#i FINALLY watched rush and i am obsessed with their dynamic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

evanesdust · 1 year

Text

you are an obsession (i am your possession)

Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: POV Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Full Shift Werewolves, Alpha Derek Hale, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Stalker, Voyeurism, Possessive Behavior, Getting Together, Explicit Sexual Content, hunting & providing, Werewolf Courting, Minor Violence, mild spanking, Knotting, this is a lot sweeter than it sounds, My Sweet Bloody Valentine

Summary:

Once Derek catches that tantalizing scent, he can’t stay away.

Stiles.

Derek’s completely enthralled by him. Obsessed.

But all he can do is stand in the shadows, watching and waiting. Until he can make Stiles his, that is.

And when that happens, Derek will never let him go.

Derek makes his way through the throng of grinding couples—drunk girls shaking their asses against douchebags wearing too much cologne. One even has his button-up parted to show off the gold chain dangling on his hairy, overly tanned chest.

This was the last place Derek would ever go, but not even the obnoxious thump thump thump from the club's speakers could keep him away. The beat feels as though it's coming from inside Derek's chest. He’s never quite gotten used to the volume in nightclubs, even when he wears earplugs—it's why he tends to avoid them.

But when he caught that intoxicating scent outside, it was as if a hurricane was at his back, pushing Derek toward it and leaving no room for resistance.

It was woody and fresh, like oakmoss and lavender. Nothing had ever reminded Derek so much of home before, and then he saw who it belonged to.

Words, coherent thoughts, oxygen—all that shit escapes him when he spots the owner of the scent. An alluring omega, more beautiful than any Derek's ever seen in his life, and he's seen a lot of beautiful omegas. Fucked a lot, too, but there's something about this one that captivates him.

Derek stands against the wall, not wanting to get too close. No. He wants to watch for a while, absolutely enthralled with the lithe creature before him.

The omega could pass for a pixie or a fairy with his cute, upturned nose, messy chestnut hair, and mole-speckled skin that appears to glow under the club's lights. All that's missing are the telltale iridescent wings of his supernatural brethren.

Arousal courses through Derek as he trails his gaze down the omega's body. He's wearing sinfully tight black pants and an equally tight red shirt with a low collar, showing off the long expanse of his neck that Derek would love to mark up. The omega is slim but not skinny, lean but not lanky—a perfect mix of strength and submission.

Something inexplicably sinister arises in Derek's chest. Dangerous. A wave of possessiveness he's never felt before rushes over him, and all Derek wants to do is break him. Shatter him into pieces, then arrange those pieces to fit against his own. And if they don't—he'll fucking make them.

In that instance, Derek knows he's about to do something bad. That he'll cross lines he'd never be able to come back from because one look from this omega and any alpha would be on their knees.

With just one look, Derek's already obsessed. Already addicted. But he has to resist or else he'll ruin himself. Again. He's finally getting his life back after his obsession with Kate Argent, the woman responsible for his family's death. For years, he'd tracked her, hunted her, as she ran from her heinous crime. Derek wasn't supposed to survive the fire—no one was, but teenage rebellion saved him, and he spent years exacting his revenge.

Now he could almost be considered an upstanding member of society. He owns a small business, volunteers at the local cat rescue and a few other places in town, and even donates regularly to various charities. He's already reclaimed his family's territory and, at some point, hopes to rebuild his pack.

So with a deep breath, Derek steps back and turns away, silently promising to never look back.

Five days. That's how long Derek managed to ignore the compulsion to find the omega. He probably would have succeeded, too, if it weren't for the omega popping up anywhere and everywhere Derek went. It was as if he were teasing Derek, taunting him with his enticing scent.

At the bakery, where Derek stopped every morning on the way to his workshop.

At the grocery store, an aisle over, innocently looking at cereal boxes.

At the sheriff's station, when Derek was walking by on his way to the bookstore nearby to pick up a new woodworking book he'd ordered. He'd caught the scent and turned just as the sheriff called out, "Stiles!"

Before Derek could even comprehend what the hell a Stiles was, the omega was there, a tight smile on his face like he hadn't meant to be caught. "Hey, dad."

Even though the omega, Stiles, was the sheriff's son—a glaring danger sign screaming for him to stay away—Derek had made up his mind, the decision fortifying like granite in his brain.

Stiles wouldn't be able to escape him now.

So Derek slinked back into the shadows and waited. Over the next week, Derek followed him. He learned Stiles's routine, where he worked, who his family and friends were—and, most importantly, where he lived. Which is what led to Derek breaking in and standing in the middle of Stiles's bedroom.

He'd meant to be gone before Stiles got home, but Stiles deviated from his usual Friday night plans of hanging out with his friends. That's the only reason he'd be home so early.

Derek freezes at the familiar sound of Stiles's Jeep pulling into the driveway. He could slip out the back, but Stiles's neighbors might see him. The sound of the Jeep door slamming shut springs him into action, and he has just enough time to slip under Stiles's bed.

There's a shirt lying there as if it were tossed aside and forgotten. Derek pulls it to his face, sniffing. Stiles's scent grounds him. Calms him in a way he hasn't felt since his family died.

He can't see anything from where he hides, but it's not long before the front door opens and then closes, followed by the click of the lock.

Derek can't quite recognize the tune Stiles whistles as he walks toward his room, the sound growing louder and louder the closer Stiles gets. Still, it doesn't drown out the rapid lup-dup lup-dup lup-dup of Derek's heartbeat. Thankfully, Stiles is human, so Derek doesn't have to worry about it giving him away.

Stiles talks to himself as he walks around the room, making a grocery list since he spends Saturday mornings running errands. There's a soft thunk as he kicks his shoes off. Derek's watched Stiles enough to know he won't bother picking them up and setting them out of the way. Even now, he can see them lying haphazardly near the doorway—much like everything else in Stiles's home.

He's organized chaos. Instead of a junk drawer, Stiles has a junk counter littered with papers and books piled high and about a million other little things that are one breeze away from being blown over. Derek didn't touch anything for fear of it toppling. Derek knows the boxes scattered around the living room and dining room are because Stiles still hasn't finished unpacking after moving back to Beacon Hills. He'd been away at college for the past four years, which explains why Derek hadn't met him.

Derek angles his head, watching Stiles's bare feet as he pads across the room to his attached bathroom, keeping the door ajar. The pipes in the wall rattle as Stiles turns the shower on.

God , Derek wishes he were in a better position to watch Stiles undress—his shirt and pants hitting the hamper just outside the bathroom door, which teeters a little before righting itself.

As much as he'd love to stay, as soon as he knows Stiles is in the shower, he slides out from under the bed and slips stealthily out of Stiles's house. It was a close call, but not enough to keep Derek from sneaking in again.

It's been a couple of days since Derek broke in, but this time, he didn't leave when Stiles got home. Instead, Derek stares at him through the slats in the closet door. The small, stuffy, and slightly claustrophobic closet that he's been in for the better part of two hours since Stiles got home from work late.

Stiles is worth it, though. So beautiful. Always. But especially when he thinks no one is watching—even wearing sweatpants with a threadbare graphic T-shirt. His rosy nipples poke through the thin material, and Derek's mouth waters with the need to take one into his mouth, sucking on it until Stiles wriggles beneath him.

Derek licks his lips.

Soon.

Stiles stands at the foot of the bed, glancing around for a moment, not really looking at anything in particular before a soft smile creeps onto his beautiful face.

Derek's not sure what or who he's thinking about, but he has to bite back a low growl when Stiles lifts his shirt over his head, then slips out of his pants.

His tantalizing, creamy skin is on full display, and with the moon high in the sky, Derek can see all the beauty marks scattered over his gorgeous body.

As Stiles pulls back the cover on his bed and bends over, pounding his fist into his pillow and fluffing it up, Derek focuses on the beauty mark directly on the swell of his left ass cheek. He wants to lick it. His cock hardens, and his mouth waters as he stares at Stiles's ass, at his hole.

Derek closes his eyes, working to regain control; otherwise, he'll storm out from his hiding spot, ruining all his plans.

But it's so difficult when Stiles is right in front of him, only a flimsy wooden door separating them. All Derek has to do is push it open, then he can mark, mate, and claim Stiles as his.

It's such an odd feeling. One Derek's never experienced before. He's never been in love. Never even given thought to a serious relationship. Rarely even fucks anyone anymore, and the few times he has, it's always a quick fuck before he's gone—the release rarely easing any tension.

And now, it's as if he's a fifteen-year-old boy who's just discovered what his cock is for. Ready to bust in his jeans from simply looking at Stiles in all his naked glory.

Derek wants to touch him, kiss him, and make Stiles his in every sense of the word until Stiles submits—because when that happens, Stiles will have no chance of ever escaping Derek.

Stiles climbs into bed, none the wiser to Derek being in his closet.

Derek watches Stiles get comfortable under the covers. Watches as he runs a hand down his chest and stomach, grabbing his cock and stroking. It's long, hard, and leaking.

When Stiles lets out a soft, pleasured sigh, Derek closes his eyes and bites his fist. He wants more. Wants to bury his nose in Stiles's groin and ass, inhale his omega scent, taste the first drops of pre-come as they leak from his slit, and feast on his slick.

As Stiles strokes himself, Derek ever so slowly unzips his pants and pulls out his achingly hard cock.

It isn't easy keeping all his senses on alert when he should be sinking into this pleasure he's managed to steal. His breaths are shallow, and as dust fills his nose, he brings his other hand up, covering his mouth and smothering a soft sneeze.

He warns himself against moaning too loudly when Stiles comes, his scent hitting Derek right in the balls.

It's too good.

As Derek fucks into his fist, he can't help but wonder what Stiles would be like in bed. Would he sound the same? Letting out those breathy little moans and whimpers. Or would he be loud as Derek fucks him? Begging and pleading for more, and harder, and please. He's imagined the answers vividly in his shower and bed every night since first seeing Stiles in that club, before even knowing his name.

Derek's heart hammers in his chest as pleasure crashes over him, and with a silent cry, the warmth of his release spills over his hand. After catching his breath, he grabs a shirt off the ground, using it to clean himself up. He clutches it tightly as he zips up his jeans and peeks through the slats.

Stiles is already asleep, his soft snores filling the air.

Derek smiles as he tiptoes out of the closet, slowly approaching the bed. He stares down at Stiles for a moment before gently brushing his hair away from his forehead and whispering, "Soon."

These stolen moments aren't enough anymore.

Derek sits in his Camaro outside Brewed Awakening, the coffee shop Stiles works at, waiting for him to get off work. For the past two hours, he's caught glimpses of Stiles through the window and watching him work. He's so expressive and animated when he talks to his customers—a little furrow appearing between his brows when he listens intently to whatever story they tell. And the way his tongue peeks out from between his lips as he concentrates on making their order is absolutely adorable.

He's so perfect, and Derek can't wait to claim Stiles as his. Finally. He wanted to wait a little longer; had a plan to befriend Scott, Stiles's childhood friend, but then he overheard Stiles agreeing to dinner with some guy for Valentine's—tonight.

They're supposed to meet up after Stiles gets off work.

Supposed to.

But it didn't take much tinkering for Derek to disable Stiles's Jeep, and with how old the jeep is, Stiles shouldn’t suspect a thing. When Derek had been in Stiles's house, he'd recognized the sky blue CJ-5 in some old pictures of the sheriff with a woman who must have been his late wife—Stiles's mother.

At a quarter past eight, the lights in the coffee shop go out. After a few seconds, Stiles walks out, locking up behind him. He strides through the dark parking lot as if he doesn't have a care in the world, not bothering to be watchful of danger. Doesn't he know there are predators out here? Just watching and waiting for their opportunity to strike?

Like you? his traitorous mind supplies as he watches Stiles climb into his Jeep. Their vehicles are side by side, but it's dark, so Derek doubts Stiles can see him through the windshield.

Stiles grips the steering wheel with one hand as he attempts to turn the Jeep on. Three tries and nothing.

After a few seconds of listening to Stiles muttering curses when the engine doesn't turn over at all, Derek gets out. Smoothing down his shirt, he rounds the Jeep and raps his knuckles on Stiles's driver's side window.

When the window rolls down, Derek meets his frustrated amber eyes.

"Hi," Derek says, giving Stiles his best smile. "Need some help?" Out of sight, he clenches his right fist. His whole body thrums with excitement at finally being so close to Stiles. The car smells like Stiles and the Irish Spring body wash he uses—the scents have long since faded from the T-shirt Derek stole. The one he used to wipe himself clean after jerking off in Stiles's closet.

Derek wants to rip open the door and bury his face in the crook of Stiles's neck. Wants to roll around in his scent until it sinks into his pores.

Christ! Derek's never had such a visceral reaction to a person before. It doesn't help that Stiles's big doe eyes make him look like the most delicious, seductive prey.

"Shit. Yeah, I've got a date I don't wanna miss." Stiles smirks at him as if he knows something Derek doesn't, but Derek ignores it when his scent grows spicy with arousal—making it even more delicious.

Derek barely holds back a growl but can't stop his eyes from flashing crimson. Nothing and no one has ever tested his control like this before.

"I apologize," he says quickly, regaining control.

There's a distinct lack of fear from Stiles, though. If anything, his scent intensifies. He licks his lips—those plump, pink lips that Derek has the urge to kiss until they're puffy and raw, to see stretched obscenely around his cock. Would Stiles's eyes water when he tries to take all of Derek in?

"Thanks, man." Stiles slides out of the Jeep. It's really more of a flail that shouldn't be cute, but somehow works for him. He circles the front of his Jeep and lifts the hood. "Fuck knows what the hell happened, but I appreciate it."

"It's not a problem." Derek walks up beside him, wiping his hands on his jeans before holding one out in greeting. "I'm Derek."

Stiles's fingers are cold as he grasps Derek's hand in a firm handshake. Forget the cold; Derek's practically burning up by the second. A kind of thrill he expected but still wasn't prepared for.

"Stiles."

Stiles's voice does things, weaving fantasies Derek will be jerking off to all night, moaning into that T-shirt he'd stolen from Stiles's house.

"It's nice to meet you. I've got jumper cables if you need a jump," Derek says, gesturing to his Camaro.

"I think it might be my starter. The engine wouldn't turn over at all."

"I can take a look if you'd like."

Stiles shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. "Thank you, that'd be great."

Derek takes off his leather jacket, draping it over the side-view mirror before glancing under the hood. He's wearing a tight grey tank top and a pair of fitted black jeans, flexing as he pretends to check the starter. As an alpha werewolf, Derek knows what he looks like. In fact, he works hard to maintain his physique and, in this instance, uses it to his advantage.

It works because Stiles's arousal hangs heavy in the air.

"Roscoe's always breaking down," Stiles says from beside him, aiming his phone’s flashlight under the hood.

Derek peers up at him, meeting Stiles's gaze. His eyes are so intense they practically burn molten. "Roscoe?"

"My Jeep. That's her name."

"Have you had her for a while?" Derek asks, smiling fondly at the name. He wonders if Stiles named the Jeep or if his mother had.

"Since I was sixteen. She belonged to my mom."

If Derek hadn't already known about his mother's death, Stiles's somber tone would have tipped him off. So he steps away from under the hood and lays a hand on Stiles's arm. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Stiles gives him a grateful smile. "Thank you. It was a long time ago, though."

Derek feels a twinge of guilt for messing with the Jeep, but not enough to fix it. Because then Stiles would go on his date, and Derek's not that selfless. Instead, he ducks his head, continuing to play dumb as he checks the Jeep over.

He could have it fixed in a few minutes, but honestly, Stiles is right. He needs a new starter—which is funny, since that's not even what Derek had tampered with. He'd loosened the Jeep's battery connectors.

"Man, if I wasn't so attached to Roscoe, I'd love a Camaro," Stiles says.

When Derek glances over, Stiles is trailing his long fingers over the hood of Derek's car. His thoughts immediately flood with images of Stiles bent over, his face pressed against the hood as Derek fucked him hard and fast.

Derek lets out a low growl, stilling Stiles's steps.

Stiles smirks. "That should not be as hot as it is."

"What?"

"The growling." Stiles's voice comes out a little breathy. "So you're a werewolf? That wasn't just a trick of the light earlier?"

"No trick." Derek lets his eyes bleed red, loving the way Stiles's pupils dilate. The way his gaze turns hungry.

A flush rises to Stiles's cheeks, and Derek wonders what he's thinking about. Could it be about Derek's knot? About how it'd feel filling him, stretching him. Or maybe he's also having fantasies about Derek bending him over the Camaro, fucking him senseless.

They stare at each other for a little longer before Stiles lets out a nervous laugh. "Sorry. Sorry, I just—I should be mad about missing my date, but you're…really hot, and I'm just waiting for someone to jump out with a camera, telling me this is a prank or something."

Derek huffs a small laugh. "No prank. And you're right," he quickly tightens the battery connectors before slamming the hood down and re-clamping the hood latches, "it's your starter."

"Damn. Guess I should see if my date would be willing to pick me up." Stiles slides a hand into his pocket for his phone, but Derek gently grips his wrist.

"Or." Between Stiles's arousal and the flirting, Derek knows the attraction isn't one-sided.

"Or…?"

Derek nods toward the Camaro. "There's a diner a few blocks over. It's probably not as nice or fancy as wherever your date was going to take you, but they've got the best curly fries." And he knows how much Stiles loves curly fries.

"Those are my favorite," Stiles says, a pleased smile on his face.

"Really?" Derek puts his leather jacket back on. "That's good to know."

After Stiles calls for a tow, leaving his keys on the driver's seat, they get in Derek's Camaro. The scent of Stiles's arousal is still so strong that it'll be days before it fades.

It's a short drive to the diner, where Derek parks right in front. Even though it's Valentine's, it's not that busy—only a few cars in the parking lot. After turning off the engine, Derek gets out and jogs over to the passenger door, opening it for Stiles.

"Thank you."

"Of course. I might not be who you intended on having dinner with, but I'd like to make this date special."

"Date?" Stiles blushes prettily when Derek holds an arm for him to take.

Derek leads him inside. "First of many, I hope."

He'd worry about coming on too strong, but Stiles seems to like it.

They're seated quickly. Derek slides into the space across from Stiles, leaning back with one arm thrown along the back of the booth. He feels Stiles's foot tap against his own.

"Okay, since this is a date—the first of many, apparently," Stiles says with a teasing grin, "tell me something about yourself."

"Well, I'm an alpha werewolf."

Stiles's eyes trail down his torso. "Yeah, that's pretty obvious. But what about work?"

"I actually do woodworking. I own The Cranky Carver downtown."

"The Cranky Carver? You named your business…The Cranky Carver?" Stiles bites his lips between his teeth, holding back a laugh.

Derek can't help but smile. "It's an old nickname. My older sister gave it to me when we were younger and I first started learning."

"You're Derek Hale."

Definitely not a question. Honestly, Derek's not surprised that Stiles has heard of him—most of Beacon Hills would be familiar with what happened to the Hale family nearly twelve years ago. Plus, Sheriff Stilinski was there that night. Back then, he'd been a deputy, the first on the scene and the one who found Derek curled up against a nearby tree. Derek hadn't been home when the fire happened. He'd snuck out to meet some friends, but as soon as the pack bonds snapped, he shifted and ran home. His entire body froze in shock at seeing his home engulfed in flames, knowing his entire family was dead.

"I am," he whispers, thankful his voice doesn't crack. It's not that he doesn't think alphas should show emotion—but after hardening himself as he hunted for Kate, it's second nature to shove down any vulnerability so no one can find it.

Stiles reaches over, taking his hands and squeezing them gently.

Derek gives him a grateful smile, relishing in the contact, but the moment is broken when the waitress comes over to take their order.

Once she leaves, Derek tells Stiles more about his business, especially some of his favorite custom pieces: a wooden sink and bathtub, which seem to fascinate him, so Derek shows him pictures.

"Oh, man. That's so cool. I don't think I'd want a tub or sink, but it'd be awesome to have a dining set or something. I don't know. Not that I could afford it anyway," Stiles adds, leading him to talk about his job as a barista. He tells Derek about some of the funniest things that happened in the small coffee shop, one of which was a woman Stiles thought was talking to herself, only to find out she was talking to the small dog in her purse.

After their food is served, it's as if the world dissolves to just them as they continue talking about anything and everything. Werewolves, television, baseball. The few things Stiles has around his home definitely didn't prepare Derek for Stiles's woeful tale of being a long-suffering Mets fan.

All too soon, they're done eating, and Derek pays. He barely holds back his grin as Stiles slides out of the booth, pouting. It probably shouldn't be so endearing.

"Next time is my treat," Stiles says when they get outside.

Derek raises a brow but nods. It'd been his intention to spoil Stiles, to take care of him in every way, but after watching Stiles for the past couple of weeks, Derek knows that Stiles isn't some meek omega. He's not a pushover or someone who'll just sit back while others wait on him hand and foot.

No.

Stiles enjoys being in charge, even if he's allowed Derek some semblance of control this evening.

Derek unlocks the Camaro and opens the passenger side door for Stiles, helping him inside. "We're equals, Stiles."

"Good." Stiles beams at him as he sinks into the seat. "Fuck. I love your car."

His eyes flutter shut as he strokes the leather seat, and Derek can't help but imagine the light, feathery touch gliding across his skin. He slams the door shut, racing around to the driver's side. The Camaro purrs to life, sending vibrations through him. Derek doesn't miss the way Stiles shivers or the way he subtly adjusts himself, eyes latched onto Derek's arms as he pulls out of the parking lot, giving Derek directions to his house.

Derek wishes he could prolong the inevitable, but ten minutes later, the familiar exterior of Stiles's house comes into view, and Derek pulls into the driveway.

"I'll walk you up," he says, turning off the engine. Just as he did at the diner, he gets out and opens Stiles's door.

Stiles smirks. "Such a gentleman."

If you only knew, Derek thinks, placing a hand on Stiles's back as he walks with him up the short path to his front door. It's probably far too forward, but he crowds Stiles against the door. "I really want to kiss you right now."

Stiles licks his bottom lip, glancing from Derek's eyes to his mouth.

"Yes," he breathes out after a moment.

As soon as their lips touch, Stiles sucks in a breath—just a little gasp that goes straight to Derek's cock.

Derek cups the back of Stiles's head to deepen the kiss—he never knew a kiss could be this hot. So consuming. Stiles kisses like he's starving, his breathing erratic and shallow as he ruts against Derek's leg.

But the first time he has Stiles won't be like this, so Derek reluctantly pulls away, making Stiles whimper.

Derek presses their foreheads together. "Gimme your number. I'll call you."

Stiles nods, holding his phone out. "Put your number in and text yourself right away."

So Derek does. And after making sure that Stiles gets inside safely, he walks back to his Camaro, fingers pressed to his lips, marveling at how something as simple as a kiss could be so powerful. He'd wanted to devour Stiles.

Next time.

Steam billows around Derek as he wraps a towel around his waist after stepping out of the shower. His phone pings twice from the bedroom, so he pads across the room to check his notifications.

There's a message from Stiles on the home screen.

Stiles: Been practicing some latte art. Wanna see?

Derek opens the message and stares at the picture Stiles sent. It kind of looks like Slimer from the Ghostbusters movies.

'Stiles,' Derek types out. Even though Stiles can't see him, he bites his lip and heaves a dramatic sigh, 'I hate to be the one to tell you this. I mean, this hurts me more to say than for you to hear.'

He grins, already imagining Stiles's response, which—

Ping ping ping.

Three notifications pop up in quick succession.

Stiles: You can tell me anything

Stiles: You know that

Stiles: What is it?

Dear God, Derek hasn't smiled this much in a long, long time. His face hurts as he sends off his reply, 'You have zero artistic talent,' and barks out a laugh as soon as the middle finger emoji pops up on his screen.

'Do you really volunteer at the local cat rescue?' Stiles asks, his voice tinny as it comes through the speaker on Derek's phone.

Derek smiles as he details the edges of his latest piece with sandpaper. It seems someone's been looking into him. "Yes, I do. How'd you know that?"

'I told my dad about you.'

Derek's not really surprised since Stiles and his dad are close.

Stiles's name is called, and he says, 'One sec.' Then his voice comes through the line muffled. 'Yeah? I've got five more minutes.' There are a few seconds of silence before he speaks again. 'Okay, I'm back. Sorry.'

"It's not a problem. Is everything okay?"

'Yeah. Quinn was just wondering when my break was done. But anyway, back to my dad. He may have mentioned a few things about you when I told him we were dating.'

Derek loves how that sounds. Dating. And it's also not a surprise that the sheriff would know about him, considering Derek's work with the community. He's been called in a time or two to assist with search parties when hikers would get lost in the preserve.

"Good things, I hope," Derek responds as he walks to the sink to wash his hands.

'Wouldn't you like to know?' And Derek can damn near hear the smirk in Stiles's voice.

The doorbell rings as Derek sets the rolls on the counter next to the pot roast, mashed potatoes, and about a million other side dishes.

Stiles is here.

It's been nearly a week—five torturous days—since their not-so-impromptu date, since dropping Stiles off and kissing him. But, unfortunately, work's been busy. Not exactly a surprise, considering how much work he put off following Stiles around. The text messages and phone calls have helped, though. Especially when they made plans for Stiles to come over after his shift for dinner and a movie.

And, of course, Derek still went to his house every night. It's not as if he can help himself now that they're together. Stiles occupies his thoughts day and night, taking a dangerous hold on him.

Derek places the oven mitts back in the drawer, using the moment to calm himself. But he also doesn't want to keep Stiles waiting, so after a deep breath, he walks over to the front door and opens it, smiling when he sees Stiles standing on the porch.

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself." Stiles leans in, giving him a quick kiss. "Something smells good."

"I could say the same about you," Derek says, leading him to the kitchen and closing the door.

"You didn't have to do all this." A small smile plays on Stiles's lips as he looks at the veritable feast Derek prepared.

"I wanted to." Derek shrugs and smiles back, pressing up against him. He settles his hands on Stiles's waist before burying his nose in the crook of Stiles's neck and inhaling. Stiles always smells so good. "I missed you."

Stiles hums contentedly, leaning back into Derek's embrace. "I missed you too," he breathes. "But I'm here now."

It'll be hard to let him leave once their night is over, but soon Derek will mark, mate, and claim Stiles as his. Soon he'll be able to keep Stiles forever.

"How about a quick tour before dinner," Derek says, taking Stiles's hand. When he had his childhood home rebuilt, he made a few changes to the original layout. Rather than closed-off spaces for each room, he opted for an open floor layout.

Besides the kitchen, dining, and living rooms on the main level, there's also an office and a bathroom. The laundry room is just off the kitchen, along with stairs leading to the second level.

Upstairs, he shows Stiles the bedrooms and bathrooms, leaving his own for last. It's the largest room, with a king-sized bed against the far wall, two nightstands on either side and a chest at the foot of his bed for extra blankets. Not that he needs them, but Stiles might. Humans get cold so easily.

"It's really beautiful," Stiles says, running his fingers across the smooth wood of the dresser.

"I'm glad you like it." Derek pulls Stiles into his arms. "I made it all myself."

Stiles looks up at him, a soft smile on his lips. "It's amazing. You're very talented."

Derek leans in, pressing a gentle kiss against Stiles's lips.

The small touch should be insignificant, but it's like an electric shock traveling down his spine, straight to his cock, quickly turning into something more. Something urgent and desperate.

Stiles's heart races against his chest, but then Derek hears it. A quiet grumble.

Stiles's stomach.

Derek pulls away, chuckling as he brushes his thumbs over the deep flush spreading across Stiles's cheeks.

"We can finish this later," he says, giving Stiles one last squeeze. "For now, let's eat."

Once they're back in the kitchen, he grabs a couple of plates from the cabinet.

Stiles takes the one Derek hands him. "Are you expecting more people?"

"I…may have gone overboard," he admits. Besides the pot roast, mashed potatoes, and rolls, Derek made steamed vegetables, roasted asparagus, apple coleslaw, cheesy hashbrown casserole, and creamy green beans with bacon bits.

"It all looks amazing."

Derek smiles when Stiles puts a little of everything on his plate, doing the same with his own. He grabs a couple of beers—Stiles's favorite, of course—from the fridge before moving to the living room and settling on the couch.

As they eat, they talk about work and Stiles fills him in on an asshole customer he had just before closing.

Derek stamps down the need to find and hurt them for being a dick to Stiles. Or 'douche canoe,' as Stiles calls him. Derek's not typically so violent, but when it comes to Stiles, he gets so protective that all he wants to do is punch something. Or someone, in this case.

"Hey." Stiles pokes him in the side, effectively pulling him from his thoughts. "It's okay," he says, placing a hand over Derek's heart. "Nothing I haven't dealt with before."

Derek nods, taking a deep breath before leaning in and kissing him.

"Thank you," Stiles murmurs against his lips.

"For what?" he whispers, smiling as his heart fills with warmth.

"For caring enough to want to do something. But I'm just venting."

"I will always care." Derek draws him closer. "No matter what."

"I know."

Derek hums in satisfaction, his heart swelling, knowing that soon, very soon, he'll make Stiles his.

"Are you done eating?" Derek asks.

Stiles looks at the mostly empty plate in his hands. "Yeah. I think so. Though I feel bad because there's so much left. Have you thought about…I don't know, growing your pack? Bringing in some betas?"

Derek sets their plates on the coffee table and turns, facing Stiles as he throws an arm across the armrest. "I have. I'm just not sure…" He sighs. "I was never meant to be the alpha. It should have been my sister, Laura."

"I remember her. I think she babysat me once."

"Probably." Derek chuckles at the memory of Laura making plans to have a business, like something out of The Babysitter's Club. She used to read the books to him and Cora all the time. "She always stole my art supplies to make her fliers."

"I know a couple of people who are looking for a pack. They contacted Scott, but he doesn't really want a large pack. He's got Isaac and says that's enough."

"Yeah? I could talk to them."

"Their names are Erica Reyes and Vernon Boyd, but he just goes by Boyd. I'll get their numbers from Scott."

"Sounds good."

"But for now, how about that movie?" Stiles says, already grabbing the remote.

Derek smiles at his soon-to-be mate. "Sounds perfect."

He pulls Stiles close before grabbing the throw blanket from the back of the couch and tucking them both in. He rests his arm around Stiles's shoulders as Stiles leans against him, laying his head on Derek's chest.

If Derek thought watching a movie with Stiles would be no big deal, he's quickly dissuaded from that notion as Stiles reacts aloud to the plot unfolding on the screen. He mutters under his breath, sighs in frustration, and chuckles with glee. In no time, Stiles becomes Derek's source of entertainment rather than the television.

Once the movie ends, they clean up, Stiles insisting on washing the dishes while Derek wipes down the counters. Though it's completely mundane and domestic, the air is charged with electricity. Derek can practically feel Stiles's eyes on him, studying his face. The intensity of his gaze makes Derek warm in places he wasn't entirely aware existed.

Stiles turns the water off, wiping his hands on the dish towel before leaning against the counter.

"Derek," Stiles breathes out.

"Derek," he commands.

