#and my irritation about this is completely pointless i think but it's just so very incorrect

[anime-academia]

Okay, look. I get it. You wanna combine the things that are meaningful to you and that you find cool. Don't fuck with me, i have the power of God and anime on my side. HOWEVER, Gojo Satoru and this verse ?! It's literally not compatible. Please, I am begging. Gojo's whole thing is that HE is the strongest. Yes, we have the whole "are you the strongest because you're Gojo Satoru or are you Gojo Satoru because you're the strongest". But the point is he is the strongest because he is him. Gojo is very much not the character for this verse. Use William G Maryblood for this instead.

[rhysazriel]

Meet Me in the Copy Room [CEO!Rhysand]

SUMMARY: Rhysand is Y/N’s boss but he likes his secretary more than he should. (10.8k)

WARNINGS: teasing, swearing, kissing, smut; dirty talk, fingering, oral (both receiving and face sitting), protected sex, multiple orgasms

A/N: this is a fic from my other account that I no longer use, I changed some bits around for it to fit Rhys' character after an anon had requested it!! Also, this is a Modern AU bc Rhys’ vibe screams CEO hehe

Y/N has worked in many places before Velaris LTD. She was a waitress for a brief few months when she was in college at a diner near her dorm. She was also a librarian for six months and a part-time barista in the cafe down the street from her parents home. 

She’s done her share in retail and even a year working in the bank, but as of recent, the past seven months, she’s been employed by Velaris LTD, one of the worlds finest trading companies.

She’s no longer assigned a God awful uniform, nor does she have to converse with the general public and adhere to the customers' every need. No. Now, Y/N has her own little office area with a big reception desk with her own phone and separate line across her boss’ office. 

Now, she has her own computer and a little fax machine and she wears heels with pencil skirts and pretty blouses.

Given, she’s a secretary, but an important one at that. She’s not the kind of secretary that runs pointless errands and gets her boss coffee while adhering to their every beck and call. She arranges meetings in the most elite of clubs and restaurants. She files the reports she’s meant to and she handles his schedule and phone calls. 

He may be the CEO, but Y/N is the one behind closed doors that ensures everything runs as smoothly as it does.

And sure, Rhysand is the literal face and name of his damn company and he should ideally hire someone to run the damn business for him, but he’s also narcissistic and refuses whenever it’s brought up to let another man or woman run his business for him. 

Maybe that’s what she likes so much about her job. That he doesn’t trust anyone to be by his side except her.

It’s something she’s struggled to understand for the longest time. She’s three years younger than him, barely just turned twenty-six, yet he chose to hire her over all the other highly-qualified applicants. 

She hasn’t complained about it, would never. Her job is too good. As his personal secretary, her monthly wage is what four months at the diner used to get her. And don’t get her started on the other perks her position offers.

She’s thankful, and she makes that very clear in every opportunity she gets. She didn’t know Rhysand before she got the job, and if she’s completely honest, she’d never ever heard of him. 

She expected him to be some stuck up prick that didn’t respect women and only cared for his company and business. She was proven incredibly wrong at her interview when he made her a cup of tea and asked inclusive questions her previous employers didn’t care to think of.

Within three weeks of having the job, she’d learned more about him than the colleagues that have worked for him since the beginning of his firm. And she doesn’t mean things like how he takes his coffee and his favourite places to go for lunch. She means she knows what laundry detergent he can’t use because it irritates his skin. 

She knows his mother and sister are the most important women to him, that he sometimes misses his mundane life working with his brothers. She knows the meanings behind almost every single tattoo he has and that while the press made him out to be a cheating womaniser when his fiancee left him two years ago, it was actually her that did the cheating and left him heartbroken.

She’s always wondered why Rhysand trusts her so much. She’s never given him a reason not to, and she never would, but it’s always been in the back of her mind. But then, she supposes she doesn’t know why Rhys does a lot of things that regard her. 

Like how, in the mornings, he brings her coffee on his way past her desk. How he always insists he delivers paperwork to her himself and softly apologises for how much she has to file away. 

Or how he’ll send her cheeky emails from his personal about how annoying Gerione is when she tries to flirt with him. And on more than one occasion, she’s noticed him leaning in his chair to get a peek at her through the window of his office; craning his neck up to see her past the high wall of her reception-like desk.

She doesn’t say anything to him, though. She supposes he’s trying to sneakily check in on her to make sure she’s actually doing the work. Y/N knows she’s not the youngest to work for Velaris LTD, but she is the youngest to be fully employed and not as an intern. 

She’s faced ageism within the company since her first day. She’s either babied by the mothers of the company, or criticised and borderline bullied by the ones a few years older and higher up. She hasn’t much let it get to her, though. She figures she’s clearly a valuable asset if the company is still running and Rhysand still wants her by his side.

Today feels no different from any other. She gets to work at 7:45 AM, a sleepy smile on her lips as she greets Amora at the front desk. He smiles through tightly pursed lips and quickly avoids her gaze, greeting another worker with a high-pitched laugh and kissing their cheek. 

Y/N keeps walking, doesn’t let herself dwell and makes for the elevator. She’s alone until she gets up to the twelfth floor and the keycard clipped to her pencil skirt is gently patting against the left side of her lower tummy.

She doesn’t let her eyes take in her appearance as she walks past the floor-to-ceiling mirror that encompasses an entire 15-foot long wall. She knows her ponytail is tight enough and that her shirt is probably a little wonky because her bag that rests on her shoulder is tugging at the collar of it. 

She also doesn’t let herself look to her right because she doesn’t think she has the energy to pretend to ignore the snickers and grimaces from a few of the thirteenth-floor girls this morning.

Instead, Y/N rounds the corner and gets comfortable behind her desk. Her bag is tucked underneath it and her fingers make quick work of logging onto her computer and getting started for the day. Rhysand’s office is directly opposite her, thin windows either side of the tall door and from her seat, she can see his empty desk and a gorgeous view of the city.

It’s exactly 8 AM when Rhysand greets her with her morning coffee. He’s dressed in his usual slick black suit with a charming smile on those pink lips. Y/N would be lying if she said she’s never thought about her boss in more than a professional way. She’s thought about him in many different scenarios where he has her in many different positions.

“Good morning, Rhysand,” she greets him softly, a gentle smile on her plump lips. 

That was another thing that took her a while to get the hang of. Rhys doesn’t like to be referred to by his last name. The first time she greeted him as such, he waved it off and insisted she called him Rhysand or Rhys. 

It’s been months since she even thought of his last time… to the point where every time she sees it on some paperwork, she struggles to pair it with him.

Rhys takes his time every morning to admire her and her outfit of the day. He’s thoroughly pleased about the tight blouse and many open buttons at the top that offer the delicious view of the swell of her perky tits.

He averts his gaze with another charming grin, and can feel his trousers slowly begin to tighten as he places her coffee on her desk. “Morning, darling. How did you sleep?” he asks, always taking a few minutes out of his morning to make sure she feels okay and slept well the night before.

Rhysand’s never really known himself why he purposely goes out of his way to ask her these things. He doesn’t bother to do much with any other of his workers, nor his previous personal secretaries. 

He tells himself it’s because she’s young and new, so he wants to make sure she feels as comfortable and as included as he can. But she’s only three years younger than him and she’s been working for him for over a year.

He needs to stop feeding himself that same bullshit excuse.

Y/N gleams a pretty smile and leans forward with her elbows on the desk, subsequently pressing her tits together deliciously. Rhysand licks his lips, eyeing up her chest before gazing back at her pretty smile again. But it doesn’t go unnoticed and it stirs something that oozes confidence inside her.

She tilts her head a little, a hint of something mischievous in her eyes but Rhys doesn’t notice. Figures she’s too innocent to catch on to his somewhat advances, but little does he know. 

“Slept okay, it’s just really hot in my house lately… I need to speak with my landlord about getting a new AC fitted or I’ll be stuck sleeping naked until further notice,” she tells him through a seemingly innocent sigh, shrugging her shoulders and as hard as Rhysand tries to hide his bulging eyes, she catches them, along with the bulging in his pants.

He raises his brows in amusement and a lopsided grin pulls at the corners of his pink lips. He tilts his head like she did. “Do you only sleep naked when your air con is broken? Thought that’s something people living alone normally did? Freeing and all. I do it,” he shrugs his shoulders. He’s subtly prying, trying to learn if she still lives alone in that cutsey townhouse just twenty minutes away, or if she’s got a man on the scene.

He watches the apples of her cheeks twitch and he wonders if she’s imagining him sleeping naked. She is. He smirks to himself at the thought of what she must be mustering up in that pretty little head of hers. 

It’s nothing new between the two; occasional flirting and topics that definitely should not be discussed between a boss and his secretary. He likes to watch her squirm and splutter and innocently reply in a way that has blood rushing to his cock. 

He’s always observed her closely during these types of interactions, knows how to read her body language. He’s come to learn when she feels uncomfortable, and she’s never shown any signs of discomfort during said topics.

“And it would be freeing if I didn’t have a friend staying with me that often forgets to knock on my bedroom door before storming in,” she chuckles dryly, wondering if her words would rile him up or not. 

She doesn’t know why they would. 

She figures it’s all just harmless banter between the two; a little bit of flirtatious teasing to loosen them up when things get a little stressy. She’s dead certain someone as successful as him would never actually want anything romantic with his fucking assistant.

His brows raise higher than before, can feel his hand ball into tightly clenched fists and he clears his throat, gritting his teeth behind a hard smile. “Oh? You’ve got a friend staying with you?” he asks in a soft tone that doesn’t suggest he’s pissy that her friend gets to see her naked and between her sheets. 

He wonders what else she does naked between the sheets in the dead of night when she can’t sleep. 

She nods, soft hum verberating in her closed mouth as she types something quickly on her computer. “Yeah, he just broke up with his girlfriend so he’s staying at mine until he can get his stuff out and move into the new flat he’s found.” She watches him inhale a shaky breath through his flared nostrils and avert his gaze to the wall behind her.

She’s got a glimmer of a smirk on her lips, eyes light and playful but he doesn’t notice that. Rhysand’s too caught up with the newfound knowledge that it’s a male friend that’s walking in on her naked. 

She wonders if he’s imagining her naked in bed… or maybe entertaining the idea of her fucking her friend one night when he walks in on her. She thinks that might be it but it doesn’t explain why he looks royally pissed… dare she say; jealous?

She tilts her head when he looks back down at her, jaw still set and he clears his throat, seemingly trying to cool himself down. His elbows are bent as his forearms rest on the top of his desk, his back arched just slightly. 

“Not got anyone else he can stay with? What did they break up for?” he pushes further, hopes she’ll turn around and say it’s because he realised he’s gay. She doesn’t.

Instead, Y/N shrugs her shoulders and her elbow leans on the desk, her chin sitting in the palm of her hands as she gazes up at him leaning on the second level of her station. 

“Things weren’t working, he didn’t wanna be tied down just yet. Wanted to have a bit of fun before settling.” She can see the gears in his head turn and tick away as he hums absentmindedly.

She tries not to squint at him, to gauge his reaction and decipher what the meaning behind his distant gaze is. She tries not to look too closely into his blushing cheeks and set jaw. She tries not to let herself fantasise about him being jealous and wanting her to himself. She tries, but it doesn’t work.

Rhysand hums, nodding as if he gets it and maybe he does. She knows all about his one night stands and sleepless nights at the strip clubs he frequents. She also knows about the countless booty calls that tend to frequent his office, only for him to ask her to call security to escort the women out. 

And she absolutely should not find great joy in watching them huff as security links their beefy arms in their dainty ones, but she does.

Y/N thinks she keeps that secret to herself, but more times than not, Rhysand’s seen the hint of a smirk tug at the corner of her lips when he leans on the doorframe of his office. He knows she doesn’t notice him watching her, he likes knowing she thinks he doesn’t see things. He sees it all.

“Well hopefully he’ll be out of your hair soon enough,” he proposes and she has a sneaky suspicion that he’s subtly asking how long he’ll be staying with her. Which is exactly what he’s doing. Y/N hums again and shrugs her shoulders. 

“Actually, I don’t mind him being there, I quite enjoy the company. Gets a bit lonely in the evenings sometimes, to be honest,” she baits.

She watches with a small smirk as Rhys inhales a deep and hollow breath, bowing his head a little so his chin almost rests against his black tie, his jaw knocking against his shirt collar. She doesn’t know where this sudden confidence is coming from. Can she even call it confidence? She isn’t flirting, just baiting him to gauge his reactions.

“Don’t fancy going out with your girlfriends?” He tries to steer away from the topic of other men in her life, but Y/N isn’t finished just yet. 

“Sometimes, on the weekends, sure. But it gets a bit annoying when guys don’t know how to take a hint and keep trying to hit on you all night,” she sighs in fake annoyance and she’s certain she sees red flash through Rhysand’s eyes.

She lets herself think he’s jealous, protective. The thought of her boss thinking of her in a sexual manner and hating the idea of other men being in her home or hitting on her is exciting. It’s a thrilling rush of blood that causes tingles between her thighs and has her pressing them together beneath her desk.

Rhysand’s none the wiser. His fists clench at the image of another man dancing up her but his cock bloats at the thought of her dancing on a night out. No doubt in a short and tight dress. He knows tonight he’ll let himself think he can feel the swell of her ass rubbing against his crotch, let himself think he can taste her lips on his tongue.

He doesn’t say anything else and Y/N thinks he’s thoroughly fucked in his head. “Well, I’ve emailed over your schedule for the morning. Have a good day, Rhys.”

//

Through the rest of the morning, Rhysand struggles to focus on anything that isn’t her. He’s had two conference calls and for both video meetings from his office, he’s been leaned over in his chair with a strained neck, trying to catch sight of what she’s doing at her desk through the thin window in his door. 

He was more than thankful when the calls ended because when she sat on her knees on her chair and leaned over the top of the desk, her tits almost spilled out of her blouse and Rhysand spent the rest of the hour sporting a rock hard boner.

He thinks she’s doing it on purpose when she comes into him after her lunch break. She’s taken her hair out of her ponytail and it falls in loose waves down her shoulders. 

She enters his office with her hands full of paperwork that just so happen to stop beneath the swell of her breasts so they’re able to sit on the pile; all perky and swollen. She’s got a shy smirk on her lips, too. Like she knows she’s taking her end of the teasing a little further and she lets out a little huff of relief after she plops them onto his desk.

Rhys doesn’t try to hide his stare on her chest and she wonders if he catches her staring at the thick bulge in his pants. Neither parties say anything to the other but as their eyes meet, it’s like an unspoken understanding is pieced together. 

A silent acknowledgement that they both know what the other is doing and that they’re more than okay with it. Like all lines between them are completely blurred and any boundaries are ready to be pushed aside.

He watches her hips sway as she leaves his office, closing the door behind her when she leaves. His neck cranes again as he leans to his side in his swivel chair, watching her type something on her computer through the window again. 

Her brows are furrowed softly as she stands and rounds her desk, meeting his gaze through the thin glass and walking past his office completely. He tries to watch her but she disappears from his line of sight and an email pings through his laptop.

Y/N: Meet me in the copy room.

He’s leaping out of his chair before he can even push himself away from his desk. His strides are long and quick as he rips his office door open and slams it closed behind him. He clears his throat and avoids the gaze of his employees, ignores the ogling looks he earns from the women he knows touch themselves to the thought of him late at night.

Rhysand sneaks his way into the copy room, kicking the door closed behind him. She stands in front of him, leaning against the copier with a flirtatiously shy smile. He reaches blindly behind him and twists the lock, his bottom lip taut between his teeth as he ogles her shamelessly. She feels shy under his gaze, knowing he doesn’t care to hide how attracted he is to her.

She doesn’t have time to feel awkward or rake her brain for something to say because he’s rushing toward her and with both large hands caressing her cheeks, his lips are smearing against hers. 

Y/N reaches up and tangles her fingers in his messily styled hair, twisting the curls and tugging softly. His hands leave her face in desperation as they pinch at her hips before rounding her body and squeezing deliciously at her ass.

She tastes like strawberries; her tongue swirling against his. His mind is swimming and all he wants to do is taste her little honey pot, wants to know if she tastes as sweet down there as she does on her tongue. 

She’s no better. His tongue works skilfully against her, licking into her warm mouth and nibbling softly at her bottom lip. She can’t help but suckle filthily on his tongue, wishing to God she was on her knees as he fucks her mouth.

Both of their minds are hazy; like everything they feel is overwhelming and yet not enough all at once. Y/N feels the pulsing between her thighs, can feel her little lace panties soaking up her arousal and Rhysand’s cock is painfully hard in his pants—knows his tip is fucking leaking and no doubt a delicious purple shade.

“God, I‘ve been wanting to do this for so long,” he admits gruffly into her mouth, grabbing handfuls of her ass over her skirt but it’s too tight for him to spread her cheeks like he fucking needs to. 

Y/N whimpers into his mouth and he hikes her up and onto the desk, just beside the copier machine. He rolls her skirt up her thighs until it’s bunched tightly around her waist. Her clothed pussy sits against the cold wood and she shudders, tugging him between her spread legs.

“Why didn’t you?” She breathes heavily into the kiss. 

His hands are gripping at her thighs; the cool metal of his rings sending chills through her body and she’s desperately stripping him from his suit jacket. He groans, hands rushing back up to her face to cup her jaw while he struggles to fight against her to keep his jacket on. 

He kisses her lips and pulls away, mind foggy but he wants to take his time with her, not have a quick fuck in the copy room and never again after that.

“Didn’t know if you wanted it, too,” he breathes, warm breath fanning across her lips and she reaches up blindly to kiss him again. Her eyes are hooded, lips swollen, and Rhysand’s fucked at the sight of her. 

“I do want to, if it wasn’t already obvious,” she groans shyly, a heavy heat sitting on her cheeks and he chuckles, ego inflating as his cock pulses in his pants.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby,” he promises and her eyes light up before she lets him finish his sentence. “But not here, not now. I want to take my time with you,” he rumbles through his chest, cupping her cheeks again and Y/N pouts breathlessly, her once confident demeanour slowly shifting and she feels a little small under his gaze.

“Fuck me now and take your time with me later,” she bargains, not even the slightest bit ashamed of how forward and desperate she’s letting herself seem. 

He’s no better. The second the words slip from her lips, he’s kissing her again; harder than before. It’s desperate; needy and raw. His fingers are tugging her shirt down and her breasts spill over and out of her bra.

Y/N’s head falls back as he tweaks a taut nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and twisting as he continues his assault down her lean neck. She’s letting breathy whimpers slip past her lips as her head rolls against her shoulder. Y/N scratches at his back, tugging off his suit jacket and he throws it across the boxed room.

Rhys dips his head from her neck, kissing across her clavicle and nipping at her collarbones. He massages hungry open-mouthed kisses across the swell of her tits, circling her pearled nipple with his skilled tongue and she shudders as he envelopes his lips around it, suckling softly and flicking his tongue.

“Rhys,” she breathes in a wanton pant. 

He feels his cock bloat at the sound of his name slipping past her lips in a desperate whimper. Hearing her shudder his name as he latches on her nipple is something he didn’t know he needed to hear.

“Best tits I‘ve ever seen,” he mumbles as he pulls off her with a kiss to her areola, biting at her cleavage. 

Y/N’s fingers are desperately fumbling with his tie, tugging it loose and popping open a few buttons. Rhysand doesn’t give her the time or chance to open more than two before he’s shoving her tiny lace panties to the side and swirling his middle finger through her dripping folds.

Rhys groans at the feel of her; soft and warm, completely fucking drenched. The tip of his finger teases at her hole, swirling around her soaked folds but she wants more, needs it. He seems to sense her desperation because, without a second longer of anticipation, he pushes his finger in and massages at her squishy walls.

He splutters pathetically against her chest, his grip on her hip tightening as he slowly pumps his digit in and out of her dripping heat. 

“Oh shit, you’re so tight,” he groans, completely fucking mesmerised by the way her little pussy is clenching onto him. 

He wonders if his cock will even fit. She shudders breathlessly, thighs willing to clench shut but he doesn’t let them.

His fingers are much longer than hers; hitting deeper than she’s ever able to in the dead of night when she can’t sleep. Her head falls back and Rhysand latches his lips onto her neck, pulling out so his fingertip rests at her hole before he lunges back in with a second digit.

