#i know he's not even worth the time but this is straw the broke the camels back and ya girl has to let it out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

freedomfireflies · 2 months

Text

You Again*

Summary: The one where Harry is your sister's ex-boyfriend and you finally get to see him again after 5 years.

Word Count: 11.4k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, age gap (6 years), sir kink, choking, use of a toy, exhibitionism if you squint!

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

Your eyes widen as you look up toward the man making his way into the diner. You'd recognize him anywhere. The dark curly hair. The tattoos that bleed through the fabric of his light shirt. The rings on his fingers.

Just like that, years' worth of memories come flooding back to you all at once.

"Harry," you shriek, sliding off the stool before practically flinging yourself into his arms.

He smells exactly the same. Like teakwood and spearmint. A rather odd mix, yet subtle enough to remind you of home.

Of him.

His chest vibrates with a deep laugh as his arms wrap around your frame to keep you against him, prolonging the hug a minute or two longer than socially acceptable.

And when you finally lean back to see him, your cheeks begin to warm.

It's been...four years? Five? Since you last saw him? Just days before he and your sister broke up, effectively removing him from your life for good.

It had been a hard time. You wanted to be there for your sister. To comfort her through the grief of losing such a long and meaningful relationship.

But you wanted to be there for him, too. After all, he was one of your best friends, age difference or not. He had always been the comforting, influential figure in your life that you relied on. That you counted on to get through different hardships in your life.

He had picked you up after your first day at your new job. Had held you in his arms as you cried over your first break-up. He had even listened to you talk about the boy you had fallen in love with.

Losing him felt like losing a part of yourself.

And now, five years later...that part of you has come home.

"Hi, Dot," he beams, reaching out to take hold of your chin and squeeze. "Shit, look at you. When did this happen?"

His eyes rake over your figure and you feel your skin grown hot under his appreciative gaze. "Stop, it hasn't been that long."

"The last time I saw you, I was helping you move into your new apartment across town,” he recalls, arms crossing in thought. "And now...now what? You’re still at your job, I assume?"

"I am. I just got a promotion, actually. I’m an assistant editor now.”

His eyes seem to light up, that soft green sending chills up the back of your neck as you glance down at your feet. "Dot...that's amazing. I'm so proud of you."

You wave the compliment away. "Thanks."

"Really," he insists before following you back to the counter where you'd previously been sitting. "I know how badly you wanted to pursue a career in publishing, and this...this is really amazing. Do you like it?"

"I do," you tell him as you settle back onto your stool. "Yeah, it's really nice. The people are great, the work is fun. Plus, the promotion came with a raise."

"That's amazing," he sighs, head shaking like he can't believe it. "Really, that's so...I honestly can't believe it. I can't believe it’s been so long. You’re so…adult now.”

You snort to yourself as you twirl your straw around your milkshake. "Yeah, I know. Though I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

"You should." He smiles, and it's big and beautiful. "You’ve always been grown up. Even before, you were mature for your age.”

“Well…yeah. I was twenty-three. That does make me an adult.”

“And now you’re twenty-eight.” He shakes his head again. “I can’t fucking believe it.”

You glance down at the rim of your glass. He’s right, it almost doesn’t seem possible. It feels like only last week that you were following him and your sister around town, begging to be included. Traipsing after them to bars, the mini golf course, and to any and all dates. Even though you knew your sister couldn’t stand it.

But Harry was nice and always inclusive. After all, he was your friend before he was your sister’s boyfriend. And he was determined to make sure that didn’t change, no matter how many times Atta rolled her eyes.

"I don't know how you put up with me," you finally admit. "God, I was so annoying. Atta used to get so mad at me for never leaving you alone."

He shrugs one shoulder up. "You weren't annoying to me. I liked it. I mean, I liked that you still felt so...safe? Around me? I guess?"

"Yeah, I did.” You smile. “Honestly, I think you were my best friend.”

He laughs as he looks back over. "I better have been.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Cause you were mine.”

"Good."

He smirks. "Remember how you used to fall asleep on my shoulder every time we watched a movie?”

"That's right," you groan, burying your face into the palm of your hand. "See? Annoying."

"Not annoying. Cute."

"It was not cute, it was annoying. And you know she hated it.”

“I don’t care. She fell asleep on my shoulder, too. It was nice.”

You snort. “It was weird, let’s face it. But I swear I've outgrown such habits."

He seems to hesitate for only a moment, eyes flicking between yours. "Too bad."

A beat.

You feel your stomach flip as you look away, breaking you both free of the tension. "So...what, um...what brings you to town? I was a little surprised to hear from you."

He takes the cup of coffee the waitress had poured him and slides it closer. "Oh, yeah, I'm...I'm here on business. And I remembered you lived here, so...I thought I’d reach out.”

"I see."

"Yeah.” He hesitates again. "And...I missed you."

You can’t fight the flutter in your chest. "I missed you, too, Har."

The conversation lulls as the busy diner continues to bustle around you. And despite how glad you are to see him, something feels...off. Different.

You aren't sure what. Can't quite put your finger on it. It almost feels like it used to, but something has changed. He looks like your Harry. He sounds like your Harry. He feels like your Harry. And yet, he feels like a stranger.

Maybe it's because it's been so long since you've seen him. Maybe it's because you aren't twenty-three anymore. Or maybe it’s because now he’s no longer Harry, your sister’s boyfriend.

Now he’s just…Harry. Your old friend.

When you notice the way he’s staring, your eyes narrow. “What?”

"Nothing." He shrugs again before chuckling under his breath. "No, nothing. Sorry, I just...I don't know. It's just...so strange to see you again. Like this."

"Like...this?"

"Yeah. Just us. Alone. No Atta.”

“Ah.” You swallow. “Right.”

“It’s not…weird, is it? I mean, it is weird but it’s not…uncomfortable, right?”

“No,” you rush to assure him. “No, I wanted to meet you. What happened with you two has nothing to do with me.”

He glances down at his lap. “Right.”

There’s an edge to the memory that wasn’t there before, yet despite your curiosity, you bite your tongue.

“What about you?” you say instead. “What have you been up to in the last five years?”

He smirks. “Oh, not much.”

“Uh-huh. You think I’ve grown up, you’re basically an old man now.”

“Yeah, yeah, all right. I’m only 34.”

“That’s still six years older than me, which makes you old.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m serious. You're not that idiot on a motorcycle anymore. Now you say things like, 'I'm in town on business,” and you wear expensive suits, and ridiculous watches."

He glances down at the aforementioned object on his wrist. "In my defense, this was a gift.”

“Sure.”

“It was,” he insists. His eyes flick over your face. “Look, I would have reached out sooner, but…after we broke up, I figured you wouldn’t want me to. I mean, you had just started your new job, and I knew it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to be a side, so…”

“There were no sides,” you argue softly. “You both just…grew apart. You wanted different things.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a sigh. “But I know it hurt her. It hurt me, too. And it was weird having to say goodbye to all of you. And leave all those memories behind. You were both such a huge part of my life."

"Yeah," you whisper. "You were a huge part of mine, too."

"Does Atta know you're meeting me?"

"No. Didn't really think it was any of her business. This is about us, not her."

His brow raises. "Would she be mad if she did?"

"I don't know,” you admit. “Probably not, but...would it really matter?"

"Of course it would. I'd never want to get in the way of your relationship."

"You aren't," you insist. "Look, she's dating somebody anyway. And I'm sure you are, too. You've both moved on. We're just...old friends catching up, and she'd have to understand that."

He seems to consider this before saying, "Yeah. I'm not, though."

"You're not...what?"

"Seeing anybody," he clarifies, tongue coming out to swipe across his bottom lip. "Haven't really dated anybody since she and I broke up."

"Oh, Harry," you murmur. "I'm...I'm sorry—"

"No. No, don't be," he insists. "It wasn't...I've just been busy. Working at the firm and renovating my house. I've gone on some dates but nothing serious. I just...haven't met the right person, I guess."

"The right person, huh?" you muse teasingly as you take a sip of your drink. "Okay, and what does Harry Styles' right person look like?"

He exhales an amused chuckle. "God, I don't know. I don't really think I'm that picky. Just...anybody I can get along with, I suppose."

"That's it? No, 'They need a fat ass and the ability to make me a sandwich?'"

He grins so big, the corners of his eyes crinkle. "For fuck's sake. No, nothing like that. Look, I don't know. Call me old fashioned, but...I think sometimes you meet somebody, and you can just...tell. You know? There's this energy, this shift. You look at them...and it all just makes sense.”

And as he looks you, waiting for you to consider this…the air shifts.

"Yeah," you agree quietly, allowing your attention to fall down his features and land on his lips. "Yeah, that's...you're right."

He seems to notice the way your focus has wandered because he quickly clears his throat and looks back down at his mug. "What, um...what about you? I'm assuming you're seeing somebody."

You look away as well, willing yourself to calm. "Oh? And why do you assume that?"

"Come on," he nearly snorts, eyebrow cocking. "Look at you. You're beautiful and you're smart and you have this effortless ability to make anyone around you feel good. Who wouldn't want to date you?"

"Well...pretty much every male in the city," you retort. "I don't know. I've tried dating but...there's always something missing. It never really feels quite right."

"Yeah. I know what you mean," he hums. "There's this...disconnect. Like you're forcing something that you know isn't right."

"Exactly! It's not that I don't want to find somebody, I just...haven't. It's not as easy as it is with you."

His head tilts. "With me?"

"Yeah, you know," you sigh, hands waving about the air as you try to explain your point. "I haven't seen you in five years but we still, just...picked right back up, you know? As if no time had passed. We're still just us. We can talk, and we can laugh, and we don't have to force anything."

He nods. "Right."

"I mean, honestly? Sometimes I think it would be easier to date somebody I already know. The problem is that all the guys I know are assholes. And too immature, I guess. They've got no sense of purpose, no drive. And it’s not like I need to be taken care of, but…it’d be nice to know they could. You know?”

"Yeah. You need someone with a good head on their shoulders."

"Exactly. I need someone who feels more like an equal than this thing I need to take care. I want to date a man, not a Tamagotchi."

He laughs again and the sound brings the butterflies back to your stomach. You feel proud to have amused him. And even more proud of the way he casually places a hand on your arm as he takes a deep breath.

When he lets go, you look down at the spot on your skin as if you can still see outline of his fingers.

"You'll find somebody," he tells you, and you do your best to ignore the sparks dancing up the back of your neck. "You will. And they'll be perfect for you. Old enough to know better and wise enough to do it right."

You place your palm over the spot he once touched, squeezing it gently. "Yeah. Hey, and you, too. Anybody would be lucky to have you."

His eyes linger on yours. "Yeah?"

You smile. "Yeah."

The next few minutes are devoted to sharing stories about your families. He asks how your parents are, you ask about his. He tells you about his job and you tell him about your roommate. You recall every detail of the past five years, and once you've finally caught up to today, he pays for your drinks, and offers to walk you home.

You make your way along the busy streets of the city as Harry tells you that he's thinking about getting a cat. You laugh and tell him that he'd make a wonderful cat dad, and he seems to flush.

You wonder why.

Fifteen minutes later, you're walking up the steps to your building, already apologizing for the messy state of your apartment before he's even stepped foot inside.

He snorts the implication away, assuring you that no matter what, it can't be worse than how Atta used to keep her place.

And the mention of your sister breeds an odd feeling in your chest. Unease, and this strange tinge of jealousy. Like you're almost peeved at him for bringing her up. For reminding you that he's seen the inside of her room before.

But you shake it away as you push the door open, refusing to linger on the thought.

"Well...this is it," you declare, stepping aside to let him enter. "Probably looks smaller than you remember, but…it does the trick.”

He takes a moment to glance over your knickknacks and decor before he grins. “I love it.”

"Really?"

"Yeah." He shoves his hands into his expensive coat pockets and nods. "Yeah, really. It feels...fitting."

"What do you mean?"

"I don’t know. It just feels like you.”

Your teeth gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you walk to the kitchen. "Well...thanks. I think."

You offer him a glass of water, to which he declines, before you join him back by the door. You're not sure that you’re quite ready to say goodbye, but you know he can't stay forever.

You wonder if you actually want him to.

You wonder if it would be so bad if you did.

"This was…really nice," he says as he takes a half-step through the doorframe. "Really, Dot. I'm proud of you. And everything you’ve done. And I'm really glad that I can still call you my friend after everything."

Your heart starts to pound a little harder inside your chest. "Yeah, me too. I really missed you, Har. I hope we can catch up again soon."

The side of his mouth curls up as his eyes soften. "I'd like that."

With that, he moves into the hall, and you close the door behind him.

The feeling that follows is...strange. Overwhelming. Like something is wrong. Like something has just been ripped away from you.

Like something is missing.

You feel on edge. Off-balance. Confused and unsure and you have no idea why. There’s a pain in your stomach that wasn’t there before and a hollowness in your heart that didn’t exist before you saw him.

Suddenly, there's a sharp knock on your door. "Dot?"

He's back.

Confused and slightly excited, you swing it back open to find him braced against your frame. He’s quiet as he studies you, brows woven together in what appears to be deep thought before he strides back inside your apartment and begins to pace your floor.

"Okay," he begins. Strained. "Okay, tell me...tell me this isn't just me. Tell me this isn't just in my head."

You shut the door. "What do you mean?”

He looks at you before frantically gesturing between your two bodies. "This. This thing we’ve been doing all afternoon. Tell me it's not just me. Tell me you feel it.”

And you're almost certain you know what he means, but the implication of it scares the shit out of you.

So, you simply tilt your head. "Har...feel what? I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Us.” He stares at you. “Us, there's something...there's something different here. Something that wasn't here before."

"Like...?"

"Like...like the way you look at me," he says, eyes on yours as you feel your heart begin to race. "You never used to look at me that way."

Your lashes flutter, and suddenly, you feel acutely aware of the way you've begun to gawk at him. Have you been looking at him differently?

"And the way you speak to me," he continues. "Talking about needing someone to take care of you. Someone older. Someone...more mature."

You swallow.

He takes a step closer. "And all day, you've just...you’ve found a way to brush your hand against mine. Or your arm. And you laugh at everything I say, even when it isn't funny. And I know you. I know this can't be what I think it is, but...you gotta tell me I'm not going crazy. You have to tell me it's not just...me."

And you realize now that you have an easy way out. You could brush off the accusation and tell him that it is just in his head. That he's your sister's ex-boyfriend, and he's your friend, and that you would never make a pass at him.

But then you say, "…what if it wasn't just you?"

He goes still, lips parting as he leans back. Almost as if struggling to understand what you've just said.

Truth be told, you're struggling to understand it yourself. You hadn't realized just how differently you'd been acting toward him. Or that you’d begun to wonder what would happen if he was your Harry instead of hers.

Because he’s not hers anymore. He’s just a man. A very attractive man. With a job, and a house, and enough emotional maturity not to make a fart joke every three minutes.

And it's not your fault that you're starting to see him in a different light. It's been years. Five whole years since you've spoken to him and you're both adults now. Completely different people, and would it really be the worst thing if you wondered what could have been?

"Dot…" he begins slowly, clearly wrestling with what he wants to say, "…you don't…I don't think you really know what you're doing."

You take a step as well, challenging him. "What am I doing?"

"You're...you're—" His fingers find the bridge of his nose as he squeezes. Hard. "Fuck, Dot. Don't…don't do this—"

"Do what? Flirt with you?"

His palms fly to his ears with a wince. "Stop. No, you didn't...you didn't say that. You're not flirting with me. You're not flirting with me—"

"What if I am?" you retort, following after him with a surge of confidence you didn’t realize you had. "Why would that be so wrong?"

"Because,” he scoffs, shooting a stern look your way. "You’re Atta’s little sister. And we’re friends. And you’re basically a child—"

"I'm not a child," you remind him. "I'm twenty-eight. I've been making capable decisions for quite some time now—"

"But not this," he hisses, the muscles in his neck straining. "Not…shit. You can't do this. You can't—”

"Why not? You said it yourself, there's something different here—"

"But not this—"

"Why not?"

"Because…you're you," he huffs. "You're...you're my best friend, and my ex’s little sister, and I’m…I’m just this big, bad man come to ruin you.”

And somehow, the idea goes straight to your cunt.

"You're not ruining me, Harry," you say, even though you wish he would. "We’re adults. Old friends catching up and realizing that maybe things can be different now."

He takes in a breath. "But they can't be. They can't be different—"

"Why—"

"Because it's not right—"

"What's not right? What?" you argue. "Is it just the age difference? Is it Atta? Is it that you aren't attracted to me, because I know you were flirting with me, too—"

His entire face twists into a grimace as he inhales sharply and presses his hands back over his ears. "God. Don't say that—"

"You were," you insist. "Like it or not, I'm not the little girl you used to know. All right, and there's...there's nothing wrong with us testing the waters—"

He steels himself, arms dropping back to his sides. "We can't."

