#it's usually a fair bit more complicated than that

[shiraishi--kanade]

Oh I'm not denying your right to analyse her, she's equally as fascinating to me and in my own eyes she's a combination of generational trauma and living vicariously through her daughter taken to the extreme by perhaps personal sadistic tendencies. We're given hints at Mafumom was probably coming out of poverty or at least financially insecure position; we're also given hints that she did not receive higher education and depends entirely financially on her husband, which is not a good position to be in regardless of their relationship, and pushing Mafuyu towards a high-paying career at the cost of her mental health might've been a good trade off in her mind. This is an interesting probability worth considering, as well as the other ones I laid out.

My addition was less directed at you trying to find a reason to her actions (aside from the last two paragraphs, but that's just me getting personal¹) and more about that I think the approach towards it is incorrect. Much every action she does that seems unreasonable or needlessly cruel can be explained by her being abusive and wanting absolute control and authority over the situation, a part of a much larger scheme & plan that took her years to realize;

Instead of focusing on the cases where she's shown to be cruel and trying to explain them individually (when they are very simply explained by the fact that Mafuyu is the target of manipulation and abuse), it is in my opinion more productive to grab her character as a whole and ask "Why is she like this?" question. Less of "why did she do this bad thing in that situation (because she operates on abuser logic, most likely)" and more of "what brought her to the position where she considers doing all of this to her daughter to be justified/normal?" approach, which is on itself I think is a good question to ask and wonder about. I just think the scope of abuse is too overwhelming to try to pick apart every single instance we're shown on screen and it needs to be considered through a larger lense of their relationship as a whole, or else we're missing important context.

Though I'd argue it's hard to tell if she doesn't know she did anything wrong or she feels like she didn't do anything wrong because of her sense of entitlement towards Mafuyu, and feeling entitled to forgiveness/love/obedience regardless of the horrific abuse she consciously initiated. "I didn't do anything wrong" vs "I did hurt her but she should have forgiven me because I'm doing it out of love and love is never wrong", and her own words in Farewell to my Persona seem to indicate towards the latter, for what it's worth. These beliefs may be hard to tell apart and in my opinion she hasn't spoken enough after third anniversary for us to confidently make the call. She is... A lot.

¹ - also it's not directed at anyone actually trying to make sense of what might've pushed her to that. It is more so than I hope Sega never confirms anything and sets it in stone and doesn't spoon feed us the explanation because I just feel like it would be poor taste and make a lot of people sympathise with Mafuyu less. Explain not justify, etc. Or at least if this does happen, she isn't forgiven or her actions aren't narratively justified. It's also just entirely possible there is no reason to her actions and she's just... Like that.

The more I read Mafuyu's stories the more confused I am about why her mom is like that. She has the temperament of a good parent, being able to control her emotions, but she chooses to guilt trip her kid who was probably scared after getting lost? She reacted calmly at first, but went about scolding her like Mafuyu is intentionally hurting her by getting lost instead of getting lost because she's a kid and stuff happens.

Like, if you can stay calm enough that your first response is to not scold her but check in on her, why would you guilt trip your kid after? A simple, don't it again, would've scared a kid enough to not do it again. But no! It's you're turning out to be a bad girl instead. Oh I'm sorry, who wasn't paying attention to her kid in a busy theme park? Not Mafuyu, but you

Girl could've been kidnapped and you'd have found a way to blame her, honestly

Honestly it seems like her mom is the culmination of the worst of toxic culture mixed into one and making it generational. I'm still gonna believe my theory that it's generational and that Mafuyu is breaking the generational trauma.

If Mafuyu really did end up being a doctor, what then? Yeah she would've been a great one, but what then? Being in the medical field ia stressful enough, add to it her not being able to feel her own emotions, what's gonna happen to the patients who needs their doctors to go beyond the physical and Mafuyu can't provide that?

What was the point of all that she did?

Mafuyu's mental state is shattered, add to it the stress of the medical field, it's easy to see where it'll end up. Again add to it the toxic work culture Japan has, if she gets lucky she gets a normal hospital, if not, good luck. That girl is gone and never moving up to be a successful doctor with her people pleasing facade. They're gonna take advantage of her.

Honestly, Mafuyu isn't even my favorite on the priority list, but the fact her mom exists is the only reason I want to dissect her. As a (young) adult with a somewhat good upbringing, she confuses me. No matter how hard I try to think from her perspective I can't. And as someone getting how to care for yourself advice now, she confuses me even more. Work all the time is obviously not optimal but that's just how it is in her head. It is optimal because Mafuyu is focused on that, she'll get it. Which isn't true, as Farewell my mask shows, girl cannot focus because test day is near and the stress of upsetting her mom pretty much makes her crash and burn.

I have so much thoughts. It's getting too long.

[fuck-customers]

(half rant half story)

I'm a physicist. I work for a company that helps develop car parts. Essentially, car companies come to us with ideas on what they want from a part or material, and we make/test the idea or help them make/test it. Usually this means talking to other scientists and engineers and experts and it's all fine. Sometimes this means talking to businesspeople and board execs and I hate them

A bit ago when AI was really taking off in the zeitgeist I went to a meeting to talk about some tweaks Car Company A wanted to make to their hydraulics- specifically the master cylinder, but it doesn't super matter. I thought I'd be talking to their engineers - it ends up being just me, their head supervisor (who was not a scientist/engineer) and one of their executives from a different area (also not a scientist/engineer). I'm the only one in the room who actually knows how a car works, and also the lowest-level employee, and also aware that these people will give feedback to my boss based on how I 'represent the company ' whilst I'm here.

I start to explain my way through how I can make some of the changes they want - trying to do so in a way they'll understand - when Head Supervisor cuts me off and starts talking about AI. I'm like "oh well AI is often integrated into the software for a car but we're talking hardware right now, so that's not something we really ca-"

"Can you add artificial intelligence to the hydraulics?"

"..sorry, what was that?"

"Can you add AI to the hydraulics system?"

can i fucking what mate "Sir, I'm sorry, I'm a little confused - what do you mean by adding AI to the hydraulics?"

"I just thought this stuff could run smoother if you added AI to it. Most things do"

The part of the car that moves when you push the acceleration pedal is metal and liquid my dude what are you talking about "You want me to .add AI...to the pistons? To the master cylinder?"

"Yeah exactly, if you add AI to the bit that makes the pistons work, it should work better, right?"

IT'S METAL PIPES it's metal pipes it's metal pipes "Sir, there isn't any software in that part of the car"

"I know, but it's artificial intelligence, I'm sure there's a way to add it"

im exploding you with my mind you cannot seriously be asking me to add AI to a section of car that has as much fucking code attached to it as a SOCK what do you MEAN. The most complicated part of this thing is a SPRING you can't be serious

He was seriously asking. I've met my fair share of idiots but I was sure he wasn't genuinely seriously asking that I add AI directly to a piston system, but he was. And not even in the like "oh if we implement a way for AI to control that part" kind of way, he just vaguely thought that AI would "make it better" WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEANNNNN I HAD TO SPEND 20 MINUTES OF MY HARD EARNED LIFE EXPLAINING THAT NEITHER I NOR ANYONE ELSE CAN ADD AI TO A GOD DAMNED FUCKING PISTON. "CAN YOU ADD AI TO THE HYDRAULICS" NO BUT EVEN WITHOUT IT THAT METAL PIPE IS MORE INTELLIGENT THAN YOU

Posted by admin Rodney.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Realistic Injuries

References (Minor Injuries; Head Injuries; Broken Bones; Dislocated Joints; Cutting & Piercing; Blood Loss; Blunt Trauma; Burns)

WHAT'S "NORMAL"

For a normal, reasonably healthy adult the following reading are ‘normal’. Some variation is usual and what’s normal for one person may be abnormal for another.

Pulse Rate

Between 60-100 beats per minute

A fitter person will have a rate towards the slower end of the margin and a child or young person will have a naturally high rate.

Any drastic increase or decrease in pulse rate is cause for concern.

Blood Pressure

120-140 over 70-90

Can vary with the time of day, amount of stress and a number of other factors.

High blood pressure is not usually immediately dangerous but can cause long term damage.

Low blood pressure can cause faintness, dizziness and blackouts and is usually a sign that there is an underlying problem to be treated.

Body Temperature

36°C (98.6°F) to 37.5°C (99.5°F)

Relatively minor variations in temperature are cause for concern.

MINOR INJURIES

Bumps, bruises, cuts and grazes

All inconvenient.

But not incapacitating.

A blow to a bony part of a limb or to a joint

Hurts a lot at the time of impact (as anyone who’s banged their shin will agree) and may swell and stiffen.

The impact may also have the effect of temporarily disrupting the ‘power supply’ to the limb meaning the person getting hit is likely to lose their grip on anything they’re carrying and be unable to move the joint for a few minutes.

Bruises

Can take anything from a few seconds to over a day to appear and anything from a day to several weeks to fade away again.

Soft fleshy areas bruise much more colourfully.

Sprains and torn muscles/tendons etc.

Will stiffen, swell and become more painful after a few hours.

A bad sprain can be every bit as incapacitating as a broken bone.

HEAD INJURIES

Probably the most common injury in fiction.

From “let’s bash the bad guy over the head to stop him running after us” to those scenes where everyone gets thrown all over the flight deck by the first bit of turbulence and bounce their heads off consoles.

Minor Head injuries

The human skull is pretty robust and designed to take a fair amount of punishment. Consequently the occasional bump won’t do all that much damage.

A minor bump on the head may leave a character feeling dazed and suffering from a headache, blurred vision and ringing ears but will clear within a few minutes.

Facial bruising - quite uncommon, it takes quite a hard blow or a blow that impacts with the soft tissue around the eyes to leave a mark.

Minor cuts and lacerations on the scalp and face will hurt and bleed out of all proportion to their seriousness. [NOTE: A ‘laceration’ does not mean ‘a very bad cut’ – it is a term for a specific type of wound caused by the tearing rather than the slicing of the skin. It’s the sort of cut you get from being hit with a blunt object (or a fist).]

Medium Head Injuries

A more forceful blow (equivalent to a fall of several feet) can lead to complications of the injury.

Concussion (damage to the brain tissue) is quite common after a hard blow to the head and is often accompanied by temporary unconsciousness. (And it should be very temporary if you don’t want your character to be permanently damaged). This can also result in dizziness, nausea and, not surprisingly, a nasty headache.

Medium cuts and lacerations will be painful and messy but not dangerous. There may be scarring.

Severe Head Injuries

A blow to the head resulting in prolonged unconsciousness will almost certainly result in brain damage, possibly a fractured skull and bruising or bleeding within the brain itself. It can be fatal either straight away if the damage is extensive enough or later as the blood from the injury causes pressure to be put on the brain.

Severe cuts - can damage muscle and sinew and do permanent damage. The pain from such injuries would have most characters unable to concentrate on much else.

Concussion Symptoms

Confusion, disorientation, memory loss,

Dizziness, headache (lingering after the first few hours)

Nausea, vomiting,

Pupils uneven in size and/or reaction,

Sluggish reactions, sleepiness.

Any painkillers given to treat the headache must be non-narcotic and relatively mild. Otherwise it is difficult to tell if sleepiness is caused by a worsening of the injury or by the painkillers.

Someone suffering from a suspected head injury should be watched for at least 24 hours, and woken every few hours if they’re asleep, to check for the above symptoms.

BROKEN BONES

In general they hurt. A lot. Any character with a broken bone (with the possible exception of the ribs) is going to know about it and not be very happy. It is possible that if there is no displacement they might not hurt much at all, and it may not be immediately obvious that the bone is actually broken.

The initial shock and pain is often enough to cause unconsciousness. Keeping the limb immobile will minimise the pain but any pressure or movement is going to be extremely unpleasant.

Severe breaks (compound fractures) can cause part of the bone to protrude through the skin, this will also cause blood loss, which can be severe enough to be dangerous. Nerves and blood vessels can also be permanently damaged.

Smaller bones are obviously more likely to break than larger ones but they hurt every bit as much.

Distinguishing between breaks/sprains is not always easy with just 'it hurts to go on but as a guide… Lots of pain but some movement is a relatively good thing -- it indicates 'just' a tear. Less pain but very limited movement is a worry, because it can mean you've snapped something, and the joint becomes useless without surgery.

Broken Ribs

All sorts of nasty complications can arise here. For a start, though a character who has just broken a rib will feel winded and uncomfortable, the initial discomfort will pass quickly and they may feel fine for some hours afterwards. Possibly they may not even realise that they had broken anything.

After a few hours it will start to hurt badly and breathing may be impaired and painful. Problems can occur when the injured person is breathing only shallowly because of the pain and not expanding their lungs fully, lungs can collapse as a result, causing pneumonia. Interesting in a morbid kind of way is that the breathing difficulties of a collapsed lung aren't what gets you - it's the air pressure that builds up in the chest cutting of the blood flow to the heart.

Broken ribs can also puncture a lung or even the heart with fatal results. A punctured lung would result in death within 3-15 minutes if untreated.

DISLOCATED JOINTS

Hurt just as much as broken bones.

Can be forced back into place without medical facilities but it’s not recommended and will hurt a lot, probably enough to cause unconsciousness. On-the-hoof treatment is the same as for broken bones – imobilise and support the limb.

There are a few dislocations which can be life-threatening -- the sterno-clavicular joint (where the collarbone joins the breastbone) is one. It requires a lot of force to pop it (most people's collarbones will break before the joint goes), and the collarbone usually goes outwards, but if it displaces inwards, it can compress the airways. This joint can dislocate if you get slammed very hard into something like a wall and take the impact on the point of the shoulder. I can also say it hurts very badly and for a very long time.

CUTTING & PIERCING

most human beings come equipped with a healthy set of defensive reflexes to avoid it. If at all possible they will try to put something else (like hands) in the way of the blow. Most people injured in a stabbing have injuries on their hands and arms as well from trying to ward off their assailant.

The severity of the injury depends a great deal on its location:

Limbs

The arms and legs are not protected by much flesh so even a shallow cut or piercing injury here may damage bone and muscle and render the limb effectively useless.

Severe blood loss can occur if the major blood vessels in the inside of the upper arm and inner thigh are damaged.

Abdomen

Piercing injuries will bleed a lot and can easily do fatal damage, although unless a main artery is hit then it’s not going to be a quick death. A piercing more than 2 inches deep starts to get dangerous.

If the main descending aorta is hit, the character has seconds to live.

The femoral or renal arteries will lose a fatal amount of blood in 2 – 3 minutes.

Injury to internal organs would cause bleeding, infections and a nasty slow death if left untreated. Bleeding from the spleen or liver would cause death within 20 minutes. Less major damage to internal organs would cause death either from blood loss over several hours or up to several days later from infection and other complications.

Relatively slight cuts to the stomach area would affect breathing and damage muscles, More major cuts to this area can damage nerves and muscles, meaning the injured character would have no control over their legs. Not nice, when you’re trying to get away from the nutter who’s just sliced you up and suddenly your legs don’t work…

Extensive cuts here can also mean the insides are suddenly outside. Not pretty, not comfortable and, untreated, leaves the character with about 15 minutes to live and they’re going to wish it was much less. Quite apart from the pain (which is pretty horrific) the sight of their own insides tends to make most people quite hysterical.

BLOOD LOSS

Major blood loss will result in a fast weak pulse and accelerated respiratory rate.

For an average healthy person about a litre of blood lost is enough for shock to set in.

Loss of approximately a litre and a half to two litres or more will require transfusion.

Loss of more than 2 and a half litres will probably result in unconsciousness and, if transfusion is not given, death.

Symptoms of Blood Loss

Blood loss in litres < 0.75 || 0.750-1.5 || 1.5-2.0 || > 2.0

Percentage of blood lost < 15% || 15-30% || 30-40% || > 40%

Blood pressure Normal || Normal || Reduced || Low

Pulse rate (beats per minute) < 100 || > 100 || > 120 || > 140

Pulse pressure Normal || Decreased || Decreased || Decreased

Respiratory rate (breaths/min) 14-20 || 20-30 || 30-40 || > 35

Mental state Alert || Anxious || Confused || Lethargic

State of extremities Normal || Pale || Pale/Cool || Pale/Clammy

Amount of blood loss by injury

Severe blood loss, as a wound larger than a fist or that caused by a compound fracture. All figures are approximate and somewhat variable. They are meant as a rough guide only.

SITE OF INJURY || NORMAL BLOOD LOSS (Litres / %) || SEVERE || MAXIMUM

Shoulder: 0.85 / 17% || 1.25 / 25% || 2.1 / 42%

Arm: 0.4 / 8% || 0.85 / 17% || 1.25 / 25%

Elbow: 0.4 / 8% || 0.85 / 17% || 1.65 / 33%

Forearm: 0.4 / 8% || 0.85 / 17% || 1.25 / 25%

Wrist: 0.2 / 4% || 0.6 / 12% || 0.85 / 17%

Chest: 1.25 / 25% || 1.65 / 33% || 5.0 / 100%

Spleen/Liver: 1.25 / 25% || 1.65 / 33% || 5.0 / 100%

Pelvis: 1.25 / 25% || 1.65 / 33% || 5.0 / 100%

Thigh: 1.25 / 25% || 1.65 / 33% || 2.9 / 58%

Leg: 0.85 / 17% || 1.25 / 25% || 2.1 / 42%

Ankle: 0.85 / 17% || 1.25 / 25% || 2.1 / 42%

BLUNT TRAUMA

Getting hit…

Aside from the obvious risk of getting smacked upside the head or breaking bones (see above) there are assorted other injuries and complications which can arise.

Due to the elasticity of the ribcage getting smacked in the chest can cause a person to fly backwards some distance. Of course this means they can bounce off of something else and hurt themselves that way. At best they’re going to be winded and have difficulty breathing, which causes a certain amount of panic in most people. And it looks rather alarming.

Heavy blows to the back can damage the spine resulting in possible paralysis and death. Kidney injuries are also common when someone is hit in the small of the back. They can bleed and may shut down altogether. Kidney failure means the body can’t clear certain waste products from its system, if the waste products build up too far then coma and death can result.

Internal organs such as the liver and spleen can also be damaged by blunt trauma and bleed as detailed above. Other organs which may be injured are the pancreas and the intestines.

If the pancreas is damaged it may spill digestive enzymes which start to digest the person’s own insides. Obviously this is rather painful and unpleasant.

Damage to the intestines can result in blockages (causing pain, nausea and vomiting), bleeding, and the release of bacteria into the bloodstream resulting in septic shock (high fever followed by sudden drop in temperature and blood pressure – fatal if not treated) This can take 24 hours or more.

Usual treatment for internal injuries is IV feeding, antibiotics, painkillers and sometimes surgery.

BURNS

Burns are classified into degree by their seriousness.

1st degree burns – Red, sensitive skin, like a sunburn.

2nd degree burns – Blistering on the first layer of skin (the epidermis) only.

3rd degree burns – Damage to both the epidermis and dermis (the first two layers of skin), visible scars.

Burns over more than 70% of the body are life threatening due to dehydration and the risk of shock, kidney failure and infection.

Electrical shock

Physical marks can vary from none at all to severe tissue damage depending on the severity of the shock.

Internal damage can be done by electrical current traveling along the nerves and blood vessels.

Source: Leia Fee (with additions by Susannah Shepherd) ⚜ Part 2

[imjustdelusionalok]

yandere!dc: goddess! darling

ⁱⁿᶠᵒ ᵃᵇᵗ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵈᵃʳˡⁱⁿᵍ۫ ꣑ৎ

darling is a god from another world who just so happens to immigrate into the dc universe after a very long time of probably embodying... well, everything.

firstly having to live for love as a human, and then ending it all to fight for the beauty of life as god.

she is the reason for existence, from the big to the miniscule.

(so basically op goddess reader who has wayyyy too much power in their hands-- ex: nothing can kill them, nothing can put an end to them, etc--)

the least you could do is seal away her powers, but even that would truly not be enough because your only sealing away 0.000000000000001%. (i mean that 💀)

*cough* anyway... aside from goddess reader backstory, lets go to the inspiration <33

she's a mix of Madokami from Puella Magi, HoF Kiana Kaslana from Honkai Impact, and mostly of Ishtar Ashtart/Space Ishtar from Fate Grand Order <3

originally kind and lighthearted after becoming 'God', but as time passes and stars dimmed, she has become... well... neutral. not good, but DEFINITELY not bad. like this!

"let me help you :)" to "...From the dawn of creation. Man has come from the ground not by his hand but mine. go back to the land and return to dust."

summary: lawful, void, alien... yet beautiful, destructive, human.

sooooo. yup.

:p

ʰᵉᵃᵈᶜᵃⁿᵒⁿˢ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ۫ ꣑ৎ

...she has met the justice league before. because, who in their right minds would ignore the giant falling 'star' that came out of a very visible tear in the sky caused by said celestial body???

dramatically crashing down the surface like a meteorite, you lowkey may have destroyed a 'few' buildings... whoopsies :p

they are surprised. this... girl, no- alien, exudes endless quantity of power, leaking from every blurred pore. it also seems like they might be power themselves...

batman goes bazingas at the amount of destruction caused by your fall leading to an airheaded you getting towed to the JL headquarters and any sort of refusal or fighting back is unallowed. (even tho your more than capable of destroying anything AND everything you still oblige)

though cool as ice, you are so confused deep down. head tilted, vacant expression, the usual from the emotionally detached goddess albeit with a little change. 'what are these humans talking about?' you think, 'what threat?' you think again, unaware that you are the threat being spoken of.

the white slits of the vigilante's mask narrows at your disposition. everything about you seems... off. from your oppressing aura, to the... heavenly allure your blankness brings.

"more alien than the actual alien," a familiar scarlet speedster jokes, in an attempt to lighten the heavy mood. (he failed horribly btw) said alien rolls their eyes and sighs. though he has to admit, you lowkey look kind of cute... but he stops, remembering lois.

once you say your side of the story, they go all shocked pikachu faces again. your a god from another seperate world??? i mean dont get them wrong though, they had their fair share of situations like these, as some dc villains and heroes they know arent even from here originally. but they cant help but feel a bit different about you, something about you makes their soul writhe... and its not in a bad way.

so once B confirms your not a threat despite your extreme potential to act like one, everybody is relieved. you just need a littleeeeeee supervision, thats all :3

and oh look at that, your actually not that bad. your cold demeanor fades once they got to know you, and that void in your eyes is filled with a light comparable to the twilight star's soothing glow— pure, tranquil, and ever so mystifying.

every step you take, life seems to exist and flourish all around you. life heals around you. not only that, but also... them. the dead part of them actually, that died from complications now too complicated to be retold and remembered.

you fill the void they never knew they had, and all their aching scars were no longer painful but tolerable. bearable even, and its all because of you.

at this point, everybody knows how this all plays out. this ordinary tune, twisted into a fanatic's song.

their once innocent admiration has now spoiled into something darker, the more you stay in this world. holy eyes peeked at it, not at them but at the abyss that is their 'love.'

...you were starting to get aware. and a rarity occurred, you were... 'saddened'. for eternities you lived alone, and in an attempt to reconnect with that sliver of humanity you hid and kept, you went here to feel something again. and you did, and you were so successful.

too successful, in fact.

they loved you; so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, sooooo much. without you, they would die! :(

and that, in your eyes, is what makes you 'sad'. if your presence drives your beloved mortals to insanity's grip, then you must fly.

fly away from this despair, fly away from this madness.

your 'love' is your undoing, and ultimately also theirs.

their eyes widen as the sky is torn once again, and a familiar star flies back into it, meaning that you--- left. left? left. left? left... left.

something inside them breaks. both hearts any sense of rationality and morality left.

there is no reason to exist without you it seems, and they will do everything just to see you once more, even a second's glimpse.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

...you can't help but feel something you havent felt for a very long time. what was it again, sadness? anxiety? fear? you dont know. the endless rows of your ivory silks flutter even in the slightest movement. something tugs at you, your mind and heart. something tugs at you, telling... that it is far from over.

they call for you, their cries drowned in obsession masquerading as love.

you never answer, as your supposed concern and care for them lessens and your patience dwindles. reality is cruel, but never crueler than you. and that's when you realized it.