They’re twisting in a ‘come hither’ motion, pads of his fingertips massaging at her squishy spot and she’s quivering and trembling under his touch. Her clit feels like it’s on fire, angry and desperate from the neglect it’s facing so she sneaks a hand between their bodies, holding her weight on one arm as she leans back, and offers herself a pinch of relief.

It’s a filthy fucking sight for Rhys to be privy to; watching her little fingers rub deliciously at her soaked, swollen clit. He’s painfully hard but fuck, he wants to see her cum all over his hand before he releases his bloated cock. 

“Fuck, Rhysand… oh shit,” she’s gasping frantically, legs twitching and toes curling.

He can’t help but wonder how long it’s been since someone last touched her this good. He’s only had his hands on her for a couple of minutes and he can feel how close she is to her tipping point, how badly she needs to explode. He wonders if he’s about to make her cum harder than she ever has before.

She’s getting loud, too vocal for them to get away with the quick rendezvous they’re playing at. It’s when he tests the waters and scissors his fingers before picking up his pace that she falls uncontrollable with the desperate cries and filthy whines. 

He has no other choice than to shove her until her back is pressed against the desk and he’s leaning over her trembling body to press a hand over her mouth.

Y/N’s muffled moans vibrate against his palm and he watches the delicious sight with a deep hunger in his eyes. His teeth are gritted, breaths and grunts seething between them at the sight of her tits bouncing across her chest. 

“Cum, gonna cum!” he hears her muffled voice beg into his hand, a smug grin tugging helplessly at the corners of his lips and he coaxes it out of her.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me. Gonna cum all over my fingers like a good girl? My good girl?” he spurs her on, eyes rolling at the sensation of her tiny pussy spasming around his thick fingers and fuck, he’s sure he’s about to cum in his pants over it.

Y/N thrashes against the table, chasing her high as he finger fucks her through it. The sounds are obscene; muffled pleas and filthy squelching noises that sound from her messy cunt.

He slows his pace and lets her calm from her orgasm, nosing through her chest and he smears his parted lips across her tits, his tongue sitting on his bottom lip as he does so. Rhysand suckles gently on her pearled nipple as he moves his hand from her mouth and she’s tangling her fingers in his hair, deep breaths causing her chest to ripple.

Y/N’s eyes are fluttering, dazed and overwhelmed and they both know her legs are still trembling in the after-shock. She’s still desperate, though – inhibitions out the window and she no longer wants to play coy or hard to get. She wants his cock and she wants it shoved so deep inside of her that she won’t be able to walk for weeks.

“Please,” she murmurs through half-lidded eyes. Rhys’ brows furrow gently as he pulls off her chest, licking his lips and trying to chase her wanton gaze. When he finally does, he notices just how flushed and fucked she is. He’s a little taken back, if he’s honest. He knows the effect he has on women in the bedroom, but none quite like this for a quick fingerbang in the copy room.

Rhysand reaches for her face, cupping her jaw in his palm and she finally meets his eyes. She’s blinking back rose-tinted hues of arousal to try and see him clearer, but even when her vision isn’t stained with lust, he still looks ravishing and it’s painful.

“Please, what, Miss Y/L/N?” he teases.

Rhysand’s got a sick grin on his face at the way her entire body shudders at his tone and choice of words. She’s a whimpering mess again but he’s barely got his hands on her – one on her hip and the other cupping her jaw. 

“Use your words,” he coaxes. Her lashes flutter angelically across her cheekbones and her lips blabber open and closed like a helpless fish out of water.

“Fuck, need you inside of me. Want your cock.” Y/N’s shuddering at her own choice of words. She’s always loved a bit of dirty talk but not once has it ever really come into play with past partners and if she’s honest, she feels way too shy and filthy. But she fucking loves it.

She loves the way he takes a deep breath – the way he growls to himself to try and fix his composure. She thinks he’s about to give into her, pound her raw and have her sobbing for more, baby, please, I need more! But what she gets is the complete opposite.

Rhysand’s lips hover over her ear, nosing at her neck on his way up before he’s nibbling his way across her jaw until his lips ghost hers.

“Not when you’re so fucked out, Princess. Let me come home with you tonight, back to your place. I’ll be your company,” he nips at her bottom lip, nosing at her jaw again and her head flutters back for a moment, eyes rolling. 

“My place? But my – my friend is there…” she trails off breathlessly, struggling to keep her grip on reality when Rhys begins to suck a bruise against her neck.

He pulls away with a sly grin, eyes hooded and dark and her lashes flutter as she drinks him in. He reaches forward and nips at her bottom lip again. “I know.”

//

She’s nervous as she climbs into his car. He insisted he drive them home and back to work tomorrow morning, which means he plans on staying the night and Y/N is not opposed to that in the slightest. 

But her nerves are getting the best of her when he reaches across the console and lets his hand rest on her thigh, squeezing generously and gnawing on his own bottom lip.

Her mind is working so hard on overdrive that she can’t even focus on one thing to worry about. Rhysand on the other hand, has one thing on his mind and one thing only. Her. 

Excitement is rushing through his veins and he’s sure he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. Blood is rushing to his thick cock and all he can think about is her sweet pussy and how it’ll taste when he has her sitting on his face; the only seat she’ll ever want and need.

They make it to her townhouse in no time and she’s clambering out of the car before he has the chance to switch the engine off. He knows she’s just as nervous as she is excited but he doesn’t say anything on the matter – at least, not yet. 

He follows her up the steps to the door, arms shaking around her waist and he kisses across the exposed expanse of her neck, flicking his tongue over the fresh bruise that’s darkened as the day dwindled on.

Neither of them seem to care that it’s still partly daylight and wandering eyes are no doubt watching on with sickening glances and judgemental stares. Y/N struggles to unlock the front door, too busy trying not to roll her head back in pleasure and anticipation. She loosens up a little as he licks wet stripes up her neck, nibbling on the tender skin and the second the door is open, he’s pinning her against it as it slams shut behind them.

His mouth is on her neck, suckling and licking his way up to her jaw, nipping at the curved edge before he licks across the shell of her ear. “Gonna have you dripping on my cock and screaming in my mouth, Princess,” he promises. His tone is dirty, dark and raspy and Y/N’s thinks she’s ready to submit to absolutely anything he fucking wants.

She’s pathetic, really – nodding frantically – eager to please. She doesn’t make an effort to hurry them to her bedroom. She’s too caught in the moment Rhysand thinks he wants to have her friend catch her being fucked roughly against her front door, let him know she’s already being treated as good as it fucking gets.

“Please, Rhys. Need it so bad, please,” she blabbers wetly. 

He kisses her quickly; hot and sticky. Their tongues are dancing a frantic rhythm but their lips still manage to mould and fit like puzzle pieces. Rhysand’s hands are hot on her waist, trailing up her body until he cups beneath the swell of her pretty tits.

“Please, what? What do you need, my love?” he coaxes, suckling on her bottom lip and she’s got half a mind to push him to his knees and hike her thighs over his shoulders. But she doesn’t have the will power or the guts and she’d much rather him dominate the absolute shit out of her.

His demeaning tone has her shaking – nimble fingers trying to tug and claw at the expensive blazer of his suit. She doesn’t know if it excites or frustrates him, but it does spur him on to tear her pretty blouse open and rip her bra in two. 

He ignores her shriek of shock and latches his wet mouth to her tit, sucking her hardened nipple between his lips and rolling his tongue across it.

Y/N’s head rolls back and knocks against the front door, wanton whimpers and yelps shrieking from her throat. Rhysand spares no expense – he’s grunting and moaning, coursing vibrations and shrills through her body that has her pulsing core blazing. She feels like she’s on fire and Rhysand feels like a starving man that’s finally about to eat a three course meal.

First, he’ll make her cum with his fingers. Then with his cock. And for dessert, he’ll have her on his face while he laps up everything else she has to offer. But Rhys doesn’t take into consideration that maybe she wants to taste him, too.

“Need your cock in my mouth.”

The filthy admission takes him back and for a split second, he’s stunned. Rhys halts his attack on her chest and leans back to get a proper look at her. Y/N’s eyes are blazing a fiery red, one that screams need and touch. She’s fucked, utterly. Messy hair and smeared lip gloss across the lower half of her face.

His own eyes are hooded as he watches her very slowly slide down the door. Her knees are bending and he knows what’s coming, what she’s trying to do. Rhysand has half a mind to stop her, to remind her who’s in charge and that he just wants to taste her, to make her feel good. 

The other half tells him to tear out her hair band and hold her hair and head in place with his fist, tells him to let her stuff her mouth with his length by the front door and pray and hope her friend just so happens to be home.

Her shaky hands are unbuckling his belt, tugging down his zipper. Her knees hit the entrance carpet and she reaches back behind her to tug her hair completely loose from her elastic. Rhysand watches, chin meeting his chest, as she massages out the kinks before throwing it over her shoulder.

He can’t stop staring at her as she tugs his pants down just enough to palm over the thick and hard bulge in his boxers. He makes no effort to bite back a grunt and the soft whine that follows. Rhys’ eyes are on her but she’s got her gaze focussed on his clothed cock.

Y/N leans forward, nosing at his thick length. Her mouth is parted; bottom lip dragging a wet strip across the expensive, cotton material as she makes her way up for the little strip of thin hairs that dust down to his sweet spot. When she gets to the top of the elastic, her tongue slips from her mouth and a bold, wet stripe is licked fatly up to his bellybutton.

She feels him shudder, hands on the fronts of his thighs and they creep up to the waistband of his boxers. Rhysand’s got one hand tangled in her hair, blunt nails scratching at her scalp and the other is leaning against her front door, supporting his crushing weight up.

“Are you gonna take all of me, baby?” he coaxes. 

Spit begins to well in her mouth as she tugs his boxers down and she’s finally face to face with her boss’ thick, long cock. He’s massive, that much she’s certain of and the way his tip glistens an angry pink proves he’s just as eager as she is. She wonders if he’s been as hard since the copy room earlier today.

Rhysand’s tugging at her hair, trying to get her to focus on the situation at hand rather than ogling at his cock. He usually wouldn’t mind, but right now he’s far too desperate to be lodged down her warm throat to think about anything else. His cock twitches as it slaps at his lower abdomen, leaving damp trails of precum in his tip’s wake.

It’s standing tall when Y/N leans forward on her knees. She’s got her palms bracing her weight on his thick thighs and her tongue sits on her bottom lip, licking a bold and wide strip up the entire eight inches of his thick length. Rhysand’s grunting when her tongue swirls around his head before she’s suckling the soft flesh into her mouth.

Her cheeks are softly hollowed and gentle hums of approval sound around him at the salty taste that sits heady on her tongue. Her lips are stretched around his puffy head, the actual width of him nearly choking her but fuck, if she doesn’t love it with every ounce of her dirty little soul.

She’s got those innocent doe eyes staring up at him while she suckles on his length. Relaxing her throat to take him a little deeper, Y/N pumps in a firm fist what she can’t fit; twisting her wrist. 

Rhys can’t keep his fucking eyes off her – puffy lips swollen and stretched and if he sees another dribble of saliva drip from her lips and down the valley of her tits, he’s gonna cum straight down her throat.

“Fuck, such a good mouth. So fucking good, Princess,” he goads. 

He’s gnawing hard on his bottom lip, mouth salivating at the sight of his pretty little secretary on her knees with her mouth stuffed with his cock. Rhysand can’t help his ego from inflating when she lets him guide his hips until he hits the back of her throat, choking her lightly and she splutters around his length.

It’s filthy – the noises her mouth and his cock are making – but Rhysand’s living for it. Pools and dribbles of saliva and precum are spilling and bubbling from the corners of her mouth and the swells of her tits are soaked from it alone. She’s comfy on her knees now and takes her free hand from his thigh to tug his pants and boxers down further.

She’s picked up her pace, sucking harder and fisting the few inches she can’t take. Y/N’s hand snakes further down and reaches around a little until she’s cupping and massaging his aching balls, coaxing the release she knows he’s about to give her. His taste is getting saltier on her tongue and his hips are staggering with each gentle thrust he offers into her throat.

Rhys’ grip on her hair is hard and tight, knuckles bumping at her skull as he tries to drill her head closer to him, to force more of him down her throat. As much as she tries to relax herself, she can’t take him all and she wants nothing more than to bury her nose in the short hairs that lead from his bellybutton to his shaft.

“Such a good girl for me. Sucking me so fucking well, gonna cum,” he warns and praises the young woman and she comes off him with a frantic gasp. 

Her eyes are watering and his cock is soaked, but that doesn’t stop her from spitting the rest of his arousal on his length and pumping him as quickly as she can.

She’s got that confidence about her again as she focuses on his tip, fisting both hands around his throbbing cock as she smears her swollen lips across his sensitive head. She smacks it against her tongue, offering hollow sucks to guide him over the edge.

Rhys’ got his forehead resting against the door and he’s grunting and groaning, biting back animalistic moans. He can’t wrap his head around it, the most sloppy and incredible blowjob he’s ever had. 

“Wanna taste it. Cum, Rhysand,” she whines greedily, one hand leaving his cock to tear her blouse open just enough for her tits to spill out of it. “Cum all over my tits, baby.”

His orgasm washes over him with a heady grunt and hot spurts of white ribbons that smother her tits perfectly. She’s standing on her knees, using the tip of his aching cock as a paintbrush to smear his cum across her lustful chest. He’s smashing his head against the door, trying to blink away the orgasmic-bliss he’s been thrown in and take a grip of reality again.

When he finally looks down at her, stepping back a little from the door, he’s panting and twitching and she’s licking her lips clean. Y/N’s got that innocent sparkle sitting in her eyes again. Rhysand has to shake his head and let out an exasperated laugh. He’s smoothing down her tangled and matted hair and guiding her back to her feet.

“So fucking sexy,” he groans when he takes note of her cum-smothered tits. 

His lips are smearing against hers greedily, and there’s something so exciting and erotic about tasting himself on her sweet tongue. Her hands are soaked and sticky but she still tangles them in his hair to kiss him harder.

She’s too fucking horny to feel shy or embarrassed about what she’s just done against her front door. “Gonna fuck me now? Thought you promised me you’d fuck me with your cock?” she whispers tauntingly against his lips and he grins, still completely fucked out.

Even though he’s painfully hard again, he doesn’t have it in him to sheath himself in her tight little cunt just yet. He’s got stamina, but his poor cock can’t recover from a blinding orgasm like that too quickly. He nods, hands on her ass and he’s groping like a starved man. 

“And I will, Princess. But you got a taste of me, it’s only fair I get a taste of you, don’t you think?” he teases.

She’s putty in his hands, though – nodding breathlessly as her nose bumps his. She can feel his hard cock against her middle and he gives her pert ass a spank, enticing a high whine from her raw lips. 

“Suppose you better show me to your room then, my love… unless you want your friend to come and watch?” he offers, like he wouldn’t be opposed in the slightest.

If Rhysand’s honest, maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d gladly let her friend watch him absolutely ruin her tight cunt.

“Put your cock in your pants,” she breathes, the firm order doing nothing but coaxing dribbles of precum from his dick. He shoves himself back in his boxers but makes no attempt to button up his trousers while she covers her chest again.

Y/N’s got her hand in his as she leads him up the steps of her townhouse, hips swaying more than usual and Rhysand knows, but he’s too horny to tease her for it. All he can think about is having that ass sat on his face and he’s salivating at the thought of her taste.

He doesn’t take in the decor on the walls or the frilly rug on the floor of the hall. He doesn’t even take in the style of her bedroom when she shoves him inside and kicks the door closed. Rhysand, instead, is too busy tearing her blouse open and ignoring the buttons skidding across her oak floors.

She’s no better, eager to get him naked and claw at his tattooed chest. They’re both naked in seconds, hands all over the other in a desperate attempt to get off. She’s guiding him to her bed, tits in his face and he paws at her breasts as she straddles his lap. She expects him to pin her down, to devour her little cunt but he doesn’t.

He kisses her lips and grips her thighs – laying on his back with his head on her pillow and tugging her up his body and she starts to get the hint when she stops on his chest. Rhysand’s frowning, kneading at her thighs and jutting his chin in the air a little.

“Told you I wanted a taste, now come and sit on your throne, Princess.” She’s giddy with excitement and arousal, head cloudy and she lets him guide her up the rest of his body. 

Her entire pussy is slick and swollen when her knees rest either side of his head. He loops his arms around her legs and rests his hands on her ass, squeezing and massaging her cheeks.

“Fucking look at you, baby. So wet and so soft,” he coos, craning his head up to suck bruises on her thighs. Y/N’s got her fingers tangled in his messy dark locks and when he spreads her ass apart, she falls a little and her soaked cunt sits on his face.

Rhysand’s mouth wastes no time, sucking and licking and nibbling at her hole and clit. He’s swirling wet strokes through her folds, deep and long. Her sweet scent is heavy on his tongue and he’s got his eyes squeezed shut in pure bliss. Y/N is a mess above him – head thrown back and fingers tugging at his unruly locks.

“Oh my God,” she whines, breathing erratically but Rhysand’s having the time of his life. 

She shudders as he brings a hand down on her ass, her meaty flesh jiggling before he’s grabbing it again and pulling her apart and further up his face. He’s got a knot in his brow, tongue circling at her weeping hole and he can’t get enough of her taste.

“So good, so fucking good. Don’t stop,” she begs, desperate and eager. 

Rhys lets his tongue trail up the length of her pussy until the flatness of his tongue is rubbing at her swollen clit, enticing moan after filthy moan to slip from her silky tongue. He wraps his mouth around her little nub, sucking and nibbling and she’s seeing stars.

Y/N can’t seem to catch her breath and she’s rolling her hips on his face like she fucking owns him. Rhysand comes off her clit with a little pop, open-mouthed kisses smeared over her dripping cunt and he sucks a swollen lip into his mouth, biting teasingly and she gasps into the dim room.

Her nipples have puckered in the cool air and one hand leaves his head to tweak and pinch at one of the neglected nubs. She’s trembling on his face, thighs clenching around his head as he kneads and spanks at her ass. Rhysand’s grunting deliciously into her cunt, sending vibrations through the woman’s core and egging her on.

He knows she’s close, knew he wouldn’t have to be between her thighs for too long after she came so quickly from his fingers earlier in the copy room, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t gladly spend hours devouring her. She’s sweet – sweeter than he hoped and expected – and it’s better than any feeling he’s ever had before. Sweet like watermelon with a tangy hint.

It’s fucking intoxicating and when she cums, it only tastes better. “I’m cuming, oh shit, oh God…” Y/N can’t think straight. 

Her vision is blinding by streaking light that blocks her sight and the wanton and borderline pornographic moans are music to Rhysand’s ears. She’s shaking, body jolting and when Rhys opens his eyes to watch her unravel on his tongue, all he sees is her head rolling back and the underswell of her tits bouncing before her back coils and she hunches into herself.

He’s lapping her of every single last drop she has, desperate to have her taste lingering on his tongue for as long as he possibly can. His cock is overly bloated and sticky as precum sticks to his lower abdomen but maybe his ego is even more bloated, knowing he didn’t even have to use his fingers to get her quivering and begging above him.

“Fuck,” she gasps in a slow drawl. 

Her voice is deep and raspy, like she’s seething as she tries to catch her breath and stop the shakes from taking over in her post-orgasmic state. Rhysand’s kitten licking her softly, moving his head to bite playfully at the thickness of her inner thighs and he traces over a soft, faded stretch mark with his tongue.

“Sweetest fucking pussy I‘ve ever tasted,” he groans in approval. 

Rhys maneuvers them both so she’s pressed against the mattress, and even in her fucked-out, overly-blissed state, she’s still whining and eager for his cock again. She’s insatiable and Rhysand can’t help the amused chuckle that slips from his lips.

“So fucking desperate, Princess,” he taunts.

He takes a moment to admire her, take her all in. Her pussy is swollen, soaked still and he can almost see her clit pulsing as her hole clenches. Her chest is rattling in deep breaths and her eyes are lidded heavily as she creeps her foot up his thigh, reaching for his hard cock.

He hums appreciatively, spreading her bent knees open and crawling between her legs again. He’s got a hand resting by her head to support his weight – the other gripping her chin in his hold and he forces her mouth open as he lets saliva well in his mouth.

She gets the hint, knows what he’s about to do and she’s desperate to get a taste of herself from him. Y/N’s tongue falls out flat on her bottom lip, eyes a little wider and she holds his firm gaze when he spits on her tongue and forces her mouth closed again. 

