#oc deep delve

[silurisanguine]

OC character deep delve - Seren Jones

Questions originally from a post by Painted-Bees, but the post seems to have vanished. Luckily I'd kept my draft as i started answering so here they are in their entirety. I tag the Coemancer Crew as always and anyone who'd like to do this as i really found it helped flesh out my ocs as the questions ask things i hadn't thought about. This is for Seren Jones, my Starfield OC - See her original look, her look during her early Starborn days and her more settled self.

Under cut because there are 50 questions!

1. How does your character think of their father? What do they hate and love about him? What influence - literal or imagined - did the father have? She loves her father Michael dearly. He helped give her a strong understanding for the need for education, but made learning fun, even in the most trying circumstances. She loves his enthusiasm for learning, but wishes he'd be more careful with his gambling. Though knows he is a secret card shark when it comes to poker!

2. Their mother? How do they think of her? What do they hate? Love? What influence - literal or imagined - did the mother have? She adores her mother Anne. Her mom was always the rock that held her family together even when they had to move from one planet to another. She was always there when Seren was upset, though she knows she got her emotional reactions to things from her mom too. As well as she thinks her empathic nature. She knows her mum hides it but now she is an adult she sees little tells and wishes her mum was more open about it. Once Starborn, she senses it clearly from the versions of Anne she brings herself to meet.

3. Brothers, sisters? Who do they like? Why? What do they despise about their siblings? Thanks to the Colony war, it put a scupper on her parents wanting any more children, instead choosing to focus on Seren alone.

4. What type of discipline was your character subjected to at home? Strict? Lenient? Her parents were pretty laid back with her growing up, never really needing to be strict with her as she was a quiet child who never really got into trouble, who enjoyed learning and kept to herself mostly.

5. Were they overprotected as a child? Sheltered? She was protected as a kid, mainly at first from the war, as much as possible but when she moved back to Akila, she soon learnt about prejudice and resentment from others that was only made worse when they moved to New Atlantis again. Her parents may have been laid back with her, but were protective against those who tried to bully her.

6. Did they feel rejection or affection as a child? Only ever affection from her parents.

7. What was the economic status of their family? She remembers them living in a large home in Midtown when she was little, then a modest apartment in New Atlantis, then when they moved back to Akila, the home was smaller in Mid town. Thanks to her father being a professor and her mom working for various businesses as PA, she never went without, but they tended to be modest with their income, just in case. It's why she was happy to help fund a nice central apartment for them when they retired to NA.

8. How does your character feel about religion? Her parents are both Enlightened, though not deeply involved and she is an atheist too, but doesn't subscribe to any system. She can respect other faiths until they start assuming she is like them or tries to push their beliefs on her. Now she is Starborn she knows there are things she doesn't understand, but still doesn't think a divine being created it.

9. What about political beliefs? She grew up Freestar and values freedom, but she also sees the theoretical benefits of the UC. Having grown up in both societies she sees the good and bad in both. Now she feels both systems need a major overhaul and redesign. Ones that care for all walks of life.

10. Is your character street-smart, book-smart, intelligent, intellectual, slow-witted? She has two degrees, one is starship design, the other business, so yes she is well educated. She wasn't street smart at first, but soon learnt to be once she became a whistleblower.

11. How do they see themselves: as smart, as intelligent, uneducated? She knows she is smart and thanks to her empathic nature, can be manipulative. She hopes her compassionate morality tempers that.

12. How does their education and intelligence – or lack thereof - reflect in their speech pattern, vocabulary, and pronunciations?

As above she can use words to manipulate people to her point of view. People have always considered her to have a 'silver tongue'. Being Starborn now and knowing how events usually play out makes it even easier for her.

13. Did they like school? Teachers? Schoolmates? She did a combination of virtual and in situ learning. She didn't enjoy early school as jumping from Freestar to UC then back, made her a target for kids from both sides. It wasn't until secondary school, where she had settled into Akila again, did she find at least some fair weather friends to make life less lonely. When she moved once again to UC space, she stayed with the school for a bit learning virtually so she'd be with people she knew, even if they were never close with her. Her teachers were alright, though she knew they also held prejudices against her, especially the UC teachers when they found she was educated in FC space. She often had to work to prove she was as educated as the rest of the students. Thankfully her father being an acclaimed professor himself, was often able to have a quiet word now and then with them and put that to rest.

14. Were they involved at school? Sports? Clubs? Debate? Were they unconnected? Not really. She did get involved in history club at one point as she was fascinated by Solomon Coe and how he started the FC, but she often argued with the teacher who ran it, who often was very biased against the UC for everything, which Seren knew wasn't accurate. Other than that she tended to keep to herself.

15. Did they graduate? High-School? College? Do they have a PHD? A GED? She graduated with honors in Business and starship design.

16. What does your character do for a living? How do they see their profession? What do they like about it? Dislike? Currently? She doesn't have a set occupation. Each universe is so unique she has to adapt to them. Practically she is an explorer and adventurer...sometimes thief and smuggler: acts she does to survive. In the original universe she loved being part of Constellation and hopes to go back to that when the time..and universe are right.

17. Did they travel? Where? Why? When? She moved a lot with her parents between Akila and New Atlantis, as her father took what ever teaching jobs he could before, during and after the Colony war. When she as an adult turned whistle-blower against the company she worked for, she had to move around a lot whilst she was in hiding as a miner. She made the best of it, her explorer nature developed as part of it. Once she joined Constellation she travelled so much she lost count of the planets she visited. Now her travels take her to places she'd never though possible.

18. What did they find abroad, and what did they remember? That people are the same no matter what.

19. What were your character’s deepest disillusions? In life? What are they now? That when you think things are bad, they can get worse.

20. What were the most deeply impressive political or social, national or international, events that they experienced? Oh boy...The fact the UC kept Vae Victis alive and he knew and used Terrormorphs? The fact Ron Hope was a traitor to the FC, that the UC created the Crimson Fleet in their vile treatment of prisoners. That the artifacts Constellation were collecting led to the multiverse! Just a few things...

21. What are your character’s manners like? What is their type of hero? Whom do they hate?

She is polite, but she is street-smart now and can get the feel for how to interact with people. That was how she was so good at going under cover with the CF for Sysdef. She doesn't have heroes, though her parents are close to that. She hates anyone who enjoys cruelty- The Hunter especially.

22. Who are their friends? Lovers? ‘Type’ or 'ideal’ partner? She is close friends with Barrett and Andreja, as well as Vlad. Less so with Sarah, though she respects her. The love of her life is Sam, in all ways and forms. She never met someone who sparked joy in her life, like he did and still does.

23. What do they want from a partner? What do they think and feel of sex? A best friend, someone who understands them and supports them. She loves sex, the intimacy and connection with another person on that deep level. Thankfully she found a partner who was very into it too.

24. What social groups and activities does your character attend? What role do they like to play? What role do they actually play, usually? Reluctant leader in her original verse. She never wanted to take such a role in Constellation, and even though Sarah was the defacto leader, she often felt that she did more to run the group than Sarah did, when it came to the Artifacts at least. Now they play what ever they need to be to survive each new universe.

25. What are their hobbies and interests? She used to love ship building, and that will come back to her soon. she also loved decorating her homes and outposts. She enjoys weapon and spacesuit design as well as everything that comes with exploring.

26. What does your character’s home look like? Personal taste? Clothing? Hair? Appearance?

Her OG home in Akila was cosy as was her apartment in NA. She liked to mix the more rustic FC style with contemporary features. Clothing wise, she is smart practical, favouring darker colours. Her hair was originally dyed silver grey, but she's since been dark turquoise blue and now sporting deep purple.

27. How do they relate to their appearance? How do they wear their clothing? Style? Quality? She like to wear darker makeup, especially lipstick, getting some semi permanent makeup done at Enhance so she doesn't have to worry about it. Hair wise, she loves colour even if her styles are practical. In fact everything now is practical, but she is keen to maintain her appearance.

28. Who is your character’s mate? How do they relate to them? How did they make their choice? Partner? Sam Coe. She and Sam share a similar sense of humour, she adores how devoted he is to his daughter and thinks she fell in love with him over that first. It showed how compassionate he was.

29. What is your character’s weaknesses? Hubris? Pride? Controlling? Grief and vengeance.

30. Are they holding on to something in the past? Can he or she forgive? At the moment she cannot forgive the Hunter for what he did and from everything she's seen and experienced, she never will. She wishes she could have held onto something from her past, but lost it all in the Unity except her memories. But she holds onto her love for Sam.

31. Does your character have children? How do they feel about their parental role? About the children? How do the children relate? She doesn't have any biological children, though she became much like a mother to Cora originally. She believes Cora thought of her as a mom too, but things didn't go well after Sam's death, with Cora blaming her for not saving him. Now she's Starborn, she's not sure she can have children herself.

