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whataperfectwasteoftime · 3 months

Text

Trigger Points

Pairing: Erotic Massage Therapist Ezra x f!reader (not romantic)

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Medical kink, massage kink (is that a thing?), erotic massage, mentions of sexual dysfunction and difficulty orgasming, consent forms, the clinical is erotic now, power imbalance due to the masseur/patient dynamic, mentions of uhhh *checks notes* anal massage, lots of vaginal fingering I mean massaging, pelvic floor massaging but make it erotic, dubcon only in the sense that Ezra says orgasm is not the goal and then definitely deliberately gives her one anyway, g-spot orgasms, squirting, Penny gets on her soapbox at the end

Summary: Ezra is a massage therapist. What kind, you ask? Internal massage. That’s it that’s the fic.

A/N: I wrote this in twenty-four hours in a horny unhinged writing frenzy. Am I embarrassed that this came from my brain? Yes. Am I posting it anyway? Also yes. Thank you to @littlebirdsbookshelf for the beta (and all of the screaming) and to @leslie-lyman for egging on the medical kink that I definitely don't have.

Masterlist

You aren’t sure what you’re doing here.

This isn’t like you.

As you stare at the nondescript building–no sign, no name on the door–you think back to the seemingly random circumstances that brought you here.

The party you hadn’t wanted to go to.

The friend–acquaintance–who insisted.

The man with a distinctive blonde streak that kept lingering by the snack table and popping cocktail shrimp into his mouth with an enthusiasm that had made you look twice in wary amusement.

Like so many men, he’d taken your glance in his direction as an invitation to come over and start a conversation, but the resulting discussion was decidedly unlike any other man–or human–you’d come across.

Loquacious to the point of being humorous, the man–Ezra, he told you–was disarming and insightful. You opened up to him immediately; he seemed to have this uncanny ability to pull your life’s story from your lips, much to your surprise and chagrin. Did you really tell a strange man at a party that you’ve been from doctor to doctor, complaining of sexual pain and dysfunction, only to be given dismissive, unhelpful advice? Have a glass of wine, one said. Use different soap, said another. Make sure your laundry detergent is fragrance-free.

“I think I’m just built wrong,” you said bitterly, taking a sip from your wine glass. “Anyway, it’s fine. You didn’t sign up to listen to a stranger’s problems at some house party.”

“On the contrary,” Ezra replied mysteriously, raising one eyebrow as he regarded you with amusement. “I think our fortuitous meeting must have been arranged by the universe itself.”

Fishing his wallet out of his back pocket, he had handed you a business card that had only his first name–Ezra, no last name, and a phone number.

“I just happen to be a certified massage therapist, trained to assist with the very complaints of which you speak.”

“What kind of massage?” you’d asked, scrunching up your face in skepticism.

“Internal massage.”

You may have told him to fuck off then and there. You may have made your excuses and left the party in your embarrassment over having spilled your heart to a stranger with a questionable line of work, to say the very least.

…You may have called two weeks later to inquire about an appointment.

The woman who answered the phone in that same kind of warm, soothing tone that seems to be common in so many legitimate massage practices made you feel slightly less insane about calling. The lengthy consent form she emailed after hanging up, however, sent you spiraling again.

Extensive questions about sexual history, your beliefs about sex, your relationship to sex, your experience with pain, dysfunction, your sexuality, etc. Check boxes indicating your level of experience and comfort with a number of sexual acts and situations. And at the end, three check boxes asking whether you would like to be massaged vaginally, anally, or both.

A bell tinkles pleasantly when you open the door, and the scent of lavender fills your nose. Soft, soothing music plays from a hidden speaker somewhere, and one of those self-contained rock garden water fountains bubbles away in the corner of the brightly lit waiting room.

A woman behind the desk greets you–it must be the same one you’d spoken to on the phone–and checks you in. She walks you through what to expect during the appointment–first, you’ll meet with Ezra to discuss the consent form, then you’ll be asked to disrobe and lay on the massage table under a sheet. The type of care you’re given, she tells you, depends on what you put down on the consent form, which of course she hasn’t read, so she can’t tell you any specifics.

“But he specializes in women with sexual dysfunction?” you ask skeptically. It had said as much on the forms.

“Oh, yes,” the woman nods enthusiastically. “I know it’s an unusual service he provides, but Ezra is a professional, conscientious, and passionate about the work he does.”

You nod slowly, and she flashes you a warm, comforting smile before instructing you to sit anywhere.

You do, trying not to look too nervous as you wait.

Thankfully, you aren’t there for too long before a door opens, and Ezra softly calls your name.

Your nerves cause you to babble as you follow the man to the quiet, dimly-lit massage room. “Sorry I told you to fuck off,” you say. “That was pretty rude, and I’m sure it’s weird that I’m here now even though I clearly thought you were a pervert at the party, and–” you trail off, standing awkwardly beside the massage table as Ezra sits on a rolling stool.

“Now, now. Water under the bridge, I assure you, sprite. My profession is often met with skepticism at best and outright hostility at worst, but I let the testimonials speak for themselves. I assume you’ve read them?”

You nod, thinking back to the paragraphs of women saying they’d never known their bodies were capable of such pleasure before experiencing what they had called erotic massage.

“And I have read your consent form very carefully; I like to commit these things to heart, you see. Helps me do my job to the very best of my ability. Now, I did have a question about your very last answer: you made a checkmark indicating you were interested in vaginal massage only, but drew in a little question-mark next to anal massage.”

“I’m not sure yet,” you say, too quickly, jumbling the words together. “Depends on how… how…”

“How everything goes. Of course.” Ezra nods, making a quick note on your form. “I’ll consider you to be a vaginal-only patient for now, to be revisited at a later date if so desired.”

“Kay,” you squeak.

“Allright, let me give you a rundown of how this works. I’m not a sex worker; my job isn’t to make you orgasm. Like any massage therapist, my job is to find muscles that need to be worked out, and work them out. I just happen to specialize in muscles that other areas of practice typically ignore. This will involve both internal and external work–you might find that I might press on your lower abdomen, for example, with the other hand inside you. I always start slow with new patients; I’ll begin externally, massaging the entire pubic area and finding spots that might require extra attention. When you’re ready, we’ll move to an internal massage starting with one finger and seeing how many is most comfortable for you right now. Eventually, as we progress through your appointments, the goal is for the internal massage to involve two hands.

“Now, all that being said, the goal of these sessions might not be orgasm, but I want to let you know that it is normal and okay if that happens during your massage,” Ezra continues. “This is a safe space, and your comfort and pleasure is encouraged through this process. All of that seem hunky-dory?”

“Mmhmm,” you nod rapidly.

“Perfect. If you’re ready to get started, I’ll leave the room so you can get undressed. You can undress only from the waist down if you’re comfortable, or you can disrobe completely; the rest of you will be covered by the sheet, so it’s all down to what you prefer.”

Ezra leaves, the door clicking shut behind him, and you take a few moments to steady yourself before taking off only your pants and underwear. Grimacing at the awkwardness, you tuck the underwear into your jeans and place your shoes on top of both on the spare chair in the corner of the room. Then, you lie down under the sheet and wait.

Ezra taps lightly to herald his return before opening the door. “Good,” he says, seeing you laying stiffly on the massage table. “I’m going to check in many times during this first appointment especially,” he explains. “So much so that you may tire of it. You may simply say ‘good,’ when I ask how you are feeling, and I will continue. If you do not feel good at any point, I must ask that you say so. Sound okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, this massage table is custom made for my area of practice specifically,” Ezra explains, reaching under the table and unfolding a pair of stirrups–the kind you’ve seen many times at the gynecologist–and you grimace.

“Ah, I know, most people on this table do not have the most positive memories associated with these,” Ezra tuts, “and if you aren’t sure about using these, we can simply rest your legs on either side of the table.”

“I think I’m okay,” you tell him, cautiously reaching your feet out until your legs are uncomfortably splayed open.

“You tell me if that changes.” Ezra sits down on the stool and rolls it over to sit at the front of the table. “I’m going to do the external massage with the sheet down,” he says. “No need for a cold breeze if it isn’t necessary, after all. As discussed before, I’m going to feel around the entire pubic area, finding anything that needs extra attention. If you’ve gotten a regular massage, you might notice that this one is much gentler; there won’t be any harsh poking or prodding, just light pressure and rubbing. If that’s all good, sprite, say the word and I’ll begin.”

“I’m good.”

“Very good. First, we’re going to warm up a little by touching your inner thighs. All muscles in this area are interconnected, so this will help soften things up as well.”

You keep your eyes closed and let out a slow breath through pursed lips as you feel Ezra’s large, warm hands slowly working out the tension in your thighs. The unfamiliar feeling of someone’s hands in such an intimate area is an odd one, at first, but you can’t help but slowly begin to relax as he works out the delicate muscles of the upper-most part of your legs.

“Checking in again, sprite, how are we feeling?”

“Good,” you answer, with a little more confidence this time. “It’s good.”

“Excellent,” Ezra praises. “If we’re feeling nice and comfortable about it, I’m going to start to move upward and inward. You’ll feel me touch your outer labia, your perineum, and your pubic bone as we move forward. How do we feel about that?”

“Nervous,” you admit, giggling awkwardly. “But good.”

“Of course, sprite, it’s normal to be nervous about an unfamiliar sensation. Always remember that you are able to say ‘stop’ at any time.”

At your nod, Ezra’s hands shift, his thumbs beginning to rub up and down the outside of your labia. He rubs little circles around the entire area, including–something that makes your entire body flush with heat immediately–the skin just above your little puckered hole.

“I know, I know,” Ezra soothes. “Just trying to get a complete picture here. We aren’t doing any internal massage in this area, but you may feel my fingers on the skin around it occasionally.”

“Okay,” you agree, nodding again.

“You’re doing so well, sprite. I’m going to stay external, but we’re going to start to examine a little deeper, does that sound okay? I’ll be rubbing your inner labia this time, spreading them apart to examine your vulva, urethra, and clitoris with my fingers. This is where it might start to feel pleasurable, or it could feel odd and uncomfortable as you become accustomed to this type of massage.”

“Yep,” you say, voice tight with anxiety again.

“I need a little bit more than that, sprite,” Ezra chastises. “Are you good to continue?”

“Yes. Good.”

“I can tell you’re nervous; why don’t you take a deep breath in for me for the count of five…” he counts slowly as you obey, “...and as you let it out slowly, you’re going to feel my hands move inward.”

The feel of Ezra running his slicked fingers up and down your inner labia doesn’t feel quite as uncomfortable as you’d feared. You’ve never been touched like this, or even touched yourself like this. It’s an exploration of sorts, collecting some data that means something only to him, perhaps. After a short time, he pulls you apart with his thumb and forefinger, spreading you open.

“I’m going to rub back and forth just on the surface level,” Ezra says, “You might feel my thumb press down on a few places to locate any areas to focus on later.”

You take more slow, even breaths as you feel his warm thumb move from your perineum to your clit, then back down again. In a few places, he presses down, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb as he locates some unknown source of tension.

“How well you're doing,” Ezra praises warmly. “I've definitely found some areas of tension that we can work on during your sessions. This isn't the end of the external massage, per se, as I'll still want to work on some of those spots, but this is where I start to add an internal component, if you're up to it. What are we thinking?”

“Yeah,” you agree. “I'm okay with that.”

“Good. As I explained before, I'm going to start very slow. I work with clients with a wide range of comfort levels and ability, and I'm not going to push anyone too far before they're ready. Not to be glib or reductive, but this is not dissimilar to a basic shoulder massage. I'll be working all along the muscles of your vaginal wall. We'll start with just one finger, and if that's comfortable for you, we'll see how it goes with two. I'm going to slowly slide one finger in, let you adjust to how that feels, and then I'll begin the massage on your right side, moving to the back, the left, and then the front, around in a little circle like so. At the same time I'll be gently pressing with my other hand so that I can get a feel for the muscles that are stiff, sore, or carry any tension. If at any point any sensation is unpleasant, please bring it to my attention immediately. In that event, I will stop and reassess. If that discomfort is the result of muscle or pelvic floor tension, we will slowly, slowly work through it without causing you any pain. Is all of this acceptable?”

“Yes.”

“And am I okay to begin your internal massage?”

“Yes.”

“Very good. Just as before, I'm going to spread open your labia nice and wide, only this time you are going to feel my finger slowly enter you. Once inside, we'll take a few deep breaths together, I'll ask if you are comfortable, and I'll begin the massage.”

As Ezra speaks, he does each action in turn. You feel your labia being parted, and then one slick, warm finger slips inside. It hits a bit of resistance when he passes your pelvic floor, but doesn't cause any pain. At his instruction, he guides you through three deep breaths as you become accustomed to the sensation.

“I'm going to begin moving now,” he announces. “Beginning on your left side.”

It's an odd feeling to adjust to, the way Ezra’s finger moves inside you. With his other hand pressing sometimes on your hip, sometimes at your side, you can feel him pressing against your wall in–true to his word–the same way one might massage a shoulder. This is just… very different. Or perhaps it's the same, and your brain only perceives it as such.

Despite the awkwardness of having someone rubbing such an intimate, deep, vulnerable part of your body, you can admit that something does feel good about this. Ezra is right, of course; there are muscles internally as well as externally, and you've never had yours attended to in such a way before.

Ezra’s finger rubs this way and that, covering all possible knots and tense spots on that particular side.

“Checking in, sprite,” he intones gently. “How does it feel?”

“Weird… but kinda good. I think I understand why you say it's just like a shoulder massage–I never really thought about having muscles there, but… I can feel them relaxing the same way they would as… as if it were my shoulder.”

“No physical difference between the two,” Ezra says, voicing your earlier thought. “Only up here do we make a distinction.” He taps the side of his head and gives you a sideways grin. “If we’re feeling pretty good with one, would you like to try adding one more? It all depends on your level of comfort, but it is easier to get at the muscles with two, rather than one. Would you like to try?”

The gentle loosening of the muscles you hadn't even known were tense is surprisingly soothing, so of course, you agree.

“You're doing so well at checking in with me,” Ezra says. “Take a nice deep breath for me, and we’ll switch to two fingers. Ready?”

You make a little noise of assent, and as you exhale, you feel the pressure inside you increase as Ezra slips another finger inside you.

“Doing good, sprite. I’m going to move to the muscles at the back of your vaginal walls now, which means my other hand is going to be pressing up on your lower back and buttocks. Is this fine?”

“That’s fine, yeah,” you nod, and at your consent, Ezra goes back to his steady, methodical working of your pelvic floor.

At this new angle, the sensations inside you are new and different from before. When he was massaging your left side, all you could really feel was the gentle push and pull as your muscles were soothed and relaxed. You can still feel the muscle tension easing away… but it’s very quickly being replaced by a different kind.

You try to focus on taking deep breaths in and out of your nose as Ezra seems to draw heat into your core with every stroke. You stop focusing on the relaxation entirely, instead concentrating every effort to not make any awkward noises that indicate how much your body is responding to his touch.

You really should have known better.

“Many people find that different areas of the vaginal wall can cause different kinds of sensations,” Ezra says quietly as he gently rubs small circles from within you while pressing just above your puckered hole. “The front vaginal wall, of course, has the tendency to produce the strongest impression because of what most people call the g-spot, but the rear wall is also very responsive. I want to remind you of what we discussed earlier; that you are welcome and encouraged to lean into those feelings. It is common for patients to come to orgasm multiple times during a session, and can be helpful for further muscle relaxation. All this to say, sprite, you don’t have to work to suppress the fact that this feels pleasurable. Of course it does. It’s far more advantageous for you to allow it to happen rather than spend the session working to rein it in. Understand?”

