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the-bees-patella · 1 year

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Hello there, for the writer ask 🤗 and/or 🧐 please.

From this writer ask meme.

(Research ask answered here. Also this got long as hell, RIP).

What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

I have never been "good" at fandom in terms of engagement, follower counts, and other metrics, and personally, that's not why I'm here. So this will be about becoming a better writer, so if that's something you're interested in, this is for you.

To start, I think the myth of talent is particularly pervasive in artistic fields, which both makes beginners feel discouraged and can make consumers, for lack of a better word, feel thoughtlessly entitled to our work. It's talent! It's not work, why are you complaining?

Don't fall for that shit. You can become a decent writer with some hard work and effort. That can be a double-edged sword, and on some days, that won't feel true or possible. I won't say I have the answers to how to make it happen. This isn't WikiHow. There's no YouTube video for this.

The only things I'd stipulate are:

Figure out what works for you. If you're following writing blogs or reading books about writing, you can get new ideas, but you'll soon realize some of them are useless. As you write more, you'll come to understand your preferences and tendencies better, and sometimes you'll be tempted to change them to better fit your idea of a "good" or "serious" writer. 97% of the time, you can't. Everybody has a Hemingway phase but nobody but Hemingway was or is Hemingway. You are the artist you are. Take what you need and travel light.

Read widely and write a lot. Reading is necessary to expand your knowledge of what's possible, and writing requires diligence, like any other skill. Even talent needs to be honed on the whetstone of practice. It's the only way anybody got good at anything. There are no shortcuts. Writers are not born, they are made.

I could stop there, really. But I already typed up this whole thing, so a couple more specific tips:

Develop your taste.

If you've started writing, you've already started on the journey of developing a sense of taste, probably because you've spent a lot of time reading. (If you haven't: start there. And read all sorts of things: short stories, long-form journalism, poetry, novels. The only way to develop taste is to see what's out there).

It may seem counterintuitive, but to develop your own voice, I think it's necessary to look to others. When you're reading something that punches you in the gut, maybe makes you feel a little despair that you'll never be this good, read it again and pay attention to your own reactions. When did you feel the punch? Why did you feel it? Isolate those elements and keep them in mind while writing your own stuff. Expanding the vocabulary of your creative voice can mean sitting down with a book or a story and taking literal notes. Leaving comments can be a good exercise, because it makes you look at a story more closely. Also, I think it's important to let people know when they've touched you. After all, isn't that what we're all after? Plus, people love detailed comments. Go out, be the change, etc.

If that all sounds a little bit too much like English class to you…yeah, kind of. I should have opened with the caveat that while of course fic is a hobby and it's just for fun, it's not that important, that's no reason not to take it seriously. I don't mean you should have to get an MFA to write fanfiction, God fucking forbid. And sometimes you just want to read (or write) fic and relax and not think too hard, and that's fine too, have at it. (You're still writing and reading, as verbs). I'm just saying there's also nothing wrong with dedicating time and attention to it, and sometimes, that's going to be hard.

Good. That means it's working.

2. Don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good.

Fail. Fail hard, fail often, learn to fail better. They can't all be winners. If you're stuck in a doom spiral, thinking, "this is bad, this is the worst, I don't know how to write—" Okay, fine. Lean in. Make it worse. Make it the worst thing you've ever written. Maybe you just have a little writing indigestion. Just barf some rancid words onto the page. Nobody has to see it. Give yourself the freedom to be as indulgent and terrible as you want; a cringe secret between you and your word processor.

So much of what writers describe as "process" is just getting your inner critic to shut up for long enough to let the writer do the work. Some people write at specific times of day, or they have a specific place they do it. Some people have to pretend nobody will ever see it and don't edit at all. Some people do 87 drafts and wring their brain-hands over single apostrophes. (Freak behavior. Can't relate).*

You'll develop your own way of doing things, and it'll change over time to suit your needs, both external and creative. You'll find your own ways to beat back the shithead little voice that tells you oh, that's too much. Are you sure about that? Wow, bold move. And you'll learn to distinguish it from the genuine subconscious creative voice as it steers you along. But in order to do that, you have to miss a stair once in a while. Crash into the walls. Absolutely eat shit. How else do you learn to avoid that particular step? Go forth and brain yourself on the banister. Have fun out there.

*It is, in fact, freak behavior, and I did this last night.

3. Make what you like. Have fun.

If you haven't called it by now, I am 1000% a pedantic bastard, so it follows that I have a semantic issue with the phrase "write for yourself." It's bandied about so frequently as a kind of indicator of artistic virtue or purity, as though doing something as natural as caring what other people think about work you've posted publicly is some kind of moral failure.

I'm not saying it's wrong. I just refuse to be scolded by a Live, Laugh, Love sign.

Because while there are some things you might banish to the wastes of your hard drive, in the end, fandom is about community. Making art is a public exercise. I'm sure there are people who write and paint and never show anyone, but let's be real. We're here because we love something, we have something to say, and we want to share it with other people. Reaching across the pulses of cyberspace to say, "I, too, would like to see this man get railed this way in particular." The real art is the friends you made along the way, etc.

So I'm in favor of reworking "write for yourself" into something more cognizant of the dynamics at work. For myself, I use the Marie Kondo test (notwithstanding the mistranslation and overuse of this phrase, too): does this spark joy?

Do you get excited when thinking about the project? When you think about upcoming scenes or beats, do they still inspire delight? Even when you're stuck, do you still feel like it's worth working through those things to get to the parts of the story you like?

And this is where the "for yourself" comes in, because I think it's easy to get wrapped up in mandates here. But I have to finish! (Why.) People will be upset if I don't! (Sounds like a them problem). (People love to talk about how fandom is just for fun <3 and then talk shit about abandoned works. Bullshit. Of course, as a reader, you can feel disappointed. But part of being a person is learning to handle your disappointment with grace, so try that before yelling at authors, who are already porcupines of anxiety).

I think the most difficult one to let go of is when people like your story a lot. You're getting a lot of good comments, and in what can be jaggedly lonely world, you feel liked, seen, and appreciated. It's tempting to keep at it, to try keep hitting the dopamine button, even when the writing itself starts to feel shitty and no longer sparks joy.

But returning to taste for a moment: as a reader, can't you tell when the writer is having fun/losing their mind? When they want to be there, doesn't their clear enthusiasm and love for the story shine through, bright enough to reach you, warm you?

Have faith. There will be other stories. You'll have other good ideas. Give it time, work on other stuff and/or replenish your creative well. Maybe you'll rediscover your love for the story, or look back at the draft in a couple months and realize it isn't so bad after all. Part of why I have such a backlog of unpublished work is because sometimes the story, like bread, needs time to prove. And maybe you won't, and that's fine, too. If your readers are reasonable people, they will understand, encourage you to take care of yourself, and patiently await the next one.

If they're not, feel free to send them to me.

#that's not a threat #that's a promise #ask meme #on writing #answered

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thelightofthingshopedfor · 2 years

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re: your tags on the post defending people being dramatique about reblogs; whoever ghosted you over that is a dick, but also there has GOT to be a happy medium between "fuck you if you don't reblog everything you feel positively about" and "fuck you for asking for reblogs" like omg, tumblrinas plz, i am begging for like half an ounce of nuance i know this is the internet but please for the love of the blorbos stop the madness *headdesk*

I mean, yeah, I don't actually think guilt/shame is a good motivation for engaging with fandom, for a lot of different reasons, and tbh the overall tone of the post I just reblogged is probably more abrasive or something than what I've reblogged before or said myself. I mostly just reblogged this one because apparently I can't get over how hurt I feel over the whole basically-being-ghosted-by-a-long-term-friend thing (especially given that it made me feel really insane in a specifically neurodivergent way, like, "either I have massively misinterpreted literally everything about this relationship for years because I fundamentally don't understand friendship or social interactions in general, or you didn't mean anything you said to me, or you changed the rules at some point and didn't tell me").

but it's also just...deeply frustrating that even the mildest posts saying "if you don't do some very basic things to support the fanworks you like, you will start seeing a lot less of those fanworks, because those creators will get discouraged and stop producing it" gets categorized as whining or guilt-tripping when it isn't, it's literally just describing cause and effect. there are other posts scolding fan creators for expressing that discouragement or asking for a little damn engagement because we just want to feel like we're part of a community, all of which just contributes to the atmosphere of discouragement.

and it feels increasingly bizarre to me the more time I spend on Instagram, following all kinds of artists and small businesses, all of whom talk a lot about how important engagement is to what they do and how much their work lives and dies by The Algorithm and how crucial it is for people to take a few seconds and boost stuff they like because otherwise it just gets lost to the void, and I don't see the same backlash there of "well you should just be satisfied with creating for yourself, you shouldn't worry about stats, stop whining for attention, stop guilt-tripping people," whatever. granted, it's a different matter when there's money involved, because with a small business whose only source of advertising is social media, we're talking about someone's actual livelihood, but there's a huge amount of crossover with literally any artist--fanartist or otherwise--given that loads of them do also have Patreons or Ko-fi links or shops with physical items, or maybe they don't start out that way but when they build an audience organically they're able to bring in some actual money. and I've definitely seen people who aren't primarily selling things, who really are just producing art as a hobby, but still ask people to share their stuff because it encourages them to make more, and that seems to be seen as perfectly legitimate, except on Tumblr and also Reddit. fanfic is a little different because it's inherently an extremely bad idea to monetize, so there isn't the angle of "of course you want to share this so your favorite writer can keep food on the table!" but it doesn't seem like a huge stretch to say it follows a similar principle, right? if you like it, it just makes sense to support it in some small way, because then you're more likely to keep getting it? and if you don't make any effort to support it, then you can't complain when you stop getting it? (making this very basic point got me downvoted on r/Fanfiction because of course it did.)

and, I don't know, I personally get really discouraged begging for reblogs, and it would feel a lot better if I didn't have to. not even just my own fic (although, yes, especially that), but original posts about helpful resources or awesome Kickstarters or fic recs or cool free games or "hey this artist is doing charity commissions, look at their awesome art, please reblog so they can raise money for this important cause" mostly just all kinda fall into the void. not that I'm at all unique in that respect, obviously; anyone who doesn't have a big audience deals with that frustration (while people who do have big audiences get to deal with different problems, as I understand it, although I certainly wouldn't know from experience). it just sucks, you know?

#conversations #surrexi #I don't know where I'm going with this

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pinkarachnia · 2 years

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Lesbian Anime Review #6 - Magical Revolution Girl whatever it's called

Everybody wants to be Utena. Stay tuned for my Witch of Mercury review.

The last episode of this aired last night and I had been watching throughout the season since as far as I know, this is the only lesbian-centric show from Winter 2023 and my quest to watch every lesbian anime is eternal and undying.

This is a light novel adaption about someone who got isekai reincarnated into a fantasy world and now they're a princess but they can also fight better than everyone and they're a genius magic item inventor who lives in a palace with a hot maid and everybody loves them except for the fantasy nobility I guess. Fucking hell I hate anime.

It's the least relevant bit of criticism for my review but I do need to complain briefly about the title. It's got one of those very long light novel titles that I feel like my brain pushes away like it's a magnet with the same polarity. I feel a similar repulsion to pretty much all the themes I described in the synopsis above, but I guess what I'm trying to convey is that this show is laden with tropes and I really don't care for any of them.

So the actual plot of this show is more about the two main characters trying to change the status quo of the whole sociopolitical landscape of this fantasy world. They establish through some excruciating expository dialogue that there's some kind of democratic monarchy situation where there's an elected prime minister and also a royal family, but it also seems like the PM is also from some kind of nobility, so I don't know whether they've got a true democracy? Either way, for some reason that I assume is religious, all the old nobles really care about the monarch of the era having magic. Every noble person is supposed to be able to use magic in this world, and that's what separates them from the lower class.

The protagonist's only "flaw" is that she can't use magic, and boy do they belabour the point on this one. I cannot embellish enough how little I care that a person born into such a position of privilege is soooo sad because she can't shoot fireballs in addition to being a princess and an adventurer and a magic item inventor even though they establish pretty early and constantly remind you that magic items are considered heresy in this country.

Long story short, protagonist girl takes in girl 2 as an assistant after her little brother, the prince, publicly calls off his betrothal to girl 2 because they have zero chemistry. Girl 2 is crazy good at magic and is the PM's daughter so protagonist leans on her reputation with the wizard catholics to start putting forth the idea that magic items are cool actually and might bridge the class divide. Then the girls are a bit gay.

I would say that the show is well drawn pretty consistently. The artists at Diomedéa have done a good job there. The characters on screen look nice. The issue I have with the presentation is with the animation and the cinematography. These episodes were BARELY animated. Save for a couple of scenes involving combat, almost every episode is just characters talking to each other. If you really love 45 degree angle shots of characters talking back and forth for 20 minutes about magic theory then this show might be for you. There are maybe 4 total instances of combat scenes I can recall from the 12 episodes and those are the only ones that really animated people. They do not move during dialogue, expect nothing but mouths and blinking.

I don't think that's a great excuse either; did you watch Joshiraku? (Full disclosure, the writer has some nationalist stuff going on so keep that in mind if you choose to engage.) I often think of the bit from the first episode where they do the "they're working so hard to animate us" joke.

Yeah, that bit! Cheers, thotticus-binch. Now obviously the whole show doesn't look like this, but this is where the cinematography part becomes relevant. Dialogue scenes do not have to look boring! You can use camera and lighting and draw your characters from different angles and in different poses to make the scene look more interesting and Revolution Dykes does not do this. My partner was watching this with me for a while but eventually they gave up on it because they just got bored. Shows that are 90% dialogue shouldn't be this boring. Sincerely, a Bakemonogatari enjoyer.

