#but i doubt it because i know where i am now finally

[morbethgames]

The Recoding of The Bureau is Finished

I’m done recoding the game. All in all, it was honestly about what I expected to be slimmed off once I got a good look at some of the scenes. As I expected, 90% of that were from the first 3 chapters. I am a mix of emotions after arduously spending hours upon hours replacing gender variables one at a time by hand. Which unfortunately, I couldn’t think of another way for doing it, because all of the characters were using the same gender variables instead of independent ones for each character.

I’m relieved it’s done. Disappointed in myself that I had to do it at all. Irritated that some people decided to put the game on blast for it rather than give actionable suggestions on how to fix it. Excited to finally be able to continue writing both the extra scenes that need to be written and the main story. I honestly don’t know which one I’m going to continue with first.

Please leave feedback.

There are still no doubt one or two spots with maybe 1-2k words each that could be slimmed down, but that would require a lot of work for very little payoff. So yes, I’m comfortable saying, the game is almost 400k words long in total. 85k words per playthrough. That’s not including the extra scenes in the stats screen, because randomtest doesn’t go in the stats screen (to my knowledge at least, someone can correct me if I’m wrong). So you still have to play the game roughly 5 times and choose different choices to see everything it has to offer.

Is the game smaller? A bit, yeah. Is it 100-150k? It’s more than double that.

Now, that doesn’t say anything for the state of some of the writing. If I have to read someone nodding, or smiling, or ‘slightly’, ‘a bit’, or ‘a little’ something in my own work again, I’m gonna jump out a window. Obviously, back when I started writing this, I was very much influenced by Wayhaven. I’ve since grown out of that idea. Since the game has taken on an identity of its own, and while I will forever be grateful to that series and continue to support it, there’s gonna be some changes in the final version of this game. Less of what I said above, less ellipses, and the flirting (especially in the beginning) will seem much more down to earth and believable for the setting it’s in, with a bit of wiggle room since this is still very much a YA game.

Please leave feedback.

The rewrite will not be happening until the first draft of the game is fully finished. I refuse to get stuck in a rewrite phase, mostly because I would just find it way too boring.

My patreon will continue to have static fiction on it, as well as sneak peeks into upcoming stuff. In case you’ve been missing it, Love In Stasis is up to Chapter 6 at this point, with more to come. I’m also thinking about potentially starting a horror static fiction.

I’ll be relying on people to playtest this new version of the game to tell me about any continuity errors, and gender errors, any anything errors. So please, play the demo. Let me know if you notice anything. I think if I’ve proved anything at this point, it’s that I act and fix things based on feedback.

And pettiness.

But mostly feedback.

Please leave feedback.

Last thing I’ll say; I’m gonna stop saying I’m bad at coding. Someone who’s bad at coding wouldn’t have been able to implement the text boxes and fine tune them. Someone who’s bad at coding wouldn’t have been able to code Golden Eyes. Someone who’s bad at coding wouldn’t have been able to slim down the game that much from where it was. So it’s time I give myself the credit of someone who at least knows what they’re doing. I’m not adept at it, but I’m certainly not bad at it either.

I’m still expecting the game to end up over 500k words when all is said and done. It will not be one million words, but I’m actually kind of happy about that. This is proof I’m still working on this game, and the next time it updates, it will have new content. Thanks for those that are patient and stick around, your support does still genuinely mean a lot.

Please leave feedback.

Stay Brilliant,

-Vi

P.S. Please leave feedback.

🛡️Patreon | Forum Page | Demo Link🛡️

[magnagaruzenmon]

Snow Miser

A Christmas gift for @midatwrtr. while I don't know you that well, and are a bit of a mystery to me. I do appreciate your style and willingness to be different. also I'd personally say your work is more of a solid 8-9.

You step into her apartment, and the familiar scent of vanilla and cherries greets you like a soft embrace. The warmth of her home, her presence, seeps into you, calming the edges of my weary soul. You let the door close behind you, the outside world and its chaos melting away. This is your sanctuary, not just because of the walls or the sweet fragrance in the air, but because of her.

“Kura-ssi!” You call out, your voice filling the quiet space. You half expect her to come running, but when no answer comes, You only smile. Instead, you hear faint grunts and the rhythmic clicking of buttons coming from her bedroom.

Shaking your head with a small chuckle, you follow the sound and step into her room—a cozy haven painted in shades of pink and sky blue. There she is, perched on the edge of her bed, her eyes glued to the screen as she navigates through Kingdom Hearts: Birth by Sleep Final Mix.

She doesn’t notice you right away. Her brows are furrowed in concentration, her fingers dancing on the controller. Watching her, you can’t help but grin. She’s come a long way since watching you do your playthroughs. It was your passion for the series that got her hooked, but now she’s just as in love with the characters, the worlds, and the art style as you are—maybe even more.

“Kura,” you say softly, my voice cutting through her focus. She jumps, startled, and turns to see you standing behind her.

“Ah, you’re back,” she says, her voice tinged with surprise but warm like sunlight. She pauses her game and gets up to hug you, wrapping her arms around you with a kind of care that always leaves you breathless. Her warmth seeps into you, spreading comfort to every corner of your being.

When she pulls back, she kisses your cheek, a soft, fleeting touch that lingers in the air between you two. “I need your help with this boss,” she says, her tone equal parts frustration and hope.

You nod, letting her lead her to the bed where you settle in front of the TV. She hands you the controller, and you glance at the screen, seeing that she’s stuck on the Braig fight. You press the pause button and start tweaking her setup—checking her command deck, swapping out weaker spells for stronger ones, and adding abilities you know will give her the edge.

She watches you quietly, her gaze curious and a little skeptical. “What is all this?” she finally asks.

“These are things to help make the fight easier,” you say, keeping your tone light. She tilts her head, her confusion softening into trust as she nods.

You finish adjusting her setup and hand the controller back to her. “You still gotta win for yourself,” you say with a small smile.

Her eyes widen, the look in them vulnerable yet determined. “That little voice of doubt in your head,” you add gently, “don’t listen to it. You’ve got this.”

Her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something, but instead, she nodded again, this time more resolute. Her hands are steady as she grips the controller, her focus sharpening.

Before she dives in, you notice her key blade isn’t optimized, so you take the controller for one last adjustment. She watches you, a mix of surprise and amusement flickering across her face. “There,” you say, handing it back.

She takes a deep breath, then starts the fight. This time, she’s prepared. You sit beside her, quietly cheering her on with every well-timed dodge, every spell cast perfectly. When she finally lands the finishing blow, the screen erupts in victory.

“Yes!” she exclaims, spinning in her chair with a triumphant laugh. “I’m the best. I am the hero!”

You can’t help but laugh along with her. There’s something magical about the way her joy lights up the room, chasing away any lingering shadows. She’s still mid-spin when her eyes catch something outside the window.

The first snowflakes of the season are falling, delicate and slow. She stops, her gaze softening as she turns to you. “Leo-san, we have to go out into the snow,” she says, her voice filled with childlike wonder.

You groan dramatically, making her giggle, but you still stand and follow her. as you wonder how could you ever say no to her?

Outside, the cold air nips at your cheeks, but the sight of Sakura running into the snow, her arms outstretched like wings, makes you forget about the chill. She spins in circles, laughing as the snowflakes catch in her hair and melt on her cheeks.

“Look, look!” she calls, crouching down to scoop a handful of snow. She packs it together, forming a lopsided ball, and throws it in your direction. It lands harmlessly at your feet.

“You missed,” you tease, bending down to gather some snow of my own.

She sticks her tongue out at you, already grabbing more. “I’m just warming up!”

Before you know it, you're in the middle of a playful snowball fight. She shrieks as one of your throws lands squarely on her shoulder, and in retaliation, she charges at you, pelting you with a flurry of soft snow.

“Truce, truce!” you laugh, raising your hands in surrender.

She stops, her cheeks flushed and her breath visible in little clouds. “Only if you help me make a snowman,” she says, her voice brimming with excitement.

“Deal.”

You both work together, rolling snow into uneven spheres. Her hands brush against yours as we stack them, and every accidental touch feels deliberate, like a quiet affirmation of how much she means to you. She adds twigs for arms and uses a fallen leaf for a makeshift scarf, stepping back to admire y'all's creation.

“It’s perfect,” she declares, her face lit with pride.

You look at her instead of the snowman. “Yeah, it is.”

She catches you staring, her eyes softening. “Thank you for this,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?”

“For being here. For always being here.”

You smile and reach out to brush a snowflake from her hair. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

As the two of you rollick Sakura gets a text and groans.

"What is it Kura?" you ask.

"We have Jihyo's party to go to." She says, a bit annoyed.

You laugh and say, "Well then let's go."

Sakura pauses then says, "But babe, I'm a little hot and bothered. Can you do something about that before we get ready?"

You laugh and say, "Sure."

As the two of you walk back into her apartment Kura says, "Oh it's too warm," before turning the air on. The chill is surprisingly pleasant as she wraps herself around you. Sakura brings you in for a kiss that is equal parts passion and poise. You let her guide this dance of lust as her tongue wraps around yours first, before taking you into her bedroom. The frigid temperature further contrasts the heat building between you two as she disrobes. You follow suit as you follow her to bed. She smiles but realizes she's out of condoms. So the two of you drive to the local pharmacy to pick some up. As you finish Sakura looks at her phone again before groaning.

"babe. can you help me I need to go to the restroom." confused you follow her, only to be surprised when she bends over the toilet and presents her cute butt to you.

"We don't have time to go back home and shower, so fuck me right here then we can go," Sakura said as she seductively pulled her pants down. You fish your cock out and plunge into her. the cold of the restroom is biting as the two of you rut into each other. You groan as her tight cool walls envelop your manhood. Sakura groans happily.

"fuck yes." she coos as you rapaciously thrust in and out of her. Her cheeks begin to turn red as the lust and cold get to her. She looks at you with a coy and seductive smile,

"How is it?" she asks.

"the tightest., you respond Sakura smiles as your cock hits her womb. She smiles and then says are you close?" you nod as the two of you continue rutting in each other. She fucks herself while you near your climax. as you do you feel her walls tighten and clench you as she takes you in and out. eventually you reach your limit as do Sakura. you both climax as you look into each other's eyes. as you soften and retreat from her chilly cavern you smile and say. "Let's go frosty." Sakura rolls her eyes as the two you head home.

Eventually the two of you arrive at Jihyo's party. which means you run into me as I walk in around the same time as you two.

"Oh hey Dino," you say to me. I smile as I walk into the party with you

"Hey Leonardo. Hey Sakura, How are yall?" I ask. Sakura smiles politely and replies for the both of you.

"Chilly but happy to be here,"

[imastrangeone98]

Even after all this time, I am still so fucking unhinged about ✨boothill✨

I wrote a similar idea with Cyno from Genshin, but I just love the idea of a man going feral when their lover (aka YOU 😉) gets injured in any way... or even kidnapped

Boothill would be no different- the moment he sees even the slightest scratch on your cheek, his vision goes black. He's sniffing out the bastard who dared to lay a finger on you, brutal and unwavering in his hunt that lasts from sunup to sundown. He refuses to bend until it ends with a bullet in the asshole's head- what they dared to do to you, he'll do back to them, tenfold.

And heaven forbid you end up kidnapped- a bullet in the brain wouldn't even be enough to atone for the sin of taking you away from him. The blood and gore he would spill will fill oceans; no price is unthinkable for Boothill if it means that you will return to his arms, safe and sound.

And if it's Homecoming y/n, where the two of you only just reunited after believing the other died in the tragedy of your home planet.... They might as well count their days, because they are numbered.

As in, count each second they get to keep breathing- the next one will likely be their last.

He just got you back, after spending all these years believing you to be with his family in the eternal moon lily fields, and just the thought of having you ripped away from his arms once more is enough to break him permanently.

So when he returns to the now-shared ship and you do not rush to welcome him back like you normally do, that immediately sets him on edge. And when he tears the ship apart and finds a ransom note on your bunk instead of your warm body, his cybernetic brain instantly shuts down with the sheer overload of rage and insanity that swarms his neurochip.

A petal on his beloved moon lily has been torn.

A detestable, unforgivable sin.

His body works on overdrive- it helps that he's made of metal, because he works night and day without rest until he tracks down the hideout of those bastards who thought it'd be a smart idea to take you away.

Well, he can't say they're dumb- after all, they just figured out the fastest way to an early grave.

And that's a fact you too know all too well, judging by the bloodcurdling screams echoing through the hallways leading to your cell. In fact, you're almost grateful for the blindfold over your eyes, as there's no doubt blood soaking the metal floors.

The screams slowly begin to die out, one by one, leaving only the dull thud, thud, thud of heeled metal soles headed straight for you. There's a screech of metal, then a metallic warmth surrounding you. The familiar scent of gunpowder and cedar cologne clings to your nose, and you nearly buckle into Boothill's arms, shivering and weeping, clinging onto his shoulders.

"It's alright, now," he coos, making sure to wipe the blood on his hands before scooping you into his arms. "I'm here, moon lily. I ain't goin' nowhere."

(And it wouldn't be me without just the slightest touch of suggestiveness so...)

Clean from the blood and gore, Boothill gently tucks himself under your chin, nuzzling his nose into your neck, trying to remind himself that you're still here, you're still alive, you didn't slip from his fingers yet again.

If you did, only the aeons know what would happen to him.

"You saved me yet again," you coo, rubbing at the crease in his brows. "My hero."

