#it DID feel different than me and da but if every possible good way

[zengle56]

Not Afraid To Fight- Harry J Potter

Summary: You're pregnant with Harry's child when the war begins

Warnings: Mentions of sex, angst, death, pain

a/n: Thank you to @ringa-starr for requesting this fic. It took me absolutely forever to be accurate and sound correct. Not proofread.

You and Harry had always been good friends. You got along in many ways and rarely fought with each other as Hermione and Ron did. The only time you could recall, other than now, is when Harry was entered into the Triwizard Tournament. You didn’t understand the premise of the damned tournament anyways so the fact that your best friend- Harry had nervously asked you to the Yule Ball that would be occurring soon after the first event and you were together ever since- was going to be competing in three life-threatening ‘games’ in competition for a cup. After losing Cedric, everyone finally understood the fear you felt, especially after Harry cried that He-who-must-not-be-named was back. Always on his side, always believing every word he said, you knew that dating Harry, you’d be in for a potentially life-threatening adventure as his. Having both gone through so much together, now was no different, if not the most terrifying thing you’d ever gone through.

8 months earlier

Hands shaking, you looked at your reflection in the mirror, only seeing the nervous expression that presented itself. Of course you knew this was a possibility, you and Harry, despite having hard busy lives, had a healthy frequent sex life. He knew you in ways you didn’t even know yourself. Touched places you didn’t know could be touched and he loved you in ways you didn’t know could be loved. His sweet soft touch, his low voice that turned raspy when he whispered, his well-endowed cock that was always ready to take you into places you’d never dreamed of being were completely irresistible. Yet, you knew this was a possibility. You had attempted to take birth control in the past but it turned you into a completely different person and it had turned out that Harry was allergic to the lubricant that was slathered on most condoms so you usually went raw, not that you complained. Harry always pulled out before his inevitable ejaculation unless you told him otherwise, willing to take your chances with any contraception such as a morning after pill. 

“Please please please.” You whispered with your eyes squeezed shut, begging to God if there even was any, to pardon you from this terrifying fate and let you go on. You promised to yourself that if it was in fact negative you’d go back on birth control, you’d do anything, no matter how it made you feel. It’s not that you never wanted kids, you did, you had talked about growing a family with Harry many times, you just weren’t ready. You were only 18, he was only 17, and couldn’t go through your last year at Hogwarts pregnant. 

Grabbing the test and quickly holding it against your stomach, you opened your eyes. You have been getting sick lately, sensitive to smells. Your breasts had been tender and you noticed a slight growth in them as well, not to mention you had missed your last period by three weeks. Finally taking deep breaths, you were ready to reveal to yourself the answer to the question that had been plaguing your mind for the past few days. You sighed deeply, tears slowly forming in your eyes as you read the results.

Pregnant.

8 months later

“Harry Potter is dead!”

 You screamed at the top of your lungs, unable to breathe. You fell to your knees into all of the rubble and dirt scattered across the hard ground, holding the bump of yours and Harry’s unborn child. You heard Ginny, one of your best friends scream as well.

“No!” you sobbed, eyes flooded with tears and Neville bent next to you, trying his hardest to pull you back to your feet. Everyone stood in awe, walking up to the scene of a crowd of death eaters surrounding behind him. If only you had looked up, you would’ve seen Hagrid, holding your fiancés lifeless body.

“It’s going to be dangerous Y/N. I don’t want to drag you into this, especially in your condition.” Harry gestured towards you, 8 months pregnant, you rolled your eyes.

“Harry, you're not doing this alone.” 

“I’m not alone, I have so many people, why do you need to come out and risk yourself?” He pleaded with his eyes for you to get sense and just stay home. 

“Harry, I’m your girlfriend and I am with you no matter what. We trained together, we trained hard and I am more than ready to do this with you.” You didn’t understand why he couldn’t see that though you were pregnant, you were ready to stand by his side forever, no matter what. 

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that…” He said, instantly causing you suspicion. Your heart dropped down to your stomach. As he stood from the kitchen chair he sat in, you began to think about him leaving you for pushing too hard. Before you could say a word, he got down on one knee.

“Y/N,” he began and a gasp involuntarily came from your throat. “I'll keep it short because I know you probably want to sit down.” He joked, you smiled, tears forming in your eyes. “Y/N L/N, Will you do me the happiest honor I could ever ask for and be my wife? Will you marry me?”

“Stupid girl.” He said as he stepped closer to you, the death eaters sneering behind him as he did so. “Harry Potter is dead. From this day forth, you’ll put your faith in me.” He said sinisterly, gesturing to himself. The silence of 200 people around was deafening.

“Harry Potter is dead!” He shouted once more and the crowd of death eaters he walked towards broke into laughter, spitting in your face, all of your faces. “And now is the time to declare yourself, come forward and join us or die.” He announced, arms spread from his sides. Everyone blankly stared at the man, wishing to be anywhere else.

“Draco.” A man whispered loudly, you instantly knew it was Lucious Malfoy, calling his son from the side of good, to the side of evil. You assumed without any choice, Draco walked over to the other side. Your heart raced and stabbing pains came from your stomach, causing you much discomfort.

“Ah, well done Draco. Well done.” The man said, pulling the shaken boy into an awkward hug before he met with his parents.

Feeling anger build up in your system, you stood up to shout but stopped when a limping Neville got closer to the man, everyone, including you, watching his courage.

“Well I must say I hoped for better.” The man said, again death eaters broke out into laughter, trying their hardest to embarrass your poor friend in front of you.

“And who might you be, young man?” He asked, walking towards your friend. Staring at the ground, you heard his voice without fear or hesitation.

“Neville Longbottom.” The evil crowd laughed again.

“Well Neville I’m sure we can find a place for you in our ranks.”

“I’d like to say something.” Neville interrupted, eyes still pointed towards the ground, slowly looking up towards the man who had killed the boy who lived.

“Well Neville I’m sure we’d all be fascinated to hear what you have to say.” You stared, holding your belly as they spoke. 

“It doesn’t matter that Harry’s gone.”

“Stand down Neville.” Seamus interrupted and you scowled, you never had an interest in that boy.

“People die everyday,” He began, looking towards all of you, making eye contact, you nodded your head slowly and he kept going. “Friends, family. Yeah, we lost Harry tonight but he’s still with us…in here,” He spoke, holding his hand to his heart. “Fred, Remus, Tonks… all of them. They didn’t die in vain.” He said turning back towards the evil man. “But you will, cause you’re wrong!” He shouted as the man laughed in his face. “Harry’s heart did best for us, for her, for all of us! It’s not over!” He yelled, pulling the sword of  Godric Gryffindor from the sorting hat before discarding it to the ground. 

A commotion that no one expected caught everyone’s attention. The moment you saw Harry wriggle out of Hagrid's arms and cast a spell towards Nagini. Your ears rang and your heart pumped faster than it ever had. Everyone around you smiled and you heard sounds of triumph through the crowd behind you. The boy who lived was really alive, standing right before you. The love of your life wasn’t truly gone.

The man shot sparks of flame from his wand towards the school you once called home and screamed as he did so. Anger flooded his veins as he came to find his true enemy was still alive. Death Eaters fled the scene and Harry ran up to you, screaming for everyone to get inside of the grounds of the castle. You wished he would say something to you but you knew now was not the time to dottle.

“The snake! We have to kill the snake.” Harry panted, ensuring everyone was gathered in the safe bounds. Nevilles eyes shift to the evil man and Nagini. 

“Harry! Look out!” Neville shouts, stepping forward, only a few yards away from Harry. The man’s wand blazes and sparks from the tip send Neville flying through the air 50 feet back into the castle. Harry turns and makes eye contact with you, Ron and Hermione, shocked expressions dawning on all of you; no one could have possibly survived that. The man swept forward as you watched Harry turn and dash into the Entrance Hall.

As Harry and the man who viciously killed his parents started their own fight one on one, you and the others ran into the Great Hall, fighting Death Eaters that enclosed in on you from left to right. You fight to the best of your ability, dodging spells every few seconds. From the corner of your eye you saw Neville twitch and heard a slight groan from his cracked lips. He opens his eyes and looks at you before slowly turning his head and sees a glimmer from his periphery; The Sword of Gryffindor. 

Your head whips as you hear Bellatrix laugh insanely as she stands atop a long wooden table, spraying the chaotic room with various spells. As one shoots from her wand, nearly missing Ginny with the bolt. Molly, her mother, sees this shot and stands before her daughter. 

“NOT MY DAUGHTER YOU BITCH!” She raises her wand to Bellatrix. Bellatrix roared with laughter at the sight of Molly, underestimating her power. You felt a sharp stinging pain in your side but again chose to ignore it. Spells shot from Molly’s wand, hitting Bellatrix viciously but she didn’t cease to fight back. Spells shot at Molly as well, stunning her actions for only a moment. Her remaining children attempted to join her on the table, wands at the ready, ready to help defend their sister but Molly shouted.

“Back off boys, she’s mine! You will never touch my children again.” She screamed, spells continuing to bolt from her wand.

“Be thankful we only took one… Besides, it’s not like you don’t have a spare.” Bellatrix indicated to George with a smirk. As she let out a blood curdling laugh, Molly hit her with a spell that made her topple to the ground, her scream filling the air as the oxygen left her lungs before she shattered into thousands of tiny pieces. 

Just then, you hear loud pattering and turn to see Hermione and Ron running down the loud stone stairs, running from someone…or something. Nagini, the powerfully large snake tailed behind them, ready to pounce on your best friends. You shot a spell towards the snake, hitting her long neck. Instantly she changed her path and slithered quickly in your direction. Just as you were about to cast another spell, another sharp pain jolted in your stomach and you doubled over, bending in half holding your stomach, closing your eyes tightly waiting for the long sharp fangs to sink into your skin and end your life. 

Nagini lowered her head, Hermione and Ron watching in horror as Neville came out of nowhere, the Sword of Godrick Gryffindor in hand, jumping and with one mighty swing, he severed Nagini’s head as it fell to the floor. Her body shriveled and flew into the air as gray dust. The man, now in the room with Harry, froze, watching her body fly away. 

The evil man bellowed in pain, his loyal companion now lost, he turned to fire at Harry, and instinctively he countered. The elder wand sailed from the man's hand, the spell ricocheting back onto him. He stands utterly still for a moment, eyes locked on Harry. Suddenly, he froze, his body flaking away in the air, blowing in the wind and killing the man. 

Finally, Voldemort was dead. 

Everyone stood in astonishment as the man who had killed everyone they loved, friends family, ruined lives, was gone in an instant. Your joy and triumph ended quickly as the sharp pains came once again, worse than it had been before, you felt as if you were going to pass out. A scream came from your lips and your best friend Hermione ran to you as did Harry. 

“We need help over here!” Is the last thing you heard before your vision becomes blurry, giving into your pain and falling unconscious to a world other than the real one.

1 day later

Eyes fluttering open, you groaned, head pounding and arm sore. You looked down to see an IV in your vein. Shocked, you also noticed that your clothes had turned into a hospital gown and the Great Hall a hospital room. To your left, you saw Harry, dozed onto his shoulder, still sporting his entirely dirty outfit from the fight. 

“Good morning Y/N. Glad to see you’re awake. It’s curious, really.” A doctor said from the corner of the room, having noticed your eyes opened. Your lips felt chapped and cracked so it hurt when you talked but you pushed through.

“What’s curious?” You mumbled in a whisper. He chuckled handsomely with his perfect hair and straight teeth, stepping towards you and perking his head to the side. 

“You went into labor during the battle you were in.”

“I did?” You gasped, sitting up a bit, the noise causing Harry to stir awake. 

“Indeed. I’m not sure how you didn’t feel the contractions or your water break. It must have been highly painful.” He commented, writing something down in his chart after looking at your monitor. 

“Y/N, you're awake!” He shot from his chair, hands pulling you in for a hug. You did the best you could laid down. His lips met yours and you were reunited with a bittersweet kiss that felt as if it lasted for eternity. You turned back to look at the doctor and shrugged.

“I mean, I did but I guess I was so preoccupied that I didn’t realize it. I don’t feel anything now though.”

“That’s because we gave you an epidural.” He said as he tapped your leg, surprisingly, you couldn’t feel the tap. 

“Are you ready to do this?” Harry asked, squeezing your hand in his. “They said you’re 7 centimeters dilated, it’s almost time.” You noticed his glasses were smudged and cracked, but he didn’t seem to mind. He still had his messy dark hair and emerald green eyes that you had fallen in love with. 

“I sure hope I’m ready.” You sighed, feeling so tired after the last few days' events. “I mean, if I can fight in a war, I’m sure I can give birth.” You joked, Harry leaning down to kiss you again.

19 years later

“Don’t forget to give Professor Longbottom our best.” Hermione called to her daughter Rose as she stepped into the train. She excitedly nodded back to her mother and waved you and your husband of 19 years goodbye. 

“Goodbye dear, be safe!” You shouted to your adopted niece. Harry squeezed your side as your son stopped, struggling to tie his shoelace. Harry leans down to join him. 

“Will there really be thestrals pulling the carriages?” Albus asked and your husband looked at him warmly.

“There’s nothing scary about thestrals. They’re gentle things. Anyway, you won’t be going up to school in the carriages. You’ll be going in the boats, remember?” Harry asked, and your son nodded. Seeing Harry talk to him gave you butterflies. You smiled at the sight, knowing how amazing of a father Harry was. 

“Dad?” you heard your son ask.

“Yes?”

“What if I’m put in Slytherin?” You saw Harry study your son long and hard before leaning in close. The breeze flew your hair into your eye but you wiped it away as you listened to his words.

“Albus Severus Potter. You were named after two Headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin. And he was probably the bravest man I ever knew.” Albus nods but then his face formed into a frown. 

“But what if I-”

“Then Slytherin House will have gained a wonderful wizard. But listen, if it means so much to you, you can choose Gryffindor. The Sorting Hat takes your choice into account.” 

“Really?”

“Really.” You jumped in, running your fingers through his hair, recognizing it as his fathers hair. It was crazy and dark as well and stuck out in every direction. Your son made his way onto the train, waving from the window next to Rose. The train jolted to a start and your daughter Lily ran with the window Albus hung out of. It looked like all she wanted to do was join them. Just then you felt a hand land on your shoulder, you jumped a bit frightened but smiled when you saw who it was. 

“Rub you frightened me,” You turned to see your eldest son, freshly nineteen years old and standing proudly, towering over you and your husband. 

“Rubeus Remus, did you scare your mother again?” Harry asked your son and all you could do was laugh. You smiled seeing how your future was, being grateful you took the chance to be with Harry, fight in the war, even while pregnant, and marry the love of your life. The boy who lived. 

[kaija-rayne-author]

Hugest of sighs.

I really hate it when I can feel a special interest dying.