"Der—"

Derek drops the rag and crushes their mouths together in a bruising kiss. All he can think about is how perfectly Stiles fits against him. Tangling his fingers in Stiles's hair, Derek lays teasing nips and bites along his neck and shoulder, earning an encouraging moan from Stiles. His nostrils flare as Stiles's scent grows spicy with arousal.

He slides his hands down Stiles's back, gripping his ass and lifting. Stiles quickly complies, wrapping his long legs around Derek's waist, rolling his hips for friction as Derek walks them back to the living room.

"Fuck!" Stiles cries out, inadvertently baring his neck for Derek.

Derek's gums tingle with the familiar pressure of his fangs dropping.

"Stiles," he slurs, nipping gently at the crook of Stiles's neck as he presses him into the couch. Their bodies mold together, creating a dangerous cyclone of fire and ice.

Derek trails a hand down Stiles's sides, but then Stiles grabs his wrist, stilling him.

"I want to be on top."

"Oh, yeah?"

Stiles nods, slowly rocking his hips, grinding his hard, swollen cock against Derek's abs. "Got a problem with that?"

Derek growls, his hands curling into fists so he doesn't just hold Stiles down and take what he wants. The image of Stiles over him, taking control, is delectable. "No."

And with a strength he didn't know Stiles possessed, Derek was suddenly on his back with Stiles straddling his waist, smirking down at him. "Good. Now take off your shirt."

Derek complies easily—willingly and eagerly. As soon as his shirt is off, he impatiently tugs on Stiles's shirt, sliding it up and over his head, letting out a pleased rumble-purr when all that smooth, soft skin is displayed.

It's quiet, save for their panting breaths as they stare at each other for a moment. Stiles is a solid weight against him, and it feels so fucking good. Derek's cock somehow gets even harder, especially when Stiles cards his fingers through Derek's hair, tugging his head back.

Stiles nips and sucks at his neck, making Derek's cock throb. He's never had an omega take charge like this—would never allow himself to be this vulnerable—and he's surprised by how much he likes it. Though it might be because it's Stiles.

Derek can't stop touching him now that Stiles is in his arms. He runs his hands over Stiles's chest and stomach, over his back, down to the swell of his ass. There's a damp spot on the back of Stiles's pants, and Derek groans, squeezing his ass. "So wet for me."

"Fuck." Stiles rocks against him, and then it's a flurry of limbs as they get the rest of their clothes off. "Yes."

Stiles rises to his knees. There's a red flush from his cheeks down to his hard cock. He ever so slowly brushes his fingers over Derek's cheek and neck, down his arm to his hip, until he finally—finally—wraps those long fingers around Derek's cock.

Derek bucks up into his fist as Stiles swipes his thumb over the tip. It feels good, too good.

When Stiles speaks, his voice comes out strained and gravelly. "I've wanted to touch you for so long."

"Do it." Derek's entire body vibrates with need. "Whatever you want."

When Stiles finally moves, aligning their cocks and wrapping his hands around them, Derek shivers.

"I love that you let me do this." Stiles's words are punctuated by a roll of his hips.

"For you," Derek pulls Stiles in by the back of his neck, kissing him hard as Stiles jerks them off, "Anything." He throws his head back, unable to think when the pressure teeters on the edge of pleasure-pain.

"I wanna suck you off so bad," Stiles says with a moan.

It's hard to breathe, especially when Stiles leans over, his tongue flickering over Derek's nipples, lapping at one and then the other.

Derek's hips buck as he fucks into Stiles's fist. Ridiculous sounds rise from his throat, escaping in the form of whimpers and moans that would be downright embarrassing if Stiles weren't making the same sounds.

His muscles are coiled tight, needing release, until it finally crashes over him like a wave cresting the shore.

A moment later, Stiles followers him over the edge, shouting Derek's name. His head's thrown back, mouth gaped open in apparent ecstasy, but he keeps stroking. Stroking, stroking, stroking until neither has anything left and their muscles stop convulsing.

"Fuck," Stiles says, slumping forward, smearing the sticky mess between them.

Once Derek gets his breathing under control, he quickly realizes that Stiles is asleep, evident by the dead weight over him. His even breathing and drool are another clue.

Derek chuckles as he reaches for his shirt, using it to clean them up as best he can before gathering Stiles in his arms and carrying him up to his bedroom. Stiles doesn't stir as Derek carefully lays him in the middle of the bed, or when Derek presses up against him, pulling the covers over them.

So Derek lies there for a moment, watching Stiles's chest rise and fall—his own chest constricting with emotion. Then he presses his lips to the back of Stiles's head, murmuring, "I love you."

He smiles and closes his eyes, reveling in the feeling of happiness that Stiles brings to him. His chest swells with joy at just being near him, and for the first time in a long time, Derek actually feels content.

As he drifts off to sleep, he can't help but be grateful for this moment with Stiles.

It's late afternoon when Derek's phone rings.

Stiles.

Did he somehow figure out Derek's surprise? Derek didn't want to go so long between seeing Stiles since those five days last week had been excruciatingly slow, so he's bringing Stiles lunch. He purposefully parked down the street so Stiles wouldn't see his Camaro.

As he rounds the corner, he answers his phone with a smile. "Hey, baby. Didn't expect to hear from you—"

'Why are people dicks?'

It's not the first time that Stiles has complained about customers, but something in his tone suggests this is more, so Derek doesn't interrupt.

'I mean, listen, like take the hint, y'know? If someone says, 'hey, sorry about our date, but no, I wouldn't like to reschedule,' maybe don't keep hounding them about another one.'

"What." Derek stops in his tracks. The plastic bag with Stiles's lunch digs into his palms with how tightly he grips the handles.

'Remember the night we met? I was supposed to go out with this guy named Theo.'

Of course, Derek remembers. It was that date that finally spurred him into action. "Has he been bothering you?"

'He texted and called a few times. I thought he got the hint, but then he showed up here.'

"Why didn't you tell me?" Derek asks, his voice strained with the effort not to shift. All he wants to do is track this Theo down and rip his throat out.

Stiles sighs. 'Because it's not a big deal. I can handle it.'

Derek nods even though Stiles can't see him. "I know you can."

'Good. Anyway, after seeing him, I just wanted to hear your voice.'

As much as Derek wants to turn around, get in his car, and find Theo to smash his face in, Stiles needs him right now. "Well…what if I told you I had a surprise for you?"

'A surprise?' The smile is clear in Stiles's tone. 'It wouldn't happen to be like the surprises I've been finding on my doorstep lately, wouldn't it?'

"Did you not like them?" A pang of hurt lances through Derek at the thought of Stiles not accepting his courting gifts. Stiles knows about werewolves, so he should understand the gesture's significance.

'I didn't say that. I love them, and I accept, by the way. You're courting me, right?'

"Yes. I know it's a bit outdated and more traditional, but—"

'But nothing. I didn't mean to make you think I didn't appreciate them. I do. I just wanted to tell you that I won't have anymore room in my freezer after the buck you left this morning.'

Freezer?

Is Stiles saving his gifts? Usually, people accept them but then donate the meat.

'Also,' Stiles continues, 'I'm pretty sure I'm the butcher's favorite new client. He cut me a deal when he picked the buck up this morning. Said I was very lucky to have such a strong alpha.'

"Butcher?" Derek asks dumbly, still in awe that Stiles not only accepts but keeps the gifts.

'Well, yeah, of course. That's what it's for, right? To show you can provide for me? I'm not going to waste anything. Plus, the venison is good for my dad. You don't mind that I share with him, do you? I like to make sure he eats healthy.'

"No, no, of course not." And now that he knows, Derek will be sure to hunt even more. Though he'll definitely have to talk to Stiles about paying for the butcher, since it's supposed to be a gift. Derek peels himself away from the brick wall and hurries to the entrance of Brewed Awakening.

The chime from the door echoes through the phone, and Derek can hear Stiles suck in a breath. 'You're here?'

Two seconds later, he comes out from the back, launching himself at Derek, who catches him easily.

"Surprise?"

And from the look of awe on Stiles's face, it's a great surprise.

It doesn't take much digging to find Theo Raeken, a lone beta who recently returned to Beacon Hills. Derek found his address quickly and drove over, breaking in—as one does. A smarter man probably would have staked him out for a day or two, but knowing that Theo's been harassing Stiles, his mate, makes Derek's blood boil. So he sits and waits.

An hour later, a key turns in the lock, and as soon as Theo walks through the door, Derek beta-shifts, snarling in Theo's face as he slams him against the wall. "Stiles Stilinski. That name ring any bells?"

Theo's eyes round at the edges slightly, enough to reveal recognition, though he tries to play it off. "Never heard of—"

"Here's the thing about liars," Derek cuts in, slamming him against the wall again. "I really don't fucking like them. They make me twitchy. I don't think you want me getting twitchy right now, do you?" He tightens his fingers on Theo's neck, his claws seconds away from piercing skin.

Theo's lips tighten into a hard line. "Hey, he's the one that came onto me. Batting his fucking lashes and then he just fucking ghosted—"

"Do I need to remind you how I feel about liars?" Derek asks, grinning when Theo snarls in irritation. The unbridled anger pulsating through him is relentless—unstoppable. "You stay away from him, understand? No more texts or phone calls, and no more dropping by the coffee shop. If you so much as breathe in his direction again, I will come after you."

Theo narrows his eyes, glaring at him. He opens his mouth as if he wants to speak.

Stupid bastard.

"Don't. Make me. Repeat myself," Derek warns, his voice lowering to convey just how serious he is. "I know where you eat, sleep, and shit, and I will not hesitate to kill you next time."

Derek has to bite back the grin from the look on Theo's paling face.

"Yeah, okay. Fine."

"Glad we could come to an understanding." After a second, Derek finally lets him go, smoothing out Theo's shirt before seeing himself out.

Last month during the full moon, Derek spent the night shifted outside Stiles's house—the impulse to be close to his mate was too strong to fight. Usually, he runs through the woods behind his house, mourning the loss of his pack.

Thanks to Stiles, though, that will change soon.

He talked to Boyd and Erica last week and has plans to meet up with them soon, so by the next full moon, he might have two betas running alongside him. As for tonight—

The sky is clear, and the moon is full and bright as it hangs above them, filtering through the trees, casting shadows over Stiles's face as he stares at it, taking in its beauty.

"Thank you," Derek whispers. He knows Stiles could literally do anything else tonight—like stay home, wrapped up in the cozy Minky Couture blanket Derek got for him. But instead, Stiles walks beside him, fighting March's sharp, crisp chill threatening to pierce his skin if he wasn't wearing a coat, hat, and gloves at Derek's insistence. Stiles put his foot down when Derek looped a scarf around his neck.

Stiles takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. "For what?"

"Being here. With me." As the breeze rustles the leaves, Derek can't help but smile. "I'll make you some hot cocoa when we get home."

Stiles grins and nods. "Deal."

Derek loves how easily Stiles has started seeing his house as home. The past two weeks have been incredible. Stiles stays over more often than not, and Derek even spent the night at Stiles's house a couple of times. The only times they don't see each other are when they're working or when Stiles hangs out with his friends or visits his dad—though Derek's usually parked down the street.

"So is this all you do during full moons?" Stiles asks, spinning around to face him. "Walk around the preserve?"

"Usually, I shift and run. It's the best way to burn off all the excess energy. When I was younger, my family would have a big dinner before running together. It'll be nice to do that again."

Stiles nods. "You know you can shift if you want."

"Do you want me to?"

"I'd like to see it."

Derek nods, reaching behind his head and pulling his shirt off. Stiles folds it as Derek finishes undressing. Then the magic happens. The air ripples around him, his muscles and bones shifting and contorting as black fur sprouts along his skin.

Stiles's eyes widen in fascination as Derek stands before him, a hulking black wolf.

"Wow." Stiles cards his fingers through Derek's fur. "So soft."

Derek bumps his head against Stiles's stomach, leaning into his touch. Nice. Good. Mate.

Everything is so much simpler like this. No worries or stress. Derek's only instinct right now is to hunt. Hunt for his mate.

So he does.

Through the trees he goes, a large buck catching his eye, but he remembers what Stiles said. That he has no room in his freezer. So as much as it pains him not to hunt down the biggest buck, Derek finds something else.

It's not too long before he comes across a small creature no bigger than a cat. His shift to predator is automatic as he crouches to the ground, tracking its movements. Its fur is deep brown, almost black, in the forest's darkness. There are five toes on each paw that Derek will have to watch for, knowing it could have retractable claws.

After a couple of minutes, Derek springs forward, pouncing on it. He bites down on its neck, giving it a few sharp shakes until it stops moving.

Thank you for your sacrifice, he thinks before returning to Stiles, gift in hand.

He drops the small creature at Stiles's feet, awaiting his reaction.

Stiles hugs him tightly, burying his face in Derek's fur. After a few moments, he pulls away. "Thank you."

Derek licks his face, making him laugh.

"Alright, alright," Stiles smiles as he pushes Derek back. His scent is sweet, radiating happiness. "How about we save the kissing until you shift back."

Derek stretches, rolling his neck as he shifts, body contorting until he's kneeling in front of Stiles. "So it's okay if I kiss you now?"

Stiles snorts. "Did you seriously just shift back so you could kiss me?"

"Yes." Of course, he did.

"You're a dork. You just had a…whatever that is in your mouth." Stiles gestures to the creature next to them. "You've gotta brush your teeth. And use mouthwash."

"Then let's go home." Derek wraps his arms around Stiles's waist and stands.

"Fucker!" Stiles snaps, banging his fists against Derek's back. Derek would be concerned, but there's laughter in his voice. "I'm not a sack of potatoes, y'know!"

Derek slaps his ass in response, growling when Stiles's scent turns spicy with arousal.

Oh.

Derek does it again, making Stiles cry out. He rubs his cheek against Stiles's ass, inhaling.

"You're already so slick," he slurs around his fangs, rubbing his fingers along the seam of Stiles's pants.

Derek keeps teasing him, eliciting little whimpers and breathy moans that sound like angels singing.

Stiles lets out a whine that goes straight to Derek's cock. "Fuck me. God, I want you to fuck me. Please."

"Yeah? Thought I had to brush my teeth." Derek punctuates his statement by biting the swell of Stiles's ass.

"I don't care. I want it. I want you."

Derek sets Stiles down and growls, "Run."

"What?"

"If I catch you, I fuck you," Derek says, flashing his eyes. "So…run."

Eyes widening, Stiles nods before he catapults into action and runs.

Derek gives him a thirty-second head start. It's not much time, but he can't wait any longer. It doesn't take him long to find Stiles, considering his scent is so strong right now. They'll definitely have to explore this more. Was the spanking getting him so worked up or Derek chasing him?

Fire licks at his insides, igniting his entire being as he hears Stiles suck in a breath and hold it, likely to listen for Derek.

Derek gives him a sense of safety for several seconds before stepping forward—twigs and leaves crunching under his feet.

Stiles swears, turning on his heel. But he hasn't run off yet. Instead, he calls out a taunt, "I'm not gonna make this easy for you, asshole," before breaking into a sprint.

Stiles's words elicit a hunger that claws its way from Derek's throat straight to his cock.

Derek imagines that Stiles's chest is tight as he works to calm his erratic heartbeat while taking deep, long breaths.

The wind rustles the leaves on the ground, stirring up dirt and debris, drawing out goosebumps across Derek's skin as he waits in anticipation.

Stiles's heart thumps wildly as Derek takes one step, then two.

Derek catches the moment Stiles notices him, his eyes widening.

Stiles turns and runs, pumping his legs and arms as fast as they can, but he's still too slow for Derek.

Ten long strides is all it takes before Derek catches up to him, reaching out and wrapping his arms around Stiles's waist to draw him back.

Stiles struggles against his hold, fighting to get away.

It only makes Derek's cock harder. He chuckles, his breath fanning over the shell of Stiles's ear. "You can't escape me, Stiles."

"Are you gonna fuck me now?" Stiles asks, his pupils blown, voice dripping with lust.

"That was the deal."

"But what if someone finds us? Sees us?"

"Do you think they'd watch?" Derek asks, spinning Stiles in his arms and pinning him to the ground. "Do you think they'd enjoy the sight of your naked body on display? Maybe they'd get off on seeing your ass, so slick for me. Or the pretty flush on your chest when you come. I think they'd even enjoy watching your eyes roll to the back of your head when my cock fills you so fully that you can't fit any more of me inside you."

Stiles gasps. His heart beats faster, but the scent of his arousal never wavers. Derek can even smell the fresh slick dampening his pants.

"You'd be okay with other people seeing me naked?" Stiles challenges breathlessly.

Never.

"I'd let them watch. I'd let them watch me claim you as mine and own every inch of your body. They'd watch my cock fill your hole and then watch you cry because of how hard you came. And then I'd fucking kill them."

Stiles gasps, his breath stuttering, but he doesn't try to escape. "You're psychotic."

Derek trails a hand down Stiles's stomach to his pants. He grins when Stiles groans and his cock jumps. "I have a feeling you love it."

Stiles groans again, rolling his hips and pushing his cock into Derek's palm.

"So beautiful," Derek murmurs, his lips ghosting along Stiles's shoulder to his neck, only pausing on the spot right below Stiles's ear.

"One day, I'm going to claim you. Right here," he says, right before his teeth clamp down.

Stiles arches into him, moaning. He grips Derek's shoulders, holding him close as if he's scared Derek will leave him there.

Doesn't he know by now that Derek will never leave him?

That Derek will never let him go?

Severe shivers wrack Stiles's body when Derek licks a wet trail down to the juncture of his neck. The way his body responds is more potent than a drug.

Derek bites down again, pulling an animalistic sound out of Stiles that's music to his ears. So he does it again, over and over, leaving a trail of bruises down Stiles's neck and across his shoulder.

Mine mine mine.

Stiles blinks up at him, his eyes bright and pleasure-dazed.

"Do you know what these mean?" Derek asks, mouth ghosting along the bite marks.

Stiles shudders beneath his touch.

"They mean I own you. That you're mine."

And then Stiles rears up.

At first, Derek thinks Stiles is going to kiss him, but instead, Stiles mouths at his neck and bites him.

Hard.

Derek growls. His cock throbs, and all he wants to do is bury himself in the tight heat of Stiles's body.

"You're mine too," Stiles breathes into his ear when he lets go. "Mine, Derek. Do you understand?"

Derek nods, staring at Stiles in awe, his brain short-circuiting for a second on the fact that Stiles bit him—practically claimed him.

Perfect, Derek thinks. So perfect.

"I look at you and I want to destroy you," Derek admits, his words slurred around his fangs. "You should run from me. Leave while I have the willpower to let you go. I'm not safe for you. I want to break you."

"I want you to, Derek." There's no hitch in Stiles's breath; his heartbeat remains steady. "I want you to own me. Mark me. I want to feel it tomorrow. I want you to do your worst because I'll like it. I will. Fuck me, Derek. Fuck me hard."

Derek watches as Stiles reaches between them, his fingers deftly undoing his pants. Derek might be the predator, but Stiles can bring him to his knees. "I'm yours. Only yours."

Stiles's clothes fall in tatters when Derek rips them away. He'd apologize, but Stiles spreads his legs and bites his bottom lip, looking like debauchery and sin.

Derek can't decide which is better—the way Stiles looks splayed out beneath him or the way Stiles feels as Derek enters him with his fingers.

The groan Stiles lets out as Derek stretches his hole, getting him ready, is so sensual and so full of need that it spurs him on—faster, deeper, and way past the point of wanting to get inside him.

With his eyes closed and lips parted, Stiles is the sexiest bit of sin Derek had ever had the pleasure of fucking, and he's going to commit every second of tonight to memory.

The scent of Stiles's slick hangs heavy in the air, his cries of pleasure echoing through the trees.

As much as Derek would love to bury his face in Stiles's ass, he's too impatient. Too keyed up. Needs to be in him. Now.

Stiles clenches around his fingers, and he doesn't have to say anything more. Derek removes his fingers but takes his time lining up, teasing Stiles's hole before finally—finally—sliding into him, watching every little emotion cross Stiles's face as he takes Derek inch by inch.

Derek shudders at the intense pressure and pleasure that almost makes him lose control.

Cries of pleasure echo through the trees as Derek starts out slow and forceful. Short, harsh thrusts, then dragging himself out at a torturous pace before slamming inside Stiles again.

"You feel so fucking good," he murmurs, mouthing at Stiles's neck. The pleasure is blinding.

"Everything, Derek. Gimme everything."

Stiles's eyes roll to the back of his head as Derek readjusts their position, sliding each arm under his knees and hiking them up until Stiles is damn near bent in half.

Stiles lets out a loud moan at the new angle, his legs shaking as Derek nails his prostate.

"Oh my God," Stiles cries out, fingers digging into Derek's shoulder. His eyes shine bright with unshed tears. "Fuck! Yes! Right there! Fuck fuck fuck!"

Stiles's pupils are practically blown, barely any hint of amber to be seen as he reaches for his cock.

Derek growls, shoving his face into the crook of Stiles's neck, fighting the urge to bite him as his knot swells. Euphoria consumes him, wrapping Derek so tightly in its clutches that all five senses are lost to it.

When he finally shakes out of his orgasm-induced stupor, Stiles chuckles.

"Welcome back," he says, trailing his fingers down Derek's back.

Derek sits up, making Stiles moan when his knot tugs at his rim. "Sorry."

"S'okay." Stiles hums, closing his eyes. "Sleepy."

It really shouldn't surprise Derek at this point, considering Stiles always passes out after he orgasms. "Go ahead and sleep."

Stiles blinks one eye open. "Here?"

"My knot isn't going down anytime soon," Derek points out. "Might as well get comfortable."

"It, uh," Stiles arches his back, reaching beneath him and pulling out a twig. "It's a little hard to get comfortable with twigs digging into my back."

Derek wraps his arms around Stiles, lifting him up and flipping them so Derek's on the bottom. "Better?"

"For me, yes. But this just means you're uncomfortable now."

Derek shrugs. "It's fine. I'm pretty used to sleeping in the preserve." He runs his fingers through Stiles's hair. "Sleep."

Stiles closes his eyes and draws circles on Derek's chest with his finger. "Just for a little bit."

But as usual, he's out within seconds.

Derek kisses the top of his head and, as soon as his knot goes down, carries Stiles back to his house.

The club is dark, lit only by black lights and a flashing strobe. The air is hot. Humid. It reeks of cheap beer and even cheaper cologne and perfume, thanks to the gyrating bodies next to him on the dance floor. The skunky scents seep through his clothes and into his pores.

Derek would much rather be home. He's not the most social person, but he can't deny how much less pressure it is getting to know Erica and Boyd in a setting like this. Here, he doesn't have to talk. Here, Stiles acts as a buffer, smiling and laughing with them. Dancing. Having fun. Which is good because if Derek's going to be their alpha, they should also like and accept Stiles as his mate.

With the way they smile and gravitate toward him, Derek doesn't think that'll be an issue.

Derek leans in as Stiles grinds against him, his hair plastered to his forehead as sweat drips down his beautiful face. He has to yell over the too-loud music. "Are you having fun?"

Stiles gives him a megawatt smile that rivals the sun. "Hell yeah!"

His arms go above his head as he shimmies and shakes his hips. He's somehow offbeat as he matches the obnoxious music thumping through the speakers.

Derek chuckles, amused and enthralled. He grabs Stiles's waist, pulling him in closer. Heat radiates off his body. His movements, hypnotic.

Stiles grins, their noses nearly touching. Teasing. But just as Derek thinks Stiles is about to kiss him, he pulls away. "I'm going to get a drink!"

Derek stares after him, only turning away when Erica laughs, throwing her head back on Boyd's shoulder as he dances behind her.

"What?" Derek asks, raising a brow.

"You're so whipped."

Derek would be offended if it weren't for the pleased smile on her cherry-red lips. Besides, Stiles is unlike any omega Derek's ever encountered, and he loves it. Loves knowing that Stiles wants him just as much as he wants Stiles.

Instead of denying it, he flashes Erica a satisfied smirk. "Damn right."

After a few seconds, he looks around the club, spotting Stiles by the bar. It's crowded, and he stands off to the side, clearly waiting for an opening to get the bartender's attention. Derek hates that Stiles feels he has to do that. Hates that he can't just get what he needs without being overlooked.

Without hesitation, Derek strides away, pushing his way through the throng to get to his mate.

He's almost to Stiles, can practically feel his gaze through the people waiting at the bar when there's a tap on his shoulder. He turns, one brow raised at the stranger—an omega with stubble and messy hair.

"My friend and I were wondering if you'd buy us a drink," the stranger asks with a sly smirk, gesturing to another omega just behind him.

Derek gives them a tight smile and shakes his head. Just as he opens his mouth to reject the offer, Stiles is there. His face is red, anger rolling off of him in waves.

"He's mine!" Stiles yells, eyes narrowed on the omegas.

Derek's never seen him like this before, so jealous. Sure, there have been moments where he's possessive and dominating—hell, Derek's neck would be riddled with hickeys if he didn't heal so fast.

But this? This is new and takes Derek's breath away.

The omegas look scared, their eyes wide, especially when Erica and Boyd appear at Stiles's side, arms crossed. Their menacing glares broker no argument that they'd be willing to fight for Stiles no matter the consequences. The one who approached Derek apologizes before they hurry away.

Stiles turns to Derek and smiles. Though it's not a smug, happy grin. No, this smile is damn near feral with the wild expression on Stiles's face.

"You're all mine, Derek. You have no idea how long I waited—" Stiles huffs out a breath, running his fingers through his hair, tugging on the ends. "They can't take you from me."

Derek grabs his hands to stop him from pulling his hair out. To assure Stiles that no one is taking him from Stiles, but before he can say anything, Stiles drags him back to the dance floor, his drink obviously forgotten.

Erica and Boyd follow, but keep their distance as they dance. They must realize this is a time for Derek and Stiles alone. Something that Derek appreciates.

"You're mine, right?" There's a hint of insecurity in Stiles's voice.

Derek nods, cradling Stiles's face. "Yes, I am."

"Good," he breathes, finally relaxing under Derek's grip. His hands roam Derek's body, the heat of the night escalating to an almost boiling point.

Derek's never felt this need before. "You're mine, too. I love you."

Maybe it's too soon to say it, but Derek doesn't worry when Stiles grins.

"I love you, too," he says, eyes twinkling under the strobe lights as he tugs Derek down, kissing him. There's nothing innocent about the kiss. It's fierce and demanding. Between the slow glide of their tongues and the heat emanating off Stiles's body, Derek wants so much more.

Instead of continuing to stand under the haze of strobe lights, Derek loops an arm around Stiles's waist, searching for privacy.

"We'll be back," he calls out to Erica and Boyd so they don't worry.

Boyd nods, glancing toward a hall off to the side.

Derek takes the hint, leading Stiles off the dance floor.

Stiles nibbles on his earlobe. "What are we doing?"

"You'll see," Derek says.

The hall leads to the bathrooms, but there's a door at the end. Derek pushes it open, the heat of the club replaced by a mild spring breeze.

He grins, turning to Stiles as he steps out into the alley. It's dark and narrow, just big enough for the two of them. Without another word, Derek pulls Stiles close, their mouths crushing together as the door clicks shut behind them.

Stiles presses Derek back against the brick wall, hands tugging at Derek's shirt. "I wanna suck you off."

Derek can't help it. He laughs, the sound low and gratified as he pulls out his cock. "Anything you want. Always."

Stiles drops to his knees, licking his lips before sucking on the head of Derek's cock, and it feels so good.

Derek leans back against the brick, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he lets out a long, drawn-out groan. It feels unreal. He draws in a steady breath, sliding his hand through Stiles's hair. "You look so good like this. On your knees for me."

Stiles moans around his cock, the vibrations sending ripples of pleasure through him.

When Stiles pulls off his cock, Derek damn near whimpers, but then Stiles says, "Fuck my mouth," before sucking Derek deep again—so deep Derek's sure his cock hits the back of Stiles's throat.

Derek tightens his fingers in Stiles's hair, and Stiles widens his lips and relaxes his shoulders, giving Derek the best blowjob he's ever received.

God, Derek wants to kill anyone and everyone Stiles has ever been with while also thanking them for whatever part they had in making Stiles so good at this.

Derek rolls his hips, rhythm speeding up, and Stiles grips his ass, urging him on—his face practically buried in the coarse hair at the base of Derek's cock.

"Christ," Derek grunts, dropping his head back against the brick wall and pumping in and out of the most talented mouth he's ever been inside.

But it's not enough.

He glances down at where Stiles's cheeks are hollowed and his lips are stretched taut around his cock. It's better than any fantasy.

Reluctantly, he pulls out, and Derek's rock-hard cock throbs in protest.

Stiles's molten gaze finds Derek's, his cheeks flushed with desire.

Derek grabs a handful of Stiles's shirt, urging him to his feet, and then Stiles is up, pulling Derek into his body before either can think beyond getting their hands on the other.

"More." Stiles demands, and a bossy Stiles is Derek's favorite.

Derek sucks on his ear as he unbuttons and unzips Stiles's pants, sliding them down below his ass. "Turn around."

"Yes. God, yes," Stiles says as he complies, thrusting his ass back as he plants his hands on the wall.

With one hand, Derek pries his cheeks apart, groaning at the sight of his slick hole.

Stiles, impatient as ever, pushes back against him. "Don't fucking tease me. I need you in me. Now."

Just for that, Derek fucks him slowly with one finger until he whines.

Then two.

Stiles's breath catches, his moans getting more and more impatient, and if Derek doesn't fuck him soon, he's sure Stiles will take things into his own hands. So, finally—because it really is pure, unabashed torture not to be inside him—Derek shoves his own jeans down and lines himself up.

"Ready?" he asks, teasing Stiles's hole with the head of his cock.

Stiles groans, his fingertips white from where he's gripping the brick wall. "God, Derek. I want you to fuck me until I can't walk anymore."

With one sharp thrust, Derek pushes inside him. Balls deep, his muscles tense, and he stays flush against Stiles. "You feel so good. Always so good."

That second is all he gives himself before biting down on Stiles's neck, knowing the slight sting of pain turns Stiles on. Sure enough, Stiles lets out a lewd moan. It's loud and desperate and utterly carnal. Anyone walking by will know exactly what's happening in the alley.

Derek doesn't go slow, drawing out the breathy little pants and quiet moans that go straight to his cock. Instead, it's a vicious punch and pull of his hips that make them both curse unintelligibly. And Stiles is just as forceful and greedy as him—hips snapping back to meet every thrust.

"Harder. Please. Pleasepleaseplease. Give it to me."

Derek plants a hand on the wall by Stiles's head and grabs his waist with the other, drilling into him over and over at a relentless pace, letting the sublime feeling of ecstasy take him over.

Stiles shouts Derek's name, his hole clenching as the scent of his release fills the air.

It takes everything for Derek not to pop a knot, so he pulls out and spins Stiles around. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes bright and pleasure-dazed as he drops to his knees and opens his mouth.

