a ball at the foot of the bed. Tears paint your cheeks and they shine in the harsh white lights, hiccuping sobs. He crouches a metre or so away, palms up, arms outstretched in hopes you’ll make contact again.

“Breathe, just breathe,” he says. “You’re okay. I’m here, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

You’re like a wild animal the way you look at him- panic-stricken and agitated, frenetic in the way you move.

“Honey, it’s me. It’s Finn.”

You swallow thickly and nod, your body slowly starting to unfurl.

“Finn,” you sniffle, holding out your arms. “Finnick.”

He creeps closer still and you practically throw yourself into his arms, face against the hollow of his throat, arms locked around his middle like a vice.

“I have you. I’m right here,” he says, over and over like a mantra. A promise.

“I don’t wanna live like this anymore.”

“You’re not going to,” he whispers. “I’ll be here until you feel well enough and then we can start planning our life. Together.”

“Okay.”

Your fingers card through the short hairs at the nape of his neck, wet eyes meeting his.

“I love you. I know it now, I can remember that.”

“I love you too,” he says, craning his neck to meet your eyes. “You’re my girl.”

You’re hesitant as you tilt your head up to press a kiss to his lips but he welcomes it, his thumb and forefinger holding your chin in place as he pecks you a few more times.

“We’re gonna have a life of our own, I promise.”

“A life of our own.”

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emmyrosee · 6 months

Text

Geto doesn’t know how to respond to pet names.

It took him a long enough time to become used to the traditional “baby” and “love,” it was just recently when you started busting out these absurd nicknames for whatever thing you could be subjecting him too.

You were cooking once, and you called him “scnhookums” and asked him to pass the peppers. He dropped the tray.

Driving, you told your “stinky man” to take a left. He slammed on his brakes.

You’d been painting his nails and got some on his cuticle, and you asked your “little poop” to pass you some acetone. He just took his hands away.

It’s not that he doesn’t… like them, they’re just not quite what he expects. They’re so extreme, so left field that in a way, he feels as if you’re mocking him, making fun of him.

He doesn’t like that feeling.

But what he hates even more, is when you pause on giving him disgustingly sweet pet names. This, makes him feel like you no longer care, no longer wanting to take the time to come up with the gushy names that keep him in a shy state.

And you haven’t given him one in days.

He hasn’t been able to sleep. Nothing major, nightmares plaguing the dreams he thinks should be pleasant,

“Shhh,” you soothe. “Stay asleep. I’ve got you.”

He merely nods and lets his head bury back into the pillows, your lips press against his temple before he lets his breathing even out once again.

As if your kiss soothed the monsters that dance, he’s able to sleep a few more hours, waking up disgustingly late and pouting to find your side of the bed cold.

He’s not proud of the pout okay, you’re just really good at scratching the affectionate itch that digs his brain. all he wants is his ‘pooky bear’ to cuddle their little ‘chickadee’ and let him fall back asleep in their arms.

He’s sure those names aren’t far in your arsenal of names.

When he finally does come to search you out, he’s not completely surprised to see you, stretched out on the couch and in a state of relaxation he finds envy in.

“What’re you watching?” He asks, shuffling into the living room. You smile up at him and say nothing, but instead pat your lap as an invitation for him to come and curl against you.

With a nod, he does just that, letting himself lay down on the couch with you, his head nestled in your thighs. Your fingers instantly start their magic on carding his loose hair, and his eyes slack slightly at the tingly feeling.

“Feel better?” You ask, and he hums contently. “I told you more sleep would help. You just never listen to me.”

He says nothing, merely letting his fingers gently trace the lines on your kneecap.

There’s a whirl of silence in the room, and he feels his eyes grow tired from your loving touch, the post warmth of his shower, and the cat that’s curled on his feet, keeping them warm under her rhythmic breathing.

“My handsome man,” you mumble, bending down to plant a kiss at his temple. his eyes widen as he cranes his head up to look at you, curved in surprise and a glimmer of love in his dark pools. “So pretty it hurts… my handsome, pretty man.”

That. That, he could get used to.

He smiles dopily and turns his head to nuzzle into your thigh, trying to hide the heating of his cheeks from you and your potential teasing by keeping his face buried.

But you don’t pick on him. Instead, you click your tongue adoringly and press another kiss to his temple. He feels your nose taking deep breaths of his scent, and your thumb strokes his cheek lovingly.

“Shut up”, Suguru says happily, as an acceptance, letting his sleepy eyes close and allowing your affections to swallow him whole.

Yes, he thinks to himself. It’s the fluttery feeling everyone talks about. The air filling his lungs and his head skipping beats just by the tone of which you call him handsome.