It's like watching something you've loved and put your everything into for however long get smaller and smaller in the distance. Until it disappears in a puff of smoke.

I can feel it happening with Dragon Age.

It's actually managed to hang on for a long time, so I guess I should just... wish it a fond farewell and let it go.

I was going to write a less acid filled version of my editorial critique/review about the gameplay preview to send to the devs, but why?

I don't get the kind of interaction I need on posts like my Dragon Age posts to help me keep the special interest alive.

The devs aren't going to listen to some internet rando like me if I did waste my time writing it. Not even if I'm actually a professional editor and this is in fact my job that I'm pretty good at.

They don't even toss me a heart on responses to their posts. And they probably wouldn't read it even if it did happen to make it through all the stuff they probably get on their feeds, anyway. Valuable professional editorial critique or not.

Before I stepped way back from social media I could easily get thousands of @ in a day. I know what they must be dealing with.

I have other things I should really be spending my time on.

Sadly, my special interest in Dragon Age has been on life-support since I saw the gameplay preview.

My DA gaming group has gone from a couple hundred people, most of whom weren't active, to waaaaay more people than I'm comfortable being social with. (I have since muted most of it and withdrawn from anything I'm just... not interested in anymore.)

I honestly feel the new look for Solas killed Solas for me. (Given I'm solavellan that's saying one hell of a lot.) For a bit there, I was hoping he'd grow on me. But apparently, I haven't been inoculated with that particular style of virulent mould yet. So it hasn't happened. Every time I saw a picture I just... cared a little less.

Where once I had the fires of a volcano inside my heart for this franchise, nothing but ash in a breeze remains.

It's always possible that something could happen to reignite my passion for it. It's happened a few times before for faded special interests. It could also be my depression talking and I'll feel completely different tomorrow. That's happened too. (So far hasn't happened in the threeish days since I wrote this. It's probably not the depression.)

But... After seeing that gameplay preview, and listening to the Q&A, and reading the Game Informer post... it may just be time to call Time of Death. As someone who loved the first three, and who absolutely marinated myself in the lore, I frankly feel betrayed. (I mean... Varric with a beard? Really? There were story significant reasons he did not, in fact, wear a beard, did they forget that? Like they forgot his bloody hair colour?)

So long, Dragon Age. It was fun while it lasted.

I truly do hope people enjoy the blathering posts I did about it when passion filled me.

I hope people truly do enjoy the new game. There's too little joy in this world and I hope with all my heart it gives you as much joy as you can handle. I'm just a little sad it won't for me. I'll always have the first three, which I do legitimately love to pieces.

I'm not even crying or upset. I just... don't care anymore.

From a professional standpoint, that's always a danger when you change a piece of media too much. There has to be a certain amount of continuity to it so it feels the same. Without that?

You lose obsessed people like me.

You lose the older gamers who loved what Dragon Age was.

And absolutely, yes, fiction does need to change. It's an integral part of the whole thing. If it doesn't change, if it doesn't adapt, it dies just as quickly as if it changes too much. I like to see change in media. It's needed in so many ways. Change can be hard to adapt to, of course. Or in some cases impossible. Shrugs.

There's a professional balance to these things. It wouldn't surprise me if I have a bit of savantism when it comes to editing and writing. I just seem to deeply understand how it all works in ways others rarely see. Looking at a novel or a game or a show from an editorial perspective is very much like looking at a 4d puzzle for me. I can instinctively see what works and what doesn't.

It's just that, in my honest professional opinion, they tried to change way too much to appeal to a different set of gamers than those of us who are a little older and have loved the feel of the first three games.

It's not the change itself I object to. I'm definitely not one of those people who thinks that DAO was the best DA ever. I've loved them all for different reasons. But they all still felt like Dragon Age. Even DA2, which a lot of people hate, still felt like a fantasy RPGish adventure. (I enjoyed it for what it was. I'd've liked to see what it could've been with more time, but for what it was, they did a great job and it was an enjoyable game).

DA4? From what we've seen so far, it doesn't even remotely feel like a fantasy RPGish adventure game. It feels like a cheap star wars/FFXIV/Fortnite knockoff designed for a much different type of gamer. (Which was actually confirmed by Epler in the Q&A. They did, in fact, design it more for younger players than those of us who have been waiting for it for however long.) Professionally, I believe that was a mistake that may cost them.

The darkspawn alone are a bloody travesty. WTAF are those things? And yes, I've seen the 'lore excuse' that it's the red lyrium making them look like bad halloween deco. I'd buy it if they were kinda spiky and had red lyrium growths and stuff like the red lyrium infected creatures in DAI. But it's like they forgot their own canon.

I dunno. It really just doesn't matter. I'm pretty sure that no matter how beautiful the backgrounds and some of the art they've just... lost me.

I guess I write these kinds of posts so others in the same boat as me know they aren't alone.

You aren't imagining it. While change is in fact good and necessary to a certain extent, they've changed it so much trying to appeal to a different market that it really doesn't feel even remotely like Dragon Age anymore.

[icantthinkyandere]

Hello! I hope that you have are having an awesome day! Can i request yandere gudao, Gudako and Mash x Servant!Reader (Who is kinda like Zhongli from genshin impact in where each ascension reveals their divine nature and also the reader shares similar power sets. Not only that the reader has been with them since the beggining acting not just as a loyal servant but also a mentor and a support figure for them)

This is going to lean more into them being platonic and less romantic, I hope that's okay!

I kinda wish I could say that my time has been awesome, but after I finished my summer semester, my zombie air-conditioner told me to die on the hottest days of August. It's better now, though!

{Gudao, Gudako, and Mashu}

Fuyuki was a very stressful and hard time for all of them. There's a good bit of time between Fuyuki and Orleans because there's a lot of readjusting that has to be done now that there are only two mages, they're not even good ones, and Olga has passed. They are all very stressed and very depressed.

Lucky one of the servants that Chaldea happened to summon a servant who more than capable of being their to support them in their time of need!

Their first [five star] high ranking support Caster! However, Da Vinci and Romani aren't sure if it's actually the person they were trying to summon. They're dressed in nice enough clothes, very polite, and overall just shockingly normal. They know servants will be different depending on the class as well as the point in time they're taken from. But with all of Da Vinci's research, she's never heard of them acting like this.

Despite their unexpected personality and being new to Chaldea, they are quick to start their mentor roles with both their new masters and Mashu.

Starting when they lend an ear to listen to Gudao and Gudako's troubles. They are nervous to express how overwhelmed you are with being the only two masters left out of dozens of them. Plus, being traumatized by the sudden explosion, the bodies, thinking both they and Mashu would also die alongside them.

But they are nothing but kind and supportive. They don't sugar-coat it and lie to them, the up coming journey will be hard. They will be with them every step of the way and help them to become better mages. Gudao and Gudako couldn't be more relieved to finally have that off their chest.

Gudao and Gudako know that everyone is doing their best to get the current situation at least passable so they can do the Singularities and not let everyone die. But wow. Did it feel good for someone, anyone, to just sit down with them and be there for them.

Mashu is sort of in a similar place. Now, being a Shielder class, she isn't too sure how to be one due to the lack of information they have on them. They may not be a Shielder, but the new servant is a defense support servant. They can't help her in the 100% way she needs. They can still help her train and improve her skills.

She just jumps into training. Mashu just wants to be a good servant and protect her senpais and Chaldea. Which was a mistake. Her new teacher can immediately tell something is wrong and makes her stop. She can't be a good protector or have her training go anywhere with how she's feeling.

They sit her down with some tea and, like with the Gudas, talk about what's wrong. It's not just to optimize a training schedule, but because they care about master and don't want to see her in emotional pain. It goes similar to Gudas, if not more hesitate than them, having a different background. They're so patient with her and allow her to take her time, saying that she doesn't even have to admit her feelings fully or even say them at all. They just want her to know they are here for her.

It does make her emotional. So many heavy unexpected things have happened, and she might not express her feelings now or possibly later, but the feelings of support mean a lot to her.

As their time with Chaldea continues, they become more comfortable, they choose to acsend into their second ascension and stay in it. It's a lot more what was expected when they were first summoned. There is much more proper and traditional type of outfit. It's flowly and shows off the black and yellow patterns they hide under their sleeves.

With more and more servants that join Chaldea, they thought the masters and Mashu would branch off into hanging out with other servants. Especially the more lively ones, reading, drinking tea and training can only be so fun. But, they don't. Even Mashu, who use to be curious about their backgrounds. The only time they actually do is when suggested to. Gudas and Mashu seem to have fun, but they feel like it's only to make them happy...

The three of them like the other servants, and like Da Vinci and Romani. But like the servants' skills, they are a pillar that has kept them from Fuyuki to Camelot. They really don't know what this journey would have been like without them in it.

Their journey together seems to be ending very soon, and the three could not be more worried about. They should be happy that Chaldea is almost done and the world will he save. But they don't wanna let go. They don't want this consent in their life to leave them, and they want to see them go. At least the Lostbelts will happen!

[variety-fangirl]

Could you do “it’s you, it always has been” with tasm Peter x reader please? If you have the time of course :)

Always Been You / tasm Peter Parker x fem!reader

Summary: Being in love with your best friend was never ideal but how could you not fall for your sweet, caring, selfless Peter? But when Gwen comes into the picture, you think they are secretly dating and try to move on by going on a date.

Warnings: angst with fluff ending, jealous reader and Peter, feelings confessed, language, reader feeling threatened by Gwen being around, lmk if I missed anything!

Author's note: Of course beautiful! :D Thank you for requesting, I appreciate it! 😘 You're so sweet 🥰 Hope you like it and that it turned out how you wanted. Requests are open! Liking, reblogging, and commenting really help me out. Thank you!

Word count: 2.1k

Peter had been your best friend since you were young, you were both inseparable and still were until recently. You and Peter had always done everything together, you wouldn't often find the one without the other for long. You pair were so close that people who weren't close to your friend group often thought you were dating, and Peter didn't help the rumours when he was affectionate with you. An arm around the shoulder, holding hands, forehead kisses, he was always close to you. Even your friends believed you would end up together, convinced of the idea even.

You and Peter always denied that you were anything more than friends, despite your totally secret and definitely not obvious crush on your best friend. It killed you to say it but you knew he would never feel the same about you as you did him. And you had come to terms with it, mostly. You loved Peter, wholly and irrevocably, your whole being was consumed by him at all times. He was your everything, no one else compared, not even by a long shot. And that terrified you, the thought of being unable to move on or have someone make you feel like Peter does. You will have to eventually. You reminded yourself sadly.

Nothing had ever come between you and Peter, you were as tight nit as anyone could possibly be but that didn't mean you hadn't ever argued, disagreed, or feel the same about everything. You both had your differences, and that's what you liked about one another, the interesting individual thought process behind ideas or opinions. You'd had a few small arguments and disagreements but you'd never gone more than two days without speaking or being mad/unhappy with each other. Neither could stay mad, especially you, Peter could do something innocent yet adorable when resolving the issue and your heart would just melt.

Things had been great between you guys, as per usual, everything was just normal. That was until Gwen came into the picture, seemingly taking an instant liking to Peter. Not that you blamed her, how could you not? Especially when he flashed his signature beautiful white-toothed smile and nervously played with the sleeves of his hoodie, it was plain adorable. Everyone who met Peter instantly liked him, he had a way with people without realising it, and he was good with them.

You noticed over the past couple of weeks that Gwen and Peter had been hanging out more and more, by themselves. Your typical everyday texts turned into every couple of days, your biweekly hangouts were cancelled, group hangouts were postponed or Gwen was always present, and it was taking a toll on you. You struggled not having your best friend around as much, but you tried your best to accept and understand that Peter would date at some point. That you would have to share his attention and time with someone else that meant as much as you did to him, if not more. Safe to say, that was a hard pill to swallow. But you had to, he wasn't yours anymore.

You felt the best way to move on from Peter and accept everything was to go on a date, figuring it would be a positive step in the right direction. You asked your other best friend Harry to help you find someone nice to go on a date with, settling on a friend of a friend, Jack. The date was arranged for the following Friday at 7 pm at a local diner, casual and familiar. Close to home if something were to go wrong or right, you supposed, the thought surfacing feelings of uncertainty.

By the time the day of the date rolled around, you were riddled with nerves. You had only ever been on four dates in your whole life, none of which had gone well enough for a second. Being in love with your best friend for most all of your teen years until now kind of ruined your love life, which was non-existent, and you hated it. Why? Why did it have to be Peter? Couldn't it have been Mark from bio or Ryan from English? Normal, typical boys who were nice enough and had always been kind to you, so why not them? Because they aren't him, he's extraordinary, amazing, devastatingly handsome Peter. You were really starting to hate that inner voice of yours.

You did another once-over of your outfit for your date, impressed by your choices. You wore a pair of your best black jeans that made your bottom look incredible, shaping you nicely in the right areas. Your shirt was a pinkish-brown cotton long-sleeved shirt that plunged slightly to show some cleavage and hugged your figure beautifully, paired with brown ankle-strapped heels and a black leather jacket. Hair was curled, make-up minimal with some glitter on your eyes for a little pop of attention, and smelled like your favourite perfume. You nodded in approval before heading out the door, keys, phone and purse in a small side bag.

You arrive at the diner five minutes early, texting Jack that you'd get a table as you headed inside. The kind waitress leads you to a four-seater booth by a window, the place was packed as expected. This was a popular hotspot for people your age to come to on weekends. Brown wood tables, red leather seats, 80s music playing, it was one of your favourites. As you get settled and order a coke while you wait for your date, you receive a reply letting you know he was just parking. Thankfully Harry had shown you a picture beforehand, so you knew who to look out for. You could feel the nerves bubble more than before, unsure of what to expect or how to feel about this whole thing.

But it all seemed to disappear as Jack walked through the door, a bouquet of flowers in hand and looking as handsome as ever. Nothing on Peter but handsome nonetheless. The same waitress pointed to you and he walked over with a smile that would make any girl or guy melt in an instant, the kind that models and famous people had. You couldn't help but return it as he handed you the flowers and kissed your cheek with a cheeky little hello, his overwhelmingly wonderful aftershave filling your senses when he leant close. He sat down across from you as you placed the beautiful flowers next to you, maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

-

An hour later you were home, the date having gone amazingly. Jack had been the perfect gentleman, listened and asked all the right questions, even walking you home after. You arrive outside your apartment door, Jack stood behind you with a smile as he watches you open the door. "Well thank you for tonight, it was lovely. I enjoyed myself, and I hope you did too." you smile nervously, worried that he didn't enjoy the evening as much as you had. "I loved it, thank you for a great evening. I hope to hear from you for a second real soon beautiful, good night." Jack flashed you a panty-dropping smile as he kissed your cheek. You bit your lip as he pulled away and gave you a little wave as he walked down the stairs.