...they make your skin crawl. they make you want to vomit. they make you want to scream and cry. they make your ichor run cold. and if they touch you again, you'll--

...huh. who would have thought that was how you truly felt, goddess.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 | sub!robert fischer x dominatrix!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you're a professional dominatrix, he's a restless heir in desperate need of being put in his place; you both know what this is. it's just your job, it's just his fetish. no reason to make it more complicated than that, right?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 7.2k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut (18+ only), bdsm dynamics, reward/punishment, orgasm denial, overstimulation, oral f and m receiving, cnc (meaning he says no but it's not literal, there's a safeword in place for that), angst and fluff at the end, presumably inaccurate depictions of sex work and dominatrix-ing, robert cries. a lot.

You weren’t expecting much when you met him, just another rich boy with daddy issues and an Italian suit. 

And… yeah, you were pretty much exactly on the money.  The very literal money— Robert was already paying almost double what anybody else was, in order to have a monopoly on your time.  But, that said, he still managed to surprise you.

First of all, you were surprised how little experience he really had with this.  People tend to ease into paying thousands of dollars for an on-call professional dominatrix; but Robert had the money and impulsive personality necessary to start at the top.  It’s like getting a Lambo for your first car… which, to be fair, he had also done.  He admitted to you that he’d only had one or two experiences with dominant women and the lifestyle in general: he credited it partially to a need for discretion, that he couldn’t just go to a club with the risk of the wrong people recognizing him and his business being affected.  Though that was a fair reason, you knew he was leaving out his own anxiety as a significant factor as well.

Secondly, he surprised you with how well he understood his own needs and limits for someone with such little experience.  He explained to you, in rather shameless detail, that he was looking for someone to relinquish emotional control to— that he didn’t need to be really physically tortured, just to be psychologically tormented.  In that way, he was less ‘hardcore’ than many of your clients, who had physical damage to show for their time with you by the end of the session, but he was absolutely no wimp.  A crybaby, yes, but not a wimp; big difference.

And, perhaps least importantly, he surprised you by being young, and hot.  Not, you know, too young, and still older than you, but closer to your age than any of your other clients.  As for him being hot, well… yes, he was probably the best-looking of your clients.  ‘Probably’ being a polite word for ‘definitely’.  Ironically, for being so submissive, he had a somewhat intimidating visage: sharp features, bright and icy eyes, quite tall as well.  That was probably what most people saw first, but you were lucky to be able to appreciate completely how delicate he really was: with that pleading wet gaze, his thick bottom lip between his teeth, an unexpected softness to his masculine features.

You were surprised he needed to pay someone for this, looking like that, but then again, his kinks were a bit specific and his need for privacy was understandable.  Maybe what all that money really was, was just hush money.  After all, truth be told, you probably wouldn't mind doing the rest of it for free.

A friend of yours in the business warned you that that was a sign you needed to stop working for this guy.  If you’re catching feelings, get out now, she warned.  You tried to assure her it wasn’t feelings— just an acknowledgement that he was absurdly beautiful— but she didn’t seem to buy it; you yourself were starting to doubt that excuse.

But, here you were: usual place, usual time.  A lot of your clients preferred hotels, but Robert Fischer found the most discreet method was just to have you come to his penthouse; he had a few properties, but apparently this one was the most secluded.  The private elevator certainly gave off that impression.

He’d given you your own key to use, to take you to his place whenever you wanted.  Obviously, you only went there when you had an appointment… but you did get a little giddy every time you used it.  You got the impression that some small part of him hoped you’d use that key on your own time one day, but that could’ve been you projecting: you tried to remind yourself that he, like all the other clients, probably didn’t think of you much when you were gone.

It was hard to hold up that narrative just a few minutes later, though, as you stood in his bedroom with him on his knees in front of you.

“Missed you so much, Mistress,” he mumbled against your skin as he pressed his face to your thigh.  “I swear, I haven’t thought about anything else since last time— can we move up to four times a week?  Three isn’t enough anymore.”

He was a little more desperate than usual because, even with three sessions a week, this one had been delayed by two days because of his work.  Still, he couldn’t quite justify being this worked up when you’d seen him four days ago…  “Do you want to talk business, or do you want to play?” you asked him quickly.  “Scheduling is best done before or after—”

“Sorry, sorry,” he sighed, looking up at you through his lashes.  “Sorry, I just— we can talk about that later.  I need you so fucking bad— and you look so pretty…”

You dressed a bit differently for him.  Most of your clients wanted latex, leather, chains, studs— you know, the usual.  Robert told you from the start he preferred soft things, pretty things.  He’d asked if he could buy you things to wear but you insisted on simply billing him for whatever you picked out: anything else was giving him too much power over you.  Thankfully, he’d never had an issue with your tastes.  

He liked seeing you in relatively ‘normal’ clothes.  Little black dresses with lacy pantyhose, silk robes— he actually went a little feral seeing you in a pinstriped three-piece suit once, but that’s another story.  Today, you were keeping it classic with a black skirt and blazer, plus stockings with garter belts (his favorite) and your tallest, sharpest heels.  Clearly it had the intended effect, since you hadn’t even told him to get on his knees when you walked in…

“Get up,” you told him, and he scrambled onto his feet and gave you a look that barely hid how impatient he was feeling inside.  “Actually, I have some business to discuss with you.  Take a seat on the bed, why don’t you?”

He tilted his head a bit but did as he was told.  He hadn’t even seemed to notice the briefcase you brought— maybe his life was just so full of briefcases he’d learned to ignore them.  But you certainly had his attention when you set it down between you and opened the clasps— though you didn’t lift it to reveal its contents yet.

“I’m very disappointed in you,” you informed him flatly.  He seemed thrown off— like he couldn’t tell if this was part of the scene or not.  

“I-I’m sorry,” he said first, then adding, “what did I do wrong?  I’ve been so good…”

“I saw you in the papers.”

Reaching inside, you pulled out the newspaper picture of him, walking along the Manhattan streets with a young woman by his side.  She was taller than him with her heels on, overwhelmingly blonde, annoyingly pretty.  His eyes went wide at the sight.  “Oh—” he began,  but you cut him off.

“It’s not right for you to be seeing me when you have a girlfriend,” you explained, pausing before you set down a magazine snapshot of him with a different model, “or two.”

“N-no, wait, I can explain that,” he rushed, but you shoved the pictures aside and leaned forward, sneering at him.

“Is that what you are, huh?  Just a slut?” you snapped.  “Am I not enough for you?”

“No!  God, no— you’re everything,” he whined, “of course. Those are just—”

“Just what?  They seem like lovely young women, Mr. Fischer, you don’t need to insult them for my benefit.”

“Oh, don’t call me that,” he pouted, looking down— already his cheeks were getting redder.  ��You’re really mad at me?  For being seen with them?”

You knew he was upset you weren’t calling him a pet name, the last thing he wanted to be when you were here was Mr. Fischer— he wanted to be your good boy, your baby, your puppy, your pet.  “I’m more concerned about what you did that nobody else saw, Robert,” you admitted.

The last thing you wanted to do was appear jealous— that was never what you would do, or at least, not your character.  But one of your rules for Robert was that he was required to be celibate outside of your sessions with him.  It was always about control— and he loved the humiliation of being reminded that you worked with other men and slept with whoever you wanted, but that he was doomed to only be yours.  He asked you to remind him all the time, whispering in his ear about how he belonged to you, that nobody but you could touch him, that he was just Mistress’ good boy.

“It’s not like that, I swear,” he whined, “they— it was just publicity.  For both of us— I mean, for the girls and for me.  It’s business!”

“Right,” you returned, not acting especially convinced.  One of those photos in the magazine was pretty deliberate— his arm around her waist, whispering something in her ear with a smirk.  It certainly didn’t seem like business.

“Please, Mistress, you know I’d never—”

“Do I?” you interrupted sharply.  “I mean, after you were so naughty last time—”

“I didn’t mean to come so fast, I was just—”

“How dare you speak over me?” you hissed, and he clamped his mouth shut as his shoulders slumped.

“I’m sorry, ma’am…” he whispered with defeat.

“I’m starting to wonder, what’s stopping you from breaking any of the rules?  How do I know you’re really behaving?”

“Y-you know, because…!” he trailed off, eyes darting wildly as he looked for a response.  “Because you know how bad I need you.  How important you are to me.”

When your heart beat a little faster, you told yourself that he really meant how important these sessions are to me.  

Going back to what seemed like his default state, Robert dropped to the floor again, kneeling in front of where you had your legs crossed tensely.  Twice now he’d done that without you asking, but you weren’t going to correct him this time because, well… some men were just meant to be on their knees.  “I swear, I swear it wasn’t real, was all just for the pictures… I’d never break your rules, Mistress, I wanna be good for you.”

“Want to, yes,” you smirked, “but it takes a lot of willpower, when you could afford as many little playthings as your heart desires.”

You leaned back on your hands as he got more and more desperate, and you fought the urge to smile proudly seeing him panic a bit.  He knew that with your hands holding your weight, you wouldn’t be running your fingers through his hair or stroking his cheek… he was getting antsy, still not having been touched by you ten minutes into the session.  “Let me show you,” he pleaded, “I promise, I only want you— I-I’ve been waiting for this, for you to touch me again…”

Now, truthfully, you’d believed him when he said those girls were for show— for publicity, as he said.  But only now that he said it like that did you really believe how desperate he was.  Unfortunately for him, it just made you want to tease him more.  “Touch you?” you repeated, egging on his begging.

"Please, touch me," he whined, "please, I'll be so good… I need you, Mistress."

"I know you do, baby, but I don't think you've earned me yet."

“Yes, ma’am— I don’t deserve you,” he breathed.  “I know I don’t.”

He looked so sweet, so broken, looking up at you like that.  “Why should I touch you at all tonight, baby boy?” you asked sweetly; he rested his forehead on your knee, looking exhausted from his own desperation.

“I… I don’t know if you should,” he admitted, surprising you a bit.  “I just know that if you don’t, I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

You said nothing, though you couldn’t fight your smile, and he continued softly under his breath.

“I swear, I only want you,” he whispered.  “I only ever wanted you.”

“Alright,” you shrugged, “show me how bad you want me.”

Uncrossing your legs, you let him see that your little outfit today didn’t include any panties; as he caught a glimpse up your skirt, his shoulders and chest sunk with a sigh.  “Mistress,” he breathed, but a second later he grabbed a tight hold of your legs and yanked you closer to the edge of the bed so he could push up your skirt and dive right in.

He was always ravenous when he did this.  It didn’t matter how long it had been since you saw him last, how long you teased him, or if you just walked right in and ordered him to his knees: he always, always ate you out like his life depended on it.  He was obsessed with serving you this way, moaning and whimpering against your skin, grabbing weakly at your hips or thighs and sometimes struggling to control his own arousal as his cock throbbed in his trousers.

You were already trying to temper your reactions; if you showed how much you liked it, you’d be surrendering a bit of your dominance, and that couldn’t be allowed.  Instead of gasping or moaning his name, you simply hummed and reached down to card your fingers through his hair; he whined against you, even louder when you tugged on it.

“Good boy,” you praised softly, making him shut his eyes tight as he sucked and licked at everything his mouth could reach.  He flicked his tongue over your clit and you fought not to let your hips buck against his face.  “Very good boy— how much do you like tasting Mistress’ cunt?”

“More than anything,” he answered, taking a break from the main task to kiss and bite hungrily all over your inner thighs.  “Fuck, I could taste you forever— you’re so perfect— should I keep going?”

“Of course, baby, just keep looking up at me.”

God, those eyes; sometimes you thought he could look right through you with those.  Could he see how hard you were fighting not to lose it right there, not to lay back and order him to fuck you?  You wondered if he would— it had never gone that far with him, he was obsessed with the denial, the inequity, the deprivation.  To be fair, you didn’t have sex with any of your clients… but you also never thought about sex with any of your clients, other than him.

“Alright, that’s enough,” you decided after a few moments, causing him to look up at you with concern like he’d done something wrong.

“I’m not allowed to make you come?” he pouted.

“Not yet,” you said simply.  “Get up.”

He popped right up, ready to serve— as always.

“Why don’t you take off your shoes for me?” you encouraged, and he certainly wasted no time; but as he toed his shoes off, he shirked off his jacket, loosening his tie and getting a few buttons of his shirt undone.  You raised your eyebrows, frowning at his eagerness.  “Stop.  I didn’t say all that.”

He slowed to a stop.  “S-sorry,” he mumbled, looking away.

“Lay on the bed.”

You watched patiently as he did, sitting up beside him but not getting too close.  He looked nice mostly-dressed, his suit half-removed and a bit disheveled.  You’d made him strip completely before, adding to his vulnerability, but you thought there were benefits to this too: by wearing his work clothes, you were reminding him of the man he was supposed to be while treating him like the needy boy he really was.  Whether or not he noticed that irony, he shuddered when you gently brushed your hand over his bulge, which flexed as if trying to ask for more itself.

“Look how hard you got for me, just from eating me out,” you noticed proudly.

“Tastes so good,” he whimpered his excuse, biting his lip when you started to open his belt and trousers.  “Y-you’re sure I deserve it?”

“No,” you admitted, “but I think it might be fun to touch you a little.  You want me to, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, of course,” he rushed, just as emphatic as ever.

He keened and bucked up into your hand when you just barely touched his cock; you pulled away, giving him a stern look as a reminder not to move too much.  When he settled down, you gently reached into his boxers again and freed his aching cock.  There was a little precum at the tip already, and he was looking at you with fascination as you delicately touched him, but never properly gripped or stroked it just to keep him on edge a little more.

“How long has it been since anyone but me touched you like this, baby boy?” you wondered.

“Y-years,” he choked, “years— I don’t even touch myself anymore, I swear.”

You gently ran your fingers over the ridge of the head, making him shudder and writhe on the bed.  “Are you sure?  You didn't even jerk off after feeling up that lovely young lady in the magazine?"

"No— and I didn't— c'mon, Mistress, don't you believe me?" he choked.  "I'm your good boy, you know I am— love being yours…"

“So you really don’t touch yourself?”

“No!” he snapped, correcting his tone a moment later.  “No, I… I stopped when you told me to.”

"Well, how about you show me how you used to do it?" you encouraged with a grin, taking your hand away from him.  "Stroke your cock for me, puppy."

"No, please," he gasped, "I want you to— please, I'm sorry—"

"Stop fucking whining and do what I tell you," you sneered.  "Not such a good boy after all, are you?"

He suddenly scrambled to get his hand around his cock when you put it like that, groaning and biting his lip as he gripped himself tightly.  "Like this, Mistress?" he panted proudly.

"Mm, something like that," you cooed.  "But go a little slower, baby boy, we've got plenty of time."

His eyes got wide with fear— fear that you would really make him edge himself the whole time.  You had much bigger plans, though.

He found a rhythm: not horribly slow, but careful and precise.  His cheeks kept getting pinker as you watched him, and he once reached out to touch your thigh with his free hand, but you moved away.

“C’mon,” he begged quickly, “can I just… can I at least see…?”

“See what?”

“Y-your tits, maybe,” he asked shyly, stroking his cock faster already at just the thought.

“I don’t think you need to see my tits,” you accused, noticing that his cock was already flexing in his grip.  He really had been worked up, if he was this sensitive to just his own hand.  “You’re doing just fine, baby.”

He grunted but went on, shifting around on the bed slightly.

“A little faster now,” you told him.  “When you used to jerk off like this, before you met me, did you imagine while you did it?  Did you watch porn?”

“Yes— I mean, imagine, always; porn sometimes,” he answered.

“What kind of porn?”

“Uh… this kind,” he admitted with a small laugh.  When you heard that laugh, saw the self-effacing smile on his face, you suddenly thought again about what your friend said: if you’re catching feelings, get out now.  But you shook the thought from your mind.

“Do you miss it?  Being able to get yourself off?” you pressed.

“Fuck no,” he grunted, and you caught the way his cock bobbed in his hand— he was getting even closer, poor thing.  “Don’t even— don’t want to now, but… but I’m trying so hard to be good for you…”

“I know,” you offered with a sympathetic, yet condescending, pout as you leaned in and caressed his face for a second.  Just that seemed to push him even closer, and he struggled to keep his hips down again.  

“I— fuck, I’m close,” he finally admitted.  “I’ll come…”

“Okay,” you shrugged.

"Oh, please, please don't make me come," he whimpered.  "I— I don't wanna come like this…"

You tilted your head.  "Like what, puppy?" 

"I want… I want you to touch me…" he pouted, eyes welling up a bit.

"We agreed you don't deserve that, Robert," you said sternly.

"Fuck! I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he sobbed— and there were real tears, he was obviously devastated that he had let you down so much.  "I'll do anything, I swear— let me be your good boy, your puppy— Mistress, I just wanna be yours again…"

You slapped him hard on the thigh when you saw his hand start to falter.  "Don't slow down," you snapped.  "I want you to keep going— keep stroking your poor cock, don't fucking stop until I tell you."

"But I— I'm so close," he choked.

"That's not my fault," you chuckled.  "You're a pathetic whiny baby who comes too quick, that's not really my problem."

He bit his shaking lip and blinked through his tears, hips beginning to buck up into his own hand.  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said over and over, "I didn't mean to be bad, I promise… only ever wanted t-to be your good boy…"

Feeling just a little sympathetic, you leaned in closer to speak beside his ear.  "Is my good boy gonna come if I tell him to?"

Though he hesitated, he nodded.

"But you don't want to?"

He shook his head.

"Because you want me to touch you when you come, right?" you pressed, your voice just as soft as your touch while you gently ran your hand up his leg.  He whimpered and squirmed, his eyes getting a bit wide.  "You want me to make you come?"

"Yes! Please, fuck, please, Mistress…" he gasped.  

You rubbed his inner thigh as he stroked himself faster; you could see his cock flexing, and you knew he was trying so hard not to come right then.  Deciding to test him further, you let your fingers run over his swollen balls, and he choked on his own throat.  "Bet these are so full of come for me," you purred.

"Yes, Mistress," he hissed.

"Stop moving your hand," you ordered suddenly, and for a man who'd been begging you to let him stop, he took a second to do it— his hand faltered a little as he slowed down, and he ended up holding his cock much too tight… surely trying to hold himself back from coming still.  "You wanted me to touch you, didn't you?"

"Yes," he gasped, eyes getting wide with hope.  "Yes! Please, Mistress!  I swear I'll be good…"

"Then let go of your cock and let me take care of you, baby," you cooed.  Again, he took a second to do it— still trying to make sure he wouldn't come when he wasn't choking the life out of it.  Hissing as he let go, he dropped his head back with the sweetest moan as you gave him one slow stroke from the base to the tip.  "Good job, baby," you whispered to him, "you're my good boy, aren't you?"

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his exposed neck, and nodded hastily.

When his cock twitched in your hand, you figured it was just because he was so sensitive— but then, halfway into your second stroke, he gasped and suddenly began to come.  You noticed it in his face first, the way he scrunched his nose and let out a low groan; then there was hot, sticky come shooting over his chest and stomach— and ruining that nice white shirt.

You pulled your hand away instantly, giving his face the hardest slap you could; he cried out in pain, but he just kept coming and bucking his hips into nothing.  

"You pathetic, stupid boy!" you scolded, and he groaned.  "I gave you one stroke, and you came?!”

You said it in past tense, but he was still coming, whining through his teeth and blinking quickly with those long lashes of his.  He looked so sweet— but you knew that he knew he was utterly fucked.  “I-I’m sorry,” he breathed, groaning one more time and going limp onto the bed beneath him as his cock gave one more weak flex.  “I’m sorry, Mistress, I’m sorry…”

You watched him pant for a moment, almost losing your train of thought when you saw just how pretty he was.

Unfortunately for him, it gave you an interesting idea.

Loosening his tie, you slipped it off around his head; he blinked his eyes open and scrunched up his brows with confusion.  “What are you…?” he asked, though he seemed to figure it out when you gave him a certain look: he instantly held out his wrists for you, and you smiled proudly.

You didn’t just tie them together, though— you tied them to the headboard, keeping his hands bound above his head as you grinned and leaned down over him.  “What am I gonna do with you, puppy?” you cooed in a sweet-but-concerning way.

Chuckling nervously, he answered, “that’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

You ran one finger over his cock, following the line a final drop of come had left down the shaft, and he hissed in a breath through his teeth.  “So sensitive,” you noticed; he tensed up, like he was catching on.

When you licked a stripe up his shaft with the tip of your tongue, his gaze darkened and his mouth went slack.  “I— I don’t—” he stammered, clearly conflicted with his desire for you and his fleeting logic telling him this was going to hurt.  “I don’t think I can… take it…”

You’d never done this to him before, but you couldn’t stop yourself: looking up at his flushed face to see his reaction, you enveloped his head with your lips.

He let out a high, desperate moan as you suckled his swollen tip; “M-Mistress, fuck, I— oh my god—”

You looked up at him, but his head was tilted back too far to see you.  You slid your mouth down further, stroking his base with your hand, until you were gagging on him and he was writhing beneath you wildly.

“Oh my god, fuck!  Fuck, fuck— I… god your mouth is warm…” 

You pulled off of him, partially to give him a bit of a break and partially so you could keep talking to him.  Then again, it wasn’t much of a break since you kept stroking him, letting your spit and his come smooth your movements, sure to focus on that poor overstimulated tip.  “It’s not too much for you, is it?  My good boy can take it, right?”

“Yes, fuck, yes,” he promised, though he didn’t sound that confident.  It sounded like what he really meant was I’m gonna try my best to take it.

“And aren’t you so thankful that Mistress is so nice to you, sucking your cock even though you don’t deserve it?”

“Fuck, of course,” he panted, “thank yo—oh fuck, fuck—”

You threw him off by taking him down as far as you could in the middle of his sentence, but he still had his manners.

“Thank you!” he yelped, starting to shudder more violently.  “Th-thank you, so much, fuck, you’re perfect—”

When you pulled off again, he sighed with relief yet followed your mouth with a buck of his hips.  “Does it hurt, or does it feel good?” you wondered.

“I— it’s— both,” he choked.

“I bet you wished I would suck your cock someday, didn’t you?” you pressed, and he instantly nodded and whined through his teeth as you licked all over the tip with a wide tongue.  He gasped as you licked right over the slit.

“Fuck, I did— god, I— oh…”

Poor thing couldn’t get many words out in a row, he kept losing it every time you hollowed out your cheeks and swirled your tongue.  And then you gave his balls a firm squeeze, and he made a sound you thought you might’ve never heard him make before.

“Mistress, please, please,” he begged breathlessly, moaning louder as you bobbed your head up and down.  You couldn’t tell if he was begging for more or for relief, and honestly, you expected he didn’t know either.

You kept going for a few more minutes of that before his cries of pain got a little too intense— then you pulled away, and replaced your mouth with a hand stroking him as fast as you could.  He still sobbed, of course, and dropped his head back again between his restrained arms.

“Fuck, s’too much,” he breathed, “just slow down…”

“I can’t, sweet boy— I need you to come again for me,” you encouraged. 

“I— fuck, Mistress— I—” he stammered, and you could tell he was trying to stop himself from saying I can’t.  He couldn’t bear to disappoint you twice.

“Can you do that for me, baby?” you cooed, making him look at you with the widest, wettest eyes.  “Can you show me you’re still my good boy?”

“F-fuck, yes, okay,” he panted, “I’ll… I’ll come for you, just don’t stop, please…”

“I won’t stop, puppy, not until we’ve got every drop of come out of you,” you promised.

He should’ve known you took ‘every drop’ very seriously.  Though he came after just another minute of stroking him like this, you still didn’t stop.  When he cried out and tugged on his own tie holding him down, you didn’t stop.  “Fuck!” he yelped.  “Please, I can’t— I can’t!”

“Shh, yes you can,” you encouraged, though your free hand holding him down by the neck did more to keep him in place.  “C’mon, be my good boy, gimme one more.”

He kept trying to squirm away, though, and his wrists were pulling hard on that necktie— he was probably going to ruin it.