The biggest question I'm left with after this show was: did they have to do any of the isekai shit? I was thinking to myself throughout the viewing experience that if they changed the setting and made the girls employees in Government departments and protagonist hires girl 2 as her executive assistant after she gets fired for some scandal, and then she has to take down the CEO after outing him for corruption and then she's offered the promotion to CEO, but she doesn't want to because her current role leaves her with enough freedom to pursue her actual goal which is writing up a proposal for some new legislation (could have been gay rights) but she feels obligated to fill the power vacuum and then her EA could step up but they need to convince the board that she's capable even though they're against it because of the scandal. I would have loved that show. The fantasy setting made this worse and the magic theory stuff was not interesting at all.

I've been criticising the dialogue a lot here but I want to give a shoutout to Sayaka Senbongi's performance as the main character. I thought she did a great job and honestly carried a lot of the less engaging scenes with her energy. It was less enjoyable in the last few episodes where she was depressed most of the time, but that's not on Sayaka. The protagonist is written in a way that seems inconsistent until some exposition in the last episode that kind of helps to explain her actions. At that point though I can't unwatch the previous 3 episodes where her decisions didn't make sense to me.

I think an issue I had with this is that it doesn't feel like there's any one plotline that's relevant for the whole show. I'm making an assumption here, but I think the light novel format is hurting it here.

I'm going to go into spoiler territory after this, so fair warning, don't keep reading if you were going to watch this yourself. At this point in the review I don't know why you'd still want to unless you're like me and you have to watch every yuri show, but I'll give a preemptive review score here.

It gets a 6.5/10 for being very mediocre but yes it's actually gay.

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Spoilers to follow

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Alright so the plot, how do I even describe this. I guess you could say it moves forward in arcs, but those arcs would be pretty short. They go through the prince/girl 2 breakup drama into a dragon attack plot, then the protagonist gets into magic stones and puts the dragon stone in her body, then there's a plot where the prince's girlfriend is actually a vampire, then the prince goes evil and steals her vampire magic, then the protagonist beats up her brother and he goes to jail or something, so she's now got to be next in line for the throne, then girl 2 is aware that protagonist is unhappy about that because it means she can't do magic item inventing, then they introduce this idea of some spirit contract thing that makes you immortal and eligible to be the monarch but it also messes up your memory and girl 2 is like "I'll just do that thing so protagonist doesn't have to be queen" and then they fight over it and girl 2 wins the fight so she just goes ahead and does the spirit contract thing anyway and protagonist explains that she's been acting weird because this is an isekai reincarnation situation for her and she has imposter syndrome about replacing this fantasy princess because she's got these memories of another life which is ACTUALLY INTERESTING but they didn't bring it up until the last episode but it's okay because they kiss at the end. Maybe they even fuck at the end, that's ambiguous but it seems likely. Good for them!!

Honestly that's the kind of thing that really saved the show for me. It's not enough to elevate it to any of the higher review score numbers in my books, but it keeps it above a 5, where before episode 12 I was ready for this to be more of a 4.5.

I was hoping this show would be enough to tide me over while I wait out the Winter 2023 season and ultimately I think it was disappointing, but there was some lesbian content in the last few episodes so I think it still delivered on its core premise enough for me.

Next season though.

Second half of Witch of Mercury

That one about the gay cafe (I have low expectations)

BIRDIE WING SEASON 2 BABYYYYYY

It's a good time to be a lesbian anime watcher. Just maybe give this one a miss unless you're desperate.

And I said it earlier but to keep it consistent with my other reviews I'm going to reiterate that I'm giving this one a 6.5/10.

#lesbian anime review

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epickiya722 · 2 years

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"EXPECTATIONS? I DON'T HAVE ANY!" 😐

IN RELATION TO THIS POST!

I didn't want to take up too much "space" on the other post, so I made my own. And no, this isn't to bash anyone or whatever!

Honestly, I never have high expectations for anything. What if I do get disappointed? I don't have any low expectations either. What if I am very satisfied? So guess what? Kiya here doesn't have expectations at all.

I feel like if I expect something to be good or to be bad then that's what I'll look for. Perfection and faults.

And I don't see the fun in that. How can I enjoy something if the first thing on my mind is to critique it?

This applies to BNHA for me.

What made me get into BNHA was a meme and then I learned it was a story about superheroes and I was "Oh hell yeah". Watched a couple of episodes, read some of the manga and I got hooked.

Does it have the manga and anime have faults? Yes. But does the manga and anime also have their good points? Also, yes!

Everything does!

Having expectations is the last thing for me. I'll notice faults, yeah. I'll notice good things, yeah. And yeah, I don't ignore them. But I'm looking to be entertained foremost and if I'm entertained then I'm good. After all, it is fiction. Fiction I can drop anytime and continue on with life.

So yeah, people can do whatever they want. I agree. Studios, the fandoms, Horikoshi. Whoever.

I don't look to change opinions or dictate what people do, just voice my own opinions and do what I want. I engage in what I like and block out what I don't.

If people don't wanna read the manga, then don't. If they do? They do. Same for the anime. Watch it, alright. Don't? Okay!

Applaud BONES for their work? Okay! Still hold them accountable for any faults? Alright.

Like how I like both villains and heroes, I both see amazing work and bad work from BONES. At the end of the day, they're just doing their job. Animating the manga.

The thing about having expectations is, if you don't have them, it leaves room to being surprised. Happily surprised. That I look forward to that.

When episode 2 aka Miruko's episode came out, I was indeed impressed with the animation of her fight scenes. By far, it's my favorite animated fight scene next to Deku vs Kacchan 2 (excluding movies).

That's the feeling I look forward to!

So with Volume 29 getting possibly animated. I am excited! Do I expect it to be good? Do I expect it to be terrible? No! I'm just excited. Whether I think the animation for it is good or bad will come at the moment it's animated.

I may have mentioned this before but one of my biggest pet peeves with this fandom is how quick people will have judgements. (For any fandom really...)

When we get leaks, "this chapter is boring". It's just leaks! It's not the whole chapter yet, damn!

Season will just have two episodes up, "this season stinks". Dude, we only just got 2 episodes out of the possible 24.

Still an ongoing manga, "I don't like the manga, is sucks, it has so many lose ties, the villains are done, the heroes are done, Todoroki's fight with Dabi isn't going how I like it, Iida won't get his chance, Toga---"...

OH MY GOSH! It's still an ONGOING story! Well, damn, can it be completed yet? There are some arcs that are unfinished, but if you be patient enough then you can get a conclusion!

I know a lot of you think you know how Horikoshi or any mangaka, writer, artist, any creator thinks but you don't.

Can we get final results first before we have overall opinion?

I feel like a lot of you are just bored and looking to start some discourse and complain. If things aren't going your way than you'll make it terrible for everyone else.

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha fandom #bnha volume 29 #bnha manga #just kiya's thoughts

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itsthem-characterposting · 11 months

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Third year lunch. Tammy and Jeff are the first out their classes, and are sat with their lunches in the canteen, facing each other. It's awkward, since they don't share classes and don't interact without Blakey or Erika or Crimson. Jeff has a school dinner of mince and mashed potatoes, and Tammy has a packed lunch that she's too busy to eat. Instead, she's reading a book and not engaging with the boy in front of her, until he tries to engage in conversation, mouth full of meat. Jeff, muffled: I thought you hated her? Tammy, turning her book to look at the cover: Taylor Bridges? Yeah, she's not great. Jeff: Then why do you keep reading? I mean you complained about Blood In The Water, most of Faithless, Forever Forever...so when are you gonna complain about this one? Tammy: On The 28th Of July isn't that bad actually. I mean I'm only halfway through but I feel like the quality of writing's gotten better at least, even if it's still a cringy plot. Jeff, back to eating: What's it about? Tammy looks at Jeff properly, initially in disgust at him speaking with his mouth full, but her features soften before she replies. Tammy: Well it's a boy and a girl, and they meet and get to know each other. The girl's an artist, and she wants to do a piece on the boy, who's disabled, so they meet up on the 28th of each month, she paints him and his area and they talk and like. Yeah. Very basic. Hey you should read this Jeff! Jeff: Because I'm disabled? Tammy: Well, yeah? Jeff finishes his mince and mixes the gravy in with his mash. Jeff: I don't need to read the sob story of some guy written by some girl who doesn't know what she's talking about. Either give a disability story written by a disabled person, or a disabled character that's whole thing isn't being disabled. I mean imagine instead of a disabled character it was a lesbian...imagine a straight woman writing about a lesbian or worse...A Straight Man. Tammy freezes a little bit, confused, but also alarmed that Jeff has sussed her out. When she resumes motion, she's laughing nervously. Tammy: I suppose you have a point. Jeff pushes his round frames back up to his eyes smugly, pleased that he's got dirt on someone. Tammy's back to her book, face even more obscured by the tacky cover of a water-damaged calendar. Finally the pair are joined by Erika and Crimson, as the lunch hall fills with more people and noise. Erika sits next to Tammy and Crimson faces her, sitting next to Jeff. Jeff, finishing his mashed potatoes: How's the guy disabled anyway? Tammy, quietly: Brain damage. Jeff: Yeowch, that's a hard one to write. Tammy can only nod, not wanting to give any more away to Jeffrey Black.

#tammy #jeff #creatorposting #dialogue #back on my coleen hoover bullshit momentarily

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catsauceeartofficial · 3 years

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Hot Take Alert!! Hot Take Alert!!

That's right guys and gals and non-binary pals, I have a hot take, and this involves the BNHA fandom.

Well actually, it's a topic I've had niggling in the back of my brain until someone on youtube brought it up, and I realized that yes, this was a thing I realized was prevelant in the fandom, in fanart and in fanfiction.

So unless you want to read a hot take that you are open to and don't get immediately aggressive over, do continue reading under the tab. If not, just go ahead and enjoy your browsing :)

So as a good mha fan does, I engage with the fandom by creating fanart, reading fanfic and generally leaving the fandom alone with how they interact with my work. I'm okay with letting people interpret my work and expanding on it. Often it leads to nice expansions on my work (the most popular one being Shima's Support Hero Deku comic I made) and it's great.

But some comments stick out to me. One instance was in my sequel comic, where Todoroki is used as a heater. I had drawn a panel where he's holding a receipt (I thought I was being clever by showing his left hand, his fire side, which is holding the receipt as he says "my left side keeps me warm" but the composition was bad so it was lost on the readers) then someone made a joke about how his receipt was so long, they had made up that Todoroki was coming out of work from a CVS store.

A light joke, but what got me was the CVS reference, because I realized that CVS was an american reference.

So here's the thing. I'm Asian and I live in Southeast Asia. The only reason I know about CVS is because social media, dominated by american media, have made numerous jokes about CVS and it's long receipts. And yeah, that's a little haha reference. It's small, maybe something someone outside of america who doesn't follow america media as much wouldn't get, but yeah, I get the reference so I move on.

But then, I began to realize in bnha fan fiction, these American references were in alot of prominent fics. What Japanese would refer to these stores as 'Mini-marts' or 'Convenient stores' get referenced as CVS or American named stores like Walmart or Target. When this is a manga set in Japan.

Not only that, alot of fics bleed American culture, most prominently White American Culture, into them. We have heavy uses of memes, jokes and references very specific to white media, and places and settings that would clearly not be in Japan. We have characters saying things completely out of line that throws over what asian culture has been taught and still is respected and carried out by youths.

Now like, I get drawing from personal experiences when writing fiction. If anything, it can be a driving force for a creator to create. But honestly, when I got immersed in a fic to suddenly be slapped with the characters going to chick-fil-a, it kinda just made me frustrated.

Now lets say you shoved all these characters into America, make them America and just make the whole thing American. Err, yeah, I'll probably not read that, but hey, it's fine. But when you keep these character in the context of their world being Japan, you gotta at least respect that Japan and asia culture plays a role it in, and does not stray too far into American context.

It's not even that hard to make bnha content that does not reference American culture. Hell Mcdonalds exists there too, just use that.

From the video I mentioned earlier, he talked about how when the bnha fandom complains about its characters being redrawn as black, they are also the same people that contextualises it's characters based on white american culture, and yeah, that's essentially the core problem.

One artist I like to mention, is theparalumans on instagram. She took the entire bnha's characters and concepts and reinvented it in a Fillipino context. And that is perfectly okay! She uses this to tell amazing gags and explore these characters further in the context of Fillipino culture (the one where Midoriya turns into a Fillipino Grandma is astronomically comical)

So what am I saying here? I had a point.... Oh yeah.

When creating media, be it fictional, fanworks or something, when writing characters, it's cultural context is important. Not just because of immersion, but just as a basic respect to the culture you have used in your story.

Like trust me, I've never been so glad to have asian meals been correctly used in fan fiction.

#bnha #mha #op talks #rant #just skip idk

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chickawah23 · 3 years

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I understand Taylor not wanting to risk overexposure, but her not interacting at all is a bit over the top. There are plenty of artist that live their private lives—but still have some contact or go on a stroll ever so often. or like you said, post a kitty.

She has the right to do what she likes, but it's just different I guess. Taylor is built for interaction and connection. And it's clear, that Taylor is deeply put away, just like her sexuality. Probably indefinitely.

Miss her. Lover era was a beautiful time. I too, can't wait for new music. Music that isn't from re-recordings as well.

Yeah I hear you.