32. How does your character react to stress situations? Defensively? Aggressively? Evasively? Depends on the situation. When she knows it's going to be stressful, she can be steady. But sudden events can knock her for six and she can be very emotional about them.

33. Do they drink? Take drugs? What about their health? She is Freestar, so can hold her liquor. She enjoys a glass or three of whisky or bourbon. She had tried Aurora once, didn't think much of it. Now she is Starborn her health is exceptional, but she knows it comes with caveats.

34. Does your character feel self-righteous? Revengeful? Contemptuous? She believes in vengeance. She crosses the Unity in order to become strong enough to end the Hunter.

35. Do they always rationalize errors? How do they accept disasters and failures? She didn't do well after Sam's death. Found it very hard to accept it wasn't her fault. Since then she'd had to time to accept that The Hunter played them all.

36. Do they like to suffer? Like to see other people suffering? They do not enjoy suffering. They jumped universes to try and run from it! But they would happily see The Hunter suffer as well as anyone else who enjoyed cruelty.

37. How is your character’s imagination? Daydreaming a lot? Worried most of the time? Living in memories? She daydreams a lot about finding somewhere to just stop. She worries she will never find that. She keeps her memories close, though she is starting to be more open to living in the moment.

38. Are they basically negative when facing new things? Suspicious? Hostile? Scared? Enthusiastic? She has no choice in experiencing new things, if she has a chance to find a universe she can stay in, she'd take it. She is often terrified of what she will find next but she is quick to adapt.

39. What do they like to ridicule? What do they find stupid? Stupidity and arrogance. She likes to bring down those who are both. See her original universe Delgado and The Crimson Fleet...also Ron Hope.

40. How is their sense of humor? Do they have one? Sometimes quirky and light hearted, sometimes dark and dry. Her experiences have changed her somewhat.

41. Is your character aware of who they are? Strengths? Weaknesses? Idiosyncrasies? Capable of self-irony? She is now acutely aware of the fact she is Starborn. She isn't human anymore. She knows she has powers beyond any human and that comes with a sense of superiority she fights to restrain. Thankfully her empathy helps her keep her sense of compassion and morality.

42. What does your character want most? What do they need really badly, compulsively? What are they willing to do, to sacrifice, to obtain? To find a universe with a Sam just like her first. She knows now it wont be the same, but she can try again and do better this time. She sacrificed her humanity to do this.

43. Does your character have any secrets? If so, are they holding them back? She keeps her Starborn nature close until she trusts those she's with as there is no hiding her abilities in a fight.

44. How badly do they want to obtain their life objectives? How do they pursue them? Desperately. She jumps universes to find the right one.

45. Is your character pragmatic? Think first? Responsible? All action? A visionary? Passionate? Quixotic? She is passionate, but holds it back as best she can in situations where she needs a clear head.

46. Is your character tall? Short? What about size? Weight? Posture? How do they feel about their physical body? She is 5'6" and strong, wiry physique. She is Akilan born so stronger than she appears. She holds herself tall. She knows her Starborn body will always be healthy, but worries what it has changed about her.

47. Do they want to project an image of a younger, older, more important person? Do they want to be visible or invisible? She knows she can command authority, but temper it with camaraderie that people just happily work with her. Being Starborn and in new universes she plays the role she needs to whilst learning where she is.

48. How are your character’s gestures? Vigorous? Weak? Controlled? Compulsive? Energetic? Sluggish? She tends to mirror people when she talks with them, as her empathic nature uses that to make them feel comfortable around her.

49. What about voice? Pitch? Strength? Tempo and rhythm of speech? Pronunciation? Accent? Her voice is cultured Akilan though again she can mirror accents if needed to work with people. Slightly melodic and well spoken.

50. What are the prevailing facial expressions? Sour? Cheerful? Dominating? Very neutral face, but she's been told her eyes are piercing as if looking into their souls.

[matchalovertrait]

The start of Alegría VS Caruso.

Transcript:

Chef Bianchi: Chef Alegría, your asparagus penne pasta is exquisite! Keep up the good work.

Dulce: Yes, Chef. Thank you so much.

Chef Bianchi: Class is dismissed. Some of you have to work a little harder, so make sure you practice more over the weekend.

?: Whoop-de-doo. Little Miss Diced Junior comes in and becomes the teacher’s pet. What a surprise.

Dulce: [Turns around] Excuse me? And who are you exactly?

?: Caruso. You don’t pay attention to your surroundings? [Rolls eyes]

Dulce: Interesting. Caruso is usually a last name. Are you embarrassed of your first name?

Caruso: Is that even important? Look, I know the kind of person you are. Mia D’Angelo-Ramirez probably got you into this school.

Dulce: Ha! I’ll have you know that none of this came easy to me. I’m sorry you can’t cook simple pasta, but don’t take out your frustrations and insecurities out on me.

Caruso: Just a fluke. I know I’m the better chef in the kitchen and I’ll prove it. You’ll be irrelevant in a couple more months.

Dulce: [Sarcastic voice] Ohhh nooo, I’m so scared. My entire career is threatened by you! Please, have mercy.

Caruso: You think this is a game?

Dulce: Yeah, a really funny one too. What kind of Italian can‘t cook pasta?

Caruso: You are unbelievable.

Dulce: 0kay, since you want to play a game soooo badly, let’s do this: Whoever gets the highest grade in this class wins whatever silly competition you created in your mind.

Caruso: Fine. You’re on, Alegría.

[spicesprouts]

Okay, so lesser moons orbiting larger moons would be super hard, and the imagery doesn’t show any rotation between Ignis and Luna, so my early rendition of moon phases is a lil out the window. It was fun but I’d rather find something that lines up with how the world works.

It’s almost (or is with natural laws) impossible for two satellites to maintain the same orbit, as even on opposite sides of the planetary body they affect each other and break perfect orbit. But they’re only ever depicted as side by side, except in early/late night where one hasn’t risen or the other has set, so they’re not on separate orbits or different distances, or else they would not both always be visible. And given the amount of things flow can affect and gain light cocoons etc, and what is known about the moons, and that I’ve read one or two things about the moons changing phases somewhat, I think orbiting together is more realistic for Palia.

But the mention of the moons changing phases could indicate the waxing/waning as a longer term plot thing (or just updated images that changed the phases, who knows), so messing with big world mechanics has Implications.

So there are three potentials for my silly werewolf oc that runs around in my head like a hamster in a ball:

1. The fun one, where phases happen and are able to be timed but unavoidable acts of nature. Typical werewolf shit, loss of agency and ties in with the lil schedule routines the NPCs have in general like. Yeah it’s silly and classic.

2. The “less fun but hinging on more canon answers” one, where Sunny doesn’t transform until the game gives me moon phases or plot happens. This is basically one to avoid a retcon and would hinge on future content to flesh out lore that could tie in. Is it necessary? No not at all. Am I persnickety and do I enjoy working within confines? Yes. But the result would be meh.

3. The “vibe-altering but canon-hopeful” one where transformations may be dependent on phases in the hopes of incorporating that, but mostly come from strong emotions so they can happen at any time and eventually at will.

[korvidking]

oh yeah i designed myself a ponysona a while back. and forgot to post him

his name is deep delve and he doesn’t believe in magic despite being surrounded by it because he’s an idiot

[altblock-tm]

I need to get crazier about my OCs augh. Have I ever brought up Master Mason

Master Mason is the accompanying character to my sona, Myrie. He’s a necromancer who lives in a tower and is teaching Myrie in the arts and complexities of magic and dealing with mystical creatures. He practically raised her too.

Here is a list of… some of the things he’s done:

-Found a poor, freezing, starving orphan on the streets (Myrie) and immediately thought, “Boy, I want to teach her to raise the dead!” So he scoops her up, threw her over his shoulder, and RAN.

-Claims he has werewolves as personal guards, and if they don’t come to his aid, an undead horde to protect him. Neither of those seem to actually exist.

-Carries around still-burning pipes in his pockets and occasionally takes them out to smoke in the middle of a quest. Yes he will put them back in the pocket without putting them out.

-Refuses to specify whether “Master” is a title he goes by (since he’s also known as “the Tower Master”) or if “Master Mason” is actually his name.

-He’s definitely inhuman but he also refuses to answer what exactly he is. Master Mason doesn’t fit any existing mythical creature and just seems to be his own guy.

-He also refuses to answer how old he is or how many students he’s had before Myrie. The latter seems like a personal subject.

-Often sends Myrie on quests with no point (making her go on a dangerous trip to collect a highly specific flower in a vast field in that same flower only for him to eat it when she brings it back; making her risk her life to kill a monster while he sits back and catches up on his reading; has her conjure up spirits chained by suffering so they can get directions through the town; etc.)

