#talking about the guy he's wildly obsessed with without even thinking about it

[theotherpacman]

HONESTLY THE MOST HOMOSEXUAL THING THAT KABRU EVER DID

#just #talking about the guy he's wildly obsessed with without even thinking about it #and when mithrun goes oh who are u talking about? #look at his fucking face #hm? who? what? I wasn't #gayass #dungeon meshi #kabru of utaya #labru

[irisinluv]

Love is blind. Some would even say love is blinding. Brandon really doesn't care about all that..... all he cares about is you, in the pod on the other side of that wall.

Yandere Love is Blind Contestant Part 1

Cw: male yandere, female reader, obsessive tendancies, reality TV.

Brandon Burnett was tired of love eluding him. He was sick of mindlessly swiping the apps, going on the dates, and never finding that spark. So, he signed up to be cast on the popular show Love is Blind. He was shocked when he got the call that he was in. He was officially a contestant on Love is Blind! His family was supportive, and his job was accommodating, so he was gonna go phones off for 3 weeks and hopefully meet the love of his life!

Brandon's a charismatic guy, he's one of those people who you meet once and don't see for a couple months, run into him at the store, and it's like you're long lost best friends. You just feel comfortable with him as he asks how your grandma's doing after her rotator cuff surgery, and that he saw you posted about your dog's birthday last week! He's just thay kinda guy. So. When he's in a room full of the other contestants, all filled with awkward anticipation to be officially welcomed to the show, and then released to their pods.... He's right there starting conversation. He's the life of the party before he show even starts.

Finally, the doors open, and everyone redirects their merriment to the two individuals who have just entered the room. They welcome the men to the show before sending them to their very first pod dates.

_______----------~~~~~~~~~~----------_______

You joined love is blind looking for your forever, as cheesy as it sounds. You'd had some long-term relationships, but they always ended one way or another. He may have cheated. You two may have argued all the time. He may have left you without explaining why. It just never worked out. And you were tired of it! So. What better way to try and find that connection than Love is Blind.

You were estatic to have gotten on the show! When you got tnere, you chatted with the other women and started pod hopping with more energy than you've ever had. The first few were good! You'd met a few people you might be interested in, but obviously, you're playing the game. You've gotta meet everyone before you can start to narrow it down! But then you stepped into your fourth or fifth pod. As you sit down on the couch, you hear a door click on the other side of the wall. "Hi! Looks like I beat you in! My name is y/n, i'm really excited to meet you! What's your name?" The voice that comes through let's you know his name is Brandon, that he's also glad to meet you, and then y'all start talking in earnest. You wanted to start with getting to know him a bit, identifying factors to jot down, just like with your other dates. Politics, family values, occupation, etc. but it was such a natural conversation that it just went so fast. By the time you were supposed to leave, you found yourself disappointed. The two of you had been casually flirting as you asked each other questions, went on deep tangents, had light banter, and you had a fantastic time! You left that pod thinking Brandon was definitely one of your top three so far!

_______----------~~~~~~~~~~----------_______

Brandon, meanwhile, was wildly disappointed in the first few pods. He really started debating if he was gonna drop out after meeting everyone. His first couple dates were nice enough, and he was cordial, but he felt none of that spark that he was craving. But then he talked with you! You greeted him so enthusiastically and you gave him more to go off than just a "hi!" and your voice sent shivers down his spine. Y'all started to talk, and for Brandon, it was like fireworks were going off all over his skin. This was more than the spark he was looking for. He was on fire!

He finds out what you do for a living, how many animals you have, and he answers in turn, but the interview style never really had a chance. He's all the more smitten as you genuinely listen when he speaks, ask questions, remember details from earlier in the conversation, and tie it in. Poor man is struck through the heart. He had the instant connection he wanted, this deep level of understanding that he wanted, and feels so at home talking with you! You banter with him, tease him gently as the two of you flirt, it's just so natural and right!

Brandon's frantically writing down every detail he can about what you're saying, how you're saying it, when you laugh, when you pause before answering, just every little bit he can. He does have a good memory. He prides himself in it. But he doesn't want to chance losing a single second of this moment with you. It's just perfect.

All too soon, though, it's time to leave. Brandon has half a mind to ask you to just say screw it to the rest of the game and run away with him. But he knows you don't know him well enough to say yes. You came to this show for the experience, so he'll go through it with you. But now.... now he's gotta figure out how to make sure you're his, and only his.

Ahhhhh! I hope y'all liked part one, I haven't written this style in so long, so please forgive me for any errors, and if the flow is a bit off! I just have been watching reality tv with my mom, and I mean. Come ON! I can't wait to share with y'all what I've got cooking up in my mind for the next few parts!

#yandere #yandere blog #obsessive yandere #yandere x darling #soft yandere #obsessive love #yandere imagine #yandere scenarios #tw yandere #yandere love is blind #love is blind #yandere story #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #reality tv #yandere dating #yandere love

[zaceouiswriting]

The new guy

Characters: Sean Walcott x male reader, Liam Dunbar x Ethan, and Aiden Steiner, mentioned Theo Raeken

Universe: Teen Wolf

Warnings: None

You leaned against your locker, not hearing a word Liam said to you. All your attention was on someone behind him. You could only see Liam gesticulating wildly out of the corner of your eye. Until he lightly hit your arm. It snapped you out of your daydream.

“What’s wrong with you?” Liam asked you, irate. The only thing you could remember was him complaining about his boyfriends treating him like a child. In your opinion, if he didn't want to be treated like a child, he shouldn't act like one. “Is it the new guy?” he suddenly asked you.

You gave him a dismissive look and averted your gaze, but your flushed cheeks told Liam enough. Even without it, he was never one to give in easily.

“His name is Theo. He is 173 cm tall. He has dark brown hair and sapphire blue eyes. He is bisexual and has dated a girl named Amanda and two guys, Josh and Eric.”

You stared at your friend in amazement as he casually listed everything there was to know about that stranger.

“Do you also know what underwear he wears?”

“Calvin Klein, black with white edges.”

As you move your head to look at the guy again, you can see that there is no way to see his underwear like that.

“How?"

Only a second after you asked that question, Liam looks up from his phone with a raised eyebrow. It answers all your questions. Although he can't sit still for long and has massive anger issues, Liam can also be obsessive. If he wants to know something, he will find out. Even if only so he can put it aside and switch between dozens of different activities again.

Before you can say anything else, he hands you his phone. There are dozens of pictures of the new guy: Shirtless, some even in just his underwear, and two where he is fully naked. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. His chiseled body, broad shoulders, thick pecs, and thighs captivate you.

"He's literally the hottest guy I've ever-"

“What are you two talking about?” a voice suddenly asked you from behind.

The voice startled you so much that you threw the phone. You didn't even have to turn around to know who was behind you.

Turning around, you wanted to lie, but when you saw the phone in your boyfriend's hand as he smiled dangerously at you, all that came out was a loud gulp.

Behind your boyfriend Sean were Ethan and Aiden, Liam's boyfriends. At first, Liam didn't see them. But when he realized what was going on, his face turned pale because he knew he was in deep shit. You could see him trying to escape, but his boyfriends were faster. When they caught him, they brought Liam to your side.

Liam and you stood on one side, while your boyfriend and his two stood on the other side looking at the pictures of the new guy on Liam's phone.

"So this is your new "history" obsession?" Ethan asked mockingly, looking down at Liam's phone in Sean's hands.

“Yes, but-“

"Liam," an annoyed voice similar to Ethan's said warningly. It was Aiden's voice, and he was clearly fed up. "Why? You already have the two of us." He pointed aggressively towards his brother and himself.

"Nobody knew anything about him, and he never wanted to tell anyone. I just couldn't. It was getting on my nerves," Liam confessed quietly.

Aiden's annoyed expression softened, obviously knowing how his boyfriend could take it. Even his brother mockingly nudged him for being too soft, but Aiden didn't go down to his brother's level, at least not where everyone could see them.

Just as relief washed over you, a strange feeling came with it. When you looked around, you saw your boyfriend glaring at you. Without a word that needed to be said, you knew it was your moment to be questioned.

“So you think he’s hotter than me?” Sean asked you, clearly unhappy with the words you’d used.

After taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes briefly and composed yourself. When you opened them again, your resolve was strong again. “We both know you're hot, a nine and a half out of ten, but this new guy? He is a ten out of ten, literally, the perfect picture of the American boy.”

Sean just shook his head, smiling softly. He knows your likes and dislikes in bed and normal life. When he saw the guy's pictures, especially the naked ones, he knew he was more your type than him.

“His last name is Raeken,” he said, his voice monotone. “He moved here with his parents after his sister died a month ago. He doesn't want to make friends here because he is still plagued by grief. He’s on our lacrosse and football teams while maintaining good grades.”

You were freaked out because he knew more about him than even Liam, and he's a master stalker. Sean was easily approachable because of his boyish face and charm. Theo probably spoke to him on the first day. Your boyfriend has this aura of peace and wisdom around him, perhaps because he's been through a lot. After all, he narrowly escaped death the night a burglar silently killed his entire family. That's why it didn't even surprise you that someone with Theo's past told Sean and no one else. After all, to you, he was the perfect boyfriend, a gentleman.

“If you’d like, I could ask him to meet with us.”

“What?“

“Theo has already shown interest in you. He asked me about you after training last week. When I told him you are with me, he looked sad and apologized profusely. He wanted to ask you out.”

For a moment, you thought you were in a dream. You looked between all of your friends and then at Theo, who tried to look at you discreetly, but after your eyes met for a second, he quickly averted his nervous gaze.

“No,” you said unconvincingly, “I am with you and would never give into desire.”

With a strange smile you've never seen on your boyfriend's face, Sean comes up to you and pulls you into a warm hug.

“It’s okay,” he told you ominously. He gently intertwined his hand with yours, leading you away from your friends. But somehow, you had a strange feeling that something was about to happen that could destroy something you hold dear.

[Masterlist]

#x male reader #male reader #teen wolf #teen wolf x male reader #liam dunbar #Aiden Steiner #Ethan Steiner #Liam Dunbar x Ethan Steiner #Liam Dunbar x Aiden Steiner #male reader x Sean Walcott #Sean Walcott

[lizzie-queenofmeigas]

Season 4-6 are PEAK annoyance for me when it comes to Caroline lol. Just the amount of meddling, gossiping, pettiness, etc is just so fucking annoying and tbh I think she’s wildly overrated. The writers/audience/characters are literally obsessed with her every season, to the point other characters don’t any get development because she’s sucking up screen time doing nothing. Caroline legitimately had no storyline from season 3b on until season 6 other than playing a love interest, and yet she’s everywhere all the time which was infuriating to me. I personally don’t think much of the storyline would’ve changed if she weren’t there, so for me she just wasn’t as significant as everyone treated her all the time. I also couldn’t stand her constant jealousy/frenemy nonsense with Elena throughout the series, her making Stefan into a villain in season 6 because he was grieving his brother and basically forcing him into dating her, and the way she treated Tyler after they broke up and she slept with the man who destroyed his life and tried to kill her friends. Don’t even get me started on her pointless love triangles every season because Julie Plec wanted a self insert on the show who was the object of every single man’s affections. 

None of the storyline would have changed without Caroline there, she is not really important. The only thing important that she did (that I can think of) was figure out the sirebond between Elena and Damon. And let's be completely honest, Klaus would have snitched eventually my guy loves drama. Or Damon would have realized, or Tyler or even Rebekah if she was undaggered. Or Katherine, even.

I was not surprised by Caroline's behaviour 4-6 given that she is a control freak, so of course she would want to know everything and influence on everything so that things could happen the way she wanted them to. I think she just reverted back to her season 1 character.

Elena is kind of a saint, because how does she handle being in a close friendship with someone who is always competing with her? It sounds exhausting.

I didn't understand why she was always the centre of all love triangles (other than the main one) given how annoying she was. It would've made much more sense if Bonni was the centre of it. But Caroline is Julie's self-insert and Julie is a racist piece of shit so no surprise there either.

The Steroline situation was kind of weird for me. I'm not even talking about how she was mad at him for taking time to mourn his brother who he was really close to. They just don't fit in together, not like Stefan/Rebekah or Stefan/Valerie. They just don't click for me, because in their relationship I always sort of felt like he was settling. If Elena had decided she wanted to be with Stefan again (s6, s8 - doesn't matter when) he would have jumped at the opportunity or at least that was what it felt like to me. I'm not saying he didn't love her, he did, but I don't know it just didn't make much sense.

#tvd #the vampire diaries #anti caroline forbes #anti steroline #i think? #stefan salvatore

[mercy-misrule]

I wanted to briefly elaborate on why I'm pro Louis being a brothel and casino owner in the new series vs a plantation owner in the book.

there's the obvs, i don't want to see slavery in my vampire series, and like i said in my original post, once we move past them living there, its just not relevant or even spoken about in the series again, and I think that's a big failing of the narrative, because something so huge should be relevant! shouldn't just be flavour text! especially when every other focus character has their human life be relevant.

so why do i think this particular switch up is better? because no matter what, Louis money should come from the exploitation of others.

It is a cornerstone of Louis' character that he's a hypocrite. Just like it is for Lestat. They aren't good people, these aren't stories about good people. If that's what you need from your fiction you won't find it here.

The vampire as a drain on life, on converting suffering to power, the power imbalance is replicated over and over in different ways in the VC books

It's both metaphor and reality.

But also, the series is fallible, of course, huge flaws and missteps. The point of a good adaptation is to see the skeleton of a text, to see the broad themes and see how they can be represented in a different medium, how the same fundamental story can be told, even with huge changes.

Take my favourite show of all time, Hannibal. Huge departures from the original text, but it takes its source material and elevates and innovates.

Or my current obsession, Kinnporsche. It takes story beats but the characters were hugely altered and fleshed out and the story now plays out around these new interpretations and its wonderful.

And I could see people being like oh hannibal and kinnporsche's source material had some truly gross stuff, the adaptations not including it or altering it was a great idea!

You think that the vamp chrons are free of that? I'm not talking about the existence of slavery being in the books, that's real history.

But there's shitty stuff about rape apologism, ableism, the way Anne describes any person of colour, the truly dumb 'vampires get whiter as they are older and more powerful'. Anne that's truly a garbage piece of world building. Anne, you didn't need to do that.

The best thing the movie of queen of the damned did was cast Aaliyah and not whiten her. It was right, she was magnificent.

I think good adaptations should be brave, should make changes. It should challenge the audience, it should be accessible for new fans, it should surprise long term fans.

This is why I am pro the proffesion change in the amc iwtv series. This, and the interviews (lol) that i have seen and read from the cast and writers make me believe they will present a story true to the core of the narrative even as they are re-interpreting it.

Also, and this is just me swinging for the rafters but I hope they wildly vary from the story in any potential new series after this, and add a lot more Louis content. My constant gripe with the series, since 1997, when i first read the books, is that Louis gets sidelined and without him Lestat doesn't have a strong narrative foil. Please. I'm craving that epic divorce guys energy

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #vampire chronicles #vamp chron #lmao 'briefly' #i got alotta opinions

[thereal-true-ogilvie]

Hello everyone welcome BACK to: I talk about Benrey for a minute here!

Today we will talk about everyone's favorite: Mischaracterization in Fanfiction!

[I want to preface this with a very important note. Anything I bring up here is NOT something I'm complaining about. I LOVE mischaracterizing my little guy sometimes, especially by making him more like me, heart emoji. I just also know what's wrong so I mischaracterize him in a better and more accurate way /ref]

Now, the most common little thing is him showing basically any emotion in a human/allistic way. Laughter is pretty much the only exception, followed only by whining. He would NOT apologize and he would NOT break down sobbing. In fact I don't believe he has tear ducts he forgor to make them.