This is how I see it. Taylor is trying to piece back together something that broke her. The re-recording process is her piecing herself back together. Because she is not whole right now. I see all of this as just a limbo period. She said it in the Apple Music interview

She was Humpty Dumpty sitting on a wall and she had a great fall. Now she’s just trying to put herself together again. (The Archer reference). See also it’s time to go (“the snaps from the same little breaks in my soul”) I’ll even throw coney island in too (“break my soul in two looking for you but you’re right here”)

So the choices she and her team are making to me are just biding time until she’s whole again. That includes moving to a new place, engagement or marriage gossip and whatever other pr stuff. This is limbo taylor.

Lover era was special because it was the start of something new for her and then it was stunted by a pandemic and losing access to her back catalog in the way she wanted it. She’s in limbo. She’s on pause. That’s it. That is how I see it and it’s why this stuff doesn’t bother me.

You are free to feel different but just know that i might not be the best blog to complain about this stuff. Please know I’m speaking generally here, anon.

Cat content is all I really need. She can take her time with the music. I’m a patient person.

And if Olivia is in one of her boyish beau’s projects I know I can count on you all to tell me. 💖

#anons #limbo taylor #the pr of it all

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suchalonelysunflower · 4 years

Text

The Greatest Thing You’ll Ever Learn is to Love (A.I)

Pairing: Ashton Irwin X fem!Reader

Request: Yes!

Summary: Ashton is trying to propose, but fate’s not putting it easily

Warnings: Smut, oral (female recieving) unprotected sex in a stablished relationship (wrap it before you tap it, please) Language, maybe a few grammar mistakes (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word Count: 5.3 k

Author’s Note: Requested by the lovely Lizza @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof 💕 is my very fisrt attempt to smut writting (I literally have no experience with this) so please be kind. Reblogs, comments and feedback are always welcomed and encouraged so please, I would love to know your opinion 😊 You can find the rest of my work HERE. Hope you like it and Happy reading ✨🦋

@iknowyouthinkimbulletproof : hi, i hope i'm not bugging you (wow didn't know my social anxiety shows so much) , i wanted to ask if you could write some fluffy smut with ash or mikey. maybe they just got engaged or something. lots of love - lizza

Everything was going according to plan. At least that’s what Ashton thought 5 min into the date.

“What do you mean there is no reservation?” He asked the host, as calmly as he could.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Irwin. But I have no reservations under your name for tonight” Said the lady, trying to avoid any conflict “I do have one for the 24th but for the next month”

Ashton wanted to slap himself in the face. Did he really make the reservation and messed up the date?! Tonight, out of all nights, it had to be tonight. His mind was racing like the Lightning Mcqueen himself, trying to find any kind of solution for this inconvenience.He had to find a way to stick to the plan, even if the first step was already ruined.

“Is everything okay, Ash?” A voice snapped him out of his head.

Ashton looked at you and his eyes softened when he felt your delicate hand on his arm, he was thankful for this little comforting gesture you always do when you notice he was starting to get frustrated. He gave you a reassuring warm smile as he interlocks his fingers with yours.

“Yeah,” Ash said, thanking the host and guiding you out of the fancy restaurant onto the busy LA streets. “I'm just an idiot who can't tell June from July appart” He sighed.

Your mouth became a thin line as you tried to hold back the laughter. “Oh no, baby…” You said, barely holding in the giggles. Ashton rolled his eyes.

“Okay, let it out” He said as you burst out laughing in the middle of the sidewalk. Ashton briefly stops, but you kept on walking, allowing him to pull on your hand and make you turn around until your chest hit his “Well, now you´re just being mean” He pouted as you started giggling again.

“Aww I´m sorry, baby” You said pecking his lips “But that's what you get for always teasing me about not remembering dates”

“Yeah, I guess I deserve that” He sighed “You're not mad?”

“Why would I be?” You frowned confused.

Ashton looked at the floor, his hand still intertwined with yours as he played with your fingers. He didn’t try to hide his disappointment.

“Because! We’ve been waiting for this date for a while now and you spend a lot of time getting yourself all ready and gorgeous to go to that fancy restaurant and I just ruined by getting all wrong from the beginning and-“

“Ash!” You interrupted him, cupping his face in your hands and making him look at you “Nothing’s ruined and the date isn’t over! Maybe it was fate… think about it! I bet that restaurant didn’t even have fries and I’m seriously craving some right now” Ashton chucked “The important thing here is that I get to spend time with you, so as long as I do, I don’t care if it is in a five star restaurant with minuscule portions of overly priced food or in a McDonald’s parking lot”

Ashton looked at you and all he could see was how your eyes crinkled with your smile. He swears that if he were to die in the next 10 seconds then he would die a happy man, because your smile would be the last thing he’d see.

This was just a minor setback, he thought, just one piece of his plan that didn’t exactly stick to it, but he still had all night.

“I love you” He said, smiling as he brought his lips to yours.

“I love you too, baby” You responded, stepping back and tugging on his hand “But first, fries”

Ashton laughed, letting you guide the way to the closest fast food restaurant. And as he felt the weight of the small velvet box on his pocket, he knew that you were right, as long as he was with you, then everything would be okay. He only hopes the rest of the night goes according to plan.

In a matter of minutes, you and Ashton were sitting on the sidewalk in your fancy clothes eating fries and milkshakes, laughing and joking around without a single care in the world. Your head was resting on his shoulder as you both saw cars and people pass, trying to create narratives with complete strangers and laughing at the absurdity that came out of each other's mouths.

With every passing second, Ashton was even more sure about his decision. He was looking at you while you wondered aloud about the possibility of fate and he couldn't believe his luck. It seemed like yesterday where he got the nerve to ask you out on a date, palms sweaty as he blurted out the words, holding his breath until you smiled at him and said yes. He's hoping that tonight you would do the same.

Your words drift away in his head as he starts daydreaming about your future together. He can see you standing all in white in front of him, a house with a lot of rooms to let your friends crash whenever they needed to or to fill with toys for your children, oh he can't wait to start a family with you, knowing that that's what you want too, eventually, maybe in a few years. Or maybe not at all? You could´ve changed your mind and that would be alright by him, after all if he has you then that's all he needed. But maybe you don't want him anymore, maybe you changed your mind completely. What would you say then? Is he rushing this? You talked about this before, but you could still say no. Would you say no? You have all the right to do so. Oh God, is he ruining this by asking you? Would you break up with him? Wh-?

“Ashton?”

Your voice pulls him out of the trance, just like it did the first time he asked you on a date.

“Hmm?” He hums. His eyes find yours and it's easy to spot the worry in them, the anxiety of it all is consuming him, but he can't let it show.

“Where'd you go?” You chuckled, knowing he was in a different headspace.

“I'm right here” He said, sliding his thumb against your lip to clean a bit of ice cream that was left forgotten, pressing his lips against yours right after.

He knows he shouldn't overthink this instead of enjoying this moment with you. He loves you and he knows you love him, that's all that matters, that's all there is to care. You belong together and if fate wants it, then you´ll be together for all your lives and he wants nothing more. He couldn't be more grateful when he's holding you like that, kissing you like that. With you, he feels like home. You are like a dream come true.

He pulled away after a while, giving your forehead a little kiss and staying like that. You smiled.

“Not that I'm complaining,” You said, lifting your gaze to meet his eyes “But are you okay, baby? You seem… off”

Ashton just smiled and nodded “I´m good, love. Just thinking,”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Maybe later.” He chuckled, getting up from the sidewalk and offering his hand for you to the same “Now, are you ready for step two?”

“Ooh, there's more?” You teased, locking your fingers together as you walked side to side.

“I want you to have the best night of your life, dear” Ashton said, pulling you closer.

“I already do! Every night that I have you with me is the best night of my life” You leaned closer to whisper in his ear “Where I can have you all by myself,” You bit his earlobe quickly, wanting to tease him just enough.

“Careful, princess” Ashton warned in a low voice “Don't want to start something you don't intend to finish. We still have a long night ahead of us ”

“Oh, I'm counting on it”

*************************************************

“Excuse me, what?!” Ashton asked the security guard of the gallery. The man just stood there and shook his head.

“I’m sorry son, but the exhibition is closed until next week for reparations”

“Oh no, no no no no no” Ashton murmured, tangling his fingers in his hair “fuck fuck fuck fuck”

He was thankful that you needed to go to the bathroom, that way you didn’t see him freak out in front of a complete stranger.

The security guard looked at Ashton like he was crazy.

“Are you okay, son?”

“No!” He said loudly, but quickly lowered his voice when he realized more people were staring “That exhibition belongs to one of my girlfriend’s favorite artists, they have this whole collection of couples in different stages in life and intimacy and she just loves it so much and I already plan on asking her to marry me but the restaurant didn’t have my reservation and now the gallery is closed and I’m fully panicking because I don’t know if she’s going to say yes now that I ruined again just because I didn’t ask before coming in here and-“

Ashton was interrupted when he felt two large hands grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him slightly.

“Calm the ef down, chief” Said the old man “You are going to have seizure if you keep rambling like that without taking a breath” Ashton closed his mouth and just stared at the man who still hasn’t let go of him “Look, you love this girl, don’t ya son?”

“More than anything”

“You wanna marry her?”

“Yes.”

“She loves you?”

“She does”

“Then why the hell are you so nervous?! If she loves you and wants to marry you then just ask her! Believe me, women don’t care about the flowers or the chocolates or all that bullshit. If you are the one for her and she’s the one for you then that’s all that truly has value” The man gave a small, kinda ‘wake the hell up’ slap to Ashton’s cheek that made him blink in disbelief “Now, don’t be an idiot, puff your chest and stop being a little scared puppy and go ask her!”

Ashton nodded, kinda weirded out by the whole interaction but still understanding everything that man said. He thanked the man for the pep talk and walked a little too fast over where you were standing.

You had just come out of the bathroom when you saw your boyfriend walking up to you. You noticed he was a little distressed once again.

“Hey, Ash. Everything okay?”

“Uhh, yes? No, yeah. What?” He mumbled, trying to wrap his head on what he should do next “Sorry, it just seems like the exhibition you wanted to see it’s closed for the week”

“Oh no,” You said in a little disappointed tone that Ashton was quick to catch up, cursing at himself for making you sad, even though it wasn’t exactly his fault “Eh okay, that’s fine. Maybe we can just hang out on the other exhibitions” You smiled.

“Babe, we’ve seen the other exhibitions like a million times already, don’t you think it’ll be a waste of time?” Ashton carefully asked.

“Of course not! I love them,” You exclaimed, tugging on his hand and already walking to an isle full of portraits “And besides, time’s never wasted when you’re in good company and I so happen to have the best one there is”

Ashton returned the smile and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to peck your cheek “I love you so darn much” he whispered in your ear “Why don’t we make this a game? You give me a list of things I have to find within the gallery, since we’ve been here before you need to make it clever so we don't end the game too soon, and I’ll do the same to you. Okay?”

Your eyes lighted up at the idea of a challenge. Both of you were very competitive and you knew this was going to be one of those times where it was all or nothing.

“What happens if I win?” You asked.

Ashton pulled you closer, his hand dangerously placed on your lower back, slowly traveling lower and lower, making you shiver under his touch “We can do whatever you want, baby” he whispered, leaving a burning kiss on the side of your ear.

“Mmh, whatever I want?”

“I’ll be at your mercy, my princess” He smirked.

You grabbed him by the neck and pulled him into a kiss “Then let’s make sure I win, then”

You exchanged phones and opened the notes app. The goal was to find ten items, it could be people hiding in one of the pictures or portraits, sculptures or random pieces of art scattered around the gallery. To prove you have them all you had to take a picture next to it or of it. Once you finished writing the list on each other’s phones, you started your search.

You walked alongside each other, hands laced together as you took in the different kinds of art the gallery offered, stopping from time to time when one of you spotted one item on the list, making one of you take the picture while the other rejoiced in victory.

“Hold up!” Ashton said as you passed in front of a peculiar painting “If I remember correctly… yes!” He celebrated quietly “There’s the duck with a bow tie! That means I win”

“This isn’t fair!” You whined after taking Ashton’s picture next to the stupid duck. He had a smug smile on his face as he held two thumbs up to the camera “I can’t find the last item! You cheated!”

“Aww” Cooed Ashton “Someone’s being a sore loser”

“Am not!”

“That’s alright babe, you can win another time” Ashton chucked “What’s the last item?”

“The lady with the diamond ring” You groaned, rolling your eyes “It’s so stupid! I’ve been here before like a thousand times and I’ve never seen a painting or anything like it with a lady with a diamond ring. Diamond tiara yes, but ring?” You scoffed, clearly frustrated “Are you sure there’s a lady like that here?”

“Well…” Ashton started, but he was soon cut off by a loud, annoying sound.

Soon enough, droplets of water started falling down the roof. The sprinkles had been turned on, meaning there was a fire inside the gallery.

You looked at Ashton with fear in your eyes, the same fear you saw reflected in his hazel gaze. He grabbed your hand, ready to sprint out of there in a second when someone started yelling.

“Sorry! False alarm! I fell and pressed the button sorry! There’s no fire!” A masculine voice echoed through the isles.

Ashton was livid, once again his proposal suffered a step back. How could everything get so messed up? He had everything planned and yet none of that worked. He was always used to having at least some sense of control over things but now he just felt completely helpless. Everything was wrong, everything was-

“Pfft”

He snapped his face towards you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he saw you place a hand to your mouth, cheeks turning red from trying to stifle your laughter. But as soon as your eyes met his, you lost it completely.

