#and i love the movement it's so dynamic!!!

[purplecoffee13]

Cross The Line*

Summary: “Harry and Y/N have always had a great professional relationship, all based on one rule; a line they drew the first time they met. But when one day that line accidentally blurs, Harry finds that he doesn’t want it to go back to the way it was…”

Wc: 13k

Tropes: Boss!rry x Secretary!Y/N

Warnings: A LOT of back and forth (this is what Katy Perry wrote hot and cold about), arguing, curse words, smut, dirty talk, degradation, light ch0king, dom/sub dynamics, edging, b0ndage, and recording while… yk🤗

A/N: I’m terribly sorry to have been testing your patience so much the second half of this year, here is a long one shot to say I’m sorry🥲 and I appreciate all of you and I hope you are happy and healthy and will get everything you want in the new year xx💘💘

General Masterlist

Harry's relationship with his secretary is completely normal.

At least, he’s always thought it is.

Sure, it may have seemed more friendly than the usual boss/secretary relationship, but that was only because Y/N was special. She was one of the kind. Smart, stealthy, and sneaky if need be. She did everything he asked for, sometimes before he even realized he should ask her, and was always ready to do more.

Of course, she was attractive as well. Shit, attractive may have even been an understatement. Y/N was drop dead gorgeous and Harry was entirely aware of it. Her ambition made her even sexier, and it's one of the reasons he hired her in the first place.

When Y/N walked through his office door that first time three years ago, he couldn't believe his eyes.

He remembers it like it was yesterday, those wide eyes staring back at him as she froze a couple feet away from him. She was quick to regain herself, though—he had to give her that. But she was nervous as she sat down, even though her movements were calm and the tone of her voice stern. He saw the slightest shake of those hands of her.

Because that job interview hadn't been the first time Harry and Y/N came across each other. It was actually a Halloween party at some high end secretive club in New York one month prior. A night that ended with them hooking up in one of the private lounges.

Even back then, when he never thought he'd see her again, he knew that he would never forget that night, nor the way her face scrunched up as she clenched around him, or the sounds that she made as he drove into her.

He could see that she remembered it as well as she sat across from him that day, but Y/N had quickly made it clear that she was serious about pursuing a career in the film industry. She said she could prove what a great secretary she could be for him, as long as they could put that Halloween night behind them and pretend it never happened. She wouldn't make him regret it, she had told him. He took the chance.

And she had been absolutely right.

Three years had passed and Harry was still thankful to himself for hiring Y/N. She was the best around; fiercely loyal as well. Y/N had been offered jobs by other companies, but she turned down every last one of them. Harry liked to think their relationship played a bit of a part in that as well.

They had become friends—if that's what you could call it—over the years. They had a playful dynamic filled with flirty jokes and random phone calls and favors that blurred that line they had drawn so carefully during Y/N's job interview.

No matter what, Y/N would be the first Harry would call, every time. Whether it was bad business news or a drunken phone call, her number was most likely to be at the top of his last calls. And she always answered, even though she didn't have to. It was a special bond, and while they always danced on it—especially Harry—they never crossed that one line.

Not that Harry needed to. As a matter of a fact, he had quite the adventurous love life. With plenty of people on speed dial and a charming smile that could make anyone's panties drop, Harry wasn't short on romantic escapades. The one thing they all had in common, though, was that it'd never last longer than a few days, and they were rarely ever repeated.

The same couldn't be said for Y/N. In fact, Harry had never seen her with anyone outside of her work, and he never heard her mentioning anything about it...

He didn't know why, but somehow, that thought popped up into his head last Friday as they sat in his office with a drink, celebrating the outstanding reviews that critics had given the newest produced film that was set to premiere next week. Before Harry knew it, he was asking about it.

"Why are you rubbing your temples?" He questioned, watching Y/N massage the side of her head with her eyes closed. He was leaned back in his seat, whiskey in hand as he observed the woman across from him.

"Tension headache." She groaned in response. Despite her grumpiness, Harry couldn't help but grin. What could he say? She was cute when she was grumpy.

"We are literally celebrating, Y/N. What could you possibly be so tense about right now?" He teased, and felt his stomach swirl as a smile painted her lips. She might have rolled her eyes, but she still thought he was funny.

"Oh you have no idea." She mumbled, grabbing her glass and leaning back into her chair. She took a big gulp, her face pulling at the strong taste of the liquor. Harry chuckled.

"You should relax more. Maybe get a hot date to take care of some of that stress for you." He suggested jokingly. Y/N scoffed at the insinuation.

Shaking her head, she said: "I get taken care of just fine, thank you very much."

The equally teasing tone in which she responded caught Harry seriously off guard. Her slight grin pressed down on his chest, and despite having started this joking banter himself, he suddenly didn't find the topic very funny anymore.

"When?"

Y/N locked eyes with her boss. “What?”

"You're here 24/7, when do you even have time to hook up with someone?"

"You know there's this thing called weekends." She joked, but the amusement faded when Harry's mouth didn't even quirk upwards in the slightest bit. It fell quiet for a second or two, and just when Y/N opened her mouth to say something else, someone knocked on the office door.

"Come in."

Harry had said, and soon enough Robin, one of the managers walked in, telling them everyone was going to the pub down the street to celebrate, and if they wanted to come along.

Harry didn't even have the chance to reject the offer—he'd rather spend his nights with his secretary—before Y/N agreed to go along. Feeling obligated, Harry reluctantly gave in as well.

He ended up going home quite early that night, not even properly saying goodbye to Y/N like he normally would before leaving, and he couldn't get the image of her wrapped around another man out of his head the entire ride home. He didn't know why it bothered him so much. Maybe it was the fact that it shouldn't, and more importantly, couldn't bother him, which made it even less bearable.

Whichever reason there may have been for it, he decided to drown out his thoughts by inviting one of his old hook-ups to his house. But even as he drove himself into her as she kept screaming his name, he couldn't stop thinking of Y/N. When she had reached her climax and he began to chase his own high—Harry was caught off guard by Y/N's face flashing through his mind, and extremely embarrassed when those images triggered his orgasm.

The next week is awkward, to say the least. It started out Monday, when Harry could barely look Y/N in the eye. She had received the sudden cold shoulder pretty well, but Harry still felt horrible about it. His attitude got less stiff throughout the week, but it was still bad.

By the time Thursday rolls around again, Harry still hasn't had the chance to get that weird feeling out of his system. So when he approaches his office and spots Y/N behind her desk smiling at him, a wave of guilt washes over him.

He curses himself as he sinks into his desk chair, absentmindedly turning on his laptop. What is he doing? Y/N is his assistant. He shouldn't let his protectiveness of her get the best of him. He does not want to lose her in any way.

Harry flinches when there is a knock on his door. He looks up, finding Y/N standing in his doorway. Immediately, he signals for her to come in. She seems a bit nervous as she nears him, and considering she's never been nervous around him, his heart sinks at the idea that the cold shoulder he's been giving her the other night might have affected her way more than he thought.

He just doesn't know how to behave instead.

"You have a meeting in conference room C in five minutes. It's the banker's son who's been proposing his script for the past year. I  know your schedule is tight, especially with the premiere coming up, but I thought you might as well get it over with." She says, putting a stack of papers on the table that Harry can only assume is the script. He nods, quirking up the corner of his mouth.

"Thank you, smart thinking." The praise falls from his lips in a casual manner, and he doesn't miss the way she physically relaxes at the positive reinforcement. She nods at him, and turns back to the door. Right before she is about to leave the office, she turns around again. Harry leans back in his seat, waiting to hear what she'll say.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped last week." She says, and Harry frowns at the apology.

"What?"

"I clearly said something that ticked you off." She explains,her shoulders slumping slightly. "I know we joke around, but I was afraid that maybe I'd accidentally crossed a line—“

"Y/N, stop it." Harry interrupts her, getting up from his seat. Her lips are locked within a second, and she stares at her boss with wide eyes. His stomach twists at the sight of it. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But— if I said something inappropriate then I want to apologize for it." She says, straightening her posture again, biting her bottom lip so he won't see it quiver. As if he doesn't know the way her body works. As if he hasn't known for three years.

Putting his hands inside his pockets, Harry walks around his desk and stands in front of her. A little closer than he needs to, and yet not as close he would like.

"Let me ask you this: How many times have you declined booty calls for me?" He asks, tilting his head a bit. A slight smile appears on Y/N's face, and she pretends to think it over.

"Twenty-seven." Her smile crinkles her eyes, making them even more glassy. Harry quite literally feels his hand itch to touch her face, but he keeps it sternly in his pocket. "I kept track so I could count all the reasons you definitely won't get into heaven."

At that, he lets out a snort. Y/N can't help but chuckle too, and slowly but surely the weirdness dissolves from the room. When the laughter has died down, she speaks up again.

"So... we're good?"

"We're good." Harry smiles at his secretary, and his chest heats up when he spots the faint blush that appears on her cheeks. Jesus Christ, did she become even more beautiful than she was yesterday or was he just too stupid to notice earlier? Probably the latter.

"Well in that case you need to leave because your meeting is like, right now." She reminds him, and he hums in agreement as he gets up from his seat and walks towards the door with Y/N.

"Already gone, love." He winks at her, walking out the door with a lot more confidence in his relationship with Y/N. Maybe everything can go back to normal again. Maybe he was just exaggerating when he couldn't get her out of his head this weekend. Perhaps it was just a glitch, a temporary error in his brain that had come and gone in a flash.

That must've been it, he tells himself as he makes his way to conference room C. He takes a deep breath, musters a polite smile, and opens the door to the room. Harry already knows this guy is going to be wasting his time, but he made a promise to hear him out, so he will.

The guy sitting at the table is the stereotypical spoiled rich son. When John Longwell—a long-time business partner of Harry's— asked him to revise his son's script as a favor, Harry told him he'd do it if he ever found the time. He always hoped John's son would lose interest and forget about the script by the time Harry could find a free space in his agenda, but unfortunately that hadn't been the case.

And although the arc of the story had sounded absolutely horrendous— something about zombies fueled by a brainwashing radio song, which didn't even make sense to Harry because zombies don't have brains—he couldn't back out anymore. So he needs to get it over with, starting now.

Harry loudly shuts the door.

The guy—whose name he can't really remember at the moment—flinches and turns around, a big grin on his face as he gets up from his seat.

"Mr. Styles, it's a pleasure to see you." The man says, extending his hand, which Harry, in turn, takes. He only gives a slight nod before heading over to the other side of the table and sitting down.

"So, where's your script?" Harry asks, eyeing the empty table. The guy looks flustered, opening his mouth to say something, but the opening of the door interrupts that. Harry leans back in his seat when he spots his secretary walk through it, not even eyeing the other guy as she struts over to him and lays the printed out script on the glass table.

"Sorry, you forgot this. It was still on your desk." She says, finally turning to the man to throw him an innocent smile. His sheepish grin satisfies her enough to turn back to her boss and focus all her attention on him. "I also forgot to ask you— do you want to move up lunch today?"

The corner of Harry's mouth tugs up. Over the last three years, the concept of 'moving up lunch' has become a code for 'should I get you out of this early?'. Y/N came up with it a long time ago, and it has stuck ever since.

"Yes, I would very much like that. Thank you, Y/N." He says, and the way a smirk slowly creeps onto her face makes the hairs on his body rise.

"It's my pleasure, Mr. Styles." She gives one final nod before walking out of the room and closing the door behind her. Harry would lie if he said he didn't let his eyes fall onto the way her hips moved as she strolled away.

Unfortunately the fun doesn't last long, and with the slam of the door Harry is reminded that he still has to sit through this meeting a little longer. He looks down at the script.

"A Thousand Zombies

By Jason Longwell."

Right, Jason, that was his name.

"Jesus Christ, if that were my secretary I'd have her bent over my desk all day. How do you get any work done?" Jason breathed out, grinning like a stupid fucking schoolboy. Harry quite literally felt the storm cloud that came floating right above his head the second he heard that incompetent loser say those words. His hands balled up into fists at the suggestive comment, knuckles getting whiter by the second.

"Get out." Harry growls. John raises his eyebrows, looking around him as if Harry couldn't have possibly been addressing it to him.

"W— what?" He stumbles.

"I don't do business with insolent idiots. Get out." Harry repeats, getting up from his seat and buttoning his suit jacket. John follows his movements, anger starting to cloud on his face.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" He exclaims in a failed attempt to sound intimidating. At least, Harry assumes that's what he's trying to do.

"I called you an idiot. Now, get the hell out of my face before I boot your sorry ass right to the front door." With one brow raised, he waits as John tries to muster a response until he eventually gives up and storms out of the room. Harry throws the script into the trash as he walks out of the conference room half a minute later. Y/N is immediately by his side.

"That was quick, I didn't even have time to think of an emergency." She jokes as they walk back to Harry's office together. He raises a brow.

"Yes you did. What was it this time? Food poisoning?" He guesses, holding the door to his office open once they've reached it. Y/N grins as she walks past him and takes a seat at one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"Actually, your car was going to get stolen in about five minutes." She responds, the blush of her cheeks revealing the slight embarrassment of having to voice this excuse out loud. Harry's eyes widen as he walks over to his desk, feeling his assistant watching his every move. He quite likes the feeling.

"No way." He laughs. "You just get more creative by the day."

"What can I say, I'm good at crisis management." She shrugs, crossing her legs and getting into a more comfortable position on the chair. Harry tries his best to not let his eyes float to her legs.

"That you are." He murmurs, the huskier sound of his voice giving a different ambiance to the conversation. As Harry feels the mood switch, he curses himself. Why did he have to ruin it?

Y/N clears her throat. "Anyway— why'd the meeting end early?"

"It ended early because Jason Longwell is a sleazy douchebag." He responds shortly, straightening in his seat in an attempt to gain control of the situation again. He can't let himself slip like this again, and she can't know the real reason he kicked out Jason. But there is no denying the sheer rage that boils his blood when that comment flashes through his memory. He hates that the asshole thought he could just speak about Y/N like that.

"Ooh, what did he say when you kicked him out?" Y/N asks eagerly, still in a playful mood. "You did kick him out right?"

"I don't have time to get into this right now. I need to sign those contracts that were sent in yesterday before I go home." Harry says sternly, avoiding eye contact with Y/N as he speaks, but he still sees the slump in her shoulders at his sudden shift in attitude.

"Right, of course." She immediately returns to the responsible secretary she always is, getting up from her seat. He hears her exit the room, heels clacking against the wooden floor. As soon as the door has shut, Harry throws his head back in frustration.

So much for going back to normal.

Playing into the teasing will only rope him further into that forbidden fantasy, and he clearly won't be able to stop himself from resisting her if he does. But he's the one who started all the playfulness, massively screwing himself over he realizes now. If he shifts his behavior, she's always going to think he's mad at her because of something.  But he's going to have to, because Harry can't go back to normal anymore.

Deciding he needs to clear his head, Harry grabs his coat and heads for the elevators without so much as a word. He pretends not to notice the way people's eyes widen when he walks by, suddenly on their best behavior, and although it used to give him an ego boost back when he started, nowadays he just prefers it if people aren't scared of him.

It turns out to be a particularly nice outside for a winter day in London. Not to get it twisted— it's still freakishly cold. It's just that the sun has replaced the endless rain of this entire month. Harry suppresses a chuckle at the irony of the sun finally being out at the very first moment where he's felt so shitty in a long time.

He doesn't know how long he's outside, so he knows it's not fair to be frustrated when he comes back and Y/N isn't at her desk, but he can't help the slight distress that washes over him at the empty seat.

"It's just a date—"

"Your second date!"

Harry creased brows don't do much to hide his feelings when he turns around to see his secretary with a co-worker. The shy smile on her face—accompanied with that blush on her cheeks she always gets when she's secretly giddy about something—disappears at the sight of her boss looking at her like she just killed a puppy.

"Ha— Mr. Styles." She is quick to catch her almost error. Her wide eyes bore into his, filled with confusion and worry. But Harry's frown doesn't give away much, aside. From the fact that he is obviously annoyed.

"I was looking for you." He states stoically, not even acknowledging the employee that is standing next to her. The woman takes the hint and gives Y/N and Harry a small nod before walking away. As soon as she does, Harry turns around and walks towards his own office. He can hear her footsteps following him inside, and with the inconsistent clacking against the floor he can tell she's having a hard time keeping up with his long strides. Still, he doesn't slow his pace.

"I need the papers for the donations printed out and on my desk. And I'll need you to move the meeting with the director of the romance movie to Tuesday evening."

"Yes, of course." The breathy response falls from Y/N's lips the second he finishes his sentence, and by the time he enters his office, she is long gone to do exactly what he asked. Harry shuts the door a little louder than intending to, accidentally shaking the framed artwork on the wall.

Y/N isn't very talkative for the rest of the day, that usual spark of hers seemingly having dimmed. Harry's chest is heavy, knowing his cold attitude was the catalyst for that, but he keeps it up nonetheless. He can't help himself from falling back into it every time he sees her face.

A date. She's going on a date. A second one at that. He can't believe it. Is this who she referred to when she said she gets taken care of? His stomach churns at the possibility.

He tries not to, but Harry still gets warped into the spiral of overthinking about 'date' Y/N has tonight. So much, in fact, that he almost doesn't notice the time flying by until Y/N knocks on his door at 6PM. Harry spots the coat that hangs over her desk chair, and he realizes the work day is over.

"Everything is done for the day and ready for next week. I also sent the papers about the donations with a courier who owed me a favor, so the documents are signed on both parts and the donations will be officially registered by Monday." She explains, hands behind her back. Her new shy behavior—while quite endearing—is excruciating to see. She had always been comfortable around Harry, until now. Until he had to ruin it for the both of them.

"Thank you." Harry gives her a firm nod.

"No problem." She responds a bit awkwardly. "So... I'm going to clock out for the day."

Y/N has already turned around by them time Harry's voice croaks out a 'no'. She whips her head towards her boss, head tilted as she awaited whatever it was that he was going to say.

"I need those contracts for that romance movie." He says before he can even comprehend his words.

"But you won't be negotiating that deal for another two weeks." Y/N retorts, her tone more stern than usual. He can tell she's tired.

"I don't care. I want them on my desk tonight." He holds his head high, despite knowing damn well what he's doing.

He's stalling. Long enough for... he doesn't know actually. For her to cancel her date? It sounds ridiculous now that he really thinks about it.

"Harry, I have an appointment tonight—"

"I said I don't care. I pay you to do as I ask. This is not something you can argue me on." He grumbles. With how Y/N's jaw is clenched, he can't say the same for her attitude. Without another word, she leaves the office.

Harry's worry begins to grow every minute that passes with Y/N out of sight. But when she returns with a stack of papers in her hand after a bit—seven minutes to be exact—that worry evolves into surprise. Walking over to his desk, she plops the papers on them a bit carelessly before speaking up.

"I had them made on Monday because I like to be a few steps ahead." She elaborates. "Now, if that's all, I'm going home."

Y/N doesn't even say goodbye when she grabs her coat and walks to the elevators. Harry sighs to himself, not knowing how the hell he should handle this. It takes him a few seconds before he realizes he really can't do this anymore. He needs to talk to her, if only just to clear the air.

And so, he gets up from his seat and hurries after his assistant.

He catches her just as she walks into an empty elevator, and he joins just before the doors close. Her knitted brows make it clear that she is not in the mood to talk to him.

"I'm sorry... about the documents." Harry confesses, but she doesn't face him. It stays quiet between them for a bit, until the biting sentence falls from Y/N's lips.

"You said we were good."