Derek fists a hand in Stiles's hair, tugging his head back before fucking Stiles's mouth again in hard, fast, and shallow strokes. It doesn't take long before his orgasm slams into him. "Fuck. Fuck!"

Stiles swallows every drop, moaning before he licks his lips and rests his head on Derek's thigh, trying to catch his breath. "Goddamn."

Derek pets the top of Stiles's head, tucking himself back in with his other hand. After a few minutes, he says, "C'mon, baby. Let's get back inside."

Stiles nods as he gets up, Derek helping him fix his clothes. "I wanna dance some more."

And so they do, lost in the chaos and the moment where nothing else matters but them.

Derek carries the last box inside, setting it down on the dining room table. Erica and Boyd moved in two weeks ago, and now his pack is complete with Stiles here, too—even though Stiles has practically been living with him since that first night he stayed over.

"Was that it?" Stiles calls out from the living room, unpacking his movies.

Erica walks over, palm up as she wiggles her fingers. "Keys? We'll return the truck and grab some food on the way back."

Derek reaches into his pocket and tosses her the keys. "Be safe."

He watches as she and Boyd leave, a feeling of contentment washing over him. Despite the chaos and the mess and the noise of more people in his space, this is what he's been missing all along—having a pack, a family.

"Got anything that needs to go upstairs?" he asks Stiles, looking at all the boxes.

Stiles waves a hand toward the boxes near the stairs. "They should be labeled. Bedroom, bathroom, books."

"Your books can go in my office with the others if you want."

"That sounds good." Stiles holds up some of his treasured Funko pops. "What about these guys?"

Derek walks over to where Stiles sits on the floor, his legs crossed as he digs through boxes. "Wherever you want, baby."

"What if I wanted to display them over there?" Stiles gestures to the entertainment center.

"This is your house. If that's where you want them, then that's where they'll go." Derek leans down and brushes his lips over Stiles's forehead. "You don't need my permission."

Stiles smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I know. I just like hearing you say it."

"Brat."

"Maybe," Stiles says with a cheeky grin, "but you like it."

Yes. Yes, he does. Derek steals a kiss. "I'm going to take some things upstairs."

"Okay. Don't worry about unpacking them. I want to do it."

"Alright." Derek grabs a stack of boxes and carries them to his room. Their room. Because Stiles is officially moved in now.

He chuckles as he sets the boxes on the chest, opening the one on top. The word Closet is scrawled in black Sharpie across the top, so Derek lifts it to take it into the walk-in closet, but the bottom falls out. A couple pairs of shoes, door hooks, some hangers, and a leather-bound book land on the floor.

He sets the box on the bed, picks up the book—a journal of some sort—and flips it in his hands, reveling in the buttery soft leather under his fingertips.

A smile breaks across Derek's face as he trails his fingers over the inscription on the cover.

Mieczysław Stilinski.

A leather cord is wrapped around the journal, holding it closed. Derek strokes his fingers over it, smiling softly. He should put it down. Leave it on the bed and walk away, but as he turns to leave, his eyes linger on the journal.

Slowly, almost reverently, Derek undoes the cord and opens it.

A picture falls out, and his gaze lands on Stiles's familiar scrawl on the back.

'You are an obsession, I am your possession.'

Derek frowns, flipping it back over. It's a picture of him in his workshop, his brow furrowed as he staples packaging foam to the top of a custom cat house he made for the shelter in late December.

Before Derek even knew who Stiles was.

He opens the journal again, landing on a page that's torn and crinkled as if Stiles tried to rip it out but changed his mind. Derek smooths the page out and reads:

January 26th

Patience has never been my strong suit, but I know the payout will be so sweet. It'll be worth it because he's worth it. I just know it.

But waiting. Waiting, waiting, and more waiting!

What's taking him so long?

Why hasn't he come yet?

Patience may be a virtue, but my stomach churns as I sit. As I wait. As I hope. As I try to remember that the longer I wait, the sweeter the reward will be.

That he'll come for me. Finally.

Derek quickly flips back to the beginning of the journal, going through and reading the random scribbles and notes that Stiles wrote. Complaining about customers, hanging out with his friends and dad, and then about Derek. When Stiles first saw him around town. Following him.

Stiles's handwriting gets messier the more he talks about wanting Derek. Needing him. How he purposefully put himself in Derek's way to catch his attention and then orchestrating their meeting when he noticed Derek finally taking an interest in him.

Derek's chest tightens as he realizes Stiles has been in love with him longer than he ever thought.

Stiles. His Stiles did all this—went to such lengths to capture Derek's interest. To make Derek want him.

Derek snaps the journal closed, overwhelmed by his emotions. It's a silly, silly thing to be so touched by. But he is, and he can't help it.

He puts the picture back in the journal and gently closes it, pressing a kiss to its cover. His lips linger for a moment before carefully tying the cord around it, preserving the little piece of Stiles he now holds.

God, could anyone be more perfect for him?

"Derek?"

At the sound of Stiles's voice, Derek looks up.

Stiles stands in the doorway, playing with the hem of his shirt—his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, his expression wary. "Wh-what are you doing with that?"

Derek offers him a gentle smile as he walks over and holds the journal out. "It fell out when I was moving the boxes."

Stiles takes it with a shaky hand, his eyes wide in surprise. "Oh. I…" He takes a deep breath and looks away. "I didn't mean for you to see that."

Derek steps closer and cups Stiles's face in his hands, forcing him to look up. His voice is low and husky, all of his emotions bubbling to the surface. "Marry me."

Stiles pulls back, eyes wide and mouth agape. His searching gaze finds Derek's, and Derek can see the silent thoughts written all over his face.

"Are you serious?" Stiles's voice is barely above a whisper.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Stiles." Derek trails kisses along Stiles's jaw, grazing his teeth along Stiles's neck, nipping lightly at the spot he wants to put his mating bite. He can already picture how it'll look—bright red on Stiles's creamy skin, a strong and healthy bond. "I love you. I knew you were mine from the moment I saw you in that club."

Stiles blushes. "I didn't think you'd seen me that night."

"I did. And I tried to stay away."

"I know," Stiles says, annoyance creeping into his voice. "Do you know how much that sucked? How long I waited? I waited and wai—"

Derek cuts him off with a kiss. The kiss is gentle and sweet, filled with all Derek's love for him. "You don't have to wait anymore. I'm yours. Always."

Stiles looks at him with so much love and adoration that Derek can't help but smile.

"So…is that a yes?" Derek asks.

"Yes." Stiles nods, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and his lips spread in a wide, genuine smile. "Yes. I'll marry you."

Derek grins, gathering Stiles in his arms and spinning him around. Then, he sets Stiles down and kisses him again.

Stiles was right—it was worth the wait. Every single second of it.

#sterek #sterek fic #sterek fanart #holy shit i wrote something

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gale-gentlepenguin · 8 months

Text

Gale Reviews: Spider-man : Across the Spiderverse

thanks @knightsweeties for drawing my icon's spidersona

So I am WAY behind on movies I should have been watching and Finally cleared my schedule enough to watch this movie

So I think I will break it down into the following. As a fan of into the spider-verse, my expectations for this film are a lot higher than most movies. Here's how I am breaking it down.

Animation

Plot

The Characters

The Lesson

Does it live up to the hype

Final Thoughts

____________________________________________________________

Animation

Across the Spiderverse is an animation marvel.

I wouldnt call it beautiful, because that is such a mundane term. It is artistically masterful. It even goes beyond what it had done in the previous film.

The way the film has each universe has its own art, color and style that transfers to each character. The level of detail is beautiful. The way colors are used in Gwen's universe. How Hobie is never looking consistent in any shot he is in because in his own words "He hates consistency" Its incredible.

The animation is the best part of the movie. If the animation is a cut above the rest and it is the best I have every seen in a CGI film.

10/10 (And that is a hard 10)

Plot

The film takes place a year and 4 months after the events of Into the spiderverse. There is a group of inter dimensional spider people that go around to fight anomalies and ensure the "Canon" is maintained.

Miles aka Spiderman is just trying to get a hang of his life as Spider man, his parents are worried about his future and now he has a new villain, the Spot. The Spot is obsessed with becoming Miles/Spiderman's nemesis and is hopping universes to increase his power.

Miles ends up in trouble with the interdimensional spider people and their leader, Miguel o'hara. And it culminates in the Spot becoming a massive threat to the multiverse, Miles being chased down by the spider people because he is an anomoly and him ending up in a dimension from where the Spider that bit him came from. A world where there is no spider man.

Now there is SO much to cover and this movie is a 2 hour and 20 minutes and it is only PART 1!

Now there are also a bunch of other story lines like with Gwen and her dad, Peter B parker becoming a father and The Spot figuring out his powers. But that is only the beginning.

Now the way the movie takes its time to set things up is fine... but it also feels like there are some things that could have been cut. It feels so long. The movie does do a good job to ensure it never feels boring, but at the same time it feels cluttered and empty in random intervals.

The first part does leave me excited for part 2, but I also feel like I have a lot of movie to process already and I am not in a rush to see part 2.

I think the previous film did a better job maintaining the hype and pacing, while also giving so much development.

Overall 8/10

_____________________________________________________________

The Characters

Miles Morales: Miles is as great as he was in the first film. You sympathize with his situation, he never comes off as annoying or jerkish because the movie does a good job in making sure you understand his perspective. Even when he is arguing with his parents, you know he wants to tell them but all the advice he has been given is NOT to. The problem with Miles though is that his problem is basically the same as the first one, people keep telling him what he is or needs to be and he has to find his own way and rise up. It feels a bit repetitive. But that being said it is a twist on it because with the situation we as the audience have to figure out if Miles is in the right or not.

Spider-Gwen: Gwen gets more development here, including the focus on her dynamic with her father. The strain that occured when he found out that his daughter was the vigilante that he believed killed his daughter's best friend. Its a whole can of worms as Gwen is basically dimension hoping to avoid dealing with that. We also see how she and miles grow closer ONLY to seperate as he learned the truth on why she never visited and why he is an anomoly. Gwen does manage to make up with her dad and she has a new mission, saving Miles. She is in her own way just as much of a main character in this as Miles, which is great for her as it allows us to explore her character more. Her character is one of the best.

The Spot: When it comes to pathetic villains that grow into massive threats, you can say I have a soft SPOT for them. I like the backstory and how absurdly dumb it is but how it makes sense. The spot is growing into his own and a twisted version of miles, like he had to deal with in the first movie. Coming into his own but lacking control only to grow exponentially as he grew in confidence. The spot now has a mission, be the true nemesis of Miles whether he wants it or not, and he is willing to rip apart the multiverse to do it.

Miguel O'Hara: The hard ass future spiderman that is obsessed with making sure no other universe collapse. He is fervent in his belief that Canon can not be broken and any and all threats to the spiderverse need to be dealt with. He is also a foil to Miles because he is a bigger, serious and seemingly more competent version of him. Miles' own friends take this guy's side over his, and it is a great point of tension. Personally, I think he is wrong with his takes and while the movie tries to show him as right, it fails to take into account how inaccurate it is by ignoring the times things DIDNT break. If Canon was so definitive, than Miles universe would have collapsed when his world's spiderman died. Regardless I do like the character.

The Spiders: The other spider people were great. Seeing Peter b parker, and Spider byte were some of my personal favorites. Spider woman was great... but it bothered me that a PREGNANT WOMAN was doing all this crazy dangerous stuff. I dont care if she is a spider person that is dangerous and could cause a TON of complications. WHY DID NO ONE POINT OUT THE DANGER TO HER? Rant done, I did enjoy all the jokes that were made and most of the spiders were endearing and fun to see. (Lego spider man is the best one confirmed by Miguel)

Overall solid 9/10. While Gwen got an upgrade and Miguel was a welcome antagonist I think there were a LOT more characters here and it cost some of them development. But despite that it is still good.

______________________________________________________________

The Lesson

Its basically a coming of age story that life is unpredictable and that people can advise you but you are the only person that can decide how you write your story. That is similar to Miles story in the first one and it could be argued that this is just an expansion on that. Or it can be said that the first lesson was to rise to the occasion and never fear failure while this is to push forward and decide whats right for you.

Overall its done well if a bit of a rehash.

9/10

__________________________________________________________

Does it live up to the Hype?

Yes. 100% if you liked the first one you will love the second one. But I can also see the argument that the first movie was great as a stand alone, and with this being part one it now becomes dependent on how the second part delivers, that is the problem with movies in Parts. I do think it will deliver, so I am not worried on that end. So yes, it lives up to the hype.

_____________________________________________________________

Final thoughts

Across the Spiderverse brings a new redefinition of animation as we know it, it is a solid plot and it has a lot of hype and build up going into the next part. I am glad I waited before watching as it allows me not to get sucked into people's opinions and I can say I enjoy it without just agreeing with the crowd.

solid 10/10 for me. It is one of the best Animated movies I have ever seen and I cant wait for part 2.

Also what is with spider people and child endangerment? Spider woman and peter B parker. I got my EYE on you

TLDR: Its an INCREDIBLE movie, its long and it lives up to the hype.

#spiderman atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderman #gale reviews #spider man: across the spider verse

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k-s-morgan · 10 months

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Hello! I made a Tumblr account just so that I can tell you how amazing your writing is and how awesome you are! I watched Hannibal just so I could read more of your stories - the way that you keep shifting the power dynamics and building up these obsessive relationships creates some of the most intense and best stories that I have ever read. Do you ever think of writing a story with original characters that you might try publishing? (I would definitely buy and read it!)

Also, thank you so much for the personal updates that you do about yourself and Ukraine. I am so sorry for everything you and your country has been experiencing with Russia. I think you are remarkable with your communications and how much good you are putting out in the world despite the horror you and your country are being put through. I wish you and your loved ones all the best. Thank you for everything you do!

Hello! Oh wow, I really appreciate it! It's so flattering that you decided to watch the entire show just to read my fics, and I'm happy that you enjoyed them! I love obsessive characters, and I love obsessive, dark relationships between them even more. If you're interested, I have a Hannigram AU one-shot here that I didn't post to AO3.

As for original novels, I actually have three published romance stories, but I wrote them when I was like 17, and two of them are M/F. I don’t talk about them often because my style has evolved over the years, and the ideas and execution in them are probably problematic - and not in a good way!

My first book was Until Hell Freezes Over. It’s a semi-dark Gothic M/F romance with a twist that takes it from a more ordinary genre to a somewhat supernatural one. Ironically, I got most attached to my gay dark secondary character who’s in unrequited love with the main character. I just couldn’t get into M/F to the extent I wanted. I love this story in a way, it's my baby, and it has an interesting way of character development, but I wrote it because I naively hoped to gain more attention in the M/F market, not because I was really inspired. And both protagonists are not the best people in shallow and grounded ways.

My second book was Layers of Freesia. It’s a short and far less serious M/F romance. Basically, they met, they fought, they made up, all in 100 or so pages. I love my female character there - some readers mentioned she’s autistic, and while I didn’t think of it when I was writing, I believe it fits. She holds a special place in my heart.

My third book was All Roads Lead to Hades. It’s a short M/M obsession-based novel. Some readers mentioned it’s rushed, and it might be so because I was excited to be finally writing in the genre I wanted and I had a specific deadline by which I needed it to be done) I’ve never re-read it and didn’t have the heart to edit it.

I have 200 pages of another dark M/M romance written, and I do intend to finish and publish it at some late date. Here’s the synopsis I wrote back in 2016.

There were times when the Lettvin-Nostrand Empire was one of strongest, full of pureblood nobility who possessed powerful magic and feared no one. But seduced by the promises of more freedom from a neighboring Empire, the society split up, unleashing war that had been ravaging their own territory until Emperor Glacirien had enough.

Ruthless and cruel, Glacirien is feared by his enemies and his own people alike because the abilities he possesses are like no others. He puts an end to the war and keeps ruling over his burned Empire, not letting it heal, condemning people to suffer and die from starvation and diseases for their betrayal. When he visits one of the dying villages, he meets a golden-haired young man who evokes feelings in him Glacirien never expected to experience.

Caelus is warm. Caelus embodies the light and the brightness remaining in this world, and Glacirien is growing obsessed with him.

Caught in a dangerous web of political intrigues, betrayals, love, and his own dark nature, he has to tread carefully in order to preserve the remains of his country… for however weak Caelus’ magic is, in the end, he might be the person destined to destroy Glacirien’s Empire for

I have a prologue for it posted here.

Last year, I published a small book with short war-related stories. It felt healing to write it.

Also, thank you so much for your kind words about my country, me, and my people! It really means a lot. I still cannot believe this is our life now... Even sleeping a night properly, with no attacks and alarms, is a blessing. It should never be this way for anyone, but unfortunately, I doubt the guilty Russians will ever learn.

#my fics #my books #hannigram #personal #ukraine #russia is a terrorist state

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highpri3stess · 1 month

Note

Ahhh just came to give my thoughts about the chapter 5! Firstly, thank you so much for the consistent uploads!!! Shin and mc are so so cute like the romcom vibes just makes my heart melt, it’s giving Italian summer 50s mobster vibes and I have no idea how else to explain that? Truly sad he’s not an option, tho I seriously hope we see more of him and the forbidden love that can never happen :(((

Your fluff writing is so good oml!

Okay and regarding characters:

Izanas characterization is so evilllll like he doesn’t even have the canon of having no family because he does in fact have family, dude is just so evil and the green monster for mc is corroding him istg he’s the “if i can’t have no one else can” typa guy,,, and the amount of projecting he is doing onto the mc

I could see Izana k*lling or seriously harming reader again, and can only imagine how mad shin would be with that threat at the end of chap 5 like izana unraveling the sano family which was the very thing he was afraid of happening would just be so karmic

Mikey u loserrrrr but fr he’s starting to become so lovesick in such a twisted way and I am so scared for his reaction the whole shin visit

In terms of who I think will betray reader: Hina (at least im just praying fnwkof) she’s so salty and jealous, and I lowkey wonder if she purposely set reader up to fail that test

On that Emma x mc x draken pipeline but im just in denial

Like I could see Emma becoming dark for a few reasons, but I don’t think it’d be in a straight way that would deliberately harm reader, she’s arguably one of the characters who is most obsessed with mc , I could see her being manipulative so that reader has no one else but her, slowly destabilizing mc (pls I love a gay yandere *jcjekfj),,, and drakennnnn I love the idea of him being fond for reader instead of jealous but I KNOW that’s not canon to the story

Side note but I loveee Mitsuya and his lil crush on mc, and mc is so precious like she does nooooot deserve this and i don’t understand how she’s making everyone obsessive in just evil ways but i guess honey attracts more flies than vinegar

N e ways im so excited to see where you decide to go with the rest of the story, but no rush and take care of yourself!!!

Ahhh thank you so much! I genuinely live for you guys theories!

Ahh thank you! I haven't written fluff in a while so I'm glad you really liked it! I did take some inspiration for Reader and Shin scenes from a telenovella I was watching at the time "The Rich also cry" and another one I don't recall the name and Shinichiro kind of reminds me of Michael from "the Godfather" by Mario Puzzo, the unwilling heir to a criminal business yknow (I haven't read the Godfather since I was like 15. I should pick it up again soon), so yeah.

PLEASE. It is so not looking good for Hina's public image right now. First not writing te test for reader and then the wrong scores 😭 my goodness.

Also i love gay yandere pleaseeee. In a way, Emma is a little bit obssessed, but she has a good head on her shoulders, unlike her brothers and still sees reader as a good person. Although she tends to impose her will on reader a lot. Draken has a love-hate relationship with reader but I don't think I'll have enough time to explore that dynamic.

IZANA AND MIKEY ARE sooo funny to me. Like they are a combination of stupid, losers and selfish 😭. I don't want to spoil chapter 5 or say things that might not make it to the final cut but let's just say they are HUGE assholes.

Honey does attract more flies than vingear. Very true. Thank you so much nonnie.

#monsters ♡

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docholligay · 1 year

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Eurovision Rehearsal quick takes

I’m not linking the tiktoks because I openly resent the fact that Eurovision wants me to use tiktok, but clearly I don’t care THAT much, or I wouldn’t watch them. I’m not gonna be one of those people pretending seeing Eurovision rehearsals or whatever is a right, and I HAVE to use tiktok by force. lol. I’m more self-aware than that, thanks.

ANYWAY, here’s my off the cuff takes on each of the performers who went today. YOutube clips should be up May 3rd, and also be BETTER, so any in-depth thoughts I share will be then.

These are in running order:

Norway: Can she hit anything BUT the whistle note? It is all over the place here, and considering MGP is out of its fucking mind and lets competitors use autotune--though Alessandra claims she didn’t--I wonder if we’re gonna see shaky vocals on the night. it’ll qualify anyway, the tiktoks girlies are all over this one, and televoters don’t always punish bad vocals. (YOU SHOULD START.)

Malta: Love the sparkle sweater and the use of the LED screens. Also, he can actually sing the song he represented he could sing. Very dynamic, i’m not sure I think it can save them, but it maybe DESERVES to?

Serbia: I cannot wait to see what the fuck the casual viewers make of this. Bringing the NF staging, strange discordant gamer chaos that I am strangely unopposed to? I think?

Latvia: It was nice knowing you. They can sing it, but they brought a staging that is not going to stand out in this semi and it’s just too tough.

Portugal: GIRL NO. When you said you were bringing “A luxurious and glamorous cabaret:” I assumed like, a prop. Maybe some glitter. Just a thought. Even the couch is gone.It’s 5 of you on a bare stage with lights in the back. I have so many concerns now. She can still KILL the vocals, but the staging is not it, friends. Best dress she’s had so far though.

Ireland: OBSESSED with how much I hate this guy’s jumpsuit. There’s stairs! BOY PORTUGAL WOULDN’T STAIRS BE NICE? There’s pyrotechnics! The staging actually looks good, and he can sing while moving about the stage, I bet the odds board is ALL OVER THE PLACE rn.

Croatia: This is going to be so much fucking fun to see live, and unless they REALLY fuck it up I am going to pay human American dollars to vote for it because this MUST be in the final.

Switzerland: I am so disappointed at how they burned this kid with this song. He can SING. He can sing WELL. He can RUN ACROSS THE STAGE WHILE HITTING A STRONG NOTE, meanwhile käärijä and mae are out of breath singing and walking across stage, my god. I do not think any of that can save this, and I don’t even WANT it to be saved, I fucking hate the song and think it is in EXTREMELY poor taste for Switzerland, but GOD, Remo deserved better.

Moldova: Oh Moldova is QUALIFYING. That was great, he can move and sing with ease, his flutist is incredible, my only negative is a miss the deer antlers and don’t care for the new headgear on the gals. But I am feeling SO much more confident about a Moldova Q, we love it.

Sweden: Finally got to see the solution to the panini press problem! It looks a little rinky dink in a wide shot, but I think with the close in camera it’ll look very similar to Melfest at home. It sounded a bit like she was rushing the vocals! I’m so used to Loreen sounding perfect all the time that it was pretty jarring, and the odds changes reflect that, but when one takes the average of her performances, i’m not actually concerned.

THERE WILL BE MORE TOMORROW AND THUS I WILL BE BACK WITH MORE.

#translated from the original European

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imsailorpluto · 1 year

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True Beauty - spoilers; ep 1, 2

tw: bullying, violence, suixxxcide

Our main character is Lim Ju-kyung, a girl who's been bullied for her looks ever since she was a child. Everyone's belittling her, starting with her family, to school peers, she just can't catch a break. She's trying to make her life easier by going with the flow, but nothing seems to work.

Oh girl, looks are not the single most important thing, it's all about the attitude. Her teen life would have been so much better if she at least had some support from her own family. This show has already got me screaming "protect this child at all cost" (⁠╯⁠ರ⁠ ⁠~⁠ ⁠ರ⁠)⁠╯⁠︵⁠ ⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

I'd put a large warning sign, for the first episode especially. It's a lot. I'm a grown up, and it triggered me so badly, honestly gave me so much anxiety. There are scenes of severe bullying: both harsh language and physical violence, which leads Ju-kyung to the point of wanting to end her own life by jumping off a building. Thankfully she gives up the idea in the last moment. Second episode also has a few scenes of bullying, so consider yourself warned. I'm pretty sure the whole series will be addressing this problem so it might not be for everyone, especially if you've been through something similar yourself.

If something like this ever crosses your mind, just please reach out to adult you can talk to, tell them about your problems and I promise they will help. Every reasonable adult will surely help. Just don't make the worst possible option. There is always a way out, a solution

Thankfully, everything worked out in her favour and, well, she didn't go through with it. I'm glad that dramas address bullying so seriously. Even though I am sure it brought back bad memories to lots of viewers, myself included, rasing awareness of tragedies which bullying causes is extremely important. If we ignore it, it won't magically disappear. It needs to be addressed and it needs to be prevented for real. People need to stop acting like the cave men.

Well, after that it all kind of went uphill, the drama dynamics changes, and it starts turning into a comedy. Thankfully, due to some other unfortunate events, our main ugly duckling changes her life completely. Her family is forced to move back to their old house, which is far far away from her bullies, and so she finally gets a transfer to another school. Oh and, she masters the art of make-up so well, that she becomes unrecognisable. To the point of becoming the beauty queen of her new school.

Even though my inner skin-care obsession is making me scream at the screen for her not going to a good dermatologist, because it's just her skin breaking out and that can easily be fixed and she could've live a stress-free life (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

Anyways, seems like she made two really good friends. But bullies from the previous school left some serious scars on her. If you watched this, then the following screenshot will be more than familiar.

I almost cried at this. It literally hurts to watch this scene. Her friends are asking about food and her initial response is to rush and get them what they want. They're showing what it looks like when you've been victimised for so long by others, your responses become so f*cked up honestly. And there's so much repair you have to do afterwards. Make-up isn't enough.

Girl on the left is such a girlboss. She has her friends' back. I mean, she literally chased a perv and handed him over to the police. To help our girl. Loyalty level so high nobody can catch up... (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

Hopefully she'll stay like that till the end. The one on the right is such a cinnamon roll. I can't imagine her doing anything bad to anyone. Hopefully they'll stick together and stay friends.

The main girlie is also actually a girlboss, she just needs to be reminded of it. Plus, she doesn't know it yet but being yourself is always the best option, no matter what. It's too bad they don't teach us that at schools.

I mean, come on, heavy metal and horrors? We'd sooo be besties in high school. Personality over looks, always!

Of course this can't go right without the main male lead, Lee Su-ho. He's the guy on that second screenshot, taken from a scene when he "rescues" our main girl. She can't see him though as her glasses got knocked off her face, but he memorises her bare face well. It becomes obvious he lost a friend to sui*ide. And as we find out later on, he is extremely smart, does martial arts and lives separately from his dad. That makes no sense at first but then we also find out his dad is the world's greatest a**hole. So, yeah, there's a lot of baggage from his side as well.

Well, soon enough things start to get complicated, as expected, Su-ho ends up being Ju-kyung's new classmate who enjoys long walks to her favourite comic store. So, now she has to do all these silly things just so he doesn't find out her true identity. You know, it happens also that she goes with no make up to the comic store but with full face to school and the poor guy has zero clue that the new girl at school and the comic girl(the girl he saved) are the same person.

I wonder how long will hiding the truth work out. Judging by our girlie's character, not too long (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠) but it's all right.

I almost forgot about the second male lead, Han Seo-jun. He's the "bad boy", but I bet he's actually the main cinnamon roll of this series. It's just ... a kdrama thing, let's say.

Of course his motorcycle helmet is now owned by our main girl, don't even ask how, just go watch this precious kdrama.

Till next time, Sailor Pluto

♡

P.s. I know many watched True Beauty because Eunwoo is starring, I didn't even know he's such a big deal in Korea, ooops, i hope you don't get mad at me for saying that. In my defence I really don't know much about Korean scene, I know maybe 5 k-pop songs from groups that probably no longer exist, and I watch kdramas because I find them more funny and relaxing than what's usually available. So. That is it. Hope you enjoyed these scribbles. If you made it till here - thank you so much, feel free to leave me a message with your suggestions and drama recommendations. xo

#true beauty #kdrama #imsailorpluto #kdrama recommendations #kdrama review #lee suho #lim jukyung #han seojun #kang sujin

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bopbopstyles · 4 years

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BEHIND THE BAR

RATING: R/smut (sex, heavy alcohol use, lots of cursing, heavy banter)

WORD COUNT: 17.3k (she long and you may need to read on desktop)

CATEGORIES: bartender!y/n, fratboy!harry

a/n: the long awaited bartender!y/n fic has ARRIVED! thank you to my fabulous anons who dreamt up bartender!y/n and made me fall so in love with her and fratboy!harry’s dynamic that i had to write her. she is tattooed, sassy, and full of spunk and i ADORE her. if you need more of her and harry, check out the inspo tag which has all the discourse. concepts for these two are ALWAYS open. s/o to @harrystylescherry, @stellarboystyles, @harrysclementines, @havethetimeofyourstyles for beta reading and @bfharry for providing harry’s dad joke 😘

“Cheers, Birthday Princess,” you told him, and then you bumped your glass against his, before tipping it back. Harry slammed the glass down on the counter and shook his head as the alcohol coursed through his veins.

Then, he leaned forward on the bar, resting his elbows on the alcohol-covered surface. You tried to keep it clean, but there was no way to keep up with it all. “How about a birthday kiss, Madam Bartender?”

“In your dreams,” you answered, realizing what you had said only after the words left your mouth.

Harry smirked, a dimple poking out. “We’ve already talked about dreams, Y/N. You know you’re already in them, so no need to beg for it.”

Y/N is a bartender and Harry’s obsessed with her

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

In hindsight, perhaps taking a job as a bartender at the campus bar as a freshman wasn’t your smartest idea. You had to spend most of your weekend nights behind the bar trying to hear orders from slurring frat boys ordering the cheapest beer on tap and got shit tips because apparently your classmates didn’t care about tipping their bartenders. But at the same time, it was a great way to always drink for free and make friends, both with the other bartenders and with students who frequented the bar, as well as the neighborhood regulars earlier in the evening.

The thing you loved most about it, though, was the power you held behind the bar. It was your space, space where you made the rules and could throw out any person who messed with you. Which, as a stunningly gorgeous 21-year-old girl serving alcohol at a popular bar, happened plenty. You and Mike, the bouncer who usually shared shifts with you, had a hand signal that you could give him whenever someone was causing problems, and he would happily come to the bar and throw out whatever obnoxious man was giving you trouble. You frequently considered that Mike actually enjoyed throwing people out of the bar.

It was a Saturday night, the busiest night of the week and nearing one AM. The bar was packed, bodies pushing past one another to get to the bar, girls drumming their fingers on the fake wood counter. Tendrils of your long black hair stuck to the back of your neck, the result of constantly being on the move from the moment the rush hit until the bar closed. A cropped black tank top stuck to your skin, the sliver of skin between the hem of the shirt and the top of your black skinny jeans not enough to keep your body cool. Your ponytail swung back and forth as you moved, winding around Matt, the other bartender tonight, with ease. The two of you usually shared shifts, both being students and having the same availability. Generally, he was a good guy, taking the drunk guys so you didn’t have to deal with them and always making sure people didn’t give you trouble. The one downside to Matt, though, was his frat brothers. They appeared every shift without fail, bringing with them chaos and an inordinate amount of drink orders. They loved to annoy you, asking you the contents of every fancy drink they could think of and asking about your love life.

