#dr denial in action

[absentia-if]

saw you answered my long ask with another quote and,,,

i'm melting even more than before. it literally makes me want to cry and scream into the void

this breaks my heart in the best way

M isn't the only character that i love (your other characters and story in general is incredible OMG), but he sure is my favorite, my baby, my beloved

all M simps after this moment

I’m so happy that you love M! It makes my heart warm to know such a thing. M is a sweetheart, a grumpy sweetheart currently, but a sweetheart nonetheless. And I can’t wait for you to uncover more of what they have to offer.

I actually wrote a small snippet for you— an in between of them being told you were back and when you reunited— that I couldn’t get out of my head because of you love for M. So, I hope you enjoy it. ❤️❤️❤️

Their back ached.

Muscles, having long since grown tired of being kept in the same position for a prolonged period of time, made their agitation known, but even the flair of pain, of discomfort, was nothing but white noise within the back of their mind. Something they were aware of, something they know they should probably pay attention to, but couldn’t bring themself to care about.

In fact, they relished the ache of their neck, relished the growing discomfort at the base of their back, and the tension between their shoulder blades. Relished in the pain because it kept them grounded, kept them focused, into the present. It reminded them that they weren’t dreaming, that they weren’t going to suddenly wake up like all the times before, and that feeling— the warmth that has steadily grown into a raging inferno inside their heart— bypassed any discomfort they may feel.

Azure blue eyes, tinged with ever growing exhaustion, observe the still figure before them. They’re well aware they should head to bed, that they should get some food into them, but they couldn’t bring themself to move away. Couldn’t bring themself to remove themself from your presence after going so long without it.

Would they be able to bear it if you were to disappear in the time they spent away?

Would they be able to mend the already broken pieces of their heart back together if it did?

Would they wish to even try?

No, they muse, standing from their hunched position to move to your side. Staying here, at least for a bit longer, is the most important thing.

The pain in their back, in their shoulders and neck, in their legs, meant little, were practically obsolete, compared to the numbing pain that had been their heart, their soul, after you had been taken. They could handle a bit of discomfort as long as the burning flame of your presence purged the ice that had grown within their heart.

Just a little longer… That’s all they needed. Even if they knew it’d never be enough.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

I have so much pocket lore

it's all really fun, but it has no bearing on the plot(s) and takes up like 50% of my creating power and most of it will never see the light of day

so anyway reblog this and put some of your pocket lore in the tags

[tellafairy]

get anything you desire overnight; what is SATS? how do i use it? — a quick guide.

STATS is short for “state akin to sleep,” a phrase used by neville goddard several times.

for example, one of neville's most popular experiments utilizing SATS is called the "ladder experiment". this experiement demonstrates how useful sats is.

what was the experiment?

1. During one of his lectures, Neville instructed his students to visualize themselves climbing a ladder vividly. He asked them to repeatedly imagine this scenario in detail each night before going to bed. They were to feel themselves climbing the ladder, using all their senses to make it as real as possible.

2. on top of this, Neville told them to write down or say affirmations throughout the day such as, "I will not climb a ladder." This was meant to consciously contradict their nightly visualizations, creating a sense of disbelief in the process. The challenge was to see whether their repeated visualization of the ladder would override the conscious denial of the event.

3. Many of the participants reported that within a few days, despite their daily affirmation of "I will not climb a ladder," they ended up encountering situations in which they physically climbed a ladder. The experiment was intended to show that the subconscious mind, which was being impressed by the vivid visualization during the SATS state, was far more powerful than their conscious thoughts or affirmations.

essentially, Neville wanted to show that imagination, particularly when focused in the relaxed state akin to sleep, could create real-life outcomes, aka — attract your desires instantly.

so . . . how do i use SATS?

1. relax. sit or lie down, and relax your mind and body. this method does not need to be used at night. many people have used it during the day and have gone to sleep for only a few moments before waking up with their desire. This is basically just a form of meditation. A similar mental state occurs naturally in the morning right after awakening, and in the evening before bed, hence why some may prefer to do this method at night despite it not being mandatory.

2. embody the feeling. now while in this state, visualize your goal. Feel your desire completely. want someone to text you? imagine yourself opening your phone to that text message. want a new car? imagine yourself feeling the interior, smelling the new car freshener, testing out the radio. whatever it is, fully immerse yourself in the desire.

3. focus and persist. loop this desire on repeat as you fall asleep, it should be the only focus on your mind. quickly shift any other thoughts that may appear, back onto your desire. the more you do this, the more you'll feel the desire completely.

brief comments;

1. over time, it becomes more and more natural. it's very easy to get into the habit of using SATS to manifest whatever you desire. i often find myself using it without even intending to, just randomly deciding i want something and it becomes all i think about as i fall asleep. it's a very natural method that's easy to custom to.

2. yes, you can use this for shifting realities. there's a reason why so many people "randomly" shift when they stop using long complicated methods and just go to sleep with their DR in mind.

3. you don't need to take action. you don't necessarily need to do anything when manifesting. this doesn't just apply for SATS, but any other form of manifestation. you don't need to take action or do anything further to get your desires if you don't feel like it. remember; they're already yours. they can fall into your hands out of the blue. you don't need to put in effort.

i used several different articles and videos for this to explain it in the most simple way possible, since i know a lot of people tend to struggle with understanding this stuff to the maximum!! so i hope this is easy to read! ૮ ◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა

4. does this mean affirmations don't work?

no, it does not. affirmations DO still work for LOA. you CAN achieve anything through affirmations, it was never stated that you couldn't or that SATS is the only way. this only states that according to neville goddards experiement, sats appears to be a more powerful method than affirmations and that's how he viewed it. more powerful doesn't equate to the other method being completely incorrect or impossible. i also personally find this method to work a lot quicker as well.. similar to the void state.

edit; i didn't realize i wrote stats in the title and not sats lol, my mistake it was autocorrect

[halorvic]

The danger is clear and present: COVID isn’t merely a respiratory illness; it’s a multi-dimensional threat impacting brain function, attacking almost all of the body’s organs, producing elevated risks of all kinds, and weakening our ability to fight off other diseases. Reinfections are thought to produce cumulative risks, and Long COVID is on the rise. Unfortunately, Long COVID is now being considered a long-term chronic illness — something many people will never fully recover from. Dr. Phillip Alvelda, a former program manager in DARPA’s Biological Technologies Office that pioneered the synthetic biology industry and the development of mRNA vaccine technology, is the founder of Medio Labs, a COVID diagnostic testing company. He has stepped forward as a strong critic of government COVID management, accusing health agencies of inadequacy and even deception. Alvelda is pushing for accountability and immediate action to tackle Long COVID and fend off future pandemics with stronger public health strategies. Contrary to public belief, he warns, COVID is not like the flu. New variants evolve much faster, making annual shots inadequate. He believes that if things continue as they are, with new COVID variants emerging and reinfections happening rapidly, the majority of Americans may eventually grapple with some form of Long COVID. Let’s repeat that: At the current rate of infection, most Americans may get Long COVID.

[...]

LP: A recent JAMA study found that US adults with Long COVID are more prone to depression and anxiety – and they’re struggling to afford treatment. Given the virus’s impact on the brain, I guess the link to mental health issues isn’t surprising. PA: There are all kinds of weird things going on that could be related to COVID’s cognitive effects. I’ll give you an example. We’ve noticed since the start of the pandemic that accidents are increasing. A report published by TRIP, a transportation research nonprofit, found that traffic fatalities in California increased by 22% from 2019 to 2022. They also found the likelihood of being killed in a traffic crash increased by 28% over that period. Other data, like studies from the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, came to similar conclusions, reporting that traffic fatalities hit a 16-year high across the country in 2021. The TRIP report also looked at traffic fatalities on a national level and found that traffic fatalities increased by 19%. LP: What role might COVID play? PA: Research points to the various ways COVID attacks the brain. Some people who have been infected have suffered motor control damage, and that could be a factor in car crashes. News is beginning to emerge about other ways COVID impacts driving. For example, in Ireland, a driver’s COVID-related brain fog was linked to a crash that killed an elderly couple. Damage from COVID could be affecting people who are flying our planes, too. We’ve had pilots that had to quit because they couldn’t control the airplanes anymore. We know that medical events among U.S. military pilots were shown to have risen over 1,700% from 2019 to 2022, which the Pentagon attributes to the virus.

[...]

LP: You’ve criticized the track record of the CDC and the WHO – particularly their stubborn denial that COVID is airborne. PA: They knew the dangers of airborne transmission but refused to admit it for too long. They were warned repeatedly by scientists who studied aerosols. They instituted protections for themselves and for their kids against airborne transmission, but they didn’t tell the rest of us to do that.

[...]

LP: How would you grade Biden on how he’s handled the pandemic? PA: I’d give him an F. In some ways, he fails worse than Trump because more people have actually died from COVID on his watch than on Trump’s, though blame has to be shared with Republican governors and legislators who picked ideological fights opposing things like responsible masking, testing, vaccination, and ventilation improvements for partisan reasons. Biden’s administration has continued to promote the false idea that the vaccine is all that is needed, perpetuating the notion that the pandemic is over and you don’t need to do anything about it. Biden stopped the funding for surveillance and he stopped the funding for renewing vaccine advancement research. Trump allowed 400,000 people to die unnecessarily. The Biden administration policies have allowed more than 800,000 to 900,000 and counting.

[...]

LP: The situation with bird flu is certainly getting more concerning with the CDC confirming that a third person in the U.S. has tested positive after being exposed to infected cows. PA: Unfortunately, we’re repeating many of the same mistakes because we now know that the bird flu has made the jump to several species. The most important one now, of course, is the dairy cows. The dairy farmers have been refusing to let the government come in and inspect and test the cows. A team from Ohio State tested milk from a supermarket and found that 50% of the milk they tested was positive for bird flu viral particles.

[...]

PA: There’s a serious risk now in allowing the virus to freely evolve within the cow population. Each cow acts as a breeding ground for countless genetic mutations, potentially leading to strains capable of jumping to other species. If any of those countless genetic experiments within each cow prove successful in developing a strain transmissible to humans, we could face another pandemic – only this one could have a 58% death rate. Did you see the movie “Contagion?” It was remarkably accurate in its apocalyptic nature. And that virus only had a 20% death rate. If the bird flu makes the jump to human-to-human transition with even half of its current lethality, that would be disastrous.

[my-my-my]

KINKTOBER DAY 3 - Orgasm Denial (+ age gap): Ryuken Ishida x Female Reader

Requested by Anonymous

Summary: Dr. Ishida was a brilliant doctor, earning the praise of all those working at Karakura Hospital. His dedication to his work inspired you to become a doctor yourself, leading you to work at the same hospital. Years have gone by, and the staff continue to praise the Head Director's work, but how little do they know how much control he seeks, especially with you.

TW: MDNI! Slight age gap between Ryuken and you (but you're older than Uryuu), orgasm denial, use of sex toys, oral sex (male receiving), dirty talk, slight hints of a dom/sub relationship.

Word count: 1849

Read on AO3 here.

You made your way through your unit, conducting your regular rounds to visit your patients. Reviewing patient chart, after patient chart, and listening to the worries and concerns from your patients’ loved ones, you were weary by the time you reached the nursing station.

But as exhausted as you were, you worked hard for this career and loved being a doctor. You thanked the staff for their hard work today. One of the nurses wanted your consultation on the next steps of a patient’s discharge plan, when Dr. Ishida, the head director of the Karakura Hospital entered the ward.

You bowed your head politely but continued your discussion with the nurse. The charge nurse informed you on the general updates of their unit to him. You didn’t pay close attention to their conversation but noticed him walking away to the next unit.

Once he was out of earshot, some of the nurses and residents gushed about him, “Dr. Ishida is so handsome.” One said, followed by someone else chiming in “he’s such an incredible doctor, his patients seem to adore him.” Comment after comment, praising him for being a talented doctor and leader for the hospital.

The nurse who you were speaking with quietly asked you, “I mean, isn’t that why you decided to work at this hospital, Doctor?”

“I mean, who wouldn’t want to work with Dr. Ishida?” A fellow responded, laughing loudly.

The small group laughed, with you joining in. Once the laughter died down, you shared with the group your reasons for working at the Karakura Hospital. You had long admired the work of Dr. Ishida, and you had seen his bedside manner and care for a distant relative of yours while you were in high school.

You had always been driven to become a doctor, but he set the standard for you on how a doctor should be. He was thoughtful and driven.

But people have always said “don’t meet your heroes.” You worked hard during medical school, during residency and your fellowship, and you achieved your goal for working in Karakura Hospital.

But how would the staff react to knowing their wonderful Dr. Ishida, so dutiful to medicine and his patients, was dating one of the much younger doctors?

When the two of you had begun dating, he was strict, as if he was compartmentalizing his feelings for you and his duty to the hospital as a medical professional. You would see this in action with Ryuken’s own young adult son, a man a few years younger than you. Ryuken was cold with his son, the few times the three of you would have dinner together, but tried to be patient with Uryuu nonetheless. And in private, would talk about Uryuu with a gentle tone in his voice.

From what you had seen about Ryuken, from work to his personal life, control was of upmost importance to him. If there was one thing you knew for certain about the man, he hated rumours and gossip. You never felt as if he was ashamed of his relationship with you, but more so that there was a distinction between romance, work, and everything else in his life.

The nursing staff would be aghast as to how he was like in the bedroom though, you laughed to yourself. The nurse you were speaking asked what was funny, “oh nothing, I was just reminding myself of what the fellow said earlier.” You gave a gentle smile. “If there’s anything else I need to review, please bring it to me, or else I’ll be heading out now.” You said to the attending nurses.

It was your day off, a rare event in your life. You had already planned out your day ��� reading, reading, and more reading. You wanted to be up to date in your field, learning and understanding any new research that had come to light.

But Ryuken had other plans. The man was never one for texting, but rather call you, leaving you a voicemail stating he would be visiting your place for lunch.

You weren’t particularly fussed about lunch, making something simple, yet filling for the two of you. You also knew Ryuken hated being too full at work.

Ryuken had brought you a coffee, and a shopping bag from a store you didn’t recognize, but he left it alone for the entirety of lunch. Lunch was quiet affair, as he asked you what you had done so far during the day. You shared with him interesting articles you had read, discussing with him new techniques and technologies on the way. Ryuken smiled at you softly, watching the way you lit up sharing these things with him.

The hour went by quickly, with Ryuken preparing his leave, but just before he left, he gave you the shopping bag. “I made a reservation for dinner, and I want you to wear this.” He said, his tone even as he quickly checked his tie in the mirror by your door.

“Thank you? But I have plenty of dresses I could have worn.” You said, carefully peering into the bag.

“I know, but I saw this on a mannequin in store and thought of you when I saw it.” Ryuken remarked, his voice cold, as if he were telling you the time. But you knew he was sincere in his actions. Gifts from him were truly thoughtful matters.

You smiled at the bag, seeing white fabric inside, “I’m happy to wear it.” You kissed him on the cheek, smelling the faint scent of cigarettes, and watched him depart for the hospital.

Ryuken had bought you a simple, cream-coloured maxi dress with billowy sleeves, yet fairly form fitting at the top, nipping you at the waist. It then fell to a floating skirt below. The sleeves had little accents of blue and grey, which reminded you of some of the clothing Ryuken wore, leading you to question if had truly bought it, or had it custom made.

Either way, you adorned yourself with simple jewelry, make up and footwear, waiting for Ryuken to arrive.

As soon as you had finished getting ready, Ryuken was at your door, but he didn’t usher you to leave with him just yet.

“It fits you like a glove.” He remarked, inspecting your figure. “But it’s missing something.”

Confusion spread across your face as he pulled you to your bedroom. He pushed you on to the bed and looked down on you. His face was stern, as if he were assessing you for something. You were nervous.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, as he looked straight into your eyes.

“Yes, of course? But what’s wrong?” Confusion echoed through your voice, wondering why he was acting this way. He was usually very direct, so matter-of-fact in his words and actions.

“You ignored me yesterday,” Ryuken remarked, pushing your legs apart. The familiar drop of arousal came with it, as the skirt of your dress began to ride up your thighs. You shuddered from his touch as he coldly stared at you.

“You were busy, I didn’t want to interrupt.” You whimpered out, as he pushed your skirt past your underwear.

You had decided to wear a nude thong, worried that the dress was a bit sheer. Ryuken clicked his tongue in approval of your choice.

“You won’t be needing this.” Ryuken said, with an indifferent tone, as he pulled your thong off your body.

“But what about our reservation?” You shrieked, “won’t we be late?”

“I cancelled it.” Ryuken calmly explained.

It was then he pulled something out of his pocket. It was a remote-controlled vibrator you were curious about. That was so long ago, you thought. You were casually browsing an online sex toy shop at Ryuken’s home, and he asked what you were looking at it. You made a passing comment about how you thought the vibrator looked fun but paid no mind to it. But Ryuken certainly did.

Ryuken’s warm fingers spread your pussy lips apart, with his thumb circling your clit. You moaned softly as his thumb rubbed against your clit gently. Soon Ryuken’s finger was circling your entrance before he pushed it in. He pumped his finger out of you, your pussy growing wetter with each motion, before he pulled his hand away.

You whined at the sudden loss, until you felt something unfamiliar gently stretch your pussy and something else grazing your clit.

It was then, Ryuken got off the bed and watched over you, his phone in his hand. As soon as you tried to get up, an intense pulse came from the snug toy inside your pussy, followed by a whirring of something pressed against your clit. You screamed at the intensity, writhing as Ryuken toyed with the different levels of the toy, a satisfied smirk appearing on his lips.

The vibrations were relentless, as you felt tears prick your eyes. Your pussy clamped around the toy as its clit portion pulsated at random intervals – you couldn’t discern its pattern.

“I’m going to cum!” You shrieked, as you gripped your bed sheets.

Then the vibrations stopped. Ryuken immediately grabbed your face in one hand, his eyebrows knitted, “you know better than that.” He sneered, to which you whined in response. You needed to cum so badly. Ryuken’s hand flew to your hair, grabbing a fistful, forcing you to look up at him. “You’re not allowed to cum unless I say you can. Did you forget that?” He ordered, the grip on your hair tightening.

You sobbed as you felt your pussy throb from being so close to relief. “I’m sorry sir, please let me cum.”

Ryuken smirked, “good girl”, letting go of your hair. He kneeled next to you, unzipping his pants and pulling out his soft cock. “But even better girls please their master before cumming.” As he pulled your head to his cock.

You began to lap at his tip, feeling him twitch and harden against your mouth. You sucked his tip, feeling the taste of his precum on your lips, before working your way down.

It was then you jolted, as the vibrator worked its magic again. You moaned around Ryuken’s cock, with his steady hand back on your head, slowly forcing his cock down your throat. Tears pricked your eyes, as you felt your pussy throb and spasm, but you couldn’t cum. You tried to steal your resolve on sucking Ryuken off, as you bobbed your head on his cock.

The vibrations were relentless, with Ryuken giving a cold stare at you, watching you struggle to keep your pace. He narrowed his eyes, as he pulled you off his cock, a string of your saliva linking your mouth to the tip of his cock, “you’ve been slacking off, slut.” Ryuken coldly explained, as he gripped his cock, gently tapping your face with it. “But we have all night, so open your mouth.” Flashing you another smirk as the vibrator increased in intensity.

Your eyes rolled as the vibrator continued to whirl around you, while your mouth was stuffed with Ryuken’s cock.

This was going to be a long night indeed.

Thanks for reading! This mini-fic was set to Hidden Face's "White Carousel."

[spectralreplica]

But do you think the plan will work?

Oumota: tarot reading edition! I had this idea during Oumota Week and just got around to finishing it now 😔. At first I thought about giving Sun to Kaito and Moon to Kokichi (a la Reversed Sun by grayimperia), but I think it works better to have them both in each card, to highlight the parallels. (If you want more explanation of my design thoughts, I'll put it under a cut at the end.)

General tarot meanings:

The Sun: happiness, confidence, success, optimism, innocence/childhood, inspiring others, internal motivation, truth

The Moon: illusion, imagination, uncertainty, secrets, confusion, intuition/the subconscious, fears influencing you, insecurity

The Star: hope, regaining inspiration, renewal, healing, moving on, new purpose, calm after the storm (Reversed Star: despair, lack of faith, pessimism, boredom, anxiety, being overwhelmed by past problems)

.

I feel like while Kaito is naturally more Sun coded and Kokichi more Moon coded, they have some qualities of both cards. And Star vs Reversed Star is so temping to bring in for DR.

I was thinking of it as a past, present, future kind of reading, but also maybe situation, action, outcome. Starting out with high self confidence and some childish black and white thinking. (Maybe a little over confident and childish to the point of egotism and inflexibility, shades of reversed sun...). Covering for insecurities by projecting a fake persona to everyone around, doubling down on the lies and self-deception a la chapter 5. Finally, either coming through everything stronger, with renewed hope, or else crashing and burning, overwhelmed by unacknowledged issues that have built up.

.

As for the specific imagery...