You sigh contently as you switch on the light and close the door behind you, placing your keys on the side cabinet. Only locking it with the key, remembering your roommate mentioning that they would be out till late. You turn around and go to the kitchen, grabbing a water bottle. "Well, he seemed nice." A voice says behind you, a scream erupting from you as you spin around quickly to see Peter sitting on the sofa in your living room. He was staring at you with an unreadable expression as you tried to calm your breathing, walking to where he was sitting. "What the fuck Peter? How long have you been there?" you yell, standing near.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. About 30 minutes, how was your date?" Peter asked, looking away from you with a clenched jaw. You frown feeling confused, the way he'd said 'date' was as if the word pissed him off. "Good, but why are you here?" you questioned, figuring he would be with Gwen or at home. He shook his head, still not looking at you, something was up with him. "Not important, I shouldn't have even come." Peter stood up, making his way to the door. You scoff, not believing how he was acting.

"Oh no, you don't get to ignore me for weeks with odd texts because you'd rather hang out with Gwen than me and then get annoyed for whatever reason because I went on a date!" Peter stops dead, back tense as he turns to face you. You had no idea why Peter would possibly be upset about you going on a date, he had no right to! Considering he had replaced you with Gwen. You just wanted to move on from him and he was making that really difficult. "Rather hang out with Gwen?" he asked, seeming genuinely confused. Your eyes widen in disbelief, had he really not noticed? Ouch.

"Wow, yes Peter. You've been spending all your time with Gwen as of late, me and Harry feel pushed aside. Seems she's become more important just because you have a crush on each other." you roll your eyes, arms crossed over your chest. Despite your own feelings, you would never stop Peter from being happy with someone else. He was your best friend first, crush second, so it didn't sit right with you to be cast aside for some girl. You liked Gwen, of course, because how could you not? But she had seemed to steal all of Peter's attention from his friends, not just you.

"Wow, hey, no. I don't have a crush on Gwen, we are just friends. Why would you think that?" Peter wondered, a slight tone in his voice that threw you off, he sounded nervous for some reason. "I've seen how you look at her, Peter... Like she's everything," you whisper, looking away from him. You can feel the nerves bubble in your chest and tears well in your eyes, building as if they were going to explode at any moment. It was just all too much to deal with. You'd had a wonderful date with someone you genuinely thought could maybe help you to move on from Peter, and then Peter shows up here mad at you for going on a date, what the hell was happening?

"I don't... I can't... fuck!" Peter swore, hands pulling at his hair in frustration as he turned away from you before turning back to face you once again. You were unsure what was going on, confused by his mood swings and behaviour. Peter sighed, walking toward you with intent, "why is it you're the only one who doesn't see it?" he whispers as his hands cupped both cheeks. You frown, frozen at the close proximity of Peter's face to your own. "What are you talking about?" you question, willing the tears not to fall. To be strong in that moment.

"It's you, It's always been you Y/N." he laughs, "you were always the one for me, not Gwen, not anyone. God, I've been in love with you since the first day we met. No one else could compare, not even in the slightest but I never wanted to say anything because I didn't think you would feel the same and ruin our friendship. You've got me wrapped around your finger and you don't even know it, sweetheart." Peter whispered as he placed his forehead against yours, both eyes closed as you breathe out deeply. The tears you tried to stop fell down your cheeks, a sobbed laugh escaping you.

"You're an idiot! I've been in love with you for a long time. I went on a date to try and get over you because I thought you liked Gwen." you laugh, tears not stopping. Peter pulled back, eyes staring back at you wide, "you love me too?" he whispers, hands holding your face desperately as they shake. "Yes, how could I not?" you smile, moving your hands to hold the arms that held your face. "Guess we were both idiots then, hmm?" he laughs, thumb gently stroking the damp skin of your cheek. You nodded, stroking his clothed arms.

"You know I'm going to have to take you out on a date now, don't you? Make you forget all about that other guy?" Peter laughed, leaning in until his lips touched yours. You smile as your lips move together, hands moving to hold his neck, "you better." you both chuckle, foreheads touching.

[mrdragonageherself]

Also related to dragon age I know I was super critical last night and I still have really low hopes but I do truly love the dragon age series I'm just so disappointed that EA keeps getting away with treating their fans and consumer base like shit thinking we'll lap up anything they give us for massive money when they abused and mistreated their staff and are so out of touch with what constitutes a good game because they don't care if we like it, they care if we BUY it.

But I am interested in Bellara and Davrin especially, with a special shout out to Lucanis and Taash. I'll always be sad they named a character Neve and spelled it that way so it tarnishes my opinion of the character but I am very excited for those characters.

I still maintain my criticisms. The voice acting in the ad sounded bad and low quality, with varric not even sounding like himself. I don't know why they made varric dark haired to show he's greying like... you can make him strawberry blonde and greying it IS possible. Harding sounded weird too and while I'm happy we finally have a dwarf romance option I wish it was a new character not someone we've met already. If they were going to give us someone we met already it shouldve been varric and it should've been in inquisition. (OR DA2 BECAUSE LETS BE REAL HIM AND HAWKE ARE SOUL MATES but varric *was* a new character in da2).

I also didn't love the art style but I didn't love it in inquisition either, i didn't mind if they went more cartoon-like, like they did in dragon age 2, I just wish it didn't feel like a different company made it every time and also I found the art style hard to process while in motion like the FPS was off, like I struggle with halo my brain just doesn't properly process what I'm seeing so I hope it flows better and is more comprehensive in game.

Also when people said they wanted it to be grim dark again we didn't mean literally get rid of lighting. Let's not pull a GOT here. And the criticisms of the script I think are still fair, DA:O and DA:2 were more grim dark than DA:I but they still had humour (it was in fact, a main draw in the game), people aren't looking to remove the humour from a grim dark they're just commenting it feels like very generic recycled and over used Hollywood phrases that lack real personality which is concerning.

I do have some hope and I desperately hope the game turns out to be good, and want to enjoy the characters and story, I just have really low expectations and the ad didn't make me feel much better.

Also whyyyyyy do all the handsome black male characters have a close shaved head like whyyyyy Davrin is an elf they could've given him soooo many cool hair styles, shaved sides and dreads, or long braids with beading, bantu knots, twists, an afro, ANYTHING but we got another shaved head. Which speaks to what we can expect from the character creator hair options as well, I suspect. I'm not even a proper curly girl if you're being GENEROUS my hair is 3A, but mostly 2C and there is never ANY curly options that are decent even a little bit I am always left wanting so I can only imagine how people with type 4 curls feel looking at the character creator options.

Anyways dragon age rant over.

[khaleesiofalicante]

Random things

I know it will sound childish, but Cami's solution makes 100% sense to me. The people leading the Clave are too emotionally involved. They are too wrapped up in the past and it does not help them make decisions for the future. In this case, a fresh perspective would be much more useful. Even Régine will be more objective than her mother. Madeleine is completely unfit to become Consul because she pretends to ne objective but she has an agenda and is incredibly manipulative. Let the young people take charge!

I have a feeling Lucifer might have been the one to change the canon event. Unless one of them is hiding the truth, it would make sense for Lucifer to be the one to jump in that portal. All he had to do was not kill Arthur. How would the others even prevent Lucifer from killing Arthur?

If Christopher was brought in the present before he invents fire messages this would have a huge impact on the Battle between the shadowhunters and Belial back in London in the past. It would change so much. That's what Older Max meant, right? They all think that the impact of what Older Max is describing would be a big bang. An event so life altering they would notice. But canon events are more like threads aren't they? They didn't set off a bomb, they pulled a thread. So the universe will continue falling apart like a cloth, in small ways until it's too far gone for them to save it by the time they notice? Pretty poetic if that's true.

Is Christopher's death a canon event? Because if it is, maybe what they did had a consequence of attracting every one that was supposed to die prematurely in the current time line's frequency. That would be... bad.

I don't think Older Max lost David's love. I don't think it's possible for any David to not love Max. I think he simply chose the children over him. But I don't think he hated or didn't live Max. And I really hope his lost fate in Older Max not to extend in Max from this timeline. Because Max said to Rafael he didn't believe David would change a canon event. But David would've. He would've done it. And that is something that will create a chasm between them.

I personally believe that they should all shut up and at least listen to what Older Max has to say. They all should've done what Rafael did. Honestly, Rafael is the only Lightwood-Bane to do a sane thing and it shows. Good for him I say.

Also, not Rafael thinking that no matter how fucked up the other timeline was at least he had his brother. My Lightwood-Bane siblings please, these two make me wanna cry so much😭

I have a feeling the epilogue from Older Max's POV will be him going to the Other Timeline so we get to see what happened to them or him having a chat with Lucifer. Or maybe it's neither but the suspence is there.

Okay now I'm actually done, I promise. My only excuse for all these asks is that your stories are emotional enough to cause so many different contradicting thoughts and feelings and complex enough to want to make me analyse why I have those feelings. Your talent is truly a wonder. Thank you for an amazing update as always🌼💛

You don't need an excuse for this. It always makes my day when I see these long asks from you. It's like receiving a letter from someone you love. (why couldn't i live in times when letters came in the post and not texts ew)

Madeleine as Consul scares me. If you are a leader and you have 100% support of your people, then something is wrong somewhere. Rafael's leadership is realistic. He is a 'good person' so of course there is a lot of opposition. If Madeleine becomes Consul, everything she suggests will be passed. IT'S A NIGHTMARE.

We'll discuss how the change of the canon event is affecting the world quite soon. But the only person who can actually tell us what's going on would be Stevie (MY GIRL HAS ALL THE DATA AND IS SMART AF)

Other Max and David is currently very complicated. I think in one of my previous asks someone raised a very good question like 'why was Max surprised that David was mad/betrayed him for lying when he knew David chose the kids before too'. And it really shows just how desperate/hopeful he is. Like obviously he knew David wouldn't talk to him again that's why (before the canon was changed so he doesn't remember) he came to say goodbye. Some people asked if David would change his mind if saw what happened to the other world and the thing is David doesn't care about the world. He cares about Max and the kids. And he might change his mind if he understood how much OM has been through after David died :(

The Epilogue (ironically) is one of the first scenes I visualized and I am soooooooo excited to write it :)

[bellewintersroe]

Can I have a band of brothers ship please :D

Pronouns:she/her

My looks: i am 5'1 and i have very long curly brown hair( not so curly at the bottom because it's damaged as hell from bleaching it 💀) i have brown eyes petite i got an olive skin tone

I'm naturally very quiet but if i see something i find hilarious or someone acting a fool i will without a doubt start making jokes at there expense or just in general about the situation haha. I am a very loyal friend though and will stand up for my friends despite my lack of muscles

I love baking and watching movies and my aesthetic is fairy grunge and i am Sagittarius infp :D

thank you for your request!! <3

I ship you with… George Luz!!

Who doesn’t love George, seriously?

I don’t know why but the first thing I thought was that Luz definitely loves his partners hair!

he’d constantly have his fingers curled in there (he’d deffo get them stuck when your asleep and you’d be awoken RUDELY by Luz trying to detangle the mess he’s made).

whether your hair is brown or you bleach it, he’s wowwwwwwed by how it compliments your face.

when you first start seeing one another as friends, he’s mesmerised by your eyes, you’d literally be given puppy eyes every time you made eye contact. It would be so difficult to not fall for him 100%.

maybe because you’re a little on the quiet side, George is super calm around you at first rather than bombing you with jokes and puns.

but when you see, let’s say Cobb, acting like a drunken fool, and you start cracking the jokes and laughing your ass off George is in literal AWE.

He literally says out loud “where da hell did that come from?!” But he doesn’t question it for too long because he’s too amused by your outburst.

gets SO SO SO excited around you, Perconte deffo has to be like “Luz calm down you’re gonna scare the poor girl away.”

but he doesn’t, you give him a funny kinda smile one day and Luz is confident enough to ask you straight out- of course you say yes.

I feel like nobody would ever try threaten, intervene or get involved in your argument. You both are such a lovable pair that everybody would probably go out of their way to spend time with you.

the first time you see Luz serious it would probably make you feel a little shy??? Idk, you’re so used to seeing him all joking and laughing, so when he’s calm and literally just relaxing you probably think something is wrong?

But no, Luz can be calm no matter how much golden retriever energy he gives off.

let’s say you’re baking a cake, if he’s in a chilled out mood, he definitely would come up behind you, wrapping his arms around your wait and rest his head on top of yours.

“You’re really short, y’know that?” Yeah, thanks for reminding me every single day Luz.

would never ever ever take a joke too far with you, he couldn’t think of anything worse than seeing you upset. When he does he wants to cry too.

omg he’d hold you so close and so tight, he’d mutter words of reassurance to you- and he’d be sooo good at this omg.

even when you were just hugging in general Luz would hold you so tightly.

a Sagittarius and a Gemini is a match made in heaven ;)

The both have you different interests, but I feel like you’d both be super open to trying each others out. This would make great fun for spontaneous date nights- I can imagine the fun you’d have together would be amazing.

luz would 1000% take you on holidays (vacations) as much as he could possibly afford. He loves getting away with you, even if it is just to the neighbouring state. He will always fine something to do with you.

he puts SO much energy into the relationship, yet it works so flawlessly because the two of you would make such good friends as well as lovers.

I truly believe that the key to such a fun, long lasting relationship is to be best friends with your partner, and this is what you and Luz are 🥰🥰🥰

[milimima]

Dear You,

Thank you for all the lessons. You were my favorite thus far ngl. Our adventure. Though it wasn’t much on the physical…boy. It didn’t need to be. The intimacy was more than sex for me. It hit my heart a little deeper.

I wish we could pour our hearts with a level of clarity, openness and safety. You show me how I can be that woman. More than I already thought I was. All my life people have tried to point out all my flaws… all my obvious flaws, you seen them 🤣 and you felt my greatness. Whether you wanted to admit to yourself.. the world or not. You truly seen it. Even if you didn’t want to. Your highest self recognized mine. And I couldn’t explain it and you couldn’t believe it but we seen it.

You show’d me a lot of me. A lot of what I looked over about myself. My own power. My greatness. My potential. How I carried ppl A lot of my negative aspects of myself I didn’t pay attention to . Not even meaning to..

but when I heard your heart cry…it was like my heart woke up turned around And I really seen you for the first time. Like I seen you different and I couldn’t unsee more like unfeel you. I couldn’t see shit the same in life.

Even if it’s not me for you… I want you to find happiness fr… I ain’t mad man … I ain’t against you. Even know I know you went against me. Threw me under every bus and see me trynna get up and backed up the bus. I know you talked so my shit about me. On my name. Called me crazy. Lied on me.