"Why?" you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. "Why can't we? Huh? We're not breaking any rules. We're not doing anything illegal. I don't see what's so wrong with just trying—"

"I'd ruin you," he says again, with so much conviction that it makes your stomach drop. "I would ruin any chance you had at a normal relationship—a normal life. All right, being with me...it would complicate everything. And I'd never do that to you—"

"I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm just asking you to try—"

"Try what?"

"Try seeing." You take another step, making sure you have his full attention. "Just…try seeing if what we think is here is actually here. If maybe we were meant to find each other again after all this time. If this is where it all finally makes sense."

He considers this for a moment. Considers you. And you aren't sure when you suddenly became so enamored by the thought of Harry, but you’re here now. And he’s here. And there’s a shift.

And it feels right.

Then, his head begins to shake. "No. No, I know better. I have to know better. I have to do better than this. I can't...God, I can't believe I'm even...no. No, you mean too much to me for me to ruin this."

You feel your chest deflate as your lips press into a thin line. And you stare at him. You stare and you see the indecision and anguish on his face. You see the way he wrestles with the idea you've given him. The way he wrestles with himself.

The way he wrestles with you.

You don't want to push him. Because you know this is something you can never take back. And maybe there's just too much adrenaline in your veins right now. Maybe you aren't thinking straight, and once he leaves and the moment passes, you’ll wonder what you were so worked up about anyway.

But right now, all you feel is disappointment.

"Fine," you whisper, and his eyes soften. "No, fine. You're right. You're right, this is...I never should have said anything. I was…confused. I was just happy to see you again and I thought it was something else, but…you're right. It's nothing. And I don't wanna be your mid-life crisis. I just want us to be friends again.”

Your tiny apartment falls silent as you both settle onto this conclusion. As you let your heartbreak dangle in the air.

Then, his fingers between to flex and his teeth begin to grit, and watch in real time as he starts to change his mind.

Then, he murmurs, “Oh, fuck it.”

Next thing you know, he's closing the gap between you, taking hold of your face and kissing you hard.

You don’t have time to process it. Don’t even care to process it. But you don’t care. Because everything makes sense now.

So, you feel him. Surrender to him. Indulge in the dominate pull of his hands on your jaw as he takes a taste of you on his tongue. As he presses his hips so hard into yours that you feel your knees go weak.

You make a noise in your throat as he goes deeper, and he growls. Like he's fighting himself. Fighting the urge to take as he begins roughly walking you back until you’re slammed against the wall.

He knows exactly what he's doing in a way that younger men never have. He makes you feel both taken care of and somehow, still completely helpless. You don't have to think about anything with him because he does everything.

He presses his strong, tall frame into yours until he practically disappears into you. His large hand grips onto the back of your neck as you whimper, taking control of the moment—of you—until the only thought left in your head is just more.

And you don't doubt that he'd give you more if you asked, but before you can, he pulls back, and puts the moment on pause.

You feel breathless. Dejected. Wilting in his hold as he meets your eye and looks for your reaction.

But he won’t find it. And you bite back a whine as you wait for him to come back.

He sweeps his thumbs along your cheek before sighing to himself. "Dot..."

You feel your stomach turn at the nickname. At the way it comes out raspy and desperate. "Don’t say it."

But he does, anyway. "We shouldn't do this."

"I know," you murmur, fingers disappearing into his hair while he seems to nestle into your touch. "I know, but I want to. I want to, Har. So…please don’t make me lose you again.”

Another beat passes before he groans and presses his forehead to yours. “God,” he nearly growls, and the sound makes your thighs squeeze together. “Dot—”

"I won't tell," you promise while his jaw clenches. "I won't, I swear. I'll be your secret."

Just like that, the hand he placed on your thigh tightens. Squeezing until you're squirming beneath him. He’s losing his conviction and you’re losing your patience.

"This is wrong," he mumbles. "S'wrong, Dot. I can't do this to you. Can't do this with you...I can't...I know better. I have to do better.”

You tug on his hair as you straighten up, whining beneath a strained breath. "I don’t want you to do better. I want you to do me.”

He exhales deeply with this, nose running down the side of your face as his lips travel to your neck. He seems to take refuge there, subtly pressing kisses to your throat as he thinks. "I want to," he tells you softly. "You have no idea how badly I want to. How badly I want to do everything for you. Show you how a real man fucks. Until you see stars.”

"Har," you just about gasp, anxious to have him do just that. "Please...please—"

"Fuck." His thigh slots between the both of yours and you writhe against him, searching for anything you might find. "Be so easy to take you. Be so easy to show you what you're missing. To wreck you until you’re begging for more—"

"So do it," you plead, pulling on him until his mouth meets yours. "Do it, Har. Please. Just once. Just once, and I promise I'll be so good. Be so good for you. Won't ever ask you again—"

His hold on you grows more determined before he's ripping you away from the wall and slinging you toward your bed a few feet away.

He’s on you in seconds, hovering about where you lie as you greedily grab for him. "Promise me," he hisses as his palm slips beneath your shirt, and a needy whimper bleeds from your throat. "Promise me that this is what you want."

"I promise," you repeat quickly, arching into his touch. "Promise—"

"Promise me...that you'll be good," he says next, fingers brushing over the material of your bra. "That you'll behave. That you'll do exactly what I tell you."

"Yes," you breathe, eyes falling shut.

"Fucking promise me..." he continues as he scratches down your chest, "...that you won't tell. That you'll be my dirty little secret. That you'll be mine. That you'll let me ruin you and that you'll fucking thank me for doing it—"

The last domino falls. Crashes to the ground as you tug him down to you so you can kiss him. So, you can prove your loyalty. Prove that this is everything you’ve ever wanted.

You feel him smile.

"You little fucking minx,” he purrs.

Your skin warms as Harry's stunned but unceasingly enthralled gaze lingers on the red lace of your underwear. However, his fingers move instead for your hips. His hauntingly empty touch ghosting across the fabric of your underwear as you anxiously await contact.

But he doesn't give it to you. Not quite, not yet. He just wants to look at you. Wants to drink you in. Allow himself the privilege of seeing what he never has before.

"Did you wear these just for me, little one?" he asks in a gravely drawl, eyes flicking up to yours from where he lays between your thighs.

You swallow as you look across your stomach at him. You're not sure why you picked out this particular set today. Perhaps it was a subconscious choice or perhaps destiny was simply on your side.

"Maybe," you murmur, nails curling into your palm as you work in shallow breaths. God, you need him to touch you. Need him to do something about the mess that's sitting two inches in front of his face.

The very same mess he's pretending he doesn't notice.

Your response encourages a smirk as he hums and glances back down at the little white bow placed delicately in the center. "S'cute, Dot," he says softly, pinching the ribbon between his thumb and forefinger. "Fucking precious, actually. Knowing you got yourself all dolled up. Just to see me."

He pulls his lip between his teeth and glances back over your face. He's amused by the weary and desperate expression you wear and you're two seconds away from groaning.

His touch moves down. Down, down, down until the pad of his finger brushes over your clit.

You tense before releasing a shaky exhale.

Satisfied with this reaction, he moves even lower. Until he finds that growing wet patch that's beginning to hurt.

"What's this?" he coos, looking down toward the darkened red fabric. "Oh, darling...s'this for me, too?"

You're not sure where your quippy attitude from before has gone because now you can do nothing but nod mutely as you shift beneath his hand.

"Yeah?" His eyebrow raises as he grins at you. "Is this what has you so anxious?"

You give him another nod.

He hums. "Think I need to see for myself, hm?" He smirks and pats his palms against your hips. "Take these off for me."

You quickly reach down to hook your fingers around the hem of your underwear and drag them down your thighs. Once they've been pulled from your body, you get ready to toss them onto the other side of the bed. But before they can be flicked from the tips of your fingers, Harry snatches them with his fist.

"Uh-uh," he tuts as he tucks them into his suit's breast pocket. "These are mine now."

You suck in a sharp, eager pant. "Har—"

"Shh." He settles back onto his stomach, hands curling around your thighs to guide them apart and allow him a better visual. "M'busy, little one."

But it’s nearly impossible to stay quiet as his warm breath fans across your pussy, making the mess that much more obvious to you both. In fact, you can practically see the glistening reflection in his eye as he studies your cunt in the most intimate of ways.

You're not sure what he wants. What he's doing or planning or thinking. And you don't know why, but the way he stares at you does more for the apprehensive coil in your gut than him actually touching you has.

Finally, he makes another satisfied noise deep within the back of his throat before he brings his fingers back to you.

Two are placed just above your clit before he teasingly drags them down. However, when your hips buck up, he merely shoves them back down with a tsk.

Once you’re still, he starts again. Easing himself through your folds as he spreads you with the utmost glee. Fascinated by the way your body feels, the way it reacts to him.

His tongue sits between his lips as he ventures down, and the moment he finds the pooling of arousal waiting for him...you see the muscles in his neck contract.

"Darling…" The nickname is whispered across your body as he scoots closer. "Bet this hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes," you reply instantaneously, straining around the singular word as you resist the urge to whimper.

He circles the tip of his finger around your aching hole, almost as if to test you. "Oh, precious girl...how long, hm? How long have you been in so much pain?"

Truthfully, since you hugged him at the diner.

"All day," you say aloud, hands gripping onto the duvet beneath you. "All day, Har. Been thinking about you all day."

And that is the honest answer. You'd been anxiously awaiting your meeting from the moment you woke up.

But he smiles as if he knows better, despite the way he seems to bask in your response. "All day, hm? And what were you gonna do if I never came back? Were you just gonna sit here and rub your pretty thighs together?"

Your heart skips while your hands gather atop of your stomach.

His brow raises. "No? Well then how were you gonna take care of it, hm?"

For a moment, you think this is simply rhetorical, but the longer the silence stretches, the more obvious it becomes that he expects an answer.

You swallow the odd lump in your throat. "How do you think?"

"Uh-uh," he chastises again. "I wanna hear you say it. Want you to tell me exactly how you were gonna fix this little problem of yours had I not been here."

Your head flops back against the pillows as you glare at the ceiling. He's always been rather infuriating but now he's a menace.

"Dot..." He's warning you. Calling you back. Urging you not to be so bratty.

With a tentative sigh, you look back at him. "My...vibrator."

He perks up. "Yeah?"

You nod faintly.

"Tell me how," he instructs next, jutting his chin toward you. "Better yet...show me. Show me how you've been taking care of yourself all these years."

Feeling rather embarrassed under the spotlight of such an intimate request, you shyly look over toward your nightstand and outstretch a hand. After pulling the drawer open, you slip inside and find the purple wand that's just small enough to fit snugly inside your palm.

And Harry watches with a certain wonder in his eye as you bring the dainty toy closer. Yet, he says nothing while you slowly guide it toward your stomach and down to your thighs.

But he does, however, shift in order to make room, scooting back by a hair to allow you the space you need to place the head right above your aching clit.

For some reason, doing something so private in front of him feels...odd. Strange and almost unsettling. And perhaps that's just nerves, but you can't deny the heat that rushes to your face as he looks between you and the vibrator.

"S'this it, then?" he murmurs, a hint of teasing laced within the remark. "Don't even have to turn it on?"

Your thumb taps against the power button, a nervous tic, although you refrain from switching the toy on just yet. "No..."

His smirk is borderline haughty. "Then what do you do, little one? How do you use it?"

You say nothing. You hold his stare, and you hold a deep breath, and you hold the wand to your glistening cunt.

Then...you flip the switch.

The soft, dainty vibrations echo across the room, across your bodies, and across your clit as it's met with the instant stimulation of the pulsating wand.

You choke on a gasp as you return your eyes to the ceiling, allowing for the feeling to take control of each remaining sense.

And as you do, Harry's hands make themselves known to you as they begin to smooth up your legs, helping guide your thighs further apart once again.

There's an ever-so-slight stretch that follows as your muscles are pulled, and the distinctive burn makes your lashes flutter shut.

"There you go," he whispers. "So pretty, darling. God, could watch you do this all day."

Truthfully, you imagine you’re quite a sight. After all, you’ve watched yourself before. You know how it looks. Know exactly the kind of visual fantasy Harry is witness to right now.

So, you play it up, give him a show. After all...he's got a front row seat.

You rotate the head slowly, circling down and around your hole before retreating and dragging the object back up and through.

And you shiver every time it brushes against that particular sweet spot. Every time the pulses slow just to speed up once more. It's almost torturous the way your body is being bent to such salacious desires. And cruel the way you're forced to do this while he only watches.

A whimper slips free, and you arch off the bed, pressing the toy as tight against your body as you can stand.

You hear Harry chuckle.

"Easy," he warns before you feel his fingers curl around your wrist, encouraging your grip to relax. "Take it slow, Dot. Not in a hurry, are you?"

"No," you breathe, head shaking zealously. "No, m'just...feels good."

"Does it?" He almost sounds surprised. "Hm. Interesting. Seeing as you're doing it wrong."

Your head lifts.

He glances toward the vibrator. "May I?"

You nod.

Pleased, he slips the toy free from between your fingers and clears his throat. Focused eyes landing on your body as he readies the bullet.

Then...he begins.

It meets your clit—an innocent, familiar touch—before it's instantly being dragged down. He's slow with it. Giving you enough time to feel each particular flutter and twitch.

Your soft gasps and grateful sighs carry him further, until the tiny head of the toy is swimming through your arousal. You fall still, attention locked on the man by your knees.

But he’s still focused. Soft, green eyebrows weaving together as his pretty cherry lips stretch into a smile.

Something changes—everything changes—when he slips the head inside. Your entire body ripples from the vibrations as you stumble over his name and squirm across the mattress.

He only laughs before placing his arm overtop your stomach to keep you cemented to the bed. "None of that. Stay still for me."

"Har," you whisper, depleted of any strength. "Please..."

"What, little one? What do you want?"

"I need...please, I'm..."

"What? Does it feel good?"

"Yes. Yes...yes, feels so good. Please..."

"Please what? What do you want, sugar?"

More. Everything. Anything. "Fuck, I'm—don't stop. Please don't stop."

"Oh, darling," he breathes. "I'd never dream of it."

He takes the toy out and moves it back to your clit, circling gently a few times before pressing down hard.

And you almost miss the full feeling it provided as it was eased into you, but before you can dwell for too long...Harry's extending his fingers and slipping them into your cunt.

Not one, but two of those beautiful digits push past your walls and begin to stretch you, ripping a gasp from your throat at the simultaneous stimulation.

"Attagirl," he murmurs from below, and you can hear the smug undertone. "That's what you wanted, hm? Needed something to fill you."

Your chest heaves, the red lace of your bra lifting and falling as you roll your head back. "God, Har—"

"Tell me, darling," he continues, easing himself out just to push back in. "Were you gonna use your own fingers? If I wasn't here? Gonna ride your pretty little hand?"

You can't tell if he already knows the answer or if he just wants to picture your hand between your thighs.

Either way, you pant out, "Mhm."

"Yeah? How many, honey? How many were you gonna use?"

"...two."

He tsks, seemingly disappointed with this answer. "Just two? Hm. And would it have felt like this, darling? Would they be able to do it for you the way mine can?"

To accompany this ask, he curls upward, nearly yanking the pleasure out of you as you choke on a cry and writhe away from him.

"Fuck—" Your teeth tug on your bottom lip. "Shit, Har—"

"Is that a no, then?" He thrusts his fingers out and back in again. "Would you have gotten yourself this wet...with just your own hand?"

The sound of him slipping through your arousal meets your ear as you groan and look down.

"No?" He adds a third finger while making sure to keep the wand of the vibrator exactly where it needs to be. "What about when you thought of me? Would that have done it for you, sugar? Thinking of me while you soaked your sheets? While you dripped down your knuckles as you fucked yourself?"

You've never heard a man talk to you this way. You already knew his experience superseded that of any man you'd been with before but this. None of those other boys ever knew how. But Harry...God. He knows just what to say. Knows exactly what you need to hear, and it overwhelms you.

"Har...Har—"

"Need an answer," he reminds you, but when you refuse to offer him one, he takes himself away. His fingers, the toy, his body. Leaning away completely as your pussy goes completely quiet.

"Harry," you just about moan, pushing up onto your elbows to leverage the playing field. "You...I'm...I was just—"

"Disobeying," he answers for you. "That's what you were doing. And I don't think that's fair, do you?"

You frown. You know this tone he's taking with you. Authoritative and condescending. It makes you huff. "Fine. I'll try again."

"Good girl," he murmurs, nodding at you as if to encourage confidence.

"I...wait, what was the question again?"

He smiles at this, releasing an amused chuckle beneath his breath before crawling back to you. His hands find the mattress beside your hips and he settles between your parted thighs, lips dangerously closer now.

And you can smell him. Smell his cologne, and his aftershave, and his shampoo. Can feel the heat radiating off his body, even through the expensive suit. Can see how much he wants to take care of you—ruin you. As promised.

"Do you get yourself this wet...when I'm not around?" he repeats, and the tip of his nose brushes against yours.

Your breath hitches. "No."

The answer was always obvious, but you know he needed to hear you say it.

"Do you touch yourself...the way I touch you?"

"No."

"Can you make yourself come the way I can?"

"God, no—" you gasp before taking hold of his face and smashing his mouth against yours.