“Y-Yeah,” you nod, trying to sink back down onto the massage table again and stop fighting against your body’s automatic responses.

Even so, you don’t really believe you could orgasm from just this. Hell, you can barely orgasm during sex even when you use a vibrator. Your body’s need for intense, prolonged clitoral stimulation is simply a fact. A law, as immutable as gravity, and no amount of “internal massage” would ever have the same effect.

“If you ever do wish to revisit that last little question on the consent form, one type of treatment that can be incredibly effective is to massage the area in between, if you take my meaning,” Ezra comments lightly, as though discussing the weather. “It’s perfectly workable through what I’m doing now, of course, but even though I’m capturing the same general area, in my years of practice I’ve actually found that anal massage is an important component in achieving a comprehensive relaxation of all pelvic muscles.”

“Okay,” you say dumbly. His words–all the more impactful because of the detached clinical tone–combined with the constant pressure of his fingers, are creating a maelstrom of pleasure in your brain. You still aren’t sure if you’re “allowed” to find this entire situation to be incredibly erotic, but you worry you’ll soon have no choice, especially if your mind keeps conjuring up how it might feel to have both of Ezra’s hands rubbing something deep within you. How full you might feel.

“Nothing that needs to be discussed now or even in the near future, sprite,” he adds. “But just something to keep in the back of your mind as we progress through treatment.”

“Mm,” you agree. It’s–oh God, are you going to come? The pressure is building, building inside you, and even though there’s nothing touching your clit, it feels as though you might be reaching that point of no return. You make a soft, whining, desperate little sound as Ezra massages your vaginal wall with methodical precision.

“I know, I know,” he soothes in that syrupy voice of his. “Take a few deep breaths for me–I promise, it’s okay to let it go. Allow your body to do what it’s meant to do.” At this, he presses down even harder, and you gasp as you suddenly begin to clench around his fingers. Your chest heaves as you ride the waves of pleasure until they subside to a gentle ebb. Ezra remains still throughout it all, waiting patiently until you stop twitching with aftershocks.

“See? So much better when you listen to your body,” he praises. “Can you feel that? It causes your muscles to relax even further, so much more effectively than even I can manage. Feel the difference right here–” he rubs a wide circle up and down your wall, “–there’s so much less tension now, isn’t there?”

“Yeah,” you agree, still catching your breath.

“Let’s do a quick check-in before I move on,” Ezra suggests, “and while we do, I’d like to make a quick recommendation, if you are amenable.”

“That’s fine,” you answer.

“Give us a quick run-down of how you’re feeling,” he says. “Any pain? Discomfort?” When you shake your head, he continues. “How about mentally? Orgasm can make us feel vulnerable, and that’s perfectly okay, of course, but not if it leads to feeling uncomfortable or unsafe.”

“It still feels a little… strange, but I’m okay.”

“Ah, of course. Now, as far as my recommendation… Now that you’re far more relaxed, I think it might be helpful to switch to three fingers. How do you feel about that?”

You swallow. “It might feel like a lot,” you admit quietly.

“Indeed,” Ezra agrees. “As a general rule, the more fingers I am able to use, the more effective the massage. The ideal internal massage would be either with all four fingers on one hand, or a combination of three and two. If you’re feeling at all apprehensive about discomfort, however, I think it would be better to wait and see, yes?”

“Yes,” you nod gratefully.

“Moving on to your right side, sprite,” he says cheerfully. “Halfway there, and doing great.”

You can see what Ezra had been saying–you can feel that your walls are more pliant and moldable after your orgasm. However, it’s also made your nerves more sensitive to his touch, and the intense feeling of pleasure continues to flicker inside you with every gentle probe of his fingers.

You begin to float, losing track of time and simply focusing on the sensations within you. Ezra quiets down when he senses your more meditative state, and continues to massage with minimal commentary. When his thick fingers begin to move, pressing upward toward your abdomen, however, your breath catches and your hips lift of their own accord.

“My apologies, sprite. I should have warned you I was moving to the front wall before I did so, but you were in such a state of utter relaxation that I was loathe to speak up.”

“S’fine.”

“You may find this area to be the most intense in terms of sensation,” Ezra comments. “There’s a reason I usually save it for last.”

You make a slightly garbled, strained noise of assent as his other hand rubs gentle circles on your mons pubis while the other continues its deliberate path up and down your walls, soothing out all of the tension and finding some incredibly sensitive spots as it does.

Ezra pauses over one such area, and, in such exquisite torture that makes you actually cry out into the room, curls both fingers up to apply even more pressure.

“Ah, that,” he chuckles to himself. “That thing–the little area they call the ‘g-spot’–it’s not some mysterious, unique phenomenon, nor is it mythological. What they didn’t know at the time–and far too many people still are not aware–is that the clitoris is much larger than just the little bit that we see on the outside.” His fingers rub little circles, back and forth, up and down, massaging so meticulously that it feels almost ruthless. “Sooo many nerves in one relatively small place,” he murmurs. “Stimulating the clitoris is normally the most reliable way to acheive orgasm, and yet so little of it is accessible. But here–” he presses up again, and you gasp, “–here we are able to access the other end of the organ.”

You can hardly concentrate on the original goal of muscle relaxation with so much pressure on your g-spot (or, apparently, the back of your clitoris) but you can still feel Ezra dutifully and clinically working out the tension in your pelvic floor.

“Doing so well, sprite, so well. One nice, big, relaxing orgasm for me and then we’ll gently explore how the tension lessens afterward.”

Despite his insistence before your appointment that orgasm was not the goal of these sessions, you can’t help but notice Ezra appears to be guiding you towards one with masterful precision. With one hand applying light pressure on your abdomen and the other pressing upward to meet it, it feels as though he’s got the most sensitive organ of your body trapped between his fingers. He plays it like an instrument, each finger working independently to stroke different parts of the soft, spongy membrane.

Finally, finally, the pressure becomes so much that you simply seem to implode; all at once, you clamp down on Ezra’s fingers like a vice as your lower back lifts from the table. A feeling of pure, hot, wet relief surges through you, and the release feels endless, as though your body simply cannot stop pulsing and contracting. Dimly, you realize that it must be the ruthless stimulation from Ezra’s hands keeping you suspended in what feels like a never-ending orgasm. His fingers press upwards, rubbing quickly and insistently back and forth against the sensitive organ, and the movement draws more and more rhythmic clenches that seem to ripple across the entire area.

And–Oh, God–with each intense throb, little streams of fluid splash out over Ezra’s hand, and you realize with absolute mortification that the sheet, massage table, and Ezra’s white coat are already soaked with your release.

“Oh shit, I’m sorr–” you try to apologize as soon as you have the presence of mind.

“Now, now, not to worry, little sprite. Any manifestation of pleasure is welcomed and encouraged here, and I’ve been at this long enough to know that stimulating the back of the clitoris oftentimes results in strong and voluminous ejaculations…” You twitch with one last, pathetic aftershock, and Ezra soothingly rubs his fingers up and down your wall in the same way one might rub someone’s back after a long day. “But feel the difference, little sprite. Feel how supple and pliant your muscles are compared to before. This is the state we strive for, little sprite. Complete and utter relaxation. When you find yourself starting to tense up again–such is the consequence of the stressful lives we lead–I want you to call up this moment, and the way your pelvic muscles so easily move for my hand, and try to get back to this state. With enough practice on your own in between sessions, this will become easily achieved.

“I’m going to do a couple of nice, wide circles with my hand to stretch out those muscles one last time, and as I do, I’d like you to take some nice, deep, easy breaths with me. Once we get to five nice big breaths, I’ll slowly remove my hand. Does this sound good?”

“Yuh-huh,” you nod.

“Nice big inhale,” Ezra reminds you, and you dutifully suck in a deep, cleansing breath of air as you feel his hand circle around your vaginal walls, pressing deep into the muscle as he does. You repeat the action four more times, and on your very last exhale, the light feeling of pressure within you finally abates as his fingers slip out of you.

“How do you feel?”

“Pretty relaxed,” you say with a relieved laugh.

“Mentally?” he prods.

“I dunno, fine,” you shrug.

“Any feelings of vulnerability are normal,” he says as he stands from his stool and helps you guide your legs out of the stirrups and back onto the table under the sheet. “You may find that these feelings may be delayed by a few days, even, so be gentle with yourself for the next week or so. Light muscle soreness is also normal, in the same way it can occur after a normal massage. If at any time this light soreness transforms into pain, please do not hesitate to contact me.”

Ezra picks up your consent form again and scans it briefly before setting it back down and giving you a serious, thoughtful look. “You told me three weeks ago that you were ‘built wrong,’ and you mention several times in your form that you have difficulty bringing yourself to orgasm. Little sprite, I have lost count of the number of clients who have the same complaints and who have similarly insisted their bodies were simply different from ‘normal’ people’s. Now, mind you, the sample size may be biased, but from this data I can only conclude that no human being is ‘built wrong.’ The problem lies in our minds, and more specifically, in the social conditioning we’ve all received since birth–conditioning that in no way favors the female experience of pleasure. Society has failed you, has labeled your pleasure as secondary, illusive, impossible, or even imaginary. Your sessions with me will help to reverse the physical symptoms from a lifetime of unhelpful social conditioning, and now that you know your body is not only capable of experiencing pleasure, but of doing so in ways you weren’t even aware, your mind will follow.”

“Wow,” you breathe, awestruck by how different you feel. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“I’ll leave you to get dressed, little sprite,” Ezra says, briefly patting your hand in a comforting manner. “When you’re ready, go ahead and open the door and I’ll walk you to the lobby to schedule your next appointment.”

#ezra #ezra prospect #ezra x you #ezra x reader #ezra x f!reader #pedro pascal #prospect fanfiction

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theoraclephobetor · 5 months

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Franklyn makes Hannibal so uncomfortable and he hates this little cheese man so much.

Dan Fogler is a master for acting this character in such a smarmy and unsympathetic way - and he does it without making Franklyn actively evil or mean. There's just this undercurrent of piteous desperation in everything he does, and he's so obviously dysfunctional in a way that is deeply repellent to viewers.

For Hannibal, it's worse. Hannibal is canny enough to recognize another human who constantly wears a 'person suit'. He watches Franklyn craft himself a persona from their conversations, from his own preferences, moulding himself into a perfect friend for Hannibal. Franklyn has such an ego, and thinks that where the world failed a famous man, he - in his infinite capacity for support and friendship - could succeed. But in crafting his person suit to perfectly fit his therapist's tastes, he makes himself repugnant to Hannibal.

Franklyn is doing to Hannibal what Hannibal is trying to do for Will - he wants to make himself into Will's anchor, to get behind his walls and touch greatness, to be his saviour (in a way) and show Will his true potential.

And yet Franklyn is objectively pitiable.

Which means Hannibal, seeing his actions played out by this small man, has to grapple with the fact that he is also a small and desperate creature. He is also pitiable.

This is the same episode where Will talks about the Chesapeake Ripper as an insignificant thing that should not have been born and can never really be a person - no matter how hard it tries. He talks about the Ripper's person suit as an extrapolation - something that must exist because how else would he have evaded capture - but what Will sees in that moment is the Ripper.

Will takes so much longer to figure out Hannibal because he gives Hannibal his trust so early on in the series. He isn't looking too deeply below Hannibal's facade (which I firmly think he sees) because he trusts that there is something behind it that vaguely resembles a person. Hannibal gets all the credit for seeing that Will has a cruel streak, but Will also sees parts of Hannibal that (almost) no one else has spotted - mainly, that he holds himself firmly apart from people, even as he charms them.

And Will is completely right. Hannibal is so lonely that he goes to find Will when he doesn't show up to an appointment. He has been confronted with his own loneliness through Franklyn, while at the same time needing to shore up his identity as the Chesapeake Ripper after two copycat kills. Sorbet is all about Hannibal's identity crisis working in opposition to his desire to make Will Graham his friend.

That's also what Bedelia sees when she calls out Hannibal's person suit/human veil. Like yeah, she'll have a glass of rose and a nice conversation with him, because she honestly does like the character Hannibal's been puppeting for years. But she knows it's a shadow play. She knows that they may be friendly, but friendship requires knowing Hannibal. Bedelia peeked beneath that veil - once, at her most vulnerable moment - and she never forgets that the person suit is tailored for a lonely predator. She never forgets that the only way he was able to truly connect with her was to manipulate her into killing.

Bedelia's place in all this is so interesting to me, because for a little while she is the audience surrogate. She has the same knowledge of Hannibal's character as any viewer who grew up with The Silence of the Lambs. Later she becomes a participatory character (until Hannibal makes her a surrogate for Will), but in the beginning she exists to help show the watcher what they already know. She reaffirms - in a time when Will and Jack are becoming untethered from their realities - that what the viewer knows about Hannibal is true. Bedelia is the viewer's anchor in this narrative, up until the point she chooses to disappear from it.

Though she knows better than to clearly say as much, I think she hears about Franklyn and knows exactly why Hannibal wants nothing to do with him.

#hannibal rewatch #sorbet #hannibal lecter #will graham #bedelia du maurier #franklyn froideveaux

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nekokoaa · 9 months

Text

The Agreement - Miguel O'Hara x Therapist!Reader (III)

Summary: It was simple. No kissing. No sex. Hugs and hand-holding only. The goal was to help Miguel feel a little less lonely sometimes. That was your job as one of the therapists at HQ, to mentally stabilize everyone’s mind, including the boss’s.

In other words, you and Miguel make a deal.

Rated Explicit, fluff, smut

4K words | (3/5) chapters

Chapters:

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V)

Author's notes: I work as a freelance copywriter so I had to prioritize my projects but I still managed to get this done! Enjoy! :) Let me know if you want to be a part of the tag list.

Also on AO3

III.

Sometimes you wish you were mindless—just a rusty cog of a machine in a 9 to 5 corporate job. Simply, a taciturn sheep led by a shepherd, waiting for the day a butcher’s knife is pressed against its neck. It was easier to handle life in such a way. Regrets can never be born when allied with carelessness.

But it was something beyond you. Clearly. The throes of passion had tempted you that night. His hand on your hip firmly held you in place, fingers pressed into your suit. Covetous crimson eyes searched between your eyes and lips long enough that the sweat of your skin gathered at your clavicles. But you managed to resist his heat, disappointing, yes, but at least you still had your dignity—your morals. If it wasn’t for that, you might’ve been in his bed that night, rocking your hips against his without a single care in the world.

Three weeks had passed by and you haven’t had a session with him since that night. You were canceling them in hopes that the fire between you fizzles. With distance, desire usually fades so you only hoped that night was just your hormones acting up and there wasn’t a deeper meaning to how you felt.

Between that time, you had the opportunity to meet Gwen Stacy from 65. She was a nice girl, cool, and very much like all of you. Burdened with the sense of justice with a side of wittiness.

She was popular, especially among the Peters who had lost their Gwens. They looked at her like she was a what-if moment and were impressed by her, but you knew you’ll be seeing them on your office couch soon enough.

Hobie was practically best friends with her now. The late night sessions with Hobie were a rare occurrence these days. Like a stray, he found a new person to feed his interests.

Jess favored her the most. Reminded her of her younger days, and how impressive she was at that age—still is, as she’s been carrying a baby in her stomach while doing her missions flawlessly.

Miguel was indifferent. At least that’s how he acted. But as long as work was getting done, you were leveling up the relationship bar with him.

Out of everyone, Peter B was home to her. To see a familiar face amongst like-minded strangers had helped her settle in faster than you expected. Seeing them together made them look like family.

Because of the great reputation she had around the society, today you allowed Gwen to pull you away from the safety of your office straight to Miguel’s for what she called emotional support. There was something she wanted to ask him—a request. And she had the idea that your presence would soften him up somehow.