“Stop fighting so much,” you warned him firmly.  “Just be my good boy and fucking take it, come on— the fuck are you good for if you can’t do what I tell you to?”

“S-sorry,” he barely managed to get out, you almost didn’t hear it over the sound of his feet kicking all over the satin sheets.

“You don’t wanna get in trouble, do you?  Don’t you wanna show me you know how to do what you’re told?” you kept taunting him, glancing down and seeing how red and weepy his cock was getting— you knew he wasn’t much further off from coming again.

“Yes, yes, fuck, I’m sorry,” he spoke hoarsely through the pressure you were putting on his neck.

“The sooner you come, the sooner it stops, puppy,” you informed him, gripping his cock even tighter as he hissed in breaths through his teeth.  “Just come for me one more time…”

All he could do was lick his lips and nod; you let go of his neck, wanting to hear every broken moan he made.  With his eyes shut tight and his nose scrunched up, he finally came with a long and wavering grunt— that was what you were waiting for, the sound of total relief.  You slowed your movements down to a stop, smiling as you watched his cock give just two small pumps of come that dripped onto the ends of his shirt… it flexed weakly a few more times after that, but clearly he was beyond spent.

“Good job,” you praised softly, “you did so good for me… look what a mess you made…”

If you were feeling really mean you’d make him clean that all up, but something told you it was best to stop now… that ‘something’ being your watch.  You’d stayed twenty minutes late and you were probably going to piss off your next client by being significantly tardy, especially considering you had to change first; you hoped you could chalk it up to some mindfuck dominance thing, walk in and say Mistress is never late, I always get here when I want to, if you were sitting around waiting for me that just shows how pathetic you are or something.

As you thought about that, you reached up and released the tie around Robert’s hands; he didn’t jump to rub his wrists, or flex his fingers into fists to bring some feeling back.  He just let them fall limply at either side of him.

Though it was a small difference, it worried you— as did his silence.  Normally he was all over you with praises by now, thanking you for everything, telling you he couldn’t wait to see you again.  

“Was it a good session?” you asked him gently, letting him know it was over— he didn’t need to ‘perform’ anymore.  You still felt like you needed to, though.

He worried you with the continued silence, though, just catching his breath and keeping his eyes shut; just when you thought you might check again that he was okay, he nodded quickly and hoarsely insisted, “Yeah, m’fine.”

“Not too much for you?” you asked nervously, watching him shake his head— but his lip was shaking, too.  He was still crying, and you could tell it wasn’t like the whiny tears from before: he was holding back from bursting into sobs.  You interrupted the silence with a whispered Robert? and he collapsed; folding in on himself, he curled into a ball on the bed and shook as he cried.  Your eyes went wide as you realized you were absolutely in over your head.

Aftercare was generally not part of the deal.  Most of your clients didn’t want it— they preferred to process whatever they needed to alone, after you left— and the rest just had to suck it up, though they never made much of a fuss.  This felt like a real situation, and you felt guilty leaving now, but worried you’d only make it worse or break your own rules if you intervened somehow.

“I’m gonna give you some time,” you offered as you sat up— like ditching him now was a courtesy.  Of course, as you expected (from him, specifically), he reached out for you.

“Please stay,” he begged— still heavily in his submissive mindset, it seemed, and sniffling pathetically.  “Please, please—”

“Your time’s up,” you informed him flatly.

“Anything,” he whimpered, “name your price.”

“It’s— it’s not about the money, Robert,” you sighed.  “It’s just unprofessional.”

“But I need you,” he breathed, and your heart twisted.  “You can’t leave me like this, I just— I just need you to—”

Relenting, you sat back down on the bed; he instantly wrapped his arms around you, buried his face in your chest, and pulled you down with him.

Though it took you a moment, you went ahead and wrapped your arms around him in return, hoping to soothe him.  “I’m sorry,” he said, though you struggled to make it out at first until he kept repeating it.

“It’s okay,” you replied softly, rubbing his back and looking down at the mess of brown hair shaking with each sob.  “It’s okay, baby, you did really good… I didn’t— I wasn’t trying to go very hard on you, I mean, I’ve made you come a lot more than that before.”

“Not that,” he choked, finally pulling his face up to let you see and hear him better.  Your heart broke seeing how overwhelmed he really was.  “I just… I really don’t wanna disappoint you…”

In retrospect, maybe you should’ve known it would be too much for him— or maybe it was something about today, it just hit the wrong way, you couldn’t be sure.  It didn’t really matter, in the end.  

You sat up a bit, and he followed you, as you sighed and held his face.

“Robert, I was just— that wasn’t real,” you promised.  “I needed something, you know, to work with.  I just wanted you to prove your loyalty— I was never angry with you.”

“I know,” he croaked, though he was calming a bit already, “I know that, but I— it felt like it.  Nobody else tells me what I’m supposed to do, you know— only you do that.  I need that.  Then I can know I’m doing what I’m supposed to… you’re the only person I can’t let down.”

Biting your lip for a second, you reached out to touch his chest through the half-unbuttoned shirt, but he pulled away suddenly.

“I know what this is,” he said, suddenly sounding a bit more normal again— almost clinical, actually.  “I know this is your job.”

“Well… yeah,” you mumbled; obviously he knew that.  You tried to understand what he was really saying to you.

“I know… none of it’s real,” he added, looking away.  

Gently, you turned his face back to yours, wiping a tear from his cheek with your thumb.  “I really am proud of you,” you whispered, moving closer to him on the bed.

He held your face, then, too; and he put his other hand on your waist, moving even closer to you.  “Please…” he began, and though the word was overwhelmingly familiar, you were sure you’d never heard him say it like that before.  “Please, let me kiss you.”

You kissed him first, feeling one more tear roll down his face as he pulled you closer and pressed your body to his.

The kiss was soft at first, still a little teary; the way he held you was incredibly tender but with a lightly-suppressed neediness behind it… his fingers would tighten at your waist sometimes and you could tell he wanted to just force you against him.  You’d let him, if he wanted to, but he was probably too weak after all that.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, reaching to hold onto his shoulders and squeeze them.  “I’m so sorry, baby—”

“No,” he breathed against your lips, barely stopping the kiss to speak, “no— no, you’re perfect—”

“Stop it,” you mumbled, pushing him away slightly.  “I’m not.  I fucked up.  I went too hard on you.”

“I— I could’ve safeworded, I just didn’t… I don’t know,” he shook his head before leaning it onto your shoulder.  “You must think I’m pathetic.”

You laughed a little as you combed your fingers through his hair, letting your nails gently scratch his scalp.  “No, I just get paid to call you pathetic.  You’re so strong…”

“No, I’m not,” he promised, his voice oddly firm and stable for how weepy the words could’ve come off.  “I’m not— not even strong enough to… to end this.”

You froze up, looking at him with wide eyes as he pulled his face up close to yours.

“It’s not right anymore,” he whispered to you, cradling your cheek in his palm; god, his hands were warm.  “You know it, don’t you?  You can tell.  You can tell I broke the fucking rules.”

“Don’t tell me, after all this bullshit,” you managed to laugh bitterly, “you really are dating one of those fucking models— or both—”

“Not that rule, fuck,” he coughed, “no— I fucking fell for you.”

You blinked quickly, forcing yourself to believe you misheard him.  “You—?”

“I fell in love with you.”

“No— Robert, you don’t even know me,” you insisted, looking away.

“I want to!  God, I want to,” he groaned, “it’s all I think about: what you must be like when you’re not, you know, on the clock.  What turns you on, what ticks you off, what… fuck, what you eat for breakfast!  Anything.”

“Then you don’t love me,” you informed him, “you love the idea.  You love the… mystery.  You don’t really want to know me, I promise.”

“You don’t love a mystery because you want it to stay that way,” he laughed, rubbing your shoulders— only then did you notice your own eyes were getting teary.  You really didn’t want him to see you that way, but you didn’t have much choice now.  “You love a mystery because you can’t wait to get to the ending and figure it all out!  I just wanna know you— you’re a page-turner.”

“Okay, the metaphor is a little tired now,” you rolled your eyes, but you sniffled and tried to hide your face.

“Hey,” he whispered, petting your head, toying with your hair for a moment with his fingers.  “I know you can’t keep going on with me, now that I said that.  I know this is gonna have to be goodbye.  But I… I think goodbye is still less painful than having to be this close to you but so far away.  I’m sorry… I thought I was strong enough for this.”

Get out now.  Get out now.  The advice echoed in your head.  If you’re catching feelings, get out now and definitely do not tell him you’re falling for him too— no don’t you fucking dare bitch— “It’s not goodbye,” you blurted out.  “I’m not strong enough for that.”

When you dared to look at him, his eyes were full of hope.

“God, you look fucked up,” you noticed with a laugh, your eyes scanning his ruined suit.  “C’mon, let’s get you in the bath.”

~

There was plenty of room in this bathtub, more than any one person could need— plenty for you to have your own space.  But, of course, Robert kept you close to him, your chest against his back as he ran his hands over your skin under the water.

“For breakfast?  I don’t know, I guess I have toast a lot, if I remember it,” you chuckled.  “My mornings are pretty busy.”

“Any pet peeves?” he asked.

“Uh, people who don’t use earbuds on public transport,” you decided.

“Ah,” he nodded.  “That sounds irritating.  I, um, haven’t been on public transport…”

You rolled your eyes, but you giggled, too.

“If you could only wear one color for the rest of your life, what would it be?” he prompted.

You turned over, splashing the water a bit, so you could look up at him.  “Is this interrogation ever gonna end?  The water’s getting cold.”

“Well, so far, the more I know, the more I wanna know, so…” he trailed off.  “Guess we’re gonna be in here ‘til I solve the mystery, hm?”

You laughed, but he pulled you into another kiss— more energetic than before, but still sweet, still a little hungry.  When you pulled back, he leaned in and kissed your neck instead.  “I think we could be here all night and still have a lot left to cover,” you warned him.

“I can afford all night,” he shrugged.

As tempted as you were to take him up on that, you had to accept that that element of the arrangement was over now.  “I’m not gonna charge you,” you admitted, making him break away from your skin to look up at you.  “You wanted to learn what I’m like off the clock, right?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, pulling you a little closer until you straddled his lap in the water.  “I wanna learn whatever I can.”

“Well, here’s something you should’ve figured out a lot sooner,” you offered, running your fingers over his jaw until you gently held his chin, making him look up at you with this sweet, pouty, needy look on his face.  “I fell for you, too.”

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Regrets | Ghost x Reader

Day 25: Simon “Ghost” Riley

Summary: After a rough night, Simon treats you a bit too roughly, and tries to make it up to you.

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: SMUT, p in v, mentions of rape, allusions to past rape, rough sex, panic attacks, simon being a meanie, sort of dubcon? but it’s okay they make up after it (smut to angst to comfort)

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: thank you to anon who requested this, I hope it’s what you wanted, if the writing tone randomly switches up it’s prob bc I fell asleep 300 words in and finished it later, hope you enjoy regardless<3

Requests are open!

It had originally been a one-night stand, something simple with no strings attached, no expectations Ghost had to keep up with or care about.

He’d met you at a bar, a girl able to handle more alcohol than him despite his much larger body. It wasn’t every day he saw that.

One night had turned into two, two had turned into three, and now he was showing back up again, dragging himself to the doorstep of your apartment where he knew you lived. He’d seen your car outside in the parking lot, so he knew you were home. Those three nights had turned into almost daily visits when he was on leave.

Some nights, he’d stay a bit longer, treat you how a proper gentleman would’ve with the aftercare, giving a bottle of water, a little towel wiping you down, and tucking you in. He knew it wasn’t fair to give you little tastes of what you could’ve had instead of him, but he just couldn’t help it.

You two weren’t exactly a couple, but were more than just fuck-buddies at this point. You’d let him come over and eat dinner, watching him shovel down an impossible amount of food, devouring everything like the human garbage disposal he was. Most nights were followed with slow sex, not exactly tender as much as being patient and gentle, not rushing it. He’d been rushed too often on the field to enjoy it when on leave most days.

But today he was angry.

Recruits had arrived, and been shoved into a team at the last minute with Ghost because of some complications with their commanding officer being out, so he’d had to take over. You’d think that the men had never held a gun before in their lives, considering their shitty grip and twitchy trigger fingers. They’d been all too eager to please at training, trying to show off to the Lieutenant who didn’t seem to care much, annoyed brown eyes flicking between them to check their forms.

He’d approached one of the taller rookies, opening his mouth to correct his stance while going through the motions and exercises, and that was when it had happened. The man had grabbed the base of his balaclava, yanking the fabric roughly up in a way that made it scratch against his scars.

The other recruits had all dropped what they were doing, trying to catch a glimpse of Simon’s face, failing as it was pulled right back down, and he promptly beat the ballsy recruit’s ass.

But even after, he was still angry. His blood was boiling beneath his skin, even after filing a report, leaving the base with bloodied knuckles and a scowl on his covered face. And well, he’d never been one to indulge in rough sex, not after what he’d heard his father did to his mother in the night when he thought no one was listening. He could still hear the crying and begging if he tried hard enough.

But he wasn’t thinking. He wasn’t in the mood for the usual tender session, the buildup just as enjoyable as the release. He needed an outlet.

Your door wasn’t locked when he opened it, throwing his bag to the side of the door, shutting it, and sliding the bolt shut before moving to hunt you down. There was a nice aroma coming from the kitchen, the smell of sweets, freshly baked cookies, or brownies.

He walked, more like stormed, into the kitchen, mask staying on, towering over you even from a distance as he saw you pulling a tray out of the oven, one full of cookies, chocolate chip, just the way he liked them. You pulled your oven mitts off, clicked a button to turn the oven off, and heard his heavy footsteps. You turned, smiled, and offered him one.

“Hey, Si. Just finished cookies, you want one?”

You asked. He didn’t reply. He just stood, staring at you from the holes in his skull mask. You swallowed, seeing the black pit of hunger forming in his eyes, not for the cookies or any other food you’d usually have for him. His hands went to his belt, and you tried to shove down the little tingle of anxiety you felt forming.

He didn’t fiddle with the buckle, pulling, pushing, and having it off in less than five seconds flat. He let it clatter to the floor, missing the way you flinched just a little bit, too focused on pulling his shirt off, military pants soon to follow.

You got the message, eyes watching him all too closely as you pulled off your shirt and slid your shorts down.

He grunted something, maybe a word you didn’t understand, before grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you off to the bedroom. When you were both down the hall, he picked you up, tossing you on the bed.

On any other day, you might’ve found it amusing or hot how easily he could manhandle you. Today, you just weren’t really in the mood, but you could play pretend if he needed it that bad. You didn’t want to disappoint him, not when you’d finally gotten him to slowly let you in behind the walls he’d built up.

He crawled into the bed, hand hooking into your panties and pulling them off, throwing them on the floor, and spitting on his hand before shoving it in his boxers, pulling his half-hard cock out. He gave it a few pumps, lining it up at your entrance.

You scrambled a bit, having absolutely no prep, a stark contrast to the usual at the very least 20 minutes of him scissoring his fingers in, rubbing and occasionally licking your cunt.

He pushed in despite the little grimace on your face as the sting of the stretch made your eyes water. His eyes fluttered shut with a little raspy groan, and he didn’t let you adjust for a second when he bottomed out, moving immediately in sharp thrusts.

“Fuck—slow down, need a minu—“

You tried to gasp out, the friction between your hardly wet folds and his poorly lubed dick burning slightly. He didn’t pay you any mind, continuing with the deep thrusts that were certainly bruising your insides where the tip slammed against each time.

“Fuckin’ deal with it,”

He growled, British accent heavy and thicker the closer he grew to his release. Your throat tightened, tears welling, as you tried to push him away.

He didn’t move.

He grabbed your hips with his meaty hands, shoving you back down to him. It wasn’t the first time you’d been trapped by a man, crushed underneath him, his dick inside of you when you didn’t want it.

And suddenly it wasn’t Simon Riley above you, it was him.

His hands holding you down, keeping you from moving. His cock shoving in and out, ignoring the friction from you being drier than the Sahara desert. His raspy grunts and heavy breathing. Him using you.

You kicked and flailed, desperate not to just be held down, docile like before. The ball of your feet kicked him directly in the knee, his bad knee, the one he’d taken a bullet in before, and he crumpled, being roughly pushed out of you as you kicked and shoved him away with your feet.

“Red,”

You finally choked out, scooting away from him, despite Simon being back to being Simon Riley again. The skull mask stared at you, but was abandoned quickly, pulled off as soon as he saw how you shook, tears rolling down your cheeks before you curled in on yourself in the bed. He’d fucked up, he knew it.

Honey brown eyes smudged with eyeblack watched as sobs shook your body. He didn’t know what to do.

“Hey,”

He tried, rough voice mellowing down to a little more than a cooing baby voice. He knew what this was. He should’ve recognized the signs from the beginning.

Your sobs quieted to sniffles over time. He shoved his dick back in his boxers, feeling as if he deserved the sting of pain from the sensitivity that came from the rough handling. He scrambled for any clothes, pulling out a pair of his jogging shorts and one of his on-leave shirts and pulling them quickly on.

He grabbed a water bottle from your dresser, not knowing nearly how old it was, but deciding that anything was better than nothing, and he wasn’t leaving you alone to go to the kitchen right now.

He unscrewed the cap, set it down on the nightstand, and kneeled at the side of the bed. His finger connected with the bottom of your chin, pulling your face up, to see your watery eyes meet his. He offered the water, putting the tip at your lips, watching your trembling hand reach to steady it as you took a long drink.

“I’m sorry,”

He whispered. It was hard to speak when your body language was suffocating him. He’d scared you. He’d had his panic attacks before, he knew what they felt like, how catastrophic they could be on your mind and body.

You handed the bottle back, breathing a little bit steadier now, which reassured him at the least. You stared.

He’d never been good at making idle conversations, not without someone to carry the backbone of it and keep it smoothly going like you and his Sergeant were easily able to do, but he would try.

“I was thinkin’ about those cookies you made. Maybe we could—watch a movie, one o’ them…”

His voice trailed off, watching as you wiped your eyes, calming down, eyes refilling with something other than blind panic.

“…those—the, uh, cheesy romcoms you like, yeah? Laugh at how dumb they look? We did that over a pizza once, was cracking up so bad I almost had to pull the Heimlich on ya.”

He glanced hopefully up at you as he heard a little giggle bubble up out of your throat through the sniffles. He’d filtered out some of the usual words he would use for those shitty romcoms, knowing it might set you off.

It was only when he caught sight of the curve of your breast, was he reminded that you didn’t have any clothes on.

“You…want me to get you some clothes, luv?”

You nodded. He got up, moving to the dresser once more, opening the drawers, pulling out the pajama set with different little cartoon dinosaurs on them that he knew you loved, as well as a pair of your more comfortable underwear.

He handed you the clothes, shutting his eyes as he heard you shuffling around, a little blush coloring his pale cheeks. It was only when he felt your hand brush his shoulder, that he dared crack one eye open, seeing you in your pj’s, as you slid your legs over the bed, not even hitting the floor as he picked you up.

He knew you were sore. He’d seen how you’d hesitated before trying to stand before he’d scooped you up.

You hadn’t recoiled at all, so he took it as a sign that he could keep holding you, and he stood, walked to the kitchen, grabbed the tray of cookies in its entirety, and walked to the living room, plopping you down on the couch with the cookies, and handing you the remote.

“Find us somethin’ to watch, yeah? I’ll be right back.”

He murmured, brushing his lips against your cheek and walking into the kitchen again.

You grabbed the remote, using it to turn the TV on, before scrolling through your options for the cheesiest, worst-rated romance there was. You and Simon had watched one or two, but he never stayed long after they ended.

You found a particularly awful one that was free with ads, and you paused it at the very beginning, hearing the sound of popping, your microwave buzzing, the sound of something being pushed around, and a few cabinets being opened, before an exasperated sigh.

“Where the hell are the bags?”

He asked from the kitchen, and you giggled to yourself, grabbing a cookie from the tray and taking a big bite.

“Bottom, left of the fridge.”

You called back, and moments later, he appeared with a bowl of popcorn, and a bag of ice that he handed to you. You raised a brow.

“Don’ know where it hurts, but I know you’re sore.”

He replied. He’d thought about trying to put it where it might hurt but quickly realized that putting a bag of ice on your vagina might not come off well after the events of the night.

“Thanks.”

You murmured, adjusting it to where you wanted, taking a bite of popcorn.

“No need. I was bein’ an ass.”

A beat of silence.

“Yeah, you were.”

You took a handful of popcorn.

“You wanna talk about it?”

A strange question from a man who was so unemotional most of the time, but you figured with his smarts, he’d figured out why you’d reacted like that. You shook your head. A little nod, and he was ready to talk about it later, if not right now.

“Let’s watch the movie.”

You spoke, turning it on, setting the remote down as he wrapped a gentle arm around your shoulder, pulling a blanket from the floor overtop the both of you.

It was safe to say the rest of the night was spent giggling at the movie, his dead one-liners making you laugh your ass off as you both made fun of it.

[consistencynevermether]

Spring Flowers (Vere x gn!reader) (Touchstarved)

content: this is technically a sequel to this post, but it can be read as a stand alone. Vere x reader, gender neutral reader, tried to write this so any origin will work, Jealous Vere, SFW, cannon typical swearing, violence, etc

(optional) part one: Winter Nights, here

summary: Vere wants to go watch the flowers bloom, and you help him out (its lightly implied Leander has a crush on MC)

word count: 3.7k

A/N: i've decided to make a series out of my first fic, each one coordinating with a different season. this is technically part 2, works as a standalone. i've also been considering maybe some Kuras writings, if anyone is interested in that, lmk! enjoy :)

The winter in Eridia was especially long this season. That's what Mhin had told you at least. Not that they minded apparently. They had no strong dislike towards the colder months, unlike Vere. You didn’t go a single day without him complaining about the weather. But finally spring had begun to take over the city. While you were walking back to your lodgings in the Wet Wick sometime earlier this month, you had even seen crocus flowers popping up early, with a light dusting of snow on their purple petals. You imagined the melting ice and sunny days would put Vere in a better mood. And they did, for a time.

One lovely day he came to the Wick in a foul mood, and as he walked past your table he oh so very rudely shut the book you were reading while he walked past. You let out an offended cry but he didn’t even stop to look at you, he simply stomped right past and sat down at the bar, ordering something strong

Rude. More rude than normal. Usually when Vere did something like that, it was to tease or get your attention. But this time he just wanted to spread his sour mood. And it was working. The book you were reading was a tome of very basic yet interesting spells, something “almost anyone could master” according to Leander, the person who lent you the book. And now your place was lost because Vere made his attitude everyone’s problem.

Luckily, you were more mature than him. And deep down you also knew better. Vere was a fickle beast, but usually his reasons for being genuinely upset were pretty valid. 

You sighed, tucked your book away in your bag, and headed over to the bar where he was sitting. Without a word you sat in the seat next to his and turned towards him, arms crossed.

Vere was already slouched over the bar, scowling into his drink. 

“Oh for the love of- what do you want?” He groaned. 

“That wasn’t very nice.” You counter dryly. 

Vere scoffed, throwing his hands over his head. 

“It’s a damn book! It is not that big of a deal. You're really upset over that? What, do you have to spend two seconds of your day looking at something other than Leander’s book? Oh what a terrible fate.” He spat, his mocking tone rising in pitch at his clear annoyance. 

Bad mood indeed.

“I’m not really upset, no.” Your even tone only makes Veres' little rant sound even more immature. “But that was rude, and it’s not my job to put up with your pettiness when you're upset. It makes me not want to be around you.”

You watched as Veres' eyes narrowed and his ears slightly flatten against his head in response.

Usually you wouldn’t let anyone get away with half the shit Vere got away with, but you were basically his only friend besides Ace. And that relationship was all kinds of complicated. Vere was great at charming people, making them fall for him, manipulating them, the whole nine yards. But he wasn’t great at keeping actual friends. It was a bit of a new concept to him, and because of that you gave him some leeway. 

Of course part of the reason you gave him that grace was because he puts up with a fair amount of your shit too. And you enjoy being friends with him of course, but you’d never tell him that. 