His lips are perfect and his kiss is perfect and the two of you are perfect together. A connection so seamless, so effortless...it's as if you were always meant to be.

A ridiculous notion, you think to yourself, but right now...it's quite nice.

He pulls himself back just enough to meet your eye and offer a devious grin. "Then let’s find out, hm?"

Rough fingertips travel up the length of your inner thigh, forming goosebumps in the wake. You shiver, ready to receive his touch once again before he dances right past your cunt, and up your hip.

He moves for the lace on your chest, tugging on the wire between your breasts with a disappointed tsk.

"I want this gone," he decides, plucking it from your skin. "Need to see all of you, Dot."

And before you can even reach back to undo the hook, he's looping an arm underneath your back, lifting you up, and flicking the clasp free.

Once done, he yanks the bra down your arms and body before flinging it somewhere behind him.

Your eyes shut as your naked chest is revealed to him, heart hammering against your ribcage.

But then, you feel those lips again. He wraps his mouth around your left nipple before you can even whisper his name, sucking on you as though he's determined to make you see stars.

Which you do the moment his teeth pull on the sensitive skin. And you can't help but mewl as his tongue flicks cruel and merciless patterns against before moving for your collarbone.

He groans as he goes, situating his knee between your legs and pressing it directly against your cunt. His other hand gropes at your right breast, kneading at the tender flesh until his mouth reaches your neck. He nips at a vein just below your jaw and you arch up into him, chest knocking into his.

He sucks sweet bruises into the curve of your throat before licking apologies over the newly ruined skin. It's slow and painful and beautifully good.

Everything about him is beautiful and good.

His entire body seems to cater to yours as he cages you to the mattress and easily pulls whimpers from your throat. As he touches you, and pleases you, and knows you in a way nobody else ever has.

You grind yourself against his leg before glancing down. And that’s when you notice the way your arousal has begun to soak through his nice pants. The way a dark little patch seeps into the fancy—and expensive—material. A sight both erotic and humiliating.

Your whimper forces his eyes to where yours reside, and he smirks when he sees your mess.

"What's the matter, little one?" he asks, taking his hand from your tit and using it to grab onto your jaw. "Are you embarrassed?"

You nod, despite his hold.

"Oh, my dirty little girl,” he hums. “I don't mind you soaking my trousers. But I'd rather you soak my cock."

You'd rather that, too, and you're more than grateful when he leans back to undo his belt. You don't know where this will lead you. If you’ll fuck him and then lose contact for another five years.

Or if you’ll fuck him and change everything.

But right now, you don't mind. You'll happily exist in this moment with him. In these bad decisions until you're coming so hard, you forget your own name.

He leans back to begin ridding himself of his clothes and you scramble upward to help him along. Your greedy hands grab at his jacket and his shirt, wrestling them down his arms and off his broad chest. Wanting to see him the way he can see you.

You nearly moan when his inked skin is revealed to you. You knew he'd gotten a few tattoos in college, and even some a bit after. But seeing them now, painted across such a tan, toned canvas makes your head spin.

"Easy," he laughs, reaching out to swipe his thumb beside your mouth to collect the pooling drool. "Save some for me, hm?"

But you can't. Instead, you take his finger between your lips and bury it beside your tongue.

Surprised, his lashes flutter. But once you realize he won’t be able to undo his pants without both hands, you regretfully pop his digit free. Allowing him to slip out of his briefs until his cock springs free.

He’s…perfect. Still. Somehow. Red and swollen and leaking just for you. And you clench from the mere thought of having something so beautiful inside you.

You crawl closer, eager for a taste, but Harry simply grabs hold of your chin.

"Yes, little one?" he murmurs, using his other hand to hold his cock. "Did you want something?"

You nod and lean forward another inch.

"All right," he concedes, pumping himself before subtly tugging you down. "Just a taste, honey. Since you've been so good."

He leads your mouth to him and without a moment's hesitation, you outstretch your tongue, and drag it along the underside.

You revel in the way you feel him twitch. In the way he exhales a deep breath through parted lips while moving his fingers to your hair, guiding you closer but not too close. Just enough to get him on your tastebuds.

You hum when you reach the tip, eager to indulge in the pre-cum already beading in pearly drops. And the vibrations from your eager appreciation make the muscles in his stomach quiver as he curses your name.

However, you barely get the chance to wrap your mouth around him before he's yanking on your hair, and straightening you back up.

"What did I say?" he hisses. "Don't be greedy, Dot."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, swallowing the bit of him still lingering in your mouth. "M'sorry, won't do it again."

"No, you won't. Or I'll go back on my promise."

"No," you whine, needy fingers wrapping around his wrist to keep him close. "No, won't do it again. I promise."

You know he’s amused with your desperation, and even though you're slipping fast, he can't help but be entertained. "We'll see, little one."

With a fervent motion of your head, you scramble back to the pillows to lay down, legs spreading as if to invite him in.

He smirks as he strokes his cock a time or two more while settling himself between your thighs. You imagine he could have you in a number of ways, a plethora of positions. But he chooses this. He chooses to see your face this first time. To see every ounce of pleasure etched within your features.

And truth be told, you don't mind. You could stare at him forever.

"Do you have any condoms?" he asks next, dipping down to press his lips to yours for only a second. "Or would you prefer to go without?"

You consider this. You're on birth control and you do have a bit of a creampie kink, so you shake your head.

"Without," you answer quickly before lifting an eyebrow. "Unless you'd like to?"

"No," he chuckles, placing a kiss to your nose this time. "Just wanted to make sure. Promised to take care of you, and that's what I plan to do."

Your heart flutters.

"Okay, gonna need you to be good, honey," he tells you now, large palm landing on your hip to steady you. "Gonna need you to take me and do as I say, all right? And I'll make it worth it."

"I will," you agree quickly, fingers traveling up the dips in his arms, ghosting over each muscle until you reach his shoulders. "Be so good, Har, promise."

"Uh-uh." His hand smacks against your inner thigh in warning before his thick eyebrow cocks up. "S'not my name, darling. Not right now."

Curious as to what he might mean, you study him for only a moment before you realize.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

Just like that, something in his demeanor switches.

Truth be told, the name doesn't do much for you. But you revel in the way he feeds off it. Find absolute euphoria in the way he lights up at your obedience until you want nothing more than to please him again. To call him anything he wants as long as he keeps looking at you like that.

"Good girl," he growls beneath a deep breath before he's bringing his cock closer.

He starts by dragging it along your clit, making you jolt and buck before his hand splays across your stomach to force you back down.

"No," he says simply, eyes fixated on the torture he's currently implementing.

He does it again, letting your swollen, puffy clit jump from the slight brush of his tip while he drags it through your arousal and shifts forward.

"Breathe," he orders next, stealing a quick glance at your puckered lips and wide eyes. “All right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He slides in slowly, pushing past your tight walls, coaxing the muscles to stretch to his size.

At first, it's nothing more than a soft, easy sensation. Relaxing, in a sense as it aids the ache and fills the void his fingers left behind.

Then...he goes deeper.

And this is what you'd been waiting for. The slight tension and subtle burn as your body is forced to accommodate him. You're thankful he goes slow. Not just because of the pain. But because you both want to watch.

You want to watch the way he pulls your body apart. Wanna watch him disappear into your tight hole that pulls him in. Wanna watch the way you flutter and clench and claim him the way he’s claiming you.

"Oh, that's my fucking girl," he groans to himself. "Fucking hell, Dot. Didn’t think you’d be so tight."

"Yeah, well…never had someone like you before," you tease, gauging your body's reaction by slowly rolling your hips up.

"Yeah?" His hand lands on your throat, smoothing up the sides of your neck until he can squeeze a gasp from your lips. “Never, huh?”

You shake your head and with one quick thrust, he bottoms out, forcing a strangled cry as you arch into him.

“Never had someone stretch this pretty pussy the way it deserves, yeah?” He tsks again. “What a fucking shame.”

He rears back, and the pain and the pleasure that follow him out make your chest cave in.

However, he’s quickly driving himself back in before you can complain, pushing past the fluttering muscles once more as you keen and rake your nails down the blanket.

"Harry," you breathe, his name like a lifeline as you drown in his sin.

But it earns you another firm smack to your outer thigh as he grunts his disapproval into your neck. "No," he warns before nipping just below your jaw. "You know better."

But really…you don’t. "Sir...please," you amend.

"Hm. S'a good girl," he praises. "Knew you'd behave for me, yeah? My perfect little toy—"

A rather debauched moan rips from between your gritted teeth as his hips ram into yours. You can feel him everywhere. In your stomach, in your head, in your heart. His legs against yours, his chest against yours, his entire body against yours until you're almost convinced he's gonna become one with your bloodstream.

Not that you'd mind.

His arm slips beneath you once more in order to lift you up and provide him with a new angle. Then, he thrusts himself into you again as your mouth hangs open in a silent gasp for air.

"There she is, that's what you needed. Yeah, little one?' He does it again, brushing against that one spot that makes your toes curl. "The other boys never did it, did they?"

You whine, knees bending besides his hips as you attempt to follow after him when he pulls back.

But he's quick to tut and knock you back down onto your ass. "No. You don't rush me, darling. We do this my way. On my time. If I wanna stay here and fuck you nice and slow, then you’ll behave, and you’ll fucking take me.”

You’d like to agree, but he’s thrusting himself back in before you can.

"You will thank me for taking my time," he continues in a coarse cadence that seems to reverberate from his chest. "You will thank me...for being so goddamn good to you. And you will thank me…for doing it right."

"Harry, please—" you just about wail, hands finding his arms as you grasp on for dear life.

But the fingers around your throat tighten until the edges of your vision begin to blur.

"There you fucking go again," he growls, stilling his rhythmic attacks as he meets your eye. He seems to enjoy watching your focus go fuzzy. "Starting to think you like to be punished, hm? And here I thought you had a praise kink."

You clutch onto his wrist, nails scratching along the veins in his arm as he pounds into you at a harder pace.

But you don't mind. You enjoy watching him give into the voices inside his head. Enjoy the way his chocolate brown curls sweep across his forehead, the way his eyebrows weave together and the muscles in his jaw constrict.

For a 34-year-old man, he seems to possess quite a bit of stamina. He'd mentioned earlier his enjoyment for running and exercising, detailing his rather excessive and diligent routine.

And you'd smirked because you'd assumed he was showing off or because he was trying to stay ahead of the inevitable "dad-bod" in his future.

But now you understand why he's really so meticulous. He's a long way from looking his age. Apart from some subtle, but soft crinkles near his eyes and a few gray hairs that peek through the auburn waves, he looks rather youthful.

And his body. You swallow another noise as you let your hungry gaze trail over every inch, every muscle, every quiver in his thighs as he braces himself above you.

Sir feels like a more appropriate title to you now. Because he is. He is your superior in this moment A man to be respected and revered. Someone who not only knows better,.but knows you. Knows your body and how to play it like an instrument.

There's something exciting about submitting to him. Something tantalizing about being at his mercy. Most of the other men you've been with have felt more like your equals than anything else. Which you haven't minded in the least bit.

But the way Harry has managed to fit you into the submissive, subservient role so quickly suggests that perhaps...this is where you were always meant to be.

Beneath him.

"Oh, honey," he coos, a mix of condescension and amusement. "Can feel you squeezin' me. Need it so bad, don't you? Need to come, hm?"

"Yes. Yes," you whisper, nuzzling your face into his neck, lips eagerly pressing into the salty skin at your disposal. "Please, Ha—Sir. Please let me come. Can't...can't hold it—"

"You will,” he says before he’s grabbing hold of your wrist and hosting it above your head. Burying into the pillow and preventing you from reaching for your clit. “Forget it, Princess. Told you to take me. So you will. Exactly how I tell you.”

"Sir—"

"I said no. I plan to keep you here for quite some time. Plan to feel you coming around my cock as many times as I see fit. And I expect you to behave for me the way you promised. Can you do that? Or do I need to stop?"

"No," you gasp, tears springing to your eyes at the very thought. "No, no, please—"

"Then what are you going to do?"

You swallow a moan and lift your chin proudly. "Take it."

A pleased smile crawls across his face as he hums and dips down to press his mouth to yours. "There she is," he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip. "My good girl. Try to remember that, yeah? Or I'll keep you here all day."

However, that’s something else you wouldn't exactly mind, and you shiver as he pushes your knee into your chest.

"Fucking hell, Dot," he mumbles, eyes falling back down to where you're coating his cock. "Oh, my perfect toy. Look at the way you treat me, honey. Treat me so well, fucking soaking me, aren't you—"

"Yes, Yes, please…"

"I know. I know, little one. Feels so good to be filled, yeah? To be fucked the right way—"

"God, yes. More...please—"

"More, huh? Need more? Need me to make it better? Need me to fucking take—"

Suddenly, your phone rings.

The soft, melodic chime cuts through Harry’s vulgar response, bringing the moment to a close as his thrusts falter and he glances over.

God, you hate that stupid, evil, sadistic machine. Right now, you wish you'd never bought it. You wish you could throw it again the wall until it shatters into a thousand fucking pieces so as long as he just keeps going.

Instead, he searches your nightstand for the small device before he's releasing your leg in order to reach for it.

"No, Har," you plead, attempting to grab onto his hand. "Just let it go to voicemail, it's fine—"

"But that wouldn't be very polite, now, would it?" he tuts, glancing over the screen. "And I think you need to take this, darling."

"Harry, please—"

"Shh," he says sharply. “You're gonna take this phone call and you're gonna use your word. And then, and you're gonna come for me."

His thumb hovers over the green button and he guides the phone to your ear.

"And you're not gonna make a fucking sound," he adds, dropping his voice to a threatening hiss before pressing the receiver to your ear. "Or I fucking stop. Do you understand?"

You do your best to nod, and he smiles before tapping the screen.

Through a slight quiver, you say, "Hello?"

"Hey! Long time no talk, babe. How are you?"

Your eyes just about pop out of your head.

Atta.

Her cheerful tone and eager greeting make the blood drain from your face as you look up at the man hovering above you.

"Speak," he mouths with a wicked grin while nodding his chin at you.

But you can't. You physically cannot get the words to come out of your mouth as Harry keeps the device glued to the side of your head.

"H...hi," you stammer, forcing a more confident cadence. "I'm...good. How...how are you?"

"Oh, I'm good. Good, yeah," your sister replies, and you hear a bit of shuffling. "Been working a lot. Got today off, which is nice. God, you'd never believe how much shit we have to go through since we changed our filing system—"

"Mhm," you reply right as Harry rams his hips into yours.

You gasp and quickly turn your head away from the phone in an attempt to keep the excitable noise from making it into the microphone.

However, he uses his other hand to grasp onto your jaw and force you back. "No," he whispers, shooting you a stern look of warning. "You know better."

"—which is wild because we've been using the same program since '08," Atta is saying, although you can hardly hear her over the imminent pleasure rushing through your veins. "But...whatever. Once we're done, it'll make things so much easier. Which will be nice. I can cut back on my hours—"

"Yeah, mhm," you repeat, and it's outrageously strained as Harry pulls himself out, leaving you depraved and so goddamn empty.

You have to fight the urge to cry out for him, glancing down at the string of arousal that follows his cock. And it's almost too much for you to handle as you greedily reach for him once more.

However, he bats your hands away and brings his free fingers from your chin to your clit, rubbing into the sensitive nerves until you arch up.

"—so, yeah. What about you?"

Your eyes squeeze shut as that tightly wound ball of pleasure in your stomach expands. "I'm...I...good. I'm...good. You know, not...not a lot going on. At the moment."

Harry smirks to himself before sinking all the way back in and thrusting up.

Your lip fights its way between your teeth and you writhe beneath his chest while praying for the strength to stay quiet.

"Well...I guess no news is good news, yeah?" she chuckles. "Oh, hey, speaking of which...I heard that Harry's in town."

That's not the only thing he's in.

"Oh?" you squeak, placing a palm on Harry's chest almost as if in retaliation. "He is?"

"Yeah. Saw it on Facebook," she answers, and you hear her move around. "Figured he might try to reach out. I know you guys are still on good terms, right?"

"Me and Harry?" you repeat pointedly, garnering a curious look from the aforementioned man. "Uh...we're...yeah. I guess. But we’re not…that close."

He grins.

"Well...I just thought I'd let you know in case he does," she says, and your lashes flutter shut as the guilt begins to find you.

"Would it be weird...if he did?" you ask before the patterns being traced against your clit make you whimper.

Terrified, you quickly cough in an attempt at burying the sound, but Atta doesn't seem to hear.

"I mean...maybe? I don't know. He and I are fine, I think. And I know you two were friends. I guess you could at least...check on him. Make sure he's doing okay."

"Yeah," you breathe, sneaking a glance up. "I'm...I'm sure he's doing just fine."

Harry smiles once more before moving his palm to your thigh and pressing it into the bed to spread you at a different angle.

"I hope," Atta sighs. "Anyway, I wanted to call and check in. Just to make sure everything is going okay for you—"

"Mhm, yeah. I'm...I'm glad you did," you blubber while attempting to send Harry a pointed look. You're close. So fucking close, and if he keeps going...