“Why do you think that?” When you asked, Gwen looked back at you with a knowing smile. Her hand still latched onto your wrist like a snake squeezing its prey. She guided you through the cavernous hall of tech that led to Miguel’s office, the pathway seemed to grow darker the closer you got.

“I see how you two look at each other during meetings.” She said effortlessly like it was a fact. You let out a cough like you choked on air, already shaking your head to her conclusion.

“You know he’s always leading them—what? Do you expect me to look at the ceiling or something?” Gwen laughed at this, but it didn’t look like she was convinced.

Walking in, you had expected Miguel’s office to be darker than the hall leading towards it, but it was instead imbued with a ruddy tint, and streaks of sliver threads surrounded the area Miguel was standing in. He was in the middle of briefing a few Spider-Men for a mission on Gaia-3000. Miguel always made sure to remind his agents of the canon events before going on a mission to prevent the loss of the universe. It was more important than the mission itself.

The briefing didn’t last long as Miguel noticed you enter with Gwen. His gaze could’ve riveted you to the floor, the look on his face was neither soft nor austere—perhaps aloof would best describe how he looked at you. Yet you wanted to believe there was something behind those eyes of his because not once did they leave you since you entered.

It was until the Spider-Men walked into their portals that Miguel’s attention moved to the floating projections. The silver webs of fate orbited around him as if he were a sun. He would’ve looked occupied if it weren’t for his eyes moving between you and the projections.

“Doc.” He greeted you once you were in front of him, looking down at you through the hologram of a canon event that floated in between you two. There was a moment—just a moment where his eyes looked soft… but it could’ve been the trick of the hologram.

“Miguel.” You had to suck your lips in to stop yourself from smiling. You hated to admit it, but you were happy to speak to him after so long. Staying away from him was a selfish decision, one that you regretted now that you stood in front of him.

Your heart thumped in bliss, the warmth from that night revisiting you like an old friend. How inane of you to think that distance would’ve settled this emotion. It was already being stitched onto your soul from the moment this agreement started—the very needle sunken in when his hand stretched out of that portal into your apartment many months ago. You couldn’t pretend anymore.

You fell for him. Regardless of whether he felt the same or not.

“Uh, I’m here too…” Gwen had a slight smile on her face, bending forward with a small wave to Miguel.

“Gwen,” you could tell Miguel forced a smile, fangs appearing while none of the light reached his eyes. It lasted a moment before it dropped to his usual scowl. Miguel then turned around to face his floating platform that started its slow descent to the ground. “I’m sure you already had a tour of the place unless you’re just here to say hello.”

“I wanted to talk to you about something!”

“If a universe isn’t collapsing, or an anomaly hasn’t appeared, then Jess can handle it.”

“But it’s important! I just figure it would make our jobs easier. You know, making sure the universes are in order?”

The rumble of the descending platform had filled in for Miguel’s silence. He peeked behind his shoulder, his eyes looking past Gwen’s and into yours before they lowered to the ground. He then folded his arms against his chest, sighing. “I’m listening.”

Gwen immediately beamed, light filling her eyes. “Okay!” You could tell her entire energy ignited. Her arms flailed with every word that left her lips. She was animated—excited, glowing like a sun rising from the horizon, its rays brighter as the seconds go by. If anyone were to watch her, they too would feel elated by her presence alone.

But as the sun rises in one part of the world, it sets in the other. Her idea was nothing but grave to you, the dread in your face impossible to hide as she spoke with an open mind—naivety in her words. You couldn’t blame her because it’s possible no one told her yet, not Jess and surprisingly not Peter B. If she had told you of her idea prior, you wouldn’t have come here to support her. Just the thought of her idea could be considered mutiny to the entire cause… to Miguel.

You cast your eyes down, afraid to even lift them towards Miguel. You didn’t have to. You could already feel it brewing, simmering like water on a stovetop. A part of you internally begged for Gwen to shut up, or wished the sound of the descending platform was loud enough to overtake her voice. Miguel wasn’t facing either of you but you could still feel a weight on top of your shoulders, drilling you into the floors, your limbs heavier than sacks of sand.

Gwen went on and on until she was rambling, probably because she was excited or nervous. You couldn’t exactly tell. It was until the platform finally reached the ground that Gwen ended her request with a “pretty please” and a large smile on her face.

That smile didn’t last long.

“No,” Miguel spoke softly.

“Wha…” she faltered, physically her shoulders dropped. “What? Wait—why? I mean—he would be such a great asset to our group and—Probably one of the best Spider-mans I’ve met. The things he can do— He’s amazing , Miguel.”

“I said, no.” And it was final. Gwen knew that but she still pushed, making her argument, excuses, anything. Miguel silenced her with a heavy sigh, fingers moving to pinch the bridge of his nose. You expected anger when he turned to face her but no, there was nothing but sympathy in his eyes. Sympathy for what he had to reveal to her. He towered over her and with a heavy hand on her shoulder, said:

“That Miles Morales… was never supposed to be a Spider-Man. He’s not one of us. He’s an anomaly , Gwen, the original anomaly.”

At those words, it was like a string was pulled, released and an arrow soared and struck her chest. Gwen was trying to make sense of it all but nothing made sense no matter how long she thought about it.

Miguel continued regardless. With the command of his hands, the projections swirled around you three, depicting the moment when Spider-42 fell into Earth-1610, bit the wrong Miles Morales and in turn, the Spider-man from his universe died. Your real comrade.

Gwen didn’t want to believe it. Shaking her head as she stared at each projection. The truth floated around her. Thoughts ran a mile a minute. It would’ve been better if Peter B. told her instead of Miguel. Maybe if she heard it from a trusted friend, it would’ve been easier to believe. But Gwen knew there was no reason for Miguel to lie about this. What motive could Miguel have to not let Miles join the Spider Society?

“Miles Morales-1610 as Spider-man was a mistake.” His words to her were the final nail to a coffin. With the skidding sound coming from her shoes, she turned around and bolted out of Miguel’s office.

“Gwen!” You were about to chase after her until Miguel’s voice cut through the air.

“You think I’m done here?”

You physically jumped at how loud he sounded like thunder had rolled and rumbled the floor under your feet. You turned towards him and immediately you regretted it. What was brewing before was most certainly his anger, saved solely for you while Gwen was spared because of her naivety. But you—you knew better than to associate yourself with the anomaly. If only Miguel could give you a chance to explain yourself.

“Miguel, I—”

He didn’t let you finish. His hand latched onto your wrist, pulling you deeper into his office and into a room beyond the shadows. It was more like a traditional office than the one outside with a desk, a bookcase, a soft couch and some cabinets. There was even a bed that Miguel probably slept in whenever he didn't want to return home. The sheets were ruffled so you could tell he often used it but never had enough time to make it because he was usually always on the go.

However, it was the last thing on your mind when you had a fuming Miguel in front of you. He didn’t even wait for the door to close before he grabbed you a little too rough by the shoulders, shaking you lightly. Red eyes lasered down on you.

Undoubtedly, you knew he was angry, but there was something else in there.

“What were you thinking? You know what Miles-1610 is to us, Doc! You know what an anomaly could do to a universe and you still supported her idea? Did you really think that was okay? Letting an anomaly join and ruin everything —!”

“I didn’t know! I didn’t know that’s what she wanted to ask! All she told me was that it would support the society and she needed me here for emotional support! If I knew it was about the anomaly, I wouldn’t have come here!”

You yelled back louder. Miguel’s talon-less fingers buried themselves in your upper arms, squeezing them. His eyes were wide, shaky red irises searching within your own for any hint of honesty. The grip on you wasn’t as firm as it looked. Like a crane holding a prize, the slightest nudge would’ve shaken his hands off. Despite how he looked, Miguel made sure he wasn’t hurting you.

“This is exactly why I told Jess I didn’t want her to join! She’s—She’s too close with the anomaly. She can jeopardize our entire cause all because of him !” He froze after, an idea appearing in his head. He wasn’t thinking rationally anymore. He released you, turning around like he wanted to leave. “She has to go home.”

“Wait! You can’t—Let’s think about this, Miguel.”

He was quick to face you again, his hands returning to your upper arms. He bent forward until his face was at your level. “I can’t have her risk all that I built—that we built.”

There it was. It wasn’t just anger he was feeling. The signs were all there; His trembling breath, the sweat that made his forehead glossy, the weakness in his hold.

Miguel was panicking.

It was fear that buried itself within his fury from the moment Gwen had asked for Miles-1610’s recruitment and when he thought you supported her idea. It was like he saw it again. His daughter disappearing in his arms, the weight of her so heavy… until he felt nothing—until nothing around him existed except for what remained of the universe: white light and empty space. He had the blood of that universe on his hands and no matter how many times he tried to wash them away, it was now embedded in his soul. All that existed ended because he was the anomaly of that world disrupting the canon events.

Months after months of research couldn’t bring him the exact reason for that universe ending, but he was sure of one thing. If everything went how it was planned, nothing like that would happen ever again.

And that’s why it was his job to put things back to how it was. It was the only thing he could do to atone.

So yes, Miguel was reliving his trauma yet again.

And it was your job to relieve him of it.

“That doesn’t mean we should make rash decisions,” you told him, gently. “She’s one of our best and letting her go would slow down our efforts. You and I both know that.”

Miguel’s energy was being sapped out of him, visibly his shoulders dropped and those red eyes were no longer on you as he hung his head low. He released you and retreated to sit on his bed. For a moment, he looked like a toy that ran out of batteries, burying his face in his hands before he ran them through his curly locks.

It was so different seeing him like this—like he was moping. You followed him and stood between his legs.

“Besides, Gwen's a smart girl. She wouldn’t do anything that would put the universes at risk.” He didn’t respond or even look at you. It made you run a hand against his cheek as your thumb brushed under his eye. “When’s the last time you slept? You look tired.”

“I don’t have time to be tired. Not when there’s a Galaxy-size mess I have to clean up. With every anomaly we restore, 10,000 more just take its place. It’s never-ending, Doc. I’m like a janitor mopping up a shoreline.”

“We all took an oath. A spider-person’s job never ends. Which is why we need to rest as much as we can to fight another day.”

“I didn’t ask for this, Doc.” He sighed, leaning his head against your hand until his cheek pushed up against it. “And I won’t be able to sleep.”

“None of us did…” you lightly smiled, “And I’ll help you.”

You pulled your hand away from his cheek, but you didn’t miss when he leaned more against it for his lips to press into your palm. The brief feel of them jolted something within you like a warm shiver struck your lower stomach. Gosh, it made you curious—too curious about how they would feel against other parts of your body.

And you didn’t miss those eyes that looked up at you, red like cherries, sweet like them too. It was hard to turn away, somewhat thankful you managed to because you didn’t want to be under their spell. You still felt the heat of them on you even as you approached his bookcase. Your palm still tingling from the feel of his lips as you pulled a book off one of the shelves. You returned to him grinning.

He was disappointed when he glanced at your book choice in your hand. “Charlotte’s web? Am I a kid to you?”

“No, but… you act like one sometimes. Lay down for me.”

You pushed against his shoulder leaving him no choice but to oblige. What he didn’t expect was you to climb in after him, settling on your side next to him while you opened the book to page one and started to read.

Miguel still couldn’t sleep. His eyes remained open, watching the top of your head as you read. A lovely smile on your face as you tried (and failed) to give each character their own distinctive voice. When you weren’t busy turning the page, the hand that he kissed was together with his, fingers interlocked. You were so used to holding his hand by now that you thought nothing of it and ignored the warmth that spread throughout your body because of it.

“Are you finally resuming our sessions?” Miguel interrupted you, pulling your eyes away from the book and into his own.

“Only if you need it.”

You knew Miguel would never admit he needed it, especially how adamant he was about them in the beginning.

“I need it.”

Oh.

“I definitely need it.”

“Then… I’ll put you back on my calendar.”

“ Muy Bien. ”

His sonorous whisper had heat searing your cheeks, not to mention, that smile that flashed your way made his fangs look bigger—so mischievous it had you biting your lip. Immediately after, Miguel’s mask materialized around his head. Much to your disappointment.

“Do you really need your mask on while you sleep?” You asked.

“You never know when the job needs you. Have to always be on the ready.”

“Words from a true workaholic… you said you wanted a family but how exactly were you going to make time for them when you’re working all these hours?”

“Oh, I always made time for mi hija . Always went to her soccer practice. Always was there to read her a bedtime story. Take her clothes shopping. I was made to be a dad but… it just isn’t in my fate to be one.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you heard his pain. You squeezed his hand, regretful.

“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, no, no, no—It’s okay… It’s a valid question.”

Not knowing what else to say, you continued to read. Seconds, minutes, time ticked away. Miguel’s hand was still tight in yours, but his voice came out heavy whenever he commented about the book. His head was against the pillows, turned in your direction.

Your voice must’ve been soothing him because his hand would grow weak in yours and then he would suddenly squeeze it, throwing a random comment out about the main character, Wilbur, and then trying to convince you he didn’t fall asleep. Sometimes the heat where your hands came together would make him doze off and the coolness that grew when they were briefly apart would stir him awake.

“Maybe we should’ve recruited Charlotte. She really saved that pig’s ass,” he mumbled, looking like he had sunk deeper into his bed, the pillows swallowed his head.

“Yeah, she dedicated her life to saving him. All the way to the very end. She never gave up, spending hours weaving her web, trying to convince the humans no matter how tough it got. I’m sure she may have felt like she was… mopping up a shoreline too but her actions paid off in the end… the difference is, you’re not alone, Miguel. You have us—all of us to rely on, to help shoulder the burden. Please don’t forget that—that we’re here for you.”

You expected something, anything from him, but you received nothing but silence. “Miguel…? Oh…” it was then you noticed his hand was weak in yours and when you pulled your hand away, he stayed asleep.

Finally. You couldn’t help but smile, softly closing the book before sitting up.

You watched his chest rise and fall as he lay supine against his bed. You should’ve left his office but you stayed there watching him sleep, taking in the rare sight of Miguel completely defenseless. You wished you could’ve seen his face. It would’ve been the topping on the cake.

Your fingers brushed against his arm, suddenly craving the warmth of his body.

You couldn’t deny your feelings for him any longer, but you wondered if Miguel felt anything for you. You knew how lonely men acted. As long as the body was warm and could keep them company, it didn’t matter to them.

Some part of you wondered if you were just as lonely as Miguel—that these feelings were just because you craved for someone. Maybe it was even the reason why you sprung up this agreement in the first place. After your divorce, you became married to your work, the only thing that mattered was your patients as a therapist and the people you saved as a superhero. You abandoned yourself, shutting yourself off from the world within your white-walled apartment. It was why you looked up to Miguel as much as you did because he was the one who pulled you out of your darkness. So you were hoping you could do the same thing for him.

But you knew your heart beat too strongly for it to be just feelings of loneliness. It longed for him even when you were this close to him, wanting to be surrounded by the warmth that emanated from him, wanting to be touched, kissed, and held only by the man who saved you, your guiding light while you were lost at sea.

Your hand moved to caress his cheek, feeling the fibers of his mask under your fingertips. You were leaning closer to him, unable to resist like a moth to a flame. God, you were completely enamored by him. Looks like he didn’t need to look at you to be under his spell.

For the first time, you didn’t think about the consequences. For the first time, you were mindless.

You pressed your lips against his lips, closing your eyes. It was softer than you expected; light, feathery and warm. Too warm . It was brief but it was enough to light a flame within you that burned when you pulled away. Your breath shuddered as you inhaled, the warmth lasting only a second.

Your eyes opened, but you found yourself stilling. Miguel’s eyes were still closed, though half of his mask was dematerialized to the tip of his nose. His lips were out, free from the fibers.

