#definitely fanfiction

[cupcakeinat0r]

Your loser, Middle-aged Genetics professor with a dadbod <3

pt. 6

The semester is almost over, and finals are just around the corner. Miguel and you had been tutoring students for test prep. Your help was greatly appreciated by Miguel, cutting his work basically in half, and he sees that you were good at it, too. It seems that paying attention in his class the whole year paid off. Granted, Miguel was fine as hell, so you never wanted to miss class.

You had to be honest, though, when you volunteered yourself to be Miguel’s little TA, you didn’t think it’d be this difficult. Is this what Miguel went through? For five years? Damn. Poor baby probably hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since he started this job. You didn’t know how he did it, and it’s only been your third day of tutoring. 

Not to mention that some students were, and you hate to admit it… incompetent. There were moments where you had to refrain from making certain faces toward students who acted like they hadn’t been to a single class of Miguel’s. But because you were so kind and patient, you sat with those few and made sure they left that hour feeling prepared for their final. Now you understood why Miguel’s temper was a bit short. Yours would be too if you had to deal with students who never put in any effort. Of course, some classmates also knew as much as you did, only needing the sessions for review.

Aside from tutoring, you and Miguel’s relationship was evolving. Your heated kiss in the lecture hall has been on Miguel’s mind non-stop, replaying the scene over and over again as a bedtime story for the past week. He couldn’t believe that his dreams were coming true. You had him whipped. That one kiss was what broke the dam, and now, Miguel was unleashing kisses on you. He’d sneak one in at every opportunity he had. Every little interaction would go something like this:

Say you were on your way to a session with a classmate, it’s early in the morning, the hall is empty, and no one is around other than Miguel who you consequently pass by as he leaves his private office. The scowl on his face immediately softens when he sees you, all done up pretty like always.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He still sounds as if he’s just woken up, his velvety timbre filling the quiet hall. It felt like you were Juliet and he was Romeo, forbidden lovers meeting in secret.

“Oh! Professor O’Hara-“A small squeal leaves your lips when he pulls you into his embrace, his brawny arms enveloping you completely. You giggle into his chest, your hands snaking up his soft belly and around toward his back, where they almost touch. “Calmate, mama, no one’s around,” he whispers into your hair, pressing a sweet kiss there. You breathe in and smell a manly musk from the fabric of his turtleneck. You had to lift your head from his chest or else Miguel would not stop kissing you all over. It was like there was no ‘off’ button, there was only ‘on’ when it came to you,

“Miguel, I’m already running late, they’re waiting for me!” You loudly whisper, only half-trying to push him away since he felt so warm and soft, but you really did need to go.

“Lo siento, mamita, but how can I resist when you look like this? Can you blame a guy?” He steps back and raises your hand to twirl you like a princess. You smiled bashfully, your cheeks going red. He was so corny and he knew it, slightly cringing at his own effort to be “cool”. It made you laugh because he would NEVER act this way in front of anyone. Anyone except you. He smiled, laughed, and made cheesy remarks only for you. God, you needed this grumpy dork. 

“Migggg, stop it, I really need to go!” You softly laugh, covering your cheesy smile.

“Nunca, preciosa,” His voice is low when he pulls you back in, “But alright… how ‘bout a kiss before you go?” and with a smile, you get on your tip toes, and Miguel lifts you into a tender kiss, and when he kisses you, he breathes you in. It’s like you’re his life supply when he kisses you.

Just when you thought the kiss was over and you were about to be on your way, he didn’t let go of your hand. You look back, and you’re met with those damned puppy dog eyes, “Wait, one more? Please?” He was so pathetic, but how could you tell him no? Of course, you wouldn’t, so you come back and give him another deep kiss.

Once you two pull away, his forehead remains on yours and he whispers, “Otra mas? Porfa?” He coos. “I thought you said one more?” You teased his adorable pleading, but you took his chin with both hands and kissed him anyway. 

Two more kisses turned to three, four, five, six… and Miguel wouldn’t stop; “One more?”, “Okay, now one more.”, “Another one.”, “Otro besito…”, “no, not yet, one more, one more”, “mkay, last one.”, “wait wait wait, one more…” and the two of you broke into soft laughs as he kept asking for more kisses, you slowly trying to pull away as you were passed late now. With each step back you took, Miguel would step closer, keeping your body against his with his bulky arms. The once silent hallway was now filled with quiet, giddy laughter as Miguel attacked you with pecks. There was something so innocent about it all, the harmony between your high-pitched giggles and his low chuckles, accompanied by the continuous smacking of his lips on yours in a peaceful, early morning within the high-ceiling school walls.

“Miguel O’Hara, please!” You snap at him, still in a whisper, but you both just laugh. “Okay, okay, fine,” he finally lets go of you, watching you leave with a content smile,” I’ll see you later? Don’t leave without passing by, please,” you smile back at the buff nerd and his concern for you. “I will! I promise!” You scurry down the hall to meet with the student who’s probably wondering where you’ve been. Miguel doesn’t step back into his office until you’re out of sight, his mind still a little foggy from the interaction. 

If someone had told him at the beginning of the year that the grad student who always showed up in the cutest outfits, sat front row, and always gave him the prettiest, lip glossed smile would requite his feelings, he would laugh at their face (or simply just stare menacingly at them, more like). When he chose to settle down and take this job, he would’ve never thought he’d find you. You were that something he didn’t know he needed.

<3 

   You might’ve bitten off more than you can chew. By fault of your sweet nature, you decided to take in a few extra students, which left you in the library hours later, your forehead on your forearm, a bit of drool pooling on the table, and snoring.  Miguel had been doing some tutoring as well, though, he finished earlier than you and started doing some other collegiate duties. It was unknown to him that you did this, so he thought it was strange when you didn’t come by for that long. He knew you wouldn’t have left without saying anything, so he began to grow worried as hours went by. He made his way down to the lecture hall, but there was no sign of you there. He immediately started thinking the worst, a million different horrid explanations running through his mind as he picked up his pace through the hallway.

His heart eased when he saw your sleeping form in the library, the only light coming from the aged lamps on each of the tables, but the relief is short-lived once he realizes how long you’ve been working and how tired you must’ve been to fall asleep sitting like that. Making sure to be quiet as there were still two or three other students there, Miguel walked towards you, faintly smiling at your snoring.  

“Mama… Mamita…” he whispers, nudging your back gently, waking you up. Your eyes, blinking continuously, adjust to the dim lighting of the library and you make out the large figure beside you. It’s your sweet, darling professor.

“Mph… huh?” you stretch your arms above your head, letting out a yawn, “Oh my God, sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you say with a tired chuckle, your eyes still adjusting. 

“Mama, what are you apologizing for? Ugh, I should’ve come to check on you sooner.” He sat beside you, but then one of the students quickly hushed him, giving him a dirty look for interrupting their study sesh. He raised his hand mouthing ‘sorry’.  

"Did you need something?" you softly asked him, not wanting to be hushed as well, and he just replied by intertwining his long, girthy fingers with yours under the table where no one could see. "Nothing, mamita, however, I need you to go home. You weren’t supposed to stay so late.” He tuts, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles like he always did. He already didn’t like that you were tutoring on top of your own schoolwork, the only reason why he let you help in the first place being that you wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Oh, Miguel, always worrying about everyone but yourse-” You were cut off by another hush by the same irritated student. You both looked back at them, Miguel looking back with a scowl this time. He looked like he was about to say something, but you pulled away his attention with a sheepish smile, “Maybe we should go talk somewhere else.” You whisper. Taking your advice, he stood with you and followed you to a more private section of the library.

Settling in a small nook area where the two of you are surrounded by shelves of books, you sat on the floor, Miguel following shortly after. “So, care to explain why you’re still here?” He speaks while finding a comfortable position. 

You both lay against the shelf, your head tilted upward as you respond, “I just figured I could help a couple more students, is all. I guess it was after I finished with the last student and started studying for my other classes was when I knocked out.” Miguel lifts his arm so that he can wrap it around you, offering a cushion between you and the hardwood of the shelves. 

“Do you ever not study?” he raises a brow, but you’re quick to retaliate, “Do you ever not work?” You both chuckle. “Touché.”

“How do you do it?” you ask. 

“What do you mean?” You lay your head on his shoulder. “You basically run this entire department on your own. All I’ve done was tutor for a couple of days and look where that got me.”  Miguel chuckles at this. “I know sometimes it may not seem like it, but in all honesty, I love what I do, and you’ve gotta give yourself more credit than that, mama. You’ve truly been amazing, sweetheart. Always have been.”

“Well,” you snuggle into him a little more, relishing in his natural warmth that rivals the library’s cold air, “You helped.” Miguel returns the gesture by wrapping his arm tighter around you, sensing that you are becoming cold. “We helped each other, how ‘bout that.” you look up and smile at him, your cheek against the soft fabric of his cable-knit sweater (that fits juuust right on him). 

“Speaking of which, what’s this class you’re studying for?” you sit up straight and let out a tired sigh. “It’s another lecture,” you grab a hefty textbook from your bag beside you, letting Miguel take a look at it, “On top of creating a thesis, I have to memorize all of this.” He looks through his glasses that are hanging low on his nose and skims over the material.  

“How much of this have you memorized?” he still looks at the pages. “About half maybe.”

“Let’s fix that.” he sat up straight, positioning the book to where you can’t see its contents. “What’re you doing?” you’re suspicious of Miguel, knowing very well that he should be going home and not staying to help you study for a class that he didn’t even teach.

“I’m helping,” he clears his throat, “Which years did the ‘Modernist’ era in English literature begin and end? Please provide a short explanation of what catalyzed this period-” You ignore his question, attempting to take the book. “Miguel, you’ve done enough for today, you should be going home!” but he doesn’t let you have it.

“Mama, I just found you dead asleep while sitting up. You were gonna stay either way. I’d much rather be here so you don’t pass out again n’ make sure you get home safe. Please?” 

He’s literally the most perfect man ever. The person currently sitting in front of you just left his office doing whatever important task he usually occupies himself with to check up on you and is willing to stay here until you feel ready for your final. You’re convinced he’d do anything for you, and you’re right in thinking so. 

“Fine,” You’re beginning to realize how hard it actually is to say ‘no’ to Miguel, but you know Miguel was a bit of a pushover when it came to you as well, so you guess it’s alright, “But I feel like there should be some sort of incentive, though… some motivation.” you cheekily smile.

Miguel’s eyes shift above his lenses, intrigued by your proposition. “How ‘bout this. Every time I get something wrong… you get a kiss.” He chuckles. “Alright, and I’m guessing if you get it correct, then I should reward you with a kiss, right?” he says matter-of-factly, making you smile again. You were hoping he’d suggest something like this. 

He’d ask a question, you’d answer, and depending on if you got it right, Miguel would give you a kiss, or if you got it wrong, you “had” to give him a kiss (not much of a punishment, to be frank). You didn’t even wait for him to finish asking you a test question at times, you would just give him a tender kiss on the cheek just because. Some kisses, though, Miguel would get distracted, taking it from an innocent peck to a heated, handsy kiss, and reluctantly, you’d get him back on the task at hand. It got to the point where you ended up seated between his legs, and you'd start getting all these answers correct, so Miguel would plant kisses on your neck, sucking on the skin there. They would surely leave hickeys for the next day, but you didn’t care.

With your back against his hard chest and tummy, it was very hard to not delve into both of your fantasies. It was when Miguel began faintly bucking his hips against yours, his hardness expanding as he got blinded by lust again. "Miguel! Not here!” you'd whisper, and Miguel would groan in defeat. Trust, if you two weren’t in public, you would’ve let him do anything and everything he was thinking about doing to you.

That, having to stay quiet, and making sure no one was coming, it all made it feel like you were both teenagers again who were out later than they should be, laughing and shushing each other. 

The incentive being kisses actually worked in the sense that it kept you up, so not only was it an excuse to make out in the library, but it did technically help you memorize…

An hour or so passes by and you’ve gotten to the point where you know everything you need to for your final, but you didn’t want your time with Miguel to quite just end yet. You don’t know if it was the making out or what but you were suddenly wide awake now.

Miguel is about to test you on a topic one more time when he sees your eyes wandering the shelves, “You like to read, Mig? Just curious.” You look up at him. You were too tired to care whether or not you looked presentable enough for him, but he thought you looked absolutely adorable like this. Your hair lost its volume, your lip gloss was no longer shiny, and your mascara was a bit smudged from when you fell asleep earlier, but he found it so endearing. He wouldn’t have minded waking up to the sight every day for the rest of his life.

He closes the textbook, taking this as your way of ending the study session, “Yeah, I like it. I’ll read recreationally when I have the time.” He chuckled, looking at you like you were the only source of light on the planet. You shifted your head from where it rested against his arm and laid down on the floor, your head now resting against his soft stomach like a pillow. Your gaze focused on his hand that was now in yours. Your soft touch brushes against his more calloused, warm skin, playing with his fingers as you speak.

“What do you like to read? Fiction? Non-fiction? Give me details.” You continue to fiddle with his fingers. 

He starts to play with your hair with his free hand, moving any on your face, “Hm… I tend to gravitate toward non-fiction. You?"

"Anything romantic for sure," it doesn't take you even a second to answer, "Ever since I was a little girl, I always envisioned myself in those fairytale stories. Princesses, royal balls, a prince charming..." your eyes glanced up at him when you mentioned princes, and his smile grew.

"Oh, yeah?" He smirked, his brow raised. "Mhm. I kinda feel like I’m in one right now, actually.” His cheeks darken at this, licking his lips as he looks away to hide them. “Has anyone ever told you how handsome your smile is?” You add on, making him melt furthermore. He honestly can’t believe you’re saying all this about him. Miguel was usually the man that always knew what to say, but romance? Not his field of expertise, and much less when it came to you.

“Not really, no. Don’t show it much these days.” He looks back down at you, completely smitten by the angel currently lying in his lap.

“Well you should do it more often, it looks nice on you.” You’re not sure what came over you. It was so easy to praise him and watch him become goo from your words and touch.

“Then maybe I should spend more time with you.” Now it was your turn to be bashful. “I make you smile, huh?”

“Quite frequently in fact. It’s ruining my reputation, makin’ me go soft.” You chuckle along with him. “Just face it, you’re my big, scary teddy bear.” Miguel’s heart skips when you say ‘my’. As much as his past self would’ve hated being called that, he loved the possessiveness in it. He was truly yours, since the beginning. “Only if you’ll be the princess I protect.” You smile like an idiot. You hated him (you wanted him so bad).

“This actually reminds me of a certain story...” He ponders on a specific story, one that brings old memories. A faint smile grows on his plush lips.

“Oh, yeah? Mystery, sci-fi, romance…?” you say romance with a badly executed French accent, making him chuckle, “Eh… maybe it’s a romance…” He says with a growing smile. 

“Awe, I knew it, ya big softy. Which one?” You two began discussing your favorite romantic books. Turns out Miguel is a bit of a hopeless romantic himself, though, he’d never reveal that to anyone. You feel compelled to get up and search for your favorite book from the shelves surrounding you, which you both end up doing. Once you’ve found y’all’s respective books, you both return to the same position on the floor, but Miguel’s mood makes a shift. There’s a moment when Miguel’s spirit seems to die down, and you catch it. He looks down at the book with somber eyes. He flips through its pages, his brows furrowed and eyes narrow. “You alright, Miguel?” 

Miguel clears his throat. “I’m fine. Um...” He thinks about what he’s about to say and whether he should even share it. There’s a beat between the two of you. 

“What’re you thinking about?” You can see the gears in his head turn. 

“Nada, mamita, I’m fine.” He lies. He looks at you with a weak smile, but his eyes say differently.

“Anything you have to say is important to me.” You give his hand a small squeeze. “Please?” 

He squeezes back your hand and kisses your wrist. Miguel then worked up the courage to share something he hadn’t told anyone in what felt like years. Sure, his two closest coworkers knew about it, but that’s about it. Miguel didn’t have many, if at all, true friends outside of his work, but he felt you could be trusted. He felt that comfortable with you. Your softness tore down his tough walls. 

You learn that he had a daughter. Her name was Gabriella. He mentions how much she loved playing sports, being outside in the park, and how much she loved it when he read to her. The book currently in his hand was what she would pick almost every night. He’d read it in different voices for each character, making the story come alive for his precious little girl. No matter how many times he read it to her, she listened as if it were the first time. Seeing the little smile on her face made all the fatigue from work melt away. That’s why he chose it as his favorite book. 