His heart cracks at her wobbly voice. He can't believe he made her feel this way. If any other person would've brought her to tears, he would've beaten the shit out of them. He reaches for her arm.

"W— we are." He lies. It's the biggest lie he's ever told her, and she knows it, because she immediately turns around.

"No we're not! I said I was sorry if I did something wrong, and you told me it was okay, and now all of a sudden you're being so... cold. I don't understand—" her eyes become glassy. "I don't understand what I did wrong."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Harry opens his mouth, ready to spout out his apologies, when Y/N's phone starts to ring. It takes them out of their little trance, and Y/N fumbles around her jacket for a bit until she's finally found her phone. He can't see who's calling her, but it can't be an expected call if he has to judge by the expression on her face.

"Marco, why are you—" her eyes widen at whatever the voice on the other side of the line is telling her, and Harry subconsciously finds himself leaning in a bit in the hope to find out what's wrong.

"What?" Y/N breathes. Her voice is small, and it sounds defeated, tired. The elevator dings, signaling they're downstairs, but Y/N doesn't move, so Harry doesn't either. She seems to notice and lets out a huff before storming out of the confined space and pacing around the lobby.

"You said we had a green light! That was months ago, Marco! Did you even—" She growls, clutching at her phone so hard Harry is afraid she's going to break it. "You know what, never mind. Give me his number."

The Marco guy seems to say something that he really shouldn't have said, because with the way Y/N's face twists Harry swears he can see steam coming out of her ears

"I don't care that they're not answering, I'll make them answer. Give me their numbers and then go find them." She orders before ending the call. And although the thought really shouldn't be crossing his mind right now, Harry can't help but notice how attractive Y/N is when she's mad. He shakes off the thought, telling himself that's the last thing he should be paying attention to right now.

Y/N paces around one more time, cursing under her breath, before striding past Harry and pushing the elevator buttons like a maniac.

"What's going on?"

Y/N shakes her head. "N— nothing. Just a little hiccup that could've easily been prevented. I won't be long."

Harry raises a skeptical brow, but she doesn't dare to meet his eye. She's lying through her teeth.

"Y/N—"

"Harry, really, it's nothing. I'm taking care of it." She tries to convince him, but he notices the way her hands are slightly trembling. "I'm sorry I was unprofessional. You're my boss. It's my job to take your orders, not question them."

Wait, no.

That aching feeling fills his stomach. His entire body, for that matter. He doesn't want her to be a silent and compliant assistant. That's not why he hired her. He needs someone to push back, to joke around with. Shit— what has he done?

Harry finds himself speechless as she enters the elevator and pushes the button of the seventh floor; the office. His brain isn't fast enough to think of what to say before the doors shut and the elevator ascends.

His feet stay glued to the ground as he ponders, his mind reeling like a rollercoaster. Frustration fills his body to his every finger tip. Everything has gone wrong, and he has no idea how to make it better.

At least ten minutes must've gone by by the time that a concierge taps Harry on the shoulder to ask him if he's okay. Still a bit wary, he nods before excusing himself and leaving the building.

Everything is going wrong.

Leaning over the desk with her face buried between her arms, Y/N is unable to hold back the tears that glide over her cheeks.

First, her boss gets mad at her, and she has no idea why. Then, just when they seemed to be okay again, he changed his attitude up again. And what does she do instead of letting it go? She starts a fight. And now Marco drops a disastrous bomb in her lap that could entirely ruin the movie premiere on Sunday. And if that wasn't enough—and she really thinks it was—this sudden crisis caused her to cancel her date of tonight.

It wasn't anything special, really. Y/N had met Jamie a few weeks ago, and they went out last week. He was a nice guy, handsome too, and she thought he was perfect for a short lived affair. Besides, her vibrator just couldn't live up to her fantasies. She was human, she needed to get off every now and then too. It was like Y/N had this itch in need of scratching, one she hadn't been able to reach in what felt like years.

But that wasn't going to happen now. In fact, she was risking being fired if she didn't solve this problem as soon as possible.

Damn! She really thought she had kept it all together, despite the extreme business this year. She thought she'd done a good job.

But that was a lie, because if she had done a good job, Marco wouldn't have ever gotten into the position where an artist on the soundtrack could manipulate the contract they signed. Y/N had told Marco to make it airtight, already having been suspicious of the artists' integrity from the moment they became part of the soundtrack. She assumed that they would try something.

'Chain' was an up and coming band known for their indie sound, but Y/N would just describe them as two pricks. Not only had they been subtly demeaning to her when Harry met with them, barely acknowledging her existence, they were arrogant as well. They came in expecting a lot more money than Harry and the rest of the company were willing to give them. It was absurd that they expected such a big number, but their cocky attitude didn't fade throughout the meeting.

It was truly a favor to the director, why Harry worked so hard to compromise with Chain. The director had been so passionate about the movie, and he had really wanted the song. If one thing was important to Harry, it's that there went passion onto the projects he produced and invested in. So, he decided to help, and eventually managed to struck a deal with the singers. It was still way above the pay grade they should've got—in Y/N's opinion—but they agreed.

Having seen first hand how greedy those two were, she had told Marco—the guy who handled all the legal documents—to make that contract airtight. She demanded to look it over, but because of her busy schedule, she let Marco have another lawyer look at it before sending the contract.

And now, because of a lazy mistake Chain's lawyer found, they are demanding more money or they'll waive their rights to the music. Something which would be absolutely detrimental because the entire climax of the movie, the cinematography and timing are all tuned to the song.

If she doesn't find a way to solve this problem, this entire premiere could fall apart, and it would all be her fault. She gave the green light to Harry, who gave it to the director. It's all her fault. 

She should've fucking read that contract herself, then this would've never happened.

Between Harry being mad at her, the fact that she was in her luteal phase, and this sudden disaster, the tears began streaming down her face, and the soft crying only turned into full on sobs the more she tries to calm herself down.

She allows herself the mental breakdown, but when she begins to regain control of her breath again after a few minutes, Y/N decides that it's enough. She has a job to get done, and no one was going to swoop in and save her.

So, she starts making call after call, ringing everyone in the immediate vicinity of the two arrogant bastards. It's crucial she reaches them before the night is over. Only forty minutes have passed by the time she is on the seventh person, but it feels like an eternity nonetheless.

She flinches when, while trying to reach Chain's tour manager, the elevator door dings and a shadow nears. Her tense shoulders sink a little bit at the sight of Harry, glad it's not some creep. Her brows crease as she watches him walk towards her. He's carrying a couple of bags with... is that food? It sure smells like it.

When the call goes to voicemail—for the third time—Y/N puts down the phone and gets up from her seat, hurrying over to her boss and stopping him before he could reach her desk.

"What are you doing here?!" She asks, blocking his way. He lifts the bags, a subtle, apologetic smile on his face.

"I brought food—" He looks up at her, and his eyes darken as soon as he takes in her face. "Have you been crying?"

Y/N raises her hands to her face, quickly glancing at the ground while she wipes her cheeks before meeting his eyes again. Harry puts the bags down, and it feels like her heart skips a beat or two when his thumbs stroke the skin under both her eyes. He leaves his hand around her face, cupping her jaw while he stares at her with such a piercing pain in his eyes that it makes Y/N's eyes water altogether again.

"What's wrong?" His voice is soft, and the feel of his big, warm hands holding her is comforting her in a way she hasn't experienced in a quite some time. Y/N only focused on his chest, afraid that the welled up water in her eyes will spill out again the second she looks at her boss. She told herself the crying was over, so why wasn't she able to control herself?

A few seconds pass, and silence runs between the thick air that makes it nearly impossible to breathe normally. Then, Y/N feels the slight pressure of Harry's hands, inching her head upwards. Automatically, her gaze flicks to that of her boss, and when she sees the worry on his face, a tear escapes her eye. His thumb catches it before it has the chance to roll down all the way down her cheek.

"I messed up." She only says, closing her eyes in shame. Harry says nothing, only letting out a sigh as he continues to caress her cheek.

Suddenly, the phone rings. Y/N reluctantly backs away from Harry's touch, and runs over to her desk to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" She says, her voice laced with such desperation that she internally cringes at it.

"Y/N? It's Marco. I found them, they're at a studio just outside the city."

She hums, grabbing a pen. "Give me the address."

"No, I'm going. This is my mess, Y/N, I'm not going to let you clean it up." Marco croaks from the other side of the line, and Y/N feels his voice tug at her heartstrings.

"Marco, listen to me. This is as much my fault as it is yours. I should've read the damn thing and notice the mistake." She replies, leaning over her desk to grab her coat.

"Y/N, I'll take care of it, okay? I found a fault in their loophole, they're stuck. Let me handle this. You just go home and enjoy what's left of your evening I ruined—" Marco tells her. "Wait, didn't you have a date tonight? Oh my god, did I ruin your date?"

"I did... but it's alright. It probably wouldn't have worked out with him anyway." Y/N chuckled awkwardly and glanced towards Harry, who looked weirdly annoyed at what she said.

"I'm so sorry, I promise I'll make it up to you." Marco shares the desperate plea.

"You can make it up to me by giving me the address of the studio." Y/N tells him cheekily.

"Y/N..." he warns.

"What? I promise I'm going home. It's just so I know where you are." She lies. Y/N is a good liar, except in front of Harry. Having a tendency to get nervous, she always betrays herself. She's lucky that this is a phone call, otherwise Marco would've known she wasn't planning on going home at all.

Hesitantly, he gives her the address, which she immediately writes down on her hand.

"Okay, thank you Marco. Good luck." She says, hanging up the phone with a lot more confidence than ten minutes ago. She can feel Harry staring her down as she puts on her coat, clearly waiting for an explanation for this whiplash-like behavior.

"I really have to go."

Harry shrugs. "I'll give you a ride. You can explain everything to me on the way to your house."

Y/N shakes her head, walking towards her boss. "No, really, you don't have to."

"Yes I do." Harry argues.

"You really don't."

"Do you have a problem with me bringing you home, Y/N?" He asks as if he's dumb, as if he doesn't know she's secretly trying to go to that studio.

"No!" She is quick to protest.

"Or does it have anything to do with the address of that mysterious studio you've written on your hand?" He teases, and Y/N clenches her jaw in frustration.

"I just— I need to make sure it's handled." She sputters. Harry shrugs.

"From what I heard it's being handled just fine." He points out. "You've got to learn to let things go sometimes, Y/N."

She shakes her head, looking the floor. "I can't. Not with this."

Harry lowers his head, trying to get on the same eye-level as her and searching for her eyes. "Why not?"

"I told you; I messed up." Her voice quivers as she tells Harry the truth. "There was a mistake in the contract with Chain. Somehow they found a loophole, and now they want more money or they'll waive the rights to their song."

"What?!" Harry growls, exactly like Y/N anticipated he'd react. God, he's going to fire her any moment.

"It's my fault. It was a reference mistake I could've easily spotted if I had taken the time to revise it." She admits, feeling extremely shameful of her lazy actions.

"What are you talking about? This is the legal team's fault, they should've seen that damned mistake! It's not in your job description to revise a contract, it's not your responsibility. It's not your fault, Y/N." He explains. She sucks in a breath, his words hitting her harder than she expected. Heart aching, the one sentence rings in her head.

It's not your fault.

That couldn't be true, could it? She was responsible for this deal, and for Harry. She should've seen this coming, even though she couldn't have possibly known. Did she not always pride herself in having this sixth sense, in being ahead of everyone else? What was she without that? What was she if not the best at the one thing that made her special, that set her apart from the crowd. What was she worth without that invincibility?

"You revise every contract, don't you?"

Her eyes flick towards her boss. She doesn't say anything, but the answer is hidden in her pupils. And it seems Harry can read them like an open book. "How long have you been doing that?"

"Two years." Y/N stammers, her arms crossed as if it will keep her body from revealing whatever her mouth won't. Harry just lets out a breathy chuckle before pulling her into his arms, taking her into a sweet embrace. With his chin leaning on her head, Y/N takes the opportunity to bury her face in his chest, trying not to bask too much in the heavenly scent of his cologne.

"Remind me to give you a raise." He jokes in a soft whisper, earning a sniff of laughter from Y/N.

For a while it seems like everything that tore her down, including what went down between her and Harry, didn't exist anymore. There was just him and her, their embrace and a distant ticking clock, the only indicator of time passing. Yet it felt like the world stopped, or slowed down at least, being in Harry's arms like that. And suddenly, that itch that she hadn't been able to scratch in so long, it felt like it was soothed by a stroking hand instead, and in a way it fulfilled her. It just so happened to be a way she did not expect.

The initial shock at the realization—this puzzle piece that suddenly clicked—made Y/N back away. She clears her throat, fiddling with her hands.

"They're supposed to be at this studio right outside the city. It's only twenty minutes away by car. I just need to be sure." She announces. Harry grabs the bags of food he put down before placing his hand on her lower back and guiding the both of them back to the elevator.

"We'll take my car." He states, and although Y/N can tell by his tone that Harry expects there to be no talking back, but she just can't help herself.

"Harry, I told you I can take a cab." She suggests as they wait for the elevator door to open. Harry doesn't respond as he guides them both into the small space and pushes the button for the ground floor. When the door closes, he turns to her, looking down at her with such an intimidating stare that Y/N feels like she's shrinking.

"And I told you: we're taking my car." He says sternly, his low voice twisting her stomach in an interesting way. When Y/N goes to open her mouth again, Harry lays his finger on her lips. He hums in disapproval, shaking his head.

"I was being clear, right?" He asks rhetorically. His gaze sweeps over her mouth before settling on her eyes again. Not daring to speak another word, let alone breathe, Y/N only nods in response.

"Good." Harry responds, a cocky smirk framing his face as he strolls out of the elevator, leaving Y/N breathless and in a slight trance. Blinking a few times, she comes back to her sense and hurries after her boss.

Richard has always been a master at reading people, and this time is no exception. The second he began driving, he raised the partition, leaving Harry and Y/N with some privacy.

Harry really has a knack for hiring the right people.

The first few minutes of the car ride are silent, and Harry spends it observing Y/N as she picked at her nail beds, frantically looking at of the window as if it would make the car move faster. She has so much tension inside that little body of hers; she is clearly in need of a distraction.

"I think I'm jealous."

Y/N's head whips to him, brows raised at the sudden confession. Her body turns with her, knees now in Harry's direction as she leans back into the seat, getting comfortable as she lays close attention.

"Of me?" She asks, utterly confused. She seems very lost, not really connecting the dots. Harry doesn't blame her; that confession was quite out of the blue.

"Of whoever gets to take care of you."

Pure silence. Harry swears he could hear a pin drop. Y/N stares at him like a deer in headlights, probably having no idea what to say or do or think. She gulps.

"What?" Her voice is so soft that he almost doesn't hear her, but since all his focus is on her, he doesn't miss it. Letting out a breath, he leans forward, placing a hand on her thigh. His face inches closer and closer until their mouths are mere inches away from each other. Checking for her reaction with every small movement, he can't help but notice how she doesn't stray away from him. In fact, she leans in, causing their lips to brush against each other.

"The idea of another man touching you, having you, it makes my fucking blood boil." He says, voice hoarse. Her eyes frantically search every last inch of his face, looking for something she seemingly can't find. Perhaps she's attempting to find the usual playfulness that always accompanies any conversation that blurs that line between them. In that case, she could keep looking forever and ever, because he is dead serious. Fuck how it used to be and fuck whatever's right or wrong.

And most of all, fuck that line, because he's crossing it.

Harry closes the small gap between them, trying to suppress the moan that threatens to work up his throat at the sole feeling of her lips against his. What a fucking idiot he was for ever agreeing to forget about that Halloween night. Not that he ever truly did forget about it. Besides her obvious competencies, hiring Y/N was a way of keeping her where he seemed to like her best from the moment they met; close to him.

With that thought in mind, he wraps his hand around her face and pulls her closer. She complies, clicking her seatbelt free to move further towards Harry when he slips his tongue inside.

Their mouths move against each other like it's both the first time and the hundredth time they've done this. So familiar and yet it's like nothing he ever felt before. A sensation so different from three years ago, one so heavy and laced with a detail his brain can't quite seem to grasp. Deep down, he knows what it is, he just can't quite lay his finger on it.

But his body can, and it does, and so does Y/N's, because her grinding against him is exactly what he needs. His hand sneaks around her neck, lips curling into a smile at the familiarity of the curves of her neck and the identical moan that falls from her lips just as it did three years ago.

Harry groans when the car suddenly stops and Y/N falls forward a little bit, the friction against his trousers being a bit too much to bear at the moment. Slowly, the partition lowers, and without so much looking at them through the mirror, Richard speaks up.

"We've arrived."

Wrong. Harry clearly hasn't.

Before Harry can catch his breath, Y/N can get off his lap, and either one can even answer, the partition rises again. Immediately, Y/N throws her face into Harry's neck.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." She wheezes out in pure, utter shame. Harry shakes his head, a faint grin on his face. He would have been laughing his ass off if he wasn't so painfully hard right now. Instead, he only pats Y/N's back, telling her it's fine. She groans and opens the car door.

"No it's not! God, I will never be able to look him in the eye again!" She says, punching the bridge of her nose. Harry shuts the door and grabs Y/N's waist, pulling her towards him. She stumbles into his chest. He lifts her face with his fingers, forcing her to look up at him.

"You're going to have to, because I don't want to fire him." He jokes, and Y/N bites her lip to keep her smile from growing too wide. Not wanting to give Harry the satisfaction that he made her laugh, she looks to the side, but her face expression falls quickly.

"This is not my apartment." She notes, looking at the huge building next to her. "This is yours."

Harry nods.

"I can't be at your apartment, I have to—" Y/N stops herself before she can say more. But Harry already knew what she was going to say. Playfully, he raises a brow.

"You have to... what?"

"To... I have to—"

"Sneak out to that studio?" He finishes her sentence, and her eyes widen. She tries to regain herself but her cheeks are flushed and there is nothing she can do anymore. He's got her. "Yeah, that's not going to happen."

With that, he places a hand on her lower back and guides her towards his building. She stumbles a bit, but eventually catches onto the pace. But her body language is apprehensive, looking back at the road where Richard is standing. Or well, was standing. Harry ordered him to drive away as soon as they got out of the car.

Still, she turns around in a quick motion, trying to get to a cab. Harry's arm catches her, however, and he pulls her back against his chest. Along with his other hand, he turns her around, catching sight of her big eyes boring into his.

"Don't try me." He speaks slowly, dipping his head down until he finds himself inches away from Y/N. "You know what happens if you try me."

His voice is lower than before, having flipped a switch now that her mouth has been on his. He got a taste for the first time in years, he wasn't going to let her get away now. Y/N's breath hitches, eyes flicking down to his mouth.

Knowing he's got her right where he wants her, Harry pulls back and strolls toward the entrance of his apartment building. Soon enough, he hears those heels behind him and he smirks.

It's silent when they step in the elevator, and for the first few seconds, as Harry leans agains't the wall and observes his secretary, it stays that way. She eyes him a couple of times, her ears getting redder.

"What?" She breathes out, looking down at her body like there must be something wrong if he's looking at her for so long. He simply shrugs.

"Nothing. Just admiring you."

At that, Y/N vigorously shakes her head and crosses her arms. A soft scoff leaves her mouth, one she didn't think Harry would hear, but he did. He takes a few steps towards Y/N, inching her against the wall.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" He asks sincerely, searching for her eyes. When she finally looks up at him, the nervous smile on her face fades a bit.

Harry doesn't like that look on her face. Needing to fix it, he leans forward and plants his lips on hers again, grabbing her face and pulling her into him. It only takes a matter of seconds before her arms are wrapped around his neck and their bodies are impossibly close to each other again.