"Sure as fudge don't feel like one," he mumbles, arms wrapping even more tightly around you. "I almost lost you. Again. I swore it wouldn't happen again, but-"

"But nothing. You found me. I'm safe and sound 'cause of you." You kiss the top of his head, moving down to his face to pepper his cheeks and forehead with more light kisses. "My brave cowboy. I'm alive all because of you. I must be the luckiest girl in the world."

Boothill finally melts under your affectionate administrations, tilting his head to meet your lips in a sweet kiss.

But you're wrong. Boothill knows that if anything, he's the one who's the luckiest in the world. You don't hate him for letting you be taken away, nor do you cower from his bloodstained hands. Instead, you embrace him with your soft arms wide open, with your even softer lips pressing hard against his own, and warm hands that tangle though his hair to keep him closer when he tries to pull away and give you some air. He feels the luckiest when you allow him to press against you even tighter, giving him access to the deepest parts of you, letting him see your bashful face, hear your sweet gasps and moans as he comforts you in the best way he knows how.

Boothill will never ask for anything more. All he needs is for you to be right here in his arms, forever his beautiful, strong, resilient moon lily. Forever his.

[ikkyfics]

Rings

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: "Well, now that we have the rings... what else is on the list? Invitations? Music? Or can we just run away and get married tomorrow? You know I’d be up for it, right?"

Warnings: none

Part 2 of Marry Me

Masterlist

The wizarding jewelry store was a charming place, almost like a solid dream. Floating chandeliers glowed softly, casting colorful beams of light that danced across the display windows. Each piece on display seemed unique, as if it told its own story, shining in delicate shades of gold, silver, and platinum, with gemstones that pulsed lightly, as if they had a life of their own. You were holding hands with James, his fingers intertwined with yours, as he looked around with an almost childlike excitement.

"Well," he began, gently squeezing your hand as his vibrant blue eyes scanned the shop, "I think we need to find something that’s... perfect. Something that will make everyone know, without a doubt, that you’re mine."

You laughed, but felt the warmth rise to your cheeks. "James, I’m already yours. The ring is just... a detail."

He stopped in his tracks, gently spinning you so you were face to face. "Oh, love, it’s so much more than a detail. It’s the symbol of all this," he said, gesturing between the two of you. "Of me and you. Of all the times you made me laugh, of all the nights I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be, just because you were there. I want it to be the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen."

Before you could respond, a shop attendant appeared, an elderly wizard with a kind demeanor and a silver beard that looked like strands of light. "Ah, young lovers," he said with a warm smile. "Welcome to our shop. I’m sure we’ll find something as unique as your story."

James immediately got excited, beginning to describe what he had in mind. "Something simple, but... special. Maybe with our initials or some detail that has meaning. Oh, and that matches her hands," he said, holding up your hand and lifting it for the attendant to examine.

"Of course," the man replied, picking up a fine wand and gesturing to a nearby display. Small rings began to float, each with a unique glow. Some had stones that changed color slightly depending on the angle, others had small enchantments that made engravings appear and disappear with a touch.

"Look at this one," James said, pointing to a delicate gold band with a small stone that seemed to shine with the light of a tiny star. "It looks like your eyes," he added, smiling at you.

"James," you said, trying not to laugh. "I don’t need something that extravagant."

"Extravagant? This is just the beginning," he teased, pulling out another ring with small carvings that seemed to form a map when illuminated. "Maybe something that reminds us of that trip to Hogsmeade, when you finally said you liked me."

"I said I liked you because you were impossible to ignore," you replied, crossing your arms with an amused smile.

"And it still works today," he shot back, leaning in to steal a quick kiss.

In the end, the attendant suggested a personalized idea: a fine ring, with your initials engraved on the inside, accompanied by a simple spell that would make the initials glow lightly every time you were near each other. When he explained that the rings could also pulse gently, as a constant reminder of each other’s presence, you saw James' eyes light up.

"This is it," he said, without hesitation.

"Are you sure?" you asked, glancing at him sideways.

"Absolutely," he replied, holding your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours once more. "Because that’s exactly what you are to me, love. My constant presence. My reminder that, no matter where I am, it's with you I want to be."

The fitting process was almost magical. As soon as the rings were enchanted and dipped into the finishing solution, the final glow was revealed. James carefully held it, sliding the ring onto your finger just to "test" it.

"See? Perfect," he said with a side smile, his eyes locked on yours.

James held your hand firmly, even more excited after the ring’s approval. He couldn’t seem to hide the smile that lit up his face. "Well, now that we have the rings... what else is on the list? Invitations? Music? Or can we just run away and get married tomorrow? You know I’d be up for it, right?"

You laughed, shaking your head, but the warmth in your chest grew with his comment. "James, you know I want the full wedding. No running away. And besides, you promised you'd pick the music with Sirius, remember?"

He made an exaggerated grimace, letting out a dramatic sigh. "Oh, right. Because everyone trusts Sirius Black's taste in music. You know he’ll suggest something completely inappropriate, right? I bet he’ll want to play some Queen anthem for the entrance."

You raised an eyebrow. "And you wouldn't think that’s amazing?"

James tried to hide it, but the corner of his mouth betrayed a contained smile. "Maybe. But only because I’ll be too busy looking at you to hear anything."

The comment made your cheeks flush, and you turned your gaze away, pretending to study the shop windows around you. James didn’t miss the opportunity and leaned in a little, trying to catch your face again. "Hey, no point in hiding. I’ve said it before and I’ll repeat it until you believe me: there’s nothing in this world that makes me happier than seeing you like this. Than knowing that you’re mine."

You looked at him, a shy smile escaping before teasing him, "You always know what to say, don't you?"

"No," he replied sincerely, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Actually, I get kind of goofy around you. A walking disaster. But somehow, it always works."

He stopped abruptly, gently pulling you to a quieter corner of the street. "Seriously, love... you know how grateful I am for you, don’t you? For every second, every laugh, every moment. You make everything worth it. And these rings are just the beginning of everything I want to give you."

You felt your eyes begin to well up, but before you could respond, he leaned in, his fingers gently gliding to hold your face. The kiss he gave you was delicate, as if trying to convey every word he couldn’t say. When he pulled away, his smile was softer, but his eyes still shone brightly.

"Now," he began, resuming the intertwining of your fingers, "I think it’s time to find an excuse to celebrate this. How about lunch? Or maybe we stop by my parents' house to show them our choice? My mum’s going to want to know every detail, you know that."

You nodded, your heart full. "Yes, but only if you promise you’ll defend the choice if Sirius starts teasing."

James threw his head back, laughing, and kissed your temple quickly. "I promise. But who knows, maybe he’ll give in to the charm of these magical rings."

The two of you walked hand in hand through the busy streets of Hogsmeade, mentally planning the next steps and the visits you still needed to make. Every little detail seemed to bring more excitement and certainty that the future you were building together would be everything you had always dreamed of—and so much more.

[mumms-the-word]

Notes on a Caretaker

I find something about this note so fascinating. Every time I pick it up or scroll back around to it I have to sit with it and just...linger, trying to understand it.

So this is my attempt to break it down and sort through my thoughts about this note, which I think is so obviously from Solas. I think it hints not only to his spirit background, but also his perspective on the path he feels is set before him. Which, idk, is cool!

Mini analysis under the cut! Also a lot of Veilguard spoilers!

This note has a smear of paint on one corner: Have they always been here? There are beings in the Crossroads unknown even to the wise, though the most ancient ones make any domain their own. Certainly, this Caretaker belongs here now.

We’re led to believe this note must be from Solas because of the smear of paint. And I would argue the paint perhaps clues us in to when this might have been written. No doubt Solas was painting murals when he was running around as the Rebel Fen'Harel, since we see some of them in Trespasser, but I think he painted the murals in the Lighthouse after he left the Inquisition (in part because we have that last mural where he kills Flemythal, and he left his paint pallet in the music room after recreating the Inquisition murals there). So it could go either way, but...

I can just imagine Solas, lost in the throes of his regrets, painting his sins on the walls of the library and his memories of the Inquisition in the music room, finally noticing the Caretaker who has arrived, or perhaps was always there. Perhaps he pauses to consider the nature of the Caretaker, and the mystery of when it arrived. We find this note in the kitchen/dining area, where Solas still has a single place setting laid out for himself. So perhaps the Caretaker arrived to take care of him?

Or maybe this is a really, really old letter from when Solas first retreated to the Lighthouse and began to use it as his base of operations. How ancient is the Caretaker? Did they arrive to see to the Lighthouse during the days of the rebellions against the Evanuris, or did they arrive later? Did they arrive because they were drawn to the needs of dozens, hundreds of rebels and refugees, or drawn to its echo after they were gone? Which is it?

I personally go back and forth about it, but it's fascinating that the letter subtly supports both perspectives. Anyways!

I wonder what we look like to them. Need is a scaffold, and the needs of the living ever rise and fall upon it. Hunger, thirst, sleep... imagine the constant cacophony to one sensitive to such things.

The "we" suggests maybe this is a much older letter. I can see a much younger Solas leading his rebels to the Lighthouse and contemplating the nature of this Caretaker, worrying about how so many physical bodies in one space might affect a spirit sensitive to physical needs. But I can also see a much more recent Solas pondering this new (or new to him) creature, so I don't know.

Either way, "we" vs. "them." Solas is well and truly part of the living here, as opposed to viewing this all entirely as a spirit. It's like he's wondering what these spirit-born elves, or even mortals in general look like to a spirit like the Caretaker. A spirit whose focus is on needs, surrounded by these elves with physical bodies who now have very real, tangible needs. Hunger, thirst, sleep, things a spirit does not feel. But the Caretaker does, at least, sense these things in others.

The chorus of one person's needs must be a lot, but the cacophony of dozens, hundreds, as there would have been when the Lighthouse was in its prime? No wonder Solas has a moment of concern for this benevolent spirit.

Or am I too simple? Wants are fleeting; needs have deeper roots. Perhaps that's why I find this particular spirit's presence both comforting and disconcerting. The prospect that our heart's desire and our truest need could differ—or are even at odds—is hard to contemplate.

This. This is the most fascinating part of the note.

Or am I too simple? I think this is a hint, super early in the game, that Solas is a spirit. Spirits are the pure manifestations of emotion and thought. Complexity comes with personhood, with being part of the living in the tangible world. But spirits in the Fade (even before the Veil) are always pretty simple.

Solas is grappling with his nature here.

Wants are fleeting; needs have deeper roots. Perhaps that's why I find this particular spirit's presence both comforting and disconcerting.

I wonder if this is Solas struggling a bit with the unique experience of being both spirit and elf, undying but also very much alive, originally intangible but now physical. Wants come with being a spirit—spirits want to see beyond the Veil, if they're curious enough, or Cole as Compassion wants to help, he wants to look like the boy who died in the Spire. But here it's like Solas is suggesting that need is an intrinsically mortal or at least physical thing—something he didn't need to consider much before he had a body.

After all, spirits who don't have purely physical bodies don't seem to have the same needs. Like when Dorian talks with Cole about having a body, despite him not seeming to have physical needs:

Dorian: Do you need to eat, Cole? Or sleep? Cole: I thought I had to. But I don't. The Old Songs can pull me.

Or Blackwall suggesting that now that Cole is more human (if you take that path) the physical needs will likely come up:

Blackwall: So now that you've dealt with the templar, you're a real boy? Cole: Realer. Blackwall: Good enough. I suppose you'll stop looking into people's heads soon? And you might want to look into, I don't know, eating. Cole: Blech.

Often I think Solas struggles with where he stands, what he is, what he can be, what he should be as someone whom was first a spirit and then a person with a physical body. Short of dying, it sounds as though the process of going from spirit to elf is irreversible. He cannot return to the Fade as a pure spirit anymore. After the Veil, he can only return in dreams, at least until he finds ways of tearing through to the Veil to enter physically again.

But time and again he thinks and acts like a spirit with a simpler, focused nature rather than a complicated nature like a person might have. When he asks, Am I too simple? it feels like he’s acknowledging this. Is he too simple, too focused, too spirit to understand the experience of being fully, complexly mortal or physical?

The Caretaker’s presence is both comforting, because Solas knows that his (or others’) needs will likely be tended to, and yet disconcerting because it’s probably weird to even have those needs.

Ah but here we come to my favorite part.

The prospect that our heart's desire and our truest need could differ—or are even at odds—is hard to contemplate.

I’m sure this is hard to contemplate even for a normal person. How often do we struggle with knowing what we want isn’t always what we need? We may want the sugary cake, for example, but our bodies may need the healthier vegetables or fruits instead.

But going deeper, it’s easy to conflate needs and wants when it comes to abstract things. Like, say, vengeance, penance, atonement, or restoration.

Solas wants to repair the mistake he made thousands of years ago by creating the Veil, but he doesn’t need to do that. Yet in his mind, he treats it like a need, with roots so deep he can’t escape being bound up in them.

He wants to honor Mythal, who died because of his mistakes, who died again at his hand, but he doesn’t see that he can let go of that purpose, because somehow this want isn’t fleeting or fading like wants normally do. It sticks around. Therefore it must be more than want, right?

His heart’s desire is for the elven people to be restored, immortal, free, prosperous, and he throws his entire being into making that goal come true, that dream a reality. But he doesn’t see that his truest need is actually to be freed himself. Free from the purpose he’s given himself in the wake of Mythal’s death. Free from a path of vengeance that no one asked him to take, but that he feels obligated to walk.

