#getting your name scrubbed from the one thing that truly matters to you

[wishchip106]

he has so much hope and joy glistening in his eyes

that will all be gone in a matter of days 😁

[crayooongle]

Just a little help (1.6k)

Kōtarō Bokuto x (f)reader

cw: unprotected sex, (f)receiving, oral, just a smidgen of overstimulation

pet names: baby, princess

summary: 

your boyfriend just got home from a game with some extra energy and he really needs your help draining it

 You truly hated how long this essay was taking you to write. You were hoping you would’ve been done before today but your constant procrastination put your goal to an immediate stop. It’s not that you didn’t know how to write a good essay, or that you couldn’t; but it’s not like your boyfriend was much of a help either. Whenever he’d come home to your shared apartment after practice or a game he’d cling right onto you like a koala. You knew if you’d accept his needy acts of affection you’d end up not getting any work done but he was just too cute to resist. 

 Today was gonna be different- at least you hoped it would be. Your boyfriend had a game today and you were planning on putting your foot down as soon as he tried falling into his typical routine. You were sure you would finally get to finish this assignment and turn it in by today if you just gently let Bokuto know he’d have to hold off on kisses and cuddling until you were done. 

 Just as you finished the 3rd page out of your 5 page essay, you decide to head to the kitchen for a little snack. With perfect timing your front door flung right open revealing your still sweaty boyfriend. His eyes lit up and a huge grin appeared on his face as soon as he saw you. 

“Y/N!!!” He cheered as he sprinted towards you to pick you up and spin you around as if you were a Disney princess. 

“I missed you so much. What’d you do today? Did you miss me? Did you eat?” He bombarded you with questions while holding you in his strong arms.

“I missed you too Bo calm down.” You giggled, “I really need to finish my essay today, can you just leave me alone until I’m done?” You ask and make sure to place a soft kiss on Bokuto’s cheek. 

He completely deflated and frowned, “finee”.

“Thank youuu, i promise we can watch a movie tonight as soon as I’m done. Now go shower, you smell like ass.” 

“I do NOT smell like ass,” he huffed seemingly offended, you just pushed him towards your shared bathroom instead of fighting with him. As soon as he hopped in the shower you went right back to typing away at your laptop. 

 It was a reoccurring theme for Bokuto to have left over energy after a game. Whenever he did, he usually just turned to you for help. Not to mention, Bokuto has a lot of stamina so he’d usually end up going several rounds with you but you didn’t mind it. Expectedly, today was one of those days but unfortunately you’d requested he’d leave you alone. He didn’t that think this would be a problem until he took his shorts off and saw how erect he was.

Bokuto tried to ignore it as he scrubbed himself clean but simply couldn’t. He just wasn’t able to get you off his mind. All the times he would have you in a mating press while slowly drilling into you were racing through his head. The way he’d maintain eye contact with you every-time you came was having his dick throbbing.  He got so accustomed to you letting him fuck the spare energy away that he didn’t realized how much he relied on you for these types of problems.

 Bokuto tried to just rub one out in the shower but no matter what he couldn’t finish. These lewd thoughts of you were all he could think about but his hand was simply not enough. Frustration was building up, he would’ve felt horrible asking you for help but it seemed like it was the only thing he could do. Bokuto finally gave up and stepped out the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist before making his way to the shared bedroom. Your eyes trailed his body once he walked in. The mixture of the way the water was glistening against his toned body, his hair down and slightly wet, and his towel hanging low exposing his V-line made butterflies swarm in your stomach. You two had been dating for about 3 years but every-time he got out the shower you couldn’t help but get flustered. 

 You drag your eyes back down to your laptop so you can focus on your work.

“You need some help baby?” Bokuto asked as he set his towel to the side. 

 “Oh yeah actually, can you just proof read-“ Bokuto cut you off by opening your legs and crawling in between them. 

 “Bo… what are you-“ You trail off while keeping your eyes on him. Out of sheer embarrassment you try to close your legs but Bokuto forces them open a bit aggressively. He continued by grabbing onto your thighs kissing his way up your body, slowly moving closer to your pussy. 

 You move your laptop to the side so Bokuto can remove your shorts and underwear. He got right back to work after that, starting by placing gentle kisses on your pussy. You subconsciously bucked your hips upward, the anticipation was growing and it was killing you.

 Bokuto began to lick slow long stripes against your pussy, you whined as you craved more. You slip your fingers into his still wet hair and you noticed Bokuto was grinding against the bed. He was definitely desperate for some sort of relief. 

 Bokuto ate you out like a starving man, it was messy but, the way he never made it seem like a chore to him always turned you on. He moved one hand off your thigh to bring it to your clit, he rubbed it as he hastily licked, sucked and kissed your pussy. He could tell you were getting close just by the way your legs were shaking around him and your moans were getting louder. 

 “It feels good, doesn’t it princess?” Bokuto asks in between kisses.

“Mhmm, so good needa cum soon,” is all you can let out, you’re too focused on the pleasure. Bokuto speeds up, he wants nothing more than for you to cum on his tongue and he’s determined to make sure it happens. 

 “Ahh, Bokuto im gonna cum,” Just as expected, you throw your head back and finish but Bokuto isn’t done. He starts to lick up the rest of your juices spilling out, making sure nothing goes to waste. You can’t do anything more than whine and beg for him to give you a break, it was just too much for you to take. After a couple more seconds he backs off and instead goes up to pull you into a heated kiss. He grabs your hand and places it right on his fully hard cock. You wrap your hand around it and slowly move your hand up and down. Bokuto groans in the kiss, he moves away from your lips to kiss at your neck instead.

“Please Y/N, I really need you,” He begs in between kisses. 

You continue to move your hand at a teasingly slow pace, Bokuto’s frustration only builds up.

 He flipped you over so you could be on top. Then, he grabbed onto your hips and put you in reverse cowgirl. He didn’t give you anytime to adjust, he just slammed you down against his cock. You yelped in response, Bokuto was far from small. His dick wasn’t the longest but there was enough girth for him to easily tear your pussy. 

 He had his hands on your hips to make sure you didn’t stop. He was just so close he couldn’t handle you delaying his release any longer.

“Say my name,” Bokuto let out in between moans

“Ahh Bokuto” You whined while rolling your hips.

Seemly dissatisfied with your answer, Bokuto sat up a bit to slide his arm around your neck and pull closer against him. 

“I said, say my name,” he growled right in your ear.

“Koutarou!” You practically screamed out. 

Bokuto pulled out so he could bend you over instead, he immediately slammed right back into you. You were gripping onto the bedsheets while your face was stuffed into your pillow. Bokuto wasn’t holding back at all. His hands were digging into your waist as he slid in and out of you with ease. His thrusts were getting messier and messier, he right on the edge of finishing.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” Bokuto groaned as he was trying to hold himself back from cumming right inside you at that very moment.

“Mhmm, im gonna cum,” you moaned.

Bokuto sped up, the room with filled with moans and the sound of skin slapping against each other. You were sure your neighbors could hear but that didn’t matter to either of you. 

“Fuck ahh, Y/N you feel so good,” Bokuto whined and threw his head back as he came. You came right after him and collapsed on the bed from exhaustion. 

 You both took a moment to calm down and catch your breath. But soon after, Bokuto scooped you up in his arms and cradled you like a baby. 

“Thank you so much Y/N, i loovvee youuu. Im really sorry for distracting you from your work,” he moved his head down kiss your forehead. 

“I love you too,” you playfully rolled your eyes at him.

He then got up to bring you to the bathroom so he could lovingly give you a bath as a sorry for interrupting you from finishing your assignment. Thankfully, you had enough energy to finish it after the bath.

[anjaelle]

Could you write a fic of Dave where him and y/n are getting used to having a newborn in the house?

Pairing: Dave Lizewski x Female!Reader Warnings: Pregnancy, Parenting, Babies, Existential Crises (kinda) a/n: *Timbaland voice* It's been a long time, I shouldn't've left you...; As a childless woman (who is often expected to have kids by this current age), I don't write about this stuff often. But I like the idea of Dave and his partner being...realistic about new parenthood. All things considered.

(gif source)

--x--

When you told Dave that you were pregnant, he had two major reactions.

First, was the excitement. It was a surprise for the both of you, but you'd been together for so long and constantly imagined what your future kids would be like. You picked out fake names and wondered who they'd take after more.

Then reality sank in along with the panic of how you'd both support a new baby. You weren't rich, nor were you sure you had the space for a baby. But you had the support of your friends and family while you figured everything out.

That didn't stop poor Dave from doting on you every single day, as your due date approached. He continued to freak out until the day you came home from the hospital with your newborn, sleeping in his car seat.

While you napped in your bedroom, he stood over the bassinet and watched his son's chest rise and fall, occasionally reaching down to stroke his little tuft of thick, dark hair.

He was so small. A healthy small, but a small nonetheless. When the nurse first put the newborn in Dave's arms, he nearly had a moment of paralyzing doubt. Would he be too rough? Would his hands be too calloused and hard? Would he accidentally drop him?

"Geez," he mumbled to himself as the baby stirred, "I can't believe you're real. We made a person."

He paused and felt the baby's tiny, rapid heartbeat.

"You're actually going to grow up and become someone someday." Dave thought aloud. The thought filled him with wonder and a bit of fear, "There's a whole wide world out there waiting to meet you, kid. And, shit--I mean, shoot, you've only been on this earth for 5 days and I don't know how I'll cope with watching you grow up and experience it."

He swallowed hard as his little face scrunched up for a moment before relaxing again.

Dave had to protect him.

After a month of chaos, you began to notice that Dave was a bit on edge. Still. You watched as he warily eyed you with the baby in your arms, and flitted around the house. What he was doing, you weren't sure. He may have been cleaning the same appliances and countertops 50 times in an effort to make sure they were "adequately disinfected" before he interacted with your little one.

"Baby," you sighed from the living room couch as David tied his hair up to wipe down the fridge again, "come sit with us. Take a breather."

"Sure, in a sec," he rapidly chattered, "let me just finish the kitchen--"

"--Dave," you cut him off, waving a hand to get his attention, "Come on. Please?"

He hesitated, then put the cleaning rag down to wash his hands (for the fourth time in under a half hour). You were positive his hands were probably dry as all hell from the constant scrubbing. Even as he made his way back to the couch, you noticed his eyes shifting around the space, looking for...something.

"Talk to me." You said, crossing your sweatpants-clad legs and readjusting the sleeping infant in your arms, "What's the matter?"

When Dave collapsed onto the couch, you noticed how exhausted he actually was. A low groan seeped out from the depths of his soul.

"I'm freaking the fuck out."

"Wanna talk about it?" You nudged, scooting closer to him. He absentmindedly wrapped his arm around your shoulder to pull you both in close

You sat in pensive silence for a moment as you waited for him to get his thoughts together. For as long as you'd known him--well over a decade by this point--he'd sometimes hold back from sharing when something was truly bothering him.

After you learned about his alter ego, he had this idea that he needed to protect you from everything. You had to break it down for him that holding back his thoughts and feelings would make you even more concerned than if he told the truth. At least then, you explained, you could work through it together. You were partners, after all.

It was a hard pill to swallow for him, but you appreciated his attempts at opening up more.

After a few minutes, he leaned down and kissed you on the forehead.

"I love you." He murmured into your hair.

"Ew, affection." You joked, playfully poking him in his side. He chuckled at your earnest attempt at levity, "I love you more. Now tell me what's up."

You heard him audibly swallow down the lump in his throat as he glanced down at your son.

"What if...like...he gets hurt? Or if he gets sick? Or if someone else hurts him? What happens then?" He furrowed his brows when his voice cracked with emotion, "I've seen so much bad shit out there. It's--I can handle it, sometimes. I know what to expect. But it's different now."

He reached out a shaking hand to gently adjust the cap on the baby's head, "He's so small. And, yeah, I know he won't be small forever. I think that's the scariest part. Someday he's going to go out into this fucked up world on his own without us, and I don't know what would happen if..."

He drifted off, not even wanting to complete the thought. As you sat quietly and listened to him, you noticed the way his knee anxiously bounced and the way his hand gripped your shoulder protectively. If it were up to him, you knew he'd build a protective dome around your tiny family and wouldn't let either of you out of his sight.

The reality of the situation was hard, but he had to hear it.

"I can't promise that bad things won't happen," you carefully told your partner, "because that would be a lie. He's going to get sick, because kids get sick. He's going to fall and scrape his knee, and hit his head, and run into things. He's going to probably trip and break something when he's a little older." You shot a knowing glance at Dave, "He is your son, after all."

Dave couldn't help the small twitch at the corner of his mouth, "Shut up."

"Someday," you continued, tenderly pushing one of his curls behind his ear, "he's going to get his heart broken. Or he'll break someone else's heart. Someday he's going to stumble and need us for support. That's just a part of growing up, baby. We both did it."

"That's what I'm kind of worried about." He admitted, "I can't--I don't know how I'd deal with--I won't be around forever. We won't be around to protect him forever."

"Unless they make a ton of affordable scientific advancements in the next 50 years or so, probably not." You semi-joked. Though you felt a pang of sadness at the thought of not being around in your son's life forever. You remembered hearing his heartbeat for the first time and decided you never wanted to be apart from him if you could help it. "We're here now to protect him, which is the most important thing. But I understand it. And I'm scared, too."

Dave seemed to look at you like you had six heads, "You're scared? You?"

"Is that really hard to believe?"

"Yeah, kinda! I dunno." You felt him fidget with the hem of your t-shirt sleeve, "I've known you since we were kids. And...like, I feel like you've always had the answers. I can't really picture you doubting yourself." He glanced down at the baby as if making an executive decision, and then gently reached out for him to hold him in his arms, "I mean...look at you and everything you've done, already. You're so amazing. He just got here and you're already the best mom in the world. Our kid is so lucky."

Between the sentimentality of Dave's words, the way he looked holding the baby, and the reassurance that you were doing a good job, you felt the dam break and the tears flowed freely down your cheeks. You didn't even realize how much fear about the situation you'd been harboring until then. The tears progressed into a deep sob that shook your whole body as you buried your head into his shoulder.

"You really mean that?" You asked, wiping the snot from your face with your sleeve. He slowly rubbed your back--up...down...up...down--and pressed his cheek to the top of your head.

"Well, yeah. We didn't even plan for any of this. We've been trying to figure this shit out. And, yeah, it's hard. But seeing you with him reminds me of why I love you so much, you know? I wouldn't want to do this with anyone but you. And I'm really, really fuckin' scared. But it's not so scary with you here. I hope you feel that way about me too. At least a little?"

His kind blue eyes stared into your soul as he gently rocked the baby. The worry seemed to disappear from his face as he held the two most important people in his life.

You tried to say something back. Something equally deep, affirming, and sentimental. You wanted to tell him that you couldn't wait to begin this future with him, that you were proud of him as a new father, that you couldn't do this without him, and that you knew he'd make an amazing parent.

Instead, you cried harder and sobbed out, "I'msogladyou'rehisdaddy."

[queer-irritator]

The Best Part... |Kratos x Fem Reader | Oneshot

!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Content Warnings: Detailed sex, just a lot of smut, adult language. 

Word Count: 3386

No gendered language, but afab anatomy briefly described.

A/N: Since my main fic I’m writing is a slow burn, and I am so down bad for this baldy, I cranked this out. It’s my first time writing smut, so let me know if I fucked anything up, or if you thought it was good/decent!