You call him your man.

Maybe pet names don’t always have to be sticky and sweet; but it just makes the most meaningful ones penetrate his heart that much more.

And this pet name, he hopes you decide to keep.

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gallusrostromegalus · 2 years

Text

Herschel Has Discovered Tool Use. Again.

In january of 2021, deep in the throes of pandemic psychosis, we acquired a Corgi Puppy.

I would like to go on the record that we did not get a Corgi because they're cute. We got a Corgi because they're criminally brilliant and enthusiastic working dogs that were bred to bully cattle, which is the exact temperment a dog living in a house with three ADHD adults should have. Herschel does commit a lot of crime, but he also does his appinted service-dog job of "make everyone wake up, eat meals and go to bed at a reasonable and consistent time" extremely well, as well as his bonus jobs of "Keep the squirrels the hell out of the garden" and "Yell every time the cat does something". I didn't actually ask him to do that last job but it has helped in the "teach the cat to stay the hell off the stove" area.

But even with having a whole pack of humans another dog, and a cat to manage, this pales in comparison to his genetic capacity to manage several hundred sheep or cattle across the fields of Wales, and thus, Herschel has decided on further intellectual pursuits to occupy himself, namely, speedrunning the early phases of human tool use and terraforming.

I realized he has the brains of an entire hunter-gatherer tribe shortly after he got fixed, and within 24 hours and still dpey from anesthesia, he'd figured out that his plastic cone could be used to monopolize the water bowl and his favorite chew toys, and within a week, had learned how to carry three toys at once while leaving his mouth open by tucking the toys behind his enormous ears and under his chin. He also figured out that he could wiggle the cone to rest against his shoulders, and started using it as a shovel by literally running the bottom edge into the ground. But that wasn't making holes effeicently enough, apparently, and I ended up watching him figure out how to rotate the cone around so the two pieces of overlapping plastic were under his chin, then use his chin and the stairs to the deck to pinch both ends into a much more efficient V-Shape that let him gouge huge strips of dirt up in seconds. The anthropologists and animal behaviorists in the audience may recognize this as Tool Creation, a behavior normally only seen in higher primates, crows, and some parrots. Once a hole of suitable length, depth and temperature had been achieved, he very carefully rolled the cone around so the digging side was over his head and the smooth side under his chin, and splooted into his hole to cool his little tummy and stitches off. It was at that point that I realized that I was going to have to teach him how to garden, or he was going to teach himself.

He no longer has the cone (He was beginning to experiment with it as a battering ram), but his morning ritual is now "Wake everyone up at 8AM by screaming, locate everyone in house and jam my nose up theirs to make sure they're alive, go outside and scream at the squirrels. Now that Yard is Secure, go get Fun Parent who has hopefully taken their meds by now, and supervise them while they rifle through the plants (this is apparently KEY to their mental health), eating any pest animals Fun Parent points out, chase squirrel AGAIN, go inside and get Breakfast cookie." and BY GOD if we deviate from it there will be much screaming and destruction. If I am not home, it has been reported that he walks round the garden beds and sniffs the plants in the order I usually check them in before he will agree to come in. He doesn't quite know what the deal with the melons is, just that they need to be checked.

But we're out of the labor-intensive parts of gardening and now into Harvesting Season, and this is a bit boring except when I give him snap peas right off the vine, and he has decided to work on the complex physics problem that is Doorknobs.

And last week, he had a breakthrough.

Sometime in 2020, my mom sort-of taught her horrible crime herding dog Arwen how to open the back door so she could let herself out as she pleased during the day and stop interrupting Mom's Zoom calls. Arwen is a Kelpie, which means she's about 60lbs with full-length legs and horrible monkey paws that are one joint away from being hands, so when Arwen wants to open the back door, she sits up, leans on the door for purchase/to push it, and uses her terrible crime hands to *push* on the knob until it turns. She can pull the knob open by pawing and catching it on her toes, but she's 11-13 years old now and has mild arthritis, so she prefers to catch it on her central pad instead. She taught Charlie, the other equally brilliant but less criminally inclined dog, to do this but he doesn't like to go outside alone, so he rarely does this.

Herschel, ever the observant student, immediately tried copying them, but even though he is actually tall enough to reach the knob, his toes are just too stubby to get a decent grip on the knob, pushing or pulling, and the first few times, gave up and sat down to scream until one of the fullsize dogs or humans came to open the door for him.