I get you. I get you hurt. You’ve been hurt. And everybody’s looked over it. Not that you’d really want ppl to see you hurt but you would want someone to see you. You for you. All all your purity even when you covered in mud. You’ve been in da field for a while. So you’ve became accustomed to being disappointed. To going through the motions. Finding some type of content in that. Focusing on money getting out and eventually getting out just turned into getting money cause the way out just looks further and further … your mom died … she left. Unintentionally but she still left and you can tell you’ve been hurt your whole life but when she left it became okay to be hurt. To be mad. Pissed. And … it’s a lot.

I may not feel your pain but my soul recognizes it. I truly just grew in love with you. Without feeling you. Without sex. God is crazy lol. I think anything is possible. And I think you know that. But you be in between worlds sometimes. I get that. Even though you’ve came against me it never touched me…. And a part of me thinks you meant it that way or God did ofc

I could talk about this love for hours. But I rather express it to you. My thoughts, assumptions lol, feelings, theories. But I’m good off you though. If you good off me it’s cool I was trippin big shoes for a while. Cause I really wanted it to work out. I ain’t ever feel those feelings before. But it’s okay. They haven’t left but I’m more in control. I can let go. Let you go.

I pray it works out. Maybe later down the road. For some reason I got this feeling I’d meet you in any lifetime so hey do ya thang boo. Ima be rooting from da sidelines for u when I get the chance from running my own race.

[fooltofancy]

anthem was the most fun ive ever had with a bioware game, tbh, and it still makes me sad that they absolutely let it down the way they did.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

A/N: If there’s anything I learned from doing this, it’s that vampirerry is an utter WHORE. Good for him!!!! As for myself, I’m done with the semester and my term projects and finals left my singular brain cell fried, so this was a nice way to get back into writing again. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you to the anon that suggested it, this was super fun to do! :D

read you’re someone i just want around here

word count: 6k

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Harry is very attentive when it comes to aftercare with Y/N. The sex they have is often rough and includes toys, degradation, and multiple rounds, so he believes aftercare is non-negotiable. Rough sex can be fun, but if it’s not followed by a lot of communication and post-performance support, it can take a hard emotional toll on a person. Even when intimacy isn’t meant to be inherently sentimental, there has to be a certain level of connection and etiquette surrounding it, or it could end badly for both parties involved. He always checks on her immediately after they finish, simply to gauge her headspace and how her body is responding, and after he’s made sure she’s alright, he goes into his usual routine of skin-to-skin contact and gentle coddling. Reassurance and praise is just as important afterwards as it is during, because it’s good to let a partner know that your appreciation runs deeper than just the physical need felt in the heat of the moment; everyone deserves to feel valued beyond their body. 

Harry proceeds to clean Y/N up after every session, because it’s the least he can do since she’s usually the one getting the brunt of the work. He’ll fetch a clean towel dampened under warm water to wipe her clean, or he’ll offer to help give her a bath or a shower— whichever route she prefers. Harry dresses her, and changes the sheets if need be, and tucks her into bed to ensure she’s nice and comfortable. If it’s been a particularly intense session, he’ll go the kitchen and bring back a snack and a drink— a granola bar and a Gatorade, or some chips and her favorite juice, or if she’s feeling especially hungry, he’ll happily go out of his way to prepare her an actual meal— and he insists on feeding it to her bit by bit until she’s come to enough to handle it on her own. If she’s not hungry, he at least brings her a glass of water and urges her to drink it; better to be safe than sorry. After that, more cuddling is the status quo, which normally ends in Y/N falling asleep in his arms, and Harry has absolutely no problem with that at all.  

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Harry’s favorite body part of Y/N’s is probably her chest. Yes, he likes it for sexual reasons— obviously— but there are innocent reasons for his fascination, as well. He likes how responsive she gets when he touches her there— how he can get her going just by groping her the way she likes it, or by using his mouth to tongue across her nipples until she’s writhing in pleasure and whining for more. He loves leaving hickies all over her tits, probably more than she likes receiving them. It’s just so fucking hot seeing himself marked all over her, especially when she’s putting on a bra and he can see all of the dark bruises scattered across the cleavage spilling from the undergarment. Filth aside, he also enjoys loving all over her chest. Absentmindedly cupping them while they’re snuggling, nuzzling his head between them while they’re watching television, massaging them under her shirt with his large palms as she sits back against his chest, sipping a glass of wine and chatting away, unwinding after a long day. It’s a form of intimacy; it provides a type of closeness nothing else can. 

As for his own favorite body part, it’s a tie between two different areas. He loves his thighs— they’re one of his most prominent features. They’re thick and meaty and sensitive, so they’re the perfect sweet spot to touch when he wants to get riled up. Given his previous response, it can be easily deduced that he likes to get hickies there, as well. The marks look great peeking out from under his briefs (for the short amount of time they last, anyways) and they make a great accessory to the large tigerhead tattoo along his left thigh. It’s artwork, really; a proper Picasso. 

His other favorite body part...well, take a lucky guess. It’s likely not that far off— literally, considering it hangs right between his thighs. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Harry’s personal preference is cumming inside. He adores feeling the way Y/N tightens around him when he finally orgasms (she’s just so warm and soft and unbelievably tight; it’s like she was made for him), almost as much as he loves seeing her reaction. Her body will immediately start to wriggle and her back will arch as she releases broken little whimpers, clinging to his shoulders with her nails and begging him to fill her until he’s milked his worth. Hearing her ragged breathing and feeling her sweaty chest stutter against his is enough to do him in, but when she goes as far as to gnaw on his ear and whine a soft little, “Want it all, baby. Want you dripping out of me when we’re done.” Well, that’s enough to kill him all over again. 

Of course, there are times when Harry likes seeing himself all over her, too. On her outstretched tongue, or smeared across her pretty face and plush lips (she looks particularly cute when it ends up all over her eyelashes), or streaked over the valley of her tits, or pooled at the center of her tummy. If he’d been taking her from behind, then he likes seeing it run down the backs of her thighs, or splattered across the dip of her spine. And if she’d been giving him a handjob, then seeing himself dribbling down her fingers is just as good. Why? Because those fingers usually end up in her mouth, which means he ends up all over her tongue, and so the cycle comes full circle. How poetic. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Did Harry suggest wearing a matching set of a vibrating cock ring and buzzing bullet to do grocery shopping once? Yes. Did he drop three glass jars of peach preserves by accident as a result, causing them to have to book it out of the bread aisle while trying to look as unsuspicious as possible, which failed horribly because they were literally hobbling like a crippled elderly couple? Also yes. Did they end up fucking in a Target fitting room? Definitely. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

A lot of experience. Tons. Immense amounts. Insane amounts. Two hundred years of the same seven continents just means two hundred years worth of sex across every single one. And it gives you plenty of time to find the clitoris, as well as giving you a chance to learn the female anatomy like the back of your hand. That being said, Harry doesn’t doubt he could make Y/N cum with his wrists tied behind his back and a blindfold strapped to his face. In fact, he’s made her cum just by using his thigh, so that in itself is enough credibility to last him several more lifetimes. The toy chest in his closet and the fact that he’s well-endowed are bonuses— he knows more than enough tricks to keep her satisfied with just his tongue. Not to mention his fingers— they’re long for a reason.

F = Favorite position  

Funny enough, Harry doesn’t have one. He’s spent so many decades cycling through every possible position in existence, it’s gotten to where he can’t pin-point a preference; all positions are unique, and they each have their own appeal. Reverse cowgirl is nice because he likes watching the way he stretches Y/N open with every plunge of her hips, and it also gives him the luxury of marking his rings across her ass in the process. Regular cowgirl is nice, too— having her chest bouncing in his face is nothing short of a divine miracle, in his opinion. Doggy style is a staple, and there’s always different add-ons he can apply to spice it up; for example, taking her from behind with her wrists tied to her ankles, or bending her over the kitchen counter with her face pressed into the marble, or fucking her against his glass wall with her hands and chest flushed to the cool surface as their breaths fog the floor-to-ceiling window. 

Missionary is a tried and true option, and just like it’s prior counterpart, it can be enhanced with a variety of extra tricks. Bondage is a good condiment, against the wall is always a nice touch, spread-eagle never goes wrong, and just having her legs wrapped around his lower back is more than enough. However, he does have two favorite variations of the position. The first is when he mounts her legs onto his shoulders or along the inside of his elbows to open her up more, and then just ramming his hips down at a very specific angle that hits her g-spot just right, pounding her into the bed so hard she tears the sheets off the mattress. The second is a cowgirl-missionary hybrid: he sits back on his heels and uses the steep downward slope created by his thighs as elevation, pulling her ass onto his tilted lap and swinging her legs over either side of his hips. He gropes her waist with his palms and yanks her forward, bouncing her against his cock and watching her completely dismantle as he nudges all the right places with as much speed and force as she deems fit. 

And then there’s fucking from the side, but that’s a whole other extensive conversation he doesn’t have time for. 

Actually, maybe Harry will entertain it for a minute or so. He usually throws one of Y/N’s legs over his neck to get a deeper range, manhandling her roughly onto her side and yanking her closer to his body by her waist, grasping it with stern vigor and holding her down against the mattress, grunting out a gravelly, strict command along the lines of, “Stay fucking still.” He’ll drill into her at a brutal, consistent pace, staining his fingerprints along the curves of her torso and sponging damp kisses onto her ankle, smirking into her skin as he watches her fist at the duvet in a futile attempt at maintaining her bearings. It’s pretty evident that she can’t, though; the way her eyes lull around their sockets from his harsh stride does a terrible job at hiding her lack of self-control, alongside the fragmented curses she gasps out whenever he nudges her g-spot with the head of his cock. 

“Oh, that was such a pretty noise. Did I hit that little spot you like?”

Her response will be begrudging, as always, which he thinks is ridiculously useless considering he can see her burying her face into the pillow to hide how her jaw drops open in sheer rapture. “No.”

“No?” The vampire leans forward, stretching her leg towards the headboard and preening at the garbled squeak that escapes her gritted teeth, plunging deeper as he lowers himself to her level. He knots her hair around his knuckles, tugging sharply until her face is tilted back enough to meet his fiery gaze. “Then why are you starting to shake?

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on the mood, honestly. There are definitely serious moments, but Harry enjoys the humorous ones just as much. He already adores making Y/N laugh and smile on a regular basis, and that desire only grows when he’s buried between her thighs, simply because she just looks so fucking cute laughing with her hair splayed around the pillows in a messy halo, her sounds of glee stuttering due to how sharply she’s jolting against the bed. He loves feeling her giggle into his mouth as he cracks sarcastic jokes and makes stupid witty comments that break the intensity in the air, especially because she’s usually clever enough to return them with some of her own. Then they both end up snickering like idiots as he tries to keep a solid pace, which eventually tapers to a messy, haphazard stride as their laughter drowns out their goal to the point where he has to take a genuine break to collect himself. There’s tons of examples— how could there not be? Sex is hardly ever perfect, so awkward moments are not only expected, but guaranteed. What better way to handle them than with a bit of humor?

There was an incident once where Harry accidentally knocked their foreheads together so hard, they both bruised (which he responded to with, “I’m pretty sure this isn’t what Cosmopolitan meant when they suggested matching couples tattoos.”). Another time, he got so into the moment he didn’t realize he was jack-hammering the top of her head into the backboard until she brought it to his attention (and made a comment saying it sounded like a sped up version of the beat to We Will Rock You). A bad case of the hiccups. Y/N burping right in his face halfway through his orgasm. A random leg cramp that made him think he was going to need amputation to survive. Accidentally rolling off the bed or couch onto the ground and nearly dislocating both of their spines in the process, getting his cross earring tangled in her hair and nearly ripping off his ear trying to get it out, and the unfortunate collapse of a pillow fort he’d spent over an hour building. He even sneezed in her face once, and when she instinctively went to shove him back, she wound up slamming her palm into his nose so hard he nearly passed out. Nose bleeds aren’t necessarily sexy, per se, but he just dug blindly through her nightstand until he found two new tampons somewhere in that black hole she calls a drawer, shoved them in his nostrils, and kept going. No one can ever accuse him of being unresourceful. 

Queefing. Lots and lots of queefing, which he usually starts mimicking with his mouth, and then she responds to that by whining and telling him to cut it out, and then he takes to mocking her whining instead. It normally finishes with them laughing so hard that Harry’s cheeks hurt from smiling so big, but it’s a good type of pain. The best type of pain. 

H = Hair (how do they groom?)

Harry likes keeping himself neat and orderly, but he doesn’t enjoy going bare, so trimming is his grooming preference. There’s just something so unappealing about a completely smooth dick— it looks like raw chicken and it’s fucking disgusting. He doesn’t have anything against a good bush, but it tends to get unruly and he’d rather not have to overcomplicate his shower routine. And honestly, he can’t trust himself because last time he had a full front yard going, he got shitfaced and tried to braid it on a dare. Keeping the hedges trimmed is the ideal landscaping option, and it just looks way hotter— a uniform dusting of hair is a good accessory and it just makes everything look more cohesive, given that he also fancies keeping his happy trail thick. It’s all about aesthetics, isn’t it? 

I = Intimacy (the romantic aspect)

It’s no secret that Harry’s been somewhat detached from intimacy for the last two hundred years or so. Intimacy is reserved for genuine romance, and that’s something he hadn’t entertained since before the lightbulb was invented. But now that he has Y/N, intimacy has crawled its way back out from the deepest recesses of his subconscious, where it had been shoved into a bottomless pit with the rest of his trauma. He likes it— he likes opening up to her in any way he can, because sharing those obsolete parts of himself with someone again is more fulfilling than he ever imagined. He likes kissing her randomly when she’s halfway through a sentence, just to feel her words die off abruptly in her throat as she gives into his gentle gesture, a delicate smile spreading across her satin lips. He likes whispering sweet phrases of encouragement into her hair when they’re tangled amidst sweaty limbs and rumpled sheets, reminding her of how much he cares for her and how beautiful she looks when she’s so far gone and how she makes him feel like his entire body has been set alight. He likes sponging soft pecks across the stretch marks along her thighs and across the dimples on her belly, her skin candy and velvet on his tongue as she releases a watery sigh that lets him know he’s doing all the right things in all the right places. He just likes letting her know she's special to him, in any and every way he can. 

Intimacy forges timeless bonds, and he reckons that assumption is unarguable, considering he knows a thing or two about eternity. 

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

Harry likes to jack off, obviously. Who doesn’t? It’s why he has an entire section of his toy chest dedicated to self-pleasuring tools. Vibrating cock rings, an array of lubes that range from temperature-changing to sensation sensitivity, and a few pocket vags that get the job done whenever Y/N is out of commission (usually because of work). His favorite one is an electronic sleek black model that is made of a premium silicone material and has a variety of massage settings, suction strengths, and internal textures. It’s designed to make the session feel more real, and yes, it was expensive, but self-love is always worth the splurge. 