The sweetness of her arousal is heavy in her mouth and she swallows what he offered before her lips part again and her tongue is licking up at his stubbly chin, reaching for his lips.

Rhysand’s eyes are blazing, dick twitching against her thigh and he kisses her hard, teeth clashing and tongues dancing an uncoordinated rhythm, but it works. Y/N suckles on his tongue as he groans, pinching at her nipple before he reaches down to palm his cock some.

“Need to get a condom,” he breathes into her mouth but she’s shaking her head. He leaves his cock and reaches for her cunt, attending to her fiery clit that’s far too sensitive but she welcomes the touch, nonetheless. 

“Wanna feel you,” she admits, no shame in the embarrassingly desperate statement and Rhysand thinks he’s about to fucking explode on her cunt before he even gets a proper feel of it.

He wants to, needs to feel her slick and velvety walls hug and suck him in, wants to be consumed by her heat and arousal but even in his lust-filled state, his brain is still turned on. He shakes his head painfully. 

“Next time,” he offers, doesn’t miss the way Y/N’s eyes light up at the insinuation but she nods with a desperate, laboured breath.

She reaches to her side for her nightstand, retrieving a foil packet from the top drawer and she rips it open with her teeth before Rhysand can take it from her. His eyes are wide when she tugs it from the packaging and reaches down for his cock. She pinches the tip of the condom and rolls it over his thick head, sliding it slick down his shaft and he’s grunting in pleasure over the act.

“Fuck. You’re so sexy,” he mutters gruffly against her lips and she whimpers, eyes rolling back at the sheer tone of his voice. Her legs are spread wide as he reaches for his cock and rubs himself up and down her folds a few times.

Y/N’s giddy with excitement, pussy clenching in anticipation and he slowly rolls his hips forward, his fat tip nudging through the tight entrance ring of her pussy and she shudders a gentle shriek at the obvious intrusion.

“Oh, fuck!” she gasps out. 

Her chest is already heaving when he begins to sheath himself in, spreading her wide and drilling in deep. Y/N’s eyes have rolled to the back of her head and her toes have curled inwardly and just how much he’s filling her up.

Rhysand’s no better – teeth gritted and eyes clenched shut. His grip on her hips have his knuckles turning white but neither of them seem to mind the bruises that’ll be apparent in the morning. She’s tight around him, warm and slick and even with the condom, he can feel every pulse her pussy offers.

Rhys rolls his hips slowly, getting her used to his thick girth and generous length. Y/N’s clawing at his shoulders with each soft whine until his pace begins to pick up and the bed starts to rock. Her tits are bouncing on her chest, nipples hard and desperate for a good sucking.

He manoeuvres his body to lean his head down, biting on her hard nub and sucking. “Shit, you’re so fucking big, oh my God,” she praises through a strangled moan. He’s snapping his hips, grunting and smirking against her slobbery tits. 

His tongue is flicking over her nipple in quick strokes as his teeth bite softly but she’s keening at the blissful shoots of pain.

“Tight pussy, baby. Tightest fucking pussy I‘ve ever had.” He pops off her breast and smears his lips against hers. 

She can still taste him on her tongue and the feel of his lips on hers is overwhelming. His thick cock is brushing against all the good spots and she can’t wrap her head around how sex could ever feel this good.

“Faster, please, faster. Just like that,” she begs out through another broken moan. He’s seething through gritted teeth as he wills back his animalistic grunts, drills his hips in quicker thrusts and the wet squelches of his cock and her pussy is music to both of their ears.

“Hear that? Hear how fucking wet you are?” he teases, leaning back and shuffling until he’s on his knees between her quaking thighs. “Fuck, you fit me so fucking good, Princess.” He’s gnawing down on his bottom lip, likely drawing blood but he can’t bring himself to care.

Y/N’s got her head thrown back in her pillows, eyes rolled to the back of her head as her lashes flutter like angel wings. “This cunt was fucking made for me,” he growls through gritted teeth as he releases his lower lip. She’s nodding helplessly at his words, crying out in pure ecstasy at the filth he’s talking and she fucking loves it.

“All yours, Rhys. Pussy’s all yours,” she agrees quickly. 

Her voice is broken, high pitched and whiney. Rhysand thinks it’s borderline pornographic and it only makes his cock throb in her cunt. “Fuck,” he seethes, watching the way her full breasts bounce on her chest.

He lets his gaze avert to where they meet – where his thick cock is drilling into her cunt and fucking her into the mattress. He’s completely slick with every thrust that has his dick pulling out of her. His balls are slapping against her ass, slick with her wetness that leaks from her tight hole and even both their thighs are growing sticky from her arousal and their sweat.

Between them, they’re eager messes, desperate for a hot release and it’s haunting the both of them. Rhysand can feel her cunt clench tenderly around him and Y/N can feel his cock twitching between her soft walls. 

“Fuck, can feel you squeezing me baby, making you feel good, Princess?” He knows he’s making her feel fucking heavenly but the narcassist in him needs to hear that bit of praise.

She’s nodding frantically, eager to give him what he wants to hear. “Yes, fuck, yes! So good, Rhys. I love your cock, makes me feel so fucking full.” She’s moaning through every word, sentence broken by wanton cries and pornographic whines. She’s fucking filthy, dribble running down the corners of her lips as she speaks.

Rhysand’s fucked, can feel his release toppling close to the edge but he needs to feel her cum around him first. “Yeah? You like me buried in your tight little cunt, my love? Like feeling me in your fucking tummy?” He sets a firm palm across her stomach, adding just enough pressure to feel himself nudge at her lower abdomen and his head is spinning.

“More, please. I’m gonna fucking cum, Rhys. Make me cum on your cock, make me cum, please.” She’s begging through desperate tears and Rhysand’s ego is through the fucking roof. His eyes are rolling back at the sound of her broken pleads and he leans closer.

He’s got one hand holding his weight by her head, the other locking around her throat. He watches for a moment, still pounding into her, to see if she tells him to stop, tells him she doesn’t like that. But she reaches up and tightens his hold on her throat and her other hand snakes between them to rub feverishly at her swollen clit.

“Harder,” she demands, voice steady and dark and there’s a primal instinct that washes over Rhysand that tells him to fucking obliterate her. He’s choking her as his cock tears into her, weeping in the condom and Y/N’s sobbing beneath him.

Her thighs begin to tremble, eyes rolled right back and she feels like she’s floating. “I’m cuming! Rhys, I’m gonna cum!” Her body convulses under his touch and waves of bliss roll over her. She’s cumming around his cock, shaking and sobbing and whining like a dirty little girl and Rhysand’s living for it.

He fucks her through her state of bliss, grip still tight on her throat until he feels her calm down and he’s ready to explode. Even in her blissed out state, Y/N knows what she wants. She suckles on his thumb as he grips her jaw and takes her spare hand to push him back just enough to pull his cock out of her cunt.

With hooded eyes and swollen lips, she peels off the condom and tosses it to the side. Rhysand’s eyes are blown wide, brows knitted and even in her hazy state she can see how desperate his cock is for a relief.

He’s hissing when she wraps a hand around his wet length and lazily starts pumping his shaft. “If you can’t come in my pussy, I want your cum all over it.” His head falls back at the admission, cock twitching in her hand and it only takes a few futile pumps before she’s smearing his tip across her swollen clit and he’s cumming.

Hot ribbons of clear-ish cum paint her cunt, spilling across her folds and clit in desperate spurts. “Fuck, oh shit. So good, such a good fucking girl,” he’s praising in broken moans and wanton whines.

Y/N’s pussy clenches around nothing as she watches his thick cock slowly soften to one of a slightly smaller size. They’re both fucked out as Rhysand catches his breath and falls to her side, panting and heaving with a sweaty and heavy chest.

She can barely keep her eyes open, thighs still trembling from her post-orgasmic state and Rhysand’s trying to come to terms with what just happened. He’s too infatuated to scold himself for fucking a damn employee. For fucking his secretary.

He can hear her heavy breathing from beside her and he peeks a look, watching her eyes flutter as she stares up at her ceiling. He holds his breath in hopes of hearing any movement on the other side of the bedroom door but all he can hear is his heart hammering through his body.

He takes a heaving breath and looks back up at the ceiling. “You think your friend might’ve heard us?” He speaks up, breaking the silence. He hears her breath stagger and silence before she lets out an uneven sigh and he can feel her chest shaking.

Rhysand turns to her with pinched brows and she’s grinning with eyes squinted shut. “What? What are you laughing at?” She’s giggling again and Rhys sits up to get a better look at her. She’s thoroughly fucked out.

“I don’t have a friend staying with me,” she admits shyly through a broken laugh and it takes Rhysand a hot second to grasp onto what she’s just said. When he does, his eyes widen and jaw falls slack, smirk tugging on the corners of his parted lips.

Y/N turns to him, running a hand through his matted hair and she gnaws on her bottom lip, staring into his fucked out eyes. “Just wanted to try and get you in my bed,” she confesses.

They’re both grinning; Y/N letting out a squealed shriek as Rhysand pounces on top of her and pins her hands above her head, nosing and biting at her jaw and neck. His eyes are gleaming nothing but mischief as his nose knocks hers and he notices the fire in her eyes.

He nips at her lips. “You lied to me? To get me in your bed like I‘m some sort of cheap hooker?” He’s teasing her now and the banter has her stomach flipping. Y/N shrugs, feigning nonchalance, eyes blazing and she licks into his mouth. 

“Worked though, didn’t it?”

Rhysand pulls away from her lips just enough to see the look on her face. She’s shy under his gaze, innocent eyes staring up at him but there’s still that flash of filth and cheekiness that’s loitering behind them and when she gnaws on her bottom lip, Rhysand can’t help but feel completely fucked.

“You little minx.”

let me know what you thought!!

[just-jordie-things]

Hi! Idk if ur still doing the kiss prompts, but can I request number 65 for Inumaki? If ur not writing for the prompts anymore feel free to ignore this.

kiss prompt 65: one small kiss, pulling away for an instant, then devouring each other ___

"that was really stupid,"

you were a little upset.

"i mean, did you even fucking think? you're not an idiot. or maybe you are!"

you were a little more than upset.

toge could only sit on the cot of the cot in the infirmary, knowing no other help was coming to save him from your scolding, as it was the middle of the night and the place was pretty much abandoned at this time. it was only him and you. and you were storming around the place as you familiarized yourself with shoko's organization, trying to gather the supplies you needed to fix him up after an assignment gone awry.

he'd tried to assure you that he could tend to his own first aid, but you'd given him a sharp glare that told him to shut his mouth, sit down, and not argue.

"i've never seen something so reckless and so fucking pointless in my whole life," you're muttering as you slam cabinet doors and throw supplies one after another on the counter beside where toge sat. "you're lucky you're not dead, you know that?"

you don't look at him, despite his eyes following your every movement. you keep your head down, or you're too focused on finding something.

"salmon" he agrees quietly.

when you've finally gathered everything you needed to tend to the open gash on his arm, as well as the various smaller wounds covering his body, you walk back towards him. you still don't meet his eyes as you silently begin to soak a rag in rubbing alcohol. but he can see the deep frown pulling on your face.

he feels guilty- as well as a lot of pain- but the guilt sits heavier in his stomach. you have every right to be this angry with him. he had acted recklessly. but in his defense he'd been trying to protect you. the large slice on his shoulder would have been nothing compared to what would have happened had he not shoved you out of the way and taken the blow for himself.

you very well could've lost your head. and here you were fussing over a banged up arm that hurt now but would heal in a few weeks.

"this is really gonna hurt" you mumble before you began cleaning up the wound.

you're right, he hisses and shifts his weight around as you wipe away the excess blood and sterilize the wound as quickly as you can. you're just as uncomfortable seeing him in so much pain, and it makes your throat burn, but you keep yourself focused on cleaning him up to the best of your ability. you're no stranger to tending to wounds such as these.

you're still muttering in a scolding tone as you prep the needle. something about how much you hate doing stitches, how stupid he is for acting without thinking, how shoko should be the one here to fix him up, and toge takes it all with a grain of salt. even if he could speak, there wasn't anything he could say to ease your irritation.

but he hates it. he's seen you upset, but not like this, and never with him. his stomach churns with the discomfort of knowing you were so cross with him.

you warn him again before you begin stitching up the wound. but there's a hesitation in you as he braces himself, and he glances over to see that your hands are trembling. violently. your hands shake so much he's surprised you haven't dropped the needle, but you seem to have an iron grip on the small tool.

you still refuse to look at him, your eyes set hard on the wound that was going to start bleeding again if you didn't get your shit together.

"mustard leaf?" with his other hand, toge reaches towards you, tentatively resting his hand over yours, easing some of it's shake, but not completely. he still feels the tremors under his touch.

but almost as soon as he touches you, you're pulling your hand away from his grasp, letting out a long breath, and getting to work on stitching him up.

twelve stitches. you curse each one you knot up. twelve stitches that could've been avoided.

you're tying off the last one when he hears a small sound come from you that has him trying to get a better look at you, even though you're avoiding his gaze like the plague.

but then it happens again, a small choked sound comes from your throat and there's nothing you could do to cover it.

it was a whimper.

with furrowed brows, toge reaches for you again, this time firmly grabbing your hand. finally, you look up at him.

your eyes are filled with tears, and they're pouring down your cheeks in steady streams. his face contorts into one of unease, eyes flickering over your features in a hurried assessment to find what was wrong.

and when his hands began moving across your arms, trying to find where you were hurt, you shook your head, grabbing his wrists and moving them away before he could continue.

"i'm fine," you choke out, wiping the tears from your face. "it's you i'm worried about,"

his expression falls. you sniffle as you reach for the gauze on the counter, unrolling it a generous amount.

"it's just- just- why would you do that?" you mumble between quiet sobs. "you can't do that. you scared me, toge"

you're avoiding his eyes again, but he's staring at you with concern flooding his lavender eyes.

tears still fall off your lashes as you gingerly wrap the gauze around his arm. you've probably overdone it, but as the thought crosses your mind you give it two more loops, just to be secure.

when you're done, his hand catches yours again. you don't look at him. you shut your eyes and hang your head, wishing you had a stronger resolve than you did. you're still angry, but it's starting to melt into something else as reality settles in. had things gone worse... you don't want to think about it.

toge's other hand touches your chin, barely, but enough that you get the idea, and you look up at him again.

i'm sorry, he mouths the words out slowly so that he's sure you understood. you sigh, your shoulders falling heavy.

then he points to the bandage you'd applied, and you follow his gesture as he brings his finger to your clavicle, staring at you ardently, needing you to understand what he was trying to communicate.

for good measure, he drags the tip of his finger across the base of your neck, and then points again to the wound on his arm, and at you.

you sigh, shaking your head at his rough explanation. you pull his hand down away from you.

"that wouldn't have happened," you say quietly. "i had that under control, neither one of us would have"

"ikura" it's a curse, likely him calling bullshit. he tilts his head at you, staring at you with an expression you couldn't read as easily as you usually could.

"i'm sorry for yelling," you mumble. "i was just worried, that's all"

he gives you a small smile before shrugging his shoulders and shaking your head, likely trying to tell you he's fine. you huff, knowing fully well he was going to have a long night of pain and discomfort ahead of him still.

"salmon" he says with a reassuring smile.

you wince back at him.

he tugged on your hand, gently, but enough to make you shuffle forward. your face felt warmer the closer he drew you, pulling again and again until you're as close as he wanted you to be. your eyes are wide as they land on his, silently asking what he was doing, what he wanted.

his lips pull wider into a proper smile, and your gaze falls to the way a dimple forms in the center of the mark on his cheek. you have the urge to reach up and poke it, but you don't. there's a bruise that blooms too close to the spot, and you don't want to be the cause of anymore aching.

his fingertips touch your chin again, tilting your head until your eyes meet his again. you look forlorn, like you have a deep regret. he frowns at you as his index finger hooks under your chin.

"does it hurt?" you murmur quietly as your fingers tremble over his jaw.

toge shakes his head, a bold lie, everything hurts, but nothing about you could ever inflict pain on him.

he convinces you of this when he leans forward, only needing to move a small amount in order to touch his lips to yours.

you startle, remaining perfectly frozen before him at the new sensation. you and toge had always been very close, but you weren't kiss-each-other close. this was completely new, and unforeseen.

your eyes are still wide open when he pulls back all too soon, leaving the kiss chaste, and your lips tingling with the desire for more. even in that small, quick kiss, you understood him.

he gives you a small smile when he looks at you, as if cheekily asking if that made up for the stress he'd put you through tonight.

but you're already leaning back in, eyes falling shut this time as you slant your lips over his as though this wasn't a completely earth-shattering experience. he's still smiling against your mouth as you kiss him eagerly, trying to pour every last ounce of love and concern from your mouth into his.

your movements are gentle as you rest your hands over his shoulders, barely applying any pressure, too worried you'd catch a scrape or bruise in an unpleasant way. it makes your rushed series of kisses soft and sweet, but still you're breathing heavily by the time you pull away again, your forehead resting against his.

you'll scold him again later for being reckless. but for now you could share sweet smiles and sweeter kisses in between whispered confessions of fondness. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[antiquatedplumbobs]

Spring 1916

~an excerpt from Elsie Sewell's private diary~

Spring has arrived! The calendar has been saying it had been here for weeks, but today it really and truly made its presence known. The east field is awash with flowers and I simply had to stop and pick a bouquet, they had the sweetest scent and the most delicate yellow petals. Mamma was rather irritated that it made me a bit late coming home, but I can't very much see why. I was back with plenty of time to prepare supper (she had an Aide Society meeting) and the house smelled ever so sweet as I did. No one complained about my victual offerings either.

I am quite pleased to be done with the schoolhouse; sums and grammar were always ever so boring and pointless. It is ever so much better to spend the day with work that actually has to be done, rather than made up to torture us. I enjoy most housework, cooking and sewing in particular, but laundry... There's something about that specific task I have not yet resigned myself too.

I think we all have that particular chore that we dislike more than the others, though none of the adults will admit so to my face. Laundry is a necessary evil though, or we should all go around naked, as Adam and Eve did in the garden of Eden, and the climate her could never allow such an indulgence, so laundry we must do. 

It does feel good to be helping around the house more and take some of the burden off Mamma; I can't imagine how she did all this work on her own for years, it's quite a lot between the two of us. Despite my continued propensity to "dawdle" as Mamma puts it, she still sends me on all the errands, I think she likes having the house to herself just as much I like the walk into town. Sometimes Lydia accompanies me if her mother also needs something fetched.

The general store is the best store in town, it's filled floor to ceiling with everything you could ever need. Dottie's always mighty pleased to see us and if she's busy Mr. and Mrs. Greenfield are always so sweet to me. Sometimes Mr. Greenfield slips me penny candy in with my orders with a little wink.

Dottie, Lydia and I don't see each other as much as when we were in school, but now that we're older when we're finished with chores and housework we have so much more freedom to go on walks or sit down by the inlet. The sun hits the old dock down there in the afternoon and it's so pleasant, especially if there's a breeze coming off the water.

We chat about anything and everything; Dottie always has all the news of the town since she talks to just about everyone at the general store. Mamma says it's wrong to gossip, but she always says that after I've given her all the news. Lydia is such a hoot, she has the strongest opinions on everything and everyone. Just the other day she was informing (lecturing one might say) us on the proper etiquette for accepting a proposal; according to Mrs. Parr proper young ladies should never accept their first proposal, they must refuse and wait for the man to ask again, that's how she'll know he's serious and will make a good husband. Apparently she turned Mr. Parr down thrice. Dottie and I both thought that was completely silly. Mamma said yes to her first proposal and she seems quite content with her lot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

next / previous / first

[ambyandony]

Giorno Giovanna - Monster AU Profile

(hopefully screen-reader-friendly edition with detailed image descriptions)

Giorno Giovanna, part vampire, part... human..? and part... something else.

guest appearance from limbo because she's the only lycanthrope who was applicable to use

Preface about species type:

In the Monster AU, 'standard' vampires are a little more like traditional European folklore / pop-culture vampires. While some JoJo vampire rules still apply, so do many traditional vampire rules. Being only part-vampire also changes the rules somewhat. Usually to his benefit, making his vampirism-related weaknesses less potent against him. And there’s something else about him… he doesn’t seem to be a full 50% vampire and 50%…human.

His other behaviours seem consistent with a somewhat rare, rather misrepresented species… The Gentry.

