#organic forms and patterns

[imagella-blog]

Learning Through Easter Coloring Pages

Yoga instructors can incorporate our easter coloring pages into their wellness programs, offering a creative outlet for participants. These coloring pages can be used before or after yoga sessions to enhance relaxation and mindfulness. Perfect for yoga retreats, workshops, and classes, our easter coloring pages provide a calming activity that complements the meditative and therapeutic aspects of yoga, promoting overall well-being.

[gigivas]

Lila Marigold - Geometric Glam: Vibrant Vision

E06 Single image prompts: for stable diffusion series + Midjourney 6 + DALL·E 3

Prompts Reference Stable Diffusion series POSITIVE PROMPTS (Copy the following)A young woman in an orange dress with a blue sash and gold necklace, styled with a blue headband, portrayed in a modern, contemporary portraiture with vibrant colors and geometric shapes, emphasizing elegance and detailed realism. NEGATIVE PROMPTS (Copy the following)retro, traditional, simple, plain, abstract,…

[mogai-sunflowers]

this will be a bit of a long post but i ask that you please please read the full thing if you want to know more about Sudan- i feel like not enough people ACTUALLY know what's going on in Sudan. a lot of people have a vague idea that a 'war' and genocide is going on, but it's important to know the specifics as well.

there is extremely little coverage of Sudan from non-Sudanese sources, and even those that DO cover it often paint it as a war between two different generals for power over a country- and to a certain extent, without context, that IS what's happening. for those unaware, the two 'warring factions' in Sudan are the official Sudanese military- the SAF (Sudanese Armed Forces) and the RSF (Rapid Support Forces).

in April 2019, during the Sudanese Revolution, Islamist dictator Omar al-Bashir was deposed by the SAF in response to a mass wave of revolutionary organizing, protests, and sit-ins. Immediately after, the TMC (Transitionary Military Council) was established, with SAF general inspector Abdel Fattah al-Burhan being appointed as the chairman. for a brief time, protestors engaged in negotiations with Burhan, and many believed that he was being ernest in his promises of a true civilian democratic government- but it soon became clear to protestors that he was not actually taking their demands seriously, so demonstrations once again intensified. on June 3, 2019, it was under Burhan's command that the Khartoum Massacre was committed, killing 118 protestors while they were participating in a sit-in at the military headquarters in Khartoum.

as the next few months went by, agreements came about to dissolve the TMC and form a Transitional Sovereignty Council based on a draft of a constitutional declaration. it was supposed to be that a military official would be the chairman for 21 months, then transitioning to a civilian chairman for the next 18 months- but Burhan staged a coup in October of 2021, and dissolved the council and effectively turned the Sudanese government back into a military junta, which was the cause of further protesting.

i want to emphasize the crimes and horrors of the SAF because they are often forgotten in these discussions due to the absolute atrocities committed by the RSF. there is no good guy here- both the SAF and the RSF are vying for dictatorial power. so let's talk about the RSF.

headed by genocidal war criminal Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known more widely as "Hemedti", the RSF formed around 2014 due to reorginization of the Janjaweed militias- which were the militias that formed across the Darfuri regions of southwestern Sudan to suppress demonstrations against Bashir's oppressive and racist regime which carried out the first genocide of Massalit and other ethnically non-Arab peoples across Darfur in the early 2000s. so to be succinct- the RSF has direct roots in dictatorial suppression of Sudanis protesting against ethnic cleansing, genocide, and oppression.

for around a decade, the RSF and SAF were different factions of the Sudanese military- both have their roots and a pattern of supporting dictatorial violence and anti-Black genocide. and, on April 15, 2023, these two dictatorial Arab-colonialist powers began fighting out of the blue. fighting has been most intense around Khartoum, the central state and capital city of Sudan, where now an estimated 35% of its residents have been forced to flee, with the rest trapped in the middle of an active war zone.

the RSF has been actively continuing the genocide of non-Arab Darfuri Sudanis that its predecessor the Janjaweed committed 20 years prior. they have been consistently launching attacks against Massalit villages in Darfur and El Geneina. Recently, they have completely ethnically cleansed several Massalit villages, killing hundreds in each one of them. in addition, they are committing so many other war crimes, like sexual violence, blocking access to humanitarian aid, occupying civilian homes and kicking the residents out, along with blatant ethnic cleansing campaigns, mass murder, and targeting of civilians.

but don't think that this is a 'civil war' as many are calling it. a civil war is an internal dispute, but this is far from that. both the SAF and the RSF are supported by external powers, namely the UAE, Saudi Arabia, and Russia, who all provide funding to these groups IN EXCHANGE FOR SUDANESE RESOURCES LIKE GOLD AND OIL. this is, ultimately, not just some random war between two different military groups- it is a war funded by and for foreign colonial powers who have a vested interest in colonizing Sudan for its resources. as an example- the UAE's- and especially Dubai's- infamous gold and jewelry industry, is only made possible by the fact that the UAE illegally smuggles 80% of Sudan's gold- they fund this by sending weapons AND SOLDIERS to the RSF. Several of the gold mines in Sudan are owned and operated by the Russian government.

all of this, both the 'internal' AND the external, colonial aspects of this war and genocide, has led to the world's current WORST humanitarian crisis. not only do LOW estimates place the total murdered in the past year at 150,000, but out of Sudan's population of nearly 47 million, over half (25 million) are in severe need of humanitarian aid, and of those 25 million, over half are children. fighting between the RSF and SAF has lead to severe blockage of aid, and the UN's initial proposed budget of $1.5 billion in April of 2023 has not only not increased to accommodate the severe worsening of the crisis, but ALSO has not even been funded 20%.

2.5 MILLION PEOPLE ARE EXPECTED TO STARVE TO DEATH IN SUDAN BY THIS FUCKING SEPTEMBER. THAT IS LESS THAN 2 MONTHS AWAY.

additionally, due to both western colonization and the Sudanese governments' deliberate cutting of internet access across the entirety of Sudan, there is a huge lack of the proper infrastructure for generating awareness and spreading videos and info from on the ground in Sudan. this means that not only are people unable to effectively crowdfund support to leave, but they are also barred from accessing social media to spread awareness, and they're unable to contact loved ones outside of Sudan most of the time.

also, Sudan is HUGE- in order for displaced people to escape fighting, they usually have to walk, on foot, for hundreds of miles, often across literal deserts, with extremely little access to water. there has also been a surge of internally displaced people dying due to illness and scorpion stings in displacement camps. 70% of Sudan's hospitals have stopped functioning entirely. and even if they DO make it to a neighboring country, most of the options there are just as bad, if not worse- Egypt is extremely anti-Black, and doesn't allow work permits to most Black refugees, meaning they are relegated to being houseless and jobless if they go to Egypt- and westward in Chad, there is also crisis with food and resources, so the government of Chad quite literally can not materially support anymore Sudanese refugees. In South Sudan, there is also conflict, war, and crisis, and in Ethiopia, where the genocide is taking place in Tigray, the government is extremely hostile to Sudanese refugees. there are currently more than 6,000 Sudanese refugees stranded in the forests because of the hostilities they faced while in UNHCR camps.

and everyday that we're not doing something, this genocide, war, and humanitarian crisis is getting worse. doing something starts with being educated. i urge y'all to look more into this, don't just take what i'm saying and roll with it- truly learn and listen to Sudanese activists on this. i highly recommend following these accounts on Instagram:

@/red_maat , @/bsonblast , @/sudansolidaritycollective, @/forsudaneseliberation, @/darfurwomenaction, @/liberatesudan, @/zzeirra, @/yousraelbagir, @/modathirzainalabdeen, @/sdn.world, @/nasalsudan, @/sudanuntold, @/kandakamagazine, and @/almigdadhassan0

IF ANYTHING I'VE SAID IS INACCURATE, PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

i'd like to spread this post for some education. could you reblog this @decolonize-the-left @incorrectmadrigalfamilyquotes @homoidiotic @heritageposts @el-shab-hussein

@fairuzfan @palipunk @silicacid @sissa-arrows @apollos-olives @

@northgazaupdates @our-queer-experience @intersexfairy @genderqueerdykes

[nightingale-prompts]

Lay Me to Rest- DCxDP Prompt

Warning: Blood and gore

There has been a series of murders across the country. Each death was varied and self-inflicted. At first, they all seemed like suicide but each had a strange range of symptoms before death.

Sudden paranoia, incoherent mumbling, screaming or yelling, going in and out of their homes sporadically, random fixations, and finally self-harm.

The victims were teachers, parents, businessmen, truckers, and even a crime novelist. All unrelated and in different states.

Each victim didn't seem to have a connection until an investigation discovered that each one had been an active serial killer. The body counts ranged from as little as 5 to as much as 23. The killer was named the Serial Serial Killer which wasn't creative but it was catchy. Some called them the Angel of Vengeance but most thought it was cringy and overdramatic. Many people didn't want them to be caught but others hotly debated letting a killer dispense justice when their crusade could easily turn into them killing people for innocuous things.

The police were still questioning whether this killer even existed. One thing was clear, there was a trail and it led straight to Gotham. A goldmine for them. Naturally, Batman had gotten a hold on the case and began an investigation.

The biggest question was how the killer found their victims and how they knew that they were killers.

The answer was obvious. They didn't need to figure it out. They just needed to wait. Why just in the effort to investigate when a serial killer tries to convince you to leave with them? So bars are the obvious place. But that's shaky at best since there is a period of torment that takes place that allows the victims to return home. The killer doesn't care if the victims could call the police, perhaps because they know their victim won't.

Bruce started to build a profile. He saw a pattern here. Each of the victims had a preference for their victims as well. They targeted young people, mainly boys. Odds are the Serial Serial Killer matched that description or age range. So bars weren't the hunting ground. So parks were more likely to go unnoticed and boys tended to hang out there longer after dark.

The killer was more than likely a victim himself so he may have a few scars but probably not noticeable enough that his would-be assailants would be turned off. There is no ignoring the predatory nature of the victims. Each killed children for gratification in some form. It's not that the boy is attractive but he probably has traits that the victims found attractive in children. So babyfaced, short, native, and polite.

There was much else Bruce could get. There was nothing concrete and he still didn't understand the method that was used. So far this was guesswork.

It wasn't until a few weeks later while he tracking another killer that he found his answer.

Dr.Kinder a Biologist by day and a killer who experiments on his victims at night had picked up a promising new lab rat a week ago. He had intended to slowly dissect the boy. He had gotten so used to the screams he stopped using anesthetics besides he wanted to see how the fear response caused the organs to shift.

To his surprise the boy didn't fight, in fact he seemed to jump to the table and say he didn't need restraints. Disturbing. But he was restrained anyways.

As the doctor cut him open the boy didn't react, only humming to himself as he watched the doctor.

"What are you hoping to find?" He asked. "I'm getting bored and this bearly hurts."

The boy annoyingly never stopped talking and never missed a chance to ruin the moment. There were never any screams or cries but incessant talking.

Dr.Kinder found the boy disturbing so he simply took an axe and chopped the boy into pieces. Not once did he make a sound. The doctor thought it was over but the next day the boy was back. He sat on the autopsy table kicking his feet in nothing but his bare skin.

"What the hell are you?" The doctor gasped in horror.

"I'm bored. Play with me again." The boy purred.

Bile crawled up his throat as the doctor restained this...thing again.

This time the boy spoke differently.

"You cut me up last time. Did you do that to the last boy. After you...you know." A sick grin spread across his cheeks.

The doctor cut open his neck this time and let him bleed out.

Everyday he came back and every day the doctor killed him until the time between his death got shorter and shorter. The days began to blur and he had no idea how long he had been doing this. But that thing kept talkimg to him.

Dr.Kinder stared down at his desk at the papers trying to think of anything but-

"I wonder what people would think about what you've done. You're a disgusting and depraved man doctor. Look at what you've done to me." The sing-song voice of that demon called out.

He could feel those blood-soaked arms wrapped around his neck.

He flinch as he pushed the thing away.

"Oh, are you going to beat me or stab me this time? Ooo, or are you going to put me through the woodchipper again?" The demon asked as the doctor wrapped his hands around his throat.

He just kept squeezing until the boy went limp. It never ends. The blood never goes away. It covered every surface of the room. Dripping, conjugating, and spreading into every corner. Whenever he turned his head he could see body parts spread across the room in the pools of blood he could they the faces of the others that he had killed. Each face wretched in agony.

"You hold on better than the others. I've been eaten, torched, and disemboweled before but after coming back a few times they usually end it after a few words. But every time they don't feel guilt. They just don't want to face consequences." The boy said. "Do you even remember my name? The one I told you when you picked me up on the side of the road or was I just another body to use and discard? I used the name of your first victim. I hoped you'd notice."

The doctor knew he couldn't kill the boy but he could end himself. He had tried it once but just like the kid he came back without a scratch.

"Not yet. This is your life now. Come on, let's taste death together. Again and again and again and again and-" he repeated over and over.

This was hell. This was his hell.

But it came to an end eventually. Dr.Kinder put an end to himself in a gruesome display.

Batman had only caught the tail end as he faced a young boy standing an a pool of blood.

****

"Yeah, that thing is like a worse version of a revenant. Doesn't really have a name yet to describe it. It's undead for sure. You kill it and it just comes back." Constantine said "Why did you bring it here?"

After a long bath and some new clothes, the kid looked normal as played on a phone given to him.

"Look, I didn't know what else to do." Bruce explained.

"You leave it alone!" Constantine said exasperated "Look they are harmless to anything they don't bear a grudge towards. Think of it as a force of nature." Constantine said.

"I just want to know how to stop him." Bruce said.

"Well you can't kill it but you can't bring him back entirely. You can just soothe it 'till it stops targeting its victims. It must have died pretty gruesomely to go to these lengths. You need to find where it died and lay it to rest. Properly." Constantine sighed knowing that appeasing this soul would be more than just difficult.

"Danny, come on. Let's go." Bruced said putting a hand on the boy's head as Danny stood up to leave.

"Okay. Bye!" Danny waved to Constantine.

[flux1563]

Unforgettable Kidnapping ft Karina

Words : 9k

Tags : first time squirting, first time BBC

Karina stepped out of her apartment into the dimly lit hallway, her heels clicking rhythmically against the cold, tiles. She was a creature of habit, meticulous in her routines. The scent of last night's dinner lingered faintly in the corridor, hinting at the lives hidden behind the doors she passed. Her neighbor, a towering figure of a man, lived in apartment 3B. She had never seen his face clearly, just the outline of his massive form as he moved behind his half-closed door or the shadow he cast when passing by. His very presence was a constant reminder of the vastness of the world, a stark contrast to the confined space of their shared floor.

The neighbor, Mr. Y/n, was a mystery to her. His deep, rumbling voice echoed through the walls at odd hours, but he was always polite when they did cross paths, his eyes never meeting hers. His hand, the one time she had shaken it, was like a glove enveloping her own. It was a hand that could easily crush her, and she had felt the strength in his grip. His skin was dark as midnight, a stark contrast to the pale walls, and his height made the ceiling seem lower, the walls narrower.

The hallway was a silent companion to her solitude, a place where whispers of other lives melded with her own quiet existence. The light from the flickering bulb cast a warm, but eerie glow, throwing elongated shadows on the floor that danced with her steps. Karina had always felt safe in her solitude, a cocoon woven by the predictable patterns of her daily life. The office was a five-minute walk away, and she liked the anonymity it offered, the way she could blend in with the urban landscape outside her door.

But tonight, as she approached the stairs, she felt a prickle of unease. The building was unnaturally still. The usual murmur of distant TVs and muffled conversations was absent. The air felt thick, charged with an energy that made her want to hurry, to escape the oppressive quiet. She glanced at Mr. Y/n's door, a sliver of light peeking through the gap at the bottom. Her heart skipped a beat. She told herself it was just the silence playing tricks on her, that she was being silly. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. She quickened her pace, her hand hovering over the banister, ready to flee back to the safety of her apartment if needed.

The moment she passed his door, it swung open with a heavy creak. A hand, much larger than she had ever imagined, reached out and wrapped around her upper arm, pulling her into the apartment with surprising gentleness. She gasped, her eyes widening in terror as she stumbled into the room, the door clicking shut behind her. The hand belonged to Mr. Y/n. He stood before her, his face now fully visible in the soft glow of a single lamp. His eyes searched hers, a mix of curiosity and something she couldn't quite place.

The room was unlike anything she had expected. It was meticulously organized, almost obsessively clean. The walls were lined with bookshelves, their contents ranging from classic literature to tomes on physics and astronomy. In the corner, a grand piano gleamed, a stark contrast to the worn-out sofa in the center. His hand released her arm, and she stumbled backward, her eyes darting around the room, seeking an escape.

Now in front of Karina, y/n is standing.His body is very large, Karina's height only reaches his chest, his shoulders are very broad, and his palms are bigger than her body.

"What are you going to do, what do you want?"Karina dared to ask with trembling lips in fear."I won't hurt you if you don't resist," he answered Karina's question.

"What does it mean?"Karina asked again.All this time, y/n has been very attracted to Karina; she is his ideal type, with a big chest, a slim waist, and a big butt.Y/n has only been watching Karina from the shadows and he can no longer hold back his feelings."I will be honest, I like you Karina," he said, answering Karina's question again."I already have a boyfriend," Karina replied, lying.He knew that Karina was lying because he had dug up all the information about her, living alone in an apartment, working in an office near the apartment, and of course, he knew that Karina was still single."Don't lie, Karina, I know everything about you, besides, I don't accept rejection," he said to her.

He led her to the sofa, his hand still covering her mouth. She tried to struggle but his grip was firm, leaving her no room to escape. His eyes never left hers, the intensity of his gaze making her feel more exposed than she ever had before.

With surprising agility for a man of his size, Y/N bent down and, in one swift motion, tore Karina's shirt clean off her body. The fabric ripped easily, leaving her in just her lacy bra. She felt the coolness of the room on her bare skin and her heart raced.