The beauty of living on his own is that he can get off wherever and whenever he wants, without having to stress about someone interrupting an important step in his pampering routine. He usually does it in his room and on his bed, simply because Y/N’s pillow is close by and the experience is heightened when her scent is swimming around his hazy, bliss-drunken mind. If Harry is feeling particularly needy, he’ll ditch the toy all together and just hump one out against the mattress or cushion. If it’s a particularly restless day, he’ll take a toy downstairs and lazily play within himself on the couch while browsing through Netflix. Those instances usually average a few tamer orgasms rather than a single large one, but he’s not complaining; his stamina comes in unapologetic waves that stem from a never-ending supply, and he certainly has the time to kill. If Harry gets the sudden urge in the shower or while he’s relaxing in his jacuzzi, he won’t bother fetching a trinket; he’ll just stroke one out with his hand, using the cool metal of his trusty lionhead ring to tease the tip until he brings himself to orgasm. It turns out daylight crystals have more than one use. 

There is one common factor amongst all these different choices, though: Y/N is present in every fantasy. And if the vampire is feeling especially bold, he’ll grab his phone and take a video of whatever he’s doing to himself, and then she’ll have a nice little gift waiting for her once she gets out of the café for the day. That usually leads to him receiving a present in return later that evening, and then he’s dialing her contact before the clip is even done playing, and then what he does during his alone time doesn’t require him being so alone anymore. 

K = Kinks 

Harry has tons— in fact, he has so many, he can’t really keep track. And he also has the sneaking suspicion that if he were to ever jot all of them down, he’d end up locked in some type of sex addict rehabilitation center. Bondage is a big one, so he’ll start there. He’s great with ropes, given that he learned his way around them ages ago. Chains are nice, but they can be a pain to set up without the right equipment; he’s thinking of getting a reinforced metal hook installed into his ceiling, like the one in his storage closet, which he uses to keep his punching bag secure. Handcuffs, obviously— velvet-lined, straight metal, fuzzy coverings, he’s got it all. Dominance, degradation, Daddy, Sir, choking, brat-taming, spanking, flogging, slapping— impact play in general, to be honest— spitting, wax, praise, begging, masochism, branding (mild stuff, no molten metal shit), collaring, discipline, dirty talk, edging, exhibitionism, face-fucking, face-sitting (with him on the receiving end), giving oral (is that a kink? It is now.) gagging (both the action and using the actual object itself), breeding (he hates that term but that’s the official name, unfortunately), teasing, voyeurism, role play, and… he thinks that’s it. Oh, and blood, but that doesn’t really count for apparent reasons. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Y/N’s couch is sacred, at this point. Their entire relationship started on that lumpy, worn excuse of a sofa, and it’s seen them through their progression from strangers to friends with benefits to lovers to more. It’s comfortable enough, the dark color hides any explicit stains, and the cushions always smell of her signature mixture of honey and lavender combined with Snuggle fabric softener. It’s finicky, but irreplaceable. His kitchen counter is a close second. It’s provided a lot, taken a lot, been through a lot— through a lot of Lysol wipes, to be specific. If it wasn’t marble, it likely would have been reduced to chunks and rubble by now, courtesy of his enhanced strength gripping the edges as he slams her against the smooth surface. The backseat of his Cadillac is consecrated, as well; there’s just so much erotic appeal to fucking in a car with rock music blaring in the background, muffling the obscene sounds of bodies connecting and a mixture of fever-pitch moans. The couch, the counter, and the Cadillac— the Unholy Trinity. 

The jacuzzi is nice, too, but for the sake of his clever little “c” alliteration, he’ll leave that one as an implied token. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As much as Harry claims he likes full submission in bed, he can’t deny that he loves being challenged. Delivering punishment and coaxing out an orgasm is so much more satisfying when he has to fight for it; it’s so fucking hot watching his girlfriend try to best him in a power struggle, especially when she finally— and undeniably, since he always wins— caves under his will and winds up begging him for what he otherwise would have gifted her freely. That’s where the brat-taming kink comes into play. He likes it when she mouths off and makes snarky digs, and he enjoys it even more when he tries to set her in place and she amps her disobedience as a result. There’s nothing more attractive than a battle of wits with someone who is a perfect match in every way. And when she channels her attitude into physical gestures, it riles him up beyond compare. For example, when she smirks and rolls her eyes, despite the fact that there’s trails of tears staining her cheeks and mascara smeared all over her waterline? Christ, he could go feral. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No feet, no feces, no beastiality. There’s probably more, but those are the ones off the top of his head.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving oral is great— he highly recommends it, solid ten out of ten— but giving it is so much better. Harry’s always been a giver, even when he was young and barely knew his way around a woman’s undergarments. The stereotypical expectation for a person who is beginning to explore their sexuality is that everything they do, they do for their own gain. It’s a selfish realization, yes, but it’s a primal type of selfishness that no one can truly be blamed for. It’s a simple concept: when you start having sex, you want as much personal benefit as possible. It’s only natural. But from the second Harry became sexually active, he came to find that providing release to his partner outweighed the bliss he could get from letting them pleasure him instead. It’s not direct pleasure, but rather cognitive, which more often than not translates itself physically. And when it comes to Y/N, that euphoria manifests tenfold. 

Nothing compares to having his face buried between her legs as she tugs and yanks at his hair desperately, her chest heaving and jaw falling open as he uses his tongue to unravel her from the inside out. Spitting sloppily onto her folds and hearing the raw gasp of aroused shock that escapes her sore throat, which causes his swollen lips to spread into a dirty grin as he latches onto the sensitive bud at the thick of her core, fiddling with it until her legs are trembling uncontrollably around his sturdy shoulders. Watching her features go slack as he bobs his neck fervently between her thighs, swiping the bridge of his nose across her clit over and over until the entire bottom half of his face is drenched in her excitement. Fucking his tongue into her and feeling her buck against his jaw as she holds him in place with her fingers tangled in his curls, whimpering his name repeatedly in a voice so shattered, he could probably build a mosaic with the fractures. Feeling her drip down his chin and into the collar of his shirt, savoring how sweet she tastes as he pins her hips down against the bed and groans feverishly into her cunt, his ego idolizing the image of her so disheveled under his influence. 

A measly blowjob is hardly any competition to that. Harry could very well cum just from eating Y/N out. In fact, he has, and that in itself is all the proof he needs. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This is one of those other factors that depends on the mood. If Harry has been waiting all day for it, his impatience bleeds into his rhythm, which means he settles for fast and hard. It means he settles for bending her over the back of his couch with one palm around her throat and his other fingers in her mouth, pounding into her with so much force, the sofa starts shifting across the ground. If Y/N has been teasing him endlessly for a decent amount of time, it’ll be rough and deep, but not fast; he’ll drag it out for as long as possible, just to make her regret acting like such a spoiled brat. That’s when he brings out the paddle, or the crop, or just manhandles her across his lap and spanks her until she’s apologizing profusely through her whines. If he’s in a soft, romantic headspace, it’ll be slow and sensual, with lots of gentle caresses, giggly kisses dusted across eager lips and droopy eyelids, and penetrating strokes that make his toes curl and tummy clench. 

Pace is relative, but the message behind it is all the same: I want you more than anything, and I’m going to show you just how deeply I mean it. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are fun, Harry will admit. They’re filthy and messy, and they show just how far gone two people are for each other to the point where they can’t wait to feel one another at a later time; that they need to be together now, or they’ll go absolutely insane. Quickies are saved for when the urge strikes at random times. For when he’s out with Y/N at a park, sitting under the shade with his head in her lap as she combs his curls out of his eyes and thumbs over his chin affectionately, and the sun filters through the tree canopy just right to where it illuminates her lashes and the suppleness of her cheeks in a manner he deems ethereal. For when they’re at the mall, walking hand in hand and licking at ice cream cones as they survey the shops, and she reaches over to wipe a bit of Rocky Road off the corner of his mouth, replacing the stain with a soft stipple of her lips instead. For when they’re out eating dinner and playing footsie under the table like immature teenagers, and she’s trying to steal a French fry from his plate but he keeps fighting her off with his fork because, “I told you to order your own, but you wanted those disgusting potato skins instead!” And she’s laughing so brightly and unapologetically, giving him a look that so obviously tells him she can’t wait to get him alone, and nothing seems quite as flawless as that fraction in time, then and there and nowhere else.

These simple but memorable moments cause him to get love boners, which he jokingly refers to as “sniffy stiffies,” where “sniffy” has to do with being sentimental, and “stiffy”...well, that one is pretty self-explanatory, no? It always ends with them shagging in the car, or in the family bathroom of a diner, and in the case of the park, in an obscure area of the forest that lines the jogging trail. 

Quickies are just that— fast, but meaningful nonetheless, because they come from a place of genuine emotion. They’re fleeting, but unforgettable. Sniffy stiffy quickies, if you will. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Taking risks is the norm in Harry’s life, especially when it comes to his sex habits. He’s proven time and time again that he has no problem riding along the seams of a dare and just barely making it out unscathed, so experimenting outside of the bedroom is just another day in the life. Fingering Y/N in a music room in an antique shop, getting road head during a two hour drive back to Los Angeles, ripping his girlfriend’s panties out from beneath her dress at one of California’s most prestigious restaurants— the list is endless, really. Harry likes to think he has a gift for coming up with inspirational quotes on the spot, so he’ll lend his expertise here and now: “A life without risks is a life that isn’t worth shit.” It even rhymes, so he knows sorority pledges will have a ball putting it in their Instagram bios. A bit of charity work for the bird-brained. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Endless stamina. Literally. Vampires don’t stay tired for long, so he could be ready to go again within seconds. And he can last long, as well; his stubbornness and pride depend on it, and he likes making his partner cum first as an ego boost. He can go as many rounds as Y/N can and more, though he won’t push it. He doesn’t want her to end up in the ER with a bruised cervix. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Harry could run a sex shop from his closet; Y/N doesn’t take the piss by calling him “Fifty Shades” for no reason. He uses them on himself, he uses them on her, and he got high once and tried to sword fight Y/N with a dildo, so it’s safe to say he definitely uses them quite a bit. If his Lovesense Lush 3 vibrator could talk, he’d be drawn and quartered for excessive debauchery. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Harry loves teasing, that’s no mystery. Winding people up is one of his most practiced skills, so of course that would channel into his intimate life. He’s mastered it, though it’s not like it’s hard. A drawn out blink here, or a feathery touch there. An inch of space between his and Y/N’s lips to establish some tension, or squeezing her inner thigh with his palm hard enough to draw a tiny squeak from her chest. Touching her through her clothes, or leaving a trail of wet kisses down her throat and stopping right at her cleavage. Biting the sensitive skin along the inside of her knee, or dragging the tip of his cold nose down the center of her twitching tummy. Lapping slowly at her nipples until they perk up, or sinking a single long digit inside her and keeping it there just to feel her clench around it needily. And once he gets a pattern going, teasing molds into edging, edging molds into begging, begging molds into praise, and before he knows it, he’s hit four of his kinks with one roll of the dice. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Harry is very vocal in bed, and he’s not ashamed of it. He knows for a fact that Y/N loves it, and if him being loud gets her worked up, then he’ll let his throat go out in the process. He’s noticed that in different situations, he has an arsenal of sounds for each. If he’s being rough and dominant, he tends to groan, grunt, and growl. If he’s being desperate and needy, he turns to whines and whimpers to communicate how he feels. If he’s too zoned into the moment to distinguish all his emotions, broken moans and stuttered mewls are his default. No matter the circumstance, they all take the same route: they start low and soft, and escalate in volume proportional to the intensity of the moment. So what if half the building is hearing him orgasm for the third time as he mocks his girlfriends sobbing pleads and calls her his “dirty fucking whore”? Let’s be honest, it’s probably the highlight of their week. He has a great voice— a sultry, deep baritone that compliments his English accent nicely— and anyone would be lucky to hear it spew the filth it does. He’s yet to get many complaints, so he doesn’t intend on stopping. 

W = Wildcard (random headcanon)

An honesty hour moment seems interesting, so he’ll confess a few tales from his past. The first time Harry ever went down on a girl, it was against a tree in a garden and he nearly asphyxiated under all the layers of her gown. A couple of years later, he ended up getting oral from a reverend’s daughter against a tree, too, for the morbid irony and associated religious revenge. And to drive the point home, oral was only the beginning of what she gave him. His first decade as a vampire was definitely his pettiest. 

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It’s not uncommon knowledge that Harry’s well-endowed. He remembers how insecure he was the first time he had sex— a shocker, he knows; he was insecure?— and how he knew barely anything regarding sizing and how to use his assets accordingly. But it’s been ages since then, and now he definitely knows his way around his own body (let alone his partner’s), and he most certainly knows that he’s above average not only as a person in general, but when it comes to what’s in his trousers, as well. Harry won’t specify inches— he loves how speculation drives others mad— but it was big enough to give Y/N a decent pause the first time she pulled down his pants, and it’s big enough to leave her absolutely fucked every single time, without a single miss. If that’s not credibility at its finest, then he doesn’t know what is.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Harry’s sex drive is insatiable, to say the least. His vampirism combined with his narcissistic tendencies makes the ideal cocktail— cocktail— for the constant fuse that’s always burning under his skin. He’s ready to go at all times; Y/N just has to say the word and he’s pulling on a pair of sweatpants as he grabs his keys, hopping down his complex’s corridor toward the elevator on one foot as he tries to get his last shoe on the other. Lazy morning sex is probably his favorite; he’s come to find it’s when he’s most pent up, usually after a sleepless night of feeling Y/N’s body heat radiating through all of his cold limbs. It also sets a great tone for the rest of the day, and he just loves seeing Y/N wake up to him lying on his side with his temple resting on his fist, his elbow propped against the mattress as he poses the other on his hip in a theatrical diva stance. He’ll smile at her giddily with all his pearly teeth, dimples twitching as his lashes flutter dramatically, dirty intentions written clear all over his face (“Good morning, hon—” “Wanna have sex?” “Harry, it’s ten in the morning.” “Is that a yes? Because it’s not a no.” “I haven’t even brushed my teeth!” “That’s fine, I’m gonna stick my dick in there anyways.”) 

All in all, his libido is insane, and he’s lucky that Y/N’s is up to par or else he would have worked her into an exhaustion-induced coma by now. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Harry just...doesn't. Maybe once every few weeks, but definitely more often now than before he had his girlfriend. Sleeping just comes way easier when he has someone he cares about resting beside him, their inherent warmth thawing the stiffness from his muscles and putting his racing mind at ease. He feels safe enough around Y/N to let his guard down— both literally and metaphorically— and that seems to help with his supernatural insomnia; it sedates that nocturnal hyper-instinct in his brain that demands he be aware at all times, muffling the animalistic part of him that has been manning the reins for the better half of the last two hundred years. He doesn’t need to be so on edge anymore when everything he needs is just an arm-length away. Especially when she’s usually willing to lend her chest as a pillow, and who is he to neglect her wishes.   