Tonight, it seemed, was no different.

You noticed the minute they entered the bar, a collection of t-shirts, a couple of jerseys you despised, and a button down shirt or two, all of them talking and yelling at each other. “Matt, your fan club is here!” You called down the bar, and Matt laughed as he grabbed the vodka off the wall to make a drink for two girls that were staring at him with wide eyes.

You grabbed two shot glasses and the handle of tequila from where you’d left it below the bar. “Salt and limes?” You asked the girls who had ordered the shots. They were most definitely not twenty-one, but then again, serving underage college students was how the bar made any business. The girls nodded, and so after you had poured the shots, you grabbed the salt shaker and two cut limes, pressing the limes into the rim of the glasses and pushing all the items across the bar. One of the girls handed you her card and you heard the words “Keep it open!” over Taste by Tyga and Offset that was blaring in the bar. It was your playlist, one that you’d perfectly curated for the bar with input from the other bartenders, and you were pretty proud of it.

After swiping the girl’s card and adding it to the stack of open tabs, you whirled back around to take the next customer. The sight of his brown curly mop and gleaming green eyes made you sigh—it was Harry. He, frankly, was a bit obsessed with you, but he was Matt’s little so you let it slide. Also, Harry’s attention didn’t make your skin crawl, instead it made your belly clench and witty comebacks fall easily from your mouth. The two of you had settled into a consistently flirtatious banter and you didn’t mind it, frankly. Sometimes, it was the highlight of your night.

The first time you ever met Harry, you noticed him long before he finally spoke to you. He was sitting at a booth not too long after your shift started, so it wasn’t super busy yet. He had caught your eye because he wouldn’t stop staring at you and he had a weird bandana wrapped up in his hair. (Or was it even a bandana? Maybe a scarf? You couldn’t be sure.) It wasn’t the creepy kind of stare that made you call the bouncer over, but the kind that made you blush against your every attempt not to. When Matt came in, a bit late as usual, Harry beelined to the bar, sitting down in front of him.

“Y/N, this is Harry,” Matt had said, grabbing the bottle of Jack from the wall and pouring some in a glass, then adding Coke to it before pushing the glass towards Harry. “He’s my little.”

You leaned onto the bar, the surface still dry since it wasn’t packed yet. “I was waiting for you to say hi. Saw you staring for the past fifteen minutes.”

The blush that rose to Harry’s cheeks made you smile at him, and Matt chuckled. “Staring isn’t nice, H.”

“Wasn’t staring,” Harry mumbled. “Just watching you make drinks.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Have you never seen a bartender before?”

“No, fuck,” he said to himself and you internally grinned at making him a bit embarrassed. He was easy to mess with, especially now that you had confirmed that he had, in fact, been watching you. “You’re just good at it.”

You looked to Matt. “He thinks I make good drinks,” you informed your co-worker. “What do you think, Harry? Am I better than your big?”

Harry could tell he had dug himself into a hole, his eyes sweeping between you and Matt. “I—I don’t know—maybe?” Matt’s eyes widened and Harry stumbled over his words, trying to correct course. “No, no, Matt’s better. Matt is definitely better.”

You leaned forward a bit more, inching closer to Harry. “Thought you said I was good at it?”

You could feel his eyes drift to where your cleavage was exposed from the deep-v of your black t-shirt. “You are.”

“So which one of us is better?”

“You.”

Matt groaned and you moved away, a triumphant grin on your face. “Not fair,” Matt said. “Harry’s got a crush on you, of course he’d say you’re better!”

Harry choked on his drink and you raised your eyebrows at him. “A crush, huh?”

“Shit,” Matt said. “I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

You bumped your hip against his. “It’s ok, Matty boy. I figured that out when he wouldn’t stop staring at me.”

Harry blushed and you moved away, tending to the other customers at the bar.

That night had begun the back-and-forth between you and Harry, a playful dynamic of flirtation and jokes that usually left you triumphant and Harry blushing at the bar. He kept showing up early and Matt would tell you things like “Oh, he’s just coming by to drop off my charger” or “He just wants to chat.” All of them were excuses for Harry to be in the bar with just you, Matt, and a couple of customers, him having your relatively undivided attention. He’d tell you terrible jokes and ask you questions about your classes or family, most of which you ignored. You never asked him questions back, just let him talk and you listened, although you pretended like you didn’t, because you didn’t want to encourage him.

The truth was, though, you didn’t mind him. You kind of looked forward to those conversations. When he got really drunk he was a bit more annoying, repeating your name until you finally paid attention to him, only for him to say nothing except “You’re cute” or something along those lines. He entertained you, at least, and that was more than could be said for most of the patrons.

Tonight, it seemed, was no different than usual. “Y/N!” He said, shoving himself between two people who had managed to snag one of the green vinyl covered bar stools. His hair was messy, perhaps a bit sweaty, and he was swearing a black t-shirt, a silver chain tucked under his shirt. You could immediately tell he was decently drunk already, based on the glassy expression in his eyes and the grin on his face. “Want to hear a joke?”

You wiped off the bar with the towel over your shoulder before answering him. “Sure.”

“What did the therapist say when a naked man wrapped in cling film went into their office?”

“I don’t know,” you answered, resting your hands on the bar and looking at him dead on. “What did they say?”

Harry was grinning at you, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Clearly I can see your nuts.”

You groaned and Harry just guffawed. “Harry, that was horrible.”

“You just have no sense of humor.”

“Says the guy making jokes like that,” you shot back. “Now, what do you want?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black leather wallet. “Five fireball shots.”

You had to take a second before replying because the thought of a fireball shot makes you want to vomit. The combination of the cinnamon flavor and the burn it sent down your throat was one you hated, but it seemed Harry enjoyed it. “Really, Harry? Fireball?”

“What? It’s good!”

You shook your head, but grabbed shot glasses, laying them out in a line on the bar. “You’re insane.” You turned, grabbed the bottle of Fireball, and then returned to him.

“Make it six,” he said, slashing you a smirk.

“If it’s for me I am not drinking it.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m plenty of fun,” you told him, cocking your hip. “And I have good taste in alcohol.”

“Y/N, please,” he begged, pouting slightly for you.

Sometimes he was such a child, you thought as you gave in, grabbing another shot glass. “Fine,” you told him. “But this is the only time.” He grinned at you, and you just poured the shots, drawing a line down the glasses with the alcohol.

He snagged one of the shot glasses and you took one at the end. “Cheers,” he said, lifting his shot, and you did the same, knocking the glasses together enough for a clink to ring out.

You tipped the shot back, letting the burn of the cinnamon whiskey fall down your throat. You swallowed, dropped the shot glass to the counter, and looked to Harry. He was grinning, his empty shot glass on the bar. “Satisfied?”

“Very.” Then he picked up the shots, holding them together in his two massive hands, his rings clinking against the glass. You watched him walk away, his shirt disappearing into the throng of people, and then your attention was caught by another patron, asking you for a Long Island iced tea that made you laugh once you had turned away from them.

The night passed with many empty bottles of vodka and gin, the drinks of choice for all the girls who came up to the bar, and you nearly ran out of Budweiser, since it was on tap and the cheapest beer. You were bopping your head along with your playlist, Piece Of Your Heart by MEDUZA ringing through the speakers. The electronic music was supposed to help keep your energy up, but it was three AM and you were beginning to tire, the whiskey and coke you made yourself doing little to keep you going.

People were starting to filter out of the bar, groups heading to get a late night snack or head home. You were thankful for it—if you could start cleaning before official close you would be happy, perhaps being able to get home sooner.

“Can I get another whiskey coke?” You turned and Harry was sitting in a barstool at the bar, right in front of you.

You nodded, grabbing a glass and the handle of whiskey. “Where’d all your friends go?”

“They left.” He drummed his fingers against the wood, the light of the bar catching on the silver of his rings. You were a bit fascinated by them, if you were being honest. Why he wore them, where they came from, what they meant. The same questions rang in your head in reference to the tattoos that littered his arms and peeked out from under his shirt.

“You didn’t go with?” You pushed his drink towards him and returned the jack to its spot on the wall.

He shook his head, taking a sip of the drink you made him. “I was going to wait for Matt.”

You raised your eyebrows and then nodded towards where Matt was leaning over the bar, talking to some girl whose drink had long since been emptied. “I think he’s already got someone waiting for him.”

Harry looked to where Matt was and then shrugged, before turning his gaze back to you. “Guess I’ll just hang out with you, then.”

“Oh really?” You took some empty glasses off the bar where people had left them and dropped them into the bucket under the bar to be taken back to get cleaned.

“You’re more interesting than him anyway.”

You laughed, grabbing an empty shot glass and putting it in the bucket. “And why is that?”

“You’re hot.” He didn’t even pause before he replied.

He licked across his bottom lip after he said it and you couldn’t help but watch the action. It wasn’t like you didn’t know Harry thought you were attractive—you did. It was just that he had never outright told you, or been quite this forward. Usually he was skating around the topic and now that he wasn’t you didn’t quite know what to say. So you said the first thing that popped into your head. “Have you been behind a bar?”

“Only at the house.”

“Your frat house does not count as a bar.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“It is not a bar, Harry.”

“Fine. Then no, I haven’t.”

You took a step away from him and waved your hand at the space. “Would you like to?”

This time, it was him raising his eyebrows at you. “What am I going to be doing?”

“I’ll teach you to make drinks.”

“I know how to make drinks,” he scoffed.

“Jungle juice doesn’t count.”

He huffed and then pushed away from the bar, standing to his full height. “You’re being mean,” he stated, but walked to the end of the bar and came around the side anyways. “It feels so different from back here.”

You turned, one hand on the bar and the other on your hip. “What do you mean?”

“Dunno. Feel…powerful, I guess.”

You nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. “So, Mr. Bartender, what do you want to make first?”

Harry considered his options, looking around the bar and taking in the options in front of him. He looked a bit overwhelmed, if you were honest. You glanced around, checking on how busy it was, and you were thankful that it was pretty much empty, so no one would probably be bothering you and Harry. “I’ve always wanted to make an Old Fashioned.”

“Can do,” you answered, grabbing the proper glass from the shelf, and a bottle of your favorite bourbon, setting both on the counter in front of you. “Do you know what’s in one?” He shook his head, a slight blush on his cheeks, and you smiled to yourself. He could be so goddamned cute sometimes. “It’s whiskey, bitters, and a bit of sugar. Do you know how to muddle?” He shook his head again, and you nodded, grabbing the rest of the supplies you would need.

You spread it out in front of you, popping a sugar cube in the old fashioned glass. “So this is the bitters we’re going to use,” you informed him, passing him the bottle of Angostura bitters. “Put two dashes of that in the glass over the sugar.”

“What the fuck is a ‘dash’?”

“A bit,” you told him. “Just do it.”

He did as you asked, tapping bitters into the glass. “Is that enough?”

You nodded, and then grabbed the soda gun and pressed the button for water, adding a bit to the glass. Then, you passed him the muddler, which got very little use at this bar. In fact, you hadn’t made an Old Fashioned in ages—it wasn’t exactly the drink of choice for most college-aged people. “Now, you’re going to muddle this—like mix them together, crushing the sugar.”

“Why does mixology have the weirdest terms?” He said under his breath and you snorted. He did as you said, listening to your instructions, crushing the sugar and mixing it with the bitters in the glass, the sugar dissolving in the glass.

“Good. Now you add the ice.”

You pulled back the top of the cooler that held the ice, and Harry grinned as he picked up some with the scooper and filled the glass with it. “Always wanted to do that.”

“And now you have.” You shut the top of the cooler and passed him the bourbon and a jigger. “An ounce and a half of bourbon,” you informed him.

He reached over and took the bottle and jigger, and his close proximity made you inhale. You could smell cologne, a bit of sweat from the party he was at earlier, and a trace of smoke as he moved. The scent had your spine straightening, your mind just as muddled as the contents of the glass. How did he smell so good? He was a college boy. Who gave him the right to be so goddamned attractive and smell this delicious? His long hair, the length not quite reaching his shoulders but close, swung slightly in your face as he pulled away, the tips of his curls brushing against your cheek. He was so close that if he turned his head, your lips would meet.

You tried not to think about that.

But he lingered close to you as he poured the bourbon in the jigger, your sides nearly touching, just half a step away from one another. If the music hadn’t been playing, you probably would’ve been able to hear him breathe and he could’ve heard your breath hitch when his bicep flexed as he held the bourbon. Your eyes trailed over the tattoos on his arms, dancing over the ship and the rose at his elbow, all the way down to the anchor at his wrist.

“Now you’re the one watching me.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, where he was looking at you, smirking. “Pour the shot in, Harry.”

He looked back to the jigger he was holding, and tipped it into the glass, the amber liquid dropping through the glass. You handed him the stirrer and he twirled it in the glass, before setting it back down on the bar. The sound of his rings hitting the glass sounded in your ears as he grasped the drink, bringing it to his lips.

His eyes were on yours as he tipped it back slightly, letting the alcohol pass between his lips. You tried not to focus on his Adam’s apple bobbing as he sipped. When he lowered the glass, his tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip, and it made you tug your own into your mouth softly. Then you asked, “How is it?”

With his gaze trained on your mouth, he answered, “Delicious.”

“Y/N!” Your head bounced up to see Mike darting his head inside. “Time for close.”

You looked up at the clock on the wall and realized he was right—more time had passed than you realized. “Shit—yeah, sorry Mike. Matt,” you called down the bar to your co-worker who was very caught up in his flirtation. “Will you kick all of these people out for me?”

“Even me?” Harry asked and you roll your eyes at him.

“You can stay,” you told him and he gave you a smile, taking another sip of his drink. “As long as you help me clean up.”

While Matt kicked the remaining stragglers out, making sure the ones that are too drunk get in an Uber, you and Harry cleaned up. He helped you flip chairs on top of tables and pick up the glasses littered across surfaces, even in the bathroom. You filled the bin with the glasses and took them into the kitchen, filling the industrial dishwasher to the brim. He even took a rag and wiped down the tables, singing along to the Tame Impala you’d turned on and finishing off his Old Fashioned. You put the bitters away and the remnants of the drink he had made, and toss some lime rinds into the trash, wiping off the last bit of the bar.

“I’m going to head out,” Matt called to you from the door. He’s got his arm wrapped around the girl’s shoulders, a wide smile on both of their faces. “You good, H?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I’m going to walk Y/N home.”

This was news to you. “I drove,” you replied.

“Then can I snag a ride?” He asked, and you shrugged. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Also, the idea of making him walk didn’t sound like a good idea, even though the frat house wasn’t too far from the bar.

“Sure.” You grabbed your purse and leather jacket from where you’d stashed them under the bar, and pulled them on. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You waved goodbye to Mike, who was left to lock up, and walked around back to where your car was parked. It was a must have for you, not wanting to walk home at four in the morning after a long night of working. Plus, you never drank much while you worked—all you had had was that disgusting Fireball shot earlier in the night and a whiskey coke throughout the evening. Harry followed behind you, his hands in his pockets as he walked, the faint light from the street lamp illuminating the sidewalk leading to the parking lot.

“It’s dark,” he said when you turned into the lot.

You unlocked your car and turned to look at him. “It’s four AM. Of course it’s dark.”

He moved towards the car, pulling open the passenger side door. “No, I just mean that it’s dark for you to be walking to your car alone.”

“Oh.” You tossed your purse into the backseat and slid into the driver’s side, flipping on the ignition. “Matt or Mike walk me to my car most nights.”

His long legs ended up a bit cramped in the passenger seat of your car and it made the corner of your mouth turn up. “Good,” is all he said before pulling on the seatbelt and clicking it. You reversed out of the spot, your phone automatically connecting to the Bluetooth as you flipped on your turn signal. “That’s the wrong way.”

You turned and looked at him. “Don’t you live at the house?”

He shook his head though. “No, I’ve got an apartment with some brothers on the West side of campus. Take a left here.”

You absorb this information and switch the turn signal. “Why don’t you live there? I thought most people did.”

“I like the privacy, I guess. When you live with all your brothers, they tend to know every bit of your business.” He was looking out the front windshield and you did the same, eyes on the dark streets in front of you. Being this close to him in the car had your body temperature spiking a bit, although you wouldn’t have admitted that to anyone. Harry was just the boy who flirted with you every chance he got and was Matt’s little. He was just someone to entertain you on slow nights or when you were stressed. Right?

“Take a left at the light,” he said, breaking you out of your trance. You flicked on your turn signal and eased into the turn lane, swinging your car onto a side street. “I’m having a birthday party next weekend at the house if you want to come,” he suddenly said.

Your eyes bounced to Harry, who wasn’t looking at you, his palms resting on his knees. You could sense the tension in his body—was he nervous? Did you make him nervous? “Is it your 21st?”

He quirked a smile at that. “How’d you know?”

“Well, you’re a junior. I just assumed.” Matt also might’ve mentioned it once or twice, but you didn’t tell Harry that.

A blush crept across his cheeks. “I—uh—it’s on Saturday at nine. We’re hitting the bars after, but the thing at the house is just going to be brothers and drinks and some music. Pretty low-key, I think.”

“I’ve got work,” you told him. “But I’ll try and stop by before my shift. I’m not supposed to be there until ten.”

He nodded quickly and you tried not to think about the fact that Matt was never going to let you live this down. What were you even doing, saying yes to Harry? You weren’t even interested in him. He was just a boy to flirt with, someone who told you bad jokes and ordered Fireball shots. “It’s right up here,” he said, pointing to a house off to the right.

You slowed the car in front of a one-story bungalow, a couple of cars in the driveway and lawn chairs on the front lawn. “You live in a house?”

“Somehow it was actually cheaper,” he explained, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Plus, kind of nice not having people complaining about the noise.”

The area was definitely still on campus, but you didn’t know anyone who lived over here. “Are your neighbors all students too?”

He nodded. “Some other brothers have a place a couple houses down, there’s a house of Pi Phis over there. But yeah, it’s all students. On game days it’s a fucking mess.”

You put the car in park, and turned off the ignition. “I can imagine.” Harry didn’t make any moves to get out of the car, just sitting there staring at the dashboard of your old Toyota, his hands fidgeting on his thighs. “Harry?”

“Fuck,” he exhaled, catching his bottom lip in his teeth. “I...” Then he glanced over at you, and under the dim streetlamp you could see the expression in his eyes. It’s one you knew well. It’s the look he gave you when you wore your favorite lace bodysuit that was conservative enough to wear out, or when you gave him just as flirtatious of a comeback as the one he served you.

Then, all of a sudden he was moving towards you, his hand curving around the back of your neck and pulling you towards him. It was awkward, the seatbelt holding back your shoulder, but it didn’t stop you from leaning towards him, meeting him halfway. His lips tasted like bourbon and bitters, a trace of Fireball when you nibbled on his bottom lip that was just tucked between his teeth. He was sweet with an edge of fire, and when he tilted his chin slightly to change the angle, rotating his head just enough to kiss you deeper, you knew you were fucked.

For so long, you had been trying to keep him at a distance. Just let him exist as a flirtation, nothing more than that. You’d ignored the thoughts that blazed through your mind when you were drunk with your friends and saw him at a party, his lips on some girl, and you wondered what they would taste like on yours. Now that he was kissing you and you knew what they tasted like, there was no way you would be able to forget.

Especially the way his fingers threaded through your hair, his rings cool against your warm scalp. How he tugged on your lip with his teeth and you let out a soft whine, pulling him closer by the neck of his shirt. The fact that it was nearing four thirty in the morning and you were in your car making out, your seatbelt still on, didn’t seem to matter. The exhaustion that had been all-consuming earlier was gone, your body rushing with adrenaline from the feeling of his mouth tucked against yours, his hands on your skin and the way his lips searched for yours when you pulled away for air.

“I should go home,” you said, breathing heavily as you moved back into your seat.

Harry was looking at you intensely, his lips slick from your saliva, his cheeks flushed from kissing you. His hands still lingered on your neck and hip, and you weren’t ready for him to let go. However, you needed sleep, otherwise the rest of the day was not going to be pretty. You had a paper due on Tuesday you had to write and if that didn’t happen this afternoon after you slept you were fucked. “Yeah,” he finally answered, pulling away. “It’s late.” He shuffled in the seat, turning to push open the door. “Get home safe, okay?”

You nodded, and with one lingering look at you, Harry slid out of the car and shut the door behind him. Under the dim lights you watched him walk to his front door, pulling open the screen door and unlocking it. Once he was inside, you finally turned back on your car and put it in drive, peeling away from the curb without a glance back.

On Tuesday, you were knee-deep in edits for your paper when your phone screen lit up with a text. Despite the fact that you told yourself you would be ignoring any notifications that flashed across your screen, you were intrigued by this message because it was from a number you didn’t recognize. So you leaned back in the uncomfortable wooden chair you were sitting in (chosen to make sure you stayed awake) and grabbed your phone.

The sight of the message made you choke on air.

Hey, Y/N, this is Harry. Matt gave me your number, I hope that’s ok?

That was it. The whole message. What the fuck were you supposed to do with that? “Fuck,” you muttered to yourself, because now you couldn’t ignore it. You had your read receipts on, something you turned on one time when you were breaking up with an ex and wanted him to know that you were ignoring his messages on purpose, and never turned off. So now Harry knew you had read his message.

So you typed back, hey! what’s up?

The typing dots appeared and you had the sudden urge to throw your phone halfway across the room as you waited for his reply. But you didn’t, because Harry’s text popped through before you could take any actions to make it seem as though you weren’t staring at your phone waiting for his text.

Just wanted to say thanks for the ride home on Saturday. Then, in a separate message, Also, the invite for my birthday party still stands, but no pressure.

You nibbled on the edge of your thumb nail, your other thumb poised over the screen as you considered what to reply. You decided on coy. i'll see how it goes :) you wrote out, and then thumbs up reacted to his thank you text.

Looking forward to it is what he replied with, and that felt like the end of the conversation, so you locked your phone, turned it on Do Not Disturb, and tried to re-focus on the paper open on your computer screen.

It took everything in your body not to check your phone a couple more times, just to see if he’d kept the conversation going. You had no idea what to say to him—he was the one who texted you in the first place. It seemed like his job to keep the conversation going, not yours. So you let the conversation linger, not even saving his number in your phone.

When Saturday rolled around, you considered for a long time whether or not you were going to go to Harry’s birthday party. Matt had texted you too, combining the text with a notice that he wasn’t working that night and Lucy was covering his shift, which meant you were going to be doing all the heavy lifting. Lucy was a freshman, new to bartending, and most definitely was hired so she would be ready to replace you when you graduated next year. The fact that Matt texted you told you that Harry must really want you to come, even if it was just for a bit.

So you turned on your getting ready playlist and grabbed your favorite bodysuit—it was long sleeved and high necked with a mesh leopard print, meaning that when you wore your black bralette underneath it, it would show through. It was enough to get eyes on you (you could neither confirm nor deny if you specifically meant Harry’s eyes), but not too much that you felt completely exposed, thanks to the long sleeves. You grabbed your black jeans, even though in an ideal world you would’ve chosen your leather skirt instead, but the last thing you wanted was alcohol stuck to your legs all night or some asshole seeing up your skirt when you bent over for ice.

You kept your makeup simple, but in line with the outfit—a light smokey eye, eyeliner, and a tinge of a deep red to your lips. Rhea, your roommate, let you use her dry shampoo, so you sprayed it at your roots, giving your day-old hair some revival. With a pair of gold hoops and a pep talk, you were ready, your phone and wallet slipped into the pocket of your trusty leather jacket.

You had never been to a frat house when you couldn’t hear the music pounding from outside. But as you walked up the grassy front lawn to the KDR house, it seemed quiet—all the lights on, even. You rapped on the door twice, running your hand through your hair as you waited for the door to open. When it did, a guy was standing there who you were pretty sure you recognized from the bar—he was close with Matt and Harry, you thought.

“You’re the bartender, Y/N!” He said, pointing at you with his index finger, lifting it from the red solo cup he held in his hand.

“I am,” you replied. “Harry and Matt invited me.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, and you tried not to read into that too much. “Come on in, I’m Caleb, Harry’s little.” And that, you realized, was why he was always hanging out with Harry and Matt. You followed Caleb down the hall, which had composite photos on the wall going back to the 70s and 80s. It was weird being inside the house with all the lights on, because you could actually see everything for the first time. You saw what was usually a coat room and discovered it was actually a study of sorts, bookshelves with textbooks and random course books lining the shelves and a couple of old leather chairs in the corner that you usually stashed your jacket on.

He turned into the long living room and kitchen, which was where most of the parties happened in their house, and you were met by a pong table and a collection of boys, many of whom you recognized from the bar. Your eyes scanned over the group, and you found that you were, unsurprisingly, one of four girls in attendance. The others were next to brothers, an arm slung around their shoulders. You found Matt and Harry easily in the crowd, Matt saying something to Harry with his palm pressed to Harry’s chest, his other hand gripping a can of Natty Light. How he could drink such watered down piss while being a bartender you didn’t know and you quickly decided you would be ragging on him for it the next time you worked together.

“Bartender girl!” One of the guys called out, and that made Harry and Matt’s heads immediately swivel towards where you were standing. The discomfort that had been lingering was suddenly there in full force. You hated being the center of attention, something most people never expected since you thrived at the bar. The key part of being a bartender, though, was you had the bar between you and the patrons. It was a safety net, something that gave you power and confidence. Without it, though, you felt naked in a situation like this.

The sight of a tiara on Harry’s head, though, immediately made you feel more at ease. The words Birthday Princess were printed on the tiara in bright pink writing, and the sight of it resting in Harry’s hair brought a smile to your face.

Matt immediately broke into a grin and widened his arms, which you rolled your eyes at. “Y/N! You made it!”

You walked over to him, having nothing else to do, but didn’t give him a hug. “Barely. I can’t stay long—I’m supposed to be there at 10 so Lucy doesn’t kill someone with her heavy handed pouring.”

He chuckled, and then gave Harry a clap on the back. “I’m going to go check on the beer. Have fun, H.”

It left you and Harry alone—or as alone as you could be in a crowded room. Your eyes roamed his body, the black silky shirt drawing in your eyes, white stitching that spelled out his last name on the chest, the way it was unbuttoned low. It was the first time you’d been able to see his tattoos—the edges of what seemed to be wings on his collarbones that you wanted to see the rest of, and a silver chain with a cross hanging on it lying on his chest. You could feel his eyes on you too, and steeled yourself under his gaze, trying to remain confident as you stood in front of him.

“Nice tiara,” you said, breaking the silence.

He blushed, reflexively reaching up to touch it. “I was hoping you didn’t notice.”

“It’s literally a bright pink tiara on your head, Harry, how could I not notice?”

“Matt and Caleb made me wear it. My other little, Tyler, bought it and insisted.”

“Can’t let the family down?” You said, the corners of his lips lifting.

“Guess not.” A silence fell between you again and you busied yourself by investigating the space you were in. The worn couches on the wall, a massive dining table with alcohol covering it, dishes in the sink and a stack of red solo cups on the counter. It seemed like exactly what you would expect from a fraternity house, even if there wasn’t a party going on. Finally, he cleared his throat and thickly asked you, “Want to play pong?”

You blinked, not expecting the question, but shrugged. “Sure.”

“I’ll drink any you don’t want to,” he said.

“Why? Think I’m not any good?”

“No—I just—you drove, right?” He was stumbling over his words and it made you give him a small smile. You decided to be a bit of a tease, and brushed your fingers over the stitches on his shirt, just to mess with his brain a bit.

“I did,” you answered. “But I don’t think I’ll be drinking too much.”

His eyes widened a tad and you watched as he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Let’s see your skills, then,” he finally said and you followed him over the table, where they were setting up for another round. He set down his cup on the side of the table and you fiddled with the cups, making the lines straighter. “Ready?” He asked you, his body shifting closer to yours. There was just a hair of space between your hips and you sucked in a breath before nodding.

You hadn’t thought this through, you quickly realized, because pong meant that there was barely any space between the two of you, and he kept brushing against your back and arm as he moved around. When he passed you the ball his fingers touched yours and your eyes would flit to his, only to find his green irises looking right back. The scent of his cologne and the alcohol on his breath wrapped around you when he laughed close to your ear, the contact of his skin on yours when he gave you a high five and lightly gripped your hand for just a beat too long sent shivers down your spine. When he picked up a cup to drink from it, you watched as his lips—the ones you had kissed exactly a week ago—wrapped around the rim and the beer slid down his throat. You were actively trying not to think about kissing down the column of his neck as you looked back to your cups on the other side of the table.

“Can I get gentlemen’s?” You asked and next to you, Harry nodded, agreeing with your decision to re-rack. The guys playing you quickly reshuffled your cups and you dropped the beer-covered ball into a cup of water to your right. When you picked up the ball and rolled it between your fingers, you decided to tease Harry a bit more, because it was your favorite pastime. You offered the ball to him, clasped between your thumb and forefinger, and looked him dead in the eyes. “Blow on it for good luck?”

His eyes widened, but then a cocky grin drifted across his cheeks. He leaned in and blew softly on the white pong ball, his pupils dark and focused on yours. Then, at a volume only you could hear, he whispered, “Sure you don’t want me to blow something else?”

Rather than give him the satisfaction of knowing he had your pulse stuttering, you licked your lips and replied with, “Let’s see if you’re so cocky when I’m on my knees.” You turned back to the cups and with ease, you threw the ball as it sank into a cup. You peeked a glance up at Harry, only to find him already staring at you, blinking in rapid succession. “Your turn, Styles.” You grabbed the other ball and pressed it to the stitching on his chest and his lips quirked up, snatching the ball from your grasp.

“Kiss for good luck?” Your eyebrows lifted at his words and he was smiling at you, a cocky gaze fixed on you.

“In your dreams,” you answered with an eye roll.

“Oh, baby, you’re already in them,” he whispered as he tossed the ball. It hit the rim of your one remaining cup before falling in perfectly.

His words rang loudly in your ears as Harry raised his arms above his head in success, ignoring the words he just had said to you. You, however, couldn’t say the same. They were running through your head on a loop. He dreamt about you? You wanted to know more, wanted to know every bit of his dreams, what they looked like and what you did in them.

At the sound of your name you blinked, pushing yourself out of your daydreams. “Yeah?”

It was Harry, his palm resting on your lower back and burning the skin with his touch. “It’s almost ten.”

“Fuck,” you breathed out, pulling your phone from your jacket. “I—shit I have to go. Sorry.”

He shook his head. “S’fine. I’ll walk you to the door.”

You waved goodbye to your opponents and some of the other boys you had been introduced to. Harry’s hand left your body as you both walked, and you couldn’t help but be disappointed. “Happy Birthday, by the way,” you said as you turned into the hallway, the chatter of the boys over the music fading a bit.