Details related to Part-Vampirism:

Sunlight will not burn Giorno. It may slightly irritate his skin and eyes and will diminish a majority of his vampiric abilities when he is directly in it for too long, but it will not burn him.

He has little to no reaction to garlic. He’s just not that into it. This isn’t to say garlic necessarily has 0 effect on vampires (it’s mostly just an extreme irritant and deterrent, really), but it’s only about half as effective on him, and he’s lived in Italy since age four so he’s built up a tolerance.

Heightened sense of perception, especially in the presence of blood. In the presence of fresh blood, he becomes hyperaware.

Craves blood but probably can survive just fine without consuming it (he just won’t).

Automatic boost to charisma. Everybody agrees vampirism does this

Excellent regeneration ability. Stop cutting off your arms.

Has to stop to count spilt rice.

Can be around and make some contact with holy objects, but prolonged contact with them will cause him harm. He can be inside a church, but he tends to be inflicted with great discomfort or sometimes pain simply from stepping inside one.

Can be seen in mirrors! But only in some mirrors so he has to be careful. If it’s silver-backed, he can’t be seen. Silver-backed mirrors are less common nowadays (and by nowadays I mean also in 2001) but they’re still around so he has to be careful about mirrors in public places lest he out himself as a vampire.

Often has to be invited into a house. Or… perhaps just prefers to be?

Popular to contrary belief, he does have blood. His own blood usually doesn’t make him hyperaware though, as drinking his own blood would be completely pointless.

Details related to Faehood:

Seems very intent on people giving him their Names…

Occasionally steals your gender

Takes promises very seriously… and never breaks one. If he appears to do so, that’s on you. That’s something you did. You know who you are.

Sometimes looks a little… different. In a way you can’t quite place…

Seems to have an iron allergy. Which may be part of the reason he doesn’t presently drink blood despite his craving for it.

Details about Giorno:

Smug, pretentious, and a little bitch.

Snakey with wording and finds amusement when others are loose with theirs.

Is generally just proudly unfazed in most situations. He knows he’s powerful and thinks he’s invincible, in a perhaps rather childlike way.

Acts ominous, vague and mysterious but do keep in mind he is a 15 year old and a idiot

Very interested in Fugo because of the sheer audacity.

( sort of like "I like this one!"/"I would love to study you.")

When Giorno first met Fugo he was like “May I have your name? :)” and Fugo was like “no you cant have my fucking name you fucking dipshit” and Giorno was so taken aback by the sheer audacity that he just didn’t do anything about it and got attached to him

* and post part he keeps pestering Fugo like “can I have it now” “can I have your name now”

He likes messing with people. Especially Mista because he knows he can get away with it.

Doesn’t need blood but refuses to go without consuming (or complaining about not getting to) because he’s a little bitch.

Can theoretically fuck up technology by his mere presence if he’s not careful enough.

Holds people to their promises, even if they didn’t know they made one.

Good at charming people. Good at tricking people. Likes doing both.

shut up shut up shut up please shut the fuck up

Overdramatic and makes it everyone else’s problem. Occasionally sparkles, not because he’s a vampire, but because he’s a silly dramatic loser. Shimmers in the moonlight but it’s not clear if that’s possibly involuntary.

gender

[harrystylescherry]

A/N: i am finally back from the pits of...my life, where all i do is work and complete grad school homework. i have like 15 fics started but not finished--but this one got done in 2 days!! look, girls (me) just wanna have fun (erotic fantasies) okay? thanks

*warning: spanking/paddling, mild pain

what this is: pure smut tbh

word count: 7.1k

let me know what you think :)

MASTERLIST

“Come,” Harry’s voice was low, demanding, as he sat on the edge of the bed with his hands gripping the end of the mattress.

Your insides melted and heat spread between your thighs–but you weren’t in the mood to play the part of the submissive today. Although your boyfriend would argue that it wasn’t a part you were playing at all, but who you were deep down. And you hated that he was right. Because underneath your frustration was the need for him to not be upset with you, to please him, to ask for forgiveness.

But you had had a shitty day, one filled with pointless meetings that kept you from doing the work you were actually hired to do, and then got chewed out by your boss for not having met a deadline–one she told you not to worry about in favor of attending those stupid meetings. So you had worked late, hammering out a piece on the benefits of vitamin C, which was really just a regurgitation of all the other info that existed on the internet.

Harry had tried to comfort you, to rub your shoulders as you typed as fast as you could, sighs slipping so fast from your lips it sounded like a single, never ending sound. It was when he suggested, or more-like commanded, that you take a break and eat something that you snapped at him. At the time, you hadn’t really been thinking of the consequences. Especially since he brushed it off with a light squeeze of the back of your neck.

After you sent off the piece (along with a very fake but very polite apology to your manager about missing the deadline), you slapped your laptop shut and finally took a seat across from him at the table.

You didn’t even acknowledge him as you dug into the pasta he had made, realizing for the first time that you hadn’t eaten since ten that morning, despite working from his home office. You were wound tight, your shoulders still tense even after Harry had attempted to relieve some pressure.

“You really need to quit.” He said, his eyes on you.

“I know,” you sighed. You didn’t want to have this conversation with him again. It happened once a week. He just didn’t get it–he was older (only by a few years, teetering on the edge of his twenties) and was already established, already successful. He was already a partner at an ad firm, already proved he was worth something. You, on the other hand, were a struggling journalist who wanted into the music industry–but freelance was hard and you needed money. This job paid a lot. Probably because they needed to make up for the fact that the company itself was a shit show. But it was fine–and you were applying. You were trying to quit, but you needed a net. And Harry didn’t understand that.

“You work ridiculous hours and your boss is insane.”

“I know.”

“It’s killing you, and–”

“Jesus Christ, I know,” you snapped. “Do you really think I don’t know? I hate my fucking job, but I need it, okay? And no, you can’t help me so I can quit and not have to worry while finding something new. I don’t need you to take care of me. So stop.”

His shock morphed into irritation. “That’s strike two.” His voice was hard. “And only because I know you’re having a bad day, and that you didn’t mean it.”

“And what if I did,” you mumbled as you moved your food around your plate.

Harry exhaled sharply through his nose and stood up from the table. “Finish eating. Then we’ll talk.” It wasn’t a request. On his way to the sink, he dropped a hand into your hair and scratched softly. “I’ll be in my office.”

Even in a shit mood, Harry in Dom mode was hot. This wasn’t something new to either of you, but you two weren’t very hardcore either–no whips or masks, or gags. You were more of a bondage and mild pain kind of girl and Harry respected that, though he did sometimes push your limits.

When you two were out in the world–on dates, at parties, with family or friends–the dynamic was normal, but in the evenings, after you were both home from work, and over the weekends he got to order you around, punish you and take you however and wherever he wanted. So, really, you should probably apologize before you got yourself in trouble.

You weren’t in the mood to give up control tonight, not entirely. You didn’t even think you could if you wanted to. The stress was at an all time high and you were gripping tight to whatever control you had, since at work lately, it felt like you had none; at the whim of everyone you worked under. The late nights, the Teams messages at random hours of the day–your control was slipping in a way you didn’t like. There was no way you could give up whatever semblance of it you had left.

It seemed your boyfriend knew that, and was giving you opportunities to relax in a way he didn’t do very often–ever, actually, up until a few weeks ago when you started shutting down from stress. Instead of bending you over his knee or edging you until you were close to tears, he’d let the disobedience slide and curl you into his lap or side instead. Still, he’d demand you tell him how you felt, talk through your stress and frustration, refusing to let you disrupt the free flowing communication that needed to exist between the two of you, or keep yourself closed off from him.

Opening up to him wasn’t hard. It never was, and it’s what made him the perfect Dom for you. That and he was really fucking hot, lean but strong. And the way he looked in a suit? Jesus.

Your muscles clenched at the thought.

You finished your plate and drank the rest of your wine. After dumping your plate in the sink and refilling your glass, you made your way up the stairs and down the hallway where Harry’s office was. You paused to the right of the doorway and took a deep breath. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t want to talk. It wouldn’t do any good. Why couldn’t he just let you stew and drink. Why did he have to know everything?

Something inside you flared. That was bad. Anger wasn’t good–anger meant a biting remark that would surely get you in trouble. You took a long sip of wine and another deep breath before relaxing your shoulders and walking into the room.

Harry was sitting at his desk, typing away on his laptop. He had cleaned up all your work stuff from the day, piled your notebooks neatly on top of your laptop, recapped all your pens and fastened them back into their case.

You stood next to him, and he didn’t even look at you. You tried not to tap your foot or sigh with impatience, but it was hard.

“Plan on behaving now?” He asked with his eyes still on the screen.

You bit your tongue and counted to three. “Yes.”

He raised his eyebrow and peeked over at you.

You swallowed the annoyed sigh. “Yes, sir.” You ignored the way your cheeks flared when you said it.

“Better,” he said before going back to the document on his screen.

Oh my god. Couldn’t you two just get this over with so you could take a bath and go to sleep? The thought of having to wake up and work tomorrow made your jaw clench. You closed your eyes and told yourself it was fine.

But it wasn’t fine. You were miserable and so stressed out that you woke up every morning with a sore jaw. The anxiety bundled in the pit of your stomach before making its way up your throat. The thought of logging in tomorrow, being met with at least seventy emails and your submitted draft hacked up by your manager–who had never written a thing in her life, by the way–made your cheeks burn and chest clench.

If Harry noticed, he didn’t seem to care. He didn’t tell you to sit down or go to sleep or…literally anything. The anxiety morphed itself back into frustration as you just stood there, waiting.

He pulled his hands from his keyboard and rubbed them over his face before motioning to you. You took a step closer and he pushed the chair back slightly and pulled you to stand between his legs. Harry took the glass from your hands and put it on the desk. He planted his hands firmly on your hips and squeezed until it was almost painful.

A rush moved through you.

He dropped his head against the spot right under your chest and kissed over the t-shirt you wore. Before you could drop a hand into his hair, he stood up.

He walked towards the small love seat that sat next to the tall bookshelves and pulled you after him. You worked hard not to shuffle your feet.

Harry sat down and pulled you into his lap with ease. “Talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” You were met with narrowed eyes and a stern look. You crossed your arms protectively over your chest and his eyes narrowed even more. When you wouldn’t relent, Harry squeezed one of your thighs harshly. You jumped and resented the heat that returned below. You dropped your hands into your lap and Harry’s big hand fell over them. Holding them here.

“Try again.”

You stretched your neck, trying to expel some of the frustration and anxiety you felt. You didn’t want to talk about it. Why did you always have to talk about it? Maybe if you just apologized, it would be fine and he’d let it go. Maybe. Hopefully.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You morphed your face into something that you hoped looked sincere and sorry. Even though you weren’t. At least, you weren’t sorry [enough]. You didn’t want to upset him, ever. You wanted his praise, for him to be proud of you–but there was only so much succumbing to power a girl could take. You were taking it enough at work. Succumbing at home wasn’t as easy these last few weeks. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t be lying to me either.”

“I’m not–” Another harsh squeeze to your thigh. When you saw the disapproving look on his face, a part of you yearned to fix it. And you fought that part of you away. Keep your control.

“We don’t lie, love.” The softness seeped back into his voice. “If you’re going to apologize, you’re going to mean it.”

You raised your eyes to his, a rip of fire going through you. You didn’t want to apologize to him–not when he started it. You had dolled out enough apologies for one day–to your manager, mostly, after taking the blame and fixing problems she created. “Well, then I guess I’m not apologizing.” A pause. “Sir.”

Harry clicked his tongue in disapproval and gave a laugh devoid of any humor. “Strike three, then.”

You rolled your eyes and he caught your chin between his fingers roughly. “You and your fucking attitude lately. I’ve been patient.” His eyes darkened. “Not anymore.”

He put you on your feet and tugged your hair before walking wordlessly out of the room.

You knew you were supposed to follow him, that he [expected] you to follow him–a shiver ran down your spine. The urge to follow him, to relinquish your control started to consume you and you fought it.

If you don’t go, it’ll be worse. If he has to call your name, the punishment will be worse.

You squeezed your eyes shut cursing yourself for being stupid, for forgetting your restraint; for thinking that Harry would allow you a little power, that you could hold onto it.

By the look in his eye and the tone of his voice, he hadn’t been joking. His patience was spent and you were in for it.

Your thighs clenched at the thought and a little apprehension mixed with the thread of thrill that laced through your stomach. He wouldn’t be too harsh, would he? It had been a while. A few weeks at the least–maybe even two months since you had been punished, since things had hurt just a little more than they pleasured.

You realized you were still standing in the middle of the office and hurried after him down the hallway, not wanting to give him another reason.

His back was to you when you stepped into the room and he was taking off his tie in front of the mirror. “Strip,” he ordered.

The deepness of his voice was welcome, though your nerves spiked just a little.

You pushed your jeans down your legs and slipped off your t-shirt. Then, your bra and panties. When he turned, his gaze was disapproving and your heart sank.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to look at me,” he said as he rolled up his sleeves.

You dropped your eyes immediately. Christ, he was serious. You were in more trouble than you had been in in ages.

“Turn around and bend over. Hands around your ankles.”

Your face heated. Immediately, you did as you were told and chastised yourself. So much for keeping a semblance of control.

“What’s your safe word?”You heard him open the wardrobe in the corner of the room and then rummaging.

“Red,” you said, your uneasiness evident. His movements paused. “Red, sir.”

You heard him hum, satisfied. “Good.”

Your heart rate increased as his footsteps grew closer and you heard him tap something against his leg. You peeked around your legs and your breath caught.

“It’s been awhile so here’s a reminder: the safe word is only to be used if absolutely necessary; when you physically or mentally can’t take it anymore. Not because you’re nervous or scared. Not simply because it hurts. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” You made sure not to forget that time. His taking a moment to clarify left you shaking slightly. If he noticed, he didn’t comment. He didn’t try to assuage your nerves either.

He held the crop at his side while he ran a hand over your ass. “Soft,” he said, his voice anything but. The crop smoothed over your ass before tapping lightly against your skin. When he brushed it over your exposed pussy, you forced yourself to hold back a whimper. “I’ve been nice. More than nice. And you’ve taken advantage.”

The crop came down on your ass and you flinched. It was only a sting–one that morphed into pleasure quickly.

“I’ve been patient, letting you speak to me in a way that would usually have you bent over the table in less than a second.”

It came down on the other cheek, harder. You released a small sigh at the sensation.

“It’s my fault really, for encouraging it. For letting you get away with it.” His voice told you that he didn’t really believe that. “Or maybe it’s your fault for continuing the behavior, knowing I would disapprove, knowing you were being disobedient and doing it anyway.”

The clear disapproval in his voice made your chest ache and cheeks heat in embarrassment.

Another swat to your ass–and then another, quick on the other cheek. Hard. Your body scooted forward involuntarily and you whimpered. Harry grabbed you and held you in place. “Don’t move.” The growl in his voice sent heat straight to your core.

“This fight for control, it needs to stop. I don’t know where it’s come from because you refuse to talk–another rule broken–but it’s got to end. You need to understand your place, sub.”

Your cheeks flamed. He hadn’t called you that since the early days of your relationship when you tested his boundaries, when the two of you were still getting used to one another and your dynamic. You didn’t like the typical nicknames like pet, or kitten. They made you feel inhuman and a little gross, so Harry tended to call you ‘love’ even when he was angry, when you did something wrong, or were being punished. It was never about what he said, but the way he said it–the fact that he had pulled that out meant you were absolutely fucked.

He swatted your ass a few times in succession, giving you no time to recover between. The stinging sent shocks straight to your clit. You knew you were wet. You could feel it drip through your folds.

“I won’t stand for the disrespect any longer. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Your voice wavered. You wondered if his approval showed on his face, but you were still folded over.

His fingers grazed over the sensitive skin of your ass and you inhaled. They trailed down between your cheeks and circled your clit once. You moaned. His fingers moved up and he pushed one slowly inside of you. Pleasure always came after the punishment–so was it over? Was that it? That was nothing, thank–

“Seems you’re enjoying this a little too much, huh, sub? Not much of a punishment if you’re soaked but not begging. Right?”

You took a deep, shaky breath.

“Ah!” You shrieked when the crop made contact with the sensitive spot where your ass met your thighs.

“When I ask you a question, you answer.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Stand up.”

When you stood, all the blood rushed back down from your head and you stumbled. Harry caught you easily with a hand on your arm. Once you recovered, he dropped his hand.

“On the bed on your stomach. Ass up, knees apart.”

You kept your eyes down and didn’t move. Nerves filled your chest. It had been so long.

Harry stepped in front of you and tilted your chin up towards him, but you kept your eyes down, not wanting to disobey again.

“Look at me.” When you lifted your eyes, there was a slight smile pulling at his cheek. Approval. Your shoulders relaxed and a small amount of pride swelled in you. “Good girl.” He brushed his thumb over your lips. “It’s gonna hurt. It’s a punishment. You remember those, right?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

The warmth in his eyes returned for a moment and he brushed his knuckles over your cheek. He dropped his hand. “Get on the bed, sub.”

The check-in was over and your all demanding dom was back.

While you got situated on the bed, Harry returned to the wardrobe. You couldn’t see what he was getting, but what you heard lit your nerves on fire. It wasn’t the jingling of the restraints, but his knuckles against the paddle that sent your heart into your throat.

You liked mild pain. Last time he used the paddle, it was a little more than mild. The last time–your skin paled when you remembered. The last time he had used it was during a punishment.

“Hands above your head,” He said as he made his way to stand to the side of the bed.

Your heart was beating so hard you could feel it reverberating off your ribcage, but you obeyed–slowly. He took cuffs from the bedside table and secured them onto your wrists. The coolness of the leather sent a reminder of want straight down to the spot between your thighs. Harry’s fingers brushed over yours unintentionally as he attached the cuffs to one another, and then to one of the restraints attached to the headboard, and you stopped yourself from reaching for him.

Roughly, he pulled you back by your hips until you couldn’t move your arms from where they were above you. Silently, he looped similar cuffs around your ankles and attached them to the restraints at each corner of the bed. There was nowhere for you to go.

In a small moment of panic, you attempted to tug at the restraint keeping your hands above your head, and felt the heat of fear in your cheeks. When Harry heard your small whimper, he came to the side of the bed, placed one big hand over your cuffed wrists and the other on the small of your back, warm and reassuring. Immediately, you felt your heart rate slow.

“Relax. It’s okay.” He paused while you took a deep breath, but your face was still hot. “Do you trust me?” He asked with a voice full of caring.

Of course you did. Harry wouldn’t ever give you more than he knew you could handle; he would never actually make you feel unsafe, or the kind of fear that wasn’t linked to pleasure and excitement.

Speaking of which, as he rubbed the spot on your back, you felt the heat pool at your core.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” He smiled before disappearing from your view.

From somewhere behind you, he knocked his knuckles on the paddle once more, almost as a warning.

When it came down the first time, it was nothing more than a sting–one that, you admitted, you quite liked. The next few continued like that, the stings turning into a warmth that had you on the verge of moaning.

Once you finally let one slip, the next spank came down harder. You flinched and sucked in a breath each time it came down.

“Does that hurt?”

You whimpered in response.

You attempted to move forward, away from the paddle, when it came down even harder across both of your cheeks.

“Does that hurt, sub?” His voice was low, hard.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Do you like being punished?”

“No, sir.”

Your ass stung--a burning kind of sting that would have you wincing until tomorrow. And yet, you felt your arousal drip down your leg.

Suddenly, Harry’s fingers were at your core, swirling in the slickness that coated your folds.

“Lying again, are we?”

“No, sir.” And you weren’t lying. You didn’t like being punished, who did? It wasn’t your fault that your body enjoyed the pain, the stinging.

He sighed. “I was going to be nice and only go for ten more, but bad girls don’t get ‘nice’.” He swiped his thumb over your clit and you moaned. When he pulled his hand away, you tried to push yourself towards him, but the goddamned restraints wouldn’t allow it.

“Ah!” You cried when the paddle came down so hard that it more than stung. The pain thudded through your muscles. Twenty of that? The worry prickled over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The harsh pain faded, leaving a stinging that you could handle.

“Count them.”

Whack

“One.”

Another.

“Two.”

Another.

You whimpered. “Three.”

By ten, your voice was shaking and your eyes had begun to water. He wasn’t feeling very accommodating anymore, which was fair considering how far you had pushed him and the rules, and wasn’t giving you a second to recover. Wasn’t giving the sharp pain a chance to dull before coming down again.