His truest need, which he can’t see, because he can’t seem to sort through what is more want versus what is more need (and who can really, when they’re in the thick of things?), is not to cling closer to Mythal and honor his friend (or whatever it is they were), but to be freed from any and all entanglements with her.

He doesn’t want to let her go, but he needs to.

But without her around to release him, he clings to his plans to restore the elven people, restore her people, and hope that that will be atonement enough.

I think that’s why in the redemption ending, when we do see Mythal release Solas, he nearly collapses with this mixture of grief and relief. When he finally straightens up again, yes he’s hurting, but he’s the calmest he’s ever been in the entire game. As in, not tense, not plotting, not agitated. You get the sense that he can see or think with clarity now. Perhaps even breathe freely for the first time in ages.

And he finally sees that what he needs to do is not fix his mistakes, if doing so only causes more chaos and heartache and death for thousands or millions around him, but to seek atonement.

I love the line Rook can say when they’re trying to talk him down and make him bind himself to the Veil.

“[Making the Veil collapse] is what you want. Making amends isn’t about what you want.���

It doesn’t convince Solas, because he still doesn’t see removing the Veil as a want. He views it as a need. Not his need, but the world’s need. The world needs to be restored to the way Mythal would have wanted it, or so he believes.

I think that’s why Mythal has to release him before he can see everything clearly. She is the only one who can give him what he needs but does not what—freedom from her service.

It may not be everyone’s favorite choice, but I understand how we get here, especially since we find this letter so early in the game. Whether this letter is Solas from the distant past or the more recent past, it sets up a trajectory that we can trace all the way to the end of the game. And I just find that fascinating.

[inert-displacement]

Hey! Just wanted to. I guess speak on behalf of everyone. Something I am definitely in a position to do.

First, absolutely without a doubt, your word should be final when it comes to your body. Only you know what you want, and no-one else has the authority or the right to tell you what to do with it.

I think people might just be a little. Confused? I guess? Coz like you said, you don't take sexual satisfaction from gaining weight or maintaining a heavier weight. In itself, completely fine - gaining definitely isn't for everyone - but you do run a gaining blog. Using gaining tags. And post in a very pro-gaining way a lot of the time. And it kinda feels like you snap between being very pro- and very anti-gaining...suddenly. And often. Which can be a bit disorienting from an outside perspective.

If you dislike being skinny, also perfectly fine - but if you don't like gaining, it strikes people who do as quite an unusual avenue by which to address disliking being skinny.

To speak personally, it sounds like you might be experiencing some kind of body dysmorphia - not gender dysphoria, which sounds similar but is very different - where you dislike how you perceive yourself physically. It sounds like you're addressing that in a very intuitive and sensible way: changing how your body looks. But if you don't like how your body looks now either, it might be worth just chatting with someone with some professional experience about addressing it, coz it might run deeper than what your body looks like.

If you do like how your body looks now though, you just don't want to be involved in gaining: brilliant! Being heavier doesn't have to be a kinky thing: it's a kinky thing for us, but it's also just a completely neutral fact about a person.

What can happen, and I've seen happen before, is people can enter the gaining scene because they enjoy being a little heavier in a completely non-sexual way, but the people around them in their everyday lives are like. Vehemently against it. So they find communities online that support them. But the thing is, there's a middle ground between people who are totally anti-fat and. Y'know. Fetishists. It's what we talk about when we talk about the body positivity movement! If you're healthy and happy, it isn't for anyone else to make you feel bad about how you look. And there's a thriving online space for that as well! Hell, a lot of us are kind of part-and-parcel members in a non-sexual context.

I would say, in either case, the online gaining community might not be for you. We totally support whatever decision you choose to make, but if gaining fundamentally isn't your thing, we're ill-suited to help you get what you want from your body or environment.

Let me rephrase something. I completely love the idea of getting bigger and fatter. Makes me aroused every single time. But the actual eating part I can’t get aroused by like others can.

I enjoy getting bigger than what I was and at time it is very intoxicating and erotic. But being a cheerleader I’ve learned to become very vain with how I look because the culture I’ve been apart of is just very self deprecating.

I do enjoy this community it’s very lovely i just tend to get very down on myself sometimes and often very ashamed of myself.

Because I live in the south anything that’s sexually deviant is shameful. And I feel that this fetish is very deviant from traditional sexual behavior. So I often get conflicted about myself.

I have had this kink since forever, I used to shove pillows

In my shirt as a kid, blow balloons up in my shirt. And that was at a time when I had anorexia (ironic asf) but my relationship with food is better but I don’t want to be gluttonous or greed because as a kid I’d get yelled at for that!

Sorry for the long long long post but I hope this has cleared up a lot and makes my mindset more clear to all of you🫶🏻

[nananarc]

EXCUSE ME WHILE I RANT FOR A BIT

So anyway I finally started with the graduation project and, lemme tell ya, it was annoying. I mean I expected this, but it's still annoying.

The school and the mentor wants things to be of a certain aesthetic and standard so it can fit with the general public's taste and eventually it can be picked up by a publisher. it has to be commercial and easy to digest, for a lack of better words. Which is like, the opposite of essentially what i am as a person and as an artist.

So anyway I'll be doing Truyện Kiều again, illustrating the full book with better art this time. Here are some sketches I did:

Below is the mentor's very quick sketch for demo:

Which is. Ok cool, it's very traditional, Vietnamese fine art design and aesthetic. The thing that you see everywhere in books and media. The thing that is taught in fine art school. And it's also very HIM because he's a very prominent artist since a long time ago. I'm not talking about the difference in the era clothing tho because he demoed in Nguyễn dynasty while mine is of the Trần dynasty.

My style was criticized (politely) that the face doesn't look pretty, the nose is too prominent and big, the lineart is too scratchy and loose, and that I have to restrict the freedom in my lineart more.

Which is. Like. Pretty much all the things that i like about my art the most. I don't really like drawing "pretty" people, I wanna draw distinct and unique people. I like the fact that the nose is prominent because that's a very Vietnamese facial feature. Our nose is big, flat and flared. And I like it. AND I DIDNT EVEN DRAW IT THAT BIG. it's already stylized and stuff. The lineart is scratchy and spontaneous because that's how my ADHD brain works! And I like the freedom, the raw unfinished feel to it. And my way of scrawing is kinda similar to sculpting in a way that I like to put in a block of line or shape (yang) and then erase it and putting in more nothing space (yin). And I like Maximalism and Kitsch and Neo-traditionalism so I love to do things a bit crazy and new and filled with emotions.

My mentor comes from a very different generation, and a different field than me. He's very commercial, leaning more into minimalism, fine-art conservative and traditional aesthetic. WHICH IS THE OPPOSITE OF ME. Sadly we don't get to choose mentor cos there's only one lmao.

And also I don't understand why I have to aim for publishing in Vietnam too, because that's not where my target customer is. I'm a niche artist with limited customer base and they are international clients (who mostly pay better, treat you better, and appreciate your art more than the general public in VN do). Luckily I have a bachelor in business admin so I know how to do brand and marketing myself, othewise id just keep on trying to please everyone (flexing a little bit, but i was graduating with excellence and on the top 10 of my intake lmeo). Not to mention the fact that why do I even have to publish in the first place, because this is a school, it is a place to experiment, make mistakes, and learn. It's not a place to conform to the industry to make a living. If I wanna do that I would not be here and start working for a company already!

I understand it when they said that it would be a huge advantage if you can get published, but then again, that route is not for everyone, and it's not the only way to be an illustrator like they said. I have my own path to walk on, and I don't think they are aware that we even have those paths, because they are from a different generation. I mean, that's why I was struggling so much before to find a footing, because virtually no one here knows there are other paths! I had to dig things up myself through sweat, blood and tear.

Anyway I rant but i will keep trying to fight and do it on my own terms. They can't make me anyway. There's gonna be sticks and stones, but I mean, I can't physically make myself do something I do not wanna do. There's another option which is to drop it because I don't need the certificate anyway, but I wanna finish a big project of my own too.

[longagoitwastuesday]

Kind of endearing that despite their obvious strained dynamic Utahime and Gojo trust each other

[princeofyorkshire]

me to my mom 4 years ago: i’m bisexual

my mom today: so you still don’t know if you like boys or girls?

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 6: Dry Hump- James Potter

Summary: James Potter was your best friend, and he was unequivocally in love with Lily Evans. However, he has one secret he trusts only with you: he’s never kissed anyone.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, inexperienced James & experienced Reader, friends with benefits vibes, kissing/making out, dry humping, cumming in pants, teasing, nearly caught

Part 2 // Part 3

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

James Potter was your best friend. He had many best friends, including the other Marauders and fellow Gryffindors, but he was YOUR best friend and had been since the first year at Hogwarts. James was the one person you always ran to and shared all happy memories with; if you needed cheering up, he’d be the only one who could pull a smile to your lips. It had always been just the two of you until he became infatuated with Lily Evans.

It had been years of hearing about how wonderful Lily was, which you knew anyway as she was your friend. Finally, you convinced her to say yes to one date with James, even though she did wait until everyone was finishing their time at Hogwarts and about to graduate. He’d waited long enough, and you were thrilled to see him getting his dream date.

This was until he casually announced one day, “I’ve never kissed anyone”.

He’d mumbled it to himself under his breath. James had gone from pure exhilarated joy to fear and doubt at the weight he’d put on his shoulders for having to be the perfect date for Lily. You’d taken him to the Shrieking Shack to try and get away from everyone else so that James could blow off some steam, but all he’d done so far was sulk in his armchair and stare into the fire whilst waiting for Sirius and Remus to join after their lesson.

Then, out of the blue, he admitted his secret that he had yet to kiss anyone. A frown dawns on you as you turn away from the book in your hand to inspect the messy-haired Marauder next to you visually. “What?” you asked with a hint of uncertainty as if he was telling the truth, “How have you never kissed anyone before?” Your mind raced to all of the parties in the Gryffindor tower where most people, including yourself, had made out with others, but now that you thought about it, you’d never seen James lip-locked with anyone else.

It was James’ turn to frown as he looked at you blankly, “When would I have had time? I’ve just wanted to be with Lily, and she’s always said no when I’ve asked before. Anyway, I don’t see why you’re saying it in that tone; it’s not like you’ve been kissing loads of people”. You give James a tight-lipped smile to show that he was, in fact, very wrong with that statement. His eyes widen as he realises the truth, “Wait, you have? Since when?”

“James, how can you be shocked? I’ve kissed plenty of people before, especially during those parties with the fire whiskey that Sirius always steals for us. You wander off with the Marauders or fawn over Lily, and what am I supposed to do? Stand on my own? Absolutely not, I go and find some fun”.

Your best friend’s mouth drops open in shock. Still, he quickly covers it up by looking away grumpily, “Great, so I’m the only person in our year who hasn’t kissed anyone, and now, I’m going to take Lily out, and she’s going to refuse to see me again because I don’t know what I’m doing, we’re going to finish school, and I’ll never see her again, and I’ll die alone!”.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his over-the-top rant, shutting the book with a loud snap and facing him completely whilst still in your chair. “James, you need to chill out a bit; I’m sure it’ll be fine. Do you really think Lily’s been going around snogging loads of boys? I’m sure she’s just as inexperienced as you”.

James’ shoulders dropped in relief as he turned back towards you with hope in his hazel eyes, “Do you think so?”

Your face immediately gave it away that you’d been lying as you sighed, “Ok, I might have seen her making out with a Ravenclaw a year ago, but still, I wouldn’t worry about it! You’ll be excellent! You’re James Potter, the Gryffindor King, a founding Marauder and Gryffindor Seeker. You can sure as hell make out with Lily Evans correctly”.

The pretty Marauder smiled thankfully at your dramatic declaration, “That’s true, thanks, Sweetheart”. Relaxing back into your seat, the book returned to your hand, assuming the conversation was officially over. However, only a moment later, James is whining pathetically, “But what if I’m not good? What if I hurt her or lick her wrong or-”.

“Lick? Why are you licking her, James? I thought we were on about kissing?”

“We are! But you know, people use tongues and-”

“James, I don’t know what you want me to say; if you’re that petrified with kissing, why don’t we practice a little so you can stop freaking out”. It took you a couple of long seconds before the offer you’d just given him genuinely dawned on you. You weren’t sure why you had said it, expecting him to say no but wishing for him to calm down and thinking this was the only option.

James’ head snapped towards you, giving his full attention as he asked, “Wait, you’d do that?” He pushed himself up off the chair's arms, and his eyes were wide and hopeful again.

Lowering the book, you spoke slowly, “Yeah, sure. I mean, it’s just a kiss, and at least we’re friends, so no feelings have to be involved”.

“Yeah, that's a good point! Okay, right, so, um, how do we do this? Do I come over to you, or do we stand?”

Sighing at James, you stood abruptly, dropping the book and strutting to him with arms swinging. The marauder sits up suddenly, taking his feet off the stool he had been resting on as he stares up at you with wide eyes that you can see the whites of his eyes beneath his glasses. “What are you doing?” He questions uncertainly as you straddle his lap without a word, your knees resting on either side of his toned thighs, your fingers slipping around his neck and interlocking at the base of his skull.

“I’m going to kiss you, James. Is that alright with you?” You didn’t mean to sound sassy as you asked with a single raised questioning eyebrow, but you also needed to make sure that he was happy for this to continue.