Karina's eyes widened in shock and fear as she took in the sight of her torn shirt on the floor. The room spun around her, the books and furniture becoming a blur. She tried to push away the panic rising in her chest, telling herself to stay calm and think of a way out of this situation.

Y/N took a step back and admired his handiwork. His eyes traveled over her body, drinking in every inch of exposed flesh. The desire in his gaze made her feel like a piece of meat on display, and she shivered despite the warmth of the room. He sat down next to her, his leg brushing against hers, sending waves of terror through her body.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. "I've wanted this for a long time, Karina," he whispered, his voice a mix of excitement and determination. She could feel the weight of his body beside her, the heat radiating from his skin. Her mind raced for a solution, a way to get out of this nightmare without succumbing to his twisted desires.

The sound of his voice sent chills down Karina's spine. She could feel his breath on her neck, and she knew she had to act fast. Summoning all her strength, she pushed him away with all her might. The sofa screeched against the wooden floor as she stood up, but Y/N was quicker. He grabbed her by the wrists, his grip unyielding.

"Let me go!" she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls. But the only response she got was a low chuckle from Y/N. He pulled her closer, his face a mask of excitement.

"If you keep trying to escape, I'll make you faint," he threatened, his grip tightening around her wrists. Karina felt her pulse racing, her heart hammering in her chest. His strength was overwhelming, and she knew she was no match for him physically.

Her thoughts raced. If she could just keep him talking, maybe she could find a way out of this. "Okay," she said, her voice shaking. "I will do what you want, as long as you let me go afterward." It was a desperate bid for time, a hope that she could somehow convince him to change his mind.

He studied her for a moment, then nodded. "As you wish," he said, his voice low and gruff. He pointed to the mirror in the corner of the room, the glass reflecting the dim lamplight. "Now, take off your bra and panties and masturbate over there," he instructed, his eyes gleaming with a hunger that made her stomach turn.

Karina's cheeks flushed with humiliation, but she knew she had to play along. She took a deep breath and began to unclasp her bra, her eyes never leaving his. The fabric fell away, revealing her bare breasts to the cold air. She tried to keep her movements as slow and deliberate as possible, buying herself every second she could.

Her hands trembled as she slid her panties down her legs, stepping out of them. She felt the floor against her bare skin and took a tentative step towards the mirror. Her eyes caught her reflection, and she saw the fear and desperation in her own eyes. She took another deep breath and closed her eyes, willing herself to focus on the task at hand.

Y/N watched her with rapt attention, his breathing heavy. "Look at me," he demanded. She opened her eyes and met his gaze in the mirror. His eyes were dark, his pupils dilated with lust. "You have to masturbate until you orgasm, don't you dare lie," he threatened. The words sent a wave of revulsion through her, but she knew she had to play along.

Her hands began to move over her breasts, the sensation strange under his command. She had never felt so out of control, so exposed. As she touched herself, her body responded in ways she didn't expect. The fear began to mix with something else, something primal and unwelcome.

The minutes stretched into hours, or so it seemed to Karina. Her body was a vessel for his perverse pleasure, and she had become an instrument of his will. The orgasms came in waves, each more intense than the last. Her legs quivered, and she felt a sheen of sweat cover her skin. She didn't know how much more she could take, but he showed no signs of stopping.

"Faster," he growled, his voice sending tremors through her. She obeyed, her fingers moving in a blur as she watched herself in the mirror. The sight was surreal, a twisted reflection of herself that she barely recognized. Her mind was foggy with pleasure and pain, the line between the two blurring more with each passing second.

As she approached another peak, she could feel the ache in her core, a hunger that grew with each passing moment. Her own fingers weren't enough; she craved something more substantial, something that would fill her completely. Her thoughts strayed to his massive frame, the bulge in his pants that she had been trying to ignore.

Karina's cheeks flushed with shame as she found herself imagining his cock, thick and hard, taking her. Her eyes fluttered shut as she came again, the sound of her cries muffled by the hand still clamped over her mouth. When she opened them, she saw the approval in his gaze, and it only made her feel more degraded.

"You're a good girl," he praised her, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in the very air around them. "Now, I'm going to let go of your wrists. If you stop, I'll know. And I won't be happy."

Her hands didn't stop moving, even when he released her. The need was too great now, the craving a living thing that demanded to be satisfied. Her eyes remained locked with his in the mirror, the only connection in this twisted dance of power and submission.

The room spun around her, the books and furniture becoming a blur. The only thing in focus was his hungry stare, the way his tongue traced the outline of his teeth as he watched her. Karina's mind raced, searching for a way out, but her body was trapped in a cycle of pleasure and pain that she couldn't escape.

"Please," she whimpered, her voice barely audible. "Y/N, give me your cock."

The words hung in the air like a confession, raw and desperate. He smirked, a victory shining in his eyes. "You have to ask for it," he said, his voice a taunt.

Karina felt the bile rise in her throat as she forced out the words. "Please, Y/N," she begged, her voice shaking. "Let me suck your cock."

The smirk on his face grew wider, and he leaned back on the sofa, his grip on her wrists loosening slightly. "Good girl," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Now, get down on your knees and show me how much you want it."

Karina felt a mix of fear and anger swirl in her stomach, but she knew that resisting would only make things worse. Slowly, she sank to her knees, the cold floor sending a jolt of reality through her body. She could see the bulge in his pants, the fabric straining against his erection. Her mouth went dry at the thought of what was to come.

"Good," he said, his voice a low growl. "Now, tell me how much you want to degrade yourself for me."

Karina's stomach churned at the command, but she knew resistance was futile. She took a deep, shaky breath and whispered, "I want to degrade myself for you, Y/N." The words felt like acid on her tongue, but she forced them out, her eyes never leaving his in the mirror.

He leaned forward, his massive frame towering over her. "I want to hear you say it," he demanded, his voice a dark caress. "Say it like you mean it."

Her voice barely above a whisper, Karina repeated, "Please, let your slut suck your dick." The words tasted bitter, but she knew they were the key to unlocking this twisted game.

Y/N's smirk grew wider, and he released her wrists completely. She felt the weight of his gaze as she reached for his pants, her trembling fingers fumbling with the zipper. She took a deep breath and pulled them down, exposing his boxers. His erection strained against the fabric, and she swallowed hard.

When she pulled them down, revealing his cock in all its glory, she gasped. It was unlike anything she had ever seen. It was massive, thick and veiny, the head a dark purple that looked almost painful. It was the stuff of her darkest fantasies, but in this moment, it was a weapon of fear.

Karina's eyes went wide with shock. This was no porn star's cock; it was a beast that could split her in two. She felt a mix of dread and arousal as she took it in her hands, feeling the warmth and weight of it. It was the ultimate symbol of his power over her, and she couldn't help but feel a twisted fascination with it.

Her hand looked so small, almost comical, wrapped around his girth.

"How long and girth?" Karina asked, her voice quivering slightly, as she stared at the massive organ before her. It was a question that had been burning in the back of her mind since she first caught sight of it, a question she didn't dare voice aloud. Y/N chuckled, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror.

"12 inches long, 6 inches thick," he said with a smugness that made Karina's stomach drop. She had heard of such sizes in her wildest fantasies, but to actually see one, to feel its weight in her own hand, was almost too much to bear.

Y/N took her hand and wrapped it around his cock, showing her how to grip it properly. His skin was velvety smooth, the head swollen and shiny with pre-cum. He guided her other hand to cup his balls, showing her how to handle them gently. His breathing grew heavier as she touched him, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror.

"Open your mouth," he instructed, his voice thick with desire. Karina obeyed, her heart racing. He brought the tip of his cock to her lips, the smell of him musky and overwhelming. She took a tentative lick, tasting the salty precursor to what was to come. He groaned in approval, his hand guiding her to take more of him in.

He pushed into her mouth, inch by agonizing inch. She gagged, her eyes watering, but she didn't stop. She knew that if she did, it would only make things worse. His hand was in her hair now, pulling gently but insistently. She focused on breathing through her nose, her cheeks hollowing as she took him deeper.

The sensation of his cock filling her mouth was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was all she could do to keep her teeth from scraping his shaft, to keep her gag reflex at bay. He watched her in the mirror, his expression a mix of pleasure and concentration.

"Look at me," he murmured, and she did, her eyes watering. He began to move, fucking her mouth with a slow, steady rhythm. She could feel his cock sliding over her tongue, the head of it brushing the back of her throat. She tried to relax, to take him deeper, but it was a battle she was losing.

He pulled out slightly, giving her a moment to breathe. "Good girl," he said, his voice a caress. "Now, let me show you how it's done." He leaned back, stroking himself slowly, watching her with a hungry gaze.

Karina felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. She wanted to hate this, wanted to fight against the waves of pleasure that crashed through her body every time she thought of his cock inside her. But she couldn't. It was as if she had been programmed to crave this, to need it more than anything else.

He stood up, his cock swaying slightly with the movement. "On your knees," he ordered, his voice firm. She complied, her eyes never leaving his. He stepped closer, positioning himself in front of her.

"Now, watch and learn," he said, and she did. His hand moved in a blur, stroking his cock with a practiced ease that made her mouth water. His other hand reached out, caressing her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw.

He began to speak, his words a mix of instruction and seduction. "You need to relax your throat, let it open for me. Take it slow, don't rush." His voice was a purr, a siren's song that beckoned her closer.

Karina leaned in, her eyes glued to the sight before her. She took him back into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock. He groaned, his hand tightening in her hair. "That's it," he murmured, his eyes half-closed with pleasure.

As he fucked her mouth, she felt something shift within her. The fear and anger began to melt away, replaced by a burning need to please him. It was as if she had been waiting for this moment, as if this was what she had been born to do.

Her mind was a haze of pleasure and pain as she took him deeper and deeper. The only thing that mattered was his cock, the feel of him in her mouth, the taste of him on her tongue. She was his, completely and utterly, and she didn't want it to end.

The tension in his body grew, his movements becoming more erratic. She could feel his orgasm building, the muscles in his thighs tensing. He pulled out of her mouth with a wet pop, his cock glistening with her saliva.

"Look at me," he demanded, his voice thick with need. She did, her eyes wide with anticipation. He stroked himself, his hand moving faster and faster.

"Gluk gluk gluk," was the only sound Karina's mouth could produce as she stared, mesmerized by the sight of his cock. It was a wet, sloppy sound, a testament to the saliva that coated his shaft. Her own need grew, a desperate ache that made her want to beg for more.

Y/N's hand moved with purpose, the sound of his fist sliding along his cock a symphony of desire. Karina's eyes were glued to the sight, her own breathing matching his rhythm. The veins in his cock stood out, pulsing with each stroke.

"I'm going to come," he warned her, his voice strained. Karina nodded, her eyes never leaving his. She was his, and she would take it all.

With a roar, he exploded, his cum spurting into her mouth. She swallowed, her eyes watering from the sheer volume of it. It was like nothing she had ever tasted before, a mix of salt and musk that filled her mouth and coated her throat.

He came for what felt like an eternity, his cock pulsing with every spurt. She took it all, her cheeks bulging with his seed. When he was finished, she licked her lips, savoring the taste of him.

Karina felt a strange mix of satisfaction and humiliation, a heady cocktail that went straight to her head. She had never been used like this before, and she had never wanted it more.

Y/N's grip on her hair loosened, and she looked up at him, her eyes glazed with lust. He reached down and wiped the remaining cum from her face, his thumb sliding over her bottom lip. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice a gentle praise that made her heart flutter.

The room was silent except for their ragged breaths. Karina felt a strange sense of peace wash over her, as if she had just passed some sort of twisted test.

"Now," he said, his voice a low rumble. "It's time for the real fun to begin." He picked her up effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist. Her heart raced as he carried her to the bedroom, the anticipation of what was to come making her wet with need.

He laid her down on the bed, his massive body looming over her. The mattress sank under their combined weight, the springs groaning in protest. His eyes never left hers as he spread her legs wide, the light from the lamp casting shadows over her exposed flesh.

With a predatory grace, he descended upon her, his tongue parting her folds. Karina gasped as he began to lick her, his tongue swirling and darting in a way that made her hips buck off the bed. She had never felt anything so intense, so all-consuming. It was as if every nerve in her body was focused solely on the sensation of his mouth on her most sensitive spot.

His tongue felt like fire against her clit, the pressure building with each pass. She moaned, her hands clutching the bed sheets in a desperate attempt to anchor herself to reality. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her breath coming in ragged gasps as he devoured her.

The room was filled with the sounds of his wet, hungry mouth and her own desperate cries. The scent of their mingling arousal was thick in the air, a heady aroma that only served to drive her higher. She could feel her orgasm building, a wave that threatened to crash over her and sweep her away.

"Oh, God," she moaned, her voice hoarse from the effort of speaking. "Y/N, I'm going to come."

He didn't stop, didn't even look up from between her legs. Instead, he redoubled his efforts, his tongue moving faster, pressing harder. She could feel the tension in her body coiling tighter and tighter, a spring wound to its breaking point.

And then, with a scream that seemed to rip from her very soul, she came. Her body convulsed, her muscles clenching around his tongue. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her trembling and gasping for air.

Y/N pulled away, his face glistening with her juices. He gave her a smug look, his eyes dark with lust. "Good," he said. "Very good."

Karina lay there, her body still shaking with the aftershocks of her climax. She had never felt so utterly dominated, so completely owned. And yet, she wanted more.

"Have you ever squirted?" Y/N asked, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine. Karina shook her head, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He chuckled, a deep, dark sound that sent a thrill through her.

"Let's change that," he murmured, his tongue delving deeper into her folds. He was relentless, his movements precise and calculated. Karina could feel the tension building again, her body responding to his touch with an eagerness that shocked and excited her.

His fingers found her g-spot, pressing and curling in a way that made her eyes roll back. She was so close, so close to something she had only read about, something she had never dared hope to experience. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she could feel her body tightening around him.

"Come for me," he said, his voice a command that she couldn't ignore. And with a scream that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room, she did. Her body spasmed, her muscles clenching and releasing in waves of pure pleasure. She could feel the warmth of her release flooding out, soaking the bed beneath her.

Y/N's eyes never left hers as she squirted, the expression on his face a mix of awe and hunger. He watched her with the intensity of a predator, his tongue still working her clit with a skill that was almost unbelievable. The sensation was too much, and she felt herself being pushed to the brink of consciousness.

"Ahhhh... It is so good, fuck," Karina moaned, her voice a mix of pleasure and desperation. The feeling of release was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a powerful, all-consuming orgasm that seemed to shake the very core of her being. She bucked her hips upward, her body begging for more of his touch.

Y/N's eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger as he watched her climax, his own desire clear in the bulge of his pants. Without missing a beat, he slid two fingers into her soaking wet pussy, his movements deliberate and slow. She gasped, the sudden intrusion making her body tense again.

He began to pump his fingers in and out of her, his thumb rubbing her clit in slow circles. The sensation was overwhelming, the aftershocks of her orgasm mixing with the building tension of a new one. "Do you want more, Karina?" he asked, his voice a dark whisper that seemed to echo in the room.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she could only nod in response, the words lost in the haze of pleasure. He took it as an affirmation and began to pick up the pace, his fingers moving faster and deeper. She could feel her walls clenching around him, her body greedily taking all that he had to give.

Karina's moans grew louder, her breath coming in pants as she approached the peak once more. Her eyes remained locked with his in the mirror, the sight of his powerful body above her, his fingers working their magic, only serving to fuel her desire. She had never felt so alive, so in the moment.

Her hips began to move with his rhythm, her body instinctively seeking out the sensation that she knew would push her over the edge. His thumb pressed harder against her clit, and she could feel her orgasm building, a storm gathering on the horizon.

"Yes, yes, I want more," she finally managed to gasp out, her voice a desperate plea. He smirked, a knowing look in his eye that said he had her exactly where he wanted her. He added a third finger, stretching her even further. The sensation was almost too much to handle, but she craved it.

Her muscles tightened around his fingers, her pussy squeezing and releasing in a frantic dance. His movements grew more urgent, his own breathing ragged with the effort of holding back. The bedrock of tension within her shuddered, and she knew she was on the brink of something incredible.

With a final, powerful thrust, he hit her g-spot, and she screamed as the orgasm crashed over her. Her body arched off the bed, her back bowing as wave after wave of pleasure consumed her. It was as if she was being torn apart from the inside out, reborn in a sea of ecstasy.

Y/N watched her with a satisfied expression, his own need palpable in the air. He slowly removed his fingers, his gaze never leaving hers. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

The room spun around her, the only anchor the sound of his voice. She was lost in a whirlwind of sensation, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her release. And yet, she could feel the hunger building again, a need that was insatiable.

Y/N's voice grew more urgent. "Now get all on four," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for disobedience. Karina's legs felt like jelly, but she managed to push herself up onto her knees. Her breasts bounced with the movement, her nipples hard and sensitive. The fabric of the bed was rough against her skin, the friction adding to the delicious ache between her legs.

He positioned himself behind her, his breath hot against the back of her neck. "Spread your legs," he said, his voice a low growl. She felt his cock brush against her inner thigh, and she couldn't help but whimper. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

Without warning, she felt his tongue slide along her slit, the sensation so intense that it made her jolt. He chuckled, his breath warm and damp against her skin. "Relax," he murmured, his tongue delving deeper into her folds. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes squeezed shut as she focused on the feeling of him tasting her, licking her, consuming her.

He teased her mercilessly, his tongue flicking and swirling around her clit. She could feel her body tightening again, the pressure building. It was as if he had unlocked a secret part of her that she had never known existed. She was his plaything, and she loved every second of it.

He took his time, savoring her taste, driving her to the brink of insanity. Every time she thought she couldn't take it anymore, he would ease back, only to plunge in again with renewed vigor. Her hips rocked back against his face, her body begging for more.

"Oh God," she moaned, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm going to come again."

He didn't answer, just kept licking, his tongue now moving in slow, deliberate strokes that made her pussy clench around his fingers. He added a fourth digit, and she cried out, the sensation of being so filled, so stretched, making her feel like she was going to break apart.