Sun: I stuck pretty close to the traditional imagery here. The flag/banner has their respective prints on it, and I put Kaito on Mars while Kokichi remains on Earth. It's also sundown or sunset for Kokichi; is he moving towards the Moon or away? The horse is obv. very chess piece inspired. Kokichi gets his King Horse a la the mask on his bed, and I gave Kaito a pegasus because flying.

.

Moon: Moving a little bit away from traditional imagery as more of the canon situation seeps in, but still pretty close. The moon floats "outside" the cage, wearing their respective false faces. (We know from the ending that the skyline on those glass panels isn't real...) They both have an Exisal in the background in place of one of the towers, but Kaito has a bamboo grove a la Princess Kaguya; Kaguya came from the moon and she will go back, no matter how much people on Earth love her. Kokichi has one of the racks that sits beside shrines where you're supposed to tie bad/unlucky omikuji (paper fortunes) so that the bad luck doesn't follow you; living in purposeful denial of bad things, but they lurk there on the horizon.

They both still have at least one dog/wolf, but I gave Kokichi a fox because of their association with being tricksters. Also, wolves and foxes, as predators, are framed as villains in stories, but at the same time it's also not uncommon to see them as heroes (stereotype of predator/hunter vs stereotype of bravery/nobility and cleverness). Also, contrast of fox and hound, like the clash of Kokichi presenting himself as childish + annoying vs a genuine threat. Kaito has the dog, monkey, and pheasant that accompanied Momotaro, continuing his fairytale theme.

Everyone seems to argue over what the crawfish means in the original, but I went with the interpretation of moving from water to land, evolution, things coming to the surface. So, Kaito has a koi. I think most people know about the "koi climbs a waterfall and becomes a dragon" thing because of Magikarp, but here it is again just in case! Kaito's got an aquatic creature struggling against its nature in hopes of someday actually transforming into something grander. Kokichi has a poison dart frog. Already amphibious, so it can go between water and land freely, but visibly harmful to anyone who tries to get close.

.

Star: The least traditional imagery and the most V3 canon imagery. There's still a tree, but it's a pine tree. ...I dunno, no explanation for that, it just looked nice 🤷‍♀️The two jugs are replaced with the poison and antidote bottles. Originally, they're supposed to represent the conscious and subconscious and pour in two different places, but here they're mixing together directly. V3 resolves the "truth vs lies" theme by arguing you have to accept ambiguity. Also, Kaito and Kokichi's whole plan rests on them managing to work together to obscure exactly who is in the Exisal in the end.

There's a figure in the foreground in Kaito's jacket, but they're just a silhouette (a la the culprit); it's not either of them, it's both, and they're reaching beyond the bounds of the game. The star in the sky is ringed by the trial podiums, since all of their hope for the future rests in derailing the next trial. Can they win? Well, Shuichi and Kiibo are at the top, the two people they (or at least Kokichi...) know can be problems, but Tsumugi is specifically blocked from view, always overlooked...

[q1ngqve]

idk if you take requests but like..........

dr ratio x bratty gf,,,, perhaps a bit of daddy/sir kink as well,,,,,,,, you're really good at writing him like i literally luv your work :3

(btw sorry if this isn't allowed)

ANON THIS IS SO (>/////<)♡

CW; fem! reader, implied relationship, bratty reader, sir kink, manhandling, murder, choking, knife play, fear play, biting?, vaginal penetration (with the knife & his dick), orgasm denial, slight degradation but he calls you pretty <3

do not, I repeat, do not act like a brat when you are with your boyfriend, unless you want to be completely and absolutely destroyed by him, verbally and physically. but where’s the fun in being good when you know how thrilling it is to rile him up?

veritas ratio’s eyes narrow as you prance around the room, giggling at something this random guy said, slapping him lightly on his arm. he’s not exactly one for jealousy, but when you’re so oblivious to the way other men are looking at you in your short skirt has his head going fuzzy with irritation.

truth is, you know exactly what you are doing. your boyfriend has been so caught up in his research the past few days he hasn’t had much time for you, and your fingers just aren’t enough to satisfy yourself. so consider this as punishment for not giving you the attention you needed.

the man’s lips graze your earlobe as he leans in, whispering something flirty that makes you sick in the stomach. you hide your face in his chest, acting as if you’re embarrassed, and wrap your arms around his waist.

before the man could slide his hands down your back, you were pulled away harshly by someone from behind, a small yelp leaves your lips as you’re dragged away and out the bar, tripping over yourself with almost every step from how fast he was walking.

your head whips up when the two of you finally stop, only to find your boyfriend glaring down at you, his hair tousled and brows furrowed, clearly displeased with your actions. you lock eyes with him, and a shot of electricity runs up your spine — ah, there it is, that delicious feeling of being hunted.

“get in the car.” and he’s gone.

you watch from your seat as he walks out of the bar ten minutes later, hair slightly wet, blood splattered on his jaw, his strides long and angry, and you feel yourself sink a little deeper into the leather seat.

silence fills the air as he drives, the tension so thick you could barely breathe. why is there blood on his face? did he just murder someone? oh god, it better not be that guy from before…did you just accidentally help in ending an innocent person’s life? you feel your body shake as you watch him from your peripheral, his jaw and shoulders relaxed, which is worse than when he’s mad and showing it.

you’re immediately dragged out of your seat when he stops, carrying and dropping you onto the hood of the car. his touch is gentle as he runs his fingers up to your chin, gripping at it harshly and forcing your head to tilt up uncomfortably to look at him.

your eyes adjust to the dimly lighted empty car park, legs closed shut as he towers over you, his shadows ungulfing your own on the hood. “what is that?” you break the silence with a stutter, your eyes flitting between his other hand and his face, body tensing at the sight of a bloody knife in his grip.

the man before you smiles softly, something he rarely does, so you know this is gonna be bad. “you like making me angry?” your lips part slightly at his question, knowing the answer is yes, but his aura is so terrifying that nothing leaves you other than heavy breathing.

his other hand grabs the underside of your knee, pushing your legs apart as he steps between your legs before leaning down even further, chuckling when your breath hitches at the intensity of his stare.

he flips your skirt up as he runs a finger up your already drenched underwear, the slick sticking to the pad of his finger. you squirm backwards when he lifts the knife, twirling it in his hand like a toy. “no— what’re you going to do with that?” the bloodied knife glistens under the dim white lights, and you swear his eyes turned a shade darker as he runs the tip down your neck, reveling at the sight of you trembling beneath him in fear.

“teaching you a lesson.”

your legs twitch involuntarily when the sharp blade reach between your legs, whines escape your lips as you feel it press softly against your entrace. tears sting your eyes, every inch of your body is telling you to run the moment he presses in harder, the thin fabric of your lace panties tearing immediately.

“‘m scared…”

veritas ratio laughs, the sound cruel and deep, straight from his chest. “this is punishment,” smirk returning to his face, making him look like a devil in disguise, “for acting like a brat.” a strangled gasp leaves you when he plunges the knife handle into your pussy, your walls tightening around the rubber like a vice.

oh god, there’s a knife in me, was all you could think of before he fucks it into you again and again, the rough textures rubbing deliciously against your gummy walls. the adrenaline heightening your senses, making this feel better than it should.

“you wanna act like a brat? wanna be a little slut and flirt with every guy you see? go ahead, be my guest. your boyfriend’s jaw finally clenches, allowing his anger and jealousy to take over as he bites at your collarbone, the stinging pain has you scratching at his biceps. “‘m sorry!” a flurry of apologies fly from your puffy lips as you cry from the pleasure and humiliation of having a knife making you feel like you’re in heaven.

“sorry, what?”

“sir— sorry sir!”

calling him ‘sir’ seems to bring out his animalistic side because the knife clatters on the concrete floor instantly, before being replaced by his dick. the air is knocked out of your lungs the moment he slides in, so long and thick, stretching you out nice and wide under him like a toy.

another whimper leaves you when he wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing tightly at the sides, successfully controlling the amount of air leaving and entering your lungs. panic fills you as you claw at this hand, tears streaming down your face like a waterfall.

“take it,” his other hand reaching down to circle your clit, “like the pretty little slut you are.” black dots fill your vision as you clench around him, getting off of everything that is happening to you.

your boyfriend groans above you as he cums, warmth engulfs you while he continues to pound into you, riding himself down from his high. “sir, ‘m close— please!” you manage to say breathily, your hips bucking into his on its own accord, chasing your high.

veritas ratio steps away in an instant and your eyes fly open at the empty feeling of your core, seconds away from your orgasm. “wait, no!” he flips your skirt down before kissing you roughly on your lips.

“only good girls get to cum.”

⭒ A/N — not proofread yet!

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

MLK at 95.

January 15, 2024

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

Martin Luther King, Jr. was born 95 years ago on January 15, 1929. As a Baptist minister, he advocated non-violence while promoting civil rights. He spoke for the poor, the oppressed, and the disenfranchised. While he was imprisoned in a Birmingham jail for protesting segregation, he responded to eight white ministers who had criticized him for participating in protests that they described as “unwise and untimely.”

Dr. King’s famous reply to the white ministers explained why he traveled to Birmingham from Atlanta to protest:

I cannot sit idly by in Atlanta and not be concerned about what happens in Birmingham. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. Never again can we afford to live with the narrow, provincial outside agitator" idea. Anyone who lives inside the United States can never be considered an outsider.

While Dr. King was keenly aware of the racism that served as the understructure of the Christian church in the old South, he would be shocked by the virulent, mean-spirited, anti-Christian message that animates many (not all) evangelical congregations in America today. They form the backbone of Donald Trump's support in Iowa and beyond. They have adopted Trump's message that treats the poor, oppressed, and disenfranchised as “outsiders” and “others” who do not belong in America.

Over the last several days, we have learned that members of the Texas National Guard physically blocked federal Border Patrol agents from responding to reports of immigrants in distress in the Rio Grande. The bodies of a mother and two children were later recovered from the river in the area where immigrants were reported to be in distress.

Texas, of course, denies that its cruel actions caused the drownings—a denial that should be viewed skeptically from a state whose governor—Greg Abbott—recently commented Texas troopers could not shoot immigrants crossing the border because the troopers would be charged with murder by the Biden administration. Texas governor criticized after comment about shooting migrants | The Texas Tribune.

Similar animus underlies the recent comments of Mississippi Governor Tate Reeves, who withdrew Mississippi from a federal program to provide food to school children during summer breaks. Governor Reeves said Mississippi withdrew from the program to fight “attempts to expand the welfare state.”

Blocking efforts to rescue a drowning mother and her children? Regretting the inability to shoot immigrants because it would be murder? Denying food to poor children out of spite? Who are these people? How do they look at themselves in the mirror?

Ninety-five years after Dr. King’s birth and fifty-five years after his death, it is difficult to believe that people who identify as upstanding members of the Christian church can support such actions.

Another section from Dr. King’s Letter from a Birmingham Jail is relevant to this moment in our nation’s history:

But the judgment of God is upon the church as never before. If the church of today does not recapture the sacrificial spirit of the early church, it will lose its authentic ring, forfeit the loyalty of millions, and be dismissed as an irrelevant social club with no meaning for the twentieth century. I meet young people every day whose disappointment with the church has risen to outright disgust.

Dr. King’s words were prophetic. See Pew Research (10/17/19) In U.S., Decline of Christianity Continues at Rapid Pace.

And, of course, as Dr. King recognized, “there are some notable exceptions” among church leaders who supported his work—just as there are exceptions today. Several readers have recommended Faithful America as an antidote to Christian nationalism. The organization’s helpful FAQ page explains why “Christian nationalism” is not Christian. See Resisting Christian Nationalism: FAQ + Resources | Faithful America.

On this day commemorating Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s birth, we can see how far we have come—and how much further we must go. He didn’t despair. Neither should we.

Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter

[yurinaa-world]

Characters: Jing Yuan and Dr. Ratio x Gender-neutral Reader

Synopsis: Holding hands

Warnings: Fluff and spelling mistakes, ooc for Dr. Ratio since he's not out yet

Handing hands pt 1 (Blade, Dan Heng, & Sampo)

𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃

“Wanna hold your hand while you work?” you ask, hoping he’d say yes to you, which is always true. “It seems that someone is really needy today,” you tease. “Well yeah, I missed you and want to touch.” You blush while he holds your hand while doing paperwork.

“I’m busy as general y’know.” he tells you before you shoot back at him “If you were so busy, you wouldn’t have bothered to hold my hand or anything, so you're not as busy as you say”.

He sighs before answering, “You know me so well, darling,” before kissing your hand. He smiles at you after that before continuing with his work, and you smile back happily before going back to whatever you were doing before. You both share a comfortable silence.

𝒟𝓇. 𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜

“Show me your palm for me, my dear." Ratio asks with a smile that looked more devious than gentle, "Sure?" You put your hands in front of him and spread your fingers apart in front of him, a little unsure of what to expect from his actions next, his eyes darting between your palms and you, the intensity of his gaze causing you worry. "Is there something wrong?" you ask cautiously, leaning forward a bit.

He just creases the lines on your palms. "I want to read your future," he responds, which makes you look at him funny; he must be messing with you now! "Read my future by looking at my palm. We both know that is not true." You smile at him and chuckle at his answer, "Wait a little." He says, focusing on a particular line on your right hand, his eyebrows furrowing, "Put your hands in the air."

Then he looks up from your palm towards your face before wrapping his hand around yours.

Uh, was this his around-about way to just hold your hand?

"If you wanted to hold hands, you could have just asked!" You beamed with happiness. "I don't know what you're talking about," he denied, his hand tightening around yours as if trying to pull it closer.

His cheeks were tinted pink with a slight blush that covered them. "Are you sure, you seem a little red?" you tease him; he shakes his head in denial, but his lips are twitching upward slightly. "It was a trick, and you didn't think hard enough and fell into my trap." He quickly recovers from before, a sly smirk pulling on his lips.

You giggle at his words, "What a pity; I'm such an airhead that fell for your tricks again." You reply back, going along with him whatever he wants.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[kaisers-house-of-desires]

Can I request korekiyo shinguji x male reader that acts like riddle rosehearts?

Can the kinks be toy use and bondage ♡´･ᴗ･`♡?

Sorry I don't really have a story plot but m!reader is the bottom, and they are still part of the killing game

( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

Welcome, patron! Thank you for being the first request in Kaiser’s House of Desires! No need to worry of a plot, just enjoy yourself as I deliver your request~

Title: Taming the Prince

Characters: Top!Korekiyo Shinguji x Bottom!m!reader

Contains: Toy usage(vibrator, cock ring, sybian), bondage, begging, slight degradation, some praise, orgasm denial, despair DR

Fandom: Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

“Eyes up here.”

It was almost difficult to hear his voice over the sound of the machine he had on. Korekiyo stood above you, holding a remote that was wired to the device you straddled on, the machine vibrating at such speeds, stimulating the toy inside of you that it nearly sent you doubling over with bliss. It would have been an easier position to stay in anyway had your arms been free, but instead, the Anthropologist had them comfortably tied back, making it, to your (dis)pleasure, easier to remain upright on the toy.

Your back arched back some as he upped the speed for a moment, a way to tease you as let out a small gasp between pleasured breaths. You composed yourself, glaring up at him.

“I-I hope you’re enjoying yourself!” you spat. Despite his mask, you could see that his eyes curved in such a shit-eating-grin way.

“Oh, I don’t think you should be speaking like that…” Korekiyo knelt down, meeting your trembling height. “I mean look at you…Hips rocking, cock twitching…” Extending a hand, one of Korekiyo’s gloved fingers slowly traced down along your shaft, glossing over the small egg vibrator toy that was delicately taped into position before stopping at the cock ring that decorated the base of your shaft and kept you from expelling any seed without his order. “Do not think I’m unaware of your actions, my sweet prince. You desire this as much as I do.”

“T-The hell are you going—ah~—o-on about?”

You could see his mask wrinkle from his lips smirking underneath. “I’ve heard you at night. As I walk by your dorm, you may think you’re quiet, yet I still heard the soft uttering of your desire, your desire to let loose all inhibitions and control and have someone ravish you to no end~”

You tried to recall what exactly he was talking about, but soon you remembered the nights that the stress overtook you. After all, being in a killing game was no relaxing feat; knowing you could die at any point, how you had to be wary around everyone, peek around every corner. This wasn’t living, and you found out that the fantasy of someone topping you was the best way to deal with that stress when you got your hands on a simple dildo you got from the casino, which you tried not to question.

“Your gentle begging for whatever you were using to go harder was so adorable~ How could I pass by the opportunity to assist someone knowing my knowledge of pleasure?” Sparing you a moment, he turned the machine off, earning a whine from you as you panted softly.

“So…y-you wait around like some creep…”

“Quite the opposite…” As he spoke, Korekiyo fished around in his pocket after putting the sybian’s controller in one hand. “I wait for needy little sluts like you to come to me asking for assistance~”

Before you could give a snarky response back, a button was clicked and vibrations emitted from the egg toy on your cock, earning Korekiyo a sweet moan from you as you ground your hips against the sybian’s insert.

Yes you came to him for help, but you had written it on a note, too stubborn(or embarrassed) to say it into words. That’s how you ended up here after all, but you were too blissed out to full remember that by this point.

“K-Korekiyo…~! Stop this…d-device at once! I swear I’ll have your he—a-ahh~!!”

The sybian activated at high speeds before you could finish your threat, immediately silencing you. Your mind nearly went blank trying to process both toys at once, but your body would take care of that for you, rocking your hips to gain the friction of the insert within you while your cock twitched from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Oh none of that now, dear. Why don’t you just be a good boy and moan for me. Maybe even beg me to cum while you’re at it. Unless you still want to be a brat~”

Waves of ecstasy clouded any form of thought, your moans soon being the only thing you could hear amongst all the other sounds. This was pure bliss, a fantasy come true, and with that in mind you were quick to crumble.

“K-Korekiyo…~ K-Kiyo~!!”

If you could bounce along this thing you would, wishing you could feel the stretching of something moving deep within you and using that pretty asshole of yours.

“Yes, dear? What is it~?”

“W-Wanna cum…p-please! P-Please let me cum!”

“Oh…the prince wants to cum…how pathetic~” He first turned the sybian up before following through with the egg, both devices loudly vibrating into the air and causing you to shriek from the overwhelming stimulation. “After your behavior, maybe you should just sit there and think about what you’ve done…”

“N-No!!” You begged, rapidly shaking your head. Your eyes were wide, wet with tears pricking the corners as you panted heavily. “P-Please! I’m—I’m sorry, Kiyo! P-Please just let me cum! I-I’ll behave I promise!”

Without a word, Korekiyo knelt down to the cock ring, his hand hovering over the object as he chuckled from your pathetic whimpering and silent begging. He had to first admire your trembling form before unclasping the ring, warmth rushing from your shaft to your body as you released your seed with a silent scream. Your back arched back to a concerning degree, but luckily for you, that’s where Korekiyo moved to to avoid being dirtied by your release, holding you steady to ride out your high before slowly turning off the machines.

He chuckled lowly as your body went slack, chest shallowly rising as you attempted to catch your breath. Through his mask, he kissed your forehead, his thumb running over your cheek, relishing the way your spent body appeared after the session.

“That’s my good boy~”

[evermorecountsastherapy]

★ of literature and lingering contingence ★

pairing: Gale Dekarios (BG3) x fem!reader (unnamed, no use of y/n, second person)

tags/warnings: fluff, teasing, literary references, established relationship, post-canon, shameless smut (soooo much of it), soft dom gale, porn with plot, praise kink, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, oral sex, rough sex, love confessions, a lot of sappy stuff toward the end, explicit sexual content: MDNI please

word count: 12,400

a/n: recently was gripped by the most powerful wave of Gale brain rot that I have ever experienced and this absolute monstrosity emerged as a result. initially vaguely inspired by this fanart that has rerouted and taken over every single one of my functioning braincells (I don't know the artist, pls pls let me me know if you do! I owe them a life debt for creating that piece!) this was also inspired by the literary masterpiece Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë (let's just pretend it exists in 1492 DR, alright?) if requested, I will consider writing a second part to this story, seeing as I really enjoyed writing this. as a fair warning, this is about 85% filth and 15% sappy lovesick stuff so enter at your own risk!

★ AO3 link ★

✦ playlist link ✦

Enjoy!

image taken from Pinterest

Out of all the days in the week, Sundays had to be your favourite.

It was the one day where you never had any obligations or responsibilities to worry about, and you often found yourself with nothing to do but relax. 

It wasn't, however, this lack of routine that you loved so much but rather the fact that Gale's schedule followed a very similar pattern as yours, leaving nothing for both of you to do but spend the entire day in each other's company. After the perilous, action-packed journey you'd both come back from a mere few months ago, you were both more than happy to catch up on quality down time together.

And this Sunday had turned out to be no different. You'd been tucked away together in his tower all day, watching as the bright sun rose early that morning through the crack in the balcony's drapes, your bodies tangled both together and in the soft sheets. Later on that afternoon, you'd watched it set again from where you were nestled together on his worn antique couch, his head using your lower stomach as a pillow and his body encased between your legs beneath the blanket he had thrown over the both of you, a worn copy of Jane Eyre open in his hands. 