Those two wide hazel eyes stared at your lips, licking his own to moisten as he slowly nodded, “Uh yeah, just tell me what to do.” A pang of sympathy rushed through your chest at seeing James becoming nervous, which was not usually a sight that you had to see as he was usually such a confident, happy person. You would have spent some time to explain that it was normal to be nervous during your first kiss, but you didn’t want to allow any more time for him to freak out, so loosening your intern locked fingers, you moved them to cup each of her freshly shaved cheeks and pressed your lips delicately against his. You wanted it to be quick enough that he didn’t even have time to tense, even though he did proceed to lock up as you moved back to assess his reaction.

“See, it’s not so scary. You’re supposed to enjoy this, James”. Thankfully, as your face lowered once more, he forced himself to take a steadying breath and relax the tension in his muscles as your lips caressed his.

They were softer than you’d anticipated, plump and smooth like a pillow and instantly, your eyes and his close. However, James surprised you by moving his first. His hand lifted and rested on your hip so gently that you hardly felt it until he gave your body a little squeeze to test the waters of how much he could get into the moment. So you rewarded him by pressing your face harder against his, lips beginning to move and rubbing against each other on instinct.

James even amazed himself with how naturally and quickly he could make out with you. Tilting your head, you deepened the kiss, nose pressing into his cheek so that you could smell his skin that had remnants of his aftershave, which was always spicy and woodsy. As the air became necessary, you pulled back enough to take deep, greedy breaths, now noticing he was doing the same thing but looking up at you with half-lidded eyes.

“So what did you think-”

James didn’t allow your sentence to finish as his other hand cupped along your jaw, pulling your face closer again until the two of you kissed with much more heat with the movements. His mouth opened wider to match how yours was moving against his; your heartbeat quickened as you leaned further into his tall, warm body, melting into his touch and kiss.

Then you wanted to take a risk and licked his bottom lip, which you were ultimately greeted with a praising deep groan of satisfaction that vibrated James’ entire chest and sent tingles straight to your core.

Ok, wow, you thought as James attempted and succeeded with his own lick back against your tongue; you were definitely getting turned on by this. As if he was reading your mind, James pressed harder on your hips, willing you to move down, which you did, your skirt pushing up on your thighs so that when you sat on his crotch, your panty-covered pussy was flush against the material of his trousers.

As one, the two of you pulled away from each other. Mainly because you were now sitting on his very hard erection and also because he knew you could feel his evidence of being aroused. You both stare at each other with wide, unblinking eyes, lips slightly swollen and the taste of his spit still on your tongue.

However, you didn’t want to stop and awkwardly sit back in your seat, and he wasn’t rushing to push you off, either. You were horny, and so was he. Yes, James Potter was your best friend, but that didn’t have to matter; you just wanted him to enjoy the moment and show that it wasn’t as scary as he thought.

Enough time passed, and if he didn’t want to continue, he would have said something by now, so you took the opportunity to lean back in, your thumb attempting to soothe him, stroking across his cheek in timid circles. As your mouths reconnected, your hips ground down on his crotch. You were hoping that he knew enough about anatomy to tell that the warmth from your pussy was a sign of arousal, wanting him to know you were just as turned on as he was.

You do it a few more times, rubbing back and forth with increasing pressure until James makes a pained noise that has you stopping altogether and checking in on him.

He’s looking everywhere but at you, as he apologises, “Sorry, it’s just these trousers are tight and rubbing me painfully”.

“You could just take them off”, you say once again, not thinking before you speak. James looks at you with dramatically wide eyes as he, too, realised what you’d just said. Quickly, you clarified, “I’m not saying that to have sex or anything; I just mean, we could kinda carry on doing what we are doing, but if your trousers are hurting, then just in your boxers”.

You’re surprised by his automatic response of a nod, yes, his arousal blocking all thoughts of Lily as he begins to undo his belt easily. Rising onto your knees to give him room, he pushed the offending material until his thighs were bare and his plaid boxers were on display, barely containing his length. Not wanting him to feel exposed, you lowered yourself once more, and both groaned at the contact, yours at a higher pitch as you could feel the entire outline of his cock against your cunt.

James was bigger than you’d thought and was currently pointing down his left thigh, so you angled your hips in this direction. Tilting your hips forward slightly, your clit grazed along his shaft, causing a hitch in your breath as it caused pleasure to pool in your abdomen, moisture slickening your hole with each movement.

You’re breathing just as heavily as he is, lips still moving against each other, exploring, tasting, needing more. You were kind of proud of him when he moved his face down your jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses and causing more pleasure to pulse through you. You were half tempted to rise onto your knees again to show him the evidence of your arousal that had soaked through your panties and onto his boxers, but you didn’t want it to stop.

As your fingers delved into his messy black hair to hold his face closer, he thrust his hips up against yours to add to his stimulation. He was still apprehensive, so he didn’t push too hard, but he rocked back and forth until his tip was pressed against your clothed folds. The muscular thighs beneath yours tensed with each thrust, the muscles defined from all his years of playing quidditch.

His hands remained in place, one on the opposite side of your jaw to where his mouth still kissed, and the other hand helped to move your hips back and forth in time with his own ruts. You’d never actually gotten off like this with anyone before. Usually, underwear would be removed at this point, and more direct contact could occur, but it was still exciting to have some barriers between you. The lace of your underwear was quite rough against your most sensitive area, especially your engorged throbbing clit. You were sure to be sore afterwards, especially with the amount of pressure you were rubbing against each other; with each passing second, the need to find completion made you both desperate.

As his lips found yours again, his tongue began to delve and explore the hollow of your mouth, along your palate and even over your teeth; your pussy began to clench, fire blooming in your core with the impending release.

Pulling back, your fingers moved to rest on his shoulders to hold on tighter as you quickly moaned, “Please don’t stop; I’m going to cum”.

James moaned huskily, out of breath, but both of his hands were now on your hips, moving both his hips and yours faster to find his orgasm. Resting your forehead on his, you both shared the same area, still tasting the other in your mouths, sweat beginning to coat your faces. You were sure you could feel his own wet patch against your arse cheek from where precum was dribbling from his tip and staining his underwear. 

“Ah, fuck- James!” your head tilts back as you finally orgasm, thighs shaking and pussy fluttering around nothing. However, just as you were beginning to come down from your pleasurable high, James suddenly grabbed you painfully, both arms wrapping around your waist as he sat up further on the chair, nearly knocking you off of him if it wasn't for his grip around your midsection. Reassuringly your arms wrapped around his shoulders as his face nuzzled into your chest, his body shivering as thick spurts of cum soaked his boxers.

His moans were like music to your ears and sounded slightly pathetic, making you cling to him more, attempting to run your fingers through his hair to calm the crazy style, but to no avail. Your pussy felt like it was on fire due to the rough stimulation and the untouched orgasm, but it felt so good you savoured the sensation for a few minutes whilst trying to catch your breath.

“There you go, Potter. Not only have you kissed a girl for the first time, but you’ve also made her cum”.

James laughs, loosening his grip slightly to look up at you, but then you both hear the worst noise imaginable: voices from a few floors below, especially those of Sirius and Remus. You scrambled to your feet, straightening your clothes and sitting back in your chair, picking up the book and opening it to a random page as James pulled up his trousers, both of you ignoring the bodily juices completely.

James just about had his feet back on the footstool before Sirius and Remus walked in, but both immediately halted and looked between you and James. It was Sirius who spoke first, eyes squinting in accusation, “Why do you both look so guilty right now? What did you do?”

[littlebirdy0301]

Trauma’s weird cause you can go Many Years thinking something was just a bit unfortunate but not out of the ordinary, like any other character-building but not Wrong negative experience. Just to one day think about it a little more critically & go “oh. oh that person did a fucked up thing. that should not have happened to me”

[2024skin]

Im not psychologist I have no right to diagnose anybody but I strongly suspect the trans people who claim they are in danger from problems and dangers that are scientifically impossible are caught in a persecution complex

[cherienymphe]

A Caged Bird (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, blackmail, stalking, abuse of power, hints of dacryphilia, slightly spoiler-esque

summary: Birds are best kept in a cage where one can see them...and where you know where they are at all times.

~

You thought that it was over when you won.

That’s what winning The Hunger Games meant, right? The psychological torture, the grueling conditions, and the fear that wouldn’t leave you until you finally left the arena was supposed to be over. You made it out through blood, sweat, and tears, and so your reward was to go home and reunite with your family and try your best to put the memories behind you.

Try your best to put him behind you.

So, why were you still being tormented?

When you first locked eyes with Coriolanus Snow, your first thought was how strikingly blue his were. Almost as if they weren’t real and had been specially manufactured in The Capitol for him, somehow. His hair, too, was just so much blonder than anything you’d seen in District 12, and again, you noted how so much about him seemed…artificial.

…but then he spoke…and the effect his voice had on you was very real.

“You don’t seem like you’re supposed to be here,” you’d said to him after stepping off of that train.

His response was expected, a charming chuckle leaving his pink lips, blond curls the perfect addition to his features.

“I’m not,” he slowly admitted.

The intensity behind his gaze whenever he so much as glanced at you was enough to make any girl’s heart race, and despite what you wished, you weren’t immune. He was beautiful—gorgeous as some of the other tributes and mentors liked to call him—and despite the initial intimidation, there was something about him that made you want to let your guard down.

…but he was your mentor…and a capitol citizen…and you were nothing more than his ticket to notoriety.

“Don’t you know who his dad was?” another tribute, one from one of the better districts, had said to you in a tone like you were stupid.

That was all the confirmation you needed, really.

…but he’d hopped onto the truck with you and gotten into that cage with you and brought you and your district mate food. He gave you poison to use against the other tributes. He wanted you to appeal to the audience so he’d have the funds to send you supplies. It was hard to decipher what was purely for show and what was just because he wanted you—and him by extension—to win. Perhaps, they were one in the same though, and it was impossible to have one without the other. Maybe it didn’t matter his reasons behind his desire to have his tribute win.

Maybe all that mattered was that you’d win.

…but that was when you thought winning meant you’d be free.

Coriolanus Snow was your best chance at winning, and so when the rebels rigged the arena, you didn’t hesitate to stay behind and save him. It wasn’t even a question in your mind because mentor or not, he was hurt, and you had to believe that that one fluke was not your only fighting chance. You couldn’t allow yourself to believe that in saving him, you’d allowed freedom to pass you by.

“You saved me,” he told you, a gentle brush of his handkerchief under your eye to catch your tears. “You saved me, and I am going to get you out of here.”

You had no idea then that he meant out of the games…and to him.

It was that flickering moment of doubt where you wondered if you could actually win, and you recalled what you’d said to him earlier about believing you could, how much you needed him to actually believe it. Now, you were the one doubting, and he could see it, blue gaze flicking over your face and soaking in the fear and uncertainty, because if you couldn’t win…

You’d die.

A lingering gaze and a tense atmosphere, and you felt yourself pulling back, realization hitting you as to just what you were about to let happen. It was hard to decipher who overstepped first, but you couldn’t allow yourself to get wrapped up in something that was only ever meant to be strictly professional. Coriolanus was your mentor, and you were his tribute.

That was all.

You didn’t know then the full lengths he went to just to ensure your victory. How could you? You were too busy trying to survive, trying to fight off rabid tributes and teenagers driven mad with the sole desire to just live. It was all so unfair and angering, and you were sure that with less focus, you might’ve gone insane too. You didn’t have the luxury to worry about your eerily handsome mentor and whatever ulterior motives he might’ve had to see you beat this thing.

So, when you did win, all you could feel was relief. All you could focus on was your family and their faces when you’d ultimately reunite with them. All you could even entertain were thoughts of pushing this very real nightmare to the back of your mind for as long as you possibly could. Initially, you didn’t even notice that you weren’t immediately reunited with your mentor when they crowned you as the winner and got you out of there.

At least, not until you came face to face with him in your own district.

“I thought they’d killed you. I didn’t know if my actions had come back on you too,” Coriolanus told you in a secluded corner, the loud music drowning out his words and the cover of darkness hiding your faces.

Those beautiful pale curls were gone, and any thought that so much of his beauty relied on his golden locks was gone too with one drink of him. He was still the same handsome boy that mentored you, the same one who’d garnered the nickname ‘gorgeous’ among the other tributes. Up on that stage, you’d been thrown to meet a familiar gaze, your harmonious tune pausing for half a second as he met your shocked stare with an expression of his own you couldn’t place, pink lips curved upwards ever so slightly.

Any question of how and why he was here had disappeared as you registered his words. Confusion filled you as you stared at him, a slight frown between your brows as you wracked your brain for how that could possibly make sense.

“Why would they kill me…?” you slowly asked him, and you and the shadows were all that was privy to his confession.

The water bottles, the handkerchief, and the snakes—even the poison. Coriolanus had cheated to secure your victory, broken rules that plucked him out of The Capitol and dropped him here in your very own district as a Peacekeeper. The shock you felt that your victory was far from a fair one warred with the confusion you felt as to why he’d risk everything just for you to win.

If you’d lost fair and square—as you probably should have—there was no doubt in your mind that he’d be safely tucked away in the lavishness of The Capitol instead of lingering about in some rundown excuse for a bar in lowly District 12. If he knew what awaited him should his treachery be discovered…then why chance it? Nothing about your brief tutelage with him could justify what he’d risked and ultimately lost.

You wanted to ask him why, but something in you was afraid of the answer.

That almost kiss—a kiss you hadn’t thought about in months—suddenly came to mind, and even though you didn’t ask him why, something in you knew why even if you wanted to deny it. It was there in the dim lighting and rowdy atmosphere of some rundown building that every minor interaction didn’t start to feel so minor.