-Stays silly :3

[igniting-quill]

Happy Spring Fest and Chinese/Lunar New Year!

To celebrate, here are a select few of my D&D OCs in like Hanfu/older Chinese dress. Yes, all my OCs so far would be represented by this because its their culture. Yes I wanted to draw this. No I didn't have time, so we're going to have to settle.

Hailang (Hai) Saangbiar:

Paladin needs her sleeves tight to her wrist. Blue colorscheme.

And also everything in this link lowkey I want to buy it now HAHA

For example:

So good so good, first is more "historical" take of this outfit, the second is more of a fantasy take.

Luxury (Lux) Quartz:

Fantasy-esque style with of course added accessories. Can also do both gender's styles. BIG SLEEVES it's part of the drama!

Obviously, the fan comes along with the outfit. They fucking love the loud sound the fan comes with when opening.

Post Timeskip Lux (future campaign):

Also! Lux is a drama king so of course they'd rock a Shanghai style modernized qipao. Especially because it was see as a "showy" sensual modern clothing item anyways, they'd be drawn to it. This isn't shown lol I got tired.

Ssatosthülasi (Ula)

I saw this one photoshoot with snake-hanfu and I'm obsessed. She would rock the blue and the white both. Also she would have a relationship this sapphic, and I'll need to write it down eventually. Not shown, but Ula would also rock a modernized qipao. With like. Embroidered snakes.

Damien Wang/Gu

Based off the DC character Damian Wayne/Al-Ghul, so of course I had to find something that worked with the wonk colorscheme of red, yellow, and green. AND I FOUND SOMETHING THAT LOOKS DECENT?

Oh he's drinking alc here well, kinda fits the character if you know you know

Happy spring fest hehe!

[impossible-rat-babies]

im fleshing out bits of eyrie’s whm family stuff and im kinda. kinda vibing w some concepts

[windydrawallday]

THE GOAT THAT KEEPS GIFTING

I have been reading about the Wheel of Year's festivals, and I got caught by the idea of one of Yule's activities being about creating straw decorations in the form of goats! And so this design was born 💝 Happy holidays!!!

[moe-broey]

Idk when I'll even get to Indigo Disk tbh. I got other shit goin' on

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

I hesitated to send this because it feels wrong to criticize fanfiction to the writer directly, but it looked like on your blog you said you appreciate feedback. Leara comes across as far too tolerant of abuse given her background. She's an altmer Blade in her 60's, but she says nothing to Delphine's passive aggression and only occasionally sasses Bishop, not even addressing the incident where he puts his hands on her throat.

You're fine! I appreciate feedback, and you raise some good points! Criticism like this helps in thinking through the why's and how's of the characters and plot. Now if you'd bounced into my ask box to landblast me or the story, I'd just yeet the ask into the void. Unless you were landblasting Bishop. Then I'd agree with you.

Leara's tolerance for abuse is something I'm trying to address in Part II. She has an unhealthy threshold born from what she considers a "means to an end" kind of attitude. Her "willingness" to tolerate it stems from her tenure in the Dominion.

I think we all know that the Aldmeri Dominion conditions its agents. In Esbern's dossier, it's noted that Elenwen's predecessor was recalled to Alinor for "punishment and reeducation". As an agent within the Dominion, Leara would have been exposed to and likely gone through the grooming and supremacy doctrine emphasized by the Thalmor. This would have occured in an early stage of her life, between the ages of 29-38. By the time she escapes, it's a miracle she's retained her own mind and her loyalty to the Blades. I cannot stress enough how dangerous this espionage mission was, and how it failed in it's primary objective (to uncover and relay the Dominion's plans).

(N.B: if you've seen #oc: aurora orianus on my blog, then you know I have another Dragonborn. The universe where she exists is based on a continuity where Leara does give into the Dominion, becoming an indoctrinated Thalmor agent. "Vilya" is in charge of the Thalmor Headquarters (which I think is a sort of judicial consulate) in Solitude.)

Why doesn't she react verbally to Delphine? Leara escaped the Dominion before the signing of the White Gold Concordat and "disbandment" (massacre) of the Blades. Instead of returning to Cloud Ruler Temple, she ran away. The way Leara sees it, Delphine kept up the fight while she abandoned her order to hide in High Rock. She feels ashamed, like she's inadequate. This will come to a head when Delphine demands for the slaying of Paarthurnax. Leara will stand up and challenge her leadership then.

I'm looking for the trigger point, the part where Leara snaps from the Dominion's abuse conditioning, and retaliates against Bishop. The waking of the dragon, if you will. When she accepts being Dragonborn, she rejects being used. We haven't reached that point yet.

[angelfoodscake]

i was gonna say something about making cherry more hammer like but then i realised ,,, if she is less hammer like then that sorta adds to her isolation / being different shtick ..

[theshadowofthedoctor]

OOC

Something that I just realized about all the versions of Hels, is that at their core, they want to sweet to people. They want to be kind and while the ones that have The Doctor can be kind and be sweet, Baby Hels has Melody to protect on those New York streets and she has to keep her friend safe, so she cant be kind. She can't be sweet, she has to be tough, for Melody.

[ldknightshade]

morality: a character creation guide

creating and understanding your oc’s personal moral code! no, i cannot tell you whether they’re gonna come out good or bad or grey; that part is up to you.

anyway, let’s rock.

i. politics

politics are a good way to indicate things your character values, especially when it comes to large-scale concepts such as government, community, and humanity as a whole.

say what you will about either image; i’d argue for the unintiated, the right image is a good introduction to some lesser discussed ideologies… some of which your oc may or may not fall under.

either way, taking a good look at your character’s values on the economic + social side of things is a good place to start, as politics are something that, well… we all have ‘em, you can’t avoid ‘em.

clearly, this will have to be adjusted for settings that utilize other schools of thought (such as fantasy + historical fiction and the divine right of kings), but again, economic/social scale plotting will be a good start for most.

ii. religion + philosophy

is your oc religious? do they believe in a form of higher power? do they follow some sort of philosophy?

are they devout? yes, this applies to non-religious theist and atheist characters as well; in the former’s case… is their belief in a higher power something that guides many of their actions or is their belief in a higher power something that only informs a few of their actions? for the atheists; do they militant anti-theists who believe atheism is the only way and that religion is harmful? or do they not care about religion, so long as it’s thrust upon them?

for the religious: what is your oc’s relationship with the higher power in question? are they very progressive by their religion’s standards or more orthodox? how well informed of their own religion are they?

does your oc follow a particular school of philosophical thought? how does that interact with their religious identification?

iii. values

by taking their political stance and their religious + philosophical stance, you have a fairly good grasp on the things your character values.

is there anything they value - due to backstory, or what they do, or what they love - that isn’t explained by political stance and religious and/or philosophical identification? some big players here will likely be your oc’s culture and past.

of everything you’ve determined they value, what do they value the most?

iv. “the line”

everyone draws it somewhere. we all have a line we won’t cross, no matter the lengths we go for what we believe is a noble cause. where does your character draw it? how far will they go for something they truly believe is a noble cause? as discussed in part iii of my tips for morally grey characters,

would they lie? cheat? steal? manipulate? maim? what about commit acts of vandalism? arson? would they kill?

but even when we have a line, sometimes we make exceptions for a variety of reasons. additionally, there are limits to some of the lengths we’d go to.

find your character’s line, their limits and their exceptions.

v. objectivism/relativism

objectivism, as defined by the merriam-webster dictionary, is “an ethical theory that moral good is objectively real or that moral precepts are objectively valid.”

relativism, as defined by the merriam-webster dictionary, is “a view that ethical truths depend on the individuals and groups holding them.”

what take on morality, as a concept, does your character have? is morality objective? is morality subjective?

we could really delve deep into this one, but this post is long enough that i don’t think we need to get into philosophical rambling… so this is a good starting point.

either way, exploring morality as a concept and how your character views it will allow for better application of their personal moral code.

vi. application

so, now you know what they believe and have a deep understanding of your character’s moral code, all that’s left is to apply it and understand how it informs their actions while taking their personality into account.

and interesting thing to note is that we are all hypocrites; you don’t have to do this, but it might be fun to play around with the concept of their moral code and add a little bit of hypocrisy to their actions as a treat.

either way, how do your character’s various beliefs interact? how does it make them interact with the world? with others? with their friends, family, and community? with their government? with their employment? with their studies? with the earth and environment itself?

in conclusion:

there’s a lot of things that inform one’s moral compass and i will never be able to touch on them all; however, this should hopefully serve as at least a basic guide.