By fifteen, you were tensing in preparation for each spank and your ass felt like it was on fire. The heat extended down to your clit, where it ached with need. Each hit sent a vibration straight past your core and to your clit, which was swollen and aching to be touched. You hadn’t let a tear fall yet, but you weren’t sure you could hold them back for much longer.

Your grip on the restraint was tight, your knuckles clenched in desperate need of something to hold onto.

Whack

“E-eighteen.”

Again.

“N-nineteen.”

Again.

“T-twenty.”

You released a breath of relief. It hurt. It really fucking hurt, but you were keenly aware of how turned on you were, at the ache between your legs.

Harry rubbed his hands over your skin and you flinched. “S’okay,” he said. You whimpered and he kissed the small of your back.

He released your ankles from the restraints and then did the same with your wrists, but you didn’t move. Your heart was still racing, even as your body untensed. Your muscles felt sore from useless tugging at the restraints as you blinked the tears away.

Harry walked around the bed and sat down.

“Come,” Harry’s voice was low, demanding, as he sat on the edge of the bed with his hands gripping the end of the mattress.

Your body immediately tensed again.

When you didn’t move, he sighed, annoyed. “Fucking hell.” He twisted, gripped your hips and pulled you over his lap like a rag doll. If you weren’t so worried about what was coming next, you would’ve enjoyed his manhandling a little more. Not to say that you didn’t enjoy it at all.

He positioned you so that your ass was directly over his lap, where you could feel his erection dig into your hip through his dress pants. Your upper body hung off one side of his lap, and your legs hung off the other. He ran his hands over your skin and you began to squirm.

“When are you going to learn.” It wasn’t a question and so you kept your mouth shut. He shifted you so that you were folded over his left thigh. He lifted his right leg and placed it over your legs so you could kick them or wriggle off his lap. He swiped his tie from where he discarded it on the nightstand and expertly twisted it around your wrists before tying it to the nightstand’s leg. When he sat up, he laid an arm across your shoulders.

Once again, he had rendered you immobile. And once again, heat seared through you at the idea of it–the way it always did. You had been trying to hold on to your control, but this is what you liked. You liked being commanded, ordered around, at Harry’s will and mercy. You ached at the idea of relinquishing it all and letting him do whatever he wanted. Take you however he wanted. And you needed this, you thought. After all the stress and frustration, you needed to just let go.

You relaxed against him and his cock twitched against your leg. He ran his hand over your skin that still burned and a soft whimper escaped you.

“Talk to me.” a hint of softness seeped into his voice. “What’s going on with you lately? What’s this need to disrespect and disobey?”

“Nothing.”

You cried out when his hand landed harshly on what was starting to feel like bruising skin.

“Why are you still trying to lie to me?” He ground out.

You didn’t know. There was no reason to, but you were stubborn. You always had been.

When you didn’t say anything, he pushed a finger inside your dripping center. A long, low moan escaped your lips. He moved it in and out of you at an agonizing pace.

When he pulled his finger out, you squirmed in protest.

“Stop.” You stilled. “If you want more, you’ll talk.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m just stressed out.” You flinched slightly as he dragged his nails over your ass. “And frustrated.”

“With me?”

“No, sir.”

“With work?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I told you to quit.”

Immediately, you went rigid and you knew he could feel your back tense beneath him. He massaged his fingers into your muscles. “See, there. What happened just then?”

“Nothing.”

You cursed when his hand came down. Right after, his fingers moved to your clit and you moaned while trying to push yourself further into his hand, but he wouldn’t allow it.

“You want a reward, huh? Don’t know what makes you think you deserve it.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“If you’re sorry, you’ll talk. So talk.”

He took his fingers away and you whined. He was going to hold you there until you gave him what he wanted, until you let him have all your control.

“Stop being stubborn, sub.”

“I don’t like when you call me that.”

Another swat to your ass. And fuck it burned. Tears sprang to your eyes.

“I’ll stop once you learn your place. Once you’ve earned back my affection.”

Your heart sank and your cheeks heated in shame. After two deep breaths, your body relaxed.

“I feel like–I feel like I have no power at work.” His fingers traced up and down your slit. “I get ordered around all day; blamed and chastised for stuff that isn’t my fault. I spend my whole day feeling degraded and out of control.”

“When you’re used to being your own boss,” he said in understanding. He traced his fingers over the hood of your clit, refusing to make actual contact and you whined in anticipation. “Go on.” The timbre in his voice was back.

“And you telling me to just quit–” He squeezed your clit between his fingers as a warning to lose the attitude. You adjusted your tone. “I want to quit and I know I need to, but I can’t. And when you make it out to be so easy, it makes me mad.” He trailed his fingers through your folds, running them over your labia, spreading your arousal until every piece of you was wet. You gave a shuddering moan. “It felt so defeating–giving up all my control after a day of having it just taken from me.”

“It is easy. If you’d just let me take care of you.” The frustration in his voice was clear.

“I-I can’t.”

“You can, you’re just being stubborn.” He sighed, releasing some of the hardness from his voice. “Bottling up on all that stress and frustration hasn’t done you any good, has it?”

“No, sir.”

“I could’ve been helping you get rid of it, let it go.”

“But–”

He dipped his fingers into you. “You’ve got to let it go, love.” Your chest warmed at the pet name. “Just let me take care of you.”

You attempted, again, to push yourself into his hand when he brushed his knuckles over your clit.

“If you want to come, love, you’re gonna have to relinquish control. You’re gonna have to let me take care of you.”

You moaned in frustration as his fingers ghosted over you.

“Please.” He pinched you again. “Please, sir,” you corrected.

“Let me take care of you.” His voice was soft. “Will you let me take care of you?”

When you whimpered in agony, he shoved two fingers deep inside of you–and pulled them out just as quick. Your breathing had sped up and your nipples hardened as they brushed against the fabric of his pants.

“Will you let me?”

Fuck, you couldn’t take it anymore–and he wanted to, so why wouldn’t you let him?

“Yes, s-sir.”

“Ask me.”

Of course he was going to make you ask him.

He circled around your clit, but didn’t touch it. You felt yourself begin to pant with need.

The embarrassment began to encroach on your chest but you pushed past it. “Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please, take care of me.”

A slap to your pussy sent you reeling.

“I think you’re forgetting something.”

“Please, take care of me, s-sir.”

“Since you asked nicely.” The smirk was evident in his voice.

He pushed two fingers into you, curling them in the way he knew you needed. A moan broke from deep in your chest and you tried to grip onto his thigh, but the tie held your hands firmly in place. As he fingered you deeply, he leaned forward and kissed the skin of your back.

“If I untie you, will you be good?”

His fingers still moved in and out of you, and with the sounds falling from your lips, all you could do was manage a nod. Your boyfriend chuckled. He held his fingers inside of you and bent over to tug at the knot to release you. Your wrists were slightly red from writhing against the fabric and the sight of them sent a shameful spark of excitement through you.

Easily, he lifted you up and placed you so you were sitting up, your back against his chest and your ass on his lap, rubbing against his erection. He stretched one arm across your chest and placed his hand on your breast, holding you against him, while the other opened your legs, lifting each one up and draping them over his open knees.

“You’re not going to try and close your legs, are you, love?”

“No, sir.” You placed your hands behind your thighs, onto his, working to hold yourself up. Your body was tired. Even if you wanted to close your legs, you weren’t sure you had the energy.

“That’s my good girl.” You melted at his approval. He dropped his head down and nipped and kissed along your neck and shoulder while the hand that wasn’t holding you to him landed between your legs.

He traced slow circles over your clit and your head dropped back against him. You were so ready, that it didn’t take much for the tightening in the pit of your stomach to start; as it did, your moans increased and your chest began to heave. His pace was agony. When you tried to increase the pressure by lifting yourself to his fingers, he held you back.

“Please…” you breathed. “...faster.”

“No.”

You groaned and he laughed softly against your skin.

The build up was almost painful and your ass stung fresh each time it rubbed against him, but soon you saw white and a loud cry escaped you as your hips bucked against him and your chest shuttered in his hand.

“Good girl,” he whispered, holding his pace as you came down. You were swollen and shaking, each stroke of his finger bringing through a new aftershock. “You’re not done, love.” He whispered.

Before you could question him, he lifted you and laid you on the bed on your back. When you went to sit up, you were met with a glare. You lowered yourself back down and waited, legs open, for him.

He tugged you to the edge so that your toes barely touched the floor and your ass hung off the edge. Harry leaned over you and for the first time all night, brushed his lips against yours. When you whimpered, he grabbed your jaw and deepened the kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth, swirling it over yours. He was warm and still tasted like the wine the two of you drank with dinner. Your body reignited, your nipples rising to peaks and your clit throbbing for more. He rubbed his erection against your thigh and indulged in a moan.

When you tried to loop your arms around his neck, he grabbed them and held them against the mattress. “I don’t want to restrain you again, so don’t make me.” It was a warning–one that sent a jolt straight to your core.

Not looking for a response, he pushed himself up and went to the nightstand. He pulled out a vibrating dildo and kneeled down in front of your open pussy. He kissed the inside of your thighs, the spot between your thighs and your lips, and just over your clit. Each time his breath hit you, you shuddered.

The tip of the dildo touched your core and you shivered against the cold silicone. He dipped it into you slowly, allowing you a moment to register its size, before he pushed it into you entirely. It curved, scraping against the spot inside that sent your back arching off the bed. It was big–and thick. You felt yourself stretch around it, filling you entirely.

It clicked on and your muscles tightened around it. “Oh, my god.” You gripped at the comforter beneath you as your hips began to roll.

Harry squeezed the inside of your thigh and began moving it in and out of you again. Your breathing was ragged and you had to force yourself to keep your legs open, to keep your toes touching the floor.

“Does that feel good?”

“Ye–yes, s-sir.”

He kissed your clit before increasing the vibrations. You cried out as your hips bucked, your clit searching for any kind of friction. Harry hummed and you felt the slick of his tongue against you. You struggled to keep your hips down as pleasure rolled through you, hot and intense.

“Oh, my god.” Your hips began to buck–and suddenly you were empty. Cool air replaced Harry’s tongue. You whimpered and lifted your head. “Wha-”

“I don’t remember giving you permission to come, did I, love?” His voice was thick, his pupils blown out in desire.

“N-no. I’m sorry, sir.”

Without warning, the vibrator was inside you again, pushing against your walls, while Harry flicked his tongue quickly over your bud. Your grip on the comforter was deadly and your chest heaved as you attempted to stave off your orgasm.

It continued to build and moans slipped through your lips unallowed.

“Sir…” You groaned.

“Not yet.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t.”

A sweat broke out across your forehead and dampened your chest. You tried to focus on anything other than the way Harry’s tongue lapped at your clit and how well the dildo filled you. But it was hard. You could feel yourself losing control.

Harry nipped at your clit in warning, but you were so far gone it didn’t hurt, only added to your pleasure.

He was holding out, but you weren’t sure for what. He had already punished you–what more did he want?

Relief filled you when you realized: he wanted you to beg. He wanted you to give up control, to beg him to help you come undone.

“Sir, p-please.”

He ignored you.

“Please, can I come.”

He hummed against you.

“Please–fuck–please, can you help me come…”

He kissed your clit. “Go ahead, love.”

You relaxed and let your orgasm rip through your body. The pleasure was so good it was blinding. Your cries mixed with curses and you had the comforter balled so tightly in your fists you were surprised it didn’t tear.

After its peak, you had a moment of contentment before searing pleasure sent your skin on fire. He had upped the vibrations–and not just inside you, but against your clit. It seemed he had been hiding the vibrators rabbit attachment from you, saving it to send you over the edge one last time.

He rocked the dildo inside of you, hitting your g-spot while the points of the rabbit pressed against your already swollen clit. He reached his free hand up and pinched your already erect nipples, while kissing your hips and mound.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered against your skin. “Look at me.”

You opened your eyes and lifted your head. Teetering on the verge of coming undone for the third time, he lessened the vibrations and came to lay next to you on the bed. He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at you.

He started moving the dildo inside you and bent down to give you a hard kiss.

“You need to let go. Stop fighting it.”

“I’m n–” Your argument died in your throat when you realized how tense your body was. You tried to relax, but it was too much. It would be too much. You were sore and swollen and so sensitive that a few tears had already slipped down your face.

He dipped down and rubbed his nose against your cheek. “Let me take care of you,” he whispered.

You looked at him and saw only tenderness and love. “Yes, sir.”

He changed the vibrator’s setting once more and you cried out.

“Keep your legs open,” he commanded while you writhed against the bed and he watched you.

He licked at your now tender nipples.

Too much. Too much. Too much.

You wanted to please him–and you wanted the release.

You breathed through the unbearable pleasure and the second your body relaxed, an orgasm unlike any other tore through your body. You let out a scream as Harry rocked the dildo against your g-spot and continued his assault on your nipples with his tongue.

Your cries grew hoarse as he forced you to ride out the entirety of your orgasm with the vibrations set to high and your body shook with the aftershocks as your muscles tightened around the toy still inside you.

He pulled it out and kissed you softly, as your body continued to shake with the aftermath. He wiped tears from your cheeks that you hadn’t even realized had fallen and pulled you tightly into his chest. Your breathing was ragged as he ran his hands over your back. When he brushed his hands over your ass you flinched.

“That might hurt for a bit,” he whispered. You cuddled closer and he kissed the top of your head.

When he started to move, you whimpered. He sat up and pulled you with him. You groaned in protest and scratched down your back. “Just moving us under the blanket, love.”

As he settled against the pillows with you between his legs and your head on his chest, the relief pooled in your chest. The stress was gone, as well as the frustration.

Then, just as quickly, an emptiness moved in–an embarrassment at the fact that you had been punished. This always happened afterwards and you hated it every time.

When he heard you sniffle, he tilted up your chin to look at him.

“Oh, poor baby.” He said when he saw the tears in your eyes. He hugged you tighter and you burrowed into him, though it was impossible for you to get any closer. “I’m sorry I had to do that. I know you’re not a fan of the paddle.” He rubbed his hand up and down your arm.

“It’s okay. I mean, honestly, I probably should’ve been punished weeks ago.”

Harry’s chest rumbled with a soft laugh. “That’s exactly right.”

“I’m sorry, sir. For being mean.”

“It’s not about meanness. It’s about disrespect, love–disobedience. You know how this works.”

“I know–”

He pinched her side. “Don’t interrupt. It’s unnecessary, so it’s willful. All I ever ask is that you talk to me.”

You looked up at him, asking for permission. He smiled and your heart swelled.

“Go ahead.”

“I’m sorry for being disrespectful,”

“S’okay. I think you’ve learned your lesson” Desire flashed in his eyes and suddenly you were reminded of his still very hard cock pressed against your back.

“Oh–do you want–”

He smiled and shook his head before guiding your head back to his chest. “Not tonight. Sweet of you to think of me.”

Your body relaxed further into him. “My butt hurts.”

You felt his lips against your hair. “Proud of you for taking it so well. You did a good job, love.”

Warmth filled you, knowing you had pleased him. “Thank you, sir.”

The comforter shifted off your shoulder and you shivered.

“How about a warm bath–for the two of us? How does that sound?”

You hummed your approval.

He nuzzled your cheek with his nose. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

[wobster109]

Dr. Ratio and Aventurine would have ✨sparkling✨ chemistry

First things first: are they in love? As of Penacony 2.0, no.

(But the potential is there.)

To begin with, what sort of person is our esteemed doctor? Lots of people online say that he'd be angry with someone like March, but in my opinion I can't see it being true. She's no genius, and he probably finds it tiresome to try to teach someone who's just not getting it. But that's an impersonal sort of irritation. She wasn't born a genius, and he wouldn't do something so pointless as to begrudge someone their birth. He wouldn't dislike her for who she is or what she stands for.

I believe that he reserves his scorn for geniuses who fritter away their genius. People like Ruan Mei who have the intellect, and spend it creating cat cakes and Scaracabaz while caring about no one. To some degree, Herta and her Simulated Universe too, researching the Aeons while showing complete disinterest in the humans aboard her space station.

Look at his own research: solving a planet's energy crisis! Curing a previously incurable illness! Teaching! It's all very noblesse oblige of him: a life of service, despite his insufferable attitude.

Aventurine is clearly brilliant, what with having won a gamble against Fate. One does not simply get lucky against Fate—you must engineer your hand to outwit Fate itself. (Those of us who play Genshin—we saw how hard Focalors had to work for it!) Knowing who he is, who he was, where he's come from, and what he's made himself into, Ratio understands that nothing Aventurine does is ever frivolous. It's all deadly serious, and deadly. The foundation for respect is there.

But at the same time, all that gambling and social schmoozing? The risk, reward, and hanging by a thread? It probably baffles our blunt, direct Dr. Ratio. It's completely foreign to him, a way of thinking that he'd never choose and cannot fathom. I imagine they'd be at odds with each other.

So, you've got begrudging respect and a hint of fascination.

All it takes is one breathless, death-defying adventure together to make it kindle.

The more tenuous direction is the other way around: would Aventurine even take notice of Dr. Ratio? Sure, the man's beautiful as a statue with an intellect to match, but Aventurine's surrounded by powerful IPC officials. Probably a bunch of brilliant minds too. Aventurine's a man of many so-called "frrriends" and no friends—perhaps, to him, Ratio is just another useful, but ultimately disposable, tool.

Or perhaps not. There are a few traits that might endear our Doctor to a world-weary gambler.

Sincerity - Ratio is blunt, direct, and cannot be bribed. What he says is what you get. Might be a nice change of pace for Aventurine, who's more used to the kind of conversations he has with Himiko, where they dance around each other and their meanings are implied.

Stability - Aventurine's had to fight for everything he has, including his life. What if he's offered a place to stay (he's already crashing in Ratio's hotel room after giving his own to Trailblazer), or perhaps whatever price of his freedom paid. Perhaps simply the promise of a dependable ally. Would he turn into a puppy, roll over and offer up his loyalty?

Noblesse Oblige - This is a bit of a stretch, but the IPC doesn't really take on projects for the sake of doing good. Ratio's entire modus operandi seems to be for the betterment of all peoples. It's as foreign to Aventurine as social schmoozing is for Ratio. Perhaps Aventurine finds it fascinating, interesting, or even a bit noble.

This is all speculation, but. . . part of me believes that HSR wouldn't make them roommates of happenstance for nothing.

In closing, I leave you with this bizarre consumable—what could it mean? Only time will tell.

[bananadrinkxxx]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐲𝐞 (4)

[Aemond Targaryen x female Lucerys Velaryon • fem! oc!reader]

[warnings: sex content, fights, harassment, angst, smut, domination, violence, targcest (uncle/niece)]

Only for 18+

[description: Boarding School - Modern Setting. Lucerya avoided her uncle for years but Aemond remembers and he is on his mission to make her life a living hell.]

Masterlist for all available parts (click here)

She could describe the situation in which she found herself at the moment in several words.

Disastrous.

Humiliating.

Awful

Tragic.

They were only a small percentage of the amount of words Lucy could use to describe the current situation.

Lucy was the last to be summoned into the headmaster's room, ahead of Aemond and Hugh, who were not particularly enthusiastic about their punishments. The secretary had looked at her critically through her glasses, as if she had been to blame for the fight. Okay, part of it was, but Aemond was an asshole, and Hugh had named himself her personal savior. Even though Lucy appreciated his dedication, she didn't need a savior.

Lord Corlys, as the students secretly called him, looked out of the window and looked at her earnestly as she stepped through the door. He pointed to the chair in front of his table and Lucy sat down obediently. He did the same and examined her for a moment.

"What happened last night-"

"It's unforgivable, disgusting, and I understand that I have to leave this school. I've already packed my things," Lucy interrupted him and tried to put on a serious face, but the anticipation grew in her. Wherever she landed after her mother cut her out of her will, it would be better anywhere than near Aemond Targaryen and his uncontrollable lust for murder.

The guy should definitely go to therapy.

Lord Corlys, or Grandpa as she would call him, were the situation not so serious, she looked surprised.

"Leaving school?" He asked, irritated, and Lucy nodded. "That would be the most appropriate punishment, wouldn't it?"

Corlys raised his eyebrow and leaned back into his chair.

"Lucy, Aemond told me you had nothing to do with the fight and were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. There's no reason to expel you from school."

Lucy's mouth shook and her smile faded.

Lucy would kill Aemond.