Every brush of his hand against yours as he reached for you, the unsettling way he seemed to watch you in that short time that you’d simply written off as concern for his tribute, and the ruthless desire to see you out on the other side of the arena. The kiss that never was only seemed like a lapse in judgement to you then, but in this moment, you had suspicions that it was very much intentional.

You swallowed, realizing that in that brief internal introspection, Coriolanus hadn’t taken his eyes off of you once.

“Did they send you to District 12?” you finally asked him.

You didn’t know what gave you away. Perhaps your tone, maybe your face, or maybe your eyes weren’t as secretive as you’d like to believe. Either way, something about your visage and demeanor gave the blond man pause, head tilting just a tad as those baby blues glinted with something you didn’t recognize but you know you didn’t like. He studied your face before coming up with the answer he probably thought you wanted.

“Of course.”

You didn’t know if you believed him.

…and Coriolanus could tell.

You’d played enough cat and mouse games in the arena—you never thought you’d have to play them in your own home too.

Starving off the affections of some boy in your district wasn’t hard or uncharted territory. Even spurning the forbidden advances of a Peacekeeper or two wasn’t unheard of, but Coriolanus was different. He wasn’t some average Joe turned cop. He was born and raised in The Capitol with a powerful father, and even though the man had been taken before his time, your former mentor still had been brought up with the kind of influence and reach and mindset that surpassed the average Peacekeeper.

They were followers—controlled by The Capitol and tasked with maintaining order. Most were no more than dumb brutes, mindlessly following orders without question, simple enough to be bribed and swayed. If Coriolanus’ actions had shown you anything, it was that he was not a follower. He did what he wanted and played by his own rules, and it was how you found yourself hunted by a gaze you thought you’d left behind in the arena.

Since the discovery of your former mentor’s presence in your district, you never felt alone.

Every walk to trade for food felt shadowed, every footstep home was accompanied with an echo, and a sweep of your eye over the crowd as you played an instrument or sang a tune was rewarded with a familiar blue one that made your heart freeze. You were forced to ignore it no longer when a single rose was left for you on the doorstep, your ma’s gaze questioning as she held it out to you.

You didn’t know where or how he got it, but you only cared about giving it back.

“I can’t accept this,” you told him, gaze steady but fingers trembling as you held it out to him.

It was raining, and the cover over your heads sheltered you from the downpour, but it did little to drown out the sound of it. Coriolanus simply stared at the flower for what felt like too long, making no moves to take it from you, and you swallowed. His blue gaze zeroed in on the action before it lifted to your face.

“…and why not?”

“Because I think it means something different to you than it does to me.”

Your response was swift, and you watched him sigh, eventually reaching out to finger the flower like he did that day before he’d proceeded to put it behind your ear. He finally took it, and just like that day before the games, it found its way behind your ear once again. The only change this time was the shudder that traveled down your spine, and the apprehension you felt when his gaze met yours.

For the longest time, the only sound was that of the rain, a few stray drops making it’s way onto your face and clothes due to the wind. If the man before you still had the locks you’d met him with, they would’ve been rustling with the breeze, right now. Both of you were very still, or maybe it was just you—nervous and fearful of how he’d respond. He briefly looked past you, eyes glinting briefly before they hardened once again, his pink lips pressed together as he regarded you.

“…and if it does?”

He continued when you frowned.

“Mean something different to me than it does to you,” he elaborated, and you blinked.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to gather your thoughts.

“I know…that I’m only standing here, now, because of you,” you slowly started, watching him push his shoulders back. “I won because of you, I know that, but-.”

“Exactly,” he cut you off, making your lips part. “You won because of me…and everything I sacrificed was to make sure you won.”

“…but I didn’t ask you to do that!”

You felt…cornered, somehow, because on the one hand, yes. You did owe so much to the man before you, but at the same time, what did you owe specifically? Your attention? Your affection? Whatever he deemed an appropriate compensation? When you saved his life in the arena that day, and he vowed to save yours in return, you didn’t understand the full ramifications of the deal you were agreeing to.

“I saved your life, and you saved mine, and I’m sorry for the things you felt the need to risk, but that’s where it ends.”

The cold from the rain didn’t faze you nearly as much as the heat from his gaze boring into your back.

You wanted to believe that your lack of confrontation was what led you to the predicament you found yourself in. After all, things between you two had held too many ‘what ifs’ and lingering feelings and questions. You liked to hope that telling the man in no uncertain terms that your relationship should never and would never progress beyond anything professional would fix things.

You never would’ve guessed that your bout of confidence would only prove to make things worse.

“My ma doesn’t even know any rebels, and you know that.”

You’d whispered the words so quietly, throat too choked up to speak any louder as you tearfully stared Coriolanus down, your words only intended for the two of you. Your back was pressed to the doorway as he stood before you, a foot or two of space between you as other Peacekeepers did their duty to search your house as thoroughly as possible. The reason you’d been given was suspicion of treason—to the shock of your ma—but both you and the handsome man before you knew the truth.

“One can never be too sure. It’s always those you least expect.”

His cool response only made you look away, a few tears escaping.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You won, you were free, so why did it still feel like you were in the game…except a much more dangerous one this time? You could feel his eyes on you as you watched man after man rifle through you and your ma’s things, your younger sister not home to witness this. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him take a step towards you—just one, but one was enough to make you flinch.

You still didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him though.

“Unbearable,” he quietly said. “…not able to be endured…or tolerated.”

You swallowed.

“Not to be confused with hard—requiring a great deal of endurance or effort.”

Another step towards you.

“To find something unbearable means that you quite literally cannot stomach it any longer. It forces a change to come, forces something to…give,” he whispered.

Your gaze was still focused ahead, but his words made you blink, made your heart sink, and you swore that he knew that.

“I can make things incredibly unbearable for you…and your family.”

You straightened at that, finally looking at him with a venomous gaze and a heaving chest. Coriolanus reached up to pick at your shirt, removing a piece of grass from it, and you watched him inspect it before turning his blue eyes back onto you. They lingered on your own eyes before lowering to your lips, his own twitching so subtly you might’ve missed it if you were anyone else.

“Or I can make sure you’ll be taken care of, looked after as if you were my own…” his gaze met yours again. “It’s entirely your choice.”

You two stared at one another for an infuriating amount of time before he let out a sharp whistle, telling the other men that nothing seemed to be here and to move on. His wording was not lost on you, and you crossed your arms over your chest. Coriolanus was the last to walk out, and despite the feel of his heavy gaze, you didn’t look his way the entire time.

Your ma commented on the strangeness of the whole ordeal, but nothing about it was strange to you. It was all very calculating and sinister actually, and while you grew up hearing countless talk of running away and living off the grid, you were never more tempted than in this moment…but you were not alone. Your ma was sickly, and your sister was too young.

…and if you left, you could only guess what you’d be leaving your family susceptible to.

Your future seemed inevitable no matter how much you tried to find a way out of the path set for you.

The first night you slept with Coriolanus Snow, it was storming just like that day you’d attempted to give him back his flower. You’d cried for a good three hours before, feeling helpless in the aftermath of another so-called inspection from Peacekeepers—this one much more destructive. The only light that night came from the brief flashes of lightning, and the sound of the rain drowned out the reluctant gasps to leave your lips.

Hands much softer than you ever expected trailed down your frame, curving over your hips and dipping underneath your thighs. The blond man’s lips rarely left your skin, kissing whatever part of you that came to mind, nose gently grazing you as he did and pulling shudders from your frame. It was a foreign feeling to be so heated and afraid at the same time.

Under the cover of darkness, his fingers intertwined with your own and his hips were flush with yours. The feel of him inside of you was much more jarring than you thought it would be, choked deep breaths leaving your parted lips as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. His thrusts were slow, the complete opposite of what you expected, and you didn’t know if you liked that better or worse.

Every kiss felt wrong, like you were betraying yourself, but in the same manner, they also reminded you of that first day you met. You thought about when you stepped off of that train, and that smooth voice escaped those pink lips, and your stomach flipped no matter how much you pretended it didn’t. The person you were that day wanted to throw your head back and welcome the little nips he left along your skin.

The person you were, now, wanted to crawl inside of your skin.

This man had stalked you to the highest degree, following you all the way from The Capitol just to collect on the young woman whose survival he ensured. The things he’d risked and ultimately lost, he placed the weight of on your shoulders as if you were responsible to compensate for that somehow. As if it was your duty to make his sacrifices worth it.

When he pulled you into his lap, resting on him with arms circled around your waist, it was your turn to press your face into the area where his neck and shoulder met. His fingers dancing along your skin made you shudder, and that just made the tears collect more because you didn’t want to enjoy this, but your body and your brain didn’t seem to be in alignment.

When you were forced to come around him, you saw stars, and you were positive your nails left marks on his back.

You didn’t really think that no more trouble from Peacekeepers was worth the figurative collar around your neck. The abundance of food and supplies might have been, if only to just see the smiles on your ma and sister’s faces, but even then, when you found your back pressed to Coriolanus’ chest as he drove his cock up into you, you wondered if it was actually worth it.

Your ma would say no, that you knew for sure, but you supposed it wasn’t her call to make.

After all, the alternative was psychological torment and worst-case scenarios you didn’t even want to entertain.

“Would you have had her arrested?” you quietly wondered one night.

The sheet was clutched to your chest, and you were facing the wall, still unable to look him in the eye directly afterwards. You’d never been able to, feeling used and low and indefensible. You tried not to dwell on the feel of his fingertips tracing patterns into your shoulder, his cool breath hitting your skin as he exhaled.

“I mean…would you have…framed her somehow? Found some justification for it?”

You didn’t know why you were asking, certain you wouldn’t like the answer, and as you predicted, you felt your throat tighten the longer the silence stretched. Against your will—like many things you’d been doing as of late—a few tears escaped, and even before he answered, you knew what you were going to hear.

“Yes,” he confessed, just as quietly.

You squeezed your eyes shut, subtly wiping your face.

“I sacrificed so much for you to win, and not just because your win was my win…but because I wanted to see you win,” he murmured, placing a kiss to your back. “…because I wanted you.”

You knew that, but having it confirmed so plainly was disturbing.

“…and when I eventually make my way back to The Capitol, as we both know I will, I’ll still want you.”

Your stomach sank at that, and for the first time, you turned to look at him while still trembling in the aftermath of what had quickly become a nightly occurrence. His gaze was still focused on where your back had been, and when his eyes flitted up to connect with yours, you didn’t have the words to convey how you felt about what he was insinuating.

“In The Capitol, you’ll have access to things you could never even imagine…and you could send those same things back to your family,” he told you, reaching up to touch your face.

When you moved to sit up, he stopped you, a firm grip on your arm. Coryo—as he liked for you to call him—fixed you with a look that you knew all too well. It was the look he gave you when you tried to come up with any excuse as to why you couldn’t meet with him. It was the look you received when you briefly forgot the power dynamics here, turning away from him and attempting to push him away.

It was a look that told you not to fight the inevitable.

“I want you there with me.”

His tone left no room for argument, and there was so much conviction in his voice that the thought of arguing seemed legitimately draining. You simply stared at him, eyes glassy, and he stared back, waiting for verbal confirmation of what you both knew was going to happen, anyway. You had no choice in the matter, you never did, and for a brief horrifying moment, you almost wished you were a lone orphan who didn’t have to look out for anybody but yourself.

That thought did make tears spill over.

It was a horrible thing to think, but your loved ones were being used against you, and you knew that your ma—and your sister if she were old enough to comprehend these things—would never want this for you. Coryo sat up with you, a hand resting on your cheek as he gazed at you, a thumb brushing the tears away. It wasn’t meant to be comforting.

Nothing he did was ever meant to be comforting.

“I want you there with me,” he repeated.

You wondered what someone like you would possibly do in The Capitol.

“I don’t belong there,” you whispered, a poor attempt to get him to change his mind.

His response was swift and clipped.

“You belong with me.”

When he pressed his lips to yours, it was expected that you would kiss him back. His thumb brushed along your skin as you did, a low hum sounding in the back of his throat that quickly escalated into a groan. His free arm snaked around you, and your last attempt at resisting proved futile, so you let him lay you down.

Sex with Coriolanus was a maddening experience.

You didn’t want it, and your brain didn’t want it, but it was as if your body was its own separate entity running on hormones and animal instinct.

When he rested his full weight on top of you, you shuddered for a multitude of reasons—one of which you didn’t want to acknowledge. When he slid his hand between your breasts and down to your stomach, your back arched, chest pressing up and into his. When he pushed into you all torturously slow as he always did, you involuntarily held your breath, shaking at the feel of his hips connecting with yours, the length of him fully sheathed in your warmth.

You were terrified of him, so that was why you opened up for him like those budding roses he used to carry around, but in doing so, you made yourself vulnerable beneath him. You made yourself more susceptible to his kisses and his touch and that maddening voice that knew just how to get its way. He wasn’t a very talkative man when he was inside of you, much more content with letting his actions speak for themselves, but tonight was different.

“Look at me,” he whispered, curving his hips into yours. “Look right at me.”

You did, and while you didn’t know the specifics of the psychology behind this, you knew that looking into the eyes of your tormentor while in the act couldn’t be good.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he breathlessly told you, nose brushing against yours with every thrust.