Tongues delving deeper into each other's mouth, Harry feels himself floating on some sort of feeling. Despite not being able to define it, he is absolutely positive that he doesn't ever want it to stop. And since kissing Y/N causes this specific feeling, the only feasible option is to never stop kissing her. It's the best plan he's had in ages.

It doesn't take long before the situation gets heated, much like it did before, and Harry's hands trail to Y/N's hips to pull her against him. Desperate for any sort of relief, Harry's hips automatically start to move, and Y/N immediately responds. His body feels like it's on fire, and he tries not to let out any sounds as his strained cock rubs against his tight pants.

Harry takes his lips off Y/N's mouth, peppering kisses to her jaw instead. Slowly, he works his way towards her ear, where he stops to whisper in her ear.

"I'm going to remind you how fucking beautiful you are." The hot breath that left his mouth had her shuddering against him, a slight whine escaping her lips. As he leaves sloppy kisses on Y/N's neck, Harry's free hand slowly travels under her shirt, finding her bra.

She gasps softly when his hand starts to massage her breast, the sensitivity of both spots leaving her hot and bothered under Harry. Fuck, she is so fucking stunning, how did she not see it herself?

Suddenly, the elevator stops, and the door opened. Taking a step back, Harry only winks at Y/N before he turns around and strolls out as if it's a casual Friday. As if he doesn't have his secretary, whom he left high and dry, trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

"Would you like something to drink?" He asks when they enter his home, Harry immediately going into the kitchen.

"Absinthe." Y/N breathes out, leaning over the kitchen island. Harry peeks inside his fridge.

"I only have white wine."

Y/N shrugs. "I'm sure it'll have the same effect if I just keep drinking."

Harry chuckles, grabbing the bottle of wine and placing it on the counter. He walks to a cabinet and takes two wine glasses out of it. Placing one in front of Y/N and the other in front of himself, he opens the bottle and starts pouring, not stopping until the glasses are halfway full. Y/N laughs at the ridiculously full wine glass that he pushes her way, but takes it gladly. He doesn't miss the way her breasts nearly spill out of her top as she leans forward a bit further than intended to in order to grab the glass.

"To the unexpected." She says it like it's a dare. Amused, Harry decides to entertain it, and nods his head.

"To the unexpected."

They raise the glasses before both taking a long sip. Y/N rests her arms on the table, giving a perfect view of her tits right in Harry's frame. She smirks when his eyes accidentally fall on it, and Harry's stomach swirls with excitement. She's trying to play.

"Crazy, how fast life can change, isn't it?" She asks rhetorically, and Harry just hums, waiting patiently for her to reveal what she's trying to do. "I mean, I got up today thinking I'd end the day in another man's bed."

There it is.

She's always been smart, and she knows how to push Harry's buttons. Though his fingers grip the kitchen counter tightly, so much that his knuckles turn white, Harry keeps the corners of his mouth lifted.

"And now you're here." He says, head tilting just a bit. She hums in agreement, taking another sip from her wine.

"Yeah, but just crazy to think that I went into the day thinking I'd hook up with someone else." She tells it so innocently, as if she's mostly talking to herself. Harry's jaw clenches as he stalks around the kitchen island and nears Y/N.

"But you're not, though." Harry notes, falling right into the trap. He knows what she's trying to do but he just can't help himself. He doesn't like the idea of her being with another man. He waits for her answer, hearing his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"I know, but I could have—"

Before the sentence has entirely left Y/N's mouth, Harry's hand flies to her neck. The amused look on Y/N's face tells him enough, but he doesn't care.

"You're not. You're in my bed tonight, and any night after that as far as I'm concerned, so I don't want to hear another fucking word about it."

Her eyes twinkle with amusement as she stares up at him. "You really are jealous."

The corner of his mouth tilts upwards, "And you've gotten feisty over the years."

Y/N bites her bottom lip, humming in agreement to his observation. Harry lets out a soft chuckle, tightening the grip on her neck. Y/N gasps in surprise.

"But do you still like to be put in your place?" He asks, inching his face close to hers. The answer is written in her eyes, and yet Y/N doesn't respond. When it's clear that she won't anytime soon, Harry's free hand sneaks around the waist of her pants. She shivers at the touch.

"Well? Do you?" He repeats himself, and slowly but surely, Y/N nods her head. Harry lets out a disapproving noise. "That's not a proper answer."

Closing her eyes, Y/N lets out a deep breath. "Yes, I like to be put in my place."

"That's what I thought." Harry laughs, taking his hands off of her entirely. She frowns, but her eyes widen when he barks out a demand. "Take off your clothes."

He watches carefully as she follows his orders, and she clearly takes her time stripping down to her underwear. When she has, she looks to him for some sign of approval, but Harry just raises his brows. His hands are sunk into his pockets as Y/N lets out a little breath and takes off her bra and panties.

His eyes trail down her body, his cock hurting at the sight of her. God, she's beautiful. He feels like an absolute idiot for not having fought for her earlier, but he reminds himself that he can't change the past and that she is here now, stark naked in his kitchen. A grin spread across his face.

"Do you remember how you addressed me all those years ago?" He asks. It takes a few seconds before Y/N answers, but she gives him a firm nod.

"I called you sir."

Harry nods. "Rules haven't changed. Now, get on the counter."

Her eyes flick to the marble countertop, shock flashing through her eyes. "But Har—"

His right brow lifts ever so slightly. Catching the hint, Y/N stops herself before she can finish the sentence and hoists herself on to the cold countertop. It must not be very pleasant to lay your naked body on that freezing surface, but it was an uncomfortable temporary obstacle. The results would be great, and in about thirty seconds, she'd forget all about that cold touch against her skin.

Harry pulls out one of the bar stools and sat directly in front of Y/N. Spreading her legs apart, he catches sight of that perfect pussy he has been waiting three years to taste again. Like a starved man sat in front of a feast, the urge to dive right in is almost too strong to bear. But before he has her writhing under him, he wants to make her shiver.

"Can't believe it took us so long to get here." Harry hums, tracing his fingers up her thigh, carefully observing the way Y/N tries to control her breathing. Her fists are balled up into curls, attempting to send her concentration to anything else than Harry. He tries not to let his smugness show too much, but he has to say he likes seeing her struggle a bit. A bit of payback for trying to toy with him just now.

"You've always been stubborn." Y/N jokes, a gasp strangling out of her when Harry's fingers ghost over her clit. He chuckles, the tone of his voice so low that it could almost be considered evil.

"If I remember correctly, you're the one who wanted to forget about that Halloween night." He notes. Y/N hums.

"I also made the condition to act professionally, but we didn't do that either." Her eyes gaze into his, catching the fond smile with which he stares at her. A faint blush erupts on her cheeks.

"You drew the line." Harry retorted, and Y/N scoffed.

"You crossed it about a hundred times." She argues in response. He only hums, that cocky smirk on his face.

"I did, and consider this hundredth and first time to be the last, because I'm not getting behind that line again."

Y/N has never been so turned on her in her entire life. Harry’s words are the epitome of determination, and the way his fingers slip inside her so easily the second he finishes his sentence only solidifies that notion. The gasp that leaves her mouth is cut short and evolves into a low moan as Harry’s lips latch onto her clit.

Sensitive would be an understatement for her current state. She is aching, and the way Harry is ravishing her almost hurt. But any pain dwells in comparison to her desire she was overcome with at the situation she currently finds herself in. She is on Harry's kitchen counter, legs spread wide open and letting him do all the things that slipped into her dreams over the past three years.

Harry sucks in all the ways that made her squirm, moving his fingers with such ease that made it seem like he has fingered her a thousand times already. As if he knows her like the back of his hand, as if he knows all her secrets, even ones she doesn't know herself.

Y/N's hand buries itself in Harry's hair when he begins to kitten lick her clit, and she feels that inevitable climax inching closer and closer. She wonders how she had been able to keep herself composed for so long, because the high that creeps up on her feels like it was long overdue.

Unfortunately, the sensation comes to a grinding halt when Harry backs away from Y/N. Her head shoots up, and finds him leaning over her body, wearing boyish half-smile that is now glimmering with her juices.

Wrapping one arm around her waist and the other one under her legs, he picks her up bridal style. She holds onto his shoulders, burying her face into his neck as he carried her to his bedroom. When she begins unbuttoning his shirt, he throws her on his bed. She lets out a soft yelp, bouncing onto the bed.

"So greedy..." Harry tuts in disapproval, but Y/N doesn't quite care. She wants him, bad, and now that she's had a preview of what's to come she doesn't want to wait any longer. She needs him and she needs that orgasm.

She pulls him closer by his pants and starts to unbuckle his belt. "You're taking too long."

Y/N is about halfway done when Harry's firm hand wraps around her neck and pulls her closer to his face. Inching down, he growls: "You'll take what I give you."

"Then give me something." She spits back, and Harry's eyes turn five shades darker at her invitation to a challenge. He slowly leans back, Y/N watching his every movement in anticipation.

"On your stomach."

Y/N stomach swirls at the command, and she obeys as quick as she can. It stays silent for a little bit, and she awaits his further actions eagerly.

"Hands behind your back."

Again, she does what he says. Y/N doesn't dare to turn her head as she hears Harry walking around his room. When she feels a silky material around her wrists, she knows enough. He's tying her up.

Knowing better than to do otherwise, Y/N keeps her mouth shuts as Harry makes an impenetrable knot with his tie. She moves her wrists, assessing how tight it really is, and gets interrupted by a punishing slap on her ass. The sting remains for a couple of seconds, and she is sure there is now a red print the size of Harry's hand on her right cheek.

"Ass up." He barks out his final order, no doubt smirking as she changes her position, slightly struggling now that her arms are of no use.

Y/N bites her lip in anticipation when Harry's hand grabs onto her hips, steadying himself behind her. She slightly flinches forward when the tip of his cock teases her entrance, and attempts to speed up the process by leaning backwards a bit. She's rewarded with another slap on her ass.

But then Harry finally sinks in, and that dreadful itch that plagued Y/N for such a long time is finally scratched, over and over again as he begins to pound into her with long, slow strokes.

"Fucking hell..." Harry murmurs, his cock suctioning into Y/N's tight, clenching pussy. He is so big, and it bruises her in all the right ways.

"Oh baby... thaaat's it." He groans when Y/N begins to bounce back on his cock, aiming to get it even deeper inside of her. She is ruthless in her movements, groaning at the overwhelming sensations. When Harry gropes her ass— and his nails bite into her skin—she loses control.

Burying her face into the mattress, Y/N screams as she reaches her peak. The sound of Harry's moans at her pussy convulsing around his cock only strengthens her orgasm. Her mind goes entirely blank as the shattering release ripples through her like an earthquake. The only thing she can think of is Harry's name, and it's the only thing she cries out as the dizzying explosion settles all over her body.

"You really are desperate, aren't you?" Harry sneers as he pulls his cock out of Y/N, letting go of her hips. She nearly falls over, her tied up hands making it difficult to catch herself. This orgasm was so intense, she could feel the three years of pent up tension as it washed over her. Her cheeks are burning red and her teary eyes makes her vision somewhat blurry.

Y/N is thrown off when Harry suddenly turns her around and she finds herself lying on her back. The way he towers over her would have been intimidating had it not been extremely hot.

"Came on my cock so fast..." he mumbles cockily, corner of his mouth pulled up like the arrogant bastard he is. "Such a slut for it."

Y/N wants to give him some snappy comeback, but her brain is still fried from the orgasm and she's always liked to be degraded in bed, so she decides to only glare at Harry while he speaks. He catches it, and his grin only widens.

"You know it's true, baby." He tells her, bringing your legs over each of his shoulders. That deviant smirk is the last thing Y/N sees before her eyes roll into the back of her head at the feeling of Harry's cock stretching her out again.

He leans forward, almost folding her in two, and reaches deeper. He stays there for a few seconds—as if he is catching his breath—then slowly backs out of her before slamming right back in. Y/N lets out a screech that, if it hadn't been for the desperation laced in its tone, would've sounded like someone was trying to murder her.

Trying to keep her own moans at a minimum, Y/N closes her eyes and listens to the harsh slaps of Harry's skin against hers, and the groans that escape his mouth with each thrust. The strength behind each movement makes her clench around Harry, who in turn hisses her name as if it were a curse word. It only causes her to clench more. 

"Fuck, such a pretty little whore." Harry praises as he drives into her. Y/N can only whine, her tits bouncing uncontrollably at the impact of his motions. She must look fucking helpless. Opening her eyes, she catches the way Harry looks at her; like she's a dream. Like she's his dream.

"My pretty little whore." He growls, leaning back and holding one of her legs with his arm while the other reaches for her breasts.

"Yes..." Y/N breathes as he begins squeezing her breasts, getting lost in the sensations of him. Somehow it feels like Harry is everywhere. As if he has latched onto a part of her soul and she feels him coming to claim that every time his cock sinks into her.

"Such a tight fucking fit." He groans, taking her nipple between his fingers. "You should see how perfectly your pussy sucks in every inch of my cock..."

Y/N bites her lip as Harry talks, trying not too get too overwhelmed by the filthy things he's telling her as he plunges in and out of her. Her eyes catch the flex of his muscles that occur with every thrust, and she wonders how she got a man so perfect to fuck her stupid like this.

"Should record it... make a little video for just the two of us. What do you think?"

Oh my god.

"Don't you want to see how perfect we fit together?" He taunts, thrusting his hips harsher than before, hitting a spot that had been untouched for quite a while now. Y/N's face scrunches up.

"F—fuck! Yes, yes..." She responds when Harry stills inside of her to await an answer. He chuckles at the apparent hurry in her voice and reaches for—what Y/N assumes to be—his phone, on the bed. His motions are slow and soft, determined to keep Y/N satisfied at least a bit while he logs into his phone and searches for the camera app. She notices the start of his recording by the sudden change of pace and force of his movements.

His camera is pointed right at her pussy as he begins thrusting deep inside of her, and Y/N screams out Harry's name. The concentration on his face as he captures how she takes him proves too much to bear, and she shuts her eyes tightly, head flopping to the side.

She can hear his ragged breathing over all the other sounds that their bodies are making. The small grunts he makes in an effort not to moan too loudly is all she can focus on, and the tension in her belly grows exponentially with each vibrations of his voice that reaches her ears.

Harry slows his pace, putting more emphasis on the impact of his moves. It allows him to bring his free hand down to touch Y/N's clit. Her legs begin to shake the second he does.

"Are you gonna come again for me? I'm so close, baby. I can tell you are too." The softness in the delivery of his words have Y/N's ovaries rattle. She can only nod, a whine that was an attempt at a 'yes' falling from her rosy lips. Harry grins, his eyes flicking from his phone to her face. Everything feels so hazy, much like a daydream.

"Please don't stop." She squeals in such a high pitch that surprises even herself. Y/N had no idea she could go that high. Harry's bringing out an entirely new side of her.

"I'll never stop, baby." Harry rasps, pressing down on her clit in such a way that Y/N becomes cross-eyed for a second. Her nails grip into the bedsheets, the second release rippling through her like a hurricane. She never quite understood the word bliss, until now. This must be it; this feeling of... pure ecstasy.

Like a blank canvas splattered on with all the bright colors that exist in the world; fresh and exciting and psychedelic in a way. Impossible to define yet such a specific feeling. Y/N let all of it tingle from her head down to her toes, wanting to remember it forever.

The continuous pounding Y/N through her orgasm comes to a grinding halt when Harry reaches his own, pulling out just in time for his sperm to coat her puffy clit and swollen tits. His camera is focused on her frame, recording every spurt that paints her. She's the canvas, he's the colors, Y/N realizes. Harry is her definition of bliss.

The words shared between the two are scarce as Harry unties Y/N's hands, picks her up and carries her to the bathroom to clean her up. But the smiles on their faces says enough, both knowing what they feel is rare, and beautiful. Y/N assesses Harry's face, concluding that the soft edges of it makes him look like a proper angel.

When he's dressed her in one of his shirts, he takes her back to the bedroom, where he pulls her against his frame. Y/N wraps one leg around his torso, hugging him from the side with her head buried into his neck. The way his chest rises and lowers fills her with pure ease, and she leaves a few soft kisses in his neck as a silent thank you. Harry only hums in satisfaction, his arm only tightening around you, as if he's afraid you might let go.

"I'm never gonna let you go now." You tell him before you can even fully comprehend your words. Your heart starts racing, afraid that might've been too soon to say.

"Promise?"

Your racing heart is now melting as you turn your head and see Harry holding up his pinky. You are quick to interlock it with your own.

"Promise." You say with a smile.

General taglist: @mema10

[maxdibert]

What a coincidence that this is a fandom “for everyone,” but only as long as the characters are rich and attractive. What a coincidence that the only canonically poor character, the one canonically outside of hegemonic beauty standards, the one canonically outside traditional concepts of masculinity (and who is mistreated in the narrative precisely because of his appearance and mannerisms that don’t align with traditional gender norms), and the one canonically socially marginalized, is the only one you continue to marginalize and mistreat. The only one you don’t punkwash like the other psychopaths you’ve turned into queer icons, even though they’re canonically ten times worse than Snape. But of course, Snape doesn’t count, because Snape was ugly and poor. What a coincidence.

It’s also quite the coincidence that you claim to be inclusive, yet the characters you defend are canonically hegemonic in every sense—privileged, wealthy, and above the socioeconomic average. What a coincidence that in your pinkwashed utopia of wannabes who’ve never actively fought for anything in their lives, making a character gay is all it takes to feel like the revolution is complete. Sorry, but no. You can’t sell the idea that you’re opposing Rowling when you’re pinkwashing the very characters she already glorified because she favored them. Do you think Rowling cares if James Potter is trans in your trashy fic? J.K. Rowling would love that you’re reinforcing her narrative that rich, attractive boys are good, and poor, ugly boys are bad, because that’s something she reproduces throughout her entire saga.

I don’t care where you were born or if you were bullied because that clearly didn’t teach you anything. It didn’t teach you class consciousness, nor did it help you understand how social dynamics work, inequality, or how power mechanisms operate between people from different socioeconomic backgrounds. It also didn’t help you understand that defending rich, aristocratic, abusive kids who harass and torment working-class, underprivileged kids isn’t the peak of the pinkwashed revolution you’ve built in your head just because you label them as gay or trans. That’s not how it works, my friend. You can’t fix everything by slapping a rainbow flag on it. Classism still exists within the LGBTQ+ community, just as abusive behavior and social inequalities do.

So excuse me if I don’t care about your ad hominem fallacy, but clearly, you didn’t get much out of university if your reading comprehension is abysmal and you’re utterly clueless when it comes to political and social culture. So take yourself and your TERF rhetoric elsewhere because the only one speaking like a classist TERF defending bourgeois interests with an elite-bootlicking mentality is you. The only one instrumentalizing an important movement like the LGBTQ+ cause (just as TERFs instrumentalize feminism) to justify your reactionary thoughts, internalized discrimination, and need to trample those in disadvantaged positions is also you.

Though, given your history, maybe the problem you have with Snape is that he reminds you, and other Marauders fans, that in real life, you wouldn’t have been the popular kids. You would’ve been the ones marginalized by people like James and Sirius, who would have made your life miserable. And that’s too unbearable because you want to feel like the protagonists, but you never would’ve been. You never would’ve belonged to the hegemonic, cool kids who ruled the school. In fact, kids like Sirius and James would’ve laughed at you. So instead, you turn them into pinkwashed icons, alter their personalities to your liking, and turn the one true character who fits your idea of a non-hegemonic person into a supervillain because that way, you can fantasize about being the popular ones. Accepting Severus breaks your narrative. In the end, all of this boils down to unresolved self-esteem issues.