You continued to stare him down and he continued to glare at his drink until finally he mumbled something under his breath at you.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You questioned.

“I SAID I’m sorry I touched your precious book ok?!” Vere snapped back. 

Vere was no longer hunched over the bar but instead had laid his head down on the counter and was glaring up at you through strands of his scarlet hair.

You smirked and laid your head down on the bar as well, now eye level with him. He rolled his eyes, but there was a slight smile behind the snark. You could tell.

“So, why are you actually upset?” you question. 

Vere let out a long suffering sigh.

“Ugh. It’s something entirely stupid. I don’t even really care.” He responded. 

“Well that’s clearly not true, you obviously care.” You countered. “But that’s fine. It’s alright to be upset over shit that doesn’t really matter. Just yesterday I dropped my slice of cheesecake and declared the Gods hated me personally. Well, even more than they clearly already do.” As you state that last part you hold up your bandaged hands, accentuating your point. 

Vere let out a quiet chuckle. Then a few moments later he sighed and began to speak. 

“There’s this festival happening that the sinobium is hosting. A viewing of some flowering trees that’ll be in full bloom. I don’t even care about the damn things, but it’s a huge social event, and you know how I thrive on those.”

It was true. Vere was like a flame to moths. People swarmed towards his charismatic personality and sharp wit. Not to mention he was probably the most beautiful person to exist. (Not that you were biased in this opinion at all).

“So why aren’t you going?” You questioned, urging him to continue. 

Vere shrugged. “No monsters allowed.” 

You were disappointed, but not surprised. This type of event definitely sounded like a gathering for the people of high town, and people like that don’t enjoy rubbing shoulders with monsters. Only the richest people in the largest city still standing had the luxury of creating a whole event out of watching flowering trees bloom. You could definitely see how this event would be right up Veres' alley. You couldn't help but feel sorry for the fox devil sitting next to you, it wasn't fair he had to miss out on some boring stupid garden party because he was a monster. He should miss out on the boring stupid garden party because he's a menace and a psychopath. 

Still, he was your menace, and you wanted to make him feel better about missing out on the stupid fruffy party. 

Then a thought came to you.

You didn’t need to comfort him for missing the party if he didn’t miss the party. 

Vere stared at you in tired amusement. He knew you well enough to know you were going to do or say something stupid, by the look on your face. He just didn’t know what yet. 

“I have a plan.” You declare. 

“Of course you do.” He took another sip of his drink, waiting for you to continue.

“Well-“ you reopen your tome as you speak. “I just happened to be reading a disguise spell before you so rudely interrupted.”

“Mhm. And can you cast said spell?” He questioned lazily. 

“Well-

-We can certainly try right? I’m sure I’ll pick it up naturally.”

“If you turn my hair green, I will kill you. I hope you know this.” Vere responded, sounding very serious.

You knew he wouldn’t, he lost interest in killing you after the first month.

Probably.

Well, you wouldn't know unless you tried. Plus you actually needed some practice to get this right. Not that you would ever use any of your friends as test subjects (or at least ever admit to it).

You didnt turn Vere’s hair green. You did however turn it purple twice by accident. You two had spent the rest of the day trying to make vere look human. It was admittedly a lot less trial and error and more just-

Error. 

It was a lot more frustrating for you than you'd assumed it would be. Which meant Vere had a lot more fun than he expected. But by the time sunset had come around, you had done it.

His scarlet hair was now a deep brown, and his magenta eyes were now a light chestnut color. The markings on his face were gone, as were his claws. The most shocking change of course was the lack of his fox ears and tail. They were still actually there of course, just invisible. After all it was a simple illusion spell, not the kind of magic that could actually change a person. 

It was…strange. You had never really thought of what Vere would ever look like as a human. His face was the same, but something about him felt like it was missing. Or incomplete. It was hard to describe the slight uncanny feeling you felt looking at this version of him.

A snap brought you out of your thoughts. 

“Hello? Still in there? You've been staring for like two minutes” Vere questioned.

“It's weird.” you defended.

“What? Why? What did you do to me?” Vere snapped as he grabbed a small silver mirror out of his pocket.

You watched as Veres eyebrows shot up at the sight of himself. He examined his reflection for a few more seconds, gingerly feeling where his ears were, and looking at the illusionary human ears that now graced the side of his head.

“That's….impressive” he finally stated. “I really look human.”  

“Which means you can go to the boring flower party!” You exclaimed, clearly delighted with your work. Oh yea, you were an incredible friend. 

“Well,-“ Vere pursed his lips. “-what if something happens to disturb the illusion? This kind of magic is easy to break. If only someone would come with me and make sure to be there so if the illusion breaks, they could recast it.” 

You felt yourself deflate slightly. A whole day of sitting around watching flowers bloom? When you could be working and making money? You hadn’t wasted time like that since before you moved to Eridia. 

But it was Vere. If he wanted you to go, you would go. And he already knew it, judging by the smirk on his face. 

You sighed, defeated.

“Fine, let’s go to the party where we all sit around and look at trees. How fun. When is it?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Fuck.”

Vere simply chuckled before looking back down at the mirror, examining his new human appearance. You could also feel him occasionally glance over at you. 

Hmph. Probably shocked you could pull off the spell. Oh he of little faith. 

Just as you were about to flick a peanut at Vere just to be annoying, a drink slid right in front of you, prompting you to look up.

You were greeted with a pair of green eyes and a wide smile. Leander. 

“You looked like you needed a drink. Make a new friend?” He questioned, eyes narrowing. 

“Huh?” You questioned. What new friend was he talking about?

Leander gestured to the now brown haired Vere, who was still looking down at his reflection.

At that moment Vere decided to stop preening and instead hopped off his own barstool, moving behind yours and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Awe, can the great mage really be fooled so easily? Either they're better at this than I thought, or just as dense as I suspected.”

Leander’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Vere?!?”

Leander’s look of bewilderment quickly turned into realization as he looked back at you. 

“Hey, you figured out that illusion spell from the book! Aren’t you a little prodigy?” He beamed. 

“Hmm. Yes, they are.” Vere smiled, putting his hands around your shoulders.

 Though his fangs were hidden behind your illusion, it was clear he didn’t need them. There was something dangerous about that smile, like the edge of a knife. You had no idea why he had gotten so hostile all of the sudden, and how Leander was keeping such a carefree look on his face.

“Now, they're taking me to the flower festival tomorrow with this lovely disguise, and I refuse to be seen with someone who smells this bad. So how about you head up to your room and hit the showers?”

As soon as Vere finished his sentence you saw a slight twitch in Leanders eye. But you were too busy with the smell comment from Vere to really care. 

To make his point Vere twirled a lock of your hair in his fingers and lightly sniffed it. 

Fucking rude. You didn’t smell that bad! Right? Maybe you should use more shampoo though… after all you don’t need to be so conservative with your products after Vere had gifted you quite a few of his own. Or maybe this was a bit of revenge for that time you had said he smelt like a wild animal? It had been a while since that night, but you did know Vere was one to hold a grudge. 

You lightly shoved him off you and headed upstairs (yes, to take a bath). 

Leaving the boys to glare at each other or whatever they were doing, you headed up and headed to bed. 

The next day, you were up bright and early to accompany Vere to his little party.

And unfortunately, as much as you loathe to admit it, the flowers took away your breath the moment you walked in.

The tiny pink blossoms softly shed their petals, coating the ground in a pale pink haze and leaving a sweet scent in the air.

Speaking of scent, you had made 100% sure you smelt incredible for this damn event. Suck it Fox boy. 

Vere scoped out a spot and called you over, motioning you to set down the outdoor blanket you had brought under one of the trees. 

“I’ll be right back, I’m going to buy some flower oils.” Vere beamed, clearly very pleased that his human disguise was holding up so well, and he had successfully fooled the sinobium. 

You signed and waved him off, plopping down on the blanket you had just laid out. 

As Veres' form receded into the crowd of people, a tall white silhouette appeared to your left.

You gave an easy smile. It was always nice to see Kuras. 

He gave you his own small smile, and you gestured for him to sit.

Vere may have issues with Kuras, but the two of you were perfectly cordial, and you’d even consider the two of you friends.

“So, you decided to go with Vere and not Leander. That’s certainly interesting.” He stated.

You tilted your head to the side in confusion. Why would you be here with Leander?

Kuras seemed to see your confusion, and you watched a familiar mischievous glint appear in his eyes.

“Oh, maybe he didn’t get the chance to ask. How peculiar. Leander was planning to ask you to see this blossom viewing with him.” Kuras stated, calm as ever.

You knew what you wanted to ask. And clearly Kuras also knew what you wanted to ask. But he was being mischievous. And you were being stubborn.

“Well I best be going. I only stopped by for a second, but I need to get back to my clinic.” Kuras stated as he stood up and lightly brushed himself off, looking immaculate as ever. 

He took a step to leave, then looked back at you.

“Yes. Vere knew.” 

And with that, he strode off into the crowd, sparing you from the embarrassment of him seeing your reddening cheeks. 

You were so focused on figuring out if that meant anything, you hadn’t even noticed that for some reason, Kuras had immediately recognized Vere, regardless of the illusion over him. 

You were so absorbed in your own thoughts, you didn’t even notice Vere had returned until he plopped his head right in your lap.

He gave a sniff and his eyes darkened.

“You smell like the doctor.” He spat.

You just shrugged.

“He stopped by for two seconds to say hi.” 

Vere snarled in response, and you couldn’t help but snort at his unfiltered displeasure. 

You began to gently stroke his ears, his real ears, invisible to sight currently, but you knew where they were without sight. 

Ever since he allowed you to touch his fluffy ears, it was one of your favorite things to do whenever he crashed at your place. 

He huffed in displeasure, but almost immediately leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed in contentment as you gently traced your fingers along the back of his ears. He burrowed his head more into your thigh, and wrapped one of his arms around your back. 

“What did he say?” Vere questioned, his eyes still mostly closed. 

Clearly he was trying very hard not to drift off. 

“He just said hi.” You fibbed.

You didn’t know how to bring up what Kuras had told you about, doing so would imply you thought Vere didn’t want you to come here with Leander. Which opens a whole new can of worms.

Seeing that that was all you were going to tell him, he pushed himself up off your lap and leaned back against the tree, scowling. He knew that wasn’t the truth. But it seemed like he didn’t feel like prying either. 

Before you could say anything to cheer him up, he grabbed a bottle from his sack of purchases and took a long swig. It was strong alcohol, you could smell it from here. 

“Do me a favor,” he seethed, glaring at you through his bangs. “Don’t talk to me. I don’t want my flower viewing ruined by you.” 

You could only sigh. If you were going to be friends with Vere, you needed thick skin. Luckily, you had dealt with him enough to expect this. He knew you were omitting some information, and was pouting.

You did feel a little guilty, he wouldn’t be moody if you didn’t hide things from him. But at the end of the day, you were entitled to private conversation with whomever you choose. Vere knew this, which was probably why he resorted to pouting instead of interrogating you for information.

You simply gave him a smile and made the motion of locking your lips shut with a key. 

Vere rolled his eyes and took another heavy swig. Though you could see the sulky look on his face after just a few more sips. He always wore his emotions more plainly when drunk. 

The two of you sat in silence, both enjoying the flowers. It was around sunset when Vere finally seemed to be over being upset with you.

Or he was too drunk to remember. 

He leaned against you, clearly unsteady from all the alcohol.

“Hey.” He slurred.

“Hey.” You responded. 

“Do-

-Do you like me like this?” He questioned. 

“What, absolutely wasted? I mean it is a little funny.” You smirked, and moved so that he could lean against your chest more fully. 

“Ugh. No. I mean human. Still beautiful, obviously, but with brown hair. Like Leanders. No fangs. No claws.”

His voice was slightly muffled as he spoke. 

“Can I be honest with you?” You asked.

“One second.” He responded.

He grabbed one of the bottles of alcohol and chugged the remains. That makes 3 bottles in under one day of some strong drink. Impressive and concerning. 

“Alright, shoot.” He grinned wildly, chuckling low to himself, Gesturing at you to continue. 

“Fuck no.” 

“What?” 

He removed his head from your chest, and leaned back on his arms, looking at you intently, the bewilderment clear on his face.

“You asked if I liked you better looking like this, the answer is fuck no I don’t. If I’m being honest it's a little unnerving. When you walked over earlier I didn’t even subconsciously realize it was you till you laid down on my leg.” You shrugged. 

“Even though my eyes are scary?” He asked.

You let out a bark of laughter.

“Your eyes are not scary.” 

“Even though my hair is blood red?”

“Why would that be a bad thing? It’s beautiful.” 

“Even though I've scratched before?”

“It didn’t even draw blood. And that was my fault. I forgot you had claws and basically rammed my shoulder into them.” 

“Even though I’ve got markings all over my face?” 

“It feels weird if you don’t have them on your face.”

Vere lapsed into silence, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

“I didn’t expect you to be the type to have insecurities.” You cautioned.

Now it was Veres' turn to laugh.

“Oh I assure you, I don’t. I find myself to be the most beautiful creature to exist. I just… wanted to know what you thought.” 

You sighed.

“I really hope you're too drunk to remember this tomorrow, but I think you're the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Please don’t be insufferable about this.” 

Veres' face split into a lopsided wicked grin.

“Oh darling, I’m going to be so insufferable about this.” 

You just smiled and stood up, gently grabbing Veres arm and helping him stand as well.

“Alright. I need to get home before dark so I don’t get nearly eaten by a soulless. Again.” You say, worry slightly bleeding into your tone.

The sun was already starting to disappear completely from the sky, you needed to get back before the last rays faded. 

“You won’t make it in time. I’ll walk you home and crash at your place.” Vere stated, in a tone of finality.

“Sorry, no. You're far too wasted to fight anything.” You countered.

Vere let out a bitter laugh and tugged in the chain running down his chest. 

“Even with this damn thing limiting me, and 5 more bottles of that drink, I’d still be able to kill any of the pathetic soulless in eridia with one hand tied behind my back. I’m walking you back. That is final.” He declared, then looked at you as if to dare you to argue. 

Vere did a lot of shocking things, but that one motion affected you more than anything he had ever done before. He hated acknowledging the chains around his neck. No matter how much you had come to consider him a friend, you weren’t stupid enough to ever push too hard on that topic. 

You could only nod in agreement. 

“Let’s get out of here then.”

As the two of you walked out of the gates of the sinobium where the grove of flowering trees laid, you let out a sharp snap of your fingers, and the illusion surrounding Vere dropped instantly. 

“That's better.” You remarked.

“Agreed.” Vere smirked back.

The two of you walked back the wet wick in comfortable silence, arriving back well past when darkness had fallen. After all, there was no need to rush.

[gurugirl]

Can We Start Over? | Ch. 1 The Winter Ball

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

A/N: This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 1. Summary: You meet Harry at your boss's retirement party and your night ends with a bang.

Word Count: 10k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, alcohol consumption, angst

Can We Start Over? masterlist

The winter ball was something Mr. Spector threw every year for his clients, colleagues, and other wealthy people he wanted to be seen with. This one was like the past three you’d attended, but unlike the others, this would be the last. Your boss, Mr. Spector was retiring, and he was moving to Italy. You were happy for him. Truly. He’d been good to you the past three and half years you spent working for him. You took on the duty of a personal assistant and friend. The friend part came naturally, of course. It wasn’t part of your job description but you honestly really liked Mr. Spector. He wasn’t nice to most people. But to you, he was kind of like the dad you never had. He was hard-nosed but he was fair and somehow you two just clicked.

You worked for one of the most elite household talent staffing companies out there. Your clients usually consisted of, not just wealthy people, but filthy rich and usually the kind that wanted to fly under the radar and needed the utmost discretion. In Mr. Spector’s case, he didn’t want his spiteful children to know how much he was really worth. Sure they were in the will, and they’d certainly do well upon his passing (that was all they seemed to care about), but they’d never see the real number of his assets until it was too late and everything was already doled out according to Mr. Spector’s wishes.

And so you helped him in any way you could to achieve this façade. You found a private accountant for him to move money about and helped him keep the appearance of not having the kind of money he actually did. You suggested, for example, that he not buy the Rolls Royce but that the Mercedes should be sufficient, and that rather than wearing a 31-million-dollar Patek Philippe, diamond-encrusted watch, he go with the more basic, 25-thousand-dollar stainless steel sports model Rolex instead. So he still maintained an air of wealth and prestige because there was no question to anyone that he was super rich. But you just helped him bring it down a notch.

And his winter ball was more like his retirement party this time around. He’d really gone all out. Despite your hesitation with some of his selections, you figured you’d give him this one. And you could admit that helping to plan his parties was one of your favorite tasks. You’d fly to venues all over the world seeking the best (once they’d been narrowed down of course) for him. Find the best chefs and mixologists, the perfect planners and decorators. You got to help select finishings, menus, and staff, right down to the types of linen and even the theme of the events.

And the theme of the night was A Secret Garden in the City. For this, you found a penthouse in Manhattan with full 360-degree views. The space was empty when you first arrived to look at it. You were told it wasn’t a place normally rented for parties but that the owner had intended to make it a fancy restaurant at some point. But it had been sitting for years, empty. And you found the place because Mr. Spector knew everyone. You had a number for a real estate agent to the wealthy in New York City and he gave you a bit of insider information. The penthouse space, he’d told you, could be negotiated by the owner to rent given the right price.

You had landscapers come in and make a garden of the space. Flowers, grass, trees, bushes, vines, even a lily pad pond… when everything was put together, it really did look like you were in a secret garden in the middle of Manhattan. Delicate string lights lit the space, the ceiling was painted a dark sky color so it felt as if you were outside. The table settings were like something out of a Hobbit’s Tale with knotty oak chairs with green silk cushions. The linens were of green satin silk with gold embroidery design and the napkins were gold satin. Centerpieces were potted leafy plants of all types, and moss was placed around the pots to give them that fairyland look. Tiny candles illuminated each table all around. Gold cutlery. Big golden lighted globes hung from the ceiling in various sizes between plants that cascaded down. It really was quite the spectacle.

You were proud of how it all turned out. And the 200 guests that Mr. Spector invited all appeared to be in awe of the space.

The stringed music playing for most of the event in the background was live. The musicians stood to the side of the room on a newly installed platform, trees lined the back of the stage. And now that the night was finally coming to an end, well, the main event had ended, it was time to drink and dance and let loose, the band was switched out for something rockier and more upbeat.

Mr. Spector kissed your cheek and gripped your arm, “My dear, you never cease to astonish me with your hard work. Thank you for this. I’ll see you in the morning okay?”

You tried to get him to stay and enjoy the after-party. And like every year before, he declined. He liked his private time. Liked reading and writing and the quiet. He preferred his guests to enjoy what he’d been able to give them. It was, after all, for them, he always said.

“Even though it’s your last event like this? You won’t get this again, sir. Are you sure?” You smiled at him and he nodded. You knew he’d decline to stay.

So, you ordered your second cocktail of the night once Mr. Spector left. Some type of green concoction with a blackberry-sized red flower floating atop. You didn’t know what was in it. All you knew was that it tasted delicious and it was going to get you into some trouble. But maybe that’s what you were looking for that evening. After all, this was your going away party as well. You’d be put back into the system as active again once you were officially out of Mr. Spector’s employ. It would be time to find your next role.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Many dancing, some sitting and chatting, others making their rounds to network and schmooze. You stayed at the edge of the dance area and let your body move to the rhythm. You kept your eyes on everyone. Even though you were trying to just enjoy yourself you still felt somewhat responsible for all the attendees. It was ingrained in you.

You definitely fit in with everyone, though. Your outfit was couture, high fashion like the rest of the guests. Mr. Spector had paid for everything for you, as always. You picked out a beautiful cowl neck, deep navy-blue velvet dress with a slit that went up to your mid-thigh. The back draped down tastefully but the drape at the front was dangerously low. Just like you wanted. You had red pumps with gold and ruby jewelry. It was always difficult finding things in your size that weren’t from a big box store but the hunt for the perfect dress and accessories was always worth it. And the dress? You felt absolutely sexy. From head to toe.

The song was swingy and fun. More people covered the dance floor and somehow you’d gotten pushed further in. You still had your drink in hand but now it was nearly empty so you were less worried about spilling any of the liquid on yourself.

A woman you recognized as a small IT business owner greeted you and you both chatted as you danced together. When the song changed Elsie pointed at your drink, “You’re low. So am I,” she lifted her glass to show you, “Should we grab more?”

The answer that night was yes. Yes to anything.

The bar that lined the wall opposite the band had people hovering, waiting for their drinks. You let Elsie take the lead in getting the attention of the bartender. She was a tall, slender blond with smooth shiny hair so you figured she’d do better at getting your drinks faster. And you were used to that. Being the fat one, you tended to get overlooked and ignored. When you were younger it hurt a lot more, but these days you learned to use it to your advantage.

It wasn’t that you thought you were ugly or unworthy. You just understood how most people perceived you, even if they were wrong. You were confident when it mattered and took good care of yourself. And you rarely ever mistook a man’s kindness for him flirting with you, which was nice in a way. You couldn’t ever wrap your mind around assuming every guy who was kind to you was flirting. A lot of your friends had that mentality. Any time a man would chat them up they’d automatically jump to thinking they were being sized up somehow. You couldn’t imagine feeling so confident that you thought a man having a conversation with you meant anything more.

So that’s why when the tall, gorgeous man with dark, soft curls, sharp green eyes, and an even sharper jawline leaned in and asked, “Are you having a good time?” You didn’t assume he was flirting with you.

“I definitely am. How about you?” You turned to look up at him. Deep pink lips, broad shoulders, a very expensive suit and shoes, cocky grin.

“Sure. But I had to fly out here to attend last minute. My assistant forgot to add the event to my calendar so I had to settle for this suit and here I am. I’ll deal with her later. Luckily Alfred always throws the biggest and best parties so it’s been worth it.”

You noted the tiny dig to his assistant in the back of your mind and nodded, “Yeah, Mr. Spector loves to go big. It’s turned out great I think.” You had planned on mentioning you were the man of the night’s assistant until Mr. Cocky complained about his own. So you’d keep that little detail to yourself.

He was drinking whisky, neat. And when Elsie finally returned to your spot at the edge of the bar she handed you your tasty green drink and you introduced her.

“Elsie, this is… uh… What was your name?”

“I’m Harry. Harry Styles,” he held his hand out, gaudy rings on most of his fingers toward the pretty blond and she nodded, “Elsie Powers. Nice to meet you.”

The pair got to talking the moment Elsie mentioned her company and so you decided to dip out. You didn’t need to stand around and watch them flirt, which is what you assumed was going on. They were both gorgeous so that seemed natural to you.

But before you could take even a step outside of the little bubble the three of you were in you felt Harry’s hand at your low back as he leaned down to speak into your ear, “Don’t go too far. I was hoping to ask you something.”

You looked down at his arm and back into his eyes, “Okay… I’ll be around. You can come find me.”

When his fingers slid off your back as you stepped away you still felt the heat of his skin where he’d touched you. You liked his touch, but you assumed it happened because you took up so much space. It was more likely, in your mind, that he hadn’t meant to touch you there at all.

After another cocktail and a bit more dancing by yourself, Harry did find you. You didn’t realize it was him at first. You felt a warm body dancing behind you, not touching, just near enough that the heat emanated from him to your back. But then you heard his voice, “Found you. Thought you left.”

You turned to look at him over your shoulder and spoke, “Was planning on staying til the end. Felt like I deserved to enjoy tonight.”

“And why’s that?” Harry’s hand brushed along your bare arm softly before he removed it. You felt the trail of where he’d touched your arm and it made you wonder if he’d done it on purpose.

“No reason. I just deserve it,” you kept swaying your hips and you felt Harry moving with you, standing over you. You could smell his cologne.

“You don’t mind me dancing with you, do you?” His voice was close to your neck as he spoke.

Shaking your head you turned your body to face him, swinging your hips softly, “Not at all.”

He grinned down at you and the dimple that appeared on his cheek had you taken aback. He was truly stunning.

“Good. Wanted to chat some with you. Find out more about you…” he took your hand in his and pulled you closer, shifting the mood a little as you both danced. You silently inhaled in surprise at his gesture.