You could hear that it was starting to rain again, and you pressed your hands into the small of his back, trying to ground yourself in some way—trying to have control over something, anything. Tears kissed your eyes, and you swore—you swore—that something in those blues of his twinkled. It sparked something in his gaze, and in his psyche, his thrusts becoming more powerful and making you gasp, nails pressing into his skin.

He only looked especially satisfied when the tears spilled over.

When he came inside of you, and you around him, you swore you saw stars.

You even thought you saw snow.

[lemoncrushh]

bad idea

short lil summary: harry styles is back from uni and he looks better than you remember. problem is, he's your ex's brother.

warnings: smut, fingering, oral sex, dirty talk, multiple orgasms 18+ ONLY!

word count: 7k+

a/n: it's almost 4:30 am and i just finished this lol. no need to wait, right? hope you enjoy!

Twelve years. Twelve years you’d been in love with David Styles. Ever since that day in the middle of your sophomore year of high school when he’d shown up as a new student in your Geometry class. Immediately, you’d recognized how cute he was - much cuter than any boys you’d known. And when he’d sat down across from you, and Mrs. Jacobs had asked him a question, to which he’d replied in a British accent, you were a goner.

But your love then had only been the unrequited kind. He was nice enough. He was never mean to you or talked down to you. In fact, you could even say you were friends, albeit the “at-school” kind, not the kind who hung out outside of school.

And you had been fine with that, for the rest of high school. He’d had girlfriends, most of them much prettier than you considered yourself to be. David was outgoing, popular. So you’d just resolved to being happy with whatever it was you were.

That is, until last year when fate took a twist, and you’d somehow become more than friends. You’d run into David at a mutual friend’s party and hit it off. You could say it was as if you’d picked up where you’d left off in high school, but that would be a lie. You hadn’t seen David since graduation, and you’d doubted you had even been on his mind. But he’d been on yours. You hadn’t stopped thinking about him.

The breakup had not been pleasant. That is to say, it hadn’t been mutual. After dating for several months, David decided it was time to see other people. You took that to mean he was already doing so, and was finally ready to let you go. You’d cried for days, unable to sleep or eat. The love of your life had broken your heart and crashed your dreams.

You think it was Marcie, or maybe your friend Deliah who finally got you out of bed and out into the world again. Though you hadn’t dated anyone since David, you had begun to feel much better about yourself, and realized there were other fishes in the sea.

Going to this party at Trevor’s loft hadn’t been your idea. But Marcie was seeing some guy named Ian who happened to know Trevor, and she insisted you come along. While you didn’t really know Trevor well yourself, he had been part of David’s circle of friends in high school. He apparently now owned a loft in the city that housed a bar. After some persistence, you finally agreed to go, hoping to God David wouldn’t show up.

The drinks were flowing, the chatter filling the room as you stood beside Marcie and Ian in a conversation about who knows what. For the last half hour, your eyes had been scouring the loft for your ex. Not because you wanted to see him, but because you didn’t. And if you got so much as a glimpse of him, you had already planned out your exit.

Trevor had greeted you at the door, welcoming most everyone who entered before making the rounds and making sure all hands were holding beverages. Deliah had come as well, with her long-time boyfriend Shane and they were currently at the bar for their second round.

“Ready for another?” Ian asked Marcie, noticing her glass was nearly empty.

“Sure,” she beamed at him.

“What about you, Y/N?”

“Oh, um, no…not just yet,” you replied. “I think I’ll make a stop at the ladies’ and then maybe walk around a bit.”

With a nod, Ian took your empty glass and you made your way to the restroom. Once you’d freshened up, you decided to make the rounds and check out the rest of the loft. You liked the ambiance - the exposed brick with industrial lighting and chrome countertops. Loud rock music permeated through the sound system, thumping through your veins. As you turned left, you noticed another extension with tables along the walls. Several people sat with their drinks in hand, chatting. Your eyes scanned the perimeter, taking in the various framed vintage posters, and you were just about to turn around when a set of male eyes caught your attention. They were staring right at you, a hand grasping a glass of beer. When you gave a gentle smile, he smiled back, full lips curling up to expose a set of dimples.

He was cute. Really cute. But probably too young for you. While his handsome features adorned a bit of facial hair, he still had a baby face. He wore a plaid button-down, and a cap set backwards on his head. He was probably some frat boy, you mused, barely twenty-one.

You saw him bite his lip as his gaze roamed down your body. To escape the feeling it gave you - chills, the good kind, right down to your core - you thought turning around and heading back the way you came would be the best idea. But fate wasn’t having it as you bumped into someone, nearly spilling the drink in his hand.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed over the Bon Jovi song that currently played through the speakers.

“It’s okay,” the guy chuckled. “I was trying to go around you but you turned. No harm done.”

You smiled with a sigh, grateful that he wasn’t an asshole. As you made your way back to the main part of the bar, you considered taking a sneak peek at the frat boy, but decided against it.

“Hey!” Deliah called out to you when you strode up to the bar. Wedging herself between you and another woman, she leaned into your ear. “Did you see him?”

“See who?” your eyes popped. “David’s not here, is he?”

“No. His brother Harry is though.”

Blinking several times, realization came to you. You’d forgotten David even had a brother. Harry had been younger than the two of you, a freshman when you were seniors. By the time you and David had become an item, his little brother had gone back to the UK.

“He just got back from college,” Deliah added. “Or uni as they call it over there.”

“He’s back from England?”

“Yeah. Apparently he’s super smart, got some kind of masters or something. He’s already gotten job offers both here and there.”

“How do you know all this?” you chuckled.

Deliah shrugged with a wink. “I’ve heard things.” Then she leaned forward again. “No, actually I saw him come in, and I thought he looked kind of familiar. I asked Trevor who he was.”

“Oh,” you nodded. Though Deliah had gone to your high school as well, she was two years younger than you, and you hadn’t really known each other then. You’d finally become friends after school. But it made sense why she would have recognized Harry since they were closer in age. You doubted you would recognize him. In fact, you hardly remembered what he’d looked like.

“Anyway, he looks really good now,” Deliah continued, smiling sheepishly, somewhat answering your inward question.

“Really?” you quirked a brow. “Where is he?”

“I saw him go that way, soon after he got here,” your friend gestured to the other area you’d just returned from. “But I haven’t seen him since.”

Just then, Deliah’s boyfriend came up behind her and poked her in her sides, making her squeal.

“Shane, you dork!” she exclaimed, playfully slapping him.

“Hey, I thought you said you wanted to do shots,” Shane smirked.

“Oh, I do! Y/N, go get Marcie and Ian so we can do them together!”

Turning your gaze around the bar area, you didn’t see your friends, so you decided to make your way to the other side. The cute frat boy was still sitting in the same spot, although he seemed to be interested in something on his phone. You found Marcie and Ian in the far corner, and you waved them over.

“We’re about to do shots,” you announced.

“Oh God, I don’t know if I wanna get shitfaced tonight,” argued Marcie.

“I’ll do one,” said Ian.

Marcie rolled her eyes, then grabbed your arm. “Okay, fine, let’s do one as a group. But I can’t promise anything else.”

You smiled at her, looping her arm through hers. Before you turned, you caught the frat boy staring at you again.

“Alright, we’re all here,” you cheered when you met back up with Deliah and Shane who immediately handed you a shot glass filled with golden liquid.

“Ugh, we’re doing Cuervo, seriously?” whined Marcie.

“Would you rather the harder stuff?” you quipped. “I thought you were a lightweight.”

Giving you a face, Marcie accepted her shot glass and on the count of three, you all swallowed your tequila. You were the only one who didn’t grab a lime wedge, however, because just as you lowered your glass, your eyes were glued to the tall man who’d just walked in.

“Motherfucker!”

Deliah glared at you in question as Marcie muttered, “Oh shit!”

“What’s wrong?” asked Ian.

“Her ex.”

You immediately thought the tequila would make its way back up as you sat there squeezing your glass. Marcie was kind enough to take it from your hand before you broke it.

“Did you know?” you swung to face Deliah.

“Me? No! Why would I?”

“Because you said his brother’s here,” you gritted your teeth. “And Trevor obviously knows both of them.”

“I swear, I didn’t,” Deliah shook her head. “I know it sounds stupid, but I didn’t even think to ask.”

You groaned as you watched David stop to chat with people, a blond on his arm. Damn, he still looked good, too.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N!” Deliah cried.

“It’s not your fault,” you sighed. “I just…I gotta get outta here.”

“Do you want us to drive you home?” asked Marcie. She and Ian had been your ride.

“No,” you argued. “You shouldn’t have to leave for me.”

Marcie sat up straight. “You know what I think? I think you should stay, show him his presence doesn’t bother you. You shouldn’t have to leave either just because his ass showed up!”

“Yeah!” Deliah agreed.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. I do need some air though.”

Rising from your stool, you felt Marcie squeeze your hand before you made your way through the crowd. That one shot was already getting to you, making you light-headed, your temples pounding and your skin hot. Or maybe that had simply been David’s doing.

Slipping past the line at the bathroom, you found the glass doors that led to a deck, pushing them open, the warm air hitting your face as the music was immediately muffled. The area was small, only a couple of tables and outdoor sofas which were occupied, but that was just as well. Running to the railing, you gasped, prepared to hurl the contents of your stomach. Instead, you took several deep breaths, trying to calm your nerves.

Fuck him for coming here! You cursed to yourself. My first night out and he has to show up!

You heard his voice before you saw him. “Hi.”

Turning around, you were met with the cute guy with the backwards snapback. Flustered, you fiddled with the long necklace around your neck. “Oh. Hi.”

For the first time, you noticed he had tattoos peeking from underneath his shirt on his chest, as well as some on his arm where the sleeves were rolled up. He seemed to stare at you again, even longer than he had from his table inside, almost as though he was trying to speak to you telepathically. Finally, he opened his mouth.

“Do I know you? You look really familiar to me.”

“No, I don’t believe so,” you said. “I’m Y/N.”

His lips spread into a charismatic grin, his dimples appearing again. Then he held out his hand. “I’m Harry.”

You felt your stomach plummet to your feet. Of fucking course. Harry Styles. David’s brother. You should have known.

God damn it.

Standing before him now, you could see the resemblance - the sharp jawline, the straight nose, the way his eyebrows perfectly framed his eyes. Only David had blue eyes, and Harry’s appeared to be green. And David didn’t have those dimples, nor any tattoos.

Obviously Harry didn’t know who you were. Deciding not to let your shock or disdain be known, you shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Harry.”

“You as well. I um…saw you earlier…inside. You seemed to be…looking for someone.” As Harry said the words, he stepped to your right, leaning his elbow nonchalantly against the railing, his gaze never leaving your face.

“No, I wasn’t,” you conveyed.

“That’s too bad. I was kinda hoping it was me.”

Feeling the color rise to your cheeks, you quickly looked away and chuckled. So he was a flirt. Alright.

“I see,” you smirked. “Sorry to disappoint you, Harry. I was just checking out the rest of the bar.”

“Hmm,” he nodded. “Find anything you like?”

You rolled your eyes at his second attempt at a flirty joke. “Is this your usual method?”

“Method?” He raised a brow.

“For pursuing women. You seem pretty sure of yourself.”

Harry shrugged, “I thought confidence was key.”

Letting out a louder chuckle, you shook your head. “Stop.”

“Only if you let me buy you a drink first,” he grinned.

You stared at him with pursed lips. He was still really cute, you had to admit. And so what if he was your ex’s brother. He had no idea who you were. And you were already enjoying the attention. With a sigh, you licked your lips and shrugged. “I suppose I can allow that.”

You caught the twinkle in Harry’s eyes under the light glow of the outdoor string lights as his dimples deepened in his cheeks.

“Uh, you want it out here, or…”

“No, let’s go back inside,” you suggested.

Harry held the door open for you as you made your way back inside. The chill of the air conditioning brought goosebumps to your skin, but it felt nice, especially on your face which you were certain was still flushed. When you stopped and turned slightly to address Harry, he bumped into you.

“Oop, sorry,” he said in your ear, his hand resting on your hip. You noticed immediately how warm it felt, a spark igniting from within.

“‘S okay,” you smiled. “I was just gonna ask if you’d like to sit at the bar, or did you prefer a table?”

“I have no preference, love,” he replied. “You lead the way.”

After Harry’s hand slid up from your hip to your lower back, you headed for the bar, a bit relieved to find your friends gone. You found a lone empty stool near the corner which Harry insisted you take.

“What’ll you have?” you heard him ask, his breath in your ear.

“Tequila shot,” you answered.

“Really?” Harry raised a brow.

“Yeah, anything wrong with that?”

“No,” he smirked. “Just surprised is all.”

“Hm, well I feel like letting loose. Actually, better make it two.” Flipping your hair off your shoulders, you gazed around the bar. No sign of David yet. You hoped he was nowhere near.

Harry placed the drink order, surprising you this time by ordering two shots for himself as well. As soon as the bartender laid out the row of glasses, the couple who was next to you got up, freeing one of the stools for Harry. Sitting down, he smiled at you, taking one of the shot glasses and raising it. You grabbed one for yourself, not forgetting a lime wedge this time, and mirrored his grin.

“Cheers,” you said as you clinked your glass against his before downing the warm liquid.

Harry did the same, swallowing both shots in record time. Crossing your legs, you swiveled on your stool before licking your lips seductively. With a smirk, Harry eyed you.

“You gonna take that second one, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you playfully rolled your eyes. “Give me a minute. Clearly I don’t move as fast as you.”

“Seems to me you do,” he remarked as he watched you lick the salt off the rim of the glass.