Your laughter burst through the halls, crackling at the situation “You-,” You said through a fit of giggles and snorts “Your face! You-“ You gasped for air, trying to gain some composure but failing miserably “I- we’re soaked! Look!”

Ashton gaze followed to where your finger was pointing, finally stopping at a mirrored window in front of you. The image of both of your fancy outfits completely drenched, humid strands of hair falling on your faces and your make-up completely ruined except for the waterproof eyeliner was truly a sight to behold.

Ashton’s eyes were concentrated on your reflection the entire time. Even soaking wet you were the most beautiful piece of art he’d ever seen, your laughter filling his ears as a muse’s melody. He couldn’t wait to hear it every single day of his life.

He joined you soon enough, his giggles resonating along yours, finally accepting how ridiculous this situation was. That’s something you love about him, his laugh. You’d never get tired of it. It was so sincere and pure, you don’t know how’d you spend so much time without that laugh in your life.

He was truly the love of your life. You knew, as soon as you saw him, that you were done for. You remember waiting patiently for him to ask you on a date, almost giving up and asking him yourself when he blurted out the words one day, thankfully. You are so in love with him it hurts, and to know that the feeling is mutual is just… the greatest thing that could ever happen to you.

You pressed your lips against his, both of you smiling into the kiss as your hands played with the back of his neck, training the lines of the condor tattoo. His hands quickly found their way to your waist, rounding it as he lifted you off the ground and spun you around the soaked marble floor.

Ashton broke the kiss when he put you down once again “Wanna get out of here?” He asked, smiling.

You nodded as you let him guide you outside the building.

The cold air of the city made you shiver as soon as you stepped foot on the streets, Ashton quickly gave you his jacket, which was a sweet gesture even though it made no difference since it was soaked as well.

“Let’s head back home” He said, placing an arm around your shoulders.

“Thought you had a whole night planned?” You asked, not wanting to discourage him.

“Yeah.. but that already went to the dogs. We can’t go anywhere in this state” He chuckled, making you laugh as well “And besides, someone once told me that the most important thing is that we get to spend time together. So as long as we do that, every plan is a great plan, don’t you think?”

You hummed softly “Must be a very wise person”

“Very much so. And beautiful. And funny. And hot as hell…”

“Wow, really?” You asked sarcastically.

“Extremely”

“I must meet them someday”

Ashton laughed and pulled you closer to him. Never wanting to let you go.

*************************************************

The drive home was peacefully quiet, both of you content with each other’s company, the radio filled in the silence and the traffic lights gave the atmosphere an ethereal feeling. You knew this was one of the moments where words were unnecessary, one of those moments to put away in a little box and opening it for a rainy day. It was a moment of love and peace. A true treasure.

Once you are home, you open the door as soon as Ashton stops the car, expressing your dire need of a hot shower “Can I join?” Asked Ashton as he took the key out of the engine tab.

“Always” You winked at him.

He chucked, making the car keys fall from his grip “Aw shit, go ahead love. The keys are in the pocket of my jacket”

Ashton heard you mutter an okay as he bent down to grab the car keys from the floor. Realizing a moment too late that there was something else in his pocket that night.

“Ashton…”

Oh shit.

“A-Ash, wha-“ you stuttered, holding a little blue velvet box in your hand.

He rushed to you, quickly grabbing the object from your hands “Oh shit, uuh” he gulped, starting to panic “I-I, fuck. I didn’t- Oh fuck it”

In a matter of seconds, Ashton fell on one knee. He grabbed your hand delicately as he looked into your eyes. He took a deep breath and gained the courage he was trying to master since the beginning of the evening.

“I honestly didn’t expect to do this on the porch of our house. I had everything planned. The fancy dinner, the gallery, countless other romantic activities we could’ve done tonight… as you can see nothing went as planned. I tried so hard to find the perfect moment to say this, but there isn’t such a thing. There isn’t because I know that every moment that I get to spend with you is the perfect moment.

Y/N, I love you. I have loved you from the moment I laid my eyes on you, and I haven’t stopped since. I find myself falling harder for you everytime you smile or you laugh, god I would give anything to make you laugh every single day of my life. You are the smartest person I know and I love hearing you talk about the topics that make you happy, wishing I could be one of them. Y/N you are… kind, you are funny, you are the most patient and resilient person I’ve ever known. Baby, you are my everything and I don’t know… I don’t want to know what I’d do without you.

I want you with me, always and forever. I want to be yours in more ways than one. I want to cherish you and be able to call you my wife, my love, my world. Everything I have, everything I am is yours. You make me a better person and you just make me the happiest man on earth just by staying by your side.

I’m yours, Y/N. In every possible way. Will you be mine? Will you-“

“Yes.” You said breathlessly through the tears.

“Yes?”

“Yes! Ashton, yes! A million times, yes”

You pulled him up from the floor and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him like your life depended on it.

Ashton cupped your face in his hands and deepened the kiss, parting your lips as you both melted to one another.

“I love you” he said, breaking the kiss to slide the ring onto your finger.

“I love you more”

He chuckled “Not possible”

You barely make it through the door before you are kissing him again, not being able to stand even a few more seconds without being close to him. Your heart is beating faster than ever, almost bursting out of your chest as you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling it slightly in a desperate need to have him even closer.

“Fuck, baby” Ashton groans, cupping your ass and squeezing it as you jump and wrap your legs around his waist “You don’t know what you do to me” he said planting kisses all over your jaw, marking up a trail down your neck.

You moaned as you felt his lips sucking your sweet spot. Ashton had you pressed against the wall, his mouth clashing with yours, feeling every inch of your bodies as you battled for dominance. You let one of your hands fall and travel to where your lower halves meet, palming his growing erection and earning a low moan from him. With your other hand, you tug on his hair and whispered in his ear “Show me”

In an instant, Ashton dropped you to the floor and picked you up bridal style, making your way to your shared bedroom. He gently put you down on the bed and kneeled down in front of you.

He slowly started to undo the straps on your shoes, kissing your legs from your ankles to your knees in an agonizing pace before moving to the other one.

“So beautiful..” He said, sliding his hands up your body, removing your clothes in the process.

“Ash..” you whined. Pulling him by the collar of his shirt and disregarding it completely, bringing your lips together. You moaned into the kiss when you felt his fingers brush through your sides, leaving a burning trail of goosebumps wherever he touched.

“Where’d you want me, baby?” He said, kissing down your body, leaving marks wherever he could, stopping just right above your hip bone. You shivered when his fingers traced along your panties, adding pressure where you needed him most “You’re so wet, my love” He whispered as he hooked his thumbs on the side of them and pulled them off completely. His fingers running up and down your folds collecting your wetness and using them as lube “All of this for me?”

“Yes” You breathe heavily, moaning as you feel one of his fingers slip inside you.

“What was that, Princess?” He teased, kissing the inside of your thighs.

“All for you, Ash. All for-“ You moaned as he inserted another finger inside your hole, setting a pace that already made you see starts “Ash… please” you begged.

“Please what, Princess?”

“I need you”

Ashton presses his lips to your clit, kissing and sucking it as his fingers curled up inside you. Your hand made its way to his hair, fingers locking with his curls as you tugged on them, holding him in place.

You let out a pornographic moan when his fingers brush your g spot, bucking your hips when you felt that tight knot in your stomach, but Ashton put his arm above your hips and held you down. You whispered as you felt him groan against your sex, sending vibration all over your body.

“You’re close, aren’t ya?” Ashton said as he quickened the pace of his fingers “I can feel you clenching around my fingers, baby. C’mon, let go. Let me hear you, baby” He attached his lips to your clit once again, sucking it hard as your orgasm hit you, moaning his name as you came down from your high.

Ashton kneeled down on the bed, bringing his fingers to his mouth “Mmh” he moaned as he tasted your juices “Baby, you’re exquisite”

You quickly sat up as well, smacking your lips against his. Humming into the kiss as your hands started to unbuckle his pants and lowered them down just enough to palm him through his boxers, already feeling the precum leak through the thin fabric. Ashton let out a low moan at your touch, dropping his hand to stop yours.

“But-“

“Later, Princess” He said, bringing your hand to his lips, kissing it softly “I need to be inside you”

And with that, he pressed his arm around your waist and flipped you over so you were on top of him. You quickly caught his idea as you started tugging down his pants and boxers, taking them off completely,

“You don’t know how many times I imagined this” Ashton hissed when you speed your legs to each side of his hips, starting to grin on his cock with your bare sex, coating it with your wetness and moaning with delight “You riding me wearing this” He said, grabbing your left hand and kissing your new ring “And only this”

Your eyes were fixed on him as you stroke his cock and lined it up with your entrance “And how was it?” You asked in a teasing tone.

He smirked “Just like this” Ashton said, grabbing you by each side of your hips and slowly entering you until he bottomed down “Fucking fantastic”

You moaned at the stretch, loving how every inch of him filled you up and made you feel whole. Ashton groaned when he felt your walls clench around his cock, letting you adjust to him before you started to move and setting up a pace.

You started rocking on him, lifting your hips up and down his length as your hands flew to his chest for leverage, nails digging on his skin and leaving marks for you to trace later, a faint memory of the night that Ashton would treasure forever. Your moans grew louder and louder as you started going faster, Ashton’s name became a mantra to your lips as you started chasing your own pleasure.

Ashton grunted and moaned praises to you, stretching his hands so he could cup your breasts in each one “So fucking right, princess” he said, squeezing your boobs while his thumbs brushed your nipples “So. Fucking. Good. And all mine”

You moaned loudly at his actions. The feeling of him suddenly becoming too much as he lets go of your breast and grabs you by the hips once more, meeting your thrust and fucking you harder.

“Say you’re mine” He moaned, digging his fingers into your skin, applying a pressure that will leave bruises later on.

“Ah- a I’m yours! I’m yours” You said between your panting and your moans. Letting your upper half fall onto him, placing your arms at each side of his face as you let him take control.

“Yeah, baby... Fuck” He groaned in your ear as he speed up the pace, feeling his release approach with yours “You’re mine. My wife. My princess. My everything.. Fuck”

“Ashton…” You whined.

“Come baby, come on my cock. C’mon, I’m right behind you” Ashton said, bringing his lips to yours for a messy kiss, sticking your moans as you came all over his cock.

You felt dizzy as Ashton fucked you through your orgasm, your whole body trembling against him as he chased his own release. Ashton’s body tensed, his thrusts became sloppier as your walls clench around him, making his cock twitch inside you and filling you with his cum.

You both sighed heavily, content in your own pleasure as you slowly started making out again. Soft kisses and touches mixed with reassuring words of love filled the room as your post orgasmic daze faded away. Ashton carefully pulled out of you and made his way to the bathroom, bringing with him a small wet cloth to clean you up, peppering kisses all over your body as he did so.

Once he was done he laid in bed next to you, pulling you to his chest and kissing your forehead.

“You make me the happiest man on the planet” He whispered, not wanting to break the comfortable silence between the two of you “Fuck, baby. I’m so glad you said yes”

“Was there another option?” You chuckled “Did you really think I would’ve said no?”

“To be honest, I was a little worried you might” He laughed “It seems stupid now but I was so pissed earlier, I wanted to propose on the restaurant but then I messed up, then I thought that the gallery would’ve been a better option anyways and it ended up beign-“

“One of the best dates of my life?” You interrupted him. Ashton looked at you confused “I had fun today, Ash. I had a great time just being with you and having our own little chaos. And even if you decided to proposed at that McDonald’s I would’ve said yes regardless” You said, placing a small kiss to his lips “Though I’m still pissed about the game”

Ashton raised his eyebrows “Oh! That reminds me,” He got out of bed and started looking through the clothes that were laying on the floor for his cellphone. Once he found it he came back up and took a picture of your hand with the engagement ring, turning to you with a shit eating grin “I win”

“What?”

“I found the lady with the diamond ring!” He said excitedly. You slapped him in the chest “Ouch!”

“So you did cheat!”

“In my defense I was going to propose right there and there” Ashton said in as a matter of fact way “I was trying to be romantic”

You rolled your eyes and curled up to him, placing a soft kiss to his chest. His arms wrapped around you and traveled along your back, caressing it softly as you drifted to sleep.

“Y/N?” He whispered after a while.

You hummed “Yes?”

“I can’t wait to marry you”

You smiled into his embrace “I can’t wait to marry you, either”

348 notes · View notes

effymaybe · 4 years

Note

hello, author! deathbyjenlisa on wattpad has this prompt: future post-disbandment au where they live in a tiny little apartment in the middle of nowhere in Paris together with their cats and dogs, and they own like a flower shop or something. and finally, FINALLY doing a vlive together where they announce their relationship to the world. (may we have this piece from u? u r one of the best rpf writers i know. thank u in advance!)

deathbyjenlisa on wattpad I love you and I’m SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG I KNOW SUCK also here it goes!

Warnings: Fluffy fluffity fluff

Jennie closes her eyes as the faint afternoon sun caresses her glowing skin throughout the window.

She breathes slowly, content. Inside the just-conveniently-sized apartment, the atmosphere is still nice and warm despite the first bites of winter cooling down the air of the city.

The brunette is enjoying of a pleasant break after a few hours of frankly successful designing, and her previous artistic buzz has left place to a nice, tickly feeling still twitching in the pad of her fingers.

She sighs just as a fluffy warmth gazes against her legs earnestly.

“Hello, Lily. Miss mommy already?”

The cat looks up at her almost as if in agreement. Jennie leans down to pet her behind her ears, just as she likes it the most.

“I miss her, too. Maybe Jisoo is right. We might be a little bit needy”.