He lost Gabriella to what he described as an ‘incident’, but you didn’t urge him to say anything more than what he was comfortable with, respecting his boundaries. 

“Sometimes, I’ll come back to this book and it almost feels like she’s here again.” He opens the book to the first page. Its cover and spine were intricate, the title reading ‘Beauty and The Beast’. 

He branched away from the book for a moment and began to go on and on about what Gabriella was like upon your request to know a little more about her, and instantly, his mood lifted. He speaks about her kindness, intelligence, curiosity, and her extensive imagination. He spoke about her favorite foods (sweets, of course) and even the foods she wasn’t a big fan of. He talked about their post-soccer game rituals of getting ice cream and how they would spend their mornings together eating their favorite cereal before school. With the way he spoke about her, a ball started to form in your throat. It was evident that he loved being a dad. You didn't think you could fall for Miguel harder than you already did until now.

Maybe that was why he was so hard on everyone in his class; maybe it was simply the paternal desire to see your pupils do their absolute best and succeed. It made you sad because this meant that not only has Miguel been alone for all these years, but he’s been alone on account of losing someone he loved so dearly. His precious daughter. And to you, that’s even worse.

You wanted to say how sorry you were for his loss, but you figured he’d heard that millions of times. You wanted to say something that actually meant something. 

“Gabriella sounds like a wonderful person,” You say with a small smile. Miguel looks at you, not really expecting a response like that, “And If you were the one raising her, then I know for sure she was absolutely wonderful.” 

“She was. Thank you.” Miguel looks down at you, you both sharing a quiet moment. “She would’ve really liked you.” He says softly, looking down at his lap where you were. His thumb caresses your cheek, making you smile even wider.

“Yeah?” You try to hold back any tears. This had to be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to you. “Yeah.” 

The moment is so sweet and so soft and it felt so nice to be able to just relish in the small silences with him. And when you spoke, your voices were barely above whispers. “She would’ve thought you were a real-life princess for sure. I know I do.” You blush at this, Miguel’s hand on your face only adding more heat to your rosy cheeks. 

“Well, I think I would’ve really liked her, too. I wish we could’ve met.” You place your hand on top of his. Despite you also feeling saddened by this, there’s still a sense of gentle positivity in your voice.

“Me too.” Miguel’s face softens at your response, scenarios playing in his head. Moments between you and his daughter. What life could’ve been like had his daughter still been here to interrogate you as soon as she had the chance, and then just as quickly become your #1 fan. He’s quiet when he’s thinking about this, and you feel the urge to hug him. 

You sit up from his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, Miguel’s face buried into the crook of your neck. “Thank you for sharing that with me.” You whisper in his ear before kissing his head. You rub his back with your other hand, feeling his breathing deepen.

Miguel lifts his head to look straight at you as if to admire you, “Thanks for listening.” You can’t help but pepper kisses all over his face: forehead, nose, cheeks, eyelids, and Miguel feels like he’s in heaven. At last, he takes your face in both hands and kisses you on the lips. No other dialogue needed, the two of you sit in peaceful silence again, literally just appreciating each other’s existence. The moment is interrupted by the opening of a door in the distance. Surely a night-time guard.

 “Y’know… we can get in an awful lot of trouble if we’re seen together like this.” You break the silence with a whisper. The teenage-like ambiance returns, winning a smirk from Miguel. “I know. I guess I just can’t bring myself to care right now.” His eyes trail all over your face, landing on your lips. He kisses you again, his lips descending to your neck and his hands squeezing the flesh of your butt. Ticklish and breathless, you begin giggling, ‘Miguel!” but he doesn’t stop, “Miguel O’Hara! What if they see us!” you whisper. 

“Mm, like it when you say my full name.” he muffles into your neck. “Miguel!” you laugh again, trying to push him off. “Take me home! We have class tomorrow!” is what finally stops him. He may or may not have let the heat of the moment get the best of him. “Yeah,” He runs his hand through his hair and fixes his glasses, “You’re right, you’re right.” He stands up, offering you a hand. Without making it look suspicious, you both walk past the guard as well as a few students (who were either passed out or too deep in their downward spiral of an all-nighter). 

Miguel drives you home in something you didn’t expect a college professor would be able to afford. He had his hand on your thigh the whole way, but not before he asked if that was okay, to which you happily granted. The entire car ride, Miguel had you smiling, blushing, laughing at his dated jokes. You were so sad when he pulled up to your place, still not wanting the night to end even though you were tired out of your mind. 

“Thank you for taking me home, my knight in shining armor.” You lean over, puckering your lips as you wait for a kiss. “Of course, Princesa, anything for you.” You both share probably the billionth kiss of the day before he speaks again. “See you tomorrow bright n’ early?” you nod, letting out a soft ‘yeah’. “Alright, get some rest, beautiful. And don’t be late.” he playfully enters professor mode for the last sentence, and you play along. “Of course, Professor O’Hara. Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Miguel kisses you again and bites your lip, the tension rising once again. “Mm, that’s one you haven’t called me in a while.” You giggle from how easy it is for you to excite Miguel, your absolute loser of a professor, but he’s your loser, and that’s all that matters. You feel his hand snake to your inner thigh, his tongue making its way down your throat, “Mm—Don’t get any ideas, mister, you should head home and get your sleep as well.” He lets out a defeated huff, “ay, Mamita, can’t keep doing that t’me…”

As much as you also wanted to be there with him, having him bounce you on his lap or taking it in the backseat, you also didn’t want for Miguel or yourself to miss class the next morning. Miguel agrees, sharing the very last, tender kiss of the night before finally saying goodnight to each other. You close the car door behind you and say one last thing through the window, “We should do this again. It was nice.” Miguel smiles at you, promising you he’ll take you to the public library one of these days. 

In exchange for more kisses, that is. Or perhaps more.

a/n: Haiiiiii, I hope you enjoyed <3 He's so cute n needy ur honor!! He simply just wants to be held!! I have 5k ish words to prove it!!! (So sorry omfg)

Want more Dadbod!Miguel? Here's my masterlist, bae! <3

<3 Tags <3

@safixiovi @mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi i @hyjionie @maomaimao @pomakori @pinkhelados @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @walmaerts @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @kaidxra @farrowroyale @pigeonmama @exactlyyoungchaos @fayeofthenightingale @s4dow @hartsucks @amberbalcom14 @wait2nourh @tatooieve @helen-j-magnus @cl3stevu @mintssanctuary @ghost-lantern @snails-doodles22 @love4saturn @sukunash0e @tinythebunni

#this is definitely NOT self indulgent….. #professor!miguel #dadbod!miguel #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel x y/n #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel fanfic #miguel imagine #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara headcanon #miguel o’hara au #miguel o’hara fic

[communistkenobi]

saw someone argue that the central defining feature of fanfiction is its attention to proper characterisation. man I don’t think you’ve read very much fanfiction

#I think you end up with these idealistic arguments when you don’t define fanfiction #in relationship to intellectual property law. like that actually is its central defining characteristic & this definition doesn’t make any #claims about quality or content or style (or characterisation) because all of those are variable #so I’m being kind of mean here because I think the op was just trying to describe a relationship between fanfiction and the source material #without grounding it in history or law. so you end up with these silly normative claims about what goes on in fanfiction #anyway not going to link the post I’m referencing because the person was just being mildly annoying on a post of mine #and I was being nosy on their blog. I was just caught way off guard by that argument because like. lol #fandom discussion

[paperultra]

candy stripes.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5,048 words Warnings: Swearing, hospital setting [A/n: Soulmate AU. :)]

sortiger (adjective): delivering prophecies of the future; having the qualities of being oracular

Nobody else can see the string but you.

You wish you didn’t. It has no texture, no weight, so you can’t understand why it can’t be invisible too. But the string demands attention with every use of your hands, seizes your eye when you wash dishes in the morning and brush your teeth at night, a garish and bloody red that matches the stripes of your uniform.

You hate your string and you hate the color red.

Miss Xinyu, the old lady in Room 30, has one too. At least, that’s what she had told you when you gained the courage to mention yours one day, not knowing what it meant and how much you would come to dread it.

“It’s your red string of fate,” she had explained. “It connects you to the person who understands you more than anyone else in the world.”

In other words, your soulmate. Your one and only.

Miss Xinyu says you’re a lucky ducky, knowing what your future holds.

Her string goes into the ground now. You don’t think being reminded of a dead person whenever you look at your pinkie is very lucky.

The biggest reason why you hate the string so much, though, is because you’ve always had a problem doing what you’re supposed to unless you want to, which causes a lot of trouble for a nine-year-old girl. You already have trouble being nice to patients who are mean to you, so how can you love and wait for someone you’ve never met? It makes you feel icky.

Why can’t you choose? How come you have to have one at all?

Your only source of comfort is that your string is very, very thin and runs out of the hospital. That means your soulmate, whoever they are, is very, very far away. You’d very much like it to stay that way.

But it doesn’t.

—

Nurse Taoh wants you to watch the patients in Room 8 while he finishes his charts. You don’t really want to, if only because it’s Nurse Taoh asking – he likes to order you around more than Dr. Gu – but you don’t want to get into trouble again, so you go.

(… And okay, you are just a little bit curious about the new inpatients. You only know three things about them: one, they were brought in together last night while you were in your room poking holes into your paper instead of correcting it; two, they’re a man and a boy, presumably father and son; and three, everyone says it’s a miracle they’re still alive.)

(Then again, you’ve seen many miracles here.)

The unit is quiet as you walk down the hallway. Quiet, but not silent, as your polished shoes squeak like little mice against the floor and you whisper the room numbers as you pass by them. Two, four, six – eight.

You stop and knock, three sharp raps against the brown wood.

“Hello?” You open the door and poke your head in. “My name is –”

The squiggly-patterned curtain that often separates patients for privacy is drawn, and you clamp your mouth shut as you realize the patient closest to you is asleep.

Shutting the door silently, you creep closer to the foot of his bed. The man underneath the sheets lies quietly; he is little more than a skeleton, eyes sunken and bones sticking out underneath blistered skin. His beard is long and scraggly, but it pales in comparison to his mustache, each side braided and sticking out to the sides.

He looks angry, even though he’s sleeping. You hope he’s not the type to wake up and yell at you as you tiptoe past to check on the boy.

You pass the curtain, catch a glimpse of the bed sheets, and see –

Red.

Your feet root themselves in place, the room suddenly devoid of air.

You stare. Blink hard, twice. Look again. Then, trembling, you look down at your hand.

Your eyes trace the string around your own finger, following down to the dip of it that barely touches the ground and back up over the blankets until it ends in a red loop around the boy’s pinkie, tied off with a little bow.

Your stomach turns.

Stumbling forward, you make your way to the visitor’s chair in the corner. You slump down into it and stare straight ahead at the curtain, refusing to look at the boy’s face.

He continues to sleep.

You don’t want him to wake up.

—

The boy does not stir during your first meeting, but that small mercy is quickly eclipsed two days later by a single bowl of chicken broth.

The look on your face is sour as you walk down the hallway again, the broth splashing up against the lid with each step. Because most of the patients in the hospital you live in are elderly, the staff have somehow gotten it into their heads that you simply must spend time with the boy in Room 8 because he is your age and you need to socialize with other kids. You very much don’t want to. Not with him, at least.

Dr. Gu is just leaving the room when you arrive. She gives you a quick smile, the corners of her eyes wrinkling, and pats your head.

“So you heard that the boy woke up, huh?”

You grunt, looking away with a pout. “Can’t you give this to him, Dr. Gu?”

“Nope. I have to finish my rounds,” she says. “Go in and have a chat. His name is Sanji. You’ll like him.”

“I doubt it,” you mumble underneath your breath.

Dr. Gu probably hears you, but she doesn’t scold you, merely patting your head one last time before you enter Room 8.

The dividing curtain is drawn this time. The window curtains are pulled back, too; it’s a somewhat cloudy day outside, but bright enough to sharpen the shadows on the walls and make the boy look even paler than you remember.

His eyes are closed as you approach. A sprout of hope that he might have fallen asleep again blooms in your chest – you’ll just leave the broth on the table, you think to yourself, and go about the rest of your day. Nobody said you had to watch him drink it.

You get about five feet away, already planning to drop some books off to the other rooms, when the boy’s nose suddenly twitches.

His eyes open to thin slits. Your hope shrivels like a weed in the desert as he speaks.

“What’s that?” His voice is quiet and raspy.

Your eyebrow twitches. “It’s just chicken broth,” you say tartly, setting the tray down on the overbed table and turning it around so that it’s over his lap. You take off the lid and steam bursts from the bowl.

The boy reaches up to rub his eyes. The red string dangles from his pinkie, and you quickly look away with a scowl.

“Who are you?” he asks, scooting back to sit up more as he gradually becomes more alert.

Reluctantly, you give him your name. “Will you need help with the soup?”

He shakes his head. His gaze latches onto the contents of his bowl, and he stops, transfixed.

You scramble to stop him as he suddenly grabs the bowl and attempts to gulp it all down in one go.

“Don’t do that! You’ll throw up!” Without thinking, you seize his hands and pry the bowl away from his mouth. A few drops of broth splash over the blankets and his gown, and your irritation grows. Now you’ll have to fix that. “Drink it slowly.”

“I haven’t eaten anything for weeks,” the boy complains. “What do you know?”

“I’ve been studying medicine since I was a little kid,” you retort. “So I know a lot.”

He frowns. “You are a little kid.”

“I’m nine years old!”

“No, I’m nine! You don’t look as old as me!”

There’s no way this … this brat is the same age as you! Fuming, you let go of the bowl and jab a finger at his face. “I am nine years old and I know more than you! You can’t drink the broth like that!”

You’re met with silence. The boy’s eyes are wider than saucers. Pride wells up inside you at your ability to shut him up.

But then he puts the bowl down and seizes your hand, and your pride gives way to horror as he folds down your index finger and lifts your pinkie – the pinkie with the red string wrapped around it.

He lifts his own pinkie, the rest of his fingers folded. Your jaw clenches when you see how the string has shortened to mere inches, bridging the space between his hand and yours.

“Holy shit,” the boy says. The largest grin spreads across his face, and it’s blinding and scary and you hate it, you hate it. “It’s you! You’re my soulmate, aren’t you?!”

“No,” you reply quickly, whipping your hand behind your back and backing away. “No, I’m not!”

“But you see the string too! I knew I’d meet you some day. How come you’re”— he pushes the table away, eagerly but just gentle enough so no more of the broth spills—“how come you’re hiding it behind your back?”

“I’m not your soulmate,” you bark, panic rising in your chest. “Don’t you ever say that!”

You only catch a glimpse of the hurt that flashes across the boy’s face before you turn around and dash out of the room.

Mrs. Hong finds you in the storage closet later, curled up behind the shelves of gauze and IV tubing. She coaxes you out with a promise of rice balls and no questions asked. You wish all the adults were more like her.

—

The next day, Miss Jaylee hoists you over her shoulder like a human sacrifice and brings you to Room 8.

“I don’t want to see him! You can’t make me!”

“He’s refusing treatment and food unless he sees you,” the woman answers briskly, each of her steps jostling you up and down. “You don’t want to be responsible if Sanji dies, do you?”

“I don’t care if he dies!”

Miss Jaylee clicks her tongue and walks faster.

You flail, feeling a little guilty for your cruel words but too proud to take them back. Sanji couldn’t have heard you, anyway, and nobody here is going to let him die no matter what he does or what you say.

You hear a door swing open. Miss Jaylee walks into Room 8 and turns around, and you lift your head, glaring at Sanji as his face lights up and his cheeks turn rosy.

“[Y/n]!”

Your own cheeks burn in embarrassment at the position you’re currently in. This, you only now realize, is way worse than walking into the room voluntarily.

“How come they’re carrying you? Are you okay?” he asks.

“Let them treat you,” you snap, arms limp and dangling. “And eat your stupid food or I’ll get in trouble.”

“Okay.” You nod, opening your mouth to speak again only for him to continue, “But only if I get to talk to you afterwards.”

What is he, a prince?! What makes it so easy for him to demand such things?

“That wasn’t what you told them,” you protest, squirming, but Miss Jaylee only tightens her arm around your waist.

(“Be nice,” she warns. You growl.)

“It’s important,” Sanji stresses, looking pointedly down at his hand and then back at you.

You bite down on your tongue as the red string glimmers in the light.