But she didn't break. Instead, she shattered into a million pieces, her orgasm so intense that she saw stars. Her pussy spasmed around his hand, her juices flooding out of her.

As the waves of pleasure began to subside, she felt his cock pressing against her opening. He was so thick, so hard, that she could feel herself stretching around him, her muscles protesting.

He didn't give her time to adjust, just pushed inside with one swift movement that made her scream. The pain was immediate, but it quickly gave way to a deep, intense pleasure that stole her breath away.

"Fuck, so big," Karina moaned, her voice high-pitched and desperate. "I'm going to cum."

Y/N's laugh was dark and triumphant. "You're such a slut, Karina," he said, his voice a sneer. "Already cumming from initial penetration. You're just like all the others."

The pain was intense, a burning sensation that made her want to pull away, but she knew better. She pushed back into him, taking him deeper, the heat of his body against hers making her skin tingle. "It's because your cock is so fucking big," she managed to say through gritted teeth, her voice thick with lust.

He began to move, his hips pumping into her with a slow, steady rhythm that made her moan. The pain morphed into something else, something dark and delicious that had her panting for more. Her nails dug into the bed, her body moving in time with his, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through her.

"Fuck, yes," she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls. "I can feel it in my stomach!" The intensity was almost too much to handle, but she reveled in it, her body stretching to accommodate his massive size. His hands were on her hips, guiding her, holding her in place as he claimed her.

Y/N's grip tightened, and with a smack, he slapped her ass. The sound was sharp, punctuating the rhythm of their fucking. Karina's eyes widened in surprise, but the pain was quickly followed by a burst of pleasure that had her pussy clenching around him even harder.

"Do you like it when my big cock destroys your pussy, slut?" he growled, his voice thick with desire. She could feel his hand tense before the next smack, the anticipation sending a shiver down her spine.

"Ahh, yes, Y/N," Karina gasped as the pain flared up again, her ass stinging from the impact. But it was a sweet, delicious pain, one that only added to the intense pleasure building within her. She pushed back against him, her body begging for more, the bulge of his cock pressing into her abdomen with each powerful thrust.

He didn't hold back, his hips slamming into her with a force that made the bed creak in protest. Her breasts bounced with each impact, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure through her body. She could feel the head of his cock brushing against her cervix, a feeling that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"Ahh, your cock is bulging under my stomach," Karina managed to gasp out, her voice strained with the effort of speaking. She could feel his length stretching her to the limits, filling her completely. The pain in her ass was a constant throb, a reminder of the power he held over her.

Y/N chuckled, his voice dark and filled with satisfaction. "Squirt for my cock, Karina," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. She didn't know how she could possibly come again, but the command in his voice made her body respond, her pussy clenching around him.

He began to fuck her harder, his cock pistoning in and out of her with a force that left her gasping. She could feel herself building again, the pressure in her belly growing until it was almost unbearable. And then, with a scream that echoed through the apartment, she did it.

Her pussy spasmed, and she squirted all over his cock, the force of it pushing him out of her. It was like a geyser, a torrent of fluid that soaked the bed beneath them. Y/N's eyes widened, and he stared at her, his own arousal clear on his face. "Again," he demanded, and she nodded, her body already responding to his command.

He slammed back into her, his cock slipping into her easily despite her tightness. She could feel the head of his cock pressing against her g-spot, the sensation sending her over the edge once more. She squirted again, the force of it pushing him almost out of her.

This time, he was ready. He held her hips down, his grip bruising, as he kept pumping into her. Her pussy convulsed around him, the feeling of her release gripping him in a vice-like hold. He groaned, his own orgasm building within him.

"Fuck, you're so good," he grunted, his hips moving faster and faster. "So fucking good." His hand reached around, his thumb pressing hard against her clit as he drove into her. She could feel her body responding, the walls of her pussy clamping down on him, her juices flowing like a river.

With one final, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside her. She felt his cock pulse, his warm cum filling her up. The sensation of being so full, of being claimed so completely, sent her over the edge again. Her body tensed, her pussy spasming around him as she came, the force of her orgasm pushing his cum out of her, mixing with her squirt.

The room was a symphony of their moans and the slap of skin against skin. Karina's vision swam, her body shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure. Y/N pulled out of her, his cock still twitching with the last vestiges of his climax. He stared down at her, his chest heaving.

"You're mine," he said, his voice a possessive growl. "You will always come for me, no matter how much you resist."

Karina collapsed onto the bed, her body limp and spent. She knew he was right. Some twisted part of her craved this, the feeling of being used and dominated by him. She was his, and she never wanted to leave this bed, this apartment, his control.

Y/N leaned down, his mouth capturing hers in a bruising kiss. She could taste herself on his lips, the flavor of her own arousal mixing with the salt of his sweat. His tongue danced with hers, claiming her mouth just as thoroughly as he had claimed her body.

When he pulled away, she was left gasping for air, her eyes glazed with lust. "What's next?" she whispered, her voice a needy plea.

He smiled, a cold, cruel smile that sent a shiver down her spine. "Now," he said, "we're going to see just how much you can take."

He reached into the nightstand, pulling out a set of handcuffs. The metal was cold against her wrists as he secured them to the bed frame, her heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement.

"You're going to scream for me," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "And I'm going to enjoy every single second of it."

The room grew colder, the only warmth the fire that raged in her belly. She was his toy, his to do with as he pleased, and she wouldn't have it any other way. As the cuffs clicked into place, she knew that she was in for a night she would never forget.

He stood over her, his cock still hard and glistening with their combined fluids. "Ready?" he asked, a glint in his eye.

Karina took a deep breath, nodded, and whispered, "Yes, Y/N. I'm ready." Her heart pounded in her chest, the anticipation of what was to come making her body tremble. She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. But she also felt alive, more alive than she had in a long time.

Y/N picked up a flogger from the bedside table, the leather strands shimmering in the soft light. He trailed it gently across her skin, and she flinched at the touch. "This will hurt," he warned her, his voice a dark promise. "But you will take it. You will take it for me."

Her breath hitched as he brought the flogger down across her back, the leather biting into her flesh. It stung, the pain sharp and intense. But she didn't scream. Instead, she moaned, the sound of her own pleasure mixing with the pain. Each strike brought a new wave of sensation, a dance of agony and ecstasy that she couldn't get enough of.

He worked his way down, the flogger landing on her ass with a satisfying thwack. She felt the skin there warm and redden, the sting of each hit making her pussy clench with need. "Y/N," she moaned, her voice a desperate plea.

He leaned down, his mouth by her ear. "You're doing so well," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. "But we're just getting started." He paused, the room silent except for the sound of their heavy breathing.

And then he struck again, the leather strands wrapping around her body and biting into her skin. She cried out, her body arching with the sensation. He varied the intensity, sometimes gentle, sometimes harsh, always keeping her guessing.

The smell of leather and sex filled the air, a heady mix that only served to heighten her arousal. She could feel herself growing wetter, her pussy swollen and begging for his touch. "Please," she moaned, not sure what she was asking for.

He set the flogger aside, his hand replacing the leather. His touch was firm, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass as he began to spank her again. "Count," he ordered, his voice firm.

"One," she gasped, as his hand came down again. "Two," she counted, her voice growing more strained. "Three, four, five..." With each number, the pain grew more intense, but so did the pleasure. Her body was on fire, a raging inferno that threatened to consume her.

Y/N's hand moved faster, the slaps falling in a steady rhythm that had her moaning and writhing on the bed. "Ten," she choked out, the word barely audible. "Please, more."

He complied, his hand landing with a satisfying smack on her ass again and again. Her skin was on fire, the sting of each hit only adding to the burning need between her legs. "I can't," she gasped, her voice tight with pain and pleasure.

"You can," he said, his voice a low growl. "You will." He leaned down, his teeth grazing her ear. "Because you're mine. You're going to take everything I give you and beg for more."

The words sent a shock of pleasure through her, and she nodded, her eyes squeezed shut. "Yes, Y/N," she whispered. "I'm yours."

He reached between her legs, his fingers sliding through her wetness. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. He slid two fingers inside her, his hand moving in time with the spanks.

Karina felt herself spiraling out of control, the pain and pleasure merging into a single, overwhelming sensation. Her orgasm built, a crescendo that seemed to go on forever. And when it finally crashed over her, she screamed his name, her body convulsing with the power of it.

Y/N watched her, his own desire burning even hotter at the sight of her submission. He pulled her down onto the bed, his cock still rock-hard and demanding. "Ride me," he ordered, his voice a low rumble. "Show me what a good little slut you can be."

Her legs still trembled as she positioned herself above his cock, straddling his hips. She felt the head of his dick nudging at her entrance, and she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She was so sensitive from the previous orgasms that even the slightest touch made her shiver.

Without warning, Y/N grabbed her hips and pulled her down, impaling herself on his cock with a sharp cry. "Ahh, Y/N," she gasped as he filled her up completely. She could feel every inch of him, stretching her out and filling her up with a delicious pressure that made her eyes water.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hands tightening on her hips. "You're so tight."

Karina bit her lip, her voice trembling as she leaned back, pointing her stomach. "Your cock is reaching here," she whispered, the words filled with a mix of awe and fear. He chuckled, the sound deep and sinister, as he began to thrust up into her, his hips meeting hers in a punishing rhythm.

Her body was a wreck, muscles sore from the abuse of the previous climaxes, but she didn't dare protest. She knew that she had signed up for this when she stepped into his apartment, and she was going to see it through. Her eyes watered as she bounced up and down on his cock, trying to find a rhythm that didn't make the pain unbearable.

"AHHH," she gasped as she took him in deeper, his shaft hitting her g-spot with every bounce. She could feel his cock throb with every thrust, the veins pulsing beneath the velvety skin. His eyes never left hers, the intensity of his gaze making her pussy clench around him.

"Yes, my slut," Y/N grunted, his hips moving faster and more forcefully beneath her. "Cum for my cock." His words were a command, a demand that her body responded to instinctively. She felt the pressure building, the heat in her belly spreading out like wildfire.

With a scream that seemed to tear from her very soul, Karina's pussy clenched around his shaft, her muscles contracting in a powerful orgasm. Her juices gushed out of her, soaking him, the bed, everything. The force of it was so intense that she felt his cock slip from her grasp, the sudden emptiness making her gasp.

Y/N chuckled, his eyes gleaming with triumph. He grabbed her hips, pulling her back down onto him. She could feel his cock throb with renewed vigor as he began to fuck her harder, his hips bucking up to meet her every move. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, the tips brushing against his chest hair, sending sparks of pleasure through her body.

Her pussy was so sensitive, so swollen, that every stroke was like a brand-new orgasm. She could feel herself slipping, her body losing the battle against the relentless tide of pleasure that he was drowning her in. His cock was like a beacon, guiding her through the storm.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt herself falling into him, her body weightless against his powerful frame. His chest was a pillow of warm, solid muscle, his heart thundering against her cheek as he drove into her. His arms wrapped around her, holding her tight, keeping her in place as she rode him like a wild animal in heat.

But then, she whispered it, the words a desperate plea. "I can't ride anymore, Y/N. Forgive me." Her voice was barely audible, lost in the symphony of their mingled breaths and the slap of flesh against flesh. Y/N's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, but he didn't miss a beat, his hips continuing to piston up into her.

"Ahh, just like that," she moaned, her voice a mix of pain and pleasure. "Just fuck my pussy, Y/N." He smirked, his grip on her hips tightening, his thrusts growing more demanding. Karina's head fell back, her hair cascading down her back as she lost herself in the rhythm of his movements.

Y/N leaned back, his hands moving to her breasts. He squeezed and pinched the sensitive flesh, his eyes never leaving hers as he watched her face contort with every sensation. "You like that, don't you?" he taunted, his voice a dark whisper in the quiet room. "You like when I fill your tight little cunt."

Karina's pussy clenched around him, and she could feel the beginnings of another orgasm building. She nodded, her voice lost in a moan. "Yes, Y/N," she managed to murmur. "I love it."

The words seemed to spur him on, his strokes growing faster and more erratic. "You're so tight," he grunted, his eyes never leaving hers. "It's like you were made for my cock."

Karina's body was a whirlwind of sensation, a maelstrom of pleasure and pain. Each thrust seemed to hit her g-spot with surgical precision, sending waves of ecstasy crashing through her. "It's just ur dick is so big, Y/N," she gasped, her voice strained. "So...so thick."

Y/N smirked, his eyes gleaming with arrogance. "I told you," he murmured, his voice a dark purr. "You're mine now." He pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into her, the force making her eyes roll back in her head.

Karina could feel his cock touching places inside her that she didn't know existed, reaching depths that she had never felt before. It was as if her body had been made for him, molded by his desire to fit him perfectly. "Ahh, Y/N," she gasped, her nails digging into his chest. "It's so deep."

Y/N's eyes darkened, his teeth gritted with the effort to hold back his own climax. He knew she was close, could feel the tightness of her pussy around him, the way her muscles tensed with every thrust. "You're going to come for me," he said, his voice a demand. "Now."

With that, he reached between her legs, his thumb pressing firmly against her clit. Karina's eyes snapped open, her pupils dilating with the sudden, intense sensation. She threw her head back, her mouth open in a silent scream as the orgasm took her. Her body bucked and convulsed, her pussy spasming around his cock.

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm cumming!" she screamed, her voice hoarse with pleasure. Her pussy clamped down on him, the walls pulsing with each wave of her orgasm. He groaned, feeling her juices coating him, her warmth gripping him like a vice.

Y/N's own release was building, his balls tightening with the promise of a powerful climax. He could see the desperation in Karina's eyes, the need for him to fill her completely, to mark her as his. "Take it," he grunted, his hips slamming into hers. "Take all of me."

Her pussy was contracting around him, the muscles pulsing with every thrust. He could feel her getting closer, her breath hitching with every stroke. "Please, Y/N," she begged, her voice a whimper. "Please, let me cum again."

He didn't need any more encouragement. He leaned up, his thumb finding her clit once more. He rubbed it in circles, increasing the pressure with every pass. Her hips began to move in sync with his hand, her moans growing louder and more desperate.

"Please," she begged, her voice strained. "Please, let me cum again." Her pussy was so tight around his cock, her juices making it slick and hot. He could feel the beginnings of his own climax, the tension in his balls growing with every stroke.

Y/N leaned in, his teeth grazing her neck as his thumb continued to work her clit. "Beg for it," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. "Tell me you need it."

"I do," Karina sobbed, her voice a desperate plea. "I need to cum, please, Y/N. I can't take it anymore." Her pussy was clenching around him, desperate for release. The pain was a constant throb, a reminder of the boundaries he had pushed and the price of her submission.

With a snarl, Y/N drove into her one last time, his cock swelling within her tight channel. "Now," he grunted, his thumb pressing down on her clit with all the strength he had left. Karina's body responded immediately, her orgasm slamming into her with the force of a freight train.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she screamed, her nails digging into his skin as her pussy spasmed around him. He could feel the warm rush of her release, her walls contracting in a vice-like grip that threatened to pull the very essence of him out. He couldn't hold back any longer, his own orgasm barreling through him like a storm.

With a roar, he filled her completely, his cum jetting into her in thick, hot spurts. The sensation of her tight pussy milking him was almost too much, and he came harder than he ever had before. The room was filled with the sounds of their shared pleasure, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.

As the last tremors of their shared climax faded, Karina felt her consciousness slipping away. Her body was a limp mess of pleasure-soaked limbs, her mind a haze of lust and submission. She didn't know how long she had been with Y/N, but she knew she didn't want it to end.

Y/N watched her with a mix of satisfaction and concern, his breathing finally evening out. He reached out, his hand gentle as he cupped her cheek. "Look at me, Karina," he said, his voice a command even as his eyes searched hers.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she gazed up at him, her pupils blown with desire. "Y/N," she whispered, her voice a breathy gasp.

"You did well," he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "So, so well." His praise sent a shiver of pleasure through her, her pussy clenching around his still-hard cock.

He leaned down, claiming her mouth in a kiss that was as much possession as it was affection. Karina melted into him, her body responding to his touch despite her exhaustion. She knew that she had found something in him that she had been craving, something dark and primal that she had never experienced before.

As the kiss ended, Y/N pulled out of her, the absence of his cock leaving her feeling empty and used. But it was a good empty, a good used, one that she knew she would crave again and again.

"Now sleep, Karina," he said, his voice a gentle command. "Tomorrow is a different day for you." He climbed off the bed, leaving her to lay there, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasms.

Her eyes followed him as he moved around the room, his naked body a vision of power and masculinity. He was a force of nature, unstoppable and all-consuming. And she was his, completely and utterly.

He returned with a warm, wet cloth, gently cleaning her up. The coolness of the fabric against her overheated skin was a relief, and she sighed as he took care of her. He was so tender, so gentle in his dominance. It was a stark contrast to the aggression he had shown earlier, and she found it incredibly arousing.

Y/N tucked her into bed, his eyes lingering on her bruised and swollen flesh. She felt a twinge of pain, but it was quickly overshadowed by the warmth of his gaze. "You did well tonight," he murmured, his voice a soft caress.

"Thank you, Y/N," she whispered, her eyes drooping with exhaustion. She didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but she knew she was in for more of the same. And she couldn't wait.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her forehead in a soft kiss. "Rest now," he said. "You're going to need your strength." With that, he flicked off the light, leaving her in the darkness.

Karina closed her eyes, the events of the evening replaying in her mind. The fear, the pain, the pleasure. It was all so intense, so overwhelming. But as she drifted off to sleep, she knew that she had found something she never knew she was looking for. A man who could give her everything she never knew she needed.

The mattress dipped as Y/N climbed into bed beside her, his arm wrapping around her waist. She snuggled into his embrace, feeling safe and protected in a way she hadn't felt in a long time. His hand trailed down her body, coming to rest on her hip, his fingers flexing gently.

"Tomorrow," he whispered into the darkness. "Tomorrow, we'll see just how much more you can take." The words sent a thrill through her, a promise of more pleasure and pain, more submission and control.