[goofmemes]

The Legend of Vox Machina Episodes 1-6 Sentence Starters

“Why do we always play drinking games with a guy twice our size?”

“The greatest? I heard you couldn’t even rescue a cow from a burning barn.”

“Let’s keep things civil, friend. We’re not looking for trouble.”

“La, da, da, my lady’s rose I will pluck.  My love, it’s time for us to–”

“Does this mean we’re officially banned from every tavern in town?”

“We’ve got no money, no place to live and fսck all for prospects.”

“I mean, if protecting carts from swindlers and killing goblins for gold isn’t getting us anywhere, I don’t know, maybe… maybe we could try doing some good this time?”

“Have you ever thought maybe we’re not really meant to do this?”

“Honestly, why are we even together?”

“This is our purpose. Fighting for justice, for glory, protecting the kingdom and stuff. And most importantly… Lots of money!”

“Yeah, yeah, nobility and heroism is fine and all, but we’re in this for the money.”

“I suggest we run. Right now!”

“Fuck that! We fight!”

“Uh, I mean I’m not gonna lie, I’m terrified out of my mind. But I’m in.”

“I wouldn’t say “kill,” really. We’re still kind of working on that part.”

“Please, with the way that man dotes on you, I’m sure you can work something out.”

“You have entered a realm of mystery, of magic, of marvel.”

“If we survive this… I owe you dinner.”

“Really? ‘Cause they told me you have “dick for brains,” which doesn’t seem possible.”

“You’ve been lucky so far, but you have no idea what you have gotten yourself into.”

“Those are pretty. But also… ominous.”

“I must say, I’m impressed. To tell you the truth, I was certain you would die… But it seems some vermin are harder to kill than others.”

“I would like to… rage!”

“Huh. You know, you’re a lot smarter than we give you credit for.”

“Oh, how I’ve missed respectability.”

“I never agreed to this stupid game.”

“I’m simply suggesting you could all benefit from some well-practiced restraint.”

“I say you just walk over, say hello to break the ice, then punch them in the face.”

“You got a sword. Oh, that’s cute.”

“No! I had them! And you let them slip away.”

“You fool… Now your soul is forfeit.”

“I know we have a lot to talk about, but I’m not turning into a vampire, am I?”

“I wasn’t aware that you were owed information about my past.”

“When your past comes to kill us, I’d say we deserve a heads-up.”

“Hey, I don’t take orders from you, asshole.”

“Oh. Well, do you think they’re mad at you? I mean, maybe… maybe you should just say sorry.”

“I don’t get to go home until I prove myself worthy. Which might not happen, so…”

“I’m just saying, I know you think you’re alone. That we don’t know what you’re going through. But you don’t have to be.”

“But there’s a world of difference between your struggle and mine. Whether you succeed or fail, your family is still alive.”

“Everybody up! Creepy shit incoming!”

“You intend to stop those that did this? Then go. Give them hell.”

“Oh, but… what if I need you?”

“You can always talk to me. Even if I’m not around, you’ll feel me there with you.”

“Ugh. I don’t want to know. No, that’s a lie. I absolutely want to know. What’s this all about?”

“We kind of pissed off a vampire.”

“Oh, is that what you’re doing? I thought you were practicing your resting bitch face.”

“And for the record, I have a magnificent bitch face.”

“Oh. Thank God. 'Cause what I was picturing was, like… whoa.”

“Yeah, no worries. You’ll probably get your shit together eventually.”

“But I know you. I know you care about others. That’s what makes a great leader.”

“Oh, no, no, no. Oh, no, no, no, no. Shh! Shh! Shh, quiet. Quiet. Go to sleep.”

“Violence doesn’t burn away the clouds. It only makes more smoke.”

“It’s you. Oh, but you’re not the same. ____, what have you become?”

“I am what they made me.”

“I do hope you and I can engage in a stimulating conversation. Because you’ll find the alternative to be most disagreeable.”

“You think too much. All we got to do is… kill everyone and leave.”

“Those were bad ideas and you should feel bad.”

“Some folks you kill 'cause you’re ordered to. Them I killed 'cause I wanted to.”

“Let me say, you were the one I was least looking forward to.”

“I will have my vengeance and no one will stand in my way!”

[imaslutforremusandsirius]

Daddys pretty slut

Remus just hits different amirite girls and boys and gays and theys

We love us an unbothered Daddy Remus

Warning: 18+, very smutty

Have fun!

“I’m sick of your tantrums, get over here.” Remus grits out. 

You were bored and decided to touch yourself a bit, whilst the boys were out, doing Merlin knows what. And just as you were about to cum, Remus came burstig through the door.

“Thought I wouldn’t know, hm? You’re really smart, pretty, not even bothering to hide your scent from your werewolf boyfriend.” He is mocking you and frankly you deserve it.

You wanted to slap yourself. Remus had told you so many times just how easy it was for him to distinguish not only your scent in a large crowd, but determine your emotions as well. And right now, you are soaked and needy. 

Your voice came out meek when you tried to beg for forgiveness. “Daddy I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to!”

Remus closed and charmed the door, walking over to you in heavy strides. “You should be thankful I didn’t tell the boys what is going on or this conversation would be very different. You know how they get.”

That did something to you. Sirius would have bend you over already, calling you every possible name in the book. James would probably fuck your face so hard you’d have trouble talking afterwards. They would give you the exact opposite of what you crave.

But Remus approached these situations differently, because he gave you precisely what you want and more. You want to cum? He’ll give you ten more. You want his cock in your mouth? He’ll have you suck for hours on end. You wanted him to stop? He wouldn’t touch you for days, until you were delirious with desperation. You have to be very careful what you wish for, but it actually doesn’t matter, because you lose either way.

Remus took off James’ burrowed flannel, looking at you with a thoughtful expression. You could see the clogs in his head turning and he sat down on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. 

He sighes, as if bored and you’d really think he was, if you wouldn’t have seen the slight glint of spitefullness in his eyes. He wants, no needs to punish you. He is livid, anger nearly boiling over, but he didn‘t let it show. He knows how antsy you get when he slips into the role of the calm dom.

You felt vulnerable sitting with your naked body against his fully clothed chest, tucking your head under his chin. 

“I thought we fucked the bratiness out of you already. How long has it been since we touched you? Seven hours and you’re already leaking like a pathetic whore?”

You whine quietly as his fingers harshly brush through your cunt, pinching your clit. “M’sorry Daddy.”

He kisses the back of your head, two fingers pushing inside, thumb against your clit. “You will be.”

Remus spreads his legs, automatically opens yours as well and wraps one arm tightly under your breast. His right hand keeps fucking you in a lazy rhythm, taking his time. He might not tell you that for the sake of scaring you, but this was his way of making sure that you were warmed up, ready to take whatever he gave.

You are panting already, pushing back. His long, thick fingers feel so full inside of your soaking pussy, rough pad of his thumb rubbing deliciously against your clit in soft strokes.

„M‘gonna give you so many cummies, baby, that you won‘t want to cum for a week,“ he spoke, lips brushing against the side of your temple. You knew better than to answer, and tried to kiss him but he pulled back.

„No, you don‘t get kisses. Sluts don‘t kiss their Daddys on the lips. Eyes on my hands, slut.“

You turn your head again, tearing up slightly of being denied your kiss.

„Daddy please, wanna kiss you so bad“, you whine, pussy clenching when he picked up his pace.

„Kiss my cock later, you don‘t get to have my lips. You don‘t fucking deserve it, slut. Why are you crying, hm? Ohh, you gonna cum aren‘t you. Fucking slut, you like this? Want Daddy to treat you like a fucking whore?“

„Yes! Yesyesyes m‘your whore, please wanna cum!“, you mewl, eyes rolling back.

„Daddydaddy m‘gonna cum, ple- ah fuckk“, Remus hand is fucking you so fast your chest is heaving with the effort to take the pleasure.

„Head back, open your mouth“, he commands. You comply instantly, letting him spit in your mouth, sucking bruises on your jaw.

Seeing him treating you so carelessly, spitting on your face and fucking you while he sat there, completely unbothered and calm, did it for you and you came hard. Your screams muffled by his hand on your mouth, his hand so big it covers your entire jaw.

„Pathetic whore, keep your voice down. S‘not not like anybody will come to help you out. Should be grateful that I‘m being so merciful.“

He kept fucking you for what felt like hours, and your already reached your sixth orgasm of the night.

„C‘mon babygirl, one more for your Daddy? One more for me baby, please?“, he cooed at you, lips smearing gently against your sweaty brow.

„Hurts, Daddy, don‘t wanna“, you babbled, so fucking tired. „Everything hurts Daddy.“

„Mm poor baby...How convenient that I don‘t give a fuck what you want, hm? You give me one more and I won‘t tell the boys anything.“

„Yes Daddy, everything for you. You forgive me Daddy right? Not mad anymore?“

Remus pushed his fingers back inside, gliding in easily, not giving you an answer.

„Daddy please, don‘t be mad, m‘your good girl. Fuck Da-“

He chuckles darkly, speeding up and curles his fingers harshly. Leaning down he bites your shoulder hard, squeezing you in his arms as you cry out, cumming on his fingers for the seventh time.

You are slipping in and out of subspace, babbling nonsense, nosing at his soft neck, stubble scratching your flushes cheeks.

„Hi Daddyyy“, you giggle between kisses, „Gonna fuck me now?“

„ Hi baby“, Remus croons, pressing his lips on yours, muttering against your lips. „M‘not Daddy anymore, baby. I forgive you, come back f‘me hm?“

His tone soft as he cuddles you, kissing all over your face, taking your shirt to clean up the mess you made with your cum.

„Ow, hurts, Daddy, Remus“, you tried to close your legs, but he spread them again, overpowering you without trying.

„Shh, be good, gotta clean you up before the boys get back.“

Finally letting go he let you pass out, tidying the room, before he slid in next to you, falling asleep just as fast.

He‘ll let this be your dirty little secret for now. You were his baby first anyway.

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

If It Means That Much To You (Mammon x GN!Reader) Slight Angst -> Fluff

I realize now that if I had written this last night and Levi's tonight, I could have posted in the order of the brothers... but I goofed up on that... Whoops! It's slightly angsty, just the teeniest tiniest bit, but soft Mammon is so sweet. I don't write enough for him, feel kinda bad for skimping out on Mammon fics. So here's a Mammon fic!

Word Count : 1.7K Warnings : Slight angst;

The smile spread across your face as you swiped through the pictures that you had taken with your boyfriend. You both looked happy, and it wasn’t fake like those other couples that you had seen way too many times back in the human realm. This was the first time in what seemed like your entire life that you had been one hundred percent, without a doubt, happy. You had someone who loved you more than words would ever let him express, but he didn’t need words to tell you, he always showed you that he did, whether it be through the way he would hold you, or even just the way he looked at you. The way his lips would crash against yours whenever he saw you after being apart for five minutes or more. Even the way that he looked at you, you could see the emotion, so raw, you could feel it, you could almost hear it, just by looking into his eyes. His love, and his adoration for you was unmatched, other than by your own feelings towards him.

It was a perfect relationship, anyone would be able to tell just by looking at the two of you together. They would be able to see it through the multitude of pictures that you took together, pictures that he would never let you upload. Every picture was taken within the House of Lamentation, or somewhere deep in the garden behind the house, places where no one other than his brothers would ever find out that the two of you were together. It never really bothered you, not enough to bring it up to him at least. Lately though, it had been getting under your skin a little more than usual. It could have something to do with the fact that his latest modeling gig had garnered new fans for him, which should have been a good thing, but reading through their comments on his Devilgram posts had bugged you more than it should. He wasn’t the type to feed into their comments, whether they were raunchy or sweet, he would reply with a simple “Thank You” to as many as he could. You on the other hand, you weren’t allowed to comment on any of his posts, and while he hadn’t explained why that was, you just went along with it. At least you could still like them, and that was enough for you, at least up until now.

“Hey Mams, isn’t this picture cute?” You asked, idly flipping through the latest pictures you had taken together. They were taken in his bed after a long night of… fun… Both of you looked especially worn out, but the smiles on your faces were honest, sincere, and you loved waking up next to each other. His and your hair was completely messed up, and neither of you cared. It wasn’t a modeling shot, but it still looked perfect. You wanted to show him off, show the rest of the Devildom that he was yours and you were his, show them how lucky you were, and what better photo to use than one where you’ve woken up together. “I was thinking of uploading it to-”

Those words had caught his attention, drawing his eyes away from his own phone where he was scrolling through more comments and liking them, giving them the basic reply. The thought of you uploading anything like that though had made him stop, and now he was grabbing your phone from your hands and slipping it into his pocket. “Ya don’t haveta upload nothin’. I know we’re happy, so da you… nobody else needs ta know.” He smiled at you as if his words would actually make you feel better, and most of the time they did. It’s not that he was wrong, and maybe demons didn’t fully understand the concept of essentially showing the world that they were happy, that they had found love and being excited about that, but in the human realm it was a normal thing.

“Alright… I’m gonna go get myself some breakfast… you want anything?” You didn’t want to argue with him about it, you didn’t want to blow it up into something that it didn’t need to be, so changing the subject entirely was the best option. You pushed yourself up off the couch and started heading towards the door, grabbing your jacket off the edge of the bed on your way over. You turned back to face him, to see if he was going to answer your question, and he was turned completely around on the couch, pouting up at you. “You don’t have to worry, Mammon. I’m taking Beel with me.” Which was something you always did when you went to get breakfast… or really any food related item. Mammon was one who worried about your safety often, and since he didn’t like going out in public places with you, he would always tell you to have one of his brothers take you.

His pout only grew as his eyebrows lowered, crossing his arms over his chest. You weren’t really sure what he was trying to do or why he was even doing it, but you were hungry, and you really wanted to know if he wanted anything so you could get going. “Well… just remember who yer first demon was. Beel ain’t no better than me.” He huffed before turning back around and you were left in the doorway feeling nothing but confusion. You weren’t even sure what he meant by that, it made absolutely no sense to you. Obviously you thought Mammon was the better brother out of them all, you wouldn’t put up with so much of his crazy antics or try so hard to keep him out of trouble if he wasn’t your favorite. He also never had a problem with Beel taking you before, so you weren’t quite sure why it was a problem now. “Tell ya no and ya wanna go runnin’ off ta get food with Beel…”

“You know… I can still hear you.” He had whispered the last part, but his whispering sounded more like breathy screaming, especially when he was irritated by something… something that he shouldn’t even be irritated by. “I can go with Asmo or Satan… It doesn’t have to be Beel.” He groaned at the other two brother choices and now you were getting irritated. You didn’t know what he wanted, you were confused, and you were hungry, and he wasn’t explaining anything, and it was just really really annoying. “I don’t know what you want! You don’t want to be seen together, you don’t want me to leave the house by myself, and you don’t want me to leave the house with your brothers either. What do you want?”