I have no problem seeing this kind of stuff, nor do I block tags. If you don’t like being hit with a dose of reality and still think it’s a good idea to keep making a fool of yourself because you have zero arguments or basis to defend your point without coming across as a classist jerk, that’s your problem. Honestly, I couldn’t care less because I’ve said many times that I love debating, and frankly, you’re not going to change my opinion. It’s not for nothing that I pay my rent and bills working as a criminal lawyer and helping people in the process of social reintegration, only for some random person who thinks the revolution is about turning fictional rich bully kids into queer icons to come and try to lecture me about anything. Go on, get lost. Kisses.

okay, hold my drink *hands u cursed ancient goblet full of mead* i gotta talk my shit for a second.

ive been seeing a lot of severus snape love recently. and this is fine, obviously, y'all can love whomever you want. but. i need to rant or i will explode. if we're talking about canon. severus snape spends his adult years, seven books of it in fact, abusing children. and his excuse for this is the girl he loved (tho not enough not to join a group actively trying to exterminate her) fell for the hot jock instead of him (a tragedy indeed, i weep 4 him, i really do). and also she died, which, admittedly is very sad.

it is simply crazy 2 me 2 look at that and think *romance* or *genuine care and affection*. LIKE. fo real. snape calls her a slur in public, apologizes in private, hangs out with dudes who commit hate crimes against her friends (CANONICALLY, she says "you've been hanging out with that douchebag Mulciber, how could you do that after what he did to Mary???" this is not a direct quote but like, it's close enough). lame. loser behaviour.

"Oh but what about regulus" i can hear you say "he loves James potter but snape doesn't love lily???" well. idk. maybe. bit different tho, innit? due to james not being the demographic regulus is attacking (which doesn't make regulus a better person but does make the dynamic between him and james different). ALSO. Regulus chooses to turn against voldemort without hope for anything in return. snape doesn't seem to give a shit about voldemort, he's just sad he's not gonna get to bang lily evans. he switches sides for that reason alone. also doesn't care about what happens to her husband or her son which like. considering lily would be pretty fucking destroyed if they died. once again points to my whole, he doesn't really give a shit about her, theory. lame. loser. behaviour.

also. im sorry. I"M SORRY. but what snape does to neville? to hermione? to harry? gross. a grown ass man out here telling an eleven year old neville he's worthless or hermione she's ugly and annoying. or spilling harry's potion and refusing to grade him for it???????????????

reg and draco are children when we see them at peak suckage and therefore they feel like they can be redeemed much more compellingly (CAN be, not SHOULD be, not HAVE to be, just narratively i think they are easier to turn into interesting, sympathetic characters). but snape? snape grows up into a garbage adult. like he doesn't get better. and again, the only real excuse we're given is his obsession with lily. not very demure. not very cutesy.

ALSO. yall remember that time he got a destitute, struggling Remus Lupin fired from the best job he ever had just because he felt like it? remember that time snape weaponized Remus's lycanthropy and people's prejudice against him just cause. like. literally just cause??? his ego was bruised after the shrieking shack incident so he was like "get wrecked Lupin I'm going to tell everyone your secret so you will be forced back out onto the streets" DO YALL REMEMBER THAT BITCH ASS MOVE????????? THAT HE DID AS A FULL ADULT.

IN CONCLUSION, this is silly and, of course, like i said at the start, everyone can have their own thoughts and feelings about characters, but i simply needed to interject here on behalf of snape haters everywhere because i feel like so much of snape's shitty behaviour as an adult during a time when he was really under no duress and was very safe and cozy, is ignored. and my hater heart just cannot let that stand.

[maximura]

[magnagaruzenmon]

This Christmas (I'll burn it to the ground)

Merry Christmas to all of those who love Zombies, Kpop, and MTG as much as I do. (I have been playing to much Dead Island 2) Here's hoping I can pull it all together.

I finally made it to the guesthouse, my boots crunching against the gravel as I pushed the door open. Relief swept over me for a fleeting moment—until I realized I wasn’t alone.

There was someone already there, and she was changing.

The soft rustle of fabric froze me in my tracks. She turned sharply, startled, and our eyes locked. Her wide, expressive eyes—big and doelike—struck me like a thunderbolt. There was something in them, a blend of innocence and unspoken intensity, that made my heart stutter. A weird mix of emotions bubbled up—guilt, curiosity, and something warmer that I couldn’t name but tried to smother immediately.

She was standing there, clad only in a simple bra and panties, her cheeks flushing as my presence registered.

“I—uh—” I stammered, tearing my gaze away as quickly as I could. My hand shot up to shield my face. “Venus told me to come here to cool off. I’m not trying to do anything… improper,” I managed to say, my voice more strained than I liked.

There was a moment of silence, broken only by her shaky, “Okay.”

I backed into the doorway of the next room, needing to give her space and myself some time to calm my racing thoughts. The guesthouse smelled faintly of lavender and wood polish, a strange comfort in the chaotic world we were surviving in. But any solace was shattered when I saw movement at the barbed fence outside.

A zombie was clawing its way through, its grotesque face contorted in hunger. With a sigh, I unsheathed my dagger and slipped out. With a quick slash, the dull squelch of the blade met decayed flesh, and it was over. Cleaning the dagger on the zombie’s tattered shirt, I slipped back inside, shaking off the tension.

The girl was still there.

She had finished changing, now wearing one of Venus’s sundresses. It fit her perfectly, the soft fabric draping over her in a way that felt… natural and unfairly captivating. For a moment, I forgot what I was doing, but I quickly bit my tongue. The last thing I wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

She was watching me, her expression thoughtful, almost calculating. There was no trace of the earlier shyness—just a quiet confidence that seemed to radiate from her now.

“You’re Dinozen, right?” she asked, her voice steady but with a hint of curiosity.

I nodded hesitantly. “Yeah. That’s me.”

She broke into a smile, her lips curling into a smirk that sent an odd shiver down my spine. “I’ve heard stories about you. A slayer from Hel-La with a heart of gold.” Her tone was teasing, but there was something sharper beneath it. “I didn’t expect you to be so… mundane,” she added, her smirk growing.

Her teasing caught me off guard, and I blinked, unsure how to respond. Just like that, the power dynamic shifted.

She stepped closer, her eyes glinting with amusement—and something more. She extended her hand, her movements fluid and deliberate. “I’m Chowon.”

I hesitated for a moment before taking her hand, but instead of shaking it, I pressed my lips to the back of it, the gesture more instinctive than calculated.

Her smile widened, clearly pleased. “Oh,” she said, her voice low and a touch amused, “a ruthless gentleman. I like it.”

There was a spark in her eyes now, one that hinted at danger, playfulness, and intrigue all at once.

Chowon corners me, her lithe fingers brushing against my jawline with an almost teasing delicacy. The sensation sends a spark through me, subtle but undeniable. Before I can react, we tumble onto the couch together. Her movements are graceful, deliberate, and unrelenting as she straddles me, settling herself on top with a kind of predatory poise.

Her lips curve into a mischievous smile. “So, why do they call you Dinozen?” she asks, her voice low and sultry. “Because I don’t actually think that’s your name.”

Our eyes lock, her gaze playful yet searching, and I feel a sudden weight in the air between us. She bats those impossibly long lashes, weaponizing her doe-like eyes with a kind of innocent cruelty. I know I should deflect or say something clever, but I can’t. I’m too drawn in.

I swallow hard before answering. “People like to say I’m like an apex predator—instinctually at the top of the food chain, basking in its state of zen,” I explain, my voice low, barely audible. “My love of dinosaurs made the nickname stick. So… Dinozen.”

Her smile deepens, her teeth catching the faint light. It’s the kind of smile that’s both knowing and inviting. She leans in, closer now, her breath brushing against my lips, and I catch the faint scent of gooseberries and lilac. The fragrance is intoxicating, too perfect to be real, as if she’s wrapped herself in some kind of spell.

But then I see it—a faint bite mark on her shoulder, just peeking out from the neckline of her dress. My gaze lingers for a second too long. She notices, of course. Chowon’s eyes follow mine, and when she meets my gaze again, she’s smiling.

“Oh, you figured it out,” she murmurs, her voice a mix of pride and challenge. “Yes, I’m a slayer like you.”

I blink, taken aback.

She leans closer, her lips brushing against my ear as she whispers, “I was reborn helping my girls get out of New York when the zombies came.”

Her words are heavy, laced with memories and something deeper. A hunger begins to build between us, a feeling I can’t quite name but can’t ignore. It’s electric, primal, and utterly overwhelming. She closes the distance between us, our faces now inches apart.

“Are you in a state of zen?” she whispers, her breath warm and soft against my skin.

Her words feel like a spell. My eyes flutter shut for a moment, and when I open them again, it’s as if something inside me has been unlocked. Or unchained.

I feel it—the shift.

The part of me I’ve spent so long burying, controlling, suppressing—it rises to the surface, clawing its way free. Imperio Rex. The name feels like fire in my blood, and as it takes hold, my entire perspective changes. My focus shifts from protecting, from doing right, to simply taking what I want.

And what I want is sitting right in front of me in that flirty sundress, her body close enough to touch, her lips almost brushing mine.

Chowon doesn’t flinch. If anything, she leans in, her breathing hitching slightly as her eyes glint with something darker, something wilder. It’s as if she welcomes this shift, as if she’s been waiting for it.

“That’s not the gaze of a hero,” she teases, her voice soft but sharp, a taunt wrapped in velvet.

Her words only fuel the fire inside me. My gaze roams over her, drinking her in. Her figure is exquisite, every curve and line a masterpiece of temptation, but it’s her eyes that hold me. The softness, the doe-like innocence—gone. What stares back at me now is the gaze of a lioness, her hunger matching my own.

Two predators, circling.

Neither of us speaks. The air between us crackles, charged with tension and unspoken desires. Whatever happens next, it feels inevitable, like a collision neither of us can stop—or wants to.

Here’s an expanded and detailed version of your scene, adding more depth to the emotions, tension, and connection between Dinozen and Chowon:

Chowon moved first, closing the space between us in a heartbeat. Her lips crashed against mine, fierce and deliberate, like she had decided the moment and wasn’t going to let it slip away. The kiss wasn’t gentle—it was raw, electric, and unrelenting.

And then, I felt it.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was something deeper, more profound. Our energies shifted, intertwining in a way that left me reeling. For the first time in my life, I felt seen. I felt reciprocation.

Her soul was a mirror of my own—a churning storm of anger and loneliness, a fire that refused to be extinguished. I felt it all: her hunger for mayhem, the thrill of violence, and the exhaustion from constantly holding back for people who expected so much, demanded so much, without ever asking what we needed in return.

It was a soul as bruised and battered as mine.

When she pulled away, her lips just inches from mine, her breathing uneven, she searched my face with those predatory eyes. “How were you reborn?” she asked, her voice low and steady, a sharp contrast to the chaotic energy between us.

I hesitated, the memory of that moment clawing its way to the surface. “I was saving my dad from a zombie,” I said, my voice tinged with bitterness. “I got bitten… and when the chaos hit, my family left me during their escape.”

The words came out heavier than I expected, dragging old wounds into the light. I could feel my anger rising, simmering alongside something darker, something hungrier.

Chowon’s breath hitched, her heart rate spiking—I could hear it, feel it. Without a word, she pulled me into another kiss. This one was different—just as hungry but tinged with something else, a silent acknowledgment of the anger, the pain, and the raw, unfiltered truth we shared.

When we finally broke apart, her gaze locked onto mine, fierce and unyielding. There was no teasing now, no coy smile. Just a woman who saw all of me and wasn’t afraid.

“Always the hero,” she said, her voice a husky whisper. “Well then… tonight, don’t play the role. Be who you are.”

Her words hit me like a jolt, cutting straight through the layers of control I had spent so long building. There was no judgment in her tone, no expectation. Just an invitation. A challenge.

I didn’t answer, not with words. Instead, I let the mask slip. I let the carefully constructed image of Dinozen fall away, piece by piece, until only the raw, unfiltered truth of who I was remained.

And she welcomed it.

For the first time, I felt no need to hold back. No reason to hide. No fear of being too much, too intense, too broken.

Chowon didn’t flinch. If anything, she leaned in closer, her presence steady and unyielding. In that moment, I realized we weren’t just kindred spirits—we were two sides of the same coin, drawn together by the weight of what we’d endured and the unshakable hunger to embrace what we truly were.

Whatever came next, it wouldn’t be quiet. It wouldn’t be safe. But it would be real, but before we could do anything we heard more growls of zombies encircling the party. Chowon and I get up from the couch before slipping out of the guest house

The guesthouse door creaked as we both stepped outside, the cool night air crackling with the distant groans of the undead. The swarm had breached the perimeter—a mistake they wouldn’t live long enough to regret.

Chowon twirled her machete lazily in one hand, the moonlight glinting off the blade. She gave me a look, her smile sharp and playful. “You ready to let loose?”

My dagger felt steady in my hand, but my heart pounded for an entirely different reason as I met her gaze. “I think you’ve got more to prove than me,” I shot back, grinning despite myself. As we walk over the zombie I had previously slain.

She laughed, a sound both sweet and unnerving. “Let’s see who makes the bigger mess.”

Then the first zombie stumbled into view, and all hell broke loose.

We moved like a deadly symphony, two parts of the same chaotic whole. Chowon darted forward, her blade slicing through rotted flesh with precision. Her movements were graceful, almost balletic, as if every kill were a carefully choreographed dance.

I wasn’t as elegant. I was raw power, using my knife and my fists when needed, each strike fueled by a deep well of frustration and hunger. The undead fell in heaps around me, but every now and then, I caught a glimpse of Chowon—her lithe figure spinning and twisting, her sundress smeared with blood but her expression radiant, alive.

The horde was relentless, but we were more so.

At one point, we ended up back-to-back, surrounded. Her voice was low, teasing, even as she hacked through another zombie. “Still feeling zen, Dinozen?”

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. “More like… alive,” I admitted, plunging my blade into another corpse.

Her laugh rang out again, wild and unrestrained. “I love it.”

As the swarm thinned, something shifted between us. We weren’t just fighting anymore; we were feeding off each other’s energy. Every shared glance, every brush of her arm against mine as we moved, heightened the tension between us.

Blood streaked her face, her doe-like eyes now alight with something feral. She caught me staring and smirked, slicing through a zombie with a flourish before turning to me. “What, admiring my form?”

I wiped sweat and blood from my brow, unable to resist the way my lips quirked upward. “It’s decent,” I teased, though my voice betrayed how much more I thought.

She stepped closer, her chest rising and falling as we stood amid the carnage. Her machete dangled loosely at her side, forgotten for a moment as her eyes locked onto mine. “Decent?” she repeated, her voice a whisper now, tinged with mock offense.

“Better than decent,” I admitted, my voice rough from exertion.

Her lips curved into a genuine smile—one that made the world around us fade, if only for a moment. We head back to the guesthouse our bodies electric as we can't deny the attraction we felt anymore.

I tear off that sundress that hides her delicious curves and I tear off the lingerie that hides her from me. She did the same and as we stood bare before each other she pounced on me. Her hands claw into my back but I don’t feel pain only invigorated She claims me with another bit on my other shoulder further linking us now both virally and emotionally I follow suit and bite her other shoulder. Our bite marks now creating mirror pairs, but now I need her carnally I see her eyes yelling “take me make me yours!” So I do just that. I violently thrust my cock inside her. Chowon moans as her insides welcome me. I fit perfectly inside of her, something she makes very clear by saying

“Oh fuck your cock. It’s so good.” I smile and begin to suck on her massive tits. She moans out as I thrust and suck on her tits like a man dying of thirst. Chowon coos as her body reacts violently. Her back arches towards me as I lightly nibble her nipple. She grabs my face and brings me in for another kiss. Fire runs through both of veins as we copulate. I continue thrusting into her and she continues fucking herself on my cock. our moans echo throughout the room as we desperately mate. I feel Chowon's walls clench around me as if to milk me and it works i spew cum into her womb like a volcano, uncontrolled and violent. She moans as her orgasm hits soon after. she smiles then says,

"Fuck!" her eyes narrow and she says "you are mine and I am yours." I nod as our vision goes black before we pass out.

The sun peeked over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the remains of last night’s chaos. The yard outside the guesthouse was a battlefield—a mosaic of dismembered zombies and smeared gore, with the unmistakable stench of death hanging thick in the air.

Venus, the hostess of the party, stepped outside cautiously, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She froze mid-step as she took in the carnage. Around her, other survivors began to stir, their sleepy murmurs turning to gasps of horror and confusion as they joined her on the porch.

"What the hell happened here?" Donny asked, stepping outside and immediately covering his nose with his sleeve. His eyes widened as he surveyed the wreckage.

"Was there a raid? A bomb or something?" Haseul ventured, her voice trembling.

“No,” Venus said slowly, pointing toward the barbed-wire fence. It was still intact, albeit stained with black blood. “No breach. Whatever did this… was already inside.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances. They all knew the stakes of staying here, but no one had heard any alarms or screams during the night.

“Look at those slashes,” Donny's said, kneeling next to a fallen zombie. Its torso was nearly split in two, the edges of the wound clean and precise. “This wasn’t some lucky survivor swinging a baseball bat. This was…” He trailed off, unable to find the right words.

Venus crossed her arms, her brow furrowed. “A professional.”

“But who? No one here—” Donny's voice cut off as his gaze lifted toward the guesthouse.

The survivors followed his line of sight. The door to the guesthouse was slightly ajar, the faintest tendrils of smoke curling from a makeshift firepit just outside, where a few zombie skulls were charred black.

Inside the guesthouse, Chowon and I lay tangled together on the couch, both still wearing faint remnants of the night’s battle on our skin—smears of black blood on my jawline, a shallow cut on Chowon’s shoulder that had already begun to heal. The only wounds not healing were the bitemarks from our original infection and each other.

The room was warm with the morning light streaming in, highlighting their serene faces. Chowon’s head rested on my chest, her fingers loosely curled against mine. my arm was draped protectively around her, our breaths rising and falling in sync.

Raph pushed the door open wider, and Venus peered in behind him. The scene they found was at odds with the carnage outside.

“Are they… cuddling?” Raph whispered, dumbfounded.

Venus frowned. “They didn’t leave with the rest of us last night.”

“You think they did all that?” Jihyo asked, jerking her thumb toward the yard.

Venus didn’t answer. Her eyes flicked toward the bite marks on Chowon’s neck and the scratches on my arms. She noticed how our wounds seemed almost healed, despite being fresh hours ago. There was something unsettling about the stillness of our sleep, something off about the peace we exuded.

“Well, it sure as hell wasn’t the wind,” Venus muttered, stepping back outside.

As the survivors gathered on the porch, hushed debates about what had happened swirled through the air. Meanwhile, in the guesthouse, my fingers twitched slightly, as if dreaming of the fight, my grip tightening around Chowon for a moment.

She stirred, smiling softly in her sleep, her voice barely audible as she murmured, “Always the hero… even when you’re not trying.”

And the two apex predators, satiated and at peace, slept on.

Jonah stared at the pair on the couch, his jaw slack. “I don’t… What am I even looking at right now?”

Venus crossed her arms, her brow furrowed as she studied Dinozen’s protective arm draped around Chowon. “You’re looking at two people who somehow turned the yard into a zombie graveyard and then decided to take a nap.”