As she drifted off to sleep, her body still pulsing with the echoes of her orgasms, Karina knew that she was in for the most intense experience of her life. And she was ready to embrace it, ready to become whatever he needed her to be.

[gothcowgrrl]

some of you guys need to realise there is a difference between your consciousness and your brain

your consciousness is you - your awareness, your essence - but your brain is just the physical organ processing experiences in each reality. when you shift, you’re moving your consciousness into a different version of yourself, one with a different brain shaped by different life experiences. that means some things won’t feel exactly the same. your thought patterns, instincts, even personality might be different because they were formed by a different life. maybe a food you dislike here is your favorite there, or a skill you struggle with now comes naturally.

“when i first shift i’m gonna be so freaked out!” well, no. the moment you shift, your consciousness seamlessly integrates into the brain of that reality, making it feel completely natural. It won’t feel like some sudden, jarring experience; it’ll just feel like you’ve always been there, like a natural continuation of your life in that reality.

“i’m gonna be so awkward around my friends at first” nope. there’s nothing to ‘get used to’ because your brain in that reality already knows them. their mannerisms, inside jokes, and history with you will feel completely natural - just like any other day speaking to your friends.

so lets cut out all of the ‘omg i met them and they realised something was off’ or ‘omg i almost had a panic attack when i first shifted i was so shocked’ because that’s just not how it works. there’s no dramatic reveal, no awkward adjustment period. you’re simply there, living as if you always have been.

[4theitgirls]

productivity apps for self improvement

pinterest

you know i had to include the ultimate form of social media. pinterest is one of the only truly peaceful social media apps out there and focuses on sharing photos to your themed boards. this app is everything if you’re into making vision boards, moodboards, beauty, productivity, and really anything else. there’s something there for everyone!

finch

this is a wonderful self-care app, in which you take care of a bird while taking care of yourself! this is my new favorite app. i use the free version and it is adorable. the app asks you some questions about your goals and how you feel about self care, and gives you some daily goals based on your answers, but you can delete and add goals of your own. the more you log in and track your goals, the more adventures your bird can go on and the more they grow. i recommend this app to absolutely everyone and i will never shut up about it.

gymshark training

this is a free training app including many different types and styles of workouts. you can search for workouts based on duration, equipment used, the targeted muscle, and so on. you can also add workouts and plans of your own and track your progress.

i am sober

this is my favorite app for if you have something you want to quit. this isn’t just for substances or alcohol, but can also be used for quitting sugar, skin picking, caffeine, fast food, and so many other things. you can track your progress, review your days, make pledges, and connect with others who are struggling with the same thing you are. you are also given motivational quotes and reminders when you log into the app. there is an option for a subscription, but i use the free version and have had no problems with it at all.

study bunny: focus timer

an adorable focus timer where you gain coins with every goal/time you accomplish something with your focus timer and you can spend your coins on cute little accessories for your bunny! the only real issue with this app is that the ads are kind of crazy, and it’s $15 a month to go ad-free.

flora - green focus

this app includes a pomodoro timer and plants a tree in a rural community based on how often you stay focused using the timer on the app. the app does not plant a tree unless you opt for their subscription, which is $2 per year and allows you to plant one tree for 120 hours of focused time. you can also plant a tree every 24 hours with the $10 plan.

focus to-do: focus timer&tasks

this app combines a pomodoro timer with a daily to-do list. the app is free to use, but includes additional features for those with a subscription, which is $3 for every three months or $9 for a lifetime membership.

balance: meditation & sleep

a great app that includes nightly reviews, meditations, and sleep sounds. this app has great reviews, but it’s worth noting that it’s not completely free. it includes a trial, after which is $12 per month, or $70 per year.

insight timer - meditate & sleep

just as it sounds, this is another great app for meditations, ambient sounds for sleep, and progress tracking. there are tons of free things included in the app, but if you want to unlock everything, the premium plan is $10 per month or $60 per year.

structured - daily planner

an app with great reviews intended to help organize your daily tasks into achievable goals and track your progress. the app has basic features for free, but also includes a premium subscription if you want to unlock all the features.

routineflow: guided routines

this app caters to those who have difficulties staying focused and maintaining a set routine by guiding your routine for you and managing your progress. the app gives you one routine for free, but if you want another, you would need to pay for the $30 annual subscription.

how we feel

a wonderful free journaling app developed by therapists and scientists for logging your emotions, talking to other users, and tracking your mood patterns.

gentler streak fitness tracker

if you’re tired of the constant work and grind mentality, this may be the app for you. this app takes a gentler approach to fitness by tracking exercise, giving encouragement, and notifying you if you are overworking yourself. the app itself is free, but certain features require a subscription, which is $8 per month or $50 per year.

glo | yoga and meditation app

glo is a highly rated app for yoga, pilates, and meditation. unlike most of the other apps listed, you can’t really access much on glo for free. to access the full courses, they offer two plans: $30 per month or $245 per year.

waterllama

another adorable app that lets you track your water intake with a cute llama! super motivating and is free for basic features. if you want to unlock all features, the subscription is $7 per year.

mindllama

made by the same people as waterllama, this app allows you to practice and track your meditation and breathwork practice with a cute llama! like waterllama, the app is free, but some features require a subscription, which varies depending on whether you want the premium plan, the anxiety relief plan, or the sleep focused plan.

daily bean - simplest journal

another super cute app that helps you track your days and moods. the app itself is free, but a premium plan is also offered, which is $20 per year.

schmoody: mood & habit tracker

this app aims to help you through depression, anxiety, and/or adhd by helping you track your habits, talk to other users, and give you the resources to get you back on track. the free version includes the “essentials” to support mental health and well-being, but they also offer a premium version, which unlocks more resources and personalized options. the subscription is $15 per month, $60 per year, or $100 for a lifetime membership.

meditation timer - zenitizer

this is a meditation timer that focuses on simplicity and organization while tracking your meditation practice. a free version is available with a limited amount of content, but a premium version is also offered, which is $3 per month, $20 per year, or a $50 one-time payment.

mineral - gratitude journal

this is a free journaling app that is secure in the fact that you have to use face id in order to access your journal. this app is definitely more simple, but effective nonetheless.

focus keeper: productive timer

this app is a popular pomodoro-style timer app. i’ve heard that this app works wonders for many people with adhd. the app is free, but includes additional content and features for those with a subscription.

[imagella-blog]

Easter Coloring Pages: Perfect for Kids

Discover the joy of creativity with easter coloring pages. Ideal for children libraries or art and craft workshops, these pages stimulate imagination and fine motor skills. Perfect for parents seeking engaging activities for kids. Includes a variety of themes, ensuring endless fun and learning. easter coloring pages - where art meets play.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Psychology

more psychological concepts as reference for your poem/story

Absent grief - a form of complicated grief in which a person shows no, or only a few, signs of distress about the death of a loved one. This pattern of grief is thought to be an impaired response resulting from denial or avoidance of the emotional realities of the loss.

Being love - (or B-love) in Abraham Maslow’s humanistic psychology, a form of love characterized by mutuality, genuine concern for another’s welfare and pleasure, and reduced dependency, selfishness, and jealousy. B-love is one of the qualities Maslow ascribes to self-actualizers.

Cyclopean eye - a theoretical eye, located on the midline between the real eyes, that has access to the functions of both eyes and is used in descriptions of space perception and eye movements.

Dream ego - in the analytic psychology of Carl Jung, a fragment of the conscious ego that is active during the dream state.

Epiphany - a sudden perception of the essential nature of oneself, others, or reality.

Family mythology - the shared stories, norms, and beliefs within a family system. The mythology can be used to deny trauma or pathology within the family or to ascribe meaning to events in ways that suggest their inevitability or importance.

Guilt culture - a trend or organizing principle in a society characterized by the use of guilt to promote socially acceptable behavior. Guilt cultures emphasize both self-control in the face of temptation and self-initiated responsibility for one’s actions if transgressions should occur.

Hedonic treadmill - a metaphor for a hypothesis proposing that people’s happiness tends to return to a preexisting baseline level after positive or negative life events have occurred. According to this concept, positive and negative events may produce short-term shifts in mood, but these shifts tend to erode in a relatively brief period of time. This process of adaptation is thought to be responsible for the persistence of mood states over time, often in the face of considerable efforts to change them. Although there is good evidence for this hypothesis, research has demonstrated that people do not always return to baseline after the occurrence of mood-changing events.

Jactitation - (or jactation) extreme restlessness marked by frequent movements and tossing about.

Leaving the field - the act of removing oneself from a situation when confronted with seemingly insurmountable obstacles, insoluble conflicts, or intensely frustrating problems. It may involve physical withdrawal, escape into psychogenic illness, or some other behavior, such as distraction or changing the subject during a conversation.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Part 1 2 3 ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[rxmye]

" 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 "

𝐀 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐂 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 — you're his entire world, his only thought, the very illness that has corrupted his mind and body . . .

gender neutral reader / yandere oc x reader / mentions of sleep medication / pathetic yandere / suggestive content / a character slightly aimed towards people with a savior complex

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: edited, Lucas first fanfic is out !! . . click here to read it !! <3

He was someone with fleeting attraction—yet a hopeless romantic, who'd spend most of his class time doodling away in his notebook instead of taking actual notes, writing these scenarios that played out in his mind—tired hazy doodles of small characters, blurry lines of writing, scribbled out text, as he struggled to stay awake—

He had never had a proper sleeping schedule, and if he did he'd never stick to it, a night owl who often faced the consequences of his own actions, sleep medication was something he was all too familiar with, the feeling of being restless without sleep, his nerves always on edge, dark circles under his eyes made him feel insecure, and alarmingly out of character.

He felt something touch his back, he froze, nerves all over the place, a pit growing in his stomach as he turned almost instinctively to face whoever touched him, pushing their hand off harshly . . . "Hey Yoichi . . what's up with you man, why so aggressive?!" Lucas asked . . and then he froze, letting out a nervous and rather embarrassed chuckle, "Ah—um . . sorry Lucas . . just feeling a little tired that's all", he replied softly, voice barely coming out.

To be quite honest, when he first saw you, Yoichi thought nothing of it, he sat at the very back and you for some reason, sat in front of him, not that he minds, you're presence covered him from the teachers eyesight, which allowed him to do whatever he wanted, he was even able to drift off to sleep during that period.

However, it wasn't until he found himself, drawing tiny versions of you in his notebook, little doodles, pink ink staining the paper as he hearted your initials together—his name then your last name . . your name then his last name . . . names of future children—that he realized he was crushing on you . . . big time.

His emotions was fleeting, it had always been, he didn't think much of it . . it was just a simple crush, everyone has one of those, and they go away with time.

Yoichi was a punctual student—and a well organized one—he'd rarely forget his books, much less the notebook with his embarrassing doodles of him and you, it would ruin his image to be quite honest . . yet for some reason he had forgotten it in class today, it could've been his ever-growing restlessness due to a lack of sleep, or maybe the caffeine that's been fucking with his head since early in the morning—he sighed—knocking himself out of his own thoughts, as he twisted the doorknob, hopefully the teacher left the class unlocked.

The door was open, to his utter relieve . . . wait . . . "y/n?", he spoke, taken aback—you were soundly asleep on your desk—you looked so at . . peace . . . calm? . . . Nothing could describe the emotions he felt as he approached you, slowly reaching over to his desk and grabbing his notebook, quickly stuffing it in his backpack—he should go . . , that would be the best course of action . . .

Yet he couldn't . . . he knelt down on the floor, leaning his head on the desk, starring at your face, looking into every curve and line, in his eyes every imperfection just made you even more perfect, the pattern of your breath was soothing to his otherwise restless mind, a soothing scent radiated off of you, and for the first time in months, he felt sleepy . . . like he could sleep without a care . . . everything felt so right. . .—nothing felt displaced or disoriented.

That was the day that started it all, it seems, Yoichi had started forming something that was akin to obsession, he couldn't sleep at all without you—a piece of you—something that reminded him of that calming scent that he felt that day, you calmed his overdriven nerves, you halted his troubles for more than a fleeting moment.

Yoichi knew what he was doing was odd, especially when he found himself picking up the wrapper you threw out, and taking inhaling it, his eyes growing half lidded—he felt like a drug addict—drunk off of you . .

Fleeting touches would tick off his ever delusional mind, a small compliment could set him on overdrive and in the back of his head he knew he was growing addicted, a pit in his stomach grew as he felt slightly disgusted with himself, with the obscene and rather degrading things he'd do, just to get something touched by you.

Lucas stared at his friend, who seemed no better than dead, "Are ya' okay?" he asked, looking him up and down, "You look like a train-wreck", he stated half out of concern and half out of clear disdain and possibly curiosity, "Is it normal?", Yoichi spoke up, taking a gulp of air as he continued, "to want someone so badly that it's hard to explain—like—a part of me feels obsessed, like I feel like carving my own heart out and showing them just to prove my love wont be enough—they could claw out my fingernails—and from where I'm standing, I'd still look at them with only love . . . but at the same time I feel disgusted with the feelings I feel—", Yoichi kept blabbering on, until his friend shushed him, taking a sip of his drink as he jokingly replied, "I mean . . if you love them that much, then their clearly the one . . ."

Yoichi blanked out, as Lucas chuckled, he has no idea how much of his teasing words Yoichi would take to heart that day nor of it's lasting consequences . . .

want more, buy my limited time only advent calendar?

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[amaranthinespirit]

Hi! I couldn’t find anything on your pinned regarding if you take requests, so feel free to ignore this is you don’t.

I’ve been feeling kind of bummed lately about the lack of love towards us mid-size girlies in fanfics in general. Its hard to feel wanted sometimes if you’re not thin enough or curvy enough. Would mind writing a fic with any member of the CoD 141 that just appreciates their mid-size girl? Thank you 💞

simon riley with midsize!reader (I'm so sorry this took so long, but I love this request)

simon riley loves a girl with a bit of weight on her. he'd never understand how you could be so insecure about how your body looked (if you were), especially when you just looked so perfect to him.

your body was a perfect balance in his eyes, plush thighs and tummy that he could bury his face in after he arrived home to you.

when you first asked him to leave the room so you could change, he just gave you a blank stare. he just loved to stare at you (he has a staring problem).

you just look so delectable, he could just eat you up (he does).

but aren't your thighs too big? no, better to crush his head when he's lapping at your sopping pussy.

but aren't you not curvy enough? who needs curves anyways? his eyes are glued to your ass or tits regardless

but your tummy isn't flat? who wants a flat stomach anyways? you have organs, lovie, and he'll gladly rearrange them.

but you're not thin enough? he doesn't care, it just means you're well taken care of, and that's all he wants. more to love, anyways darling.

he can still throw you around without breaking a sweat, toss you over his shoulder with a sharp slap to your ass.

he'll happily fuck you in front of the tall mirror in your bedroom, his chest pressed against your back as he hovers over you. his breath kissing your ear, his voice breathy and deep as he mumbles praises.

his hand is laced through your hair, forcing your eyes to the mirror, his other hand around your neck, fingers creeping up to hold your jaw. red marks and bruises forming all along your neck, trailing down your skin with no pattern. chest bitten and glistening from saliva around your perky buds.

he'd fuck you slow, every praise about your body, your appearance punctuated with a sharp thrust of his cock buried in your weeping pussy. the soft slap of his hips against your ass, your skin rippling from impact, reddening.

come on, lovie, you don't get to come until you're saying positive things. you want to come, don't you?

[obsessedwithceleste]

Til It’s Gone

Theodore Nott x reader

Based on this cute lil request 🤗

Summary: It seemed like they’d always been there. An ever-growing thorn in Theodore’s side. He really didn’t realize what he’d had until it was gone. (Happy ending I swear)

word count: 3.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Theo let out a heavy sigh as he slumped into his seat, ignoring the cheery smile on your face as you turned to face him.

“Hi Theodore!” You chirped brightly, gaze landing on the tall brunette boy coming to sit next to you.

Salazar, here we go, Theo thought bitterly.

“Theo.”

“Right. Theo. How was your day?” You continued on, seemingly oblivious to his indifference as you scribbled mindlessly on your parchment.

Theodore wasn’t stupid. Quite the opposite in fact. He knew you liked him. That much you’d made rather obvious. Especially as of late. If saving him a seat everyday in this miserable class didn’t make it clear to everyone that you had a certain affection for the boy, then the notes dropped in his bag, or kisses blown from across the Great Hall certainly did.

The only reason Theo even accepted sitting next to you was because the seat was positioned perfectly to be just outside of Professor Binns’ field of vision, saving him the work of pretending to care about whatever topic the professor was rattling on about.

“I don’t see why you even put up with it all,” Mattheo often said. “Just reject them and move on with it.”

“Or at least stop sitting with them. You’re only encouraging them,” Enzo would add.

Yet, here he was, still sat lazily in the seat next to you. Theo didn’t particularly care that you fancied him to be quite honest. He’d gotten used to the same pattern of stoically ignoring your chatter, copying your carefully organized notes, and leaving. So long as you weren’t too annoying, he didn’t see the harm in sticking around. Besides it’s not like you weren’t easy on the eyes. And he supposed there was something to be said about the confidence with which you acted that set you apart from the general hoard of girls harboring similar feelings.

“Theo?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Fine.” He replied tersely before turning once more to stare blankly ahead.

He’d changed his mind. Absolutely not. This was horrible. At this point, Theo wasn’t even sure if you actually liked him, or were only claiming you did as an excuse to see how much you could embarrass him.

“Mate, this is getting to be Weaselette levels of weird,” Draco said as their group stared in horror at the third year who had approached them warily in the halls with a poem to read aloud in hand.

Theo visibly shuddered, remembering the awful valentine the youngest Weasley had sent Saint Potter a few years prior.

“Save everyone the embarrassment and walk away now, kid,” Draco told the boy. “Go on. Scram.”

The third year didn’t need to be told twice and quickly darted off, away from the group of Slytherin boys.

“It isn’t even 8am mate. Where does that girl get the time to do all this?” Enzo grumbles as they made their way into the Great Hall for breakfast.