Harry dug his hands into his pockets and smiled at you. “Thank you. And thanks for coming. It—it was nice, having you here.”

The softness in his tone was in direct conflict with the banter at the pong table, but you didn’t mind. You kind of liked that the two of you had this duality, the ability to go each direction. “I had fun.” You pulled your car keys out of your pocket and turned the knob on the door. “I’ll have a birthday Fireball shot waiting with your name on it, Birthday Princess.”

That made his smile turn into a grin, his dimples popping out as you stepped across the threshold and onto the front porch. “Looking forward to it, love.”

As you walked away, you tried not to let his term of endearment fill your every thought, but it was hard, especially when you looked back and he was standing in the doorway, watching you walk to your car. You exhaled and opened the driver’s side door, realizing that you had dug yourself into quite the mess with this boy.

You had been watching the door out of the corner of your eye all night, waiting for Harry and all of his friends to arrive. Lucy had noticed and pestered you about it, but you hadn’t given in. You didn’t feel like the entire bar staff knowing your personal business—Matt was plenty. You busied yourself by serving patrons, making an absurd number of vodka tonics (which you despised, but you had found freshman girls preferred them to gin, for some reason) and opening bottle after bottle of beer.

You were humming along to Broken Clocks by SZA when the door opened and your name was called over the bar, Matt’s voice booming in the space. “Y/N, I need a shot for the birthday boy!” Harry was standing next to him, Matt’s arm thrown over his shoulder, a grin on his face.

You turned and quickly queued In Da Club by 50 Cent, before grabbing the bottle of Fireball off the shelf. When you turned back to the bar, Harry was standing in front of you, the Birthday Princess tiara unfortunately absent. “Where’s your crown, Birthday Princess?” You asked, pouring the dark liquid into a shot glass for him.

“It’s a tiara, Y/N,” he corrected, snatching the shot. “And Caleb accidentally broke it.” You could tell by the twinkle in his eyes and the color in his cheeks that he was more than a few drinks in, no doubt doing shots with the rest of the party before hitting the bars.

“Good to know,” you answered, and just because he was so goddamned cute, you grabbed another shot glass and poured yourself a shot of Fireball.

“Takin’ a shot with me?”

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

Harry was about to say something when the music changed and he let out a cheer, Matt and Caleb and another boy, who you assumed was Tyler, pounded on the bar on either side of him. Then, they began to sing and you could help but guffaw.

“Go, go, go, go go, go, go, shawty/It's your birthday/We gon' party like it's yo birthday/We gon' sip Bacardi like it's your birthday/And you know we don't give a fuck/It's not your birthday!” They sang, and you couldn’t help but join in at the end.

“Shots, shots, shots!” Matt cheered, and Harry lifted his shot glass, raising his eyebrow at you.

“In your dreams,” you answered, realizing what you had said only after the words left your mouth.

Harry smirked, a dimple poking out. “We’ve already talked about dreams, Y/N. You know you’re already in them, so no need to beg for it.”

You rolled your eyes at him and pushed lightly on his cheek, a pout settling onto his lips. “Shut up, Styles.”

“Meanie,” he said, moving back to rest normally against the bar. “You have to be nice to the birthday boy, didn’t you hear?”

“Not if he’s a prick,” you informed him, resting your hands on the lip of the bar and locking your elbows, leaning slightly forward. “Now, do you guys want anything else, or are you just going to annoy me all night?”

“Four whiskey cokes,” Matt told you. “And make ‘em strong.”

Throughout the night, their group achieved higher and higher levels of drunkenness. They started singing a Cheetah Girls song in their corner booth, much to your enjoyment, and Matt got on the table, something Mike only allowed because he was an employee, and made the entire bar sing Harry Birthday to Harry. When Mamma Mia came on, Tyler—who you were increasingly discovering was pure chaos in a body, perhaps even more chaotic than Harry and Matt combined—tried to start a conga line through the bar. Not only was he stopped by Mike, but also by the sheer number of people packed into the space.

Meanwhile, you were left behind the bar, fielding drink requests and racking up students’ credit cards with drinks they probably would forget ordering in the morning. You even had one Beer Baptism, an exciting element of the night, when some hockey player informed you he has drank every beer on tap, meaning he had achieved his Beer Baptism status. Harry and Matt lost their shit in the corner when you announced it and rang the bell over the bar, before grabbing two full pints of the hockey player’s requested beer of choice—Budweiser, for some fucking reason—and poured it over his head.

After three, the bar had started to empty out, but the four musketeers in the corner were still going strong. Harry kept coming up to you and asking for a shot of this or such and such drink, and even requested to make an Old Fashioned behind the bar again. You told him he was too drunk to make it right, but next time he could. Every time he came up he offered some sexual innuendo or bad joke, a lingering touch on your hand when you passed him his drink, or a wink that left u scowling at him. He even unbuttoned his shirt a few more buttons so by the time it was just him and his lineage in the corner, it was barely even on him. The whole idea of “No shoes, no shirt, no service” was quickly becoming a possible line you could use, especially when he kicked his feet up on the table and Caleb was trying to grab at his boots and pull them off, much to your amusement.

At 3:45, there were no patrons left except for the booth full of boys, so you had Lucy start cleaning up while you grabbed a beer—your first drink of the night other than the shot you did with Harry—and walked over to the boys. Harry was on the end, since he kept on coming and going from the booth, his knees spread wide and one arm slung over the back of the seat. At the sight of you approaching, he straightened up and set his drink down on the table.

“Hey,” he said, drawing out the Y as you slid in next to him, his arm falling easily around your shoulders.

“Hello,” you answered, nudging his knee with yours. “You’re man spreading all over my booth, Styles.”

Tyler snorted and Harry shifted, pulling his knees in closer together. “Didn’t know it was your booth.”

“I work here, you know.”

“I noticed,” he answered, tongue running over his lip as he looked at you. “I like this top you’ve got on.”

You sipped on your beer before replying, “It’s a bodysuit, actually.”

“So I’ve got a genuine question,” Matt said, leaning in towards you from across the table. “How do you pee with that on?”

“It’s got snaps on the crotch.” For some reason Tyler and Caleb blush at the word crotch and it makes you smile internally. “Can be a bitch to take on and off, though.”

“Huh.” Matt leaned his cheek on his palm. “I never fully understood the appeal.”

“Well,” you said, placing your beer on the table. “They tuck into pants and skirts so there’s smooth lines. But also it kind of feels like you’re wearing lingerie.”

That had all the boys blushing, including Harry, who said, “So that’s like lingerie to you?”

You glanced down at the lace long-sleeved bodysuit you wore and shrugged. “Guess so.”

“I always thought lingerie involved less material, not full on sleeves.”

You mulled this over, and decided to push his buttons a bit more. “So is a babydoll not considered lingerie to you?”

His eyebrows scrunched up and if you were being honest, the expression was positively adorable. You wondered if it was the face he gave when he couldn’t figure out a math problem or was looking at IKEA instructions. “The fuck’s a babydoll?”

“Other than a pet name?” You threw back and Harry quirked a smile. “It’s like a…sexy nightgown, I guess you could say.”

“Sexy nightgown.” Harry stated, mulling over the thought in his head, and you watched as he brushed a hand through his hair, considering the concept. “And that would have more material than what you’re wearing right now?”

You shrugged and took another sip of your beer. “Arguably.”

“Then yeah, I guess that’s still considered lingerie. A sexy nightgown, huh?” He blew out a breath of air and looked to the boys across the booth from you. “Damn, the girls I’ve been seeing have been holding out on me.”

The boys laughed, but you wanted Harry’s attention back on you. Maybe it was the close proximity of his body or the smell of his cologne that overwhelmed your senses, or the way you could see the butterfly tattoo on his abdomen and the low rise of his incredibly tight skinny jeans, but you wanted him. Badly.

So you reached down and placed a hand on his thigh, high enough to make his breath catch but not too high where you were actually touching him. Just close enough to make him consider the prospect. “You’ve been picking the wrong girls, then,” you said, the words low in your chest and Harry’s eyes were on you in an instant. Immediately there was movement on the other side of the booth, Tyler, Caleb and Matt sliding out one by one. “Leaving, boys?”

Matt nodded. “H?”

Harry’s eyes hadn’t left your face and the weight of his gaze had your heart pumping a mile a minute. “I think I’m going to stay.”

His fingers moved from the booth seat next to him to cover your hand that rested on his thigh, slowly inching it up his pant leg. “I’ll take him home,” you said, glancing back to Matt. “I’ll let you know when he’s home, okay?”

Matt gave Harry another look, and then nodded, obviously trusting you to take care of his friend. “Let me know if you need anything.” With that, he turned away, waving to Lucy and giving Mike a slap on the back on his way out.

Your attention turned back to Harry, who had somehow slid closer to you on the seat. “What was all that talk about lingerie, hmm?” He asked, the hand that rested next to your shoulder moving to rub the top of your arm, heat surging through your veins at his touch. “You always chew me out for sayin’ shit to you, and then you go and say that. In front of my friends, no less.”

You drummed your fingers on his inner thigh and caught the way he swallowed thickly at the feeling. “I wanted to see what you’d say, I guess.”

“And?”

“I now know you’ve never seen a babydoll. Or nearly enough lingerie.”

He sucked in a breath and then leaned his head down, his lips brushing against your earlobe. “Is that your way of asking me if I’d like to see your collection?”

Your heartbeat was thudding in your ears as he grazed your hair with his nose, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. He had your insides moving in circles like they were on a merry-go-round, consumed in nothing but him. Slowly, you lifted your leg closest to his so it hooked over his knee, tugging yourself closer to him. “Perhaps.”

Under the low lights of the bar, the green of his eyes twinkled at you, your coyness making him grab at your knee, kneading his thumb into your skin over your jeans. “You told Matt you’d take me home.”

“I did.”

“What’s the likelihood we could change the destination on that ride home?”

Your hand moved from his thigh to his torso, skittering over his shirt and tucking against his exposed skin, his butterfly tattoo flexing under your touch. “I could be convinced. What did you have in mind?”

“Your place,” he said, hand squeezing your knee tightly when you scratched his skin softly. “Fuck, Y/N.”

“You’re drunk,” you told him simply.

With a combination of tenderness and need that had you desperate for him, he nudged your temple with his nose and said, “I won’t be in the morning.”

“Is that right?” The feeling of his breath in your ear made you grab at his side, pulling at his skin with your hand, wanting just to feel him in some way. You were sober and yet he had you feeling drunk, drunk on need and desire. “Then come on, Birthday Princess.”

The wood of your front door slammed against your back the second you shut the door behind you, Harry’s body pinning you to the door. His hands tugged on your hips and your hands were in his hair and the sounds falling from your mouth were positively sinful. The way he pulled on your bottom lip and sucked on it, making you press up into his body, hands tugging at his shirt, how his hands fell to your ass and squeezed, you squeaking into his mouth. How he lifted one of your legs and hooked it around his hips, allowing your centers to meet, and he shakily exhaled. It was consuming, kissing Harry, trying to keep track of what he was doing and then finally giving up and just losing yourself in him, in the way he touched you and made your entire body erupt in flames.

“Jump,” he said, pulling at your other thigh and you did so immediately, not even wasting a beat before hooking your ankles around his hips and letting him grind into you.

You let out a wanton moan at the feeling of the friction from your jeans meeting and rubbing into you, and from the way his breath caught, you knew he was just as affected as you were. His necklace swung on its chain as he pulled away and sucked a line of kisses down your neck, just as you had thought about doing to him earlier. When he prodded at your pulse point with his teeth and then licked over the spot you tugged on his hair, his name a broken whimper on your lips.

Hands met skin, both of you needing more and more. You pushed at his shirt, the predominantly unbuttoned garment falling easily from his shoulders and pooling at his elbows. The fresh skin served as an opportunity, and you took it, bending your head and licking across his collarbones, his head tipping back at the feeling. You sucked a mark onto the protruding bone, right over the wing of one of his swallows, and blew on it when you were done, Harry hissing above you.

From the way his fingers were digging into your jeans and you were panting in his hold, you knew that if you didn’t slow things down they were going to get out of hand—and quickly. So you lightly pushed at his shoulders, his gaze bouncing up to your eyes. “We should stop,” you mumbled, sucking in air finally. “Just—just sleep for now. Yeah?”

“‘m feeling more sober now,” he said, diving back into your neck, but you pulled on his hair, hauling him away.

“I had to literally help you walk to my car.”

He pouted at you. “That was a weak moment.”

But you shook your head at him, having none of it. “I want you at full capacity,” you told him, and his jaw dropped slightly, just enough to part his lips and you to press a finger into the space. His teeth tugged on your nail and finger pad, eyes on yours. “Want you fully sober so I can see what I’ve been waiting for.” Then you dropped your finger from his lips and ran it along his jawline, watching his eyes try to take in every one of your motions. “Plus, I want you to be able to remember my lingerie collection when I model it for you.”

When Harry groaned, it was deep and unrestrained, a demand from the most feral part of him. His head dropped to your chest and you pushed through his locks, his panting breath on your skin through your bodysuit. “I’m not gonna be able to sleep with that image running through my head.”

You rested your hands on his shoulders and pressed down on them so you could unhook your ankles and drop to the floor. “I think you’ll manage. Now, c’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”

His fingers threaded through yours as you pulled him through your apartment, thankful Rhea was spending the night at her boyfriend’s so she wouldn’t be awoken from the giggles that left your mouth when Harry tripped over your shoes and the corner of your bookcase in the living room. You led him to your bedroom and left the door open, walking over to your dresser, kicking off your booties on your way. “Are you going to take this off?” His fingers graced over the top of your shoulder and you inhaled sharply.

“Yes.” You unhooked your hoop earrings and dropped them into your jewelry box. “Is that a problem?”

“Slightly,” he answered, fingers trailing down your arm. “I was hoping to do that myself.”

You turned around so he was facing you, eyes blown out in desire and cheeks flushed from the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed that night. “Then do it.”

His tongue darted out quickly, licking the center of his lips, and then he smiled at you, a boyish look of delight. “Is this my birthday gift?” Fingers brushed the top of your jeans and you nodded. “Goddamn, aren’t I lucky.” He popped the button and drew your zipper down, eyes fluttering to yours to make sure you were okay as he moved his hands to your hips, pushing the material down. “Holy fuck,” he suddenly breathed out and you glanced down.

The tattoo on your left hip had caught his attention, his palm resting just above where it started, his eyes trained on the ink on your skin. “What? You’ve got plenty of them.”

A chuckle left his mouth, and then he just shook his head. “You keep on surprising me.” His fingers crept down your skin, brushing against the chrysanthemums that covered from where your bodysuit sat on the rise of your hips to a bit down your thigh. “Does it mean anything?”

You nodded slowly. “It was my grandmother’s favorite flower.”

He must have noticed your word choice, because he quietly said, “I’m sorry,” before bending down and kissing over your tattoo. You inhaled sharply and watched as he tugged your jeans the rest of the way down your legs. Once you’d stepped out of them, he rose back to full height. “Can I take this thing off?” He asked, pulling softly on the hem of your bodysuit.

“Yes.”

“Snaps, hmm?” He ducked his head and you widened your legs enough for him to be able to tuck his hand between your legs. The pads of his fingers brushed over your clit and you couldn’t help the whimper that felt from your lips, the sound of it making Harry smile. “I can feel you.” He pressed lightly to your center through the two layers of material and you gripped the dresser you were leaning against.

You hadn’t been this wet, this in need of someone in such an all consuming way, in ages. Most people would have probably been embarrassed, but you just nodded, affirming his statement. Yes, you were wet, and yes it was all for him.

In a flourish, he gripped your bodysuit where the snaps laid and pulled, the sound of the fastenings coming undone cascading through your silent room. “Convenient,” he muttered to himself. Then, his hands pushed the mesh fabric up, revealing your black lace thong and the stretch of your bare stomach. “You know,” he said, squeezing at the curve of your torso, “I quite liked this thing. All that mesh. Could see your bra all night and it drove me fucking crazy just having to watch and not be able to touch you.”

When he pushed it above your breasts, revealing your lacy bralette, you lifted your arms and let him pull it over your head, the fabric falling to the ground. “Well, now you can,” you informed him.

The gaze he fixed you made your skin tingle. Without another beat, his hands were on your breasts, fingers brushing across your skin and then dipping into the material. With your breasts exposed, he whispered your name, forgotten on his tongue when he leaned in and fastened his lips to your nipple, the skin hardening immediately from the wetness on his tongue.

Curses left your mouth in a string, hands tugging on his hair as he prodded at your skin. He didn’t linger there though, seeming to be too focused on the greater task, because he lifted his head from your chest after a minute or so. And then his hands were at your back, unhooking your bralette and pulling it from your body, revealing your nearly fully naked body to him. His thumbs brushed over the solar system tattooed on your ribcage and you shuddered at the feeling.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he mumbled, eyes taking you in. “Good god.”

The heat that rushed to your cheeks you couldn’t stop, so instead you distracted yourself with teasing him. “Take your shirt off.” His eyebrows raised, but he followed your directions, unbuttoning the final button and pulling the material off of his shoulders. As he was about to drop it to the ground you stopped him, taking the fabric in your hands. He watched in fascination as you pulled it over your shoulders, buttoned the middle two buttons, and then looked up at him. The shirt covered most of your ass, the tops of your thighs and your tattoo exposed.

“Like my shirt, huh?”

You nodded, and then decided it was your turn to touch his skin. Your hands criss-crossed across his exposed chest, brushing across the marks you had left and down, tracing his nipples until they pebbled, and then down to the laurels on his pelvis, barely peeking out from the top of his jeans. Then, you popped the button on his jeans, and when he didn’t stop you, you pushed them down his legs, struggling a bit with how tight they were, but succeeding finally. He was left in nothing but his briefs, a lion tattoo on his thigh exposed to your eyes and some small ink on his knees you thought was cute. You wondered how drunk he was when he did it, but decided not to ask.

“What happened to getting ready for bed?” He asked, hands running up and down your arms.

“We’re dressed for bed, aren’t we?” You turned around though, and led him out of your room and down the hall to where the bathroom was. “Go ahead—I’m going to get us some water. Use anything you want, except my toothbrush. There’s spares under the sink.”

You left him to his own devices and made your way through your apartment, grabbing two glasses and filling them with water, tucking a bottle of ibuprofen under your arm. He would need it in the morning. After leaving them on your bedside table, you headed for the bathroom where the door was open, Harry brushing his teeth at the sink. You slid in next to him and he moved to the side, allowing you to grab your face wash and splash water on your face, swiping the liquid in circles over your skin. After your moisturizer and eye cream, you started brushing your teeth, trying not to focus on how Harry was just leaning against the wall watching you.

“You good over there?” You asked, spitting into the sink and rinsing off your toothbrush before dropping it into the jar on the sink that held them.

He nodded. “This is going to sound weird,” he said, “but I feel…comfortable with you. Like this kind of shit,” he gestured to the bathroom, “I’ve never done this.”

“Brushed your teeth?”

“No,” he grumbled, grabbing for your hips. “I don’t usually get ready for bed when I spend the night with girls.”

You tried not to read into that statement, to wonder if you were some normal hookup or something more. Instead, you leaned in and pecked his lips, before tugging him out of the bathroom and towards your room. “Water’s on the table,” you told him, shutting the door behind you as you stepped inside. “And some ibuprofen, if you want it.”

He walked over to the opposite side of the bed and gulped down the water, tossing some of the medicine on his tongue and finishing off the water. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” you answered, and then pulled back the covers on your bed. You settled in between the sheets, and watched as Harry slid in beside you, obviously trying to gauge what you wanted. Once he was comfortable, you shuffled towards him, and without thinking too much into it, you rested your head on his chest. He immediately brought his arm around your body, holding you close to him. “Night,” you mumbled.

“Night, Y/N.” His voice was gravelly from exhaustion and alcohol, and you shut your eyes, falling asleep to the rise and fall of his chest.

You blinked, eyelids heavy from exhaustion, as you woke up. Sunlight was streaming in your curtains, which despite being blackout curtains, could do little to hold back at the sun in the morning. As you gathered your senses, you realized that the other side of your bed was empty. Picking up your head, you took inventory of the room—Harry’s boots on the floor, your clothes haphazardly tossed in your laundry basket, your phone charging on your bedside table and a full water glass sitting there.

You had finished yours last night, if you remembered correctly. But you shrugged and grabbed the water, chugging it as you unplugged your phone and checked the time. It was noon, which was the normal time you woke up after a shift, meaning you’d had somewhere between seven and eight hours of sleep. You could’ve slept for hours, but what was more urgent than a couple more hours of sleep was where Harry had run off to. Slowly you pulled yourself up, Harry’s shirt still adorning your body, and walked out of your room and into the hallway, where the smell of coffee hit your nose immediately.

“Morning sleepyhead,” Harry said when you walked into the open plan kitchen and living room. He was sitting at the bar that divided the room in half, a cup of coffee in his hand and a bottle of Pedialyte on the counter next to him. “I’m glad you found the water. I was getting pretty close to waking you up.”

“Thanks for that,” you said, raising the glass to him. You meandered past him into the kitchen, where you grabbed a coffee cup—this one was from a National Park you’d visited the summer before with your family—and filled it with coffee. “How long have you been up?”

“Two hours,” he answered. “I have a hard time sleeping after a big night out.”

“Pedialyte?” You asked, nodding to the bottle on the counter.

He grimaced and set down his cup. “Yeah. I went out and got it while you were asleep.”

Sun was streaming in the white curtains in the living room, casting the whole apartment in a bright mid-day glow. Harry was in just his jeans, no shirt, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he had worn out. “Did you wear that out?”

He glanced down at himself. “Yeah. Stole one of your big sweatshirts, too.”

“Did you now?” You shifted away from the counter, rounding the counter so you stood in front of him. “Which one?”

Green eyes followed your hand as it landed on his knee, moving it away from the other one to create space. When you took a step forward, you could hear his breath hitch and gave him a coy smile, your free hand sliding up his thigh. “Your green one. Said Obsession on it, or something—it was the only one that fit me.”

You chuckled softly. “It’s my ex’s.”

He huffed. “S’mine, now.”

“Is it now?” You asked, setting your cup on the counter next to Harry’s. “Planning on taking over for him?”

“As an ex?”

You shook your head, hands drifting up his torso. “As the guy who gets to wear my clothes.” You tried not to think about what those words meant, what you were asking him, because your mind was too wrapped up in him to even be thinking about your intent.

“Happily.” His hands finally landed on your waist, ring-clad fingers pressing into the skin covered by his shirt. “You know, you look good in this.” Fingers slipped under the material of his shirt, the white Styles on the chest stretching over your breast as you breathed.

“It’s black,” you told him, trying to keep your breathing even. “Everyone would look in it.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, kneading your sides. “Dunno about that.”

Both your hands and Harry’s explored each other’s skin, taking inventory of every rise and fall, roll of skin, the places that made each other gasp just a bit. It felt good, being this intimate with someone just like this, nothing but one another’s hands. “Then what’s so special about me wearing it?”

Palms cupped your breasts, squeezing delicately, his full forearms tucked underneath the fabric of his shirt. “That you’re the one in it,” he murmured, voice dropping an octave. “You, wearing my shirt, my last name on your chest.” He blew out a breath and you tweaked one of his nipples in reply. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re a dream.”

“How about we move this to my bedroom,” you said, slipping your hands up to his shoulders. “And I finally show you my lingerie collection?” You didn’t have to ask him twice. He was standing, your hand in his, and pulling you in the direction of your room immediately, a giggle leaving your lips at the sudden movement. “Somebody’s eager.”

“You’ve been talking about this lingerie for like twelve hours, love,” he said, shutting your door behind you. “I fuckin’ dreamed about it.”

You pulled out of his grasp and he fell down to your bed, where the sheets were twisted from sleep. His messy long hair and shirtless torso drew in your gaze, the way he leaned against your pillows, watching you. “Did you now?” You turned to your dresser and pulled out your top drawer, where your lingerie lived. “Close your eyes,” you told him, peeking back at where he laid.

Once he followed your instructions, grumbling about missing out on half the show, you pulled out your first item—a dark blue babydoll, lace appliqué covering the skirt and a bow nestled between the molded cups, a matching g-string that you slid over your hips. You fluffed your hair, suddenly wishing you had had the forethought to wash your face before you took on this endeavor.

“Open,” you told Harry, and turned in his direction.

“Holy fuck,” he said in one breath, sitting up immediately, as if a jolt of electricity had ripped through his body. “Is this a babydoll?”

“Good memory,” you replied, leaning against your dresser. You didn’t know what to do with your body other than just stand there and let his eyes trail over you. “Thoughts?”

“How would you feel about never wearing clothes again?” He asked, gnawing at his lip. “Just that.”

You blushed, and picked at the hem of it. “I think I might get cold.”

“I’ll give you a jacket.”

“How kind.” You turned around and when he whined, you turned just your head to him. “There’s more sets to show you, you know. Close those eyes, mister.” He did as you asked and you pulled off the lingerie, lovingly folding it back into your dresser. Your fingers ran over the lace in front of you, trying to decide which one of your, admittedly many, sets you wanted to show him next. Finally, you settled on a pink lace set that was essentially see-through. You’d never worn it before—it was one of your newer purchases, one you’d chosen after a successful test grade.

You pulled up the panties and hooked the bra behind your back, sliding the straps up your arms until they settled comfortably on the dip of your shoulders. Then, you turned and at the sight of Harry sitting there, patiently waiting, you decided to reward him a bit. You walked towards him, and when you reached his form, you settled your hands on his shoulders. The touch made his eyes flutter open, and the second he saw your body his eyes widened. “Wow,” was all he could say as he studied the material covering your skin.

“What do you think?” The more his eyes lingered on you, the more you loved how you burned under his gaze.

He licked his lips and reached out, thumbing across the top of the lace thong you wore. “How is this one even better?”

You tilted your head to the side and pressed closer to him, his palms falling down your sides as you stepped between his knees. “You’re the first person to see this one.”

“Really?” He seemed like a kid in a candy store after being told he could buy whatever he wanted. “I’m honored.” You pulled away from his grasp and he groaned, snatching your hips back between his hands. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got more to show you,” you informed him, pulling his hands off of you. “Patience, Styles.”

“Baby,” he rasped, the pet name falling from his mouth with ease, and you wondered if you would ever forget how it sounded. “I don’t know if I can survive much more.”

Your eyes fell to his pants, where you could see his hard-on, the outline of his dick straining against the tight denim. “Somebody’s desperate.”

“Tease,” he shot back. “I’m serious, though. I’ll let you finish later.”

You considered his proposal, but ended up pulling away. “One more. It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

He groaned, but nodded, shutting his eyes obediently as you moved away from him. At your dresser, you found the set you were looking for, a dark green set. The bra was a balconette cut, lace appliqué covering the cups and running up the straps. You pulled on the suspender belt that matched, the straps dangling down your legs as you put on the thong next. Then, you grabbed a pair of black stockings and clipped them to the bottom of the suspenders. You fluffed your hair a bit and then turned back around.

“Open,” you instructed and when Harry’s eyes opened the moan that left his mouth ran down your spine like fire.

“Fuck.” The word was all he could say, his jaw literally dropping at the sight of you standing there. “Come here.” You didn’t move, though, wanting to hear him beg for you. This set had your confidence soaring through the roof, the combination of the material on your skin and Harry’s gaze making you want to see what you could make him do for you. “Please,” he finally said, shifting towards you.

So you walked over to him, slowly, keeping your shoulders back so the bra strained across your chest. When you reached him you placed a hand on his bare chest, pressing him slightly back so he rested on his hands, eyes staring up at you as you rested a knee on either side of his thighs, sitting down on his lap. “Worth the wait?”

His hands immediately moved, settling on your hips, sliding over the green lace. “You’re going to kill me,” he rasped, words rough in his throat. The sight of his pupils blown out in desire, chest rising and falling under your palm as he took in your body in this set made you grasp the back of his neck and pull his lips towards yours.

The two of you met in a blaze of fire, need flowing between you as he tugged you closer, your center brushing over the denim of his jeans. When you whimpered he suckled on your lip and you pulled at the roots of his hair, needing to hear him groan into your mouth. You wanted to hear every one of his sounds, to take inventory of him and store it away for later when he wasn’t right there in front of you. Lips met and parted, slotting together with ease as you both surged towards one another, begging for more.

His hands were covering every inch of you, pulling and grabbing and scratching at your skin, somehow bringing you closer and closer to him. When you began to rock against his jeans he let out a hiss, pulling your hips down onto his even more. Then his head dipped, nudging up your chin as he found your neck, nibbling and biting at your skin before licking along his marks, leaving you a whining mess in his lap. You were cradling his head, not wanting it to end, just to make him continue and continue and continue.

Now that you had him, you realized how long you had been waiting for this, even if you pretended like you weren’t. You had wanted him since the first time he made a bad joke and told you you looked beautiful, when he responded with a quick remark, countering your sass with plenty of his own. He met you tit for tat, ebbing and flowing with you like waves on a beach.

Your fingers wound around his cross necklace and tugged, just enough to get his lips to leave your skin and look up at you. “Tryin’ to get my attention?” He teased, squeezing at your waist, tight enough that he would probably leave marks but you didn’t mind. In fact, you looked forward to inspecting each inch of your body and seeing what he had left behind.

“Your jeans,” you mumbled. “I want them off.”

He chuckled lightly. “Now who’s the desperate one?”

“Shut up,” you said and he just smiled at you, his dimples poking out.

“Go on, then.” He watched as you slid back on his thighs and popped the button on his jeans, before getting up so you could pull them all the way off. Once they were on the ground, you moved towards him, but he stopped you. “Lay down for me, love,” he said, eyes trailing down your body as you stood in front of him.

You didn’t bother with sass, just falling to the twisted sheets and looking at him as he crawled towards you. His fingers found the clips of your suspenders, and you nodded at him, giving him silent permission to begin to undress you. When he released the stockings and began to pull them down, he kissed every inch of your revealed skin, creating a line down your calf that had your breath coming out in pants. “Harry,” you said, the last syllable of his name trailing off as he did the same thing to your other leg.

“Yes?” He asked, eyes popping up to you. His hair was a mess from your hands and you loved it—the sight of him with wide eyes and puffy dark pink lips, color in his cheeks and marks on his chest from your nails. When you didn’t respond, unable to even create words as he slipped his hands up your body and tugged down the suspender belt that sat at your waist, he said, “You’re going to have to speak up if you’ve got something to say, baby.”

That pet name. It was going to be the death of you and you had no idea why. Maybe because of the emotions swirling in your chest as you looked down at him, the way you wanted to simultaneously lie in his arms for hours and jump his bones, but also just hold his hand and hear him talk to you. Perhaps it was the fact that no one had ever called you that like he did, with desire and passion laced in the word, a tenderness and an edge to it that made you weak in the knees. “I need you,” you finally uttered.