Lily keeps purring under Jennie’s soft hand, clearly happy with the attention she is given. The brunette smiles to herself. She figures that the kitten would actually hesitate if she had to choose between her two moms.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to.

“Okay, baby. Let’s get you an afternoon treat, yeah? Don’t tell the others”.

Lily’s silent vow of trust is pointless, really. As soon as Jennie shakes the so-secret pack of treats hidden at the very bottom of the kitchen counter, the whole feline family plus an equally excited Kuma enter the room with bright eyes and a grumbling stomach.

The brunette is unfazed. She’s been dealing with this routine for almost three years already, and despite she likes to complain to her girlfriend about her unmeasured need for adopting cats, she wouldn’t change the daily, often overcrowded cuddles for anything in the word.

“There”, she mumbles, filling her pets’ plates with practiced patience, “so that you know that I can be the cool mom, too”.

She stands straight again, glancing at the different furs engaging in their eating. A giddy feeling starts to bloom in her heart suddenly, a sense of happiness mixed with a now unfamiliar pang of uncertainty that weakens her limbs.

They are definitely taking a gigantic step today.

A very much needed, absolutely wanted step.

She runs her fingers through her rich chocolate hair, glancing around with a critical, designer eye as she moves to the living room. It’s small, really, like the rest of the place, but so fantastically decorated –according to a proud Lisa staring at a flattered but shy Jennie- that it often features a big bunch of house décor Instagram accounts.

The brunette puts her hands on her hips.

It’s beautiful. She loves her house. She loves the size, the shape, the colors, the fact that she can have a modest yet quite impressive sight of the Eiffel tower only by opening the French door to the balcony. She loves the city, the accent, the passion. She loves the people, who have taken her and her family wholeheartedly, without questions. She loves her sons and her daughter and she loves, loves, loves her girlfriend with every beat buzzing in her chest.

What she does not love so much right now are those yellowish pillows, that-

“Hello, love”.

An instant smile plasters itself in Jennie’s expression. Steady arms circle her waist tenderly, and plump lips kiss the column of her neck in a tender motion.

“Mmm, hi”.

God, she really behaves like a teenager whenever her girlfriend is around.

“Brought you flowers, baby”, she hears against her ear, and just then she glances down to catch the sight of daisies and red tulips contrasting against each other in a big, gorgeous bouquet.

“Thank you”, she mumbles back, taking the gift with pointed care, “but you are going to empty our shop if you keep taking flowers”.

Lisa chuckles lowly, pure affection dancing in her eyes.

“You know I always order extra just for you”.

The tallest girl lets her girlfriend spin around in her arms. Her expression softens even further at the sight of sharp, stunning features. Lisa’s right hand naturally drifts up to grasp Jennie’s nape in an unconscious attempt to keep her close.

It’s not that Jennie would like to leave, anyway. The shortest girl leans up, gleeful, and her girlfriend meets her in the middle to wrap her up in a soft, welcoming kiss. They spend a few delightful seconds just like that, enjoying each other. It’s unlikely, Jennie thinks sometimes, to adore someone with such strength month after month, year after year. And their love has changed, actually.

It has gotten better. Stronger.

So it’s time to take the next big step.

“I’m ready”, Jennie murmurs against Lisa’s lips, and feels a smile shaping against her own mouth.

“Okay”. The tallest brunette takes a step back to take in her girlfriend’s figure, feeling a soft warmth spreading in her chest. “You look amazing. I love the shirt. It’s a pity they’ll only get to see a half of you”.

Jennie chuckles a breathless thank you, pulling fully away from her lover to look for a standee where to place her phone. In the meantime, Lisa takes her time to greet the rest of her wide family, already full and half-asleep on their respective beds. When she comes back to the living room, her girlfriend is already sitting cross-legged on the wide, greyish couch, figuring out the best angle to gather the afternoon light. On top of the coffee table lies the bouquet she got from the small flower shop they decided to put up mainly as a hobby after their successful careers as Blackpink members.

Lisa can’t help the grin that stretches across her face.

She’s just so, so happy.

“Baby”, she murmurs, moving slowly to sit beside the brunette.

Jennie looks at her and tilts her head in a sign of attention.

“I love you so much”.

Lisa’s unprompted sincerity is rewarded with a gummy smile and a soft peck.

“I love you, too, beautiful”.

A message travels across their joined gazes. A renewed vow of loyalty, love, and support. It’s their way to letting each other know that they are ready, no stepping back. The time and their own effort have prompted the building of a bond that lasts beyond obstacles, beyond fear.

When Jennie presses the screen to start the live, they are both leaning comfortably against each other.

“Hi”, the shortest brunette mumbles after a few seconds. Against her skin, the soft vibration of Lisa’s muffled laughter makes her blush in a rush of shy joy. “This is Jennie”.

The tallest girl grins at her girlfriend’s soft tone. “And Lisa”, she adds cheerfully. “We are here… to talk…”

Jennie’s right hand moves unconsciously to caress her lover’s arm up and down, just as she does each time a bitter hint of anxiety threatens to deprive her from fresh air. In exchange, as a caring reflex, Lisa embraces her narrow shoulders with her arm, keeping the brunette’s body flushed against her own.

“…to talk about us… We’ve seen some theories on the internet since… well, even before Blackpink stopped making… official music”, Jennie adds, eyeing the rising number of viewers at the corner of the screen.

It’s amazing. It’s been years already, and their fans are as many and as supportive as they were before.

“By the way, we might have a surprise coming soon!”, Lisa intervenes, and watches with silent amusement as her girlfriend crunches her nose just slightly besides her.

“Lili, no spoilers!”, Jennie complains only half-heartedly, melting inwards as the tallest brunette pouts just slightly.

“Mmh, sorry, babe”, she hears against her ear then, and all her fake annoyance disappears as soon as it started.

She turns around, keeping up with her admonishing from just to see her girlfriend pouting deeper, and her wish is immediately granted. They look at each other for a moment, their expressions turning into soft, dizzy smiles dripping pure adoration, and it takes both of them a moment to realize that there are about a million people watching them interact at the moment.

“So, huh, us!”, Jennie states, turning towards the camera once again. “Us… so… where do we even start”, she giggles, somehow lost. There is so much to tell. So many tears, so many victories.

“Well… to answer the basics… yes, we are girlfriends”, Lisa speaks then, loud and clear, smiling brightly, almost as if illuminated by her own love.

Jennie feels a burst of pride striking against her heart. She knows that her lover is being so, so brave.

“Girlfriends”, the shortest brunette affirms, and her sharp stare meets Lisa’s open doe eyes. “As in dating, hand-holding, kissing girlfriends, not the best-friends-forever type”.

The tallest girl chuckles brightly, both because rambling Jennie is funny and adorable and also because the tension of the moment makes her chest feel tickly.

Well, it’s there now.

The world knows that Jennie is her girlfriend.

The sudden, pleasing thought of their truth being outwardly spoken makes her feel lighter, elevated as she stares at Jennie with an expression that even herself knows that screams whipped.

It doesn’t matter, really, because her lover’s eyes distillates a feeling of the same fashion.

They tear their gazes apart from each other only when the enrapturing sensation starts to die down in a soft giddiness. They glance at the appearing messages almost with fear, but sunned smiles bright up their features when they read –mostly- comments both congratulating them and asking a billion questions about their relationship.

“’Oh my god this is so shocking… who would say that two rich, adult women choosing to live together raising each other’s’ pets would be dating!’. Well, thanks for the sarcasm, Lisa’shoe… also, careful with that username”, Jennie murmurs. She rolls her eyes in feign annoyance, but her dopey grin stays in place. At her side, still embracing her shoulders in a protective side-hug, Lisa chuckles again, so visibly content, shining, that the shortest girl has to make an effort not to stare at her throughout the mirrored screen.

“Oh, ‘when did you start dating?’ I don’t think we can say exactly when, but...” Jennie begins, her eyes falling on her girlfriend as if searching for help.

“Some years after all the… shipping started, actually. It took us some time…”

“It took you some time if I remember correctly...”, Jennie plays, her sharp expression both softening and growing more electric.

Lisa smiles, all teeth and happiness, and gives in the need of squeezing her girlfriend against her just a little bit tighter.

“But I’ve always liked you! You know it!”, she complains, a slight whine tangling in her voice.

“Of course! I’m amazing!”, Jennie bites back, brushing her long hair past her shoulders in a mocking gesture.

“You are”, Lisa murmurs, staring deep into chocolate without a care in the world, and the sincerity in her words makes Jennie’s pulse speed up crazily.

She leans in for a soft, quick peck, unable to stop herself, and is greeted by such an elated expression when she pulls away that she has to kiss her girlfriend once more, just to steady her soaring heart.

She’s so, so ridiculously in love.

“Charmer”, she mumbles, blushing deeply, and turns around to read another thousands of totally-freaking-out-because-of-their-cuteness messages. “Thank you guys. Really. This truly means a lot for us... The girls know, of course”, she chuckles, “They knew before us, probably. Yes, we are working on something. Nope, no spoilers!”, she winks.

Lisa reads the comments as well, absent-mindedly tangling her long fingers in her girlfriend’s soft chocolate locks, perfectly warm in the familiarity of their home.

“Yes, we are still in Paris. We love it here. The flower business is going well”, she grins, “Yes, I am the best girlfriend ever, right, babe?”

Jennie raises a single eyebrow, but gives in anyways.

“Maybe. You are the only one I’ve ever had”, she teases, gifting her girlfriend a slight shrug.

“And the only you will have!”, Lisa answers back, a playful growl playing with her deep voice in a way that makes Jennie’s stomach tingle in a quite particular way.

“Likewise, Manoban. Ah, yes, our parents know. Lisa’s parents were supportive since day one. My mom… well, it took her some time. Now she calls her whenever she needs anything. Can you believe it?”

They continue the late afternoon like that, leaning against the comfort of each other, answering some of the million questions people over the world have about their relationship.

They knew it will be like that. The sheer support, however, left them truly stunned. They were told so many times that what they were doing was wrong, immoral, dangerous, that the almost absolute acceptance of the people that surrounds them hit them like a soft, fluffy pillow in a dizzy night.

When Jennie finally turns off the live –promising to make another one soon, and yes, to give away more details, and maybe to talk about the possibility of a wedding-, the hint of the pale moonlight is already creeping past their open windows.

Jennie and Lisa stare at each other with twinning grins playing in their lips.

“So, we just did that”, the brunette mumbles.

The apartment is almost silent. Their pets are still sleeping. Only the faint sound of the never-asleep city tangles with the mute electricity of the aftermath of their bravery.

Lisa’s bright eyes darken suddenly, urged by a rush of passionate love.

“We did that. And it went really, really well”.

Jennie smiles openly, her gums nicely on display. The tallest girl feels her heart growing three sizes against her chest. Her hands lock on her girlfriend’s waist, tugging, begging her to find a way to be even closer to her body, downing in affection.

The shortest girl does not disappoint. She moves to sit down on her lap.

“Baby, we did it”, she murmurs again, in a happy awe.

Lisa starts to giggle, and the soft sounds are mirrored by her lover.

“You were incredible”, she mumbles, then, locking her stare with her girlfriend’s once again. A strong feeling, an unspoken declaration moves through them, sparkling. With the corner of her eyes, unfocused as she favors the marvelous sight of her girlfriend’s face, Lisa can see the lights of their phones going off –probably some messages from their friends and family- but the girls stay put in their delightful bubble, nevertheless.

“So did you, love. Can you believe it?”, Jennie begins, letting her feelings pour out, both soft and heavy in her words, “Now they know that you are mine and I’m yours.”

Lisa swoons.

That’s something they’ve talked about. The need to be with each other freely, to shout out their hidden love at the top of their lungs, proud, shattering.

Lisa leans up for a deep, toe-curling kiss. When Jennie pulls out to draw in a happy breath, the tallest girl turns both their phones off.

The rest of their lives can wait. Right then, however, Jennie and Lisa are set to celebrate their thorough love in the way they like it the most.

#jenlisa #jenlisa scenarios #blackpink scenarios #blackpink fanfic

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watching-pictures-move · 3 years

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Put On Your Raincoats #28 | American Babylon (Watkins, 1985)

Roger Watkins spent most of his career making pornos, something which he apparently hated, and in American Babylon he turns that hatred directly at the audience. The movie is about two bozos. Losers. Schlubs. One of them, played by Bobby Astyr, spends his days doing little but watching pornography, oblivious to his surroundings and annoyed by interruptions. When his wife steps in front of the projector, he grouses at her to get out of the way. "Evaporate, Joan!" The other, played by Michael Gaunt, is weak-willed, easily goaded into doing or saying anything, whatever is the path of least resistance. Neither Astyr nor Gaunt are what you'd call conventionally attractive, and combined, they are some of the least flattering portraits of masculinity to grace the screen. I read somewhere that the popularity of unattractive men in straight porn is to help the target audience relate more easily to the proceedings. Watkins brings into focus the implied contempt in that trope.