--------------------------------------

You were laying down with the cold, hard earth beneath you. You could feel the warm heat of the fire about a foot away from you, it was keeping you comfortable. You were staring at the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, your partner, Kratos. You had first met him two years ago, he had saved your life from a horde of draugr. Ever since you first laid eyes on his grumpy face, you were smitten. Of course, Kratos took a while to warm up to you. You slowly gained his trust, getting short answers instead of annoyed grunts. Then before you knew it he was telling you about his past. Seeing him be vulnerable was a rare sight, but a welcomed one. You can remember the look of disgust and self-hatred etched across his face when he had revealed that he was a god, and the mistakes he had made. All you could do in that moment was hold him as close as you could, hoping your actions could communicate what your words couldn’t. That was the night you told Kratos you loved him. Luckily, your actions had done what your words couldn’t. That was also the first night you had slept with Kratos. Which is what you were thinking about at this very moment. The golden glow of the fire accentuated his body, especially since he had taken off his armor for the night. “You are staring.” Kratos spoke, his deep voice breaking the silence. He was cleaning some clothing, which he hadn’t broken his attention from. “I have a lot to stare at.” You retorted, shifting from laying on your back to on your side. You got a classic Kratos grunt in response. Sometimes you didn’t know if he was truly oblivious to your flirting, or if he just loved playing hard to get. You sat up fully, wiping some dirt off your hands. You were trying to decide how to best get his attention. Mimir was perched on a log-turned-bench across from Kratos, but he had seen much worse than your flirting. You looked to the sky to check the position of the moon. A bit early for Atreus to be asleep… but he had become invested in reading all he could about Gaia ever since Kratos had shared a story about her the other night. He’s spent every free second with his nose buried in a book, you basically had to yell his name to get his attention when he’s just sitting a foot away from you. You formed a decent idea to get Kratos to stop trying to get blood stains out of furs. You stood up and walked up behind Kratos, resting a hand on his bare shoulder, you peered over his head to see if he had made any progress cleaning. He hadn’t. “Love,” you started, “I can take care of that tomorrow. We don’t even have the right ingredients to get that out at the moment.” Kratos stopped scrubbing at the stain with a sigh. He didn’t like leaving chores for you to take care of. But you were right, he’d been scrubbing for five minutes straight and the stain had just gotten larger. “Fine.” Kratos reluctantly gave up and dropped the fur and the rag in his hands. You smiled, he was very slowly allowing you to take care of a few things around the house without too much resistance. You leaned over and wrapped your arms around his neck loosely and rested your cheek on his shoulder. Kratos turned his head slightly to look at you. He never knew if your antics meant you wanted to be held, or fucked… or both. So, he never initiated sex, no matter how many times you told him it was more than okay to do so. But his heart beat never failed to increase when you were this close to him. You quickly gave up waiting for Kratos to make the first move, so you closed the gap between the two of you, kissing him softly. Mimir also never knew what your actions would lead to, so he was mentally preparing himself for the worst, and focused harder on reading the book propped in front of him. You shifted to straddle the log bench Kratos was sitting on, not breaking your kiss, but deepening it. Kratos had felt his stomach do a flip, he knew what you wanted. He turned his body so it was facing you more now and rested one of his hands on the small of your back. You left one of your hands on his shoulder that was closest to you, and slowly began to migrate your other hand to his chest. You parted your lips, inviting Kratos into your mouth. He gladly accepted, dipping his tongue into your mouth and cupping the side of your face. You moaned softly into his mouth and glided your hand down his abdomen. You could feel how aroused and how wet you were getting, this man did things to you that you couldn’t begin to comprehend. Your kisses were becoming more open-mouthed and sloppy, taking millisecond breaks to breathe before connecting once again. You moved your hand down further, resting it on the upper inside of his thigh, very close to his crotch. “Mmh.” Kratos grunted and broke off your make-out sesh. “What..?” You questioned him, starting to pull your hand away from his thigh. “Not that.” He assured you. “The head.” he turned his head to Mimir. “Oi, don’t mind me brother. Had to endure this hundreds of times before, what’s one more time?” Mimir truly didn’t care, as long as it wasn’t too loud or distracting from his book. Kratos grunted, annoyed. He made a mental note to survey the area for Mimir more often… “hundreds of time?” he thought. But for now he grabbed a nearby shirt he had been meaning to clean and tossed it over Mimir. He didn’t want to risk endless jokes about his genitals, but mostly he didn’t want anyone else to see you naked. You slid your hand back up Kratos’ thigh and began to kiss his neck, with his head turned, it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. You felt Kratos’ fingertips grip onto you a little bit tighter. It encouraged you to scoot even closer to him and place a hand on the back of his head, you settled on a spot near his collarbone to begin to suck and gently bite at his skin. Kratos let out a soft, quiet moan into your ear. You moved your hand over his crotch and began to rub him slowly through his pants, kissing and sucking at little spots going up his neck. He began to rub your waist, wanting to turn the focus more to you than him now. “Lay down.” Kratos instructed you softly. You detached yourself from his neck, feeling a little proud of the marks you’ve made on such a strong, stoic man. You obeyed his instructions and moved off the log, threw a blanket on the dirt and then laid on top of it, starting to take off your pants. Kratos had his knees on either side of your legs and took over for you, slowly pulling down your pants and underwear. You propped yourself up on your elbows slightly, watching every move Kratos was making. He quickly moved to help you take off your shirt as well. After he had considerately put your clothing on top of the log instead of the ground, he was hovering over you and kissed you in the middle of your chest sweetly. You smiled to yourself, every action he made with you was so gentle and loving. You used one hand to rub his shoulder. Kratos began kissing you all the way down to your lower stomach, you were very happy about where this was going and your eyes were glued to the man on top of you. He left one last kiss above your pubic bone and shifted your legs so that they were over his shoulders. With his hands on your waist, he pulled you closer to him and dove right in. It took everything in you not to let out a loud moan, but you were breathing heavy. Kratos started by licking you all over, he loved how you tasted and how wet you would get from just kissing him. He moved one hand to rest on your stomach and used the other to spread you open even more. He created the perfect amount of suction around your clit and used his tongue to add even more friction. “Fuck.” You moaned softly as you let your head drop back and were grinding against his tongue. Kratos was not a fan of cursing, but when you said it, especially how you just did, it went straight to his dick. He pressed his face deeper into you and moved his mouth even faster. You gripped the fur of the blanket beneath you and began to arch your back, you had to bite your lip to muffle your moans. Kratos took your clit into his mouth and began to suck on it, and that’s all you needed. “Oh… fuck, Kratos!” You were trying to be as quiet as you could, but he made it so damn hard. You let out a moan as you reached your climax and tried to push yourself closer into Krato’s mouth, if that was possible. He began to slow down, trying to extend your orgasm for as long as he could, using the flat of his tongue to slowly stimulate you. He knew you were done when your entire body relaxed, he pulled his mouth away and gave your inner thigh a kiss. Your chest was heaving, completely out of breath, but you managed to look down at the Spartan. He carefully unhooked your legs from his shoulders and sat up on his knees as he stared down at you, your chest moving up and down, your cheeks still red from your orgasm and the mess your hair was starting to become, he loved it. He loved you. “Fuck.” You simply stated as you stared back at him, trying to translate your feelings into words. “Sorry, I know you don’t like that.” You apologized for your language as you sat up. “Mh..” Kratos grunted, debating if he should tell you how he feels about it. “It is fine when you say it.” he admitted. You smiled at him and brought your focus to his pants, working on taking off his belt, “Really?” You questioned him, not fully believing him. “Yes.” he assured you. You got his belt off and set it aside, you rubbed his hips and looked up at him, “You know… I only say that when I’m left speechless.” You slid down his pants and watched his very erect dick spring free. No matter how many times you’ve seen it, its size and girth was always a little intimidating. Your words fed into the god’s ego a little bit, “Mhhh…” He hummed, almost like he was surprised to learn that information about you. He watched as you stroked him slowly before licking a line from the base of his cock to the tip and ran your tongue over the slit. You heard Kratos let out a pleased grunt before you took as much of him as you could into your mouth and began to suck him off, using your hand to stroke what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Kratos��� heartbeat was picking up speed, he gently ran his fingers through your hair, careful not to push you further into his cock. He rested his hand on your cheek and you began to bob your head and stroke him faster, moaning around his length. Kratos’ breathing was starting to get heavy now and he clenched his teeth to suppress any sounds from escaping his mouth. You slowed down slightly, and decided to focus on the head of his dick again, swiping it back and forth with your tongue. The hand Kratos didn’t have on your face was clenched into a fist, because you were doing everything to make him a moaning mess, but he wanted to keep his composure. However, before he could lose it, he took an opportunity to stop you from continuing when you needed a breath of air. You looked up at Kratos when he stopped you, hands still wrapped around his swollen dick. You could see the lust in his eyes as he leaned down to kiss you, and you happily returned it. You moved your hands to wrap them around his neck and savor the kiss. But Kratos cut it short, he felt like if he didn’t get closer to you he might die. He carefully leaned you back, one hand on your head and one on your back. After sleeping with him a few times, you quickly realized Kratos’ favorite position was missionary, but you got him to mix it up once in a while. Kratos leaned over you and started to position himself to enter you, but before he did he locked eyes with you. You already knew he was checking in for consent, you gave his biceps a squeeze and nodded your head, “I’m ready, love.” You assured him. Kratos leaned down to kiss your forehead and then he slowly began to enter you. You tightened your grip on his arms and let out a soft gasp, he felt so good, like he was meant for you. Kratos had filled you up with his entire length, he was waiting for you to adjust to him before moving. But you had long gotten used to him, no longer needing time to adjust to his size, but he never skipped this step. “Please, Kratos…” You begged, not wanting to wait any longer. With your enthusiasm, he began to rock his hips into you at a steady pace, admiring your facial features as he fucked you. You let out a moan, louder than you meant to, and you moved your hands up to grip his shoulders and wrapped your legs loosely around him. You couldn’t form any thoughts when Kratos was in you, you could only think about the warmth radiating off of him and how fucking good he felt. Kratos started to increase his speed as he moved one of his hands to grip your waist, but was conscious to not hurt you. All you could do was moan softly over and over again, and occasionally lean up to give Kratos a sloppy kiss. You could feel your arousal building up again. You intertwined your fingers with his and pushed him up so his back was straight, changing his angle to hit you in all the right spots. “Yes… right there.” you encouraged Kratos, looking up at him as you felt yourself starting to become closer to your second orgasm. Kratos groaned slightly at your words and gently squeezed your hands as he started to go faster, deeper, and harder. You attempted to muffle your own moans as your nails dug into Kratos’ hand and with a few more thrusts you were cumming, your walls squeezing around Krato’s cock, the tightness bringing him to his own orgasm as well. He groaned in ecstasy as he came inside you and slowed his thrusts. You were, again, out of breath and you could feel the fur blanket under you becoming wet from your orgasm, you let go of Kratos’ hands and lets your arms fall to your side. You were thoroughly fucked and exhausted. Kratos leaned over you again and rested his forehead on your shoulder, stilling himself inside you, breathing heavily. He lazily kissed your shoulder and your neck before he willed himself off of you and pulled out, seeing his cum spill out of you. You could feel it, his cum slowly leaking from you, it was definitely one of your favorite parts of sex with Kratos. “Come ‘ere.” you instructed Kratos, who was just taking in the sight of you. He laid down next you with a slight grunt, the one you teased was his “old man grunt”. He slipped his hand under you and pulled you closer to him and kissed the side of your head.  “I love you.” he whispered in your ear. Hearing those words come out of his mouth made your heart feel so full. A big smile found its way onto your face as you turned on your side to face him, “I love you too.” you reciprocated as you rested an arm on his abdomen, right at the top of his scar, and hooked one of your legs around him and finally laid your head on his chest. This was your favorite thing about sex with Kratos. The love. The moments right after when you felt complete and whole and can hold him as tight as you can. You laid together, staring up at the stars in the sky and the moon in silence for what seemed like an eternity. But, in classic Kratos fashion, he eventually sat up and began to wipe away the mess between your legs and helped you get dressed. No matter how much you protested and insisted you were perfectly capable of cleaning and dressing yourself, Kratos insisted on helping you. Every time. When the two of you were dressed, you added the blanket you were laying on to the pile of washing to get done. The previously strong fire was now just some smoldering embers. Kratos released Mimir from his cloth prison and picked him up, ready to head to bed with you. “Aye, please tell me you washed your hands…” Mimir didn’t sound too confident. “No.” Kratos replied plainly as he held open the door to the house for you, closing it after entering behind you. Mimir let out a defeated sigh as he was set down in front of his book on the table. You let out a yawn as you spotted Atreus, who fell asleep sitting up in his bed with books sprawled out around him. Kratos put out the candles that had illuminated the small cabin and sat on the bed the two of you shared. He had insisted on sleeping closest to the door, of course. “Goodnight Mimir.” you whispered to the head. “Goodnight, (y/n).” Mimir replied, he couldn’t be annoyed or upset with you and Kratos. He was just glad to see Kratos truly happy, he deserved it after the life he’s had You climbed across Kratos to your spot in bed and snuggled up to him. “Goodnight, love.” You kissed his cheek as tiredness was taking over. “Goodnight, (y/n).” Kratos said as he wrapped an arm around you and closed his eyes.

~Morning after bonus~

The next morning Atreus was up early, getting breakfast ready. You woke up to the smell of bacon cooking, still entangled in the arms of your lover. You lifted your head slightly to peer over the sleeping Spartan and smiled at Atreus. “Good morning, you’re up early.” you whispered to him, but it was no use because Kratos had opened his eyes. Atreus looked over to you and his Father, “Morning.” he smiled at the two of you, “Food should be ready soon.” Kratos sat up fully and planted his feet on the floor, “You fell asleep reading.” he stated to his son. Kratos had been on his back for letting his interests interfere with a proper night’s sleep. “I know…” he started to explain, “But I’m-” he stopped mid sentence and gave his father a strange look. “Father, did you get hurt?” he asked, motioning to his own neck. You could hear Kratos’ breath hitch as his hand went up to his neck, “No.” he deflected. Since he was in his 1000’s, if he didn’t specifically focus on healing an injury, especially a small one, it took a few days for them to go away. Atreus gave him a doubtful look. Kratos was not good at lying, anyone could see straight through them. He focused his energy and healed his body. “Uhm,” You piped up sitting up and peeking your head over Kratos’ shoulder, “We were laying down outside, looking at the stars and one of those rat things, you know the red ones? It snuck up on him.” You patted his shoulder, covering for Kratos’, “He’s kinda embarrassed about it…” Mimir was looking back and forth between the two of you and Atreus, seeing if the boy was really that naive. “Ohhh…” Atreus bought it. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Father. Those things are fast.” he set the food that had finished cooking onto a wooden slab to cool. “Mh…” Kratos just grunted and dropped his hand back down to his side. Mimir rolled his eyes, he was gonna have to explain sex better to Atreus than the horrible talk he could only imagine occurred between the boy and his father.

[literary-motif]

Audric… write him dead. I need xanthus to kill him.. BUT ALL OF THEM SURVIVED… SO NO ANGST PLS I HAD ENOUGH ANGST… !!!

This is mostly fluff, I promise. Mostly. Maybe more hurt/comfort.

The Red River

Xanthus Claiborne X Reader

The origin of Xanthus' name.

Xanthus sighed contently, settling onto the sofa you had moved in front of the large window. He handed you a steaming cup of tea which you took with a smile, kissing his cheek in thanks as he leaned into your side. “The stars really are the most beautiful thing in existence,” you said into the silence of the night. 

Dontis’ residence in New Orleans, although close to the city center, had a peculiar position that minimized the light pollution so drastically that you could see the multitude of stars twinkling happily in the sky as if you had been in the country, far away from civilization and alone with infinity stretching out before your eyes. 

The blackness of the night sky was not truly darkness. If the light of the stars were stronger, you would be able to see all of them and most of the devouring darkness would disappear, instead filled with little points of burning white that would light up nearly the entire sky. There might be an unfathomable, empty distance between you and the sources of that light, but you were still overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of matter in the universe — the stars and planets and comets and who knew what else. 

“I know a very cliché answer to that,” Xanthus smirked. 

It took you a moment to realize what he was referring to, your thoughts still on the infinitely expanding universe. “The most beautiful thing, right after you, of course,” you said, beating him to the compliment. 

He laughed, leaning in slowly to kiss your lips. Xanthus’ lips were always soft against yours, his kisses tender and calm as if he wanted to pour as much of his affection for you into them as he could. He always took his time, cherishing the moment shared between you. 

Only once had he kissed you in desperation, terror and relief cursing through him as he held you in his arms after the disastrous mission to take down the Trimedian. You were still recovering from that. Dontis was gone on vacation with his hunter friend, the others had dispersed to live their lives, free from looking over their shoulders quite as much as before.

Xanthus was struggling, to put it mildly. What had happened had left a deep scar in his heart that could only heal with time. Sometimes when you awoke during the night, you saw him scrub at his hands compulsively as if trying to wash away Audric’s blood that he could still feel clinging to him. 

“I can’t—” he had choked after waking from a nightmare, your arms firmly wrung around him, holding him together, “I can’t escape it. I can’t get it off of me. I can’t forget how he felt under me as I— as I—” You had never heard anyone sob as brokenly as Xanthus had that night.

His laugh was a welcome change to the sorrow clinging to him. You beamed at him as he broke the kiss, and placed your head on his shoulder to stare at the sky alongside him. 

Taking a sip of your tea, you hummed in appreciation as you tasted the sweetness of honey Xanthus had taken care to add. “You remembered,” you laughed fondly, placing another kiss against his neck. 

“Of course I did, my love,” he answered, moving his arm to stroke along your side. “You told me you preferred your tea with honey only yesterday. Did you expect me to forget?”

“I mentioned it in passing.”

“So? It is important to me all the same,” he said, tilting his head to rest his cheek at the top of your head. “It really is breathtaking,” he whispered after a while of gazing at the stars. 

You hummed, taking another sip of your tea. “Why ‘Xanthus’?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence beginning to settle over you again.

“Why what?” he wondered.

“Your name, I mean,” you clarified, “Why did you choose ‘Xanthus’?”

“Oh,” he chuckled, “I— no one’s asked me that before.” He paused as if contemplating something.

“You don’t need to answer if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that, love,“ Xanthus reassured you, moving his hand to hold yours, “It’s just very poetic in a way, and I never thought I would get to reveal that part of myself to anyone.”

The stars had lost their sway over you, and you glanced at Xanthus, seeing him blush. It was an adorable sight, but you did not dare tell him, choosing instead to kiss his lips. “I’d like to hear it, if you’re willing to share.” The look of pure adoration in his eyes made your breath hitch for a moment. 

“I’d love to,” he said, clearing his throat nervously. You moved to rest your head on his shoulder again, absentmindedly tracing small circles into the back of his hand with your thumb. “Have you read the Iliad?”

Despite yourself, the question made you laugh. “‘Rage — Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus’ son Achilles.’ Only in translation.”

“Well, there is a river flowing outside the city of Troy, the one who tried drowning Achilles in book twenty-one it was, I think. The river-god was angry at him because all the Trojans he killed were clogging up the river, tainting the water red with blood. It was called Scamander by the mortals and Xanthus by the gods, according to Homer. And I believe it was Seneca—”

“The stoic philosopher?” you asked.

“Exactly. He said in his Troades something like ‘He — Achilles — choked rivers with corpses, and Xanthus, seeking his way, wandered slowly along with bloody stream.’ I always thought the name was fitting,” Xanthus concluded, his faraway gaze remaining fixed on the stars that had stopped being of interest to you long ago. 

You squeezed his hand, raising it to your lips in a small gesture of comfort.

“I have done horrible things,” he whispered, clenching his jaw and blinking away tears that started to gather in his eyes, “and although I try to leave the past behind with every new name and identity I take, I never quite succeed to wash the blood off of my hands. I think it’s fitting. My past has never stopped tainting me, but opposed to Achilles’ Xanthus, I filled the river with corpses myself.”

You set down your cup on the windowsill in front of you, gathering Xanthus into your arms. “My love,” you began, running your fingers through his hair and peppering soft kisses on his face until he broke into a small smile, “my beautiful, kind, adorable love.” 

Xanthus blushed, trying to hide his face in your shoulder, but you tilted his chin up instead, making him look into your eyes.

“You’re everything to me,” you said earnestly, “the kindest being I have ever encountered, the most relentlessly hard-working to assure the people you care about are safe, the most inexhaustibly generous, the most loving, my love. I have never felt so adored, Xanthus, and I love you with all my heart — every part of you, present, past, and future — no matter what was and will be.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, pulling you into a crushing embrace before the two of you got comfortable on the couch once more, stargazing until the morning sun hid their twinkling light from view again.

[ausetkmt]

There are so many well-executed music videos that are considered timeless. From the greats of Aaliyah to DMX, these artists have never fallen short to deliver out-of-the-box visuals.

Here are some of the music videos that we think are most memorable!

Tell us what’s your favorite memorable music video!

Like TV One on Facebook and be sure to follow us on Instagram and Twitter.

1. “The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)” by Missy Elliott

From the iconic garbage suit, to the fish eye view Missy Elliott’s “The Rain” music video will forever go down in history as one of the most memorable music videos of all time!

2. “On and On” by Erykah Badu

The moment was far more than just a very loose interpretation of (or homage to) the film The Color Purple; it marked the start of Erykah Badu’s tyrannical rule over all neo-soul performers for the ensuing ten years.

3. “Remember the Time” by Michael Jackson

“Remember the Time” isn’t just a music video, this was a short film with a lot cameos of several heavy-hitters in the entertainment industry, such as Eddie Murphy, Iman,  Tommy “Tiny” Lister and Magic Johnson.

Michael Jackson was master of giving fans top-notch visuals as he extracted a genius story plot, dance numbers, theatrics, and etc. from a 4 minute song.

It’s truly a testament to how talented of a performer

4. “No Scrubs” by TLC

After seeing TLC’s “No Scrubs” video, we all wanted to live in the famous future space station!

5. “What’s My Name?” by DMX

If you ever wanted to get hyped up while watching a hip-hop music video, “What’s My Name” by DMX will surely get you riled up!

6. “Try Again” by Aaliyah

The late Aaliyah really became a futuristic pop star when “Try Again” was released.

From the video’s setting of  a hall of mirrors, and a room with a shallow pool to Romeo Must Die star, Jet-Li cameo and Timbaland’s adlibs, and Aaliyah’s signature look this music video captured millions and further pushed Aaliyah into stardom.

7. “Pass The Courvoisier Part II” by Busta Rhymes

Rapper Busta Ryhmes is known to have out-of-the-box music video concepts and “Pass the Courvoisier Part II” is one of the most memorable music videos of the early 2000s.

This music video will go down in music video history due to Mr. T, Spliff Star, Mo’Nique, Kym Whitley, and Jamie Foxx made cameo appearances in the video, which was influenced by the glorious films, Harlem Nights and Rush Hour 2.

8. “Doo Wop (That Thing)” by Lauryn Hill

The music video of “Doo-Wop” by Lauryn Hill will forever live in our hearts.

We can’t get enough of the concept of showing two different generations of men and women, to the singer’s message: “Don’t be a hard rock when you really are a gem!”

9. “All I Need” by Method Man ft. Mary J. Blige

If you’re a hip-hop fan doesn’t matter where you are, you’ll always sing and dance to “All I Need” by Method Man ft. Mary J. Blige!

It is a classic 90s bop!

10. “Roses” by Outkast

Words can’t describe how we feel about Outkast’s “Roses” music video.

From it’s clever references to West Side Story and Grease we get to see how Andre 3000 and Big Boi come together and create this amazing visual for their double-album Speakerboxxx/The Love Below.

Were you a Speakerboxxx or a Love Below fan?

[gotitmaidcleaningservices]

How Domestic Cleaners in Cornwall Can Simplify Your Life

Life can get busy, and sometimes, the last thing you want to do after a long day is clean your home. That’s where professional domestic cleaners Cornwall come in to save the day. If you’re in Cornwall and searching for reliable, efficient, and trustworthy cleaning services, look no further than Got It Maid Cleaning Services Inc. Whether you need a one-time deep clean or regular housekeeping, this guide will help you understand the benefits and options available for domestic cleaning in Cornwall.

Why Choose Domestic Cleaners in Cornwall?

Hiring professional domestic cleaners isn’t just about having a sparkling home—it’s about saving time, reducing stress, and ensuring your living space is a haven of comfort. Here’s why people in Cornwall are turning to expert cleaners like Got It Maid Cleaning Services Inc.:

1. Time-Saving Convenience

Let’s face it—cleaning can be a time-consuming chore. Between work, family, and personal commitments, finding the time to scrub floors or dust every nook and cranny can feel impossible. Domestic cleaners handle the dirty work so you can focus on what truly matters, whether it’s spending quality time with loved ones or pursuing your hobbies.

2. Professional Expertise

Cleaning is an art and a science. Professional cleaners come equipped with the right tools, techniques, and products to tackle even the toughest cleaning challenges. Got It Maid Cleaning Services Inc. employs trained staff who know how to clean efficiently and thoroughly, leaving your home spotless.

3. Customized Services

Not every home is the same, and neither are your cleaning needs. Professional domestic cleaners offer tailored services to fit your requirements, whether it’s regular weekly cleaning, a deep clean before a big event, or seasonal cleaning to refresh your space. Got It Maid Cleaning Services Inc. specializes in creating bespoke cleaning plans for every client.

4. Stress Reduction

A clean home can have a significant impact on your mental well-being. Walking into a tidy, organized space can help reduce stress and improve your mood. With the help of domestic cleaners, you can enjoy the peace of mind that comes with knowing your home is in great hands.

What Services Do Domestic Cleaners Offer?

Domestic cleaners provide a wide range of services designed to keep your home in tip-top shape. Here are some of the popular options you can expect from a trusted provider like Got It Maid Cleaning Services Inc.:

1. Regular Cleaning

This includes general cleaning tasks such as dusting, vacuuming, mopping floors, cleaning bathrooms, and tidying up. Regular cleaning is ideal for maintaining a clean and comfortable home on a weekly or bi-weekly basis.

2. Deep Cleaning

Need a more thorough clean? Deep cleaning targets hard-to-reach areas and tackles built-up grime. This service is perfect for spring cleaning, moving in or out of a property, or preparing for special occasions.

3. Kitchen and Bathroom Cleaning

These areas often require extra attention due to their high usage. Domestic cleaners can ensure your kitchen appliances, countertops, sinks, and bathroom fixtures are spotless and hygienic.

4. Laundry and Ironing

Some cleaning services, like Got It Maid Cleaning Services Inc., offer additional tasks such as washing, drying, and ironing clothes, saving you even more time and effort.

5. Organization and Decluttering

Struggling with clutter? Professional cleaners can help organize your space, creating a more functional and aesthetically pleasing environment.