Definitely this time.

She wouldn't even think of a plan.

She'd just put her hands around his fake, dirty neck.

She knew what he was up to, she wasn't stupid, wanted to hold her here, torture her and torture her forever.

Lucy forced herself to smile, but she felt the corner of her mouth twitch more and more the longer she tried to maintain the spectacle.

"oh, I'm really grateful that Aemond is trying to help me, but I think you should stand by your actions and face the consequences."

"Hugh said the same thing."

Oh, how nice. They wanted to share a grave.

She was about to reply, tell her grandfather of her great guilt, but at that very moment her completely confused brother seemed to have the witty plan to barge in on a conversation he had no business in.

"Grandfather," he began, inappropriately. "Lucy had nothing to do with the fight."

What the fuck….

Lucy opened her eyes, a miserable attempt to silence her brother.

Why was he here?

Wasn't there any security?

"My sister, your granddaughter, by the way, is often off track."

Okay, the grave got bigger and bigger.

Jacaerys threw an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her. The last time she had been so close to his brother was when they were almost in a fight, when Jacaerys kept coming into their rooms, exemplary as any brother did to annoy her, only to leave her door open.

She hoped he'd never come so close to her again.

"Mum thought about sending her to Pentos," Jacaerys confessed, raising his hand next to his face so that he blocked Lucy's view of his mouth, which was completely pointless and idiotic, for Lucy could hear him clearly and clearly. "You know, because she isn’t okay…there," he snapped his tongue twice as he drew his finger in circles next to his temple. Lucy looked at him indignantly.

Did he just present her as mentally confused?

"In the Middle Ages, madmen were not allowed to be executed."

But he was the one who was crazy.

Corlys looked at Jacaerys like it was the biggest bullshit he'd ever heard, and Lucy didn't resent him. It was hardly to be surpassed in stupidity.

"Jacaerys, I find it admirable how you stand up for your sister, and although I don't think she's crazy or we're in the Middle Ages, I have no intention of punishing your sister."

Jacaerys looked at him in surprise.

"No?"He said of himself in amazement and looked at Lucy, radiant with joy at his success.

"That's wonderful news," he shouted, opening his arms wide and Lucy wondered if he really expected her to hug him. She raised an eyebrow and folded her arms in front of her chest. Jacaerys seemed to notice his mistake, quickly withdrew his arms and cleared himself briefly.

"Well, then, maybe I should go again," Jacaerys suggested, and Corlys nodded with a smile.

"You should."

Jacaerys raised her hand apologetically and winked at her.

Lucy wondered if, in honor of the day, she should also pull his eye out, as a kind of peace offer to Aemond, so that he would finally leave her alone.

When Jacaerys left the room, Corlys saw Lucy again.

"That was a very... interesting performance."

"Yes, he loves to be dramatic."

"I can't imagine," Corlys replied, but she heard the irony in his voice and grinned briefly.

"The reason I let you come here is more serious. I wanted to know if what Mr. Hammer told me was true."

Lucy pulled her eyebrows together.

"What did he say?"

"Is it true that Aemond is harassing you?"

Suddenly, a thousand thoughts came crashing down on Lucy. It would probably have been the easiest thing to just say yes, to confirm what was true anyway. So she might get rid of her problems sooner than she expected. All she had to do was say Aemond was harassing her and she was sure her grandfather would take care of it right away. And if he didn't, her grandmother Rhaenys. But something in her refused. It was foolish not to accept help when it was offered to her, but no matter how much she forced herself to tell Lord Corly everything, to confirm to him that Aemond was tormenting her, not a word came from her lips.

Instead, she said:

"Hugh must have misunderstood. Aemond and I have always been annoyed since we were kids, but it's not of a malicious nature."

She forced herself to smile and felt her heart beat faster as Corlys looked at her, making it clear he didn't believe a word she said.

But he just nodded and intertwined his fingers.

"Thank you, Lucy. You can go, that's all."

Lucy had not expected him to let her go so quickly, but apparently he had no further need to question her. She nodded, thanked her and left the room with a gloomy feeling.

She knew it was a mistake not to tell her grandfather the truth, but what had happened had happened. She had to live with her decision.

When Lucy ran back to her room, she didn't let go of the bad feeling of having made a mistake. She would now be completely on her own. Of course, she could go back and confess to Corlys that she lied out of fear, but she didn't. Besides, it would be pathetic. She'd live with her decision. Maybe Aemond didn't need to torment her either.

Lucy was about to walk up the stairs to hers and Rhaena and Baela's room when she suddenly heard a soft cry and inappropriate giggling. Both feelings were in complete contrast and Lucy had the feeling that something was wrong. She turned around and walked a few steps further, where she suspected the origin of the noise.

"Pssst, be quiet, or someone else will hear us," she heard a female voice giggling and other voices agreed.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?"

"Why shouldn't it be?" She knew that voice from somewhere.

"She is Aegon's and Aemond's sister."

"Aegon doesn't like her and Aemond would believe me more than her."

Lucy went around the corner. A spectacle was presented before her, which she had already expected by the last words. On the floor sat a crying and frightened Helaena, who tried to catch the beetles that had crawled out of the overturned cage.

Above her stood Alys Rivers, looking down on her, laughing at the pathetic attempt.

Lucy felt anger coming in.

"It's by just beetles, Helaena," she mocked and stepped forward. "They're just petty little creatures, worthless." Then she stepped on a beetle and Helaena snapped. She tried to push Alys down from it, but Alys turned her foot from left to right to push the beetle even more flat.

"By the gods, she's so strange," one of the girls said disparagingly, laughing as Helaena cried even more when Alys presented her with the trampled beetle. She seemed completely disturbed and trembled all over her body. Helaena was one of the nicest people on the planet and Alys showed her true face at that moment. Not that Lucy expected anything different from her.

"Maybe we should tread the others as a precaution," Alys suggested laughing, and Lucy knew it was time to step in.

"Or we'll step on you for a change," Lucy said, standing in front of Helaena.

"What are you thinking, you stupid cunt?"

Normally, her vocabulary wasn't so obscene, but she adapted to the person in front of her.

Alys looked at her disgusted before she regained control of her face.

"You," she hissed. "What are you doing here?"

"The question is what are you doing here," Lucy replied, stretching her chin forward. She folded her arms in front of her chest.

"I own this school, darling," Alys sighed and came closer. "You'd think Aemond already showed you your place, but it seems like I'm not the stupid cunt."

"Aemond always has an eye on goal, always on goal," Helaena whispered behind them, and Lucy looked confused at her aunt. What was she talking about?

"Shut up, Helaena," Alys barked and Lucy looked at her angrily.

"Don't talk to her like that!"

"I'll talk to her any way I want, girl." Alys was now close in front of her. She was slightly taller than Lucy, which gave her a small advantage in her power struggle.

"Does Aemond know how you treat his sister?"

Alys snorted.

She'd like to slap the arrogance out of her face.

"Aemond doesn't care. I mean more to him than the little misery on the ground."

"Mom says you can't lie," Helaena hissed behind her and Alys angrily opened her eyes.

"I told you to shut up or I'll-!"She groaned and stepped aside to approach Helaena, but before she got even a step too close, Lucy grabbed her, pushed her against the wall, and took a spoon from an abandoned yogurt mug off the table.

Alys looked at her disgusted as she held the spoon in her face threateningly.

"Come too close to her again, threaten or insult her, and I'll give you a nice partner look with your beloved Aemond," Lucy hissed, pointing the spoon at Aly's eye.

The girl looked at her anxiously and panicked.

"You're crazy," she breathed and Lucy smiled.

"Of course, or have you ever heard of a niece who cut out her uncle's eye because she was bored?"

Of course, she didn't cut out his eye because she was bored, but Alys didn't need to know. The worse the rumors, the more afraid she was of her. And it seemed to work. Alys began to tremble.

"You'll never bother Helaena again, you understand?"

Alys didn't need a second to nod. She nodded several times and the moment Lucy let go of her, she jumped towards her friends, who hurriedly threw themselves in front of her. Ironically, they now symbolized strength, yet none of their friends had taken a step forward to help her.

"You'll regret this," Alys hissed and ran out of the room. Her friends looked at Lucy warning, but none said anything. Then they chased after Alys.

Lucy snorted sneezing. It was the same thing over and over again. These girls felt strong only in one group, but each one of them was miserable and more fearful than any beetle they had crushed under the sole of their feet.

She looked to her aunt, who was always looking at her dead bugs crying.

Helaena seemed to be completely somewhere else and Lucy approached her cautiously so as not to frighten her. She bent down slightly and tried to touch her aunt on the shoulder, but Helaena frightened the movement and gave a loud scream. She pressed her hands against her ears and shook her head.

"No more, stop, no more," she repeated over and over, and a wave of pain and pity ran through Lucy when she saw her aunt like that. Nobody deserved that.

"What did you do?"

She felt her being pushed aside, and before she could react, she hit the ground and a dull pain went through her wrist. Lucy squeezed her eyes before she saw Aemond leaning over to Helaena and trying to calm his distracted sister. Helaena seemed to calm his presence and she sat down in his arms, pressing her little body against her little brother, who protected her.

For a moment, Lucy felt a feeling of jealousy build up inside her.

Then Aemond's gaze turned to her and the hatred in his remaining eye, chased goosebumps over her body, and for the first time in her life, she believed Aemond was really capable of killing her.

Helaena cried in his arms, Aemond pressed her closer.

"If you get too close to her again, you'll wish you were never born, bastard. I'll make your life a living hell."

Taglist

@watercolorskyy @marvelescvpe @ammo23 @launotfound @ladylyanna91 @queenofthekeep @nina2697

[js-a-writer]

First of all how is ur day/ night going, hope it's going well if not I hope it gets better. But I was wondering if u could make like an angst or fluff or both story for Jimmy Palmer of NCIS based off of "Darling...you can't just say things like that." Or "Come on, you know you can't hide forever." Where the reader may be having a rough time or maybe there is a lot of teasing going on? With the second one it can be a little flirty just nothing like too much if u can. Of course u don't have to do this request but if u do take as much time as you need and remember to drink lots of fluid and eat food and prioritize more important things in life and get to this whenever have a lovely day/night!

So I did see your requests, but I came up with another idea for one of the prompts and did that instead. I'll do your requests exactly how you wanted them, but I just had to get this out first. I actually had a plan figured out for yours, but my brain did not follow that. Again sorry, I will still make your other request(s) if you want. Just message me privately!

Summary: You and Jimmy get into a petty argument and end up healing it in the cutest, most romantic way possible.

Warnings: Angst (to fluff)

Petty Arguments

You and Jimmy had been working very hard on this case spending endless days, working long hours to find out what had happened to this poor Naval Officer.

You both had been so stressed out, with him spending forever in Autopsy with Ducky's long and pointless stories, and you with piles of research and investigation runs, along with the constant nagging from Tony for the both of you.

You had started to become easily irritable with the lack of sleep; every little thing seemed to set you off. You and Jimmy had walked into your small apartment with dark circles under your eyes, shoulders slumped, kicking off your shoes before collapsing on the couch.

Jimmy was heading to the kitchen, putting the keys on the counter and searching the cabinets for something to eat for dinner. "Don't bother. You won't find anything. I'll just order something." you triedly stated, rubbing at your eyes. "But we haven't had a decent, home-cooked meal together in what feels like forever." Jimmy says coming to sit next to you on the couch.

"Jimmy, I'm tired. Let's just order something and head to bed, yeah?" Jimmy sighs. He hasn't spent quality time with you in weeks it feels like. "I just wanted to spend time with you." Jimmy muttered under his breath. "Look, I'm sorry that we haven't had much quality time together later, but this case is different. It requires long hours and lots of focus. I'm exhausted and just want to eat and go. To. Sleep." you said harshly.

You were growing increasingly frustrated and Jimmy could tell. You continue to order somethig knowing he was done with the argument. "I ordered a pizza. It should be here in about 30 minutes." you say walking off. He sighs again.

"Whatever Jimmy, I'm done with this. Eat, don't eat. I. Don't. Care!" you say storming into the bedroom. You decide to take a bath, to try and relax yourself. Turning on the water, you began to strip, until you were completely naked, stepping into the tub.

Jimmy started to overthink (as he usually did) and he went to the bedroom to look for you, but you weren't there. He started panicking, thinking you had left but when he heard a soft spalsh come from the bathroom he knew you were in there. He stepped in an saw you in the tub relaxing with your eyes shut. A book was on the table next to you, as were a few candles and your phone.

You had your head leaned back, your hair thrown up in a loose bun, some of your curls/fly aways falling out of it, onto your beautiful face. Jimmy couldn't help but to admire you as he took a few steps closer to take your hand in his. You opened your eyes to see him sitting next to the tub, his head resting on the rim, with his hand in yours.

"Hi," he quietly says, testing the waters before actually talking to you about what had happened. "Hi." you say in a whisper, fearing your voice would betray you if you spoke any louder. Jimmy was about to say something when he saw your slightly bloodshot eyes looking into is, and the candles illuminating the tear stains on our cheeks.

"Oh, my darling, have you been crying?" he said tears forming in his own eyes at the thought of you crying because of some stupid, pointless agrument between the two of you. You looked down and he lifted your chin for you to look at him again. "Did you not think I would notice?" he asks, genuinely curious.

"I thought I could hide in here and you wouldn't notice." you say tears forming in your shiny, glittering eyes, again. "Come on, you know you can't hide forver." he says half serious. "I know, I'm so sorry. I've just been so stressed with work, and I know you have too! I've just been so frustraed and took it out on you, I'm so sorry, Baby." you confessed, tears spilling out of your eyes.

Jimmy got up from the floor and you feared he was leaving you. But instead he started to strip, gesturing for you to move up so he could slide in behind you. When the two of you got comfortable, you resting your back against his chest, and him leaning back on the tub, with you in his arms.

He kisses your head in reassurance, "Baby, you don't have to appologise. I know you've been stressed, and I know you've been trying so hard and putting your all into this case." "But that's no excuse, you've been working just as hard as I have down in Autopsy with Ducky. I shouldn't have taken my frustration out on you, and for that I am truly sorry."

"Appology accepted!" he smiles as he pulls you impossibly closer and squeezing you in a tight bear hug. "I love you, Darling," "I love you more!" "Not possible my love." you blushed at the nickname. "Fine, you win! But just this once." you exclaim, making watching motions with your poiinter and middle fingers. You both giggled and spent the rest of your night just like that; cuddled up together giggling and holding eachother close.

@kxge0

[fallenwhumpee]

Empty

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Permanent injury, character death, sabotage, blood, injection, medical settings(?)

They wished that someone had prevented them from taking this mission. They wished that someone had called out how much time was to pass before even they opened their eyes. They wished that someone had cared about them enough to tell that a thousand year they were going to spend in space was a huge loss to them and their loved ones. But all of their friend has been out in space, and they had nothing left to tie them to the earth since their admiration for nature wasn't enough.

Space, unlike nature, felt empty. Despite the crew of a thousand and ten times of it as passengers, the emptiness led to a bone deep ache they couldn't name. The emptiness was comforting in a sense, with the absence of responsibilities and worries, but it was also letting the thoughts they desperately tried to bury to creep up.

Captain sighed as they realised that they were brooding yet again. This was the fifth time this month. Or the week. Their awareness of time was not very trustable.

[A familiar, comforting smile appeared on the hologram. There's a moment of silence as the person struggles to find the right words.

You've always been too gloomy, cap. Sometimes, I couldn't believe how you motivated us but failed to see something to motivate yourself. But getting the rank, I began to understand. It was never about motivation. Now I know why you sacrificed your nights and chances of raise for us. Now I understand. And I understand how... lonely this is, how lonely to stare at the deck and know all those lives look up to a word between your two lips.

The smile turns bitter.]

A cough began to bubble up in their throat again. They eyed the crew, who were doing the routine checkup before the breakfast. They couldn't just cough here, knowing that it would draw attention. They stood slowly, ignoring the stiffness, and relieved the crew from the final tasks. First Officer glared at them, probably thinking that they were being too soft.

Captain ignored the look. They just needed to be alone, and they didn't think they could make it to their room at that moment. Also, they could complete the checkup themselves, so it was pointless to keep the crew around.

The crew emptied the deck slowly, their chatter growing more faint as Captain is left alone.

[And I truly don't know how you survived without going mad. I will go mad if I go through this without talking to someone. I'm glad you offered me to call when I need... though I was surprised to hear you took another mission.

The figure chuckled, breathing in. The camera angle shifted, and revealed a drained face, smiling with a hint of sadness.

Captain coughed harshly, blood spluttering to their black uniform. When the chest pain faded, they were only glad that this wasn't the ceremonial one— the plain white one that they were supposed to wear at the landing day. They wheezed a few times as they struggled to catch their breath, leaning to the helm to keep themselves stable. They could feel their body breaking down day by day, their facade beginning to crack.

I was expecting you to retire, you know. Find a beach planet and take a vacation. If that was the situation, then you could answer me before it's too late, but perhaps it's for the best. Now, it'll take some time for you to get these messages, but knowing you'll see those is somehow soothing. Anyway, skipping my usual blabber, I...

The figure shifted uneasily, preparing themselves about what they were going to say.

I woke up before the time. It's only one week, but knowing the high tech stuff we work with, it's truly concerning...]

"When's the medicine?" They asked the computer. They cleared their voice and asked again when it didn't answer. "When is the next dose?"

"It is recommended..."

"It is recommended for a medical personnel to oversee the procedure, I know." They cut in with the irritation of hearing the same sentence for the tenth time today. "But I ordered you to shut up about it and just answer the questions."

If it was a crew member, they wouldn't use that tone unless it was a life and death situation. But with a very irritating computer, they didnt know how to restrain it.

"Your next dose of medicine is in two hours." The computer talked in its annoyingly flat tone. "The medicine can be taken in cafeteria."

"No." Captain almost snarled. They ignored this was basically arguing with a bunch of wires. "In the medbay reserved for the command crew."

"Your preference is noted."

Captain sighed. The computer was noting this every day, yet forgetting. They had tried to fix it multiple times, but because of an unknown software in the ship, some minor things like that was getting deleted from the ship's memory. They hoped no one else noticed it, at least until Captain found a way to crack the software. The technicians could look at it after that.

A sudden wave of dizziness caused them to slip. They gripped the console not to fall with a sudden panic, a whimper escaping as their chest ached with the strain. They held their hand to their nose, expecting it to begin bleeding soon. This was becoming more and more frequent ever since...

[I didn't realise it at first, but after two days, I noticed that I got tired easily. And not only me. Everyone was tiring out easily. So, I ordered a full checkup on my crew—

The figure chuckled weairly.

Don't scold me so soon, I got myself too, but I followed your footsteps and had to be dragged first... anyway, we are all damaged. The cryopods were sabotaged and... and...

Slowly, tears begun to fall from the figure's eyes. They sobbed a few times to get themselves together, but their voice was thick with emotion.

This damage is irreversible. It seems like I had the worst blow... I... I'm dying. The ship is also falling apart and I don't know if we can make it... ]

They slowly lowered themselves, breathing heavily to build their composure back. Their knees felt weak as the last medicine began to wear off. But they knew their crew expected to see them in the cafeteria. There weren't many people to cover their absence. Only fifteen of their crew was awake since they had to keep an eye on everyone.

Slowly but carefully, they pushed themselves back to their feet. They coughed again and commanded the computer to run a final checkup as they manually checked some of the instruments. They were glad that they had swallowed most of the information to run a ship alone in theory. It would be impossible to run a vast ship like that all by themselves, but with the information they had, they could at least give people some break or see their own needs.

Making sure that everything was in place and then checking after the computer, they forced themselves to walk to the cafeteria. It was a gruelling walk with their every muscle rebelling against themselves, but they kept their usual stoic look until they sat down with their tray. Unsurprisingly, their second in command slid their tray and sat right in front of them.

"You're distant."

[I'm growing distant, with the neverending suspicion of my own crew, with the neverending paranoia of alarms wailing...

The figure wiped their tears.

Sorry. I didn't intend my... farewell message to turn to a breakdown. But... someone is doing those and I can't find it. We all pay the price. And I'm coming to the only place, you, for the advice but...]

Captain ignored. It had been only a month awake. They couldn't ve held responsible for acting like this, after considering.

"Were your former crew's lying, or you just got old and grumpier with time?"