His head whipped around so he could face you again, his eyebrows quivering slightly as he looked at you, his voice softer now. “I never said I didn’t wanna be seen with ya…” He sighed, shaking his head. “I just didn’t want anything ta happen…” You weren’t sure what he meant, or what could possibly happen if the two of you were seen together. Simple Devilgram photos couldn’t be enough to stir up problems, could they?

That’s when your brain, your already ticked off and, at this point, hangry brain started piecing together the puzzle, or at least, you thought you were piecing it together. “You mean you didn’t want your fans to get upset… If they saw a picture of you with someone they’d stop giving you likes and commenting on your posts.” His eyes narrowed as he listened to your assumption. He was shocked and even… hurt… that you’d think that that was why he didn’t want you to be seen with him. What was more upsetting was that he had apparently, at some point, given you reason to believe that he cared more about his fan base than he did about you.

He got up off the couch quickly, practically running to you and pulling you into his arms. You weren’t sure if you were just hearing things or if he was actually crying, or maybe he was coming down with a cold… but you could definitely hear him sniffling. “It ain’t about them… It’s about you…” He took a shaky breath, and that slightly verified your thoughts that he was crying, or at least on the verge of it. His hand held the back of your head, keeping your face buried in his chest so that you couldn’t see him, but you could still hear him, his voice vibrating his chest as he spoke. “I owe lotsa Grimm ta lotsa people… demons… witches… I dunno if they’d try ta snatch ya up… take ya away from me ta get their money back…” He finally took a step back, cupping your face lightly as you finally looked up at him. “I don’t want nothin’ ta happen to ya… I don’t wanna lose ya, Y/N…”

“Mammon… I-” You felt awful, terrible for even assuming that he would care more about his fans than your feelings. You had never once thought that he was doing it to look out for you, to take care of you because you meant that much to him… Because he loved you. Sometimes you fail to remember that he was greedy, and he did like to gamble, and usually that money came from other people's pockets. It was hard to remember because with you he was completely different, he never asked for your money and all of your dates were free, spent in his room or the living room or the gardens just enjoying your time together. Everything he did… he did it for you.

“It’s okay… If it means that much ta ya… Upload the pic… If it makes ya happy… I’ll even go out with ya… keep ya safe. No one messes with The Great Mammon’s human…” He smiled proudly, and you let out a small giggle as you shook your head. You didn’t want to worry him anymore than he already did about you, he didn’t need that.

“I know we’re happy… You know we’re happy… No one else needs to know… Right?” The words that he had said earlier made more sense now. You both were happy, and if anyone else knew, it could potentially ruin both of your happiness.

Things were perfect just the way they were. You had the perfect relationship, and it meant way more to you than a little picture being uploaded onto the internet.

[cower-before-power]

Slippery When Wet: Part 2

Summary: An untimely accident in the shower leaves you injured and in need of rescue. Lucky for you, the object of your affections is more than willing to help.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

TW: swearing, nudity, implied sexual content, description of injury (nothing graphic), unintentional voyeurism? (idk i mean like voyeurism in the name of helping i’m not sure how to say it ha), lots of dick talk, prolly really bad sex jokes

Link to A03 here

PART 1 HERE

A/N: First of all, THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO READ, LIKED, REBLOGGED AND COMMENTED ON PART 1. You are all amazing, I am so glad you are enjoying this silly little venture Gojo has dragged me on. Again, thank you so much to @ghost-party for her beta skills, you da best! I hope Part 2 makes you all happy :) please enjoy, sweet potatoes!

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You shouldn’t look. Not because you don’t want to, but if you do you’ll know what is absolutely not warming your bed at night and then you’ll probably just feel worse. But, you were overwhelmingly curious. Just a quick look couldn’t hurt.

Right?

You peek through your fingers, just at his upper half. The sight makes you curse softly under your breath. Of course he’s absolutely beautiful out of clothes, did you really expect anything less?

“If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll get dressed,” he says, “just thought this would help you out.”

Help you out? Good grief this is going to be the star of your late night fantasies for months. Because instead of dreaming it up, you now have the real thing to recall.

“No,” you take a deep breath and drop your hands. “I’m fine.”

Are you though? He’s built to perfection, checking off all the boxes on your “Things I find physically attractive” checklist. You marvel at this long column of his throat, sweeping down into a set of collarbones that would make models die of envy. His chest is hairless (did he wax or was it just naturally that way?), miles of smooth skin and muscle that your fingers were just itching to trace.

Your eyes trail down past his stomach, briefly cataloging the very nice set of abs, before settling on what you were the most curious about.

The snort of laughter escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“Excuse me, did you just look at my dick and laugh?” He asks accusingly, crossing his arms.

“I’m sorry,” you giggle at the disgruntled expression on his face. “It’s just, I’ve always wondered if the carpet matched the drapes since I assumed you dye your hair. Guess I was wrong.”

For the first time since you’ve known him, Gojo Satoru visibly deflates.

“That’s what you’ve thought about?” His voice is full of frustrated disbelief. “My pubic hair?”

You can’t stop giggling. “You can’t blame a girl for being curious! Are you sure you shouldn’t get rid of it though? Doesn’t the white make people think they’re boning an old man?”

“The utter disrespect,” he gasps, shaking his head. “I can assure you that is the last thing on their minds when I’m working my magic.”

You wonder why you aren’t feeling more flustered. The fun and teasing atmosphere feels almost refreshing after the intense back and forth that was just occurring.

“What, you casting spells for dry weather?”

“Oh, you are evil!” He moans, then looks down at himself. “Don’t listen to her, big guy. You know what you can do.”

“For fuck’s sake, don’t talk to it,” you roll your eyes, trying not to grin. “And don’t oversell the merchandise. It’s average, at best.”

(It isn’t. It’s probably the nicest looking one you’ve ever seen. But him and his astronomical ego do not need to know that)

Gojo grabs his chest as if you’ve physically wounded him. “Ouch! Shots fired, target annihilated!”

“You’re such a drama queen,” you sigh. You wonder if he notices the quiet fondness in your voice.

He opens his mouth as if to retaliate, but then suddenly shuts it. A look comes over his face as if he’s just remembered something very interesting and important.

“Hey,” he says, and you watch his mouth spread into a smile. “You said you’d wondered if the carpet matched the drapes. That means you definitely imagined me naked at least once.”

And your blush is back.

“What of it?” You huff, cross your arms and looking away. “It’s only natural. I’ve thought of lots of people naked.”

“Do you ever imagine sleeping with me?”

The question causes you to choke on your breath.

“What-why would you ask that?”

“Inquiring minds want to know.”

You take a look at him, standing naked and unashamed in front of you. His smile is different; there’s a sultry edge to it you’ve never seen before.

“Maybe inquiring minds should stuff it,” you stick out your tongue. Immature, but he’s got you feeling all funny now.

“Well, I’ve thought about it,” he says. “I’ve thought about it quite a lot, actually.”

Your heart misses a beat in your chest.

“You have?” Your voice squeaks as you force the words out.

“Why do you sound so surprised?” He asks, tilting his head like a curious puppy.

You consider the question. You’ve got insecurities, but you know you are a decent looking person. And despite his flightiness about many things, Gojo has actually never given you the impression that he’s shallow in that way.

“I don’t know,” you say truthfully. “I guess I just never considered the possibility that you were interested in me in that way.”

He sighs. “Pumpkin, I’m not blind. You are stupidly attractive. Every time we’re out in Tokyo you’ve got a million guys and gals staring at you.”

“I just always assumed they were staring at your and your stupid blindfold,” you scrub at your cheeks with your palms, trying to rid yourself of some of the perplexing confusion you feel swirling inside you. “How come you’ve never made a move?”

“Would you have wanted me to?”

You want to shout at him, to say of course yes a thousand times yes, but you pause. You realize you’ve never given him any signals, any hint that he was more than just your often annoying friend. Sure, you blushed at his silly flirting, but so did lots of people.

You shift back through your interactions, all the missions, the late night hang outs, the strolls through the city. Nowhere can you find any instant where your ever expanding feelings might have risen to the surface. But still, would your seeming indifference deter him? He was a very self assured man, after all.

“You have confidence coming out your ass, it’s hard to believe you wouldn’t make a move anyways, just to see,” you say instead.

His whole demeanor softens. “I didn’t want to fuck anything up.”

Oh.

OH.

And you know exactly what he means. It’s why you’ve never said anything, why you forced your desires deep down into the pit of your being when in his presence.

It seems even the strongest shaman could be afraid of something.

“It’s not just about fucking, is it?” You ask, feeling your whole body start to tremble.

“It was never just about fucking,” he replies, and it’s like the universe explodes before your very eyes. “Why do you think I spend all my free time with you?”

“To annoy me?” You croak feebly. “To eat all my snacks? To enjoy torturing me by spoiling the end to every movie we watch?”

He chuckles. “Just side bonuses. Being with you is the real prize, pumpkin.”

“Oh,” you whisper, and your brain whirs like an overworked laptop. You’re having trouble processing that this is actually happening, that the man you’ve been pining after for what feels like forever is really standing there, confessing his own feelings.

Buck ass naked.

“You’ve got two options right now,” Gojo takes a step closer to you, and you shiver at the dominant aura that suddenly swirls around him. “Either I get dressed and we put today behind us, or I come over there and kiss you until you can’t remember your own name. Make your choice.”

Was there even a choice? There was only one option. A slow, warm feeling blooms in the middle of your chest and spreads outwards, dousing your whole shaking body in molten yearning. It’s not a new feeling, but the sensations are different. Because now you can give in to it.

“Kiss me,” you blurt out, breathless and giddy. “Get the fuck over here and kiss me.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

A flash of a savage grin, the soft thump of footsteps and then you are numb to everything but him.

He tastes like sugary coffee and chapstick, lips hard and hot against yours as he kisses you like he’ll die if he stops. He’s everywhere at once, in all your senses, drowning you in his onslaught of desirous fervour. It’s not a timid kiss of new sweethearts; it’s a passionate embrace of long overdue lovers.

Your hands run over every inch of him they can reach, mapping the ridges and valleys of his exposed skin. His own slip beneath your shirt to spread across your back, crushing you to him with a grip of iron. It’s not enough; you want them everywhere, you want him everywhere, until he’s branded onto your body. Until you no longer know where you end and he begins. Until he’s sunken himself into your very bones.

You need to breathe- you pull away with a gasp, one gossamer thread of saliva lazily trailing after you.

“Why didn’t we do that sooner?” You pant, digging your nails into his arms. He’s unwilling to keep his mouth off you, now pressing scalding kisses along your jaw.

“Blame it on mutual stupidity,” he sighs into your skin, teeth slightly grazing the spot just below your ear. “Let’s make up for lost time, eh?”

“I’m game,” you say, a soft whine leaving your lips as he works steadily on what is sure to become a bruise.

“Good,” he murmurs, swiping his tongue across the blossoming mark before leaning back to smirk at you. “Have to make you take back all your snarky comments about me and my game.”

You giggle. “Oh, so you’re saying it won’t be as dry as a desert ‘round here?”

“Well let me just check tonight’s weather report,” he laughs, grinning cheekily as he slips a hand down between your legs, brushing gently over the front of your underwear. You bite your lip, grip on his biceps tightening.

“Ladies and gentleman, we’re in for a wet night,” he says in what you assume is his best weatherman voice. “Expect a great deal of precipitation, more so than what’s already accumulated. Perhaps we’ll even see some flooding. We’re talking possibly record setting levels here.”

You snort with laughter, pushing at him slightly. “You are such an idiot. Just shut up and put your money where your mouth is.”

“Oh, I intend to put my mouth in a lot of different places,” he removes his hand, snapping the elastic band of your underwear against your hip as he goes. “I know I just got you into these, but shall I undress you now?”

“Yes please,” you nod eagerly, already wiggling out of your shirt. He quickly helps remove the offending garment, but in all the lust and excitement you’ve forgotten about your shoulder, and you moan in pain when you jostle it.

“Owwwwwwie, stupid shoulder!”

“Shhh, pumpkin,” Gojo coos gently, leaning down to pepper the area with kisses. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’m going to take such good care of you.”

You feel yourself melt at the sudden tender display, and you can’t help but run your fingers through his luscious hair as he continues to smother your bruised shoulder in affection. “You already are, Satoru.”

The first name slips out unexpectedly, but you like the way it rolls off your tongue. He seems to as well, judging by the pleased noise that rumbles from his chest.

“Well, allow me to continue then,” he purrs, and his lips leave your shoulder to capture yours in another toe curling kiss. You press yourself to him, the feel of his bare skin against yours sending a thrill shooting down your spine.

An idea suddenly pops into your head.

“I never got to finish my shower,” you break your kiss to speak, looking up at him under your lashes.

He catches on immediately, his smile once again turning primal. It makes your knees weak and your gut clench in anticipation.

“Maybe you should help me, since I’m injured and all,” you push yourself even closer to him, shivering at the feeling of his not-so-average excitement pressing against your belly.

“Hmmmm, I could do that,” he’s already got his fingers hooked in your underwear, slowly starting to push them down your hips. “But what if you slip again?”

“Well, you’ll just have to catch me then,” you wink at him. “With your dick.”

He roars with laughter, and your heart has never been more full.

“Oh, I’ll do more than just catch you, pumpkin,” he growls playfully, and before you can blink he’s rid you of your bottoms and swept you up into his arms. “I’m going to absolutely wreck you.”

You reach up to kiss him as he pounds towards the bathroom, your blood on fire and only one thought in your head.

Bless that stupid, slippery, wonderful bar of soap.

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Taglist: @satorudicks @sara-nyaa @dixonsbugaboo @fandomtrash100 @oikusa-snow @okemis @kuxredere @mylittleteddybear @the-fandoms-georgie @inaflashimagine @crapimahuman @elenapri0502 @fragments-of-aria @bollywoodghoul @wrdro @kiasnotforever @disregardedbymybias @lavihs @euniartsu @satjsstuff @lycorizzz @fushigurosimp @levisbrat1 @bxstboy-tetsu @one-leaf-grimoire @glxar (sorry i just tagged everyone who asked and commented haha, bold means I couldn’t tag you sorry!)

[its-me-im-coraline]

Consequenses // Thomas Raggi

words // 1590

warnings // smut ahead hehe and not even a full smut, just a snippet honestly

pairing // Thomas Raggi x F!Reader

author's note // if you want to be on the tag list let me know. ok please let me know on the taglist link if you have asked me to tag you and i havent right now... I lost some of the user names so yeah im so sorry 🥺

request // yes

summary // Reader has been breaking Thomas’ rules by teasing him for days. Thomas eventually is fed up and shows Reader what happens when you disobey.