[as user needsmoreexplosions has said in the replies, this is hyperbolic! he does show plenty of emotions, just more muted than you'd expect. The first act has more bursts of emotion than the later acts as well. They brought up the "dont FUCKING talk to me" and I mentioned him yelling to Tommy happily. However, there's still not MANY examples. I'm going to rb this with every example of strong emotion he conveys and itll probably be shorter than this post. again. i love people making him emotional anyways, even if its not quite in character]

If he were to learn that Regular People Can't Respawn, he wouldn't go crying and apologizing to Gordon. He would go "oops." He would complain that no one told him. He would make fun of Gordon for not being able to respawn.

See:

"Benrey's not on this team anymore, apparently."

"Yo what- why would you say that, that's so mean."

[Whining, not crying. Always]

SPEAKING OF WHICH. The arm thing. A LOT of people tend to go with "he was trying to get the trackers out/hev suit off," when Dr. Coomer literally says, "I think they're just spiteful." He was getting back at Gordon for all the times he like. Shot him or somethin idk. People are right that he didn't expect the soldiers to cut off his arm, but he also DID expect them (and hype them up) to kill him. Not so he'd respawn without the hev suit or with his passport, just because "hey everyone else has died. And you are so mean to me. Your turn."

He doesn't act like a cat or crave attention, I'm so sorry fic writers [again, it's so fun and I love it tho, so keep doing it please] In fact, he loves to fuck off and leave the team, he does not need their attention. And, when given attention, he tends to just be mildly confused or antagonistic.

And he's not obsessed with the passports, guys! Let me get my fuckin 26-page document up rq... He says Passport/ID 26 times in Act 1 [yo what the fuck what a cool coincidence..... That's actually fucking awesome], then literally once in Act 2 and it wasn't even directed at Gordon. He doesn't say it at all in Act 3, though he does say One (1) time how much he loves his. He says it 6 times in Act 4, ALL of which are during his Boss Fight.

People make him a gamer. Yes, he is 100% but they make him the wrong KIND of gamer. He's not a Minecraft Animal Crossing Mario Kart gamer, he talks about Heavenly Sword, God of War, Halo, MAG, Grand Theft Auto and TF2. 2 First Person Shooters, 3 very violent action/adventure games, and TF2.

[actually, speaking of this image, did anyone else catch Gordon referencing the stairs bit but with ropes? Gordon has canonically read Homestuck]

The only TV he references is All Dogs Go To Heaven 2 and Fighting Redemption which are WILDLY different. And also whatever Ms. Pebbles is.

Not necessarily a common mischaracterization, but an important tidbit is that Benrey tends to be pacifistic towards Xen creatures, and not towards scientists and later security guards. Lots of people headcanon Experimentation which, while there's not really any evidence for that, there's also no evidence against it and it's a good headcanon that I like a lot.

He likes taking pictures. (shakes fic writers) give him a photo album!!!! SCANS OF GORDON'S FEET WOULD NOT BE IN THE ALBUM HE DOESN'T ACTUALLY HAVE THOSE. IT WAS NOT A FOOTSCANNER HD HE LIED.

The things he does know vs doesn't know are. Difficult. He isn't clueless about "human Things" he understands that shaking = nervous and balled fists = angry. He doesn't know what pigeons are but he does know mayonnaise and Big Mac with Freesh Fries.

The final important bit of info. Canon is kinda... flimsy? Canonically, according to Gir, Bubby is a straight guy who FUCKS. Canonically, according to Holly, Bubby is agender and married to Dr. Coomer.

So like. Go fucking crazy! Go stupid! A a a a a!

Just be aware when you're wrong LOL

#hlvrai #god i love character analysis #benrey #i be talking

[words-after-midnight]

I enjoyed your question so much it made me curious so I'm throwing it back to you: what in your WIP would start internet debates if published?

Haha. Can you tell that question was inspired by how I think about this all the time regarding my own WIPs? 😅 Well, two of them in particular, namely Life in Black and White and The Dotted Line.

For Life in Black and White:

The ending and core message will almost certainly be very controversial if the book gets any kind of traction, even just based on the response I've seen to previous books that addressed similar themes and topics. I've tried my best for years to make it come across as intended, but of course, there's only so much I can do. There will be people who will "get it," and people who wildly misinterpret it or approach it with too little nuance (ironic, given that "approaching fundamentally nuanced things without nuance can be dangerous, harmful, and have far-reaching complications" is, like, the core "point" of the story, but I won't get into specifics beyond that because of spoilers).

This story explicitly portrays actual codependency, not the romanticized (and incorrect) version fandom loves to tack onto every mutually obsessive ship. The central dynamic is an ill-defined, intense, and abusive relationship between one person who adopts a permanent caretaker role with regard to the other person, who frequently engages in reckless and unsafe behavior to an extent that is both self-destructive and destructive more generally. The caretaker character has good intentions (you know what they say about those!), but basically loses his entire identity and sense of self in his misguided attempts to care for (read: control) the other character, who does whatever the fuck he wants and is about as "tameable" as a wild dragon. This dynamic is fundamentally cyclical and is only broken when they are separate. If you know anything about libaw, you've probably figured out who I'm talking about. I can only imagine the sheer discourse about their Problematic and Toxic relationship if ever this sees the light of day. I call them trainwreck for a reason!

By the way, that character who allegedly needs to be cared for and protected because, left to his own devices, he just can't help being a living tornado? Yeah, that guy? Main antagonist of the story. Callous, vile, wickedly manipulative, would 100% be either sexualized to hell and back or called "bad queer representation" (among other things) on Tumblr. He is not any of the endearing, hilarious, and/or harmless-looking masks he wears in daily life. He's said and done some absolutely heinous shit. Unfortunately for everyone, the aforementioned caretaker character is WILDLY obsessed with him and thinks he's in love with him. None of these intense romantic feelings are remotely returned, which I expect some readers to understand, while I feel like others will think that there is some particular "special affection" there that Jeff holds for Gabriel and that he just can't express in a "typical" way (I might as well name them, you all know who I'm talking about here), because that's usually how these types of dynamics are written (ie. the "unfeeling" character having one or two close people in their lives they have some genuine affection for).

The exact nature of Jeff's affective disposition will be argued about to shit and probably called "bad representation of neurodivergent people" because he's not a good person - regardless of anything else about him - and displays some aggressive/violent/otherwise unpalatable behavior. He will almost certainly be assumed to be neurodivergent in some way, because it's extremely obvious, but this is why I've never specifically defined or labelled it. I know what he would be labelled as (eg. in a correctional or psychiatric setting), and that's partially what I based my character research on, but I also think labels are just that. They're not an immutable, core aspect of someone, and they're often disputed and debatable. Nuance, right?

I've alluded to this before in previous ask responses, but Jeff experiences a traumatic incident at one point in the story. You see part of his response (which is atypical and not prime-time drama approved), but it's filtered through Gabriel, who is having an overblown vicarious trauma response to this event and handles it extremely poorly, which includes basically making it all about him, because this ridiculous fucking man cannot separate his identity from Jeff to save his damn life (jfc I'm getting heated, lmao). For some people, this will all be completely fine because Jeff is a terrible person, right? Pretty classic Asshole Victim trope going on here. Again, absolutely none of this will pass the social media vibe check.

Speaking of atypical trauma responses: there are several in this story, and I expect to get flack for "unrealistic" or "irresponsible" portrayals of trauma. As in, I have literally seen takes online calling a trauma response I've written an "irresponsible portrayal" in other media, when in fact said response is quite common, just not commonly portrayed. The thing is: if there's one thing I've done in fifteen years of working on this story, it's my fucking research. In some cases I'm also drawing from my own experiences. Most of my characters are trauma survivors to some degree, but I tailor their responses to their characterization. For example: Gabriel lost his mother shortly prior to the beginning of the story, but almost never talks about her or her death, which some may interpret as him being "unaffected" by the loss. Actually, though, Gabriel's grieving process with his mother is functionally identical to mine when my dad passed away at a similar age.

Last but not least (though I'm sure I'm forgetting things): several characters, including Gabriel, have diagnosed mental illnesses, and I don't beat around the bush when it comes to describing the "ugly" symptoms.

For The Dotted Line:

My joking answer is "the whole thing." Like, not literally, but overall it's worse than Life in Black and White when it comes to heavy and controversial.

We've got a realistic American state prison setting in the mid- to late aughts.

We've got a first person narrator with low emotional tone - think A Clockwork Orange. His narrative is like this piece (which is also narrated by him).

We've got a bona fide villain protagonist who is also an incredibly complex character. I try to make you feel conflicted about him on multiple occasions, which I'm sure will go over very well in the world of online discourse.

Not only do we have atypical trauma responses and just mountains of horrific shit that becomes almost mundane given that, again, it's a prison, we get to have all of this filtered by the internal monologue of a guy who lives by his own warped sense of morality, is in warzone mode 24/7, and believes that we live in a world of predators and prey and that "if you play with sharks you can't get all upset about being bitten." Lovely, huh? Can't wait to see how the world wide web dissects this man's behavior and life experiences.

WOW THIS GOT SO LONG AND I'M SORRY, but I'm also not sorry, because this is stuff I think about a lot and it was kind of cathartic to write it out lol.

#libaw #tdl #my characters are excellent specimens of humanity /s #writeblr #ask #sts

[eldritchsurveys]

1185.

Do you still remember your first kiss? >> I remember the first time someone kissed me. I don't remember the first time someone kissed me in a non-coercive, totally consensual way.

Are you happy with where you are relationship wise now? >> Not exactly. I still would like to experience at least one close intimate relationship, or at the very least a couple of deep friendships.

How many kids do you want to have? >> Zero.

Have you ever purposely given someone the wrong number? >> I have not.

Who’s the last person you smoked weed with? >> Sparrow, which was more incidental than intentional.

Are you mad at the last person who called you? .

Who was the last person you talked to, other than family? >> The last person I spoke to was Sparrow, as usual. When was the last time you flew in a plane? >> April 2022.

Is there a girl you absolutely can not stand? >> Somewhere, I'm sure.

Have you ever set anything on fire? >> I have. Have you kissed the last person you texted? .

Are you currently wanting any piercings or tattoos? >> I am always up for another tattoo, but I don't have any specific ideas in mind, seeing as I stopped bothering to think about them because of the expense.

Do you find tattoos attractive in the opposite sex? >> Tattoos are not what make me find a person attractive or unattractive. Who is the person you have hurt the most? >> I have no way of knowing this. Who is the person that has hurt you the most? >> Ultimately, that goes to my parent. Many of the things that affect me to this very day were because of something he did, even if that something was more indirect like "shipping me off to live with extended family members without vetting them as people first".

Have you smoked a cigarette today? >> I have not.

Are you listening to any music? What song? >> I am not.

Ever had a person who was obsessed with you so much that it scared you? >> I can't even imagine what this would be like.

Is there anything silver near you? >> Possibly.

Has anyone ever mistaken you for someone else? >> A few times.

Who are you talking to right now? >> No one. I'm taking a survey.

Have you cried this past week? >> Of course. Say your last ex walks up to you and hugs you, what do you say? .

Would you date someone right now if they asked? >> That... obviously depends on who was asking, doesn't it? Generally I am open to a variety of relationship structures, but not open to any old person who sought one...

Has someone recently told you something you didn’t want to hear? >> I don't think so.

Who was the last baby you held? >> Elliott, and he's four now, so that's how long ago that was.

Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you? >> I do not.

Would you ever get a tattoo? If so, of what? >> I have three, so apparently I would. Have you purposely flirted with a friends crush? >> I have not.

Do you have any siblings that moved away to college? .

Have you had any beer this week? >> I have not.

Is there anything you need to talk about with someone? >> Not to my knowledge. Are you wearing a necklace? >> I am not.

What does text #10 in your cell say? .

Who was the last person who cried around you? >> Sparrow, I assume.

What was the last thing you cried about? >> I was stressed out about how much of the day I lost to the power outage, which lasted for seven hours. It just destabilised my entire daily rhythm.

Who’s the last guy to give you roses? .

Do you think relationships are hard? >> For me, absolutely. Significantly harder than they'd be for the average person.

Did your parents do drugs when they were younger? .

What color are your eyes? >> Dark brown.

Do you listen to music while you fill out surveys? >> I don't, I don't listen to music when doing anything that requires language processing. Would you date someone that had a different religion from you? >> Religiosity wouldn't be a dealbreaker on its own. I quite like religion, but people interact with religion in wildly different ways and that's the salient bit.

Would you rather have nice eyes or nice lips/smile? >> por que no los dos

Do you have any secrets? >> I don't. No use for it, really.

What’s your current problem? >> Hmm... well, I can't think of anything off the top of my head. A small miracle and I'll take it.

#surveys #survey #random survey

[bruhhhh-huhhhhh]

Okay, so for the matchup exchange, I'd love a Resident Evil Matchup! Male or female is fine.

My name is Oz, my pronouns are they/them, and I'm studying forensic toxicology, even though I despise chemistry.

I'm really into video games, anything from FPS games to classic video games and dating sims. My favorites are probably old horror games or RPGMaker games. I love tarantulas to an obsessive degree. I also have a love for a lot of dad things, like fishing, baseball, and listening to Jimmy Buffet on the beach. I dress like one too - I wear a lot of Hawaiian shirts and cargo pants. I play guitar, violin, piano, and lyre, and I'm a painter, and I do archery in my free time.

I can't stand inconsiderate people, or people who are controlling. I'm a huge introvert and I need a lot of alone time. I can be a bit reserved upon first meeting, but truthfully I'm a very loud and passionate person. I very often say the first thing that comes to mind without thought (which often ends in wildly inappropriate jokes), and I have a tendency to derail conversations because I can't think of one thing without a million other ideas overlapping it. I'm most attracted to people with a good sense of humor and justice.

Thanks so much!!! I can't wait to write for you :D

AHHH HI :D

OKOK I'm doing this now. Yippee! I'm sorry this took so long T~T

I match you with...

Ethan Winters!

Let's be honest, he does all those dad things you described.

No shame, at all. He will take you on dates where you just go out on a boat, listening to Jimmy Buffet and fishing. Absolutely no shame.

I think he also loves spiders, even after the whole Margerite thing in 7. Please talk to him about them, it makes him so happy.

For some reason I feel like he'd be the kind of guy to say he hates horror games but then he starts playing one and is immediately enthralled.

GAME WITH HIM

He's horrible at shooter games. No clue why, but he can't aim for shit.

Let's just say that he survived the events of 8 and divorced Mia. Rose absolutely LOVES YOU. She thinks that you dress fun tbh.

Ethan appreciates that you just say things. He thinks it's hilarious.

He absolutely will go along with your jokes. I feel like he had a lot of potential with some of his jokes in the games.

He doesn't mind at all when the conversation goes from one topic to another. Honestly, he prefers it that way because it keeps his attention really well.

This man LOVES when you play your different instruments. He will absolutely ask you a bunch of questions about what got you into the instrument, how to play it, why it sounds the way it does, etc.

He also needs his alone time (AKA his alone time that Rose happens to be a part of) so you guys go off and do your own thing sometimes.

All in all, you're an absolute power couple.

#matchups! #resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil biohazard #ethan winters x reader #ethan winters #ethan winters x you #resident evil x reader

[acacia-may]

How did you become fan of Black Clover?

Oh what a fun question! Thank you so much for asking! 😄💖

I apologize for all the ramblings. It is not really as long of a story as I am about to make it out to be, but it turned out pretty wordy so I've put it under the cut... 😅

So I actually didn't watch or read Black Clover until last year (believe it or not 😅), but my younger cousin had been absolutely obsessed with the series for about a year and a half at that point and would not stop talking about it. 😄 He had a contagious enthusiasm for it, but I just really didn't think it was for me (since my cousin and I usually have wildly different tastes) so I kind of put his recommendation that I should watch it on the back burner.