Your mouth hung open. Miguel had removed half of his mask when kissed him and you hadn't a clue if he was asleep all this time or not.

The remainder of his mask dematerialized and you were face to face with those eyes of his. Your heart skipped a beat, knocking the air from your lungs as your palms grew sweaty.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

You felt so much pressure under his gaze, his face not quite readable. You flicked your wrist towards the ceiling and a web shot out, preparing yourself to run away until a glowing red web wrapped around your wrist and riveted you in place.

“Not this time, Doc.”

------------------------------

Tag List:

@oikawa-bubs @brittney69 @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @allysunny @smarty0029 @96jnie @deepinballs @lovecandyuwu @remuslupinwifee

#miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x you #marvel #sony #spider man: across the spider verse #spider man: into the spider verse #fanfiction #fluff #angst #smut #the agreement

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rottenrosethorns · 10 months

Note

I see your looking for request, so I was more than happy to show up in your inbox

I came up with this randomly - anyway. Leon plans a weekend getaway/vacation for him and the reader. Somewhere where they can go swimming (beach,lake etc etc). Leon needs to relieve some tension. Leon and the reader share romantic night swim together totally on a whim, and just enjoy each other’s company, and tiny bit of smut just to top it all off.

much love x

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x afab!reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Synopsis: Disaster after disaster, Leon’s weekend plans seem to come to an unfortunate end; however, you convince him to try one last resort at a secluded campsite off the side of the road.

Word Count: 4.4K

Warning: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT; swimming, bugs, unprotected sex, vanilla romantic sex

A/N: all of my a/n are like “sorry for taking so long” and “it’s longer than expected” lmao. Thank you anon for requesting, i hope you like it! I really hope i got the romance translated through the story (if its subpar, im sorry, im tragically single LMAO)

__________

- masterlist -

__________

“Hey, hey, look at me,” You reached across the center console to cup Leon’s cheek and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, “Everything’s going to be okay, alright?”

Your voice hushes into a comforting whisper as you rubbed Leon’s cheek with a sad pout. Thankfully, your kiss seemed to soften his disarray of emotions as his frustrated wrinkles eased away as he let out a quick huff. Leon’s eyes were set looking through the windshield, avoiding your eyes at all costs as he wanted to avoid you picking up on his embarrassment. But, even without looking at him, you always knew what emotion he was feeling. You could clearly tell that Leon was disappointed in himself despite your attempts at reassurance. Leon sighed loudly, resting his elbow on the driver’s door as he looked down with his forehead resting in his left hand, “Everything was supposed to be perfect.”

Optimistically, you tried to offer him a smile, but even you knew that you couldn’t argue with him about that one. Nothing was ever perfect, but this weekend trip was far from smooth sailing. Leon – being the vacation desperate man that he is – took the first chance to get out of town and booked a picturesque shoreside cabin for the extended weekend. It’s been way too long since he’s had a break, and all he wanted to do was spend time with you while reconnecting with nature. Well, the latter part was more so a suggestion from Leon’s therapist to which you essentially forced him to start seeing. Although he deemed it unnecessary even with his success of departing from the hardships of his trauma, Leon only agreed to comply with the treatments if you were doing them with him which included you enjoying the calmness that nature offered as well. A win is a win, you suppose.

However, not everyone could be winners without losing once or twice, and Leon seemed to be on a streak today. With the cabin site a hefty four hours away from home, you were bound to run into some mishaps. But those mishaps quickly turned into mayhem as you faced the tribulations of Leon losing and finding his wallet, changing a flat tire on the highway, getting pulled over and let go with a warning, nearly missing a deer kissing the front bumper, and much, much more. Leon felt like he was fighting for his life more so on this road trip than being on an actual work mission. The only difference being that his enemy was the invisible universe instead of the normal mutated creatures and undead humans.

Upon struggling to reach the cabinsite, Leon was relieved to pull into the parking lot of the front office and finally settle down after the hectic events of the day. But as if his trip couldn’t get any worse, the receptionist at the cabinsite pitifully informed you both that Leon’s booking confirmation never went through and that there were unfortunately no vacancies for the rest of the weekend. So now, you were both back in Leon’s car as he tried his best not to blow a fuse from the abundance of misfortunes.

Just as you were about to respond back to him, your eyes shifted from Leon towards your phone screen that just lit up from being drained of its battery. Leon mistook your untimely silence as if you were condemning him at fault for being the reason why this trip was so disastrous. As he went to shift away from you, you quickly reached out and embraced his hands in yours, “We’re still going to have fun, okay? We’ve got a couple hours until sundown and I think I have an idea.”

“You sure? If you don’t want to, we can go back home,” Leon offered with a downward turn on his lips. As much as he hated the idea of going back home and sitting idly within those same four walls of the house, Leon didn’t want you to feel as if you were being forced along with him to share the unexpected hardships of the road-trip.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to reconnect with nature?” You laughed to yourself, already finding the imagery of Leon frolicking in the grass like some Disney princess amusing, “Let’s go here, I saw it on the way.”

Leon leaned over to look at the location you’d pull up on your phone, showing a small and secluded campsite hidden on the side of the road. Leon inspected the images with a skeptical look, “Are you sure? Those pictures seem kinda old, what if it’s not what it looks like anymore?”

You shrugged, “Then, we’ll find out and see.”

“We don’t even have camping supplies.”

“Then, we get them.”

You and Leon stared at each other in silence as the proposition sunk in. After a moment, Leon sighed and started the car’s engine to drive off wherever you directed him to go. A part of him hoped that you wanted to tell him to turn around and go home, but the other part of him still wanted the weekend events to work out. After a bit more convincing, you managed to dissipate all his doubts and initiated yourself to take the responsibility for the rest of the trip. Although he was disappointed that his plans fell through, Leon couldn’t bring himself to put in more effort in the trip. During the ride, you constantly reassured him that nothing bad would happen although you both knew you really couldn’t promise that. It didn’t stop you from believing nonetheless.

You directed Leon for a while until the car stopped at the nearest department store where you gathered all the necessary camping supplies and whatever food you wanted to last you the weekend. Thankfully, Leon’s mood started to brighten up as he chose your favorite snacks and even offered to buy you a cute stuffed teddy bear to keep you company. Was he slightly jealous that you were beaming at the plush? Maybe. But, he’d buy you anything to keep that smile on your face.

Once satisfied with the purchase, you both departed the parking lot and drove until you found yourselves going down a tiny dirt path. The further you went down the road you started to second guess whether or not this was a good idea. It was a good half of a mile drive from the main road, and you were skeptical if there was even going to be a nice scene at the end of the road to settle in. The dirt road quickly started to disappear as the path became more and more overgrown as if no one had driven over it for quite some time. You cringed at the sound of the tree branches scratching the sides of Leon’s car as the edge of the forest got narrower. You really didn’t want the campsite to be bad and dampen Leon’s mood even more. You knew how much he needed a break, and you wanted to help make that happen.

As you progressed deeper into the forest, the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach worsened. Leon seemed to notice your skepticism, “You sure this is the right place?”

You let out a nervous giggle, tightening your hold around your teddy bear, “Yes?”

Leon shook his head, unsure whether or not to believe you, yet he continued to drive forward blindly. You felt yourself holding your breath in anticipation as the thick trees looming over the road started to clear up. You lurched forward in your seat, rubbing your eyes from thinking that you saw something in the distance. As Leon approached, a laser flash of the sun’s reflection flashed your squinting eyes before you started to piece shining ripples on a water’s surface, “Is that a lake?”

Upon completely entering the clearing, your eyes were welcomed with a wide yet humble campground peacefully secluded from the main road. The campsite was equipped with a circle of rocks acting as a firepit with a small path leading down towards the sandbank and access to the lake from a wooden dock at the shore. Utterly breath taken from the sight before you, you awed the sheer capacity of the view. The lake was essentially crystal clear surrounded with rocks, cliff ledges, assortment of lush green trees, and a mountain. It was exactly what you’d see in a painting.

Leon pulled off to the side, parked the car, and hopped out eagerly to deeply inhale the fresh scent of pine. You quickly followed after Leon and leaping into his arms for an open hug while laughing, “Is this okay?”

Leon snuggled into you, feeling happy for the first time today, “No, this is perfect, maybe even better than the cabin.”

Leon tightened his arms for a moment as a silent thank you for your suggestion before putting you down and turning to soak himself in the view as well. While he was looking away, you couldn’t help but put yourself at ease from watching the smile on Leon’s face grow as the relief washed over him.

You kissed his cheek and glanced at the campsite again, “Let’s set up for dinner before the sun goes down.”

You and Leon tagged team setting up the tent and making dinner before sitting yourselves at the edge of the dock to eat and relax.

“Can you believe that there’s places like this that actually exist?” You breathed a sigh of awe as you watched the reflection of the setting sun shimmer against the breeze induced ripples on the lake's surface.

Unfortunately, your moment was partially ruined by some flying insects invading your vision and coming a bit too close for comfort as you swatted them away chaotically. Just as your bravery was set to dissipate, Leon aided in swatting the small swarm away. Shivering from the imaginative feeling of bugs crawling on your skin, you groaned in discomfort while rolling your eyes, “My knight and shining armor.”

“Is this your token of gratitude?” Leon feigned hurt by putting a hand over his heart dramatically, “Even after I aided your distress?”

You pushed him away with a laugh, yet your arms returned to rub them over your skin subconsciously. Even when you knew you were safe, you still felt vulnerable, especially out in the open, “I hate bugs.”

Leon hummed in acknowledgement as he intensely peered out into the scenic lake before perking up suddenly, “I have an idea!”

You eyed him suspiciously, moving your torso away and holding your hands up cautiously, “Uh-oh.”

“It’s not even dangerous,” Leon rolled his eyes, “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

You blinked, “Yeah, I don’t know about that one.”

“When have I ever put you in danger?”

“Let’s see,” You pointed each finger up, counting off the events as you recalled them, “Vegas, New York, LA – oh, don’t forget China too!”

“Alright! Alright!” Leon huffed with an exaggerated pout, “You have a point.”

“I always have a point,” You smiled in triumph, “Now-”

Leon cut you off by suddenly standing up and offering you a hand. You peered at his hand for a moment before shifting your eyes to his as you both silently communicated. Eventually, you decided to take his hand and let him lead you to wherever he planned to; however, instead of helping you stand up like you anticipated him to, Leon had pulled you forward and used the momentum of your imbalance to throw your body against his as he engulfed you in a hug and threw your bodies into the lake.

Closing your eyes and holding your breath, you were completely submerged in the cool water. As quickly as it happened, you felt Leon’s hands grab your waist and help you break the surface and take a deep gasp for air.

“Seriously, Leon?" You wiped the water droplets off your face and pushed your hair back, "What are you like ten?"

Leon’s hands moved from your waist to the back of your thighs and guided them to wrap around his waist as he floated around in the water. Leon smirked as you securely wrapped your arms around his neck, afraid to drift too far from him although you were safely near the shore’s edge, “Feels nice, doesn’t it?”

You were about to question what he meant by that before you realized that the cool sensation of the water wore off the icky feeling of the bugs crawling on your skin. Upon seeing your face, Leon laughed in satisfaction, knowing that he was right.

“Shut up,” You mumbled.

Leon leaned into you closer, teasingly hovering his lips near yours, “What was that?”

“I said-” You took your chance to release his neck, cup a pocket of water in your hands, and splash Leon in the face.

Leon released you, giving you a chance to swim away before becoming a victim to his revenge. You can’t remember how long you were in the lake for, but you definitely are going to remember the memories of laughing and smiling with Leon for the rest of your life. Before you knew it, the sun was barely over the horizon as the black and blue sky began to overtake the pink and orange hues. While distracted from looking at the sky, Leon swam towards you.

“Come on, you’re getting cold,” Leon helped you gain your footing as you both trudged towards the firepit soaking wet.

You squeezed out the hem of your shirt in efforts to reduce the amount of water on you; however, you remained drenched no matter how much you twisted and wrung the fabric. Turning towards Leon, you meant to ask him which bag he packed the towels to retrieve them but was promptly stopped upon seeing him sling off his shirt and wringing it out. You gulped as you watched the veins trailing down his arms to his hands enhanced as he tightly gripped the fabric of his shirt. Now with the moon high in the sky, Leon’s bare skin seemed to glitter as his muscles flexed.

You felt like you would’ve stayed there forever had your thoughts not been interrupted from Leon’s chuckle, “Can I help you?”

Adverting your eyes and clearing your throat loudly, you awkwardly pointed towards his car, “Um, I'm gonna get the towels. Which – uh, which bag did you put them in?”

“I didn’t pack towels.”

“You,” Your jaw slacked, “You what?”

Leon shrugged, taking a nearby stick and propping it upwards in the ground near the fire and hung his shirt to dry, “I figured the cabin would’ve provided some, so I didn’t pack any.”

You stood there dumbfounded, knowing that Leon did have a point despite his lack of preparedness, “We can’t stay wet like this, we’ll get sick.”

“There’s a fire right here,” Leon stated like it was obvious before hooking his thumbs around his waistband and stripping himself from his pants and undergarments.

You gasped loudly, turning your back towards him as your wide eyes did their best to avoid being flashed, “Leon!”

Your voice echoed out into the forest as Leon’s boisterous laugh filled the air as he slung the rest of his clothes over another stick, “Come on, it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

Heat flushes your face as you bite the inside of your cheek from the imagery of Leon being completely unclothed, most times from events when you both were getting intimate, “T-That’s different!”

You knew Leon rolled his eyes from the tone of his voice, “You can turn around now, I’ve got clothes on.”

Slowly, you peeked at Leon, making sure he was telling the truth before committing to fully view him. True to his word, Leon had dressed himself with his previous outfit hanging near the fire. He handed you your clothes he managed to grab and set up another row of sticks to set your wet clothes to dry.

When he noticed you were still frozen in place, Leon asked, “What’s wrong?”

Quietly, you mumbled, “Can you turn around?”

Leon paused his movements before a wide smirk flashed across his lips, “What was that?”

“I said,” You huffed, annoyed, “Turn around!”

Leon snickered at your embarrassment but ultimately complied as he turned his back towards you and patiently waited until you handed him your sopping clothes to be hung on his makeshift clothing line. Once you finished dressing and hanging your clothes to dry, you noticed Leon shuffling about inside the tent. You watched as Leon basically disassembled the bedding setup and placed it outside near the campfire, “You know those are supposed to go inside the tent, right?”

For a while, you tried to decipher what he was doing while urging yourself not to scold him for placing the sheets on the dirt. Leon would set the sheets in one spot, crane his neck upwards before moving the sheets to another spot before doing the same thing again and again until he settled on a spot to his liking. He was a bit of a perfectionist and his wide smile proved that point even more as he sat down and patted the spot next to him eagerly. Playing along, you seat yourself next to Leon and follow suit as you both laid on the sheets to look up at the night sky. There you saw the blanket of darkness with billions of stars that seemed to glow brighter than it did in the city.

“See the big dipper?” Leon took his hand and placed it over yours with your pointer outwards as he stretched your arm out towards the sky and traced the shape of the constellation, “And, there’s the little one.”

Leon continued to look up at the stars and educate you about the history of each constellation and the mysteries of outer space. You listened intently, soaking every story and fact that he had to tell, “Since when did you know all this stuff? I thought you hated astronomy and horoscopes.”

Leon shrugged, “I do, but then I watched this documentary.”

You laughed incredulously before returning to awe at the glittering specks above you, tracing the constellations’ patterns over and over again. From the forest to the lake to the stars, you felt at peace in the countryside and a part of you wondered whether you could make a life with Leon out here far into the future. While looking at the stars, a quick linear flash of light darted across the tail end of the Little Dipper, “Leon, a shooting star! Make a wish!”