Last week, we were up at my parent's again, and I watched him hunt around the living room until he found his slightly-sticky orange rubber ball (It's clean, it's just a kind of rubber that's always a bit tacky), carry it across the house, stand up on his hind legs at the back door, put the rubber ball on top of the gap between the knob and the wall, and then push down on the ball, which caught the doorknob and turned it for him, thus opening the door. He let himself out, had a merry time yelling at the squirrels, came back in, stopped a few feet inside the door, went back out, grabbed his ball, and brought it back into his kennel, a place he can leave toys if he doesn't want the other dogs playing with them.

This means he somehow worked out how doorknobs work, how fucking levers work, and that his orange rubber ball specifically was the one that would work (none of his other toys are the correct size/texture), that he'd need that ball specifically to open the door again, and yesterday he did the same trick with the bedroom door, so he knows that the rubber ball/skeleton key can be used on all doorknobs, not just that one.

I wonder if I can teach him to sweep.

___

If you want to fund Herschel's research into Tool Use and/or get me therapy for the ensuing chaos, please feel free to donate to my Ko-Fi, or get further Dog Content by subscribing to my Patreon.

#Family Lore #Dogs #Herschel the Haunkkah Goblin #Charleston Chew

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sundial-bee-scribbles · 1 year

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For the flower hive au maybe Oliver could lure survivors? If anyone tries to help the small child that's running around they gonna get smacked by a flower lmao -🌟

help girl the lost british child is integrating me into the hivemind girl

I MEAN THOUGH MAKES SENSE a lost child is perfect bait, you wanna try and help them, get lured further away from your group by this child running away even though you're trying to explain to them they can trust you, and before you know it BAM. spores. become one of us

#ask #flower hivemind au #i hope that makes sense?? again my brain is mush rn b/c tired and sad #I KNOW YOU PROB DONT MEAN IT THAT WAY BUT im just imagining either. a literal plant flower smacking someone in the face #OR one of the flowers just like bitchslapping someone across #AND BOTH SCENARIOS ARE FUNNY AS HELL RIP. IMAGINE GETTING CONVERTED LIKE. THAT. BRUH 😂😭#i would risk my life trying to help oliver. he's just babey 🥺 and also i am dumb as hell personally #he's a little skrunky akjdsngkjn 😭😭😭💖 ily little british boy and your fucked up songs #SORRY he's a fave i am extremely biased #ollie the star anon

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harrysonlylover · 3 months

Text

Psycho For You*

Summary: In which jealousy runs deep in his blood.

Warnings: MEAN Harry, blood, mentions of violence, filthy rough smut, shower sex, choking, degradation, size kink.

WC: 1.4k

Main Masterlist

Y/n had good intentions in mind. Not pure or angelic, but the right amount of playfulness. She didn’t anticipate this to happen or meant to do any harm.

She should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve known better than to rile him up, and fuel his jealousy. All she wanted to do was mess with him, and it took a different route.

The blood was dripping on the tiles, but he didn’t wash it off because at the moment he had a lesson to teach.

“You think you’re so clever, huh?” A sadistic smile was painted on his face as he nipped on her skin.

The blood belonged to the man she ‘flirted’ with, he didn’t kill him despite the burning urge he felt. Instead, others at the party had to pull him away before it escalated.

And the sick truth? She liked it.

“Don’t you know that you belong to me?” He grabbed her throat with a tight grip, staining her skin with blood.

The hot water poured on their naked bodies as he rested his forehead against hers, with his cock nestled deep inside her heat.

“I do.” She shivered from the thrill of it all.

“Tsk tsk, looks like your little brain forgot again.” He thrusted inside her, causing her head to tilt backward against the glass wall.

He refused her help once they arrived home, dismissing the need to clean and stitch his hands. That wasn’t what he needed. He craved having her warm walls engulf his cock as he watched her facial expression change for him.

The steam from the hot water covered the glass walls, and Harry had her body supported with his.

“Silly girl, pushed my buttons on purpose and now look what happened.”

The wet sounds caused by his thrusting could not be overpowered by the dripping water. He adored hearing how his cock penetrated her, and he was extra rough this time.

“Whose slut are you? Hmm?” His grip on her jaw would surely cause visible bruises in the morning.

“Yours.” She replied weakly and incoherently because of her smushed cheeks.

“Oh look, the brainless slut can speak. Looks like I’m too easy on you.” He suddenly stopped mid thrust, raking his eyes all over her gorgeous face. A grin slowly made its way before he pulled out and slid in again with a rough force.

He used his hands to bounce her body on his cock quickly. Her screams were music to his ears.

“Bet you liked how I almost killed him for you. You want that, don’t you?” His wet curls covered his forehead while he bit her shoulder.

Her answer was muffled by her moans and whimpers. He lived to hear her beautiful sobs and cries of pleasure. His cock was made to pleasure her always soaked pussy—or should he say his pussy?