“Do you now,” he responded, leaning forward on his knees so he hovered over you. “Can you be more specific?” Impatient, you grabbed his hand and pressed his fingers to your center, where you had soaked through your thong long ago. A low groan fell from his chest at the feeling of your wetness, and he peeked up at you from where he was touching you. “You’re soaked through,” he said in awe, brushing against your center and making your back arch up. “Fuck, Y/N. Is this for me? Did I get you like this?”

“Yes,” you drawled, pushing down onto his finger. Your mind was spinning, eyes fluttering shut and just losing yourself in the feeling of finally having contact where you needed him most. “Please,” you begged finally, rocking against him with your hips, chasing more.

Harry moved without pause, pulling your underwear down your legs and running his finger between your folds. The feeling of his touch on your warm flesh had you squirming, his name mixed in with curses as he rubbed softly in a circle. “That feel good?” He asked and you could feel his eyes traveling over your body even though your eyes were squeezed shut from the feeling. When he brushed his index finger against your hole which was dripping for him, you gasped, hips jutting down against him so the tip of his finger brushed inside of you. “God, you’re so wet,” he mumbled, almost to himself.

Then, he dipped a finger inside of you and you cried out, desperate and needy for him, unable to contain the sounds falling your lips as he built up a momentum, curling his finger inside of you and hitting your sweet spot. “Another,” you said, eyes finally opening so you could see him.

And the sight didn’t disappoint. His eyes were on your center, watching his finger move in and out of you, and you could see the outline of his bulge in his briefs, a small wet spot where his tip was. The fact that he was leaking while fingering you somehow just added to your pleasure. He added a second finger and pressed them deep inside of you, the cool metal of his rings brushing against your entrance and making you buck up against his fingers. You were squirming on the bed, unable to stay still because he was building an orgasm inside of you like no one else ever had. You could feel your belly tightening and your high was rising, sweat beads forming at the back of your neck.

When he rubbed on your front wall you let out a helpless cry. He had found the spot that made you go insane and you could tell he was happy, a smile stretching across his face. “I’m close,” you panted.

“What do you need?” His words were low and they just made you want him more.

“Your mouth.” The words were broken, but he seemed to understand because he shifted immediately, falling to his stomach between your legs and pulling you towards him. He decided to go harder, because he slammed his fingers into you at a brutal pace and matched it by licking at your nub, sucking and pulling at the sensitive skin. His tongue was sin against your skin, circling your clit and making you cry out. You dug your fingers into his hair and tugged at the strands, his name tumbling from your lips in a beg and a whine and a prayer all in one.

It didn’t take long before you were coming, the feeling rushing up without you even realizing, your back arching and hips bucking against his fingers and mouth. He lapped at you through it, eyes open and watching your orgasm, the shudder that left your mouth and how you fell into the mattress when you came down. When he pulled his fingers from you, you hissed, and he just kissed your pelvic bone, before sitting back on his heels and dipping his fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digits that were covered in your juices.

“Get over here,” you demanded, hooking your foot around his hips and pulling him towards you.

He clamored over you, his lips finding yours once again, and you sighed into the kiss, pulling his mouth closer to you. You needed him like you had never needed anyone else, a feeling that took over your body and ran your mind. When his head dipped and he tugged on your earlobe you whined. “Can I have you,” he asked into your skin. “Please? I waited and I just…fuck, I can’t wait anymore.”

“Yes,” you told him, hands falling to his waist and pushing down his briefs. “Condoms are in my bedside table.”

His head bounced up at that and he reached over, wrenching open the drawer and searching blindly for a packet. When his fingers found one he moved back over you, the foil falling next to your head. Then, he pushed his briefs the rest of the way down his legs, letting the material fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes. Next was your bra, his hands moving to your back and deftly unhooking it, pulling the lace from your skin. “Beautiful,” he hummed, nestling his face between your breasts.

You chuckled, brushing his hair back. “I swear, boys and boobs,” you said.

“Hey,” he replied, picking up his head. “Don’t make me out to be some horny teenager.”

“Aren’t you?” You teased, picking up the condom between your fingers.

“No.” He took the packet and ripped it open with his teeth. “I’m twenty-one, baby.” Then, he rolled the condom down his length and you watched, absorbing his fully naked body for the first time. The cut of the muscles under his skin, the way his tattoos stretched across his torso, the full length of him that you decided you wanted in your mouth after.

He brushed his tip against your slit and you whined unabashedly, rocking towards him. “H,” you mumbled, “please.” That was all he needed, because without another pause he was pressing into you, bottoming out in one go. You let out an unrestrained moan, grappling at his shoulders as he sunk onto his elbows, his face hovering above yours. As he pulled out and pushed back in, a groan from his lips filling the space between you, you watched his face. The way his eyebrows pulled together and he bent his head, resting his forehead against your collarbone as he found his rhythm.

Once he did, it was heaven. His sweaty skin meeting yours as he drove into you at a brutal pace, but one that felt fucking incredible. Your ankles hooked around his hips and held him close inside of you, and you tugged on his necklace to pull his lips to yours, needing the softness of his tongue inside your mouth again. Your hands twisted in his hair, yanking on his strands when he pushed in particularly hard, and he groaned. He liked his hair being pulled, you discovered, and you decided to keep at it, threading your hands through his locks and pulling whenever he hit that spongy spot that made you see stars.

“Like that,” you rasped when he latched his lips to your neck, most definitely leaving a mark on your skin. “Yes, H, just like that. Fuck, you’re so deep.” Your words were a mess, just a stream of consciousness, but he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he slammed into you harder and pulled your leg higher, tugging it so that your foot rested over his shoulder and your hamstrings stretched. And when he pushed back in, you scrambled at his back, drawing harsh lines down his skin at the feeling of him reaching a new depth.

“Feel so good,” he mumbled, words broken as they spilled from his lips. “Y/N, god, so good.” His hands fisted in the sheets and you dug your nails into his shoulders when he swiveled his hips slightly, brushing every inch of you. When you squeezed him, his head tipped back, exposing his neck and you leaned up, ignoring the burn in your hamstring, and licked up his throat. He rasped your name as you pulled at the skin at the juncture of his shoulder and neck, making a mark of your own for him to enjoy later.

You fell back down and slipped your leg from its spot on his shoulder, and pulled him close to you, wanting to kiss him again. His lips seemed to be your new obsession, wanting nothing more than to be touching them constantly. He didn’t seem to have a problem with it, slotting your lips between his and kissing you fiercely as he pistoned in and out of you.

There were going to be bruises on your inner thighs, you were sure of it. You would be feeling the impact of his hips on your thighs for days, every time you sat down the muscles would ache and you would remember this—him moving in and out of you and panting in your ear, mumbling about how good you felt around him, how gorgeous you were, how much he loved fucking you. The prospect of feeling him for days was one you looked forward to.

When he gave a particularly deep thrust you moved up on the sheets, grabbing hold of his neck to hold yourself steady, and he moaned. You peeked down at him and as he moved back in, you asked, “Did you like that?”

“Yeah,” he replied, a broken confirmation. “Again, please.”

You’d never really done this before, so you decided to be careful with him, just a bit of pressure using your fingers. With four fingers on one side of his neck and your thumb on the other, halfway down his neck, you pressed down on his skin when he drove back into you and his eyes fluttered shut at the feeling. The heel of your palm rested on the hollow of his neck as your fingers squeezed on either side of his neck, watching in rapture as he fucked into you harder and leaned into your touch. Slowly, you loosened and then tightened your grip, changing it up to make sure he was getting enough air.

“Is that good?” You asked, trying to focus as he drove harshly into you, the sound of his hips slapping your skin filling the room. He bobbed his head and pressed into your palm, so you squeezed your fingers again, wanting to give him what he asked for.

“I’m close,” he said, voice husky.

“Me too,” you answered, kicking your heels higher around his waist and pressing up into him so he reached even deeper inside of you. You could feel that same high building inside of you, an intensity waiting on the brink as he pressed into you, your fingers pressing into his throat again and again.

Then he pulled away slightly, rising up so his arms were fully extended and you couldn’t quite choke him anymore, so your hand fell to his bicep, squeezing at his skin as he somehow moved both faster and deeper inside of you. His hands dug into the sheets and he drove in and out of you at a pace unmatched, your head falling back to the mattress. You were panting, eyes glued to the sight of his necklace swinging back and forth as he moved, the tension in his muscles and the sheen of sweat covering his skin. He was utterly, breathtakingly beautiful.

You couldn’t take it anymore, and reached down between you two, rubbing your fingers over your clit because you were just seconds from the edge and you needed it. Harry’s eyes took in the sight in awe, and his jaw dropped slightly, a curse ripping through his throat as you clenched around him and threw back your head, a deep moan falling through the air. You were squirming underneath him, Harry’s hands having to hold onto your torso to keep you steady as he thrusted into you, finishing himself off as you came, tightening around him. His name left your lips in a beg and he picked up your hand, bringing it back to his throat.

With a tight squeeze, your fingers wrapped around his throat like before, he bucked into you once more and then was practically growling as he emptied himself into the condom, body shaking against you. You unwrapped your hand from his neck and ran your fingers through his hair, before pulling him down to your chest, wanting him close as he pulled out of you. “Holy shit,” he mumbled into your shoulder, and you laughed softly.

“You ever had someone choke you before?” You asked, brushing your fingers up and down his spine as he settled.

“No,” he said, his lips puckering against your throat, light kisses to your skin. “Kind of liked it, though.”

“Kind of?” You squeezed his butt cheek in jest, and he squeaked against you, making you fully laugh, body rumbling against him. “You literally picked up my hand and put it there.”

He tucked his face deeper into your neck and you could tell he was embarrassed. “Okay fine, I really liked it.”

You hummed and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “I did too. It was my first time doing that.”

“Yeah?” He picked up his head and propped it up on his palm, looking at you. “Was it okay?”

Pushing back the hair from his forehead, you nodded. “I thought it was really hot.”

A smile quirked up on his lips. “You mean you think I’m really hot.”

You whacked his shoulder and he feigned pain, jaw dropping slightly. “Stop fishing for compliments.” He rolled his eyes at you, but moved off of your body, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling off the condom, tying the end and tossing it in the trash. Red marks covered his back from your nails and you ran your hand over them, watching as he shivered from the sensitivity. “If anyone sees your back they’re going to think you got fucking mauled by a bear.”

He turned his head and raised his eyebrow at you. “A bear, huh? I thought it was just this really hot girl.”

“Good to know you think I’m hot too.” He laughed and turned fully around, crawling back into bed with you.

The sheets were sweaty but you didn’t mind, you just wanted to be close to him. He laid down on his back and pulled you in, your leg draping over his and your breasts pushing up against his side. Your head rested on his shoulder and you let out a breath, relaxing into his hold.

After you’d been lying there for a few minutes, he cleared his throat and you looked up at him. “You know,” he said, “I don’t know if this was obvious, but I really like you.”

His ring-clad fingers trailed up your back, drawing circles against your skin. You considered his words, rolling them over in your head, and considered your own feelings. Where did you stand? You knew you liked him based on how you felt around him, this just constant desire to have his hands on you. The way you could joke around with him and the banter between you made you feel at ease, a kind of comfort with him that you hadn’t found with anyone else. He was gorgeous and kind and a bit of an idiot, but you found it endearing. You also, admittedly, loved how obsessed he was with you. “I like you too,” you replied, turning your head so you could fully look at him, your chin resting on his chest.

He looked down at you, sliding his forearm under his head. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, kissing the skin nearest to you. “Really like you, even.”

“Well thank god,” he said, pinching your skin slightly. “It would’ve been really awkward if you didn’t.”

“Why is that?”

He smiled at you. “I might’ve introduced myself as your boyfriend to your doorman.”

You rolled your eyes at him and pushed up, moving so you could hover over him fully, hands on either side of his head. “Does this mean I have to go to all of your formals and shit with you?”

“Obviously,” he replied, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “And my drinks at 260 are going to be free.” You huffed at his request for you to make all his drinks at the bar you worked at to be free, but Harry was having none of it. “Come on, baby, I’ll come to every one of your shifts.”

“Fine,” you answered, sliding your knees up his sides so you could sit squarely over the laurels on his pelvis. “But you have to bring me a snack.”

“Oh,” he said, quirking up his lips in a smirk, “baby I’m a full meal.” You swatted at his chest and he laughed, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm, before tugging you back into him. You fell into him with ease, unable to hold up any walls to him anymore. Somehow, he had busted through each one of them and you didn’t want to rebuild them. Having him wrapped up in your heart was perfectly fine with you, you thought to yourself when he kissed the top of your head and asked if you wanted pancakes.

Yeah, you decided, you could get used to this.

fill my inbox with your favorite moments, lines, things you’re having ~feels~ about, or other concepts you’re dreaming up for bartender!y/n!!!!

#harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x mc #harry styles smut #college au #college harry styles #harry styles #fratboy harry #frat boy au #fratboy!harry #frat boy fan fiction #fratboy!harry fan fiction #bartender!y/n

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tellytuber · 2 years

Text

12 Shows of 2021

The new (and sometimes old) series and seasons that made my year.

Landscapers [HBO]: During the first episode I thought: “Boy, this is pretentious. And an arthouse Fargo by Noah Hawley rip-off.” But then I remembered that I adore all of those things. Sharpe’s literal interpretation of this being a dramatization injects much needed creative life in the now very tired genre of true crime. Stunningly artful with flairs of fly humor. And if they were to make a spin-off of the police squad that I am very much obsessed with, I’d be very happy.

Queen of Mystery [KBS/Viki]: Picked this one up after Hello, Me! because of how much I enjoy Choi Kang-hee and became absolutely obsessed. (Even though it ended with rushed infuriating cliffhangers and never actually delivered on the teased romance...)The chemistry of the leading pair was sparkling (even when it was all yelling), and the premise of an enthusiastic amateur detective and the put-upon detective hooked me deep. So much so it inspired me to develop my own take on this fun trope.

Motherland (S3) [BBC Two]: As my previous year’s repeat watch pick-me-up, this was my most highly anticipated show. But what I wasn’t expecting was this season’s more serious tone. (Even though I should have after S2’s dramatic finale.) It was thankfully still very funny and ridiculous (like the sideways pandemic take with lice), and the more somber turns were lifted up and lead to a light and hopeful end. Julia’s storyline of fancying her builder had me cringing through the episodes, but the conclusion was both hilarious and poignant. And that very last scene with that certain character strutting in? I screamed. I appreciate a show that isn’t afraid to abandon its own conventions to stay fresh.

Mad For Each Other [Netflix]: This cute romcom quickly became a huge joy to me. As it aired, I’d look forward to every workday when I could watch the new episode on my phone during lunch. As a sucker for an icy but fragile woman and a combative but protective man, the sweet romance hit just right. The actors had great chemistry, and delivered the sweetest and sexiest first kiss ever. The series’s side focuses on mental health, identity, and acceptance of those who are different were also handled fairly well, and nice to see in a Kdrama.

Evil (S2) [Paramount+]: A religious/psychological/horror procedural following a ragtag team? Yes, please! Thank you Kings for giving me more of what I loved the most in S1: Kristen/Ben & Kristen unhinged. While watching this season (”S is for Silence” especially), I was struck with just how affecting its quietness is. Without layering on music or action beginning to end, they let scenes breathe, the acting to emote, and the creepiness to tingle. I can’t wait to be freaked out even more next season.

Taskmaster [Channel 4/Dave]: Influenced by my tumblr dashboard, I was curious about this silly gameshow that featured a charming mustachioed suited man twisting himself upside down to produce a fart. It was indeed silly. Joyously & absurdly so. It was just the injection of good humor I craved this year. I sped right through all 11 seasons, and now I crave at least 20 more.

Feel Good [Netflix/Channel 4]: One of the shows I watched as a part of my marathon of projects related to the cast of my previous pick, which absolutely blew me away. I went in expecting a sweet and dirty relationship comedy, but what I got was a powerful exploration of sexuality, gender, addiction & recovery, strained family dynamics, sexual harassment - All in an incredibly funny, beautiful, fantastically soundtracked show.

Succession (S3) [HBO]: While watching the premiere, I was overwhelmed with gratitude to be alive to experience this show in real time. There is truly nothing else like it that weaves comedy (insult to dark to farce), tension, high drama, literature, and dynamic character study together. It truly deserves a genre of its own. Like, Best of All Television. The only reason it’s #5 for me this year is because of how invested I was! It was a real rough ride for the Roy kids, it really bummed me out.

The Other Two (S2) [HBOMax]: Finally!!! The funniest comedy returned! It was great seeing Brooke & Cary inching up the industry ladder this year. (Alessia Cara!) Even though I would have loved more Lance, Chase, and Skeeter, more Molly Shannon and scene stealer Brandon Scott Jones made up for it. But Brooke/Helene York was the real standout for me: From her beautiful candy colored woman-boss wardrobe (that had me buying up suits) to the knockout performance of that dressing down of the Chex Mix bitch.

Awkwafina is Nora from Queens (S2) [Comedy Central]: As loud and brash and wacky as its debut, from time traveling to 2002 with a future serial killer to sidelining the pandemic with a cult stay. This show is a lot of fun. But what really hit me hard this season was how it leaned even further into its exploration of what it feels like to be a late twenty-something wash out in the world today. When social media is a brag board of friends and strangers flying by you with professional and personal accomplishments, how can you possibly catch up? If you’re directionless, how to find your way forward? What does that even mean anyway? Especially when the world the seems to change everyday.

Search Party (S4) [HBOMax]: This show pulled out all the bananas for this season and I loved it. Elliot unabashedly grabbing the Republican cable “news” money. Portia playing the role of Dory. The cinnamon roll twink and that twisted family. The guest stars. Every single performance. The trio kiss! And everything else really. But my top highlight: Elliot’s meta speech about being unlikable. Both a response to every person who complains about intolerable, whiny, self-absorbed millennials. But also (I’d like to think) a slap to every review (at least on tumblr) that claims the show is bad because the characters are bad. And to them Search Party says: You stink like shit too.

How to with John Wilson (S2) [HBO]: There is nothing else like it. Video snapshots that prove reality will always be stranger than fiction, intimate little interviews with real people, and Wilson’s comedic existential narration all ingeniously cut to illustrate whatever story Wilson is telling that week. Taking us on twisting journeys, like being led to a group of Avatar heads seemingly to laugh at them, but instead leave them with heartfelt compassion. As if taking heed of the life coaching from the interior designer from last season, How To’s voyeuristic charm is maximized as he exposes more of his personal life into the narrative. We feel even more connected with him, New York, and all of humanity.

Honorable Mentions: Seeking Sister Wife, Damned, Love 101 S1, A Black Lady Sketch Show S2, Mythic Quest, Inside No. 9, The Duchess, I Think You Should Leave, Frayed S2, Law & Order, Five Bedrooms, Stath Lets Flats, The Other One, Yellowstone S1/S2, C.B. Strike.

#top shows of 2021 #tv review #how to with john wilson #search party #awkwafina is nora from queens #the other two #succession #feel good #taskmaster #evil #queen of mystery #motherland #mad for each other #landscapers

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youryanderedaddy · 3 years

Text

Love Fuel

Summary: You were Jason’s first love before you broke his heart and rejected him. It’s all your fault that he can’t move on.

Tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, incel behavior, nice guy behavior, self - hatred, threats of non-con, implied non - con, implied masturbation, bullying based on appearance (not reader), deregatory language, kidnapping, misogyny, generalizations, stalking

this is a hot mess but its 1 am and i am tired, ik that incels are bad irl (obviously), but this is fiction and I kinda wanted to explore the dynamic and shit.

Everyone used to call him JJ or The-Big-Jay back in high school. Well, most of the time his classmates weren’t really calling out to him or even talking to him, the names were whispered behind his back, after he had just passed the hallway, or on bad days - right to his face. The jocks, these dumb motherfuckers, would beat him up, mock him for whatever stupid reasons they had chosen to use as an excuse to torment the smaller and weaker. The popular girls would giggle like brainless bimbos as Kyle or Brad or any other football player stole his glasses or continuously punched him in the guts until he threw up all over the floor. Even the nerds, the kids at the bottom of the school hierarchy, messed with Jason from time to time when they wanted to feel the oh - so desired rush of power they so rarely managed to experience.

Looking back, Jason could see why his classmates hated him so much - he was everything that society deemed as wrong and unattractive. He was thin, pale, “scrawny” as the others called him, on the shorter side, and on top of that the teen was terribly shy and introverted, never having the guts to stand up to his bullies or even tell someone about the abuse. The male spent most of his free time at home, playing hours upon hours of video games, watching anime and reading books he was simply too young to understand or look critically at. As he grew older, the man began to view the world as it trully was - a dark, miserable place that ate up sore losers like him. Men were primitive and foolish, which somehow managed to soften their faults. Women, on the other hand, were calculative and manipulative, greedy and sinful. His whole life they had done nothing but reject him when he needed love and support the most. Of course, there were many other reason why the brunette detested the weaker sex. In his eyes women were evil two - faced sluts, showing off their bodies yet acting innocent and hurt once someone finally decided to use them for the only thing they were actually good for.

But you Jason hated the most. You reminded him that no matter how much he hated the outside world, he would always hate himself the most. He had to admit you were pretty, painfully so, with a perfect little body to match your looks and a sweet sugary smile that almost deceived him years ago. As much as the man regretted his weakness, he had fallen right into your trap at the time.

You weren’t the most popular girl, but you had your fair share of friends, all nice and loyal like puppies. You weren’t the smartest either, but unlike the other stupid giggling sluts you always tried to do your best. You were beautiful just like them but you were actually kind to the pathetic bullied kid no one else bothered to acknowledge even existed outside of being a punching bag. You always asked him whether he was alright and often took him to the infirmary when he looked paler and sicker than usual. You talked to him as if he was a normal human being and despite the initial doubt, Jason appreciated it.

It was the last day of your senior year when the teen finally gained the courage to confess. He was shaking the whole time and by the end of his little speech there were small tears in the corner of his eye. You were the first girl the male cared about, the first one to show him kindness, to offer him friendship without asking for something in return. You were the only one who could make him feel deserving of love, worthy of affection. And then you took it all away in a matter of seconds.

“I am sorry, bud.” You had said that day after giving him a half - hearted hug and an apologetic smile, that started to seem more and more like a mocking grin the longer the teen started at you. “I already have a boyfriend, but I am really flattered. I am sure that you will find a lovely girl once you start college.” You had added quickly, cheerfully, rubbing the salt all over his wounds, honey dripping from your plump red lips. He had wanted to kiss them, bruise them, bite them until your stupid lying mouth was filled with blood. Obviously you didn’t have a boyfriend or he would have known by now, he stalked your social media religiously after all. Even if you had one, he probably treated you like shit. And how could you even suggest him finding another woman? As if he wanted any of the stupid money - grabbing sluts out there. As if some of them could replace you.

The boy was too furious to form a proper response besides “Fuck you, bitch”. His cheeks turned red and he didn’t realise that the bitter words had escaped his lips before he could stop them, then his legs took him far away from that shithole of a school. He didn’t manage to see your reaction before running away but it didn’t matter anymore. You were just like the others.

***

That day Jason swore to show you just how small and insignificant you had made him feel. He wanted to see you crumble, cry and beg for forgiveness, desperate for his love but never good enough to get it. The man formed a plan to change himself and come back for you once he had erased each and every trace of his past. The brunette came to terms with his terrible social anxiety and decided that he needed to gain social abilities more than anything. That’s why, as much as he dreamt of working from home as a boring programmer with an even more boring, but flexible working schelude, the male chose to study something that involved a lot more human interactions. The next step was to hit the gym for the first time and get a monthly subscription. It wasn’t hard to see that females nowadays liked brain - dead athletes with defined jawline and cheekbones, toned chests and strong muscled bodies, so if he wanted to impress you, he had to look his best. It wasn’t easy at first - it felt like everyone in the fitness salon had their eyes on his weak frame, laughing and pointing their fingers at his imperfections, but things gradually got better as time went on. The trainings became easier to get through and from time to time they even helped the man forget about his loneliness and nihilism.

Jason soon returned to his old habbit of spending hours looking through your accounts - Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, he knew all of your usernames, each post, every picture and text. He couldn’t believe how much of a desperate attention whore you had become over the years. The male remembered you in your long brown skirts, cozy sweatshirts and pure-white shirts, all the gray buttons closed to the very top, blushing, laughing, smiling like the adorable Goody-two-shoes you were. Now you were smirking seductively in every photo, overconfident and vibrant, flaunting your tits for every man to see and wearing tight little dresses that barelly covered your ass combined with heels so high and sharp they could be used as a weapon. You were such a stupid slut it was disgusting, and he couldn’t stop himself from jerking off every single time he saw your pretty little face on the screen. He wanted to cum down your throat so badly it was ridiculous, and even after knowing that you had probably already had hundreds of cocks shoved deep inside your pussy, the brunette still wished to see you split open on his, taking his lenght like a good little cocksleeve.

***

The moment when he could see you again finally came. How many years had passed since graduation - five, ten, fifthteen? It hardly mattered. Jason was successful, at last. The male had his own business that was doing surprisingly well, there were some guys from the gym he could call friends and the best thing, he looked absolutely unrecognizable. There was nothing left of the tiny scrawny kid with quiet voice that everyone stepped over, he was now replaced by a strong capable man, determined to get what was rightfully his and his alone.

It wasn’t hard to find you since the brunette knew everything about you - where your job was, what time you finished, how long it took you to go home and what path you took. You lived alone and worked as a barista in a small local cafe even now that you had finished your studies in your dream faculty. Turns out the princess wasn’t so great and smart after all, having to resort to working a minimal - wage job day and night just to be able to pay her rent. Jason was absolutely delighted though, he loved your stupid dead - end job and your endless struggles to survive in the materialistic world honestly and fairly without selling yourself like a common whore. On one hand the male was happy that you had clung onto your last bit of innocence and on the other your pitiful lifestyle gave him the chance to snatch you away much easier. And that’s exactly what he did.

***

You woke up confused just like he had expected, bombarding him with questions, asking him who he was was, begging him to let you go, to at least explain what’s happening. You were so dumb, but God, you were still so pretty, if not prettier than before. You cried so beautifully when Jason told you you belonged to him now and you cried even more when he slammed his cold rough lips over yours in a deep wet kiss. You whimpered and whined while the male sucked on your lower lip and bit down, good, he wanted it to hurt. The stalker couldn’t wait to be inside you, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

He climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists to the floor before tying them up with delicate red rope and tightening it. It wasn’t like the man was scared of you slipping away and hurting him, you were too weak and tiny to stand a chance against his years of power - lifting and muscle - training anyways, he just wanted you to be as uncomfortable and squirmish as possible. Your tormentor wished for you to be in worse pain than he had been during his youthful years, and he knew exactly what to do. Next thing you knew Jason had ripped your dress apart, leaving you vulnerable and exposed in just your plain old panties and bra. Cold shivers ran down your spine when the chilly air hit your naked flesh and you finally realized there wasn’t getting away from this. You had to stay there, limbs bound together, unable to move or fight back, the stranger’s hands caressing your neck before moving dangerously close to your clothed breasts. You felt so sick you were going to throw up for sure if your abductor didn’t step back so you decided to use your last resort.

“Jason, please stop!” You screamed out of the blue, forcing the brunette to freeze instantly at the use of his birth name. You had already called him a pervert and a psycho which didn’t seem to faze him, but the name clearly caught him off guard. This only seemed to prove your theory further - the man really was your former classmate, despite the only similarity between them being the dark distant look in his eyes. “I beg you, don’t hurt me!” You continued, hoping to at least buy yourself more time before the assault took place.

He gulped loudly and stared at your quivering form. The impossible had happened, you had recognized him and now together with fear, there was also pity in your gaze, the one emotion your captor absolutely despised. You used to be the only one who pitied him, and even now that he was bigger, better and stronger than before, you still had the guts to pity him. It drove him insane but any attempt to hurt or touch you was fruitless now - your soft skin was suddenly burning his fingers like hellfire.

“You must be thinking that I am a monster.” Jason started out dryly, chuckling bitterly, humorlessly even. He clenched his fists unconsciously and brought them to the floor in a fit of rage, missing your head by mere inches. Your heart was beating like crazy and you only hoped the mandman couldn’t hear it. “A freak.” The man spat out the word like it was a curse and for a split second his eyes softened before turning into two spinning torches. “Right?” You were sure that if looks could kill, his would have you dead by the end of the night so you quickly nodded your head no.

“You are lying to me again, pretty girl.” The brunette replied feisty, "pretty” rolling off his tongue like an insult. Then he broke into hoarse maniac laugher and lowered his head so his face leveled up with yours, so close you could feel his warm breath on your tear - stained cheek. “When I am done with you, you wouldn’t be so pretty anymore, darling.” Your captor growled and attacked your neck, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh. “You will see exaclty how ugly my love is.”

#yandere #yandere oneshot #male yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere oc #yancore #yandere male x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere smut #yandere x you

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ackerpreach · 3 years

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This ending .... I can name 500 reasons and I will name them right now, because I don’t think I’m the only one who is upset with how things turned out. (Also, A positive message for all of you at the end)

MAJOR LEAKS SPOILERS/ READ WITH CAUTION

Update: after reading more theories from fellow RM bloggers, and sleeping over it one day, this entire chapter might be an april fools... Don't fully lose hope yet beautiful people. It's me just giving a review on a possible fake April fools chapter

After following this franchise since 2013, so nearly a DECADE. this ending is a pure disserve to the entire fandom. I feel like Yams has rushed it just for the sake of being done with the entire manga. So many things are left open, characters and their developemt are reverted back all the way to chapter 1 or are left even worse than that...

Mikasa’s worthless character development/ Aaronmika’s horrible toxic codependent relationship

Oh honey... Let’s start with how horrible Isayama has treated her. We were all rooting for her, because we all felt like she was so misunderstood. She had a horrible childhood and imprinted on a guy who treated her like trash 99 percent of the story. And then, slowly but surely, she starts to realize she has to stop obsessing over him in the uprising arc with the help of a real man who treats her like a queen, more importantly, he treats her like a real human being. This man sees her for her abilities and that she has the power to be self dependent. She learned parts of herself, that she was able to work together with him like no one else could. She learned parts of herself she was unable to do so if she kept obsessing about Aaron. All this love, care, mutual understanding and RESPECT these two shared.

but...NAH FUCK THAT, right Yams?? Throw all this development away, all this bonding. Let’s make the main female lead even more yandere than she already was in the first season. Let her make out with his decapacitated head (like dude, this is also pure disrespect to Aaron’s dead body btw) and let her obsess even more about the guy who has treated her no better than a piece of toilet cloth 99 percent of the time. The guy who was never really appreciative in front of her for saving his ass billions of times, who always pushed her away, who yells at her and snaps at her whenever he can instead of reasoning and talking calmly with her in mature way. (EVEN PARODY YOUTUBE CHANNELS WHO DONT SHIP ANYTHING MAKE IT A TROPE WHERE AARON TELLS MIKASA HE HATES HER GUTS WHENEVER HE CAN)

Then after all that, suddenly Yams tries to last minute persuade us Aaron’s always been head over heels for her??? He should have build their relationship better which he hasn’t even tried to do so... He must be thinking his fans are stupid for eating this from his hands.