“And what did you want to know, Mr. Styles?” You raised your brows and smirked at him. You weren’t sure at that point what he was doing. But he was certainly leading you to believe this was more than just a friendly chat.

“First, what’s your name?”

You laughed, “I’m Y/n. I guess I forgot to introduce myself.”

“Are you here alone, Y/n?” His free hand found a spot on your side over your hip.

“I am. What about you?” You weren’t used to receiving this kind of attention from anyone. Much less a wealthy handsome man.

“I’m here alone too,” he kept a cocky grin plastered to his face as he drew nearer and spoke lowly so only you could hear, “But was hoping I wouldn’t be leaving alone.”

It was at that moment you were truly surprised. Was he…? Couldn’t be. You’d surely misread this situation just in the way all your pretty girlfriends misread it every time a guy showed any friendliness. Maybe it was the three cocktails you’d drank and that had you wondering what was in them.

Harry's hand released yours and he brought his ringed fingers up to your shoulder where he brushed the side of your neck, drawing you in closer with his other hand at your hip, “What about you?”

You blinked your eyes and looked up at him in confusion, “What about me? What do you mean?”

Harry’s grin deepened as he looked down at your mouth and took a clear glance at your cleavage before responding, “Did you hope to leave with someone tonight?”

You scoffed and looked around the dance floor before looking back at him, still not quite believing the direction this conversation was headed, “I hadn’t imagined I would leave with anyone. Figured I’d just go back to my hotel room alone after.”

The ridiculously attractive man licked his lips and kept his gaze on yours, “Really? You don’t want someone to take you back to their room and help you out of this pretty dress tonight?”

You began to cough. You’d choked on your own saliva as you inhaled a sharp breath at the wrong moment. His words caught you off guard.

But now you were hacking and bent at the waist, red in the face like an idiot.

Harry patted your back and you heard him speak into your ear, “You okay, darling? Need some water?”

When you’d recovered you and Harry were standing at the edge of the dancefloor away from the crowd and he had a comforting hand on your back.

You laughed and shook your head, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened…” you wiped your face, which was moist from the tears you’d forced out from all the coughing.

Harry took your hand and led you to a free seat, pulling a chair out for you and then sitting next to you, his hand still on your back, “Do you feel better now?”

You nodded and smiled at him. You hadn’t forgotten what he said. But now you were sure whatever he was getting at was all but out the window after your little display.

“Come back with me to my room, Y/n.”

Well, that just blasted your little theory.

You sat up straight and your jaw dropped open wide, “Why?”

Harry laughed, “Because I don’t want to go back alone. Spend the night with me tonight.”

Were you in a dream? Had you drunk too much and were blacked out and hallucinating?

“I don’t… I’m not sure what you…” you were unable to put your thoughts together coherently. You hadn’t expected it. You assumed you weren’t his type. Too chunky for a man like him. Imagined he preferred a more modelesque figure on women he found attractive given his appearance.

“Look. I’ll just be very straightforward with you. I think you’re gorgeous and I’d like to have you in my bed tonight. Naked. How does that sound to you?”

You whispered the word naked back to him as if it were a word you’d never heard before. You took a deep breath and looked around the room.

“What are you drinking? I’ll go get us another so we can chat a bit before you make any decisions.”

Now this question was one you could actually answer, “The cocktail is one from the menu. Called the Grove.”

Harry got up and left you at the table by yourself. You sat back in the seat and sighed. What were you going to do? He was mouth-watering, which is why you choked on your spit in the first place. Your mouth was literally watering at his proximity on the dance floor. And now he was asking you to go back to his room to hook up. He couldn’t have made it clearer. There was no room for you to misinterpret what he meant.

And why should you say no? Why should you go back to your own room and sleep in that big bed all by yourself? Well, mostly because you were worried about getting attached. Sure you didn’t even know the guy but that’s just how you were. You weren’t built for casual hookups or one-night stands. And you were sure that’s all this would be. Could you handle it? Would you be able to have sex with someone and then move on from it?

When you saw Harry walking back toward you you’d made up your mind. You’d finish your drink and tell him your verdict. You needed one more drink, though. Just to really loosen up. If you were going to do this if you were going to take a risk and have sex with a stranger, one more drink would help you relax about the whole situation.

Harry handed you your cocktail and sat down with his whisky in hand. He brushed his fingers over your arm as he spoke about how he knew Mr. Spector, “His cousin was my boss years ago. Before I got started in my current line of business. And since then, Alfred’s been inviting me to his parties. I can’t usually go but I rarely miss the winter ball.”

“And what is your line of business?” You asked before taking another sip of your verdant drink.

Harry grinned and licked his lips, “Let’s not talk business.”

You frowned and looked down at your red-painted nails. It wasn’t always polite to ask people what they did for a living but you figured given the circumstances, those being that he’d just asked you to have sex with him, it was okay. Clearly, you’d misjudged.

Harry gripped your chin and pushed your head back up to look at him, “Don’t feel bad for asking. You were just curious. I think the less we know of one another the better. Besides, work talk is boring. Don’t you think?”

You blinked again, his intense gaze was really working its way under your skin.

“Okay. Sorry. You’re right.”

Harry shook his head, keeping his hand at your chin, “And don’t say you’re sorry. Wouldn’t you rather talk about anything but work right now?” He let go of your chin and sat back in his chair as he kept his eyes on yours.

“I guess. It’s just that everyone here is networking and I thought it was only natural.”

“You and I are not networking, Y/n.” Harry grinned.

By the time your drink was but a clear puddle of melted ice at the bottom of the glass, you could feel how hot your face was from the alcohol. Your neck and ears were burning and all of Harry’s soft touches were making you fuzzy. The way he was whispering in your ear…

“Okay. I’ll go with you to your room tonight,” you spat out quickly before you could change your mind.

Harry’s gaze lowered to your breasts again, his arrogant grin in place, “I know, darling. I was just waiting for you to admit it. You ready then?”

If he wasn’t so hot you’d have changed your mind at his cocky response. But god was he alluring. And somehow, his egotistical attitude was putting you at ease a bit. Because it would possibly be much easier to not get your feelings mixed up for a guy like him. It could just be a one-night stand. Like so many other people indulged in (which you always found absurd).

You both walked to the coat check to get your things before Harry led you, with his hand at your low back to the elevators.

You draped your wool coat over your shoulders and stood awkwardly in the elevator next to the man you were leaving with. You couldn’t believe yourself. You were 28 years old so it shouldn’t have felt like such a big deal but it was. You’d never done anything like it before.

“Are you nervous?”

You sighed and nodded as you looked up at the man, “A little. Haven’t ever done anything like this.”

Harry hummed and nodded, “I can tell. That’s okay. I’ll take the lead.”

There was a black car waiting for you at the curb as soon as you exited the building. A man who was standing near the car opened the back door and gestured for you to get in. You followed behind Harry and the door was shut, closing you off from the outside and loud noises of the city to the dark leather interior of the car. Harry’s hand slid up your exposed thigh the moment you’d settled into the seat, “We’re gonna have a lot of fun, me and you.”

You turned your head to look at him, “Are you always like this? So confident about everything?”

Harry laughed and squeezed at your thigh, “If I wasn’t confident I wouldn’t be as successful as I am.”

You guessed that made sense. You just found it so strange that he was so sure of himself even when he hardly knew you at all.

You felt Harry’s long, ringed fingers slide upward over your plushy thighs in search of your panties most likely. And when he leaned over you and took your jaw with his free hand and smushed his mouth against yours it felt like crystalized water beginning to melt and drip and pool onto the ground.

He pulled your hand onto his lap and pressed your palm over his crotch, to which you felt as he grew harder and harder as the seconds passed with your lips connected.

When he was satisfied that you would be keeping your hand in place as you pressed down harder he raised his hand to your breast, his palm placed over the soft velvet before he lowered his mouth to your neck causing you to lean back the slightest for his access.

The car ride ended before you even realized you’d been moving through the city streets when the door you were sitting next to opened and the driver looked in at you two all disheveled and mid-kiss with his hand out for you to take.

Harry walked you into the hotel, which happened to be the same one you had a room at (how convenient you thought). The elevator ride up to his room was not unlike the car ride where you’d lost track of time and space when his lips were on yours and his tongue softly swiped at your mouth. You’d never had a man act this way with you before. It almost felt like desperation. Like he couldn’t keep his hands off you.

Guiding you off the elevator and to his room, you felt buzzy and your heart was bouncing around in your chest wildly. His hand was at the back of your neck, his long fingers gently ghosting over your skin.

The moment you were pushed into his room Harry stood over you and began to loosen his tie, “Take your dress off. God, I need to see you.”

You were already worked up as you panted, keeping your eyes on his, slowly unzipping the back of your dress and stepping out. You had forgotten that you were wearing a nude shapewear slip that kept your tummy rolls in place and your breasts pert. The back of the slip was low cut to accommodate your dress. You looked down over yourself and stuck your fingers into the fabric to pull it down and as your breasts were revealed Harry groaned and leaned down to wrap his pink lips over your nipple. You watched his tongue drag over your plump flesh and his fingers dig into your heavy tits as he worked his way around both sides.

You were pressed against the wall as he pinned your arms back and kissed his way up your tits to your neck and then he found your lips.

Finally, he backed away, giving you space to finish the reveal of your body to him as he continued removing his own clothes.

You watched tattoos appear on his skin and the more buttons he undid the more you saw of him. He was strong and muscular. His pecs were impressive and he had a soft six-pack hidden under the fabric that you only saw once he tossed his shirt off. Tattoos on his arms scattered over his skin.

Tugging at your slip to get it off you knew Harry’s eyes were on your body. But you weren’t going to stop now. Even if you were slightly embarrassed. This was happening and you knew he wanted it. Sometimes you worried about the logistics of sex being as heavy as you were, especially when it came to being with a guy who was not at all. But Harry’s build was masculine and broad and he was clearly going to be able to handle you.

When his pants were off and he was down to his underwear you knew he was enjoying the view of all your bits based on the thick lump under the fabric. You were left standing in your silky black panties when he stood over you and smoothed his hands up your arms and palmed over your tits, “Jesus fucking Christ look at you. Get on the bed for me.”

You swallowed and stepped toward the area of the room where the bed was and sat at the edge, watching as he stalked after you. His eyes were dark as he crawled over you and nudged you with him into the middle of the perfectly made bed, soft and luxurious feeling under your skin.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he smoothed his lips against yours as he palmed over your skin down to your thigh, pinching at the fleshy insides as he pushed your legs open, putting his knees down into the mattress to keep you spread with his thighs.

He kept his lips working over yours, his tongue smearing against your tongue wetly as you felt his fingers dip down to your panties and then to the wet patch at your center. You could tell you were wet before he even touched you. He’d turned you on with ease. His voice, his body, his eyes, his confidence…

You felt him smile against your lips when he dredged his fingers up and down over your wet panties, right where your labia was. Soft strokes of his fingers pushed the fabric of your panties between your pussylips until he dragged a finger up and found your clit and you gasped. He circled over your clit, pressing the wet fabric into you.

When he lowered himself, using his lips and his tongue down your body as he went he looked up at your face after dotting kisses over your fleshy tummy, “You’re gorgeous and you smell so good. Such a dirty girl, though, aren’t you?” He dabbed more warm kisses down your stomach to just above your panties, “All wet for me like you’re desperate for cock,” he licked along the band of your panties and looked up at you again as he adjusted himself between your legs, “Are you desperate for cock, Y/n? Need me to take care of you tonight?”

You nodded, “Oh my god…” your words came out as a whisper, “Yes, Harry.”

When you felt his tongue glide up your crease over your wet panties your mouth dropped open wide. He was not holding back with the foreplay so far. You were usually disappointed in sex, the few times you’d had it. Foreplay was an afterthought. And only a handful of times did you ever receive any kind of mouth-to-pussy action, which you assumed was due to your size.

But Harry was having no trouble treating you like some kind of irresistible sex pot. He pushed your thighs harder and raked his tongue up and down over you until you’d bucked upward just a bit.

Harry’s fingers pulled at the waistband of your panties, “Taking these off because I need more.”

You felt your panties being moved down your legs then Harry returned with enthusiasm, his lips all over your cunt, sliding his tongue through your folds and his fingers pinching into your flesh before he poked the tip of his wet muscle to your clit and began to lick all around it, lapping you up and teasing you to the point you were shaking and whining, proving him right about how desperate you were.

When he finally stopped his teasing licks he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked. You gasped loudly and moaned, to which Harry moaned into your pussy.

His shoulders were against the back of your thighs as he masterfully licked you out and kissed your clit until you were reaching down with one hand to slide your fingers into his thick curls.

And that only seemed to stir something more ravenous in him. He growled when he felt you pulling at his roots and suddenly you felt his fingertips at your entrance before he pushed them in slowly, the metal of his rings being nudged in the slightest. You were in an alternate universe. Somewhere that only existed you and Harry and the bed you were on as you laid spread out for him to pleasure.

He was good with his tongue. He used it over your clit like he understood what you needed, putting pressure where it was vital and then slurping you into his mouth making your entire body quiver in ecstasy. His repeated movements, soft tonguing, pulling at your clit, the bump of his fingers through your walls and into your delicate warmth, the precipice of your orgasm was taunting you.

“Harry!” You yelped when he sucked your clit in especially roughly and his fingers dug in deep making your pussy squelch.

He smiled and lifted his mouth, speaking against your cunt, hot breath coating your labia and clit, “Feels good, Y/n? You gonna let me give you an orgasm?”

You moaned pitifully and nodded to yourself as you scrunched your face when he attached his wet lips back to your clit and curled his fingers just right, “Yes! Oh my god…”

You had never felt anything like it before. Like Harry. And maybe it wasn’t that he was all that good at cunnilingus (he was), but perhaps it was the way he was handling you. The way he was so eager to make you feel good. The way he wasn’t worried about his own throbbing cock between his legs, growing heavier by the minute as he sucked and licked and kissed your cunt.

His focus was on you completely and you felt that. You felt his attention and his devotion to your pleasure before his. And that was what did it for you. It was the care and thoughtfulness of it all. It wasn’t like anything you’d experienced with any man before and it pushed you over the edge.

Your orgasm rolled out of you in waves as you writhed under him and cried curses and nonsense into the room. He held you down with one hand as well as he could so he could lavish you with his mouth until you were done with your unraveling. His fingers stroked your insides as you pulsed around them and felt the tingle of your clit being overwhelmed by his lips. You gasped and laughed at the way he continued ravaging you well past what was necessary.

Releasing his hair you pushed yourself up by your elbows to see his face still between your legs, his eyes closed like he was enjoying it just as much as you had. It might have been the hottest thing you’d ever seen in your life. But that could have been all those feel-good chemicals being released in your brain post-orgasm.

You pushed at his forehead to indicate you were done, “Okay!” You tried closing your legs but Harry pulled his fingers from your pussy and pressed you down as he licked up and up and up. Until finally he opened his eyes and looked at you, lips still making out with your pussy as you laughed and tried pulling away.

“It’s too much!” You giggled and moved your hips under him.

Finally, he parted from your labia and pushed himself up over you, caging you in as he hovered, “Good?” He raised his brows.

You rolled your eyes, “Obviously.” You laughed as you spoke.

Harry grinned and you watched him move away from you, pulling his underwear down and exposing his weighty cock, thick and long. Yes. He’d be able to handle you just fine.

He grasped it in his hand and moved next to you. You sat up and reached out to feel him, velvety and warm under your palm before getting to your knees and looking up at him as you lowered your lips to his shaft. You wanted to feel it on your mouth and in your mouth.

Dragging your wetted lips down until you reached the base you gripped him and tongued your way up to his tip and heard a shallow gasp from his chest. Licking around his crown you pulled at his skin and wrapped your lips around just the very tip of his head before slipping your tongue around him and sucking softly.

A beautiful deep moan was music to your ears. He was enjoying it. So you indulgently lowered yourself down a bit more, feeling the width of him take up space inside your mouth and on your tongue. Gentle strokes of your lips over the top part of his shaft and over his swollen head felt good for you. You hadn’t given head in a long time. And you could tell Harry was into it.

He smelled good. Nice and clean and warm. You used your hand to pull at the base of his shaft up to your parted lips as you sucked on him and lapped around his skin.

When Harry’s moans turned into a rhythmic panting you felt his hand at your jaw, nudging you up until your lips were pulled away from his pretty cock, “You are desperate for cock. Sucking me like that? If I didn’t want fuck you so bad I’d let you finish me off with that gorgeous mouth.”

You shifted back as Harry leaned over you and pressed his mouth against yours, his hand at your neck pushing you down into the mattress. His mouth was wet and smelled like you as he smeared his lips on yours. You moaned when he parted from you and got off the bed.

You could hear the crinkling of the wrapper from the condom as he sorted himself out and then crawled back next to you, taking your hand, “How’s that sound, Y/n? Want my cock inside your soft pussy? Hmm?”

Looking down at his hard length, covered in a condom, and back into his eyes you nodded, “Yeah,” you were breathless.

The grin on Harry’s face as he moved between your legs, his eyes on yours was like someone who’d just gotten the best news they’d heard all day. He thread his fingers through yours, pressing the back of your hand down into the mattress near your head.

The front of his strong thighs pushed against the inside of yours as he positioned himself over you. His cock heavy on your belly before he moved back, letting go of your hand to grasp himself.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good. I want to hear how good it makes you feel, okay?” His tip dragged through your wet labia, up and down, “Just lie there like the pretty little thing you are, and let me fuck you deep.”

You nodded as you watched his eyes. He was looking down at where his cock was brushing over your wet and puffy pussylips, his lips parted as he bumped into your clit and then smacked his girth down over you.

The sound of his cock dragging through your arousal made you feel like a different person. No man had ever taken the time to indulge the way Harry was. It was clear by the look on his face that he liked everything he saw and even how soaked you were.

You felt the tip of his broad head nudge into your entrance as he looked at you with dark pupils. He pulled his brows together as he savored the feel of you and gently pushed through the ring of your wet muscle. Just knowing that you were making him feel like that had you moaning with your eyes locked on his.

“Feel that, Y/n?” He slowly dipped in and pulled back, wetting the condom as he went, pushing in deeper on each thrust forward.

“I feel it…” your words came out shaky as his length was forced through your slick walls, spreading your insides apart slowly.

Harry inhaled a breath and let out a deep moan when his cock reached as far as he could take it, “Taking my cock so good,” he pulled back and looked down at the scene between your legs. All wet and puffy, his cock coated in your creamy arousal. He loved the way your pussy gripped him and your labia stretched around his cock, “Gonna be dreaming of this,” he pressed his thumb over the space where his cock was moving into your entrance and then up to your clit to rub circles softly, wet and warm.

“Ohhh…” you whimpered when his thumb pressed into your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your entire body was boiling and buzzing as Harry rocked into you, his balls thwacking slowly into your ass.

“Yeah? Tell me how you like it, pretty girl.”

How could you answer this man with his dick lodged so deep in your tummy? How did he expect you to make a coherent sentence with the way his thumb was stroking your clit back and forth? How could your brain form any sort of response when his cock was dragging through your insides and pressing into all your bits, hitting your hidden spots like his shape was made just for you?

“I want it… Mmm… like that…” was all you could bear to squeak out when he smacked into you in one harsh thud.

“Harder? Softer?” His thumb never ceased the yummy caressing of your fleshy pearl.

“Fuck!” You gasped when he smacked into you again, causing your body to jolt upward from the force.

“Like that? Need it a little rougher, Y/n? Need my cock to split you in half?” Again, a harsh thrust into your guts that had you gurgling and falling apart too soon.

“Oh she wants it a little rough, I can tell. Your cute pussy likes a good pounding doesn’t she?”

You held your breath when you felt him angle over you and sink down into you until it hurt. Until his long cock was buried in so deep his balls were tucked against your ass as he ground himself in, “Pussy like this needs a lot of attention. Lots of care…” he moaned when you clenched around him, “Want me to take care of you? Want to feel what my cock can do to this pretty little pussy?”

“Yes, please, Harry!” You grasped onto his forearm as he rolled solidly into you, deep and slow, slushy and sopping between your thighs.

“Yeah? Gonna stuff myself so far into you that you can’t breathe. Gonna make you come so hard you’ll never want another cock again.”

You moaned and felt his crushing weight over you as he continued grinding his hips against yours but then suddenly he was pulling out and you felt a sting on your thigh when he smacked you, “Get on all fours.”

You were blurry and floaty as you rolled over and pushed yourself up to do as he asked. Your pussy puffy and begging for more of his cock.

His hands gripped the side of your hips tight and you smushed your face down to the mattress before you felt his cock rip into you in one punishing stroke. You cried out and he did it again. And again. His cock pummeled into you repeatedly, punching the air from your lungs and giving your pussy the best fucking of its life.

You did like it hard. A little rough. Nothing wild, just something that you could feel for a couple of days. Something that made you gasp and brace for more.

“Holy fuck…” Harry gritted as he fucked into you, watching his dick disappear repeatedly. Your pretty round bottom bouncing and wiggling at each plunge. He dug his fingers into your ample flesh and spread you out so he could watch as you gripped him exactly like he loved. The little noises you were making had him reeling.

It was his favorite. A beautiful woman with her ass in the air as he railed her deep. But especially when it was a nice big ass. He loved to be able to grip something in his hands. To squeeze and smack. It always felt so much better to have something to hold on to. Not that he didn’t love slender women. He certainly did. But there was nothing like the feminine physique of a woman with meat on her bones, wide hips, a big tummy, and extra bits to touch and run his fingers over. It was fucking sexy.

You could feel him as he worked you open. He buried in deep and then pulled back until his thick tip was being pushed through your entrance again and again. He was long and every inch of him pulled and pushed through your walls, sliding along all your bits and ridges making your skin heat up.

Then you felt his chest against your back and his cock was angled so far inside of you that your eyes nearly crossed, “Love your little gurgles and moans, Y/n. Feels good on my cock?” He rolled into you, keeping himself stuffed to the hilt.

“Yes! Fuck, Harry!” You turned your head to speak so he could hear you and then you felt his lips on your back as he kept rocking into you languidly, never pulling back, only dipping into you, swiveling his hips to ensure you could feel every part of his cock moving through you.

You felt a tear drip from your eye as he reached down for your hand and moved it toward your pussy, “Rub that wet clit, sweet girl. Want to see you quivering under me again.”

The moment your fingertips came into contact with your puffy nub you moaned and all you could feel was Harry’s warmth and his big cock and your clit being worked just how you liked.

He began to rut into you with unforgiving strength. Your body was being smacked into and your skin was beginning to burn where his hips were striking your ass. It felt incredible. It felt like a man who knew what he was doing.

“Yes! Yes!” You shakily cried out. Harry’s long shaft was gliding in and out and you could feel him every time your fingertips moved back the slightest. His heavy cock slipping into your pussy vigorously as you ran your fingers back and forth, up and down on your clit.

Harry put a hand on your low back and settled his thumb into the top of your crack as he watched your cunt swallow him on each thrust. He bit his lip at the gorgeous sight and lowered his other hand to your right cheek, pulling at your flesh to give himself a better look at how you were taking him. How perfect you were for his cock.

When he noticed your moans growing louder and more desperate and then saw your thighs shaking he pounded into you with deliberate, long strokes so you could really feel him inside of you.

And feel him you did. His length filled you up and pulled back, before pressing back in until your world began to spin and your pussy was powerless to your orgasm. You reared yourself back onto his cock and cried out pathetically as Harry breathed heavily and felt your cunt sucking him in and spasming around him.

“Oh, baby…” he moaned and watched more cream coat his cock from your pussy. You were coming hard, lips wide open as you cried out and gasped, and the way you were clenching around his cock felt like the best thing he’d ever experienced during sex. You were fucking sexy.

When your voice lowered and your body stopped quivering Harry halted his movements and ran his hands on your back gently and down to your bum, keeping his cock lodged inside of you, “Creamed all over my cock, Y/n,” swiped his thumb around the area where you two were connected and lifted it to his mouth to taste.