A few weeks prior, the two of you had been discussing your favourite books over dinner (as was a popular topic of discussion wherever you and him were involved) and at one point, you'd casually quoted that very same literary work. This earned you a puzzled look from Gale, his brow quirking in a way you realized he genuinely didn't catch your reference. You were equally surprised by this revelation; until then, you had yet to mention a book that Gale hadn't already read and meticulously analyzed. 

This was a definitely a first. 

The thought made you somewhat giddy, already planning to be up at the crack of dawn the next morning to grab your equally well-loved and annotated copy from your place on the other side of Waterdeep. You were in the process of selling your old apartment, seeing as you had moved in with Gale after the War and spent the majority of your time outside of work with him at his tower. It would be a good opportunity to bring a few more of your things over to his place, as you had been doing over these last few months.

So that was exactly what you did. Every night from then on, after Gale had finished grading papers for the students he taught at Blackstaff and you'd cleaned yourself up after a long day at the House of Healing, the two of you would curl up on the living room couch next to the blazing mantle and read the story of Jane Eyre together. The idea that his initial reading should be a group activity and that he would be the narrator of the story was entirely his idea, and one that you'd found hard to refuse. You did love the sound of his voice, so listening to it perpetually for hours was only an added bonus.

This was precisely where you found yourself now, once again curled up on his couch watching as dusk fell and lingered on the corners of the room, the addition of flickering candlelight creating the coziest atmosphere in the little space. Head nestled in the space between your lower abdomen and pubic bone, your lover's voice read the words off the pages in front of him with a hushed enthusiasm that made you think he would be wonderful as a children's storyteller. You would have to mention that to him later.

"...still he looked preciously grim, cushioning his massive head against the swelling back of his chair, and receiving the light of the fire on his granite-hewn features, and in his great, dark eyes; for he had great, dark eyes, and very fine eyes, too—not without a certain change in their depths sometimes, which, if it was not softness, reminded you, at least, of that feeling. He had been looking two minutes at the fire, and I had been looking the same length of time at him, when, turning suddenly, he caught my gaze fastened on his physiognomy." Gale read aloud, his voice hypnotically rhythmic. 

Each word he spoke reverberated on to your stomach, sending gentle, electrical pulses all throughout your body. The feeling was enough to warm you a little more with each passing minute, a familiar yet patient desire beginning to grow inside of you. Your fingers began to lightly play with his loose locks in an attempt to distract you from your growing arousal, his hair so gently manipulated you doubted he could even feel your ministrations.

"'You examine me, Miss Eyre,' said he: 'do you think me handsome?'"

You smiled as you immediately recognized this as one of your favourite parts in the book, your hands idly starting to braid a small section of his hair to mask your excitement. By the way the pitch of his voice had changed ever so slightly, you were inclined to think Gale was genuinely interested in where the dialogue in the story might go from here.

"I should, if I had deliberated, have replied to this question by something conventionally vague and polite; but the answer somehow slipped from my tongue before I was aware—'No, sir.'"

Gale let out a hearty chuckle as he read the last dialogue tag, resting the book face down for a moment on his lap to peer up at you. 

"This girl reminds me of someone I know, actually," he said with a grin.

This earned him a quiet laugh back, only briefly pausing your braiding to look at his smiling face. "Oh yeah? And who might that be?" You asked playfully, your minding immediately thinking of your mutual friend, Shadowheart. 

"You, my love," he answered, his grin now taking on a more mischievous air to it that rendered your lungs temporarily useless as your heart skipped a beat, the feeling leaving you a little light-headed. With how much his smile grew after your reaction, you were sure he had a fairly good idea of how he was affecting you. 

"Keep going!" You laughed before the blush in your cheeks could grow anymore, setting him back on track with a light tap of your free hand against his stubbled cheek. Looking pleased with himself, he picked the book back up and continued reading.

"'Ah! By my word! there is something singular about you,' said he: 'you have the air of a little nonnette; quaint, quiet, grave, and simple, as you sit with your hands before you, and your eyes generally bent on the carpet (except, by-the-bye, when they are directed piercingly to my face; as just now, for instance); and when one asks you a question, or makes a remark to which you are obliged to reply, you rap out a round rejoinder, which, if not blunt, is at least brusque. What do you mean by it?'" He finished reading the last line with a sigh, lowering the book slightly to look up at you once again. 

"I'd say he's definitely into her, wouldn't you agree?" He conjectured aloud. 

You smiled, happy to see his engagement in the story you loved so dearly. "Uh-huh," you agreed, focusing your concentration on finishing the little braid in his hair.

"What is it that you're so busy with up there, hm?" He asked, reaching his hand up to touch the braid you'd just completed. A smile spread back across his lips as he realized what you'd done with his hair. "Oh, that feels like it looks lovely. Thank you, dear."

He reached over to set the book onto the coffee table, pushing the empty mugs the two of you had been sipping warm tea from earlier aside to make room for it. With a small, barely audible sigh, he sat up between your legs and twisted his torso to face you, his hand resting just beside your outer thigh to support his body weight.

"I might make this to be part of the signature look. What do you think? I'll admit I feel considerably more handsome with it." He said, caressing the braid with one hand, his big eyes boring into yours with a lingering glint of mischief. "Do you think me handsome, young lady?"

Every functioning braincell in your body screamed "yes!" at the question he posed to you, especially seeing as you had let him know how attractive you found him on more than one occasion that week alone. If he hadn't quoted Mr. Rochester so eloquently, you might have been inclined to answer in this same way. Something mischievous, however, bubbled up inside you when he said it, your curiosity wanting to see what might become of teasing him ever so slightly.

"No, sir," you answered, a slight quirk in your lips. 

His eyes seemed to grow darker almost instantly, a smirk forming as a product of your quip. For what it was worth, you assumed the borrowed line would earn you little more than a hearty laugh and an incentive for him to continue reading. Your emphasis on the title (one you had never taken to calling him before) looked to have stirred something more than innocent amusement inside of him and you briefly wondered if calling him that was the best decision on your part.

You did need your legs to work come tomorrow, after all.

The thought sent a shiver down your spine, your mind giving you flashbacks of that time on the road with the party when you'd decided to tease him a little too thoroughly. The result? Yours and Gale's night of passion had become so intense that you had no choice but to stay back at camp the next day, every muscle in your body sore and aching. Gale had stayed back with you, ever the gentleman, doting on you and almost ridiculously apologetic for the adventure you'd be missing out on that day because of him. As sorry as he was, however, it didn't stop him from fucking you senseless against a tree in the forest a short distance from the camp when you'd begged him. Against your better judgement, you'd teased him like that on more than one occasion since you'd been back from your travels together and each end result turned out to be better (or worse) than the last, if that was even possible.

Without breaking eye contact, he slowly moved closer toward you, walking his hands forward along the cushion underneath of you, the insides of his wrists just barely brushing the sides of your torso. Your breath caught in your chest as he hovered over you, dark eyes staring back into yours like a starved predator that had just found its next meal. 

"No?" He breathed, his face mere inches away from yours. Candlelight flickered off his sharp features, the sight momentarily mesmerizing you and causing you to shift your gaze away from his intense eyes and onto his rosy lips, delicate and soft looking compared to his somewhat rugged features. He noticed this shift in your attention almost immediately, bringing his index finger up under your chin to gently guide your gaze back toward him.

"Say it again." He commanded, voice stern. 

A familiar dizzying feeling that originated in your stomach came over as you processed his words. It left you a little breathless once again, your senses now properly heady with growing desire. 

"No, I don't think you handsome." You near-whispered back to him, his lips so close to yours now that they were almost touching, causing your eyelids to droop slightly with desire. "Sir."

His head dropped painstakingly closer at your confession, the space between your mouths so miniscule it would've only taken you to flinch to touch your lips to his. His warm breath mixed with yours and you wanted nothing more in that moment than to wrap your arms around his neck and properly smother him. But at the same time, you also wanted to know what game he was playing at, genuinely curious to see where this might lead. You were the one who had started it, after all.

Slowly, he lowered his lips to yours, only giving you the faintest whisper of a kiss before you felt a smile grow on his lips and he whispered against your mouth, "And I think you're a liar."

The words reacted with your body in a way that threatened to prove him right, that warm feeling pooling in your lower abdomen turning a temperature not far off from molten lava. Gale must have easily picked up on this from the way he let out a breathy little laugh into the corner of your mouth, his neatly stubbled chin brushing against yours slightly. 

"And you know how I feel about liars, don't you, love?" He teased in that voice usually saved for his classroom at Blackstaff, his mouth moving to place delicate kisses along your cheek and slowly working his way down, his head burrowing itself in the crook of your neck. Your hands finally betrayed you, your arms snaking their way around the sides of his head, your fingers threading themselves through his soft hair in an attempt to keep him in that position. 

His affections moved lower down your neck and into the space just below your clavicle, his one hand moving to fiddle with the little buttons that held closed one of the old button up shirts of his you'd thrown on earlier that morning. It was your usual Sunday attire, the length of it long enough to rest just above your knees, the need to wear pants with it futile when it would just be the two of you for the day. That and you knew how crazy it drove him to see you in nothing but one of his shirts and a thin pair of underwear. 

Freeing the first button, he brough his mouth back down to your skin as he worked on the next ones. "Not only do they need to be punished for their miscreant behaviors, but that behavior also needs to be rectified if there is any hope of them recovering from their impropriety." He said somewhat breathlessly against your chest, the sound vibrating throughout your entire body.

No sooner did the final button on your shirt give way was the thin material being yanked open by eager hands, the slight chill that lingered in the tower causing your bare nipples to perk. Gale pulled away slightly to rake his eyes over your partially exposed body, his gaze like a comforting caress you'd come to know so well and long for so often.

He whispered something under his breath that sounded much like 'Gods...' before shifting back down to press his warm mouth to the space between your breasts. The feeling was like no other. It was magical; he was magical, with or without the power of the Weave. 

His soft lips drifted over your breast to land on your nipple, kissing it softly while looking up to meet your eyes, asking for permission. You sucked in a short breath and managed to nod ever so slightly, too focused on what he was doing to be able to think clearly. Slowly, his wet tongue met with your sensitive nipple, the sensation of that mixed with the suction his mouth had created driving you wild. Against your own volition, your back arched upward into him as if you were nothing more than a marionette whose strings were tied to his practiced fingertips, every movement your body made just an extension of his careful manipulation of your desire. You didn't particularly mind; Gale was one of the only guys you'd ever met who had taken so much time to learn in great detail the ways in which to make you feel good. It was something you never thought you'd come to have in life, though now that you had it, you knew you would never be able to settle for anything less.

A pathetic-sounding whimper escaped past your lips as his tongue swirled around your nipple for a final time before alternating to your other breast. You could feel how his breathing had increased since he had started his form of worship on your body, his exhales fanning out in little pants of warm air over your breast. It was almost too much to bear. 

Before you could open your mouth to demand he just take you already, his mouth detached itself from your breast to trail intermittent kisses down your stomach, his eyes never leaving yours.  You felt your heart skip a beat as he passed over your navel, his fingers coming to rest at the waistband of your underwear. 

"Shall we continue?" He asked with his chin hovering just above your pubic bone, a certain hunger palpable in his aura. "Or will I need to find other ways to change my pretty little liar's mind?"

You managed a desperate nod and when he didn't make any move to continue, a strangled, "Yes, please."

Your words seemed to appease him and with a swift motion, your underwear was down your legs and being slipped off your ankles, falling to the floor along with the blanket the two of you had been covered up with earlier. He snaked his arms under your knees, pushing them up gently and guiding your feet over his shoulders so that you were fully exposed to him. You felt your heart rate spike a little when his hands came to rub along your outer thighs and hips reverently, placing little kisses along your inner thighs and inching closer and closer to the apex of them. 

A breathless gasp escaped you as you watched him place a firm kiss to the center of your clit, the sudden sensation making you squirm in his grasp. A quick, victorious smile spread across his lips at your reaction and you had the sudden premonition that you were really about to be in for it.

Opening his mouth slightly, he placed that 'practiced' tongue of his flat against that little bundle of nerves before curling it wickedly to swirl the bud around in a way that made your head spin. The sensation itself was almost too much to bear, though in the same breath, you prayed to any god you could think of just to beg that he would never stop. 

As if he could read your mind, his mouth moved further down your slit to lap at the pooling wetness that gathered farther down. A low moan escaped your chest at the sight and you felt him smile again in response, his eyelids fluttering slightly to look at you through thick lashes. 

"How's the view, my dear?" He asked teasingly, pulling away from your heat slightly to give you a good look at the thick layer of your juices that glistened on and around his lips, showcasing the sinful mess like some kind of artwork. "Changed your mind yet?"

You contemplated this for a second while frantically trying to catch your breath, the way he was looking at you from between your dampened thighs making this a near impossible task itself. As much as you wanted to admit how you loved the way he looked from your current perspective, you loved toying with his ego just as much. It was simply too much fun, not to mention exceptionally rewarding (sexually and otherwise) for you more often than not. 

"I- I'd like to see the full extent of your talents before... coming to a decision." Throwing what you hoped was a seductive smile his way, you added, "If you'd be willing to indulge me, that is."

This earned you one of his heart-stopping smirks, that sparkle in his eyes a telltale sign of both his amusement and arousal. "Oh, finally found your words, have you? If you insist, my little minx." He retorted, voice suddenly dropping down to that husky octave he knew drove you wild. "I'd be my pleasure."

Yep, you definitely were not going to be walk out of this one on functional legs. That much you were now certain about.

His eyes still locked with yours, he sank his face down between your legs once again, his tongue moving to press against your entrance this time while his nose nestled itself against your clit. The feeling set off an intense fluttering sensation in your stomach and you had to fight the sudden urge to buck against him. 

Without warning, his hands curled themselves around the back of your thighs and gripped your hips firmly, pulling you up to meet his face at an even more flush angle. With the better access granted to him from your new position, he started lapping away at your pussy with such fervor you couldn't help the desperate whimpers you tried to supress from escaping the back of your throat. He continued to work his tongue up and down your delicate folds, occasionally breaking rhythm to push his tongue into your tight pussy teasingly.

The way he was working your sex felt nothing short of heavenly, a juxtaposition to the absolutely sinful noises coming from both his mouth and intense suckling. His eyes closed at some point in the process, his brow furrowed in deep concentration and - from what you could see in the dim candlelight - a light blush beginning to creep into his cheeks, staining them an adorably rosy pink. The sight itself was nearly enough to send you over the edge. He truly was beautiful.  

Your pleasure took on new heights when his thumb crept along your hip to land on your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make you squirm uncontrollably. Your hand moved instinctively to clutch the top of his head, your fingers finding purchase in his smooth tresses in yet another desperate attempt to keep him right where he was. The added stimulation was almost too much, and you felt that familiar string of desire grow taught behind your navel with every swipe of his tongue. Gale, sensing the fast-approaching crest of your orgasm, took this as motivation to increase the intensity of his ministrations, his tongue lapping at your wet cunt like a man starved. Your chest heaved to a point you were certain you couldn't take anymore, a few sections of your loose hair sticking to and curling around your neck a little more each time you tossed your head from side to side on the plush pillow your neck rested on.  The change in pace caused the cross between a whimper and a moan to escape from the back of your throat and your grip on his hair grew impossibly tighter. 

"Mmm... that's it, darling. Let me hear that pretty voice of yours. You're doing so good for me, so good..." he breathed against your pussy, his warm breath on your sensitive parts only adding to the sweet torture. His eyes flitted open, locking directly onto yours while his thumb - ever persistent - continued it's own form of artistry on your clit. "Now, come for me."

His words were enough to finally push you over the edge, your climax surging through your body in wave of pure ecstasy. A desperate moan erupted from within you as your hips bucked into his face, your voice ringing out suddenly in the space around you. A low, guttural sound released itself from deep within his chest and reverberated deliciously off your pussy as he ate you through completion. The feeling was utterly intoxicating, and you were certain nothing you had ever experienced up until that point felt nearly as good as this.

"Good girl, falling apart so beautifully for me," he praised as he softly lowered your trembling hips back down to meet the couch cushion after giving your clit one last kiss and pulling away slightly. His chest heaved with exertion as he licked his lips with a lascivious smile. "Might I dare ask for the verdict? Or is it too soon?"

Your hands moved to brush away a few loose strands of hair from where they fell in front of his eyes, your palm resting on his stubbled cheek. Taking quiet notice of the way his ends of his hair had started to curl slightly from your mixed perspirations, you realized you felt about as flush as he looked though you had no intentions of leaving the extent of your fun at that for the night. A blissful post-orgasmic haze washed over you and you felt that you were all but glowing with how much love you harbored for him in that particular moment.

"You've never looked so beautiful as you do now," you answered, trying to catch your breath. "How is it that you're my man?"

He smiled, a rare and bashful boyish kind that only emerged as a result of any praise you gave him. Over time, you'd found this to be a reaction only you could stir from him, whether it was in relation to his beautifully bright mind and the extensive knowledge he kept within it or his considerable talent both in and out of the bedroom. Either way, you always loved seeing the way your words could affect him. After all, you'd just experienced (yet again) how much a few words from him could affect you. It only seemed fair. 

Speaking of fair, you were reminded of how much you suddenly longed to even the scoreboard between the two of you and at least attempt to show him an equal act of reciprocity as he came over you again, the noticeable bulge in his trousers brushing briefly against your thigh as he brought himself to hover over you. The feeling intensified as he brought his lips down to meet yours once again, the lingering taste of yourself on his tongue driving you even more wild. 

"I am yours, body and soul," he whispered between kisses. "And you, my dear, are all mine." 

His tongue tangled with yours with a way that moved from sweet and gentle to hungry and primal, as if he was trying to further prove his point by claiming you with his mouth. The intensity of it was enough to stoke the fire in your core again, the thought of him laying claim to you in such a way intercepting any coherent though from forming in your head. You nearly forgot about your improvised plan as his hands roved their way up your sides and kneaded your breasts in a way you knew he wasn't finished wringing pleasure from you and showing you the ways in which you were his. Appealing as it was to you, the thought of how he would look writhing under you as you drew out wave after wave of pleasure from him was really what set your loins alight.

"There is another angle that I'd like to test out, however," you managed to breathe out against his fervent kisses, causing him to slow ever so slightly in interest.

He raised an eyebrow, a curious look glimmering in his eye. "Is that so?"

You nodded.

"And what might that be?" He asked.

You dragged your hands along his torso just as he had done to you, goosebumps rising in their wake. "Let me show you," you whispered against his lips.

His lips met with your again as you began to sit up from where you lay on the couch, placing a gentle hand to his chest as you pushed him onto his back and your other hand moved a pillow under his head, careful to never break your kiss in the process. You felt his breath hitch as you fumbled with the buttons on his long cardigan, his hands coming up to weave themselves in your hair. The thought of pleasing him so easily made your heart soar; you wanted to nothing more than to make him feel as good as he had made you feel and it made you indescribably happy to know you were already on your way there. 

Little time elapsed between the point where you finished undoing the last button on his sweater and when it was being shrugged down and off his shoulders, landing somewhere on the floor beside the couch. You finally broke your intense kiss to move slightly back and take in the view of his bare chest before you.

The sight of him never failed to take your breath away; his broad shoulders and defined muscles looking like they were carefully crafted by the hands of the gods themselves, the flickering candlelight highlighting the depth of his considerable pectoral muscles and the swirls of dark hair that ran along them and down his chest. You couldn't help but follow the little trail from where it was thickest across his sternum down to where it thinned out slightly over his abdominal muscles and then grew denser where his trousers rested. The thought of what lies beneath them made your core clench around nothing, your need to pleasure him growing with each passing minute.

You watched the rise and fall of his chest quicken as you laid your hands on his stomach gently, moving them up slowly toward his pectorals in exploration as you lowered your head to burrow into his neck. His hands took hold of your torso to bring it flush against his as you alternated between placing delicate kisses on his neck and gently nipping at it, moving into that spot just below his right ear you knew made him particularly responsive. Sure enough, a low groan escaped him as your lips met his skin there, his hands tightening their grip on you. You smiled before jutting your tongue out to press it against his warm neck and then sealing it by pressing a kiss over it once more. 

This seemed to stir something entirely new and hungry in him, his hands now desperately seeking purchase on the sides of your head and bringing your lips up to meet his once again. He let out another groan as he devoured you, your mouths moving in a frantic tandem against each other in an intense dance of tongues and lips. You wanted it to last forever.

Pulling away slightly for air, you watched as a small string of saliva connected your bottom lips. The sight of it made you feel weak with desire, suddenly picturing what that same string of spittle might look on other certain parts of him. From the way he was eyeing your lip in return, you guessed the sight ignited something similar in him.

"You torture me, wicked girl" he rasped.

"Oh, sweet thing," you smiled innocently, "we're only getting started."

You saw his eyes widen ever so slightly at your insinuation and you felt a sense of pride in your choice of words. It wasn't easy to leave Gale Dekarios speechless, though you'd just done it singlehandedly.