Dr. Gu and Nurse Taoh stare at you expectantly. Your neck is starting to ache from craning it, and there’s a feeling that you’ll never stand on your own two feet again unless you do what he wants.

“… Fine,” you hiss through gritted teeth.

Only once you promise to stay does Miss Jaylee let you slide off her shoulder. You stand to the side, arms crossed impatiently as they take Sanji’s vitals and ask him some questions. He’s only half paying attention, head turning to look at you more than once, which you merely turn up your nose at.

“All right, we’ll leave you two to chat now,” Dr. Gu says. “If you need anything, just let [Y/n] know, okay?”

“Okay,” Sanji says.

With that, the three adults leave, and you and Sanji are left alone once more.

“I’m glad you came. They were starting to get mad at me,” he says, then cuts straight to the chase. “How come you don’t want to be my soulmate?”

“Because I don’t want a soulmate,” you immediately reply.

“But why? It’s nice, isn’t it? Being special to each other?”

“You can’t be special to me. We’re not even friends.”

For the second time, Sanji looks hurt.

“…We’re not?” he asks. You shake your head. “But … you brought me food.”

You’re befuddled. “Because Dr. Gu made me,” you say, trying to ignore the disappointment on his face. “Besides, I yelled at you yesterday. Friends don’t yell at each other.”

“I thought that you were maybe just really surprised …” His voice gets smaller and smaller. “Some people get mad when they’re just surprised …”

“I wasn’t surprised. I saw it when you were still asleep.”

“Oh,” Sanji mumbles. He looks down at the sheets, scratching at the wrinkle in the thin white fabric. “Okay.”

He says nothing more. You fidget, wondering if he’s pretending to look like he’s about to cry or if he really is trying not to. You’re not good with people who start crying.

You chew on your bottom lip. Sanji tucks his hand with the string on it underneath his bed sheets, his eyes disappearing behind his tangled hair, and fine, you feel kind of bad whether he’s tricking you or not.

“I’ll only be friends with you if you don’t talk about being soulmates,” you finally tell him begrudgingly. “Not ever, okay?”

His head shoots back up. “Really?!”

“Only if you don’t talk about it! I’m serious.” You huff at Sanji’s sudden change in mood and click your tongue. “If you stay sad you might not get better.  Don’t get the wrong idea!”

He nods, grinning bigger than ever.

Oh, dear, you think as he promises that he’ll be a really, really good friend, you might have made a mistake.

—

By the fifth day, Zeff, the man who was brought in with Sanji, is awake.

You hear them arguing before you see them, pushing a cart of books for Sanji to browse through as per your agreement the day before. They’re loud, and Sanji calls the man an old shitbag right as you knock and push the door open.

“I’m here,” you announce, and the two quiet down to look at you. You give Zeff a polite smile. “Hello, sir. I’m [Y/n].”

“Hello, little miss,” Zeff says, his features softening from the angry expression he’d directed towards Sanji a moment before.

“Why are you being nice to her and not me?” Sanji pipes up from his side of the room, all puffed-out cheeks and petulantly crossed arms.

“Because she don’t make my ears ring with nonstop whining,” the man answers sharply. “Now get a book and read so I can finally have some peace and quiet.”

“You get a book and read,” Sanji grumbles.

“What was that, boy?”

You cut in before they start bickering all over again. “Do you want a book too, Mr. Zeff?”

Zeff’s gaze flicks over to you once more, and your shoulders tense. The man takes a deep, calming breath, and then he sighs, reclining back into his pillow and closing his eyes. “No, thank you, little miss,” he mutters. “Reading’s no good for my head right now.”

“Do you have a headache?” He grunts in affirmation. “Do you want me to get a nurse?”

“No, no, don’t need any of that.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a headache,” Sanji accuses.

Zeff’s mustache twitches. “All you need to know is that you oughta stop yappin’ when a man wants peace and quiet!”

(Not again.)

As you give up and walk over to draw the curtains, Sanji says your name desperately. “Can we read somewhere else?” he pleads when you glance at him. “I don’t want to be stuck in here with him right now.”

Narrowing your eyes, you appraise his weak-looking frame, pointedly skimming past the red string that snakes over to you. “Can you even walk around yet?”

“Yeah,” he says defensively. He wriggles out of the bed sheets and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Holding onto the side rail, he stands up and grips the IV pole for support. Though he’s a little shaky, he shuffles a few steps towards you and smiles when he manages to do so. “See?”

Well, you think, if you and Sanji stay here, you’ll need to have some light in order to read. But it will probably help Zeff if the room is as dark as possible, so if you guys go somewhere else, Sanji’s lamp won’t need to be on.

“Okay,” you agree. “Wait here. I’ll get some slippers.”

Ten minutes later, with Sanji shuffling along in his slippers, IV pole in one hand and your arm in the other, the two of you arrive at the common room and find chairs in the corner to sit down in.

“These’re mostly history books and stories for old people,” you explain as you pull out the one cooking-related book you could find from the top basket of the cart. “This was the only food one I could find.”

“That’s okay.” Sanji takes the book from you and begins to flip through it. “Oh, this one’s about seafood in the South Blue! Have you ever had any?”

“No.”

“Me, neither. I’ll try it someday, though … hey, this fish looks like a fried egg!”

Against your will, you perk up. “… Really?”

For the next half-hour, Sanji fawns over the spices used on grilled Sea King meat and how to cook wine clams and the best fish for South Blue-style sushi. And it’s … not boring. He doesn’t hog the book, and the pictures are cool, and he asks you which ones you think are the coolest or would taste the best. Looking at a book with another kid is different from reading with an adult. It feels like you’re sharing, not like you’re being tested on your comprehension or how to pronounce long words.

Hanging out with Sanji is okay when the string doesn’t sour it.

“So you want to cook all of these one day?” you ask after scanning through a full-color page of steamed Ocean Hawk feet.

“I want to cook things from all four seas,” Sanji says. His legs bounce with excitement. “That’s why I’m gonna find the All Blue.”

“What’s that?”

The boy glows.

“It’s where the North, East, South, and West Blue seas all meet. Think about it – fresh-caught fish from all over the world all in one place! I’ll be able to cook dishes no one’s ever cooked or tasted before.”

You’ve never heard of such a place. But Sanji talks about it with such conviction, such resolve, that you figure the All Blue could really exist.

“I hope you find it,” you say, and you mean it.

“I will.” Sanji closes the book. “And when I do, I’ll cook something just for you. A-As a friend.”

He peeks over at you, his eyes even brighter and bluer than before, his cheeks flushing a familiar red. And you find yourself believing him, just a little bit.

—

Sanji keeps his promise.

You know he still likes you (blech) and so does most of the staff (double blech). Nurse Taoh thinks it’s funny and teases you about your little boyfriend in Room 8 who always asks where you are. Mrs. Hong reminds you to be sensitive whenever you stop by to pick up meals. Dr. Gu tells you to tell her right away if Sanji ever does something that makes you uncomfortable.

But he never does. Sometimes his words spill out clumsily like a broken faucet and other times he blushes and stutters, leaving you to wonder what he’s going on about, but he doesn’t try to kiss you or hold your hand, and he doesn’t say a word about the red string that is very much still there. If anything, he just annoys you at times, with how nice he is to you and how sunny he gets when you eat lunch with him sometimes.

You’ve never seen somebody so happy to be in a hospital before, even if it’s just because he wants you to like him. It’s weird.

It’s on the eighth day of Zeff and Sanji’s stay that you learn not everything is how it seems.

You’d gotten in trouble the night before for digging holes in the garden – you had kept the seed from your dinner plum and wanted to see if you could make it grow, but Miss Jaylee had caught you while taking Mr. Hu out for some air – so you’re somewhat grumpy on your way to Room 8, two notebooks in hand.

One of them is blank for Sanji. He wants to record all the meals he’s gotten and write down how he would make them. The second notebook is full of your notes that you need to study for your quiz tomorrow.

Zeff is sleeping again when you enter. You move quietly across the room to where Sanji is lying with his back to the door.

“Sanji.” You can see his shoulders tense underneath the sheets, but strangely, he does not roll over to face you. “I have your notebook.”

No answer. That is even stranger.

Frowning, you walk around to the other side of the bed. Sanji moves to bury his face into his pillow, but not before you hear a very soft, wet sniffle.

“Sanji?”

“Sorry.” His voice is high and so muffled you can barely understand him. “You can just leave it on the table.”

“Why are you crying?” In the back of your head, you know it is not the most sensitive thing to ask. But for some reason, you need to know. “I won’t laugh or tell anyone.”

You hear another sniffle from the mop of blond hair. It takes a long time for Sanji to answer, but he eventually does.

“I don’t like hospitals.”

Your brow furrows. “Oh,” you say, somewhat surprised. Most people don’t like being in a hospital, you’re pretty sure of that, but you didn’t know Sanji didn’t like it this much. “Why?”

Maybe he’s tired of getting poked all the time, or the bland food, or the hospital smell. Nobody here can change that. Maybe he’s homesick. The hospital can’t fix that, either.

Sanji turns his head slightly and takes in a small, shuddering breath. “’Cause it … it makes me remember my mum … when she was sick,” he mumbles, almost too quiet to hear.

“… Oh.”

You had assumed, upon learning that Zeff and Sanji were not at all related, that Sanji was like you and never knew his parents. He’d never talked about having any before, only his time on the Orbit and with Zeff. But he does know them – his mother, at least. And she was sick. The memory is what’s making him so sad, and it’s yet another thing that the hospital can’t help.

You don’t want him to be sad. You did make him your friend, after all, even if he does annoy you sometimes.

“I’m sorry,” you say, standing awkwardly with his notebook still in your possession. You remember what Miss Jaylee has told other patients before. “That, um, must have been really hard for you.”

Sanji squeezes his pillow more tightly.

Should you go? Should you talk to him some more?

“Please don’t tell anybody,” he whispers before you can decide. “Especially Zeff.”

“I won’t,” you reply firmly. “I said I wouldn’t, didn’t I?”

“I’m sorry I can’t hang out today. I really wanted to, but, um …”

“It’s okay. We can do it later.”

“Okay.”

You set his notebook and a pen on the bedside table. After some thought, you refill his water and, after even more hesitation, fix the bed sheets on him a bit so they’re not as twisted up. That is the best you can do.

The red string follows you as you quietly leave Room 8, and you don’t think about it at all.

—

“How do you spell necessary?”

“N-E-S-E-S-A-R-Y.”

“That doesn’t look right. I think it’s S-S-A-R-Y.”

“Maybe you can find it in the book,” Sanji suggests, kicking his feet as he lies on his belly next to you.

“Yeah, maybe.” You flip through the pages of your textbook, searching for the correct spelling lest you get marked off again.

It is the tenth day. Sanji is doing alright, and Zeff is up and about with his new leg. Dr. Gu says they’re good to go, so they’re leaving after Zeff finishes breakfast. You’re not sure how to feel about it.

In the meantime, Sanji is helping you with your essay about scurvy. He knows quite a bit about it, which makes sense since he’s lived at sea, and you hope the perspective he’s supplying will impress Dr. Gu.

(“That’s why every ship needs a good cook,” he tells you proudly. “We make sure everyone eats right so they stay healthy.”

“That’s why you and Mr. Zeff are going to have a restaurant ship, right?”

“Mmhm.”)

Sanji rests his face in his hands, cheeks squished against his palms while you continue to scan through your textbook. You finally find the word in a photo caption and, with a triumphant noise, jot it down correctly.

Someone knocks on your door. The two of you turn to face it simultaneously.

“[Y/n]?” It’s Mrs. Guo.

“Yeah?” you call, already slightly irritated.

“Is Sanji there? It’s time for him to leave.”

A frown presses down on your lips. Sanji sighs and gets up as slowly as possible, taking his notebook with him.

“Coming,” he says.

The two of you dawdle on your way to the hospital entrance. You pet Cabby the dog when you run into him and his handler and stop by the kitchen so Sanji can thank the cooks. There’s no rush, not really, but an uneasy feeling continues to well up in your stomach anyway.

Upon arriving at your destination, Zeff waiting at the double doors with a giant bag of treasure slung over his shoulder, Sanji stops and turns to face you.

“I’m – I’m going now,” he says, as if just realizing it.

“Okay,” you say.

You and Sanji stand in silence for a moment before Sanji’s bottom lip starts to wobble.

Yours starts to wobble too. The uneasy feeling in your stomach bubbles up into your throat and behind your eyes.

“I’ll write you,” he blurts, voice cracking. “You’ll come visit, won’t you?”

“I don’t know.” You don’t know if they’ll let you. The hospital is busy and the ocean is big, bigger than you, and you don’t know it at all like Zeff and Sanji do. “But I’ll write back.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You are crying now.

For the first time, your arms wrap around Sanji, and he clings back as both of you bawl. Your tears and snot stain the shoulder of his brand-new clothes. Your uniform grows damp at the collar. It doesn’t matter at all.

“I don’t know if I’ll see you again,” you croak into his shirt, face hot and eyes blurry.

His grip tightens. “You will,” Sanji replies in between sniffles. “I know it. Even if it’s when we’re really old, we’ll see each other again.”

“Okay.”

You believe him. Not because of fate, but because you want to.

—

You write to each other every single week for the next ten years. You tell each other everything.

Well, almost everything.

—

“You seem nervous,” Nami says. “Don’t tell me a little bribery got under your skin?”

“No, no.” You wipe your hands on your thighs and try to relax against the back of the booth. “Just … not used to places like this, that’s all.”

The Baratie is nicer than you imagined. Sanji had kept you up to date over the years, sending newspaper clippings and recipe drafts as the restaurant he and Zeff founded grew in staff members and reputation, but seeing it in person is a whole different deal. You’re telling the truth when you said you’re not used to a place like this.

But it’s not why you’re nervous.

“Hey, look!” Usopp exclaims, pointing across the room. “I think those guys are gonna fight.”

The rest of you look. Near the kitchen, two men are arguing, and the pink-haired man sitting at the table stands up when the pirate shoves his food onto the floor.

Usopp sucks his teeth. “Yikes.”

Luffy leans forward in interest. Zoro simply stares, and Nami rolls her eyes.

One of the waiters approaches them. You watch as he tries to deescalate the situation, but neither party is having it.

The pink-haired man draws a gun.

Within seconds, the gun and both would-be brawlers are on the floor.

The waiter shoves his foot into the pink-haired man’s back to keep him down, then picks up the plate of bread rolls again, stepping over both groaning bodies with the ease of one who’s done it before.

He reassures the other customers as he approaches your booth. You’re not concerned about the fight so much as you are about the way that you know.

It’s been ten years, but you just know, even before he gets close enough for you to see the red string that trails up and disappears into the black of his pants pocket. Even before you see the blue of his eyes and the annoyed set of his brow, exactly the same as you remember.

He places the rolls down onto the table, and for the first time, you wonder what you want.

“Hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambience is the food. My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?”

#aesthetic words prompt list #opla #one piece #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #opla sanji #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #fem!reader #soulmate au #woefully inaccurate portrayal of patient treatment and progression of recovery i'm sorry #usually i'd be more of a stickler but this is one piece where people don't die after 85 days eating nothing but their own leg #zeff and sanji definitely aren't ur typical patients anyway even in the opla universe lol

[jellyfishandry]

W/ a drop-dead gorgeous s/o

(^ From this post)

Characters: Shota Aizawa, Toshinori Yagi

CW: gn or fem reader, reader is described as sweet + other things, you're married to Shota cause I said so, insecurities, slight Toshi angst, giving them flowers, uhh lmk if I missed anything

A/N: This kind of thing is like my favorite thing to write. Also I couldn't resist adding a ship dynamic picture for Toshi's. (Tags: @nnnyxie, @bingewatchintilldawn)

Shota Aizawa

No one knows how he managed to catch your attention. He had a messy appearance, and he could be harsh at times. But you were absolutely stunning. Not to mention you were incredibly polite and sweet. The first time you met his class, almost everyone was shocked. You had probably brought him flowers after the USJ attack to hopefully cheer him up. Just about everyone knew he was married, as he wore a ring, but they did not expect someone so utterly gorgeous and kind to be his partner Hizashi and Nemuri were the only ones you had met, as they had gone to your guys' wedding. But his students are a bit flabbergasted, and are mainly the ones who don’t understand why you married him. But it doesn’t mean they don’t like you, in fact, they love it when you drop by. Mainly because you’re just nice, but also because Shota relaxes more around you, and they have a lower chance of being scolded…  Or higher, depending on how you look at it But Shota is very thankful that you don’t mind the way he looks.  He was initially surprised when he found out you liked him, but he quickly accepted it. Though he will admit he was slightly skeptical at first, wondering if you had an ulterior motive. But you truly just loved him for who he was. And he did eventually understand that you just had pure, innocent intentions.