At a certain point, I reached that strange, 'in between series' malaise where you're ready for something new but not something you expect to get that invested in, so I asked a friend of mine who has seen a lot more anime than me (and helped me get into the genre in the first place) if she had ever heard of Black Clover because my cousin was talking about it non-stop. She had watched the first few episodes, and said it was pretty good. She also did a much better job of explaining the basic premise than my cousin's "There's this guy named Asta and he's awesome. And this other guy named Yuno and he's awesome too! And they all have magic and that's really awesome!" (I love my cousin, but he just wasn't giving me a whole lot to go on there 😂), so I thought 'Sure, why not? I'll give it a try. Maybe put it on in the background as some casual viewing.' 😁

I'm not sure if this goes without saying or not but I was really endeared to the series in the beginning because Asta is so much like my cousin--all that "Let's GOOOO!!" energy and everything he says would absolutely end with an exclamation point. They're even around the same age! 😄 I just remember thinking, "No wonder he loves this show so much, he is basically the main character," but, of course, he's not introspective at all so when I asked him, "Hey do you think you're like Asta?" He was all confused and answered something like, "What? [pause] Asta's cool! His anti-magic is awesome! I like Liebe too!" in true Asta fashion 😂). And I really loved Yuno from the get-go, too. They were such great foils for each other, and I really liked their brotherly bond. I was still definitely in that 'aw it's cute. I'll watch an episode here and there' casual watching stage though and not imagining it would become such a favourite of mine.

But then of course, they bring all the Black Bulls in...

I suppose for this part of the story it's important to note that I usually watch anime with my younger sister (she's been mentioned in my posts a lot for that reason 😁), but she wasn't interested in this one so I was on my own. I think it was in episode 9 or 10 that I just stopped watching--literally paused partway through the episode deciding that she just had to see this. (She loves those anti-heroes with chaotic energy types of characters). I've got a screenshot of the text actually because the irony of it all makes me laugh. Also, feel free to have fun trying to match up my makeshift names for the Black Bulls based on that tiny bit of information I had about them in the beginning... 😂

(I promise I know all of their names now! 😂 And would probably pick better descriptors for some of them now that I know them better… Also silly, naive little 2021 Acacia thinking this series wasn’t anything “life changing”… yeah, things have changed a lot since then… 😅)

The Black Bulls made this series for me and over time, I came love each and every one of them (some took longer than others 😅)! I affectionately called them "The Island of Misfit Toys" (or more often just the "Misfit Toys")--because the squad is a home and a place to belong for this lovable band of chaotic misfits with punk energy who all love each other like a big dysfunctional family despite their issues and personal struggles. [It's also where the name of my blog comes from 🥰].

Truthfully, I was not expecting to like Black Clover nearly as much as I did in the end, but as soon as they hit that sea temple arc, I really got hooked and felt the story was truly something special. I was interested in it before, but my sister and I binged the whole underwater temple arc of the anime in one day. It was really the point where I got extremely invested, and it’s still definitely one of my favorite arcs in the series to date! I have been super attached to Black Clover ever since! 💖

There is probably a lot more I could say, but I've rambled enough and am cutting myself off for now since this is already super long. 😅

If you or anyone else would like to share how they got interested in Black Clover, I'd love to hear it! 💕 Thank you again for the ask! 🥰

#answered asks #just a little fan #black clover ramblings #don't even get me started about that sea temple... i could talk about it for hours and hours #the black bulls are the 'island of misfit toys'--change my mind #they're my 'misfit toys' i love them so much #the black bulls #definitely could think of better nicknames for the black bulls now…well some of them at least 😂 #poor Grey was left out #sorry Grey #and Noelle… (but I don’t think we had seen a lot of her yet) 😅

[panharmonium]

just a brief record of teen wolf season 5 thoughts so far - under the cut for length!

[same spoiler disclaimer as always applies - i’ve only seen up through episode 5 of season 5A.  i’m totally unspoiled for anything that happens after that, and i’d like to keep it that way (”spoilers” for me includes things like “oh, it just keeps getting worse and worse; lower your expectations,” or various other subjective assessments of quality - i like to form my own impressions).  if you’re a friend and can talk to me without dropping hints like that, have at it!  otherwise, please don’t engage with this; we can talk about it once i’m finished.  thanks! :) ]

in general - i liked the first couple of episodes a LOT better than season 4.  it’s never going to feel like “real/classic” teen wolf again (which can’t be helped, given the unplanned cast changes), but even so, this felt closer to it than anything S4 did.  the kids are in school doing kid things that feel more meaningful than any of the wildly dramatic guns’n’explosions nonsense from last season, and for the first couple episodes it really feels like they’re setting up the kind of smaller-scale, character-focused story that i wanted season 4 to be.

stuff i loved:

all of them going to Senior Scribe.  the vibe of that was great, the music was great, seeing derek’s initials was great, scott writing allison’s initials was great; it really set the right tone.

seeing scott and stiles up at lookout point talking about the future, with stiles obsessively plotting every detail and scott being like ‘or we could see what colleges we get into and then pick a place to live’ - i like seeing them spend time together and talk together like they used to, and also their individual behaviors are very in-character, with ‘hypervigilance’ stiles feeling such urgency to plan for everything and scott rolling with it but also perhaps privately worrying that he may not even get into the school he wants.

malia doing summer school and being worried that she may not actually be a senior 

scott being so great with liam (“okay, so i’m still struggling”/“you’re learning”)

malia learning to drive!  

the symbolic resonance of what they’re doing with the jeep constantly breaking down and stiles’s refusal to let it die - The Jeep is such an iconic fixture of early teen wolf, and choosing to have it start falling apart now is a very effective vehicle for representing the overarching feeling that something is coming to an end and things are changing (the kids are seniors now and soon they’ll be leaving home for college), and stiles’s desperate need to keep patching it up illuminates his fear of that change and how he isn’t ready to let go or jump out into a very scary unknown that to him represents potentially losing more people he cares about (what if scott’s my best friend now, but not my best friend for life?)

scott being in the AP Bio class and lydia and kira being like ‘we need to ask him if he’s in the right class’ but he IS in the right class and he’s super prepared with his book all highlighted and he knows what school he wants to go to and he has a plan - overall i just love love love this; scott exceeding everyone’s academic expectations for him (including his own) and trying to stop thinking of himself as the stupid kid...that gives me Major Feelings.  i also love how this is set up to become a conflict later, in that he starts struggling with classes again when non-school things start happening, and he starts to doubt whether he can do it or not - this is the kind of stuff that always made me care about teen wolf, not whatever the villain of the week was.

scott not even needing help to defeat that first werewolf dude who attacked him - like, they set it up so that it sounds all dramatic/tragic when the guy stabs him and scott is having the life/power sucked out of him, but then scott just pulls himself up and rips the guy’s hand out of him and tells him he can either stay and get clobbered or run away, like - YEAH!!!!  HELL YEAH!!!  THAT’S TRUE ALPHA SCOTT MCCALL!!!

the scott/stiles divide on the theo issue.  (i have some reservations about this, also; i’ll get to that later, but in general) - the exchange “why can’t you trust anyone?”/“because you trust everyone!” - damn good.  and scott taking the pain out of stiles’s hand...bruh ;_;

i know there are other things i’m forgetting, but for now, moving on -

some reservations:

this is not a criticism of the show itself; it’s just my own personal aversion - i really, really don’t like body/medical horror, so in some ways this season is a challenge for me to watch.

in general, after the first few episodes were over, i started to get a little bit of that ‘too many unrelated things happening at once with not enough depth’ feeling that i had all throughout S4.  we have the main plot (some dudes trying to scientifically engineer supernatural creatures), but also they keep shoving in these bits and pieces about The Desert Wolf, which feels completely disconnected from everything else that’s happening.  (they say stiles has been “pulling those threads” to research it, but how?  what does that even mean?)  and also something weird is going on with Kira, which also feels very disconnected from the rest of the story, because it comes out of nowhere and we don’t have any context for anything that’s going on with her.  the show has spent zero time on her learning how to be a kitsune, so we don’t feel like we even know where she is in her arc (because she doesn’t really have one.  the show doesn’t spend any meaningful time on her and her parents or her development - it feels like she and her mother have literally never talked about what she is or how to do anything.)  

and more things - this season continues the S4 trend of letting more and more people being in on the secret, which a) eliminates a lot of the tension that made the first 3 seasons of teen wolf work so well and b) expands the “in-the-know” cast to a point where there are too many characters who need to be accounted for every time something happens.  previously it was more manageable, because people who weren’t aware of the supernatural world didn’t need to be involved in certain things, but when you expand the cast of characters who know, they would all naturally need to be helping, which leaves you scrabbling to find something for everyone to do and stretches your story so thin that nobody gets deep development.

the super uncomfortable lydia and parrish vibe???  like - they’re just hinting at something right now but.  i Really don’t trust them to make this not weird.  

re: the above - the thing is, i think lydia being interested in parrish would actually be a believable character thing for her.  she has always dealt with the things that happen to her by distracting herself with romantic/sexual encounters (her own words - “i don’t want a boyfriend.  i want a distraction.”)  and she also is someone who sees herself as more adult than she actually is - she’s much more intellectual than most people her age, she’s basically already finished her high school classes, she got a college acceptance letter when she was a sophomore, and her relationship with her parents has always seemed a little bit more...independent than the other kids (she and her mom obviously love each other a lot, but also lydia kind of runs her own life - comes and goes as she pleases, spends time living by herself up at the lake house, etc.  then there’s also the thing about her parents’ separation/divorce, which hasn’t been discussed since S1 but which i’ve never forgotten (“you’re the one who told her she has to choose who she wants to live with”) - lydia has other history going on that the show hasn’t talked about in a long time, and i do think she copes with the things she’s been through by conceiving of herself as an adult.  last season she said “i’m done with teenage boys,” and the fact that there’s this weird vibe between her and parrish doesn’t actually surprise me, on her end - i DO think lydia might actually use this sort of thing as a very unhealthy coping mechanism, but where it bothers me is that i don’t trust this show to treat it as an issue.   lydia has the most horrifying, traumatizing gift out of all the people on the show, and she has gotten the least amount of help for it.  she has no one to explain to her how it works or how to cope with it, and i think that after 3B especially she is at such a huge risk of getting herself into even more unhealthy situations, because it’s the only way she’s ever dealt with the things she goes through.  it doesn’t bother me to see that she might be gravitating towards what she (incorrectly) sees as someone more on her supposedly “adult” level, but i’m not sure i trust the show to address it the way i would want it to be addressed. [also, to be clear, i’m not actually sure lydia does have any interest in parrish.  the scenes that have the most bizarre vibes between them seem like they’re all in parrish’s head (which is a whole other issue - am i supposed to be chill about a 24/25 year-old dude having what appear to be vaguely romantic inclinations towards a high school student?  or is that not actually what they’re going for?), and i’m not far enough along to state with any certainty what they’re actually trying to communicate here.  i’m just afraid the message is gonna be ‘lydia’s technically 18 so it’s all cool and definitely not a symptom of trauma or a sign that she needs help.’]

lastly, 5.05: episode 5 was the last one we watched, and this was the one where my enthusiasm pulled back a bit.  it was the first one where i felt like characters were behaving in ways that didn’t make sense.

i fully do not believe scott would lie to kira about what he saw when he looked at her with his werewolf vision.  she specifically asked him to check her appearance, because something scary happened earlier (her powers manifesting in a previously unknown way and her almost killing someone while out of control), and when he looked, he saw a totally different kitsune shape around her, and then he lies and says he saw nothing???  that makes no sense.  scott would never do that to her, or anyone.

i don’t believe malia would get in a car at night with a dude that stiles is 100% sure is up to something/trying to hurt them.

relatedly - it’s unrealistic to me that the entire pack is treating stiles like he’s crazy for being so suspicious of theo.  yes, stiles is anxious and hypervigilant, but his instincts (and research/detective work) are correct virtually every single time - he figured out (and told chris) that kate was the one who set the fire; he called matt as the villain long before matt had done anything majorly suspicious; he warned scott last season to remember that peter wasn’t one of the good guys - it doesn’t make sense to me that after everything that’s happened and every other time stiles has figured out the mystery, the other kids would just laugh at him like he’s overreacting even after he procures actual evidence (the mismatched signatures). in particular, there’s a bizarre disconnect between the way scott is reacting to this situation and the way he acts in S3 - when ethan and aiden want to join the pack, he says, “i’m sorry, but they don’t trust you” (”they” being stiles and isaac).  he’s not judging ethan or aiden for their past actions or for wanting to join the pack, but he’s saying that if the other members aren’t comfortable, it won’t work.  and then when stiles confesses that he thinks he himself is the one killing people, scott’s reaction is “i don’t want to make it sound like i think you’re wrong...but i also don’t think you’re the one hurting people.”  he is so careful to show stiles that he doesn’t disbelieve him, even if he doesn’t necessarily agree with stiles’s conclusion - he’s so careful not to trivialize stiles’s concerns or make him feel like his reasoning can’t be trusted - and that just feels very different than what we’re seeing play out here.

i also don’t believe stiles wouldn’t have IMMEDIATELY called scott after being attacked in the library.  i was really confused by that whole aspect of this episode - i didn’t understand why stiles was like...acting like he’d committed a crime, to a point where i started wondering if i had missed some detail earlier that would cause him to be so afraid.  i just don’t believe stiles would hide this, or feel any guilt about it whatsoever.  he didn’t murder somebody; he was literally running for his life from a creature that was trying to eat him.  stiles would of course be horrified and/or traumatized by the way it happened - i don’t think stiles is ever okay with watching people die in front of him - but he wouldn’t feel guilty.  stiles is the one whose moral compass is defined by the moment where he tells ms. morrell “i don’t feel sorry for him” when they’re talking about matt in S2, and then when she asks him, “can you feel sorry for the nine year old matt who drowned?”, his answer is still no: “just because a bunch of dumbasses dragged him into a pool when he couldn't swim doesn't really give him the right to go killing them off one by one.”  the show never frames that as a wrong thing.  it’s okay that stiles doesn’t feel sorry for matt.  he doesn’t have to.  it’s never framed like “Scott Good, Stiles Bad” - it’s just written as a natural, neutral function of their personal histories.  stiles went through terrible things when he was younger and he still didn’t choose to hurt other people, which informs how he looks at people who actively choose more malicious paths.  he’s never been someone who legitimately, non-jokingly advocates cold-blooded murder, but he’s also never been a person who obsesses over bad actors being bitten by the consequences of their actions, so this whole plotline of him covering up what happened in the library makes no sense to me, character-wise.  he knows he didn’t kill this guy on purpose.  his life was in immediate, undeniable danger, and it’s not remotely believable to me that he would think Scott or anyone else around him would see it differently.  it feels like a contrived, manufactured conflict.

the whole scene at eichen house also feels very manufactured.  i don’t believe stiles and lydia would ever hand over anything that this guy in the cell wanted - they’re not stupid enough to give something like that to someone we know literally nothing about (which is another issue - why hasn’t the show at least given us a two-line explanation from deaton about who this dude is?  it’s so bizarre seeing the kids walk in to chat with him while we ourselves don’t even understand who he is or what, if anything, the other characters know about him).  even if stiles and lydia were foolish enough to barter with this guy - he’d already told them literally everything before they gave him the recording!  they didn’t need to give him lydia’s scream in order to get anything from him; he’d already explained the dread doctors and the book.  they could have just walked away.

it also doesn’t make sense that the staff at eichen house wouldn’t warn visitors like - “no kitsune in here please, otherwise you’ll deactivate all our security”.......