Like seriously??? What is this???

Isayama is just fully contradicting himself. It’s like someone tipped him off with a buttload of money for him to write Aaron like this to satisfy shipping needs and to cash in those extra money’s from it. Even if he tried to cater to Erem*ika, this is not how you write a loving and caring couple which people will root for.

This next two panels just freaking infuriates me to the core of my soul. I can’t even describe how dissapointed I am with Mikasa.

Why is she clutching that head so obsessively like that? Why is she walking and turning her back away from her comrades? After everything they have done for her, after all they’ve been through?! After everything Armin has done? Standing up for Mikasa, beating up Aaron for hurting her. I feel like even Jean, Connie and Sasha have cared more for her in a healthy way. Sure, Aaron cares for her romantically too apparently (What a twist Yams :)), but has he aided her to becoming a mentally healthier individual? Has he aided in her mental stability? The answer is a big fat NO! All I see between these two after today’s raw Chapter’s are too Yandere obsessed individuals who have no clue on how to maintain a healthy relationship.

Love should only go as far as the heart can endure and it seems like her character is not willing to be aware of that. Even Armin was able to let go of Aaron in those latest panels. Why does her entire character resolve around this guy??? I really do not understand. Her Ackerbond and her age is not an excuse for her to throw her life away like this.

Shonen’s disgusting portrayal of women

I’ve seen this countless of times in the many years I’ve watched anime. SasuS*ku from Naruto, Ichih*me from Bleach, Shinji and that oranged hair girl from Neon Evangelion.. Why do these women get decreased to simpletons with one single goal? And that is to obsess over a bland male lead who either treats them like trash or doesn’t notice them up until the last last chapter (LITERALLY WHAT YAMS HAS DONE). Some go even as far as the male leading wanting the kill the female love interest and yet the female lead is still in love with them???. It’s disgusting for him to write the MAIN female character this way.

It’s dissapointing we believed in Isayama doing Mikasa’s character right. That she’s finally being able to let go of her codependency and to live for herself maybe live in Hizuru and find more about her roots???, but every single time she shows some improvement, it’s burried deep in the ground again by the Author. It almost seems like a lowkey kink of some of the male Mangaka’s to write about a girl obsessing over them no matter what. I see this so many times to the point that I truly stand behind it that some of them might have this fantasy.

I wished he didn’t portray her last panels like this. Everyone else is living their lives while Mikasa is still grieving about him. I’m not saying she’s not allowed to grieve and everyone takes it at their own pace, but cmon... Show her living her life too. This is too much. Her being next to his grave and grieving him as her last panels just shoves it in our faces that YET AGAIN, BEING OBSESSED WITH AARON IS ALL HER CHARACTER STANDS FOR.

I truly despise how Isayama handles her grieving, kissing his decapacitated head, carrying it around like some handbag, and her last panels being thissss.

The world leaving Paradis alone miraciously after all that???

It’s so weird and out of place with so many political feuds and disagreements between the world and Paradis, the entire Rumbling happening and we can see Mikasa just chilling outside in Paradis with no one bothering them. You can see the rings of the walls in the picture below. I don’t know the exact reason behind as the manga is still in Korean, but from what I see, the story went the route of: throwing a happy ending without enough proper reason and it was all fixed just like that in a snap! It doesn’t fit the entire narrative of attack on titan for things to be so peacful out of nowhere. When it comes to the narrative, how things work in that world, how hard it is to achieve peace, everything made somewhat sense up until chapter 138. 139 seems so so out of place... It’s like I’m reading a chapter from a totally different manga.

Aaron Yoghurt got defeated so easily/ Aaron’s character assassination

The build up on the first part of the rumbling was great, those kids carrying coins. You could feel humanity’s fear and Aaron’s hatred in those pages. As if he truly had a goal and he has turned away completely from his comrades and his closest friends with no return. The world seemed truly doomed, but he got defeated just like that. He was in the nape all this time (because screw the warhammer power of hiding yourself elsewhere in his ginormous titan body). There is no master plan as we all expected, and in the end he just acts all yandere in the paths with Armin and that’s it... They massacared his entire character as well. Many fan theories created a better ending with his character. Him being reincarnated as Historia’s baby would be so much better. For him to still keep on seeking and to strive for power. It has always been his motive. It’s his personality from the start until chapter 138. Even if things are okay, to keep on going and to seek that adventure, but then.. He’s so weak and directionless suddenly.. It’s so weird... This is not Aaron at all???

Using Aaron for him this entire post, because I don’t want others to invade our tags... :)))

Historia’s baby

The only panel we got from Historia’s child was this. Just a normal kid, normal life... Why did Isayama put so much effort in highlighting Historia’s pregnancy if it was nothing too spectacular anyway? It seemed he had major plans for this kid and for their development too??? It’s again, big plans, big developments, big relationship dynamic, but all got thrown out of the window...

Don’t read the next sentence if you are a minor :’)

It’s like almost ejaculating, but stopping right before it and repeating that every single Arc.

My energy when writing about this chapter is the same as Nostalgia Critic and his hatred for atla the live action

In Conclusion...

I know us fans should not be deciding on how this story should end, because this is Isayama’s story after all, but I truly wished for him to wrap up things much more rounded. There are so many unanswered questions... Again, I think for the sake of being done with this manga, he rushed all of it. He’s become a millionaire from this story and now his pockets are jammed full, I guess he doesn’t need to put in any effort anymore, right? Perhaps a controversial opinion, but I really wished he cared for his fans a little bit more with this last chapter by giving some answers that make sense at least. It’s his fans who gave him this platform and the opportunity to tell his story and for him to at least give in a bit of effort especially in the last chapter is the least he can do. Rivamika being canon or not, he truly rushed it without thinking much about the entire story line. He expanded it so much, he didn’t know how to bind it all together.

Even after all this, I’ll still ship them in the headcanon type of way. I do give credit to Isayama for giving us a template for such a beautiful dynamic between Levi and Mikasa. He decides to waste it, but that doesn’t mean we have to. I want to thank all the people with amazing writing skills, the ones who give us beautiful art like @carmenlee @phit chan @vialesana and many more. I want to remind all of you that we can create something beautiful of our own and we don’t neccesarily need canon lore for that. The art I’ve seen, the fanfictions I’ve read have touched me deeper than Isayama ever could at times.The Mikasa in our mind is appreciate of Levi, is mature, classy and has a strong will for herself. They spend their remaining days together peacefully. Keep writing, keep drawing, stay creative.

I love you all so so much, I’ve only been publicly active since March, but thank you Rivamika fandom for giving me so much joy as a lurker these past 7 years <3

#rivamika #snk leaks #snk 139 leaks #levimika #mikalevi

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littlespace-imagines · 3 years

Text

Little Obsession pt.4

(Eyeless Jack x Reader)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

**This is a CG/l story, it's 18+ there will bed D/S dynamics but Littlespace will NEVER be sexualized**

Warnings: Fem pronouns for reader, semi-established relationship, Cursing, Stalking, CG/l dynamics

You groaned and sat up trying to open your eyes, you thought hard trying to remember what happened last, Jack had dressed you. That's all you remember, you opened your eyes and squinted at the unfamiliar dark room. You began to panic, your eyes hurt, your head hurts, and your neck aches.

As soon as you start hyperventilating the door opens to reveal Jack, he immediately rushes to your side and holds you against him rocking you back and forth and assuring you that you were okay.

"Jack? I can't remember much." You sob, you know you're little but you're so panicked you don't care

"I know baby, that's a side effect of the anesthesia I gave you, you'll remember everything in a couple hours youre still loopy." He explains

"Promise? Did you take me?" You ask and he looks at you, you wanted to rip his mask off, he shakes his head and cups your face

"I did not take you, you wanted to come with me, and yes I promise you'll remember everything. Now let's get some food in your belly." He says and gently pinches your side causing you to giggle, you allow Jack to carry you out to the main living room he sits you in a chair and that's when you notice that Jack was still wearing his hoodie and gloves you got up out of your chair and padded towards him.

"Hey, baby, what's up?" He asks as you look up at him

"That is very unnormal." You mutter and pinch the fabric between your fingers but not trying to move it

"Aren't you hot? It must be super hard to cook with gloves on" you remark and he shakes his head and looks down at what he's cooking, you feel guilt twinge in your stomach, he's probably insecure about it. You wrap your arms around him in a tight hug you can feel him tense before he hugs you back just as hard holding you a bit.

"M' sorry, I just realized I've never seen you without your hoodie or gloves, I don't wanna make you uncomfy." You mumble playing with your hands

"It's...okay. You'll know eventually ." He says with a sigh and you nod

"It's going to be very uncomfortable to shower with someone who doesn't wanna show their skin." Now it was Jacks turn to be flustered, he almost dropped the spatula he was using.

"Baby, I'm not going to shower or bathe with you while you're little." He states very firmly

"What if I'm not little?" You ask with a slight quiver in your voice, sadness spreading in your chest at the thought of Jack not wanting you if you're big.

"That's something to discuss later, I know you have a lot of feelings you don't understand, and we’ll talk about it soon." You nod quickly, very eager for Jack to be close to you. Jack chuckles at you hasty reaction and ruffles your hair with one of his big hands.

"Alright foods ready!" Jack says as he sets your plate down on the table.

You sat down to eat, you and Jack making casual conversation before moving on to the living room and watching cartoons, it takes a good hour but you are able to get out of Littlespace and recall things, which you and Jack were now talking about,

“So, these feelings, when are we going to talk about them?” you ask, you can see jack tense up a bit,

“I don't want to talk about it now, I just finally got you here with me where you belong, please just allow me some time with you because the truth will make you view me differently,” he says and you slump down a bit but decide not to argue if he says the truth is bad you also would rather not know

“Okay, fine, but you do at least need to answer some questions for me,” you say, and jack nods waiting for your first question

“What are we?” you ask and Jack takes a deep breath

“We’re soul mates. You are mine and I am yours, I've known from the moment I saw you I cared for you,” he answers, his gloved hand enveloping yours,

“Okay, so are you like only interested in my little side?” you ask

“Definitely not, I care about big you just as much as I care for little you.” he answers thoughtfully and you nod, briefly stopping to think about your next piece.

“I'm sure I have more questions that I'm just not thinking of right now, but I'm still very third from the anesthesia so I think I'm gonna get ready to go to bed and I'm gonna hop in the shower first,” you say and jack stands up and helps you up before showing you to the bathroom and getting you a change of clothes and towel before he leaves you to shower by yourself.

‘Oh my God today has been insane.’ you think to yourself while you turn the water on to heat up and pull your hair back into a bun so you won't get your hair wet.

In the past 24 hours you've run away with your stalker/caregiver/soulmate, you've discovered that even once he has you he still isn't showing his identity or opening up much, you have a separate bedroom from him, and now you're showering alone

You had hoped things would move faster between the two of you, there was no doubt you and Jack have had some major tension between the two of you for a while. There has been countless hugs, cuddles, and caresses between the both of you. You remembered the first time you had hugged Jack was when he came to see you after dropping off the planet for a whole week, nothing but dead silence from the man who involved himself so deeply in your life and then he was standing in your bedroom, arm in a sling and running his gloved hand on your cheek you had jumped up and hugged him when you finally saw him again, telling him he was never allowed to leave you like that again.

You turned the water off and stepped out, drying yourself off before changing into your clothes and walking out of the bathroom to a dark cabin, you saw two doors one on the end of the other end of the hallway which had light pouring from under the closed door and the other was open with the light on, you walked to the open door hoping to find Jack inside but he wasn’t there. Your blankets had been pulled down for you, sippy cup of water on the bedside table and your little tv turned on with the dvd menu ready to be played, you smiled to yourself and shut the door behind you before playing the movie and getting in bed and turning off the bedside table lamp.

You soon fell into a comfortable sleep.

#littlespace fanfiction #x little!reader #fandom agere #xlittle!reader #little!reader #creepypasta x reader #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack imagines #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #cgl fanfiction #littlespacefanfic

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lilacmeadows · 3 years

Text

Made For You pt. 2

Omg you guys thank you so much for all the support! Part 1 was my first fic and you guys were so sweet. I had to get started on part 2 right away. If you want to be on my taglist, just let me know! This is just leading up to the next few chapters that’s just gonna be FILTHY. I needed a bit of backstory to be satisfied, but now that the boring part is out of the way, I’m gonna go research other names for genitals. Hope you enjoy! -Savvy

BUCKY X READER

Summary: Hydra had just finished training you to be the Winter Soldier’s perfect mate when the Avengers saved him. But what’s going to happen to you now that Hydra has deleted your old life and left you with nothing but a soldier that needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, explicit language, underage reader (nothing sexual happens underage), stockholm syndrome, mentions of family death, eventual dom/sub dynamics, mentions of captivity and kidnapping. violence- guns, mutual pining, eventual smut, fluff, angst if you squint (must be 18+)

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

“Make the Soldat happy. He is my mission.”

When she was first taken, of course she was scared. She didn’t know why, where she was going, if she’d be rescued. It was a painful adjustment, and some days it was as if the tears would never stop. It’s not like she was worth anything to anyone who mattered, her family wasn’t rich. Just her mom and brother. They lived a happy and normal life.

She’d guess it didn’t really matter. At the age of 10, y/n was old enough to understand basic concepts, carry a conversation with adults, and she had strict teachers in school, so she knew how to behave.

What she didn’t know was how to be a wife. Or a ‘life-partner’. None of the Men would ever call her a future ‘wife’. She was training to be a mate. Someone the Soldat could own and connect with so he didn’t fly off the rails if things got out of control. If he got out of their control. Every morning, a watcher would wake her up at 8AM so she could stretch, eat, and meditate. By 10AM, her first trainer of the day would come in and teach her the schooling she was missing. Just basic math and reading, a little German, and a little Russian. Not enough for her to eavesdrop on their plans, but enough to understand her Soldat if he didn’t feel like speaking English.

At 1PM, another trainer would come and bring her to the small kitchenette down the hall. They had no intention of domesticating the ‘couple’, but she was learning to be a woman- of course the Men would have her start in the kitchen. She would learn very simple meals that could feed a fully grown man, and usually had something light for lunch herself. The men brought her the other 2 meals a day. At 3PM she would have lessons on ‘Womanhood’. At least that’s what she called it. A trainer would come in and teach her a never-ending list of rules that she had to follow in order to be a ‘lady’. It reminded her of an old Barbie movie she would watch when she was little. There was a song called ‘To Be a Princess’, where a poor girl learned how to act proper. Once she started seeing herself as that princess, the days got a little easier. Some days, they would go over how to sit and lie down like a lady. Others, they would walk laps around the halls open to her, reviewing how to walk on the balls of her feet. She learned to talk in short sentences with excellent manners, and how to brush her hair, so she could look more presentable for her Soldat.

Over the years of compliance, the trainers softened on her just as the watchers had. Of course, they were still horrible people, but they knew she was a kind girl at heart and wouldn’t cause trouble. Some days, she would be made to sit perfectly still with a stack of books on her head, while her trainer would tell her something silly happening outside the walls of the building that became her home. She learned little bits of information about their lives, music, art. But never anything political or having to do with who the Men even worked for. That was strictly forbidden. They would let her color in her free time. Sometimes a watcher would bring a book from his home for her to read, and when she was old enough, she was given a few colors of yarn and started knitting sweaters and scarves on plastic needles. She didn’t have a clock, but she would learn by the rotating shifts of her watchers what time of day it was.

There were children whose lives sucked more than hers. And for that, she was grateful.

When she got older (let’s say 18), the training started to change. She never knew what day it was, or even what year. She had stopped keeping track so long ago, but the changes were made gradually. She would be made to read books on intimacy, and then watch videos of men brutally ravishing ladies about her size. She had to learn what to do to please her Soldat, without being taught physically. This made her happy. The thought of any of the watchers or trainers doing that to her made her sick. And everyone thought it was in her best interest to be completely innocent to the touch of a man when she has her first encounter with the Soldat.

Which turned out exactly as planned. But on the day Steve and Sam plucked her out of her bedroom, she was not expecting the Soldat to be sitting right in front of her. In all his glory.

The quinjet was eerily silent for all of seven seconds before Clint had the audacity to continue the conversation he started.

“You make the soldier happy?” was the best the shocked man could come up with.

“I haven’t met him yet, but I’m ready. They made me ready for him.” y/n said with bright, hopeful eyes. Her words flowed so easily, they sounded rehearsed.

“Do we tell her?” Tony asked Steve, who was getting greener by the second. He couldn’t believe he just got his best friend back, not two weeks ago, and now he has to worry about a girl who’s obsessed with said best friend.

“I don’t think we really have a choice.” Steve replied, taking a deep breath. The whole quinjet looked like they were holding their breath. y/n still didn’t know the names of the three men on the opposite side of the quinjet. Two of them standing together, pausing their conversation, and the brooding man, who everyone keeps looking at.

“y/n, meet Bucky.” Steve said, pointing at the man across from her. But ‘Bucky’ went completely over her head- the name being unfamiliar to her.

“Hello, sir. Pleased to meet you.” She said, offering a genuine smile, but clearly not picking up what Steve was putting down. Clint chimed in again, wanting to be out of his confused misery.

“Wait a second. Y/n. You mean the soldier, as in the Winter Soldier?” Y/n immediately nodded at hearing that name. She knew her Soldat went by that name. “As in that guy right there?”

Her eyes went wide at the realization. He was sitting right in front of her. Staring at her since the minute she stepped onto the plane. And he was gorgeous. Long hair, thick thighs, piercing blue eyes, and a jaw that could probably cut glass. But he looked upset. Pissed really, and that scared her. She had one job: Make the Soldat happy. And there she was, barely presentable. She hadn’t even addressed him properly, how she was taught. With all the eyes on her, she felt a blush rush through her whole body at the embarrassing thought. But she had to. He wouldn’t like her if she didn’t follow the rules she grew up with.

Y/n daintily stood up and walked until she was right in front of Bucky. He held her eye contact the entire way, still not having said one word during this whole exchange. She gently knelt down until she was on her knees in front of him.

“I hope I can make you happy, my Soldat. I am a gift from the Men who take care of us, and I am entirely yours.” Bucky’s jaw twitched. He hadn’t said anything this whole time, but his mind was moving at lightning speed. He watched this gorgeous, barely dressed girl sit across from him, and was already in awe. But then that girl got on her knees and declared her loyalty to him? In front of everyone he knows? He couldn’t lie to himself, he’d never been more turned on. But everything about this was wrong. She was just a Stockholm Syndrome’d girl who wanted to follow orders. But her orders were to make him happy. He finally broke eye contact with her to see Tony’s shocked face looking over at Bruce and Thor, to make sure he’s not hallucinating this.

“Y/n, you should stand up.” He said to her in a hushed tone. Probably harsher than he meant to. He could see her visibly take a breath at the sound of his voice, his eyes followed the gentle slope of her neck down to her breast. She dreamed for years about what his voice would sound like, and it just rolled over her. But she quickly obeyed and stood in front of his seat. He expected her to say something else, but she was silent then. Her previous outburst was one of the few exceptions to her ‘only talk when spoken to’ rule. “What do you want? Where is your family so we can take you home?” He asked her. She could feel the tears well up in her eyes. He didn’t want her was all she could assume. She was made for him, so why was he turning her away?

“I want to make you happy, sir. It’s all I want. Please let me be good for you. I promise, I’ll be so good for you.” Begging was familiar to her from her studies. She didn’t expect to be begging for her to be able to please him, but she would do whatever it took to get him to keep her.

“No. Y/n. This isn’t right. You were being kept there, whatever Hydra told you to do is over. You’re free now.” The tears flowed freely down her cheeks and it broke his heart. She tried to cover her face with her hands. He didn’t want to see her cry, nor did he want to turn her away, but he also couldn’t just let her be his sex slave. It wasn’t right.

“Please don’t be sad. This is for the best-” He tried to reason with her, but when he took her hand off her face so she would look at him, the contact only made her sob harder. This was all she wanted.

“Buck, I think we should just let her sit for a minute. Can you grab her some water? Tony and I will try to figure out where she was from.” Steve said to Bucky- trying to end this painful and awkward situation. Bucky stood and walked to another area of the quinjet. He was grateful to be able to use this time to think.

“Y/n, we’re gonna need your help to get you home okay. What’s your last name? How old are you?”

“Y/L/N” And then she went quiet. It never occurred to her that she didn’t know how old she was. Of course, she remembered her birthday, but she couldn’t tell the weeks and months apart, so she hadn’t celebrated it since she turned 10 in 2006. “What year is it?”

“When did they take you?” Steve asked gently. Being a man from another time, he could remember well the day he woke up in 2011 when it was supposed to be 1944. He knew how jarring it was to discover all the time that’s been lost, and wanted to spare her that grief.

“2006. I was 10.” She looked at him, and she could tell it’s not just 2008 by the look on his face. She knew her body went through changes over her time with the Men, but between the ‘dietary supplements’ they gave her, and the fact that she wasn’t looking in a mirror- much less shopping for clothes- she didn’t realize she had fully completed puberty.

“Y/n, it’s 2016. You’re 20 now.” And that made the tears come harder. But she wasn’t so upset about the 10 years of her life. She was mad at 20 years of her life wasted. Since Bucky didn’t want her, all of the training was for nothing. She knew living for him made her the definition of a broken person- she wasn’t dumb. The idea of her Soldat was what grounded her all that time. When she was lonely, she’d think about the man the Men always tell her about. They told her how he was their ‘greatest asset’. And she often fantasized about if he would fall in love with her. So by the time she met him, she had already been in love with him for much longer than she’d care to admit- which makes the heartbreak of rejection hurt that much more.

Unfortunately for Bucky, his heart was heavy too. He tucked away into the tiny bed area on the jet after quickly handing Steve the water to give to y/n. It was too much. Being in that room with her, she looked at him like he hung the moon. But he most certainly had not. He was a murderer. Tony’s father was a scientist during the war, and Bucky knew him pretty well through Steve. And he killed him. He had scattered memories of hurting dozens of people, so why would she be so willing to be with someone like him?

Part of him wanted it. After almost a century of not owning anything and not having a choice, he was given the opportunity to have something that belonged only to him. A gift from the men who take care of us. If it wasn’t cruel, he would have laughed in her face. Maybe she was taken care of, but he most certainly wasn’t. She was brought in young enough to still be under the impression that Hydra wasn’t evil, just strict. He imagined for a minute how things could have turned out for the two of them if he hadn’t gotten free. If Hydra really was planning on giving him a gift. He didn’t like the last gift they gave him in the shape of an arm, but y/n was perfect. She was the perfect size for him- although his broad frame could dwarf most women. And her smile pulled at his heart.

He wanted to kiss her the minute he saw her. He knew he wanted to make her his.

And that was bad.

He rubbed his hand over his face and decided to rejoin the group in the middle of their conversation. Thor and Bruce decided to stop being passive members of the conversation and introduced themselves. Y/n was very confused at Thor’s proclamation as ‘God of Thunder’, but with all that was happening, she didn’t feel it was her place to question it.

“- a good thing we have spare rooms at the compound. You can stay as long as you like.” Tony finished speaking to y/n just as Bucky was walking into the room. “We’re gonna have a new house guest MC.” He waggled his eyebrows at the man who caught the back half of that conversation.

Bucky’s jaw dropped. This would only make the situation much harder than it needed to be. He looked to Steve for an explanation. The blond stood up and made his way over to Bucky.

“Look, Hydra scrubbed her records off of every database and-” He took a deep sigh, “Her family is dead, Buck. They probably killed them after they took her.”

Then it was Bucky’s turn to sigh. He knew the right thing to do was to help her, but he also knew how much he wanted to feel her soft skin in his hands. And that made her dangerous to be around.

What nobody knew was why Hydra took the 10 year old from Georgia. In 2006, the Winter Soldier was sent on a mission to kill a scientist that lived there. Of course the poor guy didn’t have a chance when the Soldier was sitting in his house, waiting for him when he got home, but what the Soldier wasn’t expecting was a little girl to be coming inside with him. The scientist looked sleazy and didn’t have any children, so who knows what would have happened to her if the Soldier didn’t get there in time. She screamed and cried. The comm in his ear commanded him to kill the girl for being a witness. But the part of the Soldier that was still Bucky wanted her to be safe. He shushed the little girl and asked her for her address. When she recited it to him, he rubbed her head and told her she was a good girl, before he dug his metal fingers into the child’s pressure points and she fell limp into his arms. y/n woke up in her bed, crying at the bad dream she must have had- her mother not even home yet. That was the first act of defiance Hydra ever experienced from the Winter Soldier. First sign of humanity and compassion. They knew if the mind control was getting weaker, he would be harder to control next time they unfroze him, but his protective nature of the girl would make her an asset to them.

Her capture was arranged before his heart was fully frozen in the chamber. Neither Bucky nor y/n remembered this- Bucky only remembering parts of his time under their control, and y/n never thinking about that bad dream again, but the connection was still there as strong as it was that day 10 years ago.

Part 3

#bucky #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #stucky #james buchanan bucky barnes #the avengers #steve rodgers smut #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #dark!bucky barnes #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker smut #bucky fluff #chubby!bucky #winter soldier smut #winter solider x reader

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heretherebedork · 3 years

Note

The Battle Royale is back!! This time: Uke edtion 2.0: the comeback!! (This time: the battle is randomized and shuffled!)

Now who among here excretes the most uke energy? A gaybie? A soft uke? A perfect Uke? And the contestants are:

Taekyung vs. Adachi

Sky (GB) vs. Tae Joo (Eyes Linger)

Pi vs. Gene

Tian vs. Pharm

ShuYi vs. Shi Lei

Zhao Zi vs. Si Qi

Meen vs. Tine

Jin vs. Arthit

Kit (Gen Y) vs. Wad (SOTUS S)

Karl vs. Gavreel

Tutor vs. Knock

Mico vs. Jaime

Reb vs. Jim

Tong vs. Folk

Paii vs. Wayo (2moons2)

Beam vs. Kit (Both 2moons2)

Mon vs. Shi Gu

Chon vs. Mes

Masuk vs. Nuea

King vs. Third

Puth vs. Boss (My Engineer)

Kao (DBK) vs. Kao (Oxygen)

Chol vs. Xingsi

Mu Ren vs. Yu Hao (Crossing the Line)

Pete (LBC) vs. Fiat

Yeon Woo (Color Rush) vs. Ki Wan (Ryu's Wedding)

Hin (Chance to Love) vs. Hin (Lovely Writer)

Aey vs. Yi Chen (Obsessed)

Pao vs. Ake

Phai (Gen Y) vs. Wayu (Gen Y)

Day (Sotus S) vs. Zon (WhyRU)

Typhoon vs. Mekhin (Close Friend)

Team vs. In

Guitar vs. Ray (Close Friend)

Type (2gether) vs. Sang Ha (Mr. Heart)

Sheng Zhe (Right or Wrong) vs. Shao Fei

Frong vs. Duen

King vs. Sky (My Day)

Ou Wen vs. Minh Hoang

Can vs. Techno

Yu Zhen vs. Bunn

Bonus: (Ga On vs. Da On)

This time, anyone can play! Feel free to play this game! It's open to all!

I'd also like to dare @absolutebl and @raiko101 to try this one! Hehehe

and also: thank you @absolutebl for your posts! I also learned a lot from you! prolly half of these characters came from you so, yay thanks!

Goodluck!

Ahaha, wow, my anons are pulling in my mutuals? Again? My life is wild here, y'all. Yay Battle Royale Anon! How did you know I have time to kill before Golden Blood?

Also, this one is fascinating because how does one define uke? Because some of these characters might be bottoms but I wouldn't define them as ukes because ukes are typically the ones being pursued. So I've sort of been trying to figure that out and so some of these get some odd answers depending on the character. Is an uke defined as what most straight girls think of a bottom? Is an uke the character being pursued or who needs to be taken care of?

... Look, uke is an ever-evolving word, especially from when I first joined fandom. So it's very interesting!

Taekyung vs. Adachi

Adachi has to win this. I love Taekyung to death and he's my tiny gaybie but Adachi just... he's darling and small and he needs to be protected and pursued and he just... fits more of what I think of as an uke. Now, this is probably because this is a Japan (creator of the uke/seme dynamic as we know it) versus Korea (who really don't do strong seme/uke dynamics) thing rather than a character thing. Since uke really is in the relationship and not just the character...

Sky (GB) vs. Tae Joo (Eyes Linger)

It's Sky. Sky is a baby. Sky is absolutely baby. He's in need of so much love and care and protection. Although Tae Joo is close and he definitely needs it, it's in a different way. Plus, Sun is gonna take a bullet for Sky and I am an absolute sucker for that. But they're such good characters to contrast.

Pi vs. Gene

I gotta admit that I'm giving this to Gene. Now, this is because of the show. I want Gene to be taken care of by his love. I want Nubsib to love and care for Gene. I don't want Pi to be take care of. I want Pi to go be independent and pissy somewhere else without ever thinking about Mork again.

Tian vs. Pharm

Pharm had to win this. I love Tian, don't get me wrong. But Tian and Phupha have a different dynamics than Dean and Pharm. Dean and Pharm definitely lean more towards what I would consider a seme/uke relationship and, thus, Pharm wins. Also, tiny gaybie Pharm almost always wins.

ShuYi vs. Shi Lei

This is so interesting because it's Taiwan vs Taiwan and they don't do the really strong seme/uke... but yeah, it's Shu Yi. Shu Yi 100%. Shi Lei is an uke but he's not as much of one as Shu Yi. Shu Yi is such a darling who just needs so much love.

Zhao Zi vs. Si Qi

It's Zhao Zi. Look, I adore Si Qi. He's a darling. But Zhao Zi is just gaybie energy x100 alongside abandonment issues and that sunshine over sadness energy is just A+.

Meen vs. Tine

This one is hard. They're both such ukes, such little gaybies... But I like Meen more, so I'm going with him. He was the bright spot in the show where Tine was, ironically, one of my least favorite characters in his show.

Jin vs. Arthit

I had to give this to Jin. He just loved being pursued so much and all the attention and the little gifts from Bbomb just made him so happy. He couldn't help himself. Arthit just didn't quite have that with Kongpob, as much as I love them together. Different vibes.

Kit (Gen Y) vs. Wad (SOTUS S)

Kit is basically the perfect example of a tsundere uke. Like, he is the platonic (lol) ideal. And I love him for that so much. He's definitely one of my favorite characters just in general and such a little tsundere uke he has to win.

Karl vs. Gavreel

This one is a bit harder. Ugh. Like, you could claim it for either one and also argue that neither one is exactly an uke... but I'm gonna give it to Gavreel. Mostly for levels of realism. Karl is just so realistic it's hard to call him an uke.

Tutor vs. Knock

Yeah, it's Tutor. He was tough as nails but he melted so nicely under Fighter's hands and just falls apart and gets sick without him and that's just... such an uke thing, okay? SUCH an uke thing.