Toshinori Yagi

He himself has no idea how he pulled you. He doesn’t have a great self image, so he doesn’t understand why you of all people would be interested in him. At the start of your relationship (also when he was crushing) he could barely breathe around you. And early in your relationship people warned him that you might be using him, or something like that, and using your attractiveness to your advantage. He tells them that he knows you would never do that, and he’s correct. It just might take some time for other people to see that. But as your relationship progressed, he became less flustered around you. He’ll occasionally have doubts, and say stuff like “You should be dating someone who still has their life ahead of them.” He was at the point where he was having a hard time comprehending how he could keep living without saving people But you reassure him that he’s the one you want, and that nothing is going to change that After he fought AFO, you brought him some flowers to put on his desk. But you wanted to surprise him, so you didn’t tell him you were coming So when you’re directed to the teachers lounge, there’s some awkward silence before he stands up and goes towards you. “You brought me flowers.?”  He seriously didn’t expect you to get him anything, much less a bouquet of flowers  He’s very grateful for the flowers, and he’ll keep them and then press them when they dry out (they’re sunflowers.) He wants to kiss you, but he feels that doing it in front of the other staff members (specifically Present Mic) wouldn’t be the best idea. And out of the students, Izuku is the first to find out, as he’s known Toshinori the longest.  You probably end up calling him when he’s training him, and Izuku is able to tell reasonably quickly that whoever he’s talking to is very special to him. But he ends up meeting you when the other students do.  And when you are introduced to them, you both receive a lot of questions. But in the end everyone likes having you around, and Toshinori is thankful for you and loves you very much.

This is the vibe you and Toshi give off

(The tweet is not mine)

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#rys writing 👾 #this definitely didn't take me most of the day to write #toshi <3 #mha #all might #toshinori yagi #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #toshi #toshinori yagi x reader #yagi toshinori #toshinori x reader #all might x you #all might mha #all might x reader #bnha aizawa #shota aizawa #aizawa sensei #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta

[geekforhorror]

okay so i just remembered this deleted scene from rots and you CANNOT tell me that anakin wasn’t in for it when he got home and got punished by the dominant miss amidala herself!

#I MEAN COME ON #the glare she gives him proves it #and the pout? #OH MY GOD. #sub sub sub! #bro definitely got pegged and dommed #say what?! #i need to be stopped #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #star wars #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars fanfiction #anakin star wars #star wars fandom #padme amidala

[writtenbymoonflower]

Mean Messages

Your family is mean to you and Remus is protective. blunt!remus x shy!reader, fem!reader, somewhat modern au

cw: mentions of toxic family/verbal abuse. A few swear words, self deprecating thoughts.

1.3k words

He hadn’t meant to see the text, honestly. He was just borrowing your phone to look something up when the text had flashed across the screen. 

At first he was confused, forgetting it wasn’t his phone he was holding, wondering if he had changed his parents name in his phone to a different honorific than usual and forgotten. Secondly, the content of the message confused him. It was aggressive, surprisingly cruel, and downright insulting. 

Then his confusion morphed into upset, when he realized it was you who was receiving the text. It was somehow more offensive knowing that someone was talking to his girl like that. His heart flared and ached to know that his sensitive dove had to read things like this, especially when you cared so much what family thought and how all you wanted was for them to love you. He didn’t know how to respond. 

Part of him wanted to answer the text himself and give your family member a piece of his mind. Another wanted to delete the message so you would never have to read such mean words. Most of all he wanted to tuck you into his chest and keep you away from all the bad things that could hurt you. He didn’t have time to settle on a response before you came back into the room. 

“Hey Rem, can I see my phone? I think Marlene was going to send me something funny she saw.” You pressed a kiss to his fluffy, mousey brown hair before reaching for the device. Remus just handed the phone over, deciding it was best to just let you read the text so he could be there when it makes you sad. You held the phone, still smiling brightly as you pulled up your messages from Marlene. You giggled as you looked at the video she had sent. Then, he saw a few more taps of your fingers before your face fell. 

“I think someone else messaged you too, I saw a text flash up while I was searching for that thing.” He could see the panic flash in your eyes at the thought that he had seen the text.

“Did you read it?” You asked nervously, looking down at your socked feet. Remus decided to just put you out of your misery and talk about it. You didn’t always let him into your mind as much as he would like, maybe he could start to change that by taking the lead. 

“Yeah dovey, I did.” He gave you a sad smile, emotion swimming in his honey colored eyes. 

“Oh…” You trailed off. You didn’t know what to think. A small part of you was happy, as much at it ashamed you. Happy that he had this peek into your pain that you didn’t have to go through actually telling him. That maybe he could fix it and you wouldn’t even have to ask. But mostly you were worried. Worried about him asking questions and aggravating recently scabbed wounds by talking about it. You also worried about his opinions on the sender. Sure, you had your own issues with your family, but it seemed like when other people found out what your family was like they said all these scary things. They would mention words like toxic, cruel, unhealthy, manipulative.

Sure, those words sounded right. It made sense in your brain. Part of you even felt relieved when other people took issue with your family, like they were affirming all the pain and tears shed over their words and actions.

But the little “what if?” in your brain told you that maybe your family was right. Maybe you’ve tricked yourself and everyone around you into thinking you’re good. 

What if Remus read the message and agreed? 

What if he is about to tell you that all the things your family says about you are true. That you’ll never be good enough, that you’re a disappointment to everyone around you. You’re a burden on everyone and-

“I can hear your mind going a mile a minute, sweet thing.” He was looking at you with all the tenderness in the world. Remus thought you looked like a kicked puppy, all sad and reserved. He was trying to keep calm but his anger was brewing. No one had the right to talk to his girl like that.

He beckoned you over to sit on the couch next to him “What made them say that to you?” He asked gently. 

“I don’t even know anymore. We were just talking and then it turned.” You stared down at the phone in your hands, eyes scanning the text over and over again. 

“Well, my opinion biased by you being my girlfriend,” He smiled at you, leaning down to meet your eye line. “But, I think that if they can’t get their feelings across without being horrible to you, then maybe you shouldn’t take their feelings to heart, yeah?” He continued to scan your face, looking for emotion. 

“Maybe.” You acknowledged his sweetness a little, though only for his benefit. Either way, he seemed happy at that. “But they do love me, you know? At least they say they do. And they’ve known me my whole life. It’s at least true to them.”

“Maybe.” Remus forced out, barely even wanting to entertain the thought that the rude message had any basis in reality. “But maybe they don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about. Or it’s easier to blame their shit on you than to do the work themselves.” He said the whole response in an even tone but the bluntness caught you off guard. Your eyes widened in shock. 

“Remus, it’s not that simple. They wouldn’t be so upset if I didn’t do something.” You tried to keep your voice from quivering, still doing everything in your power to not keep his gaze. 

“Maybe you did do something. But who’s to say it was wrong? Really think to yourself. Dovey, when you think of nice people, people you want to be, is it them? Would you send a message like that to someone? Someone who just wants to show you love? Because I know that’s all you want. You’re always trying to appease them and do right by your family. But you can’t spend your life begging for love from people who don’t have any to give. You aren’t responsible for them not being able to love healthily.” 

Something in his words made you start to break down. Your face scrunched up awfully and your throat was clogged with emotion. Remus wasted no time pulling you into his side. 

“Just because they’re related to you doesn’t mean they get to treat you like that. Sometimes, when someone speaks to you like that, it says far more about them than it does about you. I think-” He paused, searching for the right words. “I think, from what you’ve told me, they have a lot of pain. And I think that they need a way to feel better, a way to feel big, and they don’t know how to without making someone feel worse. I’m sorry they’re taking it out on you, baby. You don’t deserve that.” He punctuated his point by pressing kisses all over the top of your head. You breathed out shakily. 

“Thank you.” You whispered. If Remus wasn’t so close he might not have heard it. 

“You don’t have to thank me, sweet girl.” He was being extra mushy with you today, you could tell. It was funny, his sweetness felt so foreign. Almost unsettling. Though in the time you’ve been dating you’ve grown used to his small signs of affection, Remus could tell that you hadn’t grown up with many kind people, so he went out of his norm to be as adoring as you deserved in his mind. 

“You’re being very sweet considering how blunt you were a few seconds ago.” You chuckled wetly. 

“It’s the duality of manhood, dovey. And besides, I’m only this sweet on people who deserve it.” He pulled your cheek to his curled up lips so he could cover more sweetness over the side of your face. You could both worry about the text later, he needed to chase out all the nasty thoughts first.

#remus lupin #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #marauders fanfiction #marauders #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #remus lupin fanfiction #remus oneshot #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin hurt/comfort #drabble #fluff #hurt/comfort #matilda harry styles #I’m definitely reflecting at this point

[television-overload]

(reblog for sample size, yadda yadda yadda)

#fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic authors #fanfic readers #fandom #ao3 #im just curious whether this has any sway at all over engagement #like maybe if i shut up more people would comment or something lol #this is so scientific and clearly a definitive answer

[tervaneula]

some boys do lay eggs by katterv

Leonardo is just about to fall asleep when the weight of a body thuds against the side of his bed, startling him awake, but not awake enough to shake him out of the heaviness of near slumber. “Whassit,” he mumbles, sticking his hand out from his blankets and feeling about until his fingers touch the edge of a hard shell. Ah, he recognises the shape – it’s Leo. “...are we boys?” 

This fic is way overdue to have as a part of written NQK canon but it's finally here (and filled with comfort) 💓

#not sure where this places on the timeline but it's definitely before the romance spinoff #sob i love my boys #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt fanfiction #nqk #nqk adjacent #trans leonardo #rise leo #future leo #rottmnt leonardo #peepaw leo #tervdraws #tervdrabbles #fic: some boys do lay eggs

[littlecrittereli]

Reprogrammed AU Minicomic

Whoever set off that villain alarm better be prepared to get the most brutal Wild Kratts intervention

#wild kratts #reprogrammed au #wk reprogrammed au #chris kratt #martin kratt #wild kratts fanart #technically not spoilers because theres no guarantee this exact scene will happen in the fanfiction #but i thought it was silly #so i wanted to draw it anyways #Aviva proceeds to disassemble the entire alarm system out of rage with a paperclip #they are seriously considering knocking Chris out with a frying pan #mostly kidding.... but it's definitely crossed their minds at least once #Martin's look of “If you wake him I'm going to either kill you or break down crying” #is very reminiscent of a new parent who hasn't had a proper rest in a month and finally put their kid to sleep

[escelia]

Danny is Clark's nephew and is staying over for the weekend but "doesn't know" about the whole superhero thing. Jon is under strict orders not to out their powers to cousin Danny while he's over.

Jon accidentally tearing the door off the frame when he enters the room: 😨

Danny, just chilling on the ceiling: 😨

Danny: I won't tell if you don't.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #fanfiction #superfam #jon probably most definitely told damian about it later

[tootiecakes234]

You ask Katsuki if he’d love you if you were a worm.

“No, I’d use you as bait and catch a fish to cook up. That way you can go out being useful”

“I want a divorce”

“We aren’t married and even if we were… no”

Don’t ask this man hypotheticals unless you want your feelings hurt🥴

#imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou drabble #drabble #he might not realize but you guys are definitely married in my head #katsuki bakugo mha #mha fanfiction #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki

[strawhbrrries]

domestic frank seeing his girl after she’s just come back from a girls night out and she’s a little tipsy and giggly rambling about how much she loves him and how happy she is with him whilst he’s trying to help her get ready for bed :’)

screaming and crying and throwing up, im so glad someone else had these thoughts <3 lots of sweet frankie under the cut!!!!

You weren’t sure who called him or when he showed up, but god he smelled good. He big, strong arms supporting about ninety percent of your weight as he walked the two of you from the car and into the house.

“Frankie!! You smell so good.” Your words were soon followed by a hiccup and some other things neither of you could quite understand.

“C’mon baby, in the house.” Is all he responded, lifting you up the stairs of the porch and avoiding any falling that may have occurred if he let you climb them yourself.

He took your purse and any other accessory he could find and set it on the kitchen counter, grabbing a glass of water and a small snack to help counter, what he was sure was, an empty stomach.

“Missed you so much.” You slurred, clumsily taking off your shoes and smiling up at him proudly when you didn’t fall in the process.

“I missed you too, come drink this water for me, okay?” Frank motioned for you to come over, the space between you and the island counter wasn’t that far so he trusted you enough to make it over there.

“M’kay.”

He stood there and watched you drink the entire glass and eat the entire snack he set out, making sure you swallowed it all and didn’t choke, he felt like a father. He loved you too much to risk you choking on a fucking cracker because you forgot how to swallow, in your inebriated state.

When he had gotten the phone call from you about how much you loved him and how glad you were to have him, he knew it was time to pick you up. He knew how much you loved girls night but at some point, your old man, had enough and wanted you back.

“Let’s go get changed for bed, you need to take your meds too.” He grabbed your hand softly and led you to the bedroom, yet again supporting most of your weight but he didn’t mind.

“Can we have sex?” You blurted out, slapping your hand over your mouth and bursting into a fit of giggles. “That was supposed to stay in my head.”

He smiled softly at you and sat you down on the bed, placing a kiss on your forehead before changing you into your pajamas for the night. He disappears momentarily before coming back with a paper cup of water and your nightly meds, taking the cup away once you had taken the meds.

“C’mere funny girl, let’s rest.” He climbed into the bed and pulled you into his chest, rubbing your arm softly as a way to coax you into sleeping.

#asks 🫶🏼 #he definitely is so patient with hungover reader #frank castle #jon bernthal #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #the punisher #frank castle smut #frank castle fluff #frank castle fic #frank castle oneshot #frank castle headcanons #frank castle imagine #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher fic #the punisher smut #the punisher fanfiction #jon bernthal x you #jon bernthal fluff #jon bernthal x reader #jon bernthal imagine #jon bernthal smut

[smuttyaf]

The Ultimatum

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩.

wc; 14.2k | fifth part to the business

i can’t express how much i appreciate the love i’ve been getting from the series! so because of that, i decided to combine two parts together for this post (teehee) that means extra manipulative!h & extra smut. i hope you all enjoy!

tw: gaslighting, coercion, degradation, tad bit of edging, and bdsm. don’t read if it makes you uncomfy!!

Is it conceited for you to embrace the stares that wander over your appearance?

Men fit in muted suits and twinkling time pieces, letting their adventurous eyes drink in every stride of you entering the lively scenery. Cleavage bouncing with each step held by the floral stitched dress gracing your body in all the right places; slit down one side to reveal your smooth legs and expensive heels.

The warmth of Harry’s hand nestled along your waist has greedy eyes stab jealous daggers with each passing movement in the room. You can’t help the smirk that tugs along your lips. Even if all these men's eyes are set on you, Harry is the one who loves your look the most just as much as you love all his strategic ways.

The familiar scent of his cologne relaxes every nerve from being around his magnetic presence. He moves through the room with grace, head bowing every few moments acknowledging acquaintances and colleagues. Every stretch of skin over Harry drips class and elegance, from his styled curls to Saint Laurent suit, all you can do is admire him.

He clears his throat to draw your attention to him, peeling your chair open with eyes twinkling as you take your seat and let him position you better along the table.

Your gaze surveys the group of men before you, stern faces with loose smirks, it has knots tightening in your stomach. Harry's body rumbles next to you, turning your focus to him with a timid smile, your shy expression has his eye dropping into a wink, hands clasping together looking towards the men.

“Finally! He shows up!”

The circle breaks into laughter, you join in faintly at the sound. There’s a dealer set in the middle of the table continuing to shuffle the deck while distant chatter still fills your ears. Shoulders relax against the cushions of the stool, fingers curving over your pouch as your tongue runs along your bottom lip.

“C’mon, you know this city and it’s shit traffic,” Harry counters, fixing his cuff links while his feet rustle against the chair legs.

“If that’s what you want to call it.” Sneaky grin shining from the man parallel to you who stares at Harry.

The undertone of his comment sends blood to course furiously, cheeks beginning to warm as you sit up straighter in your chair, eyes trailing to the poker chips littering the table in different colours. It distracts the sound of Harry kissing his teeth with his hands drumming against the cushions of the decorative spread.