Lowering your lips back to down to meet his chest, you heard him sharply inhale above you as you placed gentle kisses down his sternum and through the trail of hair that grew there. His scent filled your nostrils: a mix of the sweet-smelling body wash he used, the musk that rubbed off the ancient leather-bound books he always had his nose stuck in, and a tinge of sweat that had accumulated over the course of the day. It had to be one of your favourite scents, so familiar to you by now that it had, at some point, started to smell like home to you. You relaxed at the thought, any lingering anxiety you harbored and carried with you up until that point melting away into nothingness.

Your kisses trailed lower down his stomach as you dragged your fingernails lightly along his chest as you went, his breaths increasing a little more the closer you got to the waistband of his loose-fitting trousers. When you could travel down no farther, you moved your hands to rest on top of his hips, gently massaging the muscles underneath and looking back up to meet his eyes once again.

You knew this type of intercourse - one where he was the one on the receiving end, rather than the other way around - was a sensitive area for him. For years, he'd become accustomed to sexual experiences that only served to satisfy the other party: his goddess. Gale was nothing if not a generous lover and as much as you believed him when he told how arousing he found going down on you, the thought of him not receiving the same amount of care and devotion he gave to his goddess - to you - simply didn't sit right with you.

Mystra had him smitten from a young age, using her celestial power to always extract exactly what she wanted from him. The thought made you sick on the best of days, and what was even worse was how Gale had stood completely oblivious to her toxic manipulation of him until you entered his life not even a year ago. To heal from the damage that she'd inflicted over such a considerably long time was no small feat for him, though it was a battle you refused to let him fight alone in. You were in it together, no matter how rough the road ahead got at times. And oh, could it get rough. 

You recalled one of the nights you'd spent together early on in your relationship when you'd begun to explore each other's bodies more freely. What started as an innocent make out session in his tent quickly turned heated and desperate, the thrill of the newfound lust sizzling between the two of you giving you the confidence to attempt to try something new. You'd accumulated a certain amount of guilt over the previous few nights from how he would spend literal hours pleasuring you in ways you hadn't dreamed possible up until that point and then proceed to tuck both of you into bed when he sensed you were well and truly spent for the time being, not giving you the chance to even attempt to return the favor.

On this particular night, however, you'd managed to beat him to the chase. All was well until you'd shimmied his night pants down his legs and took hold of his cock, stroking it in a way you hoped felt at least alright to him. His muscles tensed at your touch and his face contorted slightly, raising himself up suddenly on his elbows in alarm. 

"W-What are you doing, love? I thought..." he asked, his sudden concerning behavior instantly causing you to believe you'd done something wrong. It was your first time having done such things to a man before, and the confidence you felt in your abilities was already scarce and dwindling to start off with.

You instantly pulled back, taking your hands off his body and shoving them under your arms as if you'd been burned as your heart began to hammer in your chest. "Oh gods, I'm sorry, Gale. I- I can't believe I... I’m really sorry, I've never done this before and I was... just... just trying to make you feel good too, as you've done for me all these nights. It just seemed... fair to me." You rambled as your voice began to quiver, desperately fighting back the sudden onslaught of tears that threatened to prickle through and overflow so easily. The last thing you wanted to do was upset him and ruin this beautiful thing you'd built together.

The look on his face at your confession was equal parts remorseful and understanding. "Oh love, no. You are doing wonderfully. I'm the one at fault here and I apologize, I regret not wording that question better. I just... well, these are new sensations to me, you see. I am uh... somewhat unexperienced in this area as well." He scratched the back of his head, his cheeks reddening slightly from what you assumed was both his own confession and how his body was currently fully exposed. You reached over to retrieve one of his blankets and drape it over him gently, hoping it would help him to feel less self conscious. 

Realization hit you like an early morning light as you smoothed the blanket down. "Have you ever had...?" You asked quietly. To think Gale - your sweet, precious Gale who could give head intense enough to cause you to nearly leave your body all together and was by far the most doting lover you'd ever known - had yet to experience a basic level of reciprocity from a lover at this point in his life was something you had a hard time wrapping your head around. If that was simply something thing he wasn't into, then that was completely understandable in and of itself. But to never have had that offer given to him in the first place? What kind of relationship had he had with this goddess of his?

"Would you laugh if I said I hadn't?" He answered, his voice dropping down to the same octave as yours.

"Are you kidding? Of course not!" You reassured him, taking one of his hands to give it a firm squeeze of solidarity. "Though the question is... is this something you want? I would really love to give this to you, but only if you're comfortable with it."

His hand gave yours a squeeze back almost instantaneously, maneuvering the placement of his to thread his fingers in between yours. "I would love nothing more. Though I will warn you, the experience might not... last very long. Considering..." He said sheepishly, giving you a half smile and motioning to the tent that had been created between his legs when you placed the blanket over him.

"Gale Dekarios, you are an utter fool if you think I care even for a second about such things." You leaned over to kiss him once before returning to your original position between his legs, taking the blanket on his lap with you. 

Gale had been truthful in his confession, as always. He had come undone for you with little more than a bit of light teasing and a few strokes to his cock, your warm mouth wrapping around the tip to catch his spend in an attempt to please him further. It definitely seemed to work, the intensity of the orgasm that ripped through him bringing him to literal tears. The reaction flattered you more than anything, though you were a little concerned about the true meaning of the tears that erupted from him so suddenly.

After gently redressing his lower half, putting out the lanterns in his tent, and pulling a blanket over the both of you, you settled beside him in bed for the night. He'd nuzzled his head into your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you, bringing your body as close to his as possible.

And then he'd gently wept into your shoulder for the better part of an hour.

It was the most vulnerability he'd shown you until that point, and your heart broke to know he'd been carrying around that hurt within him for heaven knows how long. Despite it all, you felt a certain energy change in the tent that night, as if years worth of trauma had begun to lift itself off his shoulders. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't cried along with him when he started whispering how sorry he was; sorry that he was so weak and naive in the face of Mystra, sorry that he loved you so much and smothered you with his emotions like this, sorry that he was the one you decided to love. 

How he could ever believe such things to be true felt like someone driving a stake right through your heart and twisting the handle maliciously. Since the moment you made the decision to pull him out of that mysterious rune after you'd crashed on the Nautiloid, you'd felt nothing but pure, blossoming adoration for the man. With his flowery language and bad jokes, he emerged as a small but bright and persistent beacon of light in your otherwise bleak life and for that you were forever grateful. When he told you the story behind his need for magical artifacts and of what Mystra had done to him - how she'd used him for so many years and then simply tossed him aside at the drop of a hat - you'd struggled to fight back tears the entire time he talked, his face alarmingly calm and passive as he spoke of his mistreatment. His words replayed themselves in your mind as you tried to fall asleep each night from then on, utterly and thoroughly disgusted with the woman this sweet wizard worshipped and even more furious at the fact that she'd done such a good job of pulling the wool over his eyes for so long. And then came the night when dear old Elminster barged his way into your camp to deliver Gale his death sentence, handed down by none other than the conniving goddess herself. His emotions had been intense that night, though you could hardly call your moment in the meadow together "smothering". You loved him, even with all his strings attached. You loved him, and nothing could ever change that, not even death.

And so, this was exactly what you told him, your voice unwavering as you professed your conviction into the top of his head. His tears began to slow as he whispered over and over how much he loved you and how glad he was to have found you between jagged inhales. You echoed his sentiments and placed soft kisses to sporadic spots on his head, wishing there was a way to kiss all the hurt off of him. While massaging small circles into his bare back with your fingertips, you felt his breathing begin to slow and after a few minutes you knew he had fallen asleep in your arms.

Something between you had shifted that night, as if both of you had finally realized how much you needed each other. The rest was history from there.

How far you'd come in those few months to end up where you were now, lounging and making love to each other on his couch in Waterdeep. You could recall when the very idea of relaxing a random Sunday away on a couch seemed like a luxury, never mind being able to spend that day alongside the love of your life. There was a time when certain death loomed over your head so heavily it might as well have been set in stone, making the idea of dreaming up a future beyond a few weeks in advance feel laughable. Hells, Gale had even been given orders to sacrifice himself by his ex-goddess, hadn't he? Yet here you both were, against all odds. 

As you looked into his eyes from your position between his legs - a position so similar to the one you'd been in that night - you briefly entertained the idea of his mind drifting back to that very same memory you shared with him. You wondered if he too contemplated the unexpected turn your lives had taken you in and the mystery behind the lucky hand both of you had ultimately been dealt. Either way, you were contented to know that everything had turned out for the better.

"Tell me, baby," you whispered, your tone equal parts seductive and playful. "Is this what you want?" You slipped your index finger just under the waistband of his trousers and dragged it along his skin lightly, watching his reaction carefully. 

He sucked in a breath, his eyes growing dark once again. "Yes. Oh gods, yes." When you simply raised an eyebrow, he added a pained, "Please."

Satisfied, you undid the fastenings on his trousers and pulled them down his legs, throwing them in the general direction he'd thrown your underwear earlier. His cock sprang free from it's confines immediately, painfully erect from where it stood in front of your face. You looked back up at him once more, waiting for just one more sign of approval.

His hand squeezed the one that rested again on his hip in return, his other hand reaching down to cup your cheek gently. His fingers brushed against your jawline briefly before threading themselves through your hair and gathering it up and away from your face. You smiled at the endearing gesture (even if it was only to give him a better view of what you were doing) and placed your hand around the base of his cock, marveling at its size. Gale truly was a work of art, inside and out. 

Slowly, you brought your hand up his shaft and rested your thumb on his swollen tip, relaxing your hand to mold to his girth as you went. You saw him tilt his head up to the ceiling in your periphery, his other hand detaching itself from yours to tangle his fingers in your hair on the other side of your head. Any loose strands that had potential for getting in the way went with it, clearing the way for you to work your own kind of magic on him.

After stroking his length a few times, you lowered your lips to gently kiss the tip of his cock. His fingers in your hair tightened in response and you couldn't help but smile; how fast this man could fold from simple foreplay never failed to amaze you. Lifting slightly to lick your lips, you lowered back down onto his cock, this time slowly taking him into your mouth. Breathing through your nose, you took as much of him as you could before hollowing out your cheeks and sucking in that way you knew made him melt beneath you. 

"Oh - oh, fuck! Yes, just like that. Don't stop, please - don't..." he cried out above you, that usual eloquent vocabulary he was so predisposed to using now replaced by half-finished, non-sensical sentences.

You eagerly take his encouragement to continue and begin what starts as a slow bob along his length, your lips stretching around his girth as his cock stinks a little farther down your throat with each pass. Your pace gradually picks up, the little beads of saliva escaping your lips mixing with his milky precum, aiding your ability to glide along his length. As you do, you feel your tongue trace down one of his veins and his pulse began to hammer in your mouth. You'd never felt anything quite like it before, the sensation sending tangible pools of heat between your legs once again, your body and clit alike buzzing with arousal. 

Your hand drifts back to the base of his cock as you come up for air, his tip slipping from your mouth with a little pop that coaxed his eyes open again. He looked confused at the sudden loss of stimulation coming from your mouth and you tried telling yourself it was only to tease him along, not because your vision had become almost completely obscured by your watering eyes and you were in desperate need of a minute to catch your breath. Well, you thought, maybe it was a bit of both.

"Is it oh-" he started, interrupted by a clever flick of your wrist around his shaft. "Is it your intent t- to break me into a thousand pieces with your sweet torment?" His voice shook a great deal more than you presumed he intended for it to with each syllable that passed through his lips. "Because if it is... you've shattered me."

Smiling, you continued to pump his length torturously, moving to settle back down to where his balls lay to pepper wet kisses over the surface of them. "Perhaps..." you teased as he moaned again loudly, your explorative ministration clearly affecting him in the best of ways. "Besides ... your mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, it would be my treasure still." 

Your quote's origin was lost on him, though the meaning of your words definitely was not. You looked forward to the day when the two of you would come across that very same line in the book you were reading, however long that might take you. 

"Waxing poetic as we're making love, are you now? If I didn't know any better, I might think my habits are starting to rub off on you."

You shot him a wicked smile before trailing your tongue up his length, already dripping with your combined fluids. When you reach the top, you take one last inhale through your nose before taking him in your mouth again, doing your best to concentrate on relaxing your throat as you take him in as far as you can manage. You feel the little patch of curls at his root brush against the tip of your nose as you hold yourself there, the fingers he had threaded in your hair pulling at your scalp painfully.

Although you sensed his release was fast approaching, he pulled your head off his cock forcefully with little warning. His sudden change in behavior confused you, though you knew from the wild look in his eye when he brought your head up to be in line with his that you had done nothing to upset him, but rather the opposite.

"Did you really think you'd get away with that, little minx?" He taunted, propping himself up on the hand that didn't have your hair in a death grip, leaning in to give you a sloppy, breathless kiss. When you gave no immediate answer, he yanked your hair back a little, causing you to gasp. "Hmm? What was that?"

The sudden dark edge he had taken on shifted something within you, the increasing amount of adrenaline now running through your body igniting you need for him in ways you didn't know were possible. You knew this game he aimed to play; he told you he once read how a little bit of danger - of fear - could heighten other senses simultaneously as a way of flirting before your relationship had taken flight. Of course, you had given it right back to him, much to his incredulity, though he had yet to demonstrate his knowledge of the subject with you up until that point. 

You shook your head weakly in response to his demanding question. When he merely raised an eyebrow, you managed to squeak out a pathetic, "No."

"No? 'No' what?" He asked again, shifting his bodyweight to sit up fully on his knees, his hand drifting to lazily stroke his cock beneath you. When he purposely dragged the tip along your stomach, you attempted to advert your eyes from his to look down. He was, unfortunately for you, already one step ahead of you and pulled your head back a little harder this time to force you to look at him over your nose. "Not yet, little mouse."

The new pet name had you feeling like you were practically coming apart at the seams and you barely managed a shaky inhale through your nose, all other senses completely and utterly overwhelmed. 

"No, I didn't think that," You panted, voice barely above a whisper. The pieces finally clicked into place in your head and you added, in the most innocent way possible, what he really wanted: a squeaky little, “Sir." 

If getting him to absolutely ravage you meant you were to be a helpless little mouse in his eyes, then you swore to fuck you were about to be the squeakiest little rodent in all of Faerûn.

"Turn around." Came his curt reply, letting go of your hair abruptly to allow you to move freely. You had no objection to his order, spinning around to sit obediently on your knees with your back to him. With hurried desperation, he helped you shrug the shirt you hadn't fully taken off before down your shoulders and onto the floor, wiggling back into him until his knees brushed the backside of yours, your shins abducted to rest along his outer thighs.

He wasted no time in rising on his knees, snaking his left arm around your hip to laying his hand flush against your lower abdomen while his right curled its way around your throat, tilting your head back slightly so you could glance over your shoulder at him. He had made sure to press his body as closely as he could against your backside in the process, his hardness pressed into the curve of your ass in a way that would've had you squirming if not for his firm grip on you. 

"Look at you, needy little thing. What do you say we try another form of stimulation, hmm? Perhaps one that involves me bending you over and fucking you completely senseless until your mind is shattered into a thousand little pieces, just as you had intended for me?" His left hand trails lower to the apex of your thighs as he speaks, the pad of his middle finger rubbing your clit menacingly. The sensation has you whimpering in frustration, tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes from all his tortuous teasing. 

"Yes, please, yes," you beg, desperately grinding back into him with a force that had him panting in your ear along with you. 

Much to your dismay, he abruptly removed his adept finger from where it swirled idly around your clit, your body aching at the loss of such sweet stimulation. Before you could think much of it, however, his hand began manipulating his member, sliding it along your slick entrance and through your clenched thighs. It wasn't long before he was pressing the thick head of his cock into you, your back arching in response.

With what remained of his self-control, he gradually pushed into you, allowing you a few extra moments to adjust around his girth. Both of you let out a low groan of relief when he was finally fully seated inside you, his cock buried to the hilt. The feeling was nothing short of exquisite and you could feel your body already thrumming with pleasure.

Slowly, he started to thrust his hips up into yours, his warm sex burying deep within of you as his hand moved to grip your hip hard enough to leave bruises. The snap of hips gradually turned more forceful, and you could feel where the tip of him gently nudged at your cervix with each thrust. The sensation had you crying out, his loose grip on your throat suddenly growing firm. 

"You feel so good, you know that?" He praised in your ear, your hair falling in your face from the force he was pounding into you with. His statement was punctuated with a low moan that just about made you lose your mind, the sound of his skin slapping against yours only adding to the effect. You felt like a ragdoll in his grip, your legs now completely useless and the rest of your body not far off from being delightfully limp. 

As if sensing this weakness in you, he moved to gently hinge you forward so you could rest on your forearms, thoughtfully placing one of the thicker pillows under your stomach for support. You were instantly thankful for the short reprieve, especially when he lowered down to press his stomach into your back, his thrusts growing in intensity and desperation. Almost every part of his body was flush against yours as he fucked into you with abandon and you almost screamed aloud when his hand came to rest on your clit once more, massaging it in a way that nearly had your vision going black. It was no surprise to find your orgasm rapidly cresting once more, the buildup to it releasing frustrated tears from your eyes.

"That's it, my love, keep going. You're being such a good girl." He praised in your ear, using the hand he kept at your throat to turn your head to the side. Between his words and the speed at which he was suddenly strumming your clit at, you felt about ready to explode from the intensity of your pleasure. "I want you to come for me. Don't you dare hold back, I want to hear everything. I want to feel you."

It was the million sensations you felt crashing down on you all at once that finally tipped you over the edge, writhing beneath him helplessly as wave of earth-shattering euphoria washed over you. A synchronized moan released from both of you as you clenched around him, coaxing Gale to his own end. Driving into you one final time, you felt him spill himself as far inside you as he could manage, slumping against your back as you both fought to catch your breath. 

"That was... wow," you breathed after a moment of silence. "Who taught you how to fuck like that?" As soon as the words left your mouth, you instantly regretted them. "Actually, never mind. I don't need to know that."

He laughed, kissing your cheek as you felt him twitch inside you for a final time. The feeling caused instant butterflies to take flight behind your navel, a contented little sigh leaving your chest. Despite both of you being truly and utterly spent for the rest of the night, his cock remained buried deep inside you, neither of you possessing the strength to peel apart from each other quite yet.

"Funny enough, a good portion of that came from that novel on your beside table you seem to like so much. The rest... well, I'm afraid that was all improvisation on my part, darling."

Your eyes widened at his words, instantly chiding yourself for leaving that book out in the open where his curious eyes would no doubt take a peek into it.

"You're kidding! Oh, please say you're messing with me!" You pleaded, somewhat horrified. You supposed you couldn't be too angry with him, though. The circumstances had turned out to be highly in your favor, after all. 

"Unfortunately, I'm not. Though I already presumed you to have an excellent taste in fiction, the scene where he makes love to her on the kitchen table was truly riveting, if I do say so myself." He teased, idly drawing squiggly little lines up your spine.

"I'm never living this one down, am I?" You asked with your face buried in palms, though you already suspected what the answer would be.

"Not as long as I'm around, sweetheart." He confirmed placing a firm kiss to the bony prominence in the back of your neck. "I love you, so, so very much." He confessed into your shoulder, the sincerity in his voice stealing the air from your lungs once again. 

Just as you were about to echo the endearment, you eye caught on a colourful flash of something in your shared room across the hall. Raising your head up to squint in the mysterious object's direction, you quickly realized it was the dress you'd pulled out to wear tonight. To Morena's birthday dinner. With Gale. Tonight. 

You whipped your head around to look at the clock on the wall, panic quickly setting in. 

5:47. 

Oh, this was about to be disastrous. 

"Gale! Your mother!" You exclaimed, pulling away from him abruptly. You felt his spend leak from you slightly as his now flaccid cock exited your pussy, eliciting a pained groan from him. 

"What does my mother have to do with this?" He gestured vaguely to your ravaged features, leaking sex and all.

"It's her birthday and she invited us over for supper, remember? We're about to be late!" You picked up the previously discarded blanket on the floor to wrap it around your naked body and scurried into the bedroom, your legs still a little weak and wobbly. 

"Surely she won't mind if we're a little tardy, dear." He protested from the couch, lying back into the cushions. 

It took you giving him a stern look and trotting back to physically drag him off the couch to get him to acquiesce to your warning. Just as you were about to turn back to getting yourself ready, you remembered how your previous conversation had been cut short.

Taking his hand in yours and looking up to meet his gaze, you said, "And you must know I love you, too. Beyond what words could ever describe."

A shy smile spread across his face, his eyes shimmering in the flickering candlelight. Bringing your hand up to his lips, he placed a the softest of kisses to the back of it, his eyes never breaking contact with yours. You clutched the two ends of the blanket wrapped around you together desperately, as if it was your last piece of sanity rather than the only thing keeping you - against your better judgement - from climbing him like a tree right then and there.

"Of course I do, my love. But I enjoy hearing you tell me all the same." Time seemed to slow as you stood there together, the sight of his naked body before you making it difficult to think straight.

"C'mon, you tease. We've got..." You glanced at the clock again, your tone taking on a more playful edge, "...under 10 minutes to get out the door and you don't even have any clothes on."

"Maybe I would," he countered with a laugh, "if you hadn't stripped them off of me so eagerly."