(i don’t like eichen house as a plot device in general; even back in 3B i thought it was too goofy/unrealistic/over-the-top...but whatever; it’s obviously here to stay, so i’ll just have to deal with it.)

anyway, in general, i was enjoying the beginning a lot more than S4, but as we’ve progressed, I’m starting to feel a little more like the focus is getting scattered again and characters aren’t quite behaving in believable ways.  i’ve still got a lot to go, though, so i’ll reserve judgment until i’ve actually seen everything.

addendum - forgot to add my future predictions, just so i have a record for myself...i’m assuming parrish is something phoenix-related?  and maybe he’s collecting the bodies to like...resurrect them or something, and maybe that’s why he’s always around lydia (banshee - harbinger of death, phoenix - agent of rebirth)?  but i dunno, we’ll see.

#teen wolf #pan watches teen wolf #(finally)

[avengersrewatch]

E9: Living Legend

Let's do a rewatch of EMH before Quantumania, she said, wildly overestimating her own abilities.

For those catching up, the Avengers are currently: Iron Man, Thor, Ant-Man and Wasp. Hulk just left.

So the team needs new blood and they find it... well old blood, I guess while looking for the Hulk. (Janet is very cute when she is excited to be "driving" a jet. She's the audience surrogate in a lot of ways. She's so happy she is an Avenger!!)

Anyway, they find Captain America, and of course, because this show is obsessed with making the Avengers fight each other: he immediately assumes they are HYDRA operatives lying to him about it really being "the future".

I like it when Thor refers to Iron Man as "the robot" because I am still not sure if Thor knows there is a man in there or not.

This is also the first time we see Black Panther in battle. Though he has not yet decided to join the Avengers yet, he appears to help Captain America defeat Baron Zemo after he fully infiltrates Tony's mansion without any problems.

Wasp is the one who is able to convince Steve that he's in the future by showing him the Statue of Liberty (which he somehow did not notice?) and a statue dedicated to Captain America and Bucky

We take a brief trip back to the villain story (remember a whole bunch of them escaped from prison?). Well one newly freed is Baron Zemo in his full purple, fuzzy costume. It's so dumb, I love it so much. There's apparently some bad blood between Strucker and Zemo--Grim Reaper is also there, maybe we will get that villain for the WONDER MAN show?--but they are both Nazis so I don't really have a dog in that fight. Luckily, Zemo hears Captain America is alive and immediately peaces out to fight Steve. He's alive? I MUST TRY TO PUNCH HIM IMMEDIATELY.

We get a flashback to Cap and Zemo fighting during WWII. And Zemo's costume is purpler and fuzzier so you realize the dumb one from before is actually an upgrade. God, I love how stupid it is. I can't even focus. Anyway, Captain America doused Zemo in a virus and now that stupid purple suit is like stuck to him? Yet he still keeps putting (as Okoye would say) "fuzzy adornments" on it so I think he likes it. I don't know what he's mad about.

More bad guy meetings. Zemo talks to Zola (who was in the MCU) and Doughboy (who is sadly, not). Zemo is kind of dying or whatever, and Zola wishes they had a DNA sample from Captain America to create an army of super soldiers cure Zemo. Zemo says he will bring Zola Captain America's head.

He will not.

Luckily for the Avengers, T'Challa is chilling in the Avengers' own house, reading files about them when the Avengers return. They are back for maybe two seconds, in which Thor and Cap bond over how weird JARVIS is ("the building has a voice") before Doughboy attacks. The Avengers fall for this obvious distraction while another Doughboy attacks Jan and Cap at the mansion. (Jan kills Doughboy by getting eaten and exploding him from the inside.)

Meanwhile, T'Challa is just watching all this. T'Challa's, "I guess I will help them beat a Nazi; he's definitely racist." So he gives Captain America back his shield. I like the symbolism of T'Challa being the one to return Cap's shield to him. It's made of vibranium and before this moment, it's kind of stolen resources. (I don't think who made the shield is addressed in this series. In the MCU it was Howard Stark who made it with the only vibranium he had available to him.)

He's like, "here you can have your little frisbee back. I have, like, a shit-ton more." Then he leaves because he knows Cap can handle Zemo.

Captain America and Wasp go help the others, in which Hank figures out something sciencey about Doughboy and he and Tony do a sciene-y thing.

After the battle, Steve and Tony talk and Steve officially joins the Avengers. He when he can meat the Avenger who wears "a black catsuit." I like to imagine Cap was kind of disappointed to learn it was only these four. (No shade to these four, one needs only to look at box office performance in the MCU to realize Black Panther is the coolest one.) I know it. Cap definitely knows it here. Cap's MCU variant knows it when Panther is the first to come out of the portals too. That's just the power of T'Challa.

Only one more episode until Panther joins up!

Meanwhile, Zemo meets up the the Enchantress and they set up bad guy stuff.

Rating: Eh, if you're interested.

#avengers: earth's mightiest heroes #avengers rewatch #steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes #t'challa #black panther #the wasp #janet van dyne #the avengers #baron zemo #baron strucker #arnim zola #mcu #emhu #portals #endgame

[astrohnova]

𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬?

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𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 Ransom and you have a complicated relationship. But his fucking makes it simple.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 +18 ONLY. IF YOU’RE A MINOR, i’ll kick your ass and also block u. insults, explicit language, smut (sex toy use, filmed sex, filmed masturbation, dumbification, breeding kink, squirting mention, spit play, blowjob, rough sex (all consented tho) creampie, daddy kink, "bitch", "whore", "cumslut", "slut"), use of spanish phrases without translation. WHEN IN DOUBT, DON’T READ. THAT’S IT.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒

I’m new at writing so if I should add more tags let me know. Also, english is not my first language so it might be a little weirdly worded so just let me know and i’ll change whatever’s wrong. I’m sorry

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The new lingerie set you’d bought made you feel savage. You knew it was something that your followers would enjoy. You decided to appear soft and delicate today, a good girl. So you turned your camera on, and while you were waiting for your payers to come in, you were sucking a lollipop endearingly, to gradually rile up the people watching you.

The candles you had lit along with the perfume you had spread in the room, with the soft music sounding in the background set the ambient, and your hand was gloved sending goosebumps through every part of skin you caressed. You were just fueling every sense, aislating yourself from the real world. You put the lollipop down and laided your back onto the headboard of your bed, with the computer at your feet, your clothed pussy in the first plane for your followers to admire and the clothed hand making it’s way there.

You’ve bought this glove recently, it was a sex toy. Made of black latex and a different head on each of your fingers, along with different textures that would let you see the stars. You even put a vibrator inside the middle one, just touching the point of your middle finger. Every head was different and enticing. And the vibrations between your thighs, so close to you sensible cunt left you gasping. Your lips and eyes stand out from the mask that you had on your face, sensual and with the same color as your underwear.

You looked straight to the camera when you grazed the vibrator contained by the latex over your pussy, while you gasped and then moaned, laying your head back. You could hear the sound of subscriptions coming in, and you suggestively moaned before pulling your panties to the side with your uncovered hand and brushing the vibrator on your clit, whining lightly. Then you put one of your fingers inside of you, and moaned directly to the camera, while you rubbed soft circles on your clit with your thumb, your belly contracting gently, your nipples hardening.

You took your finger off and brought it to your lips. And before you kept the show going, you said “Thank you for the gift, I’m enjoying myself so much. I hope you get off too”. You inserted two fingers in your pussy and moaned out loud.

📷

He was watching you going down the street, completely mesmerized. Just like the other men and women seeing you. He was smoking, but the smoke got into his eyes, for not being careful; his whole attention was on you. He threw the cigarette on the floor and stepped on it.

“Que hermosa, mamita.” A cute man complimented you, and you smiled and winked.

“Gracias mi amor. So pretty yourself.” You complemented and left him with his mouth open. But compliments were responded to, and he was a beautiful man.

You were walking with so much confidence and all eyes were naturally attracted to your presence, in that dress that hugged you perfectly, in those heels that took you some time to accustom to but now you walked like on a runway. And those striking stockings that you were wearing. You really were feeling yourself, that’s what a good night of orgasms and money gets you, really. You had earned so much, just had a few video requests that you had to fulfill and this month's cuota would be filled. And with this new job you had landed, things were starting to get off for you and your family

He was about to kill all the tigers that were stomping in your way, looking at you the way he did. Thinking the same things that he did, incited by that fucking dress, that gracefullness of your soul, and the barm coat that flew with the wind as you ate the wole street up. He was meeting you on this old cozy bar, after seeing that video of you yesterday he was riled up and just needed to be inside your warm pussy this cold afternoon, maybe with the coffee that you were gonna drink while you argued still stained on your mouth, that he was going to pry from your willing mouth as you gasped against him, with your mixed spit going down your chin from the sloppy kisses that he loves, and your breathy whines that had him rubbing his crotch against your stomach. And he couldn’t wait to see if you were wearing the lingerie that he had bought you, with that color that highlighted your skin undertone and got his dick leaking precum. Last night you were glorious, and today you were a walking goddess.

“Hola, imbécil.”

“Now that’s not very nice, especially after all the money I gave you last night.”

“Mhhm. Others gave me more, papito.”

“That so?”

“It is.”

“I got something more that they can’t give you. And you’re driving me feral, walking like that towards me, flirting with other guys. I thought I made it clear that you were mine.”

“And I thought I made it clear that I was my own. Especially after last night, did you see me get myself off that hard? And after the video endend I got so fucking happy, so fucking horny with all the comments, the views, the pictures that I got that I went to sleep humping my pillow.”

“Pictures?”

“Oh yes, I got so many pictures of so many pretty cocks daddy”

“You were thinking of other cocks, slut?” He questioned, grabbing you by your arm and putting you against a wall as you laughed.

“Not only thinking, papi, I found this hot guy that was just drooling for me, and he made me drool for him so much. The sheets were so messy that I had to change them after he left.” He gripped your throat harder, just growling furiously.

“Fucking bitch, I’m gonna stuff my cock so deep than your throat to make you regret everything you just said.”

“But daddy, I haven’t told you the best part yet!” You bite your lip, seeing his predatory eyes that wanted to devour you entirely. And you kept going without remorse. “The mattress was so wet too. You never reached that, did you? You want me to think that I’m yours but I got others treating me better.” You pouted, all that you were saying was true and seeing this look in his eyes was such a sight. You almost whined from his look alone.

He grabbed you by the arm and took you to his car, getting on it just right before you on the driver’s side. Wildly driving back to his place to get you fucking stuffed

“You’re driving me insane, bitch. Did you fucking curse me?”

“I did, every dick that enters this sweet pussy, plastic or meat, gets obsessed.”

“Don’t talk like that, making me more horny.”

“I’m sure your hand can help you, guapo.”

“My hand? Are you kidding me? You put that dress on, that looks more like a fucking t-shirt, to come see me and then you leave me with my hand? No, fucking whore You’re giving me your mouth. I have to wipe that smug smile and that boy’s taste off your lips. So suck, vicious little bitch.” So you did, with the loudest and a porn-like moan you quickly undid his briefs pulling his cock out, sucking the tip first.

“Daddy, the lollipop yesterday got me thinking so much about your cock. I couldn’t wait to taste you like this again.” He grabbed you by the hair at the red light, roughly pulling you up to met his face, yours pleasure filled, with drool over your chin, the same that had dirtied his pants.

“You fucking slut, were you just drilling me up to make me get rough on you?”

“No daddy, I did fuck the boy. That was yesterday morning, and then yesterday night I found a little time to think about you.”

“Yeah? Now all you're gonna have in your head and your mouth is me.” He shoved his cock deep into you, and when you gagged he pushed himself further and kept you there. “”Breathe, make this nice for me. I know you can do it.” You could, you enjoyed this so much, your paties were drenched. And what would he do when he notices you weren't wearing the pair he bought for you. Hopefully, break you. You started moving your hips, moving some friction in your pussy, and tastefully wiggling your ass for Ransom to admire.

“That’s right, cumslut. I'll make your ass fire up later too.”

📷

You screamed sensually when he hit your ass. You were on all fours, head down ass up, exposed to Ransom. He was filming your glistening pussy and your delicious ass that bounced on his torso asking for more pain. Delicious pain.

“I’m gonna break you with my cock baby. But after you ask nicely. Your followers want to know what a whore you are.”

“Such a whore! I want your dick papi, you fuck me so good. I want you to leave me braindead, drooling, filled. Please, please, please papi. Cogeme, fuck me. Te tengo muchas ganas.” You whined so hard, so annoyingly empty and desperate.

“What a good girl, making daddy so happy. Here you go, cunt.” He put one hand on your ass and thrusted into you aggressively. He positioned the camera to capture your joy filled face and his hips slamming in you. He didn’t stop nor slowed down, and started rubbing your clit to make you man loader, and you started to move back against him.

“You’re such a greedy little girl, you want all of me. ‘Cmon, give it to me now.”

“Ah!” You opened your mouth in a silent scream when you came, wetting him with your fluids.

And he quickly turned you around, on your back with your legs spread to search for his own high. But you were so sensible you started to close your legs and tried to squirm away from him. But he grabbed your face and spit on your cheek.

“Don’t you fucking dare pushe me away. You take it. Open your fucking legs. Open them wide.” You did, and he used you like a doll, with your mind swimming in pleasure, in his gorans in your ears and his hair caressing your face. He came, pushing himself against you and spilling into the condom. He moved away from you and grabbed the camera, turning it off. Then you were gonna edit the video a little bit, cropping some parts to upload to twitter and the full part you were gonna send it to your special subscribers. You gathered yourself, going to the bathroom to wash yourself a little bit, and coming with a cigarette in your mouth, already lit. You threw yourself on the bed.

“We… We have to stop doing this.” Ransom turned himself to you, taking the cigarette out of your hand and smoking it.

“Baby, you say that everytime. And then you do shit like today.”

“I know. But it’s different now, Hugh.”

“What the fuck you calling me that for?”

“‘Cause I got a new job. Lisa’s personal assistant. And I don’t intend to be higher than all the employees you ask to call you that and then go ahead and disrespect them.”

“You don’t have to work for shit, baby. I’ll pay everything for you. You just keep making those videos and the rest is on me”

“What? Like a sugar daddy? No jodás.” You grabbed another cigarette for yourself, so this dipshit wouldn’t take it away from you

“I mean it baby, I can give you the world, just let me”

“I already have the world papito, and I got it all on my own.” He hummed, and his eyes lit up when you called him ‘daddy’ in spanish, in this intimacy. With your body still displayed for him, through which he roamed his eyes in.

“Papito?” He repeated with an accent. “Maybe I can make a mama out of you....” He burned the cigarette out and took yours off too.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You complained in a moan when he turned you around, on your belly with your hands by your head and his entire muscular, heavy and warm body sprayed out on you. He then pushed deep into you.

“Get off me, Ransom.” You complained in a gasp.

“But I’m so deep ‘side you... I just have to get this shit off me to fill you up.“ He still had his condom on, but he hurriedly got it off and dived inside you again.

“What?! Don’t you dare. Get. The hell. Off.”

“Don’t lie to me princess, you want me to fill this pussy. You’ll be a fucking queen, in my arms, being spoiled with my money. I’ll take care of you and all the kids you’re gonna give me.”

“Ransom…” Your accent was spilling, and your resistance was getting away from you, his words and promises stained in your brain. “Fucking dick.”

“Nobody takes me like you, gripping me like that. You’re just a whore for me, ain’t you? Want all of me.”

“Ah, Ransom, you’re so deep.” You whined, your belly contracting.

“What do you want, honey? I wanna hear you beg for it”

“I-- Please Ransom. Please, please, please llename. Por favor, papi!” You moaned when he started pushing into you again. Last round had been intense and you had little break, so naturally you didn’t last long. You came screaming Ransom’s name, free to do so without a camera in front of you. And he was so close too, his mind winded up with getting you pregnant, with images of your belly full, your tasty breasts with all the milk he was gonna drink. He was goraning so much, your pussy grabbing him so hard, pushing him farther inside of you.