As someone who spent a non-zero amount of time over the last year delving into vintage pornography, this movie hit a little close to home. When Astyr starts critiquing the camera angles in the movie he's watching, I felt personally attacked. Astyr's choice of entertainment here is in the form of plotless reels with titles like Teenage Pigmeat in Heat, a film by Bernard America, and Butt Girls in Bondage, directed by Hank Packard (which sounds like a dig at Henri Pachard's pretentious porn name), and starring Lonnie Lee as the Butt Girl. Astyr appears to be getting off on their dehumanizing quality ("Hey Robert, I just realized something. They don't show anybody's faces in this movie." "Of course not, it's so much better that way, it could be anybody.") The reels are shot in cold, sterile black-and-white, their mise-en-scene (power tools, gym equipment) suggesting a parody of masculinity. (I admit I was a little concerned when the male performer was firing a blowtorch in the direction of the female performer while they engaged in sexual congress.) Watkins had been steadily removing any sense of warmth or eroticism from his sex scenes, but also seems aware of the limitations of this approach (especially when you cast a performer like Taija Rae, sporting a lady mullet, hubba hubba). His critique seems targeted at the genre as a whole, which despite the level of artistry it can contain (and I'm very much on the side of pornographic films being artistically worthwhile), is ultimately in the service of prurient interests, but in retrospect, feels prescient of the kind of gonzo pornography that would become the norm in the decades that followed. There's no need for plot, character, warmth, humanity, just body parts mashing against each other. That Astyr is seen usually in a raincoat and motorcycle helmet drives the point home.

Gaunt's character is depicted just as brutally but with a bit more humour. This is a guy whose most strenuous decision in his marriage (and source of tension with his wife) is whether or not he'll drink his milk. (His wife, seen topless and in panties and heels, in a skewering of genre demands, leaves him an angry note: "P.S. Drink your milk".) Astyr's wife, played by Tish Ambrose, in need of the kind of intimacy she doesn't get from her husband, sees Gaunt as an easy mark and sets up a rendezvous at a country western bar. Their exchange and her attempt at seduction are telling.

"You strike me as the kind of guy who's good at taking orders."

"Yeah, I guess so, my wife thinks so anyway."

"You want something to drink?"

"Yeah, I guess so, my wife thinks so anyway."

"I'm not wearing any underwear."

"I beg your pardon."

"The only thing separating skirt and my quivering pussy is a layer of air. What do you think of that?"

"Me? I don't know what to think."

Gaunt reveals a talent for physical comedy with his gawking, indecisive face during their tryst, his slapstick-like scramble out of his clothes, his dash with an empty cup as part of his excuse sneak out for another tryst ("I told my wife I was coming over to borrow a cup of sugar"), and his nervous patting of strap-on before he excuses himself out of a threesome. One encounter occurs when watching a porno with Astyr, who seems entirely oblivious to what's going on right beside him but also happy to have them around. ("My best friend and my best wife, finally taking an interest in my one true passion.") Their attempts at bonding seem self-defeating from both directions, as when Astyr tries to initiate a heart-to-heart, it's not clear how truthful Astyr's tale of young love or his recollection of a threesome that sounds suspiciously like one of his movies and the one Gaunt partook in. ("They were sisters, Thomas, sisters! That's what they told me afterwards. They might have been lying of course, It's human nature to lie.") When the visual style switches over to those of his movies, the indictment is complete, but in the final ten minutes, the movie finds something of an emotional core with a montage (Menopausal Males in Bondage) that recontextualizes the proceedings from Ambrose's perspective, while dissolving the boundaries between Astyr, Gaunt, and their porno movies. A beret and checked coat, first sported by Taija Rae, helps provide a visual throughline.

While I won't deny that the kind of masculinity exemplified by the protagonists, while flawed, feels a lot more benign than the kind of toxic masculinity that's been the focus of modern discourse, the laser focus of Watkins' indictment makes the movie work. Where the movie is less cogent but admirably bold is in situating its protagonists and their pathetic suburban existence as some kind of endpoint for American civilization. The opening credits have illustrations of historical images, evangelical radio is heard on and off throughout the movie, and after the aforementioned montage, the film closes with "American the Beautiful". In a brief but forceful sequence, we hear news of Lee Harvey Oswald's murder by Jack Ruby, Walter Mondale's acceptance speech at the 1984 DNC ("Mr. Reagan calls it "tokenism". We call it America.") and the bombing of North Vietnam, while Gaunt's wife (seen again in the nude, to sate the horndogs) fires a shotgun and the screen cuts to black. Watkins produces a passage from "The Harlot's House" by Oscar Wilde to drive home the sense of finality. ("The dead are dancing with the dead, the dust is whirling with the dust.") The protagonists' suburban homes are presented effectively as purgatorial spaces, captured in cold, isolating cinematography by Larry Revene, who had collaborated previously with Watkins on Corruption and Midnight Heat. Like the latter, I watched this in a not very nice video-sourced transfer, although it didn't seem quite as detrimental here (aside from the terrible audio quality, which made Gaunt's whistling sound like nails on a chalkboard). The look of the movie is effectively sterile, with a heavy reliance of moody bluish lighting that comes through even in a less pristine copy. (I understand that this didn't play theatrically, so I'm willing to limit my complaining.) It's also worth noting that while not detrimentally so to the film's overall argument, I did find Astyr's porno movies stylish in their way, and that I was not immune to the charms of Taija Rae, particularly with the beret and lady mullet I alluded to earlier. Folks, I'm not made of stone.

#film #put on your raincoats #movie review #american babylon #roger watkins

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captainneverever · 5 years

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Snow Day

written for @lightsonparkave's Prompt Challenge Round 6 -- Love

The Avengers think that Steve and Tony got engaged at the annual holiday party. It’s news to Steve and Tony. (light 616, 1900 words)

Tony rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, vaguely aware of the Avengers alarm going off. Usually he’d be off like a shot heading for the armor, Steve’s voice in his ear relaying mission information. Instead, he saw Steve standing shirtless in his workout pants, coffee mug in one hand, watching the snow dance outside the Tower windows.

“Um, Steve, there’s a mission --”

Steve sipped his coffee and watched the snow. “We’ve been benched.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t that your call?”

“Not today. Carol called it.”

Tony couldn’t recall a single thing that occurred during the annual Avengers holiday party that would have resulted in them being benched. Food was excellent. He drank seltzer and lemon all night and Steve his craft beers. The Cards Against Humanity game hadn’t resulted in blood-letting. No one had stupidly challenged Thor or Carol to arm-wrestling. No one had complained about the silly, the serious or the thoughtless presents.

He glanced over at the small black box with the arty cufflinks Steve had given for him on the nightstand. Steve had commissioned the artist sometime last year to craft “space geode” cufflinks. The gift stemmed from a long-standing private joke that would be impossible to explain to anyone else. He grinned, thinking of how Steve said “space geode.”

It all went off the rails when Steve had given him the box in the kitchen when it was just them alone instead of during the group present opening. Jan had walked in on Tony enthusiastically kissing Steve and then jumped right out with profuse apologies.

Now that he wasn’t on call, Tony snuggled deeper into the sheets and blankets and blatantly ogled the lovely ass sight in front of him.

He asked, “Why? As far as I can tell, you and I still have all our limbs attached, no concussions, no body swapping …. Unless there’s a surprise you’re about to spring on me. Like a visit from our clones or something.”

“Team thinks we got engaged last night so we’ve got the day off.”

Tony could hear the touch of amusement in Steve’s voice and wondered if Steve had put up much of a fight about being benched. Probably he did; he didn’t take benching well, even for a good cause.

Then it sank in what Steve had said. “What?! Wait -- did Jan think --”

“It wasn’t just Jan. Clint overheard us talking about big news before the party.”

“The new quinjet redesign?”

Steve set down his coffee mug and joined Tony on the bed. He swung his legs up, and rolled onto his stomach, and smiled at Tony. He kissed Tony’s bicep. “Only you and T’Challa would consider that big news.”

“The team will love the more comfortable seats are bigger galley,” Tony grumbled. “So, the whole team thinks that you and I are getting married.”

“Jess asked if we’d set a date yet.”

“July, of course. Best weather in the Hamptons,” Tony replied automatically. “Hard to get hotel rooms, and we’d have to book the venue a couple of years ahead of time. It’d be worth it.”

Steve booped Tony’s nose and chuckled. “That’s the official date -- we’ll have already gotten married in private a few months earlier. City Clerk’s office.”

“That’s just complicated and unnecessary.”

“So are supervillain attacks and alien invasions. Have we gone to a single superhero wedding that didn’t get interrupted?”

Tony had no answer. He couldn’t think of one, and he’d gone to his share of the events. Sue and Reed couldn’t even have a baby shower without a supervillain attack.

Steve concluded, “If we’re already married, then all Zemo or Kang or Ultron would be breaking up would be a party.”

“Or the Controller or whoever is in charge of AIM these days or -- let’s be real, there’s at least fifty guys and gals that would go a long long way to bust up our big day.” Tony drummed his fingers on the bed. “Wait -- why did they jump straight to us getting engaged? Why not moving in together? I could have given you a box with a key to my suitet.”

Steve collapsed on the bed, his body shaking from laughing. Tony swatted at him as Steve shifted away from him and wiped tears from his eyes.

“What’s so funny, big guy?”

“The team and reserve Avengers thought we’ve been living together for the past year. I was informed of this fact this morning.”

“Oh, wow. How could we have missed that?”

Steve looked thoughtful. “I do spend most nights here already.” He poked Tony in a ticklish spot. “If I moved in officially, I’ll need some closet space, more than the two drawers I’m using --”

“I’ll build you your own closet. I can draw the plans up right after breakfast. I’m going to design you a closet that’s going to be on the cover of Architectural Digest.”

Steve wriggled back under the covers and the sheets, and propped his arm up on the pillows. “Are you asking me to move in?”

“Do you want to move in?” Tony replied. His breath hitched and pulse beat faster as that old fear that Steve would bail on him reared its ugly head. A lifetime full of disappointments and Steve’s workaholic tendencies had taught him to be wary.

But he’d give his eyeteeth to have more of Steve.

Steve fiddled with the blanket and looked at a spot at the end of the large bed. “I always imagined you’d ask in a more romantic way. Involving a dinner.”

Tony’s heart flipped. “You’re one of the most unromantic people I have ever met. We can order takeout and eat while we make space for you and your toothbrush in the bathroom.”

Steve slid an arm around Tony’s waist to draw him close. “Home is where I hang my shield. A nail in the wall, a nightstand, and one side of the closet, and we’re all set.”

“Ha,” Tony snorted. “Do you think we could get all that done before the team returns?”

He grinned as he watched Steve analyze and calculate the team’s chances. He adored Steve’s brilliant tactical mind, the little half-smile he always had on his face as he considered and weighed strategies. Just part of Steve’s charms.

“The main factor is whether or not the Wrecking Crew are having a magically juiced-up week. Weather forecast has more snow. Team is worse for wear because of the party. Odds are that they’ll be out for a couple of hours minimum.

“Well, now that we know it’s the Wrecking Crew --”

“I didn’t want to leave the Tower to fight the Wrecking Crew,” Steve confessed.

“Instead you settled for moving in with me? Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

Stevet tugged him closer, letting Tony tuck his head into his shoulder. The idea of waking up to this every single morning warmed Tony from head to toe. Something they could build a life around.

“Now that we’re living together, when are you going to make me an honest man?” Steve teased.

“Wow, we haven’t even hung up your medals and had a fight over your hideous chair --”

“Team thinks we’re engaged already. We can’t undermine their trust in us.”

“You just don’t want them to know that you didn’t tell them the truth that you didn’t want to fight the Wrecking Crew in a blizzard.”

Smiling, Steve ran his fingers through Tony’s hair. “They saved me from planning the proposal.”

Tony pulled away to stare at Steve. “Wait. Slow down. You just talked me in letting you move in --”

“A formality -- I have clothes and uniforms here, my pile of books are next to my side of the bed, I was just asking for more closet space.”

“Right. Back to that proposal thing. What?”

Steve sat up a little straighter so Tony could curl into his side. They could see the snow coming down in thick white flakes, the sort of snow that promised many inches, school closures and miserable fighting conditions. The Avengers had been more than generous to let the newly engaged couple sleep in.

“I bought more than the cufflinks at the jeweler’s. Just waiting for the right occasion. I made reservations at L’Artusi for Valentine’s -- was working on other ideas, like flowers, that sort of thing.”

“Steve,” Tony exhaled with all the love he felt for Steve. A Valentine’s Day restaurant date was a big, fussy ordeal -- with a planned proposal thrown into the mix -- and Unromantic Steve was planning to do it all for him. A big risk, given all the space wars they’d been in recently.

“We’ve talked about it, getting married.” Tony nodded in agreement, and Steve continued. “I picked up the ring and all I could think about was when I could ask you. I almost asked last week at breakfast when you were fixing the coffee machine.”

The thought of wearing Steve’s ring took Tony’s breath away. Steve had always wanted to be married, though Tony had a healthy fear of marriage, considering his parents and the strong likelihood he’d wake up and find that he’d married sentient armor or a Skrull. It could happen -- he’d lay good money that it would. Tony’s luck ran on the rotten side.

But here was Steve, right next to him on a snowy morning in New York, and he was going to Officially Move In today. He’d loved Steve forever, since Steve opened his eyes in that sub a few years ago. He couldn’t possibly name anyone he’d want to marry more than his Avengers co-leader -- they had saved each other’s lives too many times to count, they finished each other’s sentences, he could practically read Steve’s mind by now.

No wonder the team thought that Steve had proposed last night. They should have been married years ago. They should have gotten married the afternoon Tony found him. It was ridiculous the amount of time they hadn’t been married.

“Since you’re asking, yeah, I’ll marry you.”

Steve kissed the top of his head. “How about next week?”

“Next week?”

“City Clerk’s Office.”

“I take back what I said about you being unromantic. You’re such a true romantic, through and through.”

“We could get married Tuesday at the City Clerk’s office -- we get a license on Monday and there’s a 24-hour waiting period.”

“Tuesday? Hmmm -- I probably have something scheduled that day.”

“You’re free, I already checked your schedule.”