Captain didn't have the energy to deal with First Officer's suspicions. They bit from their meal slowly, not having much appetite. "Perhaps the news exaggerated, and my former crew decided not to mention that I'm not a morning person."

"There's no morning in space," First Officer chuckled.

"And there's no coffee in this ship too. Stop circling around what you want to say. I'm sure my former helmsman said that if I hadn't been so straightforward, I'd be in the command centre, not stuck in a long-distance spaceship," Captain returned.

There had been many interviews about them, and it was strange to think that many of those could be considered antiques. The people, their former crews, were either dead - a thousand year was too long even with the increased average lifespan - or in other ships, sleeping under freezing temperatures just like Captain was until a month ago. They briefly wondered if pulling away from them was the right choice, but after what they lived through... Captain didn't have the heart to make their workplace their family again. It was better to put some distance between, at least after making sure everyone was going to be fine.

Captain's attention snapped back when First Officer finally built up the courage to talk. "You're hiding something, and I don't like it."

"And what's it, since you are so perceiving?"

First Officer frowned. "You wouldn't be hiding if I knew."

"Maybe," Captain swallowed their last bite, realising that they rushed their meal to get out of this place, "there's nothing to hide, and you are just reading too much into people's behaviour."

"You are lying."

"I am not obligated to earn your—"

A sharp, stab like pain (they had been stabbed before, but this actually felt worse) cut their sentence. They coughed, covering their mouth with a tissue. They could feel it get wet and a faint smell of blood irritated their nose, so they didn't let go of the tissue. They wrinkled it into their palm after making sure there's no blood present on their face.

First Officer's expression softened. "Are you okay?"

Captain considered the change of tune for a moment. Perhaps First Officer was just searching their mouth. Coughing a few more times, they cleared their voice, purging their voice of emotions.

"Went down to the wrong way."

First Officer looked unconvinced for a moment, but Captain wasn't going to deal with it. "Well, if you are so curious about everything, you can go and check everyone's schedules and report back to me for any inconvenience you find," they said with a playful tone, standing up. Their vision blurred for a moment, but they managed not to falter.

[But perhaps advice is not the best course of action. I need you to be okay. I need you to be safe from this conspiracy.]

With quick steps, they made their way to the living quarters. Their chest was squeezing, their head beginning to throb again. Eating too fast was catching up. They doubled over after making the turn, their knees wobbling. They leaned to the wall for a moment, closing their eyes. They didn't let the dread come and dictate them again. They were going to be alright, they murmured to themselves.

They dragged their feet to the second medbay of the ship, which was not used due to numbered awake medics. "Open the cot." They gasped as they fell to the floor, the hiss of the cot coming from close. They whimpered on the cold floor, their vision darkening for a moment.

[I...I feel my end is near, my dear friend. I will call you that, after a long time under you, as your loyal first officer. My end is near, and I... I have no worries left behind other than you. Someone wants this interstellar route to fail. I'm afraid you're one of the next targets. I don't want your end to be like mine...]

"I'm afraid," Captain murmured themselves as they slowly rose to their knees, breathing heavily, "we are destined to live the same thing regardless of distance and time."

There was no room for pride as they crawled to the cot, the glass hatch closing over them.

[Scanning...]

Captain tried to calm their breaths, laying flat relieving some dizziness. They tried not to think much. They tried not to think at all. The hum of the medical equipment echoed through the small room. They clenched their jaw, fingers gripping the edge of the cot. It was a desperaye attempt to anchor themselves as the machine got louder, revealing what they already knew too well.

Captain's gaze fixated on the sterile ceiling, the rhythmic whirr of the machinery getting into their nerves.

The cold, clinical announcement pulled Captain back to the present. The holographic display flickered to life, revealing a detailed map of internal damage, highlighted in stark red. But it didn't need to be, as another coughing fit took over and Captain failed to cover their mouth, the glass painting with red almost in an instant.

[Internal damage detected. There are no available treatments, but medicine could be administered to relieve symptoms. For further instructions, please consult the medical personnel.]

"Just give the medicine." Captain gasped. A needle tied to a canal came out from the cot, piercing their skin and bumping a clear liquid into them. The pain dulled instantly, Captain growing limp. They swore, groaning as they opened the cot.

Captain took a deep breath, determined to regain composure. They wiped away the remaining traces of blood on their lips with the back of their hand, their gaze fixed on the holographic display showing the internal damage. The sterile hum of the medbay equipment seemed to echo the silence of their situation.

"Captain, the report is—" First Officer's mouth dropped open at Captain's dishevelled look. Their expression was horrified. And the swearing they used was the only word they could express the situation.

After a moment, Captain straightened up, shoulders squared, and a mask of authority settled on their face. It was a practiced facade, a shield against the vulnerability that threatened to consume them. They stood shakily, getting out of the medbay with faltering space. When they opened the door of their own room, a voice behind them called.

[galaxythreads]

I do feel very irritated with the ending of season 2 to be honest. like understand, just because it wasn't bad doesn't mean it's my beloved. I liked a lot of it, but there are parts that just rubbed me the wrong way, like:

Feeling the "Where is John Watson in Sherlock's Mind Palace thing". Where it's like, why didn't Loki talk to Thor, or Frigga, or anyone about the timeline problem?

Loki being alone on a throne, sitting there forever, a - completely stops MCU the Kang saga unless someone shoves him off the throne, and b - is one of the most depressing endings I have seen in a marvel project to date. Loki is terrified of being alone and now he is. permanently. forever. He doesn't get to live out a life on the timeline, he has to sit there, and listen to his friends move on and live their lives and then die. Like to me this feels like Loki being tied up by the snake and then left with a pool of acid to drip on his face forever. Like it's more of a punishment. Yes, I understand that narratively it had to end this way but I'm still :(

Loki's shoes. I can't. I know it's minor but WHY IS HE WEARING SLIPPERS?

No one making any effort to find him or go sit at the end of time with him. No one cares??

Ravonna just randomly dying at the end by what I presume is Aloith. Okay. Thanks for giving us a conclusive end to her story! :)

We do not know what Sylvie's nexus event is and now we never will

We spent so much time worldbuilding the TVA and then it's pointless. We don't know if they consented to being agents, we don't know how their minds were mass wiped, we don't know what's up with the pie. Why do they have an entire room of pie? That's so weird. The pie clearly meant SOMETHING

So many people in the TVA died for nothing. Brad's team is dead and it didn't DO anything.

I STILL FEEL CONFUSED ABOUT WHY THEY WERE TRYING TO SAVE THE LOOM BECAUSE WHY DID THEY THINK THEY NEEDED IT? DID NO ONE THINK ABOUT WHY IT WAS THERE? No one gave an explanation for why the TVA though it was there and i'm aflksjdlsf

Loki's time slipping started because of kang..........?????????????? how????????????????????????

sylvie's entire character has been muddled down to kang killer and that makes me sad. she had so much more to tell and they just didn't know what to DO with her in season 2.

WHY was the scene with Ravonna and HWR recording there? It didn't mean ANYTHING

I just. I don't know. There's more but I'm tired and can't think of it. I'm just. Irritated. Like I enjoyed this season a lot more than season 1, I genuinely had fun and I am actually sad it's over rather than relieved, but the finale was just bleh to me.

[amnevitahwritesstuff]

A bond between dragon and rider is close. Some would say, too close.

Fandom: The Empyrean/Fourth Wing

Pairing: Violet/Tairn

Rating: Explicit

Triggers: Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Monsterfucking

AO3 Link

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Part One

She’d known from the first moment she saw him that this was the one.

Her dragon.

The way he’d towered over her like a mountain and incinerated Tynan like the ant he was. He was powerful and vicious and hers.

She’d never seen him before that moment. Barely known of his existence outside that one lecture in Professor Kaori’s class. And yet bonding with him had felt like a piece of her soul, one she hadn’t realized was missing, suddenly slotting into place. A strange sort of kinship she’d never experienced with anyone else. Not even her beloved dead father.

My name is Taireanach, he had told her. And the name has seared itself into her heart like the mark he later branded onto her back.

“I’m Violet,” she had said.

I know.

And that had been that.

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Tairn, she later learns, was a bit of an overprotective old man.

“I’ll never learn if you keep using magic to hold me here,” she’d said one afternoon, during flight maneuvers after he had locked her into her seat.

You can’t learn if you’re dead. He had groused back, his voice ringing through her head and into her bones.

A part of her still marveled over that. Of having someone else inside her head…all the time.

All the time.

It certainly took some getting used to. In some ways it felt a little like talking to herself…if she was a forever grumpy, yet doting, giant lizard.

I am not a lizard.

“But you are doting?” Violet said wryly.

Tairn’s only reply was a feeling of exasperation.

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It’s Tairn who saves her from her would-be assassins.

His voice that rings through her dreams and wakes her just in time to avoid the sword meant for her neck. His quick thinking and sharp senses that help her prevail against her attackers and gain the upper hand.

And, later, it will be he who burns her last assassin without hesitation or mercy.

I will not lose another. He tells her afterwards.

She doesn’t have to ask who he means.

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“Stop fussing.”

I am not fussing. Tairn growled. I am irritated that my human will not listen to reason.

“Your human is fine.”

You are not fine.

They’d been having this argument all day. Ever since Violet had awoken in agony Tairn had made his displeasure with her stubborn refusal to rest all too clear. He’d spent the better part of the day mentally harassing her over her life decisions as she went from class to class.

“Can we please not do this?” Violet sighed. Gods, she was tired. She’d barely slept what with the pain waking her up far too early. The sun hadn’t even been up yet. “I’m exhausted enough as it is.”

Which is why you should be resting.

Arguing with Tairn was often akin to punching a brick wall. Pointless, and left one questioning why they’d even bothered in the first place.

Your ridiculous human classes can wait. Go to sleep. Now. His voice rolled through her head with the sort of authority that demanded complete obedience. Violet shivered.

“…Fine. But not because you said so.” She groused, not wanting to admit defeat.

Whatever you say Silver One.

She went to bed.

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Violet learns many things about her dragon.

Some of them surprising.

Like just how much he loves when she strokes his scales and scratches under his great chin like an indolent cat.

Or how in the winter he will hover over her like a mother hen, pressing close to warm her with the heat of his body.

Or the way he fusses over her constantly. He is so very protective, her dragon. Always concerned with her safety. Her well-being.

He cares.

He cares so much.

Sometimes, in her guiltiest moments, she thinks he even cares for her more than her own family.

And in her even guiltier moments, she thinks perhaps she feels the same.

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The realization didn’t happen all at once.

Violet wasn’t an idiot. The signs had always been there. In hindsight, she had probably always known she had felt this way but had refused to linger on it lest she give it form. A name.

Like infatuation.

Or love.

Whatever it was, it was wildly inappropriate. Unnatural. Wrong. Whenever these thoughts or feelings surfaced she’d hastily stuff them back down out of shame and embarrassment.

Why did she feel this way? Was there something wrong with her?

Probably, she thought to herself once, thinking about the way Tairn would loom protectively over her on the flight field, snapping at anyone who dared venture too close. The way he, this giant, powerful creature that could crush her like an ant, would lower his head to let her (and only her) stroke the scales on his nose. The way his rumbling, assertive voice would ring through her head and make her heart beat faster. He, at once, made her feel powerful and protected. Cherished and supported.

No one else had ever made her feel that way. Not even her family. Not even her father.

Of course all of these thoughts were only ones she let herself linger on when she was sure the subject in question had already gone to sleep. Better he didn’t know the depths of the depravity she indulged in during the darkest parts of the night. He didn’t need to know his rider was a degenerate who was more attracted to the sound of his voice in her head than any man she’d ever fucked.

The mere thought he might find out made her break out into a cold sweat. What would happen if he found out? It’s not like they could break the bond and he could find a new, less fucked up rider. Violet supposed he could just kill her out of disgust. Had dragons ever done that to their riders?

Well, there was a first time for everything.

Needless to say, she’d gotten very good at her mental shielding.

He could never know.

Never.

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Things finally came to a head when her signet manifested.

Violet tried to think straight, she really did, but she was just so…worked up. Her power skittered under her skin like the very lightning she could now call upon. It made her restless, jittery…

Reckless.

And when she’d gone down to the local tavern to celebrate with her friends, well, who was she to turn down the advances of some random infantryman? It had been so very long since she’d gotten to blow off some steam. Certainly long before she’d ever bonded with Tairn. Before she’d crossed the parapet even.

She wished she could’ve said she remembered the boy’s name but…well.

He might as well have been a glorified living doll for the way that she used him. A doll whose dick she made use of to rid herself of that creeping restlessness crawling under her skin. Poor whatever his name was. Perhaps she should’ve felt guilty for so blatantly taking advantage of him, but he seemed so happy about his predicament that she didn’t let herself feel too bad.

Besides, wasn’t it basically expected of her to sleep her way through the ranks? She was only doing what everyone else expected of her. Expected of all of them.

Now If only she could focus on the human being underneath her and not…others things.

Like how riding this infantryman was so very similar to riding something else…like the heat of Tairn’s body beneath hers. Or the smoothness of his scales against her palms. Or the shocking sensation of a dive mid-flight.

And with thoughts of riding Tairn came more, like his (rightly earned) arrogance. His ever looming presence in her mind, always there to aid or comfort her. His deep, rumbling voice that always felt like it vibrated through her bones.

Violet couldn’t help the way her breath quickened as her thoughts took a decidedly…intimate turn. Pleasure skittered up her spine as the boy underneath her was almost entirely forgotten.

When she came, it was with with her dragon’s name echoing in her mind.

Tairn!

Before she had time to realize her mistake, the all too familiar specter of her dragon’s mind slipped right past her wards and nudged curiously at her own.

Silver One?

She knew he had seen too much even before she managed to slam her shields closed. She felt his surprise. His confusion.

Suddenly her orgasm made her feel dirty. As if she had done something wrong. Something shameful. And why shouldn’t she feel that way? She’d orgasmed while thinking of her dragon! And in a decidedly un-platonic sort of way.

Gods, what was wrong with her?

She didn’t even have the wherewithal to bid the infantryman goodbye before she was pulling on her clothes and storming out of the room he had rented for the night.

Gods…what was she supposed to do now?

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She didn’t speak to him for days.

Silver One…

Her shields meant nothing to him. Every time she tried to put them up, he’d slip past them as if there were made of smoke. So she’d just resorted to ignoring him.

Which, unsurprisingly, was a very hard thing to do when a giant lizard lived inside one’s head.

You can’t avoid me forever. Flight Maneuvers are today.

Shit. Fuck. He was right.

Only a couple hours later, she found herself walking out onto the flight field as if she were trudging to her own execution. Tairn loomed large over every other dragon on the field, those golden eyes riveted to her.

She braced herself for what he would say…but nothing came.

Violet stared up at him warily.

Waiting.

He only lowered himself further to the ground so she could climb up and into place. As if this were just another flight lesson. As if nothing unusual had occurred just a few days before.

He was quiet for the rest of Flight Maneuvers.

She would’ve thought, after all the constant nagging and mental harassment that he’d be the same here (worse even). But instead there was an ominous silence from her dragon as they flew through the sky. They touched. They moved as one. But they said nothing.

It probably should’ve clued her in to what would happen next.

As soon as they landed Violet was ready to dismount and put as much distance between she and her dragon as humanly possible. However, just as her boots hit solid ground, he spoke.

Enough of this.

The finality of the words was all the warning she got before a very large scaled leg blocked her escape. A couple other riders cast nervous, confused glances their way, but otherwise kept walking back towards the school as their dragons took off into the sky…leaving her alone with her own dragon for the first time in days.

Fuck.

He’d planned this.

You left me no other choice. Tairn agreed unrepentantly.

“I’m going to be late for dinner,” she said loudly, as if there were anyone else here to hear her but the obnoxiously large dragon holding her captive.

You can eat once we’ve spoken.

Panic crawled up her spine and into her throat, choking her.

Fuck.

Fuck.

This was it. He was going to eat her. Maybe even tell her what a freak she was first. Somehow she was more terrified of the latter.

Stop that, Tairn growled. I am not going to eat you. In fact, I am insulted that you would think so little of me. I only eat those who deserve it.

And I don’t?

No. His reply was swift and vicious. Angry. Listen to me Silver One. I chose you for your bravery. Because you had the heart of a dragon…but you are not being brave now. You are being a coward.

“I’m not a coward!” Violet snapped aloud. It wasn’t like anyone else was here to witness her humiliation anyway.

What else do you call avoiding speaking to me out of fear? Out of shame? Dragons do not feel shame.

“But I’m not a dragon!”

Aren’t you? You behaved more like a dragon than those pathetic humans who attacked Andarna.

“That was different-”

It was not. I have seen much of humanity in my time and few have ever risked themselves to save a creature who looks nothing like them. You are a rarity even amongst your fellow riders. So why then should you care what your fellow man thinks? You are above them.

I’m not though, she thought. How could she be above her fellow man when there was something so clearly aberrant about her?

Tairn huffed in frustration.

Tell me, Silver One, do you think just any dragon bonds with a human?

“What does that have to do with this?”

Everything. The bond between dragon and rider is closer than any other. Closer than kin. Closer than mates. We live your lives. We hear your thoughts. We mourn your loss like the death of our own hatchling. It is the sweetest of loves. And the most painful of tragedies. Not just any dragon is willing to live such a life. Just as not just any human is willing to live it alongside them. It takes a very particular kind of dragon and a very particular kind of human to consent to that sort of partnership.

“So, what, we’re all freaks then?” Violet scowled. She was behaving like a cornered animal. In many ways, she was a cornered animal. She would rather cross the parapet again a hundred times than have this conversation.

Freaks who love too deeply perhaps, Tairn agreed, refusing to take the bait. Those who wish to share themselves in whole with another. Share their hopes. Their fears. Even their desires.

That last word made Violet’s stomach squirm and gooseflesh break out over her arms. Oh gods. He really was going to go there.

I see you Violet Sorrengail. I see every piece of you. Even the parts you don’t wish for me to see. And I accept them. I love them. So do not insult me by being ashamed of them.

“But it’s wrong,” she whispered.

And who decided that? You?

“No, but-”

I thought we agreed that you are above other humans. Their opinions are of no concern to me. To us.

“Why are you so fucking calm about this?!” She finally snapped.

Why wouldn’t I be? Dragons care little for human morals. We do as we like. You would do well to follow our example.

It was clear she wasn’t going to win this argument. Tairn was as stubborn as he was patient. And for some bizarre reason he seemed completely unconcerned over the fact that she’d fucked a man while thinking about him. Sexually. If anything, he seemed more upset over the fact that she’d been avoiding him. If he were human he would be the one avoiding her.

But I am not human. Tairn said patiently. I never will be. And I refuse to turn away from you when you show me your true self.

Violet went silent.

What could she say to that? ‘You’re wrong’? ‘You’re being a lot more understanding about this than even my own family would’?

The sun was beginning to set. She hadn’t lied before. Dinner really would be served soon. She should’ve gone back inside ages ago, but here she was stuck outside, arguing with her behemoth of a dragon about the morality of her being…attracted to him? In love with him?

“I just don’t…I don’t understand why you’re okay with this.”

You don’t need to. You just need to know that I am.

He said it like it was so simple. And, perhaps, for him it was.

She sighed. “Okay.” She was so tired.

Go rest. He nudged her towards the school as if he hadn’t been holding her hostage for the past hour. We will speak more later.

“Okay,” she said again, and left.

He didn’t take back to the sky until she was safely ensconced back within the college walls.

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He didn’t push.

She didn’t bring it up either.

They fell so easily back into the routine of life at Basgiath that one could almost believe that their conversation from before had just…never happened.

But it had though.

And Violet couldn’t stop thinking about it.

How could she not? It wasn’t every day that a rider had weird fantasies abut their dragon and then discovered that said dragon was…fine with it? Possibly even reciprocated???

She could hardly keep her head on straight in her lessons.

“Are you alright?” Rhiannon whispered to her in Battle Brief. It had only been two days since her confrontation with Tairn but even her best friend could tell that something was…off.

“Oh, you know,” Violet said cagily. “A lot on my mind…”

Tairn snorted.

Quiet you, she hissed.

Rhiannon dropped the subject, but Violet knew for a fact that this wasn’t the end of it. Just a reprieve until she could properly corner her somewhere private.

Great.

It is no business of hers, Tairn rumbled dismissively.

Sure, but that’s not how friendship works.

This is the problem with you humans. He countered. You’re too nosey.

And you aren’t? Violet said, amused.