Theo simply ignores his friend’s comments, something he was getting used to doing, as they all sat down at their usual table.

They’d all seemed to have an opinion on you as soon as it became apparent that you had developed a crush on him, and Theo had just about had enough of his friend’s seemingly endless comments regarding his not so secret admirer.

The familiar small parcel tied neatly with a white ribbon that sat waiting for Theodore in his usual spot didn’t go unnoticed, starting the whole thing up again.

“For Salazar’s sake Theo, do you not find it creepy?” Draco asks, eyeing the package.

Theo rolled his eyes at his dramatic friend.

“I don’t care. You all seem to be more interested in y/n’s little stunts than I am, and I’m the one they’re intended for. They’re harmless. Just leave it and they’ll probably get bored eventually.”

“Yeah, or they’ll just keep it up thinking you’re playing all hard to get or what not,” Mattheo snorts.

Theo just glares at his friend, stabbing a sausage with his fork. Just behind Matt’s head, seated at a table with your own friends, Theo sees you blow a kiss his way, winking cheekily.

“Aw, they growing on you? Who would’ve thought dark and broody would be into a bloody ray of sunshine” Mattheo teases, earning him a sharp kick from under the table.

“Morning Theodore,” you greet, as the brooding boy once again took his seat beside you, this time in potions.

“It’s Theo.”

“That’s what I said.”

You hear the boy let out a small snort and you smile to yourself. That was one of the biggest reactions you’d been able to get out of the boy.

Your friends often wondered why you so insistently pursued the grumpy Slytherin boy, despite his general apathy towards you, and honestly, it was as simple as the fact that you enjoyed the challenge.

It was like your own little game of cat and mouse. Constantly finding little ways to make the boy smile, even if he didn’t realize it was you. And the rush of excitement you got anytime you were able to elicit any sort of reaction from the boy was like a drug that kept you coming back for more.

You’d found that the best way to elicit such reactions was by staging little acts of public affection whether it be a kiss sent his way or an origami note perched on his desk. Each time, you could see the heat rise softly in the boy’s cheeks as he tried desperately to keep it at bay, sometimes even fighting back a small smile.

Today you had come to class a bit early in order to set up both you and Theo’s potion stations before the brown haired Slytherin arrived, taking extra care to gather enough ingredients for each of your potions. You weren’t even sure he realized that you were doing all this for him, but watching his satisfied smile as he brewed away made it worth it.

That was another thing you had grown to appreciate about the boy. While his friends were all rather light-minded and rowdy, his wit and level-headedness balanced out the group. Theo was smart, and didn't feel the need to make a point about it, flying under the radar of many of your classmates when it came to who had the best marks. Sure it was fun to tease the boy, but you also had a certain admiration for him that went deeper then the nonserious way you often conducted yourself around him.

The rest of the class passed in a sort of agreed upon silence as you worked on your potions. Of course you’d like to talk to Theo a bit, but you’d found he’d preferred the silence, usually not uttering more than a few words to you per class. It was something you could work on eventually you supposed.

“See you later Theodore,” you said brightly once you had finished gathering up your things. Joining your group of friends, you toss one last wave over your shoulder at the boy, smiling to yourself. He hadn’t bothered to correct you for once.

The last thing Theo expected while roaming the dusty shelves of the library was to hear his own name being whispered from deeper within the maze of books he was searching through. The library was where he went to escape his friend’s incessant gossip about the rest of the school’s population, yet he was interested in what was being said about him. He didn’t often venture outside his usual group of Slytherins, so he didn’t know exactly what he expected to hear.

Following the loud whispers, Theo stopped, looming in the shadows once he was able to make out the dark figures of students huddled in one of the many rows of books.

“Sure Theo might be one of the most attractive boys in our year, but his head is so far up his own arse, it’s a wonder he can see straight.” A voice practically snarled as its owner leaned lazily against one of the shelves.

Theo felt himself immediately tense. Is that what they thought now? His fists clenched as he refrained from crashing through the shelves to give these snots a piece of his mind.

“Honestly, being an arrogant prick isn’t something to be proud of. He’s just like every other Slytherin who makes being a pure blood their only personality trait.” Another voice adds.

“Oh fuck off you two.”

Theo’s ears perk up, surprised to hear your voice join the chatter.

“Please, like you’re one to talk y/n. You’re practically blinded by desperation. Theo Nott is an utter prat and he treats you like shit. Have some bloody self respect.”

“I’m not desperate, you git. And Theodore isn’t an arrogant prick. There’s nothing wrong with having a little bit of pride. It’s not like you see him going around bragging about how amazing he is. If you’re going to talk about arrogant pricks, talk about Cormac. Or Draco even.”

“Whatever. That still doesn’t excuse his behavior towards you. I don’t understand why you insist on embarrassing yourself when he clearly has no interest in you. But he’s too much of a coward to say anything.”

“Oh for the love of- Theodore doesn’t owe anyone anything. Me included. I do the things I do because I can and I want to, and quite frankly it isn’t anyone else’s business but my own. So why don’t you two get your heads out of your own arses and stop worrying about me, and stop worrying about Theodore.”

With that, Theo listened as your footsteps slowly got quieter as you stomped away, your words ringing in his head.

Theo had never been in love before. But in that moment, he was beginning to see the appeal. Fuck that was hot as hell.

For Theo, it all spiraled down from there as he finally began to see you. Really see you. And not just as someone who had a silly crush on him.

It started with the notes. He hadn’t noticed before, but it wasn’t just him that you’d slip a note to in the hallway. After one particularly difficult transfiguration exam, Theo watched as you dropped a note with a chocolate candy attached into the bags of your friends.

Another day, he arrived to potions early to find you carefully setting up his station as he hovered in the doorway. After class, he didn’t rush out like he normally would and instead watched as you quietly slipped an extra copy of your notes to a student he knew struggled with the class.

And while you weren’t exactly blowing kisses to all of your friends across the Great Hall, Theo began to notice the way you didn’t hesitate to throw your arms around your friends, hugging them tightly when you got excited. Or grasping onto a hand as you wandered through Hogsmeade, arms swinging in carefree bliss.

It was about a month after Theo had begun his silent observations that he began to feel it. The slow pull away as your presence began to fade from his life. He almost didn’t notice at first. It had been about a week since he’d last found a note in his bag, or parcel waiting for him on his seat. You still smiled brightly at him if your eyes met from across the Great Hall, but now that he thought about it, Theo couldn’t remember the last time you’d blown a kiss his way.

It all came to a head the day Theo walked into History of Magic to see one of your friends sitting next to you in his usual seat, chattering away.

“Nice mate, they finally get the message?” Mattheo asks with a grin, elbowing him in the ribs.

Theo remained silent as he followed his friend to a seat in the back, eyes not leaving the spot where he should be sitting.

It continued on like this for what Theo thought was eternity. Salazar he missed you. Weeks passed filled with sleepless nights where he would stare at the ceiling contemplating where he had gone wrong. At the very beginning really, he thought dryly, remembering his initial feelings of agitation and annoyance. He wished he could go back and give himself a good smack upside the head.

The day Theo passed you in the hall and you didn’t even spare him a passing glance was the day Theo finally broke.

“Lorenzo.” He said, slamming the door of their dormitory open, startling his roommate.

“Theodore?”

Theo glares at the use of the name.

“You’re the romantic type. How do I do it?” Theo asked as he stomped his way over to his bed.

With a bemused look, Enzo swings around to look at his roommate, wondering if one of the ghosts had somehow possessed him.

“You want to know. How to do romance?” Enzo asks slowly, not fully believing he’d heard his friend correctly. Theo was probably one of the most emotionally detached people he’d ever met.

“Yes. Y/n. I want to make it up to them.”

"I thought we didn't like them?" Enzo said, growing more concerned for his friend's mental state by the minute.

"We didn't. But now we do, and I want to make things right."

Enzo blinked. Oh this was not going to be easy.

As you sat in the court yard with a group of your friends, textbooks in hand as you attempted to study for the charms test the next day, your eyes flickered momentarily as a sea of green wandered by. Quickly you look away before your eyes could meet Theo’s and you try to turn your attention back to your friend’s idle chatter.

It had been what? A month since you’d stopped actively seeking out the boy’s attention. Maybe more. And you missed him. His sarcastic smiles and pretty eyes that seemed to be fixed in a permanent glare.

But you were also tired. Mostly tired of the snarky comments. “Have some self respect.” “So desperate.” The voices of your classmates echoed in your head, and eventually you began to draw back. You knew he’d noticed. You’d seen his eyebrows furrow in confusion that day you’d let your friend sit beside you in class. A pang of guilt washing over you. But it’s not like he showed any signs of wanting things to go back to the way they were. So you simply stayed away. Maybe that’s what he’d wanted all along.

Your thoughts followed you as you eventually made your way back to your dormitory, wanting nothing more than to wrap yourself up in a warm blanket and disappear. As you approach your bed however, you make out something that definitely wasn’t there when you’d left that morning. A gorgeous bouquet of little white flowers wrapped in thick brown paper, tied off with a silky emerald green ribbon. Stamped on the corner of one of the brown folds, the letters TN shown at you in gold curls.

“Oh those are beautiful!” Your roommate gasps when they see the flowers. “Lily of the valley! Those can symbolize renewal ya know. Usually they’re given as like, an apology of sorts, or if someone wants to start over.” they tell you. Ever the herbology buff. “Who are they from?”

A smile grows on your lips as her words sink in and you press the flowers close to your chest.

“Just a special friend,” you reply.

After all the months of Theo's coldness towards you, you'd never quite allowed yourself to truly believe the boy would ever return your affection, but maybe things were beginning to look up.

Over the course of the next several days, you begin to notice little things that had Theodore’s name written all over them.

After the charms exam the following day, you find a note of encouragement written in Theo’s familiar scrawl dropped in your bag along with a bag of your favorite toffees. How he’d managed to get it there without you noticing was beyond you.

There were little things too. Your stations in herbology and astronomy were always set up and waiting for you when you walked into class. The book on ancient runes that you’d been searching for showed up on your bedside table. (You weren’t sure how he was doing that either, but you weren’t about to question it.) And there always seemed to be a comfortable smirk on Theodore’s face whenever your eyes wandered over to where he sat with his friends, eyes seemingly boring into you.

Now, you sat quietly in your own little nook of the library, quill in hand as you scribbled away at your ancient runes essay, the book Theo left you being quite helpful.

You were happy he'd found his way back into your life, happier still that he was actually making a point to be included in your life.

“You don’t mind do you?” A voice asks, startling you and causing ink to splatter against the parchment.

With shocked eyes, you look up to see Theodore standing next your table as if your thoughts had summoned him there. He sets his books down, frowning at your now ruined paper.

With a flick of his wand, the mess is gone.

“Sorry bout that,” he mutters, sitting down across from you.

You blink, not entirely convinced you’re not hallucinating.

“You know, I remember you being much more talkative,” he says, a sly smirk reaching across his face as you realize you’ve yet to say anything to the boy.

“I remember you being significantly less talkative,” you blurt out before quickly covering your mouth with your hand in horror.

To your relief, the boy in front of you lets out a low laugh.

"Fair enough. See you've been liking the book," he says, gesturing towards the open text.

"Oh yeah, I've been meaning to say something, thank you."

"Don't worry bout it. I never said thank you for all the things you did. Probably should've." He replies, looking down as he pulls out his own quill and parchment. "I am sorry by the way."

"For?" You ask, head tilting to the side in curiosity.

"Everything. Or for doing nothing is probably more accurate," he says, flipping open his text book.

You can tell that he's nervous as he fidgets with the corners of the book's pages, and you desperately want to ease the tension between the two of you.

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as you debate whether or not to say anything more, or go back to your essay. Finally, you look up at the boy that you had been chasing after for all these months, and remind yourself that he had actually been the one to go through all the trouble of seeking you out tonight.

Gathering your courage, you open your mouth to speak. "Theodore?"

"Yes, love?" he replies, eyes carefully following the lines of text.

"Would you like to join me in Hogsmeade this weekend?"

His eyes snap up at this, and you see the familiar hint of red make it's way into his cheeks once more.

"Only if I can have my seat back in History of Magic." The boy replies.

"I think I can have that arranged."

Hi hi hi! I hope this lives up to all of your hopes and dreams, anon 🫶🏽

[azzayofchaos]

Since my other Nether worldbuilding post was received pretty well... I'm back on my bullshit!

This time featuring zoning and biomes of the Neath: Lore below cut

Nether (noun): the formidable hellscape straddling the boundery between the Fragments of the Overworld and Death's Realms.

Derived from Beneath -> Neath -> Neth -> Nether.

The Nether is most easily accessable through outer regions of the nether, regions that are comparatively closed-off, and lacking in biodiversity compared to the Deep Nether where most Neath civilizations are centered.

The Neth is divided into three primary zones, distinguished by altitude and general climates.

The Calfactory Zone: the largest and most iconic of the three, the Calfactory zone is blisteringly hot and bone-dry, it's most prominent features are its abundant seas and lakes of magma, and the massive Supermagmas atriums that are common above the magma. In the largest of these atriums, the ceiling may be so high above as to be completely invisible from the ground, obscured by an ever present smog of toxic vapor and minerals formed in the self-generated micro-climates that are generated from the rising heat of the lava that begins to cool at a higher altitude.  

In the Basalt Deltas and other biomes around the edges of these lakes, massive pillars of rock and crystals bulwark the more-visible ceiling. 

The most common of this zone’s biomes is the Crimson woods, home to hearty thermal-philic fungi and plants that grow on the minerals and vapors of the lakes. Many are carnivorous in their lack of access to water or sunlight, and these forests contain many sub-biomes and ecosystems of flourishing life. 

The Wastes are perhaps the most desolate regions of the Neath, irradiated deserts of red-rock, brimstone, and sharp sand. Even the vast majority of nether-folk avoid these deserts due to the leftover radiation that rots and destroys anything that waits too long. The only forms of life are particularly robust lichens and bacteria that are happy to sit by the boiling pools of sulfur and mud and toxic sludge that dot the landscape. Growing within the rocks themselves are colonies of amorphous fungus, called geocorpus molds, they get their spores into cracks in the soft netherack and slowly feed on it; the ‘rock meat’ is considered a delicacy in nether cuisine. 

The Temperate Zone: Cradled in the heights of the Neath’s atriums and sat below the roof is the temperate zones; the rising heat of the zone below begins to cool and by doing so, distinct weather patterns form within this zone, leaving it, while still sweltering, a cooler though much more humid climate.

The main biome are the luminescent warped-fungal rainforests that collect the high-rising minerals and odd moisture from the lakes. Liquid is actually present here, though, if it’s not safely filtered through the innards of the various plants and fungi, this water is usually aggressively corrosive, and it is best to shelter from the acidic precipitation to avoid chemical burns. The nether folk and ender local to these rainforests are suited to deal with these conditions and the ender especially do not have trouble with the extreme pH of the water here like they would in the overworld. The zone is lit almost exclusively by the biolumincense of the organisms there and have often been described as false-stars.

In the Deep Nether, the ceiling may give way, allowing one to pass onto the plateaus of the Nether Roof and the yawning void above. The bedrock of the nether roof is jagged and layered in huge slabs, sometimes broken up my mazes of pillar-like structures and shallow, thermal pools of crystal-clear liquid. The kind you don't want to touch of course. fogs may hang low to the ground, but when its clear, or above the fog, the entire universe seems to spill out into the sky. The nether roof was culturally significant and a source of much knowledge and inspiration in the early days, but I'll get more into that in a later post 0.0

The Rime Zone: Plunge deep enough and one might find themselves bellow the lava beds. Here, where the heat can't quite penetrate, the temperatures will drop rapidly to sub-zero.

Namely, the Rime Zone is made up of the soul valleys, flat steppes of cinder and clotted sand, you can imagine it almost with the blindness effect, a fog that pools by your feet, and a heavier darkness hanging from the sky, it feels massive and endless and claustrophobic all at once. Frost collects as crystals on the irradiated, soul-soaked barrens, and the bones of the massive nether wyrms lie fossilized, breaking up the landscape. The sands are also split with patches of crazing on the ground and vents of blue fire that spills out and sets the sand ablaze.

These same wryms can be found sometimes, ancient things that dig through sand and soft rocks and the magma lakes, far and few between and treated with both fear and reverence.

And in the deepest pits of the Neath are the glowing frozen lakes that are colloquially and rightfully called the Gates to Death, glowing blue from beneath their surfaces. Indeed, any further down and you pass into limbo, the edge of Death's Realms.

Extra Notes??:

Soul sand/soil is tread on carefully or not at all, is one form of remnants from the apocolyspe. Like the general radiated rubble present through the Nether, it's a fault of nuclear fallout. Unlike other areas of radiation, its also been infused with the souls of those who didn't survive the joining of worlds. That said, unlike soul sand, soul soil is used productively to grow certain nether crops. It’s minerally and magically dense.

This infused quality is also precent in Nether Debris, resulting in a material that takes magic particularly well.

Iron cannot be found in dense veins and crystals like gold or quartz in the nether, but it's a pretty rich mineral a lot of netherack, giving it its ruddy coloring.

Sorry for this massive rant that no one asked for. If you have questions please feel free to send an ask, I may not have an answer yet but I'll certainly come up with one if I can.

I'm also hoping to do a pass on my headcanons about history and culture in the Nether and then we might start talking about character headcanons since this is also an actual AU.

If you read this far, here's some notes on striders and ghast

[dilfsfordinner]

a/n- this is how i cope with aot ending

pairing- husband gojo x wife!reader

—————————————————————————

“Satoru, I’m back!” you called out, feet quickly slipping and kicking your shoes at the front door, arms struggling to keep the 10 grocery bags you had balanced from smashing to the floor.

“‘m sorry it took so long-” shuffling to the kitchen, you continued to talk to the open space, assuming your husband was actually listening, “-traffic was terrible. I didn’t even think it could snow this early.”