“Are you gonna be a good mama for me?”

“The best, daddy! Just please, please fill me.” And he did, with the loudest groan. To then turn you around and start admiring your tits, your body, getting inside your head with compliments of the mommy you were gonna be. And all the videos you were gonna make with your horniness, with your huge titis and that round belly. How he wanted to cover you in cum and get it on camera to show that you were his, cause getting you pregnant just wasn’t enough. And after that, he went down to eat his leaking cum out of you and prepared you for the next round.

#ransom drysdale smut #ransom drydale x you #ransom thrombey x reader #knives out smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans x female reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans image #latina!reader

[tardis-ghost-blog]

A task to fail (Simm!Master x Reader)

Rating: E - For explicit sexual content Summary: "No. That's not another task." His hand stroked along your cheek and he smiled. "Just couldn't resist stealing a kiss from you."

Sometimes the Master brought a bunch of humans aboard the Valiant. It was fun to watch their various reactions, to walk around in front of them, grinning madly. Sometimes he let them look outside the window when he sew destruction, other times he told them horrifying stories about how they would die.

It was one of those times when you first entered the Valiant. The soldiers had captured you off the streets, had told that you had been chosen as a special guest for the prime minister. With you were two others. They all looked so scared. Sure, you had heard the stories, but they had never bothered you. Since the first day Saxon had appeared on telly, you had found him quite fascinating. There was just something about him that had always made you want to meet the guy.

This made you weirdly calm when he walked in, clad in a black suit, eyeing everyone with almost childish curiosity. After a minute he stood in front of everyone and grinned widely.

"Congratulations, humans!" he announced. "You have been proudly elected to become part of my staff up here. I'm afraid-" he put on a mocking put- "your predecessors have decided to quit the job."

You exchanged glances with the others and found even more fear in their eyes. Saxon clapped his hands to get your attention back.

"To make this more exciting, I will decide what your tasks will be. If you do them well, you might stay. If not... well. We will find an... arrangement." He let out a chuckle that simply sounded evil.

It was inappropriate, but the way he acted just got to you. You couldn't help but smile at this and Saxon saw it and trod directly in front of you.

"Is that funny?" he asked sweetly.

"You'll kill everyone who fails, won't you?" You hadn't really planned to say this, but you just had to know. "It's a game."

Maybe you shouldn't have sounded so excited about this. It also was your own life that was at risk.

"Oh, and you like games, little one?" Saxon bent slightly down to your eyelevel, which wasn't very high. "Are you begging to become my personal assistant?"

Wide eyed you glared at him. You wouldn't even make it a day! He would give you an impossible task and just smile this god-awful smile of his, that was far too charming.

Despite all of this... you nodded.

Saxon blinked surprised, then threw his head back and laughed.

You never learned what happened to the others and you never asked. Instead you focused on the given tasks and did you best to fulfil them properly. And, at the same time, tried to find out as much as possible about Saxon.

He made your life difficult, that's for sure. On your first few days he let you sort the library. First alphabetically, then, when he decided this was boring, he made you sort everything once again, this time by colours. So you arranged everything to form a bunch of quite pretty gradients.

Saxon stood there, one finger on his lips, head slightly tilted, nodding eventually. He gave you a happy grin. "That looks way better, don't you think? Well, I think it does. Good job."

There were other tasks. Tedious tasks that were meant to tire you, some that were like puzzles you needed to solve. But you wouldn't give up. He couldn't kill you, when he had no idea where you were. So, until you found a way to get or do what he wanted, you hid. Each time you came back successful, Saxon looked a little dumbfounded.

"Stubborn, aren't we?" he mumbled one day. Then a smirk spread on his lips. "How about you make me a cuppa tea? I could really use one."

Tea... That sounded weirdly normal and easy. He probably was extremely picky with how it was made.

"Mister Saxon, Sir," you said then. "How would you like the tea?"

He couldn't punish you for making it exactly how he ordered you to. And when he realized your intention, his eyes crinkled in joy. It made him look really handsome and you had a hard time not blushing.

In the end you made his tea to his exact liking. And you weren't sure whether he hated or adored you when he took the first sip. Whatever it was, it was followed by an amused chuckle. He gave you a smile and it made your heart jump.

"You really try to stay alive, eh?"

"Uhm... sure. I guess." You shrugged and couldn't help but smile a little. "But it's more fun to see how happy you look when I do something right."

That surprised him visibly. For a second something slipped and he looked almost lost, as if he had no idea what to make of this. You decided it was a good opportunity.

"I always thought you were an interesting man, Sir. I'm glad I could meet you."

Saxon arched a brow and took another sip. "You'll die here. You know that, don't you?" He waited for your nod. "It's fun to play with you. But sooner or later there will be a task you won't manage to complete." He cracked a crooked smile. "Almost a shame. I'm really having fun with you. You're not as stupid as the others."

"I had to fend for myself my entire life," you mumbled. And when he didn't stop you from talking, you dared to continue, "I... actually should thank you. Your soldiers killed my foster-dad. He used to beat me a lot. Because of him I never had any close friends and... no other family. There is nothing I could return to, anyway."

Saxon didn't say a word. However, from then on, he kept you around. To make him tea, to sort his files, to keep his office clean. But mostly, as it seemed, to learn more about you. He asked many questions and you never hesitated to answer. Because, in return, he gave answers of his own. And you learned so much. When he told you, one day, that he actually was an alien, you didn't have a hard time believing it.

"We look so alike, though," you said, eyeing him curiously.

"Oh, there are many differences." The Master - he had told you his real name - chuckled and reached for your hand to place it on his chest.

You blushed at the touch and your own heartbeat sped up, so it took you a few seconds to realize that his was somewhat strange. It was fascinating and made you smile.

He told you of the war, of how he had fought in it and then ran, how he had almost obsessively spent a lifetime doing literally nothing else, but to repair a rocket to a place that wasn't even real. And then he had landed here.

"Sounds like you didn't have a quiet minute since years," you muttered.

"Yah..." The Master sighed and leaned back on the sofa. Lately he was strangely tense around you, especially when you came too close. And still his eyes followed you everywhere, almost hungry. "No time to... rest." He growled to himself and closed his eyes.

"You're alright?" you asked and leaned down to him. "Want me to make more tea?"

The Master grinned with closed eyes. "No. But..." he paused and eyed you possessively, which sent a shiver down your spine. He shook his head. "You're fun. I quite like you, which is bad. That makes it really hard to break you."

"Why, thanks?" You laughed and poked his shoulder. "Come on. You've told me so much already. I don't think a little request would break me." You poked out your tongue. "I could manage all your stupid tasks. I'm sure I can manage to do one that actually means something to you."

"Yeah?" he giggled impishly, suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him. It made you lose balance and you almost fell. But you could stretch out your hand in time, which landed right next to the Master's head. And your face came close to his. So close you could get lost in his hazel eyes.

"You know... Time Lords are usually above such things." His thumb stroked over your wrist. "But you make this difficult. And it's been such a long time. With the war and everything."

You had no idea if you should stay in this position or move away. He was so close you could feel his breath ghost over your lips. Your eyes met, his gaze was intense, demanding without words. In that moment you didn't care if it would bring you in trouble, the urge was too great. So you leaned forward, only a little, brushed his lips with yours. He sighed, lids falling shut.

And suddenly he grabbed your sides with both hands and pulled you right into his lap. Surprised you yelped, but he left you no time for confusion, his mouth found yours, devouring it in a fierce kiss. Your hands landed on his shirt collar, stroked along the cloth to do something. His tongue pressed against your lips, demanded entrance, which you gave willingly.

There was a soft groan from him that let warmth pool into your belly, but at the same time seemed to snap him out of everything. He broke the kiss, both of you panting heavily. His irises were almost black, his look mischievous.

"Whoops," he breathed out.

"Yeah." You chuckled softly. "Whoops." Then you remembered something and pulled away a little. "What about your wife?"

The Master huffed. "Political marriage. We never... were close in any way."

Slowly your fingers trailed down his chest, your hands came to rest above his hearts that still were beating wildly. It made you proud and giddy that you could do this to him, made you crave more. You moved in his lap, just enough to feel yourself gliding over the bulge in his pants. That made him groan again, but surprisingly he stopped you with his grip.

"No. That's not another task." His hand stroked along your cheek and he smiled. "Just couldn't resist stealing a kiss from you."

You giggled at that and gave him a tongue-touched grin. "Since when are you so reluctant?"

He returned the grin, connected your foreheads. "I like the thought of how I could make you feel, how I could make you scream my name. But it needs to be real. It's no fun otherwise."

"Is that so?" You leaned forwards and captured his lips again, rocking against his crotch in the same movement.

The Master groaned openly into your mouth, one of his hands snaked to the small of your back to press you closer. The kiss got wilder, his tongue doing things to you that made your head light. He swallowed your soft moans, while his finger glided along your shoulders, every touch sending goose bumps down your spine. You shivered when he traced a line down your back, when he caressed your bare skin and opened the clips of your bra.

"Sure about this?" he brought out.

His eyes were so hungry for you, it was hard to tell if he would really stop would you say 'no'. And still you had a feeling that he would. Which got you aroused even more. So, instead of an answer, you reached a hand between you and cupped his erection, stroking firmly over his pants. He gasped, eyes falling shut.

For a bit he let you tease him like that, then he grabbed the hem of your jumper and pulled it over your head, together with the opened bra. His skilled hands moved to your breasts, caressing them, thumbs stroking over your nipples, making them harden almost instantly.

Somehow your lips met again, tongues dancing sensually. It wasn't fair that he was still clothed, so you unbuttoned his dress shirt, happy he didn't wear a jacket right now. You wanted skin, wanted to feel him, and quick.

You weren't the only impatient one, however. Without a warning, the Master grabbed your bum and lifted you from him to drop you on your back on the sofa. His fingers slipped under the waistband of you jeans, eliciting a new groan from you, before he grabbed your feet to get rid of the shoes and then, finally pulled your jeans down, together with your soaked knickers.

His eyes roamed over your naked body, took in every detail with awe. You sat up then and unbuttoned his own pants, while he kicked off shoes and threw away the belt. Curiosity grew in you, making you wonder if Time Lords actually were... compatible with humans. It certainly had felt like it, and when you pulled down his pants you weren't disappointed.

"Like what you see?" he asked, wolfishly grinning.

"Oh, a lot."

"Then move aside, will you?"

You did, making space on the sofa, only to find yourself sitting in his lap again a second later. Feeling him skin to skin made your head even lighter than before. You started to move against him, then wrapped your hand around his erection to glide up and down his full length. Your thumb stroked over the tip, made him sigh out a moan. His fingers were on you clit at the same time, drawing circles that spiked your lust to new peeks. Oh, you wanted to have him inside you. You couldn't wait any longer. It was unbearable.

You groaned and kissed his half opened lips. "I need you. Want you."

"Say my name," he breathed against your mouth.

"Master." His name stumbled over your lips like a plea and you could almost hear his patience snap.

Both of you moved in unison. He straightened a little and you sat up on your knees so he could guide himself inside you. Slowly you let yourself down again, feeling every inch of him fill you out completely. You both groaned, stayed still for a moment to adjust and simply savour the intensity of the moment.

His hands on your bum urged you to move, pressed you flush against him. You had never done it in this position and regretted it now. The friction was just perfect, or maybe it was only because of the Master. You built up a rhythm, moved on him with delight. He, on the other hand, nibbled his way down your throat, leaving small marks on your skin here and there, while his hands were either on your bum or your breasts.

The tension in you rose quickly, almost too fast. You wanted to enjoy this, wanted to savour every second of it, so you slowed down a little. The Master grabbed your sides and guided your movements, his clouded eyes fixated on yours. Slowly you rose, let him almost slip out of you, before he pulled you back close, making you feel him glide inside you again. It was something you both enjoyed and repeated once more, panting.

The Master wouldn't allow you a third time, captured your lips and pulled you down on him, made you move again with impatience, breath ragged. He must be as close as you were and the thought sent a shiver through your whole body, made you move just a little faster until there was no turning back and you came with his name on your lips, clenching around him and groaning into his mouth, riding out the orgasm until you felt his grip on you tighten and until he had to break the kiss as his own release washed over him.

It took you a small eternity to find back to your senses. You heard the Master's rapid double heartbeat, felt his grip soften, but only for a moment. He then lifted you from him a little to slip out of you and lay down on the sofa. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his look weirdly serene in that moment.

"How about we change our game a little?" he murmured. "If you fail a task I get to have you again."

You nestled against his chest and chuckled. "That's not fair. I'd have to fail on purpose, then."

"Mhm..." He smiled impishly. "Can't let a human win against me, after all."

"That's too bad. I'd get to win, no matter what." You glinted back at him, mirroring the mischief.

The Master scowled, mockingly pursed his lips, then captured yours in a sweet, short kiss. His fingers gently trailed along your spine, drew circles on your skin until your breath hitched.

"I think I still win this," he muttered.

#the master x reader #doctor who #fanfiction #Smut #The Master #reader insert #second person pov #simm!master

[citrinesparkles]

cat.

jason todd, eventually x gender neutral reader. 1,388 words. notes: this is part one of i don't even know how many and i cannot believe how wildly out of hand this got. this was a 500 word idea and it's gonna be at least three parts someone help (thanks to @angelz-dust for being so patient with me and encouraging on this!!! would never have made it out of the drafts without you <3) warnings: danger to kids, mention of a couple arguing, animal illness (spoiler alert: it'll be fine i Promise), a little (lot) different than my usual edit: part two here!

"let me be perfectly clear: if you even think about showing back up here, i will know, and i will make your life a living hell until i finally put you out of your misery. understood?"

"yes! yeah man i get it. understood."

"then i'd get going, if i were you." the man scrambled to his feet and bolted off across the playground, leaving jason to shout after him. "and warn any buddies you might have, too!"

he picked up the discarded knife and pocketed it. he then turned around slowly, hands visibly empty in a careful attempt not to scare the two kids behind him- well, careful not to make it worse, anyway. they, understandably, seemed a little shaken already.

"are you both alright?" he asked softly, slouching just a little to seem as harmless as possible.

probably would have been easier if they hadn't just watched him threaten someone.

the older kid- probably fifteen, if jason had to place a bet- nodded silently before glancing back at the little girl he was still hovering in front of protectively, who was just... staring.

she couldn't have been older than six.

"jazz?" the boy asked, voice tight. "are you hurt?"

he was ignored. "are you superman?"

the question, innocent and earnest and a little timid, made jason laugh. "not quite, kiddo."

she tilted her head like a curious puppy, furrowing her brow. "why are you wearing a jacket?"

jason glanced up at the boy, who seemed comforted by her mini interrogation. good.

talking was a good sign, too, so jason crouched down to meet her at eye level.

"because it gets cold out here!" he said, raising his hands up with a small wiggle of his fingers. "gloves, too."

"well, duh," jazz said with a giggle- a win, jason thought. "no fingerprints."

he nodded. "also helpful."

"and the hat to hide your face!" she said proudly, stepping forward a little to point at his helmet.

"wow, you've got the whole thing figured out, huh?"

"mhm! my friend ricky loves batman and his friends. he talks about batman and nightwing and spoiler and robin and red robin and red hood and batgirl all the time! they hide their faces like you, ricky thinks it's because of bad guys."

"they're kinda cool, huh?"

"nightwing's my favorite," she said firmly, as though it was something she had considered at great length and was fully prepared to defend.

"not red hood?" jason smacked a hand to his chest in mock hurt, shifting back dramatically. "i'm crushed, truly."

"no, ricky says red hood used to be an alien, but then got bored and now he annoys batman for fun instead. that sounds mean."

...well, okay, maybe he did annoy the big guy for fun a little. "that's an interesting theory, all right."