Why Got It Maid Cleaning Services Inc. Stands Out

When it comes to domestic cleaners in Cornwall, Got It Maid Cleaning Services Inc. is a name you can trust. Here’s what sets them apart:

1. Experienced Team

The staff at Got It Maid Cleaning Services Inc. are highly trained and experienced. They take pride in delivering top-notch cleaning services with attention to detail.

2. Eco-Friendly Practices

Concerned about the environment? Got It Maid Cleaning Services Inc. uses eco-friendly cleaning products that are safe for your family and the planet.

3. Reliable and Trustworthy

When inviting cleaners into your home, trust is crucial. Got It Maid Cleaning Services Inc. ensures all staff undergo rigorous background checks and training to provide peace of mind to their clients.

4. Flexible Scheduling

Busy schedule? No problem. Got It Maid Cleaning Services Inc. offers flexible booking options to fit your routine, making it easy to get the cleaning services you need, when you need them.

5. Affordable Pricing

Quality cleaning doesn’t have to break the bank. Got It Maid Cleaning Services Inc. provides competitive pricing and transparent quotes, so you know exactly what to expect.

How to Choose the Right Domestic Cleaners

Finding the perfect cleaning service doesn’t have to be overwhelming. Here are some tips to help you make the right choice:

1. Assess Your Needs

Start by identifying what you need help with. Do you want regular maintenance cleaning or a one-time deep clean? Are there specific tasks you’d like assistance with, such as laundry or organizing?

2. Check Reviews and Recommendations

Look for online reviews and ask friends or family for recommendations. A cleaning service with positive feedback, like Got It Maid Cleaning Services Inc., is a great sign of reliability and quality.

3. Inquire About Services

Make sure the cleaning service offers the specific tasks you need. Contact Got It Maid Cleaning Services Inc. to discuss your requirements and get a tailored plan.

4. Ask About Safety and Security

Ensure the company conducts background checks on their staff and follows strict safety protocols. Your home’s security should always be a priority.

5. Compare Prices

While price shouldn’t be the only factor, it’s important to choose a service that fits your budget. Got It Maid Cleaning Services Inc. offers competitive rates without compromising on quality.

The Benefits of Hiring Professional Cleaners

Still on the fence about hiring domestic cleaners? Here are some of the top benefits:

Increased Free Time: Spend less time cleaning and more time doing what you love.

Healthier Living Space: Professional cleaning reduces allergens, dust, and bacteria, creating a healthier home environment.

Better Cleaning Results: Enjoy a level of cleanliness that’s hard to achieve on your own.

Consistency: With regular cleaning schedules, your home will always look its best.

Ready to Transform Your Home?

If you’re tired of spending your weekends cleaning or just want to come home to a spotless space, it’s time to call in the experts. Got It Maid Cleaning Services Inc. is here to help with all your domestic cleaning needs in Cornwall.

From regular upkeep to deep cleaning and everything in between, their professional team is ready to make your home shine. Don’t wait any longer—take the first step toward a cleaner, happier home today.

Ready to experience the difference professional cleaning can make? Contact Got It Maid Cleaning Services Inc. today! Visit their website or give them a call to book your first cleaning appointment. Say goodbye to stress and hello to a pristine home with the best domestic cleaners Cornwall has to offer!

[mandymanifestor]

Lobotomy Dog. More nightmare art.

This dream happened many months ago. Finer details have been muddied, or entirely forgotten, and I have recounted the story enough times that I fear it no longer is the same dream that I had, but some malformed misinterpretation or misrepresentation of what truly occurred. But a few things do stand out, more than others - primarily the climax. It was a bright, sunny day in Eastern California, up in the mountains. Dry, rocky pine forest surrounded a deserted, dead little trailer park. Not a soul in sight - the doors to the mobile homes occasionally lay open, some laying off the hinges, others still locked, though even the closed ones are unoccupied. I, and another person I cannot name nor recall the face of, are in one such trailer home. The windows have been boarded and shuttered, some barred with metal. It looks like a hoarder's sty, items strewn around the area, a 50 caliber sniper rifle duct-taped to the side of a table. Not for killing, but for self-defense. We're holed up in here for a reason. There's something out there, and it's the reason why the trailer park is utterly devoid of human life, why even the dry scrub is silent save for the scalding hot wind. The trailer smells horrendous. There's no AC. Sweat beads down our brows. It feels like we're locked in a shipping container being lit on fire. My friend mumbles something to me. Indistinct words. He needs to go outside for some reason - I'm not sure why, but he does. He steps out the door, and I grit my teeth. The damn fool. I hurry over to the table, grabbing a number of brightly-colored lego pieces off of it - they're striking. Colorful. Conspicuous. Distracting to wild animals. I rush outside with them in my hands.

The outside is dead quiet. Pine trees rustling, dirt crunching underfoot. I quickly scan the area - I see something in the distance. A dog. A husky. Smaller than a usual husky, shrouded by poison oak and sparse underbrush - I'm not sure whether or not I see my compatriot, but either way, I begin to toss the lego bricks into the brush. Success - the canine turns its attention to the brightly-colored items, slowly trudging towards them through the scrub. I toss more, further and further away, then quickly rush back inside, leaving the door slightly ajar, believing my friend will run in at any second. Seconds pass. It feels like hours. No footsteps. No sign of my friend. I quickly rip the taped rifle off of the table, and aim it at the doorway - as something begins to push it open. The dog I'd seen before, either it had changed, or simply shed a disguise. It was huge, its snout chest-height with me, its forehead wrinkled, furless, and unpleasantly human. Its sunken, black eyes, illuminated by pinprick lights, regard me with an inhuman expression. Its entire body is covered by a massive "jacket" of loose, wrinkled, flabby skin, stained with dust and human blood, like the result of a botched liposuction. My finger tenses, and I nearly pull the trigger, before the dog speaks. "Hey." Its voice was abhorrent. Roaring. Deep. Guttural. A dog's throat trying to make a human's words. Profoundly unnatural, and deeply horrifying - I am stricken with an utterly paralytic fear, and an almost memetic understanding that I am doomed. There's no escape. It's found me, and no matter how far and fast I run - it will kill me just the same. I cannot harm it in any way. I drop the gun, it clatters to the floor, and, emotionless, respond. '...Hi.' "Wanna see how I killed your friend?" 'Sure, so long as you make it quick.' Slowly, I get down, kneeling in front of the dog. It approaches, its skin-bag body rustling wetly as it approaches. Its forehead starts to bulge, throbbing, like someone pressing their finger against the inside of a paper bag, before it suddenly erupts outwards. Rapidly, a long, needle-thin stalactite covered in blood, and a milky, thick fluid, erupts from its forehead in a burst of gore and blood. It looked horrendous - a mass of globular, yellowy shapes, roughly hewn into a gruesome unicorn's horn, like a stalactite made of congealed human urine. Flecks of blood splat on my face. I do not move to wipe them off. It approaches my side, and presses the needle against my temple. A loud, screeching whine roars from its skull, as the needle begins to spin like a powerdrill. It thrusts its head forward, slamming the spike into my brain and thrashing its head side to side, up and down, violently liquefying the contents of my skull. Everything, up until this point, has been a fugue dream-state, but the pain, I cannot stress enough, was beyond description. It's a faded memory now, but the side of my skull still throbs as I write this. I felt myself pouring out of my nose, the hole in my skull, my ears - an excruciating, electric pain preceding utter numbness as, within an instant, I was dead. I woke up after that, in a cold sweat. All I could think was "That was fucking cool."

[luffythinker]

You seem like you really dig my story so i stayed up until 4 at night writing this im sorryvbtrbgdjf kgb

Last episode the plot thickened and I can't get these guys out of my head while i was trying to go to sleep so more writing about them, almost actually a written story addition and i did research on this one.

This one's got a little spice nearing the end but nobody does anything LIKE WAY OUT THERE

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Bakugo doesn’t have time to focus on shitty relationships. His life is in a downward spiral that has nothing to do with a certain sparkly blonde, he’s trying so hard to focus on anything and everything else. He’s been stolen by the villains, he’d been saved all he wanted to do was lay the fuck down and go the fuck to sleep for once.

Not think, not wonder, just sleep.

No matter how hard he tried how hard he shut his eyes he couldn’t block out his insecurities about his feelings. It's hard for him to explain or put into words how Sparkles a small singed mark could take up every waking and sleeping moment of his life.

He couldn’t forget about him even if he tried, you can’t forget cause there was just something so memorable about the guy who nobody really even ever noticed

Bakugo twisted and turned, tossed around in his bed with his thoughts until he finally forced himself asleep.

Aoyama on the other hand did not sleep well period, he was ass in training the next day due to this which didn’t go unnoticed, many people asked him if he was ok only to get replied “Oui, just a rocky night” or “Does my dazzling not shine bright enough today?” The fucker was putting on an act he must have thought he was so sly, but Bakugo wasn`t fooled.

He let this continue for a few days because the license exam was coming up and he really needed/should be working on super moves. Creating AP shot was going swimmingly at least he had that going for him- that was until that nerd had to come along and pour not just salt but a whole shaker into his wounds. Saving All might like he was supposed to be a goddamn pro.

THE NERVE

This is the thing that made him nearly forget about his own problems, made him focus on what's in front of him instead of beside him.

Bakugo looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. “I’ll talk to him after the exam.” he thought watching the water droplets fall from his face into the sink. He scrubbed a towel over his face and went on his way.

Fate would allow him to avoid seeing pretty boy so his central point of interest stayed fixed on the exam. He viewed it as a good thing (but was it truly?)

After the shitty exam his classmates stood around him reading their papers searching for their names on the list of passers.

Those who weren’t fortunate enough to pass there was still a chance for them to get their licenses.there was going to be a special training course in March if they did well on their individual test they would issue provisional licenses to them. HOWEVER balancing special training with current school work was gonna be literal torture for a student. They were offering retakes for the exam in April which just wasn’t an option for Bakugo to slack off. He’d have to really dig deep in everything as if he already didn’t pour his soul into everything he did.

LIKE HELL HE’D LET AN OPPORTUNITY LIKE THIS PASS BY!

All of that stuff is super important but right now he needed to know something else.

“Come outside after everyone’s asleep. It’s about your quirk.” He passed by Deku, whispering hard. He made sure the nerd heard him and didn’t linger.

The first person he went to after his fight with Deku was Kirishima, he patched up his own wounds and knocked on his friend’s door. He let him in, let him vent, he listened to everything he needed to vent about that he could talk about cause unlike Deku he can keep his feelings out of other people's secrets.

He was there for a solid two hours before going to bed in his own bed. He wanted to stay god knows he would have preferred to sleep next to someone the way he felt in that moment. He honestly didn’t think he deserved it so he stayed in his own room.

Aoyama had to go to classes. Bakugo not being there didn’t stop him from staying a little longer to at least talk to him for a bit.

He watched the two of them vacuuming and cleaning up before he spoke up.

“I’m off.” He stood there making no attempt to do no such thing.

Midoriya more than glanced and nodded bidding him the day, Bakugo didn’t even look at him or so he thought. If you were a crazy person like Midoriya you would notice Bakugo stopped cleaning for a millisecond, started again. His head didn’t move but his eyes did, ruby red’s glared at Aoyama before he actually did make good on walking out the door.

“What was that?” Midoriya brought up breaking the silence a second time. Once for asking about how Kacchan thought about his fighting style, Now about whatever that was.

“What was what?” Bakugo snapped ever in the bad mood.

“Nothing i guess.” Midoriya shrugged knowing not to push it, Bakugo was being nice enough as is.

On the third day Deku was released from house arrest, Aoyama took this time to say more to Bakugo before he would go to his classes. He might not look it but he was smart enough to understand Bakugo didn’t want Deku in his business like that. Everyone was off while Aoyama turned back towards the dorm saying something like he forgot his special light up pen. Toru offered him her fuzzy pen but he said this one was special so they let him go believing the sorry excuse.

Stepping back onto the porch, he looked at the windows seeing if Bakugo was in the common area.

“What are you doing twinkle toes?” He asked lip slightly drawn up on the other side of the glass. He gave Aoyama a heart attack but he didn’t quite scream his mouth was closed so it was muffled by his tight lips.

“Aren’t you supposed to be lollygagging with the rest of the extras?” he would rest his arm against the window but he just clean that shit, he opted for shifting his weight onto one hip and crossing one leg over the other on the wall part next to the towering glass windows.

“Please don’t scare me like that!”

“Get your ass in here i don’t have a reason to be outside so i ain’t going.”

Aoyama hurried inside. The emptiness of the dorm was weird, he almost felt like he was skipping but he really just wanted/needed to talk to Bakugo.

“Spill it or get the fuck out.” he said in his usual snappy tone.

“I just wanted to say I wanted to talk with you if you have a minute...”

“About?”

“Well..” he shuffled. “I don’t think we have enough time to talk so i’ll have to tell you later or another time you're free.”

Bakugo stared at him like a lion, his eyes cold. He flicked his neck. to the stairs.

“Come to my room tonight.”

Aoyama couldn’t lie a faint blush rose to his cheeks across his nose at the sound of something so provocative coming from Bakugo. DONT GET HIM WRONG he knew what he meant he just had a dirty thought is all.

EVERY BOY DOES WHEN YOU LIKE ANOTHER PERSON he thought trying to convince himself there was nothing wrong with the way his brain was working right now.

“Stop making that fucking face, say what you can then go get your shitty light up pencil,” He walked closer to him. “Or were you just fucking with everyone’s heads?”

The closeness made Aoyama dizzy, not normal dizzy but hazy he guessed? Not uncomfortable the opposite! He wanted Bakugo this close.

he missed him this close.

He couldn’t find the words, like really he couldn’t he had forgotten what he wanted to say. “Um, even people like me forget i’m sorry.”

Bakugo huffed him off walking away. “Fuck off.” He didn’t mean it, he just wanted him to get going.

Bakugo was smirking with his back turned, he saw that stupid light up pen sticking out his bag, he didn’t want Aoyama to get in trouble for being gone so long so he ended the conversation.

Aoyama thought about Bakugo and tried to remember what he wanted to say throughout class. If he remembered he wouldn’t know cause when that third year who was part of the Big 3 knocked him and everyone of his classmates he really forgot everything and he was on the floor. When he came to they were being talked to about his this guys insane quirk worked but he honestly didn't care all that much.

He almost swore in his thoughts about forgetting what he wanted to say to Bakugo. The ragamuffin was rubbing off on him.

Aoyama spent the remainder of his day nursing his tummy and talking to his classmates about normal school stuff

until night fell around. He waited until everyone was supposedly asleep before sneaking up the stairs to Bakugo's dorm room. The door was left cracked open and he walked in slowly and quietly. Bakugo was nowhere to be seen so he was either in the bathroom or at their spot.

On the roof.

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

(DIPPING IN TO SAY SOMETHING turns out research is something you should always do because Bakugo’s room is nowhere near the roof and the only thing he could do is sit on the guard railing outside his balcony but i don’t give a flying fuck so pretend Bakugo and Kirishima live on the 5th floor cause i dont wanna move Bakugo’s room from being Kirishima’s neighbor)

back to the story

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Aoyama closes the door behind him before going to Bakugo’s balcony to climb up onto the ledge to get to the roof where he spots his blasty boy.

He’s already got refreshments and blankets. One is light purple and the one he has around his shoulders is blue has yellow All Might initials on it.  “We ran out of capri suns so we only have sunny D and Kool-aid bursts. Pick one and sit down.” It’s a weird order.

“Kool-aid please.”

Bakugo offers him a red flimsy plastic bottle that Aoyama rips the top off with his teeth like kids normally do and starts sucking on it to get the juice out.

Bakugo bluntly asks him what's been going on in the days of class he’s missed. Aoyama has to refuse. “I honestly couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to mon cheri. Mr. Aizawa would  sooner have my head on a platter.” he jokes darkly.

“Well fuck i guess.” Bakugo sighs.

They stare at the dark blue sky for a bit before they start getting to the meat and potatoes that is a conversation they should have had a while ago.

Aoyama once again stares at his feet or anything else that isn’t Bakugo trying to come to what he can say that wont get him yelled at. Bakugo is already inside his mind because he tells him to “Stop over thinking shit and say what's on your mind damnit.”

He purses his lips trying to ignore how he even knew- nevermind. He opens his mouth to speak. 

Here goes nothing.

“I’m sorry you didn’t pass.” Before Bakugo can swear about how he doesn’t give a fuck Aoyama continues on. “But i know you probably don’t care about that so you don’t have to say anything. Why bring it up in the first place i know.”

Aoyama surprises him by being 5 steps ahead of his brain so Bakugo shuts his trap since he knows everything that’s going to come out of his mouth apparently. “Fucker.” He says a smirk twisting his lips into a natural smirk. Not a angry one or a taunting one, he’s amused at how well someone that isn’t Deku knows him.

It’s endearing.

“Never thought someone would make me feel like that Twinkles, i can respect that i guess.”

“Oui,” Aoyama replies, wrapping the fuzzy purple blanket around himself a little tighter. “.. were you avoiding me because you were working on your moves or was it because of something i did?”

“I wasn’t avoiding shit, your the one who started acting weird and wanting space or whatever, i have other priorities ya know?” Bakugo shoots back.

“Oui,” repeats, closing his eyes for a brief moment. “Getting in trouble sounds important.”

“Shut up glitter face that wasn’t part of the plan, it was a byproduct!”

Aoyama brings his hand to his mouth to smother away his snickers. Bakugo isn’t really mad, he's just pissy. He likes it when it’s like this, talking, Aoyama doesn’t talk a lot so he loves to get to be half of his real self around someone like Bakugo who won't judge him.

He doesn’t have to fully pretend he can be sassy,

he can tease,

he doesn’t have to hide.

It’s nice, it gives him a chance to be a real person. Bakugo encourages this behavior all the time, he also likes it when Aoyama is this way which makes him glad he met someone like Bakugo.

He’ll miss this he really will…

“Did I truly anger you darling?” He’s smiling when he asks this but he doesn't feel like a smile, he'd hate to be the leading cost to Bakugo's anger. It rips his ribcage apart to even slightly have the other boy mad with him just a little bit. (Which isn't good for a number of reaons he'll leave alone right now)

“Like you could," he makes fun of him in a loving? manner? he jokes at him. "I'm not mad at you and I never was mad with you.”

“That’s good, that makes me feel better.” Aoyama says hugging his arms to his person.

Bakugo glances over at him, he looks comfy. He would look even more comfy if the thing he was hugging wasn’t a blanket but another human one such as himself. Bakugo stands up, receiving a look from the other blonde. He then stands in front of where Aoyama is sitting.

“Move, let me in.” he says in that voice of his. He asking for permission to be close. Aoyama looks at Bakugo for a second, before opening his arms holding the blanket open for Bakugo to come inside and share his warmth.

He gets on his knees and leans his head on Aoyama's shoulder. Pressing his face into his neck he misses the warmth of this body specifically. He whines quietly pressing his whole body against Aoyama in a hug while Aoyama wraps Bakugo in his arms.

 He speaks in french, Bakugo doesn’t know what he’s saying (He honestly never knows what he’s saying half the time if they are being honest) but he knows it sounds nice. He kisses Bakugo’s hair. He missed that too. He’s rocking a little it’s like a lullaby in body language but not a sleepy one.

“Fuck.” Bakugo softly says.

“Whats the matter darling?”

“I… I missed this.”

For once he doesn’t beat around the bush he says what he means, no long ass figuring out anything to try and understand what this means he just says what he means, what he feels.

“I missed you.” He adds in.

Aoyama hums in agreement. “I miss you too,” He replies in a hushed tone rocking Bakugo like he’s a infant about to pass the fuck out in his parents arms and be put to bed soon.

Actually thats kinda fucking weird. He thinks… nope not gonna let it ruin it.

“Can we move this to the bed darling? It’s rather chilly tonight and it’s nicer for cuddling.”

Fuck he was cuddling wasn’t he? he ‘s like a big stupid teddy bear. Curiosity suddenly over takes him but he refuses to ask whats poking him. -Could Aoyama carry him?-

“Fine,” he opts for instead, they climb down from the roof and slug their bodies into Bakugo’s bed, Bakugo turns over on his side while Aoyama gets in next to him and spoons him, locking their legs underneath the covers.

“Don’t think i didn’t see your fucking face light up like a damn traffic light.” Aoyama’s semi sleepy state is awakened when Bakugo suddenly says this thumb rubbing over the hand that’s wrapped around his god given 27 inch waist. He was in a trance about to fall asleep this woke him the fuck up.

Bakugo’s smile is evil when he leans back to see Aoyama’s wide eyes. “You thought when i said come back to my room you were getting something you fucker.” He ever so gently rolls his hips into Aoyama's, causing the boy to turn red as a stop sign. (More like go sign)

“Heh, pervert.” He almost laughs, kissing him on the lips taking a simple love bite before doing that again.

Aoyama is dizzy again in that hazy way. He has to hold in any sound not to make a fool of himself (Honey you already have dont worry)Still he holds Bakugo a little closer. His toes curl in anticipation, was Bakugo willing to go that far? He wasn’t stopping him if he was but he surely wasn’t going to try and be the first to dive into such a thing. His thoughts are soon changed after a couple more kisses and body grinds, Bakugo is doing all the work and he’s just here for the ride.