"Are you sure you're all right? You sound a bit flustered—"

"Yes. Yes, yes, I'm..." Your head shakes quickly, nails scratching down Harry's chest in warning. He needs to stop. He needs to stop or you won't make it. "I'm fine. I'm...a little under the weather, but I'm—"

Suddenly, he sheathes himself inside your cunt, face burying in your neck with a groan as your entire body shivers.

"Are you sure? You kind of sound like you're in pain—"

"Listen, Atta, I...I gotta go—" you gasp, so close to your orgasm that you can practically taste it. “I’m sorry—”

"Oh, yeah. Hey, text me, okay? Just let me know that you're all right—"

"Mhm, yeah, I will—fuck—"

It happens before you can stop it. Ripping through every muscle and fiber in your body as you rake your fingers down Harry's back and choke on a moan.

Thankfully for you, Harry has already ended the call and thrown the phone to the other side of the room so he can loop his arm beneath your hips and tug you up into his body.

"Go," he breathes. "Give it to me. Come on, little one. Just like that. Good fucking girl, just like that. Let me feel you—"

Your room fills with the sound of his name, dancing effortlessly between the whimpers that follow.

It feels like you've touched heaven. A sensation so overwhelming and euphoric that you don't even realize his hand has returned to your throat. Don't realize he's squeezing your neck in his tight fist as he comes, filling your cunt with everything he has to give you.

You don't even realize you can't breathe, but you love it. Love the way he presses his teeth into your shoulder and presses his body into your chest. Until you're trapped against the mattress while you live through the high.

Every joint in your body aches. Radiating pain and pleasure all at once as you hook your leg over his hip and snake your arms around his neck.

And you keep him inside of you for what feels like hours. Even after you've regained a bit of consciousness. And a bit of common sense.

Perhaps the moment he pulls out, you'll realize the mistake you've made. You’ll realize that this isn't a secret you can keep. Or a choice that you can ever choose again. And maybe he’ll realize it, too.

But until then…

You’re happy to have your Harry back.

~ Masterlist

Taglist: @littlenatilda @prettythingsworld @heartateasee @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @monicaalexandraaa

@cinnamonone @triski73 @lemoncrushh @vamprry @lady-lamb21

@lillefroe @kirstiea05 @ribbonknives @lunaharrygurl @harringtonhundreds

@swiftmendeshoran @sundresstyles @eldahae @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs

@hannahdressedasabanana @sykostyles @lukesaprince @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus

@lovrave @nuggetdean @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @babegoals @lc-fics

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blacklegsanjiii · 5 months

Note

•°♤°• Any Zosan Fic Recommendeds?

Here's some! (And one ZoLuSan because i'm me) Some are unfinished, some are classics. Either way these are the ones I always go back to!

Learning to Listen by three_days_late

Teen and Up

No Archive Warnings Apply

For as long as Zoro's felt his soulmate echoes he's hated them. He doesn't know why Sanji, or the rest of his crew mates, care so damn much.

Broke the Yolk by 3oClockSnacc (TobiSterling)

Teen and Up

No Archive Warnings Apply

Sanji has a nasty habit of denying himself little luxuries. Sleeping in, hot food, the unconditional love of his crew. He's used to it though; used to getting up at the crack of dawn to prepare breakfast, used to working on an empty stomach to ensure everyone else is fed, used to serving up pieces of himself and getting nothing in return. He can't afford those luxuries. Not even on his birthday.

Digital Footprint 100 Miles Wide by yellowrubberboots

Teen and Up

No Archive Warnings Apply

[Profile Picture Description: A MS Paint drawing of a cartoon skull. The skull is wearing a yellow straw hat with a red band around the base.] TheStrawhats Last live 2 days ago video games and other random shit // we stream when we stream. 6.2M followers

Unwritten Recipes by aririnas

Teen and Up

No Archive Warnings Apply

Ingredients 2 fat garlic cloves, crushed 2 red chillies, deseeded and finely chopped 150ml white wine (not optional) 175g dried spaghetti 140g mussels, washed and beards removed 140g clams, washed chilli oil or olive oil, for drizzling ½ small pack parsley, roughly chopped (..) or Sanji writes everyone's favourite food in a recipe book

You'll Whisper Lies to Me (and One of Them Will be True) by Veto_power_over_clocks

Teen and Up

No Archive Warnings Apply

Sanji introduces Zoro to Two Truths and a Lie. He only ever plays with Zoro, and all his lies are shit. (Alternatively: Sanji subjects himself to the mortifying ordeal of being known by Zoro. He does everything in his power to ensure Zoro doesn't realize that's what's happening.)

Green with Envy Blues by adietxt

General Audiences

No Archive Warnings Apply

Zoro thinks he’s a pretty loyal person. All things considered, he’s a faithful crewmember and swordsman of the Strawhat Pirates. Zoro looks up just in time to see Luffy launching himself at Sanji, wrapping his stretched limbs all over Sanji’s body. Sanji has just walked out of the galley carrying a plate full of fancy-looking drinks and he’s extending his arm as far away as possible from Luffy’s grasp, and Luffy leans over his shoulder, their cheeks pressed against each other’s, their lips almost touching — Zoro is seriously considering mutiny.

Switching Places by TranqilChaos

Mature

Graphic Depictions of Violence

All it takes is one desperate battle in the jungle for Zoro to finally be on the other side. For him to be the one worrying at a bedside. For him to be the one waiting hours for the slightest sign of anything. For him to be the one missing meals and skipping showers and sleeping in the infirmary chair. Or Luffy, Zoro, and Sanji fight a tough battle in the forest that leaves all, but Zoro, horribly injured.

Your Eyes are Liquor, Your Body is Gold by Astauria

Not Rated

Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings

It was a stupid idea, Zoro had known it all along and now he was really wondering why he had accepted such a proposal. No amount of alcohol in the world could ever be worth the decomposition he would see in Sanji's eyes when he learned the truth. Zoro had bet on him, for one fucking drink.

Rewind (Be Kind) by donutsandcoffee

Teen and Up

No Archive Warnings Apply

What should be a run-of-the-mill skirmish with a devil fruit user turned Sanji into an eight-year-old, and the Strawhats are suddenly faced with a version of Sanji they have never met before: a Sanji before the Strawhats, before the floating restaurant, but after—something. Zoro observes, learns, and relearns.

#zosan #fic recs #fic rec #answers #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #zoro roronoa #sanzo

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alchemistc · 2 years

Text

Eddie practices his arguments with Steve.

The thing is -

Here's the thing. It's not that he's expecting an argument. So far every time either one of them have been irritated with one another, or pissed off about something, they usually just, like, talk about it and shit. Healthy-like, which is -

Totally fucking weird for Eddie My-Parents-Fought-As-A-Love-Language Munson and Steve Still-Figuring-Out-Its-Okay-To-Be-Loved Harrington. It's weird, it is, and Eddie can't help but wonder if Steve is just bottling shit up until it explodes out of him and he realizes that this thing they're doing just isn't worth it anymore.

So.

So Steve does this thing, right?

This thing where he rolls his jaw and sometimes it pops and it makes Eddie want to stick a curly straw up his nose and scramble his own brains. And he's such a fucking neat freak that every time he's over, he ends up rearranging Eddie's room - not even in purpose, just. He likes to touch things, and Eddie gets it, he does, but touching things usually leads to picking things up leads to setting them back down and before Eddie's had time to look up, Steve has swept empty beer cans into the trash and lined up Eddie's models in a neat row like they're troops readying for battle and since he's like a war buff they're always lined up like a little battalion which is cute but also frustrating as hell because - because Eddie's chaos is organized and now he can't find his fucking lyric journal with the song he's very much not ready for people to see, or know about, or -

The point. The point is Eddie has been gearing up to talk to Steve about it for three days now and he's now at the stage where he practices. Works out the scenarios, muddles through possibilities, tries to anticipate every way it could go tits up.

He's never - Steve is most of his firsts, and he knows it's dumb and romantic but he'd like Steve to be all of his lasts, too, and so what if that means he's pacing the length of the trailer (all the while perfecting his Steve-voicr, which has been a tough one to nail but he feels like he's getting there. He's smarter and more eloquent than he lets on, is Steve.) and arguing with himself. Resetting, back to the start, working through a disastrous turn where Steve accuses Eddie of cheating on him (nope, reset, Steve's well aware Eddie wouldn't, cut that from the options).

"And seriously, Eddie, how could you think I'd do that shit to you, you know -."

"What the hell?"

Eddie whirls.

Mike Wheeler is standing in his living room, staring at Eddie like he's grown a second head. Which. Shit. They haven't actually, like, told anyone that they're...doing whatever it is they're doing (There's things Eddie wants to call it, but he hasn't brought them up yet because they're terrifying and super fucking telling and even though he's pretty sure he and Steve are on the same page he doesn't want to presume) so the kids don't know. No one except Robin knows, and she's states away and busy so.

"What the hell right back, Wheeler, what are you doing here?"

"I left my chem textbook here last night. You said I could come get it."

And - sure, he definitely had, but he'd sort of been staring at the hollow where Steve's neck and shoulder met and imagining biting it when he said it, so -

"So you broke into my house?"

"The door was unlocked."

"So you walked uninvited INTO MY HOUSE?" And he's maybe hamming up the annoyance as cover, but Wheeler just stares at him.

"Are you practicing breaking up with Steve?" Wheeler asks without preamble, with zero inflection, not even a quirk of his brow, and Eddie -

Flounders, is a generous term for it. Really what he does is shriek, and cackle, and then cover it up with the weirdest laugh either of them have ever heard which covers nothing at all. "What are - why would you - what makes you think - listen, Michael, you can't just break into people's homes and accuse them of - of - what exactly are you accusing me of?"

"Of having really terrible taste in men, Eddie, where's my textbook?"

"I don't fucking know, Wheeler, Steve rearranges shit all the time so who the hell knows where he would have -."

"It's probably on the bookshelf, then," Mike says, and then squints. "Are you...practicing arguing with Steve?"

"How do you even -?"

"Neither one of you is subtle."

"Shut up, Wheeler."

"If that's how you talk to Steve it's no wonder you have to practice your arguments."

"I'm not - you're infuriating."

Mike squares him with a look that reminds Eddie of when he's calculating hit points and strategizing his next move. He frowns. Sighs. "I have like ten minutes before I have to leave. Steve doesn't think you're cheating on him, so let's start from the top."

---

"The kids know," Eddie tells Steve, fingers shifting in Steve's hair, and Steve's lashes flash as he looks up from Eddie's lap. Mike had been - well, Wheeler might be half a decade younger but he'd been pretty instrumental in helping Eddie nail down the right approach to "Please stop cleaning up my messes you're ruining everything." so another non-argument is in the books, and Steve had looked confused about it but he'd agreed to try not to move shit around at least.

("I'm still cleaning up all the trash, though, you live like a goblin."

"It's hot that you know what a goblin is, baby."

"Nerd.")

"Are you...okay with that?"

"Are you?"

"I asked first."

It's not that he doesn't want to answer, it's just.

Okay he doesn't want to answer. Jesus Christ, he'd used Mike goddamn Wheeler as his Steve stand in to practice an argument that hadn't happened and he's still scared to call Steve his -

"I... don't really know. What to tell them." And that's - shit, not what he meant to say, Jesus.

"What do you mean?"

Steve crinkles his nose, and Eddie hates how goddamn cute it is, because he really wants to just, like, boop the tip of it and then suck Steve off but -

Where's Mike Wheeler when he needs him?

("If you ever tell Steve about this I'll tell Will to TPK your party for the next ten campaigns."

"Why would I tell Steve I'm helping you save your relationship?"

"Brownie points. So you can hold it over Henderson's head. Blackmail."

"I used to be terrified of you, but you're actually super lame, honestly."

"Preaching to the choir, my friend.")

"I mean, what...what do we tell them we...are?"

"Are you freaking out about calling me your boyfriend?"

"...no."

He shifts, and Eddie's fingers slip through the strands of Steve's hair as he shuffles, scoots, sits up and twists to face Eddie.

"I am, right? I mean...you want me to be?"

Eddie hasn't practiced this conversation, because - because it's presumptuous, because it felt sort of like jinxing it, because -

"Yeah. Duh. Of course I - shit. Yeah. Yes."

Steve's smile is bright and a little knowing. "I have a confession."

"I'm not sure I want to hear it."

"Trust me, you want to."

"Okay fine," Eddie tells him, eyes on Steve's hand as he slots their fingers together. Eddie hooks his pinkie along the edge of Steve's sleeve. "Twist my arm, why don't you?"

"I'm actually kind of glad they already know. I've been trying to figure out how to tell them for a while. I've been, like - creating scenarios in my head to try to figure out how they're going to take it."

There's - okay, so Eddie's thinking a lot of things, right at this moment, like how Steve apparently also creates mind-scenarios to play out before a situation happens, and how they might want to test out their creativity in other areas, actually, and that derails his whole train of thought for a moment, but "How long?"

"How long what?"

"Have you been trying to figure out how to tell them?"

Eddie's not insecure, exactly, but he is a big fan of knowing what people he cares about think of him and how often they think of him and -

"I mean, since, like, the first time I kissed you?"

Eddie is stupid crazy about Steve Harrington. He's fully fucking feral for this man, honestly, it's dumb. Absolutely ridiculous.

"I'm in love with you," Eddie tells him, and the tips of Steve's ears are pink.

"I know," he says, with a smarmy little grin because Eddie had admitted (under duress, and screw anyone who doesn't think a naked Steve Harrington in your lap is duress) he'd been obsessed with Harrison Ford for like a full year in his tweens, and Steve takes every opportunity to remind Eddie he knows.

"I'd also very much like to circle back to you creating scripts in your mind about telling the kids about us."

"Henderson's always a nightmare, I swear to god."

"We gotta teach him some humility."

"He respects you more than he respects me, you teach him."

"You gonna say it back?"

"Well not now," Steve says, and Eddie wants to bite him.

---

"I love you," Steve says, while Dustin and Mike and Max argue about who knew first.

Eddie hasn't practiced this one. "I know," he says, and Steve's brow quirks when Dustin catches the exchange and groans.

#steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #mike wheeler jumpscare #but actually he's not all that bad #steddie fic #eddie munson x steve harrington

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pilot-boi · 2 months

Note

Whiteknight time travel Au

Pyrrha: Weiss why are we throwing away Jaunes razors

Weiss: Dear trust me give it 2 weeks and you'll never let a blade near his face... more than you already do

*weeks later*

Pyrrha: Weiss you are right it was worth it

Passing student: How could there be a not a single razer or blades in a 50 mile radius

Weiss: Did you buy all th-

Pyrrha: Razors in a 50 mile radius yes

Weiss:(kisses her) I love you so much

Pyrrha summoned them to her with her Semblance, it was deeply alarming

But also, gonna be the person to say it, Weiss wouldn’t do this to him

Fair warning, this is going to turn into a Jaune meta rant. I didn’t mean it to, it just sort of happened

Jaune growing the beard and the hair in the Ever After, no matter how attractive it was to Weiss, was representative of him not caring for himself. That’s why his armor was rusted but Crescent Rose was in perfect condition, he was putting all of his energy into worrying about/taking care of his friends and NONE into taking care of himself

And don’t say it’s because he didn’t have a way to cut it, he absolutely did. Crocea Mors was still sharp, even rusted, and if he wanted to he could’ve used that to cut his hair. Knives clearly existed and were sold, hell the Paper Pleasers had fucking scissors. If he cared about taking care of his appearance, he could’ve done so

But he didn’t. He let his physical body rust just as surely as his armor

Jaune’s whole arc is about loss of agency, and failing to live up to his own expectations

He didn’t REALLY have a choice about leaving Pyrrha, he didn’t REALLY have a choice about killing Penny, he didn’t REALLY have a choice about getting sent into the past. And then as a result of these traumas, he took agency away from the Paper Pleasers

He failed to become the hero on his own, so he doubled down on shouldering the burdens of his team. He failed to stand by Pyrrha’s side as her equal, so he doubled down on becoming a warrior. He failed to focus on protecting his friends at Haven, so he doubled down on becoming a healer/defender. He failed to heal/defend his friends and KILLED Penny, so he broke

His sword shattering was symbolic of that being the last straw. He couldn’t be a hero, he couldn’t be a leader, he couldn’t be a warrior, he couldn’t be a protector. In Jaune’s mind, he had nothing left to be

THATS why he let himself fall apart in the Ever After, in his mind he was only living to get RWBY back to Remnant. The one last thing he could do for them. THATS why he clung so hard to the role of the Rusted Knight, after so long with no purpose it was finally something he could be

That’s also why he focused so much on “protecting” the Paper Pleasers, and especially why he named them after his friends

His fragile helpful loving friends that he NEEDS to protect. Jaune knows he has more Aura than his friends (more than anyone he’s even met) and he’s meant to take the hits that his friends can’t. His weapon is a shield, and HE is a shield. The Paper Pleasers were representative of everything he failed to do for his friends, every time he failed to protect them

“Because I can actually protect these people!”