You panted and smiled into the blanket when he suddenly pulled out and popped your bottom with his palm, “On your back. Want to see that pretty face again.”

You were on the verge of being completely wiped out. You knew he hadn’t come yet, though, and you felt like he deserved it with how fucking good he was. Two orgasms already. That was unheard of for you.

Harry helped you situate and he fit himself between your thighs. You looked down at his cock and noted he was right about you creaming all over him. White gobs of your arousal at his shaft and in the thatch of dark, trimmed hair at his base. God his cock was good.

“You feel so good on my cock, Y/n. You know that?” He pressed his tip inside of you, making you drop your mouth open and he gasped. The way he stretched you apart was insane. It felt incredible.

“Fuck… your pussy needs my cock inside of her. Yeah? I could fuck this sweet cunt all day and never get tired of it. Fuck, baby…” he moaned his words as he thrust into you, his hips dragging against you and your clit being pushed into with each plunge.

You took your breasts in your palms and kneaded at them as you watched Harry’s face twist up in rapturous despair. Every roll of his hips was torture for him. His body wanted to come but he had planned on you having one more orgasm. Wanted to feel you squeezing and pulsing around him as he came with you. The decadence of being able to feel your pussy coming around him as he was pouring into you would be bliss.

The edge of his hairline was wet with sweat. You knew he was working hard to give you his cock the way you needed it. His arms were flexing as he held himself up over you, back and thighs clenching and stretching as his muscles exerted, loosening and tightening.

Now there was no slap of skin or the sound of thuds filling the room, it was only hot breaths and gasps and wet pussy being fucked. The occasional distant sound of people moving past his suite on their way to their own.

Deeper and deeper he stuffed himself as he kept his radiant green eyes locked on your face. Your insides were bowing and tensing and vibrating with delight. It was the best you’d ever gotten and his handsome face watching you had your head spinning and your body melting under him. He was too good. The way he was tugging his cock inside of you and stroking your walls and fitting himself deep into your guts like he was trying to reach up into your spine and your lungs under your ribcage… it was going to stick with you for a long time. And he was probably right. You’d be dreaming of his cock. You were sure of it.

His pacing was perfect; smooth, wet thrusts and a satisfying angle that had your whole body resonating with sex and electric crackles like you’d never felt. His undulating hips kissing your clit each time he ground into you.

“Look at your tits jiggling, Y/n. Fucking so hot…” he panted his words like he was out of breath, “Damn baby,” he moaned as he slowed his stride for a moment to collect himself. His balls were already tightening against his body, ready to release too soon.

He leaned over you and pressed his lips against yours and it made your skin and pores and nerves spark and convect. Little by little your pulse accelerated until you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. His tongue inside your mouth and his perfect cock inside of your tummy, the smell of him and of you and the soft bed beneath your back- it had you nearly going up in flames.

When he finally began to move again, when he’d steadied his composure so he could last a little longer you gasped into his mouth.

Now his long strokes were thick and stunted, his shaft inching in and in and in until you couldn’t breathe. His nose pressed into yours and his lips moved around your lips, smearing saliva over your warm, plush mouth with his tongue. It was filthy, the way he kissed. Wet, aching. Like he was fucking your lips with his tongue at the same time he was filling your pussy with his cock.

You felt his muscles begin to shake as he parted from your mouth and looked down at you. Blown-out pupils, pink parted lips, and a flushed face. He was about to come and you could see it on his face and in the way he was panting and getting louder with each jerk of his hips. It was delicious.

“You gonna come, baby? Gonna milk my cock with your cunt, squeeze around me, and drain me?”

Grabbing onto his forearms you nodded and feebly whimpered, “Yes… oh my god…”

Harry groaned as he canted his hips sloppily and his thrusts grew erratic as he held back to wait for you to come first.

You’d always heard of the mythical concept of a cock fitting together perfectly with the right pussy and how it could make women come from penetration alone when they’d never been able to before. You’d never experienced it and thought it was just a made-up fantasy. A wild fable.

But you were wrong. Harry’s cock proved you wrong. He was nudging into things inside of you that even your vibrator missed and as shocking as it was to know you were about to come, yet again, you were of no mind to think too much about that because your body was submitting to the way he was handling you and your pussy was already beginning to flutter around him and pulse as you gasped and dropped your mouth wide.

Yes, you were having one of those kinds of orgasms that you could feel from the inside out. That made your ears feel stuffy and your vision go white as you cried out loudly.

Harry choked out a gasp as soon as he felt your walls gripping him and you tossed your head back, moaning his name over and over again like you needed the room to know who was making you fall apart.

Your pussy wrapped around him so perfectly and he looked down from your perfect tits to your face and he lost it. His own cry of your name was loud as he threw his head back and throbbed, releasing into his condom, his come filling the tip full as you milked him with your pulsing orgasm.

Divine. Complete and utter perfection. He hadn’t come so hard in years and the way you responded to him only coaxed him deeper into his own ecstasy.

When his cock stopped pumping and twitching he opened his eyes and looked down at you looking all fucked out and satisfied. Exactly what he had hoped for when he brought you to his room. Better even.

When your gaze finally found his he smiled down at you. He figured it would be nice to have you again in the morning if you were up for it because he certainly didn’t want to have you leave. Not yet. Maybe he’d order room service and you two could talk some more. Maybe another round or perhaps you’d both just crash after that marathon. But he knew he’d want to give you a parting gift in the morning at the very least. One of those soft and lazy morning fucks before kissing you and sending you off so he could catch his flight the following afternoon.

Yeah. That sounded nice to him.

But the sudden sound of his phone buzzing had him turning to look at the nightstand. You’d barely recovered from your scorching orgasm when he rolled off of you and quickly picked up the phone, his back to you, “Hello?”

You inhaled deeply. You still couldn’t believe you’d just done that. With a stranger nonetheless.

“No, I’m okay. Just ran to grab the phone is all.” He was panting just enough that whoever was on the line had wondered what he’d been doing. You turned your head to look at him. His back was to you.

“Sure, babe. See you then.”

You sat up quickly. Babe?

Harry stood from the bed and picked up his pants, “I’m sure you can get your clothes on and be on your way quickly. Yeah?”

You instinctively covered your chest with your mouth dropped open, “What?!” Harry paused before putting his shirt on and looked at you with an unamused expression, “I said you need to leave.” He raised his voice a notch as if the reason you asked him what was because you hadn’t heard.

You shook your head and slid off the bed feeling dirty and shameful, reaching to the ground for your discarded dress, “I know what you said. I was surprised that you were… never mind.”

The sudden change in his attitude toward you was a shock. He’d been so attentive and affectionate and now he was cold. Inconsiderate. You struggled to keep up with the abrupt shift in his temperament.

Harry walked to the window as you shimmied into your dress and attempted zipping it up, “Fuck…” you mumbled under your dress. The last thing you wanted to do was ask this asshole to help you but really didn’t want to walk out of his room with your dress half unzipped and your ass crack hanging out.

“Can you please help?” You sighed and looked over at him. God, you hated how attractive he was, especially now that he was being so cold to you suddenly.

 Harry silently shook his head to himself as he tucked his shirt in and walked toward you as if it were some terrible chore to help you.

“There. Now I really need you to go. Quickly.”

You hadn’t even had the chance to wipe up in the bathroom or pee. You were stunned at his behavior.

You gave him your dirtiest scowl, scooped up your underwear, and grabbed your small purse, stuffing your bra and panties inside. The slip you had to carry in your hands. As you pulled your shoes back on your feet one at a time, Harry was plucking the condom off the floor and looking around the room in a slight panic.

“Fuck you, Harry. This is rude. You didn’t have to treat me like garbage. Not like I was gonna fall for you or something you prick.” When your feet were securely in your shoes Harry walked across the room toward you as you tried to make your way to the door to leave.

“Y/n?”

You turned to look at him.

“Can you toss this in the garbage near the elevator for me? Thanks,” he pressed the used condom that was stuffed into a tissue into your hand and you nearly lost it. Nearly fucking karate chopped his ass to the ground and stomped on his face. But then you realized something. He was in a hurry to get you out of his room because he had someone coming up to see him. Someone he wanted to hide the condom from. A lover? Girlfriend? Wife?

Instead of responding verbally you flipped him off and slammed the door behind yourself. But before you walked away from the door you pulled the condom from the tissue and put it over his doorknob, nice and tight. The used rubber was still heavy with his come and you smiled as you dropped the tissue onto the floor and pulled out a cocktail napkin and pen from your purse, pressed your lips into it to leave it lightly stained with your leftover lipstick, and then wrote Thank you, Harry xx. You balanced the napkin right over the condom on the doorknob and then grinned to yourself as you walked down the hallway to the elevator. You sure were glad your room was in the same hotel. When the elevator doors opened a pretty blonde stepped off and rushed past you, headed in the direction of Harry’s room. She barely even glanced your way before you stepped onto the elevator and pressed 2 for your floor.

So maybe it wasn’t a terrible ending to the night after all.

Part 2

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[too-much-tma-stuff]

How Different Is It (part 18.5)

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Tim left Jason and Danny’s apartment with a tupperware of cinnamon rolls and a fresh loaf of bread after the confrontation with Danny and Jason, and shot a quick text to Dick assuring him everything was fine and Tim would share details later, and to Alfred asking about a vacation. Then he turned off his phone before they could text him back. He had had enough of emotions for today and he just wanted to go home and see Kon. To talk, and maybe spar, and try and make sense of what he had just seen.

He sped back to Titan’s tower, he could have called on Kon for a lift, and been home faster of course but he wanted to clear his head on his own. He thought it had worked, at least until he slammed the door with enough force to make himself wince. Huh, he hadn’t meant to do that, clearly he was more upset then he realized.

He winced again when he heard the woosh of air that meant the unusual noise had summoned Kon. Damn that super hearing, nothing got past him. 

“Are you okay?” Kon asked, looking over Tim worriedly. 

“Yes,” He snapped, before amending quickly. “No, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet. Can we just spar? I have some… stuff to work out. Only if you’re up to it?”

“Of course we can! Come on. Weapons or hand to hand?”

“Hand to hand,” Robin decided as they walked together up to the roof top sparring room. “And stay grounded please.” Sometimes Kon using some flight was a fun challenge to get up to him, today Tim would just find it frustrating. 

“I’ll keep it as no-powers as I can,” Kon promised, holding up his hand in a pledge which made Tim's lips twitch up in a smile. He loved the sincerity in Kon, it was so… sweet.

“Thanks Kon,” Tim said, his shoulders already relaxing in preparation for the fight. He tolled them comfortably, his neck to, limbering up for the upcoming spar.

He avoided common areas on the way up, except for slipping into the deserted kitchen for just a moment to leave the food, most of the time sparring was a group activity with those not in the fight cheering from the sidelines, but today Robin didn't want an audience.

They reached the sparring room without anyone seeing them and Tim hopped up onto the mats, waiting for Kon to come join him. When his… partner drifted up Robin didn't wait for the usual formalities of sparring before lunging in, immediately on the offensive. Kon kept his motions to a human speed as he dodged and kicked though it was performative more than anything.

Robin jumped over the leg and kicked back, he didn't pull his punches fighting Kon and normally would think nothing of it. This time though, he hesitated which meant he missed, an event which startled them both so badly that Tim stumbled and Kon missed catching him. 

“Robin… are you sure you're okay?” Kon asked worriedly but Tim ignored the question. He used the momentary distraction to push himself up and used that momentum to go on the attack again. He struck without hesitation this time and knew as usual that his knuckles would be now bruised then Kon’s skin. Kon barely responded, he grabbed Tim's arm and swung him around making him skid back before he ran forward again.

He forced himself not to hesitate even as he more deeply analyzed how this felt then he ever had before, was fully aware of the impact of his feet and fist on the flesh of the man he loved. Because despite what everyone thought he was aware of his feelings for Kon. It was just… complicated. 

By the time Robin finally stood still they were both breathing heavily, and Tim felt a little bit better. He sighed and ran his hands back through his fair, nodded to Kon and then wandered off the mat, sitting down on the edge of the mat and crossed his legs. After a moment Kon came and sat down next to Tim quietly. 

“So, are you ready to talk?” Kon asked after a bit of comfortable silence. 

“Ya, Ya I guess so. But you have to keep it to yourself alright? I don’t want anyone else on the team to know it’s a-” He struggled for a moment to think of what to say. “A family matter.”

“Of course. I won’t tell anyone. If you don’t want to talk about it here we can go somewhere else,” Kon offered. 

“No that’s alright,” Tim said, shaking his head. “We’re alone right?”

“Ya, we are,” Kon confirmed, he would hear if anyone was eavesdropping. 

“Alright,” He was quiet again for a minute trying to figure out how best to say this before deciding to just spit it out. “I saw Jason hit Danny yesterday.” 

“What?!” Kon spluttered, his eyes wide and confused. 

“They have an agreement, because Danny is durable and heals quickly, and Jason has anger issues Jason takes his anger out on Danny. But it looks awful, Jason is so violent and Danny still bruises and bleeds.

“Nightwing and I went to try and talk about it with them, try and stage an intervention I guess? Danny was absolutely furious and made Nightwing leave immediately but he let me stay because they feel protective of me I guess. Danny explained the bit about the arrangement to me, before that I just knew that Jason hit him.

“He said that it’s no true harm, it’s a bonding thing for them even. He likened it to us sparring. He asked if knowing I can hit you as hard as I can without hurting you really helps, if it feels good to work out my frustration on you knowing I can't actually hurt you.” He sighed, combing his fingers through his hair again. “And it doesn't.

“Is that bad? I mean, he's right, it does feel good. It looks worse that Danny doesn't fight back at all but you can't fight at your full strength either when we spar so the fight you put up is performative to make me feel better more then anything, is that materially different?

“I have a feeling that if I asked you not to fight back you probably would just let me. I didn't ask earlier because I didn't want to find out, not really.”

“Ah,” Kon sounded, looking down and to the side and rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I wouldn't, if you asked. But you're not hurting me Tim, we're sparring. It's different, it's not wrong. So I guess if that's what they're doing it's not so bad it's it?” 

“That's what I think too but at the same time I don't know if that's because it's true or because it's to painful to think about my brother being an abuser and me being like him,” Tim sighed and leaned against Kon’s shoulder who hesitated and then wrapped an arm around Tim’s shoulders.

“You're a good person Rob, and so is Hood. It's okay, you're not doing anything wrong when we spar, it keeps both of us sharp and… calm, and it does help me feel closer to you,” Kon assured.

“Thanks Kon. I really, I really like you, you know?” Tim said softly.

“I really like you too Tim, and when you're ready to get past those fears of commitment you know I'm here, right?” Kon asked softly.

“Right, thank you for being patient. I think it will be soon,” Tim promised, snuggling a little closer to Kon’s side.

[justallmyfantasies]

actin’ like a silly little boy

i wished we never fucked, and i mean that.

series masterlist

contains: 18+ smut! (unprotected piv), angst. bit boring sorry.

word count: 3.2k (lowkey thought it was more lolol!!!)

no it wasn’t normal nor was it real.

you guys had fucked, more times than you’d like to admit. going his house, you fucked, going your house, you fucked, meeting up together, you fucked. it was wild.

each time you met, it was like a dance. a subtle game of push and pull, a dance between desire and restraint. alex knew how to tease, how to build that aching need within you until you were begging for release. and yet, even in those moments of pleasure, he always seemed to hold back a part of himself, tantalizingly out of reach.

the secrecy added to the thrill, the discreet meetings in hotel rooms or secluded spots a delicious secret between you and alex. the rest of the world might know and love him, after all he was apart of a band but this side of him was just for you.

but as much as the sex was intense, you found yourself craving something more than just physical pleasure. there was a connection between you, a bond that went beyond the physical.

yet, alex seemed content to keep things the way they were, avoiding the topic of labels or emotions. he was always quick to distract you, to shift the focus back to the physical when you broached the subject.

“don’t look at me like that.” alex said, his words coming out more harsher than it should’ve. “we agreed this whole thing was just.. casual?” he paced around your bedroom. the wait for your response making him more nervous than usual.

you scoffed. “yeah, i know that.” you sat on your bed. you ran your fingers through your hair, getting stuck in the knots that had been brushed hours ago. “do you really think this is casual?” you said, emphasising the ‘this’.

alex's footsteps slowed to a stop, his gaze flicking to you for a moment before looking away. he was quiet for a moment before he spoke. "yeah, i do. don't make it into something it's not."

his response made you flinch. your heart ached at his words, but you tried to keep your expression neutral. "and if i do?"

alex let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "then it complicates things."

"what is there to complicate?" you asked, your voice growing sharp.

alex leaned back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. "our friendship, you know that!" he said, you could feel the tension in the air growing thicker with each word he spoke.

you laughed, the sound bitter and without humour. "friendship." you echoed, the word sounding bitter on your tongue. "is that what you call this, then?" you motioned between the two of you. "because it doesn't feel like friendship to me."

"we've been going on this for a year now and you still refuse to call it what it is." you continued, your voice growing more frustrated. "it's like you want all the benefits of being in a relationship without actually having to commit to anything. it's not fair."

alex pushed off the wall, his shoulders slumped. he sat on the bed beside you. the distance between you felt like a chasm. "i'm just not ready for a relationship, okay? i have a lot going on with the band and all..." he tried to explain

but you weren't having any of it. you crossed your arms, your patience worn thin. "and what about me? what about what i want?"

alex looked down at his hands, avoiding your gaze. "you knew what this was when we started. i never promised you anything more." he said, his voice quieter now, lacking the usual certainty.

you stood up, moving away from the bed, your frustration boiling over. "yeah, i knew what i was getting into. but i also thought that after all this time, you'd wake up and realise what you're missing. that you'd want more from me."

alex stayed silent, his expression a mix of frustration and guilt. you could see the internal battle playing out in his mind. he never could resist you when you were upset, but his resolve was firm. "i can't give you what you want, and i can't ask you to wait around until I can."

your heart felt like it was breaking. you knew that this conversation would come eventually, but it didn't make it any easier to hear. "so what do you expect me to do, then?" you asked, your voice wavering.

alex looked up at you, a mixture of pain and indecision in his eyes. "i don't know..." he admitted quietly. "i guess... i guess we just keep going as we are for now. i don't wanna lose you, i just..." he trailed off, searching for the right words.

your eyes hardened, your expression icy. "no, i’m not doing this." you said bluntly. "i’m not staying around like your little secret thing."

alex's face fell at your words. he stood up, taking a step towards you. "you're not just a secret thing to me, you know that." he said, his voice filled with a mixture of pleading and defensiveness.

you scoff, crossing your arms. "could have fooled me. you won't even call this what it really is." your words cut deep, and you could see the sting landing in alex's eyes. "i want you to leave.” you looked at him. your face not showing any expression. you didn’t have one to show, not right now. you walked over to the door of your apartment, opening it and looking up to him once more.

alex's expression was a mixture of surprise, hurt, and anger. for a moment, he simply stood there, trying to process your words. but finally, he nodded, reluctantly moving towards the door.

as he passed you on his way out, you heard him murmur your name, a hint of desperation in his voice. but you didn't turn around, didn't give in to the urge to call out to him.

the door closed behind him, leaving you alone in your apartment. a mix of emotions swirled inside you: anger, hurt, sadness, disappointment.

you sunk down onto your bed, burying your face in your hands. the silence felt deafening. you were sad, but not to the point of tears. why would you cry over a man? it was pathetic.

you tried to convince yourself that you had done the right thing, that you had to stand up for yourself. but as the night grew darker, a part of you wondered if you’d just made a huge mistake.

maybe you had hoped, deep down, that alex would fight for you. that he’d realise what he was losing and come back, begging for a second chance. but he didn’t. and that stung.

as the days turned into weeks, the pain of alex's absence started to fade into a dull ache.

you tried to keep yourself busy, focusing on your work, spending time with friends, and throwing yourself into hobbies. it wasn't always easy, and there were moments when you found yourself missing him fiercely.

but you were determined not to let yourself fall back into the same cycle. you had made your choice, and it was time to stand by it.

and so you pushed on, trying to forget about the what-ifs and the memories that haunted you. but there were moments when you caught yourself wondering if alex was thinking about you too. if he regretted losing you, if he ever regretted not choosing you. or if he was just moving on as well.

one night, as you tried to sleep, a knock on the door suddenly pulled you from your thoughts. you sat up in bed, confusion and curiosity mixing in your tired mind. peering through the peephole, your heart nearly stopped when you saw who was on the other side.

opening the door, you found alex standing on your doorstep. his face was a mask of uncertainty, his hair a mess like he’d been running his hands through it many times.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. you stared at each other, caught in a charged silence. you could see the emotions brewing in his eyes, the things he wanted to say but was holding back.

finally, alex broke the silence. his voice was rough and shaky, betraying his nerves. “can i come in?”

you didn’t respond at first, caught off guard by his sudden appearance. but eventually, you stepped aside, silently beckoning him in.

alex entered your apartment, looking around as if seeing it for the first time. you closed the door behind him, crossing your arms over your chest.

he turned to face you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of how you were feeling. but you kept your expression neutral, unwilling to show him any vulnerability.

“i know you probably don’t want to see me.” he began, fiddling with a loose thread on his jacket. “and i get it if you don’t want to talk, but i just... i had to come. i had to see you.”

the sincerity in his voice tugged at a part of you, a part that still longed for him. but you kept your guard up, refusing to let your emotions show on your face.

he took a step towards you. filling the empty gap between you both. his hands now placed on your cheeks as he leaned in to kiss you.

you initially intended to resist, to reject his advances. but the instant his lips met yours, all the resolve you had built crumbled away.

your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him back. the pent-up yearning for him flooded back, taking over your mind and body.

alex pressed you against the wall, his hands roaming over your body. his touch was both familiar and new at the same time, leaving a trail of heat everywhere he touched. he deepened the kiss, his tongue moving against yours in a way that made your knees weak.

you melted into the kiss, the anger and hurt you had felt moments before fading away. all you knew was the taste of his lips and the heat of his body against yours.

alex's hands moved under your shirt, his touch on your bare skin making you shiver. his fingers traced the curves of your body, igniting the aching desire you had tried so hard to ignore.

you pulled at the hem of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. alex helped you undress him as his lips moved down your neck, teasing and tasting each inch of your skin.

he lifted you up, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you towards the bedroom. his hands supported you under your thighs, his grip firm and possessive.

he laid you down on the bed, his body covering yours as he continued his kisses down your body. his hands roamed over your curves, every touch and caress sending waves of pleasure through you.

you arched into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you gasped out his name. the memories of all the times you’d been intimate played in your mind, making you crave him even more.

he lifted your shirt over your head, his eyes taking in your bare skin in the dim light. you reached for him, your fingers tracing the muscles of his chest, feeling the pulse of his heart under your touch.

alex leaned down, his lips meeting yours again in a passionate kiss. his hands continued their exploration, moving over your skin leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

the room was filled with the sounds of your breaths mingling and soft moans escaping your lips. alex moved down body, kissing and nipping at your sensitive spots, his hands roaming to the hem of your pants.

he looked up at you, his eyes darkened with desire. “i need you,” he murmured against your skin. “i need you so bad.”

your body quivered at his words, a mixture of pleasure and yearning coursing through you. you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “i need you too.”

alex wasted no time in removing the rest of yours and his own clothes, his gaze never leaving you. he leaned over you, his body pressed against yours as he captured your lips in another deep kiss.

you pulled him closer, the feel of his skin against yours making you dizzy with want. his hands continued to roam over your body, igniting a fire inside you that was impossible to quench.

alex’s mouth moved down to your neck, whispering words of desire and need between kisses. his body moved against yours, seeking more friction, more closeness.

the room was filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths and whispered words of need. alex lifted your hips, positioning himself between your legs, his body pressing into yours as he entered you.

he looked down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of tenderness and need. “i’ve missed this,” he murmured against your ear. “missed you.”

your heart felt like it would burst at his words, the pain and anger you had felt before suddenly feeling like a thousand light years away.

you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him down for another kiss. your body arching into him, needing him closer, more intimately. alex’s hands held your hips, his grip firm as he began to move against you, creating a rhythm that left you breathless.

his mouth moved to your neck, his tongue and teeth grazing your skin as he left a trail of kisses down your collarbone. each touch, each movement, sent bolts of pleasure coursing through you.

you clutched at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as ecstasy built inside you. each gasp and moan that escaped you was met with words of need and longing from him.

his pace quickened, the intensity between you growing unbearable. you could feel him everywhere, his body surrounding you, his scent filling your lungs, his whispers in your ear driving you to the edge.

alex’s grip on your hips tightened, his own breath growing ragged against your skin. “look at me,” he whispered, “look at me when you let go.”

his words, the tone of his voice, sent a shiver down your spine. you looked up at him, finding his eyes locked on yours, filled with both need and vulnerability.

you could feel yourself nearing the brink, the sensations building to a point where you couldn’t hold back anymore. his name escaped your lips like a prayer, the sound coming out somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

as you let go, the world around you dissolved. the only thing that seemed to matter was him and the way you were feeling. your fingers dug into his skin, your body arching into his, your name a desperate gasp on his lips.

alex followed you over the edge, his body shuddering against yours as he mumbled your name like a mantra. a single word repeated over and over again, like it was the only thing he could remember in that moment.

you lay there, tangled in each other's arms as your breaths gradually slowed down, the room still filled with the warm, comfortable silence.

alex pulled you closer, holding you against his chest as if afraid you would slip away from him again. his chin rested on top of your head, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your back.

you both fell asleep a while after.

the morning came, the sunlight streaming through your curtains. you woke up to find yourself still wrapped in alex’s arms, a sense of peace and contentment settling over you.

you both started to stir, stretching and yawning as the memories of the night before came flooding back. neither of you spoke at first, silently enjoying the contentment of the moment.

alex was the first to break the silence. “you’re awake.” his voice was rough, filled with a hint of sleep and something else – tenderness.

you nodded, shifting slightly to look up at him. he looked back at you, his eyes soft and searching. he gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering on your cheek.

he exhaled deeply, as if he was gathering courage to say something. “i need to talk to you. there’s something i need to tell you.”

your pulse quickened, the words bringing back a hint of anxiety and uncertainty. you untangled yourself from him, sitting up against the headboard.