Instinctively, you brought your hands up to your chest in a mock prayer while dragging Leon’s hand in yours as you closed your eyes and made your wish. After a moment of silence, you turned towards Leon, only to be surprised that he was looking at you the whole time. Leon chuckled at your reaction, “What’d you wish for?”

“I can’t tell you, silly, or it won’t come true.”

“Fair,” Leon said without glancing away at you, “You want to know what my wish was?”

“It won’t come true if you tell me,” You said in a hush just above a whisper, noticing the twinkling in Leon’s eyes became brighter than the stars above you.

“What if it already came true?”

Leon’s eyes traced the features of your face as the campfire’s flames illuminated your complexion. Slowly, Leon brought up a hand to cup your cheek as his thumb softly traced your bottom lip, “Can I kiss you?”

“You don’t have to ask,” You whispered.

Immediately, Leon pressed his lips to yours in a loving embrace, only moving his lips slowly as if to slow down time and relish the feelings of this moment. You melted into his kiss much like all of his others, but you yearned for more as you broke the kiss to straddle his lap. Sitting up, Leon rested his hands at your hips as you wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kisses you gave him. Grinding yourself onto Leon’s hardness, you helped each other take off your shirts before Leon dove forward to pepper kisses along your neck and collarbone. You arched your back, easing access for Leon to leave a few marks behind. Leon trailed his hands up and down your exposed back before dipping them into the hem of your shorts and gathered the fabric of your underwear in a gentle tug, causing the friction to rub against your clit.

Leon pulled back for a moment, chest heaving from lust, “Are you sure you want this?”

“This isn’t our first time,” You giggled, running your fingers through his messy hair.

“I know,” Leon said with his eyes flickering from your eyes to your swollen lips, “I’m just checking.”

“For?”

“If you want this,” Leon hesitated, pressing his lips in a fine line, “If you want me.”

You sat back, arms dropping to your sides as you peered at your lover confused. Leon rarely ever questioned your reasoning for staying with him despite all his history and his flaws. But, it was when the crackle of the fire paired with an extra large flicker of flame flashed the raw emotion of uncertainty in Leon’s eyes when you understood that it was the insecurity of all his history and all his flaws which clouded his mind with doubt. You had to step back and see things from his perspective for a moment. Of course, Leon was used to disasters in his everyday life, but now with all the great memories he’s created today, he was scared to lose it all now that the night was coming to an end.

Knowing this, you smiled at him, holding his jawline with both hands as you pressed a passionate kiss to his lips. Leon responded with equal passion, but you could still sense a twinge of doubt within him. You pulled away, just enough to hover your lips over his as you rested your foreheads upon another, “Let me show you that I want this, that I want you.”

Leon gulped, eyes flickering between yours before slowly nodding and letting you take the lead. Taking his hands off your hips, you slid off his lap to fully undress yourself and guided him to do the same before reclaiming your place. You sat back, allowing enough space for you to dip your hand between your legs to grab Leon’s dick and slowly pump him at the base. Leon took a sharp inhale, eyes focused on your working hand. It didn’t take him long to get fully erect before you trailed your hand further up his shaft to drag his tip and spread your lubricant from pussy lips to clit. You spread the slickness along his shaft, causing him to hiss from the ease, “Don’t you need to prep? I can-”

You hushed him, “I’ll be fine, I need you in me right now.”

Leon twitched at your words, salivating from your eagerness. He didn’t want to lose his composure so quickly especially since you seemed to be holding on so well, but he was just as desperate to be in you and you were for him. Taking him back in your hand, you raised your weight in your knees and positioned yourself to take him in. Slowly, you sank down, allowing yourself the luxury of the initial painful stretch before using your body weight to bottom out. Leon’s face contorted with pleasure, using every ounce of self control that he could muster not to move your hips up and downwards as you took a moment to adjust to his size. Leon closed his eyes, taking shaky deep breaths in and out.

You knew it was evil, but you purposefully prolonged your adjustment just to see Leon in this state. You found it endearing to see him so frustrated as you essentially cockwarmed him, but you knew you couldn’t keep this up for too long before Leon would turn the tables on you and make you regret testing his patience. So, with one last look of desperation on his face, you finally pumped your hips against his and took all of him. You hugged his wide shoulders and bit down on his skin as you dragged your walls against his veiny cock. The heat of your core plus the heat of the fire ignited a flush within you as the ember glow filled the air around you.

Leon chose to show his appreciation by gripping your waist to push you back and leaving open mouth kisses on your breast and nipples. You arched your back, using his shoulders to hold for leverage as you continued to pump yourself on him. You could feel yourself beginning to tightened as you approached your finish and surely Leon could feel it too; however, Leon repositioned his hands to lift you off of him and on the blanket, so that you were lying on your back.

“I was almost done,” You looked up at him with a pout from your stolen climax before a moan from your lips pierced the air as Leon entered you again.

“I know, baby,” Leon hovered over you, lips on the shell of your ear as he whispered, “I just wanted to show you how much I wanted you too.”

With newfound passion, Leon rose back up and relentlessly pounded into your cunt. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head with pleasure as you gripped his veiny forearms to keep yourself from shifting away due to his force. You cried out into the night air as your moans and whimpers became lost in the wilderness. Lost in the feeling of Leon’s heavy thrusts, you hadn’t realized he took your hands in his as he continued his pace.

“Please,” You gasped, “I’m almost there.”

You felt the familiar clench in your gut as Leon aimed at an upwards angle, deliciously pressing against your g-spot. You gripped his hands harder as you begged him not to stop. Leon edged you on by whispering more dirty thoughts in your ear as he groaned between his speech. Once again, Leon’s lips found your their way up and down your neck before leaving hickeys around the soft skin of your breasts

“Cum, baby, cum for me,” Leon thrusted one last time into you, hips stuttering as he held your hand and pushed himself impossibly deeper into you. You moaned loudly as you wrapped your legs around his sides and clenched around him as he pumped into you. You both laid there, taking a moment to catch your breaths before removing yourselves, cleaning up, and laying covered up to bask in each other’s after sex glow by the fire.

“Thank you for a memorable weekend,” Leon caressed your cheek, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” You kissed him lovingly and snuggled into his side to share his warmth. Although the fire was more than enough, it could never compare to the warmth and comfort that Leon gave you.

“What should we do tomorrow?”

“Probably, get that tire properly fixed.”

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil fanfiction #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon kennedy oneshot #leon kennedy fic #leon s kennedy oneshot #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy fanfiction #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x you #resident evil smut

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jelluf1sh · 7 months

Text

⊹˚🍜Ꮺ ꒰toji fushiguro as a bodyguard !!꒱ ࣪𖤐 ˓ ⊹ ˚

a/n :: fem! reader because these are entirely self-indulgent. i forgot that i made these on my other account, so i'm bringing them back because i miss them. hopefully they're better than before ^_^ !!

bodyguard! toji who is only doing this because your dad is rich. babysitting some spoiled little girl shouldn't be too much of a hassle.

bodyguard! toji who will absolutely abuse his rights as a member of your household by using your fancy showers and helping himself to your kitchen (you've walked in on him fresh out of a shower in, like, four different bathrooms).

bodyguard! toji who simply grunts out a response when he's not in the mood to talk to you. otherwise, he'll talk whether you want to hear him or not.

bodyguard! toji who is an absolute bully. who'll bump shoulders with you in passing without apologizing, who stands in front of the TV as if he's made of glass (and pretends not to hear you when you tell him to move, snarky bastard...), who averts his eyes and snickers when he sees that you can't reach something you so clearly need help reaching, etc.

bodyguard! toji who hates being stuffed in a suit and tie for your family's more formal functions, and will begrudgingly let you stick close when it gets to be too much for you.

bodyguard! toji with a wild streak. the kind to be thrilled about a surprise attack on the estate, not necessarily because he wants you dead, but because he gets to showcase his title as the sorcerer killer as he tells you to get back, a crazed grin on his lips, a gun in one hand, and a massive blade in the other.

bodyguard! toji who constantly reminds you, "i'm here to keep you alive, l'il girl, not be your nanny." it's his mantra.

bodyguard! toji who gets caught in the kitchen at 2:14 AM, loudly slurping cup ramen and drinking beer because he "got bored and didn't know what the hell do do in this big-ass house".

bodyguard! toji without a shred of respect for your privacy unless you're showering or changing your clothes. who pokes through your closet and drawers and tosses your poor stuffed animals to the floor to make himself comfortable on your pink comforter set.

bodyguard! toji who won’t actually apologize by saying ‘i’m sorry’, but instead buys you something you’ve been eyeing with the paycheck your dad gave him last week without a word.

bodyguard! toji who says he isn’t your therapist, but gives affirmative little grunts and small pieces of advice when you vent to him.

bodyguard! toji who has a good laugh when you tell him you want to learn how to fight. who mocks you, “a tiny thing like you? ha! funny, princess — you should be a comedian.” (he’ll teach you if you really want to learn, but you’ll have to grit your teeth and bear the teasing.)

#꒰🪼꒱ jelly writes.#jjk #toji x reader #toji headcanons #jjk toji #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #i ate this #★ due to be edited.#ok GOODNIGHT #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 25 days

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Am I the Asshole for the way I played Risk?

👑🎲= Emoji Identification

This is super low-stakes, happened a few years ago, and I don't even talk to anyone in this play group anymore, but I still need to know.

Me (21 at the time F); My Ex-GF: G (24 F); Her brother-A (19 M); Mutual Friend- P (19 M)

So, we were all together, hanging out, playing Risk, and other games. So we start the Risk game. We each started in one of the four corners. At first it seems to be going well. After a few rounds, it seems like G and A are avoiding attacking eachother, despite being right next to each other. Me and P are fighting over borders. The usual. G and A, especially, have been attacking me and P almost exclusively. Well after several more rounds, G and A let slip that they do, in fact, have an alliance. It was kind of obvious at that point, anyway.

Here is where I am honestly confused. So since G and A were in an alliance, me and P started to discuss one as well, since we were currently playing defense and not doing well against G and A's more or less combined armies.

G lost her mind. Started accusing us of cheating and metagaming, and conspiring against her to make her lose (she likes to brag that she never lost a Risk game). I told her, that alliances were apart of the game, of course we are trying to win, and she already said that her and A are in an alliance! So what is the problem? She just kept insisting that our making an alliance was metagaming because we only did it because of what they were doing, which shouldn't impact us at all. But I argued it was a strategy game. You are supposed to react to your opponents strategies. And alliances aren't against the rules. We went back and forth for a few minutes. P eventually placated her and promised we wouldn't make an alliance. I was annoyed but gave in.

The game continued, with G and A not attacking eachother, and focusing on me and P. After a couple of rounds, G got mad again, because P and I weren't attacking eachother. I tried to explain, that with two armies attacking my borders, it doesn't make sense to provoke yet another army, when I need to defend against the first two. She insisted this was metagaming, and we should be attacking eachother. P and A were desperately trying to stop our arguing and I considered just quitting the game, but A convinced me to keep playing.

Apparently A was also fed up, because he decided to backstab G and attacked her. Unfortunately, she already had quite a big army at this point due to some lucky rolls and placements, so he was annihilated. Eventually, P and A were wiped out and me and G were the only armies left (I eventually turned on P and attacked him, mostly just to get G to stop yelling at me). I decided I didn't want to play against just her, so I proposed a draw and just divy the map up. She agreed and the game ended.

I thought that was the end of it, but for months after, she kept complaining about how me, A, and P were conspiring against her. She even brought it up to her therapist, and then later woke me up to yell at me about how the alliance I made with P hurt her and how we were unsportsmanlike and cheating, and she can't trust me. I said she should let it go already, it was just a game, and we didn't even make the alliance she was accusing us of. That she even got to keep her winning streak. And yelling at me and accusing me of cheating and all of that was just uncalled for and hurtful. She brought it up to her therapist again, who said we should both just drop it (even through I never brought it up to begin with, but I digress) and no apologies were issued.

TLDR: Ex-GF threw a hissy fit during a game of Risk because me and another player wanted to make an alliance after she already made one. It apparently caused her immense emotional trauma and hurt. I just wanted to play a game and yelled at her after being accused of cheating in a board game.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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writersdrug · 8 months

Text

Ghost x Reader x Konig: I Don't Need You (Ch. 3)

<- Previous - Next ->

Summary: Price has a solution to end the fighting between you and Ghost - permanently.

Chapter Warnings: cursing

Notes: Aaand here's the next chapter. Things are about to get better(?) in the next few. Konig will appear soon, I promise. Ghost will be absent for a bit though. Might write some oneshots for him to keep yall happy in the meantime. But ch. 4 is in the works!!

(Y/N) (M/I) (L/N)

“BONNIE”

D.O.B. 10.22.94 / D.O.S. 10.22.13

Navy Seal, USSF / Sniper / Marksman

-----

Price had knocked on my door this morning, waking me up at an ungodly hour on my day off. “Come to my office at nine hundred. Don’t disappoint me.” He had said. He then walked off, leaving me in the doorway with a rats’ nest head of hair and puffy eyes from crying the night before. I stared into the hallway as I processed his words. Figures… throwing a knife at Ghost wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

I peered out beyond my doorframe, watching as Price stopped in front of Ghost’s door. It creaked open, words were exchanged briefly, and then Price moved on. There was a long pause before Ghost’s door slammed shut, followed by a bang as he punched the wall in his dorm.

What a child…

I looked back in front of me; Soap, whose dorm was adjacent to mine, was poking his head out. He winced mockingly. “Ouch… I think he didn’t like your assassination attempt, lass.” He mimicked me throwing my knife.

I stared at him for a moment, unamused. “Go fuck a donkey, Soap.” I barely caught a glimpse of his pout before I slammed my door shut.

-----

I got there at nine hundred on the dot, my hair still wet from my shower, and for the first time since I had met him, Price was the one who was late. Or rather, held up in his office by someone. But, nonetheless, his streak of punctuality was broken. A bad omen, for sure…

I listened, unintentionally, to the conversation in Price’s office. I heard him speaking with a man I heard called “Jax” – a higher-up, a therapist, someone from the “HR” of the military… I didn’t know who he was. But it appeared he would be deciding how Ghost and I would get reprimanded for the rift we were causing within the team.

“Bonnie?” said the unfamiliar voice. “Like Bonnie and Clyde?” followed by an affirmative grunt from Price. “Why?”

“She’s got looks, she’s small, but she’d blow your head open for the thrill of it. And you’d best believe she never misses, either.”

The unknown man paused, glancing over the file – my file, I could tell – and reading the details. “Sniper, marksman, Navy SEAL…“

Price huffed. “Stealth is her specialty. If her head is in the game, she’s a quick thinker, and an even quicker hitman – she once took out a whole checkpoint on her own. Killed ‘em all in less than a minute n’ a half, never even made a sound.”

The man whistled low in admiration. “How’d you get your hands on her?”

“Military couldn’t handle her attitude,” Price admitted, “but they didn’t want to waste the talent either. Bought her off of them before she could end up in the wrong hands.” He sounded smug.

“Leave it to you to pull an operations team out your ass, Price.”

“If it were that easy I’d have a lot more soldiers, Jax.”

The muffled lull of their conversation continued, and my mind refocused on what I had planned to say to Price. It was never supposed to be this messy. We both made a mistake, and a damn big one. We caused issues for the team, we were only thinking of ourselves… basically, share my side of the story, and admit and own up to it all. It was the truth, after all, as well as the best possible way to come out of Price’s office with my head and my job.