[plumiechim]

Fuck the pain out [JJK] [m]

PAIRING: Jungkook x female reader

GENRE: Halloween party, smut, angst if you consider, pwp

WARNING: masked shit (ghostface), he is masked, unprotected sex, oc is js sad, he likes her, blowjob, lil fluff talk and blah blah

SUMMARY: Maybe ghostface will fuck your sadness away tonight.

W.C: 1.3k

A/N : Halloween and yet no man masked as ghostface to fuck me so why not write about it. Enjoy!

I was so broken by that point I didn't even give a fuck who the man kissing my neck was. He told me he'll make me feel good, treat me good tonight, maybe help me forget that I'm a fucking shattered piece of soul.

I can't even tell how he looks because his face is concealed by an intimidating mask. "I'm ghostface." was how he'd introduced himself to me while I was alone by myself smoking a joint at this halloween party my friends brought me to.

Having to see a person you've always loved deep down in your heart for years with another girl feels like shit even though I know I have no right to feel that way.

We're in the dark, now that his mask is off, I can't really see his face but I can feel the jewel on his lip momentarily graze my neck-

Wait.

I know who that jewel belongs to.

My eyes shoot open and my hands slide to his shoulders. I croaked, "Are you sure you wanna-." His lips shut me off before I speak any further.

A soft whimper leaves my mouth as his lips delve deeper into my mouth, "So broken, so needy." His lips graze against mine. "It's okay baby, I'll make you forget him tonight."

The way he assured me, gosh. I softly slipped my hands cupping the girth of his neck, I could feel him looking at me. I took my lips down his jaw as I slipped my palm to the back of his head and trailed kisses up to the corner of his lips.

"Kiss me." His whispers were all that I needed to press my lips against his. His hand roughly grabbed me by my neck as he hungrily devoured my lips.

His passionate kiss kept me busy as he slowly lowered us onto the mattress, him nestled between my legs as he trailed kisses from my lips to my chin, my jaw down to my cleavage.

"You need someone to worship you." His murmur tickles my skin and I suck in a sharp breath. "Understand you." A stinging sensation of his teeth slightly nipping on my skin, yet I love it. "Validate you." He continues his abuse on my skin. "Love you." Maybe its the joint that's heightening my senses and making me extremely sensitive to everything I was feeling. I wanted him. Bad. "You need commitment." He tugs onto my pants.

Oh my.

I push him off of me as he stands at the edge of the bed. Even though I can't really see I can sense him. I can sense him looking at me. A little surprised, confused at the same time. I can feel his chest raising and falling rhythmically with his loud erratic breaths.

I undid the buttons of his shirt one by one ascending, while his fingers tangled and played with my hair.

It was as if he was sculpted, body so perfect, muscles in right places. My tongue brushed over his abs leaving wet kisses as I went lower and tugged on the band of his Calvin Kleins.

As I pulled down his boxers, I could feel him tightening his grip on my locks. I get off the bed down on my knees as I spit on his cock and sensually lick the tip then proceed to slowly put him in my mouth.

His tatted arm fists my hair. His girth barely fitting into my mouth, but I still make an attempt to bob my head. His moans were so pretty, so hot, made me wanna go deeper and harder. The vibrations of his vocalization revert to the back of my throat.

I'm loving the fact that I'm making him feel good. I slowly get used to his girth and start working my mouth on him in all the ways I can. The way he's tugging on my hair kinda stings but that is something I can easily overlook.

"Fuck, you're so good." I can feel my own arousal spasming through my insides as i can feel him twitching in my mouth. "I'm not gonna last much." He moans as he pulls out of my mouth and grabs my hair, not by extreme but strong enough to yank me to the bed. He crawls, spreading my legs open and resting between my thighs.

I let out a small whimper as my back meets the surface of the mattress. He wastes' no time in ripping me off of my clothes and throwing them across the room. "I'm not going soft on you." He whispers as his thumb plays with my lower lip. I gently wrap my lips around his finger and flick it out. "I don't want that either." I breathe out.

"Baby, I wanna fuck you mad. Like an animal."

"You better do."

I physically jerk at the feeling of his fingers grazing my glistening cunt. I bite my lips as he slides his hand up my folds and slowly inserts his finger in me.

He goes slow at first but then shows no mercy, plunging his fingers in and out of me. His lips press against mine as he swallows my moans.

"I want you. Please." I breathe out and that's all he needed to pull his fingers out of me and reach out for the piece of latex.

I stop him. "I want you raw in me."

"If you do that then I can't fucking pull out-"

"I want you to not." I cut him off and I can see his silhouette, his neck cranking sideways putting on the mask he possessed, and I feel his girth in me and his tatted arm presses me down to the pillow by my neck.

"Baby you feel so good." He reaches down to kiss my thigh from under the mask as he starts with his thrusts.

Divine is what I would like to call this feeling. He felt so good I couldn't help but let out obscene noises. He felt divine. His moans, his breath, his thrusts, him inside me. It was all so hot.

My back arched as his thrusts got insanely deep and hard. His grip on my neck tightens and I feel our arousal dripping down my thighs.

"Mine." he grunts. "You're mine."

This was unusual for me. Cumming so fast like this. But I could already feel the tightening sensation and I can no longer assure that I am sane. My eyes roll to the back of my head as I take full pleasure of the feeling of him inside me, shaking vigorously underneath him syncing with his animalistic thrusts. As he leans down, I lift his mask a little to let him peck my neck. I can see veins popping on his neck, from the illumination from the window. His face and neck flushed pink.

"Baby you gonna cum?" I nod. He slows down. I whimper. "I need words, love." He smirks on my skin. "I'm gonna cum." I blurt out, my hips desperately trying to create some sort of stimulation.

But my pathetic attempt fails as he grabs my hips, restoring his thrusts. And I no longer am able to hold it in me. I unfold shaking under him, clenching hard. "Yeah baby, come all over my cock." He coos, his thrusts again going gentle.

But that was short lasted as he started chasing his own orgasm. Overstimulating but I loved the way he was desperately snapping his hips against mine. "Fuck if you clench on me like this- fuck." and with the hottest moan, he cums in me. His mask now off of him, hot sweaty body pressed against mine, his wet strands tickling my breasts. and his lips on my skin.

He takes a few minutes to regain his breath. "So you staying for the night or not." He says as he turns on the dim lamp from the nightstand.

His expression soon turns into a slight disappointment seeing the uncertainty in my face.

[clockswatches]

oh they're kind of fucked up actually

[elioslover]

Masks On (Harry Styles x reader x smut).

Premise: Harry finally visits a sex club and what are the chances, you just so happen to be doing the same thing.

Word Count: 8k+ / Other Writing

Warnings: Smut from start to finish. P in V, Unprotected sex, literally all the sex things, just pure FILTH. Afab 2nd person (minimal OC description).

Also, shout-out to @justmeinatree for the encouragement and @caramello-styles for being such a sweetheart!

🍒

Harry feels the energy shift as soon as he steps out from the mass of thick, velvet curtain that worked to shield the utter filth that lay just beyond. The club- as referred to, looks more like a converted condo, with walls dyed with deep hues, ultraviolet lights instead of harsh bulbs, and purple and red bounce across the room- the floors, the ceilings.

Though the room is busy, everyone is scattered, and it feels spacious enough. Harry observes the array of beds and sofa’s instead of tables and chairs; people are going at it, moans mixing in with the deep bass emitted from nearby speakers.

Patrons- dressed in only bowties and Grecian inspired masks, carrying trays of beverages and sex toys with a formality that seemed foolish for a play like this. The pretty penny Harry had paid to be here was clearly being put to good use.

The entire thing screamed ‘filthy rich fun’, which, even for Harry, seemed almost awestriking; it was the type of elite secrecy one would never dream of, and if he had any doubt about joining this evening, it was erased the minute a waiter appeared before him, offering up a glass of whisky he wasn’t even sure he had ordered.

To be fair, after such an effort to simply enter this place, plenty of hoops to jump through and many questions to be answered and confirmed, it only made sense that the owners would ensure it was more than worth it.

Harry put the crystal to his lips, downing its contents in an anxious bid for comfortability. Instead, it burned at his chest and sent a long shiver down his spine; he shuddered, his skin sprinkled with goosebumps.

Ridding himself of his blazer, white tank top, leather loafers, and other personal belongings when he arrived, assured they would stay safe in his absence, Harry now stands in only a pair of black briefs. They cling to his thighs, pinching at the meaty expanse of his soft skin, diffing into and trapping a few of the hairs growing at the base of his pelvis.

But Harry could be fully nude for all he cares- the platinum, Phantom of the Opera mask that covers the top half of his face and stops at the bridge of his nose has him feeling invincible and fucking frisky. He feels like the god he impersonates, ready to delve into the mass of bodies stroking and loving on one another, his cock twitching against the restricting cotton as confirmation.