“what is it?” you asked, your voice steady though the nerves were starting to bubble in your stomach.

alex sat up beside you, his hands clasped together in his lap. he was quiet for a moment, a look of inner turmoil in his eyes. finally, he spoke, his voice betraying the tension he felt.

“after.. after the album is released, we’ll be going on tour.” he paused, looking at you as if gauging your reaction. “i just thought i’d tell you.”

the news wasn't surprising, and yet, a mix of emotions washed over you. excitement, because you knew how hard he'd worked for this. but also, a nagging dread, knowing that this would mean another long period without him.

“how long?” you asked, your voice quiet. alex took a deep breath, bracing himself for your reaction. only answer he could come up with was a shrug.

obviously you were proud of him, he and the band had worked hard on this. you knew that.

he ran a hand through his hair, his fingers scratching his scalp in a nervous habit. “i wish i knew,” he admitted, his eyes searching your face for any sign of your thoughts. “few months.”

the news hit you like a punch to the gut. a few months. you'd barely had him back for a day and now he would be gone, again, for months.

you tried to push down the growing anger and frustration, to be understanding and supportive. but a part of you couldn’t help the wave of anxiety that washed over you.

“i know it's not what you want to hear,” alex said slowly, his tone cautious now. he was aware of your feelings, reading you like an open book. “this is our dream. me and the lads. y’know?”

you swallowed hard, trying to keep your expression neutral. “i know,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. it was the truth. you did know that. you did understand how important this was for them. but it didn’t make the reality any less harsh.

alex reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. his touch was a mix of comfort and reassurance, but it didn’t completely still the turmoil inside you.

he looked at you, his eyes seeking yours. “i’ll try and get you to come with.” he pleaded, his voice tinted with desperation, “how about that?”

a tiny flicker of hope flared in your chest at his words, but you quickly quelled it. the logical part of you knew the reality of it.

“no.” you shook your head. “don’t bother, i’ll be fine here.”

there wasn’t any point to get your hopes up. he wasn’t the relationship kind of person. you knew that.

a/n: hi back again!! i was in like a depressive stage and kept writing depressing stuff… those are like scraped now (should stay like that too). but that’s why i wasn’t posting anything. but here we are. idk if this is any good but appreciate it. okay thanks bye.

[hard-core-super-star]

Random thought popped into my head but it's about vampire Kate x reader. What if reader was a witch of some sort who got her heart broken because Kate is an fboy and became terrified and left when she realized how much she loved the reader but came crawling back a year later because she needed reader's witchy help and they ended up casually flirting because they clearly still have feelings for each other and stuff

ain't that the kicker [K.Bishop]

pairing: vampire!kate x reader

summary: the morning after your late-night encounter with kate doesn't go quite as planned...and neither does the day after that or the day after that. [aka you and kate have way more issues than you thought]

warnings: none, i think?; did somebody order angst?; so much tension, you need more than one knife; i rob you of a longer wanda scene; cliffhanger ending because this got too long; weird vampire powers that are badly explained; very long dream sequences; a surprising lack of actual vampire stuff [i badly need to rewatch first kill]; idiots in love but emphasis on the idiots!

wodcount: 3.2k

a/n: hey everyone, my motivation was pretty dead for a while but, unsurprisingly, vampire kate brought it back! and before you all freak out, YES! THERE WILL BE ANOTHER PART! and maybe it'll be less sad and more spicy, who knows? anyway, thank you so much for sticking with me and my constant disappearing act. my second year at university is wrapping up so hopefully you’ll see more of me this summer ;) that's all i have to say, hope you enjoy <3

part one | part three | part four

* * * * * * *

Saying going home with Kate Bishop had been a bad idea would be a massive understatement.

You knew being alone with the heir of Bishop Security would come with problems but the problems all seemed relatively small compared to the continuous waves of pleasure you had been under all night.

To be fair, though, you never expected a grainy picture of you on Kate's lap to be part of that list of problems. You had expected some awkwardness from the charming brunette, the usual "we can't do this again" speech while actively making out in some random storage closet, maybe even some weird looks from your co-workers to further complicate things.

Your original plan had featured everything except you going viral overnight and waking up to the biggest PR disaster to ever hit Bishop Security. (Which is saying a lot considering the many one-night stand scandals Kate always finds herself wrapped up in)

You had so many ideas of what the morning after would be like but none of them included you waking up to an empty bed and a large pit in your stomach that tells you you fucked up big time.

Maybe it had been your fault, maybe you had been too naive for thinking you could really have it all.

Or maybe Kate was right. Maybe she had a longer list of enemies than you had been willing to entertain.

There were far too many “maybe’s” in your mind, an overwhelming amount of notifications on your phone, and you had no idea where Kate had gone.

You’re not sure how long you spend scrolling through Twitter and avoiding all the texts filled with unanswerable questions from your co-workers but eventually, you manage to regain control of yourself and get up from the archer’s ridiculously comfortable bed. You do your best to ignore how shaky your legs are as you get dressed, your mind unfortunately drifting to the night before.

You manage to find your way to the kitchen where there's a full spread of, slightly burnt, breakfast waiting for you. Your heart swells as you read the messy handwriting on the post-it note next to the biggest stack of pancakes you’ve ever seen.

Morning, sunshine. I didn’t know what you were in the mood for so I made a bit of everything. Eat as much as you can, you’ll need a lot of food and water to recover from last night ;) - Kate

It’s impossible to stop the wave of relief that crashes into you after reading that.

As impossible as it feels, you allow yourself to believe things will be fine. That Kate will stick by your side after opening up to you about her supernatural abilities.

But the fantasy doesn’t last long.

You’re halfway through your breakfast when you hear the front door slam shut with so much force you briefly wonder if the hinges came off. It takes no more than fifteen seconds for the archer to appear in front of you, her shoulders tense and an unreadable storm in her eyes.

Her posture already tells you the answer to the question forming on your lips but you ask anyway. “Everything okay?”

She seems almost startled by the sound of your voice as if hearing you makes you real.

It makes the mess you’re both in real.

“No,” she sighs. “I have some shitty news.”

“Shittier than being called a slut by all of New York?” You reply, unable to stop the urge to make her smile.

Kate doesn’t fully smile but she does let out a small chuckle, her shoulders dropping into a less tense position as the sound escapes her. “Yeah…shittier than that.”

You should’ve known where the conversation was headed. Should’ve realized there was no way you’d be able to have it all. No way for you to continue with your life as if nothing had happened.

Maybe you are too naive because you truly didn’t see her next sentence coming.

“y/n…I have to fire you and we...we can’t do this again. This has to be goodbye.”

Everything crashes into you at once.

The realization of what you’ve actually done, the stupid ease with which Kate is cutting you out of her life, the betrayal of her practically kicking you out onto the streets. You’re not an idiot, you know there’s no way you’ll be able to keep your apartment, your humble yet expensive life in New York, without your job.

Without her.

“You…you’re serious? You’re throwing me out just like that?”

“It’s not easy for me either-”

“It looks pretty damn easy, Kate.” You scoff.

“You’re not the one who spent her whole morning getting chewed out by her mom.” Her words come out like an afterthought, like she knows just how badly she’ll fuck up if you hear the annoyance behind them.

Unfortunately for her, you hear her loud and clear.

“Oh, come on. That’s your excuse? You had one bad conversation with your mom and suddenly I don’t mean anything?”

She doesn’t reply and her silence only serves to stoke the flames of fury and resentment rising within your chest.

“Do you know how many death threats I’ve gotten in the last hour? How many coworkers have tried to blackmail me already? Do you understand just how much of my life this has ruined? And you have the audacity to act like you have it hard?”

“Don’t pretend like you know anything about my life,” she spits back. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Katherine. If I didn’t know you, if you didn’t care, why the hell did you tell me your dirty little secret?”

She blinks, taken aback by the hard-hitting truth you throw her way.

If you didn’t know her, you wouldn’t notice the way she nervously fidgets with her fingers or the way she bites down on her lower lip while she tries to come up with something to say. If you didn’t know her, you wouldn’t know she’s hurting underneath.

You do know her, though, but knowing her isn’t enough if she’s not willing to let you stay.

So, because you do know her…you walk away.

It feels like giving up in the most infuriating of ways but it’s the only thing you can do. If Kate’s mind is made up, there’s no amount of reason that will get her to change. That’s another thing about her you’ve learned the hard way.

So you swallow your pride and walk away with no plan, no job, no way of supporting yourself. If you were a more spiteful person, you would have applied for a job at Stark Industries but instead, you do the second hardest thing you’ve ever done.

You restart.

It’s a bitter defeat and still, you pack up your things and pay an old friend a visit.

You had left Wanda behind after the Westview fiasco but she’s the only person you can think of running to after your entire life went up in flames. All it takes is one quick spell and the realization that a life without dark magic isn’t one you can live before you’re standing on the porch of her small cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Saying she’s disappointed would be an understatement, especially since she explicitly warned you not to fall in love with Kate Bishop. It’s hard to believe the witch knew about Kate’s vampire secret but you also wouldn’t be surprised if she knew what awaited you the second you left for New York.

Unfortunately, you had to learn things the hard way.

You could write multiple books on everything you’ve learned the hard way.

At the top of that list, though, is the true extent of a certain archer’s vampire powers.

It takes less than a month for Kate to reach you again…through your dreams. Dreams that feel far too real and leave you a tad bit more breathless than you’ll ever be willing to admit.

The first time it happens, you assume it’s one of Wanda’s new tricks, maybe it’s her way of helping you cope with what (or rather who) you’ve left behind. You think it’s weird but maybe a tad bit sweet and you make a mental note to ask her about it in the morning.

It’s not until you realize that you’re actively thinking that you start to worry.

To make matters worse, you’re inside Kate’s apartment…and she quite literally stumbles out of her bedroom to see you standing in the middle of her living room.

“Oh, shit.” She groans.

Your heart skips a beat at the sound of her voice. You know you’re just dreaming and yet it all feels so real. It’s like you can feel her eyes on you, hear the way your heart won’t stop pounding in your ears.

Your confusion must be written all over your face because she answers your question before you can even ask it.

“Yes, you are dreaming but this isn’t like a normal dream.”

“What the fuck happened to you not being a mind reader?” You blurt out.

You wait for that stupid smirk of hers to appear, maybe with a half-assed shrug and a semi-charming joke, but it never comes. “My dream, my rules, I guess.”

“That still doesn’t explain what’s going on.”

A beat of silence goes by before she sort of gives you an answer. “I can explain but you might hate me afterwards.”

The look in her eyes says more than you can possibly handle right now. You’ve never known Kate to be particularly insecure but all you can see in those blue depths is fear and insecurity. Fear that your feelings for her have changed, that you already hate her and never want to hear from her again.

Too bad you’ve never been good at lying.

“Try me.”

The corners of her mouth quirk up into a small smile. “Long story short, we’re bonded. That’s why we’re in each other’s dreams.”

There’s a bigger question to be asked but you’re still a little freaked out by how real this all feels. By how intense your feelings for her still are.

“But this isn’t like a normal dream, is it?”

“Nope, perks of having vampire powers.”

“So, you can do everything except read minds?” You can’t help but tease her like all the times before. “That sucks.”

“Shut up,” she says with an over-dramatic roll of her eyes.

A calm silence falls over both of you and you hate how normal it feels. How just like that, you forget your anger and the betrayal you’ve felt every minute since the day you left New York in favor of falling for her stupidly enchanting self all over again.

It doesn’t help that with every second, the distance between you gets smaller and smaller.

You don’t know who takes the first step, all you know is you blink and suddenly she’s standing right in front of you, those soft blue eyes of hers searching for the truth you can’t hide.

“y/n,” she murmurs, her hand tentatively reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry, I know this isn’t what you wanted.”

She’s technically not wrong, leaving because of her incapability to deal with her feelings was the last thing you wanted, but it’s not like you had any other choice.

She didn’t give you any other choice.

And now she’s here, staring at you with that wounded puppy look she so effortlessly embodies.

“I wanted you,” you whisper in response. “When are you going to get that through your thick skull?”

She chuckles, the sound warm but nervous. Her hand moves to cup your face and her touch is so soft, it leaves you breathless for a moment. “Never, I’m too stubborn for that, remember?”

You can’t help but tease her as the atmosphere shifts into something more affectionate than you’d like. “How could I forget? It’s your worst trait.”

“Ouch. Is that how you treat your favorite vampire?”

“Aw, poor little vampire baby.”

You wait for her to make one of her usual jokes but she doesn’t.

Instead, her eyes drift down to your lips and your mind instantly goes blank.

There’s an endless list of reasons why you shouldn’t do it. Just because it’s a dream doesn’t mean it isn’t a bad idea. Then again…when has that ever stopped you from being with Kate Bishop?

It’s subtle but you lean forward just enough to give her the invitation she’s too much of a gentleman to ask for. Her eyes widen the slightest bit before she meets you in the middle, the space between your lips becoming nonexistent in the span of a few seconds.

You try your hardest to hold on to your self control, to not seem as desperate as you’ve felt since that first night, but it’s useless. Your hands grip the front of her shirt in an attempt to pull her closer despite how insane everything is.

You’re simply dreaming and yet you can feel every touch, every breath, every desperate effort to make your desires a reality. You would feel embarrassed if Kate wasn’t acting the same way.

Her lips leave yours only to trail down to your neck, her fangs instantly teasing the sensitive skin she finds. The anticipation builds inside your chest as she toys with you and it’s all you can do not to beg for more.

“Kate.” Her name leaves your lips in the form of a whisper that disappears just as fast as it formed.

All you hear is her sharp intake of breath before it all fades to black.

Your eyes snap open and you’re greeted with the absolute silence you’re starting to associate with Wanda’s cabin. All you can do is lay there in the darkness, your heart pounding in your ears while your fingers trace the spot Kate’s lips had just been on.

It had all felt so real and now you’re all alone again. It shouldn’t be surprising at this point and yet you still hold on to the hope Kate will come looking for you.

But she doesn’t.

All she does is haunt your dreams in the most literal way possible. She doesn’t come to find you and fix your many, many issues, instead, she simply appears in your dreams long enough to send your mind reeling without offering any solutions.

You wish you could hate her for doing this to you but you can’t.

You love her.

Worse than that, you love her more and more each night. Even though it’s not nearly enough to heal any of your wounds, and maybe it only serves to hurt you more, it’s definitely addicting.

Wanda offers to help you sever the connection between you and Kate, something about a spell she read in the Darkhold being her only assurance that she knows what she’s doing. You don’t fully trust her on that but you do consider the option for longer than you want to admit.

You reason with yourself that there are much worse things to deal with on a daily basis than highly realistic dreams, though. That being bonded to a vampire isn't the worst thing in the world.

And maybe that would be true…if the vampire in question wasn't Kate Bishop.

You don't know what possesses you to ask but the question slips out in the middle of another midnight rendezvous. It’s been a little over two month since you moved away from New York, a little over two months since you've shared these weird dreams with Kate, when you finally ask.

“What exactly did you do for us to be bonded to each other?”

The question must catch her off guard given the way her eyes widen in panic. “What?”

“You said these weird dreams happen because we’re bonded or something but you never explained how that happened.” You watch the brunette from your spot on the couch and impatiently wait for a response, for something that will help you make sense of everything.

She swallows back her nervousness but gives herself away due to the way she fidgets with the rings on her hand. “Oh, yeah, that…it’s because I bit you that night in my apartment…remember?”

Her awkwardness would be endearing if her response wasn't so damn suspicious.

“Yeah but you're a vampire, biting people is kind of your thing. You're not automatically bonded to every person you bite, right?”

A beat of silence passes before she answers, her voice shaking the slightest bit. “No that…that only happens when there are…certain feelings involved.”

It takes a second for her answer to click in your brain. For her sudden nervousness to hold real meaning.

The answer hits you like a train and it makes your blood boil like nothing else.

“Kate, tell me that doesn't mean what I think it means. Tell me you didn't fire me because you were too afraid of having feelings for me.”

“y/n-”

“For fuck’s sake, Kate!”

The sudden frustration in your voice makes her jump, hundreds of meaningless explanations forming on the tip of her tongue.

You don't hear a word she says.

You can't hear anything besides the pounding in your heart and the devastation that threatens to swallow you whole.

You always knew being with Kate would be impossible but this was something else entirely. This wasn't a lack of feelings between you two, this was too many feelings and too many miles of distance and not one ounce of regret from her.

You're not sure when you stood up from your spot or when she approached you, you simply feel her hand on your waist and the unmistakable sound of her breathing.

“y/n,” she tries again. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m so tired of hearing you say that.”

“I know.”

The last thing you feel is her lips on the back of your neck before you wake up. Alone. Again.

Wanda must catch on to your desperation because she brings up the idea of cutting your connection with Kate that same morning.

“It’ll only be temporary,” she assures you. “No offense but you need sleep more than you need Kate Bishop.”

“I’m a little offended,” you grumble in response.

Despite your reservations, and the voice in the back of your head that tells you running away again is a bad idea, you go along with her plan. She's right, after all. You definitely need some time away from Kate Bishop and her never-ending messes.

The spell is simpler than you expect and it, thankfully, requires pretty much no effort on your part and no weird liquids.

It does also bring the best sleep you’ve had in months so you can’t complain…even when you wake up missing the sound of the archer’s voice.

You still miss her every day and you're sure that won't change any time soon but you welcome the peace with open arms.

Wanda spends her time teaching you random spells while you help her build a nice flower garden in the backyard. It's weird but…comforting.

You could even get used to life out here someday.

At least, that's what you keep telling yourself as the weeks go by.

Until Kate shows up unannounced and flips your world upside down again with those same soft eyes you fell on love with all those months ago.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 11

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You half smile and half cringe. Oh boy. He wants you to do that. With him there. Well, you never really did it with an audience. You’re more of a loner when it comes to... cumming. 

You let out a brittle chuckle, “sir, that’s... you know, I think I’m pretty good. I got lots of action today--” 

“I’m not asking,” his voice is dusky and makes your chest thump. Wow. Okay, you can see for a split second how he might be attractive. If you just photoshop the caterpillar off his lip with your mind Adobe. 

“I understand but what if I just focused on you, sir. You seem to enjoy that--” 

“Don’t make me repeat myself. It’s getting old. Fast.” 

“Sure, that’s fair, I hate a broken record,” you gulp and look down then back up, squinting as you smile with a strain in your cheeks. “So, like down here or... it’s a bit tight...” you sheepishly show your teeth then laugh for real as the joke bubbles in your mind. You can’t help but let it free, “that’s what she said.” 

He blinks and looks at the ceiling then down again. He sits back in his chair, legs wide, hands on his thighs. 

“Get on the desk,” he orders. 

You inhale and steel yourself. This is a lot. You think you’ve been handling things well. One thing in particular but you don’t know how much more you can take. Today has been intense. What time is it? 

You move forward, once more face to face with his crotch before you manage to plant a foot and stand. His eyes flick down and he hums. You turn slowly and try to see the corner of his screen. Holy, it’s not even three o’clock. 

“What the hell are you looking at?” He snarls. 

“Nothing, sir, promise--” 

“Turn it off.” 

You should say the same thing about his dick. You keep your mouth closed and press the button to black the monitor. You put your hands on the desk and carefully slide his delicate keyboard and mouse aside. They’re so light you nearly toss them. You shake your head. 

“What?” He sneers. 

“It’s just, sir, Apple products are made to break. This keyboard feels like a wafer.” 

“This isn’t what we’re doing right now. Focus.” 

“I’m focused,” you whine and consider the desk. This glass better be sturdy. 

You lift one knee, then the other. You don’t like this. It's like crossing ice; tenuous and just as cold. He clicks his tongue. 

“You know, you don’t got a bad ass considering,” he mutters. 

You should thank him. It’s a real compliment. All those squats you do when the shop slows down are paying off. You’re too frazzled to do much more than turn over and sit facing him. As hot as this might seem in his head, the logistics are not easy. Or safe. 

You glance around and frown, “sir, what if I break--” 

“You keep talking, and I’ll break something on you,” he swivels the chair slightly as his hand crawls up his pantleg. 

“Got it, okay, so...” you bend your legs, putting your feet on the glass and wiggles your toes.  

You slowly pull your thighs apart. You tremble as the cool air slips between them and grazes your cunt. Your ears are burning and your skull is pounding. You’re dizzy. This desk is really high up. You could fall and crack your head open. 

“Take your fucking time,” he growls. 

“Sir, I got a bit of stage fright here,” you squeak, “I never really... you know, in front of someone.” 

“No use being shy when you had me down your throat twice today,” he reprimands. 

“Fair,” you tilts your head, “that’s a good point.” You look down at your body and reach down between your legs. You blow out between your lips, almost whistling as some of the tension seeps out. “That’s helpful advice, actually.” 

He sighs and you seal your lips. You nod and close your eyes. You can do this. How many times have you done this? Well, maybe you shouldn’t be proud of that.  

You feel down your tummy and along your pelvis. Goosebumps rise and you shiver, leaning back on your other hands as your feet arch against the edge of the desk. You feel along your coily hair and delve between your tender folds. You’re wet but that’s better than the alternative. You’d rather this not last forever. 

You press down on your clit and take a deep breath. You let it out slow as you trace the sensitive bud and hum. Alright, gotta get the rhythm. You’re thinking too much. Stop that. 

Wait, no. You need to think. You need to picture something. This is too much pressure. Knowing he’s watching you, you have to think of anything else. Of someone. Someone sexy. You gotta get the motor going. 

You ease back onto your elbow as the heat begins to flow. You picture this burly guy you saw down at the sandwich shop. You don’t quite have the clear picture of him but he was tall and thick and he had some nice eyes. He also looks pretty grumpy but he could probably channel that energy into some good hip action. 

Okay, back to the point. You put together the fantasy; thick arms, hairy chest, throaty grunts, and a big... yeah. That’s it. Your fingers swirl faster, slippery as your excitement builds. You moan and tilt your head back. You’re almost there. 