He tries to dip his fingertips into Bakugo’s sweatpants to see if he truly feels strong about this but when so much as a fringe of skin makes contact with the other blonde he grabs him by the wrist.

Aoyama flinches into the kiss. He opens his eyes. (WHEN WERE THEY CLOSED?)

Bakugo finishes kissing him, pulling his lip a little before pulling away.

“No you don't,” Bakugo says. “Not tonight.”

There is a promise of another night in that statement.

Aoyama gulps nodding, he moves his hands away like a good boy replacing them to a more appropriate position. He's got him by the chest instead. His face falls between Bakugo's neck and shoulder He kisses him on the ear.

“You really are out to get me aren’t you?” It’s a joke but he isn’t laughing at all. Nothing is funny about teasing someone this way especially when life is hard enough as it is.

"Maybe"

The conversation doesn't get any further because Bakugo falls asleep, it was pass his bedtime. Aoyama is left alone and the bad part is he can't sneak off to the bathroom or go back to his room. (not that he really wants to,) He would have to just calm down and deal with it for tonight.

Like he has been doing for the past couple nights anyway..

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

I’m going to make a sideblog so i can actually just post these cause i don’t wanna put steamy spice in your ask box ITS GETTING THERE i honestly really did forget what i wanted Aoyama to say to him, promise me you’ll continue to have comments like you did on the other two if i make a side blog put them in the replies or something on the post i live off you reading my stupid little story you and everyone else MAWH lova ya keep being beautiful <3

OMG NOOOO PLEASE YOU'RE SO SWEET AND AMAZING, I hope you caught up on your sleep :((

I'm really sorry for taking so long to reply, I had to work over the weekend and couldn't get into my computer to read properly, but I'm so glad to have something to read today before I have to start studying again!! thank you so much for the effort you put into the story, let's go <33

My poor Bakugo is going through so much and has to deal with love pains on top of everything [and Aoyama is not doing any better it seems

"cause unlike Deku he can keep his feelings out of other people's secrets" he's so sassykdjjkdkdj

"If you were a crazy person like Midoriya you would notice Bakugo stopped cleaning for a millisecond, and started again." professional observant Deku in work mode

wouldn't it be funny if Deku pressed on the issue and Katsuki just exploded blabing everything that's been going onkjjkd

thank god aoyama asked for them to talk, can't handle this awkward phase

and ofc baby you can think whatever you want patpat

HELPLKDLKD okay we don't give a fuck about the canon aspects of his bedroom! his bedroom is close to the roof to US and that's all that matters <3

/his/ blasty boy cries

not the kool aid pleasekdfkjdfjldflj

I'm so sorry but every deku mention makes my bkdk heart skip a beat because yes how can someone other than Deku know him this well, I love how this is the bar for him

if this were ao3 this would be worth of the miscommunication tag, no them going "well I was only avoiding you because you avoided me first!!!"

"He’ll miss this he really will…" not you teasing us with the prospect of heavy angst….

BAKUGO WANTS CUDDLES AND HUGS, BUT NOT JUST ANYONE, HE WANTS AOYAMA IM GONNA EXPLODE

I can totally see bakugo being obsessed with aoyama's waist, yup yup makes sense

THE TEASINGGGGGG OMG, was holding my breath the entire time, so much tension fuckkkkkk

DAMN THIS WAS GOOD, FUCKKSDKJDSKJ I JUSTJJDJKSDLKSDKJ I NEED TO SCREAM

this chapter (we're gonna call it that) felt so much more structured, the way you write really sucks you into the story, it's like we're standing there watching everything!! idk I think u really should publish the story, I'm sure it could reach a lot of people and it's so enjoyable, i just be giggling, screaming and talking to myself the entire time

please do make a sideblog!! i would love to intreact even more for sure!! will make sure to be commenting and freaking out in the tags

i hope you had good days in your life, hope you're doing great, love u <3

[nattinatalia]

Jack Harlow x Reader : ME OR HER PART 2

A/N: Read part 1 here & the Instagram AU here.

Featuring the one and only @hoodharlow 💖

When you left, Jack swore you took his heart with you. It’s been three years and till this day he still thinks about you, and he wonders how you’ve been.

He tried to get you back that night, he really did. But you made it your mission to cut all ties with him the moment you left. He would ask Nicky Jam about you, but had made it clear that it wasn’t his place to say anything concerning you or your music, so Jack just stopped trying to search for you all together.

It’s like you were erased, he tried looking for you on social media but he found nothing, he thought maybe you had changed your name if you decided to continue with your music, so he wouldn’t even know how to search for you.

He’s hurt, rightfully so. He can’t believe you would just walk away from him like that, like nothing mattered. But then again, maybe he should’ve stood up to his manager and set her straight.

He still carries the box with him. He still carries you in his broken heart. Because no matter what, he truly believes you were the love of his life.

“Jack, are you even listening to me?” Neelam breaks him out of his thoughts.

He rolls his eyes “Yes, you’ve been over the plans three times already.”

“Ok so get your shit together, and please, put that thing away.” Neelam points at the box he has in his palm. “It’s been three years, either sell it or throw it away, she’s not coming back.”

Jack glares “Yea because you made it your mission to push her away.”

“I didn't do anything, she chose all on her own.”

There’s a knock on the door “She’s here.” Urban says opening the door to the conference room.

Jack stands and nods “About time, I should’ve done this a long time ago.”

“Hello Jackman, nice to see you again.” A woman’s voice says as she walks into the room.

Jack nods “Blanca, always a pleasure.”

Neelam stands to look at her then back at Jack, she rolls her eyes “I told you, another little Mexican girl, and you’re still crying about the one that got away.”

“Excuse me?”

Neelam waves her hand in a dismissive way “No need to keep a conversation with me, I’ll get you the NDA papers to sign.”

Blanca laughs “Girl you are either stupid or slow, I’m not one of his girls, pendeja. I’m here to take your place.”

Neelam looks confused “I’m sorry what?”

Blanca smiles and extends her hand towards her “Blanca Hood, not so nice to meet you. Oh by the way, you’re fired.”

She laughs “She’s joking right? Jack, tell me this little girl is joking.”

He shakes his head “No, she means that. I should’ve put an end to your crap years ago.”

“Are you seriously still mad about that? Are you really going to get rid of me over the Mexican? Just because I made a few cleaning jokes? Come on, if she wouldn’t be doing music right now, I’m pretty sure that’s what she would be doing, scrubbing toil-“ Neelam doesn’t get to finish her words because she quickly falls to the floor due to someone punching her straight across her jaw.

“You racist bitch.” Blanca says and goes to take the seat Neelam was just sitting on. “You did my girl dirty, and I applaud her for how strong she is, but she should’ve also laid your ass out. Now me? Yeah I’m not taking any form of disrespect.”

“I will press charges against you for putting your hands on me.” She yells, touching her jaw.

“Go for it, I’ll do the same.”

“I didn’t even touch you.”

Blanca smiles “We know that, but the cops won’t. Pack your stuff and get out, unless you want me to bring my dog and have him drag you by your ugly ass hair.”

Urban chokes on his drink and starts laughing “I’ll walk you out Nee.” He says and takes her out of the room.

Now it’s just Jack and Blanca, his new manager, alone in the conference room.

“I don’t know how you or Y/N put up with the disrespect.”

Jack is confused “Wait, you know Y/N?”

Blanca nods “That’s my girl, her little sister is a fan of 5SOS- my husband’s band. I met her a few years ago at one of their shows, We've been friends ever since.”

Jack nods “So she told you about me?”

“No, not really, all she said was that she ran into you once and your manager wasn’t so welcoming.”

“Hmm, we did more than run into each other.” Jack scoffs

“I put two and two, but if she signed then she really couldn’t tell me anything else right?”

He nods “yeah.” He smiles “So how is she?”

Blanca shakes her head “Nope, I’m not telling you, you can ask her yourself when you see her.”

Jack looks up at her words “What do you mean?”

“You’re both performing at next month's festival in Miami. I’m obviously going to watch her set, so I made sure you’re free during and after.”

“Does she know I’m performing there too?”

“I’m pretty sure since your name is the first one on the flier.”

“I looked at the flier, she’s not on it.” Jack says confused.

Blanca smiles “Her manager is a close friend, she managed to book her for it. Now go look at the comment I pinned under your picture.” Blanca tells him as she tosses her phone into her bag and gets up from her seat.

“What? How? I’ve looked for her on social media and ended up with nothing.” Jack says surprised.

“She has a burner account, one which I’m pretty sure she has you and your entire team blocked. She just made that one, so enjoy it. I have to go check on some stuff with Chris, so you do whatever it is broken boys do.”

Blanca heads out the door and not even seconds pass by and Urban is storming into the room “Did you see? Y/N commented under your post.”

Jack nods but is frozen, he can’t believe he’s staring at you even if it’s through a screen.

You barely have any pictures up so he doesn’t know if you’re married or with kids. For all he knows, you’re probably living a married life with the white picket fence.

“She did it.” Jack says proudly, looking at the most recent video you had posted of a performance.

But he can’t help but feel somewhat bitter.

He wished he was there besides you. He wishes he was there cheering you on just like you used to do numerous times for him.

“Well what are you waiting for? You’ve been searching for her non stop, you got your opening. Reach out.” Urban tells him.

“Blanca said we’re both going to attend the festival next month in Miami, I think i’ll just wait until then.”

“What? Are you crazy? You’ve been missing her since she left and you’re going to wait a month to talk to her?”

“I don’t know what to say, my feelings are mixed. I’m happy I got to see a glimpse of what she’s doing but I’m still hurt she left like that. She blocked all of us, she blocked me, she erased me from her life. I’m just supposed to reach out and be happy about that.”

Urban rolls his eyes “So do all that, get mad at her, talk it out with her. But dude come on, she’s finally reaching out because she commented under your picture.”

Jack shrugs, “I just need to get all my thoughts together before I talk to her, get my feelings in order.”

“You’re an idiot, meanwhile I’ll reach out because I missed my wing woman” his best friend tells him and walks out the room.

This was something Jack has been waiting for for sometime now.

He should be happy to finally see what you've been doing. Yes, he’s happy that your music career is up and going but he feels bitter, he should’ve been there alongside you through it all.

He wonders if you struggled, if you felt any type of regret with the decision you took all those years ago.

Do you miss him like he missed you?

Do you still love him like he loves you?

All different thoughts and feelings were being brought up all at once and he doesn’t know what to do.

But he’ll have to figure something out soon because just then a direct message from you comes in and has him freezing up.

Y/N : Hey superstar ⭐️ long time no talk, how are you?

•

TAG LIST

@heavyhitterheaux

@harlowsbby

@arination99

@cmalass

@jackharloww

@minkookie95

@deannaard

@jacksmoviestar

@harlowcomehome

@fdl305

@httpkoylinnn

@xoxokiaraaxoxo

@hoodharlow

@automaticpeachsong

@amethyst09

@aliciacat20

@allyson15

@peakascum

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

lesson

pairing: harry styles x reader

warnings: smut, masterbation, daddy mentions, heavy degradation and humiliation (lots of sluts and whores) but also some good girls !! teasing (so much teasing), orgasm denial/edging, choking, bondage, cum play (so also unprotected sex), pussy play (including spanks and cock thumping), pillow humping (for like a second), spitting, panty fucking, harry has a very dirty mind, please, only 18+ !!

word count: 6.4k

synopsis: he only has one rule, and she still can’t seem to follow it (or in which harry teaches y/n a lesson)

author’s note: hello! this took a little longer than i expected, so thank you for being patient with me! this is absolute, pure, unadulterated filth (absolutely no fluffiness about this—be proud for me) please, note the warnings and don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with anything mentioned above (that’s why i put them there :)) xx

masterlist

—

Y/N’s heart races in her ears as she scrubs at her hands, foamy soap slipping down her wrists in her haste. Harry calls for her downstairs, the front door slamming shut, shaking the house. She can’t find her voice just yet, traces of a stolen orgasm lingering in her tired body. The sheets are crumpled from her quick highs, and her legs are weak. She feels giddy, despite the odd numbness that seeps into her bones. She finally feels fulfilled after a long day of insatiable throbbing between her legs.

Clad in a simple tee and underwear, she steps out of their bathroom when he finally gets up to their bedroom. She dries her hands off, eucalyptus, mint, and other artificial scents lingering. She’s still catching her breath.

“Hey, babe,” she smiles, just like she does every time he gets back home, but there’s something behind it that’s unfamiliar, a devilish hint.

It’s her eyes that give her away.

They’ve been together long enough for him to know what she looks like after she comes, her shaky legs, dopey smile, and glazed over eyes. The mischievous glint is different, however.

“How was your—”

“How many times?”

“What?” She tilts her head to the side, brows furrowed innocently. It angers him; it actually makes his chest tight, and he has to bite his cheek to keep from snapping. She has the nerve to act as if nothing is wrong. Lip tucked between teeth, she steps forward, hands splayed in front of her. An unfamiliar feeling bubbles in his stomach. Not quite possessiveness but certainly close, this feeling is akin to lust and indignation, and it melts into a pool of gluttonous desire.

Normally, he takes a step back to collect his thoughts when he’s this emotionally invested, but it’s difficult when she looks so tempting, so divine, so satisfied. Fresh faced with a cheeky grin, she beckons him, imploring him to punish her, challenging him to ruin her.

He stalks forward, their gazes never faltering, until she falls onto the bed, still looking at him innocently.

“How many times did you make yourself come?”

His words bite, but she looks indifferent, the glazed look in her eyes taunting him. She doesn’t answer, but then again, she knows that she doesn’t need to. He cups her throat, so tender, pliable, and exposed, and he can feel her swallow thickly.

“I’ll ask again. How many times?”

She stares at him, jaw set and ready to hold her own. It’s different from her usual demeanor. No matter how bratty she would act, she easily fell into her submissive headspace, answering his questions obediently and listening to him eagerly. She doesn’t seem to want to break that easily today. Instead of her usual shy and shameful glaces at her hands, she sits up fully, looking him dead in the eyes, and grins, a twisted little smirk that makes his stomach curl and his cock grow thick. She wants to play a game, but it seems that she has forgotten that he is the one in charge. His fingers tighten around her throat, pressing into the spots beneath her jaw that leave her vision hazy.

“Only once,” she says sweetly, albeit weakly from her grip on her neck.

Lies.

He knows that.

She knows that he knows that, but maybe a part of her just wants him to piss him off.

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” he snaps. “How many times?”

His patience is wearing thin, and this game, this teasing, is getting out of hand. She thinks that she can have an advantage over him, while still playing the submissive. Someone needs to put her in her place.

“Almost three times,” she admits finally, sinking back. He finally lets go of her neck, and she holds the spot where his hand once was, vexing eyes yearning for his touch. He cocks a brow.

“Almost? Did I interrupt the third?”

“Yes,” she whines. That’s when he notices her thighs pressing tight together, and she shifts on the bed.

“Does daddy not please you, babylove? You need to touch your princess parts because daddy doesn’t make you feel good anymore.”

Filled with hurt, his words seem to get to her. The familiar docile look in her eyes slips in, and her lips sink into a pout. She’s drinking from the palm of his hand.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t touch you anymore—”

“No,” she cries, sinking further into her headspace. “But—daddy, you left this morning,” she says, her lips pouting.

That’s true.

The night before, she was his soft babylove, who just wanted to be as close to him as possible, be held and comforted and loved. That’s how he awoke this morning: warm with his cock soft inside her. He kissed her awake, as she deserved, and even though he felt comfortable simply being wrapped in her warmth, he needed to taste her. He was slow with his movements, languidly licking along her lips until wetness coated her thighs, teasingly sucking on her clit until she was trembling, wanting to build up the pleasure.

Admittedly, he had to rush out before she could finish and go to a meeting regarding his upcoming tour. He had quite the time trying to hide his semi for the better part of the morning.

“And I was feeling achy,” she continues rambling; the poor thing is close to tears. He feels for his pretty girl, he truly does, but he pushes that aside. A part of him feels hurt, like she couldn’t trust him to take care of her when he came home. Harry doesn’t ask much. She can be as bratty as she wants to, purposefully teasing him when they’re in public or refusing to do the simplest of requests, but he just asks that she let him take care of her.

She couldn’t even give him that courtesy.

“Don’t make excuses,” he scoffs. “I thought you were a big girl.”

“I am,” she promises.

“Big girls wait for daddy to come home and help them come,” he says, stroking her cheek. Tender touches mask his true intent. He suddenly shoves her back, hand tight to her throat once again, and she gasps, head tilting back into their pillows.

“Naughty girls touch themselves. Whores come almost three times at their own hand.” He grits his teeth. “Are you a whore?”

She doesn’t answer, but he can feel her heart racing beneath his grasp. A glimpse of a smile is enough to let him know that she’s fine; she’s enjoying herself, seeing him so riled up, possessive, and ravenous.

“Are you still wet? Achy?”

She nods.

“Whores get wet when they’re in trouble,” he says offhandedly. Her body quivers at the malice dripping from his tongue. “Arms up.”

She does as told, holding onto the headboard, eagerly awaiting his next demand. This is what she wanted, after all.

She has no idea what’s coming.

Usually, whatever punishment he gives her is what she also enjoys, from the occasional spanking to overstimulation. He usually has her coming until she can’t take anymore, until an ache seeps into the bliss.

Not this time.

He tugs her shirt up and over her head while his other hand fiddles in their bedside drawer. Moments later, a pair of silk scarves tie her hands to the headboard.

“Not too tight?”

She tugs on the restraints and shakes her head.

“Color?”

“Green.” She beams, breaking character for a moment.

Even if they were in the midst of a deep fantasy, he has always made a point to make sure she knows that it's alright to voice any discomfort and vice-versa; she often asks for his color whenever he seems to be overwhelmed. They both know how volatile headspaces can be, with the slightest changes making a huge difference in the experience.

He runs his nose along hers, lips tracing along the curves of her face, nibbling teasingly at her chin, down her neck, and grinds himself against her. He sucks on her breasts, biting at her nipples until they’re peaked. She closes her eyes, savoring every spike of bitter pleasure he has to offer. He sits back after a moment, appreciating the glimpse of light that catches her wet skin. He palms himself.

“It’s only fair that I get to come three times since you did. Make us even, right, lovie?”

“But I only made myself come twice.”

Y/N really has the nerve to talk back to him with her hands tied to the headboard, her body exposed to him, the only thing covering her modesty a flimsy pair of underwear. He cocks his head to the side.

“Should we make it four?”

That makes her hesitate, sinking back in the sheets. She shakes her head, cute pouty lips puckering. He would love nothing more than to run his cock along that pretty, dirty mouth, to feel her greedy tongue tracing the underside of him lazily, to wrap his hand around her throat and feel it expand as he fucks her face.

But he knows that she would enjoy it too much.

Too much for a punishment.

Harry traces along the curves of her features, from the slope of her nose to the round of her cheek, soft and lingering, a harsh contrast of what’s to come. He smirks. She parts her lips like a good girl when his thumb passes over them, biting it teasingly. He, then, drags it down her chin, leaving a trail of wetness in its wake.

He can’t help but think about how pretty she would look with cum and spit dribbling from those sinful lips, eyes barely able to stay open. Fucked beyond belief, she would moan his name and other incoherent thoughts oh-so sweetly, her voice wrecked. His grateful babylove, his lovely, satiated Y/N would whisper a soft thank you after taking him so well. He truly wishes he could do that, give her anything she ever desired, make her feel euphoria like never before, a high no one other than him can give her, but she was greedy and naughty and misbehaving.

And she needs to learn a lesson.

Now, he has to tease her, to bring her to the brink of orgasm, only to shatter her, again and again, until she’s on the brink of tears. She’s going to be left unsatisfied, trembling beneath him, while he brings himself to orgasm, again and again, until he’s milked himself dry. She will be grateful if he gives her even a bit of pleasure, but it is not enough to push her to the end.

It would never be enough.

He leans in close, his lips a fleeting embrace, just past her reach. He wants to taste her, but he needs to be patient.

A warmth buries her, and his overwhelmingly familiar scent swallows her, safe and comforting. She doesn’t know she’s even pulling on her restraints until her fingers are numb and tingly, yearning to feel his skin.

Maybe this was a bad idea, but it’s too late to turn back now.

“You can beg and plead all you want,” he says, “but know this: you will not be coming again tonight.”

Her eyes darken, and a satisfied little grin graces her pretty face.

She got what she wanted, tied up and vulnerable to him.

However, this isn’t her game anymore.

Now, she’s at his utter mercy.

“And if you do come, somehow, I will not touch you for a week; not only will you not feel my cock, my fingers, or my tongue, there will be no kisses or cuddles. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s my good girl.”

He unbuttons his shirt, slowly, diligently, his fingers lingering a little long on his inked stomach, knowing that she likes to take her time and admire that part specifically. After he peels the button up away, he finally sits next to her on the bed, his back to her. His belt falls to the floor with a clatter, and she holds her breath.