Jaune lost all of his agency when he landed in the Ever After. He didn’t chose to kill Penny, he didn’t choose to fall, he didn’t choose to go back in time. So he took away the Paper Pleaser’s AND ALYX’S agency because he was terrified of not being able to protect them

Weiss saw what happened to him at his worst, she saw what happened to Jaune when every choice was taken from him and he had nothing but failure to remember.

So no way in hell would Weiss take away his agency now, or make him think he’s failing her by not looking “mature”. She might joke with him about it, but she’d never take away his choice in the matter

#rwby #jaune arc #weiss schnee #pyrrha nikos #armored angel #mine #asks #cameron56357 #knights in time au

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astraanti · 5 months

Text

The last cry of faith

One shot- Optimus Prime Part. 1

Universe: Bayverse.

The events occur after Transformers 5: The Last Knight

Warning: Interspecies Love, HumanxCybertronian

The reader is human.

Enjoy! I'm sorry if any translation is wrong. My first language is not english.This fic was originally written in spanish. Please understand (⁠o⁠´⁠･⁠_⁠･⁠)⁠っ

This was written with love.

Part 2 is now available :

Is this how this will all end? Is this our end?

We thought the problems were over once Cybertron lodged in Earth's atmosphere without having fully absorbed its energy.

But this turned into total chaos when a threat greater than any other would be stalking both species and we did not know if we would have any salvation, even when we learned that Quintessa was still alive and would go against humanity again to safeguard his species and his planet; Unicron's sudden awakening would cause us to become extinct.

An event we didn't know if we could avoid, not like this, not with Optimus being really angry at the humans.

After Optimus returned to Earth and saved it from a merciless fate, it was inevitable that sooner or later he would be informed that the TFR was against the freedom and life of any Cybertronian no matter what side or team they belonged to, that was. the straw that broke the camel's back for Optimus to put one more limit between humanity and the respective alliance that the government supposedly had with the Autobots.

I was present when Optimus exploded with anger and once again abandoned the NEST base with his team of Autobots that he called family.

Me and Cade wanted to intervene in that meeting, but he only saw us with helplessness, because our word had no value against the orders of the TFR, those of NEST or those of the American government. I felt his gaze full of sadness and anger on me, as if he was waiting for me to do something else, for me to tell him to stay but no words came out of my mouth because fear invaded me.

Without causing more havoc to the threat of Quintessa, Optimus Prime and his Autobots had abandoned us, Bumblebee wanted to refuse the order that the leader gave, he had no choice either and so they returned to Cybertron.

Our days were dated and our hours numbered.

Cade had returned to Texas to be with her daughter who had just graduated from college, he didn't know if this was the last time he would see her and he preferred to be in her last days accompanied by what he loved most in life. The life of her. Everyone seemed to be accepting this inevitable fate. International television news channels were filled with an upcoming alien invasion and an end that would burn us to the core of the Earth.

I just stood there, waiting. Waiting for life to give me another chance to see it.

But I knew that life hated me, I was left alone looking at Cybertron in the distance between the clouds and the skies from the junkyard where I lived with Cade and the Autobots in our past days. A memory that was lost between betrayal, abandonment and hopelessness.

It was unfair that only Optimus left without saying anything else after everything we had been through, everything we had ever built, that he threw me in the trash as if my life and my feelings were worth absolutely nothing to him and he left me. here.

I was also angry with him, with everyone, but I tried to understand him.

But I didn't know if he understood me.

Tears began to flow from my eyes, I felt hurt and alone. I was trying to find some motivation for this, but this time it was just me.

Without anyone's support or support. Without Optimus Prime.

I swore that time passed quickly as I cried in one of the corners of the trailer, remembering the moments I spent with the Autobots and with Optimus especially. Those memories would only remain in the memory of my short existence but I knew that they would last in my soul.

I decided to stop and look in the mirror.

Seeing my reflection only made things worse, had I really become that fragile?

My thoughts and crying were interrupted by a loud noise coming from outside and I grabbed a gun Cade had left in the trailer and reloaded it. I got out of the trailer slowly.

—Who is there?—I wiped the traces of my tears with the sleeve of my blouse. "If you're coming for the Autobots, they're not here anymore," I stressed and swallowed nervously.

—It's you!—The little Autobot came out of hiding. It was Brains. “I knew you were here!” He said excitedly and ran towards me.

I lowered the gun instantly.

—Silly human, we were looking for you everywhere.—Wheelie left behind him.

My knees buckled and I fell onto the dusty pavement.

—W-What are you doing here?—I asked and Brains responded.

—We are trying to save the Earth.

I didn't understand what exactly he meant by "save the Earth."

"That big guy wants to talk to you," Wheelie said. — He's desperate and he wants a reason to save your ass.

Brains nodded.

—You are the only one who has the last word that Optimus hopes to believe in humans again. That's why the three of us escaped from the base and came here to look for you.

—Did you say "three"? —I took a deep breath and heard the horn that I recognized instantly, it was Bumblebee's and it was coming here in its alternative mode with the headlights on.

My eyesight became uncomfortable and I put my hands in front of me until they went out.

Bumblebee transformed and I looked at him with nostalgia and joy. He missed those sounds that he emitted so much from his gears and circuits.

But I still didn't quite understand, I mean, did they just come back for me to try to convince Optimus to save us? Why not Cade? What about Vivian or Lennox or even General Morshower? Why me?

"Prime wants to see you," Bumblebee spoke.— He needs you.

—I see that your voice box now works.—I smiled when I heard his real voice, but my smile faded. —But I don't know what they're looking for, he's not here anymore. —I stood up and shook my pants. —He abandoned us and I can't appeal to his decision, Bee.

—And that's what you really want? —I'm sure Bee wouldn't give up so easily to convince me.

—He abandoned me, if you try to dig into my past looking for a version of me that no longer exists to solve this, it won't help. I'm not the same as before. —I avoided Bumblebee's gaze, I didn't want him to see my tears coming again. —I don't want this, but I don't know what to do.

—I know that Optimus was away for a long time when he had to look for our creators and it hurt you to see him again being Nemesis.—He continued.—But I know that your feelings towards him have not changed, he had to leave because he had no other option. .

—He didn't have a choice? How do you think I feel knowing that he left me here alone?—I whispered, my tears began to come out.—He didn't even bother to say goodbye, to tell me something that might encourage us to have a talk, he didn't give any indication of who wanted to talk to me. Nothing, Bee! Nothing happened! He doesn't even care about Quintessa or the Earth, the humans or me, and they're asking me to try to talk to him?

I looked at them all, I think they understood my point of view.

—Optimus tried to understand the government, but lost his temper when he found out everything. Try to understand it.—Bee explained.

"And who understands me, Bumblebee?!" I faced him, at this point I was angry. —He didn't even care about me when he came back, much less will he care about my life if I die. After all his planet will be revived.

"He cares more about you than you think." Bumblebee scolded and crouched down to be at my level.

—And why are you here and not him? —I had a point in my favor. A small silence lingered as they tried to find the perfect words to encourage me to talk to Optimus. His only argument was that he was furious.

I know they don't want that, for his planet to be revived at the cost of the life of another and the lives of millions of innocents.

I know that Optimus did not want to bear another heavier burden because of it, because of his stupid decisions, but his pride was greater, that's why they came, to get him down from the clouds. That's when I could understand everything.

—Prime hurt you, we understand it, he understands it. But it was not easy for him to understand that he needs help from others to be on the right path. It wasn't easy for him to understand that he needs you, he didn't want to bother you. His purpose was never to abandon you, but he is the one who must give you explanations. Optimus still has you, the only person who waited for him for so long and is still waiting for him. The only person who didn't lose faith in him or he in you. —He hit the nail on the head. "That's why... they must talk." Bumblebee began to transform again and opened the pilot's door for him to get in.

—You are his only redemption and the only person who can change everything.—Brains rested his hand against my leg seeking empathy and comfort.

Did he really have enough courage to do it?

#transformers #optimus #bayverse #bayverse transformers #bayformers #bayverse optimus #optimus bayverse #optimus x reader #bayverse optimus prime #fanfic

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veryace-ficrecs · 9 months

Text

Sanlu Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

Midnight Snacks by ClockedInside - Rated G

Sanji finds himself baking a cake with his captain at twelve am. He's not upset about it in the slightest.

burnt orange by zo_glassy - Rated T

Luffy wasn’t exactly sure when, but he had been caught staring, and then a plump fruit was being held close to his mouth. Yet at that moment, he’d been unable to tear his eyes away, teeth grazing soft fingertips as he nibbled the orange flesh in a daze. The fruit bursts in his tongue, the sour-sweetness enveloping his senses. He recalls the clear juice that had trickled down the pale wrist, the twinkle of blue eyes winking at him mischievously. "Our secret, don't tell Nami-san." — In which Luffy is clueless, and Nami and Usopp take it upon themselves to play cupid. Happy (belated) valentines day!

The King's Cook: On Love Languages and Adoration by onceuponaneverafter - Rated T

Sanji cooked for everyone. Never not in the kitchen making or preparing something. He never said "Love yous" or "Missed yous" but he always cooked everyone's favourites, and never let a soul go hungry. Luffy notices, and after watching and observing and learning, he decides Sanji deserves to be cooked for too. Or, Luffy loves his crew and knows they have worth, and Sanji needs to be reminded that means him too.

Moment In The Sun by Harubo - Rated T

“So… you’re not a knight at all.” “I don’t know what it means to be a knight,” Luffy shrugged, “But I saw you and I wanted to be by your side and now I am. Zeff says being a knight means caring for someone more than you care for yourself. So I guess I’m a knight.”

The Captain's Cook by three_days_late - Rated G

He would do whatever it took to keep Sanji by his side. He would give him whatever he wanted, do anything he asked, just as long as Sanji stayed with him. Sanji was the cook of the Straw Hat pirates, and Luffy would accept no other.

Kindness around the stations by purplefox - Rated T

Luffy is a troublesome little brother but he is kind. Are Sabo and Ace cool with their little brother disappearing into the city and getting involved with a royal? Not so much but they doubt they can pry Luffy away. He seems gone on the blonde royal who cooks and feeds Luffy what he makes.

A Wedding to Remember by GalacticSaz - Rated T

Sanji is waiting at the alter for his future wife to strut in and ruin his life. But, his captain never was any good at leaving them alone in their time of need. So, why did he think that today would be any different?

Growing Pains by grayimperia - Rated G

Luffy’s grandpa was well over nine feet tall and wide as a barn. Other than the occasional fist of love, this had no bearing on Luffy’s life until it suddenly did. Sanji frowned, reaching out to press a hand to the top of Luffy’s head. “Am I going crazy or have you gotten taller?” “If I get bigger, will you still carry me and cook for me and do my laundry and help me wash my hair?” “Yes, you overgrown child—even if you’re more overgrown.” - Luffy gets a growth spurt.

Our Way To Be (And How Everyone Sees Us) by aririnas - Rated G

Five situations where the mugiwara see the strange relationship between Luffy and Sanji. And one in which someone realizes the reality.

Honey Hold Me by Harubo - Rated T

When his captain burst out of the wedding cake, screaming furiously that Sanji was his husband, all hell broke loose at the Whole Cake Chateau. (Snippets of a love story between the cook and his captain, the captain and his cook)

Anchor by Trixree - Rated T

It is said that dreams are shared between soulmates. Luckily, the Vinsmoke children do not dream. (Except, of course, for the failure.)

A Gentle Tide by teaandtumblr - Rated G

When it came to people, and creatures, on the Grand Line, Sanji knew that Luffy was one of the toughest ones. He’d known it ever since their first meeting. Luffy was made of rubber but he may as well have been made of iron for how strong he was. Which was why Sanji was so surprised to find Luffy’s weakness to be what it was: Gentleness.

It's Called Falling by Trixree - Rated M

So many bad choices have led up to this moment, standing in the walk-in fridge with his face buried in his hands to choke back what could either be a scream or hysterical laughter, contemplating the Not A Date he’s landed himself, and Sanji cannot fathom how to begin to undig this hole.

Too Bright to See by grayimperia - Rated T

Luffy’s eyes are unfocused as he smiles at Sanji. Robin takes a measured sip of her coffee in the same amount of time it takes Luffy to bite clear through half of his sandwich. Sanji swipes a few napkins off the table and sets about wiping crumbs from Luffy’s face. “I’m so sorry about him, Robin-chan.” “It’s quite alright,” she says. And it is because there is something very sweet about the scene in front of her. Robin smiles. One out of seven lights click on. - Luffy, Sanji, the Straw Hats, and how it takes time to notice the obvious.

Easy as Anything, Simple as That by Trixree - Rated T

“Luffy? What’s the matter?” “We’re gonna’ have a wedding,” he says incomprehensibly. Which—no. Absolutely not. Haven’t they had enough of weddings, lately? Nami's certainly had enough for a lifetime, thanks. “What are you talking about? What wedding?” she demands as coherently as she can while running on only two-and-a-half hours of sleep. “Mine and Sanji’s,” Luffy declares.

That's One Heck of a Gatcha Prize by anarchycox - Rated T

Zeff forces Sanji to take an actual day off from the Baratie and Sanji goes to the street fair/carnival going on. He plays a silly game to win a stuffed animal. He didn't expect to win a Luffy.

face the sun by zo_glassy - Rated M

the summer sun a halo behind his head, and his own ears are completely singed by the heat of the other’s affections.

he learns that Luffy’s warmth, golden-red and burning, may take some getting used to.

(in which Sanji's vulnerable to his captain's flattery.)

#veryace recs #black leg sanji #monkey d. luffy #one piece #one piece sanlu #sanlu #strawhat pirates #one piece fanfiction #ao3 fic recs #fanfic recs #ao3 #red leg zeff #sanji and zeff

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dom-nautica · 2 months

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Hi I wanted to ask you a question and also (politely) clarify something for you that I think you may have misunderstood.

To clarify: you have brought up the fact that Shelby pressured to marry Wilbur a very early in their relationship. In Shelby’s original stream however she says that it was actually Wilbur who “talked about ‘forever’ one month in”. It sounds like she also wanted ‘forever’ with him, but that it seems it was not pressured on him originally, but something he was also looking for. She only became upset later when he told her he changed his mind. Which I agree is not a reasonable thing to be upset about to the extent that she was, but it wasn’t her pressuring it on him at first, it was a mutual honeymoon phase where they both wanted a ‘happily ever after’ so to speak.

And my question: you’ve mentioned that you take msr to describe how Wilbur felt suffocated in the relationship. Could you explain that a bit more, like what it is that makes you think that and what specific songs/lyrics mean to you? I have been interpreting it differently (to me, it seems like a genuine expression of woe that the relationship didn’t turn out, both for reasons that he messed up about or that she messed up about, or for wanting different things) and I would love to hear where you’re coming from.

Again I mean no harm with this, just wanted to point something out that seemed inaccurate according to the knowledge I have, as well as ask about where you’re coming from with your interpretation (:

Certainly.

Wilbur and his past friends have mocked that he had a crush on Shelby for years. When she broke-up with her long-term boyfriend they quickly jumped into a relationship. I don't have a source, but I was told it wasn't even a week after she broke up they got together. Thats very quick to get into a relationship and then start talking about marriage in a month. Yes, it's honey-moon fazed.

They didn't even date a full year, but Soot went from a lovesick man to a skinny, depressed mess. So what happened?

I have to remind you that Shelby keeps a pristine innocent look to her entire career. Anytime she mocked her exes, which her long-term fans confirm existed, she deleted every post. You'll find only a clean slate of nothing negative about her. She has done this before and it seems she always does this AFTER they break-up with her. She cannot handle rejection. I believe this is what happened between her and Soot.

She saw a man she could live comfortably with and she took a leap of faith. The landing wasn't what she wanted. It was a guy that loved her without knowing who she is, but he wasn't giving her money, enough attention, time, etc. He also had traits she highly disliked such as depression and kinks.

She was still trying to get with him, even when Soot was already dating his new girlfriend! Soot was enamored by her, but accepted they don't clash together well. Soot got to know her, realized they are vastly different (which was obvious) and moved on - she didn't.

I think her reaction came from multiple things - her religious upbringing and pressure to settle down, her past boyfriends lack of obsessive admiration (which soot provided for a few months) and her own low self-worth. A confident person leaves with their emotions intact - she went out screaming she's a victim and trying her best to destroy his life. She didn't want him to be happy without her, so she grasped at straw such as "he didn't pay for my cat sitter" to somehow justify her hate for him.

The marriage comment was a stab at his lack of commitment. I fully believe soot just wanted a situationship with her, but she demanded more.

Regarding his songs in MSR:

The cover art depicts him wounded, based on the story its illustrated from: a little boy is trying to figure out who killed his neighboors dog. Its later revealed that the person that noone suspected had killed it. Hinting that: noone suspects the person that killed Soot.

The title is Mammalian Sighing Reflex - the action of trying to get air while you are drowning. Its a desperate attempt to survive. Shelby lashed out and made the allegations when this album dropped. The trying to survive and drowning feeling was her. Recently he also changed his bio to "gasping" which indicates he survived her - he didnt drown.