“Enough, are we playing or what?” He avoids, eyebrows peering up at the ginger employee shuffling the deck of cards.

“I’ll go for another round, how bout’ you Gio?” Bald man with tattoos all over his scalp looks towards the man at the end of the table.

He shrugs in return, his hand raising up for a waitress to trail towards the group. A bouncy brunette appears as Gio looks around the table.

“Marcallan for the men… and you darling, what would you like?” Nervous smile spreads on your lips from being addressed. Finger reaching behind your ear to tuck hair away, sight flicking between Harry and his friend.

“Anything from the Château line, please.” Smiling at him and the waitress, Gio runs his tongue over his teeth as he nods his head.

“And that wine for the lady, thank you dear.” Hand going into his breast pocket, pulling bills out and gracing it to her.

Your eyes turn back towards Harry, he nods his head towards Gio, appreciation caught in their gaze before they’re looking towards cards flying across the table for their own deck.

“I’m feeling lucky tonight,” Harry cracks, arms slinging along the spread with a charming smile looking over his group of friends.

“I wouldn’t speak so soon,” Slim man with long nose twirls his empty glass of ice cubes, cheery grin spread along his features.

“Yeah, so far Johnny is leading this,” Deep voice of the pudgy man next to Harry laughs. It barks in grunting breaths with his face going red. Your view on your boyfriend whose expression reads disdain.

The snicker next to you breaks your attention. Short black hair gelled with hazel eyes dancing in the light, his smirk is sinister being satisfied with his winning streak. Gaze catches with yours, looking over your features with his tongue peeking out and running across his lip. The exchange stirs your sight to Harry, nails curling into the leather of your bag swallowing heavily.

You didn’t know what to expect when Harry invited you to this fundraiser for the evening, but this definitely wasn’t it.

Italian accents and expensive apparel hold your vision when you look around the table. Whether silver and gold shine off their bodies, every peek of their appearance radiates money. All men are groomed and styled with sophistication that adds to the ambiance of the room.

Voluminous jewels hang off the chandelier, waiters walk around holding trays of food or flutes of champagne, guests roaming amongst the floor carrying the flow of the party. The scene is one of glitz and glamor; sparkling liquor, upbeat band, and everyone dressed to the nines.

It’s a beautiful sight of the finer things in life, women flashing their magnificent accessories while men flaunt their luxurious suits and polished dress shoes. A breathless sigh slips past your lips with spine flexing recognizing people from local television.

Despite working at Jasper’s and always encountering famous men, you never got used to them being in your presence. Even if it was dancing for them, the fact you either grew up watching them on the big screen or just reading about them in the weekly news, it still surprises you how you’re able to surround yourself with popular figures.

“Gonna introduce us to your friend here?” Voice beside yourself questions. It rings your ears as your focus remains on the green table.

“Right? Styles, where are your manners?” Teasing tone adding into the space. The attention being on you stirs your heart to pick up in pace, shaky fingers and fluttering lashes look back up at the group.

“This is Y/N, my girlfriend,” Harry's hand finds itself on your naked thigh, sight looking over your timid frame as he smoothes it down the expanse while all the men study your appearance. “So don’t stare too long.”

The night unfolds with drinks flowing and locker room chatter, nasty jokes with suggestive winks leave the poker table a roaring mess. Amused hands clapping at men winning more money or spilling humor. Your once darting eyes and racing heart calms down, acknowledging every word spoken and laughing at every dirty pun. It’s relieving how funny and easy-going the group of his friends are, they carry you into conversations and even get you to join the game.

With the alcohol running through your system it has the hours spent at the party go by in a breeze. Harry’s touch nestles itself by your side, view checking on you enjoying yourself. His reassuring touch and attentive demeanor increases the affection between you, it has you smiling at him genuinely throughout the party appreciating him.

But beside those nurturing moments, you learn in the hours spent over colourful chips and liquor more about the men Harry involves himself with. What you grasp from their innuendos are gruesome jokes about beating someone to the bone or how pleasing it is to see their oppositions dead. Your heart swells with sadness, not only that they find it funny but that Harry was laughing along. It wasn’t amusing to you as it was to him.

That would be the moment you drown out the truth and toss back the rest of your wine, and by the time the glass touches the coaster Harry orders another, pleased you’re compliant with the conversation. Deflecting gaze and clenching heart wanders amongst the mingling people and jazz band. It’s in your tispy state you notice luring eyes of women set on Harry, drinking him in with all his glory that it sends a surge of jealousy through you. Fingers tighten around his as your sight focuses back on him, glossy eyes and straight teeth shine with ignorance about the brutal truth of the relationship.

By the time you’re on your fourth glass, the group settles into calm crackles of past memories; whether it’s about stumbling upon a glory hole or reminiscing about life back in Italy, it subsides your slow pacing heart from the previous conversation.

“So I’m tired right, I got blood gushing from my head and I just busted my ass four blocks to get to Harry’s. I barge into his place, he’s there with Kenzo and Charlie watching sports, you know how this man is always watching sports right!” You giggle in amusement invested with the story.

“And I tell him; I need your help, I can’t tell you what it is, you can never ask me about it later, and we’re gonna hurt some people, and Harry, completely unfazed as ever goes, whose car are we taking?” The group erupts in laughter, as the man you learn to be Mateo, recounts his story.

Harry laughs with nails scratching against your skin, the view of him soothes yourself with warmth adoring him. Curls in waves combine with his amused laughter, skin folding by his eyes completely entertained with the story. The rowdy laughter carries on until there’s someone patting on his shoulder, salt and pepper roots with thick beard catching your sight.

“Styles! Nice to see you!”

Your jaw immediately tenses, nose wrinkles and cheeks blossom under the lights. Teeth clench down on each other as your heart begins to burn, this certainly wasn’t someone you expected to see tonight. Christian Bale in front of you and shaking Harry’s hand as if…

“Christian!” Harry cheers, going to greet him. At the same time his grip tightens around your knee your fingers trail towards your mouth, teeth nibbling on your nail with nerves raking through.

It’s in your movement that your familiar client catches your eyes, flash of surprise crossing his features before a pleased smile spreads.

“Where are you going? Stay for a game,” Harry chimes, hand gesturing to the poker table. The fact he’s even proposing that causes your fingers to curl into his anxiously.

The gesture is noticeable to him with gaze surveying your nervous appearance, before looking back to Christian who shakes his head.

“No, no, I was just on my way out.” Nodding towards the exit doors. Decline of the offer has Harry bow his head in acknowledgment, straightening up in his chair. “It was nice to see you before our meeting.”

“Likewise, get home safe.” Harry concludes the conversation with a genuine smile.

You’re extremely grateful that he passes up on the offer as he leaves towards the exit. Shallow breaths course through, searching eyes watch with teeth tearing away from acrylic, you draw your hand down and share a passive smile.

If you could wipe the sweat that trickles down your temple as if an sitcom, you would. Your heart never stops its thundering beats, discovering your boyfriend and regular client being friends? Colleagues? Whatever it is, it doesn’t sever the ache that grows in your chest.

“I think we should call it a night too,” Harry wonders, head twisting to look at you with a charming smile. “How does that sound?”

With the amount of liquor in your system and having witness that scene before you, the need to feel your blankets and its comforting material is one you pleasantly desire. The ends of your lips twist upwards as you nod.

So, a few minutes after Harry orders the valet  for his Porsche you both bid the group farewells. Each man stands shaking Harry’s hand while they bring you in for a hug, respectable actions that leave you fond of the gesture.

The drive back to his penthouse is small talk about how the night went and if you enjoyed yourself. In the quiet space, your sight is caught on the moving buildings passing by in blurs, mind stuck on Mr. Bale while your voice conceals the uneasiness coursing through.

Christian has been your client for two years now, you see him every other week if he’s not on vacation or filming. Despite him being your regular, there is a cordial connection between you both; times he will confess to you problems in his life after too many drinks, or respecting your decision to not push the boundaries of your work position. Even though there’s a non-disclosure agreement binding the both of you, should you tell Harry your relationship with him?

The thoughts brewing are ones that have your back ruffling against the leather seats. How many of your other clients are connected to Harry? You’re so dizzy from the alcohol in your system, you can’t recall if you glazed over any at the party. But it doesn’t even matter in the end, you’re in distress regardless, the possibility of your clients having connections with him but don’t know who you belong to as they watch you dance. A shiver of guilt courses through.

By the time you get home, Harry and you undress and slip between the arms of each other, and by the time he’s completely wrapped up in you, you forget the man that races your mind. In the morning, Harry is already out the door leaving you to wander around his penthouse all afternoon before heading to your own home, caring for Cleo until it’s time to get ready for work.

Your week goes back to what it regularly is; upkeep of your appearance, different decorative robe, and withering under Harry’s touch. It completely slips your mind about your encounter with Christian, going about your life smiling at the postman from another bouquet or spending your time lodging around Harry’s living room until he gets home.

It’s another one of those days, legs crossed over each other with a magazine in your lap. Eyes drifting over the newest pieces in the Fendi collection while The Real Housewives drags along in the background. The chime of the elevator rings in the space notifying you of Harry’s arrival.

His dress shoes echo heavily amongst the polish floor as they cross the room, the severe sound of his paste has your head trialing up from the glossy booklet.

“Hi baby,” Cheerful voice greeting him, your eyes watch him make his way towards the bar.

Harry decides to ignore you with lips flat and jaw tensing. It’s when seeing the sight of him that you swallow heavily, and when glasses smash against the counter top it makes sweat begin to crease in your palms.

“Is everything okay?” Are your next words, nails curling into the shiny paper as you continue to watch him. He walks across the room, same hash footsteps that halt with his body sitting next to you.

Teeth bite down into your bottom lip as you continue to roam over Harry’s features, it reeks pure anger. Your heart pounding in your chest with toes curling in on themselves trying to control the stress overtaking you.

Maybe it’s another bad day at work? Maybe Johnny pissed him off like he always does? Maybe his anger isn’t directed towards you? So, with that glimmer of thought, your hand stretches out to place the magazine on his lap. Nervous smile peeking through as you look towards him.

“Isn’t this coat beautiful, I wonder if they have it in store?” You suggest, gaze catching between his forest eyes and the brown fur coat embroidered with the Fendi logo.

Harry looks towards the magazine, sight roaming over the image before his hand is closing the book and slapping it onto the center table. The ringing of the glass rattles every vein pulsing through. His actions focus your attention with tears beginning to swell.

He stares at the flowers adorning the surface, hand raising the glass to his lips as he swallows back whisky. The tension in the room is thick and uncomfortable, the expression written over his face is one you’ve never witnessed before. It’s why your nails curl into your pantyhose already leaving faint tears.

Harry clears his throat when pulling the drink away from his lips, tongue peeking out to wet flesh just as his eyes lock with you. Connection holding an eerie exchange that has your mouth run dry.

“You know when you joined me for the party Sunday night, I wondered what made you so flustered when Christrian introduced himself.” The mention of your client has your throat squeeze, tears now stinging your vision.

“Still, I thought nothing of it. He has his fame with his movies, his starlight, whatever… you see I thought that was the reason but no, no, no, that wasn’t why you got flustered, now is it?” Your chest now rises quickly with each breath.

Harry’s mad, screw that, mad is not even the word; he’s vexed, furious, absolutely outraged with eyes wide and each word coming out in an angry spew. The sight is haunting compared to the one you’re so use to.

“Since you don’t know, Christian and I are invested in the same stock, sometimes we have meetings going over bullshit graphs and other stupidness to fund. And when I thought that our usual meetings would go how they normally do, I was surprised when he brought you up.” Your skin is practically radiating more heat than the sun at the moment, you’re caught and sit in front of him in complete shock. “Asking me how I could’ve possibly been able to spend a night with you, how he’s been trying to… well, I don’t even want to say.”

“Harry I’m so sorry—”

“—Oh! So now you’re sorry, not when he smiled in my face and shook my hand?”

You’re the reason why he’s enraged and looking at you with such shame. A storm of tears pounds behind your eyes with nails now ruining your stockings, it was taking everything in you not to cry in front of him.

“Harry, I can’t say anything, I’m under contract.”

Those words have a bitter laugh floating in the air, condescending and threatening that your gaze falls towards the leather cushions. The ice cubes in his glass rattle against each other straining the atmosphere.

“Choose right now, your job or me.” Eyes go wide as they look back up at him. Your mouth wobbles as you swallow nervously.

“What?” Brows push together as your fingers unclench themselves around your knees.

“Right now, choose.” Heart pounds against your chest with thunder, tears begging to fall over your waterline as you look at him in surprise at the ultimatum.

All Harry does is stare back with his intense gaze and clenching hand. The emotions coursing through nearly make you faint, this was all too much, especially right now.

“B —Baby, Harry, I think we should just talk about this,”

“—That’s your answer.” Cutting you off with eyebrows high in question. Once again, your expression wavers with confusion and sadness. Mind still trying to process the events happening.

Your stuttering face has Harry pulling away from your presence with another amused laugh, hand slamming his glass down on the table before he’s leaning forward. The clattering objects make your body shake and tears begin to trickle from your eyes, fingers leave your legs to wipe away the sadness roaming down your cheeks.

You watch Harry begin to loosen his tie, knees raising him off the couch as he moves across the room again. His motions have you immediately following after, heels clicking behind his rushed steps trying to catch up to him.

“Get all your shit and get out!” Harry sneers, stomping up the stairs with yourself following behind in anxious beats.

His words have your heart tearing in half, cry leaving your lips as you try to ignore the water blurring your version and trailing down your skin.

“What? No!” Grabbing at Harry’s hand once reaching the landing, the gesture has his fingers jerk away from yours and continue his venture towards the bedroom.

Marching down the hall until swinging the door open, immediately going to your side of the dresser and beginning to toss your shirts and blouses across the floor, some trailing onto the bed as he empties your things.

“Stop! What are you doing!” You sob, bending to pick up the clothing and trying to shove them back in its place.

“You want to stay at Jasper’s! Fine, go ahead! But I won’t be with you anymore!” His voice booms over you, stinging words cutting deep that has another wave of tears shredding.

“I never said that!” You weep, hands trying to collect his who continues to throw your things. Actions so rushed and furious that he’s not even paying attention to your crying frame.

“It’s clear!” Harry tugs another drawer open tossing all your garments across the room.

“Well I’m not going!” Fingers catching onto the fabric in his hands that leave you both fighting over the piece.

“I don’t want you here! Get out!” Harry's voice roars over the sob that leaves your distraught frame.

You never heard Harry this way, and you’ve never seen him this angry either, and the fact he’s throwing you away as if nothing is leaving you completely broken. Every moment with him has been special since you met, and now the fucked up reveal of your secrets is shattering all that you once were. It’s stomping on your heart and playing in the smashed pieces.

You’re sure the eyeliner and mascara you put on this morning is running all over your cheeks, still your chest heaves heavy breaths as your hands trail up his arms to try and halt his movements. This is not what you want, this is the last thing you expected to happen, and it’s more devastating that it’s unfolding like this.

“H —Harry, please, just stop, you can’t mean this.” Soft voice wavering as you tug on his blazer, nails digging into his skin roughly to get attention.

And it does, his sight cold and jaw clenching from the view of your appearance. The draw down your frame looks as if he’s ashamed, like he doesn’t even want to look at you right now. It’s the sight that makes you want to apologize over and over again.

“How is she in bed? Is she as sweet as I imagine?”

Crack lips part, lashes fluttering with brows drawing together; all your features resemble pure shock at the reiteration of Christian’s words. Now you stand in this room that once held such love and affection be swallowed by heartbreak. Chanel, Prada, Armani, gifts that Harry presented for your own space in his life; they now grace the floor as if a memory long forgotten.

“She always told me she never does those things, kinda’ offended she didn’t reveal to me her added profession.”

Olive eyes shine with distaste looking at your withering appearance. Jaw tensing and fingers still clenching around your shirt. Another shaky breath courses through, examining eyes and twitching mouth not knowing what to say.

“You don’t know how badly I wanted to beat the livin’ shit out of him. The way he describes you, talks about you. I had to bite my tongue hearing everything.” Nails relax against his arms with your lips pressing tightly together. “I’m disgusted.”

His words aim to bruise, leaving sadness to blossom in the hollows of your heart. Everything is falling apart right in front of your eyes and all you can do is let tears continue to run. Why didn’t you tell him? Why didn’t you say something?

“So choose, Jasper’s or me.”

“You.”