You are mine. She is not.

She shivered.

“Right…” she murmured under her breath.

“What was that?” Rhiannon asked, brows pinched together.

“Nothing.”

They turned back to class.

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Something occurred to her later.

This has happened before.

Yes. Tairn confirmed, as if that weren’t world-shattering information to just casually drop in her lap.

Her mind spun. When…how?!

You seem to be laboring under the impression that you are unique. He said, almost amused. I assure you, you are not.

But…how have I never heard of this?!

Because it is no one’s business but that of a dragon and their rider. He dismissed. And, considering how you reacted before, is it any wonder you humans wouldn’t speak of such things to one another?

He had a point.

But…it has happened?

Yes.

And…is that…would you…she couldn’t bring herself to finish that sentence.

Yes.

Violet felt like all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. Like her nerve endings had been set aflame.

“…Oh,” she said. And then, again, “Oh.”

Tairn just laughed at her.

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No matter what she did, she couldn’t get it out of her head.

Fucking.

And Tairn.

Obviously he couldn’t fuck her. The idea was beyond laughable. She barely came up to his ankle. For all she knew his dick was the same size as her.

Tairn, because of course he was always listening, seemed to find her thoughts amusing.

Two.

“What?”

I have two.

The answer was so unexpected that she nearly crashed into her bedroom door on the way out of her room.

The rest of her day she could barely concentrate on anything, his words ringing through her head on an endless loop.

“But we can’t actually…do anything…” she finally whispered to him late into the night.

Not in the usual ways, no. Tairn agreed almost immediately. Violet tried not to feel a twinge of disappointment at that. But that does not mean we cannot enjoy each other’s company.

Her face flamed bright red. She knew exactly what he meant, recalling her disastrous tryst with that faceless infantryman. How she had thought, not of him, but of Tairn as she came.

I will hide nothing from you, he said gently. Just so long as you hide nothing from me.

“It…it wouldn’t be weird?” Her voice was so quiet. Terrified someone else would hear her.

We have had this conversation already. I will not repeat myself.

“Okay…okay.”

She didn’t do anything that night. Nor the night after that. Nor even that week. But, as always, Tairn made the decision for her.

She had just lain down for the night after a particularly exhausting day, when she felt it.

Arousal.

And not her own. Instead she felt a pulsing heat across the bond followed by flashes of blue scales and the foreign feeling of sinking into something tight and hot.

Violet stopped breathing.

Tairn was…he was…oh.

Watch. He said. Feel.

And gods help her, she did.

She saw through his eyes, the fierce female who writhed underneath him. She felt the hot, slick slide of her body as he made a home inside of her. She smelled the taste of sulfur and pheromones on the air.

Her breathing sped up. She was hot. Feverish. His pleasure was her own. Heating her skin and making her shiver. Her fingers were already dipping down into her underthings before she could stop herself.

At the first brush of her fingers against her clit, she heard Tairn snarl in her head.

Yes!

He wasn’t touching her…but he might as well have been.

Her fingers circled the slippery flesh at the cleft of her as she watched her dragon fuck his companion with a ferocity and domination that left her warm and wanting.

They came together. His roar ringing through her head as his pleasure raced through her veins like fire. Satisfaction, fierce and amoral, rushed to her brain.

Good. She heard him say, his voice almost a purr. Very good.

She slept like the dead.

[blitheringmcgonagall]

If We Died Tonight

For @mollymarymarie and @imsiriuslyreading a little Wolfstar angst with a happy ending… <33

If we could take a photo

Eternalize this moment

For the days when I don't believe

When our love gets stolen

'Cause there's no exception

And I know time will take you far from me

Let this night invade my lungs

You're all I wanna breathe

Right beside the lake, I burn for you

You burn for me

So kiss me the way that you would

If we died tonight

Hold me the way that you would

For the final time

Whatever may come, somewhere deep inside

There's always this version of you and I

So just kiss me the way that you would

If we died tonight, if we died tonight, yeah

All the deepest secrets

All the darkest moments

Oh, I promise they'll be safe with me

We've all been broken

There's no exception

But you carry it so gracefully

Let this night invade my lungs

You're all I want to breathe

Right beside the lake, I burn for you

You burn for me

(Kiss Me by Dermot Kennedy)

He finds Remus standing beside the edge of the Great Lake. He’s soaking, the rain pelting through his stupid battered jacket, the pointless one – not waterproof, and without a hood – wet curls plastered onto his face. His sodden, frayed jeans already clinging to his too thin frame, wearing his battered canvas shoes, completely useless in this weather, like an idiot. His shoulders hunched forwards – resigned, shivering. His eyes have a far-away, brooding expression, looking out at the grey waters lapping at his feet. It’s not unlike the look on his face before the full moon, except that expression is more resigned in its weariness. This one has more in common with hopelessness, a tiredness that sees no future.

He thinks he knows what that look means.

“What do you think about this whole spy thing?” Peter had asked him a week ago, interrupting Sirius’ thoughts.

“Fuck, Wormy,” Sirius said, putting down his fork with an irritated sigh. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

“But who could it possibly be?” said Peter, with terror in his voice.

“No clue, Wormy, no fucking clue!” Sirius said, picking up the fork again and moving food around his plate. “Dedalus Diggle? Seems a bit of an airhead though. Or Elphias Doge? But he’s a good friend of Dumbledore’s for years. It’s none of us, obviously. And it’s not the Prewetts, or Aberforth, or Hagrid, obviously. Not Marlene, the Longbottoms or Moody… I don’t fucking know. Who do you think it is?”

“I’ve no idea!” said Peter, his voice rising by an octave. “I wish I knew.”

“Yeah, listen, Wormy, don’t think about it too much. It’ll just make you paranoid.”

He’s already feeling very fucking paranoid himself.

“Thanks, Pads,” said Peter, with a forced smile. “I’ll try. If anyone had a reason to become the spy it’d be Moony, with all the anti-Werewolf shit that’s happening. But he’d be the last person to join Voldemort’s side. He’d rather die than join them.”

Sirius stared at Peter.

“Remus is literally the very last person I would ever suspect, Pads, don’t worry, I’m not a total moron! I’d sooner think it was me or you than Moony!” Peter laughed, shaking his head as though he had said something funny.

“Yeah, whatever…” Sirius let out a harsh breath.

“I’m joking, I swear!” Peter had squirmed, leaving the newspaper on the table as he left the room.*

Peter may well have been joking, but he hasn’t stopped thinking about this conversation, or that newspaper article, replaying it over and over and over when he lies awake at night, like a faulty record stuck on a groove, unable to sleep.

Remus was due to accompany him tomorrow on an Order mission to Shropshire, just the two of them, but at the last minute he bowed out, some pathetic excuse about having ‘double booked’ himself, about ‘needing to go on a recce for Dumbledore’. Which makes zero sense, because Dumbledore picked them, them specifically, to go to Shropshire. Which, by the way, he rarely does nowadays – not since the time James Fucking Potter told him he’s over-protective of Moony and therefore a liability on joint missions. Prick. He’s probably right, but he’s still a prick, regardless. He’s also his best friend and best brother.

Only brother.

Regulus Arcturus Black is missing, presumed dead, since December 1979, nearly two years ago. The spineless, soft, clueless, poor bastard idiot.

They say he’s dead, Death Eaters and Order members alike; Death Eaters taunting him, gloating, Cousin Bellatrix’s cackling laughter shouting it out with the aid of a Sonorus during battles, knowing he will hear it and how much it hurts him, ‘You betrayed him, disowned him, left him to die!’

Not strictly true, but he may as well have, a voice that sounds suspiciously like his mother tells him. He knows this already. Regulus point blank refused his help. His father made sure of it*. But he knows for a fact that he should have done more, forced Regulus to flee with him, made him renounce his upbringing, maybe even Imperiused him into…

Continue on ao3…

[saiyanandproud]

6 and 8, and 25! :0

Munday Mumbling Asks - send a number for me to talk about one of the following topics!

6. Excessive OOC

I must say I only had a few occasions on this blog where I have witnessed excessive OOC behaviours. Also, it's a bit hard to determine what is 'excessive', it's all very subjective, so I will list a few examples that come to mind and could fit the definition.

First of all, I don't mind OOC posting about a mun's worldbuilding, characters, writing approach, headcanons on their muses and so on. If anything, I really like to read about them, they give me a lot more insight on their creative approach and are a big source of inspiration for threads to suggest them! The only excessive aspect I might think of it is when there is A LOT of that and... None of the actual interactions. Aka: it's great to read about all this stuff, my friend, but if you don't actually offer any chance to put this into practice and roleplay with you, it might feel a bit pointless. I had instances of finding very interesting blogs, but once I scrolled through their posts, it was a lot of OOC talking and... None of the writing. Which makes me a bit suspicious about what to expect from it, so I might choose not to followe because I like to keep my dash focussed on RPing as much as possible. The fact that I live in a GMT zone which is different from most of my mutuals makes it challenging to follow dash activity already, so I'd like not to fill it with content that wouldn't be relevant to my hobby here if possible.

Another instance of excessive OOC that comes to my mind (again, according to my perspective), is toxic OOC. We all get salty, it's human, but if every post a person makes OOC is to throw shade and sourness at others / the dash / anything in a constant manner without ever considering dialoguing, my wish to interact with them will plummet. It's not too different from real life stuff -- no one likes to engage with someone who is constantly negative and criticises everyone and everything, and I personally prefer when issues are discussed (and hopefully fixed) rather than casually dropping complaints and never being proactive in making the situation better (and fixing the issue in private where it's due rather than ranting about it publicly). The odd moment of irritation is fine, but if looking back one realises that they are constantly irritated about anything, well, maybe they should consider if it's not a matter of the way they process stuff, and whether it would be worth changing approach. Again, this is just my two cents on the matter.

8. Reblog karma

I am a fan of reblog karma -- in fact, it's in my rules. This is for a couple of reasons: one, I have been treated as a source of memes by certain blogs that followed me but never cared to interact, write, or even reach out, only reblogged the memes I shared and that was it; as I find it quite rude, I usually give it three strikes until I choose to block the blog because of it. Second, which is kinda linked to the former, because RPing, while being a personal hobby, does happen in a community, hence why I think that, as a common effort to keep the fun going and interactions flowing for everyone's amusement, it's a simple matter of kindness to send an ask to the blog we reblog a meme from -- it takes 0 seconds, it fulfills the purpose that meme was reblogged for by the RPing blog in the first moment, and it enhances the possibilities of more people engaging in the meme/game and make it all more enjoyable for everyone.

I completely understand that sometimes you might not have a way/reason to send a certain ask to said mun, not even on anon. But that's why I think that, in this case, is just better to reblog the meme from the source (that's what memes blogs are there for!). I personally prefer to engage as much as possible, but if people don't, reblogging from meme blogs/sources helps them thrive, takes nothing, takes the burden off your shoulders, and doesn't make the other user feel 'used'. Again, a personal opinion.

25. Your character

Oh boy. What to say about Mariko? I can't believe I have been writing her for... Eight years now. It's sweet to say how she has changed in the meantime, and at the same time, how she hasn't changed at all, which makes me both proud and annoyed about her.

Well, let's start with the positive stuff I guess. I am happy that Mariko seems to draw in sympathy from the crowd. I've had a few people telling me she's well written and feels 'alive', which I'm glad to hear (especially considering that I really could treat her in a way more serious way when I write her). I do my best to make her flawed and as imperfect as possible, not becuase of the 'Mary Sue' complex (we all grew past it I think), but mostly because I think flawed characters are the most intriguing ones, and imperfections are great triggers to spike rich threads.

On the other hand, I wish I could write Mariko in a more 'serious' way sometimes. Part of the reason why it doesn't happen is my own selectivity, both in terms of mutuals (not a massive issue here, I consider myself kinda lucky, it's just that simply I need the right muses sometimes), and in terms of story. There are certain narrative knots in Mariko's storyline which I wish could go in a specific way, but I don't want to force anyone on it. Like, the way she finds out she descends from Goku -- it would really challenge her perspective on her life, her predjudices on his historical figure and so much more, and I would like to dedicate it as much time and introspection as possible, but I know this is my need and mine only.

The issue with Mariko is that she isn't born out of a story I had in my mind already; I just wrote down the premises (her life on Earth) but everything about her story from once she arrived in Conton onwards has been litterally shaped by RP interactions. Which has been beautiful, and unexpected, and lots of fun! Some key threads (like the ones with her mentors, with Fu, with Shallot) did a lot to make her grow in Conton, and by accomodating to mutuals turnover and so on, other opportunities to develop her came naturallly -- Mariko's devotion to her mentors, for example. The mutual who wrote both Nappa and Raditz back then is no longer active, which sparked a sense of 'abandonment' in Mariko's character, a nostalgia for her acquired family in Conton, and a need to cling on their figures whenever possible, reflected in later threads with @risingsouls). So yeah, by extension, Mariko's storyline relies a lot on the interactions I get here. Which, while it can be creative and surprising, it can also limit my chances to explore the character because of this approach, based on the availability or people/threads/muses/anything.

Another "issue" (kinda) I have with Mariko is the way she grew. I decided to progressively age her at some point, so each year that passes is a year she gains. Mariko is currently 23 (or 24? Did I update it this last July??), and I might decide to stop at some point, or not. However, not sure if because of her faceclaim appearance, or because of her attitude, or because people first interacted with her when she was younger, I still struggle to make her come across as more mature -- she seems crystallized in a trope that I struggle to free her from, and it can be frustrating because sometimes I feel like it hinders chances of more serious topics and threads involving her. Maybe it's also the way I write her, and the bratty attitude she has at times. Then again, it is really part of her personality, and while she has become more mature over the years, it's hard to picture her without her 'youthful spark' at times. Not sure. Inputs and constructive criticisms are more than welcome, as always.

[thedevillionaire]

So I haven't re-read everything but I was thinking about Cerberus and Lilith vs Cerberus and Kia. And I think Cerberus and Lilith were equal and opposite, constantly tussling and competing for dominance and power in their relationship. She's the ice to his fire, she brings out his power through conflict and it's stressful and tense but passionate and thrilling.

Now Kia and Cerberus are like fire and a redwood forest. The forest is fire’s natural home, feeding and renewing in a cycle that benefits both. She helps him grow in true strength rather than just power. They are still passionate, but Kia sates him in body and soul and Lilith leaves him hungry for something more.

Lilith is the cunning paramor of Cerberus the Conqueror and Kia is the steady partner of Cerberus the King.

Firstly, I am sending a novelty oversize amount of extra-warm fuzzies your way for not only thinking in depth about my OCs in the first place, but for then taking the time to write out and send your thoughts about them to me. 🥹💗💗🥹 A total honour.

Secondly, I love the forest/fire analogy. I may have fixated on it...kind of a lot. And now to the main point! Which I will put under the cut because blah blah blah, talky talky, all that. 😅

You're not far off the mark with Cerberus and Lilith, although one of the main reasons their coupleship lasted as long as it did (slightly over a decade, which is notably longer than most of my various Underworldian pairings tend to last) is that they were both very independent, and Lilith already established as a powerful entity in her own right. But oh, yeah, there were certainly a LOT of ups and downs. Also, back in the early days, Cerberus was somewhere between completely disinterested in and actively against the idea of love or a significant other for most of his life - it was a distraction, a pointlessness, an unnecessary responsibility he had no desire towards - and he just flat-out wasn't interested in anyone. Not long-term, anyway, not as anything...important. He's never been short of hopeful suitors - to put it mildly - but his usual reaction to that sort of thing mostly tended to be somewhere between boredom or irritation about it. Presuming he even noticed, lol. Lilith's independence and (very strong, some would say perhaps a little too strong, heh) self-esteem, her own achievements and intellect, plus the fact she's absolutely stunning, broke this antipathy in him, and in more than a few ways they were a great match. BUT. He was always more detached than she was, and Lilith loves to be openly admired, whereas Cerberus...well, it was never much of a priority for him. In lots of areas they both took a lot for granted, though differently, and you're dead on the money in terms of the balance of power, and where it fell...or appeared to. They exasperated each other regularly. Be that as it may, though, by any measure Lilith was the first person Cerberus ever loved. To the best of his ability at the time, that is. Kia was a revelation for him. He fell for her in a way he did not think was possible. Hell, I didn't think it was possible. You think you know someone, and, uh, well...🤣🤣 Nope. Apparently not. Turns out I can be, in fact, AMAZINGLY way off the mark about my own damn people. Cerberus and Kia's ongoing fascination with one another, both of them genuinely thinking the other is the Best Thing Ever (including the negatives; they're not perfect but they are perfect together), is something truly lasting and complementary, and regenerative - that forest/fire comparison indeed. Exactly. ❤️‍🔥

[ambyandony]

Giorno Giovanna - Monster AU Profile

Giorno Giovanna, part vampire, part... human..? and part... something else.

guest appearance from limbo bc shes the only werewolf who was applicable to use

Preface about species type:

In the Monster AU, vampires are a little more like traditional folklore vampires. While some JoJo vampire rules still apply, so do many traditional vampire rules. Being only part-vampire also changes the rules somewhat. Usually to his benefit, making his vampirism-related weaknesses less potent against him. And there’s something else about him… he doesn’t seem to be a full 50% vampire and 50%…human.

His other behaviours seem consistent with a somewhat rare, rather misunderstood species… The Gentry.

Details related to Part-Vampirism:

Sunlight will not burn Giorno. It may slightly irritate his skin and eyes and will diminish a majority of his vampiric abilities when he is directly in it for too long, but it will not burn him.

He has little to no reaction to garlic. He’s just not that into it. This isn’t to say garlic necessarily has 0 effect on vampires (it’s mostly just an extreme irritant and deterrent, really), but it’s only about half as effective on him, and he’s lived in Italy since age four so he’s built up a tolerance.

Heightened sense of perception, especially in the presence of blood. In the presence of fresh blood, he becomes hyperaware.

Craves blood but probably can survive just fine without consuming it (he just won’t).

Automatic boost to charisma. Everybody agrees vampirism does this

Excellent regeneration ability. Stop cutting off your arms.

Has to stop to count spilt rice.

Can be around and make some contact with holy objects, but prolonged contact with them will cause him harm. He can be inside a church, but he tends to be inflicted with great discomfort or sometimes pain simply from stepping inside one.

Can be seen in mirrors! But only in some mirrors so he has to be careful. If it’s silver backed, he can’t be seen. Silver-backed mirrors are less common nowadays (and by nowadays I mean also in 2001) but they’re still around so he has to be careful about mirrors in public places lest he out himself as a vampire.

Often has to be invited into a house. Or… perhaps just prefers to be?

Popular to contrary belief, he does have blood. His own blood usually doesn’t make him hyperaware though, as drinking his own blood would be completely pointless.

Details related to...?:

Seems very intent on people giving him their Names…

Occasionally steals your gender

Takes promises very seriously… and never breaks one. If he appears to do so, that’s on you. That’s something you did. You know who you are.

Sometimes looks a little… different. In a way you can’t quite place…

Seems to have an iron allergy. Which may be part of the reason he doesn’t presently drink blood despite his craving for it.

Details about Giorno:

Smug, pretentious, and a little bitch.

Snakey with wording and finds amusement when others are loose with theirs.

Is generally just proudly unfazed in most situations. He knows he’s powerful and thinks he’s invincible, in a perhaps rather childlike way.

Acts ominous, vague and mysterious but do keep in mind he is a 15 year old and a idiot

Very interested in Fugo because of the sheer audacity.

"I like this one!"/"I would love to study you."

When Giorno first met Fugo he was like “May I have your name? :)” and Fugo was like “no you cant have my fucking name you fucking dipshit” and Giorno was so taken aback by the sheer audacity that he just didn’t do anything about it and got attached to him

* and post part he keeps pestering Fugo like “can I have it now” “can I have your name now”

He likes messing with people. Especially Mista because he knows he can get away with it.

Doesn’t need blood but refuses to go without consuming (or complaining about not getting to) because he’s a little bitch.

Can theoretically fuck up technology by his mere presence if he’s not careful enough.

Holds people to their promises, even if they didn’t know they made one.

Good at charming people. Good at tricking people. Likes doing both.

shut up shut up shut up please shut the fuck up

Overdramatic and makes it everyone else’s problem. Occasionally sparkles, not because he’s a vampire, but because he’s a silly dramatic loser. Shimmers in the moonlight but it’s not clear if that’s possibly involuntary.

gender