“You planned this,” Tony accused Steve.

Steve put his arm around Tony and hugged him. “No, that’s giving me too much credit. I researched possibilities, in case they came up. Be prepared.”

“I couldn’t possibly love you more than I love you now.”

“You will when the Masters of Evil crash that fancy wedding the wedding planner put together and we have to drop everything to arrest them. And we’ll be married during the whole fight.”

“Our secret.”

“Just us.”

The wind picked up outside and the snow fell harder. “I should feel bad about the team out there in the snow,” Tony admitted.

“It’s their gift to us,” Steve replied. “An early wedding present --”

“For the men who have everything,” Tony finished.

“Yeah.”

Tony tapped the bed thoughtfully. “I have some favors to cash in for the honeymoon, in that case.”

“I’d like to go to Europe,” Steve offered. “It’d be nice to visit on our own, not as Avengers.”

“I have ideas already -- you won’t regret it. We’re still going to L’Artusi for Valentine’s, right?”

“You bet.”

#lightsonparkave #stevetony #stony #superhusbands

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365days365movies · 4 years

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February 24, 2021: Annie Hall (1977) (Part 1)

Well...Woody Allen.

I, uh...OK, look, I could get into the whole Woody Allen thing, but INSTEAD of me doing that, I’ll just say this: look into it. Because there is a LOT on this subject, and it’s controversial as HELL. At the end of the day, I’ll recommend this upcoming series on HBO, and just recommend that you look into it.

Because, uh...yeah, it’s not great. That’s all I’m gonna say, because I need to educate myself on it more as well. Instead, let’s talk for a few seconds about divorcing the art from the artist. But ONLY for a few seconds.

I understand why some of you might be surprised I’m doing this one. Because, again...Woody Allen. But, yeah, I always try to do my best to divorce the art from the artist. Because some people suck, but they still make nice things, or at the very least, things that should be open to interpretation and appreciation.

“Superfreak” is a classic song of 1981, and everybody’s heard at least some of it, but Rick James fuckin’ kidnapped two women and kept them in his basement, WHERE HE TORTURED THEM. Edgar Degas made beautiful paintings of ballet dancers, and was also A MASSIVE ANTI-SEMITE. And before he was (RIGHTFULLY AND JUSTIFIABLY) outed as a roofie-ing piece-o-shit...I grew up with - and genuinely enjoyed - this guy’s comedy.

And you can judge me for this, but...I still think his stand-up was and is genuinely funny, and I still appreciate the cultural impact that The Cosby Show had on society’s perception of African-American families, divorced from the stereotype of the ghetto. Fact of the matter is, works themselves deserve to be separated from the artist who made them. That’s my philosophy, and I’m sticking with it Entirely fine to disagree with me, by the way, I get it.

But in that spirit, I’m watching Annie Hall, despite its creators likely transgressions. After all, this is technically his magnum opus, and it’s a good look into the man himself. And so, with that in mind: Annie Hall! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

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Alvy Singer (Woody Allen) is talking directly to us about his outlook on life, and his view on the potential future. He tells half of a joke, then an amusing anecdote, and a bit more until telling us that he’s broke up with Annie, and he’s still thinking about it, trying to figure out exactly where things went wrong. He goes back to the beginning, which is punctuated with flashbacks.

He grew up in Brooklyn in World War II, and a young Alvy (Jonathan Munk) is with his mother (Joan Newman) at the doctor’s. He’s depressed after learning that the universe will one day end after a period of expansion, and is having his first real existential crisis. I had mine around the same age, actually, went I learned that the Earth will one day get swallowed by the sun. And THEN came the realization that I’d be dead by that point. AND THEN came the realization that I’d die one day, and that was a WHOLE NEW crisis to...anyway.

He grew up under the Coney Island rollercoaster according to him (although his analyst says that he exaggerates), and that’s what he blames for his “nervous personality. He’s also got an active imagination, often blurring fantasy and reality. His Dad ran the bumper cars on Coney Island (a place that I’ve never been, but desperately want to go).

He continues on talking about his former schoolmates, and not really that well. While in class, young Alvy kisses a...little girl...ahem. And then, when reprimanded by the teacher, current Alvy notes that he was always...like that...and he also says this to the little girl, and they talk about Freud’s latency period, and Alvy said he never...had...one...that’s uh...that’s fuckin’ SOMETHING, now isn’t it?

OK, well, shoving that forcefully aside as hard as I can, Alvy wonders aloud on where his classmates now, and one of them says this:

This also involves a little girl saying she’s “into leather,” which is...awkward as FUCK, but WE’RE GONNA MOVE THE FUCK ON. Alvy recounts his paranoia, and was so even after he became a famous comedian (which we say after a VERY good joke about qualifying for the army as a hostage). He speaks to a friend, Rob (Tony Roberts) about potential anti-Semitism from a person in a passersby meeting, then heads to meet Annie.

Annie Hall (Diane Keaton) arrives at a movie theater, late and in a bad mood. The two are late to their intended film, argue briefly, then head to another film that they’ve already seen, The Sorrow and the Pity. In line, they’re in front of a man loudly soliloquizing on film, much to Alvy’s annoyance.

Annie and Alvy continue to argue a bit, while Alvy openly berates the casual film critic. In the middle, he talks to the audience about it, only to be followed by the crtiic himself, who also acknowledges the audience! Huh! Anyway, he’s a professor at Columbia, and starts continuing his line speech, this time on the work of Marshall McLuhan, one of the most important early media theorists ever. And then, Alvy brings out Marshall McLuhan (Marshall McLuhan) to debate him on it, only for Alvy to turn to the audience and wish aloud that life could really be like this!

I’m beginning to understand why people like this film. It’s metacontextual before metacontextuality was really a thing in film. It’s a fourth-wall breaking movie in some fantastic ways. But will it still hold its muster after breaking the fourth wall’s become so commonplace? we’ll see, I guess.

After a showing of the film, the two return home, and Alvy tries to initiate sex. But Annie’s not really into it at the moment, and Alvy complains that they used to have sex all the time, and it’s been a while since. So, I guess that retroactively awkward scene at the school was meant to foreshadow Alvy’s high libido, that will probably cause some conflict in the film. Anyway, Annie notes that Alvy once went through something similar with Allison, his first wife. Who’s Allison? Flashback!

Allison Portchnik (Carol Kane) is a graduate student in political science, working for a campaign that Alvy’s about to perform for. He’s nervous, as he’s going on after another comedian. She comforts him by saying that she thought he was cute, and he does well. But we flash-forward to a night after they’re married, shortly after the death of JFK, which Alvy’s obsessing over, entertaining various conspiracy theories.

However, Allison rightly points out that his obsession is simply a way for him to avoid having sex with her, which mirrors the present-day situation him him and Annie. Flash forward TO Alvy and Annie, and there are just lobsters...everywhere, on the floor in their kitchen. After that commotion, they talk about Annie’s past romances.

And by talk about, I mean they LITERALLY WALK THROUGH her memories. And I gotta say...I fuckin’ love this method of storytelling. One of her previous boyfriends is an actor (John Glover), and his over-dramatic prose sickens Alvy. We see a second marriage of Alvy’s to New Yorker writer Robin (Janet Margolin), who’s dragged him to a stuffy high society party of intellectuals that he has no interest in going to. Same her, Alvy. I bet the caviar’s canned.

He tries to initiate sex with her - in the middle of the party, mind you - and she turns him down. later, when they get to it in their apartment, she’s unable to, uh...reach satisfaction. From there, we flash-forward after that marriage ends to a tennis match with Rob, where he meets one of his mutual friends: Annie Hall.

And for the record, Annie’s pretty obviously got a crush on him, and she’s adorable as fuck. Also, that outfit, real talk...that outfit rules. She offers to give Alvy a list, during which he’s quite worried about her driving, but the two still get along well enough. Annie’s an amateur photographer, during a time period where photography is considered a relatively new art form. The two go to her apartment, and share familial anecdotes and personal stories about themselves. And as they talk, we also see a set of subtitles on top of each of them that betray their inner feelings and thoughts.

I do genuinely like the stylings of the movie, goddamn. This conversation leads to Alvy asking her out on a date, although they end up scheduling it after Annie auditions at a nightclub as a singer. And while it doesn’t go great, Alvy tells her she was fantastic, and they share a kiss before they head to dinner. They head to her place afterwards, and we cut to later that night, post-coitus.

And then, we get a flash-forward back to the next day, where the two are at a bookstore, and Alvy speaks on his personal philosophy of life.

I'm obsessed with uh, with death, I think. Big - big subject with me, yeah. I have a very pessimistic view of life. You should know this about me if we're gonna go out. You know, I - I feel that life is - is divided up into the horrible and the miserable. Those are the two categories, you know. The - the horrible would be like, um, I don't know, terminal cases, you know, and blind people, crippled. I don't know how they get through life. It's amazing to me. You know, and the miserable is everyone else. That's - that's - so - so - when you go through life - you should be thankful that you're miserable because you're very lucky to be miserable.

Iiiiinteresting.

Shortly into their relationship, they admit they’re in love (or “lurve”, as Alvy says). She moves in with Alvy, which he initially isn’t the biggest fan of, having been burned in two previous marriages And already, their relationship is showing a few bumps. Alvy’s also always trying to push her to take college classes, while she uses mariuana whenever they have sex, which Alvy doesn’t agree with.

But as they have sex one night, without the marijuana at Alvy’s urging, Annie’s mind wanders - LITERALLY.

This film...this film has a VERY unique style of visual storytelling, and I am HERE for it! Seriously, I genuinely love this method of storytelling and comedy, it’s extremely engaging to me.

Soon enough, Alvy gets an interview to write for a talk show host, which he ABSOLUTELY despises. But in doing so, he decides to go into stand-up for himself, and is actually quite successful at it! But before we get to that, we’re at the halfway point! See you in Part 2!

#annie hall #woody allen #diane keaton #tony roberts #carol kane #paul simon #shelley duvall #christopher walken #romance february #romance movie #romcom #romantic comedy #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year

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matildashoney · 5 years

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Thinking of Tequila

Loving You’s The Antidote Extra

MOODBOARD // PREVIEW(S) // TAG LIST // TAGS

WARNING: THIS IS PURE FILTH. 3.5K OF SMUT. LITERALLY NOTHING BUT SEX.

Harry’s arms slung tight around her waist, his mouth against the shell of her ear as they make their way to a hidden section of the party. All of the team was huddled in a corner, Jeff and Glenne sipping champagne, Harry and Tommy talking about the tour and the upcoming events. Harry dragged Amelie aside, muttering an apology to a stray guest and hiding away in a corner. One hand clutched her hip, his fingertips splayed over her lower back and bum, his lips fluttering kisses alongst her bare neck. One hand twirled her hair around his fingers, the naked skin ready to be marked.

“Think ‘m gon’a need Viagra in fifty years?” Harry breathes against a painted mark on your neck.

“Not at this rate,” Amelie smirks, her hands brushing up his chest and holding his neck, her lips pressing against his heavily. Harry smirks, his mouth moving rhythmically against hers, his tongue tasting of tequila and mint as his open lips mould to Amelie’s. His hands flat against the wall beside her head, encasing you in his warmth. His cheeks are flushed from the liquor, the twinkle in his eyes bright under the dimmed lighting. “Would love to suck you off, right here, if there weren’t so many people.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry murmurs, his lips hovering hers, his hand moving away from the wall and towards her face, his thumb tracing over her bottom lip, his eyes rolling back as she takes the digit between her lips and suck teasingly. “That pretty mouth of yours is not where I want it to be, right now.”

His thumb pops between her lips after a final suck. He drags his fingertips along the seam of her dress, her breasts tightly held with the thin straps. His eyes aren’t able to find where to stare until her voice echoes in his ear. “Oh, trust me, I’d rather it be on other places.”

“You’re gon’a kill me,” he laughs breathlessly, a moan stifled by her mouth as she gently tugs at his bottom lip with her teeth. His hand drags over her bum, squeezing tightly as she leans into him. “Are you not wearing any knickers?”

“Couldn’t or else you’d see them,” she breathes, moving away from his face and wiping her thumb alongst his lip, her lipstick tinting the swollen flesh. “Makes it easier for when we go home, anyways.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Harry groans, his mouth travelling to her ear to hide his filthy words as guests begin to pass by. “’m gon’a ruin you, later.”

“Counting on it, Mr Styles,” Amelie smirks, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as she kisses his cheek, taking his hand and beginning to lead him back to the group. Harry can’t decide if he hates when she calls him Mr Styles or if it turns him on, because, at this point, anything she says makes him want to destroy her. He doesn’t think he has ever been this turned on in his life, and the whole idea that tequila makes her frisky is more than apparent, tonight.

Harry trails close behind, hiding the bulging tent in his yellow trousers behind her hips. His hand is hooked around her waist, tugging her against his chest as she converses with Glenne and Tommy. He admires the way she loves his friends, his team. He couldn’t be more in love with Amelie than he is right now. He couldn’t want her more than he does right now.

He smirks as she move the diamond on her finger, the one that he waited nearly a year to give her, the one that meant he was going to spend the rest of his life getting to love her. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Amelie not have it on since they got engaged three months ago. He wouldn’t complain. He loves knowing that she loves him so much that she wants to be with him for the rest of her life, and she wants everyone to know so.

“You’re engaged to her,” Tommy toys, drawing Harry out of his trance and to his attention. “You don’t have to gawk at her like that.”

“Quite like gawking at her, thank you,” Harry grins, shifting his weight and arms around her, squeezing her hip to make her aware that he would be slipping away for a minute. “’m gon’a go get another drink. Want one?”