Nodding up at him, the ends of your mouth tug into a timid smile with your hands drawing down to cradle his fingers. His nostrils flare still angry, still completely furious.

The answer doesn’t ease the tension in the room, instead it heightens your decision, the one you should’ve said before fumbling over your words. Shining rays of light pass through the window, brightness gracing over the clothes flung across the space amidst the battlefield of sadness and rage.

“I —I choose you, I’ll leave Jasper’s, I —I’m sorry.” Fingers encasing around his as you step deeper into his presence. Harry retreats into the dresser, chest flexing with grip contracting around the shirt in hand.

Cold eyes don’t break sight over your sniffling appearance. Intimidation radiates from his towering posture that cradles your worried frame. Even fully clothed, Harry eyes undress every vulnerable twitch that courses through, lashes batting up at him heartbroken and needy, always so needy.

“You quit tomorrow.” He demands, hands dropping the garment and gripping the underside of your arm. “You’ll move out of your apartment, stay with me and be my good little doll. Is that clear?” Now it’s your turn for your body to tense. Tear stained cheeks and paint smeared eyes bow under Harry’s gaze.

“Now I don’t want this happening again. I shouldn’t have to do this to show you what you really want.”

His grip over your arm has you stumbling backwards towards the bed, knees cushioning your seated position as Harry’s other hand goes towards your neck, holding your gaze as he looks over you.

The room captures two lovers; one manipulative with his calculating actions, while the other is victim to the love prayed over with affection and money. His behavior is overseen by your emotions so easily embraced by him. It’s why you stare at him in virtue despite everything that has transpired in your life already, the one that’s now completely devoted to Harry.

“I hate to make you cry… but you look so pretty.”

Thumb spreads over your skin as his head cranes down, lips gazing over each other as his eyes continue to examine your hesitant frame. He loves the way your breath quivers as he moves closer, body shifting against his grip as he looms over your frame in complete awe of you.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby. You know I’ll take care of you, I always do… and with Jasper’s, that place holds you back, you know that, don’t you?” Fingers shaking your head playfully with his sight still never trailing off your bitten lip and doe eyes. “You’ll love it here, keep my bed nice and warm. Won’t you, darling?”

“Yes.”

Though agreeing with everything Harry says, the feeling of your heart trying to repair itself cracks even more at the obligations being set in place. Restrictions now apply over your life to be with him. It’s scary, and alarming, and you should really catch your breath and think over everything he’s saying but you don’t, not with his hand cradling your skin and eyes drawing you in.

“No more dancing, no more clients, just me.”

Nodding your head again with deep breath releasing, your fingers curl around the material of your velvet dress. Heart paces with sorrow realizing you won’t be wrapped up in your long tulle robe, receive generous tips, or have your girl talk surrounded by vanity lights.

“If I find out about another one I’ll kill them. Swear to god I will.” Chest quivers as his words float along your face. Intense stare watching the way you swallow heavily and bow your head at him.

“I’m sorry.” Soft voice slipping past your lips as the storm behind your eyes calms down. Fingers that once ruffled against your dress rise up and close around his wrist, lashes batting up at him with a shaky smile.

“Only you, it’s only ever been you.”

Harry tightens his grip around your jaw. Sight still surveying your anxious frame, his other hand runs down your face before tucking hair away. The ends of his lips tug up at the same time he’s shaking your head playfully, again.

Just like always, his demeanor radiates satisfaction at your attention. Heart growing fond of you surrendering yourself, complying to every requirement. Harry falls more in love with the way he can control you, how you’re now his entirely. He’s happy knowing that he’ll come home to your pretty self waiting for him and ready for anything he proposes, all because you’re just that dedicated to please him.

It’s why his head lowers, lips connecting against your bitten ones. The grip over your jaw sliding down your neck, rubbing the skin roughly as tongues link together to dance. Ignorance of the heated scene passing over both of your minds while his hand tightens.

The bourbon on his tongue adds to the intoxicating sensation that runs through you whenever you taste him. It’s the type that you want passing through your own veins just loving it that much, loving him that much. Harry cares about you, isn’t it obvious? He wants what’s best for you, that’s why he’s making you leave Jasper’s and have you live with him to spend the rest of your days.

His hand curls around your neck, mouths parting as his sight goes back to examining your face. There’s still pink roaming across the hollows of your eyes, cheeks a mess of black liner, and daze still twinkling up at him.

“Show me how sorry you are.”

Darting sight looks between his smirk and preying self, knees pushing off the bed to fall to the floor with connection never breaking. His hands follow every motion of your head as it nods at him, your fingers going to his belt and immediately beginning to undo it.

Thick bulge pressed tightly against his zipper revealing how turned on he got at the heated exchange. Your hand releases him from his boxers while your other tugs the rest of his slacks down, mouth not waiting to accept him graciously. Shallow taste of salt on your tongue as it twirls around his head, eyes blinking up as you apologize in his favorite way.

Lips bubble with spit as you roam down his length, clear fluid coating him in the rush of your descent, the urgent need to display how sorry you are shows.

Your mouth parts lowering yourself around him, tongue laying flat along the underside craving out every pulsing vein beneath erect skin. The warmth of you wrapping around his cock has a relieving sigh pass through him.

“Be my perfect girl.” Fingers massaging your scalp as you continue to swallow him down. “Show me how sorry you are.”

Harry watches every bob of your head, plump lips sucking him and feeling your throat relax and accept him effortlessly. Connection shimmers with obedience as you prove to him how guilty you feel for thinking you wouldn’t choose him over anything.

Acknowledging his comments your mouth descends down his cock even further, neck contracting around his length as your nose tickles his pelvis, moan stifles against him at the way he stretches your throat. The effect of him between your lips already has your pussy throbbing, wetness beginning to coat your folds falling into his every tactic.

The hand placed on his thigh moves towards his dick, enclosing around it and gliding with every bob of your head, added pleasure being received happily as his fingers curl into your locks.

“Just like that,” Harry coos, hips thrusting into your motions as you continue swallowing him down.

Shivers of delight course through happy you’re pleasing him. It’s reassuring hearing his groan over your movements. Knees shuffling across the floor, strands of hair shifting with every dip and saliva causing his cock to glisten in the light.

It’s beautiful how it shines, mini air bubbles roaming along the nerves pulsating along your tongue. It was a sight to see, a sight you adore. It’s why your body tries to contain yourself from the sparks igniting. You’re happy to apologize to him, happy to show him that he’s the only one for you.

The expressions of pleasure slipping from Harry uplifts your spirit, you’re back on his good side, and you want to remain there. The look of disgust that once crossed his face is one you never want to see again, especially his words. You’re supposed to be his good doll, not one to lie or deceive him. That’s why you’re on your best behavior, doing anything to prove yourself.

“I’ll do anything to show you that you’re the only one I want.” Fingers tightening around his length that has him groaning from the look over your face, eyes caught on your forgiving frame that he can’t help but smirk. Palms now hold your face up in his favorite place. “You always treat me so good, I’m sorry baby.”

Hand continues to roam down his cock in twists, easily sliding with spit as your gaze doesn’t break. Needy eyes and pouty lips, it’s Harry's favorite image of you; and with your makeup all streaked down your cheeks, he wants this moment to be photographed so he can save it in his wallet to show how devoted you are to pleasing him.

His grip over you halts your movements, fingers roughly carrying your face towards him as your knees flex with gasp falling from your lips, his actions have your hands contract and draw away.

“Show me.”

The words guide your movements to reach behind your back. Nails catching on your zipper to draw it down your frame. Fitted dress falling down your body as your heels are next, toes slipping out of your pumps and touching the heated wood, and with each movement of you shredding off your panties and stockings, Harry is there watching your every move while he strokes himself.

The soft skin of your curves sit on display for him to admire. Swelling breasts so perfect and round, thighs so deliciously smooth and begging to be in his hold. God, Harry is in love with you. Every vulnerable inch of yourself is exposed for his greedy eyes. It’s why he begins undressing himself; dress shoes kicking off, slacks joining the mess on the floor, and every button of his dress shirt revealing inked skin under your gaze.

“Turn around.”

Following his command, you do. Eyes staring at all your clothes thrown over the space, nails drawing down your thighs eagerly as you hear ruffling behind you.

“Get on the bed, face down.”

Legs bend, knees ruffling against the sheets while your spine curves in. The side of your face is comforted by your slick blouse as your hands reach out in front of you, fingers curling around loose garments with your pussy set on display.

Harry’s steps shift amongst the floor, palm sliding to your lower back shoving you deeper into the bed as the head of his cock drags down your creamy folds.

“Look so pretty like this baby.” Dick pushing past your lips and spreading you wide. Your mouth hangs open, a satisfied moan trailing into the air of Harry stretching you out with all his length. “I love when you tell me you’re sorry.”

Whimpers spill, head rotating in pleasure as your hips jerk with each pound of his. Harry draws out slowly before thrusting back in roughly, each strike filling your pussy just the way you like. It never mattered what position you found yourselves in, he was always reaching parts of you that had your toes curling, and the fact that he’s pounding away not even allowing you to adjust sends a greedy sensation through you.

Harry is using your pussy just the way you like; fucking you however he pleases like the doll you are to him. It’s exhilarating, it’s mind numbing, leaving you light headed and addicted to every strike opening you wide.

“That’s right… take my dick.” Deafening slap roaming against your ass. It has your teeth biting into the silk and push against his thrusts with adrenaline coursing through.

“Baby,” Nails curling tightly into your shirts, while his grip over your hips controls you to accept every hungry pound.

Harry surveys your jolting frame, flexing back and shoulders craning as your arms roam higher up the sheets. Fingers drag and curl around the piles of mess lying across the sheets, plump lips hanging open in adoration at his urgent thrusts.

You look so beautiful like this, are his immediate thoughts floating in his mind; the way you grant him pleasure within the depths of your body that he loves to sink into, so beautiful.

Every delicious sound of your voice crying out in a whimper or moan just drives his hips even more, hands slipping up your neck and shoving your head into the blouse, hungry growl leaving him as your eyes squeeze shut with your pussy quivering around him. God does he love you so much, don’t you see that? Don’t you feel it? With every rock of his hips don’t you feel the electric pulse of him, how he’s so hungry craving more of your sweetness.

It’s the smirk that carries across his lips with knowledge that you know, you have to. Because with every coat of your nectar sliding down and accepting his cock he can feel your walls tighten and release; skin folding between your brows, knuckles going white from your grip over the sheets, pussy accepting every assault that you admire so much. Yes, he’s sure you know.

“Tell me you’re sorry.” He demands, chest parallel to your shoulders as he mounts you into the bed.

Harry’s hips have your body bouncing into the springs, face squishing and wheezing sighs of air passing through the thin material of your top. He’s so intoxicating the way he fucks you into the bed and shows you were you belong.

“I’m sorry!” Moaning while your fingers drag down the bed in agony at the ticks of your climax crawling through your foot.

“I’m so, so, sorry,” Voice going hoarse as your thighs quiver, eyes fluttering open to see lace and silk engulf your vision.

“Mhm, don’t you want to be my good girl?” Thrusts never halting as he continues to pound away at your cervix.

“Yes, god, yes!” Head straining against his hold as your stomach clenches with nerves.

Harry continues going, erratic thrusts of his cock in your drenched pussy, the sound of his hips plummeting your backside meets with every groan and whimper trailing in the air. The sounds drawing from the room float all the way into the hallway, each other's appetite being fulfilled in the messy foundation of your relationship.

“That’s my perfect girl,” Harry hums, lips pressing into your bobbing head as you completely unravel around him.

Hypnotic pulses sting down your spine as your head twists in his hold, teeth bite into the sheets as your pussy quivers all around him. Chest heaves as your mind goes completely blank, every thought and emotion is wrapped in him, loving everything he does.

“Oh my god, Harry,” Whining while you go sore around him as he continues his torment.

“That’s it baby… I feel you.” He breathes into your ear, hand releasing around your neck, the hold of you around his cock adds to him moaning into your sweating skin. “So good for me, just the way I like.”

Hips slowly dive back in, motions changing from their rough propelling paste to affectionate loving strokes. So exhilarating and passionate as he feels your body go limp around him.

It’s in the way your mouth parts, salvia stringing between your plump lips that Harry groans heavily against you. The mess of your hair mattes against his, the smell of your shampoo filling his nose as your back ruffles against his chest. Ticking sensations coursing through still leaving you feeling drowsy with your climax consuming you.

The dazed expression crossing your face is a captivating site, one that has Harry spilling into you, long moan brushing over your face as he relaxes into your body. Two hearts in the same room trying to regulate their breathing as they come down from the adrenaline that once pierced you into the sheets.

You feel Harry go slack, cock slipping out as he rolls off your body. You still breathe in shaky breaths, waist falling into the mattress as your thighs ruffle against the garments with limbs twitching from the waves of your release still coursing through.

As your mind continues to wander itself through fog you don't realize Harry sitting up in bed and putting himself back together, feet shuffling across the floor as he walks around the bed frame.

The noise catches your attention first before the sight of him entering the bathroom, and even despite him just fucking you brutally into the sheets he still looks upset.

“Clean up this mess and get ready for dinner, reservation is for seven.” Is all he says, the bathroom door slamming shut ending further conversation, only meaning that your apology isn’t accepted.

For thirty minutes you sit across from each other and let silence eat you up. Nails picking the skin around your cuticles, teeth biting into flesh while Harry on the other hand is extremely relaxed. Poised, professional, and avoiding your presence as if you’re not even there.

It’s over dinner that you realize, no matter how many times you try to shine your pearly white teeth or strike up a conversation, if Harry is in a bad mood that means you suffer in the projection of his feelings.

You can’t even be surprised by his anger, it’s really what you expect. You lied for days just for him to find out from Christian himself, and to make it even worse, he talked about you in a way that even made your skin crawl.

Harry avoided you for the rest of the night; no eye contact, no kisses, and no cuddling once in bed. It sinks your soul knowing you’re the reason behind the way he’s treating you at the moment, but it’s only right you endure this. It’s your fault.

That’s why you aren’t surprised when you wake up to the text from him reminding you of what’s needed today. The one thing you never thought would happen so soon. No more decorative feathers, no more giggling and suggestive talks, no more tips and dancing, no more Jasper. Three years gone, the memories you have are ones you hold dear; it’s why it pains you right now.

Looking at yourself in the goblet mirror adoring the dresser, that was previously pulled apart in a furious rage, tears prick your eyes recalling all the fond moments. Girls helping out with makeup, advice on which robe to wear, gossiping about clients, god, you’ll miss it all. But, it’s better this way. It’s better to have Harry take care of you, it’s nice really. You don’t have to worry about other men touching you, or whispering what they would like to do if given the chance. Sure, the money was nice and all but, Harry gives you anything you ask for, so maybe it isn’t that bad. Maybe, it’ll be okay.

“Miss, the car is ready for you.” Knock at the door awakening you from your thoughts. You inhale sharply, fingers running through your hair nervously as you nod at yourself.

“Okay, I’ll be right down!” You call, back turning and grabbing your coat.

The drive to Jasper’s is quiet, the streets outside the truck don’t puncture the memories that you reminisce about. Working your ass off at such a young age from waitressing to odd jobs, Jasper’s was a breath of fresh air despite the downside of dancing and late nights, you began to live a life of luxury, the life you always dreamed about. You did it by yourself, on your own and you’re proud about that. You could’ve given up at any moment but instead you pulled through, and now look, you found someone who’s going to take care of you.

Despite the tension between you and Harry at the moment, it’s obvious he wants to keep you by his side, should you really object to that? You spend the majority of your time with him, he always takes you out to dinner, buys whatever you want, and shows you love whenever needed (disregarding the current circumstance) so it really isn’t like his suggestions aren’t true. You’ll be better off with Harry, you know deep down this slippery slope that it will get better, and once you move in it’ll be easier just to please him. It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.

Once Harry's team helps you out of the truck and to your familiar destination the surge of anxiety scorches through. Heart beating erratically, fingers fidgeting in your coat, eyes move in every direction as you tug your way to his office. It pains you to be in this situation, and you would do everything to not stand here right now facing the same door that welcomed you with open arms but now it’s too late.

Your palm curls around the golden knob and an uneasy smile tugs at your lips, seeing Jasper’s low eyes and ruffled hair. It only brings back so many memories, ones that you’ll remember forever.

“Y/N! My sweetheart!” Jasper stands, walking around the desk and opening up his arms.