"ricky's got all kinds of theories. he thinks batman's a robot-" jason snorted- "and that nightwing was like pinochle."

"you mean pinocchio," the boy corrected quietly. "pinochle's what gramma plays."

"pinocchio!" she exlaimed, with a "ch" sound in the middle that made jason smile. "a doll that got turned human. that's how he does all the flips and stuff, he's got magic."

"hm, ricky seems like an interesting guy," jason said thoughtfully, making a big show of rubbing the chin of his helmet. "what do y-"

he was cut off by a loud, insistent meow, and jazz gasping even louder before taking off to the bushes.

"w- hey, don't rush off like that!" he said, shooting up off the ground as the boy sighed.

"there's this cat that she's been taking care of," he explained quietly. "the thing's got attitude for days but i think it's sick or something. jasmine's been bringing it little bits of tuna and chicken, but it's not like we can get it to a vet."

jason hummed. "why do you think it's sick?"

"it's thin, with its eyes all watery and sunk."

"might just be malnourished," he muttered.

"she's been trying to find it a home, y'know."

there was a wink-wink-nudge-nudge quality to the kid's voice that did not go unnoticed.

on one hand, it was good to hear something other than fear from him, but on the other... "what part of the tactical armor makes you think i'm an option?"

"the part where you just stuck around to check on us instead of running after that guy."

okay. maybe the quiet thing hadn't been so bad. the cocky 'amateur psychologist' thing was a little grating.

"you the real red hood?" the kid asked suddenly, shaking jason from his internal grumbling.

"what do you think?"

"i think you just saved our lives, and i wanna know who i'm thanking."

jason turned to him with a flourish. "red hood, baby saver extraordinaire. at your service."

"baby- dude, i'm seventeen!"

okay, so he would have lost his bet. "noted. still a baby, trust me."

"what are you under there, twenty something? whatever, grandpa."

jason chuckled, turning back to watch jasmine pet a small cat under one of the yellow lights littering the park. "you did well, looking out for her with that guy. you got a name?"

he scoffed. "would've been better if i'd kicked him between the legs right when he opened his mouth, instead of letting him get started on the whole 'what're you kids doing out so late?' bit," he muttered darkly, pausing for a moment before answering. "my name's jordan."

"well, jordan, what are you guys doing out so late?"

"mom works nights, and the neighbors were fighting. it was loud enough to wake jazz up, and it wasn't the kind of thing she needed to hear. i figured a trip to see her cat would be less awful than hearing them call each other things i wouldn't even call my friends." the breeze picked up, rustling the trees and catching on jason's jacket. "and then the asshole with the knife decided to make a bad night worse."

"is jazz your sister?"

"yeah, she's a good kid," jordan said, fond and warm. "sorry about the whole ricky thing, though. he's obsessed with those vigilante conspiracy videos and tells her all about them at school."

"no, no, it's fine. i can't wait to tell wing about his new origin story, he'll love that."

jasmine suddenly came bounding back towards them, grabbing their hands and yanking them to follow her. "c'mon, you need to meet cat!"

"you call it cat?"

jordan bristled subtly. "is there a problem with that, red?"

"no, no, it's an appropriate name. just making sure." jason waved his spare hand at his head. "helmet makes me hear things sometimes."

jordan opened his mouth, but his sister plowed right over whatever he was going to say, pulling on jason's hand again. "cat, meet... what's your name?"

"red hood."

"you can't be red hood!" she whirled around, indignantly putting her hands on her hips. "there's already a red hood in gotham. besides, you're not even wearing a hood, so it doesn't fit anyway."

jason turned his head to jordan, who was smiling- a good sign, but probably a bad omen for whatever he was about to say. "she's right, man. it's not a hood."

"tough crowd," jason muttered. "uh... then you can call me, uh-"

"bucket!" jasmine suggested happily, tapping his helmet. "because this looks like a bucket."

if there was one thing vigilantism had taught him, it was that sometimes you actually do need to pick your battles. this...

this was not worth fighting.

"sure, fine, whatever. hi, cat, i'm red bucket." he turned away from the kids- both of whom looked entirely too happy about the whole 'bucket' thing, he thought- and crouched down to finally look at the cat.

it did look a little sick, actually.

it was gray, and thin, and-

and now it was headbutting his knee like it was trying to push him over.

"cat likes you!" jazz cheered.

"sure does," jordan said pointedly. "isn't that interesting?"

jason opened his mouth, but his snarky comment died in his throat when the cat settled down right in front of him and blinked slowly up at him with a sweet tilt to its head.

...shit.

just- shit.

he sighed, standing up and looking back to jordan and his stupid, entirely-too-pleased-with-himself grin. "so, jazz," jason grumbled reluctantly, "where does cat live?"

#citrine writes #i promise i have a plan #jason todd #dc #imagines #dc imagine #dc imagines #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #sigh.

[bopbopstyles]

MUCH TOO MUCH

RATING: R/smut (some sex, some alcohol/drugs, cursing, the usual)

WORD COUNT: 9.7k

CATEGORIES: college!harry, roommate!harry

MASTERLIST | ASK ME QUESTIONS

a/n: this is my entry for my beloved @stellarboystyles​‘s 3 year anniversary challenge!!!!! it was so fun to write these two and i hope you like it! a bit on the shorter side, but delicious all the same. come talk to me about them when you’re done, i want to hear what you think! (also this was named for the song by lennon stella in case u were curious lol)

Currently, he had you pressed against the wall of a house party, his fingers clenched in the hem of your skin-tight crop top, a knee propped between your legs, and his lips attached to your neck. Your hands were threading through his hair, those locks that curled at the ends and you’d always thought about tugging on, and now that you had the chance you weren’t passing it by.

“Fuck, Harry,” you mumbled, your head spinning from the alcohol in your veins and the feeling of Harry this close to you. To be completely honest, you knew what was happening was probably not the best idea. But considering how many cups of jungle juice you’d had and the fact that you were definitely crossed, you frankly couldn’t find a care in the world.

or

Harry and Y/N live together and one night they hook up and things get complicated

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

Harry living with you wasn’t planned. At least, not in the way where you guys were best friends and decided to live together way. More in the way of neither of you had anyone else to live with and had the same price range kind of way. You happened to be at a mutual friend’s party mid-way through your sophomore spring and you’d mentioned in passing that you were looking for a roommate, and Harry’s head had popped up.

Somewhere along the way, though, you’d decided you quite liked living with him.

Even if he was obnoxious sometimes, was absolutely shit at doing chores, and couldn’t properly load the dishwasher.

He had a charm to him, you had to admit. He was good at getting on your good side—texting you when you were on the library and he was just leaving to head over, asking if you wanted anything to snack on. One time, he’d brought you a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos without being asked because he knew you hadn’t eaten in hours and needed your favorite foods.

His charms were what made you overlook the nights that he had people over and you had to listen to the sound of his bed frame hitting the wall, or had to creep into the bathroom in the early hours of the morning before he and whoever he’d brought back woke up, pretending to not even live in your apartment for fear of being embarrassed. Although, you never quite knew what you should be embarrassed about—but you were. Maybe it was because you frequently ended up listening to his sounds and trying not to think about how good he sounded or wondering what it was like to be in bed with him.

But that wasn’t something you would tell anyone, not even your friends who pestered you about what it was like living with Harry. Harry, the party-goer who always had three types of hard liquor in your kitchen but was also your go-to person to edit your papers and help you study for exams. Harry, who was your partner in crime on a night out and on a night in, someone who you could be yourself with no matter the context. It was something you’d never expected from him, but now that you had it, you couldn’t image losing it.

Which was why the current situation you were in was not the best.

Currently, he had you pressed against the wall of a house party, his fingers clenched in the hem of your skin-tight crop top, a knee propped between your legs, and his lips attached to your neck. Your hands were threading through his hair, those locks that curled at the ends and you’d always thought about tugging on, and now that you had the chance you weren’t passing it by.

“Fuck, Harry,” you mumbled, your head spinning from the alcohol in your veins and the feeling of Harry this close to you. To be completely honest, you knew what was happening was probably not the best idea. But considering how many cups of jungle juice you’d had and the fact that you were definitely crossed, you frankly couldn’t find a care in the world.

Besides, it wasn’t like you hadn’t literally dreamed of this happening. In fact, you wanted this with every fiber of your being. You just didn’t have your brain stopping you now.

His tongue danced up the column of your neck, dipping into the crevice under your ear and his lips formed a circle on your skin and pulled gently, your fingers tugging on the strands of his hair. Your heart was beating wildly and so was his—you could feel it against your body—or maybe that was the thrum of the bass? You weren’t sure. When he tugged on your earlobe you wrapped your hands in the bottom of his graphic t-shirt, some random streetwear company that he was obsessed with lately and you thought was weird, but didn’t comment on.

One of your legs slid up his, ankle hooking around his knee and pulling his pelvis into yours, and the surprised grunt that left Harry’s mouth made you smile. “Y/N,” he groaned, fingers pressing harder into your skin. “What are you  doing?”

“I’d ask you the same,” you answered, a devilish smile on your lips that Harry kissed away, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip and pulling your jaw down just enough so that he could earn access. It was brutal, kissing him. And not because it was bad, but because it was so good and you’d robbed yourself of this for a year and a half.

Your lips intertwined and fought for dominance, Harry’s sliding between yours and sucking and pulling just enough for you to move closer for more. Your wrists ended up behind his neck, holding him close to you, and you used the pressure to gain an advantage, grinding in his hips and kissing him with a passion burning in your heart.

Harry, meanwhile, was losing his fucking mind. He’d been thinking of this forever, and somehow tonight’s combination of alcohol and weed had led you two here: to a position that neither of your quite knew how it started, but you weren’t stopping it. In fact, Harry caged you in, his hands moving from your body to wall behind you, palms pressed to the worn white paint. He didn’t want to lose you, to lose this moment, to pretend like it never happened. Instead, he wanted to keep you tight against him, to memorize how it felt when the heel of your boots dragged along the inside seam of his denim jeans, the warmth spreading across his neck when you gently scratch at his skin as he suckled on your bottom lip and kissed a line across your jaw. He wanted to remember the sound of your soft breaths in his ears, how they increased in tempo as he sucked a hickey onto your neck, doubling his effort when you didn’t move to stop him. He’d seen you with them before and now that you were his—at least for the night—he wanted to give you one to remember him by.

Not that you could forget him. Not with Some Kind of Drug pounding in the speakers, his hips grinding into yours in the low lighting, his teeth nipping at your skin as you exhaled his name and a curse. He was unforgettable, that Harry Styles. Especially when he had your gripping his skin through his shirt, desperate for something to hold onto as he pushed  you higher and higher into the clouds, your mind a haze of just nothing but him.

Harry pulled away a hair, mainly because he  was getting tired of just having you against a wall with people everywhere—he either wanted to move this into a private space or call this off. Although he didn’t really want the latter, not really. That was only if you didn’t want him. But from the way you stared at him as he created a half foot of distance between you, your chest heaving, lace edge of your bra peeking out from underneath your cropped tank top, he didn’t think that’s what you wanted.

“Do you want to stay or go?” He asked, one of his hands lingering at the wall next to you and the other moving to move a piece of your hair out of your face.

“Go,” you answered, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt. “If—if you want to.”

He didn’t even take a breath before he answered, “Yeah, I want to.”

Which was how you two ended up making out in the Uber back to your apartment, you straddling his lap and twisting over him as he kissed you, his hands cupping your ass. Neither of you were sober enough to think about the fact that you were in someone else’s car, but then again, neither of you would probably care. Especially when you sucked on the edge of Harry’s jaw and he tugged your hips down on his and groaned low and rough in your ear, the sound making you smile against his skin.

The radio was playing the background, but in the haze you didn’t hear anything, all you could take in was Harry: his touch, his smell, the soft sounds he made as you moved on him, the feeling of his jeans against your tights-clad skin. It was chilly out and you had a thin pair of stockings on, sheer enough for your skin to show through, but enough to give you a bit of protection from the nip of the cold. His hands had already rucked up the edge of your favorite leather skirt, and your bra was poking out of the top of your cropped tank top that was tight over the swell of your breasts.

You were a sight in Harry’s eyes, something he couldn’t get enough of. Even though he lived with you, saw you  in every outfit, especially the ones involving mismatched sweats and tired eyes, he never thought you were anything other than beautiful. Sometimes a bit rough around the edges, but who wasn’t? But now, with you like this, on top of him, he didn’t know if he’d ever seen you quite this gorgeous. This delicious, even though he hated describing people that way. But how else could he describe you when you stared down at him, lips red from his kisses and eyes blazing for him, chest heaving and cleavage demanding his attention. His hands couldn’t stop curving over your legs, smoothing up and down your thighs. It was sin, he decided, how he felt right now, because he couldn’t stop the spiral of thoughts in his brain.

The things he wanted to do to you.

The things he wanted you to do to him.

The things he wanted to see.

The things he wanted you to see.

The things he wanted to hear.

The things he wanted you to hear.

The things he wanted to feel.

The things he wanted you to feel.

It was like a freight train running through his head, all of the images and thoughts and concepts barreling into his thoughts. It made the swirl of your hips over his and the way you curled your  fingers into the thin fabric covering his shoulders particularly hard to resist.

Realistically, the drive to your shared off-campus apartment wasn’t that long, but in your heads, it seemed like ages. Ages of waiting for a bed and privacy, ages of waiting to shed layers and know what endless bare skin looked like.  So when your driver arrived at your building, you pushed open the door, narrowly missing banging your head on the roof of the car.

Harry chuckled as he tumbled out after you, thanking the driver and wrapping his arm around your waist. You  wasted no time before you curled your arm around him and danced your fingers up his opposite side, your lips sucking delicately on the fabric of his t-shirt closest to you. It made Harry’s eyes flutter shut and his breath jump.

Was this what  you were always like? This was the thing about this  situation—you two knew one another, but not like this. You’d never made out in the back of an Uber or made out on your doorstep while one of you fumbled for the keys like you were now, or felt your hands dig into exposed skin and singe of hot breath on your neck. This was new territory, and perhaps if you  both weren’t quite so drunk you would’ve stopped to talk about it.

But instead, Harry was leading you to his bedroom with your legs around his waist and your fingers in his hair, his lips crawling up your throat, walking blindly because he knew the way.

The thing about hooking up with someone you’d been close friends with for over a year was that there wasn’t a layer of awkwardness because you didn’t know the person. Instead, it was a hint of unassuredness whenever clothes started coming off, a hint of awe, but nothing uncomfortable. You’d never felt quite this comfortable with someone, in fact. You’d never trusted someone you hooked up with quite as much as you trusted Harry. And he felt the same way. When you pushed his shirt up his torso and scratched your nails softly down his skin he had never felt so alive, so full of desire.

It was why he fell back on his bed and let you stand between his knees in a desperate attempt to get your clothes off so he could feel your bare skin. He’d been waiting all night to see you—to finally see you—and now that he had you, he didn’t want to let you go.

“They’re tights,” you mumbled against his lips when he tried to pull on the material on your legs, a chuckle leaving your mouth.

“I know,” he replied, smirking. “Not an idiot.”

“Never said you were.” You stepped away, deciding you could do this part by yourself with more ease, and unzipped your leather skirt, the zip down the front meaning it was easy access, and let the material fall to the ground. Harry’s eyes swept up your legs and to the place where the band of your tights dug into your waist, gaze flaming black with desire. Then, you hooked your fingers in the tight band and tugged it down, peeling the thin material off of your skin, hopping on one foot to get them off your feet.

Harry resisted the urge to laugh, and instead reached out to hold you steady, a smile winding onto your face from the action. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you answered, standing up straight in just your purple underwear and your shirt and bra. His hands held fast to your hips, palms curving around your skin and gaze dancing up your body. And when you pulled your tight shirt up and over your heads, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties, his heart about stopped.