“Not gonna answer, eh? No need darling. I felt the clench of your dirty cunt when I asked.” She tugged at his hair knowing how much he adored the pain.

If not for her mushy brain and feelings of euphoria, she would’ve answered him properly. She wasn’t even ashamed of it because he had corrupted her to the core. Fuck yes, she liked it.

She wanted him to protect her and loved the idea of him going crazy for her. Loved the idea of her man, exploiting his physical strength for her.

Her hands held onto his biceps as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. His thrusts were merciless. He hit her G-spot repeatedly and stopped whenever she clenched a lot which was an indication of an orgasm.

He followed it with a wicked laugh and more aggressive kissing. His mouth nipped all over his body, whether it be biting, sucking, or ‘gentle’ kissing. He made sure to leave his marks everywhere. The bruises that will form on her body were the smallest example.

He would soon cum inside her walls, plant his seed deep inside her womb and give her the feeling she begs him for. And over the next few days, soreness will follow.

“Would you look at that?” He chuckled as he glanced down to where his cock pulled out from her warm pussy again. It was coated with their wetness but more specifically her juices.

“Pathetic slut, getting off the fact that I hurt other people for you.” He pulled her hair, causing a stinging sensation in her scalp. He gently tapped on her cheek signaling for her to open her mouth. He spat inside before guiding her lips to his and clashing his tongue with hers.

“Should’ve just spat on you instead from how filthy you are, and you’d like it anyways.” The steam from the hot water caused fog to arise in the small bathroom. She genuinely could not think straight. Everything was too overwhelming and euphoric. She couldn’t resist dropping her gaze to his glorious body where his cock was hanging.

No wonder her pussy felt empty.

She swallowed down her throat at his size, she really wondered how he fit inside her sometimes, but she was immediately reminded of how many tries and lube it took for him to fit in.

After that, he had her stretched properly to his shape and curve because he simply owned her.

“Little bunny, you’re about to drool.” He tsked, raising her chin with his finger. She gave him innocent doe eyes that had him weak in the knees.

“All for a cock?” He laughed, pushing hair strands out of her face.

“Fuck me.” She begged, digging her nails into his tatted skin.

“Should I though? I mean it’s too big for your tight cunt.” He pretended to hesitate, placing his cock from the base near her pussy, allowing it to stand reaching her stomach.

“See? I could probably move your womb if I want to.” He mocked her with every single word he spewed. And of course, she loved it.

She went crazy for how he degraded her and made her feel small. He knew that her exact weakness was their size difference and how he rearranged her insides with how deep he went.

“Please, I need to cum.” She grinded her dripping pussy against his shaft, earning a harsh slap to her her engorged clitoris.

“So fucking needy and whiny for my cock.” He lined up the tip with her entrance and slid in swiftly.

The relief on her face once he entered her was fucking priceless. God, he lived for her pussy and intimacy. She had him hooked.

“Is that how you want me to treat you? Like you’re just a hole?” His hips snapped against hers as her cries filled the small space.

“Well guess what darling? You’re nothing more than that.” He landed a harsh slap to her ass, before bringing his hand to her throat.

“Harder. You own me, Harry.” She managed to speak despite the tight grip.

“I know I fucking do.” He sneered, plowing into her like a madman.

It was on a whole other level of pleasure and craziness. A psychotic lust. He placed all of his godly stamina into claiming her pussy.

Her face scrunched in both pleasure and pain. An expression that he loved.

“Oh good, does that hurt?” He tilted his head to the side, not forgetting to glance at her bouncing breasts.

She nodded weakly at his question, with her nails scratching down his back over previous scars caused by their rough sex.

“As it fucking should. My pretty fuckdoll. What do you say?”

“Tha—Thank you.” She breathed out.

The sound of skin slapping intensified, he was hitting her cervix with every thrust, deeper and deeper. Their fucks were filthier than orgies.

“Now cum on my cock so I could fill this pussy up.” He whispered in her ear and nibbled on her earlobe.

She had been waiting all night for his cue, almost cried even. He teased her continuously for his pleasure and mocked her tightness when he knew how stretched she was.

“Uh—ohh.” Their faces were inches apart and he stared into her eyes right as her orgasm hit her. Her body was lit on fire as she moaned audibly, and clung onto him. He kept fucking her through her high, feeling the wetness drip down his thighs.

He was about to follow her and allow himself a release but instead, he turned the water off.

“Can’t have the water wash my cum away, it should be deep inside of you.” He panted heavily and caressed her flushed cheeks.

The moment he said that she knew she was in for a long night of rounds, orgasms, and humiliation.

And she wouldn’t want it any other way.

——————————————————

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