You immediately go towards him. Hands wrapping around his back and ingesting the smell of coffee and cigarettes. Weirdly it calmed you down, settling the uneasiness through you as you lay against his chest.

The first time you ever met Jasper there was always a loving connection between you both, as if father and daughter. Southern accent and tired look never giving off irritation or displeasure whenever around. Always treating everyone with such kindness and respect, he never changed since you first met him, and that’s what you like most about him. Jasper is Jasper.

“My dear girl, it feels like forever since I last saw you,” Pulling away he smiles, crooked teeth and chapped lips shining as you bow your head in acknowledgment.

“I know, I know, I’ve been really busy lately.” You confide, eyes darting between him and the birds that roam outside the window.

Jasper sighs looking over your frame before stepping back. His hand gestures to the chairs seated in front of the desk. You immediately oblige, legs crossing over each other with hands curling together in your lap. Now you wish you could nestle in his chest just like a few seconds ago, burrow yourself into the coffee smell and forget the reason why you’re in this office.

“Yes, I see, you've been taking your vacation days quite often.” The words only elect an anxious draw of breath. Now your palms begin to grow with sweat, and you swear your ears start to ring from your mind racing.

“Yes, sir. I just thought… I —I… um,” Stuttering not knowing what to say or where to direct your attention. Your heart is going crazy in your chest, pounding so hard against its cage that you might pass out. “I found someone.”

You basically whisper those words but Jasper, he hears and he smiles. It’s one that knows the secret without having to hear the reveal. You’re sure it is written all over your face, and with the grin that tugs across his lips, you calm down just a bit.

“Is it Styles?” You blink with mouth parted and pain quaking throughout your bones.

“Y/N…” He sighs, hand brushing through his messy hair as he leans back in his chair. “I looked through your client log, I’ve seen Styles was your regular for about two months or so until he stopped returning; in that same time you begin using your vacation days. It quirked my interest so I decided to go through the security cameras during that time frame and…”

Your whole entire body goes hot, ears burning, and stomach turning, quite frankly you want to throw up. You’re stupid to forget about the hidden cameras in the room. God, of course this happens to you. Of course your boss saw you in every imaginable way within the two months Harry spent still coming here. You want to curl into a ball and forget this even happened.

“Dear…” Jasper breathes again, concerned look written all over his face despite your raging appearance. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Those are in there to protect everyone, and we’re humans, it’s natural, so don’t think too much about it, alright?”

You nod your head timidly as your leg begins to bob, you drop your head and try your best to not let tears run down your cheeks. You already went through a crying fit yesterday and you’re not going through another one again.

“You already know my thoughts on you Y/N. You’ve been my star since you walked into this place. I just want you to be safe.” Chin tilting your version to look back up at the concerned boss who was like a father to you. This couldn’t get any worse. Having to leave everything you know behind, this absolutely sucks.

“I know Styles… I know the life he lives isn’t the best and it’s definitely not the happiest. I just want you to fully understand what you’re getting yourself into.” Jasper leans forward, hand reaching out for yours which you don’t hesitate to give. You don’t hold back anymore, letting the tears trickle down slowly as you breathe in, throat straining from this moment, the one you still can’t believe is happening.

“I’ll be fine, Jasper. I know I will.” You nod with reassurance, free hand swiping away the tears that still spill. His fingers curl around yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles trying to sooth you but, when that isn’t enough he steps around the desk, body engulfing your shaking frame as you try to regain some composure.

“Grace and I are always here, you know that darling. You don’t gotta worry.” Hand patting your hair as you nod into his stomach, nose sniffing through the space.

“I know…” You sigh. Peeling away from his presence, a small smile on your lips as you look up at him. “This isn’t a goodbye, I promise.”

Jasper nods his head softly, tired expression still lingering as he looks over your frame while he continues to run his hands over your locks. The action soothes you. The storm brewing inside calms itself, the current subsiding and the tears that once roam down your cheeks halt. Your heart quiets down, chest relaxing with head drawing away from him as you wipe away any streaks.

You stand to wrap around him once again, breathing in his usual scent just hoping the clock can turn back time and things can go back to how they once were. Jasper rocks you, letting all the pulsing veins in your body rest and ease your shaking body to a halt.

“I’ll miss you.” You breathe into his chest before looking up at him. The smile you adore shines brightly as he pats your lower back.

“This is home darling, you’ll always know where to find me if needed, alright?” Jasper reassures. Nodding up at him once more, you pull away and offer a genuine grin.

Departing from his touch there’s a sense of loneliness spreading through. Giving up your work and home to live with Harry, in hindsight, there’s nothing wrong with having him take care of you, if anything you should be happy that he’s willing to do that. It shows the love he has for you but, why in this moment does it feel like you’re giving up your life; not on your terms but his.

When closing the chestnut door the walk down the familiar hallway is bittersweet. Intricate designs plastered on every inch of the walls, gold fixtures shining against the dim light before you reach the elevator and ring it back to the main floor.

Every chime is one you cherish no matter how stupid it may seem, the sound is sentimental and will forever be ingrained in your memory from the many nights your tall heels would stand in the moving machine. Your eyes dance around the revolving mirrors and lit up numbers, your fingers tracing over the covers and drinking them in as it will be the last time you’ll probably press them again.

The ding of the elevator thrusts you out of your thoughts and through the doors, it’s to your surprise once leaving that ginger hair and beaming smile greet you. The sweet aroma of her perfume wafts your senses as she pulls you into a hug, fur and strands of hair prickle against your skin as you lean into her touch.

“Hey babe! You’re working with me today?” Grace asks while pulling away, happiness written all over her features.

“Uh… no actually, just had to speak to Jasper,” You say, concealing the truth with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Don’t blame him, I barely see you anymore,” She jabs, hand gently shoving you which leaves you shaking your head in response.

“I’m busy, what can I say?” You shrug raising your hands up playfully to surrender.

“Yeah, busy being under Harry any chance you get,” It’s her turn to roll her eyes and nudge you with her hip. “But, hey! Angelo actually got me a booth tonight at his club, why don’t you and Harry come!” Grace suggests. Hazel eyes and white teeth shine with excitement at her offer.

You’ve never been with him in that sort of setting before, and honestly you don’t know how he’ll be either. But, you both are also not on great terms, so maybe a night out with some drinks and dancing will do you both some good.

“Uh, yeah, that actually sounds fun. I’ll ask him.” You beam with fakeness. “I actually should get going now, the car is waiting for me.”

“Okay! Hope to see you tonight!” Grace grins, pulling you into another hug before going to her destination.

Nodding your head timidly, you watch her orange hair bounce down the hall until her body disappears. A shaky breath escapes as you turn towards the entrance, hands fitting into your pockets as you push the doors open. The brisk air sweeps through as you tug your way towards the truck. Sincere smile spreads as Elio helps you into the vehicle before getting behind the wheel.

“Should I inform Mr. Styles that everything went as expected?” He calls from the front. Your hand tears away from their place and swipes away the lingering strands of hair combing over your face.

“Yes, it went well.” You sigh, eyes looking out the window as the car begins to move. The French pillars trail out of your version, leaving your heart splitting down the middle at the conclusion of your life.

“Actually Elio, can you do me a favor and ask Harry something for me?”

Surprise is an understatement with the fact you're walking through the club with music thumping your ear drums. Harry’s hand is secured tightly amongst your hips while the floor shakes from the erratic beat coursing through. With all the bodies shuffling through the room, you’re happy Harry’s team is pushing people through the mess directing you where to go.

You didn’t think he would agree to coming out tonight, but when he did you couldn’t have been anything but ecstatic. You threw on your tightest dress and curled your hair just the way he likes, also opting to wear the perfume he complimented on how irresistible you smell. Tonight you were going to win him back the way you know how.

“Yay! I’m so happy you came!” Grace screams over the song while pulling you into a hug.

“Oh my god!” Lucy joins, wrapping around you both. The feeling of another body being engulfed in the circle only means it’s Clarissa. The grin on your face spreads wider at the moment, head knocking around until they all pull apart.

“Hot lil’ thing aren’t you,” Clarissa remarks once pulling away. Her hand collects yours to twirl you around and display your appearance, the action only leaves you laughing as you smile at your friends.

“Thank you, thank you,” Rolling your eyes playfully as she releases her hold. The fitted black garment hugs your curves deliciously while your heels accentuate the length of your legs.

“But… everyone meet Harry,” You say, sight darting to him as you let your arm wrap around his waist, head leaning onto his chest as he smiles stiffly at your group of friends.

“Hello!” He nods to each, colourful strobes shine over everyone in the reserved area as all your friends introduce themselves.

“This bottle of Don Julio isn’t gonna finish itself!” Grace screams, picking the lengthy bottle off the table and raising in the air. It makes you giggle before turning to Harry with eyebrows raised.

“Let’s have fun tonight, yeah?” You say, hand running up his stomach before turning towards Grace who's already pouring shots for everyone.

After that, the night is in full swing; neon lights flashing over sweaty bodies, alcohol either being passed around in short glasses or poured into mouths messily, confetti shoots in the air every few moments as music blasts through the speakers.

The atmosphere in the booth is an energetic thrill, everyone getting along by singing and dancing, laughter and cheers filling the air as liquor takes over everyones system and leaves them in a good mood.

It’s in the flashing message board bringing another bottle that you realize how intoxicated you really are. The lights blinking at you seem to shift slowly, the music sounding through the space drowns out in a blur of noise as you stumble your way towards Harry, half empty Patron in your hand as you step in front of him.

“Open please!” You giggle up at him, fingers swinging the drink in hand while wiggling eyebrows.

“I’m good love,” Harry smiles down at you, his fingers finding their place on your hip as you pout at him.

“No! Tell him he needs to loosen up,” Turning your attention to Angelo who laughs at the exchange, shaking his head.

“Oh, come on,” You huff, rolling your eyes yet slipping deeper into Harry’s warmth. If he doesn’t want to take anymore shots then you surely will, you raise the clear bottle to your mouth, lips parting and happily willing to accept the liquor till you feel his hands tear it away from your hold.

“Trust me darling, you don’t need anymore,” Harry points out and passes the bottle to Angelo.

It only has you pouting, you wanted to have fun and you wanted Harry to loosen up some more, but you’ll accept his decision with another eye roll and trailing back over to your friends who are even more drunk than you.

“Bottoms up!” Lucy screams as she pours Clase Azul into your mouth, the amount so much you have to clasp your hand around her wrist to tear the bottle away.

“Ew,” You laugh, after swallowing the sickening amount, leaving Clarissa to chuckle at your reaction. Eyeing Grace across the section, you gesture for you to come towards you.

Happily complying she joins between the three as lights flash across your glistening bodies. The white and blue bottle gets exchanged between your friends, all taking shots before placing it on the table. As the neon strobes continue to flash and confetti fills the air, the DJ yells into the mic something inaudible until the song he puts on has the crowd cheering.

“Ah! Catch me slidin’ in a Benz, I ain’t looking for no man,” Clarissa screams her body turning towards you as her hips begin to sway. You can’t help the laugh that leaves as Lucy turns and grins at you.

“Ain’t recruiting no new friends! Louie bag filled with bands!” Grace is next as she dances behind the blonde, her head swinging seductively as she moves to the beat.

The energy is so ecstatic between the group that you find yourself joining in. Hips swiveling into Clarissa’s as your hands find themselves venturing toward her neck, fingers carding through her hair as you match the rhythm of her. The comfort of her palms trails down your sides, teasingly tugging the bottom of your dress up as you grind against each other.

“Get it, Sexy! Get it, Sexy!” Lucy cheers along with the song, her body leaning over and tapping your thigh as you and Clarissa manage to grind yourself lower towards the floor.

Laughter leaves both of your mouths as you continue circling your hips against each other, your head knocks back against her shoulder as you let the alcohol consume every motion while the song continues to thunder in your ears.

From your dazed out state to blurry vision, the rough grip over your hand tangled in Clarissa’s hair rips itself away as you stumble over your feet, nearly falling, as you’re being pulled out the booth and down the stairs. The movements are so fast you barely even catch yourself tripping down the flight and across the floor.

“Ow, stop,” You whine, feeling the pain in your wrist increase as the sight of Harry’s curly hair tug you through the mountain of bodies.

The crowds of people brush past you in a rough breeze, elbows and drinks hitting your moving body as you continue to be pulled away from the rambunctious scene.

“Harry you’re hurting me!” Yelling over the music as you try to twist around in his hold, still that doesn’t halt his motions as he continues pushing through the crowd.

It’s when cold air hits your skin and fills your nose do you breathe in a sigh of relief. Your hand jerks out of his grip as you look at him completely furious. “What the fuck are you doing!”

Yet, Harry ignores you, his body struts down the sidewalk past people throwing up or walking around slouched over their friends. And, instead of watching him continue to move further down the path you immediately follow, heels clicking against the cement as chatter and car horns fill the street.

“Hello! Can you talk to me please,” Drunkenly calling out for him as you trail behind like a dog, his footsteps rushed and harsh as the familiar black truck comes into view.

“Get in. Now.” Every word is a bite of aggression but in your drunken state you barely pay any mind as he holds the door open and watches your sluggish body climb into the vehicle.

“What’s your problem?” You mumble, back fitting into the leather seat as you watch Harry peel his phone out of his pocket, still ignoring you.

His voice rings through the space only leaving you to direct your attention to look outside the parked vehicle, vision shifting in slow twists that has you groaning. Hand rises to your forehead in frustration that it feels as if the car is spinning even though it’s parked.

The jostle of the truck shifts as the door slams close, your head peels up to see Elio in his familiar place as the car roars awake. The vehicle immediately peeling off, leaving the street lights from outside to flutter in.

“Why are we leaving?” You’re back to slurring over your words as you turn towards Harry, confusion evident in your expression while he looks cold as ever.

“The hell was that?” He hisses, eyes burning holes in your appearance but you can’t even tell from the alcohol shifting your vision, which leaves you giggling at his response.

“What was what?” Laughing faintly as your hands pull down the end of your dress.

“You’re a mess.” Harry scoffs, head shaking as he turns to look out the window.

Even drunk those words struck a cord within you, brows pushing together as you sit up in your chair and cock your head to the side.

“No, I’m not, don’t say that!” Your voice raising as your jaw tenses, the alcohol in your system fueling anger as you look at him distraught.

“Don’t say that? Look at you! Dancing and touching your friends like that, are you serious?!” Harry’s voice is booming over yours but in your state you don’t even care, you let your tone rise higher. The both of you look at each other livid.

“I’m having fun Harry, I’m at the club,” You respond, hands tearing away from your dress and crossing over themselves amongst your chest.

“It shows you have no class! No morals!” He snaps, nose flaring and hand slamming against the window of the truck.

“No class? No morals? Do I need to remind you where we met! Fuck you! You’re so insecure!” You’re shouting, chest rising heavily as your face screws up.

The laugh that leaves Harry is menacing, with his head shaking in disbelief, a cheery smile tugging across his lips. “Insecure?”

“Yes, insecure and jealous! What’s so wrong with me dancing with my friends!” You wouldn’t be surprised if your voices were heard outside of the car, and you actually feel bad for Elio having to hear the exchange of words. “Fuck! You’re making me so mad!”

“How do you think I feel?”

“You’re the one who started this!”

As the usual sight of Harry’s building fixes your version you’re immediately sitting up and tugging your dress down. The truck comes to a halt; you don’t wait for Elio to help you out as you peel your door open and begin making your way towards the entrance. Your ears burn with anger as your nose scrunches up, heels smacking against tiles as you press the elevator button erratically.

“Stop acting like a child,” Harry hisses once meeting your body, his key pressing into the sensor to allow access to the elevator for his penthouse.

“Fuck you,” You utter, eyes still staring ahead as your step into the machine.

Harry waves off Elio, his body retreating next to yours as you both stand in complete silence. Your heart thumps loudly in your chest as your head shakes in pure frustration.

The chime of the elevator dings and your body immediately rushes through the open space of the living room, hair swishing against your neck as you practically speed walk through the room.

“Get over here!” Harry demands, voice rough and loud but you don’t listen, you keep your pace and venture up the stairs.

“Leave me alone!” You call back, his heavy footsteps sounding behind you as you walk down the hall.

“You’re not going out with your friends again!” He shouts following your body as you enter the bedroom.

“Like I’m going to listen to you,” You scoff heading towards the closet until Harry is gripping your waist roughly and turning you towards him.