“They’re covered in blood,” one of the other partygoers whispered, their voice trembling.

“Yeah, but… they look so normal,” Jonah said, shaking his head. “Like, I’m half expecting them to wake up and ask if breakfast is ready.”

“They weren’t normal last night,” Venus said sharply, her eyes narrowing. “They stayed behind when we all took cover. And now, this.” She gestured toward the carnage outside.

Another voice chimed in. “You’re telling me those two—just the two of them—took out all those zombies? That’s insane.”

“Look at the wounds on those things,” Jonah said, his tone grim. “Clean cuts, precision kills. Whoever did that knew exactly what they were doing. That wasn’t panic. That was… art.”

“Art?” Venus scoffed. “Try predation.”

The group fell silent, staring at the serene scene before them. Dinozen shifted slightly, murmuring something under his breath as Chowon nestled closer against him, her hand curling around the fabric of his shirt.

“They look so peaceful,” someone said quietly.

“Yeah,” Jonah replied. “Like wolves after a feast.”

Venus took a step forward, her boots creaking on the floorboards. “Whatever they are, they’re not just survivors. Nobody walks out of a night like that without a scratch and sleeps like this.” Her voice dropped lower. “We need to figure out who we’re dealing with. Because if they’re on our side? Fine. But if they’re not…”

Jonah hesitated, glancing back at the open door. “What do you even do against people like that?”

Venus didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped back outside, leaving the others to exchange uneasy glances.

I woke up slowly, the soft morning light filtering through the guesthouse window. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was, my mind foggy from the chaos of the night before. But then I felt the warmth against me, the steady rise and fall of someone breathing, and it all came flooding back.

Chowon.

She was curled up against me, her head resting on my shoulder, her arm draped lazily across my chest. Her hair smelled faintly of lilac, with something sweeter I couldn’t place. It was comforting, grounding me in the moment, even as everything else felt surreal.

Her eyes fluttered open, and when she met my gaze, a lazy, mischievous smile spread across her lips. “Morning, hero,” she said, her voice soft but carrying that teasing lilt I was starting to recognize.

I huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing a hand over my face. “Not sure ‘hero’ is the right word after last night.”

She stretched, her fingers brushing against my chest, sending a spark of something electric through me. “True,” she said, her smirk widening. “Maybe ‘beast’ fits better.” There was something in her tone—pride, maybe, or amusement.

Before I could respond, a knock at the door startled both of us.

“Hey, uh… are you two decent?” Jonah’s voice called from the other side, awkward and unsure.

Chowon raised an eyebrow at me, leaning in close to whisper, “Do we want to be?”

I gave her a look, shaking my head despite the smirk pulling at my lips. “Yeah,” I called out. “We’re decent.”

The door creaked open, and Jonah stepped in, looking half-relieved and half-terrified. Behind him, Venus lingered in the doorway, her arms crossed and her gaze sharp as a blade.

“So…” Jihyo began, scratching the back of her head. “Crazy night, huh? Any chance you want to explain how you two managed to… you know…” She waved a hand toward the window, where the yard beyond lay strewn with carnage.

Chowon tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Oh, did something happen?”

Jihyo just stared at her, clearly out of her depth. Venus stepped forward, cutting to the chase. “Don’t play dumb,” she said coldly. “The yard looks like a battlefield. And you two…” She gestured at us. “You look like you didn’t even break a sweat.”

I met her gaze evenly. “We did what needed to be done,” I said. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not ungrateful. I’m just not sure what to make of you two.”

Chowon her tattered clothes did little to hide her body and this tide of possessiveness raged within me with anger at how they looked at her. I caught Jonah’s eyes dropping to her shoulder before they shot back up, his face pale as a ghost. “Uh… what’s that?”

“What’s what?” Chowon asked, her voice all mock innocence.

Jihyo pointed, and my stomach tightened. Her bite scar.

“Wait,” Venus said, her voice low and wary. “Is that… a bite mark?”

Chowon rolls her eyes dismissively, "you know we were both bitten already," she says her tone even hoping not to anger the rest of the group.

Venus eyes us and says, "Yeah we knew. about the other one but why do you have two now?

Sighing, I rolled up my sleeve, revealing the scar on my forearm. “Yeah,” I said flatly. “We’ve been bitten.”

The room fell silent, everyone staring at us like we’d just sprouted fangs. Raph broke the silence, his voice shaky. “But… you’re not… you didn’t turn?”

Chowon smirked, glancing at me. “Nope. Guess we’re special.”

“Special?” Venus repeated, her tone laced with suspicion. “Or infected differently? How do we know this doesn’t mean something worse?”

“Because we’re still here,” I said, my voice firm. “If we weren’t immune, you’d all be dead by now.”

Donny's eyes darted between us, his expression torn between awe and unease. “Still… something’s different about you two. It’s not just the scars. You… feel different.”

I didn’t have a good response for that, and neither did Chowon. She just shrugged, brushing past Venus with that same breezy confidence. “Well,” she said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

I followed her toward the door, the rest of the group trailing behind us hesitantly. I could feel their eyes on the scars, like they were trying to piece together some unspoken truth.

As we stepped outside, the aftermath of the night’s rampage hit me in full. Zombies torn apart, blood and gore staining the ground, and a mess of destruction that could only be described as primal.

Chowon and I walked through it like we belonged there, side by side, as if the carnage was some twisted monument to what we’d become.

Behind us, I heard Jihyo whisper, “They’re not just immune, are they?”

“No,” Venus replied, her voice grim. “They’re something else.”

I glanced at Chowon, catching the faint smirk on her lips. Maybe Venus was right. Maybe we were something else..

I stepped out into the bright morning sunlight, stretching my arms wide as though shaking off the stiffness of sleep. My muscles ached, but it wasn’t a bad ache—it was the satisfying kind, the reminder of a job well done. Beside me, Chowon followed, tying her hair back in a loose ponytail. Her steps were deliberate, calculated, but she carried herself with the kind of grace that seemed to melt away suspicion.

Venus and Jihyo were standing by the remains of the fire pit, poking at the charred logs with sticks, while Jonah and Donny scouted the edges of the yard. Raph sat perched on a broken log, flipping his knife over in his hands, his gaze shifting between us and the destruction.

The tension was still thick in the air, coiled tight like a spring, but I could feel it loosening the moment we appeared. The group’s eyes darted to Chowon first, and then to me. I made a point of smiling—easy, warm, the kind of smile that always worked to smooth over rough edges.

“Morning, everyone,” I called, forcing a yawn into my voice to make it seem like we’d just woken up. “Looks like we missed a hell of a night out here.”

Jihyo gave a dry laugh, her arms crossed. “You can say that again.”

Chowon stepped forward, folding her hands in front of her like some picture of innocence. Her head tilted slightly, her expression soft but curious. “Are… are you all okay? No one got hurt, right?” Her voice was quiet, almost fragile, and I saw the way it disarmed them instantly.

Raph scoffed but didn’t press. Donny’s shoulders eased. Even Venus, who had been glaring daggers at us earlier, seemed to falter just a little.

“We’re fine,” Jihyo said, her tone softer than before. “No thanks to the circus act that went on out here.” She gestured vaguely to the carnage surrounding us.

I rubbed the back of my neck, letting out a sheepish chuckle. “Yeah, about that. I guess things got… a little out of hand.”

“A little?” Venus muttered under her breath.

Chowon sighed, her gaze sweeping across the yard, her lips pressing into a thin line. “We just… we wanted to make sure everyone was safe. That’s all.” Her tone carried just enough guilt to sound believable, as if she was genuinely ashamed of what we’d done.

I stepped in, my hand brushing lightly against her shoulder in what I hoped looked like reassurance. “We had to make a choice. They were getting too close to the house. We couldn’t risk it.”

The group exchanged glances, their unease cracking just a bit under the weight of my words.

“It’s just…” Donny started, scratching the back of his head. “It’s just crazy how you two pulled that off.”

“Luck,” I said quickly, waving a hand. “We’ve had… practice.”

Chowon looked down, biting her lip like the very thought made her uncomfortable. “It’s not something I like doing,” she murmured. “But I couldn’t just… I mean, what if they got to you guys? What if someone got hurt?” Her voice cracked slightly, and that was the nail in the coffin.

Jihyo’s face softened, and she stepped forward, placing a hand on Chowon’s arm. “Hey, you did what you had to do. I don’t think anyone’s blaming you for that.”

Chowon nodded, her expression a perfect mix of gratitude and humility, and I had to bite back the smirk threatening to pull at my lips.

“Besides,” I added, my voice light, “it’s over now. We can clean up, regroup, and figure out the next steps. No use dwelling on it, right?”

The group nodded, their focus shifting away from us and toward more practical concerns. The tension broke completely when Donny called out from the edge of the yard, waving a hand. “Hey! I found a couple of intact water bottles over here!”

The moment their attention turned, Chowon glanced at me, her lips curling into the faintest hint of a smirk. Her eyes gleamed, just for a moment, with the same predatory hunger I’d seen the night before. I mirrored it, my own mask slipping for just a second before I tightened it back into place.

The group didn’t need to know what we really were. They didn’t need to see the predators that had taken up residence inside us. Not yet.

For now, our masks were enough.

And for now, we were satisfied.

The caravan was loud with the sound of engines sputtering to life, the groan of doors swinging shut, and the rustle of last-minute supplies being stowed. I leaned against the side of one of the battered SUVs, watching the group finalize their preparations. Chowon stood a few feet away, tossing a bag into the back of her vehicle. Her hair caught the morning sun, a streak of gold against the drab gray of the world around us.

She glanced over at me, and for a moment, we shared a look. Her lips twitched upward in that lazy, knowing smirk of hers—the one that always made something primal stir deep in my chest. My fingers flexed at my sides involuntarily, the urge to be near her gnawing at me. But then Nayoung’s voice cut through the moment like a jagged blade.

“Uh… I was thinking,” she began, hesitantly, her voice just loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “Maybe it’d be better if Chowon and Dino rode in separate cars. You know, just to… spread things out.”

The suggestion hung in the air, heavy and awkward. I felt the heat rise in my chest, the pulse of anger flashing through me. My jaw tightened. My fists curled at my sides. I wanted to snap, to tell her to mind her own business. Who was she to decide that I couldn’t ride with my equal—my mate? The thought of Chowon being apart from me, even for a short drive, felt wrong, like something vital being torn away.

But I couldn’t show that. Not now. Not to them.

So, I forced a grin. “Sure, Nayoung,” I said evenly, as if her words hadn’t scraped against every nerve in my body. “Whatever makes everyone more comfortable.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, though she still didn’t meet my eyes. “It’s just… you two seem, uh, close. And maybe some space would be good—for the group, I mean.”

Chowon, to her credit, didn’t rise to the bait. She just raised an eyebrow and gave me a small shrug, like it was all a joke to her. “Fine by me,” she said, her tone light but carrying that edge of amusement. “Just don’t get too lonely without me, Dino.”

My lips quirked into a smirk that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “I’ll manage.”

Internally, though, the possessiveness burned. I hated that she was being shuffled off like we were some kind of threat, that Nayoung—or anyone—thought they had the right to dictate where we stood. We’d done more for this group in one night than most of them had done in weeks. And yet, here I was, swallowing my pride, because that’s what the “hero” would do.

Chowon climbed into the SUV without another word, her confidence radiating even as the door slammed shut. I turned to my assigned vehicle, forcing my feet to move even though every instinct screamed to follow her instead.

Venus stood near the driver’s seat, her sharp gaze tracking my every move. “You okay with this?” she asked, her tone as neutral as she could manage, but her eyes betrayed her suspicion.

I shrugged, slipping into the seat next to her. “What’s there to be upset about?” I said, my voice smooth, practiced. “It’s just a car ride.”

She didn’t reply, but her silence felt loaded, like she was waiting for something to slip.

As the caravan rolled out, the world outside blurred into a haze of trees and broken roads. I kept my eyes on the SUV ahead of us, knowing Chowon was inside. The thought of her alone, without me to watch her back, sent a low growl vibrating through my chest. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to focus on the rumble of the engine beneath me instead.

The predator inside me snarled, furious and restless. But I breathed through it, letting the mask settle back into place. For now, I’d play the part. For now, I’d keep the peace.

Because the truth was, Nayoung wasn’t entirely wrong. Chowon and I together—unchecked—was something none of them were ready to face.

Not yet.

And maybe that was for the best.

For now.

I would find out later that Chowon felt the separation anxiety even more than I had.

The steady hum of the engine filled the car as Chowon sat quietly in the passenger seat, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. Nayoung was behind the wheel, her hands gripping it tightly, her knuckles pale from tension. She glanced sideways at Chowon every so often, the silence between them heavy and awkward.

“I’m glad we’re finally moving,” Nayoung said, her voice overly bright, like she was trying too hard to keep things light. “Being stuck in one place felt… dangerous.”

Chowon nodded, offering a shy smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, it’s good to get some distance,” she said softly. “Safety in numbers, right?”

Nayoung relaxed slightly, her grip on the wheel loosening just a bit. “Exactly,” she said, though her voice still carried an edge of nervousness. “And, um… spreading everyone out for the ride made sense, too. Gives people some space.”

Her words made Chowon’s stomach churn. Space? From Dinozen? Her instincts roared against the idea, the predator inside her snarling at the separation. It was wrong, unnatural. She and Dinozen were a unit, two halves of a whole. Being apart from him felt like losing a part of herself.

But on the surface, Chowon’s expression didn’t falter. She tilted her head slightly, her smile remaining soft and understanding. “Of course,” she said gently. “You’re just looking out for everyone. That’s really thoughtful of you, Nayoung.”

Nayoung glanced at her, her expression easing a little at the words. “I just… I’ve seen how close you and Dinozen are, and I couldn’t help but worry, you know? I mean, after last night…”

Chowon felt a flare of anger deep in her chest, sharp and hot. She kept her hands folded in her lap to hide the way her nails dug into her palms. Last night had been perfect—a primal, untamed connection between her and Dinozen. No one had the right to question it.

But she kept her voice light and her expression calm. “I get it,” she murmured, her tone tinged with bashfulness. “It probably looked… intense. I didn’t mean to scare anyone. Dinozen and I just… trust each other. That’s all.”

Nayoung glanced at her again, a hint of doubt in her eyes. “Trust, huh?” she said cautiously. “It just seemed like… I don’t know. Like you weren’t even afraid. You and Dinozen… you acted like—”

“Like what?” Chowon asked, her tone quiet but curious, encouraging Nayoung to continue.

Nayoung hesitated, her fingers tightening on the wheel again. “Like you weren’t human,” she finally said.

Chowon’s chest tightened, and for a moment, she wanted to laugh. If only Nayoung knew how close to the truth she was. But instead, she lowered her gaze, letting a faint blush rise to her cheeks. “I guess you stop thinking about fear when people are counting on you,” she said softly.

Nayoung nodded slowly, though her grip on the wheel remained firm. “Maybe,” she said, her voice uncertain. “I just want to make sure everyone’s okay. Including you and Dinozen.”

Her words were meant to reassure, but they only fueled the frustration simmering beneath Chowon’s calm exterior. She and Dinozen didn’t need Nayoung’s concern. They were stronger than anyone else in the group. Stronger together.

But Chowon’s smile stayed in place, warm and disarming. “Thanks, Nayoung,” she said, her voice gentle. “That means a lot. You’re a good leader, you know. You’re always thinking about what’s best for everyone.”

Nayoung blinked at the unexpected compliment, her cheeks flushing faintly. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” she said, her voice flustered. “I just… try my best.”

“And it shows,” Chowon said kindly. “We’re lucky to have you.”

The rest of the ride passed in relative silence, Nayoung visibly relaxing while Chowon’s thoughts churned. Her gaze remained on the road ahead, but her mind was with Dinozen, riding in another vehicle somewhere behind them. The separation gnawed at her, an ache that only grew with each passing mile.

Her fingers curled into fists in her lap, her nails pressing into her skin as she fought to keep the frustration from surfacing. Let Nayoung think she’d done the right thing. Let her believe Chowon was the shy, caring leader she wanted her to be.

For now, Chowon could wear the mask.

But when the time came, when she and Dinozen stood side by side again, nothing—not Nayoung, not the group, not even the world—would keep them apart.

Mikey and Chaehyun’s safe house was a welcome sight—tucked into a quiet, wooded clearing, with high fences and a sturdy-looking building that practically screamed, This place is safe, or as close to it as you’ll get. Still, I felt uneasy as we pulled up, the faint scent of decay still lingering in the air despite the relative quiet. Chowon and I had been separated during the ride, and now, as we stepped out of the vehicles, that distance lingered like an ache just under my skin.

Sakura was quick to approach, clipboard in hand like she was already mentally assigning jobs. “Alright, let’s get this place fortified,” she said briskly, her sharp gaze scanning each of us. “Mikey and Chaehyun did well setting this up, but it’s not perfect. We’ll need to check the perimeter, strengthen weak points in the fencing, and clear out anything that might attract trouble.”

I caught Chowon’s eye as she hopped out of the other vehicle, her movements fluid and easy despite the long ride. She looked my way for the briefest moment, her expression unreadable, before Sakura stepped between us.

“Dinozen,” Sakura said, her tone firm, “you’re on perimeter patrol with Leo. Chowon can help Mikey with the fences.”

My jaw tightened at the way she separated us so deliberately, as if we couldn’t be trusted to work together. I felt that familiar heat rise in my chest—possessive, primal, protective—but I swallowed it down. These people didn’t understand us, not yet. Maybe they never would.

“Sure,” I said coolly, shrugging like it didn’t bother me. “Perimeter patrol sounds fun.”

Leo sidled up to me, his usual easygoing grin replaced with something more cautious. He clapped a hand on my shoulder, his grip just a little too tight. “Let’s go, man,” he said. “Got to make sure nothing sneaks up on us.”

Chowon was already moving toward Mikey, her gait relaxed, but I caught the flicker of tension in her movements—the way her fingers curled slightly, her nails brushing against her palm. She wasn’t happy about this either, but outwardly, she wore her usual bashful smile.

“Come on, Mikey,” she said cheerfully. “Let’s see what needs fixing.”

Sakura watched her go before turning back to me and Leo. “Keep your eyes open,” she said. “And stay focused. No distractions.”

I nodded, biting back a sarcastic remark. Instead, I glanced toward the house where Chaehyun stood by the door, her arms crossed, watching all of us with a mix of curiosity and caution. This wasn’t just about fortifying the safe house; it was about fortifying the group’s trust—or lack thereof.

Leo led the way toward the treeline, his machete in hand, while I trailed behind, scanning the perimeter with practiced ease. My thoughts, though, were elsewhere—on Chowon. On the way her scent had lingered in the car even after she was gone. On the way her absence felt like a missing piece of me.

“So,” Leo said, breaking the silence as we walked, “you and Chowon seem… close.”

I glanced at him, my expression neutral. “We’ve been through a lot together,” I said simply.

“Yeah, I get that,” he said, though his tone was cautious. “But some of the others are… worried. After what happened last night.”

“They’re alive because of us,” I said, my voice sharp despite my efforts to keep it level.

Leo nodded quickly. “I’m not saying they aren’t grateful. Just… things looked a little intense, you know? People are still trying to figure out what to make of it.”

I didn’t respond, letting the silence stretch between us. Let them worry. Let them guess. As long as they stayed out of our way when it counted, that was all that mattered.

Meanwhile, I could hear Chowon’s voice in the distance, faint but distinct, as she talked to Mikey about the fence. She laughed at something he said, the sound light and airy, but I could feel the tension beneath it like a wire pulled taut.