Mico vs. Jaime

I had to go with Mico. I love Mico. He's such a darling and absolutely radiates gaybie in need of love energy at all times and I still desperately wish that Hello Stranger the movie had given him more of a chance at the end rather than a rush.

Reb vs. Jim

... It's Reb because Jim just annoyed me mostly. Also, Reb is tiny and adorable and has that super innocent gaybie energy that makes him a bit more real but also a bit more uke. I dunno, this is what I mean about the definition of uke. It's hard to pin down for me!

Tong vs. Folk

Look, I get it, I'm the only person who preferred IttPai to PureFolk. I GET IT. But that just means I'm gonna pick Tong because PokTong was the best pairing beside MarkKit and also holy shit sex and holy shit the love they share that they damaged and hurt so much together... ugh, uke energy be damned, I'm choosing my favorite.

Paii vs. Wayo (2moons2)

Yo is ultimate uke. He's such an uke is almost hurts. Like, he always wins this. Every time. No question or hesitation.

Beam vs. Kit (Both 2moons2)

Kit wins again. Because Kit is a tsundere uke and, frankly, 2moons2 Kit is even MORE of the perfect tsundere uke because he also melts. He melts so hard and so fast and it's adorable beyond belief.

Mon vs. Shi Gu

Sorry, Shi Gu, but Mon is such an uke. Like holy sheesh this boy. This most darling boy. He's tiny and gaybie and adorable and PORTABLE and yeah, he's super uke.

Chon vs. Mes

I'm gonna give it to Chon because he's just... a bit more? To me. He's more of an uke and I love him for it. Tough as nails uke boy with a lot of of darlingness. Yeah, just gotta go with my heart.

Masuk vs. Nuea

I might like Nuea more but I think Masuk has more uke vibes. They're still weak but they're there and I just gotta give it to my darling Masuk. He's so soft and needs so much love and a lot of care.

King vs. Third

Third is ultimate uke. Crying in a shower? Weeping over everything? Very protective friends? Yeah. YEAH. He wins this.

Puth vs. Boss (My Engineer)

Puth just isn't an uke to me. He's got different vibes. But Boss? Boss is an uke and adorable and he just wants to finally love Mek openly and honestly and just be held and goofy and ride on his back. And seriously, love the boy.

Kao (DBK) vs. Kao (Oxygen)

Ugh, this is hard because I'm not 100% on how much an uke Kao (Oxygen) is and I don't really think about DBK ever... I'll give it to Oxygen. I love Oxygen and I miss Kao.

Chol vs. Xingsi

Xingsi wings this by being the most take over uke ever, the one who definitely wants to be spoiled but also knows exactly how he wants to be spoiled and isn't afraid to show it. Gotta love him.

Mu Ren vs. Yu Hao (Crossing the Line)

I gotta give this to MuRen. CTL had almost no seme/uke energy but they definitely went harder in CTY. So... MuRen wins by virtue

Pete (LBC) vs. Fiat

Screw you, they're both ultimate ukes. Everybody wins!

Yeon Woo (Color Rush) vs. Ki Wan (Ryu's Wedding)

I had to go with Yeon Woo. Like, I had to. What a darling little uke who needed to be chased and needed to be convinced and needed to be saved from himself and the other people who love him.

Hin (Chance to Love) vs. Hin (Lovely Writer)

Lol, I had to go with Chance to Love because, like, look at that boy. He gave up everything in the hopes that his seme would be happy and just... what a tiny darling. Sadly, Hin didn't get any romance. So... outta luck, child.

Aey vs. Yi Chen (Obsessed)

Obsessed is just all about the seme/uke dynamic. I had to give it to Yi Chen. Like, had to. Absolutely had to.

Pao vs. Ake

Neither are my favorites but I have to give the uke energy to Pao. Ake is adorable and all but Pao just radiates that 'I'm a baby take care of me' energy, especially as a ghost.

Phai (Gen Y) vs. Wayu (Gen Y)

Yu is the most uke uke to ever uke. Seriously. What a baby. And he's such an uke he has two semes fighting over him! You can't get much more uke than that, let's be honest.

Day (Sotus S) vs. Zon (WhyRU)

Look, I gotta be honest, I mostly just watch the Kongpob and Arthit scenes of SOTUS S. But also... Zon. Zon is puppy uke. He is tiny, tiny puppy uke and I cannot deny him that title. He deserves it.

Typhoon vs. Mekhin (Close Friend)

I gotta give it to Typhoon. I still don't like that part very much and I just want to protect him from his boyfriend ignoring him and I think part of that is what makes him such an uke. I just want to protect him so badly.

Team vs. In

In's not an uke to me. But Team? I'm good with that. I can handle it. And he needs that care and that love. Also, as I say every time... Between Us must exist!

Guitar vs. Ray (Close Friend)

Gui beats Ray by a hair. BARELY at all. But I just love Gui and his darling softness and just his everything... Ugh, Gui definitely has uke energy.

Type (2gether) vs. Sang Ha (Mr. Heart)

I gotta go with SangHa. What a darling boy. Type is great and all but their relationship is much more equal than anything else. And SangHa is just... this boy who needs to be loved and cared for and then to run alongside his boyfriend.

Sheng Zhe (Right or Wrong) vs. Shao Fei

I gotta give it to Sheng Zhe. I love Shao Fei deeply but Sheng Zhe wins in terms of uke. Like, he's darling and family and sweet and full of love and I love him so much I cannot even.

Frong vs. Duen

Duen gets it, even if I view him as entire asexual and, frankly, more than a bit aromantic. I genuinely think he dislikes being in a committed relationship. But... uke energy? Yeah, he gives out more than Frong.

King vs. Sky (My Day)

King is way more uke than Sky because Sky isn't uke at all. My Day was amazing for having such no seme/uke dynamic, yo. But King? Yeah, he's got that energy with Ram.

Ou Wen vs. Minh Hoang

I'm gonna give this to Minh Hoang. Because Ou Wen isn't uke energy for me. But Minh Hoang has some. Neither of these shows really does the seme/uke energy, honestly. But I can lean a bit more towards Minh Hoang.

Can vs. Techno

I'm giving it to Can despite the unconventional nature of his relationship with Tin and the maturity they show through the show. But I love Can and the want to care for him and I want to protect him. And the more I want to protect a character, the more I go with uke. (Not that I'm a seme, I'm just a sunshine puppy disguised as a person.)

Yu Zhen vs. Bunn

I feel weird but I'm definitely giving it to Yu Zhen. I gotta. I can't help myself. He's such a darling young man who just needs to be taken care of by Shi Lei on every possible level. I mean, boy still doesn't know not to eat gummies. Seriously.

Bonus: (Ga On vs. Da On)

I have to give this to DaOn. I can't help myself. I get the same energy from Ga On but DaOn just sends me away with the need to protect him, seriously.

Holy shit that took me the entire length of The Boy Foretold by the Stars, fyi. BUT I DID IT.

#battle royale anon #bl battle royale #thai bl #taiwan bl #korean bl #china bl #vietnam bl #bl drama #bl series #i could list them all #but holy shit i almost don't want to #love you anon #anon asks #anon answers

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yusei-clownington · 3 years

Text

SO I FINALLY FINISHED 5D’S! And what better way to celebrate than to go through my favorite characters as…briefly as I can

Slight spoilers I suppose?

Let’s work it up from 10 to 1

10- Jack

Was gonna go with lucchiano but who am I kidding Jack’s great. He’s a drama queen with an even more dramatic wardrobe. Never afraid to express himself and just bluntly blurt out what he thought.

His obsession with Cup ramen is on another level but what can I say? Love is love, Jack x cup ramen for life *wipes tears*

But seriously speaking he’s great. His very first line was enough proof of that. He just… apologized for being late then declared “I AM KING” like the…king he is.

My favorite Rival character still remains Manjoume… and… Yeah I still prefer Kaiba over Jack but damn was he a good rival.

Like he has to be the only Rival so far with an actual past with the Main character, no? That was pretty interesting because usually, the protagonist meets the rival somewhere during the first season and we go off from there. But here we had to go through their backstory to know what their relationship was fully like. Nice touch.

9- Aki

Hands down my favorite female protagonist so far. I adore Anzu and feel neutral enough about Asuka but Aki? NAH MAN AKI’S AMAZING. I think 5D’s just does the best job with its female characters. Like it actually gives them big enough roles. I loved how Aki got her own episodes…be it the D-wheel ones or just… fillers.

Her crush on Yusei was justified, at least it seems so to me, and honestly never got obnoxious. Sure she had a moment here and there but it was honestly never a bad thing. Hell faith shipping in general isn’t exactly a bad Idea.

Speaking of shipping, is anyone going to talk about her little frienshipmaybemore moments with Crow? No? Ok…

But anyway, overall, SHE’S AMAZING AND I LOVE HER. There was more to her than some boring pining love interest and it shows with each episode. So when people say she has a great personality, they’re actually talking about her personality. AKI RULES

8- Mikage

Would’ve been way WAY higher on the list if the thing with Jack was thrown out the widow.

That being said I think she’s the more mature of the Jack-crazy trio. Like sure she was just as into him as the other two, but in some scenes she was a lot more tolerable.

But that honestly might just be my bias towards this amazing woman speaking.

She’s devoted to her work, gentle, caring, gorgeous and just all around a wonderful character to see.

I loved most of her scenes in the series, and the fact that there was more to her than just the jack part. She actually had an important part to play in many episodes and honestly proved herself to be a very fun character. I just wish they gave a her little more screentime than what she got.

A lot of lost potential there- I mean come on.

7- Rua /Lua

He reminds me of Judai WAY too much. LIKE WAAAAY too much not to be on this list. The guy’s adorable. And I love how they made him the emotional one. Like they could’ve gone with the “the boy is always rowdy and tOUGH” stereotype, but they didn’t. Sure, ruka (who I don’t like as much) was much more gentle, but it was much easier to see Rua cry than it was to see her do so. It’s just fun is all.

I also adore his deck and that little theme that played whenever he dueled… Plus his relationship with Jack and Yusei…GOLD GOLD.

6- Ushio

I made a whole post about Him, You think he wouldn’t be in my Top 10? Well think again. Great development would see through again.

5- Sherry Leblanc

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SHERRY.

What you just witnessed in the line above is my internal reaction to literally any scene this beautiful badass woman happens to be in.

She’s just amazing. She has this really… tough energy IDK HOW TO DESCRIBE IT BUT SHE’S A REALLY INTIMIDATING WOMAN. But not in a bad way, oh nonononono in a REALLY REALLY GOOD WAY OKAY.

Her character arcs and episodes somehow felt…really separate from the whole team 5D’s shenanigans even though they were basically connected…

Like she had her own motivation that didn’t particularly rely on bonds, but was still willing to accept and even form a bond with the whole team.

Revenge is kinda hot ngl.

Okay no it’s not. But seeing a vengeful character that WASN’T played off as evil or particularly wrong amidst a bunch of friendship is magic ones was pretty refreshing.

The moment she took her helmet off when dueling yusei I was HOOKED and so was Aki but shhhhhh.

But damn I love what they did with her at the end, Rushed as it may have been. It took her joining with Z-one briefly and dueling Aki and Crow ( a very underrated duo btw) to realize that maybe thinking of the past and only the past was not a very good idea.

Anyway love her. And her duels are always a delight to watch.

4- Placido

Before he showed up, sherry was supposed to be 4th but here we are. Placido Placido Placido. I want to make it clear that…I really couldn’t care less about Aporia as a whole. But Placido and Lucchiano were pretty fun characters.

Now I finally get to talk about my beloved.

This dude was…the biggest mood. EVER.

He would hang up in that third one’s face like it was nothing and constantly ignore his boring ass. Oh. You have a plan? Ok. I don’t care. It’s boring. I’m placido and I’ll do what I want. Kiss my D-wheel ass.

He has a lot of hilariously sassy lines, which include and I quote:

“I don’t know what god wants you to do.”

“But I won’t accept it!”

The guy just does not care and I’m living for it.

Not to mention his bee analogies which- Why have I not seen anyone point out????? BEE ANALOGIES COME ONNNNNNNN

aNYWAY PLACIDO’S GREAT

3- Kiryuu

Edgy dude with pretty hair. Also gay. Also the crash town arc. Need I say more?

I will anyway.

Honestly dark signer Kiryuu was pretty fun to me with all the crazy laughter and stuff…

Then past/ flashbacks Kiryuu was just as interesting but in a completely different way. Sure he didn’t get as many episodes or screentime as the rest, but what I saw of him was more than enough for me to care about the Character. Like unlike the old satellite gang (Rally and the other two whose names I can’t even remember) I actually gave a shit about this guy when bad stuff happened to him.

Not to mention his growth. Like…He went through reverse/ negative development, then uphill by the end of the signers’ ark with all the…dying in your hands gayly stuff, then downhill again by the beginning of the crosstown arc….aaaaand back up and higher than ever by the end of it. Basically the fact that his development wasn’t always constant just added some spice.

Plus his dynamic with his ex-teammates…team….satisfaction (Try saying that with a straight face) was always pretty entertaining, especially his with Yusei.

Speaking of which...

2- Yusei

With all my talk about him…and…my profile picture…and URL, it may come as a surprise that he’s not number 1 here, but honestly it’s so close you could call it a tie.

As for why I love him….Have you- Have you seen my blog????? Do I even..need to say anything????

1- Crow

Now there’s a lot I have to say about Crow honestly hE’S JUST THAT COOL, but I’m saving it to talk about later still. All I’ll say for now is this:

Flashy guy with an amazing sense of style, an earring and an incredible amount of cockiness and charisma. What’s not to like?

#AH MAN THIS WAS A RIDE #BUT IT'S TIME TO START ZEXAL NOW #...First impressions soon I GUESS?#Still putting off the crow thing because I KNOW I'll literally NEED to write about him I just do #Jack atlas #Izayoi Aki #Mikage sagiri #Rua #sherry leblanc #Placido 5D's #Placido #kyosuke kiryu #Yusei fudo #Crow hogan #Ygo #Yugioh 5D's #haven't been That active anywhere for a few days because of personal stuff but HERE I AM

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sombreboy · 4 years

Text

친구 Friends✰yandere!kth&pjm

▎ 18+ ▎ xtremity; 7 ▎ pairing: kth/pjm x y/n ▎ genre:smut ▎ word count: 3.4k ▎ warnings: pwp smut, mxm, kidnapped reader, delusion, reader is basically their toy, some violence, blood(tae cuts jimin over a small bicker but it turns sensual real quick), obsession, possession, forced intimacy (kissing, touching), cursing, face fucking, unprotected sex, double penetration.

Taehyung & Jimin kidnapped you to make you their plaything.

''Isn't she just exquisite?''

A deep, sensual voice vibrated behind your right ear.

''She is perfect.''

A different voice on the left.

Melodic, much brighter and clear in tone. It reminded you that of an angel.

And since you were already comparing one to an angel, why not compare the other to a devil.

''Looks like she's awake.'' The angel said.

''How convenient..'' The devil whispered, you could feel his warm breath right in your ear as he let out a deep, amused chuckle from his throat before speaking once more,

''Hello, my sweet little doll.''

You whined, your body finally realising that this is not a situation you should be in. Feeling the panic rush through your veins, you start to breathe quicker, eyes widening.

''W-w-where am I?'' You stutter out, and you hear how both of them giggle, their voices harmonizing perfectly together.

''Tae, should we take off the blindfold? I want to see her eyes.''

The devil's name is Tae? A nickname, perhaps.

Suddenly a rough hand pulled off the cloth covering your vision, the brightness of the room making you squint your eyes, only able to see the outline of the men's bodies. Do they have a lamp pointed at you?

The angel moves closer with a flashlight in his hands, pointing it at your face as his hand grabs onto your chin. The rings on his fingers feel cold, diggin into your skin as he yanks your jaw upwards as if examining you.

You heard the angel mutter 'gorgeous' to himself before turning the flashlight off, now making it much easier for your eyes to get used to the dim room... Looks like a livingroom, finally able to distinguish the men's features.

The angel walked over to a table to put the flashlight down, and your eyes roam his sweet features. He truly did look like an angel with his light curls, plush lips and youthful appearance.

''Look at me, kitten.'' Tae suddenly said, snatching your attention. He was crouching in front of you, and even if he was crouching, he was still meeting your height as you were seated on a chair, now realizing your hands are tied behind your back.

''Good girl,'' Tae says when you look at him, a small, wicked smile curling on his lips as he reaches out to rub the pad of his thumb over your lower lip. You whimper, scared and confused, and both men groan quietly at the noises you make.

''She's so fucking cute,'' Tae growled, ''Isn't she, Jimin?''

The angel's name is Jimin.

''I can't believe we were so lucky to have found her.'' Jimin smiled, his eyes squinting into the shape of beautiful crescent moons as he walks up to you and Tae with something in his hand that you couldn't quite distinguish as of yet.

''I found her, there was no luck involved. I've wanted this for...As long as I can remember.'' Tae sounded annoyed at the lack of praise he'd gotten from Jimin, an obvious dynamic between the two showing. You were too scared to say anything about it, or anything at all, shaking in your seat when you finally see that Jimin's holding a knife. It was small, but a weapon nonetheless.

Jimin noticed the way you stared at the knife, and he leaned in closer to hover the blade in front of your eyes with a smile,

''Don't be afraid, little doll. We would never hurt you...''

''Speak for yourself... If you're a good girl, I won't.'' Taehyung added, still letting his fingers smooth over the skin of your face down to the hem of your neckline, right above your cleavage. He licks his lips, the warmth of your skin feeling so good under his touch.

Jimin crooked an eyebrow as he looked at Tae, ''You promised we wouldn't. She's too precious.''

Tae clenched his jaw in annoyance, ''Give me the knife.''

Jimin looked at the knife in his hand before glaring back at Tae, not responding.

Tae repeated once more, this time with a stern tone, ''Jimin, give it to me.''

This seemed like a game to them. Were they really bickering about a small knife at a time like this?

''Noo, hyung, you promised that I was gonna use it this time.''

Taehyung stood up and strode over to Jimin, pushing himself chest to check with the man. A new tension filled the room.. A frightening, but also incredibly sexual tension.

''You can use it, but I want to use it first. I'm always in charge, love.''

Jimin smirked, apparently he wanted this reaction all along, ''Make me.''

Taehyung's smile grew wide & wicked, a swift movement of his hand to grab onto the knife to pull it from Jimin's hand way too easily, making Jimin gasp. Tae grabbed Jimin by the wrist of his other hand, holding it up in a gesturing manner before growling out;

''Observe what happens when you're disobedient, doll.'' He glanced over at you, maintaining eyecontact as he swipes the blade over Jimin's palm, a delicate, fine wound where his skin got sliced that instantly starts to dribble with blood, dripping down Jimin's wrist and smearing over Tae's fingers. Jimin moans at the feeling, watching the red drip and smear as Tae collects some on the pads of his fingers before sauntering over to you.

''Look how pretty.''

You weren't sure if he was talking about you, Jimin or the blood. At this point, it could be all of the above. Tae made a show out of the way he smeared the blood across your cheek, making you whimper again as panic struck you harder than ever.

Jimin dried the blood off on his black t-shirt, joining in on watching your panic stricken face.

''I love her face. I love her.''

Tae nodded in agreement, ''I can't get enough of it. But you know what would be even prettier of an expression?''

Jimin nodded, both now staring at you as you look confused and scared, wiggling your body to no avail to try to get out of this.

''Tell me, Taehyung. What would be prettier?''

Tae circled behind you, leaning down to place a hot kiss below your ear before speaking in a low, sultry voice,

''Seeing her face distort into pleasure and pain when we fuck her over and over until she can't think of anything else than cumming on our cocks.. To not want anything other than to be our little good girl forever... Forever.''

He slowly articulated the last word into your ear before biting your earlope, drawing more of your whimpers out. The way your sounds rolled off your lips had the fabric in their pants struggling and straining, the uncomfortable aching making their patience run out quicker than they'd wanted to.

''Hyung, please, kiss her.'' Jimin whines out as he drops to his knees in front of you. You were terrified, heart beating so hard it hurt your ribcage... But somehow, there was a part of your body that heated up with their dominance, with their need for you that is growing much more apparent every second.

Taehyung suddenly interrupts your thoughts by snaking his arm around you from behind, grabbing onto your chin to twist your neck to the side, facing him. He digs his Nails into the skin of your face, just enough to mark you, but not enough to draw blood.

''Gladly.'' Was all Tae responded with before crashing his lips against yours with feverish hunger, sucking in your lower lip between his teeth before drawing a small moan from you, your thighs already rubbing together to ease some of the heat between your legs. Tae's tongue swipes expertedly over your lower lip to ease the pain he caused. How considerate.

You hear how Jimin's breath gets heavier from below you, small groans and the sound of a zipper being pulled down, but not quite able to see what's happening when Tae's occupying your mouth with his surprisingly delicious kisses.

Your jaw is roughly pulled away from Tae's lips, his hand now guiding your face to look down between your legs only to see a much sweatier, Messier Jimin below you with his hand dug down his pants, staring up at you with intense focus.

''How does she taste, hyung?'' Jimin Breathes out, his arm flexing as he moves his hand underneath his boxers, clearly stroking himself to the view.

Tae smirks, leaning in to lick your cheek, and the feeling of his tongue makes you let out what sounded like a mix of a moan & a whine. Both of the men exhaled quietly as if their ears had been blessed.

''She tastes exquisite... But I want her to taste like you.''

Jimin cocks his head to the side, a breathy, song-like chuckle leaving his lips before he throws his head back with a moan, stroking his clothed cock faster,

''I'd love that so much. I want to fuck her mouth,'' Jimin stops his ministrations to crawl closer to you, putting his hands on your knees as he stares up at you with big, needy eyes, ''You want that too, don't you? My cock is so, so hard for you doll... Tell me you want it.''

Your throat felt dry and wet at the same time, no words coming out even if you wanted to. You swallowed hard, and Tae's hands suddenly roam your curves from behind, smoothing beneath your shirt to touch the skin of your stomach.

''Tell him, doll. Go on. You're so cute, so pure...''

You felt like you were in a drunk haze of lust and fear, nodding. Scared, but also.. Intrigued, excited.

''Use your sweet little voice, kitten.'' Jimin craned his neck to be inches away from your lips, eyes fixed on yours, ''I promise to make you feel so good.''

''I-I want...'' You whisper quietly, red blooming on your cheeks with embarrassment and shyness. They both smile, you're so fucking cute. Jimin pecks your lips with his own plush, soft lips before standing up, hands pulling at the hem of his pants to let them fall down to the floor along with his underwear. Your eyes widen, attempting to move your head to look anywhere but there, but Tae's iron grip once more embraces your jaw as he keeps you in Place, his face hovering next to yours as he growls out,

''Isn't his cock pretty, hm? I'd love to watch you take it down your throat like such a good girl... Fuck, I'd do anything to see that...''

You moan quietly at his words, the intimidating, dirty tone in his voice making your panties wet already.

''I want it..'' You whisper so quietly, but just loud enough for them to hear it. Satisfied, Jimin lifts his foot up and presses it against your chest. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, suddenly yelping out when he pushes you backwards in a Swift kick so that the chair falls back with you along with it with a hard, loud thud. Tae giggles, the ever sadist within him thriving as he kneels next to you.

''I can't wait for you to take my cock as well.'' Tae Breathes out before taking a step back, letting Jimin straddle over your chest as he looks down at you with a sweet smile, and his hand stroking his cock through his pants.

''Open up, sweet thing.''

You opened your mouth, letting Jimin rub his tip on your lips before wasting no time to push his cock inside your mouth. Your wet, warm tongue makes him moan out, hands snaking into a grasp of your hair, hips moving gently to experiment with your mouth.

''W-wow, you feel so good...'' Jimin stutters out, already feeling he wouldn't be able to handle this for too long due to stroking himself beforehand. He pushes his cock down your throat, making you gag, your throat throbbing around him as he groans at the feeling.

''Actually, Jimin, don't cum in her mouth.'' Taehyung suddenly exclaims as he places his palm over his own clothed erection.

Jimin's hips move in short, slow movements as he looks at his hyung,

''Why? I-I want to..''

They both look at your face for a moment when you gag, tears running down your temples. Tae licks his lips before responding,

''Save your cum for a different hole, you will be able to use her mouth anytime you like.''

Jimin whines, mixed with a moan as he pulls himself out of your mouth. You spit and cough, breath heavy as you try to regain your breathing to normalcy.

''Release the restraints too.'' Tae lifts the chair up with you in it when Jimin gets off to move behind you and release your hands. You sat still, still scared to do anything to trigger them, as they were... Obviously, fucking crazy. And fucking horny.

''See? She's already so obedient, not running away from us.'' Jimin beams as he praises you, a hand on your head to pat you like a pet. You flinch at his touch along with a quiet squee.

Tae says nothing, simply hums as he waves for Jimin to bring you and follow him to the bedroom.

Jimin's hands grab yours to help you stand up on your weak, shaky legs, pulling you close as he wraps his arm around your waist to walk closely behind the man leading the two of you to the bedroom. Tae stops by the edge of the bed, undressing slowly before turning to sit down facing the two of you standing in the door frame. Your eyes meet Tae's, his lips curling up in a small smirk before his eyes flicker over to Jimin's in an unspoken communication. Jimin coo's while standing behind you, hands roaming your curves before swiftly undressing you in front of the man on the bed.

''W-what...'' You croax out, not able to finish your sentence when Jimin's hands cup your naked breasts from behind, fondling them gently and squeezing the flesh between his fingers.

''She's so soft, Taehyung.''

''Bring her closer.'' Tae responds, hands reaching out for your body as Jimin uses his body to lead you forward until your knees meet Taehyung's. Tae's hands join Jimin's, both alternating and almost fighitng over who gets to feel your skin the most, four hands smoothing and squeezing your body. Tae's hands rest on your thighs before tightly gripping onto them, while Jimin's remain to play with your breasts. Small whimpers and whines escape your lips, feeling Jimin's cock push against your behind and seeing Tae's still fully dressed, strained fabric beneath twitching with every noise you make.

''I want her so badly, hyung, I'm gonna go insane..'' Jimin whines as he puts his chin on your shoulder, lips slowly placing kisses up your neck.

Taehyung smiles, finally undressing himself before scooting up the bed until he's sitting leaned back on the headboard of the bed, beckoning for the two of you to join him,

''Then let's indulge.''

Jimin pushes you from behind, forcing you to be on all fours on the bed. He crawls up behind you, continuing to Tower over your body to make you crawl over to Taehyung,

''Go on, kitten. You're gonna feel so good.''

You swallow tightly, completely exposed and feeling your soppy cunt dripping juices down your inner thighs. Taehyung grabs your arms, pulling you over to straddle on top of him, feeling his generous length rubbing against your folds as he holds on to your hips. Jimin joins closely behind you on his knees, leaning over to make you lean forward towards Tae before he cranes his neck to Place a soft kiss on your lips, followed by a harsh bite to your lower lip in dominance.

You cry out in slight pain, feeling both their cocks twitch against your skin and Tae groans into your mouth, the grasp on your hips tightening.

''I can't wait to ruin your pretty little cunt, I bet it is so tight for me.'' Tae whispers, and Jimin knows the que as to lift your hips up to line Tae's cock with your entrance, a bruising grip with his ring-clad fingers on your ass.

''Any other cock will be ruined after having me.'' Tae bucks his hips upwards slightly, the tip stretching your little cunt already.

Jimin frowns a little, rutting his cock against your ass as he pushes your hips down fully to take all of Taehyung's cock inside of you. You gasp out, not able to make any noise as it felt like your breath was caught in your throat. Tae was generously endowed, and it hurt so good.

''She's so tight... Fuck..,'' Tae growls as he starts to slowly buck his hips into you, grasping onto your waist to lift you up to increase the impact, ''I want it tighter, Jimin. Fuck her ass.''

Jimin didn't need to be told twice, spreading your ass for him to play with your little hole with his spit-coated fingers. You moan out at the sensation, feeling Tae fucking up into you slowly but firmly while Jimin's fingers stretch your ass open for him.

Luckily Jimin wasn't as big as Taehyung, but even if it didn't have the length, it surely had girth. You cried out, feeling Jimin pushing his soppy cock into your ass with no mercy for the adjustment of his thickness.

Both moan out, and suddenly the pain felt Worth it, slightly more endurable. It slowly turned into pleasure, especially when hearing the two men moaning and groaning with pleasure from using your body.

Taehyung threw his head back with a growl, fucking up into you with more feverish hunger, the skin of his hips smacking against your wet skin,

''This is perfect. She's so perfect.''

''I fucking love her.'' Jimin growls out as well, his rings digging into your ass with a bruising grip as he thrusts his cock in and out of your tight hole, feeling the way Taehyung's cock rubs against his own inside of you, the only thing separating them being the wall of flesh that they both rubbed perfectly together to build your climax.

You started sweating, moaning out curses and becoming their little good toy to play with and use as they wish.

''I love fucking her.'' Tae snarls, Nails scratching at your hips as he looks at your body bouncing and jiggling sinfully above him.

''She seems to love it too, she's squeezing us so tightly–I won't be able to hold it much longer, s-shit!'' Jimin exclaims, trying to control his hips, but the sensation is too great and his movements grow slopper. He leans forward slightly, forcing you to lay chest to chest with Taehyung, sweaty skin mixing and your body jiggling with every thrust causing your whole body to shake.

''We're gonna give you all our cum, doll. You want it, don't you?''

You nod mindlessly, completely in a haze of lust from being fucked, feeling their burning bodies embracing you. Jimin's chest on your back, Taehyung's chest on your front, their bodies rubbing against yours and cocks rubbing together against your sensitive wall of flesh, their moaning in your ears filling the room along with the heavy breaths.

They fuck into you with animalistic greed, as one fucks into you, the other pulls out, alternating to fill you up until they both snarl out in low, guttural moans, hips pushing as deep into you as they possibly can to still their hips as they cum, filling you up in both little holes at once. The hot rush hits your entire being like a wave, your orgasm throbbing and squeezing their cocks of every last little drop of hot cum.

''Fuck, she's squeezing me out...'' Jimin whines, feeling himself slip out of you. He sits back on his knees, spreading your ass to watch your cum dribble out of your ass, then glancing down to where you and Taehyung join, seeing his cum dribble down to his shaft.

Taehyung stays for a moment longer, smoothing over your skin with his fingers on your back to soothe your shaking, exhausted body. You press your cheek against his chest, heaving up and down with the heavy breaths he's taking.

''Such a good girl.. And all ours.'' Taehyung coos.

Jimin crawls up to lay next to Taehyung, his own hand reaching out to move your sweaty hair from your face to be able to have them both look down at your half-asleep, fucked out state.

''I love you.'' Jimin kisses your forehead, then cranes his neck to kiss Tae on his lips, ''I love you both.''

Taehyung smiles, a box-like shape on his lips as he hugs you a little tighter, nuzzling his head against Jimin's shoulder.

You were finally theirs.

Forever... ?

#yandere bts #yandere taehyung #yandere jimin #bts smut #jimin smut #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #dom taehyung #dom jimin #sub reader

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