"I start to believe You never liked me at all" - he realises she just jumped into the relationship without thinking or getting to know him.

"I stand just out of reach of your fists" - she physically attacks him.

"You kiss me like it was your job" - Shelby didnt actually love him, she just wanted to settle down with anyone.

"I just want to feel normal again I just want to have meals with my friend I just can't go through this again Find my comfort in envisioning the end" - hes exhausted, he wants this feeling to end regardless even if its ending himself.

"Then in doing so, uh, I feel sad (He feels sad) Which is not a good feeling when you're supposedly in a good phase So as almost a self-sabotage, if you will, uh" - he's "manic". he's unhappy, but people expect him to be so he pretends he is. he pretends until he physically can't anymore.

"And I'll shave my head And forget my name" - he hates where he is in life. he isn't happy. hes dreaming of a different life somewhere else.

"I'll live with you until our bones grow old Ain't that miserable?" straight to the point. the idea of growing old with Shelby makes him miserable. through the album you can feel both anxiety, self-destruction and acceptance. the entire album he's trying to convince himself to be happy. He should be happy - he's with Shelby, his crush, so why isn't he happy?

"The melatonin doesn't work Anymore The Valium just stops the hurt But not the cortisol" - none of his medications work anymore.

"Help, why the fuck do I still self-sabotage When I'm finally happy?" he listened to what people told him. he has a gf, they want to get married, live together - but he feels trapped. he should feel happy, but he doesn't.

"Nothing around here fucking works We're justified abhorrent We're all apes with a diary book And corporate reads your pages" - self-defeat. society reads his pages, tells him what to do and he realizes he can't escape it. its anxiety and hes still forced to perform that hes ok. he IS performin - but hes not happy about it. hes trapped.

Im gonna shorten the analysis for the next ones, because this post is very long ;_;

Oh Distant You, Eulogy, Dropshipped Cat Shirt, Trying Not To Think About It - is Soot comparing Shalby to his pas ex which he sang about in lovejoy. He's sad he lost both, but he lets them go.

The Median - he hopes someone will understand WHO he was talking about. Similar to him using the word "ex" he wont say her name.

10 Week Rule - he wants to end himself.

Theres so much more to the songs, but like i said the post is just too long, I probably should have made a doc instead...

Overall: hes not happy, hes tired just by looking at his songs. his mental state is rock bottom - hes drowning, but after their breakup he updated that hes gasping (so he survived, barely)

Looking at Shlebys comments she was extremely unhappy with him (the horrible comments she said public are definitely polish for the public, i don't even want to imagine what she was like with him in private) and seeing his own physical state its even a bigger indicator he lost hope in saving himself. He's hanging on by a thread basically.

The entire internet also attacking him - 100% doesn't help.

#tw: long post #wss #wilbur support squad

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acourtofthought · 1 year

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This post was actually inspired by something @acourtdelaluna said to me. I always assumed Azriel was jealous of Lucien simply because Lucien was giving a mating bond while he wasn't. And not just any mating bond, a bond with the third Archeron when his two brothers got bonds with her sisters. Which makes sense well enough on its own considering Az has been wondering for centuries why Mor was not made his mate (leading to the belief he must not be worthy of one) and he already struggles with feeling like an outsider even within the IC. Not being given a bond like his brothers is compounding to all of that but.....it doesn't completely explain his behavior towards Lucien in ACOWAR because the Nessian mating bond wasn't a certainty at that point.

But what she mentioned is her thoughts that the issue may be something more, that the bond may have been secondary in terms of his jealousy of Lucien and that the original issue had more to do with Lucien encroaching on his place within the IC and his two brothers.

Az struggles with feelings of worth, he struggles with belonging even though the IC gives him unconditional love. And it's reflected in Azriel's standards of himself, the "sadistic tendencies" he holds himself to, the many times he's willing to throw himself into danger to protect those he loves, his belief that his spies and his information are infallible.

Yet we have this outsider enter their lives and almost immediately make himself invaluable. He's providing them information even Az doesn't have access too and at one point he's siding with Cassian (Azriel's best friend).

(Apologies for the way the excerpts run together, I had to stitch some and create a collage of others in order to not exceed the limit of 10 attachments).

(aren't the above two lines interesting when you consider everything that's happened so far? The meeting with Eris has already occurred, where Az feels Mor rejected his attempt at comfort when she snatched her hand away from him, when she expressed being upset with him for going behind her back. Cassian expresses disgust towards Rhys and Azriel for working with Eris and Lucien then seems to side with Cassian.

We know for a fact that Az is still in love with Mor at this point as he gets into a fight with Eris over her later in the book and he looks at her with yearning in ACOFAS. We know he doesn't have any feelings for Elain because he's relieved not to have to get her a gift at Solstice. So what's left that's driving his desire to help Elain and his dismissiveness towards Lucien? It feels a little like he's being a bit passive aggressive because of Lucien seeming to so seamlessly fit in where Az has never felt that and the one way to do that is to pay a bit of attention to another males mate.

I think the issues prior to SF really were a result of Lucien being someone Rhys began to depend on which felt threatening to Az. And that is very noticeable in the novella when he's almost aggressive while discussing Lucien. Then in SF when his face shows tightness at having to contact Lucien, when he claims "Lucien will never be good enough" and "he'll defeat him with little effort". Also in SF we have a confirmed Nessian bond (or one that was looking like more of a certainty) which is when Az added the "two brothers with two sisters so why didn't he get the third" onto the list of things he was already struggling with. Which is the straw that broke the camels back for Az. Not only does the IC look to Lucien where they once looked to only Az, not only are they hanging out talking sports while Az stands by himself in the door but Lucien is (in Azriel's mind) breaking up the brotherhood even further by getting the remaining bond with the remaining Archeron when Rhys and Cassian are her sisters.

It makes so much sense to me and I'm so excited @acourtdelaluna mentioned it as a way to view everything that's been going on with the whole Az / Lucien / Elain situation ❤️

#pro elucien #elucien #elain archeron #anti e/riel #lucien vanserra #elain x lucien #lucien and elain #elain and lucien #antie/riel #azriel acotar #acotar lucien #acotar elain

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miami-lolz · 1 year

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In hindsight, this quote hits a lot harder considering “Mortyest Morty” isn’t even his Morty. And he’s not the “Rickest Rick”.

Does not include any spoilers for Season 7.

I feel like this quote is slept on a lot because it makes you wonder if he was even aware of the implications of what he said or if he said it knowing Morty wouldn’t understand. I don’t even think he would want to admit it, but he’s not “The Rickest Rick” mainly because he cares. Specifically, he gives a shit about a Morty that isn’t even his.

It’s shown subtlety throughout the show, like in the Season 1 Finale, Ricksy Business, when Rick got teary-eyed over a slide show showing Morty throughout his life. In A Rickle in Time, where Rick is willing to let himself die to save Morty, his last wish is for Morty to grow up better than him. As jaded and backward as he may show it, Rick definitely cares. Rick has had to switch to multiple universes and watch various versions of his family including his original Diana and Beth die throughout the show. Morty was his only constant, though, and he’s grabbed onto that. But for as much as he cares, Rick has a habit of pushing away, which comes into effect in the later seasons. Morty tries to help and relate to Rick to an extend. He constatly extends a branch to Rick, who almost always puts him down.

However, the more Rick pushes away, the more frustrated Morty gets. He starts calling out Rick on his BS and has even cussed him out several times. He’s threatened to stop going with Rick in the early season, but those were practically mute. Rick could easily force him or make him forget he started refusing. Rick only started taking Morty seriously when he began acting out. The more that Rick pushes back, the more the Prime part of Morty comes out, usually at the expense of anyone around him. I think that is the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back and pushed him to leave in Forgetting Sarick Mortshall with the two crows thing. Something that still upsets Morty if someone mentions it in season 7.

It also makes you think that the reason Morty has gotten progressively more aggressive and violent over these past couple of seasons is that the Prime part of him is getting more prominent. For example, in Edge of Tomorty: Rick Die Rickpeat, Morty got so obsessive over a future that he didn't brutally die; he quickly brushed off Ricks's death. It's somewhat out of character for him, though. He also attacked other soldiers and the general populace, just for him to find out it wasn't really worth much. Rick is getting more combative because he sees that part of Prime in Morty, which scares him. The episode Looks Who’s Purging Now was the starting point for his volatile behavior; Rick seems genuinely shocked and somewhat horrified as Morty's anger problems get the better of him, and he lashes out, killing many people even when they are hiding. Rick lied to Morty because he didn’t want him to know what he could do. Near the end of The Whirly Dirly Conspiracy, Morty threatens Ethan with the machine Summer used after he ghosted her and messed with her body issues. In the after credit scene, we see a deformed Ethan stumbling in pain, implying Morty used the machine on him.

In Promortyus, Morty also showed little remorse for killing off all the aliens and went out of his way to cause damage, though he regretted it once he had to come back. A Rickconvenient Mort, Jerry was genuinely disturbed to hear Morty admit he murdered the Tina-Teers. And during the scene, Morty was extremely brutal. Its not the first time Morty has committed some diabolical crimes for someone he's interested in or generally cares about. In the episode Mort Dinner Rick Andre, his violent streak hits its crescendo. Once he got fed up with the Narnia people, he committed mass genocide out of frustration, and by the end, he didn't show much remorse.

I think the most damning evidence is the episode Rickshank Redemption, where during a stand-off, Morty is so fed up with Rick yelling at him during a standoff that he shoots Rick in the head. Not an arm or leg but in the forehead. He absolutely shot to kill. And yeah, you could say it was a spur-of-the-moment action based on frustration and impulse, but I think that was put in the episode not just a funny bit but a glimpse of what Morty is capable of. It was Morty basically saying "If were all going to die, Ive earned the right to be the one to take you out." There’s something symbolical about Morty killing both his best friend and the person that’s hurt him for years.

Its an interesting dichotomy as Rick seems to be mellowing out; Morty is slowly getting more comfortable with violence and generally more confident with himself. Rick is someone who gives off the bravado of a uncaring, cold hearted galactic criminal. However, the truth is Rick is someone who cares deeply for the people he's close to, and gets no enjoyment out of violence. Morty, on the other hand, is someone who tries to be caring, mercy full and forgiving. That being said, deep down he wants to stop having to constantly take the high road and give back all the pain and abuse he gets from others. These personality traits between the two constantly clash and the longer the live together, the more you see their original persona's corrode.

The season six finale, Ricktional Mortpoon's Rickmas Mortcation, adds to this as Rick compares Morty to a “suicide bomber” because he was reckless and says he gets that from Prime. But C-137 is the only constant in Morty's life. He’s been through multiple universes and timelines but has had the same Rick for most of his life. Most of Morty's issues stem from things he had done or witnessed with Rick C-137. For example, the Vat of Acid Episode is what I would consider Rick at his absolute lowest. It's almost the kinda behavoir you would expect Prime to pull. Messing with Morty's head and killing a bunch of other Mortys just to say, "I told you so." Even going as far as gaslighting him by saying he COULD have listened to Rick tell him how it worked, even though Rick probably wouldn't have told him either way. It caused communication between these two to break down. At that point, you can tell Morty doesn't have much trust or faith in him, and when Rick replaces himself with a robot that treats him just a little bit better, Morty immediately notices. He even thought Rick was messing with him and brought up the vat of acid episode. This is another example of how the Ricks action leaves permeate consequences and effects on Morty. Don't get me wrong, Morty is far from perfect and flawed, but so is Rick. They have real emotions and conflict, and it's these factors that separate them from Prime (at least from the glimpses of him that we have seen)

However, Morty does exhibit certain traits unlike what we've been lead to believe is normal "Morty" behavior. In Rickmurai Jack, Morty tries to lie to Rick and even goes as far as to age himself nearly 40 years to get him to come back. Another example is in The Whirly Dirly Conspiracy, Where Morty coaxes Rick into going on an adventure with Jerry to keep him from committing seppuku, though there's a good chance it was just to get a break from adventures. Rick can’t really blame most of Morty's behavior on Prime because any behavior he picks up past season one is from him and him alone. But even then I don’t doubt that there are behavioral similarities between him and Rick Prime. The Prime universe was everyone’s personality amplified.

Rick almost likes to pretend his the top dog, the Rickest Rick but as few others, including Bird Person and the toxic version of himself, has pointed out, he’s not. He’s highly capable but he’s also vulnerable. Season 6 ended with Rick getting Morty more involved in the search for Prime, forcing him to face the truth of Mortys origin. But regardless one thing is for certain, Morty is really the Mortyest Morty in the finite central curve, and that scares C-137.

#adult swim #rick and morty #rick c137 #morty c137 #morty prime #rick prime #character analysis

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randomthefox · 17 days

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I’ve been thinking a lot about how angry Tails gets in Sonic Lost World lately.

I think Tails is the type of person who loves to do everything he can to help people constantly, especially the people he’s closest to, because he desperately wants his feelings to be reciprocated. But Tails doesn’t want to directly ask for what he wants because he thinks that would be selfish. He always tries to present a kind and nurturing persona to the rest of the world so that people will feel like they can depend on him, and if they do, they’ll never leave him. This is also why he doesn’t know how to say no to people. The only way that he feels he can make sure he doesn’t accidentally drive away the people he cares about is by being as useful as possible. He clearly thinks that his worth is only measured by how useful he by how he asks Sonic in Frontiers whether he’s being a burden on Sonic for not doing enough to help him save the world.

I think that’s why Tails’ anger in Sonic Lost World seems to come out of nowhere. He’s felt like he’s been underappreciated for a while now, and Sonic wanting to team up with Eggman was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. If you pay attention, Tails’ rant is foreshadowed by him being more prideful than usual. As a way of him trying to communicate to Sonic that “you should be grateful for everything I do for you” before Tails has a full meltdown, because Tails doesn’t want to sound selfish by directly saying it.

Tails doesn’t get emotional very often because he’s always repressing his feelings to not be a bother. Tails still doesn’t say no. He never says that he refuses to work with Eggman, he just complains about it. He also still doesn’t properly convey what he wants. He just says that he’s angry about working with Eggman, but that’s clearly not the entire truth because he brings up how he thinks that Sonic doesn’t think he’s good enough. Another way of him indirectly saying “you should be grateful for everything I do for you”, except more aggressively. He still doesn’t want to come off as selfish so that people won’t abandon him. So instead he expresses his repressed anger by complaining about everything all of the time while never addressing the source of exactly what’s making him so volatile because he still doesn’t want to seem like a bother by sounding selfish, even though he’s being a bother anyways by being a passive aggressive jerk because he won’t just say what’s wrong. Tails is so fixated on not being a bother by not being selfish that he doesn’t consider how he could be being a bother in other ways. Such is the contradictory nature of an unhealthy coping mechanism. It fits with Tails’ habit of fixating so hard on the complicated stuff that he misses the simple things. Like how he built the Tornado 2 to do something as amazing as transform but forgot to add in something as simple as landing gear in the second form.

Tails’ arc in Frontiers seems to be the beginning of him learning how to properly advocate for himself and how to become a more self sufficient person.

What do you think of this analysis of Tails’ psyche? Do you think this sounds about right? Or have I completely gone off the fucking deep end? Also, thank you for reading my 700 word essay on Miles ‘Tails’ Prower lol.

I think you're spot on. Like, no notes.

Tails might have self actualized in SA 1 and 2 but the problems of his self esteem issues didn't just go away. That shit is sticking around forever. It's like being an addict. You don't ever stop being an addict. Even after twenty years of being sober, you'll still be an addict. Deep rooted psychological dependence doesn't ever go away, you just get better at managing it. Pain doesn't go away, you just make room for it

Tails primary character flaw has always been his self esteem. His theme song was called "Believe in Myself" because that's what he needed to learn how to do. And the lyrics of the song include "Many friends help me out In return I help them Certain things I can do, and there's things that only I can do No one's alone."

Which, yeah, speaks to me of a pretty cut and dry case of "Tails doesn't think he's good unless he's useful." So Sonic thinking they "needed" Eggman instead of deferring to Tails would absolutely trigger that sensitive reaction from him. And like I mentioned when I was playing through the game - Sonic accepts Eggmans suggestion for them to team up unilaterally. He doesn't even ask Tails if he'd be okay with it, let alone consider that Tails could reprogram the machine himself. Sonic did cede to Eggman's suggestion so easily because of the baggage he was dealing with himself in that game, but it absolutely just resulted in Tails feeling slighted and developing some resentment which quickly boiled over into their argument. Which I've already analyzed myself.

Tails definitely strikes me as the kind of person who wouldn't understand that It Isn't About The Nail

youtube

Or the Parks and Rec way portraying it

youtube

aka as you described "so fixated on not being a bother by not being selfish that he doesn’t consider how he could be being a bother in other ways." The story he had in Frontiers definitely seemed oriented around confronting that element of his character and trying to take corrective steps towards it.

I agree 100% with all of it.

#miles tails prower #miles prower #tails #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sonic lost world #sonic frontiers

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blushweddinggowns · 1 year

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Part two to this from this fic!