Of course, I’d leave out the part where Ghost insulted me – more than once. Or, where he was the one who started the fight in the hall. I mean, technically I did… but I was trying to right my wrong, he had no reason to go after me. Why did he do that? I suddenly realized that Ghost had been seeking out fights ever since a month ago. At first, we avoided each other, but he was the one who lurked around in places I frequented, just to single me out and argue.

That fucking prick.

The conversation in Price’s office ended, ended, and the door swung open. A tall, burly man stepped out: he looked down at me with scrutiny. I stared back. He chuckled.

I tilted my head up and narrowed my eyes. “Can I fucking help you?”

“I guess we’ll see.” He replied, before walking away with a smirk on his face. I scoffed in disgust just as Price stepped out of the office.

“C’mon in, Bonnie.” He stepped aside and gestured me into the office. I reluctantly stood, stretching my limbs and trying to seem unbothered, and entered. Price closed the door behind us. Feels like I’m a kid again in the principal’s office.

I took a seat in the chair facing his desk and immediately stared at the ground. I was hoping this was just going to be some stern, disciplinary lecture. Don’t let it happen again. Which I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t have lashed out at all, if Ghost hadn’t been pushing every single one of my buttons, when he was the one who created this whole landslide in the first place. Honestly if Ghost had just acted like nothing had ever even happened, like I was trying to do –

“- Bonnie, you with me?” Price said, snapping me back to the present. He was now sitting across from me and waving a hand in my direction.

I cleared my throat, doing a poor job at hiding my anxiety. “Yes sir.”

“Alright then. Let’s talk about it.”

I nodded. “Well, after the job in Mexico, maybe about a year – “

“Oh no, no…” Price cut me off with a shake of his head. “I don’t need a recap. I know everything that the two of you have been up to. The whole damn base does.”

I felt a shameful blush rise into my cheeks. If I had any confidence before walking into Price’s office, it was long gone by now. “Oh…” I mumbled.

“‘Oh’?” Price repeated. “Don’t tell me you actually thought you were goin’ under everyone’s nose, did you?” He tapped his pen on his desk with an irritated look. “Aren’t you supposed to be an ex Navy SEAL, here?”

I stared back at him, unamused and unphased by his comment. “Ok, so we may not have tried that hard to keep it a secret. But it was initially just a casual thing.”

Price nodded as he listened. “Initially… so what did it turn into? Because this – “ he gestured to me with a flourish of his pen, “ – is not from something casual.”

I couldn’t answer him. I averted my eyes to his desk, feeling his eyes burning into mine. Into my soul, trying to bring me to the breaking point. But if there was one thing I was perfect at, it was avoiding. So I let myself burn under his gaze, knowing the storm would eventually pass. One way or another.

Price sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Look, it happens. You throw a bunch of people in a room, deprive them for a few months, and stress them the hell out – they’re bound to make mistakes.”

There was that fucking word again.

“I won’t lie, I’ve been there myself.” Price continued, and I raised a curious eyebrow at him. He ignored it. “And I’m not going to try and prevent it, it’ll only muck things up more. But, when it causes such an issue that my entire team is suffering, something needs to be done. And clearly you and Ghost aren’t reaching any solutions.”

I chewed my lip, leaning my elbows on my knees and anxiously bouncing my knee. I wanted to jump in and tell him my side of the story. I knew for a fact that Price had let Ghost spill his guts on the subject. He always listened to him no matter what. I wanted to explain why I was angry, exactly what Ghost had said and how I had felt – but I know he wouldn’t listen. Not to mention, it would have been extremely personal.

“So, going off of that –“ Price reached across his desk and grabbed a pile of papers, “ – I found a solution for the both of you.”

I sighed. Therapy, workplace relationship, probably anger management for me… Honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he suggested one of us moves to the other side of the barracks –

“That man out there? ‘Jax’. Director of a private military group, just like us.” He flopped the papers on the desk in front of me. I hesitated, looking at Price with confusion, to which he tilted his heads towards the papers. “Take a look.”

I sighed and grabbed the documents. He’s got to be so fucking dramatic, doesn’t he. I scanned the first page: Major August Jax, a very decorated ex-marine. Served two terms, now owns a private military special operations force. Based in Arizona, mostly deals with hostage situations –

“I’m sorry,” I toss the papers back onto the desk. “Why am I reading this?” I asked, my tone a little too angry. It gave away that I knew exactly what Price was thinking, feigning innocence just to push it away a moment longer.

“Jax’s got a good team on his hands.” Price began. He wouldn’t look at me. I leaned forward and glared into his eyes, daring him to look back. Fucking look at me when you throw me out the window, Price.

“He’s always looking for the best soldiers to add to his group. We got wind that he’d been asking around for a marksman. I offered him you.” He paused, noticing the hurt and anger building in my expression. “You’re a good soldier, Bonnie. I would only recommend you to the best team out there. And I might not even have half a mind to do this, if it wasn’t for the situation at hand, between you n’ Ghost.” His face showed compassion, although I felt none of it. It was a façade.

Instead, I felt betrayed. Maybe I did deserve some sort of reprimand for the way I’d been acting, but this felt like a banishment. That’s exactly what it was.

“You’re kicking me off the team?”

Price sighed, facing the dreaded conversation ahead. “This is a reassignment, I’m not- “

“You’re getting rid of me.”

“You’re making this seem much worse than it is.”

“How much did he pay you for me, huh?”

“Bonnie.” Price warned. Watch yourself, now. I was treading awfully close to the edge of the knife here, but I knew he had received some sort of payment or trade for me.

I sank into the back of my chair and huffed, folding my arms over my chest. “So Ghost gets a slap on the wrist. I get sent away.” I looked away from Pierce’s stern gaze and chewed my lip. The anger was quickly boiling over. “Like a fucking dog.”

“Ghost will get his dues.” Price said. “You both were causing issues for the team, now you’re both cleaning your mess up.”

I looked back at Price, taking a moment to glower at him. “Then why does he get to stay?” I said.

Price faltered, searching for the right words. “Ghost is a lieutenant, and he’s an important member of the team.”

I scoffed. “Wow, thanks…”

“- and…” he continued, “… because he’s been a part of this team for so long, he’s essential to it. He’s a leader for the 141, and I’d be ripping the group apart if he was the one goin’.”

“I’m waiting to hear how you somehow avoid insulting me in this next part.” I sent him a glare full of daggers.

“You’re not making this easy, girl.” Price leaned back in his chair. He was unphased by my anger; one of the few who were. “You’re a wild card: you’re a damn good shot, and your wit has gotten our missions through on the better side of things, more than once. But no one outside of our team knows that. You’re good at your game, but you don’t stand out – to the enemy, anyways.”

There was a pause in the conversation as Price let me process his words. They scraped the inside of my mind like burning daggers. Why is this such an easy decision for him to make? Did he decide this last night? Or in the last few days? Looking into Price’s eyes, I felt humiliated. Like I was never as important to him or the team as he made me feel. And it felt heartbreaking, watching his unreadable expression behind his locked fingers.

“Sir, I’m not a fucking baseball card.”

“No, you’re not.” He replied. “But it’s easier for you to move teams. No one knows what you’ve been involved in, because you managed to stay under everyone’s radar. And I salute you for that – it takes a lot of skill.”

His words weren’t convincing. They felt like colorful ribbons tied around a pile of trash. I huffed. “You’re a load of horseshit, you know that?” My anger clouded my judgement as I spoke, forgetting that Price was my superior.

He sighed, seeming to fight some internal war. “Jesus, y/n, I don’t want this anymore than you do. But you know this is how it has to be.”

“Is it?!” I raised my voice (something Price seemed to fully expect, as he remained unbothered). “No – you know what? You’re right.” I got up out of my seat, walking to the far corner of the room, pacing in small circles. “Ship me off to whoever gives you the most money, why don’t you? It’s not like I was a part of the team just as much as he is. But whatever, keep your happy little group together, right? Keep your favorites and to hell with everyone else, huh? I don’t care. I don’t fucking care anymore. I just want to get the fuck away from you all, so maybe you’re onto something, John.”

Price leaned forward in his chair, looking at me with stern eyes. He made it clear that I was dangerously close to crossing a line, if I hadn’t already. “You listen hear and you listen good, alright? We do dirty work in an even dirtier world for people who don’t deserve shit. I run things smoothly by having a team that respects one another. They know they have each other’s backs out there. They work together. You’d best be very careful with what you say about how I operate my team. Now you n’ Ghost have been causing way too much trouble for way too long. It’s been affecting the whole team, and the two of you have been so selfish that you can’t even notice. You in particular have completely lost yourself to your emotions. It’s my job to make sure that my division stays in-tact and on top of their shit. And you bet that the moment I see a flame threatening to burn all that down – I snuff it out. In whichever way gets it done.”

I’d never seen Price so angry before. At least, not with me. Knowing that I had disappointed him – and was currently doing that – felt worse than a bullet to the chest. Price had saved my ass when I was about to be dumped in a military prison; I respected him for that and was forever thankful. So, when I realized how I had just disrespected him, a hint of shame tugged at my mind.

But I forced it down. He was uprooting my entire life from the past ten years and expecting me to ‘take one for the team’. Maybe I hadn’t done as much for everyone as he had done for us, but he said it himself all the time: “Your skills are unmatched.” “We would’ve had a lot more losses without you out there.” “You’re essential for a smooth mission, Bonnie.” The only reason he was doing this was because Ghost had probably talked him up about it. Ghost could really be manipulative when he wanted to… but this still hurt. It still made my blood boil, thinking that Price was so quick to get rid of me, like I was a weed in his garden.

“So that’s it.” I said, defeated, the sting of tears threatening to fall. There was no coming back from this. “I’m out.”

Price nodded, his lips pressed into a tight line. “Afraid so.” He said curtly. He’d had enough of trying to sugarcoat things. I could tell he just wanted me to skip to the acceptance stage and start packing my bags.

I blankly stared at him. I felt my body slump as the realization finally hit. I felt the need to say something, anything, but nothing worth saying came to mind. Instead I looked at Price, sitting behind his desk, hands folded as he watched me process it all. A sudden anger flooded my veins. This is just another transaction for him. He would have done this for any situation. I narrowed my eyes as my mind was brimming with rage.

Price could tell I was getting worked up again. He sighed in annoyance, glancing at the paperwork on his desk. “Look, girl, it’s all said and done. Best you start packing your things tonight, get some sleep before you leave tomorrow.”

Like a weed. Like a thorn in his side. My breaking point had been reached. Crushed. I was back at the bottom of the ladder, where I started out with the 141.

“You know what, sir… “ I leaned over the back of my chair, placing my hands on the arm rests and glowering at Price. “… respectfully- “

“Bonnie-“ he warned, but I didn’t care.

“ -fuck you.” I shoved my finger indignantly in his face, then immediately turned on my heels. I punched open the doors to his office, feeling the buzz of my anger radiate off of me.

Price doesn’t say anything as I storm off. He doesn’t have to. The decision has been made – I could shout and curse and fight all I wanted, but I was being taken off of the team, whether they had to handcuff me and drag me out or not. I felt humiliated realizing that the whole base would be able to guess what happened, and why. I knew that Ghost wouldn’t dare open his mouth about it – but he wouldn’t stop the rumors, either. Price wouldn’t even care.

Fucking push-over. Of course he chooses Ghost. Two peas in a fucking pod, they are.

-----

I didn’t sleep. I had packed everything – my clothes, personal files, knives, and whatever else I cared to call mine – in less than an hour and in three duffel bags, which were now piled by my door. I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at them. My head was empty, unable to process a single thought or emotion. I was spent from my conversation with Price. I didn’t cry after, like I usually did when I fought with Ghost. At least that will be over. I tried to think optimistically, but it was hard. It was hard to think at all. The hours ticked by like minutes as I waited for the dawn to break.

Finally, at seven hundred and nine hours, a knock rapped against the door. I knew who it was. I stood up and swiftly grabbed my bags, opening the door – Jax stood there, a proud smile on his face.

“You said all your goodbyes?” he asked.

“Yep.” I lied. I hadn’t said anything to anyone after leaving Price’s office.

“Great. Let’s get moving, then.” He grabbed one of my bags from me, throwing it over his shoulder. “I’ll give you a hand, young lady.”

Already, I could feel myself hating the reassignment. Already, Jax was treating me like a fragile, sensitive girl. To be fair, the 141 did at first, but they had grown to see me as the skill and potential that I am. An independent soldier. I didn’t want to start over and try to prove myself to a new team. No use crying over it now.

I followed Jax, passing Soap as he stood leaned in his doorway, looking melancholic. I looked back, emotionless. I would miss him. He was one of the only people I would miss at this point, after what had gone down. He was always there to listen, and either offer solutions, or just let me vent. Whichever I needed, he provided. Losing him was going to hurt the most.

But I wasn’t going to let it. I turned my head from him and kept moving.I saw that it looked like Soap wanted to say something. I ignored it.

Beth and Skyline weren’t there. Neither were Gaz or Price. I knew Ghost was somewhere, lurking from the sidelines as I loaded my bags onto a heli. But I didn’t care. I did, but I didn’t let myself look back. If I did I would be in shambles, realizing how much I needed this place and the people here. I felt like a tree being torn out of the ground, roots hanging in the air, searching for a place to ground myself. As long as I didn’t look back, as long as I pushed back the pain and the loneliness, the voice in my head screaming for me to get closure, to say goodbye and get one final look – I would be fine. Or at least, it wouldn’t hurt as much.

I slapped a headset over my ears, sliding into the back of the heli. Jax and an unfamiliar soldier sat in the front as we prepared to take off. “Where are we headed?!” I asked over the deafening sound of the spinning blades. I ignored the sickening feeling of loss that ebbed in the back of my mind.

“Didn’t you read the file from Price?!” Jax turned and looked at me through his dark sun glasses, a smirk resting on his lips. “We’re going to Czech Slovakia!!”

#konig cod #konig x reader #konig smut #konig x reader smut #ghost cod #ghost x reader smut #ghost x reader #ghost smut #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod mw2

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hellcat8908 · 2 months

Text

Assaulted Pt. 2 Azriel x Female Reader

Warnings: Nudity (Nothing super explicit)

A scream tore from your lips as you woke up drenched in sweat. It took you a moment to realize you were home and safe. You felt Azriel's arms around you, "You're safe. It was just a dream." He says, trying to reassure you while tucking you into his side. His hand gently rubs your back as your tears soak his shirt. "I'm so sorry, Az." You say between cries. "Shhh, you're alright, princess." He says, comforting you. His shadows gently swirl around you, trying to offer you their comfort. Eventually, you calm down enough to drift back asleep.

You woke up a while later to find the bed empty. You knew Azriel was going to return to work today. You had been discussing it since your therapist said that gradually returning to normal schedule would be a good thing. You hear the shower running in the bathroom. You make your way into the bathroom and strip out of your pajamas. You make out your mates naked form through the steamed glass and take a moment to admire him. You open the door and slip inside before you lose your nerve. You gently kissed between Azriel's wings before wishing him a good morning.

He lets out a small moan as your lips touch the sensitive spot, "It is now that you're here." He says softly. "Thought you could use some help getting those hard to reach places," you say with a smile. You lightly run your fingers along his wings, watching as he shudders from your touch. He turns towards you, his eyes meet yours as you notice the heat pooling in them. His lips press against yours in a passionate kiss as your back touches the shower wall. The first glimpse of a flashback flashes across your mind. The rough brick digging into your back that night.

'I'm safe, it's Azriel.' You mentally remind yourself as you try to deepen the kiss. You feel his hands on your hips, forcing another glimpse of the night into your mind. Your breathing hitches briefly, 'It's you're mate your feeling touch you.' You think. A shadow swirls around your wrist and squeezes by mistake, forcing you to let out a gasp. Everything about that night quickly floods your mind. A gentle touch from Azriel and his soothing voice manage to pull you back to the present. "You're safe, princess, you're home, and you're safe." He says as you return to him, eyes wide with embarrassment and shame at your reaction.