By the time we circled back to the others, the sun was starting to dip lower in the sky. Chowon was standing by the fence, her hands on her hips, inspecting the repairs. Mikey was chatting animatedly beside her, but her attention shifted the moment she saw me.

Sakura stepped in again, her timing almost comical in its precision. “Good work,” she said briskly, addressing me and Leo. “Now let’s see if we can reinforce the house itself. Chowon, you stay with Mikey and Chaehyun for now.”

Chowon’s expression didn’t change, but I caught the faintest flicker of something in her eyes—annoyance, maybe, or a quiet defiance. She nodded, though, her demeanor as shy and accommodating as ever.

“Of course,” she said sweetly. “Whatever you think is best.”

I turned away before anyone could see the irritation creeping into my features. It wasn’t the right time to push back, not yet. But as we worked through the evening, I couldn’t shake the feeling that separating us wasn’t just about safety.

It was about fear.

They were afraid of what we were—what we might become. Which saddened me more than it should have.

I was leaning against the safe house’s patched-up railing, enjoying the quiet for once. The group had settled in for afternoon , the tension that came with a new place giving way to a cautious calm. I was sharpening my dagger, the rhythmic scrape of the blade against the whetstone grounding me, when Leo, Donny, and Raph approached.

The three of them shuffled awkwardly, like schoolboys about to ask the teacher for help. I didn’t look up at first, letting them squirm. Finally, Leo cleared his throat.

“Uh, hey, Dinozen,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. “You got a minute?”

I glanced up, deliberately slow, then tucked the my dagger and stone into my belt. “What’s up?”

Donny hesitated, his cheeks already a little red. “We, uh… we kind of need some advice. Relationship advice.”

My grip tightened for a split second, a surge of something dark and possessive rising in me. Tensions among them could work in my favor, I thought. Distract them, make them look at each other instead of us. But outwardly, I kept my expression calm and curious, tilting my head like I was genuinely interested.

“Relationship advice?” I asked, the corner of my mouth quirking up in a faint smile. “Didn’t think I was the type to give it, but sure. Shoot.”

Leo spoke first, his voice low. “It’s about Sakura. I mean, I think she might be interested, but she’s so… focused. Every time I try to talk to her, she brushes me off. I don’t know if she’s not into me or if she just doesn’t notice.”

Donny chimed in, almost cutting Leo off. “And Venus. She’s… intense, you know? But I think there’s something there. I just don’t know how to… approach her without looking like an idiot.”

I caught myself before I laughed aloud. Venus and Jihyo had been paired off since before I joined this group. The two of them might not have announced it outright, but the signs were there—the subtle, protective touches, the way they moved in sync, the private looks.

Donny’s chasing a ghost, I thought.

Then Raph added his voice to the mix. “And Haseul… I think maybe she’s been trying to… you know, drop hints? But I’m not sure if she’s just being nice or…”

Now that’s a smarter path, I thought. Haseul had been hovering near Raph more often lately, her gaze lingering when he wasn’t looking.

I leaned back against the railing, crossing my arms. Internally, my mind was already weaving threads, possibilities. If Leo and Donny turned their attention to their own pursuits, they’d have less time to focus on Chowon and me. Better yet, if things went wrong, the tension could splinter the group further. It was almost too easy.

But outwardly, I played the part of the helpful friend. “First off,” I said, “you’re all overthinking this.” I pointed at Leo. “Sakura’s the kind of person who respects directness. If you keep skirting around what you want, she’s going to assume you don’t mean it. Be upfront with her, but keep it simple. Ask her to take a break with you—something small, something that lets her focus on you for a few minutes. She’s busy, yeah, but she’s not unfeeling. Give her a reason to look at you.”

Leo nodded slowly, his brow furrowed like he was committing every word to memory.

Then I turned to Donny, keeping my voice even. “As for Venus… look, man, I hate to say it, but you’re barking up the wrong tree. Venus and Jihyo? They’ve got their own thing going on. It’s quiet, sure, but it’s there. You don’t want to put yourself in that situation.”

Donny blinked, his face falling slightly. “Oh,” he muttered.

I clapped him on the shoulder, offering a faint smile. “Don’t take it too hard. You’ll find someone who’s actually looking back at you. You’ve got the charm—just pick the right target.”

Finally, I turned to Raph, my smirk softening. “And Haseul? She’s already looking at you, man. Don’t overthink it. She’s not the kind to play games. If she’s giving you her time, it means she wants you to notice her. Just talk to her, like a person. Don’t make it bigger than it is.”

Raph’s expression shifted from nervous to thoughtful, his lips pressing into a determined line.

“Think you can manage that?” I asked, my tone light, like this was all casual advice from a guy who had it all figured out.

“Yeah,” Leo said after a moment. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Same,” Donny added, his voice firmer now.

Raph nodded as well, his eyes flickering with something like hope.

They all thanked me and wandered off, their heads already buzzing with plans. I watched them go, the faintest smirk tugging at my lips. I’d given them real advice, sure—good advice, even. But I’d also planted seeds. If Leo focused on Sakura and Donny redirected his efforts, the tension in the group might shift in ways that kept Chowon and me out of the spotlight.

And if Raph managed to connect with Haseul? Well, that was one less pair of eyes watching us.

I turned back to my dagger, picking up the whetstone and resuming the steady, calming scrape of blade against stone. They didn’t need to know how much I’d wanted to laugh at their nervousness or how little their problems mattered to me in the grand scheme of things.

As long as they stayed distracted, we could stay safe.

The late afternoon had settled in, and the house was quieter than usual, with most of the group winding down or keeping busy with last-minute chores. I’d done my part, but I couldn’t ignore the pull inside me—the pull to find her.

Chowon.

She’d been busy all day, just like everyone else, but I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist the need for solitude. Neither of us could. So, when I noticed she’d slipped away, I didn’t think twice. I followed.

I found her in a small room at the back of the house—just a storage space, really, but it offered the kind of privacy we both craved. She was leaning against the door, her breathing shallow, like she had something weighing on her. When she saw me, her lips curved into that soft, bashful smile of hers. It made the beast inside me stir.

“You knew I’d come,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I didn’t reply at first. I couldn’t. It was one of those moments where everything else faded away, and all I could focus on was the way she looked at me. Like she wanted more but was scared of what that might mean.

Slowly, I crossed the room, my every step measured, like I was stalking prey—but she wasn’t prey, not in the way the world would think. She was mine. In a way no one else could understand. My equal. And there was a fire inside me—an unquenchable hunger—that flared every time she got close.

When I reached her, our gazes locked, and the space between us seemed to shrink. I could feel the raw energy crackling between us, a constant push and pull. Her fingers brushed against my arm, sending a pulse of electricity straight to my chest.

The mask we wore—the one that kept us from slipping into our darker instincts—was slipping. I could feel it. And it felt so damn good.

I leaned in, closer than I should have, letting her feel the heat of my breath on her skin. “You know, you’re not asking for permission, Chowon,” I said, my voice low, tinged with something dangerous.

She swallowed, a slight shiver running through her. I knew what she felt—the same thing I did. The pull, the need to break free of everything we were supposed to be.

“Maybe I’m not,” she said, her voice barely audible. Her fingers slid up my chest, and I had to bite back a growl. Everything in me screamed to take control, to claim what was mine. But I held back—just enough to let her make the choice.

The door creaked open behind us. I tensed, instinctively pulling back.

“Chowon?” Nayoung’s voice, uncertain and high-pitched, broke the moment.

Chowon immediately stepped away from me, her face flushing with embarrassment. She cleared her throat, trying to act casual, but I could feel the weight of the interruption on her, too. She had wanted this as much as I had.

Nayoung stood there, wide-eyed, staring at the two of us. I didn’t care what she saw. But Chowon… she was still trying to maintain her composure. “I was looking for you,” Nayoung added, her voice awkward.

I shot her a glance, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “It’s fine, Nayoung. Just give us a moment.”

Nayoung hesitated, glancing between us with that familiar uncertainty, then nodded and stepped out of the room. I didn’t miss the look she shot Chowon before the door clicked shut.

Chowon sighed, letting her shoulders drop as she leaned back against the wall. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to regain her composure, but I could tell she was still shaken. It was just like her—trying to act like nothing had happened, like the hunger between us wasn’t real, wasn’t something she craved too.

“You’re not the only one who’s good at hiding things,” I muttered under my breath, stepping closer again.

She met my eyes, her lips curling into that soft, rueful smile. “I wasn’t hiding anything.”

“Of course you weren’t,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm. But there was an understanding there too—an acknowledgment of what we were. “Neither was I.”

She looked away, but I caught the flash of something darker in her eyes, a fleeting reminder that we were both far from innocent. “Later,” she said, as though trying to pull herself together, smoothing down her clothes like she wasn’t just moments away from devouring me.

I nodded, though I wasn’t so sure “later” was going to be enough. We both knew the truth now.

We stepped out of the room together, the weight of the moment hanging between us, unspoken but undeniable. As we walked back into the chaos of the house, I couldn’t help but glance at her, the bond we shared undeniable.

And as we rejoined the others, I knew that whatever happened—no matter how much we tried to fight it—this hunger, this need, wouldn’t be so easily ignored.

When Chowon and I returned to the group, the air shifted instantly. It always did when we walked into a room together. It wasn’t something we tried to do, but people noticed. Their eyes followed us, their postures stiffened. It was the kind of attention predators gave to other predators when they didn’t know whether to trust them—or run.

The others were scattered around the central living room, doing whatever passed for relaxation these days. Leo and Sakura were hunched over a map, marking supply routes with careful precision. Donny was fiddling with a makeshift antenna, muttering about improving the safe house’s radio signal. Raph and Haseul were by the window, whispering about something that made Haseul’s cheeks flush pink. Venus and Jihyo were on the couch, arms brushing but pretending not to notice.

When we stepped into the room, all those little pockets of activity froze.

Leo glanced up first, his expression unreadable but his shoulders tensing just the same. “Back already?” he asked, his tone casual but laced with an edge I couldn’t ignore.

Chowon was quicker to answer. She plastered on one of her signature soft smiles—the kind that made her look like she couldn’t hurt a fly, even though everyone here knew better. “Just needed a breather,” she said lightly, brushing past me and settling into an empty chair near the couch. “It’s been a long day.”

“Right,” Leo muttered, exchanging a quick look with Sakura, who didn’t bother to hide her wariness.

I stayed standing, leaning casually against the doorway, but I could feel the weight of their stares. My own mask slipped into place—a practiced air of calm and control. It wasn’t hard. They expected me to be the composed, dependable one. The one who kept things steady. If only they knew how thin that line was sometimes.

Donny broke the tension first, glancing up from his antenna with an awkward grin. “Hey, uh, we were talking earlier about fortifying the south side. Might need some extra muscle for that tomorrow.”

“Dino can handle it,” Chowon said easily, her voice as sweet and warm as honey. She shot me a quick, playful glance. “He’s good at heavy lifting.”

I gave her a small smirk, the kind that didn’t quite reach my eyes but was enough to keep the tone light. “Only if you’re supervising,” I said, my voice low enough that only she could hear the double meaning.

She caught it, of course. Her eyes flicked to mine for a brief moment, something dark and knowing passing between us before she turned her attention back to the group.

“Speaking of tomorrow,” Jihyo chimed in, clearly trying to steer the conversation to safer ground, “we’re low on water. Someone’s going to have to scout the area for another source.”

“I can do it,” Chowon offered quickly, and I felt my chest tighten. The idea of her out there alone, even for a short trip, sent a wave of protectiveness through me that I barely managed to suppress.

“No,” Leo cut in, his tone firm. “We’ll go in pairs. It’s safer that way.” His eyes flicked to me briefly, then back to Chowon. “You and Nayoung can take that one.”

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay still. The idea of her paired with anyone but me felt wrong, even if I knew it was irrational. Still, I kept my tone even. “Sounds like a good plan,” I said, the words bitter on my tongue.

Chowon didn’t even flinch. She nodded gracefully, folding her hands in her lap like she had no objections. But I knew her well enough to see the flicker of annoyance behind her eyes. She didn’t like being told what to do any more than I did.

As the group settled back into their routines, the tension in the room began to ease. Or at least, they thought it did. I stayed where I was, watching and listening, every sense attuned to the shifting dynamics. Leo and Sakura were still wary, still on edge. Venus kept glancing at Chowon and me when she thought we weren’t looking. Even Donny, with all his awkward charm, seemed less sure of himself around us lately.

It didn’t bother me. Not really. If anything, it kept them predictable. Distracted. As long as their tension was pointed at each other—or at us—I could keep control of the situation.

Chowon caught my eye again from across the room, her expression unreadable but her gaze lingering. The bond between us hummed like a live wire, even in the middle of this crowd. They could separate us for now, keep us at arm’s length. But it wouldn’t last.

We’d always find our way back to each other. And when we did, the masks would slip again.

I wanted to be better.

That thought was loud in my head as I dragged a sheet of metal across the safe houseyard, the makeshift panel screeching against the dirt. My muscles burned from hours of hauling supplies and hammering nails, and the sun overhead felt like it was doing its best to break me. But I didn’t stop.

This was my way of trying to help, of proving that I wasn’t just some unpredictable wildcard in their midst. I could be useful. I could be part of the group.

The others were scattered across the property, all busy with their tasks. Leo was up on the roof with Sakura, patching holes and reinforcing weak spots. Jihyo and Venus were inside, organizing supplies. Raph and Haseul were working on reinforcing the gates. They all seemed comfortable in their little pairs, moving together with an ease that came from trust and familiarity.

And then there was me. Alone.

It didn’t take much to notice the patterns. They didn’t ask me to join in their conversations or include me in their plans. Even now, when every hand mattered, they made a point of keeping me separate. “Dino, can you move those over there?” “Hey, you’re strong—get this done first.” Commands, not invitations.

It shouldn’t have bothered me. I wasn’t new to being treated like an outsider. But the weight of it all settled on me like a stone, pressing harder with every glance that lingered a little too long, every whispered conversation I couldn’t quite hear.

I was halfway through dragging another sheet of metal when it hit me—harder than it should have. A memory, unbidden and sharp as broken glass.

The day I was bitten.

I could still feel the fever that had burned through me, the way my limbs had gone weak, my vision dimming as my body betrayed me. My family had been there—faces pale with horror, tears streaking their cheeks. I had reached for them, begging them to stay, to not leave me alone.

But they had.

The memory of their retreating backs as I collapsed still burned. They had been afraid of what I’d become. And even though I’d survived, even though I wasn’t like the others, that fear had never really gone away.

It was the same fear I saw now, in the way Leo watched me like I might snap at any moment, in the way Venus kept her distance, in the way Jihyo avoided meeting my eyes.

I straightened, the metal sheet dropping from my hands with a thud. My fists clenched at my sides as my breaths came in slow, measured gulps.

I wasn’t one of them. Not really. And maybe I never would be.

I forced myself to focus, to shove those thoughts into the darkest corner of my mind. I picked up the metal sheet again and continued working, but my movements felt heavier now, like I was dragging more than just supplies.

And yet, in the back of my mind, the thought lingered: They’ll never trust you. Not fully. No matter what you do.

Still, I kept going. Because what else was there?

I stepped away from the group, needing space, air, something to calm the gnawing inside me. The predator was stirring again. It always did when I felt cornered—when the isolation, the sideways glances, and the unspoken distrust piled too high.

I found a quiet spot by the treeline and leaned against a weathered trunk, closing my eyes. My chest heaved as I tried to steady myself, my claws itching to come out even though I kept them buried. I wasn’t going to let it win. Not now.

The sound of the wind rustling through the trees should have been soothing, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the voice in my head: They don’t trust you. They never have. They never will.

I dug my fingers into the bark, splintering it beneath my grip, and forced myself to breathe. One… two… three…

Then I heard it—the screams. Distant but unmistakable.

I cursed under my breath, sprinting back toward the group, the predator surging forward like it smelled blood.

When I reached the clearing, the fight was already over. The bodies of infected littered the ground, and the group was huddled together, shaken but mostly unharmed.

All eyes turned to me as I approached, their expressions a mix of relief and suspicion.

“Where the hell were you?” Venus demanded, her voice sharp.

“I stepped away for a minute,” I said, my tone tight.

“A minute?” Donny’s voice cut through the tension, his face flushed with anger. “We were fighting for our lives, and you were just—what? Taking a stroll?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he wasn’t finished.

“I knew we shouldn’t have trusted you,” he said, jabbing a finger in my direction. “You slayers are always so selfish, so worthless in a group setting. All you care about is yourselves!”

The words hit harder than they should have, and something inside me snapped.

The predator roared to life, surging forward with a ferocity I couldn’t contain. My vision blurred, and a low growl escaped my throat before I even realized it.

I stepped toward Donny, my muscles tensing as every instinct screamed for recompense. His scent was sharp—fear, adrenaline, something that only fueled the hunger clawing its way up my spine.

“Dinozen,” Chowon’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding.

I froze, my gaze snapping to hers. She stepped between us, her hand lightly brushing my arm, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just her.

“Hey,” she said softly, but there was steel beneath her tone. “We all need to take a breather sometimes. Let it go.”

Donny’s mouth opened, but she shot him a glare that silenced him immediately.

She turned back to me, her eyes searching mine. “Come on,” she said, taking my hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

I let her lead me away, my chest still heaving with the effort of keeping the predator at bay. She didn’t say anything until we were far enough from the group that their voices were just a faint murmur.

When we stopped, she turned to face me, her gaze steady.

“Let it out,” she said, her voice calm but firm.

I shook my head, backing away. “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” she interrupted, stepping closer. “I’m here. I can handle it.”

Her words broke something in me. The predator surged forward, and I let it. My head tilted back as a roar tore from my throat, reverberating through the trees. It was raw, primal, and louder than I’d ever allowed it to be.

When the sound finally faded, I slumped forward, breathing hard. Chowon’s hand was on my chest, steadying me.

Her eyes softened, and before I could say anything, she leaned in and kissed me. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was grounding, pulling me back from the edge.

“You’re not alone,” she whispered against my lips.

I rested my forehead against hers, closing my eyes. The predator was still there, but it had quieted, content for now.

The living room was lit with a warm glow, the crackle of a fire providing the soundtrack to our makeshift Christmas celebration. Despite everything—the attacks, the tension, the unspoken fears—we had found a moment to gather as a group. A small tree sat in the corner, decorated with scavenged ornaments, and under it were gifts, most wrapped in patchwork paper or cloth.

Venus stood up first, a sly smile tugging at her lips as she held out a small, carefully wrapped box. “Alright, Dinozen,” she said, her voice teasing, “you’re up.”

I blinked, surprised that she’d drawn my name. When I took the package, the weight of it felt solid but unfamiliar. With the group’s eyes on me, I peeled back the paper and froze.

Inside was a revolver-shaped dice chamber. The bullets, each intricately carved into polyhedral dice, gleamed in the light.

“You mentioned liking D&D and guns,” Venus said, her tone nonchalant but her gaze curious, watching for my reaction. “Thought I’d combine the two.”

I turned the revolver chamber in my hands, feeling the weight of it, the craftsmanship. For a moment, the predator inside me stirred, sensing the symbolism of the weapon. But as I looked at Venus, I pushed it down and smiled—genuinely. “This is incredible. Thank you.”

Venus gave a small nod, and I caught a flicker of something—maybe trust—cross her face before she sat back down.

My turn. I reached into the bag beside me and pulled out a small box. “Nagyung,” I said, holding it out. “This one’s for you.”