"Don't act like you didn't do it to me first!" You laughed back, swatting at his chest and heading to the bathroom this time, waiting until the physical distance between you forced you to let go of his hand.

"I'm going for a shower," You announced as you walked away, looking over your shoulder at him when he remained suspiciously quiet. Sure enough, a smug grin had taken form on his face, and you knew what was going on in that pretty head of his almost immediately. "That wasn't an invitation, wizard!

Under the guise that you were too short on time, he had decided to treat your declaration as an invitation anyway, despite your initial protests. It was certainly a struggle cleaning the smell of sex off you in a few short minutes whilst also trying to keep his ever-wandering hands off you, but you'd managed just fine in the end.

The next few minutes passed in a flurry of frenzied last-minute preparations. Gale used a spell to instantly dry your hair to perfection, casting the same one on himself shortly after. You quickly rolled a pair of pantyhose up your legs before shimming into your new dress as he slotted a belt through the loopholes in his pants, his hair adorably ruffled.

To commemorate Morena's 65th birthday, you'd decided (with some reluctance) to splurge on a new dress for the occasion. It wasn't until you went dress shopping one afternoon a few weeks prior, however, that you realized how difficult it was to find a nice one that didn't cost you a whole month's wage. After an entire day of scouring what seemed like every store in Waterdeep to no avail, you'd nearly given up all hope of finding one.

That was, until you bumped into a familiar looking pale elf on the street after dusk.

He had greeted you with his signature, "Darling!" immediately after recognizing you, pulling you in for a friendly hug.

"What are you doing, roaming the streets at such an hour? That foolish wizard of yours hasn't lost his touch already, has he?" He asked, ever the gossip as he linked your arms together and near dragged you up the road with him with his ridiculous amount of enthusiasm. 

"It's nice to see you too, Astarion," you laughed, jogging a little to keep up with him. "I was out looking for a dress. Gale's mother's birthday is in a few weeks' time, and I have absolutely nothing to wear." 

"Oh dear. That is quite the problem indeed." He replied, a grave look on his face. "Though, one I might be obliged to help you with, if you so wish."

You surveyed his face for any signs of mockery but quickly came up short. "In exchange for..." 

He placed a hand to his chest, a gasping dramatically in mock offense. "I am hurt that you think so lowly of me, darling. What do you take me as? Some deceitful, thieving rogue?"

You laughed again, glad to be reunited with the deceitful, thieving rogue once more. "I am not letting you suck on my neck in exchange for making me a dress, Asty. Those days are long since over." 

He stuck out his bottom lip at you, pouting. "Not even a nibble? I can suck on your wrist instead, if that's the problem." He asked innocently and you had to swat him away playfully when he tried to take hold of your wrist. 

"I will pay you in gold, just as in any other regular trade agreement. Do we have a deal?" You stopped to look at him straight on, letting him know you were serious about this. 

He pretended to ponder your offer for a moment before coming to a conclusion. "100 gold, you keep me company for an afternoon back in Baldur's Gate and the most magnificent dress you have ever laid your pretty eyes upon will be delivered to you in no more than 10 days time." He reasoned with an air of finality. When you raised your eyebrows at him expectantly, he added, "And the wizard can come, too, I suppose. I quite miss his terrible jokes, if I'm being honest." He reached his hand out for you to shake. "Deal?"

Smiling, you gave his hand a firm shake. "Deal." You had been meaning to visit him more often anyway, so you were quite satisfied with his added condition to the deal.

He smiled back at you, pleased. "Wonderful. Let's get you measured up." 

After a good hour of wrapping a measuring tape around you in about a hundred different angles and coming up with a general design, you'd invited him to spend the night with you and Gale rather than pay for a room at the inn, an offer he agreed to readily. The two of you scurried arm in arm toward yours and Gale's abode, giggling your way through the now dark and winding streets, excited to see your what your lover's reaction might be when you walked through the door with a dear friend to both of you.

Apparently, Astarion had been in Waterdeep at the time to sort out some kind of business deal he had made with a local bard who hadn't kept up his end of the bargain. He only flashed you both a wicked grin when Gale had asked how he intended to handle the dispute before quickly changing the subject, causing you to chuckle softly into your glass of wine. That poor bard, you thought, though you supposed he had it coming if he was so dense as to cheat Astarion of all people over.

He was gone before either of you awoke the next morning, a note with the address to his place in Baldur's Gate scrawled on it in neat cursive and placed inside a beautiful vase of wildflowers on your kitchen table. Within the following week, a skillfully decorated box was delivered to your door from Baldur's Gate, a beautiful dress made just for you tucked inside.

The colour of it was a dark enough purple to almost be considered black, sleek and formed to hug your every curve perfectly. The length of it trailed down to brush no lower than your ankles, the material fanning out past your knees in a little skirt that allowed you to move your legs easier in it. He had added two-tiered layers of frilly hemming around the bottom of the skirt, the material a pearly, ivory white that shimmered ever so slightly in the light. He'd chosen simple heart-shaped neckline for the dress, using that same pearly material to create thin straps on either side for support, little white bows tied to where they met with the dress on either side. As you observed the way you looked with it on in the mirror, you were certain you wouldn't find a more perfect dress in all of the Sword Coast. 

Gale came over to you just as you were putting in your finest pair of heart-shaped silver earrings, your dress still unzipped in the back due to the impossible range of motion you'd have to possess to do it up yourself. He was already dressed up in a sharp looking suit you'd picked out with him a while back in Baldur's Gate, the purple of his suit jacket a similar shade of purple to your dress. Delicate-looking flowers embroidered in silver crawled up artfully alongside the silver clasps holding the jacket closed on each side, the pattern stopping at his shoulders where a sweeping cape was clasped into place. His pants were made of a smug-fitting, leathery material to match his high-collared undershirt, the few silver rings he adorned on each hand glinting slightly in the firelight. What you loved most of all about his outfit, however, was the charm that hung from his right ear: a simple sliver sword pointed downward with a heart driven through it. You'd gotten it for him a few weeks after you'd come home from your adventure, the earing he wore in honour of Mystra long since been discarded along the road to Baldur's Gate and immediately swapped for the new one. 

His hair seemed to be the only thing he had left to get ready, and you chuckled when he approached you with this comb and a hair tie. You both knew he was perfectly capable of doing it on his own, though he was thoroughly convinced it always looked better when you did it. Turning around and crouching down a little for you, you swept the top portion of his smooth hair up and back toward the back of his head, the strands of gray usually well-hidden by its rich brown colour now well apparent to you in the firelight. The sight of them only made you love him that much more, a gentle reminder of how very human he was. 

Tying off the loose bun, you fixed any fly-aways and adjusted its position to perfection, proud of your quick handiwork. 

"Zip me?" You asked him, turning around yourself as he turned back to face you.

He was more than happy to oblige, his finger gliding the zipper up your back at a much slower speed than necessary. When he reached the top, he leaned down to give your bare shoulder a quick kiss before whispering in your ear.

"Wait here." Was all he said to you before walking over to his bedside table and pulling a small box out of the drawer. As confused as you were in that moment, you obeyed his gentle order, only stealing a quick peek over your shoulder to satiate your curiosity. 

All you heard was the soft sound of him removing the box lid before his hands came around your head to drape something around your neck and close the clasp at the back with a barely perceptible clink, the little cold piece of metal resting an inch or so below the jugular notch between your clavicles. You held it between your fingers and looked down to find a singular sliver charm identical to the one hanging from his ear threaded through a delicate silver chain. The gesture made you start to tear up, turning back around to face him. 

"I wanted to wait to give it to you until your birthday, but you look so beautiful in that dress that I-" You cut off any remaining words in that sentence with a passionate kiss landing directly onto his unsuspecting lips, standing up on your toes and cradling both side of his face with your hands. He quickly deepened the kiss, his hands gripping your waist and gently pulling you into him. 

"Do you like it?" He asked when you both came up for air, his magnificent brown eyes searching yours for anything that might answer his question. You thought it was probably the stupidest question that you had ever heard come out of his mouth. You were still too tearful to tease him about it, so instead you indulged him.

"I love it, Gale. Just as I love you." You punctuated your sentiments with another soft, languid kiss to his lips. Pulling back after a few moments, you were reminded of a line you particularly adored from the novel you were reading together earlier. "All my heart is yours, sir: it belongs to you; and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence forever.” You quoted to him, each word flowing from your lips with unwavering confidence.

He leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes glassy and brimming with tears. "And every piece of my heart is yours, along with my soul, my body, and whatever else you'll have of me. It's yours, and it was always going to be yours, in the end."

You brushed a lock of hair from his eyes and took one of his hands in your other, stroking the back of it with your thumb reassuringly. "I think it's time to go, love." You reminded him gently.

He nodded, picking up the gift basket you'd made together for his mother. He looked to you again, his gaze soft.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Always," you answered, giving his hand a little squeeze. Your gaze remained unwaveringly focused on him, wanting to absorb this wholesome moment you'd shared as best as you possibly could, locking it away in your mind for safe keeping. 

If fate had been so generous to grant you this soft epilogue, then by the gods you were going to make sure every minute that brought you closer to the end was spent to its fullest, your lover's hand in yours.

~★~

Thank you for reading!

[mythophosfox]

Dr.Ratio x Student!Reader

Word Count͟͟͞͞➳❥ 6.6k (One-Shot)

Reader is gender neutral !afab // Not proofread

A/N͟͟͞͞➳❥English is not my first language so I apologize for any grammar errors. I've never properly written NSFW before as I'm violently Ace. I'm also more used to writing longer stories so I apologize if anything feels rushed. I've tried my best. This is purely self-indulgent

Cw ➳❥ age gap (reader is 25, Ratio is 30), porn with plot, dubcon?, P in V, masturbation, mutual pinning (they’re in denial), slight OOC, Cunnilingus, licking, Dr.ratio being mean, Ratio being referred as Veritas(towards the end), mentions of private parts, softcore porn, soft dom, kinda slow burn?,

Summary ➳❥ When you arrived at the academy, you immediately caught the eye of Dr.Ratio. The genius felt both amazed and irritated by your methods.

Dr. Ratio was thought to be free of carnal emotions. The man pried himself on being free of idiocy, free of impulsive thoughts and actions. Everything he does is meticulously planned. From the way he teaches to the way, he bathes in the evening. He was known to be one of the strictest and hardest teachers in the guild, his class barely making the 10% pass mark. Not only did you need to figure it out yourself, but you had to prove you wanted to learn. His reputation was kept up carefully and preceded him. Even though he wasn’t liked by the majority of students in the academy, everyone knew better than to disrespect him. He’s earned his attitude, to everyone’s misfortune. 

Every day was the same for Dr.Ratio. The same idiotic student asking the same idiotic questions, the disappointment he felt towards his coworkers, and the stability of his reputation keeping its ground. Only when you arrived, that his foundation start to crack. You weren’t special at first, simply a new arrival to the academy. Your attitude was over-optimistic and light-hearted. He hated the way you were carefree about your teachings. It didn’t take long for him to indirectly target his attitude towards you. For what you had in personality, your intellect deceived it. Every time he came at you with an impossible equation or theory, you would calmly come out with multiple answers, no matter if they were wrong or not. He’d berate you for your ‘’stupidity’’ as he said it. You stayed unfazed, simply stating:

-’’ You can’t succeed without failing, that is the process of learning.’’ 

He was both annoyed and somewhat impressed by your calm, carefree answer to his berating. He scoffed before leaving you alone for that day. The interaction gave you some attention from classmates who were more afraid of him. Over the next few months, you became more popular with the students in his class, even tutoring some of them. You had a more gentle approach than Ratio when explaining material to your fellow students. 

Ratio heard about your little tutoring work and decided to observe from afar. He stood away from the table you and the student you’d be helping that way were seated. His plaster mask was on his complexion to hide his expression, helping him concentrate on the work you were doing. He listened as you talked calmly to the student who was having a hard time. He was expecting you to just give the answer away, like any other idiot would to make another idiot shut up, but you didn’t. As the student looked distressed from the assignment, you stayed optimistic asking questions to direct the student in the right direction without giving them the right answer. You listened to the student as they spewed an egregious amount of terrible theories. You never lost your cool, explaining the equation as much as you needed to. When the students apologized for being stupid, you shushed them. 

-’’ If you were stupid, you wouldn’t give me answers in the first place. They may be wrong, but it proves you’re thinking. You’ll figure it out soon or later.’’ Your voice was soft, caring and hushed down. A bold contrast to Dr. Ratios's class. 

Ratio witnesses the interaction with a seemingly blank face. He didn’t understand how you were able to deal with so much idiocy. You had potential, potential wasted on helping idiots. Nonetheless, a part of him was impressed by your patience and stable emotional state. He didn’t necessarily agree with your methods, thinking you were too soft, but credit is due where it’s due. He left the premises with a wandering thought. 

The next class with him arrived and you sat in your usual spot. It took a while for everyone else to arrive. Once everyone was seated, you all waited patiently for Dr.Ratio to arrive. To everyone's detriment, your teacher arrived with an enormous pile of papers. He slammed the stack on his desk making a loud slamming noise before he turned towards the blackboard to write today’s plans. Everyone groaned as the words ‘’surprise test’’ appeared on the board. Some students started to freak out while others just sighed in exhaustion. Ratio wasn’t going to make it easy for you huh? He took the plaster mask off of his face and placed it on his desk before facing the class. He looked unimpressed by everyone’s reactions. 

-’’ Today, we’re going to see if you have been listening so far this semester.’’ He beamed loud enough for the whole classroom to hear. ‘’ You have an hour, no more no less, to answer these questions.’’

The whole class reluctantly mutters a ‘’yes, sir’’ as Ratio starts handing out the papers to each student. You reached out to your hand to take the papers. When it was your turn you carefully grabbed the papers but it resisted your pull. Ratio wasn’t letting go of it until you looked up at his eyes. He was staring you down mischievously, piercing your gaze with his gold, crimson eyes. The fainted grin on the corner of his lips. You felt your heart skip a beat as you helplessly stared at his face. He let go of the paper when your gaze reached his. 

-’’ I expect better from you, y/n.’’ He states coldly, before continuing his route. 

You were left speechless and flustered. You had to force your heart from skipping too many beats. You always thought your teacher was good-looking. You thought his attitude would be enough to throw you off, but your feelings were speaking otherwise. When the test started, you tried your best to concentrate, but the image of his eyes gazing into yours was making your brain overheat. Somehow you manage to write down mostly acceptable answers. You didn’t know how you kept your cool through it all. Not only was the test unprepared, but it was challenging. You could hear the discouraged sighs of your classmates. An hour passed and Ratio hollered the students to put their pens down. As he collected the paper, the tension in the classroom escalated. The students weren’t happy and it showed. When it was your turn, Ratio took your copy out of your hand. He gave it a quick look, frowning but scoffing and placing it on the pile. Well, that’s encouraging.

When every copy was collected, Dr.Ratio announced for the class to be dismissed, to which every student ecstatically ran off. You sighed in relief, ready to walk home and relax. As you pack your bags, a voice disturbs your thoughts. 

-’’ y/n, stay here, I want to have a word with you.’’ Ratio exclaimed loudly. 

Some of your classmates gave you apologetic looks, feeling bad for you. You gave Dr.Ratio a look, annoyed at the sudden order. You reluctantly sat back down on your chair. By the time everyone left, you were all alone with him. He took his sweet doing whatever he needed to do. You decided to bring out a book from your bag, reading meticulously. After a while, you looked up from your book to find Dr.Ratio grading the papers in front of you. Was he seriously going to make you wait here until he finished grading the entire stack? You sighed, aggravated. You look back down on your book, reading for what felt like hours. Suddenly, a slam in front of you breaks your concentration. You put your book down, only to see a graded paper in front of you. It’s a failed mark. You thought it was your copy until you read the name.

-’’ That’s not my name.’’ You stated calmly, staring up at the man towering over you. Your heart jumped again, but you kept composure.

-’’ Good to know you can read.’’ He says with a scoff on his face. ‘’ Your tutoring student hasn’t learned it seems.���’ 

You widen your eyes slightly, it was indeed a classmate you tutored the other day. You raised your eyebrow suspiciously at Ratio. How did he- 

-’’ I saw you trying to tutor him, it was excruciating to watch.’’

Oh, that’s how. You winced at his with an air of confusion. Then it clicked in your mind. The sudden test happened the day after your tutoring session. Did he seriously prepare an entire test because he felt disdain at your attempt to help your classmates?

-’’ Did you create this test to prove me wrong?’’ You mutter, slightly aggravated. 

He looks at you for a while, his eyes piercing deep into yours. You couldn’t help but think how pretty he was even with his dignified attitude.

-’’ How perceptive of you.’’ He grinned, amused by your reaction. ‘’ I wanted to prove to you how unproductive your methods are.’’

Your eyes widen, taken off guard by his bold confession. You couldn’t keep a snarl off your face. He has all the right to be unreasonable with you, but not with people who struggle to understand his teachings. So what if you were softer than him? So what if you had a more empathic approach to teaching than he did? You were more emotionally driven than him, but what is the issue with that? It made you feel some anger at the thought. If it wasn’t for the way he made your heart skip beats, you’d have the courage to tell him off then and there. Unfortunately for you, you folded way too easily to his expression on you. He observed your expression closely, a smirk appearing as he noticed your change in composure.

-’’ That is all, you are free to go now.’’ He says waving you off. 

You were left speechless, was he serious? This righteous, prideful asshole. You backed your bag without a word. You were fuming at this point. Hurt and baffled. You stormed towards the door, Ratio watching you leave. You opened the door with force before turning around to face him. ‘’ Just because you’re smart and handsome, doesn’t mean you have the right to bash people on the ground!’’ You exclaimed with a poisonous tone before leaving the room, letting the door slam shut behind you.

Your sudden outburst amused Ratio, before realizing what you’ve said. A look of surprise flashes on his face.

…Handsome?

You arrive at your apartment, throwing your bag on the floor, ready for this day to end. You shower, make dinner and watch the news. Blissfully unaware of what you’ve done. It’s only when you read your book in bed, the clock ticking slowly that you suddenly realize. Oh god, Oh no, You’ve just called your teacher, the man you unfortunately kinda have the hots for. You press your hands on your cheek, red from the sudden embarrassment. How were you going to face him tomorrow now….

...

The next day, you dreaded his class the entire time. You couldn’t concentrate on your other classes with the sheer anxiety you felt. Throughout the day you kept trying to rationalize yourself. Maybe he didn’t hear you. Maybe he did but simply ignored it. Maybe he’d just ignore you for the end of time now, which was honestly the better option for both of you. You couldn’t date him even if you wanted to. He was your teacher after all. Yes, the age gap wasn’t outrageous, but nonetheless. You both knew better than to succumb to these feelings, right…?

It’s finally time for your class with Dr.Ratio and you couldn’t be more dreadful about it. You take a deep breath, composing yourself to ask like everything is fine. You enter the classroom, happy to see you’re not the only one who has arrived. You sit in your regular spot, taking out your notes. The class fills slowly. Hours seem to pass as you anxiously await Ratio to enter and start today’s lesson. You still felt insulted by his game yesterday, the feelings mixing, confusing you further. You couldn’t wait to see him, as much as you dreaded his presence. Your thoughts wander, visualize his eyes, his hair and his chest. Wait, What? You shook your head, brushing the thought off. No, you could let yourself have a crush on him. At this moment, Ratio enters the room, bringing the class to a hush. He looks at the students in front of him, with an air of disdain. His gaze suddenly jolts towards you. Your heart jumps again, unable to tell the emotions behind his eyes. He sighs coldly, turning towards the blackboard to write down today’s subject. -‘’ Today’s lesson is about the basics of combinatory. Do not disappoint me.’’ He states. You couldn’t help but feel as if that warning was targeted at you. 

     The class ended, and you’re putting away your notes and pencils. You have tutoring planned for after class. Considering the subject you were freshly taught, it wouldn’t be a surprise if multiple showed up. You hurried your pace, rushing towards the door. Before you were able to leave, you felt a strong hand take hold of your wrist. The grip itself was firm, but not too harsh. You looked back in surprise to see Dr.Ratio next to you. Your thoughts exploded, anxiety rising. Did he hear what you said? Did he not forget? You try helplessly to hide the flushed expression on your face, hoping it won’t throw him off. He towers over you, his expression blank, his eyes devouring yours in interest. You gulp silently as you slowly meet his gaze, unable to avoid his muscly chest in the process. He squints his eyes in response. 

-’’ I-Is there an issue professor?’’ You manage to murmur out. His grip on your wrist loosens. He gives you a seemingly unamused look.

-’’ Mind if we…discuss before you head toward your tutoring?’’ He asks coldly.

You gulp silently, surprised by this impromptu proposition. You accept reluctantly. A smirk appears on his face. He leans towards you slightly. 

-’’ Wait here, while we wait for the crowd to leave.’’ He states with an expressionless look on his face.