You chuckled at his words. He had you pegged already. You had to admit it was a turn-on. Grabbing a second lime wedge, you took your second tequila shot and sucked on the green fruit, your eyes on Harry’s.

You liked how he watched you. He was more than just a flirt. His eyes told you what he wanted. It had merely been a few minutes and you already knew his intentions. And you were completely okay with it.

“How was it?” he asked, his gaze now on your mouth as you pulled out the lime wedge and licked your lips.

“Delicious,” you replied, dropping the fruit on a napkin. “Good things are worth taking time with.”

“Is that right?” he grinned.

“Mmm,” you nodded.

“You want another?”

“Oh Lord, no. At least not right now. A beer maybe? Whatever it was you were drinking earlier.”

Harry’s smile grew as he nodded. “You got it.”

As he placed another order with the bartender, you took a moment to examine just how attractive he was. While he resembled his brother, he really had his own way about him, a sense of beauty that David had lacked. You couldn’t believe you were even telling yourself that, but you couldn’t deny it. The man was really handsome. You found yourself wanting to reach out and touch the tan skin on his neck and jaw.

“So, Y/N,” he said, his attention turned back to you, “tell me about yourself.”

“Me?” you blinked. “Believe me, there is nothing you wanna know about me.”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” he grinned. “Let’s start with why are you here tonight…alone?”

“I’m not alone. I came with some friends.”

“Who are attached,” he added. “I saw them.”

“Oh.” So he had definitely been watching you, checking you out. Noticing you were alone.

“You’re way too gorgeous to be by yourself, Y/N.”

You felt a weakness in your knees even though you weren’t standing. “I could say the same about you,” you muttered, surprising yourself.

Harry’s dimples appeared again as the bartender set down your glasses of beer.

“Saved by the bell,” he commented, grabbing his drink.

You reached for yours as well, but before you could take a sip, your gaze flew up to a couple making their way to the bar. Shit.

“Um, let’s take these to a table,” you hastily said as David and his girlfriend got closer.

“Oh. You sure?”

“Yeah. Bar’s getting crowded, and I’m sure people are waiting to get up here. Plus, we can talk more at a table.”

Harry smiled at you. “Okay.”

Taking his glass, he quickly helped you off your stool and followed you to the other area where you had originally seen him. Sliding into a circular booth, you sighed, happy you had avoided running into your ex.

“This better?” Harry asked when he’d slid in next to you, very closely.

“Mmm, much,” you grinned.

“Not trying to avoid your friends are you?”

“What? No. Why would you think that?”

“I saw one of them walking up to the bar, then stop and turn around.”

“Oh! Really? I didn’t see them.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry shrugged. “I’m still interested in hearing more about you.”

“I told you, there’s nothing to tell.”

“Well…no boyfriend obviously,” he said.

“No.”

“What about work or school?”

“I work…” you teased. “A very boring job. And…I finished school long ago.”

“I see,” he smirked, his eyes never leaving your face. “How long ago?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you said, repeating his words.

“No,” he chuckled. “It doesn’t. I just finished though.”

“Oh?” you shifted in your seat, glad he brought it up himself.

“Yeah. Just got back. I was studying in London.”

“Oooh! Is that where you’re from?” you pretended to be intrigued.

“Manchester, actually, or at least originally. My family moved here when I was a kid.”

“I see! That’s interesting!” Even though you technically knew all of this already, it sounded different coming from him. You watched him guzzle a little of his beer before asking the next question of which you were actually interested.

“So what were you studying?”

“Engineering. Got my masters.”

With wide eyes you sat up. “Damn, that’s impressive, Harry!”

“Thanks,” he snorted.

“What do you plan to do with that?”

“Dunno yet. I have a few prospects…both here and in London. I’m just not sure which road is best for me yet.”

“I see,” you nodded. Then with a grin, you playfully slapped his arm. “And here I thought you were just some frat boy.”

Harry chuckled. “Sorry, did I disappoint you?”

“Fuck, no!” you shook your head, sliding closer to him. “Not at all.”

Suddenly thirsty, you drank almost half of your beer in just a few gulps. Feeling Harry’s eyes on you, you looked up at him and licked your lips. He stared at you for a moment, and just before you were about to say something, he lifted his hand to slide a finger down your cheek. Goosebumps erupted on your flesh and you parted your lips to let out a gasp.

“You’re really pretty,” he said. Or at least you think he did. It was hard to tell over the loud music, and his tone was so soft.

“Thanks,” you mouthed.

Sitting up a little, Harry leaned forward and reached for your necklace. “This is pretty too.”

“Oh, thanks,” you half-giggled, looking down at the amulet. “It doesn’t really mean anything, I just like the color of the stone-”

Before you could finish the sentence, Harry lifted your chin, his gaze focused on your mouth. Then leaning even closer, he took a split second to look into your eyes for reassurance before pressing his lips to yours.

So soft. Clouds. Pillowy. Sweet. These were words that invaded your mind, as you could not possibly think of anything else. Nothing else but that kiss. His lips.

You felt his hand on your knee before your brain processed it. His fingers found the hem of your dress, pushing it up slightly just as your tongue felt an electric sensation when it was met with his. Your own hand reached for his chest, somehow of its own accord, for surely you had no control. The warmth it was met with was intense, and the zealous beating of his heart underneath matched your own.

The sudden way he separated the kiss, however, was unexpected.

“Oh!” you gasped, finding his face still inches from yours. Blinking, you tried to read him.

“Sorry,” he said, his mouth quivering into a smile. When his dimples appeared, you relaxed a bit. “Sorry, sweetheart. I think…I’m pretty drunk.”

His chuckle didn’t quite reassure you, nor did the wipe of his hand down his face. Sitting up straight, you pursed your lips and shrugged. “So am I.”

With a gentle grin, Harry said, “I’m not usually one to take advantage of girls when we’re drunk.”

You tilted your head and eyed him before letting out a loud guffaw. “Seriously?”

“What?”

“You don’t have to give me a line, Harry. If you’re not into me, just say so.”

“Fuck, that’s not it at all! I’m so into you!”

“Really.” Your sarcastic tone was apparent as you reached for your glass. Harry stopped you, taking your hand.

“Yeah. I was just worried you would think…”

“That you’re just looking to get laid?”

You weren’t sure what made you do it, perhaps it was the alcohol or your own desire to get fucked, but when you brought his fingers to your mouth and began to suck and nibble on them, Harry’s jaw dropped and he shut his eyes. You watched his throat as he swallowed hard, and when he opened his eyes again, his thumb between your teeth, you could read the passion in his eyes.

“You wanna get outta here?” he asked with a growl.

“Thought you’d never ask,” you grinned. Gulping the rest of your beer, you started to slide out of the booth. “Just let me freshen up in the ladies’ room.”

“Okay. I’m getting an Uber, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Perfect,” you beamed. Then giving him a quick kiss, you headed for the restroom.

You weren’t in the stall ten seconds when you heard your name.

“Y/N, are you in here?”

“Uh, yeah?” you called out.

Heels clicked closer to your stall and stopped. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” asked Marcie.

“Oh hey, I’m getting ready to leave, so I won’t need a ride home, okay?”

“Uh huh. And just who are you leaving with?”

“Okay, it’s a guy,” you said, flushing the toilet.

“Y/N!” Marcie yelled.

Opening the stall door, you were met with her fuming, scowling face.

“What?” you pretended to be oblivious.

“Deliah saw you with Harry Styles. Are you out of your mind? He’s your ex’s brother!”

“So?” you shrugged, walking to the sink

“So? This is a bad idea, Y/N!”

“Why?”

“Because! You’ll regret it!”

“I don’t know,” you argued, reaching for a paper towel. “Maybe, maybe not. All I know is, right now I’m drunk, and he’s so fucking cute, and he’s into me.”

“Does he even know who you are?” Marcie cried.

“No. And he doesn’t need to. Just let me have my fun, alright?” You tossed the paper towel in the garbage and reached your arms out to your friend. “Please.”

“I’m not hugging you, Y/N,” said Marcie. “This is one time I don’t agree with you. You’re only doing this because you saw David here tonight. I already helped you pick up the pieces after he broke your heart. I’m not doing it again.”

With a tight jaw, you headed for the door. “Fine.”

The Uber ride to Harry’s place was quick. He explained he lived in a furnished apartment for now since he’d just returned from the UK, so you were kind of expecting something that looked like a motel, but you were pleasantly surprised when he opened the door to a really nice place.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked when he tossed his keys on the table.

“Maybe just some water,” you replied.

“Of course, love,” he smiled. “Follow me.”

You stood in the doorway of the small kitchen as Harry retrieved bottles of water from the fridge, handing you one. Thanking him, you took it and quenched your thirst. At least the hydrating thirst. A different kind of thirst had started taking over as soon as he’d kissed you at the loft.

Setting your bottle on the counter, you stepped closer to him. He smiled when you ran your hand up his arm. Lifting your chin again with his finger, he gazed down at you with his amazing eyes. Eyes that spoke volumes.

This time as soon as your lips collided, you immediately felt the need to touch him. Pressing your hand against his chest like before, you were happy to feel the rapid speed of his heartbeat. When his tongue met yours, you moaned against his mouth, earning one from him as well. Your other hand joined the other where they hastily unbuttoned his shirt, spreading the fabric open to reveal more ink. You let your fingertips dance down his pecks and abs before reaching the waistband of his jeans. His mouth left yours momentarily as Harry shoved out of his shirt, letting it drop on the floor. His hat fell off in the process, some of his brown curls falling forward and framing his features. Then he cupped your face, his lips open and swollen from the kisses.

“You’re driving me crazy, you sexy thing,” he growled.

“That’s good, because I’ve been going mad for you all night,” you remarked, a little proud of your quick wit.

A smirk threatened to quiver on his lips before they crashed into you again. Moaning against him again, you slipped your hands around his neck, letting his soft curls thread around your fingers. Though you tried not to let it remind you of David - he’d had curly hair too - you allowed yourself to be captivated by all that was Harry.

Harry. Harry. Harry…

As you reveled in the sensation of his soft lips and hungry tongue, your fingers in his hair, you felt his hands leave your face and travel down your shoulders. His kisses on your mouth were soon replaced by kisses on your neck, which you leaned back to give him full access to.

“Mmm, you taste so good,” you heard him mumble against your skin. “Bet you taste good everywhere, hmm?”

“Would you like to find out?” you teased.

“Fuck, yeah baby,” he swallowed, raising his head to look at you. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

He took your hand and guided you through the living room to the back room, a lovely bed in the center. Kicking off his shoes, Harry quickly lifted you onto the bed. As he hovered over you, you took in his beauty, his gorgeous physique and toned arms. The sexiness was enough to make you wet, and you knew as soon as he touched you, you would fucking lose it.

“This little fucking dress,” Harry tutted, shaking his head as he slid a strap down your shoulder. “As soon as I saw you, stood there like a lost little angel in her little black dress…I knew I needed to somehow be the one to take it off.”

“Really?” you chuckled nervously.

“Mmm,” he nodded. “I reckon I was right.”

Sitting back on his knees, Harry slipped his hands up your thighs and underneath your dress. You gasped when his fingers reached the edge of your panties, but he stopped and ran his hands down again to the edge of your dress. Then grabbing the hem, he lifted it up. You raised your hips to assist him, then sat up to pull it over your head.

“Fuck me, look at you,” he groaned, letting your flimsy dress drop from his fingers and onto the floor.

Laying back down, you watched him as he hovered over you again, his eyes taking in every inch of you. You suddenly felt a bit nervous, though you tried your best not to let it show. His head lowered to your chest, as he cupped your breast and gently sucked on your nipple. Your breaths quickened as the heat rose in your core. You could already feel it tightening as he moved to the other breast, his soft, warm tongue tasting your delicate skin. Raking your fingers through his hair, you secretly hoped he would move faster, just to let you feel a quick release. You reached down to grab hold of your necklace when he lifted his head.

“Oh, let’s remove this too, sweetheart,” he suggested. “Don’t want it to get in the way.”

Gently slipping the amulet around your neck, Harry laid your necklace on his nightstand.

“Where shall I taste you next?” he asked with a smirk. He chuckled low at your wide eyes before he slid his hand down to your panties.

“Maybe…here?”

Your chest heaving, you nodded. “Yes.”

“Mmm, I think so too,” Harry agreed. “But first…”

Sitting up again, he grabbed the sides of your black panties and pulled them down. You watched him as he seemed to ponder how or what to do next. Then guiding your legs open a bit more, he swiped his finger up your center. With a gasp and a moan combined, you trembled.

“Hmm, looks like my angel is wet already,” he commented.

“You have no idea,” you cried.

“Oh, and maybe a bit needy.”

You groaned, wanting Harry to get on with it, make a move. Your pussy was throbbing so badly, you thought surely he could tell. When he slid his thumb across your clit this time, you nearly came undone.

“Oh God!”

“Aw, baby. You need to be touched?” Harry cooed.

“So badly, Harry…” you breathed. “Please.”

“How can I refuse when you ask so sweetly?” Harry laid down beside you and lifted your thigh to rest against his. Then licking his fingers, he pressed them against your clit, gently moving in a circular motion.

“You like this?” he asked as you began to breathe faster.

“Yes,” you replied as you looked at his face. It had been a while since anyone had touched you like that. It almost felt like high school, like you were doing something naughty with the risk of being caught.