The silence is deafening, thick with tension. She waits, knowing that patience will help her. She also knows better than to say anything, since it would probably worsen her current predicament. Harry has always been level-headed, even in his dominant headspace, being very patient, especially in trying circumstances. He can take a lot before he snaps. She usually has to beg him to slap her, to spit in her mouth, or to fuck her so hard her legs give out.

This new persona is unpredictable, new, and alluring.

It’s different and all the more arousing.

She shifts, the bed frame creaking. A feeling of naughtiness courses through her, as it did earlier. She wants to see how much she can get away with and how far she can go before he loses control and puts her in her place. She watches him closely, her breathing ragged. She drags a pillow up by her feet, and Harry pays her no mind, perhaps assuming she’s just getting comfortable. His shoulders shift as he nimbly undoes the buttons to his pants, his back muscles tightening and relaxing. He begins taking off his pants, billowy and undoubtedly expensive fabric slipping down one leg at a time slowly, meticulously. The pillow now nestled between her legs, she grinds her hips down, wishing it was his thigh, the one with tiger on it, bared teeth and hungry.

He turns suddenly, and she’s caught yet again, but she doesn’t stop. Instead, she works herself harder, imploring him to stop her—to punish her. The pillow does very little to satiate the pent up tension between her legs, but it’s better than nothing.

Honestly, she knew he was going to catch her in her lies. That's why she made herself come right before he got home. She wants to get caught, the thrill of going against his rules giving her a high she’s still coming down from. And as he looks at her again, fury in his eyes, she could just fall apart. She wants him to put her in her place, punish her for being a naughty, filthy brat.

She wants him to ruin her.

“No,” he growls, ripping the pillow away and effectively knocking her legs back apart. He slaps her pussy with little warning. She squeaks, tugging at the silken restraints. A shaky, guttural moan shutters from her chest, deep and desperate, and her head falls back into the mattress.

“Fuck,” she cries.

The skin of her swollen pussy burns in the most addicting way, leaving her legs spasming, feet slipping down the sheets. She can feel his rings through her panties, just a slight sting, but her clit takes a brunt of the force, and perhaps, that’s what makes it so good.

“No moving.”

He rubs her soothingly, a stark contrast to the fire behind his eyes. Despite how bratty she’s been, her sweet, attentive Harry is still there, making sure she’s taken care of, comfortable, and safe. Her needy hips chase his fingers, a broken plea on the tip of her tongue.

Again.

He twists her panties with his index finger until her puffy pussy swallows them, the swell of her mound bulging from the tight elastic bands. He smacks her again, a little more gentle this time, but hard enough to still make her toes curl. She laughs through a breathy moan, her heart racing. He tsks, mumbling under his breath.

“This is your punishment. You’re not supposed to be enjoying it.” He tugs her panties up tight to her clit. “You’ll take anything I give you. Won’t you? I could spit on you and call you a bitch, and you’ll say thank you. Right, babylove?”

He delivers another resounding slap to her cunt, and then, another for good measure. This time, her back arches from the mattress, eyes rolling back. Fire licks her skin, and it hurts, no doubt, but in such a way that's indescribable; it burns, but it spreads throughout her whole body, and it makes her limbs tingly and warm, yearning for more. Again, he runs his hand along her exposed mound to ease the ache.

“Thank you,” she moans, and he smiles. He spanks her poor pussy raw, again and again, until his hand hurts and her arousal drips onto the sheets. Her thighs threaten to close, but she digs her feet into the mattress, aching for more pain, more pleasure, just more. Her world spins, but at the center of it all is him—striking eyes, teasing smile, and pretty lips—and he’s all hers.

“Taking it so well, pretty girl,” he says, moving to kneel between her spread legs. He can feel the wetness through her panties, and he nudges his head around where her clit is, still blocked by her useless underwear, her pussy visibly tightens with anticipation. He leans back, still close enough to feel the heat from her, and he slips his cock under her panties, the tight, elastic band pulling at his tender skin while her lips massage the underside. She’s wet, perhaps from her orgasms from earlier, but likely from the spanking. He thrusts, wrapped in soaked panties, until the tip of his cock nudges the fabric at the top of her mound, and he twitches when the underwear pulls at the sensitive head in a certain way.

“Such a naughty girl,” he moans, thumbs pulling at the fabric to wrap tighter around his cock. “I’m only fucking your panties, and you’re already soaked.”

He pulls out reluctantly, his cock heavy on her wet underwear. He spits on the fabric and spreads it over her mound, just to tease her little more. She tugs at her restraints and whines from the sudden cold.

A drop of saliva slips past his puckered lips, landing on his open palm, which now cradles his cock. He hasn’t resorted to jerking himself off in a long time; he hasn’t needed to, but he works himself easily, finding a calculated rhythm, fast then slow, quick, eager strokes along the head then long, languid strokes along the entire length. He sits on his heels, and his legs ache from the weight. Her thighs twitch, and she pulls at the restraints. His balls brush against her mound with every movement of his hand, and he swears he can feel her jump with every movement, so sensitive, so responsive. He fucks his fist, hips unconsciously bucking, wishing it is her warmth that coats him, squeezes him, and pulls him in. He yearns to touch her, to feel her smooth skin, but he knows that this lack of physical touch is as difficult for her to bear as it is for him, and that makes it a little better.

Her chest heaves with unsteady breaths, eyes fixated on his hand working his cock. She pulls futilely at the scarves, until her wrists hurt. She knows that she’s not going to be able to get out, but she unconsciously reaches for him. She’s not used to being so exposed, body vulnerable to his gaze, without having him touch her. Sure, their thighs are pressed tight together, but it’s not nearly enough.

This isn’t what she thought was going to happen when she broke his rules. Truly, more so than usual, this is a punishment: to see him work himself to orgasm without being able to touch him. She wishes she was the one to make him squirm, moan, and come.

“Please,” she whines, eyes pleading with him, and he knows what she’s begging for.

“What? You think I want to touch a dirty little brat like you?”

“You’re being mean.”

“I’m being mean? I came home, hoping to spend a nice evening with my good girl, only to find out that she broke my rule,” he says. “My one rule.”

He wishes it was her hand stroking him, eager eyes and tempting smile staring back at him. It would feel so much better than his own calloused fist. He feels himself tighten to signal an impending end, weak but an end nonetheless.

“I wanted nothing more than to come home and to have you come on my tongue more times than you can count, but you couldn’t be patient, and now, you have to take your punishment.”

She twists and squirms beneath him, her body undulating on the sheets. The need that tugs on her features is almost enough to break him, to make him give in and make his pretty girl come on his face, but then he remembers that scheming smile she had on her face, that devious look that made him rife with lust. He remembers that she was on this very bed by herself just before he got home, making herself come, her head thrown back, whining and whimpering. The thought brings the fire back.

He cups her cheek and leans forward, stretching her legs apart, and his cock rests just above her belly button, still cupped in his hand. Her tongue dips out of her mouth. His eager, naughty girl waits for him to spit in her mouth, to shove his ringed fingers down her throat, to do anything, but he pulls back again, and she frowns.

“How did you do it? Did you use your fingers, baby?”

She nods pitifully, and he hums, his strokes quick.

“Yeah? Bet they weren’t as good as mine.” He runs his thumb along the head, pleasure sending chills down his spine, trying to prolong his buildup.

“No one’s fingers will ever be as good as mine.”

He wants to prove it to her, to pound his fingers inside her until she can barely breathe, arousal gushing down his wrist as she comes until she’s crying. He wants to kiss her tears away as she begs for more. Perhaps, with all the teasing and build-up, he could get her to come with just one finger with one well-placed thrust. Her hips buck, and he knows that she’s thinking about that, too. After the stolen orgasm from earlier and the burning spanks her poor pussy received, she must be desperate for anything he’ll give to her.

His orgasm builds quickly, with his thoughts running amuck, visions of her, on her knees before him, choking on him until tears stream down her cheeks, on her back, moaning while he pounds into her, on top of him, grinding down on him, not letting up because she just loves the feeling of him deep inside her belly.

He comes on her tummy, a broken moan slipping past his bitten lips, spurts of his seed stain her pretty skin, and her breath hitches, shocked at the sudden warmth; then, she hums contentedly.

“There,” he sighs, admiring his work.

“Thought you were gonna come three times,” she says softly as he steps off the bed, sore cock heavy between his legs. His knees tremble.

“Open,” he coos, slipping his fingers in her mouth, and she sucks away the remnants of his orgasm. He smooths out her brow with his free hand, brushing away a bead of sweat that sunk from her hairline.

“Who said I’m done with you? No, I’m gonna go shower, and you’re going to stay there with my cum on your tummy and think about what you’ve done.”

He kisses her nose, just like he does every morning after loving on her. It’s a sweet gesture, one that doesn’t match his demeanor. He leaves her there, like he said he would, tied up as he moves to the bathroom, shoulders pushed back, self-assured and composed. Harry steps into the steaming shower, washing away the sweat from his skin.

Y/N whimpers in the next room. She has given up on tugging at the silk scarves; instead, she’s trying to ignore the insatiable throbbing between her legs, her arousal slipping out onto her thighs, like a greedy slut. His words ring in her ears, and it makes the arousal worsen.

She rubs her thighs together to alleviate some pressure, but it’s little use. Perhaps, if she tests him just a little more, he’ll throw away all willpower and ravish her until the early morning hours, but her resolve weakens with every passing minute. She wanted to tease him a bit, maybe get him a little mad, so he would put her in her place. She wanted him to fuck her to oblivion, until she can’t keep her eyes open.

This is a different kind of punishment, one she’s never even considered. In her fantasies, she’s tied up and vulnerable, but he lavishes her with touch until she’s overstimulated, drunk on him, his scent, his touch, his voice.

This is a different kind of punishment, a true punishment in her eyes. The teasing, lingering touches is enough to make her burst, and to have him there but just beyond her reach is near painful.

His cum has nearly dried on her belly, and she wishes he came inside her, stuffed full of his warmth; at least, then, she wouldn’t be so cold, so exposed.

She perks when he steps out of the bathroom, and he wastes no time straddling her hips, his cock twitching against her tummy. The weight of his body on hers is suffocating, her overstimulated senses taking him in, his warmth, his touch, his scent. She can feel every ridge of his body, every drop of water that slips from his clean skin, everything.

It’s almost too much all at once.

“Color?”

She blinks.

“Daddy, please,” she whispers, “want you to fill me up. ‘M such a greedy cock slut. I won’t even come, promise—”

“Y/N, I need you to tell me what color,” he says.

He doesn’t usually use her name when they’re this far into the fantasy, but it seems she needs it now.

“Green,” she breathes out. “Green, green, you feel so good, H. ‘M sorry I touched myself; I just couldn’t help it. Wanna make you feel good, please.”

“I wanna believe you, baby.” He cups her cheek, cold water dripping from his hair and melting into her skin. He takes her in, relishing in the sight of her craving, trembling, and begging for his touch. He likes seeing her on edge like this, dangerously close to teetering off into oblivion.

“But I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet.”

He traces the head of his red cock along the seams of her panties, like he did earlier, but this time, he tugs her underwear aside, mouth watering at the sight of her pretty, puffy pussy, surely sore from the spanking earlier. He spits on her, and he watches as it slips down into her most intimate fold. She’s so responsive to the slightest touch. He spreads her open, lips parted to reveal her wanton pussy. He tugs back the hood of her button, hard and throbbing.

He slaps his cock against her clit, the skin tacky with his spit. The slight, sudden touch is electrifying, and it makes his cock twitch, hungry for more. He can see her tighten up, and her hips jolt. Shivers trail from her spine to the tips of her peaked nipples. He thumps the head of his cock on her clit quickly, concurrent with every keen thrust of her hips, spitting in her every so often, leaving her wet and swollen and filthy, just like she is.

“Thank you,” she whimpers. “Feels so good, daddy.”

He teases the head of his cock just past her lips and nestles himself inside her finally, her warmth swallowing him easily. His eyes flutter closed, savoring what he so desperately needed.

She breathes out sharply when he stops with just the head inside her. This teasing is almost becoming too much.

“More,” she whimpers, “Please?”

He looks at her with fire in his eyes.

“No, you don’t tell me what to do. Besides, I don’t think you deserve my cock.”

She could almost cry. He’s so close, but he won’t go any further, just teasing her with what could have been. She tries to pull him in deeper, her walls tightening around his head. It makes his toes curl, burning pleasure forming in his belly. She tries to pull him in, aching for just a little more. He holds her hips down to keep her from moving.

“Please, I’ve been good. I said I was sorry for making myself come. I’ll never do it again, promise. Please, I just wanna feel you, daddy. That’s all I wanted today.”

“This isn’t about you anymore, babylove. You’re just daddy’s little fucktoy, my little cock slut.” He thrusts slightly, the tender head dragging along her tight opening, never pushing further. “And right now, I wanna hear you cry for my cock.”

Her feet trail up his legs, knees hooked at his hips, frantically trying to pull him in entirely. She tried to be good; she asked him nicely to just fuck her already. At this point, she doesn’t even want to come. She just wants to feel him, to alleviate at least some of the pressure throbbing between her legs. It’s humiliating because she’s near tears, desperate for his cock.

He came not even fifteen minutes ago, and he’s still sensitive. He pulls back until the head is nestled just past her entrance, muscles tight around the tip. He jerks off the base of his cock for more stimulation. A part of the pleasure comes from watching her squirm; she’s so desperate as she yanks at her restraints, hips thrusting and pussy clenching to pull him in deeper. It’s such an odd sensation, her entrance being fairly sensitive, but it’s not enough to stimulate her.

It’s never enough.

“Maybe you’ll come just by the feeling of my cum inside you.”

She honestly might.

The skin of his cock drags back and forth along her sensitive walls as he jerks himself off inside her.

“I bet you will,” he grins. “Just remember, if you come, I will not touch you for a week. Be very careful, Y/N.”

She wiggles pitifully, her arousal dripping down his shaft, and he uses it as lubricant.

“I bet your poor little clit is throbbing,” he teases. “‘M so sorry, babylove.”

He’s not.

There’s a wicked smile that splits his face.

He pulls out suddenly, making her gasp, and thumps his cock some more on her pussy, landing a particularly rough blow to the sensitive part of her exposed clit, puffy with arousal, the hood stretched back.

“Please, daddy,” she whimpers, “more. I’ve been good. I won’t do it again.”

He gives her some more, dragging himself along her fold in languid motions, circling around her clit before he thumps his cock on her pretty little button. She squeaks.

He stuffs himself inside again, just like before with only the head inside her. She groans, tightening up. It’s as if her body has a mind of its own, clenched and frenzied for any type of stimulation. She squeezes him so tightly, and she fights against his hold on her hips.

He comes shortly after, his body curling into itself like it usually does when he has a particularly strong orgasm, back arching with every wave.

Y/N moans when his cum fills her, reaching deep inside her, and her walls clench with need. It’s barely anything, but it’s still more than what he was giving to her before, and she could honestly come from that little bit alone. She’s trying to regain her composure, cunt still throbbing. He kisses her face, like he usually does after he comes, a gentle reminder that he’s still her Harry. He massages her waist, lingering down to her hips. They bask in each others’ warmth, trying to find the energy to move.

That’s normal for him, sweet and mushy and loving.

What she doesn’t expect is him tightening his hold on her hips and thrusting himself fully inside her, his cock still weeping out remnants of his orgasm.

She would scream if she could, but the breath is knocked from her lungs, choked moans passing through clenched teeth. Animalistic and brutal, Harry sets a quick pace, her entire body moving with the power behind his thrusts. Her mind is blank, and her body hums, pleasurable vibrations coursing through her body to every single nerve. She forgets that she isn’t allowed to come, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about the consequences just yet. Finally, she can taste the bittersweet euphoria, making her world dizzy as he fills her again and again. She could almost cry with utter relief.

Yes, yes, this is what she wanted—no, needed—and it’s even better than she dreamt. Her sopping pussy takes him easily, reaching the neediest part of her. She spreads herself further, angling her knees to her chest so he can pound himself deeper inside, cream dripping onto the sheets. Her legs are sticky with their shared arousal.

Harry’s face is flushed, brows furrowed as he loses himself in the feel of her. It’s been almost as torturous for him as it has for her; he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this frantic, never has he felt so desperate to plunge himself into her depths, never has he been so entranced, so sensitive to any touch. His head tips back, features twisted, chest bared, and teeth gritted. His breaths are weak, faltering and shallow. He groans as she tightens around him. Sweat drips down his chest.

“H? Color?”

It takes a moment to pull him back.

“Green, baby,” he says, smiling ever so slightly.

He’s never felt this before, this vulnerable yet powerful, on the verge of pleasure and pain, dancing along a tightrope threatening to snap at any second, such a thrill. He feels light headed, high off of her. He wants to feel her, embrace her, love her.

He rips at the knots around her wrists, fingers trembling, but they won’t budge, and he loses his balance, instead wrapping his arms around her arched back. He nestles his nose in her neck, pulling their chests tight together. She smells of salt and sin and sex, and he can’t control himself.

“So fucking good.”

He presses himself deeper, the head of his sensitive cock nudging the inmost parts of her. He fucks her easily with his cum spilling out with every hard thrust, leaving their connected bodies sticky. He can’t pull out much without his cock weeping with overstimulation, but he can’t stop, the pleasure all too addicting.

“Jus’ one more, lovie,” he whispers. “So close. Don’t you dare come.” He grits his teeth, rubbing at her swollen clit, subtly and just to make it throb, before his hands rest on her lower belly, thumbs connecting just below the button. He fucks into her harder, the bed frame shaking and smacking into the wall.

That’s when realization hits her.

She’s close.

She’s so close, one well placed thrust, one harsh stroke to her clit will push her over the edge.

But she has to hold it off.

His words ring in her ears in time with her racing heart, his threat of no intimacy sobering her. If she thought before was punishment, having to see him pleasure himself without being able to touch him, this is hell. Her orgasm burns painfully in her belly. It tastes so sweet. She clings to the silk restraints. She doesn’t want to give in, but it would feel so good; it would be a high that would leave her lightheaded for hours afterward, and shockwaves of pleasure tightening her muscles as a constant reminder.

She sobs, on the brink of breaking. Her hands tingle, drained of blood. She’s trying to relax, to breathe through the waves of euphoria that crash over her, and it works for a second, but with that, she opens up more, taking him deeper and more easily. That’s when the pleasure would shatter the calm in harsh waves. She closes her eyes, a drawn hum seeping from her chest. He grabs the back of her neck, using it as leverage as he fucks himself deeper into her, and she cries out.

“Look at me,” he demands. She does, barely, her teary eyes glimmering. He smiles, and she feels warm. “There’s my pretty girl. I’m almost there, just a little bit more. Doing so well for me babylove. Don’t come.”

“Please,” she moans, peering through her lashes. “Come for me, daddy.”

She lights a fire in his veins, sending a rippling feeling of ecstasy through his spine. His eyes roll back as he comes once again, his prick pulsating as he empties himself deep inside for a third and final time. Satiated, he grinds his hips against her, wanting to be as close to her as possible. She’s throbbing around him, legs trembling at his sides. She sighs, most likely out of relief but perhaps also out of frustration. As he nestles himself deeper, her lips tremble, features pinching as she tries to hold off an orgasm, clenching so tightly that his softening cock slips out of her. She moans.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing his lips sweetly to her sticky forehead. “You did so well for me, babylove. So proud of you.” Then again to her cheek. He traces up the backs of her thighs, hooking her legs around his waist.

“What did we learn?”

“Don’t touch yourself unless daddy says so,” she whispers, her voice dry. He nods appreciatively, eyes taking in her trembling form, and leans back.

Her thighs twitch occasionally at his sides, and he wants to bite them, skin surely sensitive to the slightest of touches. Sweat and cum and saliva paint her flesh, but the absolute masterpiece is her ruined pussy, swollen and wet and divine. He thumbs at her, gently guiding her lips apart to expose her pink inside, quivering with an insatiable need. He wants to lick up the cum that slips out of her, but she’s been through enough, the aftershocks of her stolen orgasms still visibly lingering in her sore body.

Another time, perhaps.

“That’s right, babylove. I think you finally learned your lesson.”

—

[vaspider]

So from what I can tell, a bunch of y'all on that fucking transmasc hit list of harassment have never personally experienced the Tumblr Harassment Parade before.

First of all, from someone who has been through this sort of harassment campaign before: I'm sorry this is happening to you. You don't deserve it. It absolutely is harassment.

The good news is: these things end. Right now the amount of attention may feel overwhelming, but please know that this too shall pass. I've been through this type of harassment before. It'll end, and you'll forget the name of the people who were at its center, because they truly are irrelevant.

A little unsolicited advice:

Turn off anon right now. (And really you probably don't need to turn it back on.) Closing your inbox entirely or setting a clear boundary that you will publicly post all asks really helps in minimizing the direct harassment you receive.

Don't engage. It's tempting, I know. As often as you can, don't engage. Anyone who believes the shit they are spewing isn't your friend, and it may hurt if people turn on you during this, but better you find out who's going to throw you under the bus sooner rather than later. (One of the things I've struggled with all my life is listening the first time people tell me who they are.)