It wasn’t a good call to be driving, he was well aware, but he didn’t exactly have a choice. When he’s far enough from the house, he had the wherewithal to pull over in an attempt to collect himself a little. He looked at his reflection through the rearview mirror, cringing at what he saw. He looked like shit. He’d really done a number on him, worse than any time before. At least when he was younger he’d had the self control to hit or cut him in places that people couldn’t see.

Oh god, Eddie was going to see him looking like this.

The thought was almost enough to make him cry. He didn’t want Eddie to know about this. He never wanted him to know. There’s only so much shit you can put onto another person before they get sick of you right? And Steve was already a lot to deal with. He knew that.

He was clingy as all hell, always monopolizing his time and inviting himself whenever he went out. He had random, horrible screaming night terrors about the fucking Upside Down, nightmares that Eddie would have to comfort him from. He was stubborn, he was bitchy, and now what? Eddie had to play as his personal nursemaid on top of all of that?

A large part of him didn’t want to go back. He wanted to hide away, fix himself up and maybe find him the next day, like about a car accident or something. Anything but forcing him to take care of him. He was so fucking scared that Eddie was going to leave him. He’d always been scared of it, always waiting for the day he realized he could do better than being with his dumb, damaged ass. What if this was the straw that broke the camel’s back? What if this made him finally realize that Steve wasn’t worth all the trouble?

The adrenaline was wearing off, and the pain was really starting to set in. He was hurt worse than he thought, and he was getting dizzier by the second. He started driving again, at a snail’s pace, terrified that he’d crash and hurt someone if he wasn��t careful.

He went back to the apartment, despite his fears. It’s not like he had anywhere else to go. Besides, he was losing the thread of coherent thought concerningly fast. He needed some kind of help, as loath as he was to admit it. He…he needed Eddie.

By the time he pulled up the building he was barely hanging on to being conscious. He felt horrible, horrible enough that he couldn’t even get out of the car right. He stumbled to the ground the second he tried to stand, because why not add a little bit more humiliation to the pile?

He didn’t even have time to try again before Eddie was scooping him up in his arms. Steve didn’t even know where he’d come from, but his touch was enough to have him relaxing in his arms. They’d only been separated for a few hours, but to Steve it might as well have been weeks. Eddie carried him back inside, gently setting him on the couch while he looked him up and down, clearly panicked.

Steve’s pretty sure he asked him a question, but he couldn’t quite catch it. But it was an opening for him to at least apologize, “I’m sorry I’m late. It didn’t go so good.”

Eddie was taking the jacket off for him, gasping when he saw the glass in his arms. Steve had forgotten about that part. Most of his focus was on the blinding pain he had in his head. But he had enough wherewithal to realize he was about to ruin their couch.

He tried to sit up, muttering, “I’ll get blood on the couch.”

But Eddie was already pushing him back down, hissing, “I don’t give a shit about the couch Steve.”

He ran a hand over his face, obviously annoyed and Steve couldn’t blame him. He wouldn’t want to deal with him either.

Eddie stood,“Wait here sweetheart, and keep your eyes open, okay? I’ll be right back. Just let me take care of you.”

Steve nodded, but the second Eddie was out of sight he was back on his feet, spreading a blanket down beneath him. He had already ruined their night, he didn’t need to ruin their furniture either. Eddie was back in less than a minute, and the look he gave Steve at the sight of him standing was enough to have him sitting right back down, guilty as hell.

His head was still killing him, bad enough that he could barely pay attention as Eddie tended to him.

“What hurts the most, baby?” Eddie asked, hands shaking as he tweezed the glass from his arms, “I need you to tell me.”

“Head,” Steve mumbled. He could barely even focus on the pain in his arms, and Steve couldn’t help but wonder how many more hits to the head he could take and come out okay, “Feels like it’s burning.”

“Steve, I think we need to take you to a hospital-”

“No.” Steve may have felt like his head was splitting open but he wasn’t going anywhere. This whole thing was embarrassing enough, and he just…wanted Eddie. That’s it. He couldn’t deal with anyone else seeing him like this.

Eddie stared at him, mouth hanging open like he couldn’t believe his audacity,“Why the hell not?”

"I don’t…I don't want everyone to know, okay?” He admitted, squeezing his eyes shut. He was so sick of this shit. He was so sick of being hurt, forcing other people to take care of him. He was sick of people knowing how useless he really was, “Not yet. I just want you."

"But-"

“Eddie, please?” He wasn’t above begging at this point. He wasn’t sure what he needed, and yeah, maybe he was risking his health, but what else was new? He just wanted to go to bed already and pretend like none of this shit ever happened.

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose, conceding, “Okay, okay. Just stay right here, and keep your eyes open, got it? I’ll be right back.”

Eddie kissed his forehead before leaving the room, ignoring his soft comments about being sweaty and gross. Steve watched him go, beyond thankful that he was letting him get away with it. He kept his eyes open like he was told, staring up at the ceiling while he waited for him to come back. He still couldn’t really think straight, nothing was really sticking beyond his own self-loathing but he at least managed to stay conscious.

Eddie came back a few minutes later, taking a seat on the floor next to him before giving his hand a squeeze,“Wayne and Mindy are coming over in a bit, okay? Someone has to check on you.”

Great. Now he ruined Eddie's night and Wayne’s. And now he was dragging his poor girlfriend into it? Steve started to protest, but one look at Eddie’s unamused face shut him up. He looked away, muttering, “I forgot she was a nurse.”

“If she says you need to go to the hospital, you’re going.”

Steve sighed, “Okay.”

There was no point in arguing. Eddie would literally drag him there if he had to. Besides, Steve didn’t want to fight anymore, not with anyone. Steve let his eyes close, playing with the rings on Eddie’s hand every so often to prove that he was awake. He knew he was waiting for some kind of explanation, but he didn’t even know where to start. He didn’t want to start. He just wanted to go back to a few hours ago, back to when they were cuddling on the couch and nothing was wrong.

Eddie broke the silence first, voice leaving no room for argument,“You’re not going back there. Ever. I'm never letting you out of my sight again.”

Steve laughed despite himself, wincing when it made his lip bleed a bit more. But still…it made him feel a bit better, knowing that Eddie was scared for him, as sick as that was.

“I, um, can’t go back there, actually.” Steve admitted, eyes still shut, “They said it was you or them. I chose you and,” he chuckled, humorless, “And they did not take it well.”

“They know?”

Steve nodded, “They told me on the phone, said they knew what I was up to, that I owed them an explanation.”

“How?”

Steve shrugged, regretting it instantly. Jesus even that hurt, like he couldn’t feel more pathetic, “Tommy, I guess. He called them, sat down with them or something. Worried about my life choices or some shit.”

Steve startled a bit when cold hands were suddenly cradling his face. He opened his eyes, resigned when Eddie carefully forced him to meet his eyes. He looked so…sad. It made Steve’s heart clench in his chest. He hated that he was the reason for that expression,"Stevie…baby, why did you go?”

Steve could feel tears start to well in his eyes. He hated this. He hated this so damn much. He hated that he had to explain that his dad was a fucking psycho. That he had been terrified of Eddie getting hurt. That he never told him the truth, and risked his safety just because he was a coward.

He went to bite his lip, a nervous reflex before flinching, quickly realizing what a mistake that was,“If I didn’t go he would have shown up here. A-and I didn’t want you to get hurt. I thought I could talk them down or something, or just lie my way through it but…I couldn’t.”

“How many times have they done this before?”

Steve went for the lie on instinct,“They haven’t-”

“Sweetheart, please don’t lie to me,” Eddie wiped away some of the tears from his good eye, lovingly patient as he waited for Steve to speak.

There was no point in lying about it anymore. There was nothing to protect, not his parents or his own dignity. He took a deep breath before closing his eyes, admitting the truth out loud for the first time in his life, “I’ve lost count.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

"I didn't want to scare you away," Steve said, painfully honest. But he was done with the lies, no matter how much the truth scared him. Eddie deserved that at least.

He could hear the confusion in his voice, “What does that mean?”

The tears were really starting to fall now, and they fucking hurt, the salt stinging the cuts on his face. But he powered through. He needed to say this,“I-I know I’m already a lot okay? I’m clingy and annoying a-and I fucking scream and shit in the middle of the night and I just didn’t want to add another thing for you to have to deal with.”

Steve opened his eyes, heart breaking at Eddie’s devastated expression. Eddie swallowed, tears welling up in his own eyes, "There is nothing that would ever make me not want you, I'll always love you, don't you know that?"

The fucked up part that was he did know that and Eddie proved it to him every damn day.. His favorite catchphrase was sweetly calling Steve his first and last love for god’s sake. He knew he wanted a life with them together, he knew that he adored him, flaws and all. But it only took one shitty meeting with his parents to make him doubt every good thing in his life.

"I-I do, really,” Steve admitted, ashamed at his own doubt. He could barely see Eddie anymore over the cloudiness from his tears, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one crying, “I just...I don't know. I should have told you."

He could hear the sound of Wayne’s truck pulling into the driveway, footsteps not too far behind. Eddie kissed the side of his mouth as lightly as he could before standing to let them inside, while Steve tried to wipe the tears away. Mindy made quick work of tending to him, shushing him everytime Steve tried to apologize for wasting her time. She really was a good person, perfect for someone as kind as Wayne.

"You can stay home tonight," she finally declared to Steve, gesturing Eddie over, "You just need lots and lots of rest. Give those ribs a chance to heal a good while before you do anything strenuous. Now let's help get you to bed.”

"Thank you," Steve mumbled as Eddie scooped him up. Now that he had gotten the go-ahead to sleep, Steve’s eyes kept slipping closed on their own accord. He hadn’t realized how exhausted he really was. He was too tired to even fight the embarrassment of Eddie carrying him to bed like a kid in front of people, too grateful to try and seriously protest.

Eddie set him down on the bed carefully, and then helped him change into clean clothes, ignoring the weak protests that he could do it himself. He already felt better, just being back in their bed. But there was still one more worry in the back of his mind.

“Please don’t go after him,” Steve mumbled when Eddie got him under the covers, "Promise me?"

Eddie hesitated, "But-"

"It's not about them," Steve rushed out, shaking his head. If Eddie could get away with mainiming his dad then he’d let him, but Daniel Harrington was a rich, litigious piece of shit. The risk of something bad happening to Eddie would never be worth any kind of petty revenge, "Getting arrested isn't worth it. Losing you isn't worth it. Swear?”

“I swear.”

"Thank you," Steve whispered, finally letting himself fall asleep, "I love you."

He could feel the wet press of Eddie’s lips to his forehead, and then he was out, nearly instantly asleep after his final fear had been expunged. He only managed to be down for an hour or less before he was blinking his eyes back open.

His head felt a bit better. But his body was still hurting like a bitch. He could officially feel the broken ribs, which was not a good feeling. But what was worse was that Eddie wasn’t lying next to him. He pulled himself out of bed, ignoring his body's screaming protests to stay put. Slowly, he wandered out into the living room, frowning when Eddie wasn’t there either.

Wayne was on the couch, watching tv with a beer in hand. He raised a brow at the sight of Steve standing there, “Why on earth are you out of bed?”

Steve shrugged, sitting down next to him, ignoring the question,“Where’s Eddie?”

“Out,” Wayne said vaguely, “But he’ll be back soon.”

Steve could feel his stomach drop,“He’s not doing anything stupid is he?”

“I didn’t say that. But he’s not going after your parents if that’s what you’re thinking.”

That…almost helped. Steve wanted to believe him. He did, but Eddie was nearly suicidally protective of him if the shit that happened with the Upside Down last year was anything to go by, “I’ll believe it when I see him.”

Wayne shrugged, pretending to turn back to the television. But Steve could feel him watching him from the corner of his eye. They sat in awkward silence and Steve hated that he was the cause of it. Usually, nothing between him and Wayne was awkward. It was kind of their thing, the fact that they got along so bizarrely well. Maybe it was the shared love of sports, or maybe it was their shared love of Eddie, but they just clicked.

But now he could barely look at him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said eventually, anything to fill the suffocating silence. It was a reflex, to just apologize. Even when Steve didn’t 100 percent know what it was for.

Wayne stared at him, brow furrowed, “What on earth do you have to be sorry for?”

“For ruining your night?” He tried, cringing when it came out as more of a question.

"Jesus christ, no wonder Eddie gets so pissed when it comes to you."

“I’m sorry-”

“For the love of God don’t apologize again,” Wayne groaned. He was pinching the bridge of his nose, annoyed to a level that Steve had never seen before, “What did you do to me huh? You got the shit beat out of you and you think that warrants saying sorry to me?”

“...yes?”

“God, maybe I should have let him go after your dad. Steve, listen to me. You didn’t do anything wrong. And us wanting to take care of you isn’t something you need to be sorry for. We want to do it. You’re a good kid. No, you’re a great kid. And Eddie loves you to hell and back for good damn reason. But he’s not the only one, understand? You’re family now and that’s all there is to it. And family looks out for each other. So don’t you dare apologize to me again.”

Steve stared at him, eyes going wide. He knew Wayne cared about him, of course he did. Why else would he let him live under his roof rent free? But he just…underestimated how much. That seemed to be a constant issue with him, not understanding the extent that people cared for him. But his little speech felt like a proverbial slap to the face. In a loving, fatherly kind of way.

For a second, Steve couldn't help but wonder how his life would have turned out if Wayne had been his dad. He probably would have been nicer, happier, and been able to skip that whole dick phase in highschool if he had had a single good role model. And if it wasn't for the fact that that would have made Eddie his cousin, he would give anything to have that childhood instead of the one he got. Though the idea of growing up with Eddie was definitely appealing. There was so much lost time they could have spent together, if only Steve had been able to get his head out of his ass and see the amazing person in front of him. It would have been great, fantastic even if his alternate universe could find a loophole for the whole incest side of things.

But Steve was getting off track. He nodded at Wayne, throat closing up a little as he spoke, “Thank you. I…I love you too. You and Eddie are the best family I could have ever asked for.”

“Damn straight we are,” Wayne chuckled, taking a sip of his beer, “Took me nearly twenty years to get a son that knows what a quarterback is. You’re gonna be stuck with me for life.”

They talked for a bit longer before Wayne headed off to his room, stopping to hug Steve on the way out, as gently as humanly possible. He tried to convince him to go back to bed, but he just couldn’t. He wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep until he saw Eddie. Or at least got a call from Hopper that he was in custody for being an overprotective idiot.

But he didn’t have to wait too much longer. Less than an hour later, the front door was opening, the sound of a thump and a grumbling Eddie felt like music to his ears. But as happy as Steve was to know he was safe, he was still pissed he had left in the first place. Eddie stopped in his tracks at the sight of Steve waiting for him on the couch.

He shrunk a little at his glare, meek when he asked, “What are you doing out of bed?””

He ignored the question,“What did you do?”

“Nothing, I promise!” Eddie said quickly, hands up in a placating gesture, “You won’t be seeing my name plastered on any headlines. I just got your stuff.”

Steve stared at him, looking for any tells. Eddie didn’t know it, but he did this thing when he lied to him. He’d be a little bit more fidgety, either tapping his foot unconsciously or letting his brow twitch. But he passed inspection enough for Steve to finally relax. There were a lot worse things he could have done than break into his house to get his shit back.

“Come here then,” Steve made grabby hands at him, impatient to just be near him already.

Eddie went to him, hugging him to his side with careful hands, “How are you feeling baby?”

“Horrible,” Steve admitted. Literally everything hurt, but at least nothing hurt worse than before, “But not worse.”

He cuddled up to his side, frowning at how tense Eddie felt. He was just about to ask what the problem was when Eddie spoke first, “I uh, kinda ran into your mom, while I was there.”

Steve went rigid in his arms, staring up at him with wide-eyes.

"But nothing happened!" Eddie rushed out, flinching at the sight of Steve’s panicked face, "We just talked."

“Why would she want to talk to you?”

Eddie sighed, digging into his back pocket. He pulled out a folded envelope before hesitantly handing it over, “She wanted me to give this to you.”

Steve stared at it, taking it in shaky hands, “She gave it to you?”

"Wrote it out in front of me. She said, uh, that you deserved to know everything you were giving up.”

His mom-Steve stopped the thought in his tracks, shaking his head. She wasn’t his mom. A mother would never let happen what she let happen. She was just…someone who was going to stay in his past. But still, the paper in his hands was bizarre. Helen wasn’t the type to reach out. He thought she would act like she always did when things went bad, like nothing had ever happened. But this was new.

And Steve wanted no part in it. He frowned at the paper in his hand, an idea popping up in his head, "Help me up."

“You’re not supposed to be moving-”

“Just to the kitchen,” Steve insisted, “I’ll lay down right after,”

Eddie gave in, helping Steve to his feet, He hovered as Steve steadied himself, following closely when Steve weakly walked towards the kitchen. He dug around in the drawers until he found a book of matches, then made his way over to the sink. Eddie watched, wide eyed as he lit a match, promptly setting the stupid thing on fire.