Dr.Ratio watches you as you head back to your seat. He watches you as you sit down nervously. Unbeknownst to you, he’s been thinking about your words all night last night. He as always found you attractive from a distance. You’re even more beautiful from up close. The ways your eyes shine, and the way your cheek turns rosy from his attention. Unfortunately, he wasn’t here to fulfill any type of fantasy. Actually, he was going to break your heart. A teacher-student relationship is less than ideal, and you both had a reputation to keep. You weren’t hard to read, especially for a genius like him. Although the thought of making you cry gave him a pit feeling in his stomach, it was the best for everyone. To shatter your wishes, whether you knew they were impossible or not. Keeping you at a safe distance even if it meant never having a chance to rebuild any kind of interaction with you ever again. 

His gaze goes back to you once everyone has left. The class is silent as he locks the door. He doesn’t anyone to barge inside, making this hard moment harder for you. He was going to shatter you after all. He walks slowly towards his desk, the sounds of his shoes and your breathing echoing through the room. He calls you over. You put away the book you’ve been reading, awaiting him. You sit up and approach him as he leans on his desk. You stand in front of him, feeling minuscule.

-’’ What do you wish to discuss?’’ You ask, avoiding his gaze.

Ratio studies your face carefully, feeling his dedication falter now that you’re close. He gives you an unamused look, which raises your anxiety. He sighs. He raises his hand, about to speak before you cut him off. 

-’’ If it’s about my outburst towards you yesterday, I apologize!’’ You exclaim, your cheeks were rosy from embarrassment. You bow to him in respect. 

Ratio is caught off guard, staring at you with widened eyes. You manage to blank his thoughts for a few seconds.

-’’ I shouldn’t have lost composure in front of my superior, I take full responsibility.’’ You continue. Your heart squeezes when you hear him scoff. 

Dr.Ratio looks at you still bowed, a conflicted look on his face. He couldn’t help to think how adorable you looked, but he couldn’t help to also fear his feelings towards you. He was here to break your heart, to make you run away from him, but your sudden apology caused his brain to stop for the first time in forever. He finds himself wanting two things at the same time. He wanted you, your lips on his, but inside he fought those thoughts. He couldn’t. It would be unjust for you. He couldn’t let himself play with such a fragile dynamic. His rationality was slowly losing its grip on his conscience.

You stayed bowed, awaiting a scolding or any kind of punishment, but it never came. You feel a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

-’’ Stand up y/n.’’ He says, guiding your shoulder up. 

You meet eye-to-eye with him again. You notice a change in his expression. He looks embarrassed and conflicted. You decide not to comment on it. Your face flushes from the sight. You both stare at each other like this for what feels like an eternity. After a while, he takes his hand off your shoulder. 

-’’ You are forgiven. Go home.’’ He says almost sheepishly.

You nod slowly, taking a few steps back. You could cut the tension with a knife, as you slowly take your bags and head for the door. Ratio watches you. His gaze never leaves your body. When you leave his class without a word, he sighs, dejected. He wasn’t able to break your heart.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧NSFW Past This Point✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

     It's the next day, and although today was free, you couldn’t stay inside. As you walk around the guild station, your mind wanders to the events of last night. 

When you finally went home after the tutoring session, you couldn’t get Ratio out of your mind. Before bed, you were unable to dissipate the tension inside your body. Shamelessly, you ended up stimulating your clit with your fingers, imagining they belonged to Ratio instead. Pathetically moaning out his name softly out of your lips. 

You snapped yourself back to reality, hoping to forget that shameful night. You couldn’t keep fantasizing about him forever, it would hinder your studies, He was way out of your league anyway. He’s your superior, not your classmate. Yet, you couldnt wrap your head about how he acted with you yesterday after class. He was acting strange as if he had more to say. Maybe he felt something that day too? You quickly shake those thoughts away. You end up walking through the academic district, finding a bench to rest on. You quietly observed the trees and the plants around you, enjoying the calm. 

Dr. Ratio walked out of his office, plaster mask on his face. He was growing increasingly infuriated at the lack of concentration he was getting. His mind is still on the adorableness of your expression when apologizing to him, unable to decide if he can embrace you or not. You bring out the worst of him, the carnal desires that he so hopelessly tries to avoid in the name of intellect. He leaves the premises, deciding to take a well-deserved walk, surely some fresh air will bring him back to his senses. As he walked through the academic he thought about how his life as been out of balance since you appeared. Your body, your mind, it makes him go insane. He couldn’t keep his gaze off of you in class and it frustrated him. He can only hope to keep his distance from now on. Ratio knew you somehow had some form of attachment towards him. This game was getting more and more dangerous. This isn’t something you’d want so carelessly. Something suddenly caught the corner of his eyes. He turns around and sees you sitting peacefully on a bench across from him. His mind reels. He sighs heavily in frustration, his rationality thrown out of the window. 

Your eyes are closed, breathing deeply to enjoy the fresh air. Your mind slowly calms as you find yourself free of thoughts. Unfortunately for you, fate had other plans. You feel the bench shift in weight, someone has sat down next to you. You open your eyes only to be welcomed by Dr.Ratio himself. He sat, his legs slightly spread his profile face to you, His mask was on as he stared in front of him. He doesn’t speak for a while, as if he’s ignoring you. Your mind goes haywire once more, flashbanging you with thoughts of last night and recollections of yesterday’s events. You visibly blush, turning the back of your head against him. Tension sets above the both of you, and an uncomfortable silence sets in.

Your body lit a flame inside of you, once you desperately tried to distinguish. You wanted him, there was no denying it, yet you couldn’t find yourself to admit it. 

Ratio finally looked at you, witnessing your overwhelmed behaviour. He called out your name, to which you turned to face him. Behind his mask, Ratio’s eyes widened slightly. Your face was flushed, frustrated. He looked away from you once more, covering the mouth of his mask as if he was pondering. You looked at him curiously, your mind reeling. He groans heavily before grabbing your hand and dragging you away from there. You’re forced to follow him close behind, you try to free yourself from the grip, but he won’t budge. Ratio enters the building with you and barely throws you into his office. -’’ Hey! What the hell!’’ You shouted as he shut the door and locked it behind him. 

The mask made it impossible for you to read his emotions or his intentions. He approached you angrily, making you back up until your ass eventually bumps on his desk. Your arms reach behind you, gripping at the edge of the desk to hold yourself. Ratio stands in from of you, towering over you. You stare helplessly at the blank-faced mask. He leans towards you, preventing you from running away. -’’ Confess to me.’’ He blurts out, seemingly unfazed. You widen your eyes, a gasp leaving your throat. -’’ I- Excuse me?!’’ -’’ I know how you feel about me, you’re not hard to read. Quite easy actually. So confess, let me reject you, and we can move on and forget anything ever happened.’’ You stare at him appalled. A mixture of embarrassment and need curling inside your stomach. You felt insulted by the hurtful words, but you found yourself questioning what he meant. If he knew how you felt from the start, why pressure you like this? It’s not like you were planning to confess. You were ready to let these feelings die, so why was he so insistent to reject you in person? It clicked. Heat rises to your face. -’’ You feel the same.’’ You blurt out, sounding less surprised than you intended to. 

Ratio’s body tensed. He should’ve known that you would’ve figured it out. You were one of his top students after all. He sighs, unwilling to let this get out of control. -’’ Even if I did, it would be detrimental to the both of us.’’ He murmurs. -’’ I happen to be aware of the same consequences.’’ You whisper, your words rolling out of your tongue. 

Your needs starting to exceed your reasoning. The memories of the sins from all night plaguing your mind. The way moaned his name and the way you yearned for his touch. Something has never felt so forbidden to you. Yet, your core felt like it was on fire. Ratio noticed the gradual fissures in your expression. He leans in closer, irritated by both you and the way his body yearned for the same things as you.

-’’ Are you aware of what would happen if-’’ You cut him off, placing your lips on the lips of the masks. You stayed there for a few seconds before pulling your head back, waiting for a reaction from him. Behind the mask, Ratio’s eyes widened. His face felt hot anf his reasoning shattered as soon as he felt the pressure on his lips. He takes a step back from you, waiting to see if you’ll run. The longer you stayed still on the edge of that desk, the more his restraint was crumbling away. He removes the mask from his face. His eyes were furrowed, piercing deep inside your gaze. His face was reddened and startled by your bold move. An almost unperceivable grin on the corner of his lips. Your eyes never left his as he placed the mask on the corner of his desk. He leaned back. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed at you or not. His lips would graze yours if you moved an inch.

‘’ Not a word about this outside this room. Understood.’’ He whispered dominantly, his breath leaving shivers on your skin. 

-’’  Not a word.’’ You whispered shakily, barely holding on to your conscience as it melted in front of him. 

-’’ Damn you.’’ He groaned, placing his lips hungrily on yours. Your mouth collapsed onto each other, months of attraction crashing in this moment. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Ratio lifts you slightly, placing you on the top of the desk. His hands wander on your back, making you gasp. Ratio takes the opportunity to evade your lips with his tongue, exploring its every crevice. The kiss lasts for a while until Ratio breaks it. A soft moan escapes your lips as he trails kisses from your jaw to your neck. His hands trail back to your chest, slowly unbuttoning the first few buttons of your shirt revealing your bra and breast. He moves his kisses to your collarbone.

-’’ Fuck, Ratio…’’ You whimpered. 

You feel his hand grab your chin as he pulls off of you to look into your eyes. He seemed to enjoy the view, a grin at the edge of his lips.

-’’ Veritas. I order you to call me Veritas in private.’’ He commands you. 

You don’t find the words to answer, but you nod eagerly. Satisfied by your obedience, Veritas places his lips on the skin of your collarbone, bruising it slightly where no one would see. A low whine opens your mouth. You could feel his grin on your skin as you sweetly sang for him. He moves one of his legs between yours, passively rubbing your core, making you whimper more as he continues to bruise your skin. He pulls back, observing his canvas with a satisfied expression. Your eyes were watery from the fire burning in your core, and your cheeks were now a deep crimson. You looked pathetic to him and he reveled at the sight.

-’’ Look at you, is this what you wanted.’’ He purred, leaning back next to your ear. His hand slipped inside your bottoms, rubbing on the wet fabric of your panties.

You simply whine as an answer, letting him do as he pleases with you. He stops teasing your folds to swiftly pull off your bottom clothes. Leaving you with only your panties on. His lips find their way back on yours, devouring your mouth once more. He goes back to teasing your folds with his hand while the other trails its way to the clips of your bra. With a swift movement, he unclips your bra, pulling it off your body to reveal your bare breast to him. He escaped you with a pop, making you whimper at the sudden loss of heat. Without rest, he teases your nipple with his tongue. You moan softly at the way he treated your body, your head melting from the arousal you were drowning in. Your panties were now wet and sticky from the stimulation. A low chuckle escapes his lips at the sound of your blissful noises. He separates his lips from your nipple, making them perky from the chilly air.

Veritas traces kisses down your waist to the inner of your thighs. Your body shutters at his touches,  boosting his ego as he sees you melt before him. His thumb draws a circle on your clothes cunt, drawing sweet honeyed mean out of you. Your whole body felt hot, your core twitching at the pleasure he was giving you. Veritas scoffs at the slick on your panties.

-’’ You’ve been thinking for a while, haven’t you?’’ He growls, dangerously close to your soaking folds. The vibration makes you whimper lowly in your throat. ‘’Be a darling and take that thing off.’’ He purrs, slipping a finger under the fabric and stretching it before letting it go, slapping against your skin. 

You exhale heavily, raising your thighs towards you. You push your underwear away with your head, undressing your cunt in front of him. His eyes glisten with hunger and lust. He can’t help to lick his lips, witnessing your glistening cunt. The gesture makes you embarrassed, causing you to close your legs together slightly. Veritas frowns, grabbing your thighs with his hands, and spreading them. You choke a gaps, feeling the cold air. 

-’’ That’s better.’’ He chimes. 

His words made you hotter, feeling more slick pooling down your cunt as he eagerly place a kiss right on your clit. You shutter, unable to move your thighs out of his rough grasp. Ratio starts leaving small pecks around your cunt, teasing you as you struggle to keep yourself together. He left a long lap with his tongue between the folds of your cunt as a warning. You barely catch your breath before he dives in, finally devouring you as if you were his last meal. A loud moan escapes your lungs, resonating in the room. Your noises decorate the room as his tongue makes its magic on you. Veritas knows how to make you feel better than you could ever imagine. He closes his eyes as he fucks your hole with his mouth, tracing circles around your folds with his tongue. He takes his time, making you feel your edge as your back collapses on his desk, spread like a piece of art only he can savour. Your juices drip down his chin as he continues to taste your essence. You were about to reach for his hair before he let go of his grip on your thighs, leaning away from your cunt. The filthy display of his chin covered in your slick twist a knot in your core. Your needy walls clench at nothing, making you desperate for some sort of release. He gazes at your expression, like a predator in the middle of devouring its prey.

-’’ Take those legs and hold them there darling~.’’ He whispers, lous enough for you to hear. 

You took no time to fulfill his request. You held your thighs close to your chest, freeing his hand to properly treat you. Veritas goes back to lapping at your cunt. He slowly inserts two fingers into your soaking cunt, getting a whine out of you. He pumps them in and out of you at a slow pace, building up your high. Your breaths are erratic, and your mind is completely blank apart from the pleasure you’re receiving. Soon after, Veritas leaves a few kisses on your puffy and reddened clit, giving it a suck from time to time. The sensations make you shiver. Your skin jolts every time his mouth pleases your clit. You mewl pathetically as he curved his fingers, applying pressure to your g-spot. Veritas separates his mouth from your puffy to give you comforting kisses on your inner thigh. He fastens the pace of his fingers, driving you to the edge of insanity. As soon as you clench his fingers, so close to your release, he pulls his fingers out of you. You muffle a cry, the knot in your core loosening painfully. Your body is begging for friction, something to fill and stretch you. 

Veritas gets up from his knees, whipping your fluids off his chin with his arm. A pleased grin appears on his face as he watches you lay mostly bare on his desk. You shuffle your weight slightly, feeling exposed by his gaze on you. Your hand is still holding your thigh against your perked-up breast. He leans over you, pressing the clothed prison of his hard cock twitching near your cunt. He forces the fingers he use to fuck your pussy into your mouth. You instinctively suck on them, rolling your tongue on his fingers to lick them clean. He pulls them out with a satisfied look on his face.

 He gently holds your cheek within the palm of his hand, moving your face up so that he’s able to plant a soft kiss on your lips. He pulls back, a line of slick connecting you both. His gaze has softened momentarily, observing the now visible hickeys on your shoulder and collarbone.

-’’ You are a magnificent display of art.’’ He whispers, his lips gazing at yours.

You didn’t have the strength to muster an answer, only holding back a soft whine. Veritas chuckles deeply, trailing his back back on your cunt, giving it a few teaseful slaps. You squeal, feeling your hole clench at nothing. You could feel the twitches of his begging cock on your inner thigh. Veritas gets off of you to free himself from his trousers, never losing eye contact with you. His eyes glisten at the thought of fucking you right there on his desk. You shiver in anticipation. His member almost bounces out of his boxers, aching in search of relief. You stare in awe at the display in front of you. You raise your hand towards your face, attempting to hide your embarrassment. Once free of cloth, he leans back towards you, his member sloppily grinding on your cunt, soaking itself in your slick. You gasp at the sudden pressure on your core. Veritas takes hold of your wrist, moving it away from your face to reveal your flushed erotic expression. He hums, pleased with the view. He places a firm kiss on your jaw.

-’’ You’re beautiful.’’ He chimes with a heavy breath. 

He positions the tip at the entrance of your cunt, applying minimal pressure to prepare you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, placing slow and sloppy kisses. You choke a cry, wanting nothing more but for him to spread you. He answers your cry, plunging slowly inside avoiding breaking you. You gasp at the fullness as he hisses in the crook of your neck. You wrap your arms around his back, keeping him close to you. Your pussy clenches around his length as he penetrates you.

-’’ You’re so damn tight, you haven’t done this a lot haven’t you?’’ He scoffs, lifting his head to meet your gaze. 

You look dazedly at him, and a few tears drop at the edge of your eyes. He kisses them off softly. You bring your arms around his neck, urging him closer to you as he starts moving his hips into you. Your hands find their way to his cheeks, pressing your lips on his and he melts into it. You both deepen the kiss between stifled moans. The obscene noises of wet skin slapping were melodic to your ears. Your pussy clenching desperately on his cock as he gradually quickens his pace. Veritas takes hold of your leg, spreading them further to fuck you to his liking. His thick cock hits all the right spots, giving you pleasure in the form of friction. He breaks the kiss with a raspy groan, feeling himself succumbing to his high. He raises his upper body, sweat dripping off of his muscles. With a hand, he pushes back the damp hair sticking to his forehead. Such an appealing view brings you close to the edge. He looks inhumanly attractive, like a statue made of marble. He seems to read your mind as you carelessly stare at him in awe. A chuckles escapes him, as he uses his now free hand to apply pressure on your neglected clit. You mewl at the sudden stimulation, but you welcome it, your legs shaking erotically. Veritas continues to fuck you, reaching deeper into you. His thumb rotates gently around the swollen clit. You feel the tip of his length barely kissing your cervix. The knot in your core tightens more and more, feeling like it’ll burst. At this point you can only shutter pathetically, exhaling gibberish begging for Veritas to let you come. Veritas is more than happy to let you, as he continues to bully your clit, slapping his cock deep into you. He grabs you waist, strong enough to leave bruises, slapping your body harshly on the base of his cock. The base of his leg now lines with a white ring of filth. He leans closer, whispering with a honeyed tone, his breathing erratic and hot. 

-’’ You’re going to come for me now, right darling.’’ 

-’’ Ugh~Ah~ p-please fill me~’’ You manage to beg in between hot breath and the mush your brain has become. 

Veritas titters breathlessly, amused by your fucked-out behaviour. He wasn’t expecting you to beg for his seed inside of you so easily. As much as he was honoured by the proposition, he was conscious enough to know this wasn’t a good idea. He kisses your sticky forehand gently. 

-’’ I’m sorry, maybe next time.’’ He whispers. You feel the knot inside of you ready to burst, moaning loudly with tears in your eyes. Veritas purrs praises next to your ear, encouraging you to come on his cock. He licks a tear dripping down your cheek. The knot snaps, causing your body to vibrate vigorously under him. You grip his back with your hands, leaving marks with your nails. Your cunt clenches tight on his cock causing him to let out a single moan. He releases his grip on your thighs to hold you, guiding you through your orgasm. You whimper softly, your head buried in the crook of his neck. He suddenly let go of you, forcing a cry out of your sore throat. He pulls his cock out of your cunt to pump it with his hand. Veritas moans a swear as he lets his release splatter all over your stomach and chest. His warm come glistening on your skin. 

You stare at the ceiling, unable to formulate any kind of thought. You stayed still on that desk for what felt like hours until you felt a humid rag cleaning the filth off your body. You lift yourself with your elbow, witnessing Veritas cleaning you up. In your daze state you call out to him. He turns his head towards you with a soft smile appearing on his face. He’s now fully clothed, his hair still moist from all the sweating. After finishing your clean up he leans to press a kiss on your cheek. 

-’’ Let’s get you clothed, darling. We need to discuss some things.’’ 

You nod slowly, not sure if you understand his words. He gently lifts you from the desk, making sure you're sitting comfortably. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tenderly. He huffs affectionately, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. 

-’’ Let stay like this a while…’’ You murmur. 

-’’ alright.’’ 

This is bound to be an interesting semester.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Harry’s Lawsuits and Legal Threats

So I started listing this out but there's just too many and too much information to share, so y'all are getting another screenshots-of-spreadsheets posts. But first, the TL;DR.

These are only the lawsuits that involve the Sussexes as plaintiffs. This does not include any other lawsuits or cases that named the Sussexes as interested parties (i.e., the Heritage Foundation FOIA lawsuit or the P Diddy case).

Since 2019, the Sussexes have sued 11 times. Of the 11 lawsuits:

3 are still active and ongoing.

The judge threw out 1 lawsuit.

Harry dropped 1 lawsuit and was fined either £316,000 or £376,000 (it's not clear).

The Sussexes together dropped or modified one lawsuit that turned into a second lawsuit.

The Sussexes received monetary damages in 5 lawsuits. We know the damages for 2 lawsuits (£1 and £140,000), and we know that for 2 other lawsuits Harry pledged to donate his damages to charity after legal fees were paid (and no, we don't know that he actually did).

The Sussexes also made 5 separate notices for action (aka threatened to sue) and filed 1 IPSO complaint. I believe the IPSO complaint was the gateway for the Sussexes deciding to start suing everyone, which is why I included it.

Despite the Sussexes winning damages and appearing somewhat, I am fairly certain that they aren't actually seeing a whole lot of that money because the legal expenses for 3 still-pending lawsuits are probably outrageous. Anyway.

The lawsuits:

Sussexes v Splash News - Cotswolds House (January 2019)

Meghan v Associated Newspapers - Tom Markle Letter (October 2019)

Active Harry v News Group Newspapers - Phone hacking (October 2019); this is the lawsuit where there's now concerns of Harry withholding or destroying evidence so Moehringer and some grey suits have been requested to give evidence.