You flick your fingers up and down, your thighs quivering. You gotta give this guy a name. Something sexy. Gene? No, ew, that’s not it. Hm. Oh, yes, Adam? The first man. The epitome of maleness. 

You squeak as your breath hitches and your lashes flutter. Your toes curl and you put your head forward as the tension winds tight and all at once, unleashes. You quake and drone out madly, head lolling as you fight to keep your fingers moving. You feel your orgasm flowing from you, wetting your cunt and the creases of your thighs. Fuck... 

Suddenly, your land on your back. The glass braces and you wait for a crack. Lloyd pins you by your neck. He swats your hand away from your cunt and frames your entrance with two long fingers. He drags them up, rubbing your buzzing clit as you squirm. 

“Oh, Adam,” you burst out and your eyes snap open in horror. You didn’t mean to let that out. 

“Adam?” He growls as he stops, squeezing your throat tighter, “who the fuck is Adam?” 

You touch his wrist, “I meant... Floyd?” 

[heliads]

first of all i just wanted to say that i’m actually in love with your writing and i can’t wait to read more from you!! anyway i was thinking of some good ol’ peter hayes x fem!reader where they were both in candor together and hated each others GUTS, but then when they transferred to dauntless, peter starts developing feelings for reader so he follows her around like some puppy but she’s still on the peter-hate-train. maybe also like he starts talking to some other female dauntless initiate and stops giving reader as much attention and she finally realizes that she likes him

(this is such a long request i’m so sorry)

thank you so much!!

'Bad Liars' - peter hayes

masterlist

Starting out life on your own terms. A fresh page, a blank slate. This is why you decided to switch factions in your Choosing Ceremony, why you agreed to never see your family again except by something as meager as coincidence. Friends, neighbors, blood relations, all left behind with one swipe of a knife against your palm. It’s worth it, though. Running through the streets of your city like your world is on fire, you’re free for the first time in your memory. It’s just you in this new, grand place they call Dauntless.

Well, you and Peter Hayes.

Of all the people to come here with you, of course your fellow transfer from Candor would be Peter. Bold, callous Peter. Peter, who’s had it out for you since you were kids. No child should know that much bitter hatred, but the two of you have been arch rivals since you were small. You’d be lying if you said that leaving him behind didn’t factor into your decision to transfer from Candor to Dauntless even a little bit, but yet here he is anyway. Turns out you couldn’t run that far from him after all.

To you, it makes perfect sense that if Peter Hayes had to go anywhere, he would go to Dauntless. All throughout his time at Candor, for as long as you can remember Peter, he had been crafting his words to inflict as much misery as possible. In the eyes of the faction leaders, anything he said was fair game so long as he was telling the truth, and Peter did just that. He told his truth, which was precisely like reality except warped to cause as much hurt as he dared. 

Peter’s words were honed to a knife’s sharpness, easier for drawing blood than the syringes of your faction’s truth serum. Of course he would go here, where bullets are no longer how he shapes his syllables to spike into your throat but a real thing. Why bother with figurative pain if you can produce the genuine article?

The two of you had ended up here for precisely opposite reasons. Peter wanted to hurt, you wanted to fight back. Candor is full of self-righteous bullies who believe they’re doing the right thing by being uncommonly cruel to anyone they pass. In Dauntless, everyone is finally on a level playing field. If someone insults you, you fight them, and no amount of callous words can save you then. Talk is nothing if you can’t back it up with prowess. For someone who had to swallow plenty of poison back in Candor, Dauntless is like a holiday.

However, the one thing that makes your paradise fall short is the fact that Peter decided to come here with you. He had made his decision independently of you, of course, but you’re still infuriated about the whole affair. This was supposed to be your fresh start, your one chance to escape your past and become something no one expected of you. That’s the whole point of the Choosing Ceremony, isn’t it? To kill off the old you and transform into the best version of yourself?

That had been your plan, at least, and then Peter had made his choice. You wouldn’t go anywhere but Dauntless even if your entire faction transferred over here, but it did complicate things. You had hoped that you and Peter would always end up on opposite sides of the room, then opposite ends of the faction, and never come in contact again, but as per usual, it looks like Peter isn’t much inclined to follow your whims.

From the first day alone, you knew he was going to be trouble. You were one of the first to jump, fresh off the exhilaration of the free fall plunge from the top of the roof, and reeling in the lingering aftereffects of your largest adrenaline rush to date while waiting for the jumpers to take their turns off the edge. The room was crowded, more so with each new jumper to make their move, yet somehow in all that chaos, Peter managed to find you. It didn’t bode well for the remainder of initiation, to say the least.

You had been hoping that the two of you could exchange silent, wary eye contact and then move on, your past shattered and gone for good, but instead Peter wove his way through the throngs of people and came to a stop by your side.

“Look who we have here,” he says, drawing the words out, “Y/N L/N. I never thought you’d have the guts to come here.”

“And I always thought you’d be too much of a coward to leave Candor,” you reply. “Looks like we were both wrong.”

Peter’s eyes widen and he chuckles, evidently not expecting your retort. “Careful, L/N. Didn’t know you had such a sharp tongue.”

“You’ve known me for years,” you say, eyeing him coldly. “If you didn’t know that, you’re about to be very surprised indeed. I hope you didn’t set your hopes on making first place in initiation, Hayes, or you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

Up ahead, one of the initiation leaders is calling for the trainees to fall in after him. You take this opportunity to breeze past Peter, who’s standing there and staring openly, mouth agape. You’ve put up with his bullshit for many years now, always taking it silently in fear of jeopardizing your position in your faction, but no longer. You’re on even footing again for the first time in a very long time, and you have absolutely no intention of ever caving to Peter Hayes again.

For Peter, it seems, your decision is a very rude awakening. You immediately fling yourself into the intricacies of fighting and running and shooting, which causes you to rise quickly through the ranks of initiates, much to Peter’s chagrin. Although he’ll tell anyone in earshot that he’s only letting you do so well because he thinks it’s funny to watch you struggle, you can see the panic in Peter’s eyes when you crush one fight after another. You meant what you said, after all. It’s first place or nothing, and you don’t intend on settling for anything where Peter’s concerned.

Your rivalry becomes just as well known among your new friends in Dauntless as it was back in Candor. Hardly a day goes by without you and Peter getting in each other’s way, whether it be slamming each other into the ground during a fighting match in the ring or running yourselves ragged in an attempt to be faster, stronger, better. It’s like you can’t get away from him. 

Everywhere you go, Peter is there too. Staying late after initiation to get some more practice with throwing knives, he just so happens to choose the target right beside you. Walking over to the training gym in the middle of the night because you can’t sleep and might as well use the empty hours to improve, Peter seems to have the same bright idea to practice with the punching bags even despite the midnight hour. You don’t like the fact that Peter seems to have such a good knack for telling when you’re awake or asleep, you have half a mind that he might get frustrated of the close competition and take you out while you were sleeping, but he’s never gone that far.

Your friends seem to have a different view of the whole affair. Every time you complain to them about Peter never letting you have a moment’s peace, Tris and Christina, your closest friends in initiation, just exchange knowing looks and begin to tease you. They seem convinced that Peter doesn’t hate you but actually harbors a crush, which is beyond you. There’s no earthly way that Peter likes you. The two of you have despised each other since before you could talk. The whole idea is absurd.

Still, if you were nothing more than an unknowing bystander, you supposed you could see how the situation might be misconstrued. A lifetime of truth-telling in you has to admit that maybe it is a little suspicious that you and Peter can’t seem to go an hour or two without running into each other, that Peter is both your greatest threat and the object of your every waking thought. It’s just because you want to beat him so badly, of course. Of course. If it weren’t, though. If you were thinking of him not because of hatred but for something more–

You wouldn’t. You would never be so foolish. This is how Peter wins, by twisting his way inside your mind until you’re second-guessing every single thing he does, and you’d die before you let him win. If he’s willing to play the game, though, you’ll do anything to beat him at his own technique, so you up the ante and repeat it right back to him. 

Sarcastic comments slip from your tongue whenever you see him. When Four takes the initiates out on guided runs, you make sure you’re jogging right by Peter the whole time, your pace steadily increasing until both of you end each race at a sprint. The rest of the trainees have learned to leave two targets side by side for you two whenever it’s time for sharpshooting practice, and heaven help the hapless initiate who asks one of you to spar as if the other wasn’t standing right there, guarding their territory.

It doesn’t mean anything, though. You still hate Peter to the ends of the earth, and everyone around you had better know it, too. You despise him as much as it’s physically possible for a human being to hate anyone, but then he starts spending a lot of time with someone else, and suddenly the hatred is far harder to come by than it ever was, and you’re not sure what to do with yourself at all.

He’s spending time with another girl. Which isn’t bad, of course. He’s got friends. You do too. But. One time at dinner, you heard Tris saying that he’s looking at the girl the same way he used to look at you, and she wasn’t talking about hate, and you cannot tell whether you were supposed to deny that he’d ever done anything but hate you or be furious at this new girl for stealing his attention away from you, so you didn’t answer at all. You didn’t sleep a wink that night, and gave up a few hours in to try and train some more. He didn’t follow. He always follows. Not this time, though, and when you came back, he was quietly whispering with the other girl. Hatching sinister plans, no doubt, or planning to stab someone in the back. He didn’t even look at you when he came in. It was like he didn’t even care.

You feel sick to your stomach. You intentionally ask other trainees to spar in the ring– look, Peter isn’t the only one capable of moving on– but it’s like he doesn’t even notice. You want to slam your hands against his chest and shout in his face, do anything to make him look at you, but instead you stay sullen and quiet and pretend like nothing has changed even though everything, everything, has.

It hits you, about two weeks later, what the problem is. Like a lightning strike in the dark of night, all of a sudden you know, a knowledge that had been blank and absent before but totally unavoidable now. You like Peter. Hell, you might even love him, if you gave him that chance in your heart. Peter might have liked you, but you brushed him off for so long that he moved on.

It hurts like a jagged hole in your heart. Someone has reached inside and broken your ribs to claw this feeling out from where you’ve so cleverly hidden it, and there’s no disguising the horror of the wound now. You couldn’t escape it if you tried.

You found out this truth about yourself in the middle of a Dauntless party, and it kills your mood completely. You can’t stand the loud music or flashing lights anymore, so you put down your half-empty cup on one of the debris-strewn surfaces and make your way out. No one notices you leave. You’re a ghost on the outskirts of a celebration of life, and there is nothing here for you anymore.

You wander until you end up on the bridge overlooking the pit near the center of the Dauntless complex. You stand as close to the edge as you can, hands gripping the flimsy railing until you’re not sure your fingers could peel away from the rusting metal if you tried. If you’d felt any buzz from the party at all, you’ve sobered up by now. You have no idea how long you’ve been standing here, skin chilled by the drafts of the pit, and then a voice sounds from behind you, and you’re abruptly dragged back to reality once more.

“I thought you’d be back in there with the rest,” Peter says, coming to a stop beside you.

You don’t dare to look at him, opting instead to keep your eyes firmly trained on the drop over the edge of the pit. “I could say the same thing about you.”

Peter sounded genuinely curious when he asked, but your tone is harsher, colder. You still haven’t forgiven him for moving on just when you realized that you liked him, and it’s leaching into your voice. Peter chuckles even still. “No, not me. The best part just left.”

You risk a glance his way, and to your surprise, he’s looking at you. “Are you being honest with me, Peter?” You ask.

His face twists into chagrin. “Looks like we can’t beat the Candor out of ourselves after all, even despite all the training sessions we’ve pulled. I’ve tried, though.”

“You’ve done a good job,” you muse. “It’s me who needs to be fixed the most.”

Peter’s brow furrows. “What are you talking about?”

You shake your head. Maybe you weren’t as sober as you thought. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“Says who?” Peter asks plainly. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

You regard him suspiciously. “You haven’t always.”

Peter has the grace to look embarrassed. “I’ve done things I regret.”

“I don’t believe you,” you say, and laugh to hide your heartbreak. “I know you, Peter Hayes. I know what you do. I’m not falling for it. Not again.”

“It worked before?” Peter asks, genuinely surprised. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

This time you do laugh for real. “Why would I? And give you another weakness to exploit?”

Peter flinches as if you’ve slapped him. “I deserve that, probably, but I’ve been trying to be better.”

“Why?” You ask. “You’ve never cared what I thought, and you certainly don’t care about being better. Nothing about you makes sense, Peter. You’ve got a girl back there in the party who’s probably looking for you now, but instead you’re trying to apologize to me. You’ve never cared about that before.”

“But I do now,” Peter says, voice unexpectedly strong. When he turns the force of his gaze back on you again, you feel totally rooted in place, unable to move even if you wanted to. And, when he starts to move closer to you, one hand coming to rest on top of your fingers, you’re not sure that you do. “I do care. I’ve been trying to tell you that for weeks.”

“I thought you were excellent at telling the truth,” you whisper.

“So did I,” Peter replies. Hesitates, then says, “Only other people’s truth, it turns out. You were always my best secret. I wanted to keep you the most.”

Your breath sticks to your lungs, refusing to grant you release. None of this makes sense. Peter would never– But he is now, standing in front of you, telling you as much as he can. Peter still wants you. It’s up to you if you want him, too.

After everything he’s done to you over the years, you owe him nothing at all. He’s hurt you more times than you could count. When you’re cold, bitterly cold, freezing down to the bone with no way of rescue save your own rough and ragged principles, you burn everything around you. Clothes, shoes, furniture. Even people. Peter burned you, and so severe was the flame of your mutual hatred that it made it impossible for anything to grow between the two of you but a jealous wrath. 

Peter has left the cold of Candor and traded in his shivering bones for Dauntless’ natural warmth, and now he finally has the room to put out the fire again. He’s stamped out the inferno, or tried to, at least; but upon inspecting the last flattened spark, Peter can’t tell if he went too far. It is immensely difficult for him to discern if he has left anything of you but char and ash. 

What could have been a beautiful thing went up in smoke the moment he first raised a harsh word against you. Peter loves the truth, loves most of all to twist it, but in the end, the truth cannot help him here. Peter knows what he wants the truth to be, but the truth is no substitute for reality. It is up to you if you can ever forgive him, and no amount of pretty words on Peter’s end can change that.

It’s up to you, and for the first time since you came to Dauntless, you know precisely what you want. “I know what you mean,” you tell him carefully.

Peter’s face cracks in a tentative smile. “You know? So you–”

“I do,” you interrupt. “I like you, Peter.”

You have seen Peter furious, filled with righteous vengeance. You’ve seen him bloody and bruised on the other end of a sparring ring. You thought that the brightest emotion you’d ever see on him was the pure flame of hatred, but it turns out there’s one thing better than wrath, and that’s sheer, incandescent joy. He wears it now like the finest of luxuries, and you decide that you’d like to see it many times again. As it turns out, you’ll have plenty of chances.

divergent tag list: @blondsauduun, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @manyfandomsfanvergent, @imwaysthelastchoice, @crazyhearttragedy, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @alex-1967s-blog, @aoi-targaryen

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[toskarin]

going on the twine rant again, lads. fair warning.

-

the twine editor is theoretically great software

which is to say, twine editor is far and away the best execution of "a text game maker for people who mostly make text and not games" that presently exists. it's notable for making wholly self-contained (read: does not require interpreter software) text games with functioning mechanics at about the level of code literacy you could feasibly ask from people who brushed off of other more complicated software

this is in large part because the text adventure and IF ecosystem has the same problem as the (similarly insular and incestuous) scorewriting ecosystem: all of the software is made to be used by a group of like 50 people who don't use anything else, so they just settle for whatever exists

twine solves a lot of these problems by simply existing as an html game maker that can automate all of the functions of a gamebook out of the box. the editor has features which (to me) seem to be inspired by scrivener, which is my favourite WYSIWYG writing software for longform fiction on the market (I prefer writing in LaTeX but I can acknowledge that's a habit I picked up and not an endorsement of LaTeX)

that being said, even though there's an obvious utility to being able to prototype out rpgs and such in twine incredibly quickly, I can't really recommend people... use twine for that. because of the problems.

the twine editor is also kind of beautiful for all the ways in which it issoftware designed to torture the user

twine exists with one foot in "games" and one foot in "writing" and this overlap is the totality of its intended use. this space of compromise is still the best that's been made for this specific scene, but it means that edge cases are (at absolute best) operating twine in much the way that someone being hanging onto the edge of a shattered cockpit is operating an airliner

I could go on and on about the specific elements of twine's design that drive me insane, and in how it punishes you both for making too much of a book and for making too much of a game, but there's one problem that kind of sticks out as a simulacrum of this whole issue

by design, twine organises its projects as a story map. this is kind of like the middle point between scrivener's storyboard and a whiteboard, but specialised for use in making text games. this means that each node on it is one screen, called a card, that you can open and edit

doing this opens a window for text input, and the exact contents of this window kind of depend on which format you're writing your story in, but as a rule, you write everything into these sub-windows and that's the game

because twine runs in one window, these cards open more like menus than true windows. you can have one open at a time, and when you need to test something, you close the window and press the button to test the game. simple as

now, for making software, it's helpful to have a versioning function of some sort in case, among other reasons, you fuck something up in a way you don't immediately notice

for writing, you usually want some sort of undo function, in case you accidentally delete something or edit over it

at the intersection of these two, twine does have an undo function. which works differently depending on which version of the editor you're using. in the web version, you get multiple layers of undo. that makes sense.

in the downloaded version, which is the version you have to use if you don't want to use your browser's local storage (?? you shouldn't be doing this) you get

one layer of undo.

in a modern text editor.

that you are expected to write in.

this is on top of the browser-hosted version of twine editor being significantly more stable than the desktop version, so that's obviously the version you're meant to use, which runs in stark contrast to like... how that should work. this should already be raising your blood pressure a little bit if you remember that the browser version of twine saves your project files to your browser's local storage

now, common to both versions is another important feature which seemingly exists to prevent data loss: twine automatically saves your changes when you exit out of a card

this means that, the moment you close a card to go test the changes you just made to your game, they are saved over the previous version of the game with no way to undo them

but there IS a way to get around this without having to write in an entirely separate word processor! several ways even. you can even use the downloaded version if you do this

duplicate the full project every single time you make changes that could necessitate an undo function

make a copy of every card you edit in case you need to revert to it after testing, then remember to delete it afterwards

if you're editing the cards themselves, see option 1, because there is no way to undo deletion of cards in the story map

and like... that's not good. it's kind of the hell machine for killing all human beings, actually

it's also not a problem remotely unique to twine, because this is the kind of thing you see in most niche-specialised software where there isn't really a distinction made between "this is an expected frustration of working on any artistic project" and "this is something completely insane that absolutely should not be the case and isn't tolerated in immediately adjacent comparable creative fields"

twine can be used to make longer projects, but at the point where you're recommending two layers of supporting software that overlap so hard with the editor that they should be redundancies, it becomes clear that the only thing it's really fit-for-purpose to do is non-linear fiction consisting of two or three paragraphs per card

and that's generally not what it's used for! because that sort of thing is almost universally understood as a stepping stone towards using twine for making either longform non-linear fiction or full-featured rpgs

twine could be really useful software, and in fairness it's generally better than the alternatives it supplanted in its niche (people making little interactive poems probably shouldn't be trying to use Inform or TADS), but it really seems like it was designed with as a cursed amulet meant to cause as much grief as possible while being difficult to justify throwing away

[allthegothihopgirls]

i've come to the conclusion that the overall batboys dynamic during games night (which 100% happens on a weekly basis), is:

dick: is actually just trying to play the game 90% of the time, especially with skill games. if it's a chance game he'll usually have a less serious approach to it. all for screwing with jason and purposely annoying him when it comes to games like monopoly etc. definitely 'the one to beat' out of the boys, partially because he's the oldest, but also because he's just. impossible to break in a game.

jason: is THE victim of games night. can never catch a break. he's not overly good at any kind of game, whether it be skill or chance. he's prone to getting super frustrated when he gets in jail in monopoly, +4's in uno etc. his only consolation is that he's usually not last, damian is. doesn't take the ordeal very seriously and enjoys doing some shit-starting of his own, especially when it involves jeopardising dick or tim's 'perfect play'. he's the one player that takes half the game to get one of his pieces on the board in pop-a-matic.

tim: puts all his effort into beating dick, rarely does though. plays seriously most of the time. is the designated dictionary holder in scrabble, dealer in monopoly etc. he's usually very fair, and only causes trouble if everyone else is in on it or it's a 'thrown' game. tries to make chance games more logical than they really are, the other boys will get annoyed if he starts taking to long on his turn because he's trying to calculate odds in his head.

damian: always last. he tries his best, he really does, but he's too much younger than the other boys to even come close. he takes the game pretty seriously, and is determined to be on par with the other boys. gets a bit upset when he inevitably loses. always has a new 'plan' to win the next games night, that he won't tell anyone. is happy to sit on the sidelines and spectate the more complicated games that he doesn't really understand. is happy when bruce joins in a game because he's more likely than any of the boys to have sympathy for him + let him off easy.

[inkspiredwriting]

Starlit Promises

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

The sky above was a canvas of deep navy, dotted with countless stars that twinkled like diamonds. Five Hargreeves had chosen this secluded spot on a hill, far from the city's artificial lights, for its unobstructed view of the heavens. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees, and the faint hum of nocturnal creatures filled the air. It was the perfect setting for a quiet, intimate night.

Five and his girlfriend, y/n, lay side by side on a soft blanket, their hands intertwined. Y/n's head rested on Five's shoulder, and her eyes were wide with wonder as she gazed up at the stars. Five, who was usually more accustomed to chaos and danger, found a strange but welcome sense of peace in this moment.

"Look, there's Orion," Y/n pointed out, her voice soft and filled with awe. She traced the constellation with her finger in the air.

Five turned his head to follow her gaze. "The hunter," he said, his tone reflective. "Funny, I never really took the time to appreciate things like this. Always too busy trying to save the world or fix the timeline."

Y/n's eyes sparkled as she turned to look at him. "Well, tonight you get to be just Five Hargreeves, star-gazer. No timelines to fix, no apocalypses to prevent."

Five chuckled softly, the sound blending with the night air. "That sounds nice for a change." He tightened his grip on her hand. "You know, I brought you here because there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about."

Y/n's expression grew curious. She shifted slightly to get a better look at him, propping herself up on one elbow. "What is it?"

Five took a deep breath, the seriousness of the conversation he was about to have weighing on him. He turned his gaze back to the stars, using their distant light as a way to anchor himself.

"I've seen so many things," he began, his voice steady but tinged with emotion. "Most of them are grim, filled with loss and pain. When I met you, I found a reason to hope for something better. But I also realized how terrified I am of losing you."

Y/n's expression softened, and she reached out to gently stroke his cheek. "Five, you don't have to worry about losing me. I'm here, and I plan to be here for a long time."

Five smiled, though there was a trace of sadness in his eyes. "I know that now. But my life... it's complicated. I’ve been to places and seen things that are hard to come back from. Sometimes I wonder if it’s fair to ask you to be part of that.”

Y/n leaned in closer, her eyes locking onto his. “Five, everyone has their own battles. Yours just happen to be a bit more... unconventional. But that doesn’t mean you have to face them alone. I want to be there with you, no matter what.”

Five’s heart swelled with emotion. He turned his body slightly to face her, his free hand reaching up to cup her face. “I love you, y/n. More than I ever thought I could love someone. And I promise, no matter what happens, no matter what the future holds, I will always support you and be there for you.”

Tears glistened in y/n’s eyes as she smiled warmly at him. “I love you too, Five. And I promise the same. Whatever comes our way, we’ll face it together.”

They leaned in, their lips meeting in a tender kiss that seemed to seal their promises under the watchful eyes of the stars. When they finally pulled back, they remained close, their foreheads touching, basking in the intimacy of the moment.

As they settled back onto the blanket, their hands still entwined, Five felt a sense of peace he hadn’t known in years. For the first time, the future didn’t seem so daunting. With y/n by his side, he believed they could face whatever came their way. They lay there under the starlit sky, talking about dreams and plans, knowing that no matter where the winds of time took them, they had each other.

The night grew colder, but the warmth of their connection kept them close. And as the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, Five felt something he hadn't felt in a long time: hope.