You had on a set that didn’t match, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop looking at your breasts—it was cliche, that he loved boobs, but how could he not? Especially when you were breathing this fast and looking at him like that and you were wearing a red bra that barely held you in. How as he supposed to not lose his goddamned mind?

“What?” You asked, stepping back in between his legs, hands falling to his shoulders, sliding up the slope to cup his neck.

“You—you just,” he choked out, the words rough and dry in his mouth. “You’re so gorgeous.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just moved. You kissed him, lips caught between his, and pulled at his shirt, tugging it up until he shifted back to tug it off his body and let it fall to the ground. You stopped thinking, stopped using any sense in your body, and instead just felt. Felt how he made your skin sing and your body thrum with pleasure, how he made the worries at the back of your head fall away with each pass of his hands, focused on the way he kissed across your clavicle and sighed when you harshly gripped his hair. You let yourself drown in those feelings because you knew if you used your head that somehow you would succumb to your fears and lose this moment, and that was the utter last thing you wanted.

Instead, you wanted to drown in him.

And he felt the same way. He fell back onto the duvet and took you with him, flipping you onto your back so that your hair was pressed against the pillowcase, a cheap one from Target he’d brought at the beginning of the year that you’d convinced him was a good color. You looked up at him with awe and temptation in your irises, and Harry took only a minute to rip off his jeans and his t-shirt, leaving his boxers on only because he didn’t want to seem like an asshole. Then, he was back hovering over you, his curls falling into his face, your fingers reaching up to push them back.

A smile drifted across your face and he dropped to his elbows, peppering kisses down your neck and falling back to his knees as he made his way down your body. When he heard a chuckle rip from your throat, he glanced up at you. “Distracted?”

“No,” you said, poking his temple. “Thinking about how when we first met I teased you about how you must fuck girls with your snapback on because you wore it so much.”

Harry hummed a laugh into your chest, dimples peeking out and you thought it was downright adorable. “I was a bit of a whore when we met, huh?”

“Maybe a bit,” you answered, a teasing lilt to your words that Harry knew well. “Don’t worry, you’re only just a bit less of one now. Didn’t lose that title, I don’t think.”

“That’s a bit rude,” he said, sucking harshly at your nipple through your bra. “Bullying me while I’m tryin’ to go down on you.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Couldn’t tell since you hadn’t quite made it there yet.”

You were taunting him like you always did, the alcohol in your veins making it more sexual in nature, and Harry loved it. It made it feel like the two of you, not like something that would be completely forgotten in the morning. “Am I too slow for you?” He asked, scratching gently at your sides and making you squirm as he fell farther down the length of your body. “I was trying to take my time but if you’re impatient, then—“

“Harry, please, fuck, just—“ A gasp fell from parted lips when he finally licked at the hood of your clit, your hands gripping his hair within another breath. Your words were nothing but pants, dry and heaving sounds that filled Harry’s head. He’d heard you through the walls before—it was a college-priced apartment, after all. Thick walls weren’t exactly something that fit in your price range. But hearing you this close, this sharp, the sound this crisp in his ears, it was making his hips rut into the duvet. It was his wet dream actualized, as horrible as that sounded.

Yes, he had wet dreams about you.

Yes, he knew that was probably horrible.

And no, he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it.

Your mind, on the other hand, was blank. Like, literally blank. That was the thing about sex when you were drunk, all the thinking and nerves and walls dropped away and you just let your body feel. There wasn’t that niggling thought at the back of your head that questioned if you looked good like this, you just let go and let your back arch and hips circle and arms quiver. Your hands drifted from the duvet to his hair and then the pillow behind your head, trying to figure out what would hold your grip best as Harry absolutely devoured you.

So far, you hadn’t settled on your favorite thing to hold on to, but his hair was in the running for first place. The sight of his eyes peeking up at yours, an image you only got every once in a while because you could barely keep your eyes open to look at him, was enough to send you spiraling. But you were trying to hold yourself together because you didn’t want this to end. You’d just gotten him like this and you didn’t want the night to be over because who knew what the morning held?

Thankfully, though, your drunk mind didn’t let those disruptive thoughts linger. Instead, they focused on the orgasm rising as he curled his tongue over your panties and then under them, the heat of his breath on your sensitive skin making you moan deeply, his ring-clad fingers pressing into your hips. Harry loved watching you almost as much as he loved tasting you, doing this to you. There was a power in oral sex, Harry couldn’t deny that, and he loved it not because of the power it gave him, but the gratification of making someone else feel good. He loved watching women finish, and you were no different. In fact, you were blowing every woman before you out of the water.

Maybe that was the alcohol talking. He couldn’t tell. But either way, when he sucked on your clit and you squeaked out his name, he didn’t know how he could do this with another person for at least a month or two. Getting you out of his head would be his full-time job for a while, especially while living with you.

Your fingers threaded through his brown curls, eyes fluttering open, mind swirling and trying to focus somehow on the sight below you and the feeling swirling through your body, a tightness spreading up your legs, your toes curling and feet pressing down towards the duvet, scrabbling for something to hold onto. They ended up hooking around Harry’s shoulders, his hands holding your thighs close, as if not worried in the slightest about them getting too tight. Instead, he held you close and your breath came out in short pants, airways drying from not being able to even close your mouth and breathe.

His tongue was just so wet. There wasn’t really a better way to describe it. Oral while you were like this always felt this way—just overwhelming in the most basic sense. It was wet and warm and overwhelming and you never wanted it to end. You didn’t even know how long he was down there, his head tucked between your thighs, alternating between sucking on your clit and licking up and down your slit, poking his tongue into your hole for a second—just long enough to make you groan, deep and unabashed.

“I’m close,” you murmured, words broken and Harry could only understand them because he had heard you talk in the morning after you’d just gotten up and your mind wasn’t quite working yet. He parsed your words together with ease, and the result made him grin, and suck harshly on your clit, before dropping his chin and licking into you with fervor. “Fuck, Harry.”

“That’s it,” he mumbled, words garbled because he didn’t even raise his head to speak, he kept his lips right on your skin which meant the vibrations of his words flowed through your veins.

His fingertips pressed harshly on the outside of your thighs, holding you close, and somehow the combination of the pressure and the heat of his tongue had you tumbling over the edge, your chest rising and falling quickly as you struggled to catch a breath, your orgasm overtaking you. Harry watched as your fingers clenched the duvet, legs tightening and then loosening around his shoulders, before dropping to the bed with a satisfied sigh from your lips.

He could watch you for days.

“Come here,” you said, glancing down at him with a fucked out look on your face, eyes glassy and lips red from chewing on them, your hair a mess from thrashing your head back and forth. He’d never seen you quite like this and he liked the sight.

Liked it a lot, in fact. He moved up your body with ease, the soft skin of his legs rubbing against yours. Once he was at your eye level, you sealed the distance with a kiss that made Harry’s mind fumble for stable ground, desperate for you. When you ran your toes up his calf, though, the soft touch making him moan, he knew he was fucked. “You—need you,” he said, breathless against your lips.

You pushed his underwear down without question, sliding your fingers under the band so you could feel his warm skin under your palms. When he bucked up into you as your nails brushed against his butt cheeks, you smiled against his lips, loving how obvious he was. He didn’t hide anything, pretend like he wasn’t affected. You liked that in a guy. “Condom?” You said, tweaking his skin between your thumb and forefinger.

Harry lifted his head, blinking once. “Yeah—yeah, in the drawer. One sec.” He shifted, rolling off of you so he could do two things. The first was find a condom in the drawer, the second was push down his briefs. Well, technically three things, because after that he rolled the condom on with focus, lip caught between his teeth as you watched, head turned to take in the sight of his side profile.

He was gorgeous. You’d known that for a long while, but seeing him like this, under the glow of the bedside table light and the sweaty curls sticking to his forehead, his chest rising rapidly. You were even attracted to his smattering of chest hair, and especially liked the way his skin purged at his sides. In fact, you reached out and grabbed it gently, drawing his attention back to you.

With one look back at you, he rolled back over you, your legs parting with ease. You wound your fingers through his hair and appreciated that he didn’t ask you questions, that he didn’t try to talk about it because you didn’t want to. You wanted this, it was obvious in how you gazed at him with desire and kneaded at his skin, tugging his pelvis closer and closer. The talk, you thought, would’ve ruined it, made you question it. And you didn’t want to question, you just wanted him.

So when he pushed one of your knees up to your waist and brushed his condom-covered tip over your slit, the skin nudging the hood of your clit, your hips moved without thought. Circled up for him, trying to get the angle for him to slip inside properly. Because you were craving it, feeling him. Needed him in a way you never had before and you didn’t want to linger on it, just wanted it to happen finally.

Harry’s eyes caught on yours, and as if scared of what he found, he looked back down at where your bodies met, before pushing inside. A moan ripped from your throat, fingernails digging into his biceps which you were gripping as he slid in slowly.

“Shit,” you cursed as you felt yourself adjusting to him, “Shit, fuck, shit, Harry.”

“Sorry,” he said, a trace of what you could’ve sworn was a blush creeping across his cheeks. “Good?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, squeezing at his arms. “Go.”

And he did.

Holy fuck did he go.

Harry held nothing back when he fucked you. He found a  rhythm almost immediately, one that had your torso moving up the duvet and your head raising from the pillow and slamming back down again, eyes fluttering shut and then open again when he hit a deep spot. It was hard to describe how good it felt to have him inside of you, but god, it felt divine. Something you’d been missing. And not that it was him you’d been missing, but sex in general, you’d missed it. Missed this feeling of just losing yourself in it, in the movement of bodies and the sounds and the sweat and that feeling of closeness when Harry’s head dropped down to your neck and he thrusted deep inside of you,  an echo of your name on his lips.

Your ankles hooked above his bum, and the impact of his hips on your inner thighs you knew would leave a bruise in the morning and you relished the prospect of it. Of remembering this feeling, of reliving it every time you squatted down. Although the thought of being empty of him was something you were not looking forward to, you were excited about the aftermath on your body.

And Harry was losing his fucking mind as he moved inside of you. Not only because you were squeezing him tight and thought he was going to come within seconds, but because of the way you were wrapped around his body, your hands holding onto his biceps so tightly he was sure there’d be marks tomorrow. It was how your legs sat above his hips, the backs of your heels digging into his ass to make sure he drove into you with a depth and a speed that you needed. Your head tipped back and your mouth was open slightly, tufts of air and moans of pleasure floating from them and through the air, sending sparks down his spine.

When he dropped his head to your neck it was because he missed smelling you, being that close to you. So he lost himself on the column of your neck, leaving mark after mark as he drove into you, as you swallowed him whole—body and mind. This sex was consuming in a way he wasn’t used to and he didn’t think it was the alcohol and the marijuana. He didn’t know why.

Well, he did, but he pretended not to.

Especially when you pulled on his hair and murmured, “Faster, please, H—fuck, please,” in his ear.

Yes, he decided as he sped up and reached a  depth that made both of you choke on air, it was a far better idea to pretend that what he was feeling right now was completely normal.

Usually you liked to be on top, to set the pace and keep control when you hooked up with guys, but right now, Harry was doing so good on his own that the last thing you wanted was to stop him. So you let him set the pace and instead kept yourself busy by touching every inch of his body available. You fingers ran down the length of his arms, across the black tattoos swirling across his skin, and towards his chest, making a line down to his belly. When you scratched softly over his skin he grunted—and not a weird sound, but one that you could tell meant he liked it.

So you pressed a little harder, experimenting a bit.

To your smug joy, Harry’s fingers curled in the duvet next to your stomach, arms tensing, and his eye snapped to yours. He didn’t even have to say anything—you knew. He wanted you to keep going.

And you did. You brushed your hand to the top of his torso and dragged a torturing path downwards, nails biting into his skin. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to leave an angry red trail. Harry was panting above you, eyes fluttering closed as he thrusted into you.

He was close. Your nails mixed with how you squeezed him tight inside of you and the sounds you were making and the slam of the bed against the wall and your perfume lingering in the air—it all mixed together into a dangerous concoction that had him struggling on the edge. “Are you close?” He asked, words rougher than they had been when he last spoke.

When your chin tipped down ever so slightly, Harry smiled devilishly, the prospect of bringing you over the edge again spurring him on, a second surge of energy coursing through his veins. Any exhaustion he had been feeling before from lingering in the same position, any ache in his knees or tightness in his arms was gone, in favor of pressing your knees farther up towards your chest, earning a new angle that had your hands scrambling up his arms and nails digging into his shoulders.

He hissed at the touch and you panted the word Yes over and over again, eyes screwed shut as the orgasm built inside of you like a tidal wave, threatening to break as he twisted his hips a particular way. You were going to come, you realized only seconds before it happened, the depth Harry was reaching and the brutal pace against your hips creating a deadly combination.

As you did, a shudder of his name falling through the room, you squeezed Harry like a death grip and he choked out a moan before coming mere seconds after, unable to hold himself back any longer.

“Shit,” he said, leaning against your shins as he caught his breath. Your legs were still propped up against your chest, his hands caging in your body as he leaned his weight onto you.

Your eyes opened, the soft bedroom light seeming brighter after what had just happened. “Shit,” you answered simply, not knowing what else to say.

What did you say to your roommate after you fucked them, anyway? The alcohol still lingered, both of you plenty tipsy still. It was enough for your legs to drop open and happily let Harry kiss you senseless as he withdrew from inside of you, your hand cupping his jaw. His lips were fucking sin and you hoped you would be able to forget them. Because as he pulled away and mumbled about throwing away the condom, leaving you breathless on his duvet, you didn’t know if you’d be able to.

Harry woke up to an empty bed and a throbbing headache. He was still naked, but that wasn’t unusual considering he favored sleeping naked, and his duvet cover was around his waist. The side of the bed you had been asleep in when he’d shut his eyes was bare, the duvet cover askew from seemed to be you leaving.

He rolled over and picked up his phone, cursing at the low battery from not charging it last night. Then, he sat up in bed, letting the sheets pool at his waist and rubbed his eyes, trying to wake them up. His eyes were dry, probably from the weed, and his throat was dry, probably from the alcohol and the sex.

The sex.

His mind flipped through it in a series of images, like a slideshow on double time, the sight of you naked below him filling his brain. The thing about drunk sex was that you could remember the overall experience, the general highlights, certain specific moments, but it wasn’t like you could pick through it and remember each detail. But Harry didn’t even need the details to know it was fucking incredible.

Fucking you was literally a dream come true.

What wasn’t was the other half of the bed being empty, especially considering it was only eight AM.

He listened to the apartment, trying to decipher if he could hear you moving around. Usually he could hear your footfalls, considering how small and cheap the place was. But it was silent, meaning either you were still asleep or you weren’t home. Most likely it was the former, since it was still early and you usually slept late after a night out.

Although he didn’t know how you were the night after sex. And when had you gotten up from his bed?

More importantly, why had you gotten up from his bed?

Logically, he knew it was probably to avoid a weird interaction, but it was more weird for him to wake up alone and not know why. To not know how you wanted to handle this. Because his sober mind was increasingly realizing that although last night’s events were sensational, they were on the whole an utterly horrible idea.

The two of you lived together, for Pete’s sake. You were practically best friends. You still had half a year worth of a lease.

He groaned, his chin dropping to his chest as he took a deep breath. He could do this, he told himself as he kicked back the covers and slid his legs out of the bed. He could handle this.

So he put his phone on its charger, slipped on a pair of joggers, and went to find you.

What Harry didn’t know was that in the next room, you were wide awake. You had tried to fall back asleep after you’d crept out of his bed at six AM, and you had for a while. But then you woke up and the reality of last night came crashing back through your brain and you groaned, reminding yourself how fucking stupid you were.