The beds are king-sized, holding space for at least four, and a few are evidently occupied by many more than that. Sheer material is draped across the ceilings like a canopy, creating a cosy and inviting atmosphere. Harry heads over to an empty velvet green chaise lounge, plopping down lazily, his legs spread out, thighs splayed, his one arm resting on the armchair, his other palm laying out across his lower stomach.

He turns his attention to the nearest bed, only a meter away, and begins watching as a throuple of two males and a female are switching positions. The girl lays on her stomach, flat against the bed, ass up, as the first man crawls up, spreads her ass cheeks apart and rubs his cock against her once before thrusting himself up into her. They reach a smooth rhythm, skin slapping as the second man lines up behind them, wrapping his arm around the torse of the first man; with a loud moan, the first man bucks forward, only moaning louder as the second man falls into position and starts fucking into him.

Harry hasn’t noticed the way his hand has lowered, palming himself through his briefs, his body shifting to get more comfortable. On the same bed, another couple goes at it, a woman vigorously bouncing atop the cock of a man donned in a lion mask.

In the midst of it all, bodies thrusting and shifting- you are resting sweetly, sitting atop your folded legs, disguised by a black, sequined silver mask, stopping above the nose, your eyes so sharp that Harry spots them immediately, hooked on the way the fluorescent lights flicker the reflection of filth he has succumbed to. His first thought is about who you are, his second is why you’re currently here, and the third is the only one that really matters; how the hell can he get his hands on you?

Dressed in only your underwear, you have had your gaze set on Harry from the moment the curtains had pulled back and revealed him in all of his glory. He was a mass of chocolate curls and tattoos decorating a chiselled and muscular figure that had you wishing you could get your hands on.

For a while, he had seemed nervous, and that only had your curiosity blowing through the roof, your body aching to wrap around any part of him up for grabs. As he made his way over, your heart was in your throat, attention completely thrown from the couple you had intended to participate with just moments prior. They were going at it regardless, bumping up against you, but your focus would be unwavering, your mouth watering at the view of his thighs, thick and spread out just for you.

He seems to be looking your way- maybe just observing the other couples, but something tells you by the way his body shifts, his eyes hidden but holding your own gaze, makes you feel like he might want you just as you want him.

A woman, her hair long and auburn, hidden behind a green dragon mask, drops onto the bed beside you, her knees softly hitting the mattress as she whispers suggestively into the shell of your ear. Cheeks flushed, your gaze remains on Harry, with the way he managed to stir such wanting in you, all by just sitting across the room.

His intrigue seems to pique, waiting to see what your plan was- were you going to entertain the woman next to you? Her cool fingers tickling their way up your spine, your body an eruption of goosebumps.

And you wish he would just come over or that you had the confidence to greet him yourself, but he seems comfortable and unwavering, leaving you to turn your attention back to something actually tangible; the woman currently pressing her lips to the nape of your neck.

Shifting your body to greet her own, you sit up on your knees and boldly wrap your hands like a chain around the back of her neck. She leans into your touch, anticipating your next move, a soft gasp escaping her lips as yours pressed on firmly, tongue licking into her own.

Your eyes have fluttered shut, your body soothed into the sultry kisses sucking at your bottom lip, but your thoughts wander over to the man on the couch, hoping to some god that he might be watching, that he might be regretting the choice to stay put.

Lips parting for deep inhalation, the woman’s hands are soft and static as they trail the soft mounds of your skin, and when your eyes finally open in the hopeful search of the man, you are more than surprised to find him much closer now, standing at the end of the bed.

His gaze is certainly set on your own, and you want to feel bashful at the circumstances, but the erotic stimulation happening all around you and the way Harry is looking at you hungrily, his muscles flexing involuntarily, only dampens your panties further, has your thighs clenching tighter.

He must notice because his pupils are blown, and he is crawling over now, slowly stalking out his prey, happily trapped in the arms of an auburn woman. He is more than welcome, though, your back pressing into the woman's chest, her lips still tickling at your throat, and when he comes to a halt at the base of your knees, you feel zero embarrassment as they part as a welcoming gift, offering him anything he desires.

“Well, hello pretty girl.” He greets, his cock throbbing as your chest raises and you take a sharp inhale, blinking at him in a way that has him feeling like a sinner- and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“Hi handsome.” You respond, doing your best to keep your voice from cracking, almost completely distracted by the look of arousal in his eyes that seems to be increasing at just the sound of your voice, like a siren song only luring him further into the ocean in which you resided.

Harry can hardly stop himself from sighing out, from snatching you up and fucking you into submission, instead taking his time in luring you closer, his cock pleased at the ease with which you opened up for him, mind a mess of where to start.

He taps your thigh as an instruction, satisfaction shivering at his spine as you comply, spreading your legs, bum pressed flat to the mattress. Harry can't stop himself from wrapping his palms around your ankles, tugging you forward with enough force to have you exhaling a squeak, the woman’s grip tightening around your chest.

He looks at you like you are supper, his hands trailing their way up your calves, stroking slowly; as he reaches your thighs, he gives them a selfish squeeze, crawling his way over until he is almost face-to-face with the white lace of your panties.

His breath is cool as it fans over the heat of your lower abdomen, legs threatening to quake, and his grip only tightens, his stern stare never wavering, watching your every breath, the way your chest rises and falls in anticipation.

With the gentlest of kisses to your panty-clad crotch, you cannot withhold the deep sigh that slips past your lips, a keen whine whistling its way over to him, his stomach clenching, blood rushing to his cock. Harry’s tongue slips past his plump lips, licking a firm strip up your damp lace, his mouth watering in synch.

His left hand finds a firm home on your hip, helping to keep you pinned between the bed and his touch; his right-hand trails tauntingly along your sternum, fingers dancing into the dip of your belly button, playing your hipbones and pelvis like a harp before a sudden gush of coolness catches you off guard and his thumb hooking into the slit of your panties, tugging them aside in one firm go.

Your eyes widen with lust, unable to look anywhere but at the holy sight below you; the woman cradling your torso presses her lips wherever space omits, travelling in search of the mounds of your breasts, and your entirety is begging to turn to mush in the arms of pleasure as Harry leans forward and gives your pussy the gentlest of kisses, your eyes fluttering shut as he presses another, then another, his tongue joining in to lap at you, dipping into you.

He holds you in place with ease- where the hell would you rather be right now? And as the auburn woman latches her teeth around your pebbled nipple, your leg’s part even further- if possible- prompting Harry to release you from his prior grip, to hold you at the waist, his body pressed into the mattress, his cock flush and swollen from even the slightest of friction.

He can't stop from thrusting forward as a soft mewl slips past the gaps in your teeth, tongue pressing into you, gliding up your slit, flicking at your clit before his free hand cannot help but join the mix, massaging at your inner thigh, teasing at you as you buck your hips up in anticipation. 

It's difficult to keep from sighing out in pleasure, but you try your best, harshly capturing your bottom lip between your teeth, tugging harder as Harry continues licking into you, flattening his tongue, flicking it against your clit, dipping into your entrance. 

He has died and gone to heaven; his chin is coated in you, glistening under the neon lights, and with one hand still stroking and squeezing at your inner thigh, Harry uses the other to hook into the bands of your panties, hastily guiding them down the hills and valleys of your body and you assist, ass raising from the mattress, balancing on one leg as he slides the material along and off of your skin. 

Discarded and dismissed, you are bare and spread for him, a sight Harry will be committing to memory, and he looks at you hungrily- you’re ready to be ravished.

Your pussy is practically dripping, and Harry’s hand must be possessed because it reaches out, and his finger glides through your slit, quickly dampening. The sigh you release is almost sinister, and Harry has his face buried between your thighs in an instant. 

With his tongue licking at you, the almost forgotten auburn woman is still trailing kisses along your neck, her fingers tweaking and squeezing at the skin of your breasts. You are officially a mess of pleasure, ready to beg for more- anything- all of him. 

It’s like he reads your mind as his fingers start to tease at your pussy, rubbing back and forth, his tongue focusing on your clit, swirling circles, his middle finger slipping past your entrance with such ease that Harry mutters, “fuck me” and lets it slide all the way in, curling upward. With such positive reception from yours truly, he keeps at it, all of his focus dedicated to pleasing you. 

With the way his one finger becomes two, pumping into you with such vigour, you are writhing beneath him, thighs threatening to clamp around his head like earmuffs, blocked by his one hand keeping you put. 

Your head starts to lull back into the auburn woman’s lap, but Harry is quick to correct this, pulling out his fingers completely, sticky and wet, his mouth changing from loving on you to scolding, 

“Uh, uh.” He taunts, his brows furrowed, “Eyes on me, princess.” 