Your words trailed off into little mumbles, talking to yourself about every irritant you’d encountered in the grocery store. It was strangely quiet in the house, the usual squeals of laughter and giddy conversations gone from the common routine, the oddity oblivious to you and your focused state.

Leaning back with your hands on your hips, you sighed in relief, muscles relaxing as you took in your good work, cabinets full and refrigerator stocked, the kitchen now completely organized to perfection. Humming contentedly, the previous relief you’d felt turned awry, smile disappearing from your lips.

It was so.. quiet. Too quiet.

“..Toru.?” for the first time in the last 20 minutes, it had finally clicked that something was off. A kiss and hug weren’t given to you at the door, the tv was off, there was no nighttime bath running for Megumi. Everything was so still and silent.

Padding throughout the house, you quickly checked every room, the empty spaces throwing your brain into panic mode, all your worries coming to mind as you looked for your husband and little boy.

After your thorough search, one room remained, the door of your shared bedroom just the slightest bit ajar.

You were about to call for him again when a familiar tuft of white hair caught your eye. Pushing into the room, you took in probably one of the cutest sights you’d ever seen.

There, curled up in bed, fetal position, was your 6’6” husband, his chest slowly rising and falling with the pattern of sleep. Almost laughing at yourself for being so worried, you inched closer to your side of the bed, about to join him under the covers.

A patch of black hair stopped you this time though, little Megumi hidden in the pool of blankets that surrounded him and your lover’s bodies. Stifling an ‘aww’, you fought off the urge to film the two of them, Megumi’s little fingers clutching onto Gojo’s shirt as the two of them snored.

His tiny form was nuzzled into Gojo’s side, chubby cheeks pushed against Satoru’s ribs, drool collecting at the corner of his mouth, staining your man’s new, black sleep shirt, a fact you ignored as you imagined Gojo’s melodramatics certain to occur.

Although they acted like yin and yang, the way Gojo cradled him was so sweet, you really had to fight off the waterworks. His large hands held the little boy securely, long fingers resting on Megumi’s back and head, keeping him close, protecting him, like a real father would for his son.

Leaning down, you brushed Satoru’s hair away from his forehead, leaving a gentle kiss to his porcelain skin, then continuing to do the same to little Megs, the young boy’s breath hitching, dark eyelashes fluttering before his quiet snores started back up, fingers curling even tighter around Gojo’s sweater.

Tip-toeing to the door, you looked back one more time, the two of them nestled perfectly in a sea of blankets. “My sweet boys..” you murmured to yourself, shaking your head with a smile as you turned out of the room, clicking the door shut, leaving your two favorite people to their much needed rest filled bonding time.

—————————————————————————

[togglesbloggle]

For the Reverse Unpopular Opinion meme, Lamarckism!

(This is an excellent ask.)

Lamarck got done a bit dirty by the textbooks, as one so often is. He's billed as the guy who articulated an evolutionary theory of inherited characteristics, inevitably set up as an opponent made of straw for Darwin to knock down. The example I recall my own teachers using in grade school was the idea that a giraffe would strain to reach the highest branches of a tree, and as a result, its offspring would be born with slightly longer necks. Ha-ha-ha, isn't-that-silly, isn't natural selection so much more sensible?

But the thing is, this wasn't his idea, not even close. People have been running with ideas like that since antiquity at least. What Lamarck did was to systematize that claim, in the context of a wider and much more interesting theory.

Lamarck was born in to an era where natural philosophy was slowly giving way to Baconian science in the modern sense- that strange, eighteenth century, the one caught in an uneasy tension between Newton the alchemist and Darwin the naturalist. This is the century of Ben Franklin and his key and his kite, and the awed discovery that this "electricity" business was somehow involved in living organisms- the discovery that paved the way for Shelley's Frankenstein. This was the era when alchemy was fighting its last desperate battles with chemistry, when the division between 'organic' and 'inorganic' chemistry was fundamental- the first synthesis of organic molecules in the laboratory wouldn't occur until 1828, the year before Lamarck's death. We do not have atoms, not yet. Mendel and genetics are still more than a century away; we won't even have cells for another half-century or more.

Lamarck stepped in to that strange moment. I don't think he was a bold revolutionary, really, or had much interest in being one. He was profoundly interested in the structure and relationships between species, and when we're not using him as a punching bag in grade schools, some people manage to remember that he was a banging good taxonomist, and made real progress in the classification of invertebrates. He started life believing in the total immutability of species, but later was convinced that evolution really was occurring- not because somebody taught him in the classroom, or because it was the accepted wisdom of the time, but through deep, continued exposure to nature itself. He was convinced by the evidence of his senses.

(Mostly snails.)

His problem was complexity. When he'd been working as a botanist, he had this neat little idea to order organisms by complexity, starting with the grubbiest, saddest little seaweed or fern, up through lovely flowering plants. This was not an evolutionary theory, just an organizing structure; essentially, just a sort of museum display. But when he was asked to do the same thing with invertebrates, he realized rather quickly that this task had problems. A linear sorting from simple to complex seemed embarrassingly artificial, because it elided too many different kinds of complexity, and ignored obvious similarities and shared characteristics.

When he went back to the drawing board, he found better organizing schema; you'd recognize them today. There were hierarchies, nested identities. Simple forms with only basic, shared anatomical patterns, each functioning as a sort of superset implying more complex groups within it, defined additively by the addition of new organs or structures in the body. He'd made a taxonomic tree.

Even more shockingly, he realized something deep and true in what he was looking at: this wasn't just an abstract mapping of invertebrates to a conceptual diagram of their structures. This was a map in time. Complexities in invertebrates- in all organisms!- must have been accumulating in simpler forms, such that the most complicated organisms were also the youngest.

This is the essential revolution of Lamarckian evolution, not the inherited characteristics thing. His theory, in its full accounting, is actually quite elaborate. Summarized slightly less badly than it is in your grade school classroom (though still pretty badly, I'm by no means an expert on this stuff), it looks something like this:

As we all know, animals and plants are sometimes generated ex nihilo in different places, like maggots spontaneously appearing in middens. However, the spontaneous generation of life is much weaker than we have supposed; it can only result in the most basic, simple organisms (e.g. polyps). All the dizzying complexity we see in the world around us must have happened iteratively, in a sequence over time that operated on inheritance between one organism and its descendants.

As we all know, living things are dynamic in relation to inorganic matter, and this vital power includes an occasional tendency to gain in complexity. However, this tendency is not a spiritual or supernatural effect; it's a function of natural, material processes working over time. Probably this has something to do with fluids such as 'heat' and 'electricity' which are known to concentrate in living tissues. When features appear spontaneously in an organism, that should be understood as an intrinsic propensity of the organism itself, rather than being caused by the environment or by a divine entity. There is a specific, definite, and historically contingent pattern in which new features can appear in existing organisms.

As we all know, using different tissue groups more causes them to be expressed more in your descendants, and disuse weakens them in the same way. However, this is not a major feature in the development of new organic complexity, since it could only move 'laterally' on the complexity ladder and will never create new organs or tissue groups. At most, you might see lineages move from ape-like to human-like or vice versa, or between different types of birds or something; it's an adaptive tendency that helps organisms thrive in different environments. In species will less sophisticated neural systems, this will be even less flexible, because they can't supplement it with willpower the way that complex vertebrates can.

Lamarck isn't messing around here; this is a real, genuinely interesting model of the world. And what I think I'm prepared to argue here is that Lamarck's biggest errors aren't his. He has his own blind spots and mistakes, certainly. The focus on complexity is... fraught, at a minimum. But again and again, what really bites him in the ass is just his failure to break with his inherited assumptions enough. The parts of this that are actually Lamarckian, that is, are the ideas of Lamarck, are very clearly groping towards a recognizable kind of proto-evolutionary theory.

What makes Lamarck a punching bag in grade-school classes today is the same thing that made it interesting; it's that it was the best and most scientific explanation of biological complexity available at the time. It was the theory to beat, the one that had edged out all the other competitors and emerged as the most useful framework of the era. And precisely none of that complexity makes it in to our textbooks; they use "Lamarckianism" to refer to arguments made by freaking Aristotle, and which Lamarck himself accepted but de-emphasized as subordinate processes. What's even worse, Darwin didn't reject this mechanism either. Darwin was totally on board with the idea as a possible adaptive tendency; he just didn't particularly need it for his theory.

Lamarck had nothing. Not genetics, not chromosomes, not cells, not atomic theory. Geology was a hot new thing! Heat was a liquid! What Lamarck had was snails. And on the basis of snails, Lamarck deduced a profound theory of complexity emerging over time, of the biosphere as a(n al)chemical process rather than a divine pageant, of gradual adaptation punctuated by rapid innovation. That's incredible.

There's a lot of falsehood in the Lamarckian theory of evolution, and it never managed to entirely throw off the sloppy magical thinking of what came before. But his achievement was to approach biology and taxonomy with a profound scientific curiosity, and to improve and clarify our thinking about those subjects so dramatically that a theory of biology could finally, triumphantly, be proven wrong. Lamarck is falsifiable. That is a victory of the highest order.

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

My Boss's Son

Y/N, an assistant to Anne Twist, forms an unexpected connection with her son, Harry, when he comes home for the holidays.

Word Count: 9,464

Content Warning: Mentions of alcohol, kissing.

Mostly fluff.

Part one of two.

The light filtered through the blinds, casting faint stripes of gold across the room. I blinked against the brightness, my eyes slowly adjusting as I stretched my arms out, feeling the tension in my muscles ease. A deep yawn escaped me, filling the quiet morning air. The world outside seemed to hum faintly, the distant chirping of birds blending with the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze.

I sat up, letting the covers slide off my shoulders. The room was still, yet alive with the promise of a new day. The faint aroma of coffee from the kitchen teased my senses, nudging me toward the day ahead. Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I let my toes press against the cool floor, a gentle reminder that today was mine to shape.

As I stood, a faint shadow danced across the wall—a tree branch swaying outside the window. Something about the movement caught my attention, a quiet insistence that the day held more than routine.

After finishing my coffee, I carried the empty mug to the sink, rinsing it absentmindedly as my thoughts drifted to the day ahead. The morning sunlight filtered through the kitchen window, filling the space with a soft, golden glow. I grabbed my phone from the counter and headed upstairs, each step creaking faintly underfoot.

Back in my room, I opened the closet door, revealing a neatly arranged array of clothes. My fingers brushed over the hangers as I flipped through the options—crisp blouses, tailored trousers, and a few statement pieces that Anne had complimented in the past. Getting dressed in the morning was never a struggle. My wardrobe was curated with care, blending professionalism with a touch of personality and casualness, just as my job required.

Working as a personal assistant to Anne Twist, a celebrated children's author based in the UK and mother to global superstar Harry Styles, came with its own unique blend of charm and challenge. Anne’s world was a whirlwind of creative projects, book signings, and interviews, and I was the one ensuring every detail went off without a hitch. It wasn’t just about organizing her calendar or prepping her notes—it was about anticipating her needs, often before she voiced them.

I finally settled on a simple navy blue dress with a subtle floral pattern, pairing it with a cardigan and comfortable flats. Anne had a penchant for warm, approachable styles herself, and I liked to reflect that in my own appearance. As I slipped on the outfit, I glanced at the framed photo on my dresser—a candid shot of Anne and me at a book launch, her arm draped over my shoulder, both of us laughing.

Today’s agenda was packed. A meeting with Anne's publisher, a conference call with a charity she supported, and later, a brainstorming session for her next book.I grabbed my bag and took one last look in the mirror. Polished yet approachable—that was the goal. Taking a deep breath, I smiled to myself.

The drive to Anne’s house was peaceful, the winding country roads lined with lush greenery and dappled sunlight. I rolled the window down just enough to let the cool morning air fill the car, carrying with it the faint scent of flowers and freshly cut grass. Anne’s home always felt like a retreat from the bustling world—a charming cottage with ivy climbing the walls and a garden that looked like it had been plucked straight from a fairytale.

As I pulled into the driveway, Anne was already at the door, her warm smile radiating the same comforting energy as her home. She waved enthusiastically, her auburn hair catching the sunlight.

“Y/N!” she called out, stepping onto the porch. “You’re right on time, as always. Come in, come in! I’ve just put the kettle on.”

I climbed out of the car, grabbing my bag from the passenger seat. “Morning, Anne!” I replied, smiling as I approached. Her energy was infectious, and it was impossible not to feel instantly at ease in her presence.

Anne pulled me into a quick hug as I reached the door. “It’s so good to see you. I hope the drive wasn’t too long. You know how these roads can be,” she said, ushering me inside.

The familiar scent of lavender and lemon greeted me as I stepped into the house. The kitchen table was already covered in papers—manuscript drafts, notes, and a plate of freshly baked scones. Anne was nothing if not prepared.

“I’ve got a lot to go over with you today,” she said, her tone cheerful but purposeful. “But first, tea. You can’t work properly without tea.”

I laughed, setting my bag down on a chair. “You know me too well, Anne. What’s on the agenda today?”

She poured steaming tea into two mismatched mugs, handing one to me. “Oh, the usual chaos,” she said with a wink. “We’ve got that call with the publisher at ten, and later I want to brainstorm ideas for the next book. Oh, and Harry might pop by later—he said he had something he wanted to drop off.”

I raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of the tea. “Harry’s stopping by? Should I be preparing for something out of the ordinary?”

Anne laughed, her eyes twinkling. “You never know with him, do you? But for now, let’s get through these notes. Come on, take a seat.”

I settled into the chair opposite her, notebook in hand, ready to dive into the day’s work.

As Anne and I worked through her notes, my mind kept drifting back to what she had said earlier. Harry might pop by. I hadn’t met him yet—despite working with Anne for nearly a year now. He was always away, either on tour or traveling, and our paths had never crossed. But today might change that.

“Anne,” I said hesitantly, setting down my pen, “so… about Harry. I guess I’m a little nervous to meet him.”

Anne looked up from her notes, her expression warm and understanding. “Nervous? Oh, Y/N, you’ve nothing to be nervous about! He’s a sweetheart. Truly.”

“I’m sure he is,” I replied with a nervous laugh. “But, I mean, he’s Harry Styles. He’s this global superstar, and I’m just… me. What if I say something awkward? Or trip over my words?”

Anne chuckled, setting her glasses on the table and leaning back in her chair. “Y/N, you have nothing to worry about. Harry’s as down-to-earth as they come. He’s more likely to be the one tripping over his words than you are.”

Her reassurance made me smile, but there was something in her tone—something playful—that piqued my curiosity. Before I could dwell on it, Anne leaned forward slightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Actually,” she said, a little more thoughtfully, “I think it’s good you two are finally meeting. I’ve always thought you and Harry would get along wonderfully.”

I raised an eyebrow, my cheeks warming slightly. “You do?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she said, nodding with certainty. “You both have such similar energies—kind, thoughtful, creative. And you both love to laugh. I can already picture the two of you chatting away like old friends.”

I laughed nervously, unsure how to respond. “Well, I guess we’ll see. No pressure, right?”

Anne smiled knowingly, taking a sip of her tea. “No pressure at all, my dear. But sometimes, the best connections happen when you least expect them.”

Her words lingered in the air as we returned to our work, but my mind couldn’t help wandering. 

The day passed in a flurry of productivity. Anne and I tackled everything on the agenda—the publisher’s call went smoothly, the brainstorming session brought to life some fantastic ideas for her next book, and even the smallest tasks seemed to fall perfectly into place. By late afternoon, the papers on the kitchen table were neatly stacked, the mugs washed, and the scones just a crumb-filled memory.

As I started gathering my things to leave, Anne stopped me, her warm smile ever-present. “Y/N, don’t rush off just yet.”

I glanced at her, surprised. “Oh, I thought we were done for the day?”

“We are,” she said, placing a hand on my shoulder, her tone gentle and inviting. “But Harry should be here soon, and I think it would be lovely if you stayed for dinner. I’ve already got everything prepped, and I promise it’s nothing fancy—just a good, home-cooked meal. Besides, you’ve worked so hard today, and I’d love the company.”

I hesitated, glancing at the time. “Are you sure, Anne? I don’t want to intrude.”

Anne shook her head firmly, her expression softening in a way that reminded me of my own mother. “Y/N, you’re not intruding. You’re family—more than just an assistant to me. I don’t say that lightly.” She gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. “Now, stay. Let me spoil you a little.”

Her words warmed my heart, and I felt a lump rise in my throat. Anne had always treated me with such kindness, but hearing her say it so plainly made me feel truly appreciated. “Okay,” I said, smiling. “I’d love to stay.”

“Good,” Anne said, beaming. “You can help me set the table. And don’t worry, you’ll love Harry. He’s just like me, only taller and a bit scruffier.”

I laughed, the nervous flutter in my stomach returning. The idea of meeting Harry still felt slightly surreal, but Anne’s confidence that we’d get along eased my nerves—at least a little.

Together, we walked back to the house, chatting about everything from her garden to potential titles for her next book. Anne’s warmth and humor made the transition from work mode to relaxation seamless, and by the time we reached the cottage, I was already feeling at home.

As we stepped inside, Anne gestured toward the dining table. “You start on the plates, and I’ll grab the drinks. Harry should be here any minute now.”

I nodded, moving to set the table as instructed, but I couldn’t help the little flicker of excitement—and anxiety—that danced in my chest. 

Moments later, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house, followed by a familiar voice calling out.

“Mum? I’m here!” Harry’s voice carried easily, warm and slightly teasing.

Anne, busy at the counter pouring drinks, shouted back, “In the kitchen, love!”

I froze mid-step, clutching a plate in my hands. My pulse quickened as the reality of meeting Harry—Anne’s son and global superstar—hit me square in the chest. A part of me wanted to disappear into the background, but before I could even think to move, the sound of footsteps approached.

Then, there he was. Harry walked into the kitchen, his casual stride and easy grin instantly lighting up the room. He was dressed simply—jeans, a T-shirt, and a beanie pulled snugly over his brown curls—but his presence was anything but ordinary. His green eyes scanned the room before landing on me.

He stopped, his smile widening with playful confusion. “Well, you’re definitely not my mum.”