Harry leaned forward and kissed you, his fingers still doing their magic. When he slipped his tongue in between your lips, you began to suck on it, earning a moan from his throat. You weren’t sure if it was his excitement that turned you on more, or the quickening of his fingers, but you suddenly felt yourself reaching the edge, the familiar tightening in your belly. Gasping against his mouth, you had to let go, his fingers continuing in the perfect rhythm as you rode out your climax.

“Wow, sweetheart, that was fast,” said Harry. “Been a long time, yeah?”

You shut your eyes as you blushed. “Maybe.”

“Hmm, then I’m gonna have to do that again. Make it count. Don’t you think?”

“Touch me again?” you asked, opening your eyes.

“No, make you come again. As many times as it takes.”

You stared at him as he slithered his body down the bed and situated himself between your legs.

“I still get a free taste, right?” he wiggled his brows.

You chuckled, throwing your arm over your eyes. “Yes.”

You felt his breath tickle your flesh just before he kissed each inner thigh. When his mouth met your cunt you puffed out a loud breath. His lips surrounded your clit first, then his tongue met the delicate bud, circling the way his fingers had. With a moan, you opened your legs wider, running your hands down your breasts. Harry looked up at you and noticed, ran his hands up your stomach and met your fingers.

You liked that, Harry’s eyes on you as you both circled your hands around your tits and nipples. It felt sexy and intimate. When you began to moan louder, however, Harry released your hands and lifted your hips. One finger danced around your opening first before entering. Grabbing hold of the bedding beneath you, you felt your legs shake. But when he inserted a second finger and his mouth returned to your clit, you thought you might come.

“Oh, fuck! Harry!” you shouted.

“Feel good, baby?”

“Yes! Right there. Oh, God!”

Harry hummed against your cunt as his fingers fucked you, beckoning you inside your walls, touching exactly the right spot, urging you to come all over them.

You weren’t sure you’d ever come so hard in your life. Your fingers dug into his hair. Your legs trembled on either side of his head, your toes curled into the bed as you cried out his name and a few expletives.

When he lifted his head and slid his fingers out, you half expected him to laugh. But instead, he crawled up your body and kissed you with fervor.

“I knew you’d taste good,” he said.

You stared at him, half wondering where the hell he’d come from. Obviously you knew, but figuratively speaking…he must have learned this shit in London because his brother had never made you come like that.

Before you could think anymore about David, Harry asked you a question you hadn’t expected to hear.

“Do you need a minute before we try again?”

“Try again?”

“Yeah,” he grinned his dimpled grin. “I know it’s a bit selfish of me, but I really wanna fuck you.”

You couldn’t help but cackle, which only made him grin wider. “That’s not selfish at all,” you said.

“No? Good.”

Fuck! He was so cute and charming and giving. Maybe you’d had a thing for the wrong brother all along! You played with his hair a bit as he stared at you. Then you shook your head.

“No…to answer your first question. I don’t need a minute.”

With another grin, Harry rose from the bed and unbuttoned his jeans. You watched him peel them off, followed by his underwear, his erection springing free. Then opening a drawer in the nightstand, he retrieved a condom. Crawling back onto the bed, he handed it to you.

“Would you?”

Smiling, you sat up, happy to oblige. Grabbing the condom packet, however, you paused.

“Just a second…”

Situating yourself in front of him, you grabbed hold of his shaft and stuck out your tongue. You heard him hiss when it grazed his cock, your mouth then enveloping it. You let the saliva in your mouth produce enough to lubricate his head, and when you popped off, you used your hand to glide the wetness. Then you did it a second time.

“Fuck, babe,” Harry groaned. “That’s so good, but…you don’t…have to…”

“Mmm, I want to,” you said, sliding your tongue across his shaft. “Just for a minute.”

Hollowing out your mouth, you sucked on him while your right hand moved up and down, and your left reached for his balls.

“Shit, Y/N,” he breathed, grasping your hair. “Honey, please. I want…”

“My pussy?” you looked up at him.

“Yeah.”

Letting go, you adjusted your position as Harry ran his hands down your shoulders. “Is that okay? I don’t-”

“Of course, Harry,” you beamed at him. “I just wanted to taste you too before we got started.”

His smile was incredible as he watched you put the condom on. Then he kissed you passionately before laying you back down on the bed. His eyes on you, licked his fingers and ran them up your pussy.

“Still wet,” he commented with a raised brow.

Then he aimed his cock at your entrance and thrust slowly. You could feel him stretching your walls, a sweet sting as he entered fully. With a low cry, you held onto him.

“Feel okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Tell me what you like, baby. I wanna do it all.”

“I’m pretty easy to please,” you replied. “Fuck me how you like.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re so hot,” he chuckled before moving his hips faster.

You clinged to him as he fucked into you, already reaching the spot he’d reached with his fingers. You weren’t sure if you could come again so soon, but it felt incredible. As he moved faster, you heard the squelching sounds of your wet cunt and his balls hitting you. You began to moan, tiny little whimpers at first.

“Yeah…” moaned Harry. “God, I love the sounds you make. So fucking sexy.”

“It feels really good,” you cried.

“Yeah it does. Your pussy’s so warm and wet.”

You continued to whimper as Harry thrust harder, holding down your hands. Your legs wrapped around him as he looked into your eyes. When he began to moan, he slowed a bit, his thrusts sloppy.

“C’mere, baby,” he said, sitting back on his knees. “Ride me.”

Though your legs were weak, you did as he requested, holding onto his shoulders. As you slid down his cock, you could tell you were close.

“Yeah, just like that, angel. Ride my cock.”

You bounced on him a few times before calling out, “Oh, fuck!”

“You gonna come for me again, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you gasped.

“You feel me deep inside?”

“Yes. Oh, God! Oh, it’s so fucking deep!”

“Yeah. Come for me, honey. I want you to come all over my cock.”

You cried out then, doing just as he asked. Every nerve inside your pussy contracted, and you came even harder than before.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, falling like a rag doll on his chest.

Harry chuckled, lifting you up. “Hang on, angel, we’re not done.”

“I…I can’t, Harry. I can’t come again.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm…we’ll see.”

Laying back down on the bed, Harry still inside you, he began to move again. You whimpered again, not under duress, but simply fatigue. But you wanted Harry to come. For all he’d done for you, he deserved it.

He moved slowly at first, and the longer he continued, the more it started to feel good, until finally you started to moan louder.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” Harry moaned with you. “God, you’re so fucking wet.”

“It’s because you turn me on.”

“Yeah?” he asked as he thrust faster.

“Oh my God yeah, fuck me like that!” you cried.

“Yeah, you gonna come again?”

“Yes, baby!”

“Good girl.”

Harry’s groans were getting louder as you felt your fourth orgasm hit you. You cried out his name as he pounded you hard, calling you good girl. Then his own climax came, his body trembling over you as he moaned deeply in your ear.

“Fuck…” he exhaled with a chuckle. “That was so good. Wow.”

He kissed you hard after you both caught your breath.

“You’re so sexy, Y/N.”

“So are you.” You traced his mouth with your finger before giving him a smile.

“You wanna stay the night? I mean, I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“I am…” you said, considering his offer.

“So…yeah?”

You nodded. Maybe it was a bad idea. But you were so tired, you didn’t think you could even get up.

Harry did help you up, though, so you could clean up in the bathroom. But as soon as you were underneath his covers and he wrapped his arm around you, you were off to dreamland.

The next morning, you woke up while Harry was still sleeping. Tiptoeing to the bathroom, you did your business and returned to a buzzing sound. Realizing it was probably a phone, you found Harry’s in his jeans he’d discarded the night before. Curious, you looked at it and noticed five missed calls. One from his brother, David. And four from someone named Melanie. Plus a text from the same number that simply said, Can we talk?

Fucking great.

Hi, if you enjoyed this, please let me know as I'm considering a part 2 :).

tagging: @daphnesutton, @freedomfireflies

ETA: Thank you sooo much for all the love on this! Part 2 is now up, titled break up with your girlfriend, i'm bored. Hope you enjoy! xo

[bloomzone]

2025 : #4 BELIEVE IN YOURSELF

「 Listen to me. YOU are in full control of your destiny. No one else. Not your parents, not your friends, not your circumstances. YOU . The moment you take full responsibility for your life is the moment everything changes. 」

✒️..Too many people say, “I can’t do it because my family didn’t support me,” or “I wasn’t given the same opportunities as others.” Let me tell you something: success doesn’t care about your excuses. It doesn’t care about your setbacks. Success is about what you do with what you have.You can’t change where you started, but you can change where you’re going. Life isn’t about waiting for things to happen; it’s about making them happen. And that starts with one simple belief: YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKE

1 Why You Need to Believe in Yourself

Think about it—every single person who has achieved something great didn’t start out with all the answers. They didn’t wake up one day and suddenly OMG BRO I'M RICH OR OMG BRO I'M A CEO . No, they struggled. They failed. They doubted themselves. But the difference? They didn’t quit.They believed in their ability to learn, to grow, and to figure it out along the way. And so can you !!! you’re going to face challenges. THAT'S LIFE . There will be days when you feel like giving up, when the pain seems too much, and the road ahead feels impossible. But those are the moments that define you. Those are the moments where you choose—do you give in to doubt, or do you rise above it?

2 Take Full Responsibility

Stop blaming your situation. Stop waiting for someone to save you. Nobody’s coming to rescue you. This is your life, and you have to own it. Look in the mirror and ask yourself, “Am I giving my all? Am I showing up for my dreams?” If the answer is no, then it’s time to make a change.You owe it to yourself to show up every day. Not for anyone else IT'S YOUR LIFE. Not for approval but because you believe in your potential. Because you know deep down that you’re capable of more.

3 One Step at a Time

I’m not asking you to figure it all out today. Success isn’t about giant leaps it’s about consistent steps. Focus on the next 24 hours. What can you do today to get closer to your goals? Forget about next month, next year—handle today.SET DAILY GOALS - WEEKLY GOALS - MONTHLY GOALS .. When you start taking it one day at a time, everything becomes manageable. You’ll realize that the mountain you’re climbing isn’t as impossible as it seems. But you have to start. You have to put one foot in front of the other.

4 Struggle Is Part of the Process

Don’t shy away from struggle. Embrace it. Without struggle, there’s no progress THERE IS NO FUCKING PERSON THAT DON'T MAKE MISTAKES WE ARE HUMAN AFTER ALL Without setbacks, there’s no growth. Every obstacle you face is an opportunity to become stronger, to become better, to become the person you’re meant to be.And when it gets hard—and trust me, it will—remember this: the future you is counting on you. The version of you that’s thriving, that’s living the life you dream about? They’re waiting for you to make the tough choices now.

5 Stay Focused

What do you want YOU ! Not what someone else wants for you. What do you want YOU NOT THE SOCIETY NOT UR FRIENDS NOT UR TEACHERS ! Once you know the answer, block out everything else. Block out the negativity. Block out the doubts. Block out the people who say you can’t. Stay locked in. Keep your eyes on the prize. if it were easy, everyone would do it. But it’s not easy. It’s hard. It’s painful. It requires sacrifice. But it’s worth it. Every single tear, every single late night, every single failure—it’s all worth it when you finally achieve what you set out to do.

So, believe in yourself. Not just today, but every single day. Even when it feels impossible. Even when the world seems to be against you. Because the only thing standing between you and the life you want is your belief in your ability to create it.This is your time. This is your moment. The question is: will you step up and take it?Stop making excuses. Start making progress. Believe in yourself, and watch how your life transforms. I'm proud of u !

@bloomzone 📇

[damianbugs]

comics are in and of itself, an unreliable narrator.

i say this because i started my comic journey with jason todd. i read all his robin appearances, pre and post crisis, then read hush and under the red hood, and all i could think about was what the fuck. what the fuck batman. how did you become this. what happened between 1988 and 2006. how did the the man who's life revolved around caring for this child, teaching this child, learning from this child, protecting this child, losing this child — become hurting him.

it was so baffling to me i found myself slipping into the batman shaped void that many never return from (lol). and so now, i have read over 1500 batman comics, over 300 different writers, spanning over 80 years of publication. i finally get to what happened between 1988 and 2006, and how batman as a character has become as unrecognisable as he has remained familiar. i see the events of alpod, knightfall, cataclysm, no man's land, the 200 individual batman issues and 200 individual detective comics issues alone that had passed, not taking into account the the other long runs, mini runs, short stories or collaborative comics that were released in those 18 years. the people he had met, lost, been betrayed by, abandoned in those stories.

it has only been about 5 years since jason todd died for bruce wayne. 5 years that have felt like two decades.

it has only been around 4 years for jason since he climbed his way out of his grave. 4 years that felt like less than three.

so when reading as jason, i felt betrayed. how could batman do this? how can't he see? he knows how i would have mourned him, he knows how fiercely i love him, how all i want is for him to prove he ever loved me the same way. how can he not change after all these years? how is he not aware that he is not the change gotham needs? (how does he not see that he is what i need — needed.) how will he save gotham? he can't. he can't save gotham. he can't save me. but i can. i can fix it.

then i read as bruce and i am betrayed. who is this? why does he doubt how much i loved him? what changed? why did he change? (am i the one who changed? no, surely not.) after everything, the people i have hurt, the people i have lost, the people i have sacrificed for gotham, how can he doubt? he would have never asked me to do this before, he understood, i'm sure he did, before. i won't choose. i can't choose. where is my son. where am i. i can't save gotham. i can't save you. but i can fix it. i can fix you.

they're both wrong.