You do everything in your power to comply, staring at him with all your might as he gets back to work, a satisfied smile still lingering on his lips as his tongue laps at your pussy, his fingers fucking back into you, curling, picking up the pace. 

His fingers are in complete rhythm with his tongue- they are on a mission. And by the sounds currently escaping your lips, chest rising and falling needily, Harry is certainly succeeding.

But each moment that passes is becoming agonizing for him, desperate to substitute his fingers for his cock, currently aching to bury itself inside you. 

Harry tries to pacify his cock by grinding up against the mattress, but this only has him moaning against your pussy, which in turn has you doing the same, your hands fisting the sheets. 

He can no longer hold on, flattening his tongue to give you one last good licking before he removes his fingers and then himself, leaving you in absolute awe and confusion- a spark of panic flashing across your features. 

Harry doesn’t want to startle you, but you can't stop the yelp that escapes you as his hands wrap around your ankles, and with one tug, you are before him, his face aligned with your torso. 

He stands, holding out his hand to assist you in doing the same. You do, and once your feet are safely planted on the floor, Harry’s hands are kneading at your waist and hips. He permits you a moment to stabilise before his hands find the back of your thighs, and he hoists you up into your arms, legs wrapping around his waist. 

Pussy bare and pressed against his torso, the five-step walk over to the sofa feels endless, so when he finally sits, safely cradling your back, you lower with him, coming to a rest atop his cool thighs, knowing he will be slick with wet by the time you’re finished with him.

Arms wrapped loosely across his shoulders, your fingers play with the loose curls at the base of his neck, and you lean, the outline of your mask bumping up against his own as you finally retrieve what you’ve been after all along, pressing your lips to his, tongue taking out all of your prior frustrations as it tangles with his own, scrapes along his teeth, traps and tugs his bottom lip until he is left begging for breath, lips plump and freshly-stung.

Going in for more, your palms find the sides of his face, sandwiching him between lustrous kisses, your chest pressing to his own, a whine bubbling at your throat when his grip tightens, holding you hostage and creating a gap just small enough for his hands to slip from their place on your back and to cup your breasts, squeezing and palming them as his tongue continues to lap at your own.

With the feeling of your nipples perking up so nicely beneath his thumbs, Harry cannot resist the urge to start trailing sloppy kisses along the nape of your neck, your clavicle, his open mouth leaving a trail as it makes its way down your chest, his tongue licking at the valley of your breasts before his lips finally catch your nipple, flicking at it, your body arching back desperately, pleading for more.

With a harsh nip, his tongue soothes your swollen skin, his hands squeezing at the mounds of your breasts, and your body has a mind of its own now, jutting up against him, your pussy sad to be met with only the friction of his briefs, desperate to grind your wetness across his cock, feel him slipping between your folds.

After the third time, your body glides down into contact with his own, a frustrated sigh slipping past your lips; Harry seems to catch on and woefully unlatches his mouth from your skin, but with more than just happiness, he shifts beneath you- and you also shift to allow him better access- his fingers hooking into the bands of his briefs, tugging them down in one swift motion to settle around his mid-thighs.

His cock springs up, swollen with relief and flush with freedom. Your gaze never wavers, hyper-focused on how pretty the man sitting beneath yours truly is- all of him is just too good to be true at this point.

You want to spend eternity, or at least a moment, marvelling and taking him all in, but he is closer than ever, and your pussy is clenching at just the sight of him- practically screeching to have him buried deep inside you.

With that, you reach out and give him one mandatory stroke, to soothe both him and yourself, and by the way his mouth parts, his eyes hooded, body jolting and then relaxing back into your touch, you sling your leg over his lap to straddle him, his face level with your chest, his hands instinctively coming to a rest on the pillows of your hips.

Your arms become a noodle around his neck like in preparation for dancing the salsa, your hips rocking forward without hesitation, pussy skating along the length of his shaft, leaving him slick with just one stroke.

Harry doesn’t even try to stop the string of mutters he sings out into the crevasse of your breasts, breath fanning chills all along your skin just as your hips buck again, sliding up against him, squeaking out as the tip of his cock rubs up against your clit.

You push on into an agonisingly slow rhythm, dragging out each stroke until Harry is so frustrated that he works extra hard to avoid rutting up into you- oddly satisfied letting you take the lead- so his mouth begins leaving sloppy kisses along your chest, your shoulders, the creases of your neck. And whilst the idea of holding onto this sense of control was something you really wanted to indulge in, you cannot stop your body from picking up speed, ever so slightly upping the rhythm.

Harry is struggling to keep himself from turning the two of you over and fucking you into the sofa cushions, taking out his agitation by unexpectedly spitting on your chest, and both of your gazes drop to watch as the dribble of spit travels like a delicate stream down the valley of your breasts, meandering towards your bellybutton.

You rut up against him with force now, pupils swelled and hungry. At the last minute, Harry commands his pelvis not to thrust, taking a section of skin on your breast between his front teeth, nipping and sucking at it until it stings, giving you one last tug before pulling back, his tongue slipping out to softly lap at the blooming bruise. Tiny and speckled with red and purple, this mark will serve as a reminder of the scandalous events of this evening.

More so, this mark is the last straw, your lips angrily finding his own, tongues arguing for domination- Harry’s succumbs the second one of your hands reaches down between your laps, grabbing at his cock and guiding him into you without a second thought.

You take him in with ease, but he is a stretch the further you slide down on him, your belly feeling full as your body finally comes to a sitting on his cock. Harry’s head has tilted back, his eyes fluttering open and shut.

He wants to thrust up, he wants to watch your breasts and body bounce about atop of his cock, needs to see the way your skin jiggles and stretches for him, the way your face crinkles up in pleasure and satisfaction… but Harry lets you do anything you want, lets himself be at your mercy.

And fuck, you make the idea of losing control feel really good, raising your body until only his tip remains inside of you, threatening to leave him out in the cold, but at the last moment, you grind back down, letting him fill you up gluttonously, easily finding a groove, your backside slapping against his thighs, skin-to-skin creating the beat of a drum, and with each smack, you only want to go faster, harder, unable to resist the need to tease and drag things out.

Harry is a mess of moans, only making you feel like you are being cheered on during a marathon, encouraging you to up your stamina and reach the finish line in record time. His hands are all over you, tugging you closer, one hand wrapping tighter around your waist, guiding you up and down his cock, desperate to hear you whine louder, to let others know how good it felt to be riding him. And you want everyone to know, too; you want them to know that they could all leave, and you would be more than happy to just let Harry spend the rest of the evening fucking you into a semi-permanent coma.

Harry shifts, spreading his legs to offer you a new angle, ready to drool as a dragged-out sigh slips out from deep within you, and he knows he’s just hit a good spot.

So, as any good boy would, Harry bucks up into you again and again, motivated by each moan, putting his all into making you sing for him, your hand digging into his biceps, then his back, down his torso, squeezing at his thighs as your stomach starts to clench, heart rate picking up and when you start to feel lightheaded, you welcome the wave of euphoria threatening to wash over- you hear nothing but the soft praises Harry mutters for your pleasure, your body grinding down on his pelvis desperately chasing your high, whining out as his hand spreads your cheeks, guiding you through a long-anticipated orgasm.

Coming down, your head slumps against his damp shoulder, cheek pressing into his warm, soft skin. You can hear his heartbeat; it’s as fast as your own- if not faster; his breaths are scattered, and Harry wonders what will happen next.

He wants to revel in the moment but is hit with disappointment as you slowly and carefully guide him out of you, and he wants to hiss out at the cruel loss of contact.

Your leg swings over and off of his lap, standing tall and gazing down at him with a curious brow furrow that has Harry ready to question his entire existence, but when your arm extends out to him, offering to wrap his hand in your own, Harry feels butterflies beating at his belly, and he accepts in an instant, ridding himself of his briefs, tossing them aside with little to no regard before grabbing your hand, feeling fuzzy at the visual of how small it looks cradled in his own.

Trailing behind you, willing to let you drag him just about anywhere, it seems you have targeted a bed sitting empty in a quaint corner of the room.

But your ass is bouncing with each step you take, and with gravity offering him such a gracious gift, Harry's hand reaches out with the need to grab, settling with a soft slap to your left cheek, a chuckle slipping past his lips as you let out a little whimper of surprise, body jolting forward, thighs jiggling for his absolute pleasure, and all thoughts of the bed are forgotten as Harry pushes your bodies into the nearest pillars. The look in your eyes adjusts from surprise to arousal at the newfound feeling of your body being backed up into the icy marble, turning into a tornado as Harry's simmering skin keeps you mounted like a shiny trophy.

Harry thinks he's really got you now, your skin so silky, your muscles contracting against his own, keening into his hold, lashes batting up at him like he holds the keys to the garden of Eden; with softness, he presses a breathy kiss to your own parted lips, and now that he has you so perfect and patient, he hasn't the faintest clue where to start.