I blinked, caught off guard, before laughing nervously. “No, no, definitely not.”

Anne turned from the counter, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Y/N, meet my son, Harry. Harry, this is Y/N—my assistant, though I prefer to call her my second daughter.”

Harry’s expression softened, and he stepped forward, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Mum’s told me loads about you.”

I set the plate down carefully before shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you too. She’s told me a lot about you as well.”

He raised an eyebrow, a glint of humor in his eyes. “All good things, I hope?”

“Of course,” I replied, feeling my nerves ease slightly under the weight of his charm. “She’s very proud of you.”

Harry shot Anne a look, his smile turning fond. “She’s not bad herself, is she?” Turning back to me, he added, “So, you’re the one keeping her so organized. Must be a full-time job.”

“It is,” I said with a small laugh. “But I love it.”

Anne interjected, carrying the drinks to the table. “All right, enough chatter. Harry, help Y/N finish setting the table. And no teasing—you’ll scare her off.”

Harry chuckled, grabbing a stack of silverware. “Scare her off? I’m charming, Mum.”

Anne gave him a knowing look but didn’t argue. As Harry handed me the silverware, his smile was soft, his teasing replaced by genuine warmth.

“Don’t let her boss you around too much,” he joked quietly, leaning in just enough for only me to hear. “But I’ll warn you, she’s usually right.”

As we worked together to set the table, Harry struck up a conversation, his natural curiosity evident in the way he asked questions.

“So, Y/N,” he began, placing the silverware neatly beside the plates, “Mum says you’ve been working with her for about a year now. But I’m curious—how’d you end up here? Not many people just casually relocate to the middle of England.”

I smiled, stacking the napkins as I spoke. “Well, I’m originally from New York, but I came to England a few years ago to study abroad. It was supposed to be temporary, but I ended up falling in love with the country. Anne and I met while I was finishing up my studies, and things just kind of fell into place.”

“New York to England, huh?” he said, his tone thoughtful. “That’s quite a leap. What made you want to stay? Was it the tea, the rain, or Mum’s scones?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Definitely not the rain. But honestly, I think it was the pace of life here. It’s different from New York—slower, in a good way. Plus, I felt like I’d found a second home when I started working with Anne. She’s been amazing.”

Harry glanced over at his mum, who was busy fiddling with the oven, her back turned to us. His expression softened. “Yeah, she has a way of making people feel that way, doesn’t she?”

“She really does,” I agreed, my voice warm. “She’s been more than a boss to me—more like family.”

Harry smiled, leaning casually against the edge of the table. “That sounds like her. She’s always taking people under her wing. So, what were you studying before you decided to make the big move?”

“English literature,” I said, straightening one of the forks. “I’ve always loved books and writing, so it just felt like the right path. Meeting Anne was kind of serendipitous. She needed an assistant around the same time I was trying to figure out what to do next, and the rest is history.”

Harry nodded, his interest clearly genuine. “That’s brilliant. Sounds like it was meant to be. And now you’re here, working with Mum, dealing with her endless sticky notes and brainstorm sessions. She ever drag you out to the garden for ‘creative inspiration’?”

I chuckled, nodding. “Oh, plenty of times. But I don’t mind—it’s always an adventure with her.”

Harry’s grin widened. “I can imagine. And do you still write yourself, or is it all Mum’s projects now?”

The question caught me off guard, and I hesitated for a moment. “I try to write when I can, but it’s mostly little things—nothing serious.”

“Well,” he said, his tone encouraging, “maybe one day I’ll get to read something of yours. If Mum’s spoken this highly of you, I bet it’s brilliant.”

His compliment made my cheeks flush slightly, but I managed a smile. “Maybe. But for now, I’m happy helping her bring her stories to life.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Fair enough. But don’t forget about your own stories, yeah? Something tells me they’re worth sharing.”

The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard, but before I could respond, Anne interrupted, calling us to the table.

“All right, you two, enough chatter! Dinner’s ready. Harry, stop hogging Y/N’s attention and help me bring the dishes out.”

Harry smirked but obeyed, shooting me a quick wink as he moved to help his mum. “Guess that’s my cue,” he said, grabbing the serving tray. “But I’m not done with my questions, Y/N. Consider this round one.”

I laughed softly, feeling a strange mix of nerves and excitement as I took my seat at the table. Round one, huh? This evening was shaping up to be much more interesting than I’d anticipated.

As Harry walked toward the kitchen to help his mom, I began fiddling with the edge of the napkin in front of me, still processing our earlier conversation. His natural charm and easygoing nature made him surprisingly approachable, and yet I couldn’t shake the nervous flutter in my stomach.

I was just settling into my seat when I heard his voice drift from the kitchen. It wasn’t loud, but the playful tone caught my attention.

“Mum,” he said, his voice carrying just enough for me to overhear, “you forgot to mention how pretty she is.”

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. My heart began to race as I tried to process what I’d just heard. Was he talking about me? It was hard to mistake the sincerity in his tone, even laced as it was with a hint of teasing.

Anne chuckled in response, her reply warm but matter-of-fact. “I didn’t think I needed to, love. I figured you’d see that for yourself.”

The sound of clinking dishes followed, but I couldn’t focus on anything else. My cheeks grew hot as I stared at the table, trying to act like I hadn’t heard a word.

What did that even mean? Was he just being nice? Or was there something more to his comment? The idea made my chest tighten, equal parts flattered and overwhelmed.

Moments later, Harry and Anne returned to the dining room, each carrying a dish. His expression was as casual and easy as ever, as if he hadn’t just said something that was now on a loop in my head. He caught my gaze briefly as he set down a bowl of roasted vegetables, flashing me a small, almost knowing smile before turning back to his mom.

“Right, all set?” Anne asked cheerfully, glancing between the two of us as she placed the final dish on the table. “Let’s dig in!”

I forced myself to smile, hoping it didn’t look too forced. “Smells amazing, Anne. Thank you.”

As dinner began, Harry struck up conversation again, his questions lighthearted and easy, but I couldn’t help noticing the occasional glance he sent my way. Maybe it was nothing—or maybe Anne had been right all along. Whatever it was, one thing was certain: this evening was turning out to be far more eventful than I had expected.

After everyone had eaten their fill and the plates were cleared, I stood to help Anne gather the dishes, but she waved me off with a smile.

“Sit and relax, Y/N. You’ve done enough today,” she said warmly. “But if Harry’s volunteering, I won’t say no to an extra pair of hands.”

“I’ll help too,” I insisted, ignoring her gentle protest as I followed Harry to the kitchen with a stack of plates.

Harry grabbed a dish towel, tossing it over his shoulder as he started rinsing the dishes. He glanced at me with a grin. “Looks like it’s just us now. I’ll try not to scare you off with my terrible washing-up skills.”

I laughed, rolling up my sleeves. “Don’t worry—I’m no professional either.”

As we worked side by side, the atmosphere felt lighter, more relaxed. Harry, ever curious, turned to me with a playful tilt of his head. “So, Y/N, I feel like I barely scratched the surface earlier. Let’s dig a little deeper. Do you have any pets?”

I smiled, handing him a clean plate to dry. “No pets, unfortunately. Growing up in New York, we didn’t really have the space for them. But I’ve always wanted a dog. What about you?”

He nodded, his grin widening. “Mum’s got a cat—Dusty. Though I think she likes Dusty more than me most days.”

I laughed at his self-deprecating humor. “I doubt that. Anne talks about you like you’re her pride and joy.”

“Good to know I’m still in her good books,” he teased, then shifted gears. “Okay, next question. Favorite movie?”

I bit my lip, thinking it over. “That’s a tough one. Probably Pride and Prejudice—the Keira Knightley version. I’ve seen it a hundred times, and it still makes me swoon. What about you?”

Harry pretended to look thoughtful. “Hmm, Pride and Prejudice is solid, but I might have to go with The Notebook. Classic romantic drama.”

I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You’re full of surprises.”

“Am I?” he said with a playful wink, taking another dish from my hands. “Okay, next one: Favorite bar in London?”

“That’s easy,” I said, sliding another plate toward him. “The Churchill Arms. It’s so cozy and covered in flowers—it’s like stepping into a storybook. What about you?”

“Great choice,” he said, nodding approvingly. “For me, it’s The Spaniards Inn. Proper old-school vibe and great music.”

“I’ll have to check it out sometime,” I said, filing the recommendation away.

He paused, glancing over at me with a curious glint in his eye. “I could show you, if you’re up for it. You know, give you the full Harry Styles bar tour.”

The suggestion caught me off guard, but his smile was so genuine, it was impossible not to mirror it. “Maybe,” I said, trying to sound casual despite the warmth spreading in my chest. “If I can keep up.”

“Oh, I think you’ll manage,” he replied, his voice light and teasing as he placed the last clean plate on the rack. “But don’t think you’re off the hook just yet. I’ve got plenty more questions.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Something tells me you’re not going to run out anytime soon.”

“Not a chance,” he said, his smile widening as he grabbed the dish towel to dry his hands. “You’re far too interesting for that.”

As the evening wound down, the cozy energy of Anne’s home lingered in the air. Harry leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, chatting with his mom while I finished drying the last of the dishes. His laugh filled the kitchen, warm and effortless, and I couldn’t help but glance his way more often than necessary.

But soon, it was time to leave. Harry had to fly out the next morning to start recording for his next project, and I knew my days ahead would be busy helping Anne finalize the manuscript for her latest book. It felt bittersweet—our paths had just crossed, and yet, they were already diverging.

As I grabbed my coat from the hook near the door, Harry walked over, slipping his hands into his pockets. “So,” he began, his voice casual but his eyes searching mine, “looks like it’ll be a bit before we see each other again.”

I nodded, smiling softly. “Yeah, sounds like you’ll be busy.”

“Same for you,” he said, tilting his head. “Mum keeps you running around, doesn’t she?”

I chuckled. “She does, but I don’t mind. She’s worth it.”

Harry’s smile turned a little softer at that. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Well, seeing as I’m about to disappear for a while, how about we exchange numbers? Just in case Mum ‘accidentally’ forgets to pass along messages.”

The suggestion caught me off guard, but I quickly recovered, pulling out my phone. “Sure,” I said, feeling a flutter of nerves as we traded numbers. His fingers brushed mine briefly as he handed my phone back, and I wondered if he felt the same quiet spark.

“Now you’ve got no excuse not to check out The Spaniards Inn,” he joked, his voice light but his eyes holding something a little more serious.

“Guess I don’t,” I said, smiling.

Anne appeared then, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “All right, you two, no plotting mischief without me,” she teased. “Harry, don’t keep Y/N standing here all night—she’s got work in the morning.”

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. “All right, all right. I’ll let her go. For now.”

We said our goodbyes, and as I walked out to my car, I couldn’t help but glance back. Harry stood in the doorway with Anne, waving, his easy smile still lingering even as I pulled away.

Weeks turned into months, and the holiday season crept closer. Between Anne’s projects and the quiet hum of my own life, I found myself thinking of Harry more than I cared to admit. We’d exchanged a few texts here and there—mostly casual check-ins or jokes—but nothing too deep. Still, every time my phone lit up with his name, it brought a smile to my face.

Then came Anne’s annual Christmas party. The cottage was aglow with warm lights, garlands, and a massive tree Anne had insisted on decorating herself. Guests milled about with glasses of mulled wine, laughter and conversation filling every corner.

I was in the kitchen, helping Anne plate some hors d'oeuvres, when a familiar voice made my heart skip.

“Surprise,” Harry said, leaning casually against the doorway, his signature grin firmly in place.

I turned, my breath catching slightly. He looked effortlessly stylish, dressed in a festive green sweater and black trousers, his hair tousled as though he hadn’t tried at all. “Harry,” I said, smiling. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”

“Neither did I,” he admitted, stepping further into the kitchen. “But I couldn’t miss Mum’s party—or the chance to see you again.”

Anne smirked knowingly, handing me the last platter before excusing herself with a suspiciously cheerful “I’ll leave you two to catch up.”

I rolled my eyes at her retreating figure but couldn’t suppress the warmth spreading through me. “So,” I said, turning back to Harry, “how’s recording going?”

“It’s good,” he said, his voice softening. “Busy, but good. Though I’ll admit, I’ve been looking forward to this party for weeks.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Because of the mulled wine?”

He grinned, his eyes meeting mine. “Something like that. But mostly because I knew you’d be here.”

The sincerity in his tone made my heart flip. I wasn’t sure what to say, but before I could respond, he gestured toward the door. “Shall we? I think Mum would kill me if I didn’t mingle.”

The party buzzed around us, but Harry and I had found a quieter corner of the living room, where the lights from the Christmas tree cast a soft glow. He handed me a glass of red wine, his fingers brushing mine briefly, and leaned casually against the wall beside me.

“So,” he said, swirling the wine in his glass, “tell me—what’s been the highlight of your year? And if you say one of Mum’s scone-baking experiments, I’ll know you’re lying.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Well, those have been a journey, but I think meeting her in the first place takes the top spot. It’s been a whirlwind, but a good one.”

He smiled, his gaze warm. “That’s a solid choice. I’d say meeting you is up there on my list too.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the subtle sincerity in his voice, but before I could respond, Gemma’s voice rang out across the room.

“Oi, Harry!” she called, her tone dripping with playful mischief. “Do you two know you’re standing under the mistletoe?”

My eyes shot upward instinctively, and sure enough, the little sprig of green was hanging above us, tied neatly with a red ribbon. My cheeks flushed as laughter rippled through the room. I turned back to Harry, who had the audacity to look completely shocked.

“Mistletoe?” he said, feigning innocence as his eyes darted upward. “Would you look at that? What a coincidence.”

I narrowed my eyes, catching the faintest flicker of amusement in his expression. “Coincidence, huh?” I asked, my tone skeptical.

Gemma smirked from across the room. “Well, rules are rules!”

The guests around us were clearly entertained, their chatter fading into encouraging murmurs. Harry turned back to me, his grin widening as he leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only me to hear.

“Guess we’ve got to follow tradition,” he said, his tone teasing but his gaze steady. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint everyone.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, my heart pounding as he leaned closer. His lips brushed mine softly, the warmth of the moment washing over me despite the playful shouts and applause in the background. It was sweet, unhurried, and—dare I say—perfect.

When he pulled back, his grin was back in full force, but there was a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he said, his voice just above a whisper.

“Merry Christmas,” I managed, my cheeks still flushed as the room erupted in laughter and cheers. Gemma gave us a knowing look, and Anne, from the kitchen, was clearly trying not to look too pleased with herself.

As the night went on, the party blurred into a haze of warmth and laughter, but that moment under the mistletoe stayed crystal clear in my mind. 

The party continued, the festive atmosphere filling every corner of Anne’s home, but I couldn’t shake the giddy feeling in my chest. Every so often, I’d catch Harry glancing my way, and each time, his warm smile made my heart skip a beat. It felt as if the mistletoe moment had shifted something between us—something unspoken but undeniably present.

After the laughter and teasing died down, Harry and I found ourselves back in the cozy corner of the living room, wine glasses in hand. This time, the conversation felt lighter, more natural, as if the small barrier of formality had finally fallen away.

“So,” I teased, swirling my glass, “did you actually plan that mistletoe stunt, or was it pure luck?”

Harry smirked, not even bothering to deny it. “What can I say? I might have noticed where Mum hung it earlier and thought it’d be a good spot to stand. But in my defense,” he added, leaning in slightly, “I wasn’t sure you’d go along with it.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” he said with a wink, his grin softening as he studied me. “But honestly, I’m glad it happened. I’ve been wanting to spend more time with you.”

His words caught me off guard, and I found myself searching his expression for any sign of teasing, but there was none—just quiet sincerity. “You have?” I asked, my voice quieter now.

“Of course,” he said, his tone genuine. “You’re… well, you’re amazing. Mum’s always going on about how much she adores you, and honestly, I get it. You’ve got this way about you—calm, funny, kind. It’s refreshing.”

I felt my cheeks heat under his gaze, unsure of how to respond. “Harry, that’s… really sweet of you to say.”

He shrugged, his smile turning a little sheepish. “Just being honest. And, well, I guess I should probably thank Mum for hiring you and convincing you to stay in England.”

I laughed softly, the nerves I’d felt earlier slowly fading. “She is very persuasive.”

“Isn’t she?” he said, laughing along. “So, what about you? Are you glad you stayed?”

I took a moment to think about his question, the warmth of the room and the sound of soft music in the background making the moment feel surreal. “I am,” I said finally, meeting his eyes. “I’ve built a life here I never expected, and it’s been… wonderful.”

Harry’s gaze softened, his smile easy but full of something deeper. “I’m glad to hear that. And, for what it’s worth, I hope I can be part of what makes it even better.”

Before I could respond, Anne appeared, beaming as she handed us a tray of leftover mince pies. “You two look cozy,” she said with a knowing smile, clearly pleased with herself. “Don’t let me interrupt, but someone has to make sure these don’t go uneaten.”

“Thanks, Mum,” Harry said, chuckling as he took the tray. As Anne walked away, he turned back to me, his smile lingering. “What do you say? Mince pie and more conversation?”

I nodded, feeling my heart flutter again. “I’d like that.”

And as the night wore on, surrounded by laughter and the glow of Christmas lights, I couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something special.

Guests filtered out one by one, their laughter and goodbyes echoing softly through Anne’s cozy home. I slipped into the hallway to grab my coat, the frosty chill of the night visible through the windows. Snow was falling in gentle flurries, blanketing the ground in a soft, sparkling white.

“Thanks for everything, Anne,” I said, hugging her tightly. “The party was wonderful, as always.”

Anne smiled, her arms warm and motherly around me. “It’s not the same without you, my dear. Stay safe getting home, all right?”

“I will,” I promised. “I’ll call an Uber.”

Before I could pull out my phone, Harry appeared, shrugging on his own coat. “Don’t bother with an Uber,” he said, his voice casual but insistent. “I’ll drive you.”