“You’re running thin with me. Watch your fuckin’ mouth.” Each word a whispered hiss as he looks at you darkly. His hair framing his forehead as his lips press together, jaw tensing and hold growing tighter.

“I can’t stand you. You’re so controlling.” Your only response, as your eyes watch his dilate before his touch is turning you around roughly and pushing you into the mattress abruptly.

“Controlling? I’ll show you controlling.”

Your moving arms are caught in his hold as he tugs them behind your back. His other hand reaches down and pulls your dress over your hips to reveal your backside. Body moving against his hold as your head turns around seeing him in your peripheral vision.

“Harry,” You mutter, his palm roaming over your backside before it’s landing a smack amongst your skin.

He only grunts in response, hands smoothing over your ass before placing another slap. The harsh feeling over your backside has you biting into the sheets with pain and pleasure coursing through, the anger that once filled your body subsides as you fight yourself from moaning against his touch.

“You’ve been such a bad girl lately? What’s gotten into you?” Harry states, another harsh smack reddening your skin as the grip holding your hands together tightens.

Teeth graze the material of the sheets, eyes rolling at the adrenaline coursing through at each slap as your head relaxes into the mattress. Your chest breathes in deeply, fingers curling in on each other as your thighs shake against the bed frame.

“What’s your colour?” Harry demands, another furious strike coursing through your body. Your eyes squeeze shut as you whimper into the sheets.

Instead of answering you just bury your head deeper into the bed, mouth releasing the duvet as you bite back moans dying to trail out.

“Don’t hold out on me baby,” Harry chuckles, so deep and sinister that your spine crawls at the sound. “I know you like this.”

Teasing voice so sexy that your toes clench against each other amongst the pad of your heels, breasts caving deeper into the blanket while your hips jerk up at the deafening sound cracking against your cheeks.

“Fuck,” You cry, teeth biting into your bottom lip as a rush of thrill courses through and has your pussy throbbing.

“What’s your colour?” He asks again, his hand sliding between your cheeks and feeling between your legs to touch your heat.

The feeling of him taunting you by rubbing over your clothes or bruising your skin red is an addicting one, it has you rustling against the sheets praying for more even though you should be fighting these feelings.

“G —Green,” You breathe into the sheets so quietly that it only beckons another rough slap to welcome itself across your skin.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you love, speak up louder, what did you say?” Luring tone in his voice only has you groaning at his tantalizing ways.

Another smack meets your cheeks so harshly that your spine shoots up and heels chime against the floor. You’re sure your skin is bruised in different colour hues from the amount of strikes that he applies across your skin; and with the alcohol in your system still pumping through your veins, you can’t help the lengthy moan that slips out.

“Green,” You squeak, head shifting amongst the sheets as the feeling of the grip over your hands relaxes. His palm smooths over your backside once again before diving between and feeling over your covered folds.

“Tell me baby, why do you like making me upset?” Harry asks, fingertips dragging down your pussy with aggression that has you shuddering.

“I don’t,” You sigh, thighs quivering against the bed frame as you fall deeper into his touch.

“That’s what you think? Two days in a row you’ve been giving me problems. I don’t like that.” Fingers slipping between your panties to feel your pussy nearly soaking from the exchange of his actions.

“Harry,” You moan, eyes fluttering when you feel the pads of him grace your clit.

“Huh? What was that?” Hand tearing away from between your legs and roaming back up your scorching skin.

“S —Sir, I’m sorry sir,” Body shivering from his touch roaming up and down your exposed flesh.

“Still not good enough.” Harry’s voice deep and gruff as his hands fit under your tight dress, feeling over your heated skin before he’s tugging it over your head. “Come on darling, I know you can do better than that.”

“I —I’m sorry, Mr. Styles.” Words still slurring from the alcohol in your system to his mesmerizing aura.

“That’s my girl. Now, be a good doll and turn around for me.” The sound of your dress falling to the floor is heard as you turn around under his hold, eyes connecting on his dazzling ones that shine with the moonlight pouring through the window.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” Harry’s body looming over you as his hands dance up your sides, sliding amongst your clammy skin and feeling over your erect nipples. The touch is so slow and daring that you can’t help but whimper. “I hate when you upset me.”

His fingers grip your round flesh while his eyes skim over every curve and dip; your body flexes along with the shadows in the dark room, fingers feeling against the sheets below as you don’t dare break contact, not with the way he’s looking as if he wants to devour you.

“That’s why right now, you’re my toy. My little toy that’s been so nasty and filthy lately.” Hands drawing back down your sides, sinking past your hips and towards your pussy once again. “So dirty dancing like that on your friends.”

Your teeth bite into your bottom lip, thighs spreading wider accepting his touch while your head buries itself deeper into the mattress. His words only fuel the slick coursing through your pussy.

“You want to be a slut… so, I’ll treat you like one.” Fingers now slip into you only causing a moan to trail out. His lengthy digits thrust into you roughly that have your eyes open wider as he stares longingly at your reaction, smirk tugging at the ends of his lips.

“Play with you however I like… use you just the way I want.” Digits driving out just to plunge back in, the ends of his fingers curling deeply into your pussy that your mouth hangs open in surprise. Harry just started penetrating you and already your stomach was tickling with static.

“Teach you how to be my good little doll, hmm?” Harry continues, brow raising in question as his smile is still sinister from the expression crossing over your face.

As one hand is pleasing your throbbing pussy, the other lands one backhanded slap across your cheek completely surprising you but not enough that it doesn’t stop you from moaning softly and runting your hips against his motions.

“You’re pussy is mine to play with, do you understand?”

Your head bows urgently as you suck in a deep breath, lashes fluttering up at him as his tongue peeks out of his mouth to smooth across his bottom lip.

“Yes, Mr. Styles.”

Pearly white teeth shine at your doe expression continuing the rough thrusts of his fingers. Sweet nectar coating him with each curl that leaves you keening high in your throat.

“It’s mine to use and abuse,” Harry states, suited body covering over you as he examines every twitch in your face consumed with pleasure. “Your pussy belongs to me.”

Every comment is tingling your spine and has your lashes batting up at him so in love. Each word is degrading and brutal, words that should have you distraught but they don’t, they have another moan leaving your mouth as you accept the his urgent stroke of his fingers.

“Fuck, yes, Mr. Styles.” Your own hands curling into the sheets, thighs beginning to shake and head lolling back.

Harry surveys every inch of your skin that twitches and squirms from his hold over you. He admires watching your stomach quiver, and the way your pussy pulses in his palm has the erection in his pants press painfully against the zipper.

“Mhmm… I like how things are turning around now.” He smiles, digits leaving you to rub your slick all along your folds, spreading you wide as your thighs contract around him.

A whimper falls from your bitten lips as the warmth of Harry leaves. His hands go to undress himself, and as every piece of expensive clothing trails off and reveals the inked skin that you love so much, you can’t help but reach out and touch the tattoos roaming amongst his love handles.

“Gonna start being my good girl?” Harry demands, his body adjusting around your frame as he begins to tap himself along your folds.

The feeling has you shuddering, blinking up at him between your legs as you raise up on your elbows to get a better look. His cock rubbing against your clit, muscles tightening while he still stares as if wanting to ruin you.

“My personal fuck toy.” Letting himself slip between your walls and stretch you out heavenly. The sensation of him filling you up reveals a pleasant sigh as your thighs spread wider around his hips.

“Yes, Mr. Styles… you fuck me so good,” You whine, fingers trailing down his pelvis as he lets his hips glide in with ease.

Harry hums in acknowledgment, his hands finding themselves around your upper thighs, driving into your pussy tenderly letting you feel him expand your walls and sink right against your cervix before drawing back and repeating.

“Mhm, who makes you feel like this darling,” Head craning down as your vision shifts from between your legs to his face coming into view.

“You, only you.” With the quick response your other hand curls into the sheets as your body jerks against the mattress.

“That’s right… you and that dirty mouth of yours,” Breath fanning over your face as his grip along your skin tighten enough to leave bruises, the feeling has you gasping at the pain. “Gonna show me some respect.”

The pace of his thrusts increase leaving his hips to smack against yours. It causes your mouth to hang open and nails drag against his skin at the rapid speed now driving into you. The intense feeling of his cock spreading you wide has your mind a clutter of thoughts.

How can he stretch you out so heavenly yet look at you purely amused by his actions over you? How can he effortlessly pleasure every crevice of your pussy that craves him? How can he fuck the shit out of you yet still have you craving for more? He’s so addicting, so captivating, so intriguing, you’re in awe; you’re in love.

“I’m not one of those little boys you’re used to playing with. You will learn respect.” Eager hips diving into yours that your head falls into the sheets, eyes locking with the chandelier that shifts with every pound of his hips.

“Y —Yes, sir.” Knuckles going white as your spine curves towards his flexing stomach.

“Shut up,” Harry bellows, his hands leaving your thighs; one covering your mouth while the other wraps around your throat.

His harsh words don’t even bruise your feelings, it only has you moaning into his palm with tears beginning to prick your eyes. The blissful pleasure he was making you feel wasn’t even something you can explain.

“You’re such a fucking slut,” His hand releasing your throat to smack you, leaving your vision to trail away from the diamonds that float above and towards his face. Bottom lip between his teeth as his brows push together.

“And I’ll use you just like the one you are.”

Sweat trickles down every expanse of your limbs, bed sheets sticking and the frame of the bed smacking against the window. The tattering sound of it repeatedly hitting it fills the room as your legs hang in the air, shiny heels glistening in the moonlight as you continue to moan against his hand.

Harry could do anything and you would see no wrong, maybe it’s manipulative, maybe it’s controlling but it feels too good that you can’t resist; and why would you want to anyway, he’s the only one to ever make you feel things you never felt before. Like for example right now, the way your thighs begin to shake and spikes of pain course along your calves, only he can do that.

“You’re mine to use, mine to ruin.” His palm releasing from your mouth to land another slap across your cheek, it has you whimpering in response. “Understand me?”

Your lashes flutter as chest heaves drastically, mouth parting and pelvis quivering as you feel your climax barreling in.

“Y —Yes s —sir,” Stuttering as you look at Harry with complete devotion while he basks in it. “Sir.” You whisper, head bobbing with each rough assault to your pussy.

“What? You’re gonna come?” Harry grins, hands meeting your throat and squeezing tightly as he fucks you into the mattress.

“Please, sir, please, can I?” Voice hoarse as your lungs strain for air.

It’s the greedy smirk and shaking head that has your stomach clenching crazily, waist retreating against his furious ones as your fingers tug against the sheet.

“P —Please, Mr. Styles can—”

“—Shut up!”

Grip grows tighter as he continues to pound away. Every rock of his hips pierce your plush walls, and with each jerk of your body up the bed does it remind you that you’re nothing but his toy at the moment, nothing but his doll that he’ll use to his liking.

That’s why tears now flow down your temples, legs shaking against his hips as he toys with your body however he likes while you restrain yourself from releasing all over him.

“Want to be my good girl, then take it.” Face inches away as he watches the tears continue to stream down.

And you do, you suck in your abdomen as your quivering thighs try to close around his waist and accept every fatal attack. Teeth biting into your bottom lip as your throat wheezes for air.

“Play with you however I please,” He grunts, eyes searching your face that begs for oxygen that turns him on even more.

Harry’s hips continue to plunge inside your pussy and bruise your cervix; and with your tight walls twitching around him pleading for release it has his head sliding to the nape of your neck.

You feel him spill his seed into you, a beautiful moan slipping past his lips and along the sweaty skin of your neck as his grip relaxes.

Just the feeling of his come seeping into you has you moaning out, fingers tugging away from the sheets and drawing down his back as his hips don’t stop their torturing movements.

“Please sir, can I come, please,” Whimper tugging through your ruined throat as your lower half now begins to shake from the fight you put up.

“Yes, darling.” The one word you’ve been dying to hear has your stomach relax as you let go and release yourself all over his cock.

Creamy wave of arousal expelling over the thickness of him as his movements never slow. Wet kisses pepper themselves along your neck, his hands by your head feeling over your messy head of hair, while your body continues to twitch and contract around him.

Your grip around him relaxes, hips flexing against his own until he begins to pace himself, slowly rocking into your pussy that makes your chest settle.

“What’s your colour?” Harry asks, head rising and looking over your face. Dizzy expression overcoming your features that has him tugging his hand away from your locks and run over the heated skin.

“Green, sir,” Blinking up at him while swallowing heavily. The answer has Harry nodding, tongue peeking out of his mouth before he’s leaning back on his knees.

Thrusts come to a halt, his cock slipping out that has your mixtures spilling from your folds to drip along the sheets. It’s in the warm atmosphere that you both manage to catch your breaths, chest shallowly welcoming the air as sticky fingers roam up and down the expanse of sweaty skin.

“You’re so good to me baby,” Harry comments, his hands trailing up your leg to begin undoing the strap of your heels. When hearing them smack to the ground do you sigh in relief of having your feet free of the curved platform.

“Mhmm…” You mindlessly hum as you watch in complete awe of him undoing the next one.

“Always perfect for me.” His head running against your calf as he presses light kisses into the skin there. Your favorite words swelling your heart that it makes you get up on your elbows and gesture for him.

“Are we okay now?” You ask, letting your hands run across the skin of his chest.

“Yes baby… just no more surprises, I don’t know what I’ll do next time. Okay?”

“Okay.”

#pls don’t hate me after this #cause this one is… definitely something #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #smuttyaf #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #hs #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fandom #harry styles fic rec #mafia au #mafia!harry #harry styles one shots

[person25]

for some reason, every time i get back into dc and/or miraculous i always end up here:

#it’s compulsory atp #i’ll never forget my roots💪 #sometimes i forget the only reason i downloaded tumblr was for this ship #also how is there so many fic with them?😭 #definitely one of those ships you’ll only fine on fanfiction sites #and literally nowhere else #miraculous ladybug #batman #dc comics #dc robin #crossover #maribat #daminette #damian wayne #marinette dupain cheng #robin #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #batfam #dc universe #also fun bc they usually have a good family and aren’t awful towards each other👍

[thefrogdalorian]

A little love letter to Din Djarin writers... 🤍

I love that some of you write him as soft and gentle while others focus on the darker, harsher parts of his personality. I love that he can be both a quiet, kind man caring for his child or an intimidating, terrifying bounty hunter who is a lean, mean killing machine... depending on what the fic warrants.

I love how you write him with other characters from The Mandalorian or even with those who would never cross paths with him in canon, from Star Wars or elsewhere. I love how you write him interacting with yourselves and us, and some of you even create your own original characters to exist a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away alongside him.

I love that some of you ship him with that one other special person, while others recognise how desirable he is and ship alllllll the ships. Not forgetting those of you which are here for none of those ships and/or even headcanon him as ace. I love that any of those options allow you to explore your own identities and sexualities through him.

I love that you can write the most tooth-rotting fluff or filthiest smut, and all of those things in between. Whether it's for general audiences or explicit and strictly 18+ ... all of your fics have an audience and someone out there who appreciates your writing.

I love how differently you can interpret him, but there are also so many common themes and tropes running through your writing. I love that there is room for all of your Dins here.

I love that he means so much to you and that all of us here hold him in our hearts a little bit. I love that we can all watch the same episodes and come to entirely different conclusions about him. I love how much we love him.

Getting to be a part of this wonderful community and interact with so many people who love the space tin can man as much as I do has truly been one of the best things that happened to me recently. I'm so glad I made this little blog... It reminded me just how good fandom can be. I am blown away by the number of talented people here!

So, I just wanted to take a moment to express some gratitude towards all of you! Thank you for writing your Dins and please don't ever stop. Finally.... last, but not least:

I love Din Djarin!!!

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #i got a uhhhh not nice anon a couple of days ago lol and i'm not posting it here (truly speaking to the wall) but i didn't want to dwell on #that and instead spread some love around!!! because anyone who is brave enough to put their writing out there is amazing to me #and especially a character as well known and beloved as din... that's far more impressive than sending anon bs lol #anyway i truly mean it i don't read as much as i'd like to because my brain can't take it when i'm focused on my own stuff sometimes but #you all ROCK and i don't want anyone to ever feel like they don't or their din is 'wrong' or OOC bc truly only favreau writes him #100% in character bc he made him lmao. all fanfic is by definition ooc BUT THATS another rant for another time

[thesoftboiledegg]

#or in my case: fanfiction #not that my fandom is small but it's definitely not one with a lot of fic writers #I see fics in other fandoms (like hannibal) that have 200k views and I'm like...goddamn #tweets