"I'm so sorry." You hurriedly say before climbing out of the shower, only grabbing a robe as you make a quick exit before he can stop you. You throw the robe on and tie it shut around you as tears streak your cheeks. You hear Azriel asking you to wait and to stop, but you can't face him right now. You lock yourself in the spare bedroom as you crumble from the guilt and embarrassment. Your knees are drawn to your chest as your arms rest in top of them, burying your face. A gentle knock goes unanswered on the door. You hear Azriel sit down on the other side.

"I'm sorry, love. I got caught up in your touch, and I wasn't thinking clearly." He says through the door. "I didn't meanto upset you." You cry harder as his apology, feeling guilty because it's you who should be apologizing instead of hiding. "Please, princess. Unlock the door and let me help you." He pleads as a shadow slips under the door. It gently tugs on the robe so as not to startle you. You wipe your tears and gently extend your hand to it. It carefully swirls around your fingers in apology as you watch it. "Was it you who squeezed my wrist?"

It stills at your words as it sits on your palm, gently moving up and down, almost like nodding. "I know you didn't mean to intentionally do it." You say as your other hand comes to gently touch the shadow. Azriel listens quietly from the hall as you talk to his shadow, glad you're at least talking. He stands up as he hears you shuffling around before hearing the door unlock. You carefully open it, hating the sight of your guilt riddled mate while you hold one of his shadows. Azriel opens his mouth to apologize again, but you silence him as you press your finger to his lips.

"I'm the one that owes you an apology, love. I thought I was ready to be more intimate with you. I'm sorry for teasing you and then running out like I did." You say with embarrassment as he feels your guilt through the bond. You're looking everywhere but at him afraid of what he'll say next. His hand gently lifts your chin so your eyes meet his. They are full of love, compassion, and understanding. "You don't need to apologize for any of that. We have plenty of time for that when you're ready." Your cheeks redden, "but it's been two weeks." You say as if that has any bearing on this conversation.

"Princess, it doesn't matter if it's 2 weeks or 2 years, I will patiently wait for however long you need. There is no timeline when it comes to this. The fact that you even considered being ready shows your healing and trying to move on, but it's going to take time. Don't worry about me and what you think I need. All I need is for you to focus on yourself and take your time." He says as he gently pulls you into his arms to hold you. "But you have needs too." You say against his chest. "Princess, what did I just say. Don't worry about me, contrary to what you believe I didn't just marry you for sex." He teases, trying to lighten the mood.

"I know, but I want it too." You admit. "There's nothing wrong with that. We just need to figure out how to make you more comfortable along the way." He says. "Let's just take things slow and let it happen naturally." He continues before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "You always were better at being patient than I was." You tease him. "I have to be. Have you met yourself?" He says with a laugh before you playfully smack his arm. "I think I hear Rhys calling you." You joke. "Nice try, I already told him I was taking the day off to spend with you, so you're stuck with me." He replies with a smirk.

#acotar #batboys #acotar fanfic #azriel #azriel x reader #acotar angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar

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ginnsbaker · 10 months

Text

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (12/22)

Chapter summary: Wanda and her therapist discuss the topic of forgiveness; During a 6-miler running event, Kate accuses you of forcing Yelena to stay away from her; after which you find Wanda and her new friend in the same event

Chapter word count: 6k | Warnings: None | Ship: Wanda x Reader, Yelena x Reader

Author's note: Enjoy :)

AO3 | Masterlist

Next Chapter: Thirteen

Twelve

The heavy raindrops dance in an intricate rhythm upon the streets of New York City, as Wanda’s gaze returns to Dr. Calliope Williams. She is seated opposite her, wearing the kind expression that always soothes Wanda in an unexplainable way. Mid-sentence, while sharing an anecdote about her time with you in college, she realizes you’ve been the topic (yet, again) for a while now.

"I've been going on about her too much, haven't I?" Wanda looks down at her hands, her fingers woven together.

“We can discuss whatever is on your mind, Wanda. I’m just here to listen and help you navigate those thoughts.” Calliope assures her with a warm smile.

As Wanda observes the gentle patter of rain on everything it touches, a question lingers in her mind. “Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” she wonders aloud.

“What makes you think she hasn’t?” Calliope asks.

"She’s moved on," Wanda argues, cracking her knuckles and twisting each of her fingers almost painfully. The bitter memories of your anger, the hurt she endured during those stormy weeks, remain vivid, imprinted on her soul. She can't erase the cruel image of you leaving her half-naked in her own bedroom as she pleads with you to stay.

None of your actions back then gave any indication that you wanted to forgive her.

“She's found someone new, someone who can give her the love and stability and trust I failed to provide. How can forgiveness exist in the face of that?" Wanda asks.

“It isn't bound by the presence or absence of a romantic relationship, Wanda. It transcends those circumstances. It’s about ultimately granting yourself and others the freedom to heal and move forward,” Calliope explains softly. “But, going back to your question, I’m afraid Y/N’s the only person who can answer that for you.”

“I know that. But I can’t really talk to her about it, can I? If I wanted to upset her, I definitely could.” Wanda sort of chuckles towards the end, her shoulders slumping slightly. All the amicable conversations she’s had with you over the past months were expertly navigated to avoid dredging up your shared, painful past.

"When the time is right and when both of you are ready to discuss it respectfully, you can approach her," Calliope tells her.

"And what if she never forgives me?" Wanda's voice trembles, recognizing how plausible that could be. "What if I've irreparably damaged what we had, what we could have been?"

Calliope leans in, underlining the gravity of her following words. "Wanda, it's important to recognize that you cannot control Y/N’s response or dictate the path of forgiveness for her. What you can do is show genuine regret, reflect on your actions, and strive for personal growth."

Uncertainty looms, casting a dark shadow. Being in control is one of life’s biggest illusions, and Wanda has fallen into its trap more times than she could count.

Pausing thoughtfully, Calliope tilts her head and says, "Wanda, I'd like to ask you something."

Wanda glances up, surprised to find her fingers clenched tightly into a fist. "What is it?" she asks.

"Do you believe you deserve forgiveness?"

The question hangs in the air, pregnant with implication. The rain outside seems to intensify, echoing the tumultuous emotions swirling within Wanda.

"I... I'm not sure," Wanda confesses after a beat. "I don't think I would forgive myself if I were her." A lone tear escapes her eye, streaking down her cheek, paralleling a raindrop sliding down the windowpane.

Calliope makes a noncommittal sound and then gracefully adjusts the glasses perched on her nose.

"Have you ever thought about forgiving your mother?" It carries a gentle curiosity–a clear footnote that there’s no right or wrong answer–delicately drawing parallels between Wanda's own experiences of betrayal and the concept of forgiveness itself.

“What does she have to do with this?” Wanda asks, her demeanor shifting instantly to a guarded stance.

“From what you told me before, your mother cheated on your father several times before she left you and the rest of your family. And your father, heartbroken, turned to substance abuse,” Calliope breaks off for a moment, knowing how being reminded of her tragic childhood continues to weigh heavily on Wanda.

“And that ultimately led to his death. Have you ever thought about forgiving your mother?” Calliope repeats the question.

Wanda's hollow grin etches the lines of bitter irony on her face.

“You can’t exactly forgive someone who isn’t asking for it, can you?” she retorts.

"You're right, Wanda," Calliope acknowledges, something akin to sadness in her tone. "It… It is a multifaceted process, and it becomes even more compounded when the person who has hurt us doesn't seek forgiveness or acknowledge their actions. It leaves us grappling with unresolved emotions and longing for clarity."

Calliope leans back in her chair, her eyes never leaving Wanda's face, contemplating the layers of complexity woven into their conversation. Wanda, on the other hand, looks suddenly withdrawn. Calliope can sense that her attention is divided, as is often the case when the conversation delves into her complicated relationship with her mother.

“Have you decided to answer her letters like I’ve suggested?” she asks Wanda, trying her best to seek out her avoidant gaze and rope her back to the present.

Wanda mumbles a no, face straight and devoid of any emotion.

“At least think about it,” she urges mildly. “It doesn’t have to be today or tomorrow, or even next week. However, the longer you ignore the unresolved feelings you harbor towards your mother, the more profound your resentment may grow.”

Confusion flashes across Wanda's face, her brows knitting together in frustration. “I don’t understand why she needs to seek a relationship with me. She’s managed to deceive at least one of us. Pietro talks to her all the time.” Wanda states, her voice strained with a venom she can barely hold back.

Calliope's gaze softens as she considers Wanda’s statement. "Wanda, we have to keep in mind that everyone's choices and behaviors are influenced by their own unique circumstances and motivations. Although I can't speak directly to your mother's specific reasons, it's possible that her wish to reconnect with both you and Pietro comes from a place of seeking forgiveness and reconciliation."

Wanda’s face burns at the thought that her mother is capable of repentance. "But why both of us? Why not just focus on rebuilding a relationship with one child? It feels like she wants to have it all, to mend what she broke without fully understanding the consequences of abandoning her children."

Calliope observes the tension in Wanda's body, sensing that her resentment somehow also spills over to her brother who has chosen to keep a steady connection with their mother despite both of them experiencing the pain of her leaving. She can sense that Wanda feels a little betrayed by his decision, and somewhat insecure that in this situation, he’s come out to be the bigger person between them.

"I wish I could understand," Wanda murmurs, eyes falling shut. "She abandoned us when we were so young, leaving scars that still ache. How can I reconcile the desire for closure with the fear of being hurt all over again?"

Calliope gives her a meaningful glance, as if Wanda has unknowingly stumbled upon a puzzle piece.

Following a few silent moments, Wanda connects the dots with a look of remorse.

“Is… Is this how Y/N feels about me?”

Calliope nods slowly. “It’s possible,” she says. “Just as you struggle to reconcile your desire for closure with the fear of being hurt again, Y/N might be going through similar emotions. The pain caused by betrayal runs deep, and it can be difficult to trust again, even when the desire is there.”

Wanda's eyes shimmer with regret. "I never wanted to hurt her," she whispers. “I thought if–if I simply put a stop to it and she never finds out, I–”

“I know. But it’s human nature. We are disillusioned when it comes to control. We convince ourselves that as long as we're in control, we can evade the fallout of our actions," Calliope explains.

“Other people will never make the same stupid mistake in their lifetime.” Wanda points out, feeling a sudden envy towards those who have easily exemplified unwavering loyalty.

"None of us are immune to mistakes, Wanda," Calliope reminds her. "While it may feel as though others have effortlessly avoided the same missteps, every individual has their own struggles and battles. The path is unique for each of us.”

Wanda nods, feeling a little comforted by what she’s hearing.

Calliope slowly rises from her chair, her movements purposeful as she makes her way towards the desk adorned with a pen and a notebook. She’s eager to jot down her notes while the session is still fresh.

“And as much as I want to continue this, our time is up. Shall we reconvene next week?" Calliope proposes.

Wanda, caught between a sigh and a fleeting smile, agrees to the schedule. "Sure, Next week."

She hadn’t once thought that understanding her own feelings could lead to insights on yours. It makes her more than eager to keep working on herself.

***

It’s still dark out as you stand amidst a sea of runners at the starting line of a 6-miler event being held in Central Park.

You’ve been looking forward to this the entire week, and have been rigorous in your preparation, getting up at four in the morning just so you can squeeze in your training plan despite a busy schedule at work. Aiming for nothing short of a personal record for this run, you start doing some drills on the side, getting your heart up to speed and your muscles warm. It’s a relatively cold morning, a long-sleeved shirt provides just the right amount of warmth, and the leggings you wear are rather thick, but still offer flexibility with every stride.

As you’re nearing the end of your warm-up, a familiar silhouette approaches you, their features barely discernible in the dim lighting.

“What did you tell her? Did you tell her to stay away from me?” The voice demands, causing you to straighten up. Kate maintains a jog in place, looking rather uncomfortable in her windrunner, but it’s obvious that the scowl she’s wearing has nothing to do with the freezing temperatures.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, your breath forming a visible fog as you speak.

“Yelena initiated a transfer to another team,” she mutters impatiently. “And she requested a different mentor as well.”

The blaring sound of the alarm kicks off the countdown before they release the runners. Runners around you start to position themselves, their focus shifting to the commencement of the race.

"Yelena did what? I... I had no idea..." you say absentmindedly, your voice tapering off as you feel a sudden jostle from someone pushing past you in the queue. Honestly, you don’t understand what’s so concerning about Yelena making changes in her career.

“She’s putting her career in jeopardy. First of all, everyone on her new team is going to treat her as a competition because despite being a junior, she has already won an industry award. They'll be gunning for her, ready to undermine her success. And to make matters worse, her new mentor lacks the journalistic expertise she deserves. He's essentially the epitome of political maneuvering within the company.” Kate bombards you with her reasoning, just as the starting gun pierces the air, signaling that the 6-miler has started.

“Y/N! Are you even listening–”

On instinct, your feet hit the pavement in quick, measured steps, leaving Kate just a few meters behind as you stare blankly ahead. You had anticipated the weather and conditions of this race; what you didn’t see coming was finding out that in an effort to safeguard your relationship, Yelena had taken drastic measures, making a move that you had neither requested or approved of. Not that she needs your approval on such things, but you didn’t want to be the reason if it happens that the recent developments derails her career. And seeing how Kate has been nothing but respectful of Yelena’s decision to be with you and stay friends with her, it’s quite unthinkable for Yelena to do such a thing.

Though what’s troubling you the most is the realization that she's willing to make such sacrifices very early on, believing you to be deserving of them. Deep down, you find it hard to accept such unwavering dedication from her—or from anyone, for that matter.

As you push your body forward, immersed in the run, you fail to check your watch and follow your pace. Lost in your own thoughts, the race passes by in a blur, and before you know it, Kate is emerging from out of nowhere, sprinting all of a sudden to finish ahead of you. You both cross the finish line a mere five seconds apart.

As the organizing team places the coveted finisher's medal around your neck, you duck your head in humble acceptance before making a beeline for the hydration stations. The cool liquid cascades down your throat, replenishing your parched body after the arduous race. Kate trails closely behind, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"Y/N," Kate calls out through the post-race commotion. She regrets a little that she attempted to outpace you, pushing herself beyond her intended limits in a bid to reach the finish line ahead. Glancing at your watch, a smile unconsciously graces your lips as its record of your run confirms that you have indeed beaten your personal best. With the task of reaching your goal out of the way, you turn to Kate and finally acknowledge her.

“I’m sorry, I was aiming for a specific finish time,” you murmur as your smile turns strained. “I didn’t mean to literally run away from the conversation earlier.”

"It's all good," Kate gasps, a hint of discomfort evident in her voice as she tries to catch her breath. "But seriously, how on earth are you able to carry on a conversation like nothing happened? You just ran that entire distance at an incredible pace!"

You offer a lighthearted chuckle. “What do you mean? You beat me at the finish line!”

"Yeah, and look where it got me," Kate mumbles, her words punctuated by labored breathing. "I think I’m gonna pass out…"

“Whoa, there,” you stammer, concern flickering across your face as you reach out, gently grasping her elbow to guide her away from the bustling crowd. Kate allows herself to be led to a quieter spot where she can find some relief. Then, to alleviate the tightness in her breathing, she unzips her jacket, allowing fresh air to circulate and provide some respite.

"So, about Yelena..." you say, finding a bench and settling down in a cross-legged position. The weight of the news still lingers, leaving you unsure of where to begin.

"I assume you two have talked about me and..." Kate gestures wildly with her hands.