Harry v Mirror Group News - Phone hacking (October 2019)

Sussexes v John Does - Privacy Invasion and Paparazzi Harassment (July 2020); this lawsuit was dropped after being modified into ⬇️

Sussexes v X17 - Privacy Invasion and Paparazzi Harassment (July 2020);

Active Harry v RAVEC - State-funded protection and security (July 2020); Harry initially lost this case, he appealed, the judge denied the appeal, Harry appealed the denial of the appeal, the appellate judge agreed and overturned the denial of the appeal, and now Harry is appealing the first loss.

Harry v Home Office - Personally paying for police protection (uncertain)

Harry v Associated Newspapers - Royal Marines (December 2020)

Harry v Associated Newspapers - Keeping the lawsuit to be able to pay for police protection himself a secret (February 2022)

Active Harry v Associated Newspapers - Elton John (October 2022); in November 2023, the judge ruled it could go to trial. It's expected to begin January 2025, so happy birthday to Kate.

The legal threats:

(IPSO Complaint) Harry v Daily Mail - Elephants (April 2019)

Vancouver Island Papwalk (January 2020)

Harry v The Sun and Dan Wootton (June 2020)

Harry v The Times - Invictus Fundraiser (September 2020)

Harry v BBC - Queen's Consent to use Lilibet (June 2021)

Sussexes v The Times - Archewell (January 2022)

Now the reason you're still reading this... (spreadsheets will blow up to be readable when you click on the image)

[grapefives]

ESTOY PERDIENDO | DR

luffy + law + drabbles (separately) x gn!reader (male lenient though)

reader w/gravitation manipulation powers + denial of feelings + fluff + love confessions + reader is a musician (best buddies w/brook) + WANO SPOILERS! + crewmate reader +ft.frobin

a/n: i say drabbles but lowkey they might as well be scenarios lmao (title translates to: i’m losing)

your captain is very known for going all out in a fight. especially when it’s some bigshot. you really loved that about him. you couldn’t help but feel the deadly need to be there once he’s worn out after a battle.

for example, right now, as soon as his body gave out from his gear, falling down the sky, you fought yamato to catch him. seriously, what a stubborn girl- er, boy. he’s your captain! as his crewmate you have to save him!

“luffy, you okay?” you ask rhetorically, making your way anywhere that was away from the rubble.

luffy pants, barely able to make you out from his blurry sight. “i’m… hungry.”

“and hurt, let’s find chopper,” you say gently, carrying him in your arms tightly.

“thanks,” he mumbles, melting into your arms.

“you guys are really something!” yamato clamors with fondness.

“yeah,” you smile down at your cute captain.

you feel so warm that luffy really doesn’t think he’d want to let go even after he blacks out. he holds on though, making sure he finishes his business with momonosuke before finally dropping.

luffy is someone who trusts quite easily, trust towards his crew mates is blind. yet, out of all his crew mates, he finds himself more fond with you. he loves to talk to you, to go on adventures with you and… secretly look at you for as long as you stay unaware of his gaze.

your captain is oblivious. he’s the type of person that mistakes love for friendship. one: he doesn’t know what love is. two: he’s pretty sure you’re his best friend. best friends like each other.

a lot.

which is why, when he wakes up, the first person he looks for is you. upon not seeing you, he deflates for a moment, until his stomach grumbles and he knows food is his priority.

“MEAT!!” he yells, chanting it despite how fast the plates are placed in front of him.

he’s devouring the plates as ruckus happens around him. momonosuke appears, he swears he couldn’t recognize the kid, and then yamato, who he soon learns was on a vigil.

“woah! thanks yamabro! must be why i feel so great!”

yamato grins, looking around. “where’s y/n!? y/n was starving too! y/n has to eat too, now that luffy is awake!”

“huh? why?” luffy tilts his head as he chews on some meat.

“y/n was also on a vigil, they liked the custom.” nami explains, not seeing how luffy’s eyes slightly widen and a small blush forms on his face.

you soon walk in, smiling wide when you see luffy. “glad to see our captain is awake!”

“sit down and eat,” luffy orders as he stretches his arm and grabs you, pulling you and making you gasp at the unexpected action.

if anyone knows anything about luffy stretching and doing things like that, is that the bounce effect is really jet lagging. so, due to the recoil, you slam into him and the two of you tumble over the floor.

he shouldn’t think much of it, not with the way your face is so close to his and any strands of your hair are tickling his skin. he pushes aside his flustered emotions and laughs, sitting up and shoving a plate of food in your hands.

and when you smile at him, wide and enchanting, he really puts in more thought about his feelings.

but again, he pushes them aside and goes on with his life. and yet again, he falls into the pit of his feelings for you during the remaining few days it takes to repair the ships.

“y/n, let’s go see if there’s food to eat!” he sayys clinging onto you.

“ah, hold on luffy, usopp said he wanted to switch shifts in a bit.”

“but you’ve been doing that all week!!” he whines,”spend time with me!”

he’s literally acting like a clingy partner. you can’t help but smile at his cuteness.

“oi, why are you staring at me like that?” luffy asks, feeling a bit nervous at your doe eyes and lopsided smile.

“huh?” you blink. you feel your ears turn red, “how?”

“almost the way sanji looks at women.”

you sputter, “luffy, you’re seeing things! it’s cus you’re hungry, how about you go to the banquet hall with usopp once he gets here-“

luffy frowns, “but i want to go with you!”

“luffy, seriously. i’m busy.”

“spend time with meee, captain’s orders!!”

you shake your head, only to continue and see how far he can go. you knows he’s stubborn, you had already mentally agreed to go with him but you like to tease him.

“don’t you want to set sail soon?” you ask, “we’re almost done with repairs. it won’t take long.”

“you always say that!”

“my, my,” robin laughs softly when she casually walks by, “better please his wishes.”

“luffy’s acting like a jealous boyfriend,” franky laughs, spawning out of nowhere.

luffy stands up straight. boyfriend is what? another level to best friends? he stares at them before staring at you, who seems to be blushing at their comments.

“a-anyways,” you continue, “i’ma go help franky-“

“if i’m your boyfriend will you come with me!?”

your eyes go wide, and you genuinely wonder if he even knows what he’s saying. “come again?”

“if i’m your boyfriend, will you give me attention?”

“l-luffy do you even know what you’re asking?”

“i’m asking to be your boyfriend!” he huffs, cheeks flushed a nice rosy color and puffed.

“and do you even know what that is?” you seem a bit troubled, almost sad.

there’s no point to agreeing if luffy doesn’t know what he’s asking. yes, you’ve grown these feeling for him a while ago, but he’s your captain. you don’t want to ruin that friendship, nor trust, with your feelings. plus, luffy never showed any sort of interest in that. you were just kidding yourself.

“it means you get to be with me! no matter what, i’m top priority!”

“i thought you said me reaching my dreams was top priority when i joined the crew-“

“second top priority!”

you can’t help but smile sadly, “i’d rather not, dating is pretty noncommon among pirates, it could interfere with lots of things.”

“but y/n~!” he clings to you again, “just say yes! i’ll be a good boyfriend! and if i’m not you can teach me!”

you blush, “teach you-“

his puppy eyes are just so… you groan.

“are you sure, a romantic relationship entitles other things. it’s a huge commitment.”

“if it has to do with you i’ll do it!”

you… “luffy i’m not very sure… i feel like you’re not taking into account how i feel-“

“do you like me?”

your breath is caught in your throat. “well, yes-“

“then what’s the issue!?”

you’re stumped.

“luffy,” robin buts in, “a relationship means more dedication to one another. it’s romantic.”

“romantic,” luffy repeats. he looks at you, “that means more hugging and stuff, right?”

“well, yes? for starters yeah,” you nod, heart beating like crazy.

“then say yes!” luffy huffs again.

you stare at him, then at robin and franky, who smile. “o-okay.”

luffy’s grin had never been so wide. you’re pretty sure you’ll be fine.

“play a song while we eat,” he says as he drags you along.

“luffy, i recall you said you wanted me to eat too. my hands will be full and i’d rather not dirty my instrument.”

“anything’s is possible if you’re my boyfriend.”

you couldn’t help but laugh. you feel so warm, so happy. for sure, everything will be alright.

trusting people doesn’t come very easily to law. even the man he owes his life to struggled to gain his trust, but that experience is what made him even colder. the walls he’s built so high around him were even guarded. he was a tough nut to crack.

and darn it! he hates you! he hates you so much! why? because you made him so… so soft! it’s like his walls are actually futons wrapped around him and he hates it!

“y/n-ya,” his voice is dull and his gaze is deadly.

“h-hold on cap!” you pant as you jump over rubble, holding him tightly in your arms.

“y/n-ya, let me down.”

“no offense cap but you can barely keep yourself awake-“ your breath hitches when the hilt of his sword buts your chin.

“down.”

“almost out of here-“ you trip, and he almost falls to the ground if it weren’t for you quickness, your fingers twitching to activate your powers, causing him to float for a measly few seconds before you get back up and pick him up.

“you idiot!” law yells, annoyed with how much care you’re giving him. he’s really trying to fight you but he can’t deny how worn down he is. but he won’t tell you that, duh.

“hey! stay still!”

“don’t give me orders you nimwit! let me down! i’m not weak!”

you growl, “law! we’re almost there! calm down!”

he stares at you, almost shocked at how aggressive you’ve gotten. his face heats up, unsure whether to continue his fight or actually give in. you are holding him quite strongly actually, if he were to allow himself to melt for a few seconds he knows he might fall unconscious. heck, he really wants to.

but all these enemies around! one look at this and he won’t heat the end of it! especially by the eustass bastard.

“bepo! are you okay?!” you ask when you see the rest of your crew.

“he doesn’t do well with heat!” sachi yells, “seriously! he’s a pain in the ass-“ he pauses, “captain!?”

law groans, so ashamed that he presses himself into you, wishing he could disappear. he focuses on anything other than the situation he’s in, which leads to him settling on your heartbeat. and he hates how much he enjoys it. both knowing you’re fine and being in your arms. it makes him realize how much he’s longed having you this close, makes him realize how strong his feelings for you are.

truly, he wishes he wasn’t such a coward when it comes to his feelings for you and you in general. and as he hears momonosuke give his speech after everything is settling down, you’re still touching him- putting bandaids and ointments on his injuries, bepo helping you as well.

and when everyone is settling for the night, exhausted from the last few months, especially the day’s fights, he almost wants to call for you.

“captain, any bandaids you want me to change before leaving?” you ask, startling him awake before he had fallen into unconsciousness.

he sits up on his futon, staring at you. “y/n-ya,” he says softly, unsure what to do or say.

is exhaustion going to make him reveal his feelings? will he own up to it? no, he can’t lose himself. he can’t let himself go soft. love makes you soft, right?

“-okay?”

“what?” he blinks.

you’re kneeling in front of him, a worried look on your face. “i asked you if you’re feeling okay. you’ve been more silent and out of it lately. you really need to rest. the guys are already sleeping, we should too. i just wanted to check on you before doing so-“ you fall silent when he leans into you, all his weight pressing into your chest.

you wrap your arms around him, afraid he could fall over if you didn’t hold steady. “captain?”

“y/n-ya,” his voice is so coarse, almost on the verge of giving out. “stay with me for the night.”

your heart skips a beat, and for a second you’re both scared he hears how flustered you are and to say yes.

“cap, you-“

“please,” he whispers, almost inaudible.

you close your eyes, sighing. “captain, i’m not sure. i… if i… if i could i would.” your heart hurts.

law looks up, he looks quite adorable tired. “why not? who did you agree to sleep with? i’m your captain, it was an order not a question.”

you stare at him, almost… sorry. you feel bad about your feelings. sleeping here with him will only make them worse.

“i… you know how bepo gets, poor thing. i better go before-“ you’re surprised when he hugs you, tight.“captain,” you try to pry him off of you, “are you feeling okay? why are you behaving so-“

“i love you.” he blurts into your chest. “i…” he squeezes you harder, “i want to love you.”

you falter, “w-what?”

he’s silent, almost scared at how this could go. and he’s so, so tired. so on edge that if you say no and you leave him alone in his uneasiness, he will most likely cry.

“law…” your hands tremble as they grab his face, his face is flushed with a lovely red, eyes drowsy and glassy. you’ve never seen him so… so raw. “tell me, is that true?”

he nods, not trusting his voice.

“i’m sorry,” you say, shattering his heart, “i really want to kiss you so i will,” he doesn’t even process that until after he feels a warmth on his lips.

and when he acknowledges the situation, he melts.

and he doesn’t regret putting his heart in your hands. because he knows he has yours in his.

[moreespressoformydepresso]

Hot take:

Coriolanus Snow did not love Lucy Gray, even though he loved her.

Bear with me for a second I know this sounds like an oxymoron but I promise I can make it make sense. The TL;DR is that both SnowBaird shippers and detractors are right, but also very very wrong. I’ll explain.

People who say Snow was genuinely in love with Lucy Gray are wrong. Flat out incorrect. And I say this so bluntly because of one simple factor: before the games, he needed Lucy Gray to promise total devotion to him. This 16 year old girl was about to be thrown into an arena to fight to the death and his concern was whether she was committed to him?? That’s not love. That’s need. Remember the saying “if you love someone, let them go”? It exists for a reason. If you truly love someone, you want what’s best for them. You want them to be happy, even if that means stepping away. Snow was not ready or willing to do this. If there was even a chance of him having to step away, he was prepared to just leave her to her fate to die. And this happened relatively early in the story when you look at the importance of events. Most of the moments we can point to and go “that’s a turning point for him” happen either during or after the games. Funnily enough this ties to a very simple fact of the story that seems to fly over a lot of fans’ heads, if they’re not just outright ignoring it.

Snow did not lose his mind or go insane over the course of the story. The whole point is that he was always this way, and looked every opportunity to choose to be a good person dead in the eyes as he dashed them to pieces, burned them to ashes and used the charcoal left over to draw happy little doodles on their graves. This story has two points, with the first being a subversion of the “uwu villain with a tragic backstory to excuse their actions” trope. The second one is gleefully stewing in all the ways the people Snow wronged in his early life haunted him until the day he died, especially Sejanus and Lucy Gray. That’s just one example of Snow not actually caring about Lucy Gray, but there are more. They’re sprinkled all throughout the story, culminating in the final scene where he attempts to murder her.

However

Coriolanus Snow did have genuine feelings for Lucy Gray. He was prepared to ruin his entire future to save her, knowing that getting caught cheating would destroy all he’s worked for his entire life. When he was forced to become a peacekeeper, he asked to go to 12 in hopes of seeing her again. He went out of his way to track her down and they shared genuine moments together. By now, he has no ulterior motive for being around her. No prize, no game to win, nothing to gain except happy memories. Snow wanted to be with her. And Lucy Gray wanted to be with him. There’s a skeleton of a genuine relationship there, inklings of the love story Lucy Gray was convinced they were destined to have. That wasn’t fake, those were real feelings and it could have been beautiful. If it wasn’t for one tiny little problem: Lucy Gray is not who Snow thought she was. She isn’t who he wanted her to be. In other words:

Coriolanus Snow thought he loved Lucy Gray Baird, when in actuality he loved the idea of her he’d created in his mind.

You see, this boy is the least reliable narrator to ever narrate in the history of ever, beaten out only by Humbert Humbert. And in similar fashion to Lolita it looks like people are making the mistake of taking his word at face value when the point the book tries to make is that you should not do that. Snow looked at his choice to keep bashing Bobbin over the head after he was already knocked out and decided to take it as evidence that all human beings lose their humanity when cornered (even though he was no longer cornered), he is very clearly not a trustworthy individual when it comes to making logical deductions. Especially because he can be neck-deep in denial sometimes. Snow never cared about Lucy Gray, the Covey girl, singer and performer who lost most of her family to a massacre and was forced to stay in one district rather than moving around like she used to. He cared about Lucy Gray Baird, district 12’s female tribute for the 10th hunger games. And those are not the same people. Tribute Lucy Gray Baird was locked in a zoo, forced to perform at all times to survive. Lucy Gray was free to be her authentic self (trauma not withstanding) and while she loves to perform, it’s a different kind. There’s no pressure, she can leave the stage if she so desires. She can roam as free as one can in the districts and no longer needs a mask to live.

In the book, Snow outright says he wishes she was still locked in the zoo so he knew where she was and she couldn’t leave. He loved the Lucy Gray that was contained. The one that was considered his by the people around him. The girl who relied on him completely because she had to. He loved what she was forced to be in order to not die, and when he saw the real her he wished she would be more like the girl he met. Which was not the real Lucy Gray. Snow loved the act she put on, and to some extent the control he had over her. He had genuine feelings for her, but not for the real her.

To conclude this rambly mess: shippers will pretend Snow genuinely loved Lucy Gray for all she was. This is not true. A certain subsect of people who hate this ship will say he never cared for her at all. This is also not true. And in a fandom for a book about the nuances of even the worst people on earth, that’s very funny.

[theredofoctober]

MANNA- CHAPTER SEVEN: LAMB

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, Daddy kink, implied child abuse, self harm

This is chronologically the seventh chapter in the series

---

The kitchen is a quiet chaos— Hannibal standing over the hob, his beautiful hands precise at their work, Will slouched, sulking prettily against a countertop, looking into the bottom of a wine glass.

His temper billows about the room. It's a wonder anyone can breathe through such smoke.

You hover at an anxious distance, afflicted by delectable smells and the scar of what you’ve done. Shame beats, eviscerated, under the boards of you; you chose to taunt and then to touch Will Graham, a conscious participant in this play of a poisonous home.

If your hosts were to give you but a minute apart from them you’d chastise yourself for your abasement: three stiff, sweat-inducing planks, a lap of your room, a prison yard exhaustion.

But they keep you under their eye, knowing, like a child, you’d surely run to burn your hand on the stove.

“How do you want me to be around him?” you ask, as Hannibal tastes a truffle sauce with a look of indecision. “Your Agent Crawford. He doesn’t know about us, does he?”

“As I have assured you, it is between you, Will, and I,” Dr Lecter answers. “Therefore, as far as any visitor is concerned, you remain my patient. That is all.”

How easily you are expected to step from one evanescent role to the other. Should your tongue slip, you may damn him and Will both, yet you know Hannibal is without fear as surely as though you had your fingers to his wrist, timing the pulse of his slow calm.

“And what am I to Will today?” you ask.

“A ward, of sorts, for now.”

The word conjures images of chill cells, bed pans, wilful neglect. Something Victorian in its sensibilities.

“A ward,” you repeat. “Right.”

In the peripheries of vision Will sets down his glass with an icy clink.

“Are you intending to be civilised at dinner," Hannibal asks, "or do we have to prepare for another devolution into infantile behaviour?”

You’d expected Will to be smug, glutted from his fill, but your mouth upon him has only calcified his antagonism into some crueller compound, still. He does not like that he has taken pleasure from you, is in denial of it, a steadfast separation.

“I don’t know what I’ll do,” you say to Hannibal. “I never know what’s going to happen. Usually I’m... not myself.”

Will folds his arms in an impassable cross.

“You’re not being medicated tonight. Your actions will be your responsibility.”

The prospect of sobriety has little power to cheer. You’d rather the drooling oblivion of a dose over the chess match of having to divine the correct answer and micro-expression to every aside.

Intuiting your distress, Hannibal says, “You'll be eating from a slightly different menu to the rest of the table. Light portions, with attention to your safe foods.”

In disbelief, you take stock of the simmering pans, their contents once the meat of your routine.

“My... my safe foods,” you repeat. “But I didn’t even tell you what they were.”

What should comfort holds the sinister weight of interred dead, so familiar as to be uncanny.

“I have observed your preferences,” says Dr Lecter. “Thus, I am able to accommodate.”

He offers you a spoon to taste, which you decline.

“You’re making it easier for me to stick to my old ways,” you point out. “That doesn’t seem right. What’s going on?”

“I’m allowing you space to devote your energy to an unexpected social situation. I know they are not your strong suit, and I wish you to be relaxed. It will benefit us all.”

There is no pretence here of pure intentions; you acknowledge the respect that has been awarded to you in the absence of a lie.

“Thank you,” you say. “Could you do this... more, please?”

“If you continue to fulfil your role satisfactorily, yes.”

Hannibal glances at Will, whose breath of harsh laughter pars the conversation like a shank, short and sharp.

“You remain against her, then.”

“I don’t see that she has any genuine interest in evolving,” says Will, as though you are not there. “Just a cuckoo in an empty nest.”

The phrasing catches like a coat on brambled hedgerow. Alert, you examine your younger captor, interpreting the set of his harsh look.

“What are you to each other, really?” you ask.

“Friends,” says Will, bluntly.

The speed with which he speaks betrays a not-quite lie, a sentence with a postluding clause.

“We are aesthetes of an uncommon kind,” Dr Lecter interjects, over a pearl string of steam. “It adds dimension to our relationship few will ever perceive. In time, I expect you will.”

The kitchen, though of minimal colour—greys, black, pure, clinical white—develops a peculiar warmth. There is invitation, here, open-armed acceptance into domesticity, and whatever midnight cabal weds these two men in their brotherhood.

“I don’t think you want me,” you say, as Hannibal rinses cutlery at the sink. “I’m not interesting. I don’t talk like you. I don’t really understand art, or books, or poetry. I’m not even smart.”