It would be polite to give him a moment to gather his thoughts, perhaps plot his next move, but you know exactly what you want- no, need- next, and with Harry's head so preoccupied with the idea of you that his hold isn't strong enough to stop you from slipping out from his trap, turning around, your palms pressing flat to your chest as you gift him a gentle, but firm push, his back smacking into the same marble you had just escaped.

Harry feels awestruck, unsure what to think, but his cock is certainly pleased, throbbing at the unfamiliar shift in dynamic, desperate to see what you might do next. And when his eyes, swollen with lust, focus on your own, there is a glimmer of certainty that has him almost keeling over; the need to get on his knees and beg for you is killing him.

But it seems that you are the one who will be on your knees as you keep one palm against his chest, unsure of whether he's willing to stay put, and your body drops to the floor, knees happily greeting the tiles.

With your left hand still holding him in place and your right hand coming to a rest on his waist, fingers squeezing into his fleshy cheeks, Harry's head lulls black in bliss, throat bobbing, both of his hands casting a shadow over your own, wrapping around your wrists like pretty bracelets.

Leaning forward ever so sweetly, your lips pucker and place a polite kiss on the tip of his cock. Harry's hips buck forward without his consent, and your hand leaves his chest, gliding lazily down his torso until it comes to rest on his shaft.

Thoughts of how perfectly he fits between your fingers are blurring your vision, but at the sound of Harry pathetically hissing from above, your grip tightens, body shuffling closer, his own hand settling like a scarf around the back of your neck. His hand stays statuesque, unsure of pushing your boundaries and frightened of catching your hair in one of his many rings. But when you reassuringly nuzzle your crown into his palm, Harry finally relaxes, his fingers- still carefully- slip into and massage the hair at the base of your neck.

You’ve got him right where you want him, and there’s no time to waste as you close the last of any remaining space, bowing forward and closing in like at communion, mouth opening, ready for the catholic wafer but instead closing your lips over the tip of his cock, your tongue darting out to swirl at his head and loving the way he tries to resist bucking into you, stop himself from hitting the back of your throat. 

Just the idea has you dripping, fulfilling the desire to take him further in your mouth, your free hand slowly pumping his cock, holding him in place as you suck him, slowly taking in as much as you can manage before slowly pulling back, letting your tongue trail along his shaft in your wake. 

Right as Harry begins to fear that you might release and leave him high and dry, you swallow him again, bobbing and creating a rhythm, a small sliver of spit slipping past your lips as you take him as far as your mouth will permit, tongue lapping at him, your hand pumping the base of him as Harry huffs and puffs above you. 

And when you can’t help but glance up at him from beneath hooded lashes, the way Harry cusses out and rolls his head back against the pillar is enough to have you picking up the pace, swallowing him with vigour, desperately trying to fit as much of him possible into the hollows of your cheeks.

Slowly, your head begins to bob, taking all of his cock in before pulling back, then again, and again, your hand still pumping him, spit gliding along his shaft and soaking your fingers. 

You release his cock from your mouth, still gliding your hand back and forth, pumping him and peering up at him with doe-like eyes.

“Fuck.” Harry whines, the back of his head bumping against the pillar, “Y’gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”

With a mischievous grin, you place a gentle but menacing kiss on the tip of his cock before flattening your tongue and licking his shaft from base to tip before taking all of him in your mouth once more, creating the perfect rhythm, your other hand leaving his thigh and cupping around his balls, massaging him, head grooving up and down his cock. Harry is a complete mess, his muscles flexing with each suck and release. 

You guide his cock to the hollow of your left cheek, brushing him against your mouth before ever-so-softly gliding his head along your bottom teeth and rubbing him against your right cheek. He is still moaning above you, and when you suddenly tilt forward and take him so deep that his cock brushes the back of your throat, Harry is cussing out, his hand tightening around the base of your neck. 

You lean your head back into his palm as a form of encouragement, and Harry thinks you may be the most perfect creature of planet Earth itself. He cautiously begins guiding your head, testing the waters as he becomes a guide for his cock, sliding into your mouth. 

Happy to oblige, you try to remain as still as possible, your pussy throbbing each time he brushes against your throat, and when you almost gag, Harry has officially died and gone to heaven. His pace quickens, forcefully- but so carefully- bucking into you, loving how soft and plump your lips are, how well you take him- how deep. 

The thought of his cum dripping down your chin has him in utter shambles, and that is not how he wants this evening to go- yet. So, with one last thrust and grunt, he ruefully removes himself, hissing at the rush of cool air that greets his tip and almost crying at the sight of the string of spit connecting from your lips and his cock. 

Using the back of your hand to dismiss the spit, you peer up at him curiously, rather proud of your work but still hoping to have more of him.

Harry guides your head as a gesture, hissing at the rush of air that greets the tip of his cock, and this only causes his impulses to increase- so, as soon as you have found your feet and are looking up at him with blown-out pupils and puffy pink lips, Harry finally reclaims control, his hands wrapping you up and spinning you around in one swift motion and you are now facing the pillar, your palms pressing flat against the cool surface. 

His hands find your hips, thumbs pressing into your fleshy skin and, on instinct, your back arches, ass desperate to press up against him. Harry releases his right hand from your hip, wrapping it around his stiff shaft and guiding it towards your entrance. Ass up, spine curved, your breasts press into the icy pillar, your body scooting up against the pelvis, and when the head of his cock glides along your pussy, just stopping short of your entrance, you moan out enthusiastically. 

Harry gives you one last tease, his tip slipping into you before pulling back out, but before you have the opportunity to whine out, he thrusts into you, and instead, you arch out for him even more, sighing out, breasts squishing into the pillar. 

He guides his cock in and out, painfully persevering, taking his damn time, but after a third deep and forceful thrust, you shuffle back into him impatiently, and Harry wants to chuckle aloud at your lack of patience now that he has you pressed up against him. 

But your neediness is too tantalising to resist; Harry can’t stop his hips from bucking up into you, almost drooling at the hum of satisfaction you reward him with as he thrusts again, this time harder, his arm reaching around to rest his palm on your stomach, keeping you pinned as he proceeds to fuck into you. 

Harry keeps going, huffing in sync with each thrust, his stomach clenching as you mewl against him, your palms pressing into the pillar and holding on for dear life. His hand slides down from your stomach to the back of your right thigh, raising it until your knee bumps up against the marble, and when he’s certain you plan on keeping it there, he releases your leg and proceeds to pound into you, his hand snaking around until it finds your pussy, fingers gliding along your wetness, seeking out louder moans, desperate whines. 

And you are- unable to hold yourself back any longer, overcome with the electric current coursing through you with each thrust, each time his thumb brushes against your clit. You are chasing another orgasm, pushing your palms against the pillar in an attempt to get closer to him.

Harry kindly obliges, pressing his chest into your back, pulling you flush against his damp and flexed torso as he keeps at it, bucking up into you with all of his willpower, hands grabbing at you, adamant to have you as near as possible. 

Right as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge for a second time in just minutes, Harry interrupts by pulling out and wrapping you up in his arms and hastily turning you around to face him. Concern flashes across his features as your back bumps up against the pillar, but when you only whine out, your left leg lifting up, calf wrapping around his waist, Harry guides his cock back into you, bucking up with commitment and determination to have you come unravelled against him once more. 

And you are unravelling, chemistry at play as your body becomes a mix of ecstasy and euphoria. You are grabbing at every part of him, never wavering for too long, tugging at his hair, squeezing at his biceps, pressing your pelvis up against his own. Harry is doing the same, feeding off of your needy whines, unsaid pleas for him to keep going, and when you can’t help but turn them into verbal pleas, asking him so sweetly to fuck you “just like that”, he is in an absolute state, 

“Yeah?” He confirms- only for the sake of hearing you speak up again, 

“Yeah.” You stutter out, nails digging into the nape of his neck, scraping along his shoulder. 

Harry is enamoured, you’re being such a good girl for him, and he wants to reward you for being so. But he also wants to be a little testy and has the urge to see how much nicer you’re willing to be for him, so he deems it necessary to hold out on you a tad longer.

He wraps his arm around the middle of your back, pressing you into him, and he bows his head and leans in as close to your ear as possible, his warm breath fanning over the nook of your neck and clavicle, ensuring you hear him loud and clear, 

“Ask me nicely.” 

Your head snaps up, looking at him with incredulity, but too desperate to do anything other than give him what he wants. One of your hands finds his torso, palms trailing along his chest as your other hand tightens around his neck in physical protest, which is the last thing that would ever slip past your lips. Trying your best to give him your politest plea, your mouth plump and puckered, mousey eyes flickering playfully up at him, 

“Pretty please.”