If you can stomach it, go and proactively block everyone who's spreading the list. This will minimize your direct harassment.

Likewise, setting your blog so it's not viewable from outside of Tumblr helps, too.

This is not necessarily permanent: you can adjust your settings again once this dies down. Do what makes you feel safe.

And last but most important:

Don't look.

If you need to, ask someone else to watch the situation for you, but don't look at the thread, at the "debate" over who you are and what you stand for. It's being had by people who don't know you and don't care and who are trying to win points in some sort of weird online "mental purity" contest and who -- most importantly -- don't matter to you. Looking deliberately and repeatedly at this kind of stuff written about you is a form of self-harm. Don't do it to yourself. There is nothing -- nothing -- to be gained in it. They aren't saying anything useful or interesting or true, they came into this intending to attack and hurt transmascs and that's not gonna change.

And lastly, get away from this shit. Don't wallow in it. Go play a board game or turn off your phone for a bit and watch birds out your window or walk your dog or... anything. (I took my good camera outside yesterday to take some time away and I'm pretty sure I have some good new pictures of my friend crows and scrub jays.) I find it usually helps me to put my energy into cleaning, cooking or baking. I work off frustration, get away from the hurtful crap some people do, and at the end I have food or a cleaner living space. If nothing else, try changing the sheets on your bed and taking a hot shower, making the hot beverage of your choice and then getting into your comfy clean bed to watch your best comfort movie with your Tumblr notifications turned off. A clean body, a cup of tea, and Star Wars are a good thing. I usually end up taking a nap, which is a great brain reset.

Take from this what you can use and leave what doesn't work for you. Most important of all, please remember that you did nothing to deserve harassment, this is the act of someone who decided to turn their weapons not on the people actually hurting [unknown pronoun] but on their trans siblings. It sucks that they hurt so bad, but it's not your problem or responsibility, and nothing you did means you deserve harassment. It sucks but this really isn't even about us, it's about whatever else is going on in people's lives that they think this is helpful to anyone. It sucks that it's hitting us but it's not about us, not really.

Hang in there and reach out if you need help.

Solidarity, siblings.

[memehyena]

BITE Model Inspired Sentence Starters

The BITE model is a comparitive test to see if a group is a cult. I wanted some angsty prompts and I thought these might be fun!

CW: Gaslighting, abuse, emotional abuse, mental abuse, emotional manipulation, manipulation, kidnapping, restraints, injury, lying, death threats, threats, suicidal thoughts, suicide mention, threats of suicide, threats of violence, violence

B - BEHAVIOR CONTROL

“You shouldn’t do that, you don’t want to make me angry.”

“They won’t like you anymore if you do that.”

“If you leave, then you should call your loved ones to say goodbye.”

“Don’t come back if you walk out that door!”

“Say goodbye to everything you’ve ever loved.”

“If you think that you’re going to come out on top of this, you aren’t.”

“Don’t you dare reach for that door handle.”

“Do you really think you can outrun the dogs?”

“You can’t leave, you have nothing to go back to.”

“And you’ll stay in this room, in the dark, until you’ve earned your freedom!”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, the ropes won’t hurt you much.”

“The trunk isn’t very comfortable, is it, lovely?”

“I wouldn’t have to hurt you if you’d just listen to me.”

“He/She wouldn’t have to hurt you if you’d just listen to them.”

I - INFORMATION CONTROL

“I didn’t lie to you, those things are dangerous.”

“I would never hide anything from you, you’re too important to me.”

“You shouldn’t be watching that crap, it’s going to rot your brain.”

“Do you really think they know better than me?”

“It isn’t lying to you if I just don’t tell you something, silly. That’s not how lying works.”

“I can’t believe you read that despite my warnings!”

“If you ever go to their house again, thinking you’re slick, you will pay dearly.”

“Do you know what they’ve been doing, lately? I haven’t seen them as much. I wonder if they want to leave.”

“I don’t think that -muse- has your best interest at heart.”

“What do you know about their whereabouts?”

T - THOUGHT CONTROL

“You know I’d never go against the tenants, either.”

“The rules are in place for a reason.”

“Your new name is -insert here-.”

“I don’t think you’re -that-, you’re clearly -this-.”

“We don’t think about those degenerate things.”

“You need to scrub your mind of those sinful thoughts.”

“If you keep thinking about those things, they’ll take you away.”

“Oh, so you’re just some -insert buzzword here-?”

“Only -buzzword-s think like that.”

“Repeat the chant.”

“If you don’t remember your penance, are you truly remorseful?”

“You think they’re rational? They don’t follow our rules! They’re an outsider!”

E - EMOTIONAL CONTROL

“You can’t leave me, I can’t do this without you.”

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“How can you ask me to trust you again?”

“No matter what I do, I’m not good enough. Go on, then, leave!”

“You’re nothing without me, dear. You won’t be able to live on the outside.”

“What do you think you’re doing? Do you want me to die?”

“If you take one more step, I’ll kill myself.”

“Go on, then. You’re killing me with every step.”

“You want to join the enemy, then?”

“Did you not even think about -muse-? What will they do, now?”

“It isn’t your fault that you’re stupid, but this did fall on you, now, didn’t it?”

“No, no, you know I love you. I’ll always love you. Don’t go, I’m sorry--”

“We all do crazy things for love.”

“See? Look what you made me do!”

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Cat and Mouse Game - Fred Weasley

Title: Cat and Mouse Game Pairing: Fred x fem!reader Warnings: NSFW, mentions of masturbation, semi-public sex, fingerfucking, unprotected sex A/N: I have a lot of feelings about Fred Weasley and very few of them are innocent. This is like 95% filth with some fluff thrown in at the end because I love Fred Weasley and he’s my only source of serotonin.

Tags: @tonksichu​

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They’ve been playing the same game of cat and mouse since their Hogwarts days. They’d take turns leaving flirty notes for the other to find, grabbing the other’s hand under the table at dinner, pulling the other into a dark corridor for a few minutes of stolen kisses. Not much has changed between them since then, although their games are far less innocent.

“Mail’s here!” Verity calls from somewhere in the shop.

Fred doesn’t move a muscle, his focus completely taken up by the potion he’s stirring in front of him. He and George have been working on a new product for weeks, a candy infused with truth serum that only lasts for one question – the perfect addition to any game of truth or dare. They had planned on launching it next week, but they’re still having problems getting the formula of the truth serum just right.

“For fucks sake,” he mutters to himself when a puff of black smoke rises out of the cauldron. “Too much dandelion root.” He shoves himself away from his desk, stalking over to the sink so he can start over again. He’s so focused on scrubbing that he doesn’t hear George come in.

“Not going well, eh?” George asks, chuckling when Fred drops the cauldron, clearly startled by his brother’s sudden presence.

“I’m going to make you wear a bell for Merlin’s sake. You scared the shit out of me,” Fred groans, picking the cauldron back up. He rinses it one more time before stalking back to his desk. He’s about to start working again, when he notices that George is still standing in front of him. “Did you need something? Or are you just gonna stand there to annoy me?”

George smiles at his brother. Partially because he finds his frustrated demeanor amusing, but mostly because it’ll annoy Fred further. “Oh, I just popped in to bring you your mail.”

Fred rolls his eyes, getting back to work. “Just put it in the tray, I’ll get to it later.” He gestures lazily to the incoming work tray on the corner of his desk, which has started to pile up. He’s going over his notes so he can adjust the amount of dandelion root for the fifth time, when George shoves a letter into his line of vision.

“Actually, dear brother of mine I think you’ll notice that this particular letter requires your immediate attention,” George snickers. He drops the letter on the desk, and with a waggle of his fingers he’s gone.

Fred had only gotten a glimpse of the envelope, but as soon as George has closed the door behind him he pushes his work aside to pick it up. He recognized Y/N’s delicate writing immediately, he had become quite familiar with it during their time together at school.

In fact, he’s been waiting for this letter for the past three weeks. That’s how it is with them. One of them is the aggressor while the other waits for the next letter, waits for the details of their next meeting. It had been Fred’s turn to wait, and wait he had. Most nights he found himself laying in bed, hand around his hard cock thinking about the things he and Y/N had gotten up to during their last rendezvous.

That’s the one thing he truly misses about his days back in school, how easy it was for him to force her hand when he was tired of waiting. He knew her too well, knew how to get under her skin. Whenever he missed the feeling of her hand in his, or when he had nearly forgotten what the inside of her mouth tastes like it was all too easy to get her to make her move. All it took was some innocent flirting during breakfast, usually with Angelina Johnson, and by lunch time there would be a note in Y/N’s delicate scrawl detailing their next meeting time and place on his pillow.

But now he truly has to wait for Y/N to need him. They had gone longer than three weeks before, but that had been during the war, when it was too dangerous to play their game. Fred knows that he could always break their little game, he could owl her any day and have her in his bed that night, but he enjoys the chase, it’s part of the fun.

His mind wanders as his fingers tear at the envelope, wondering which of their games Y/N had chosen for them, silently hoping she had chosen his favorite.

Sometimes their game was romantic. They’d meet at a fancy muggle restaurant, all dressed up. Fred would wine and dine her for hours before he’d take her back to his. Their sex was always slow and intimate. Fred would make sure she could feel all of him and wouldn’t stop until his name was dripping from her lips as she came. He’d kiss her slowly as he came insider her, wanting to feel as close to her as possible.

Other times, their game was quick and dirty. They’d meet at a hotel room in London and from the second the door was shut behind them they were all over each other. They’d both be naked in a matter of minutes, their hands roaming each other’s bodies and Fred’s mouth leaving marks on her wherever he can. Their sex was quick and hard, both of them usually on their lunch breaks. Often they came together, and Fred’s lips wouldn’t leave her skin until they were back on the bustling streets of London and parting ways to go back to their lives.

Fred’s favorite game by far was the perfect mix of the others. They’d meet at a muggle club, just a few minutes apart from each other. Fred would arrive first and grab a drink from the bar before settling at a table. When Y/N would enter they’d lock eyes, and the game would truly begin. Y/N would spend the evening doing as she pleases: drinking, dancing, and most importantly, flirting. Fred would watch her from his spot, jealousy and arousal building up in his stomach. He’d let her push it and just as some unsuspecting muggle is trying to get her to leave with him, Fred would swoop in and remind her just who she belongs too. Their first round is quick and dirty, usually in the toilets of whatever club they happen to be at. Then he’d apperate them back to hers, and they’d spend the rest of the evening tangled in the sheets of her bed, kissing softly as he ruined her.

Fred fumbles with the envelope as he pulls the piece of parchment out, too excited to be careful. A grin spreads across his face as he eyes scan over the few words written down. She had chosen his favorite game, and he couldn’t wait to play.

Malibu. Tonight. 10:30.

-

Y/N stands in front of her open closet in nothing but a dressing gown, nervous butterflies in her stomach as she contemplates what to wear. Upscale muggle clubs are not her usual stomping ground and she wants to look perfect, so she’s at a loss for what to wear.

Of course, she could have picked one of their other games. She had plenty of dresses she felt confident in that would have been perfect for a night at a muggle restaurant, but it had already been three weeks since she’d seen Fred last, and she didn’t want to wait any longer for a reservation to open up. A lunch time meet up would have been perfect as well, since her and Fred managed to get naked in under 10 seconds her clothes wouldn’t matter, but she needed longer than an hour with him.

Plus, this particular game is Fred’s favorite, and she needs him nice and riled up for the night she has planned. They’ve only played out this game two other times, but both times Y/N was barely able to walk the next day.

She decides to go with something white, for a few different reasons. For one, Y/N had bought a white silk dress that hugs her curves perfectly last weekend and seeing her in something new and tight will rile Fred up even more.

But mostly, she knows that seeing her in white awakens something carnal in Fred. Y/N had once made the mistake of wearing a brand new set of matching white bra and panties to one of their meetings, and after Fred had ripped her panties off he fucked her hard, growling in her ear about how innocent she looked in white, but that they both knew what a dirty slut she was for him. He had made her cum so many times that she cried from the overstimulation, the only downside was that she had to replace her ruined panties and they had been quite expensive.

Y/N grabs the new white dress out of her closet, a shiver running down her spine at the memory. Three weeks is far too long to go without having Fred both in her bed and just in her life generally. She makes a mental note not to wait that long next time as she heads over to her dresser. She opens the top drawer, trying to decide which pair of panties would really get Fred going.

“Well, if I’m being honest with myself,” Y/N thinks out loud, quietly. With a wicked smile she slams the drawer shut. “No panties it is.”

-

Fred is already nursing a whiskey sour at a table when Y/N strolls into the main room of the club. Their eyes lock across the crowded room, and after sending her a sly wink his eyes trail down her body.

“Holy hell,” he groans, the grip he has on his glass tightening. He can already feel himself getting hard in his trousers just from the outfit Y/N is wearing alone. Fred can tell by the way the lights reflect off of it that the tight piece of fabric clinging to her every curve is made out of silk, his absolute favorite. The fact that it’s white drives him even crazier and he quickly downs his drink, needing to calm himself down.

From where Y/N is standing at the bar Fred has the perfect view of her bum. He absent mindedly signals for a waitress to bring him another drink, his eyes trained on Y/N. Fred has to stifle a groan when her dress rides up the back of her thighs as she leans forward to shout her order to the bartender. He’s fully hard in his trousers now as he thinks about how badly he wants to feel those thighs wrapped around his head.

Just as a waitress sets another drink down on Fred’s table a young man with tousled blonde hair comes up behind Y/N, blocking his view.

He takes a sip of his drink. “Let the games begin.”

-

Y/N feels someone come up behind her, and a moment later she can feel them press up against her. “You come here alone?”

She smiles to herself before turning to the stranger. There’s no doubt that he’s attractive, and Y/N knows that she had positioned herself directly in Fred’s line of sight, so she knows that he’s watching their exchange.

“I did actually,” she drawls, her hand running down the length of the glass the bartender had just set in front on her. “Was hoping to find someone that piques my interest here.”

The man’s eyes follow the languid movement of her hand on her glass for a moment, before he looks into her eyes with a smirk. “Oh really? Any luck so far?”

Y/N takes a sip of her drink, willing herself to keep her eyes on the man in front of her instead of searching for Fred’s. The alcohol burns her throat as arousal begins to build in her stomach. She knows Fred is out there, watching her intently as she flirts with someone who isn’t him. But they both know who she’ll be going home with, and that though alone has her pussy aching.

“I think so,” Y/N responds, her voice dripping with arousal. It’s not due to the man standing in front of her, but he doesn’t need to know that. She looks him up and down, taking notice of his strong hands and long legs. She nods to herself, almost saying ‘yeah, he’ll do.’ She downs the rest of her drink quickly and slaps some muggle money down on the bar. “Care to dance?”

-

Fred’s eyes are trained on the dance floor, his second drink abandoned on the table next to him.  He’s too focused on Y/N, watching her hips sway to the beat of whatever muggle song is playing. Her back is pressed up against the front of the bloke that approached her at the bar, and his hands are gripping her hips. They’ve been dancing like that for at least 30 minutes and Fred feels like he hasn’t even blinked, he’s too entranced by Y/N.

His cock has been aching in his trousers for what feels like hours, and his stomach is a pit full of arousal and jealousy. On one hand he finds Y/N’s actions downright dirty, and he knows he’ll be thinking of how good she looks tonight next time he’s alone in bed and desperate for her touch. On the other hand, he wants to be the one dancing behind her, gripping her hips so tightly he leaves bruises to remind her of him for days after.

Fred clenches his fist, his eyes trailing up Y/N’s body to her face to try and calm himself down. They’ve only been at it for 45 minutes and Fred already wants to storm over and claim Y/N. The first time they had played this particular game Y/N had been shy, and Fred had watched her flirt with a few different guys before she had settled on the dance floor with one. He watched her with him for the better part of two hours before he intervened, no longer able to stand the fact that it wasn’t his hands gripping her bum.

The second time Y/N was bolder. She had spent only 30 minutes at the bar talking to a bloke before they moved to the dance floor. Fred had managed to watch for over an hour that time before his hands ached to touch her and he sent the muggle man Y/N had been with away.

When he first entered the club that evening he had planned on waiting longer. Y/N had made him wait three weeks, and he planned on punishing her by making her wait for him. But now that he’s standing there, watching her move in that sinful white dress against someone who isn’t him he can barely stop himself from stomping over there and taking her right in the middle of the dance floor.

Usually he can contain himself. She’s always driven him mad, but he enjoys their little game too much to break the rules. He loves the uncertainty of the chase, it’s what had drawn him in all those years ago at Hogwarts. Not knowing what the next note would contain, not knowing how long she would make him wait, not knowing what wicked plans she had made for them. Y/N was just as unpredictable as Fred and that usually drove him crazy in a good way. But now, as Fred watches her grind up against some stranger he would give anything to know what’s going on in her mind. Fred isn’t sure if it’s because it’s been three weeks since he last saw her or because she looks absolutely ethereal tonight but he’s ready to end their game early and take his woman home.

Luckily for Fred the song Y/N and her partner had been dancing to fades into another, and the pair head back towards the bar. Fred adjusts himself in his trousers so his arousal isn’t so obvious, before he throws some money on his table.

“Time to end this game.”

-

A light line of sweat has begun to drip down Y/N’s back and she can feel the wetness of her pussy coating her thighs. Her and Darren, she had managed to remember to at least ask the name of the poor bloke she planned on blue balling, had been dancing right in the middle of the dance floor where Y/N knew Fred could see. She could feel his gaze on her as she moved her hips to the beat which did nothing but heighten her arousal.

“So, what are you drinking?” Darren asks as they reach the bar once again. Y/N had suggested they get another drink, needing to take a break from Fred’s stare.

Y/N can smell Fred before she feels him. He’s always smelled the same, like cinnamon, fireworks and something Y/N can only describe as home. She’s about to respond to the question when she feels someone press up against her back. Fred grabs her hips tightly and Y/N has to bite her lip to keep from moaning.

“Actually, I think she’s had enough to drink,” Fred answers for her as he pulls her even tighter against his chest. His voice sends waves of pleasure through Y/N’s body, and she tries to subtly rub her thighs together to try and get some relief on her aching pussy.

Darren glares at Fred, and if Y/N wasn’t so turned on she probably would have laughed. “Oi, mate, d’you mind? We’re having a good time together.”

Y/N can feel Fred’s chest rumble against her back as he laughs, clearly unphased by what Darren had said. She feels Fred lean down, and a shiver runs down her spine as his lips lightly caress her earlobe.

“Is that true, baby? Were you having a good time with him?” Fred whispers in Y/N’s ear before he begins to press light kisses to the side of her neck.

“I was, yes,” she admits, with a nod, her voice shaking with arousal.

Darren looks like he’s about to tell Fred off, but Fred’s lips stop their movements on her neck so he can whisper in her ear again. “But what about me, baby? Are you ready to have a good time with me?”

Y/N is barely able to nod before Fred is spinning her in his arms and kissing her deeply. She can hear Darren say something rude as he stalks off, but her mind is too full of Fred to register it. Fred trails one of his hands down to Y/N’s bum, giving it a tight squeeze, and when she parts her lips to let out a soft moan he takes the opportunity to lick into her mouth.

When Fred breaks their kiss a few moments later Y/N is breathless, her cheeks tinted pink. She chases after his lips, desperate for more but Fred grabs her chin. Her eyes flick up to meet his gaze, and a tingle of pleasure runs through her pussy at how dark Fred’s eyes are.

“You drive me so fucking crazy, Y/N,” he growls into her ear. “You show up here in this,” he pauses so his fingers can tug at the bottom hem of her dress before he continues. “Knowing that I can’t touch you.” Fred trails off for a moment, letting his lips press slow kisses up and down the column of her throat. “Such a naughty girl, aren’t you?”

Y/N lets out a whine, letting her head fall back so Fred’s lips have more skin to kiss. “Just wanted to look pretty for you is all,” she gasps. Fred’s mouth had found her sweet spot and started to slowly suck at it.

Fred hums against her neck, his hands wrapping around her waist. He pulls her body flush against his, slowly rolling his hips forward so Y/N can feel his hard cock press up against her. “You look so pretty baby. And so, fucking dirty. Grinding against some random bloke while I watch, putting on a show for me.”

Y/N is soaking wet at this point, Fred’s words and actions only turning her on further. She pulls his face away from her neck, unable to contain herself anymore. She presses their lips together messily, moaning as Fred’s soft lips move with hers. Their kiss is uncoordinated, but Y/N doesn’t care. “Need you, Freddie. Need you so bad,” she whines into his mouth.

Fred kisses her for a moment longer before he forces himself to pull away. Y/N’s mouth is intoxicating, and he could spend hours just standing there and kissing her. But his cock is aching and Y/N needs him and he can’t deny her anything.

In the blink of an eye Fred has lead them away from the bar and is pushing Y/N up against the closed door of the women’s toilets. He presses their lips together hungrily as he grabs her thigh, hitching it around his waist to give him access to her core.

Y/N moans into Fred’s mouth as they kiss, his right hand gripping her thigh tightly while the other trails up her other leg towards her pussy. A smirk forms on her lips as Fred’s hand inches closer to where she needs him most, knowing that he’s about to discover her little secret.