“Have never seen you two so drunk,” Gemma laughs, shaking her head as Harry leaves a sloppy kiss on her cheek and walks to the adjacent table, pouring a glass of tequila for them to share. One of the two would wind up spilling it, and they didn’t need two glasses worth of damage. “Actually, I take that back. Your birthday a few years ago was quite the riot.”

“Hey,” Amelie drawls, her cheeks blushing pink under the bare makeup on her skin. “Only get to celebrate your twenty-third like that once.” Gemma is referring to the birthday party Harry threw on the pier a few years back. Around three months before the move to France for Dunkirk, Harry rented out an entire club and invited everyone they knew, celebrating the move, her birthday, and the mural that was on a billboard downtown. Have a lot to celebrate about you, doll! Harry repeated, the alcohol running through your veins.

“Doll,” Harry slurs, smacking her bum with a chuckle as she squeaks, her eyes narrowing at him as Glenne shakes her head and walks towards where Jeff was talking with other clients. “You ready to go soon? ‘s close to three.”

Harry took another sip of the tequila, the way his tongue flicked over his lips and his pupils dilated with every sip making her thighs squeeze uncomfortably tighter together. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. “Mhm.” The hum barely makes it out of Amelie’s mouth before Harry’s fingers are lacing with hers and he’s nearly dragging her out of the corner, his hand squeezing hers as he mumbles something incoherently to Jeff and Glenne, beginning to bid his goodbyes to friends and artists and the entire room. He was always even more social when he’s drunk.

Quietly thanking the security that escorts them to the vehicle, Harry is ready to have her inside and to himself. He gives the driver the directions home, the drive a mere twenty minutes. His mouth touches her shoulder, the strap of her dress falling as his hand moves to touch beneath the silk.

“Couldn’t wear a bra either,” Amelie breathes, biting her thumb as his spare hand gently nudges her thighs apart, his fingertips chilled against the hot skin. “Harry.”

“Make a bet with me,” Harry slurs, his digits dangerously close to her heat, the tips of his fingertips ghosting across the wetness collected beneath her dress. “Quiet in here and your hands won’t be tied. Make a sound and you can’t touch me while ‘m ruining you.”

“How the fuck is that a bet for me?” she whispers breathlessly, her hand gripping Harry’s wrist as tightly as she could. Drunk, Harry was undoubtedly stronger than you, physically and wilfully. “Make the bet reasonable. What do I get if I stay quiet?”

“Tell me how many orgasms you want, angel. Tell me how many you think you can handle,” Harry smirks, his teeth biting the sensitive skin of her neck as she thinks carefully. He knows that she’s more sensitive when she’s drunk. At the birthday party, Gemma mentioned earlier, Amelie could barely have Harry touch her without her skin lighting on fire. “Think three is a good number? One in here, too, of course.”

Harry smiles devilishly as his thumb circles her clit, his patterns dangerously slow and meticulous, the way his fingertips spread her open to tease her making Amelie want to scream. His middle finger coaxes itself into her heat, his eyes widening as she clenches tightly around him. He tuts, shaking his head as he moves her thighs apart once more. “Keep closing your legs and you’re going to lose.”

Harry smirks, his eyes intently on her as she squeezes her eyes closed, her senses overloaded and her thighs beginning to quiver from the slickness of his movements. He notices her bottom lips begin to redden, her teeth biting into the flesh, the way her cheeks flush bright pink and forehead begins to bead at her forehead telling him that she’s teetering on the edge.

“Hasn’t even been ten minutes, love, and you’re already ready to cum,” he drawls, his lips treacherously close to the spot behind her ear that makes her senses overwhelmed. “Haven’t paid ‘nough attention to you, t’night.”

“Fine,” she breathes, her throat begging to release a whimper or moan or anything. “Harry, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Harry toys, hovering over Amelie’s ear as he gently rubs right where she needs him, the spot that he has adored for six years. “Go on, angel. Quietly.”

Quiet pants leave her lips as she orgasms around his fingers, the fabric of her dress beneath her hiding what is missed on his digits. Harry smirks happily, his fingers taking all that he can and moving to his lips, sucking every bit of her on his skin. His favourite, he would always say. He always proved that to be true. He can see how flushed she is, how dilated her pupils have become, how heavy her chest is rising and falling. He loves it, the ability to make her this way.

“Good girl,” Harry hums, kissing Amelie’s cheek sweetly before setting his hand on her thigh innocently. “Have three more rounds waiting for you at home.”

“Fuck.”

Harry chuckles, paying close attention to the road as the car nears their house. He mutters his gratitude to the driver, closing the door behind her and smacking her bum, laughing at her yelp. He nearly runs to the door, his fingertips holding Amelie’s heels as she walks on shaky legs behind him. “Want me to carry you. Know you’re feeling a little wobbly.”

“Fuck you,” Amelie murmurs, shaking her head as she follows closely behind, her hands grabbing his waist and tugging him to her chest as they reach their front door. Harry moans as her hands slip in his trousers, his bare cock straining against the tight material. “You think it’s fun to do that to me.”

“Yeah,” Harry moans, struggling to open the door. He says a silent ‘Thank fuck’, with the click, swinging the door open and pulling her inside. Harry tosses all of their belongings on the ground, caring little about where his keys would wind up. “Want it so badly, take it.” He stutters to close the door as her hands work to yank his trousers down his waist. His cock is leaking, the tip bright pink, ready to be adorned by her lips. He moans at sight of her on your knees, her breasts barely in that dress and the hem riding up her thighs. “Fuck. Go on, doll. Suck me off like you wanted to at the party.”

He couldn’t quit thinking about how beautiful she is, how perfect she is, how he has her always. He kept picturing her lips around his cock all night, but nothing compared to the live-action. His fingers tangle in Amelie’s hair, his head leaning against the door as she hollows her cheeks, her mouth wrapped around him, her lips leaving a stain around his base as she takes him as far as she can. He nearly chokes as she gags, her eyes watering as she moves back slowly, her tongue adorning his tip and underside, her hands fondling his balls and doing everything he loves.

“You’re so good, doll. Fucking hell.”

Harry groans at the sight, Amelie’s eyelashes batting innocently as her cheeks bare no remorse against his cock. He shouldn’t have last this long with how lovely she is. He can feel himself teetering on the edge. His fingers twist tighter around her hair as she goes all the way, him hitting the back of your throat making him lose all control. He slams his hand against the door, swears streaming through his lips as he orgasms, moans echoing pleasurably in her ears and making her thighs squeeze together. He cums across her tongue, the taste of him enough to make her moan. His mouth presses together as he admires her beneath him, her thumb rubbing any excess onto your lips.

“You kiss me with that mouth,” Harry breathes, gently untying the bow around his neck.

“All the time,” Amelie smirks, gathering herself, her hands beginning to shove his yellow jacket away from his torso as he unbuttons his blouse. “Although you look undeniably sexy, this is too much to take off when we’re horny.”

Harry snorts, letting the tie and blouse lay loosely on the ground. He couldn’t quit staring at her, the way her mascara was lightly running beneath her eyes from sweat, her hair was messy and the curls were beginning to loosen, the curves of her stomach and her hips were displayed against the bunched hem of her dress, her thighs and bum completely bare to him.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.” Harry doesn’t hesitate to encircle her waist, his arms hugging beneath her bum, the way his mouth is perfectly moulded on hers, his tongue tasting every inch of her, his hands beginning to feel the dampness between her thighs, making Amelie’s heart race. “Get wet sucking me, hm? M’angel is more a devil, isn’t she?”

“Fuck me, already,” Amelie moans, a squeak leaving her lips as Harry takes her hand away from his cheek, nearly dragging her into their bedroom. “Wan’a ride you.”

“Fuck, yeah,” Harry smirks, his heel kicking the door closed behind her, his hands clutching her waist and holding her to his chest before she could climb onto their mattress. His fingertips trail across her chest, squeezing her breasts as he inches dangerously close to her heat. “Think I can get you off like this, baby? Leaning against our bed where we make love every night?”

“Harry,” Amelie breathes, the way his hand is holding her heat making her want to cry. His touch was igniting, the slightest movement making her thighs shake. “Don’t make me fucking beg you. I won the bet. Not you.”

“Oh, trust me, doll,” Harry hums, his middle digit devilishly slowly moving into her. “’m aware.”

Harry touches a kiss to her neck, his hand moving the silk dress above her waist. His ring adorned digit gently joins his middle, her fists clutching the duvet as she leans into his hips, his thumb continuing to draw around her clit and walls vibrating around him. He holds her tight to him, barely letting her move, the only movement being the pads of his fingers against the spongy walls he loves so well. He can feel her coming undone without having to utter a sound, the way her hips sway against his and her bum grinds against his cock making his breath hitch.

“Go on, baby. Be good fo’ me.”

He doesn’t use the name, like this, often, but when he does, she is destroyed. There is something in the way he says it, the way he drawls out baby is so filthy on his tongue.

“Harry,” Amelie moans, coming undone around him, her knuckles turning white as she leans against the mattress, her bum grinding against his pelvis, his cock hard against her back. He gently turns her around, her eyes meeting his as he takes his fingers between his lips, sucking every bit of her orgasm on his tongue. He is filthily attractive, the way he can make love to her one moment to destroy her the next playing with her mind.

Harry is chaotic and charming and sexy and beautiful all at once. He really is everything.

“Think you’ve got enough in y’a to ride me, baby,” Harry coaxes, his thumbs gently massaging her shaking thighs. “Happy to go on top fo’ y’a.”

Harry smirks as Amelie shakes her head in disapproval, his mouth attaching to hers as she leans against the edge of the mattress, heaving a breath. He wasn’t sure how much she could take. He should’ve learned to not underestimate her. Harry moves to the pillows, sitting comfortably against the headboard and tapping his thighs for her. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head as the dress bunches further up her hips, baring everything for him to see. “Have to take this off, angel.”

“Do it, then.” Harry grins, delicately moving the silk away from her torso, his eyes instinctively travelling to her breasts, his mouth sponging kisses to her collarbone before wrapping his lips around her pert nipple, sucking lightly, a moan vibrating against her skin as she laces your fingers through his hair and tug on the curls. His favourite part might be her curves, the way he would never care about her weight or where it carries, always reassuring her how beautiful she is to him. He loved the way they grew, there was more for him to squeeze and pleasure you with, to leave bites and bruises on for the morning. “Baby.”

“They’re mine,” Harry hums, pathing kisses along the valley between and attaching his lips to the breast he ignored. “’s all mine. You’re mine.”

“Always,” Amelie moans, her nails beginning to inch into his shoulders as his teeth bruise a particularly sensitive inch of skin. “Get in me.”

“Go on,” Harry encourages, guiding her hips closer to his pelvis, his cock barely touching her heat and her legs shaking. “Put me in, doll. Slowly.”

Harry coaxes her hips to rise above him, his hands holding her tightly, his cock slowly entering into her core, inch by inch, the feeling of him enough to send her senses into overdrive. His moans as she clenches around him echo around their bedroom. He begins to move their hips in rhythm, the grinding and rolling of her hips enough to make him cum without hesitation. He is obsessed with her, with seeing her this way on him. He thrusts into her, his cock hitting the sweetest spot inside her and earning a gasp from her lips. He spreads his thighs wider, the way his shaft is squeezed and warmed inside her core making his stomach turn. He could feel how close her orgasm is, the sensitivity of her walls and her clit making every slight movement exaggerated and feel utterly overwhelming.

“Doing so well fo’ me, angel,” Harry coos, his mouth attaching to Amelie’s neck as her nails scratch his chest, her hips grinding harder and faster against him. He could barely make out the bruises that would colour her skin in the morning, an apology duly noted when she wakes up. His kisses are warm, the heat of his skin on hers making the sweat on her forehead trickle down her temple. “Can’t believe ‘m getting to fuck you like this m’whole life.”

“Harry,” she whines, her fingers lacing through his, his hands squeezing hers for support. “Have to cum, I have to.”

Harry can feel his orgasm in his stomach, the way his vision was beginning to haze, and his senses were screaming for release. “Okay, baby. ‘m here. You did so fuckin’ well.”

“Fuck,” she moans, squeezing Harry’s hands tightly and orgasming around him, his climax milking with hers and warming her. He kisses her cheek sweetly, gently moving his cock and adjusting her hips, her chest laying against his.

“Love your hair like this,” Harry says quietly, twirling a curl around his fingertip. “It’s pretty.”

“Thank you,” Amelie giggles tiredly, kissing the skin above his heart lightly and staring at him. “Have to take my makeup off.”

“Want me to come with you,” Harry laughs lightly, ducking his face and kissing her lips. “C’mon.”

“Definitely not drunk anymore,” Amelie mutters, manoeuvring around his bodily and shakily standing on her legs, his hands holding her hips to catch her. “Might still be hungover tomorrow.”

“Think you’ll be a little bit more than hungover, love.” Harry stares at Amelie’s thighs, the bruises beginning to colour the tattoos that were at once hidden by your dress.

“Fuck off.”

Harry cackles, a smirk on his lips as she walks into their bathroom, his hands muddling around in their drawers to search for the makeup wipes as she sits on the toilet. “Think this is what married life is like, doll. Have absolutely mind-blowing drunken sex and then use a makeup wipe and go to bed.”

“Exhilarating,” Amelie teases, gently wiping her eyes and sighing at the bareness of her skin. Harry stares into the mirror, his palms flat against the counter, his lips pursed in thought. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“Thinking about tequila.”

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