Nagyung’s face lit up as she unwrapped the gift. Inside was a handheld gaming console I had found and fixed up, complete with a charger. Her eyes widened as she turned it over in her hands.

“You got it working?” she asked, her voice filled with awe.

“Yup,” I said, scratching the back of my head. “Thought you could use something to pass the time when things get quiet.”

She grinned, her excitement contagious. “This is amazing. Thank you!”

As she admired the gift, I noticed something in her gaze—a quick glance toward Donny, then back to the console. The pieces clicked.

“Hey,” I said, standing suddenly and catching everyone’s attention. “Hold up.”

The group stilled, confused, but I ignored them, focusing on Nagyung. “You like Donny, don’t you?”

Her face flushed red, and she stammered, “I—what? I don’t—”

Donny, equally flustered, muttered, “What’s he talking about?”

I raised a hand, cutting off the denials. “Look, it’s Christmas. If there’s ever a time to be honest about how you feel, it’s now.” I looked between the two of them. “Talk. Now.”

The room was silent as Nagyung and Donny hesitated, but then Nagyungtook a deep breath, standing. Donny followed her lead, and together, they walked out of the room, whispering to each other.

When the door closed behind them, the tension in the room shifted. The group looked at me, their expressions softening. For the first time, I saw understanding in their eyes.

“Guess you’ve got a heart after all,” Venus murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Don’t push it,” I replied, but there was no heat in my voice.

The gift exchange continued, the atmosphere lighter now. When it finally ended, Chowon tugged on my sleeve, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through me.

“Come on,” she whispered, her voice soft but insistent.

I didn’t need to be told twice. We slipped away from the group, moving through the quiet hallways until we found a secluded corner.

Chowon turned to me, her eyes dark and predatory, but there was a tenderness there too. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

I smirked, stepping closer. “Takes one to know one.”

Her hand slid up my arm, her touch grounding and electrifying all at once. “They’re starting to see you, Dino. The real you. It’s working.”

I tilted my head, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You make it easier.”

The predator in me stirred, recognizing her as my equal, my mate. And for once, I didn’t fight it. As our lips met, the masks we wore for the group slipped away, leaving only the raw, unfiltered bond between us. In between messy hungry kisses, Chowon said, “You have no idea how angry I was when Donny came after you. I should have let you tear into him. We should have torn into them all,” Chowon said as her inner lioness sheds its meek mask. Her eyes shone with that familiar hunger. I feel imperious come out and Chowon purrs in satisfaction. “There’s my partner in crime. My equal.” She moans as she goes in for another kiss. we spend the rest of the night together cuddling and enjoying each other's presence.

The moonlight filtered through the cracked blinds of the safe house as Chowon moved silently through the halls. The group had settled in for the night, their murmured conversations and quiet laughter fading into the background. But her focus wasn’t on them. It was on Donny.

She found him sitting alone near the back entrance, fiddling with the straps of his boots. He looked up when he sensed her presence, his posture stiffening.

“Chowon,” he said, his voice cautious. “Something you need?”

Her usual mask—kind, bashful, unassuming—was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was an intensity in her eyes, something primal and dangerous that froze Donny in place. She stepped closer, and though her movements were slow and deliberate, there was an undeniable power in them, like a lioness stalking her prey.

“You’ve got a lot to say about my equal,” she began, her voice low and sharp as a blade. “Too much.”

Donny blinked, his mouth opening to respond, but no words came out.

Chowon leaned in, her face inches from his, and the predatory edge in her gaze made him shrink back. “Listen to me carefully, Donny,” she said, her tone steady and calm, but laced with the unmistakable promise of violence. “If you ever come after Dinozen like that again, I will tear your throat out.”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, and for a moment, Donny was too stunned to react. He could feel the weight of her presence, the raw, animalistic power she usually kept buried beneath her quiet demeanor.

And then, just as quickly as it had surfaced, it was gone. Chowon straightened, the warmth returning to her eyes as she tilted her head and gave him a gentle, almost apologetic smile. “You should get some rest,” she said sweetly as if nothing had happened. “Long day tomorrow.”

She turned and walked away, leaving Donny sitting there, still trying to process what had just happened.

As Chowon disappeared into the shadows, the predator within her purred in satisfaction. Her equal was safe, and the balance had been restored. For now.

We were nearly ready to leave the safe house, the group moving like a well-oiled machine, though the unease of what lay ahead was palpable. I busied myself with the perimeter, scanning the tree line and listening for any sound out of place. The air had a weight to it, a sense that something wasn’t right, but I chalked it up to nerves.

Then the ground started trembling.

“Everyone, on alert!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the bustle.

The first thing I saw was the treeline parting as a massive creature—a hulking monstrosity of decay and muscle—lurched forward. It shouldn’t have been able to move so fast, but it did, each step shaking the earth. And then it opened its mouth and breathed fire.

“Scatter!” I roared, drawing my weapon and placing myself between the group and the beast.

Chaos erupted as flames licked the edges of the safe house, forcing the others to dive for cover. My heart pounded, the predator within me straining against my control, but I couldn’t let it take over. Not now. Not in front of them.

The monster charged, and I met it head-on, weaving past its fiery breath and slashing at its joints. My strikes landed, but this thing wasn’t going down easy. Every swing of its massive claws forced me back, each roar rattling my bones.

“Dino!” Chowon’s voice reached me, frantic and desperate.

“Stay with them!” I barked, not daring to look at her. “I’ve got this!”

But the beast had other plans. Its massive claw lashed out, wrapping around me like a vice. I thrashed, slashing and kicking, but it was no use. The world tilted as it yanked me off the ground, dragging me away.

“Chowon!” I shouted, but I couldn’t see her anymore. Only the burning horizon and the sound of the group retreating.

Sakura grabbed her arm. “Chowon, we have to go!”

“I’m not leaving him!” she snarled, her voice raw with emotion.

The group hesitated, torn between their loyalty to Chowon and their survival instincts. Finally, Leo spoke, his voice heavy with regret. “We don’t have a choice. He wouldn’t want us to die here.”

The group began to retreat, dragging Chowon with them. She fought them every step of the way, but eventually, she relented, her eyes never leaving the direction Dinozen had been taken.

An hour later, Chowon sat alone by the charred remains of a tree, her knees pulled to her chest. Her mind raced, torn between worry for Dinozen and guilt for letting the group leave without her.

The sound of approaching footsteps made her tense, her hand instinctively going to her knife. A figure emerged from the shadows—a tall man with dark eyes and a calm, almost disarming smile.

[theender36]

I got some thoughts on Sonic 3 that I wanna talk about so

⚠️ Spoilers for the movie Sonic the Hedgehog 3 (2024) ⚠️

Love that the riff from Live and Learn is used as a leitmotif for Shadow but also Maria was playing it on her guitar which is sad and now I'm picturing Shadow playing that riff in his head all the time

Right before Shadow busts out of containment his heart monitor starts going and then stops which I'm interpreting as his heart beating so fast it doesn't register

They didn't outright say it but Gerald is the one who hacked into GUN to revive Shadow. I don't think they addressed how he got out of prison but he probably built something in his cell

I love the running gag that Ozzie the golden retriever resents Sonic

Loved the joke about Sonic's security system (nunchucks) still working (hit himself in the face again)

Shadow has always been a foil for Sonic but the movie fully realizes the potential of that dynamic in my opinion. They both have a loneliness deep inside from losing someone they loved but Sonic was able to move on and find more family. Shadow hasn't had that chance yet

They used the "Talk about low budget flights" line!

The credits said they used the City Escape music but I must have missed it

Wild that they gave Shadow a gun and a motorcycle again and made it work this time. It probably has something to do with him doing the Akira slide up the side of a building

The CG animation really shines in this movie. I kept looking at how good the reflections in their eyes were. And the fight scenes just had so much slick movement and speed while also properly conveying what was actually happening

When the egg-drones show up, you assume they're going after Team Sonic. But Gerald is controlling the drones so they were definitely gunning for Walters

A Traveling Wilburys song during the flashback was a surprise to be sure but a welcome one. However, I will nitpick the fact that the song End of the Line came out in 1988, which would have been 14 years after Shadow was locked away

Biolizard cameo as the kaiju in the movie Maria and Shadow are watching

Eggman says something about having some unknown quality that makes him "totally undesirable to all possible genders" which suggests to me that he has tried dating loads of people with various gender identities (Woah, he's pansexual! I didn't know that!)

You may ask why the plot treats G.U.N. keeping the other key to the Eclipse Cannon like it's a bad thing. For one thing, the Robotniks are gonna try to steal it, and for another, I don't think a secretive yet fallible military organization having access to a doomsday weapon is a good thing

The concept of G.U.N. keeping a vault that has no records of it so that people can't visualize it to use Warp Rings is very cool and almost SCP-esque

Big fan of Shadow's solution to a telenovela love triangle being for the woman to just kill the two men vying for her affections

Love the subversion of a fight between Sonic and Knuckles with Knuckles instead relenting because he trusts that Sonic will do the right thing in the end

That being said, Knuckles desperately needs a flying island to keep the Master Emerald safe because Wade just ain't gonna cut it

There are a small handful of moments where I think Jim Carey did a really good job of dramatic acting. In particular, the final flashback to Maria's death where he manages to really show the loss and heartbreak Gerald experiences despite wearing a goofy prosthetic

Gerald turning ice-cold to Eggman when he says "You're no Maria"

So glad they did a DragonBall-style Super fight between Sonic and Shadow. If you're gonna make a movie with a bunch of CGI, you might as well go a little nuts with it

You may ask "how are Sonic and Shadow breathing in space?" The same way they do in the games babeeeyyyyy

Shadow and Gerald really wanted to kill the whole world and themselves. And once the Cannon was charged, Shadow didn't care anymore. He was totally willing to let Sonic punch a hole in his chest

Of course, Sonic comes to his senses and is willing to talk with Shadow after sparing him. I love that what changed Shadow's mind was remembering what Maria told him about the stars. That even when they're gone, their light still shines

They literally Lived and Learnt

I wish the Live and Learn sequence wasn't interrupted by Gerald giving Eggman an over-the-knee grandpappy spanking but what can you do

I'm glad that Tails and Knuckles weren't just sidelined for the third act. They show up to save Eggman, help redirect the Cannon, and then save Sonic. Would have been really awkward if they made such a big deal about teamwork only for Sonic to wrap up the conflict on his own

Tails is really chill about Eggman stabbing his grandpa in the butt and launching him into a giant bug zapper

Eggman comes to terms with his own loneliness and is willing to sacrifice himself to save the world not just because he wants to rule it but because he has someone to care about

Missed opportunity for a "Sayonara, Shadow the Hedgehog"

I know it's still a family friendly movie but it's odd that Tom got kicked by an enraged hedgehog moving at the speed of light and all he got was an arm in a sling

The mid-credits scene got me hyped. I can't wait to see who they have voicing Amy. And I like the decision to have an army of Metal Sonics

I hope the next movie explores more about where the animal characters come from because we really don't know much. I'm guessing whoever is behind the Metal Army is from there

Post-credits scene, of course Shadow lived but I'm hyped to see what direction they take that in. Are they gonna do the amnesia thing or will he just be stranded somewhere?

I know that using Chaos Control requires an emerald and the movies established that the Chaos Emeralds are held within the Master Emerald but it sucks they never said it except for in the Shadow Generations DLC. So uh 0/5, do better

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Spice & Secrets Chapter 2

Masterlist

Pairing: Constantine Corrino x (f)reader

Tags: NSFW, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn Romance, Betrayal of Duty vs. Love, Angst, Yearning, Power Dynamics, Politics, reader is a bene gesserit, first time, drinking, fighting, semi-public sex, smut

Word of the Richese boy's death reached the Bene Gesserit faster than anyone else, as always. The funeral took place the following day, with the boy’s body draped in gold covers as the families of House Corrino and House Richese gathered to bury him.

That evening, you made your way through the palace alongside Sister Hera. As you walked, you exchanged a subtle hand signal, and the two of you split paths, moving in opposite directions.

You continued down the hall, passing several rooms before stopping at a familiar door at the end of the corridor.

You knocked.

A minute passed before the door creaked open to reveal Constantine. His bedhead was disheveled, and he rubbed at his eyes. His gaze softened when he realized it was you. "Flower, what are you doing here?" he asked, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind him.

You didn’t miss the way he positioned himself against the door, like he was hiding something.

"A child was killed on palace grounds,” you said, with a serious tone. “And the killer has not been caught. I’m here to check in on you-”

The door behind him opened abruptly, and a woman stepped out, her dress hastily arranged, her hair a mess. She paused, her eyes meeting yours for longer than was necessary.

Recognition dawned as you realized she was the sister of the boy who had been killed.

Your mouth dropped open slightly, and your gaze darted between her and Constantine. His expression was a mix of discomfort and guilt.

"Never mind," you spoke coolly, bowing slightly to mask your disgust. "I see all is as usual with you."

You turned on your heel and walked away. He didn’t follow.

You landed hard on the mat, your breath catching as Sister Hera’s blade pressed lightly against your throat.

"I yield," you groaned, accepting her extended hand to help you up.

"You seem distracted," said Hera, wiping her brow with a cloth.

"... I need to speak to Mother Superior," you admitted. "I had a vision yesterday," you said quietly. "My skin was burning. I was dying. And they found that poor boy today."

"You felt what he felt?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I don't know."

"Something must have triggered it." Her tone was tinged with amazement. "What were you doing when it happened?"

Golden hooded eyes, his parted lips, his touch against your skin flashed in your mind.

"I was on patrol," you lied.

Footsteps echoed, drawing both of your attentions to the entrance as the imperial bastard prince appeared, his presence commanding even in the dim light.

"I was hoping to find you here," he said, his gaze fixed on you.

Hera gave you a look before excusing herself.

You turned to him, your expression guarded.

He opened his mouth to speak, but when you held out your blade, he paused. Then he understood. Shrugging off his vest, he approached you on the mat, taking the weapon from your hand.

You activated your suit, and so did he.

"En garde." you said, assuming a defensive stance.

You advanced first, your blade moving in precise arcs. Constantine deflected each strike with ease, his movements calculated and smooth. When you got too close, he countered, bringing his blade to your throat.

You looked down at the weapon at your pulse, then back up at him. You were evenly matched, and his widened eyes told you he realized the same.

"What you saw this morning. That wasn’t right." he said, his voice low.

"You’re the Emperor’s son," you replied flatly. “Why do you care what I think?"

"You know why."

"Well, you’re lucky. It so happens that I don’t care. What you choose to do in your free time is none of my concern."

"I almost believe you." He grinned.

"That boy hasn't even buried for a full day before you took his sister to your bed." Your voice was sharp, tinged with judgment.

"She was waiting for me," he said defensively. "I was drunk, heartbroken, and she was... interested. We didn’t exchange a single word before then."

"Words aren’t necessary. A look is all it takes from you, Corrino."

He raised his chin, a faint smirk playing at his lips. "Yes, I see now how much you don’t care."

Damn it. You’d given him power over you. Frustrated, you decided to show him who he was dealing with. Advancing with deliberate steps, you broke through the barrier of his suit, grabbing his arm and sweeping his legs out from under him.

Constantine’s eyes widened in shock as he hit the ground but quickly rolled back to his feet.

You stood taller, your chin raised. Once, you would have relied on him for protection. Now, you were trained and skilled in the Weirding Way. The stakes had changed, and his surprise only fueled your satisfaction.

"Is this what our fights will be like when we’re married?" he huffed, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I can’t wait."

Your voice was edged with rage. "You really think we’ll last? Or will you go with the first woman who waits for you in your room a day after were together?"

"We were together?" he shot back, his brow arched. "Or were you in the tenth dimensions exploring the astral plain... pardon me if I took your mid-climax departure as a clear rejection."

"That vision I had was a gift. One I unlocked by being with you!" You argued.

His eyes narrowed in confusion.

"I wanted to speak to you yesterday," you said, your voice quieter now, "to ask if you felt... different."

The silence grew heavy between you.

"You fought well," you said at last, saluting him.

He returned the gesture, understanding the conversation was over. Leaving his blade and armor by the door, he walked out without another word.

Constantine sat at a dimly lit bar surrounded by his friends. The conversation, which had begun lightheartedly three whiffs ago, had shifted to politics with the passing of Dennis's spice container for the third time.

"The recent drop in spice prices. Some say it’s sabotage targeting your father’s spice workers. What do you make of it, Costa?" His friend, Dennis, asked.

Constantine sipped his drink. "Harkonnen desperation. When a house as weak as them resorts to violence, it’s less about strategy and more about survival.”

"And what of the Fremen?"

Constantine raised an eyebrow. "What of them?"

"You don’t think they’re behind these attacks?"

Constantine shrugged. "As far as I know, they’re a weak minority on Arrakis. Nothing to worry our pretty little minds about."

Colin smirked behind his glass. "Rumor has it the Emperor’s next move involves a new Empress."

Dennis laughed dryly. "A time-honored tradition, isn’t it? When diplomacy falters, there’s always the marriage bed." Nudging Constantine with a sly grin he said. "Speaking of, Flower’s back. How convenient."

"Wouldn’t that be something?" Colin mocked. "The Emperor leaving you his sloppy seconds."

Constantine turned to him with a faint smirk. "Perhaps if you concerned yourself with your aim as much as you do imperial affairs, you’d be a decent shot."

Colin offered him a fake chuckle. group laughed uneasily, the tension palpable.

Fueled by alcohol and a bruised ego, Colin stood up, swaying slightly. "Fellas, the night is young, the stars are clear, and the weather is perfect! The amphitheater is calling out our name."

The amphitheater was a grand arena reserved for gladiator fights. It was their clandestine playground.

When they trained with their sword masters, the boys seldom experienced any real pain or risk. But here, in the dead of night, they would pretend to be gladiators, feeding their desire for raw, brutal, and carnal behavior.

The friends exchanged uncertain glances.

Constantine, still eyeing Collin, took a long swig from the bottle, then stood. "Why not?"

The amphitheater was illuminated by the moonlight casting shadows over the sandy floor. Colin and Constantine discarded their shirts, stepping into the center. No weapons allowed.

They saluted each other, reciting an old gladiator chant, their voices saying the well-known phrase in unison.

Colin attacked first. Constantine dodged, but his movements were clumsy, his reflexes dulled by alcohol.

Their friends murmured nervously, they made for the stage. Constantine raised a hand, stopping them. "It’s between me and him," he declared.

The fight intensified. Constantine’s concertration faltered, and Colin’s fist struck his cheek. Constantine tasted blood.

The arena's unease grew, their laughter replaced by anxious whispers.

You read in your quarters when a vision struck you.

Flashes of pain. The rough feeling of sand. The pillars of the amphitheater. The taste of blood. The crowd’s unease. Colin standing over you, fists raised.

The vision vanished as quickly as it came. You stumbled to your feet, heart racing, and ran out the door.

Constantine was on the ground, dazed and bleeding. Colin stood over him, blade poised to strike. When had he brought it?

"Drop the knife!"

The voice boomed through the amphitheater, ghostly and commanding.

Colin’s blade clattered to the ground, landing at his side.

Disoriented, Constantine turned, as you descended the stairs. Your nightgown clung to you, sheer fabric glinting in the moonlight.

"Oh no," Colin muttered, his face paling as he caught sight of you.

You hurried to Constantine’s side, dropping to your knees and pulling him into a fierce embrace. "Are you hurt?" you demanded, your hands frantically searching for wounds.

"I’m fine," Constantine mumbled. "Flower, he wasn’t going to-"

You rounded on his friends, your voice ringing with supernatural authority. "Go home. Forget this night ever happened."