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11 @bidet-and-legolas @atremendousstrawberrycollection @otaculo @selenophiliaxx

Music, throbbing lights and booze was the way Thomas and his partner decided to spend his weekend off. An average gathering made to feel like a party amongst the closest friends of the band and everyone’s partners. Of course the guitarist couldn’t resist bringing his lover along. He had not seen her in a while, traveling around and working on new music had made the relationship hard for the two of them, things only becoming harder when they started being unsatisfied with their more intimate relationship. The longing did not help much, instead it brought anger and anxiety, both resulting in ruining both of their moods.

The suggestion came from Y/N in the afternoon after Thomas took a break. They were sitting on the couch watching some tv show neither cared for, slowly trying to relax and potentially do more than sitting on the couch. The thought had occurred a few days ago, while the man was still not there, when his lover was maybe watching a bit of an erotic movie. “Maybe we should… switch,” was all she said. No explanation, no details, nothing.

Not much convincing was needed so here they were. Y/N being dominant was finding it a little hard to just sit there and listen. Thus the dom turned into a brat, choosing to tease the man during their first night together.

It was rather simple to get Thomas all riled up this fine night. They happened to have a small fight before the party (a disagreement over minimal things truly) so they were both in a very tense mood while at the party. Thomas was on the one side of the yard, talking with some of his friends, while Y/N was on the other, revealing clothing and lingerie (with certain movements it was visible to the man - and anyone else that paid attention, but not many did). The man was unable to take his eyes off his partner. See, she knew that the result would be pretty good.

“Keep this up and the result will not be very nice for you, amore,” he whispered in her ear when he finally approached her. His hand right above her ass, face too close for comfort.

“I am not sure I want to stop,” said Y/N, an evil smirk decorating her face. Her hips moved side to side, making sure the man could see. Back on her plotting she was.

At first things went smoothly: a bit of seductive dancing, a bit of drinking… The casual. But soon that would change as well. Ethan was sitting on a pool chair, joking about Y/N’s dancing, having a playful back and forth with each other until Y/N sat on his lap. It was nothing unusual for the two, it had happened plenty of times before, but both Thomas and her knew that this time was different.

By now Thomas is fuming. If he was in a cartoon his face would have gone comically red, smoke coming out his face in an exaggerated way. The cigarette and drink in his hand did little to help restrain him. For that, he downed the rest of his drink in an instant, smashing his cigarette on an ashtray and moving to his friends and partner. “Sorry to cut your fun short,” he smiled, trying to keep it together, “but me and Y/N need to go. Honestly, I’m feeling very tired,” he finished, taking Y/N’s hand in his and pulling her up and towards him.

Their friends did not say much, but rather voiced their goodbyes allowing the pair to leave the party.

Getting in the car was now the easy task, but one of them was dreading it. She knew that this would be so fun, but she was undeniably afraid of what could potentially happen that night. “What do you think you have been doing, dolcezza?” He all but growled, roughly turning her face towards his with his hand.

“Me? Nothing. I was just trying to have fun with my friends.” Oh, the innocent act. If Thomas wasn’t hot and bothered (more of the later) already, he certainly was now.

“I don't think so, baby. I think you have been very very naughty. I think you need a punishment.” His tone was playful but his eyes told a different story. Y/N was in for a long night, and they were still in the car. Thomas’ hands had already begun to travel all around his lover, faces dangerously close. And like that the vigorous kissing started.

“You shouldn't have acted like that tonight, amore,” he commented before he started driving back to their shared apartment. The ride was quiet but the tension and anticipation was loud as hell.

Patience was out the window the moment Y/N opened the door to their home. Thomas pushed her to the wall, attacking her neck with kisses. “I warned you enough times, my love, now it’s time for actions,” he commented, hand slowly traveling up to her neck, lightly squeezing, blocking the blood flow lightly making her lightheaded but so much more desperate for him. “Turn around and put your hands on the wall - just like that, good girl! Now, ass perked up.”

She was very well aware of what was about to happen and saying that she did not want it would be a lie. She was rather used to serving spankings to the man whenever he disrespected her - rather lenient - rules, taking such an adrenaline rush every time, but oh did she get a rush now, too. Thomas was getting more and more confident by the minute, Y/N getting rather aroused from it.

Thus she obeyed his demands, pushing her ass back, all there for him to do what he wanted. Thomas quickly got to work moving up her tiny little skirt to have her exposed to his will. Her ass looked amazing in that white lace thong she wore, making the man undeniably hard. “You know what you’re doing, don’t you? You planned for this to happen-” slap, “you knew I would not be able to hold back, didn’t you, puppy?” slap. “Answer me!”

“Yes, daddy,” Y/N responded very timidly, slightly flinching every time he struck her cheeks.

“Good, good. Now count for me, and you will thank me for each slap.”

“One. Thank you, daddy,” she began with his rhythm getting quicker and his force bigger by each slap of his palm. They reached around twenty five before Thomas decided on his next move. He said nothing but roughly turned Y/N around, pulling her towards their shared bedroom, lightly. After closing the door behind him - more out of habit than any actual practical reason- he pushed her to the bed, legs automatically falling open as he stared with lust in his eyes.

“Just sit there and do nothing,” he ordered, “no touching, or there will be consequences.” He did not go far after that, he only undressed and picked up the condoms and the lube, just making sure that she was entirely ready (not that he truly needed it at the moment - just a safety precaution) and knelt in front of his lover.

“Mhm,” he moaned, “you are looking delicious, but I’m not sure you can handle it. Maybe we should do this anoth-”

“No, no! Please, I can handle it! I can handle anything! Please, please!” she exclaimed, or more so whined, making Thomas smirk like a cheshire cat and proceeding with his actions.

“Anything, you say? Hm, we’ll see about that.” Oh boy was she about to regret those words.

His tongue started to tease her immediately as he finished his sentence. It was small short licks and little pecks on her clit, featherly but was agonizing in this case. The pace was slow, timid, really, all in an attempt to show his love in the most painful way possible. Her eyes were shut tightly, mouth hung open releasing heavenly (or rather sinful) noises - a pleasing confirmation of Thomas’ plan working perfectly. Y/N’s back was arched up as her head hung behind, chest bouncing in the attempt to gain more pleasure by Thomas.

“Thommy, please,” she whined, earning a slap on her thigh.

“You are being ungrateful, amore. I shouldn’t be giving you any pleasure at all. You’ll take what you can.” The lack of contact for the few seconds he spoke was enough to cause another fit of whines, but his breath on her heat made far worse ‘damage’.

He wasted no time moving up and away from his disheveled lover, moving to the dresser. Y/N simply sat there, mouth falling open, but this time due to confusion. It was clear that frustration had already started to pick up. Thomas on the other hand was enjoying the situation fully, finding it rather entertaining how he could make her melt so easily.

“Thommy. Come back,” she uttered in her usual dominating tone. Nothing. “Thomas, come back here-”

“What did you just say to me, puppy?” If he was pissed before, now he was livid, and it was clear as day. If this were some weird cartoon his eyes would’ve glowed red - a thought that did not help Y/N’s pleasurable fear. His hand had swiftly reached Y/N’s neck, not tightening up, yet making his stance threatening. “I think you have forgotten how things are going on around here, my love. You are not on the lead right now. I am. And you will pay for that.”

[forever-rogue]

Feels Like Home

Summary | Bucky just seems a little out of sorts lately, so you decide to do something special for him. 

Pairing | Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2k

Warnings | none

Masterlists | Bucky, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Bucky had been different lately. Not bad or mean or anything just...different. Off. 

No matter how hard you tried to figure it out, you just couldn’t. That left you with the only logical conclusion you could think of. 

“Buck?” you were sitting at the kitchen table, silently eating dinner as you sat across the table from each other. About halfway through your meal, you’d lost your appetite and set your fork down before pushing your plate away. That garnered his attention as he turned to look at you with a weak little ghost of a smile. You couldn’t take this anymore so you just decided to go ahead and ask, “are you upset with me?”

“What?” he set his own fork down as his brows narrowed and he gave you a quizzical expression, “what are you talking about, Bub? W-where did you get that idea?”

“Have you really not noticed?” you asked softly as he leaned closer. You could see that there were darker than normal circles under his eyes, and he just looked...tired. Exhausted even. He shook his head slowly as you sighed lightly, “you’ve been different. We’ve been different. Did I...did I do something? Are you going to break up with me?”

“I...no - never. I would never break up with you, Bub,” he insisted, wondering where all of this suddenly came from. You just shrugged lightly as tears pricked at the back of your eyes and you focused on your plate, “I love you, you must know that.”

“Then why have you been pushing me away?” your voice was small and shaking as a single tear rolled down your cheek. Bucky made a small sound in the back of his throat as you swiped at the wetness before looking back up to meet his eyes, “the past couple of weeks, I just feel like you’ve been shutting me out. If I did something, please just tell me. I just want you to be okay - for us to be okay.”

“Bub,” he slowly stood up and walked to your side of the table before sinking down on his knees, turning your chair towards him with no effort. He reached for your hands and gently took them in his, his larger ones easily engulfing yours. You held back a sniffle as you met those ocean eyes you loved so much, “I’m not upset with you, or anything. I’m sorry, so sorry if you think that’s what’s going on. I love you a little more every day - this is...it’s just been rough lately.”

“Is everything okay? Are you alright, Bucky?” you dropped one of his hands and brought yours to his face, gently stroking his cheek. He closed his eyes and keened lightly into your touch, “what’s going on?”

“I just...this feels so silly,” he admitted softly, “but sometimes I’m just reminded by how out of place I am. I’m a hundred and six-year-old man in a modern world. It feels...odd sometimes.”

“Oh Bucky,” you whispered softly. You couldn’t lie and say you understood what he was going through or feeling, but you’d always be there for him. That much you did know, and he knew it too, even if there were times that were harder, “I’m sorry, my love. I know it must be hard sometimes, I can’t even imagine, but I’m always here for you. You can tell me anything, even the most mundane thing. But you do belong here - you belong here with me, and Sam, and Sarah, and everyone else. You’re right where you’re supposed to be, even if it doesn’t feel like it. If there’s anything I can do to help, whatever it is, just tell me, okay?”

“Yes,” he whispered softly, giving you a gentle nod before he took your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm, “I love you. I’m sorry I’ve made you think anything but. It’s not you at all...just me.”

“Hey,” you put your hand under his chin and tilted his face up towards yours, “I love you, James. Always.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was an interesting thing to be with Bucky. He was a man that, if you didn’t know any better, was very much a man of the times. He dressed, acted, and felt the part. But underneath it all, you knew there were times when he was still left in amazement or awe. You’d say something and he would look at you with that expression. 

But now that you knew better, there were times when you could see something flicker across his face. There were times when you could sense that he was missing something. Even if he didn’t mention anything. 

So when you saw something interesting cross your social media feeds that piqued your interest, you came up with a plan. You hoped he would like it - it wouldn’t be much, but you hoped it would be good enough either way. Maybe a little surprise for your lover was a little push in the right direction to get his mood up a little bit.

Whatever happened, you were willing to try. Anything to put a smile back on his sweet face. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The whole apartment smelled of delicious cooking; you’d been hard at work for the last several hours, attempting to perfect this evening’s meal and dessert for him. You weren’t a huge natural when it came to the kitchen, but you’d watched enough TikToks on how to make meals you knew were a part of his childhood and practically committed them to memory. 

You’d turned on some light jazz that you knew he’d like - and you did as well - swaying slightly to the music as you worked on finishing everything up. Everything did look good, and you hoped that he would like it. If nothing else, you knew he’d appreciate the effort. You could do something as simple as pour him a cup of coffee in the morning and he’d be over the moon. The man really did love you more than you thought was ever possible. For once you wanted to turn the tables around and make him feel as special as he always made you feel.

“Bub?” Bucky’s soft voice surprised you so much that you almost jumped out of your skin. You were putting together a salad and had been so focused on chopping and singing quietly along to the music that you hadn’t even heard him come in. You turned around and gave him a giant smile before almost running over to him, “what’s all this? Smells good.”

“James,” you whispered softly before gently touching his face and carding your hand through his hair, “you’re home just in time. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he promised softly, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, “what’s going on?”

“It’s just...it feels silly now, so don’t laugh,” you insisted as he raised an eyebrow at you, “I wanted to do something special for you.”

“For me?” he asked softly, immediately overwhelmed by the idea that you went through any trouble for him. You bit your lip and shyly nodded, “what for?”

“I just...you mentioned you’ve been having a bit of a hard time lately and I wanted to do something special for you to maybe make it a little better,” you admitted, as you took his hand and pulled him further into the kitchen, “now, don’t get too excited because it’s nothing super special but I hope you’ll like it.”

“You gonna tell me what it is, Bub, or am I going to have to guess?” he asked softly as you realized you hadn’t exactly told him what was going on. You pointed to the various dishes on the counter and food still on the stove that was warm and ready. Bucky looked around and inhaled the familiar smell of the foods he had grown up with back during his childhood. A lump welled up in his throat as his heart felt like it was about. You were beaming at him, waving your hands in a small ‘ta-da’ motion, “you did all this for me?”

“I did,” you admitted, “hopefully the recipes are somewhat real and the food somewhat good? There were a few things that left me wondering what the hell you guys were eating back then! But...I just wanted to do something to make you feel a little more, at home? I dunno. Like I said, it’s not much, but it’s a little something.”

“I love it,” he admitted softly as he turned to you, his blue eyes soft, “I love you. This is...this is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.”

“Wow,” you whispered as he pulled you into his arms, “that’s saying a lot for a man that’s been through hell and back multiple times. You sure about that, James?”

“I am,” and then he kissed you. Softly and slowly, wrapping his arms around your body as he held as tightly as possible in his arms. You threw your arms around his neck as you held him back, “no one has ever seen me like you do, has treated me like you. You are everything. I love you so much. I’m sorry I ever made you doubt for even a second.”

“I love you too, James,” you whispered as you pulled back and cradled his face in your hands, “so much more than you’ll ever know. I would do anything just to see that sweet smile back on your face. Even if it’s something little like this.”

“Little?” he asked, looking around at the mountain of food and dishes you’d prepared, “by the looks of it, this took you some time!”

“Okay...maybe most of the day,” you admitted, “but it was worth it. You are worth it, my love.” 

“As much as I want to eat of all this, will you do me a favor first?” he asked softly, taking a step back and admiring you. It was funny, how he still managed to make you feel this shy and nervous, even after being together for years.

“Anything.”

“Dance with me?” he asked as you realized you still had the music playing in the background. You laughed lightly but nodded, taking his outstretched hand and letting him take the lead. It was quiet for a while, the only sound was the gentle music and the soft whispers of adoration you exchanged, “I love you, Bub.”

“I love you, James.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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