“You dirty little slut,” Fred growls as he breaks their kiss. He had planned on teasing Y/N by softly rubbing her clit through her panties, but when he finally reached her folds he was met with her dripping entrance. He rubs her exposed clit with his thumb, causing Y/N to let out a long whine. “Look at you. Trying to fool everyone in your little white dress. Pretending you’re so innocent while your pussy is bare, anyone able to get a glance.”

Y/N is barely able to speak, her breath coming out in hard pants as Fred toys with her clit, his index finger beginning to slowly circle her entrance, just barely letting the tip of his finger enter her heat. She opens her mouth to respond, but a moan comes out instead as Fred finally lets his index finger sink fully into her.

“Is that what you were hoping for? Hm?” Fred asks as he curls his finger, smiling when Y/N clenches around him. “Hoping someone else would get a flash of your sweet pussy? Hoping someone else would notice and get a turn with you before me?”

Y/N shakes her head wildly, her mouth running dry as Fred adds another finger. Her fingers dig into Fred’s shoulders to try and steady herself as his thumb starts to rub her clit harder. “N-no,” she manages to stutter out a few seconds later when she remembers how to speak. “Did it for you. Only for you. Only want you.”

Fred buries his face in Y/N’s neck to hide the blush that has started to tint his cheeks. Even though they’ve never defined their relationship Fred knows that Y/N doesn’t see anyone else while they’re apart and he doesn’t either. But hearing that she only wants him makes him want to say things he’s felt since he was 15 years old. So he presses kisses into the hot skin of her neck instead, because it’s not appropriate to tell someone you love them for the first time while you fingerfuck them in the bathroom of a club.

“’M close,” Y/N breaths, one of her hands leaving Fred’s shoulder to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck. She can feel her climax approaching quickly, and with one more curl of Fred’s fingers against her sweet spot she’s tumbling over the edge, Fred’s name falling from her mouth.

Fred fingers continue their movements, his touch much lighter and slower to help her through her climax. When Y/N’s breathing has somewhat returned to normal Fred slowly removes his fingers and presses one more kiss to her neck so he can look at her face. Her cheeks are flushed red and her lips are swollen.

“God you’re so beautiful,” Fred whispers, kissing her deeply once again. He pulls away a moment later, pressing their foreheads together. He’s painfully aware of how hard he is in his trousers and he grinds against Y/N’s bum, trying to get some kind of relief.

Y/N giggles at Fred’s actions, bumping their foreheads together lightly. “You gonna take me home and fuck me? Or should I go find that bloke from earlier and see if he’ll give it to me?” she teases.

Without another word Fred is gripping her tightly and apperating them away.

-

As soon as they land in Y/N’s flat Fred reattaches their lips, keeping it slow and intimate. Now that the rushed part of their evening is over Fred wants to take his time with her. He moves them to her bedroom slowly, Y/N’s fingers working at the buttons of his shirt.

They reach her bed just as Y/N has worked the last button of Fred’s shirt, and he breaks their kiss so he can lightly push her back onto the bed. He rids himself of his shirt before he crawls over Y/N and reattaches their lips in a heated kiss. He grabs one of her knees and pulls her legs apart, settling in between them.

“Take this off,” Fred demands, his hands tugging at the hem of her dress. “ I wanna see all of you.” As Y/N takes of her dress Fred fumbles with his belt, quickly undoing it before moving on to his trousers. He falls back onto the bed so he can kick the rest of his clothing off, his cock finally getting some relief from its tight confines.

Before Fred can crawl back on top of Y/N she’s straddling his waist. She acts as if she’s going to kiss him, but at the last second she turns her attention to his neck and starts peppering kisses along the exposed skin.

Fred’s hands come up and grip Y/N’s hips tightly. “You’re such a tease.”

Y/N laughs into Fred’s neck as she kisses it, causing Fred to chuckle as well. While there are many parts of a healthy sex life Fred loves and enjoys, kissing is certainly in his top 3; which Y/N is fully aware of. They had once spent over an hour in one of Hogwarts’ secret passageways with Y/N pressed up against the wall as their lips moved together. It was one of the first times they had met in secret, and Fred still gets butterflies in his stomach when he thinks about it. Which he does far more often than he’d like to admit.

Fred lets her kiss and suck at his neck for a few moments longer before he flips them over, causing Y/N to squeal both in delight and surprise. Fred bites at her shoulder momentarily before he starts to peck her lips several times.

“I was gonna ride you ya know,” Y/N says with a soft laugh in between kisses. Fred laughs as well, one of his hands coming up to cup Y/N’s cheek while the other starts to massage one of her breasts, his thumb teasing her nipple. “Fuck, Freddie. Feels so good,” she moans.

Fred pulls away from her slightly so he can look Y/N in the eyes. “You do look exceptionally pretty when you sit on my cock, my love.” Fred pauses, his thumb rubbing her cheek as a pink blush spreads across it. “But tonight, I want- no I need.” Fred’s sentence is cut short as Y/N grabs him by the neck and brings their lips together.

She kisses him slow, letting Fred take the lead and lick into her mouth. Y/N doesn’t need Fred to finish his sentence, she already knows what he was trying to say, because she feels the same way. After an evening full of teasing and putting on a show for each other there’s nothing either of them want more than to be close to one and other.

“Please, Freddie,” Y/N begs as Fred’s fingers begin to pinch at her other nipple.

Without another word Fred hitches Y/N’s left leg up on his hip and lines himself up with her entrance. He pushes in slowly with a roll of his hips, both of them letting out low moans. Fred doesn’t stop moving until he’s fully buried inside her, his lips coming up to suck at the skin just below her earlobe.

“Feel so good, baby. Always feel so good. Oh God-,” Fred’s words cut off with a groan as Y/N clenches around him. Fred rests his forehead against hers so he can look her in the eyes. He pulls out of Y/N halfway before he pushes back in, slowly starting to fuck her. “God I love you.”

Before Fred has a chance to regret what he’s said Y/N is kissing him hungrily, her hips moving to meet Fred’s thrusts. She breaks their kiss to let out a whine as Fred’s thumb starts to rub slow circles on her clit in time with his thrusts.

“Merlin that feels good,” she breaths, tilting her chin up to kiss Fred briefly. “Not gonna last much longer,” she moans.

Fred speeds up his thrusts as he hitches Y/N’s leg higher on his hip so that he’s hitting her sweet spot with every thrust. “Me either, love. Come for me baby.”

With a few more thrusts, Y/N is coming, her toes curling and nails scratching down Fred’s back from the pleasure as she moans his name. Her walls spasm and clench against Fred’s cock, helping him to reach his climax. Her moans are cut off by Fred kissing her deeply as he reaches his own high, emptying himself into Y/N.

Fred slows his thrusts down, helping them both come down from their highs, his mouth still moving against Y/N’s softly. After a few final thrusts he slowly pulls out, and rolls onto his back, his hands gripping Y/N’s waist so that she rolls with him and their kiss doesn’t break.

They just lay there kissing for a few minutes, Y/N’s hands tangled in Fred’s hair while his hands rub circles on her hips. Y/N pulls away first, her breathing heavy and her cheeks flushed red. Fred smiles at her and brings one of his hands up to stroke her hair.

They sit there for a few moments in silence, just looking at each other. Fred feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest as he studies Y/N’s familiar features. After tonight he’s more sure than he’s ever been, he doesn’t want to spend another moment with out her in his life.

“I meant what I said, you know,” Fred says quietly, not wanting to disturb their peaceful moment.

Y/N kisses him briefly. “That I look pretty sitting on your cock? ‘Cause I’ve known that for ages,” she teases.

“Well yes I did mean that,” Fred says with a chuckle before kissing her again. “But that’s not what I was talking about. And it’s okay if you-”

He’s about to say something else, when Y/N lurches forward to kiss him. “I love you too you idiot. Always have.”

-

When Y/N wakes up the next morning and turns over she’s disappointed that Fred isn’t in bed next to her. While they never usually spent the night together, last night had been different and she had fallen asleep last night dreaming of what round three would consist of in the morning.

Y/N is halfway through cursing Fred out in her head when she notices an envelope sitting on the pillow Fred’s head had been cradled against only a few hours ago. She grabs it, letting her finger trace over her name written in Fred’s messy scrawl on the outside before she tears it open.

My flat. Tonight, tomorrow, the day after that and every single day for the rest of forever. 6 pm.

Love you forever and always.

Y/N scans her eyes over the words several times, letting Fred’s message sink in. She smiles to herself as she falls back against her pillows, her hear swelling with more love than she ever thought possible. “Game over.”

[jackoshadows]

 “You,” Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, “will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be Knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon.” - Eddard, A Game of Thrones

My featherbed is deep and soft, and there I’ll lay you down, I’ll dress you all in yellow silk, and on your head a crown - Arya, A Storm of Swords

“Aegon has been shaped for rule since before he could walk. He has been trained in arms, as befits a knight to be, but that was not the end of his education. He reads and writes, he speaks several tongues, he has studied history and law and poetry. A septa has instructed him in the mysteries of the Faith since he was old enough to understand them. He has lived with fisherfolk, worked with his hands, swum in rivers and mended nets and learned to wash his own clothes at need. He can fish and cook and bind up a wound, he knows what it is like to be hungry, to be hunted, to be afraid. Tommen has been taught that kingship is his right. Aegon knows that kingship is his duty, that a king must put his people first, and live and rule for them.” - Kevan, A Dance with Dragons

----------------------------------

So this is an essay of sorts on my speculation/theory that Arya is going to end up as a leader of the North by the end of the series. I will split this into several parts:

Arya and leadership

Arya and Northern leadership

Arya and Nymeria

Skillsets

Importance of being a Warg/Skinchanger

Succession

----------------------------------------

Arya Stark and leadership

“Know the men who follow you,” she heard him tell Robb once, “and let them know you. Don’t ask your men to die for a stranger.“  - Arya, AGoT

Arya has always been a leader rather than a follower. Just like Jon at the wall, she initially chafes at having to follow orders instead of doing what she thinks is the right thing to do. Despite Gendry and Hot Pie being older than her, she’s the one giving the orders and making the plans. She manipulates or forces characters into doing what she wants – getting Gendry to leave Harrenhal and forcing Jaqen to help her free the Northmen.

Arya took the lead, kicking her stolen horse to a brisk heedless trot until the trees close in around her. Hot Pie and Gendry followed as best they could. From time to time Arya glanced over her shoulder, to make sure the two boys had not fallen too far behind, and to see if they were being pursued - Arya, ASoS

Like most of our protagonists, Arya is ambitious and interested in being an active participant at the top. She wanted to become a King’s councilor and build castles. That entire little speech that Varys gives about the ideal candidate for ruling fits Arya to a T.

Arya has gone hungry, scrubbed and cleaned, cooked and kept house, sewed and mended clothes, bound up wounds, been hunted, been scared for her life – and done all this with limited protection. Just survived on her wits. Arya can wield a sword, is fluent in several languages and has studied with a Septa.

We also see war torn Westeros and the suffering of the smallfolk through Arya’s eyes in ACoK and ASoS. It doesn’t matter if it’s Stark or Lannister, the smallfolk suffer the same – Septon Meribald’s ‘Broken Men’ speech in AFfC embodies what Arya observes. After Arya frees the Northmen using weasel soup and Vargo Hoat betrays the Lannisters, there are reprisal killings, torture and rape enacted by Stark bannermen and the sellswords. The smith, Maester and the head maid are executed for merely serving Tywin – something on which they had no choice. Gendry points this out to Arya and she feels guilty for her part in all this.

“I hate this lot worse. Ser Amory was fighting for his lord, but the Mummers are sellswords and turncloaks. Half of them can’t even speak the Common Tongue. Septon Utt likes little boys, Qyburn does black magic, and your friend Biter eats people.”

The worst thing was, she couldn’t even say he was wrong. The Brave Companions did most of the foraging for Harrenhal, and Roose Bolton had given them the task of rooting out Lannisters. Vargo Hoat had divided them into four bands, to visit as many villages as possible. He led the largest group himself, and gave the others to his most trusted captains. She had heard Rorge laughing over Lord Vargo’s way of finding traitors. All he did was return to places he had visited before under Lord Tywin’s banner and seize those who had helped him. – Arya, ACoK

"It’s not a village, it’s only black stones and old bones. “Did the Lannisters kill the people who lived here?” Arya asked as she helped Anguy dry the horses.

“No.” He pointed. “Look at how thick the moss grows on the stones. No one’s moved them for a long time. And there’s a tree growing out of the wall there, see? This place was put to the torch a long time ago.”

“Who did it, then?” asked Gendry.

“Hoster Tully.” Notch was a stooped thin grey-haired man, born in these parts. “This was Lord Goodbrook’s village. When Riverrun declared for Robert, Goodbrook stayed loyal to the king, so Lord Tully came down on him with fire and sword. After the Trident, Goodbrook’s son made his peace with Robert and Lord Hoster, but that didn’t help the dead none.”

A silence fell."  - Arya, ASoS

"Wolves, she thought again. Like me. Was this her pack? How could they be Robb’s men? She wanted to hit them. She wanted to hurt them. She wanted to cry.” - Arya, ASoS

The smallfolk in the Riverlands are caught between the Starks, Tullys and Lannisters with no good choices. And on the ground level, Arya sees this, understands this and acknowledges this. Her actions benefited house Stark and no one else. She understands the cost of war.

Arya is also very keen on justice. In that she not only thinks that characters deserve justice, but she wants to actively participate and deliver justice. She considers the execution of Dareon from the NW as a just one.

Dareon had been a deserter from the Night's Watch; he had deserved to die. - Arya, AFfC

“Guilty!” Arya shouted with the rest. “Guilty, guilty, kill him, guilty!” …

Arya could only think of Mycah and all the stupid prayers she’d prayed for the Hound to die. If there were gods, why didn’t Lord Beric win? She knew the Hound was guilty… - Arya, ASoS

Her father beat her so often and so brutally that she was never truly free of pain or fear until she came to us.”

“Did you kill him?”

“She asked the gift for herself, not for her father.”

You should have killed him.“ - Arya, ADWD

Arya drew back from him. "He killed the slave?" That did not sound right. "He should have killed the masters!" – Arya, aDwD

---------------------------------

Arya and Northern leadership

I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned’s little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. - Hugo Wull

The North has famously never had a female leader in House Stark. So is it possible for valiant Ned’s precious little girl to become the first Lady Stark to lead the North?

In terms of personality, Arya resembles some of the other female leaders/members of Northern houses. She is bold and forward like Lyanna Mormont and Wylla Manderly. She has trained with the sword and learned how to use a bow and arrow. She proactively engineers her own escape like Alys Karstark. Characters like Ygritte and Alys remind Jon Snow of Arya.

Arya venerates Ned Stark. She follows his advice as much as Robb, Bran and Jon do. Even more so. She executes a NW brother for desertion. And that is important for the Starks.

I should kill them myself. Whenever her father had condemned a man to death, he did the deed himself with Ice, his greatsword. - Arya, ACoK

The blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. - Bran, AGoT

“The Starks do not use headsmen. Ned always said that the man who passes the sentence should swing the blade, though he never took any joy in the duty.” - Catelyn, ACoK

“Rickard Karstark, Lord of Karhold.” Robb lifted the heavy axe with both hands. “Here in sight of gods and men, I judge you guilty of murder and high treason. In mine own name I condemn you. With mine own hand I take your life. Would you speak a final word?” - Catelyn, ASoS

The pale morning sunlight ran up and down his blade as Jon clasped the hilt of the bastard sword with both hands and raised it high. “If you have any last words, now is the time to speak them,” he said, expecting one last curse. - Jon, ADwD

Arya is one of the Starkiest Starks of the whole lot. She is also the only Stark to actually have the Stark look. She is stubborn and determined to do things the Stark way. She often uses her father’s advice to guide her way.

Her father used to say that a lord needed to eat with his men, if he hoped to keep them. “Know the men who follow you,” she heard him tell Robb once, “and let them know you. Don’t ask your men to die for a stranger.“ - Arya, aGoT

Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father’s table and listen to them talk. She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms.- Arya, AGoT

Whenever her father had condemned a man to death, he did the deed himself with Ice, his greatsword. “If you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him go look him in the face and hear his last words,” she’d heard him tell Robb and Jon once. - Arya, ACoK

Now there are theories that it is future Bran who was communicating with Arya through the weirwood at Harrenhal, but she does gain strength from her father’s words when she prays to the Old Gods.

Gooseprickles rose on Arya’s skin, and for an instant she felt dizzy. Then, so faintly, it seemed as if she heard her father’s voice. “When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives,” he said. “But there is no pack,” she whispered to the weirwood. Bran and Rickon were dead, the Lannisters had Sansa, Jon had gone to the Wall. “I’m not even me now, I’m Nan.” “You are Arya of Winterfell, daughter of the north. You told me you could be strong. You have the wolf blood in you.” - Arya, ACoK

And while Arya is travelling incognito, GRRM keeps her connected to the North, house Stark and the Northern plot. She starts her journey from KL with a NW brother Yoren. She’s disguised as a boy like Danny Flint, Manderly requests a song about brave Danny Flint at Ramsay’s wedding with ‘Arya’. In the Riverlands, Arya’s plot intersects with her father’s bannermen, she participates in the capture of Harrenhal for house Stark and is there for Roose Bolton’s war council. She meets both Roose Bolton and Aenys Frey – our antagonists in Winterfell facing off against Stannis in ADwD. She meets Robett Glover – who is currently in White Harbor - when she lets him out of the dungeons. She gets Jaqen to help her father’s men.

“Vargo Hoat’s come back with prisoners. I saw their badges. There’s a Glover, from Deepwood Motte, he’s my father’s man. The rest too, mostly.” All of a sudden, Arya knew why her feet had brought her here. “You have to help me get them out.” – Arya, ACoK

Arya looked. She knew all of her father’s men. The three in the grey cloaks were strangers. Arya, AGoT

Twin towers. Sunburst. Bloody man. Battle-axe. The battle-axe is for Cerwyn, and the white sun on black is Karstark. They’re northmen. My father’s men, and Robb’s. - Arya, ACoK

Harwin?” Arya whispered. It was! Under the beard and the tangled hair was the face of Hullen’s son, who used to lead her pony around the yard, ride at quintain with Jon and Robb, and drink too much on feast days. He was thinner, harder somehow, and at Winterfell he had never worn a beard, but it was him—her father’s man. Arya, ASoS

“I bet there are Winterfell men too.” Her father’s men, the Young Wolf’s men, the direwolves of Stark. - Arya, ASoS

Arya is also involved in betrothals/marriage – first to Elmar Frey and then married off to Ramsay Bolton to hold the North. As a side note, her connection to all these bastards is indeed interesting - Elmar Frey, Ramsay Bolton, Gendry and Jon Snow. Is GRRM trying to say something here?

We now have the Northerners and Freys that Arya sees in Harrenhal transposed to Winterfell and ‘her father’s men’ rising up for Arya Stark.

Now, we can speculate and assume that these Northerners would have done the same for the other Starks, but that’s not the point here. In the books, GRRM has written this story to revolve around Arya. The mountain clans are marching for ARYA. The Northern houses are fighting alongside Stannis for ARYA. When lady Barbrey Dustin points out the anger of the Northmen at the treatment of ‘Valiant Ned's precious little girl’ she is talking about ARYA.

GRRM has Stannis wanting to rescue Arya for Jon. He has Mance trying to rescue Arya for Jon. He has Jon breaking his vows and dying trying to rescue Arya. A large part of what drives this plot forward is that it’s Arya, and her special relationship with Jon Snow influences a lot of what is happening south of the wall. The story only happens this way with Arya in the North. And that’s why it’s Arya’s story and not that of any other Stark. Superimposing this or that Stark in place of Arya to make a case for why they would be leader of the North makes no sense. GRRM writing in the marriage of Arya Stark to hold the North makes the case for why Arya is important to the North.

So, Arya has actively helped free Northmen in the Riverlands, engaged with important Northerners and Freys at Harrenhal and drives the plot to take down the Boltons in the North. With her leadership skills, her ability to wield a weapon and fight, looking like Ned, following in Ned’s footsteps and advice, her fierce personality, her loyalty to bannermen, her desire for justice and to help the weak and powerless, her huge direwolf - she would be like the Kings in the North of yore.  I think the Northerners will be fine with Arya Stark being the Stark in charge.

------------------------------

Arya and Nymeria

“What if the wolves come?” “Yield,” Arya suggested - Arya, ACoK

The direwolves are an important part of the books, and an important aspect of the Starks.They are as much a part of the Starks as Dany’s dragons are a part of her. They cannot be ignored as unimportant pets who will end up serving no purpose.

“He is part of you, Robb. To fear him is to fear you.”  - Catelyn, ASoS

Ghost did not count. Ghost was closer than a friend. Ghost was part of him - Jon, ADWD

“Part of you is Summer, and part of Summer is you. You know that, Bran.” - Bran, ACoK

“Wolves and women wed for life,” Haggon often said. “You take one, that’s a marriage. The wolf is part of you from that day on, and you’re part of him. Both of you will change.” - Varamyr, ADWD

You have five trueborn children,” Jon said. “Three sons, two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord…The direwolf graces the banners of House Stark,” Jon pointed out. -  Bran, AGoT

“Roose Bolton has Lord Eddard’s daughter. To thwart him White Harbor must have Ned’s son … and the direwolf. The wolf will prove the boy is who we say he is, should the Dreadfort attempt to deny him.“ - Davos, ADWD

GRRM has mentioned several times that they are important.