And that’s all Harry needs, thrusting into you with repayment, revelling in the way your body accepts his reward so enthusiastically. He picks up the pace, pounding into you and making certain that you are more than welcome to come undone all over him, 

“Such a good girl for me.”

You’re nodding at him desperately, body crumbling with each praise he is granting you, and when his palm slips down between your bodies, landing on your pussy and lazily swirling loops atop your clit, you are a shaking mess- in a frenzy and falling over the edge, coming all over his cock, softly chanting, “yes, yes.”

“So, so good.” He reminds you, holding onto you, keeping you secure and satisfied. He can feel the familiar stirring in his stomach, his cock twitching and tempted to come all over you.

But there’s no way he’s done with you, and he cannot fathom finishing now. 

Your bucking has slowed, head lulling into the crook of his neck, trying to steady your breathing, and instead of giving in to an impending orgasm, Harry pats your bum firmly, wrapping an arm around your thigh, encouraging you to jump up into his arms. 

He is still fully inside you and doesn’t plan on changing that, effortlessly guiding you up into his arms, one of his hands still on your backside, the other cradling your back. With great care, Harry starts to walk, staying slow and peering over his shoulder to make sure he’s going in the right direction. 

Thankfully, the pillar was already the halfway point to the bed you had targeted earlier, and with your lips lazily trailing kisses along his torso, your nails digging into his back, Harry was overjoyed when his feet bumped into the base of the bed. 

Impressively, he bows forward- your bodies still bound- his knees denting the mattress, lowering your bodies onto the bed until your back is pressed into the sheets and Harry is hovering over you, balancing on his forearms, his forehead brushing against your own.

“Ready to go again, princess?” His cool breath fans across your features, and you are nodding as if your life depends on it, your pelvis bucking up against him.

Harry’s brows furrow in amusement, his head bowing, lips brushing up against the shell of your ear, “Use your words, lovely.” 

“Fuck.” You huff out, your right leg tightening around his waist, one of your hands digging into his bicep and the other tugs at his hair, “Please.” And just so he really gets the message, you add, “I want you.” 

“Want me to what?” He drawls, tongue tickling your neck as one of his hands massages your breast. 

“Fuck me.” Your reply is emotionless, stern and impatient, “Want you to fuck me.”

“Sassy little one, aren’t you?” Harry chuckles, squeezing your thigh endearingly. 

You roll your eyes as if he hasn’t just stated the obvious, lifting your pelvis up to rub against him. His pupils are blown, and you want him inside of you- now. 

“Are you gonna fuck me?” you ponder, nails dragging along his shoulder, “Or do I need to find someone else?” there is nobody alive that you could want more than him; he should know this from the way you are so eager to please him, but the mere suggestion has Harry thrusting into you mercilessly.

You whine out in both stupor and ecstasy, your back arching off of the bed, your breasts pressing into his chest. With one of his arms still holding him in place, Harry’s free hand comes up to cradle your face, your foreheads slick with sweat and sticking together. 

His hands are about as big as your head, and that alone contributes to the next sigh you release, bucking up into him, meeting his thrusts in the middle, your pelvises slapping into one another. 

Harry marvels at the way your bodies seem to so easily find a rhythm each time like you were made for him, and he for you. His thrusts are deep and with intention, stretching your pussy with satisfaction. 

“Christ.” He huffs in astonishment, “Y’ feel so fuckin’ good.” 

You can only moan out in agreement, at a complete loss for words. The only thing you feel is satisfaction sparking throughout your wholeness, and the only other thing you can think about is how badly you wish you knew his name- hoping to call it out to him as he pounds into you, desperate to reward him for doing such a good job. 

Harry can't remember ever feeling so engaged in fucking someone- was there a time? Nothing before or after this moment matters; he could now die a happy man. You feel so warm and worked-up, pressed into him, grabbing at any part of him available for the taking. 

He wants to let you, doesn’t mind if you spend hours or even days exploring him, poking and prodding his limbs and skin for reactions, having him like putty in your hands- all yours. 

“More.” You huff out when it seems that Harry is getting caught up in his thoughts, and he thrusts into you so generously that your head lulls back to greet the mattress. 

But now you are too far away for Harry’s liking; he needs to see those pretty eyes and pretty flushed cheeks, needs to see how good of a job he’s doing at pleasing you. His hand cradles the back of your neck, guiding your head back up, his lips waiting to latch onto your own. 

Breathy kisses become open-mouthed ones. Harry’s tongue is dancing all along your mouth, biting on your lip and sucking on your tongue. Still, in a battle of kisses, Harry’s hand sweeps along your face and his pointer finger slips into your mouth. You suck on him like you were born solely for this purpose, and it’s Harry’s turn to stop his head from rolling back. 

He keeps on at it, licking into your mouth while his cock rams into you relentlessly, each thrust accompanied by skin slapping, deep moans, hums of satisfaction and a stirring in your chest that only increases as Harry bends your leg and pins it to your chest, fucking into you from an angle that feels so good that you begin slipping away into a realm of pure pleasure. 

“Like that?” Harry pants out, each thrust more purposeful than the last. 

“Just like that.” You nod vigorously with gratefulness. 

“Good girl.” He praises with a sloppy kiss, “Look so good like this.” 

Harry keeps thrusting, and it’s not long before the look on your face starts morphing with frustrated delight, your eyes threatening to squeeze shut. But you don’t want to look away, instead glancing between your grooving bodies, in awe of the sight of his cock coated with all of you, pumping in and out so gracefully. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” He is kissing your neck, tongue wet and trailing along your skin. 

And that is all you need to guide you back into another orgasm, your hips raised off of the bed and grinding up against his pelvis in a circular motion, hands holding onto him for dear life. 

Harry groans, almost growls out, pushing into you, trying to pull you closer than physically possible, “Just like that, sweetheart.” You are definitely a sucker for his praises, desperate for more, and he obliges, “So good for me.” 

With a surprising twist, Harry is forced to confront his impending orgasm as you pose a rather prolonged request, “Want you to cum for me.” 

He wants to panic, the thought of this being over is simply heinous, but you only chuckle at the obvious distress beginning to warp his features and reassure him, “I still have plenty in store for you.” And for good measure, you add, “Unless you can’t… keep up.”

Harry knows you’re only taunting him for the fun of it, but the suggestion is obscene, and he seeks to prove you wrong. You are still grinding up against him, whimpering at the sensitivity, nevertheless needy for more, so he picks up the pace, ramming into you with everything he has to offer, his arm bending further into the bed to get closer, and your arms wrap around him to assist, tugging him flush against you, teeth nipping at his neck. 

“Gonna let me swallow you, pretty boy?” You blink up at him innocently, “Wanna taste you so badly.”

His thrusts are getting sloppier, slower and more determined. Now that the offer of an orgasm is on the table, lying beneath him, so pretty and so tasty, Harry can’t resist pushing into you harder, deeper, grunting and huffing along, skin shivering at the feel of your nails tickling at his torso. 

And when you tilt your head and aim your teeth for his ear, nipping his earlobe only to soothe it with the flick of your tongue, you ask one more time, “Pretty please.” 

“Fuck. Fuck.” Is all Harry can muster in between a mess of moans, struggling to keep his weight from coming down on you, his free hand wrapping around your waist to hold you still, his cock wailing for release.

And he gets exactly what he’s been searching for, thrusting into you once more, treasuring it as he pulls out, stroking at his cock as the two of you shuffle around and you are quickly on your knees, mouth spread wide, tongue flat and pushing past your lips. 

Harry doesn’t think he has ever seen something- someone- so beautiful, and he doesn’t stop thinking this as he starts to cum, spilling onto your tongue, his cock throbbing at the sight of you swallowing him so kindly, at the glistening of your swollen lips, the bobbing of your throat. 

You wear your satisfaction with pride, and for the first time, you wonder if Harry actually can keep up. He hadn’t said so, in words, at least. But he is still close and starts edging closer, desperate to have his hands back on you. He gets what he wants, and you shuffle closer, following his gaze as it shifts to the nearest patron, using his free hand to gesture for their attention. 

Before you get the chance to get too confused, the patron steps closer, and you can now clearly see the contents of his silver platter. Staring up at you is an array of toys, small and large, feathered or leather or even metal. You don’t even need to glance over at Harry to tell him you are definitely game, instead reaching out with an item already in mind. 

Harry watches as you select your weapon of choice, turning back to him with satisfaction and a cheeky smile, the chosen toy on display is just begging to be played with, and it seems that both of you are ready to oblige. 

🍒

Forgive me for I am a sinner and I feel zero regrets. Hell can have me because I am DONE. I hope you guys enjoy this one! It's been a while since I've blessed the children with smut and I hope I have succeeded lmao. - Emmy. xo 💞