Sure, Harry was hot.

That didn’t mean you had to fuck him, you idiot, you told yourself. He was your roommate, your friend. Not someone to sleep with. And yet, here you were, your thighs sore from his hips crashing against them and your body smelling like sex and his cologne.

You heard his door open—it was a small apartment after all—and your heart stopped for a second. You waited for the sound of his footsteps, praying he would just walk to the kitchen and not stop at your room. Listening closely, you heard him pause outside your room and then continue into the kitchen, where you heard the refrigerator open and close and then the kettle humming as he started a cup of tea. A part of you sighed, but the other part of you remembered that you had to see him eventually.

Why were you hiding, anyway?

It wasn’t like you could avoid him, and what did you have to avoid him about? Sure, you’d seen his naked body, sure he’d seen yours, sure you’d had mind blowing sex. That didn’t mean anything.

Right?

“Shit,” you groaned softly into your pillow and decided you would stay in your room until the last possible second. You never said you weren’t a coward.

Unfortunately, an hour later the desire to pee was overwhelming you and you couldn’t wait any longer. So you huffed out a sigh, threw on a pair of pajamas and pushed open your door, taking a tentative step into the hallway, trying to gauge where in the house Harry was. You’d lost track of him during a scroll through Instagram and couldn’t quite place him anymore and it was making you nervous.

Then, you heard the floorboards creak.

Your head whirled to the side, your eyes meeting his. He was standing not two feet away, looking at you with messy hair and wide eyes, a cup of tea clutched in one hand. “Hi,” you managed to say. “Bathroom.”

All he did was nod. He nodded as if this entire situation was somehow normal and completely not fucking with both of your brains.

So you strolled down the hall to the bathroom and shut yourself inside. If he wanted to pretend like this was normal, you could do that, you decided. You’d give him normal.

For the next two weeks, that was exactly what you did. You were the picture of normalcy—you pretended like nothing had happened, just made jokes in the kitchen and joined him for study hours and brought home takeaway for the two of you on Thursday night as usual. However, you couldn’t ignore how things had changed between the two of you. There was this…air between you. Charged with sexual tension that you couldn’t ignore, mixed with a hint of awkwardness and uncertainty that had you both on edge. Gone were the playful squeezes to your sides and you swatting him upside the head when he was annoying. Gone was any unexpected touch, in fact. It was like the Cold War in your apartment, a détente on both sides.

It was excruciating. So much so that you’d found yourself wondering if you needed to move out, which was a stupid idea considering it was mid-way through the year and you adored your apartment. It would also probably be more awkward to break the lease agreement than keep it, you decided.

So instead, you stayed, and you pushed through the uncomfortable moments and spent more time in your room than ever before, the living room a space you avoided unless you had to be there. Harry did the same, a look of almost panic on his face whenever you walked into the kitchen in the morning for breakfast. Was the idea of being in close quarters with you really that horrible sounding?

Apparently, it was.

Two weeks after the night of your greatest mistake, the two of you ended up meeting up with your friends. In fact, the exact same set of friends who you’d been with at the house party two weeks prior. You’d ended up walking over to Mariah’s apartment together, a case of Whiteclaws tucked under Harry’s arm. You were rambling about your art history course and he was nodding along, offering the occasional thought. It felt decently normal, and you were hoping it would last through the night.

At first, it did. But then, more and more people started showing up—some people in the debate club with Mariah, a few from the club soccer team with James, the entirety of Lilah’s a cappella group, and then some people you and Harry had each invited. The result was a packed apartment, the music blaring from a portable speaker, and alcohol bottles and plastic cups littering every surface. There was the faint smell of marijuana from when some people went to smoke in Mariah’s room, and it felt comfortable.

You were talking in a group of yourself, two of your friends from a summer internship you’d had, Harry, and Wei, a guy Harry knew from freshman year who had stayed close with. It took everything in your body not to let your gaze linger on Harry, the cut of his dark green t-shirt close to his body and his black skinny jeans gripping his thighs. His hair was a mess, as it always was when he’d had a couple drinks because he ran his hands through it nonstop. His green eyes were sparkling as he listened to a story Wei was telling, his full body laugh sounding in your ears. It was torture being this close to him and there being a wall between the two of you.

“Hey,” your friend Deliah said, her soft voice pulling your attention back to her. “You and Harry okay?”

She hadn’t been there two weeks ago and you hadn’t told her about what had happened. “Yeah, we’re fine,” you told her with a slight nod.

She studied you for a beat longer, but then seemed to accept the response. “I’m going to go get another, you want anything?”

“No, go ahead,” you answered, raising your still half-full glass.

Ronnie, who stood next to you, said she’d go along and then Wei pulled away and followed them, saying he needed another beer and wanted to find one of his friends and say hello, and suddenly, it was just you and Harry. You and Harry and both of you were fairly drunk and you couldn’t stop looking at his lips. The memory of how they felt against yours pushing its way into your brain and suddenly overtaking your every thought.

What was worse was how he was looking at you. He was watching you, something you knew because you knew him, knew what every one of his glances meant. This one was backed by thoughts, it was the result of him thinking about you and watching your face for something. What, you didn’t know. But you couldn’t take the way his eyes were trained on your expression, the feeling of his gaze on your skin. The distance between you felt like it was shrinking and you felt like you could smell his cologne even though in reality you couldn’t, and you wondered if your heart was pounding in your chest because of the alcohol in your bloodstream or him.

You couldn’t stand there next to him, you decided. You simply couldn’t.

“I’m going to get some air,” you said, pushing yourself off the wall. “Back in a second.”

He may have said something, but you were gone before you could hear it, threading through the crowd towards the patio door. It was a tiny patio, just enough space for a set of chairs and a narrow table, but it was enough. It was empty and the music was quieter as you shut the sliding door.

You could breathe out here, and you did, resting your cup on the railing and looking out at the street. Mariah’s apartment was nestled closer to campus, a bit more of an expensive place thanks to her parents and a high-paying summer internship. Distantly you heard the chatter of people walking on the street towards frat row, the honk of what were probably Ubers picking people up and dropping them off at parties.

Slowly, you inhaled, trying to calm the fast beat of your heart. Your thoughts drifted back to Harry, though, and how you had just looked at one another, had studied each other, both knowing that you couldn’t continue you like this. Something had to give and you didn’t know what it was. You didn’t know what to do. Mariah had tried to talk to you about it, but you’d pretended like it was fine because you didn’t want her meddling. You knew she would try to talk to Harry and then it would become some big thing for all of your friends to know about, and you didn’t want that. You just wanted it to be solved and done and over with. You didn’t want all of these feelings in your chest or these thoughts in your head, you didn’t want to think about this anymore.

You didn’t want to think about him. You didn’t want to think about how good he’d felt, about how you wished it could happen again, about how you’d had fucking dreams about him, about how every time you heard his voice it sent shivers through your body because it reminded you of the way he’d said your name, rough and deep and rumbling in his chest.

And then you heard it: your name, in that rough and deep voice. “Y/N.”

“I want to be alone for a bit,” you said, not even turning to face him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, obviously ignoring your words and instead shutting the sliding door behind him.

It was quiet now, and because the balcony was narrow he ended up standing right next to you, his elbow mere inches from yours as he leaned on the railing. “Nothing,” you said with a sigh, the lie bitter on your tongue. “Nothing’s wrong, Harry.”

At first, he didn’t say anything, just let your words float in the slight breeze. But then, you heard the crinkle of his thumb pressing into his cup and you knew he was fidgeting, thinking about something, and you knew he was going to break that silence. “Did I mess everything up?” He asked, so soft you barely heard it over the music from inside.

That make you turn your head, eyes meeting his finally. “It’s not your fault. I was there too, we both are responsible.”

“Then, did we mess everything up?”

You sighed, searching for the words. “I don’t think we messed everything up,” you told him finally. “But I don’t know if it can be like it was before.”

“Do you want it to be like it was before?”

His words made your heart jolt. “When we were friends?”

“Aren’t we still friends?” His words were so soft, so full of emotion, you wondered if this was the kind of conversation to be having right now.

“Yes,” you answered. “But…”

“Nothing more,” he finished. You nodded, and both of you were silent for a beat, letting the truth settle between you two. It was the first time you’d even acknowledged that anything had happened. “I don’t want…”

You turned to look at him and saw his tight his jaw was set, how his eyes were trained on the street in front of the building. How he could barely look at you. “H?”

When he turned to meet your gaze, his eyes were glassy, and you realized he was nearly crying. “I don’t want to go back to how it was before,” he said, words broken in his throat. “I want…I want more.”

That made your mind grind to a halt. “You—what?”

“Please don’t make me say it again,” he whispered.

You realized he didn’t know. He didn’t know how much you felt for him, how much the night you’d spent together had absolutely destroyed any semblance of an ability to pretend like you weren’t into him, that you hadn’t had a crush on him for ages. He had no fucking clue. “Harry,” you said, reaching out and brushing your fingers along his forearm, “I want the same thing.”

His eyes widened, gaze falling to where your fingers touched his skin and back up to your eyes. “You do?” You nodded, a smile spreading across your face that he quickly mirrored. “Have we been absolute idiots?” He asked, turning on his heal so you were facing one another fully. Then, he reached up and ran his forefinger across your jawline, a shudder running through your body at the feeling of his fingers on your skin.

“I think we might have been,” you answered, ducking your head ever so slightly so that his finger ran up to your mouth, brushing across your bottom lip.

He cleared his throat when you dropped your jaw ever so slightly, just enough for his finger to press in-between your lips, a ghost of a touch. “Can’t even think when you’re looking at me like that,” he mumbled, words that same roughness you remembered from your night together.

“Right back at you,” you told him.

He stepped closer to you, closing the distance. “We’re such idiots,” he murmured, hand moving to cup your jaw, his fingers brushing under your ear.

“Such idiots,” you agreed.

And slowly, he closed the space between you two, his lips brushing yours hesitantly. But the second you felt his mouth slot between yours, you moved closer, pressing your body against his and your arms winding around his waist to hold him close. His other hand brushed down your side and the grip made your skin sing, finally being close to him was everything you needed. It healed the ache in your heart that had lingered ever since that morning, that morning when everything had gone so wrong.

His lips parted and he pulled away ever so slightly, just enough so your foreheads stayed touching.

“Why’d you leave?” He asked, his breath on your lips.

“I got scared you would regret it in the morning,” you replied. “I didn’t want to be there when you did.”

He chuckled softly, a slight shake of his head. “I didn’t regret it,” he told you. “I thought you did.”

“I’m so stupid,” you said, one of your hands moving from his back to encircle his wrist that held your face. “I’m sorry for leaving.”

“It’s okay.” He pressed his lips to your nose so sweetly your knees just about gave out. “Got you in the end, right?”

You hummed an affirmation and leaned up so that your lips could reconnect, kissing him with a passion you’d been seeking for two weeks. And when he kissed you back, the tips of his hair brushing your skin and his fingers pressing against your skin, you sighed, finally feeling settled once again. You’d missed this—him, being this close to him. Somehow, that one night had made you permanently miss him.

He’d truly done a number on you.

“Wanna go home?” You asked between kisses, loving the soft moan that feel from his throat at the thought.

“As long as I wake up to you still next to me,” he replied.

“Promise,” you said, kissing him once more. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The two of you ended up keeping the apartment for the rest of the year, your stuff slowly ending up in his room because the mattress was more comfortable, and eventually your old room became a shared study room. It was where your desks ended up and you’d study there together in the evenings or marathon study sessions on the weekends, music playing from a speaker between you two. Most of the time, you ended up making out, though, and occasionally having sex on one of your desks or on the floor because frankly you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. The sexual tension that had been there that first night had lingered, and it made it so you two truly couldn’t stop touching each other.

It drove your friends crazy, all of them yelling at you whenever you started making out at parties, reminding you that you were in public and you could hold off until you were home, thank you very much. And Harry just would kiss your temple and whisper in your ear about what he wanted to do to you later, and you’d pinch his bum to remind him that he wasn’t the only one with tricks up his sleeves.

Harry had never fallen in love with someone so fast, but with you it was easy. You had been one of his favorite people before you’d started dating, but now it was like you were truly the most incredible people in the world. He’d wake up with you snuggled into his chest, hair tickling his nose, and he’d get a kiss before you left bed since your class schedules started at the same time most days. You’d make his tea just like he liked it and rubbed his back when he got sick after a big night out, and when you laughed at one of his corny jokes your entire face would light up, a beaming smile that made his whole body ache. You were so gorgeous is physically hurt sometimes because he couldn’t stop staring at you, absorbing just how fucking perfect you were.

It was funny, because dating you wasn’t all that different from being your friend. He still got all the shared dinners and movie nights and hilarious stories the morning after a night out, but now he got to hear them while cuddling you on the couch, your head tucked against his neck. And when you teased him about how much of a boy he was (his snapback was your favorite target) you’d kiss him to make him stop pouting. But he was happy. He was so fucking happy with you.

He was thinking about all of that while you sat on the couch together, his head lying in your lap as you read a book for class, your fingers running through his hair absentmindedly. He was watching you, something he did often and you’d grown used to, and suddenly the overwhelming desire to finally tell you how he felt hit him like a truck.

And unlike previous attempts, he couldn’t stop himself.

“I love you,” he said, the words so simple and sure that they made you stop reading and look down at him.

“What?”

“I love you,” he repeated, drawing out the last word and tucking his face into your stomach, peppering kisses over your shirt. For some reason, he wasn’t nervous, knowing you’d say it or not and either way it was okay—he wasn’t expecting you to necessarily be ready. He just couldn’t hide it anymore.

He knew your mind was turning but he just kept kissing you, knowing the action would calm your anxious thoughts. “I love you too,” you finally said after a beat, and he looked up at you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you idiot,” you answered, setting your book down on the couch and smiling at him. “Wasn’t expecting to tell you quite like this, though.”

“How were you planning to tell me?”

You shrugged, rubbing a circle on his forehead. “Dunno. Something more monumental, I guess? I know you like all those romance movies, so I thought maybe something like in one of those.”

He adored the fact that you wanted to make it special, that you’d thought about it, but he just shook his head at you. “I don’t need it to be monumental,” he told you, brushing his fingers along your chin. “This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Shut up.”

“Never,” he said, sitting up and grabbing your hips, swinging you onto his lap with your laughter raining down on him. “Never going to stop telling you how perfect you are.”

He hooked his fingers on your neck and pulled you in for a kiss, one of those ones that made your thoughts all mushy and his heart pound in his chest because sometimes the way he felt about you just made his whole body go silent except for his heart. Or, at least it felt that way.

“Love you,” he mumbled against your lips, eyes catching yours.

“Love you more,” you replied, kissing his nose softly.

“Are we going to be one of those couples that is constantly competing over who loves the other person more?” He asked, nestling his head in the space between your shoulder and neck, settling there as your fingers swept through his hair. You wrapped around him like this was his favorite place to be.

“Probably,” you answered simply, a tender kiss to the side of his head. “Now, does this mean you’ll make dinner tonight? I’ve got a paper to edit.”

He laughed into your shoulder, picking his head up to look at you. “You make it sound like I don’t make dinner practically every night.”

You shrugged, a playful smile on your face. “You’re just better at it.”

“False, but I’ll take the compliment.”

“God, your ego has got to be massive now,” you mumbled, and he laughed, smile stretching across his face and dimples poking out.

“Alright, go start on your essay and I’ll cook something for us. Sound good?”

You beamed at him. “Perfect.” You bounced off his lap, grabbing your book and heading for your old room. “Love you!”

The words were called over your shoulder and Harry smiled at how perfect they sounded on your lips, how easy it was to answer back simply, “Love you more,” at your receding figure, the thought gracing his mind at how he’d like to be saying those words to you for a very, very long time.

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