Will’s head turns, the sly incline an eel from a cave mouth.

“Hannibal tells me you were academic, once. What happened?”

Seldom do you care to recollect your school days, which were lived painfully, as a mute ghost at the back of the class.

Attempts to decipher screens and pages through tears that had fallen without sound, and were, thus, philosophically inexistent. Whispers passed down through seated rows. Meetings with teachers and welfare staff on seats of poster blue plastic, your foot shaken against scuffed tiles in soothing motion.

The books and television series you’d once absorbed with eager voracity were parched of their appeal, by then. Your only reading was the secretive message boards into which you’d recessed like a forest to band with others of your starving ilk.

Such memories, and others arise to you. Your grades you can less easily recall.

“I’m only good at one thing anymore,” you say, aloud. “And I’m not allowed to do it here.”

Hannibal begins stacking washed dishes back into the cupboard, undeterred by your ceaseless denial.

“We will not chastise you for your simplicity. The palate can be developed, after all.”

“And not just for the food,” says Will. “Though that would be a start.”

“What if I embarrass you in front of Jack?” you ask; you’re losing this argument, and continue it only to prolong your defeat.

“Jack isn’t easily embarrassed,” says Dr Lecter. “Besides, he has been adequately prepared. You may rest in your room before dinner, little one. Sleep can do wonders for the appetite.”

He walks you to the kitchen door with a subtle insistence— like Will, he yearns to be alone.

Mumbling thanks that border on sincere, you make your egress via the stairs, glad to leave the kitchen and its tiers of expectation in your wake.

Passing Hannibal’s room, you find the door stood ajar. Curiosity draws you in, then, not to the bed—a symbol of tragedy—but to the conjoined bathroom, it, too, unlocked.

It is larger than your own, though similarly tiled in ivory and obsidian; there is a bathtub elevated on ornate feet, a shower walled in opaque glass, a sink with toothbrush and paste arranged like trophies, each surface of a bleached, crystalline sheen.

On the floor lies a set of scales, an oblong of clearest glass.

You had known that he would have one in the house, a man so fastidious in hygiene and health. Standing flat against one wall, you tilt your head, listening for an approach on the stairs, a change in the direction of the voices beneath.

When you are convinced of your privacy you strip of every garment and stand upon the scales, your hands braced at your sides in anticipation.

Even before the numbers flash on the mite screen you know that you’ve gained weight, have felt the itching progress of it across your hips and stomach.

The figure, as you glance down, is far higher than anticipated. Were it not imperative to be silent, you would scream.

You settle to hit yourself, instead, closed-fisted blows into your temple, left to right; only your reflection in the bathroom mirror stays your hand, a corpulent rendering of flesh.

This image has always shifted, for you, between your mental interpretation and its reality. Now they are one and the same, and you will never forgive your kidnappers for having altered your sight, as well.

Whose eyes have they given you, to make out this monster? One each of their own— you close the lids, and see the red of meat in the darkness behind them.

Later, when you return, dressed and sleep-dulled, to wait for dinner, you practice such restraint over your emotion that the effect is a noiseless hysteria. Catching sight of your face in any polished surface reveals a sickly visage, eyes bright and excitable, the skin dull, as of the grave.

Will regards you with a default scepticism, venturing no word. Hannibal, instantly perceptive, takes hold of your face in his cool hands and looks into your eyes.

“Is there something the matter?” he asks, and there is glass under the suede of his soft voice, a cutting menace.

There is a rap upon the door, and Dr Lecter steps free of you to answer. He returns shortly, followed by a man you recognise from the news, broad shouldered in a casual suit. His hair is closely cut, a trimmed goatee on a face that would have been handsome, in youth, and is presently so, though worn between the brows from the stress of his work.

“Good to see you, Will,” says Jack, shaking the younger man’s hand and pulling him into a half embrace. “You look well. Been taking care of yourself, I hope.”

Will smiles. His face is briefly pleasant, the dour mouth creasing at the corners.

“As well as I can,” he says. “The dogs keep me active.”

“Nice to hear you’re still running with the pack,” Jack replies. “How are the little rascals?”

You wait for the smalltalk to end, filing away what information sifts through that may be of note.

At last Jack turns to you, taking your hand lightly in his.

“So I finally get to meet you. Hannibal’s told me all about you, you know.”

A falsified minimum, you think.

Aloud, you ask, “He has?”

“Just enough,” says Dr Lecter. “Now, I must be temporarily rude and make myself scarce; I have unfinished work awaiting me in the kitchen.”

Jack releases your hand.

“Point taken,” he says. “Let's move this conversation to the dinner table, shall we?”

To your relief, once all are seated Jack manoeuvres the subject tactfully away to other things. The men speak of the weather—"I don’t care what anybody says; we don’t need that much rain this side of the Great Flood"—Jack’s wife—who is mortally ill, and immeasurably loved—and of mutual friends, whose names and various details you struggle to map in your ignorance of their world.

You eat with little attention to what crosses your lips; the day, in that aspect, is spoiled, and you cast it from you like a fruit’s rotten core.

Though Jack and Hannibal both attempt to include you in the chatter at points, you do not care to. There is the feeling of being presented to Jack like a shrewdly bargained for article of rare furniture; any comment from you is performance for these men to digest and enjoy, as they do all at this table.

It is Dr Lecter, however, that successfully extracts your opinion on a topic of his choosing. With an ingenuity that renders the shift in topic almost organic, he addresses his colleagues on the matter of their latest case.

“Surely our man will be on the move again,” he says, lifting a shred of lamb to his lips. “He may already be grooming his next subject.”

“He is,” says Will, flatly. “I’ve spent enough time thinking like him to know his heartbreak over losing the last one won’t last long.”

Jack raises his eyebrows, turning from one man to the other with a look that suggests he is almost as nonplussed by their union as you are.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to discuss this in front of your patient, Dr Lecter? The details of this case are particularly disturbing, as you already know. Will showed you photographs from the crime scene.”

“Indeed he did,” says Hannibal. “I will not easily forget it. However, as long as my guest resides under my roof I believe it’s only fair that she is involved in general discussion. Confidential matters of the case will, of course, be between us. But anything that is public knowledge I believe she has the right to know.”

“Fodder for Tattle Crime, you mean,” Will interjects, stabbing at his meal with spiteful vigour. “Freddie Lounds has covered these particular murders with a lurid relish. You’re aware that she’s already named the killer?"

Jack chuckles.

“'The Silicone Lover,'” he says. “It certainly lacks poetry in comparison to some of the others that are being thrown around, but it’s got that Lounds touch. It’s catchy, I’ll give her that.”

You drop your fork upon your plate with a jarring clash of steel and porcelain. Hannibal’s face stills in subtle displeasure, and you make a cringing gesture of apology, your mouth puckered at one corner.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” you say, “but... I remember reading about that case. I’ve always been kind of interested in true crime. I don’t know why. Books, documentaries, all that stuff; I’ve seen them all. But this killer— he’s in my city. Everybody’s been talking about it.”

It’s the most conversation you’ve volunteered all evening, and you sense the interest of your fellow guests open to you like a late bloom.

“I hope you’ve been taking precautions, young lady,” says Jack, bringing his knife to a pat of oozing meat until his plate is a bloody eclipse. “You’re aware you fit the profile of his victims.”

You stutter out an uncomfortable laugh.

“I... I don’t go out much. So I’ve been okay.”

Even before your captivity you’d been a recluse, dissuaded from venturing outdoors by an aversion to being perceived. Short, rushed jaunts to the store had been the sum of your travels, and it occurs to you now that you should have savoured the world beyond the house: the grumbling traffic, the turned dirt scent of rain, all of it, everything. The beautiful mundane.

“Staying indoors won’t keep the Silicone Lover from making you his paramour,” says Will, shortly, one arm flung in a mode of disdain across the back of his chair. “His targets always let him into their homes willingly, and there are no defensive wounds, suggesting he makes himself known to his victims some time before he abducts them. He always gets close enough to either drug or hit them over the head without suspicion.”

“I know,” you say. “I’ve read Tattle Crime, too.”

Will sneers.

“Of course you have. She’s a provocateur. Just your type.”

“Tell us what you know of this case, then,” Hannibal says to you, smoothly diffusing the tension. “Perhaps we will benefit from a fresh perspective, especially from an individual so closely fitting the profile of those unfortunate victims.”

He looks at Agent Crawford, seeking an unspoken permission.

“Go ahead,” says Jack. “As long as you feel up to it, that is.”

His voice softens as he speaks to you, and you think of his wife, folding slowly into the ravening void of cancer. This is a man who understands illness, and has a sensitivity for it; it comforts you, to have him here, obscured though his view of his friends.

Offering Jack a shy smile, you say, “I’ll be alright. It’s just that I don’t want to put anyone off their food.”

There is laughter around the table; even Will smirks, though the expression falls as he catches you looking. You wonder again at his distaste for you, surmising with a coolly adult rationality that he is jealous of you having come between him and his mentor.

“Well?” says Will, with the rudeness of a spoiled prince. “What’s the Lover’s modus operandi?”

You catch Jack’s dark eyes squinting a fraction, and though he says nothing you rally at the knowledge that he has not entirely succumbed to Will and Hannibal’s spell.

“The dead girls are always found in rivers around the city,” you say, “sealed inside hollowed out rubber dolls. You know the kind I mean. The killer cuts open the dolls and mutilates the women to fit them inside, then seals them back up again. Keeps them in there till they suffocate, or starve to death.

Some of the women die within hours, others a few days. They must be so scared, in so much pain. But obviously that’s what he wants. Every three months or so he does it all over again.”

“Meaning we don’t have long before he takes a seventh lover,” says Will. “Fortunately for you, staying here will protect you, to an extent. You’re too far out of the killer’s hunting range for him to take an interest.”

“Can’t keep the princess locked up in her tower forever,” says Jack, cleaning his hands on a napkin. “We'd better hurry up and catch him. Now, if you’ll all excuse me—”

He rises from his seat; a bathroom visit, you realise, and an opening to speak to him alone.

Thinking quickly, you reach for your water glass and dash it across your lap. Your hand is shaking enough for the accident to seem convincing.

Both remaining men glance up from the table, startled. Will all but rolls his eyes.

“Sorry,” you say, in a grovelling squeak. “I’ll go and change, if that’s alright.”

Dr Lecter, as always, is crisply polite.

“You may go. But hurry. Our guest will expect you to return.”

For once, Will makes no comment, only returns to his food with the reverence of accepting the wafer at communion.

You pad along the corridor towards the downstairs bathroom, waiting for Jack to emerge. From what you know of Hannibal’s close relationship with the police you cannot rest your hopes of escape entirely on Agent Crawford, but you have seen the occasional teeter of trust, the unspoken perplexity with which he regards the dynamics of the household.

You may yet sway his sympathies, if you are careful. Still, you are so certain of failure that you tremble with mirth, like a drunk.

Jack steps out of the bathroom, stopping short as he notices you wincing in the shadows.

“Hey, there. Are you alright? You look a little green around the gills.”

“Agent Crawford,” you say, in a half-whisper. “I was wondering if you could help me. You know Will and Hannibal pretty well, right?”

“It’s Jack when I’m not working. And, uh, reasonably so, I’d say. Is something wrong?”

You pause, labouring over your response. To imply your wardens are the enemy will surely strike Jack as too outlandish, the mumblings of the mad.

“This treatment isn’t right for me,” you say, rather weakly. “It’s too much, and I don’t think they’re really listening to me. I miss my parents, my own room. I’m suffocating here. I was wondering if you could talk to Will and Dr Lecter. Encourage them to let me go home.”

Jack’s dark eyes soften, and he stoops slightly over you, as he might in order to speak to a small child.

“Dr Lecter told me you might ask me that. The road you’re on is a tough one, young lady, but you’ve got to stick it out. Not just for yourself, but for everybody who cares about you. Besides, I’m pretty damn sure Will and Hannibal would be disappointed to see you go home so soon.”

You turn your head into your shoulder, your neck caught in a miserable spasm.

“Will doesn’t like me at all.”

“That’s just the way he is. Prickly with just about everyone he encounters. Imagine the strain on me, having to keep him in line.”

You do laugh, then, and Jack flashes you a gap-toothed grin.

“He’ll warm up to you. Though to be honest, I don’t know why Hannibal’s getting Will involved in all this when he already has enough on his plate. Between work and those episodes of his, I don’t know if he ought to take on too many other responsibilities. But I guess Dr Lecter knows what he’s doing.”

Episodes?

You’d noticed Will’s fits of illness, a certain fragility; to hear it confirmed is a gold coin in your hand to spend in the future to come.

“I’m going to head back to the table,” says Jack. “Let’s give all this a little more time. If it doesn’t work over the next couple of months I might put a word in for you, suggest therapy sessions over inpatient treatment. But I can’t push it, kid. You’re not my patient. I can’t overstep the line, here. But I’m on your side. You keep up what you’re doing, alright?”

He leaves you there, knuckling tears from your eyes. Regretting that you hadn’t spoken the truth, in all its risk.

*

You go to your room, meaning only to dress. In the end you cannot resist returning to Hannibal’s scales on the way back, called by a manic self-flagellating urge to know much further weight you’ve gained from the meal.

You are not free, will never be free, are worth nothing but numbers. They've become all you are.

It’s as you’re stepping, naked, stupid with despair onto the scale that you hear a voice behind you.

“You must learn to restrain these impulses, little one.”

You turn so sharply that something strains in your neck again. Your hands strive to cover your nakedness. A futility, considering what he has seen, that he has fucked you.

“I assume that you have also spoken to Jack Crawford,” says Hannibal. “Pleading your case to be released. How naughty you have been.”

How handsome he looks, almost young, in the tasteful bathroom light. There is something like death in his sudden beauty, a void coldness.

Terror, a stake of ice from throat to cunt.

He means to kill you, if not now, then soon.

You know of only one way he might forgive so many missteps. Another course: you eat your pride.

“I didn’t mean to, Daddy,” you say. “Please don’t tell Will.”

You lower your arms, forging a sword of your vulnerability. Hannibal glances down only once, and with more amusement, then, than thirst.

“He will never know,” he says. “If you come to my room tonight. There is a lesson you must learn. It cannot wait.”

*

There is a tension about the residence of waiting, after Will and Jack have gone, the dry-mouthed breath before the silver lipped drop of the guillotine.

There is motion about the house, yet you feel rather than hear it; Hannibal has a way of carrying his physicality that seems to possess no weight at all. Ghoulish, his haunting of the rooms below as you sit on his bed, to await him.

You arrange yourself on the dark sheets in sacrificial mode, so ill with fear that it seems all your organs are in torsion, a helix of flesh from chest to womb.

It strikes you that you’d lain so, once, a night your father's friend, Leland Frost, had stumbled the many stairs to your room, beer the umber of his breath as he’d kissed you goodnight.

You had let him touch you, then, as you will let the devil touch you, now. As a child, as an adult, you are absolved: animals must eat, and their prey bear no fault when the hand of God steers them in the direction of hunger.

Hannibal ascends the stairs, each footfall making you jump. Stiff-backed, you turn to a sleek alarm clock on the bedside table, vowing to fix your eyes to its sympathetic face until the hour is done.

A name—yours—blackens your ear, a knell of things more wicked than death.

“Little one,” says Hannibal. “I will not hurt you. This lesson involves no corporal punishment.”

You sit up slightly, slippery in grey silk pyjamas, of whose cost you dare not think.

“Not the lights,” you say, hastily. “Or that metronome thing. I hated it.”

Dr Lecter removes his jacket, socks, and shoes, the quiet process of putting them away a careful rite, his prayer unspoken.

“To begin with,” he says, “I’d like to ask you some questions about your personal habits.”

He speaks delicately, but with an undertone of velvet sensuality that delivers you into fear you cannot resist.

“How often do you pleasure yourself, little one?”

“I don't,” you say.

The words form with such stumbling velocity that you cringe at your own lie.

Hannibal looks down at you with a sort of sorrow.

“If that is your response, then I must teach you.”

“No! I mean, don’t. I’m sorry. I do... do that. But it’s embarrassing to talk about it. I don’t want to.”

“I’m afraid you must. To be a fully-fledged adult it is important to embrace all facets of yourself, including sexuality. So, please address my question.”

Hannibal steps towards the bed, not with threat, but to pursue the lost treasure of your secret.

“Twice a week, maybe,” you admit. “At night.”

“How do you masturbate?”

You’d never expected the world from Dr Lecter. He speaks it factually, without humour, priestly severe.

“With my hands,” you say. “My fingers.”

You’d been too embarrassed to order toys to the house, which still you share with your family, the humiliation of an accidentally opened box an unimaginable discomfort.

“What do you think about as you climax, little one?” asks Hannibal, a question worse still than those before it in the nature of your answer.

You’d watch videos, often violent, peruse literature online which you hastily erased from your history, afterwards. It almost seems you beckoned in this abuse, through your interests, aroused only by cruelty, and the dark.

“I don’t know,” you say. “Different things. Nothing specific.”

Hannibal takes another step towards the bed.

“Answer again.”

Tears char your vision into soot.

“I hate you,” you say, fiercely. “More than I hate Will.”

“Because I cannot be moved in my resolve, as he can,” says Hannibal. “Will is suggestible, to an extent, whereas I am sure in my standing. It sears your ego to obey a man so entirely.”

He pads, barefoot, in a half circle around the bed, a panther uncaged.

“So,” says Dr Lecter. “Speak. What do you think of when you touch yourself?”

You open your mouth, and find yourself mute, truly incapable of speech.

Hannibal seems to understand this, however, for he does not insist again.

“Undress for me. I would like to see you demonstrate.”

Your head swings in a rattling ‘no’.

“Very well. I will attempt it.”

Again you shake your head, and in cumbersome, unlovely motions you struggle out of the pyjamas, ashamed of how clumsy you appear before him.

Naked, you sit up on your knees, covering yourself with your arms as best you can.

“Legs apart, please,” says Hannibal. “Then do as you normally would. I will merely watch.”

He reclines in one of the chairs in the room, his eyes like foreign seas, reflecting the night.

Scalded with humiliation, you bring your fingertips between your thighs and stroke in looping circles. The skin there is parched, unresponsive, unyielding; to be watched in such intimacy takes the pleasure from the act, which has always been in realms of secret sin.

“I can’t do it, Hannibal,” you say. “Nothing’s happening. I don’t feel good.”

It is the only time you’ve used his first name to his face, a trespass into familiarity you do not share.

“Is it because you don’t have access to the usual stimulating material?” he asks, ignoring your blunder.

You snap your knees shut upon your hands.

“I don’t use any.”

Hannibal takes your calves in his hands, a grip which might break.

“I know that you do. When I accepted you as my patient I made a point to visit your house, when no one was home. Your room was as I expected it to be. Juvenile, and stale aired from many days spent there alone. Your laptop was open. It wasn’t difficult to breach. Your password was the title of a book on your shelf.”

Wintergirls. Laurie Halse Anderson had been a staple of your literary youth, and it had never occurred to you that anyone might guess it.

“You didn’t clear your history as thoroughly as you believed,” says Hannibal. “I was intrigued by what I found there.”

You do not resist as he opens your legs, so limp are you in your horror.

“I— what you saw— it doesn’t mean I want this. It’s not the same.”

Hannibal blinks slowly.

“No. I would be uninterested if it was.”

He sits upright again, folding his hands in his lap. How pure they look, a harpsichordist’s tools, an illustrator’s. Evil, beautiful things.

“Begin again,” says Hannibal. “Think of Will and I. What we have done to you. Our touch. Our words. The imposition of power. The ineludible fact of your belonging to us.”

Femoral heat. Your core rings crimson bronze, and your fingers follow its kulning. You want to stop, but Hannibal’s voice alone is a hypnosis, effective even without the ticking and the lights.

“Imagine Will’s hand across your cheek. Around your throat. Envision my own.”

You make some noise, not quite a moan.

Dr Lecter lowers himself down until his breath mists your cunt, and the sensation has you writhing beneath it, maddened by the ephemeral touch of air, and needing it to finish.

He looks up, and his eyes are a reveller’s, a satyr of ancient land.

“How sweet you must taste. I have prepared your meals specifically to assure that you do.”

Your hand cycles in motion, compelled by his mystical art.

Hannibal remains over you, too close, at too great a distance.

“Stop,” he says. “That is enough.”

You are so close that the command is more craven in its dealings than Will’s palm across your face.

Your breaths are the sunken heat of a pagan sun. You burn and burn.

“Why should I give you what is so unwanted?” asks Hannibal, and pauses, as though you might beg.

Speech is inconceivable to your mind, as it is now, a concept like the colour of dying. You only sit with the head of a God between your legs, forced to such a brink that your weakness rides through you like a drug.

Eyes of night pleasure, of deathly ritual—

He laps your cunt for scarcely half a minute before you career over your edge, stacked orgasms that render you sightless with their power. You arc from the bed like an antler, a horn cry blown through your soul.

The pleasure is a stellar whiteness. You writhe up towards his tongue like a wave.

“Poor girl,” says Hannibal, as you lie piteously beneath him. “You can do nothing without me. Even this.”