"Steve-"

“It doesn't matter what it says," Steve cut in, letting it drop into the sink, "I made my choice."

And he made the right one. Whatever they had to say to him he didn’t care. He was done. He had a new family, a better family to worry about now. He turned away from the sink, stepping back into Eddie’s arms, “All I want is you.”

Eddie held him, trying his best to be gentle. Steve looked up at him, heart squeezing when he saw the tears in his eyes.

"You won't regret it.” Eddie promised, voice hoarse, “I'll spend the rest of my life making sure you don't."

In all honesty, Eddie could dump him tomorrow and Steve still wouldn’t regret it. Every single happy moment he had with him was worth more than his entire childhood. But the idea of spending the rest of their lives together…now that was something he could get behind.

"It sounds like you're proposing," Steve said with a wet laugh. He giggled as Eddie started kissing his face, peppering all of the non bruised zones with light pecks. He felt light, he felt good, despite all the crap that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.

He felt loved.

"Maybe I am,” Eddie managed to gasp out in between kisses, “But only if you'd say yes."

Steve stopped him when he circled back to his mouth, cupping his cheeks to press a light kiss to his lips, mindful of his own cut. He whispered into the small space between, like a secret just for them. Like everyone he knew didn’t know how quick Steve would agree to spending the rest of his life with him, "I would."

#tw homophobia #tw violence #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie #the perfect loving nightmare

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jojikawa · 1 year

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𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘽𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝘿𝙞𝙤: 𝙋𝙚𝙩 𝙎𝙝𝙤𝙥 | 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙎𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣

WICKED EYES

MASTERLIST

This is a dark romance with descriptions of violence, gore, racism, sexism, and NSFW themes. The reader is black in this AU but this story can be enjoyed by all walks of life.

Sexualization/Objectification of the Fem! Reader, violence against the reader (it's tame, reader-chan is strong.) Not Beta read bc I am a piece of shit.

3.3k words

There was only one thing Dio craved the most in this world; something that was worth more than fame or fortune. Something that Dio took the time to remove every obstacle in his way to get it: Your attention. It didn’t matter if you were sad, angry, or happy. As long as it was because of him, it was something he desired. The man would go to any lengths just for you to stop what you’re doing and acknowledge him in any way. He reveled in it.

Now, you were where he wanted you: In his castle, undying and given a stand of your own. What now? Well, you were still rejecting him. There was no Jonathan or Erina in your ear telling you how bad he was. It irked him. All the hard work he’s done and you’ve still yet to show any affection to him. You’ve even stopped reciprocating completely. Why? Surely, it couldn’t be because he lied to you and choked you until you passed out when you tried to leave? Women like that, right? No?

Oh.

Still, you were in no position to soft-block his love and not show it back. In the end, his actions wouldn’t mean anything because he would give you the world and he would make sure you knew this. The straw that broke the camel’s back was your lack of reaction during sex. The experience wasn’t enough when he was satisfying himself alone. He loved when he knew he could conquer your body; seeing you whimper and squirm at his skills.

But, you would just lay there. Your expression was wrapped in a bored look as his body trapped you from above. Whenever Dio wanted more lewd favors, such as desiring you to go down on him, you wouldn’t participate. He would try exercising power over you by making you get on your knees while pressing his member against your cheek and lips. He tried to get you to do something. Anything. Even if it were just sex he wanted your attention more than anything else. It was like you held no love for him anymore. If only you understood the meaning behind all of his actions, you wouldn’t be upset.

Unsatisfied with your behavior, Dio stormed out, once again swearing that prostitutes would appreciate him more than you. Since he is gone now, it would probably be best to speak to Dio’s subordinates.

You found Noriaki once again. He seemed to have a gift for you. You honestly didn’t believe you’d see him again, so it came as a surprise to you.

“Lady (y/n!)”

You smiled softly once you noticed him. “Oh, Noriaki. You haven’t left yet?” You tilted your head. You could’ve sworn that Dio sent him off to pursue Joseph’s grandson. The young boy was oozing with excitement as he approached you. He only hummed at your question at first, debating if he should engage in future conversation, fearing that he may upset Lord Dio.

The flesh bud on his forehead typically prevented him from going out of his way for such a thing but…you made him feel different. Somehow.

“N-No, I couldn’t help but—“ Noriaki quickly sucked in at the sudden contact you made with him using your stand. It showed itself from behind you and lifted his bangs like so. It was then you saw the flesh bud. Your suspicions of Dio were correct.

The school boy opened his mouth to speak before you talked over him. “I’m sorry he’s done this to you.” You muttered, frowning just a bit. Your stand retracted into your body and faded away. “Did what?” Noriaki repeated, adjusting his hair back accordingly.

“Nothing.” You gave him a cheery eyed smile. You then cleared your throat and sighed. “I already know why you’ve become loyal to my husband, Dio. I know why you’ll be leaving soon.” You then closed your eyes. “And all I ask from you is that you look deep inside of yourself and realize that you have more value than this. You don’t need to follow Dio.”

When you made contact with Noriaki, he felt a warm presence within him. It was like he had a moment of reflection…realization. It made the flesh bud on his forehead tingle just a bit. If he hasn’t been self aware enough, he might’ve just fainted. What were your words doing to him? Was it just your touch? Your stand power?!

“Th-Thank you…but Lord Dio has shown me things that he could never have imagined. Being here with you and him has only solidified my feelings.” Ignoring your fading smile, he then presented his gift. It was the portrait of you before. It seems as though he was able to finish it after all.

“Oh, Thank you.”

You wanted to be happy. You truly did but…you couldn’t. Dio brainwashed this child.

“I must be on my way now. There isn’t much time. I’ll see you again soon.”

You pursed your lips softly, looking down at this small piece of art you were gifted. It was much smaller than the canvas you remember Noriaki working on in the past. It was a scarily accurate painting of you. Your eternal beauty has been immortalized in picture form now. How fitting. What good is a vampire mansion without portraits of the occupants?

You took the small frame to the room you had been sharing with Dio. It felt best to hang it up and have it on display. You didn’t know why but you cherished it a lot. It was like a small bit of happiness in this misery.

Dio would make sure to snuff it out.

Anytime you found yourself growing accustomed to him being absent, he would reappear. Almost as if it was on purpose…

“Oh? And what is this?”

Dio emerged from behind you like a shadow in the darkness, taking the painting from your hands to examine for himself.

“Ugh.” You rolled your eyes, moving out of the way before the man could trap you with his body. His nose scrunched up in disgust at your behavior. “Are you not happy to see me? Do you have any idea how long I’ve been away?” Like trash, he tossed the poor gift aside, missing any means of a display. It fell onto the ground with a light thud.

“I don’t know…I don’t care.” You walked over to a nearby bookshelf, putting your attention into finding a book instead of giving him all of your energy. Sadly, the vampire man was mistaken to believe that you’d want him by now.

But its fine. He always enjoys a challenge.

“Of course you do, my love.” Dio caught your hand as it began to pull a book from the case. “I—“ But just as the words began to fall from his mouth, you swatted his hand away with a loud ‘slap!’

“You reek of whore.” You hissed, resuming your search for a book to spend the rest of the night reading. If Dio were the man he used to be, his insecurity would be out for all to see. Now, he didn’t wear his heart in his sleeve so openly.

Dio chuckled. “Jealous, are we? My apologies. I suppose this is how things will be once you deny me. I am your husband. You’re not allowed to deny me. You can be replaced.” He smirked, doing his best to rub salt on the wound in the most “Dio” way he could. “You are mine by right.”

“Heh.” You half smiled. “Not jealous, just—disappointed. And I’m not yours. I don’t belong to anyone. You’d think someone of your stature would know better than to stick his cock into anything that walks just because he couldn’t please his wife—ah!”

Your speech was cut by him digging his claws into your throat. Books dropped to the floor as he slammed you into the shelf. “I can please you. You just hold it in, I know you do.” His eyes were narrowed, voice low as he spoke through his teeth. It seems you hit a nerve.

“Haha…” You let out a weak laugh. “No matter how much you try to separate yourself from the common man, you still act just like them. Pathetic.”

Dio’s eyes retracted at your statement. Your mockery. What happened to you? He couldn’t stand the one person he truly loves to say these things. You were just angry, right? He slept with other women. Any woman would be upset. He knew that.

“So you don’t care? Not at all?”

“I do not.”

“You don’t care that there’s women out there—carrying my children?”

“Good for them.”

You let out a yelp when Dio suddenly let you go. “And you don’t want to go out there and, I don’t know—kill them?!”

“No.” You shrugged. You raised your hand to your neck, sealing your wounds and taking one of the fallen books into your hand. It was a romance novel. One you would definitely enjoy alone. “Now, leave me be.”

Meanwhile, Pucci didn’t think he would need to become a marriage coach at such a young age until he met Dio. It was such an awkward time as well, given the boy was helping himself to Dio’s book collection.

His master came in, genuinely confused and pissed off at what he should do for his wife. In a way, it was almost fascinating to the young Pucci. It was almost like he forgot that Dio was a God and his wife was his equal; fighting like mortals. The vampire man would even blow off steam, using his godlike reflexes to build small models of ships to put on display.

“…And she doesn’t even care if I lie with other women. If it were the other way around, I would’ve caved their skulls in.” Dio eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he tried to focus on the task at hand. He didn’t even want to vent but sometimes Dio couldn’t control his actions when he felt at ease.

Pucci frowned. He listened to Dio’s testaments of his relationship with you and how he treated you. It was clear that Dio was probably the worst person for you to be with. Your kind and motherly nature towards him was so different from how Dio spoke of you. It hurt his heart.

“Perhaps, you should try being more gentle with her? Show that you are sorry?” There wasn’t really much room for Pucci to give advice since he was rather limited in experience with women.

“Sorry? Why would I do that? She denied me.”

“But, Lord Dio, shouldn’t she be allowed to do that?”

“No.”

Oh, Dio will never learn.

Pucci sighed. “I think you should try to make her feel better. Girls like gifts. It shows that you can make sacrifices and that you actually pay attention to what they may like. Do you know what Lady (y/n) likes?”

“Hm.” Dio learned back in his wooden chair. His eyes rolled to the left as he placed a hand on his chin. “A gift you say? She likes…”

Did you like anything? Books, perhaps? Well, there were a ton of those. What would he look like doing that?

The young boy grew worried that his Master was having such a hard time thinking of what was supposed to be an easy thing.

“Y-You don’t know what she is interested in?” Pucci could only blink in disbelief. Weren’t you Dio’s lover from over 100 years ago?! The one girl he dated in his youth? The one he married before being put into a coffin at the bottom of the sea?!

“I know what she likes. She was a slave girl when I knew her, you see.” Dio smirked at how infatuated you used to be with him as children. “Always so busy with taking care of idiots that she barely had time for me. When we did spend time together, all she talked about was tea, baking, cleaning and—pets.”

It was then your soft, child-like voice invaded his mind. He felt his stomach almost leap at the feeling of pure nostalgia back when things were so much simpler.

꒰ “Dio! You have a dog and you didn’t tell me?”

“That isn’t my dog. Where have you heard such nonsense?!”

“Erina told me that Jonathan told her that you have a dog named Danny! Why have you never told me?! I love animals but Erina’s parents won’t let her have one.” ꒱

A time like that felt so far away. It felt as if he had taken it for granted. Dio didn’t have many regrets nor did he have them often but he wished that he somehow was able to spend more time with you before the mask.

“I have an idea.” Dio grinned, unable to hide his fangs at the thought of what he was about to do next. This was probably the most selfless thing he would ever do for you. It was worth it as a last ditch effort to save his relationship. Of course, he wouldn’t let you go. That’s not an option, unfortunately. But, he at least wanted you to be more happy in some way.

Dio left the castle once more, coming back home just to bother you again. It seemed as though you never left his room, not that he minded. You seemed to be immersed in a romance novel. The story told of a knight or warrior tasked with saving his princess lover from a distant kingdom holding her hostage with magic. Your perfect lips were curled into a perfect smile with your hand resting on your cheek, not at all acknowledging your husband’s presence.

“Ahem.” Dio cleared his throat, a sad attempt at getting your attention. The man only stood there, waiting for you to notice him so that he could finally do one good thing in this relationship. It wasn’t like him to so outwardly beg for attention like this…it made him sick. When he realized that it simply wasn’t working, he manifested The World, using it to remove the book from your palm. “Hey!” You shouted, your stand coming out and grabbing the other end of the book.

“What are you…?” You trailed off once you noticed what Dio had brought you. It was a bird, a beautiful one at that. It seemed to be a falcon, with brown feathers, and even an adorable scarf. It was bigger than any of the birds you had seen in the outside world. Any anger you held at this moment had vanished.

It was only natural for Dio to smirk at your doe-eyed expression, pure hatred turning into innocence and curiosity. “He’s all yours.”

The bird leaped from Dio’s arm, gliding to your shoulder. It landed with a unique weight but they weren’t too heavy. “Dio, where did you get this? Does he have a name?”

“I’ve decided that I like the name Petshop.”

At the sound of the name, your smile fell. “Really?” You asked flatly. Dio’s smile of self satisfaction remained. “Yes.” He replied, crossing his arms.

“O…Kay.” You averted your eyes from him and paid more attention to Petshop. He nuzzled into your cheek, making you giggle and filling you with joy. “My…” you smiled to yourself, admiring the creature before you. “I’ve never had a pet of my own before.”

Dio cocked his eyebrow. “Really? All that time you had by yourself and you didn’t have a pet of your own?”

You shrugged lightly at Dio’s question. “I didn’t have time to, surprisingly enough. I traveled a lot. No time for a pet.”

Petshop already seemed to be deeply in love with you as if it were charmed. Meanwhile, Dio had retrieved the book you were reading. His eyes skimmed the pages, not at all caring about you missing your place on the page. He interrupted your doting with a deep chuckle.

“The immortal princess and her immortal knight were alone at the inn, sharing one room and one bed as well. The princess encouraged her knight to sleep with her, as she didn’t think it was fair for someone who cared so deeply for her to sleep on the floor, servant or not. Unbeknownst to the young couple, they would engage in lewd acts.”

With an audible slam, Dio closed the book and placed it on a nearby table. You blushed deeply at his narration, his voice seemingly perfect for that type of literature.

“It’s just fiction, Dio.”

“It may be fiction, but it can also be your fantasy.” Dio made sure to observe your face as he spoke. “Out of all things in my library you choose to read, it’s this. I’ve always taken you as a woman of intelligence, not one of devious desires.”

You sighed. “Dio, it’s just a love story, nothing else.” Pet Shop left your arm, finding it better to rest on a nearby armchair instead. The bird paid no mind to you or your husband and found picking at its own feathers to be more entertaining. You watched in, almost, child-like awe at your new pet.

“Is it just a love story or are these things you’d like to happen to you?” Dio took a seat next to you on his bed. “I haven’t seen your face light up like that in a long time. I suppose that I’m correct.”

You audibly inhaled before softly exhaling. You clenched your first softly before speaking. “If this is about sex, I am not interested. You’re free to go out and sweet talk someone else.” You rolled your eyes, scooting away from him awkwardly.

“No.” Dio chuckled to himself. “You’re more than that. But, I did want to ask something else of you.”

“And what is that…?”

“Join me for a bath.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t need a bath.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

Now, you found yourself in a warm bath, drawn by a female servant that you’d never seen before. She looked like she was mine controlled, lusting after Dio and even you. Her eyes had a pink hue as she took your dress, her pale cheeks turned a rosy red once she witnessed your naked body most with bath water along with Master Dio’s. You couldn’t tell why but being worshiped did feel oddly satisfying, even if it were wrong. Being a servant, you weren’t appreciated very much, no matter how hard you worked. Even when you became wealthy, people still talked down to you.

“Does she need to be here the entire time?” You narrowed your eyes at the young woman who had been peeking from around the corner in the distance, not even realizing that you could tell she was there the whole time. Dio clearly had something to do with her behavior but that didn’t stop you from getting annoyed. You already didn’t want to be so close to Dio knowing how openly he sexualized you.

“Would you rather her be dead?” Dio smirked down at you but his eyes were looking through you and at the girl. You simply just blinked at him. Silent for only a moment, the sound of the water rippling was the only thing that could be heard.

“N-No.” You furrowed your eyebrows at him. You turned your head towards the girl. “Leave, girl.” You spat, almost sounding similar to how Dio would talk to women. Without even realizing it, his behavior would rub off on you. The action made his eyebrows raise with delight. When the girl scurried off, you sighed, feeling as though you probably should’ve talked to her differently given she was just a girl.

“What a good woman you’ve become.” Dio chuckled to himself. You only scoffed and rolled your eyes. “No thanks to you.” You replied, unknowingly shifting your weight to be reminded that you couldn’t move very much because of Dio’s size. As a form of intimacy, he forced you to bathe with him, making you wash his body as if you were his personal servant in a limited space. He wanted to believe he was treated much better than his younger self ever could but he would still toy with you. His favorite thing was being able to generate reactions from you. He loved being able to make you blush, moan, grunt, and cum. He may have been controlling but his behavior was relatively normal…for now.

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