The Lannisters are always likening themselves to lions, for example, and their motto “Hear me roar” speaks of a certain way of looking at life. But I think for the Starks it goes a little bit beyond that, especially in this generation, with these direwolves. It’s more than just a handy metaphor with them - GRRM, interview

"Wolves have been part of European folklore, of which America's descended, going back thousands of years. In Rome, Romulus and Remus -- there's always been this relationship between wolves and men." That relationship is seen time and again in Martin's series, and it's one that will Martin says will continue as the last two books are eventually released. Arya's wolf, Nymeria, in particular, will play an important role. "You know, I don't like to give things away." says Martin, a grin spreading across his face. "But you don't hang a giant wolf pack on the wall unless you intend to use it." - GRRM interview

The direwolves are important especially for Arya whose theme is ‘The lone wolf dies but the pack survives’ and there are constant mentions of the pack in her POV chapters. Nymeria is an alpha, a leader of her pack like Arya is a leader of hers.

“She says there’s this great pack, hundreds of them, mankillers. The one that leads them is a she-wolf, a bitch from the seventh hell.” - Arya, ACoK

Throughout ACoK and ASoS, Arya mentions the wolves in the Riverlands. They appear to be just ahead of her or behind her. In her chapters there are mentions of wolves eating people, of Roose going wolf hunting. It’s almost like the wolves are traveling with her. They even help her escape – the wolf howl giving the signal – from harrenhal. And it’s possible the pack was picking off Roose Bolton’s riders chasing Arya because they were following right behind.

She could hear the sound of her own breath, and the wolves as well, a great pack of them now. They are closer than the one I heard in the godswood, she thought. They are calling to me. - Arya, ACoK

Once, from the crest of a ridge, she spied dark shapes crossing a stream in the valley behind them, and for half a heartbeat she feared that Roose Bolton’s riders were on them, but when she looked again she realized they were only a pack of wolves. She cupped her hands around her mouth and howled down at them, “Ahooooooooo, ahooooooooo.” When the largest of the wolves lifted its head and howled back, the sound made Arya shiver.   - Arya ASoS

Nymeria keeps amassing this huge wolf pack and Arya being a strong warg can sense this

She was no little girl in the dream; she was a wolf, huge and powerful, and when she emerged from beneath the trees in front of them and bared her teeth in a low rumbling growl, she could smell the rank stench of fear from horse and man alike. - Arya, ASoS

She dreamed of wolves most every night. A great pack of wolves, with her at the head. She was bigger than any of them, stronger, swifter, faster. And her brothers and sisters were with her, many and more of them, fierce and terrible and hers. - Arya, ASoS

In her wolf dreams she was swift and strong, running down her prey with her pack at her heels. - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

The wolf dreams also helps Arya connect to Bran, Jon and Rickon. We see Ghost able to sense the other direwolves and Bran trying to communicate with Jon.

Nymeria is a grey wolf and the stark sigil is a grey wolf on a white background.

 “The rain had washed the guard’s blood off her fingers, she wore a sword across her back, wolves were prowling through the dark like lean grey shadows, and Arya Stark was unafraid.” - Arya, ACoK

“Arya had her father’s eyes, the grey eyes of the Starks.” - Reek, ADwD

What’s in a name? I have already mentioned in another post, the symbolism of the names for the direwolves and them being an indication of the future for the Starks. Arya’s direwolf is named Nymeria – a Rhoynish warrior queen who led her people to safety. Something that Arya may well do in the future when the North is under attack from the Others.

More importantly, Nymeria in Dorne changed the customs and rules of house Martell to follow those of Rhoynar and allowed for female rulers. Nymeria herself was the first female leader and was followed by her daughter. Nymeria changed the norm for Dorne and we could see the same happening with Arya Stark in the North.

-----------------------------

Skills and Education

Look with your eyes, Syrio had said, listen with your ears.- Arya, ACoK

Education at Winterfell:

Arya was mainly taught by Septa Mordane and received the same education as Sansa. She would have been taught history and about the Faith by the Septa, she can read and write, and is good with sums. She’s better than Sansa at managing a household. She can ride a horse like a Northman and is an excellent swimmer. She knows some high Valyrian. Besides the Septa, Arya also hangs around Ned Stark when he is teaching the boys. Many of his words of wisdom that she remembers is from when he is teaching the boys. She mingles with her father’s men, the cooks, the stable boys etc.

Kings Landing:

Water Dancing style of swordfighting from Syrio Forel.

Harrenhal:

Being incognito allows Arya to move around like a mouse or the ghost of Harrenhal and observe and learn things. She is privy to Roose Bolton’s war council and listens to them discuss the Northern campaign against the Lannisters. We get the first inkling of the Red Wedding in these chapters between Roose and the Freys.

Arya observes the different people, analyzes their movements and figures out how to approach them.

The night she was caught, the Lannister men had been nameless strangers with faces as alike as their nasal helms, but she’d come to know them all. You had to know who was lazy and who was cruel, who was smart and who was stupid. You had to learn that even though the one they called Shitmouth had the foulest tongue she’d ever heard, he’d give you an extra piece of bread if you asked, while jolly old Chiswyck and soft-spoken Raff would just give you the back of their hand. - Arya, ACoK

And as lords and ladies never notice the little grey mice under their feet, Arya heard all sorts of secrets just by keeping her ears open as she went about her duties. Pretty Pia from the buttery was a slut who was working her way through every knight in the castle. The wife of the gaoler was with child, but the real father was either Ser Alyn Stackspear or a singer Lord Lefford made mock of ghosts at table, but always kept a candle burning by his bed. Ser Dunaver’s squire Jodge could not hold his water when he slept. The cooks despised Ser Harys Swyft and spit in all his food. Once she even overheard Maester Tothmure’s serving girl confiding to her brother about some message that said Joffrey was a bastard and not the rightful king at all. “Lord Tywin told him to burn the letter and never speak such filth again,” the girl whispered. - Arya, ACoK

She aids in the escape of the near hundred Northmen imprisoned in the dungeons and even Roose is impressed enough to make her his cupbearer. And the next time, she conceives of, plans and executes their entire escape all by herself. She plans for the logistics – weapons, transportation, people, travel route, what to wear.  She makes sure she is warmly dressed, takes the map from Roose’s chamber, uses her position of cupbearer to manipulate several men,  manipulates Gendry into escaping with her, takes down the guard and leads them away. It’s an endeavor that showcases her intelligence, cunning, determination, ability to strategize and lead.

Arya also shows a lot of restraint and keeps her secrets. She doesn’t trust the Glovers or any of the Northmen in Harrenhal - and considering the Red Wedding, it’s a good decision.

Their captors permitted no chatter. A broken lip taught Arya to hold her tongue. Others never learned at all. - Arya, ACoK

Arya watched them die and did nothing. What good did it do you to be brave? One of the women picked for questioning had tried to be brave, but she had died screaming like all the rest. There were no brave people on that march, only scared and hungry ones. - Arya, ACoK

On the road Arya had felt like a sheep, but Harrenhal turned her into a mouse. She was grey as a mouse in her scratchy wool shift, and like a mouse she kept to the crannies and crevices and dark holes of the castle, scurrying out of the way of the mighty.- Arya, ACoK

Braavos:

Arya’s education here is not limited to killing for the Faceless Men. She is also educated in poisons and languages. She improves on her high Valyrian and is now fluent in Braavosi and other Essosi languages. She learns acting/mummery. Not showing emotions on one’s face, detecting emotions in another person.

“A man does not need to be a wizard to know truth from falsehood, not if he has eyes. You need only learn to read a face. Look at the eyes. The mouth. The muscles here, at the corners of the jaw, and here, where the neck joins the shoulders.” He touched her lightly with two fingers. “Some liars blink. Some stare. Some look away. Some lick their lips. Many cover their mouths just before they tell a lie, as if to hide their deceit. Other signs may be more subtle, but they are always there. A false smile and a true one may look alike, but they are as different as dusk from dawn. Can you tell dusk from dawn?”

Arya nodded, though she was not certain that she could. “Then you can learn to see a lie… and once you do, no secret will be safe from you.”  - Arya, AFFC

------------------------

People skills

“I will remember, Your Grace," said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people's loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, I'll make them love me.” - Sansa, ACoK

Arya’s ability to make friends wherever she goes highlights her people skills. And Arya is able to communicate and connect with people from all walks of life.

Sansa knew all about the sorts of people Arya liked to talk to: squires and grooms and serving girls, old men and naked children, rough-spoken freeriders of uncertain birth. Arya would make friends with anybody. - Sansa, AGoT

She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms. She used to throw snowballs at them and help them steal pies from the kitchen. Their wives gave her scones and she invented names for their babies and played monsters-and-maidens and hide-the-treasure and come-into-my-castle with their children., Arya, AGoT

Her father used to say that a lord needed to eat with his men, if he hoped to keep them. “Know the men who follow you,” she heard him tell Robb once, “and let them know you. Don’t ask your men to die for a stranger.“ - Arya, AGoT

Cat had made friends along the wharves; porters and mummers, ropemakers and sailmenders, taverners, Brewers and bakers and beggars and whores - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

Her girls were nice as well; Blushing Bethany and the Sailor’s Wife, one-eyed Yna who could tell your fortune from a drop of blood, pretty little Lanna, even Assadora, the Ibbenese woman with the mustache. They might not be beautiful, but they were kind to her - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

She’s also loyal to her pack. She doesn’t betray Jon even to her father. She helps free her father’s men. Despite Gendry talking of leaving Lommy or Weasel behind, she refuses. And despite the odds, she tries to help Gendry.

It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that they had Gendry. Even if he was stubborn and stupid, she had to get him out. She wondered if they knew that the queen wanted him. - Arya, ACoK

-------------------------------

Importance of being a Warg/Skinchanger

She was the night wolf, no scraps of skin could frighten her. - Arya, ADwD

Since this is a fantasy series, magic is a big part of the story with a magical existential apocalyptic threat on the horizon. The North is the first bastion facing this threat. Jon and Dany both have magical pets and prophetic dreams. Bran is the 3ER. They are leaders or will become leaders by the end. Arya is a strong warg/skinchanger. Apart from Jon and Bran, she’s the only other Stark to use these abilities so far. As GRRM as indicated, having a direwolf is going to be useful in battle – we are going to be seeing direwolves involved in the battle for Winterfell for example. Arya is able to warg Nymeria from all the way over in Braavos. She skinchanges cats and sees through their eyes, when she is blind. She is deft with a sword, knife and decent with a bow and arrow (she could be better now using her FM senses). She would be an effective fighter to have against the Others and her warging skills could prove useful in battle.

------------------------------

Succession

I’m not a lady, Arya wanted to tell her, I’m a wolf. - Arya, ASoS

And finally we come to succession. This is the hardest part and entirely speculation and we need the next book to get an inkling of where GRRM is heading towards. I am also basing all of this on Hibberd more or less confirming that King Bran on the Iron Throne is GRRM’s ending.

So of the true born Starks, Arya is pretty much last in line. With the inclusion of Robb’s will, we have 5 Starks left. Bran is the rightful heir to the North. Taking him out of the running, leaves Jon, Rickon, Sansa and Arya. Assuming Jon ends up North of the wall – in his dreams the Old Kings in the North in the crypts reject him, maybe foreshadowing that he doesn’t belong in Winterfell - that leaves Rickon, Sansa and Arya.

As for Sansa, again there is a plot significant reason for why GRRM has put an obstacle in her path, allowing for Arya to jump the queue. Sansa is currently married to Tyrion Lannister, a marriage that cannot be easily annulled (With an enemy regime in KL) or ignored like the show did. Robb Stark has most likely disinherited/removed her from the line of succession and named a legitimized Jon Stark his heir and Lord of Winterfell. If he has the support of the Northern houses who want an experienced, older Stark to lead them, Jon Stark could well be the next KITN over Rickon Stark. I don’t think a 7 year old Rickon would object to Jon in charge. So that makes it Jon Stark, Rickon Stark and Arya Stark.

Does Rickon have to die for Arya to become Wardeness of the North? It’s possible Rickon dies, but it’s also possible he doesn’t.  It could be that Rickon does not want to lead the North – by the end of the book, he would be 8 or 9. Of course there’s the argument of a regent doing the job for Rickon until he’s ready. Or, he could just give way to his sister because he wants to. Something similar to Aemon refusing the throne and it passing to his younger brother Aegon.

Or we could have the traditional situation where Rickon becomes lord of Winterfell as next in line, while it’s Arya who is involved in running the day to day affairs. However, that would very much be status quo - with Rickon at WF and Bran down south in KL, it would be men ending up in positions of power everywhere once again, except maybe Dorne. If this happens, then Arya would be a leader of the North, but the Stark line would continue with the male line.  

It’s possible Jon Stark as King could change things for the North. Jon treats the spearwives the same as the brothers of the NW, he respects Val’s abilities, he trusts in Alys Karstark. If Rickon refuses the mantle, it could very well be that Jon Stark relinquishes his position to his favorite person ever, Arya Stark, to be the next Wardeness of the North.  Thus paving the way for Arya Stark to be the first female leader of the North like her hero Nymeria in Dorne.

It would be fitting for the character who introduced Jon Snow to equal rights for women.

“The Lannisters are proud,” Jon observed. “You’d think the royal sigil would be sufficient, but no. He makes his mother’s House equal in honor to the king’s.”

“The woman is important too!” Arya protested. - Arya, AGoT

Could King Jon reverse Sansa’s disinheritance after her marriage is annulled when KL is in friendly hands? Sure. But we don’t know how the Sansa/LF/Vale group will react to Jon as KITN and whether they will mount a challenge in Sansa’s name. And if Jon has to choose between Sansa and Arya as to whom he wants in charge of Winterfell, we know who it is he will think is more capable and will always choose.

I do think Winterfell succession will not be as clearcut as many Stark fans are hoping. Too many factions supporting the different Starks. GRRM loves to write about dysfunctional families and the Starks are not anything special in that regard. TWoW will tell us of whether there will be any kind of Stark civil war.

Is Arya too young for all this? I predict that by the time we get to the end of the books, about 5 years would have gone by. At 14, Arya would still need a regent – one of the many lords of the houses in the North. But I think considering her experiences, skillsets, a huge direwolf, Ned Stark’s wisdom and strong connections to the North, she will be an able leader. As GRRM said,

“[Arya is] older than some of the 40-year-olds in the book.” - GRRM

Either way, whether she gets Winterfell or not, Arya will end up as a leader in the North. Either she rules for Rickon and takes care of the day to day responsibilities or she does so in her own right as Lady of Winterfell/Wardeness of the North. She’s not going anywhere or sailing off on a boat. The show’s ending makes absolutely no sense for a character yearning for home in 5 books after going on the nightmare ‘adventure’ from hell. She will be in the North, in Winterfell, being a leader and continuing Ned Stark’s legacy.  She will counsel her brothers and build and her people will love her just like they loved her father.

So in conclusion, I think there is enough story, character build up, characterization and set up for Arya to go North and take over as a leader of house Stark to face the threat of the Others along with Bran, Jon, Dany and Tyrion.

[fayesdiary]

Id (Dilemma): The weird and ironic relationship between Robin, Grima, and you

Topic overanalyzing something that the creators probably never even thought about my beloved

Disclaimer: This is an essay analyzing Robin and Awakening in a metanarrative sense when it was clearly never meant to. This is not the kind of series or game to ever truly lean on or break the fourth wall, and the player doesn't exist as an entity in the FEverse beyond the avatar. But bearing this in mind, I'm gonna throw authorial intent out of the window for this whole post to even have a point. Hope you have fun and don't get too much of a headache from my incoherent rambling!

So, you all know the third arc of Awakening: Validar does shenanigans to revive Grima and T-pose over the world but dies like a scrub while complaining about his script being wrong, you find out Robin is an avatar of Grima themselves while future Grima revives the current Grima and goes chilling evilly over the ocean, you chase them, beat them up and tell them to go to sleep. Temporarily or permanently, that's your only choice that actually matters. Anyway, you saved the world and everyone lived happily ever after, until you play Apotheosis and regret everything you've ever done and start hating this series like a true fan.

But jokes aside, one idea that gets reinforced over and over during the arc is that while Robin is the Avatar of Grima and there is a significant overlap between the two of them (to the point where some people interpret it as Robin being an amnesiac Grima), ultimately they are two different people, which is confirmed in the ending where Robin deals the final blow: Grima dies, but Robin lives.

Except, there's something deeply ironic about all of this, especially when you take Awakening's theme of destiny not being written and everyone being able to make their own choices.

Which is, Robin isn't an avatar of just Grima. They're also an avatar of you, the player.

sorry, graphic design is not exactly my talent

Fire Emblem avatars are weird.

They are usually two types:

1) The older one, they are you entirely, but there's nothing about them. No personality, no dialogue, no design, they're not even playable well Kiran is now but ehhh. They are entirely meant to be you, other characters in fact face the screen when talking to them, and you can remove them entirely from the story and the plot still functions perfectly. No really, you can in Blazing Blade! 2) The second one is a fully customizable and playable unit, with their own broken stats and personality and design. Kris was the first one of these, while Robin is the second.

So, you can interpret it two ways: either Robin is an extension of the player or Robin is controlled by you. Both of them are used in the fandom, sometimes interchangeably, and both have... interesting implications.

And you wonder how much of it was intended. Robin's themes are call Id, after all.

Robin as the player (or an extension of them)

This is the first interpretation, and the most common I feel for most players at first, since that's the case for most avatars and customizable characters.

After all, an avatar is meant to represent you, right?

That's how you are meant to see Robin, especially now that marriage mechanics are back in the series, and sure enough, there's plenty you can customize about them from the first screen.

But at the same time, there's plenty that's unique to them, but not you:

Their "canon" name and appearance. In every other appearance, Robin has a distinct look and name taken from their default settings, and the only thing that betrays their former status as an avatar is that they have a male and female variant.

Their backstory. While the amnesia plot is a convenient device to introduce the player to the world and its people, what little we know about it isn't what I'd call relatable, and this is something that gets even more exaggerated with Corrin, the next avatar.

And most important, their personality. This isn't an RPG with dialogue options, and Robin is not a silent protagonist. They're the one who talk, befriend and potentially fall in love with the Shepherds, and most of the choices they make in the plot are completely unprompted. You didn't come up with the idea to set half of your fleet on fire to defeat the Valmese army. Robin did.

So, while there is a significant overlap between the player and Robin, at the end of the day Robin has a significant degree of autonomy of free will (well, in the way a fictional character can at least), which is the same argument the game itself makes with Robin and Grima.

Robin is controlled by the player

But at the same time, in a game that preaches free will and destiny not being set in stone, it's kinda morbid to think about how much control you have over Robin, who we've already established is their own person, despite their link to both you and Grima.

Just stop and think about it for a second how much you can influence them:

You can change their name, appearance and gender, not to mention their proficiencies. You're determining their entire body and physical capabilities just in the first screen.

Likewise, while you can't change how they interact with people, you can decide if they interact at all outside of the plot. Think about all the supports Robin has: you're the one allowing them to happen in the first place.

Going even deeper, you have control over who they fall in love with or if they fall in love at all. You're literally deciding a person's entire love life and if they have a family at all.

Even their final choice, while it's intended to be the final "fuck you" to fate with it being the only choice that actually matters in the plot, if you view the player as an existing entity you can easily twist it into the opposite sense. You're deciding if Robin gets to live or "die" along with Grima, all while making believe they're acting of their own free will.

If you want to get real trippy, since this game is a work of fiction, the irony of it saying fate is not scripted while the story itself is an actual script can be tasted, like mustard of existential crisis.

Grima and the Player

For some reason Tumblr deleted this whole final paragraph so I have to rewrite it. I fucking hate this website sometimes

I'm sure by know you've heard a gazillion times about how Awakening was supposed to be the final game of the franchise and about how the series would have ended if it didn't sell enough, and about how it likely influenced a lot of the final product.

With that in mind, you can easily see Grima as the metaphorical harbinger of Fire Emblem's end #GrimaDidNothingWrong, paralleling how this franchise was on its last legs but refused to give up.

But I want to point out that Awakening doesn't have a postgame. If you beat it, you'll just be sent back to the endgame.

There's nothing left after Grima's death.

The only thing that remains is a small glimmer of hope that the franchise will rise from its ashes if enough people buy the game, or rather, form a bond with it. Which is the same thing that allows Robin to come back after they (or rather, you) choose to kill Grima.

Which leads us to the final link between you, Robin and Grima.

As Robin, you were the last hope of the franchise, its chance to survive almost certain demise.

As Grima, you were its final nail in the coffin, the last thing it needed to truly die, to the joy of Smash and FE fans.

And, provided you actually bought the game...

You made that choice long before you booted it up for the first time.