“Harry, you don’t have to do that,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s late, and it’s snowing—”

“All the more reason not to let you sit around waiting for a car,” he cut in, flashing me that easy smile. “Come on. Let me play chauffeur.”

Anne smirked knowingly from the doorway, but she said nothing, simply waving us off with a cheerful “Drive safe, you two!”

The snowflakes danced in the headlights as we drove through the quiet streets. The world outside felt still, the kind of calm that only came with late winter nights. Harry hummed softly along to the radio, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel.

“So,” he said after a moment, glancing over at me, “did you have fun tonight?”

“I did,” I admitted, smiling. “Your mum really knows how to throw a party.”

“She does,” he agreed, grinning. “But I think the mistletoe was her favorite part.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m sure it was.”

We fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need filling. Then, as we turned a corner, Harry suddenly slowed the car, his eyes lighting up with recognition.

“That’s it,” he said, pointing to a warmly lit building just ahead. “That’s the bar I told you about—the one I wanted to take you to.”

I followed his gaze, taking in the charming old-fashioned pub with its twinkling lights and ivy-covered sign. “It looks amazing.”

“Good,” he said, shifting the car into park. “Because we’re making a pit stop.”

I blinked in surprise. “What? Now?”

“Now,” he said firmly, already unbuckling his seatbelt. He turned to me with a playful grin. “Come on. You’re not getting out of this one.”

Before I could protest, he was out of the car, circling around to my side to open the door. The cold air rushed in, but his outstretched hand and infectious enthusiasm warmed me more than my coat ever could. Smiling, I took his hand, letting him help me out of the car.

The snow crunched softly beneath our feet as Harry led me to the pub’s entrance. The wooden door creaked open, revealing a cozy interior filled with warm lighting, laughter, and the soft hum of music. He held the door for me, his eyes sparkling as he followed me inside.

“This,” he said as we found a quiet corner table, “is one of my favorite spots in the city. Figured it was about time I shared it with you.”

I smiled, taking in the quaint charm of the bar. “I’m glad you did.”

Harry leaned back, his grin softening as he looked at me. “So am I. Now, what are we drinking?”

I glanced at the menu briefly before setting it down with a grin. “I’ll start with a shot of Fireball,” I said, glancing at Harry for his reaction.

He raised an eyebrow, laughing. “Straight to Fireball, huh? You’re full of surprises.”

“What can I say? It’s festive,” I replied with a shrug. “What about you?”

“I’ll take a whiskey neat,” he said, flagging down the bartender.

As our drinks arrived, I picked up the small glass, holding it up in a toast. “To impromptu pit stops and good company.”

Harry clinked his glass against mine, his smile warm. “To that.”

I knocked back the shot, the cinnamon burn spreading warmly through my chest. Harry watched, clearly amused, before sipping his own drink. The atmosphere in the bar was cozy and alive, the soft murmur of conversations and the occasional burst of laughter adding to the charm.

After a few moments of quiet, Harry set his glass down, his fingers fidgeting with the rim. “Y/N,” he began, his tone more serious now, “I owe you an apology.”

I tilted my head, surprised. “For what?”

“For not texting much while I was recording,” he said, meeting my gaze. “It wasn’t because I didn’t want to. Quite the opposite, actually.”

I stayed silent, giving him space to continue.

“It’s just… I felt drawn to you, and I didn’t know how to handle it,” he admitted, his voice softer. “I didn’t want to make things harder for either of us if I couldn’t be around, or if our schedules didn’t line up. It felt unfair to pull you into something when I couldn’t guarantee how often we’d see each other.”

His honesty caught me off guard, but in the best way. I leaned forward slightly, my elbows resting on the table. “Harry, I get it. You’ve got a lot on your plate, and it’s not like I expect constant texts or updates. But… I appreciate you telling me that.”

He let out a small breath, his shoulders relaxing. “I just didn’t want you to think I wasn’t interested. Because I am. Very much.”

My cheeks warmed, and I took another sip of my drink to buy myself a moment. “Well, for what it’s worth, I thought about you too. A lot.”

His smile returned, soft and genuine, as he leaned forward. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I said, laughing softly. “I just didn’t know if it was mutual or if I was imagining things.”

“You weren’t,” he said, his voice steady. “Not even for a second.”

The weight of his words settled between us, the unspoken feelings finally taking shape. The noise of the bar faded into the background as we held each other’s gaze, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

“Good,” I said finally, breaking the silence with a small smile. “Because I’m not imagining this either—this pit stop? Definitely worth it.”

He chuckled, raising his glass to me again. “Here’s to more pit stops, then.”

I clinked my glass against his, the warmth of the moment spreading through me.

Harry waved down the bartender and ordered himself one more drink, a smile playing on his lips as he looked over at me. “You go ahead, though—order another if you want. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get home safe.”

His words, coupled with the warmth in his voice, made me feel completely at ease. I grinned, raising my hand to flag the bartender. “All right, two more for me, then.”

As we chatted and finished our drinks, the conversation flowed effortlessly. Harry’s wit and charm kept me laughing, and I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so at ease with someone. When the bartender cleared away the empty glasses, Harry glanced at me with a teasing grin.

“Ready to call it a night, or do you want to take over the jukebox and turn this into a dance party?” he joked.

I laughed, shaking my head. “As tempting as that is, I think I’m ready to head home.”

He stood, offering his hand to help me up. “Then let’s get you back.”

The snow had lightened as we drove through the quiet streets, but it still sparkled in the streetlights, blanketing everything in a serene white glow. I leaned back in my seat, the warmth of the car lulling me into a calm state as I watched Harry. He looked focused yet relaxed, one hand on the steering wheel while the other rested casually on his lap.

After a moment, as if sensing my gaze, he reached over and placed a hand on my thigh. The gesture was simple, but it sent a warm jolt through me, grounding me in the moment. His touch was light, reassuring, and yet it carried a weight that made my heart race.

I looked at him, smiling softly. “You know, you’re really beautiful.”

He turned to glance at me briefly, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Beautiful, huh? Don’t let the lads hear you say that—they’ll never let me live it down.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m serious. You are. Inside and out.”

He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against my leg in an almost absentminded motion. “Thanks, love. But you should know—it’s not every day I get called ‘beautiful.’ Pretty, maybe. Gorgeous, occasionally. But beautiful? That’s new.”

I laughed again, warmth blooming in my chest. “Well, you should hear it more often.”

He glanced at me again, his eyes soft and filled with something I couldn’t quite place. “I think I like hearing it from you the most.”

The car fell into a comfortable silence, the only sounds the hum of the engine and the faint crackle of snow beneath the tires. I found myself wishing the drive could stretch on forever, the intimacy of the moment something I didn’t want to let go of. 

When Harry pulled the car into the small lot outside my flat, he turned off the engine and stepped out, circling around to open my door before I could even reach for the handle. His gentlemanly gesture brought a small smile to my lips as I stepped out, the cold night air brushing against my cheeks.

“I’ll walk you up,” he said, his voice low and warm.

“You really don’t have to,” I started, but he shook his head, giving me a pointed look.

“Not up for debate,” he said, his grin softening any potential protest. “Come on.”

We walked together toward the building, the snow crunching softly beneath our feet. The tipsy warmth in my chest made everything feel slightly dreamlike—the glow of the streetlights, the way Harry’s shoulder brushed against mine, the sound of his laugh when I nearly slipped on a patch of ice but caught myself.

When we reached my door, I turned to thank him, but he stepped closer, his expression both amused and fond. “You’ve got a little something,” he said, reaching out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered for a moment, his touch soft and deliberate.

The simple gesture made my heart flutter, and he noticed. His grin turned playful. “Still feeling a little tipsy, are we?”

“A little,” I admitted with a laugh, leaning back against the door for balance. “But I’m good. Thanks for making sure I got home.”

“Well, someone had to,” he teased, his voice light but his gaze steady. Then, after a pause, his tone softened. “I’m really glad we did this tonight.”

“Me too,” I said, my voice quieter now.

Harry stepped just a fraction closer, his hands resting lightly in his pockets. “You know,” he said, his voice dropping a little lower, “I’ve been thinking about that kiss earlier. I’d really like to kiss you again.”

His words sent a thrill through me, and without even stopping to think, I reached for his jacket, pulling him toward me. His hands instinctively found my waist, steadying me as I leaned up and pressed my lips to his.

This kiss wasn’t like the one under the mistletoe—this one was deeper, more purposeful. His lips moved with mine, warm and unhurried, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The cold air, the snow, the late hour—none of it mattered.

When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested lightly against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “You’re full of surprises,” he murmured, his voice laced with both amusement and something deeper.

I smiled, my cheeks flushed from more than just the cold. “Goodnight, Harry,” I whispered, unlocking my door.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, his tone soft and lingering.

When I woke up the next morning, the soft light of a snowy winter day filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. My head felt light—not from drinking too much, but from the events of the night before. As I stretched and reached for my phone on the bedside table, a small smile spread across my face when I saw a text from Harry.

Harry: Morning, love. What are you doing for Christmas? Are you seeing your family?

I stared at the screen for a moment, my chest tightening slightly. My family was back in the States, and with everything going on, traveling wasn’t an option this year. I had already come to terms with spending Christmas alone. It wasn’t ideal, but it was fine—I’d planned a quiet day at home.

I typed out a response, my fingers hesitating briefly before hitting send.

Y/N: Good morning ☺️ No big plans—just staying home this year. My family’s in America, so it’ll be a solo Christmas. But I don’t mind.

Setting the phone down, I shuffled out of bed to start my morning routine. By the time I returned, Harry had replied.

Harry: Home alone? That doesn’t sit right with me. Come to ours—Mum would love to have you, and so would I.

The offer tugged at something in me, his kindness shining through even in a text. But as much as the idea of being surrounded by his family sounded wonderful, I didn’t want to intrude. Christmas was their time to be together, and I didn’t want to take away from that.

Y/N: That’s really sweet of you, but you should spend Christmas with your family. It’s their day with you, and I wouldn’t want to interrupt. I’ll be okay, I promise.

His response came quickly, and I could almost hear the concern in his tone.

Harry: You wouldn’t be interrupting. You’re part of the family now, you know.

I smiled at his words, warmth spreading through me, but I stayed firm in my decision.

Y/N: You’re lovely, but I’ll be fine. Thank you for the offer, though—it means a lot.

Harry: If you’re sure… but I’m still not entirely convinced you’re okay with it.

His care made my chest tighten, but I knew this was the right choice.

Y/N: I promise, I’m okay. Have a wonderful Christmas with your family.

As I set my phone down, I couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, knowing someone cared enough to ask. While Christmas would be quiet this year, the warmth from Harry’s offer lingered, making me feel less alone than I’d expected.

The day passed slowly, but pleasantly. I spent the morning baking cookies, letting the warm, sweet scent fill my flat. It was cozy, and for a while, I didn’t mind being alone. After tasting one (or three) cookies to make sure they turned out right, I curled up on the couch for a nap, letting the peaceful quiet of the day lull me to sleep.

When I woke, the snow outside had thickened, blanketing the world in a soft white hush. I made myself a cup of hot chocolate, grabbed a blanket, and put on a Christmas movie, letting the cheerful music and festive scenes brighten my evening.

I was halfway through the film, laughing softly at the antics on screen, when a sudden knock at the door startled me. My brow furrowed in confusion. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and my neighbors rarely stopped by unannounced.

I set down my mug, tightened the blanket around me, and went to the door. When I opened it, my mouth fell open in surprise. There, standing on my snowy doorstep, was Harry, grinning mischievously, a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, love,” he said, his tone light. “Santa’s here, and he’s traded in the sleigh for a Mini Cooper.”

I blinked, too stunned to respond at first. Finally, I laughed, shaking my head. “Harry, what are you doing here? I thought you were spending the day with your family.”

He shrugged, his grin softening into something warmer. “I was. But it didn’t feel quite right, knowing you were here alone. So, I figured Santa could make one more stop.”

My heart swelled at his words, and I stepped aside to let him in, the cold air rushing in briefly before I closed the door behind him. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” I said, smiling.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” he teased, slipping off his coat and placing the bag on the counter. “I brought some things—thought we could make Christmas a little less solo.”

I glanced at the bag, curious. “What’s in there?”

“Just a few essentials,” he said with mock seriousness, pulling out a bottle of wine, a small box wrapped in festive paper, and a Tupperware container. “Cookies from Mum. She insisted.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I watched him. “You really didn’t have to do this, Harry.”

“I know,” he said, meeting my eyes. “But I wanted to.”

The sincerity in his voice made my chest tighten, and I felt a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the cookies or the hot chocolate. Christmas, it seemed, had just gotten a whole lot better.

As Harry set the bag down on the counter, he pulled out a small, carefully wrapped box and handed it to me. The paper was simple but elegant, with a festive bow on top, and it made my heart flutter.

“What’s this?” I asked, looking between the gift and him, my brow furrowing in surprise. “Harry, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

He grinned, leaning casually against the counter. “I know I didn’t have to. But I wanted to. Go on—open it.”

I hesitated for a moment, my fingers brushing over the smooth wrapping paper. With a small smile, I carefully tore it open, revealing a beautiful hardback book with an embossed cover. My breath caught as I realized what it was.

A special edition of The Great Gatsby.

The gilded details on the cover shimmered in the soft light, and the pages had the kind of crispness that only came with a brand-new book. I traced the cover with my fingertips, momentarily speechless.

“You… remembered,” I said softly, looking up at him. “This is incredible, Harry.”

He smiled, his eyes warm and slightly amused. “Of course, I remembered. You told me it was your favorite. Plus, you lit up when you talked about it that night at Mum’s party. I figured it might be something you’d like.”

“Like?” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “I love it. This is… it’s perfect.”

Harry shrugged, though the grin on his face told me he was pleased. “Good. I wasn’t sure if you already had this edition, but I figured even if you did, a backup wouldn’t hurt.”

I hugged the book to my chest, still marveling at the thoughtfulness behind the gift. “Thank you, Harry. Really. This means so much.”

He stepped closer, his expression softening. “You’re welcome, love. Merry Christmas.”

For a moment, we just stood there, the cozy warmth of the room and the quiet snowfall outside wrapping around us like a blanket. I couldn’t help but feel that, somehow, this was exactly where I was meant to be.

I clutched The Great Gatsby to my chest, still basking in the warmth of Harry’s thoughtful gift, but a pang of guilt crept in as I realized I hadn’t gotten him anything in return.

“Harry,” I said, biting my lip. “This is so thoughtful, and I feel terrible—I didn’t get you anything.”

He shook his head, his grin easy and reassuring. “You don’t have to give me anything, Y/N. Seeing you smile like that is enough.”

Still, I wanted to do something for him, no matter how small. My eyes lit up as I remembered the cookies I’d made earlier. “Wait! I do have something.” I rushed over to the kitchen counter, grabbing the plate of freshly baked cookies. “Okay, maybe it’s not as fancy as a special edition book, but these are homemade, and I promise they’re pretty good.”

Harry’s eyes lit up as he took one from the plate. “Homemade cookies? Now, this is a proper Christmas gift.”

He bit into one, his expression immediately shifting into mock seriousness before he let out a low, exaggerated moan. “Oh, my God,” he said around the bite. “Y/N, this is… ridiculous. These are so good.”

I laughed, watching his dramatic reaction. “Are you being serious, or are you just trying to make me feel better?”

He swallowed the bite and held up the cookie like it was a rare treasure. “Dead serious. These are unreal. You’ve been hiding this talent from me? What else are you secretly amazing at?”

I rolled my eyes, unable to stop smiling. “They’re just cookies, Harry.”

“No, no,” he said, grabbing another one. “These aren’t just cookies. These are a masterpiece. Like, I’m calling Mum tomorrow and telling her to step up her game.”

I couldn’t help but laugh again, his infectious humor and over-the-top enthusiasm making the moment feel so much lighter. “Well, I’m glad you like them,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ll have to bake more if it means getting this kind of reaction out of you.”

Harry grinned, crumbs on his lips as he reached for yet another cookie. “Deal. But fair warning—I might show up at your door every time I get a craving now.”

“Good,” I said, surprising myself with the ease of my response. “You’re welcome anytime.”

He paused, his grin softening into something more genuine as he looked at me. “I might just take you up on that.”

The way he said it made my chest tighten in the best way, and as we stood there, sharing cookies and laughter, I couldn’t help but think that this Christmas, though unexpected, was quickly becoming one of my favorites.

As we stood there, the room cozy and filled with the faint smell of cookies, my eyes wandered to Harry. His sweater sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, leaving his tattoos exposed, a striking contrast to the softness of the moment. The intricate designs on his arms seemed even more captivating in the warm light of the flat, and I couldn’t help but notice the way they moved slightly as he reached for another cookie.

I felt a wave of warmth rush through me, one that had nothing to do with the heat of the oven still lingering in the air. My gaze flicked to his face, his lips curved into an easy smile as he chewed, oblivious to the way he had completely stolen my attention. Something about him—the way he looked at me, the way he was simply here—felt too perfect to ignore.

Before I could overthink it, I leaned forward, lightly pressing my lips to his. It was soft, almost tentative, but enough to make my heart race.

Harry froze for just a moment, clearly caught off guard, before he set the cookie down and reached for me, his hands resting gently on my waist. He pulled me closer, deepening the kiss with a passion that made my knees feel weak. His lips moved with mine, slow yet deliberate, as if he wanted to savor every second.

When we finally broke apart, I stayed close, my forehead resting lightly against his. His green eyes searched mine, his expression soft but tinged with a flicker of something playful.

“What are your plans for New Year’s?” he asked, his voice low and warm, his breath still mingling with mine.

The question caught me off guard, but I managed a small smile. “Nothing planned yet,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why?”

He grinned, his fingers brushing lightly against my sides. “Because I think we should make some cookies. Together.”

I felt my heart skip a beat, the thought of spending New Year’s with him lighting up something inside me I hadn’t expected. “I think I’d like that,” I said, my voice steady despite the nervous excitement building in my chest.

His grin softened, turning into something more sincere. “Good. Then it’s settled.”