Their faces slackened, their eyes glazed. Without a word, they turned and walked away.

Constantine struggled to his feet, swaying slightly.

You glared at him. "Every day, I worry about you. Did you know that? Every thought is 'Is he safe? Is he hurt?' Meanwhile, here you are, throwing your life away over a stupid game!"

He didn't speak.

You held your palm to your forehead. "You’re the Emperor's only male heir. A gifted strategist, a capable fighter, a talented musician. Why don’t you see the vakue of your life?"

"Because it’s all for nothing!" Constantine shouted, his voice cracking. "I will never inherit the throne!"

"And I’ll never be free of the Sisterhood," you shot back. "We’re both trapped, Constantine. But you have the power to make something of yourself. You have everything I don’t. Freedom, wealth, power-"

"You're wrong." He interrupts. "I dont want the benefits of being a bastard. I want a purpose. I studied our politics, I worked for them, and I secured relations for years, but she's going to be the one on the throne. And what else, I can’t be with the one person I truly desire."

His bitterness was fueled by alcohol and his unrequited love. "You’re so loyal to your precious Sisterhood. So willing to give them everything. But have they ever thought about you?"

You kept your composure, "They’ve given me a purpose. Something beyond what you can even comprehend.”

Constantine narrowed his eyes, his tone turning cutting. "What? Some prophecy that will be realized thousands of years from now when we will all be dead? You don’t even see it, do you? They’re grooming you! Like they groomed my mother. To be nothing more than... than a ‘toy,’ for some rich pervert. Do you think the men they send you to will care about you at all?"

"I know the risks, Costa." Still you faltered, clearly affected by his words but refusing to let him see it. "It's a necessary evil."

His voice grows softer, laced with anger and anguish. "You’d rather throw yourself at a sisterhood that trained you to conceive children... than let someone who actually gives a shit about you show you what it means to feel wanted. To feel loved.”

Your face burned, equal parts anger and humiliation.

Constantine stepped abruptly, crowding your space. "Tell me I’m wrong," he growled. "Tell me you haven’t thought about that night. About what it felt like to let go. To trust someone. To trust me." His hands rose to griped your arms.

The tension was thick. Your nipples pebbled against the thin material of your nightgown. And the heated gaze he gave you fueled something within you. Something exciting, something powerful was happenning to you.

"I have," you gasped, unable to meet his gaze. You zeroed in on one focal point - his lips. Beautiful, cut from his fight.

A moment later, they were pressing against yours. He pushed you against the wall, lifting you into his arms. He angled his lips on yours, molding your bodies together. His bare chest brushing against your sensitive nipples.

With his free hand, his finger grasped your hair and pulled, baring your neck and collarbones to him. The string holding the front of your nightgown was loosening with each movement. And then his lips traveled down your throat, kissing, licking, and biting, his curls tickled your neck, and you couldn't control the sounds you made.

He raised you up higher against the wall so that your chest was in front of his face. You looked at the hunger in his eyes as he licked his lips before taking your nipple in his warm mouth. Your back arched off the wall as your hand rose to grasp his hair, bringing him closer to you. Silently begging for more, more.

He switched to your other nipple, leaving the first one cold and sensitive in the night air. His hand reached beneath your skirt to cup your sex, his fonger sliding into you easily.

"Costa!" You cried against him. The stimulation on your sex and nipples was too much, not to mention the fact that the two of you were in a public space right now. It was currently empty, but that didn't mean you were alone.

Your training forced you to push away, masking yiur vulnerability ad you smoothed down your nightgown and turned back with a calm expression. "Dont say such things when you’re drunk, Constantine."

Constantine’s bitter laugh echoed through the empty amphitheater. Then he paused.

Something shifted in Constantine’s gaze. A clarity, sharp and dangerous.

"You’re right," he said softly, almost to himself. "I’m the Emperor’s only male heir. A strategist. A warrior."

He looked at you, his expression unreadable. “I can have anything I want.”

You nodded, misunderstanding him. “Exactly. You just need to decide what it is you truly want.”

A slow, dangerous smile spread across Constantine’s face. I want everything, he thought.

And you. You would be his, too.

[justplainwhump]

Laundry Room

At Rosa's first Christmas at her owners' house, she and Blanca are alone together.

A prequel to Pet Safety.

Content : BBU, implied conditioning, nudity, self-harm (due to conditioning), burns. Caretaking. Falling in love. F/f romance. Kissing.

Rosa's Sir and Madam spend Christmas with Madam's family in their beach house. Pets aren't allowed, Madam has said with a frown directed at Blanca. Since "the incident". The term makes Blanca's neck stiffen, Madam's jaw clench, and Sir roll his eyes. And Rosa? She doesn't know. Is not included in the dynamics that work under the surface.

It makes sense in a way, that the Romantic has intimate knowledge that the Domestic doesn't, Rosa tells herself. Blanca is special. Rosa isn't.

Rosa knows how to cook all the meals her owners like, how to set the table, clean the glasses, arrange the clothes, make the beds. She's a good pet. That's all she needs. All she ever wanted. All that a pet is meant to be.

So good, that it even confused her, when Master Cory took one of the containers of food carefully prepared by Rosa in days and nights of work out of the trunk and sneaked it back to Blanca. "For the holiday. Don't forget me, beautiful. Merry Christmas," he'd whispered into her hair, and Blanca had smiled at him so wide that the aberrant feelings hit Rosa right in the gut.

Nobody had spared a glance at her.

It's an aberrant feeling, being left out. Domestics don't feel lonely, they don't feel sad, they don't feel jealous, they don't feel sorry. They don't have friends. They function. That's all they do.

And Rosa affirms herself that she does. She's a good and functioning Domestic.

As such, she's walked down into the basement right after her owners have left, pulling the doors close behind her. She doesn't need to see Blanca smile as she waves past the car. There's a place for Blanca, and there's a place for Rosa, and they do not overlap.

-

Rosa is still ironing clothes in the utility room a while later, when Blanca strolls in. There's an easy sway to Blanca's hips, an elegance to her movements that seems unfitting for an environment like the packed, practical laundry room that smells like labor and detergent.

She's still naked, like Madam insists for her to be in the house, but even though Rosa understands it's meant to be a reminder of her lowly position, Blanca seems more regal than anyone else Rosa had ever seen.

She swallows. She isn't supposed to think that. She isn't supposed to look at Blanca's body, at her soft skin, at the beautiful curves of her hips and breasts - or at least she isn't meant to see it as anything else than a surface that is meant to be kept clean, just as are all her owners' other possessions.

Rosa focuses on the sheet in front of her, scanning it's pristine white for any creases to distract herself from any aberrant thoughts.

"You shouldn't be here," she says briskly.

Undeterred, Blanca leans in over the laundry hamper, her body a perfect curve, as she fishes for one of Master Cory's worn shirts. Rosa fixates her gaze on her own hand around the iron.

From the corner of her eyes, she sees Blanca bury her face in the shirt, take in their owner's smell.

"Why?" Blanca asks.

Rosa blinks. "Why what?"

"Why aren't I supposed to be here?"

"You're not a Domestic."

"True. I'm a Romantic. I'm supposed to be with my Master." She slips into the shirt, wraps it closely around her and shakes her hair free over the collar. "He's not here. He doesn't want me with him. So where am I supposed to be now?" There's a sadness clinging to her voice that almost stings in Rosa's heart. It doesn't. It mustn't. She has to keep things in order.

"Madam doesn't want you dressed in the house."

Blanca shrugs and pulls herself up to sit on the washing machine, crosses her long, smooth legs. Rosa feels dizzy. "And Sir likes it when I wear his clothes."

"Sir left," Rosa says, sharper than intended. Blanca shouldn't be here. They shouldn't be talking. It makes Rosa slower, less focused. It makes her a bad pet.

"So did Madam. It's just us." Blanca shrugs, leans forward, pauses, as if waiting for Rosa to meet her gaze.

Unwillingly, Rosa puts the iron down and does.

Blanca's eyes are grey. Sometimes the grey is light and shimmering, chrome and steel. Today, they're dark. Like a storm, Rosa thinks. A storm that carries away anything in its path.

"So the question should be: How would you like me, Rosa?"

On my face. The thought shoots through her, bright and short and sharp and cruel, like a lightning bolt.

Pain follows instantly. Punishment. A scream. Hers? Blanca's? Both?

The world turns black.

-

When she comes to, she's laying on the ground, bedded on crumpled laundry. Everything is cold. Her entire left sidethrobs with heavy pain, radiating from her forearm. Blanca's fingers run over it, slick with some sort of paste, carefully coating bright red blisters shaped like an iron, surrounding spots of white and black. Rosa's stomach lurches.

Bad pet, she thinks. Bad pets deserve punishment.

"Please," she whispers. "I'm bad."

"I cooled the wound for fifteen minutes," Blanca says. "You were unconscious. I called Sir. He says you'll be fine."

"Bad," Rosa whispers. "I was bad. I was... Madam will -"

"Sir won't tell her."

"Sir won't-" Rosa stares at Blanca. Her grey eyes are narrow in concentration, as she gently rubs in the salve. Spears of pain drill into Rosa's body. She doesn't flinch. "Why?"

"I begged him." Blanca's lips twist. "He likes that. I made him come over the phone."

"But I was -"

"I told him it was an accident. That I don't want Madam to hurt you for it." She smiles down at Rosa. "That if it needs to be, he can hurt me instead. It's okay. He's not cruel."

Rosa swallows. Master Cory is cruel. But they both know what Blanca meant. Madam is more cruel. So much more. "I deserve it." Rosa shivers. "I was a bad pet."

"I lied to Sir. It wasn't an accident." Blanca reaches for the bright orange first aid kit next to her. Her hair tingles on Rosa's skin. "You burned yourself. Why?"

Rosa clenches her jaw, refusing to answer the question. Focus on the pain. Not on the flutter in her stomach. "You can't lie to Sir."

"I can." Blanca smirks, as she places a bandage over the burn and begins to wrap in in place with gauze. "I love him. I belong to him. I'm made for him. But I lie to him all the time."

Rosa winces the tiniest bit, when Blanca knots the ends of the bandage. "Pets can't -"

"I tell him that I like his wife. That I like his friends. I tell him that every fuck is great, even the quick ones on the backseat of his car. I tell him that I don't mind pain." She bites her lip. "I tell him that he's the only one I could ever love."

"But..." Rosa's throat is dry. "That's... not a lie, right? Pets can't -"

Blanca leans in. She's not fidgeting for the first aid kit this time, Rosa realizes. She's leaning over Rosa, one leg nestled between hers. The white shirt is falling open from her shoulders, her beautiful breasts in front of Rosa, her hair on Rosa's neck, her breath hot on her skin.

"I can," Blanca whispers. "And I think you can, too."

Rosa's lips part, as her good hand reaches up into Blanca's hair.

Bad pet, a soft voice echoes somewhere in her mind. But then her fingers curl up in Blanca's soft hair and all voices and all pain are swept away by the storm that erupts when Blanca's lips meet hers.

[actualbird]

// cn server spoilers, new luke card

EXCUUUUUUUUUUSSSEEE ME, HE IS SO STRIKING, THEY ARE SO GORGEOUS?????

[lemonvolley]

Back at it again with our favorite knockoff Spider-Man-

@photosyntheticspace here you gooo <33

[thewhizzyhead]

you know the more I think about it, the more I think the scene before "If I Loved You" is steph's um silly roundabout attempt to more solidly confirm if Pete could be into her (and have him admit it and make a move already) after like I dunno many other of her attempts in flirting with Pete and asking him out, and then IMMEDIATELY backtracking into "pft I'm a bad bitch I would NEVER go out with a GEEK like you like I need a REAL man pfft" mode in "If I Loved You" after Pete seems to deny him ever wanting to go out with Steph - even though he actually never fucking denies it LIKE HE LEGIT NEVER DOES BOTH IN DIALOGUE AND IN SONG LIKE "who says i wanna go on a date with you anyways?", says pete in a defensive tone with folded arms while looking away from steph after she called him out for not asking her out yet like holy fuck I find this hilariously cute and somehow extremely fucking accurate for teen couples that share this stubbornly defensive i-refuse-to-admit-shit dynamic

[bmpmp3]

i do think its kinda funny when i see someone in the year of our lord 2024 talk about vocal synth music like its all gone downhill since like 2010 because like dont get me wrong i love a good niconicodouga-ass 2008 ass vocaloid joint BUT also like. the past couple years have had the most fascinatingly creative and expressive uses of vocal synthesizers ive ever heard in my life DJFSKHJDFS dont write it all off just yet!!

[debrouiller]

JANJA GARNBRET at Innsbruck Boulder Finals 2023

bonus:

[namelessprince]

listened to that pd anime op song and now i want to animate to it. which means ive spent the last hour watching random anime openings and taking notes o(-(

[7central]

the train station reunion is so fucking funny in terms of physical comedy. ramping up to it we got the overly casual shrug from Lupe and the exasperated eyeroll "riiiight" from Jess. and then we have Lupe's double take, her smacking Jess in some realm between hip and ass, trying to present a unified front--total dad move. the power walking while swearing in public--also a total dad move.

and then Esti abandoning her sandwich, winding up her legs like a cartoon before she starts running, turning over her shoulder just to have the last word with "¡no eres mi mamá!"

then we have Jess immediately going "oh shit" and trying to get in the way, but Lupe just doesn't stop, so Jess fucking keeps running backwards while Lupe tries to fake her out unsuccessfully. and then the cut to Esti sprinting (she's the fastest stealer in the league, lu!) while they're busy arguing. and finally, Esti's calculating stare as she realizes she can use this leverage to annoy Lupe even more learn to drive. cinematic perfection.

[somerandomdudelmao]

………….

TAP.

@somerandomdudelmao, happy day of birth, Universe

[hypnagogics]

You should definitely write for Vi bc oml she’s so fine 😮‍💨

DO U EVEN KNOW THE WAY IM TWEAKIN OVER HER like omfg. my poor moots getting bombarded with fucking piles of edits upon edits of her and my thirsty comments...yeah...i gotchu, you don't needa ask me twice ♡ tbh feel like this is one of the better short smutty thingies i've written, lol. it was really fun.

nsfw drabble—dom!vi + spit kink. originally i was gonna make this three smaller blurbs, but decided to just smash em all into one longer drabble situation. cw: praise, bossy vi, finger sucking (r! receiving), oral (v! receiving), vi bush mention RAHHHH, yapping... yk how it is by now. + 1.1k wc.

you were gazing up at her with watery eyes, kneeling by vi's seated form, trying your hardest to ignore the deafening ache between your thighs.

vi is loving, and she knows how to treat you well. she always provides you with tons of care and happiness, however—she also possesses a dirty side to her.

a bandaged hand swipes at the bottom of your chin, her thumb prodding at your pursed lips. there was a smirk playing on her scarred lips, her powder-blue eyes twinkling with pure lust at the scenario playing out before her.

“open.” she says roughly, and who are you to deny her? you were willing to take anything she'd give you, so you obediently part your lips, allowing her to fully push her digit inside your hot mouth.

almost instinctively, your puffy lips wrap around her thumb and you begin to suck, your eyes rolling ever so slightly at the taste of her salted skin. she hums, “atta girl—keep going. just like that, until i say you can stop, alright?” you open your eyes and nod in approval, wishing to commit her expression to memory.

see, vi wasn't one of those mean, degrading doms with an icy exterior who get off on hurting you an excessive amount, and in moments like this where she's got you in a position of submission under her, her natural “switchiness” peeks through. you see it in the way her throat bobs as she swallows, her unsteady, shallow breathing coming out in rasps, and the distinct furrow in her flaming brows while she struggles to maintain eye contact. regardless, you both enjoy toying around with various dynamics, she makes it fun.

you get lost in a daydream while staring into her eyes, but are startled out of it when she strongly presses down on your wet tongue, and pushes her thumb further inward until you gag.

it surprises you, but you know she would never overdo things. tears well up in your eyes, their presence only widening her voracious grin.

then she soothes, her now-soft voice caressing your ears, “exactly, just like that. good job, baby. you're so perfect f'me—yeahhh.” she continues rolling her thumb around your wet muscle, every so often dragging the pad of her finger over the ridges of your teeth, then pushing experimentally up against the roof of your mouth.

saliva has been gathering all this time, and she hasn't given you a moment to swallow it, so it dribbles out of your mouth and down your chin, decorating your chest as it slides down your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps along its path.

her face gets impossibly redder as she observes the sight, still while playing with—rather, using—your mouth. her movements speed up a touch, and she triggers your gag reflex once more before abruptly stopping. she pulls her hand out of your mouth with a pop, and throws her head back as she tries to steady her breathing. “you're so fuckin’ hot, god—i can't.”

you smile up at her, reveling in her break of character and being pleased with yourself. she's panting, and examines her hand; it's shiny and dripping with your spit, she's mesmerized by the sparkle it emits in the low light. her periwinkle eyes gloss over and suddenly there's a flash of fabric flying by, and you realize she has undressed herself in one fluid motion, throwing everything on her bottom half across the room. she’s so desperate, you can’t help but sneer at her horny distress, even though technically you were the one being overpowered.

your eyes drop, meeting a wild tangle of vermillion and crimson, her muscular thighs separating east and west to make space for you.

she leans back and gently nudges your head towards her tender, drooling core, her chest heaving at the way you're just melting under her touch. turning to jelly, you let her guide you where she wants. needs.

vi groans quietly, her breath hitching, “c'mon angel, you know what to do.” and you very much did. with her assistance, you advance and bury your face in her center, tongue finding her scarlet pearl—twitching and ready for you to obliterate.

you flick, you suck, and you moan at the heavenly taste of her essence, revel in the noises she's producing above you. she pulls you further in, bucking her hips frantically to chase your skilled mouth. you push your tongue inside her quivering hole as far as it'll go, taking as much of her in your mouth as you can, and ignoring the lack of oxygen you're experiencing—you would be more than pleased if you were lucky enough to die this way.

she's watching you intently through half-lidded eyes, chewing on her rosy lips. when you meet her gaze from in between her legs, her face contorts and she releases a guttural whine, more slick leaking from her and filling your hard-at-work mouth.

her grip on your hair tightens and her abs tense, providing you with an image that's worthy of a climax just on its own. her head falls back, her lips parting to allow for pretty, high pitched and pathetic pleas to grace your ears. “ple—please baby, just like that. you're so fuckin' good, don't you dare stop—ah!”

without any warning she makes a vulgar mess of your face, the vice grip on your crown causing you to wince, but just as she requests, you don't dare move.

you tilt your head to get a better angle, practically making out with her swollen pussy. you drink up her cum, the near-sickly sweetness clouding your mind, coating your thoughts in a drunken haze.

the high is rippling through her at such an intensity her loud moans are replaced with pornographic whimpers, the sensations utterly ruining her. she squirms and arches, caging your head between her thighs until she gasps.

"hah—okay, okay, oh—fuck.” she stutters while she pushes you away, the tremor in her body evident. you sit back and examine your work, feeling proud of yourself, her fucked-out condition proving you did a good job.

she's sprawled on the bed like a starfish, still trying to slow her racing heart but manages to chuckle, basking in the aftershocks of a mind-melting session.

her words are slurred, yet satisfied. “did so good, that was so good…love your mouth s'much babe.”

you guffaw, and throw at her through chuckles, “i know, i am the best.” that sends her into a fit of giggles as well, and once she's calmed down she confirms.

“yeah, you really are.”

thanks for reading! comments, reblogs, and asks are appreciated more than you know ♡ if you'd like to be tagged in future works, fill out the form here! until next time ;)

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