"We did," you affirm. "And if my memory serves me right, I simply suggested for her to give you some space.”

"Dude, why would I need space? What more space could I ask for since she moved out of our place?" Kate retorts, sounding slightly exasperated.

The word "our" catches your attention. It’s exactly why you think Kate needs space. Now that you’re aware of the depth of her feelings for your girlfriend, it’s not hard to spot the subtle clues she unknowingly reveals by the way she talks about Yelena. Your concern for her trumps the slight jealousy you feel knowing someone else is blatantly in love with your partner.

"Have you spoken to her?" you inquire, choosing to overlook her rants.

"Not exactly," Kate sighs. "I think she's upset with me for carelessly letting slip that we were friends with benefits."

"I'll have a word with her," you assure, offering Kate an extra sports drink you picked up from the station.

"I'd appreciate that," Kate replies, casually uncapping the drink and taking a prolonged sip. "Her career means the world to her. If she's not willing to reconsider, then I'll submit my resignation first thing tomorrow."

"No, Kate, you don't need to do that.”

Kate dismisses your worry with a nonchalant wave of her hand. "I'm wealthy," she states as if it's a mere fact. "I don't really need a job. I just need something to keep me busy."

Wanda finishes the same 6-miler event in record time. She notes that only a small number of female participants managed to run faster than her. In her mind, she's certain she could've overtaken them if she had kept up a steady training regimen. The reality is, Wanda only rekindled her interest in running when she started therapy. Calliope suggested that exercise releases natural endorphins that boost physical energy and mental focus throughout the day.

And besides, it felt oddly comforting to partake in a hobby that her ex-wife used to thoroughly enjoy, even if it's no longer an activity you both share. Running is one of those bridges to you that she wishes to maintain, an unbroken connection that she can enjoy privately, without the worry of hurting anyone in the process. A somewhat delicate balance between holding on and letting you go. Wanda used to think that her love for you had nowhere to go, but in learning to love herself, she had discovered that she can unearth traces of you–even in the tiniest moments that paint life with vibrant hues. Love doesn’t go away–it simply transforms.

After quietly dedicating her medal to you, Wanda’s about to start her post-run stretch, when she is interrupted by a soft touch on her shoulder.

"Excuse me?"

With a quick turn, Wanda shifts her attention to the person behind her. It’s the customer from a few days ago, the one with the captivating deep brown eyes. She instantly recalls how this woman had oddly requested a 'surprise me' drink, prompting a warm smile to spread across Wanda's face.

"It's you!" Wanda exclaims, recognizing the woman as she rearranges her ponytail into a messy bun.

“Yup, it’s me,” The woman mutters with a grin, delighted to run into Wanda at this event. “I couldn’t help but notice, you're fast enough to clock a mile in under seven minutes.”

"You think so?" Wanda replies, her cheeks warming up at the unexpected compliment.

She nods at Wanda with an infectious enthusiasm. “I’m actually a co-founder of a running club. We're mostly from Queens and Brooklyn. How about joining us?”

Wanda couldn't recall the last time she had been involved in a group or community outside of work. The thought of meeting new people–individuals that share a common interest and goal–fills her with childlike excitement.

“Oh, I would love to!” Wanda exclaims. “How often do you guys meet?”

Wanda listens attentively as the woman gives her a rundown of their weekly group runs and the list of running events they had decided to join as a group.

The woman then extends her hand towards Wanda. "By the way, I'm Valkyrie, but just call me Val."

Grasping Val's hand, Wanda feels the warmth from her palm seeping into hers. “I’m–”

"Wanda. I know," Valkyrie interrupts, winking at her slyly before releasing her hand. Just as Wanda is about to respond, the sound of your voice captures her attention, taking her by surprise.

“Wanda?”

Wanda's smile trembles slightly, the vulnerability in her eyes betraying her surprise as she hears her name uttered by you. All week long, Wanda had put up walls, deciding not to contact you in an attempt to make it easier to bear the ache of missing you. But the opposite proved true. The act of holding back only amplified the very thing she’s been trying to avoid.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly turns to face you, trying her best to appear casual, “Y/N!”

Your face lights up at the confirmation that it’s indeed Wanda that you’ve spotted in the crowd.

Leaving Kate momentarily, you dart towards Wanda.

“Hey! Did you run too?” you inquire as you reach her, slightly breathless. “I didn’t spot you on the course at all.”

Wanda feels a sudden surge of self-consciousness, awkwardly sweeping a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Her cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink, not from the exertion of the run, but from the self-awareness that she's soaked in sweat. She fights the urge to take a quick sniff of herself in front of you. “I, uh, started near the front, so you might have missed me,” she says, clasping her hands together, trying to hide the lingering dampness that clings to her skin.

"Damn, I completely forgot how insanely athletic you are," you say in genuine awe. "You must have crossed that finish line way ahead of me."

Barging in your conversation, Kate clears her throat pointedly from behind you.

"Oh, this is Kate," you quickly introduce, gesturing to your friend standing nearby.

"Kate Bishop," Kate reaches out her hand, giving a short, somewhat awkward wave.

Wanda reciprocates the gesture, mimicking Kate's awkward wave.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Wanda," Wanda says with a friendly smile, and then remembers as well that she has company herself. "Oh, and guys, this is..."

“Valkyrie. But everyone just calls me 'Val',” Valkyrie chimes in, finishing the introduction herself. Your eyebrows raise slightly as you take in the newcomer, realizing that you don't recognize her from anywhere. Wanda's circle of friends has always been small, and your mind is quickly consumed with thoughts of how they met.

“You and Wanda…?” you find yourself asking, unable to stop the question before it tumbles out.

“We, uh–”

“We’re–”

Wanda and Valkyrie both start to speak at the same time, before sharing a laugh, while you manage to maintain a tight smile on your face.

Breaking the brief silence, Valkyrie takes charge of the conversation. "I met her at the cafe earlier this week. I didn't know she'd be here too, so I asked her to join my running club."

Kate jumps in with a teasing tone, "Meet cute," causing you to whip your head towards her, a grave expression on your face.

“Y/N, you should come along too,” Wanda suggests enthusiastically, before quickly realizing that it wasn't her place to invite. She turns apologetically towards Valkyrie, “I mean if you're looking for more people. Y/N is pretty fast–”

“Not as fast as you,” you say to Wanda.

“–and really committed to running. Her consistency and work ethic is nothing short of impressive.” Wanda finishes coyly.

Valkyrie eyes you up and down skeptically, her gaze sweeping over your toned body, particularly over your calves and thighs as she makes her assessment based solely on your physical looks.

“If Wanda’s vouching, then I trust her,” Valkyrie says, shifting closer to Wanda, her hand lightly touching Wanda's arm.

A surge of discomfort stirs within you as you witness their interaction. You decide right away that you don’t like this Valkyrie person. Something about her just rubs you the wrong way.

“Wanda, can I have a word with you?” you ask, not managing to keep the sharpness out of your voice.

At your words, Kate looks at you expectedly, but you're too preoccupied watching your former spouse to notice it.

"Sure," Wanda agrees, slightly taken aback by your sudden request. As you both excuse yourselves, the pair of you weave through the bustling crowd, Wanda falling into step beside you.

You can't help but steal glances at Wanda as you both walk side by side, her striking profile softened by the warm sunlight bathing the park. You can feel the curious eyes of both Valkyrie and Kate following you from a distance, their watchful gazes prompting you to maintain a respectable distance between you and Wanda.

Once you've found a less crowded area, you pivot to face her, trying to marshal your thoughts into coherent words. Yet before you can speak, Wanda preempts you.

“I’m sorry I never replied to your last text,” Wanda blurts out as soon as you both come to a stop. “I was on my way to the cafe when you... and then I just forgot about it, and I only realized I left you on read the next day–"

"Wanda, it's fine," you interrupt gently, smiling softly as you observe her anxious rambling. "There's no need to apologize. Life gets hectic, and we all have those moments. How is Sparky by the way?"

“He's in better condition and has adapted to his new diet. I no longer have to force him to eat, which is definitely an improvement.” Wanda says.

“That’s a relief,” you say faintly. “I'd be more than happy to help out and take him in from time to time.”

“Yes, he'd really appreciate that,” Wanda affirms with a nod. “And I-I would, too.”

A ripple of nervous laughter passes between you before Wanda redirects the conversation back to your intended topic. "So, what was it you wanted to discuss? Is there something on your mind?" she inquires.

You swallow hard, the growing anxiety clouding your ability to articulate your thoughts. Then, a sudden spark of inspiration kindles your mind. "T-The club," you stutter, snapping your fingers as though you've just recollected a vital detail. "What's the story there? Can anyone join?"

“Val didn’t mention anything specific. But it seems like a private group. Perhaps it's by invitation?” Wanda suggests.

“And you think it's okay for me to be part of it?" you ask, uncertain.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

You shrug, your thoughts circling back to Valkyrie's smug expression and her tendency to invade Wanda's personal space. You couldn't help but sense that Valkyrie's interest in Wanda extended beyond recruiting a fast runner to the group.

And isn't it quite the coincidence that she bumped into Wanda at this particular event?

It just…doesn’t sit well for you.

(Or perhaps your trust issues are a lot worse than you think.)

"I don't think she's thrilled about me joining," you say. Wanda gives you a baffled look that you’ve always found so endearing.

“You can’t be serious,” Wanda dismisses. “We've just met her today, so I think it’s a little weird if she doesn’t like you.”

You consider challenging her perspective, but instead you offer a polite smile, keeping your reservations to yourself.

"I'll tell you what," Wanda proposes, "If you don’t join the club, I won’t either."

"Wanda–"

"I'm serious, I'd feel out of place if I didn't know anyone there–"

"I'm not sure," you retort, nonchalantly shrugging. "You seem to have hit it off with Valerie."

"Valkyrie," Wanda corrects softly, a suspicion in her gaze, as if she's attempting to decipher a riddle she can't quite solve. "Not really. I just met her the other day. She doesn't even frequent the cafe.”

“Not yet," you mumble quietly, your words barely audible. “Alright. Inform me about the training schedule and location and I'll make an effort to attend.”

“I'll do that,” she agrees, and the two of you lapse into comfortable silence.

“Is that all you wanted to talk about?” Wanda questions after a while.

"Sort of. I mean, it was getting crowded over there, and I wanted to say congratulations," you explain, a bashful smile gracing your face.

“Same to you, Y/N,” Wanda finds herself whispering the words–as if caught up in a romantic comedy movie scene, with a montage of breezy moments where the best parts of life simply pass by. It’s a feeling that’s becoming hard to escape whenever you’re around, even under ordinary circumstances; just you–with no makeup on, smelling of sweat and grass and soil–seems to just captivate her so.

“Come on,” she says and unwittingly takes your hand, biting her lip the second she realizes the contact she initiated. But she couldn't simply drop your hand as if she had been scorched.

As you near the spot where you'd left Kate and Valkyrie, you pull your hand free from Wanda's grip. Taking a deep breath, Wanda briefly manages to suppress the sting of rejection that grips her.

"So, sorted everything out?" Kate teases, her tone slightly acerbic as she addresses you privately. You can tell that she likely knows who Wanda is and can perceive the undercurrent of tension. Taking a casual walk with Wanda, especially with Kate around, might not have been the best decision, but you rationalize that you're not doing anything wrong.

You shoot Kate a dirty look in return, then bid goodbye to Wanda and Valkyrie.

"Catch you later, Y/N," Valkyrie throws in, her smirk conspicuous as she speaks just before you can head in the opposite direction.

***

You make it home just in time for breakfast. Yelena has ordered bagels and coffee, but her culinary abilities are also on display, illustrated by her recent success in frying bacon to the perfect crisp, steering clear of the usual outcome of a charred mess.

"Hey, baby, how was your run?" Yelena asks while setting up the breakfast spread on the dining table.

"I broke my personal best," you report to her, your face lighting up with pride. Swiftly, you begin to strip off your sweaty running clothes, heading towards the bedroom for a much-needed shower.

In just a few minutes, you step out of the bedroom with a towel slung over your neck, dressed in a threadbare shirt and nothing but your underwear. Your stomach rumbles loudly in anticipation of food. Yelena chuckles at your evident hunger and begins spreading cream cheese on your bagel while you add milk and sugar to your cup of coffee and hers.

"By the way," you begin tentatively, aware that it might be premature to broach what Kate had revealed to you. Nonetheless, you recognize the necessity of addressing the issue sooner rather than later. "Kate was there too, for the 6-miler. She... shared something with me that I think you should have discussed with me first. Something about a team transfer at work?"

Yelena's body stiffens noticeably, and she remains frozen for a brief moment. Her eyes betray a sense of uncertainty as she absorbs your words. But, after a few quick blinks, she collects herself and passes you your bagel on a plate.

“There's some truffle and honey in the fridge if you want to add them to yours,” Yelena offers.

An obvious deflection.

"Did you hear what I said? I said Kate–”

"Kate really ought to stop broadcasting every detail of my life whenever she has an opportunity,” Yelena mutters coldly.

“Don’t be mad at her. She was doing what she thought was right–”

“She had no right to meddle!” Yelena yells, her voice escalating, startling you with the sudden outburst. Her emotional fervor is more intense than you've ever seen, leaving you taken aback.

“She’s just worried about you,” you respond, striving to keep your voice calm to temper the situation. "But why didn't you tell me? We had an understanding that you didn't need to push her out of your life for me."

“Because it's my career–my choice,” Yelena insists, her tone unyielding. She is steadfast in her independence.

But her independence isn't the issue here. You’ve always been proud of how she can handle herself.

"Telling me about it isn’t an invitation for me to control you in any way, Yelena," you assure her. "I just wish you had enough faith in me to share the things that matter deeply to you. I care about you, and it stings a bit to be left out of these aspects of your life."

Yelena grows quiet at that, her fingers closing around her mug tightly as she processes your words and what it means for your relationship.

Trust.

It’s not that she doesn’t trust you enough–

“I feel guilty,” Yelena admits in a soft murmur, so faint that you strain to catch her words. "I've been doing a lot of thinking about how I've treated Kate, starting from when she confessed her feelings to me, right up until we started dating. Despite us being together, Kate and I remained close at work. We'd take lunch and breaks together, and we'd even take turns buying each other coffee, depending on who got to the office first…”

"It's like... I've been leading her on, you know? I've never given her the chance to get over me. I've come to realize that the feelings she had for me back then... they're still there, maybe even stronger than before. I can't keep messing with her emotions like that," Yelena confesses, sipping her coffee as if seeking solace in the soothing warmth of the drink.

You nod, the pieces finally starting to fall into place. “Did you talk to Kate about this? Or did you just cut her off?”

The guilty look that flashes across Yelena's face tells you everything you need to know.

“She thinks you're angry with her because she told me about... about what happened between you two,” you say, still a little uncomfortable bringing up the past.

Yelena lets out a sigh, her shoulders sagging. “I've been handling this Kate situation all wrong, haven't I?”

“Just talk to her,” you advise gently. Getting up from your chair, you walk over to Yelena and start massaging her tense shoulders. “She said that she would rather quit her job than let you transfer to another team and mentor."

“Really?” Yelena sounds surprised. “Did she mean it?”

"I'm not sure," you reply, shrugging your shoulders. "She simply mentioned that she's rich.”

“She’s grossly rich,” Yelena confirms, letting out a content sigh as you find a particularly tight knot in her muscle. "But she loves journalism. I won’t let her quit something she's passionate about.”

You recognize the irony in Yelena's last sentence but decide to remain silent on the matter.

“By the way, Wanda was there too,” you say carefully, watching Yelena's reaction closely. “She crossed the finish line way before me, I think. She was with a friend.”

Yelena's response is evasive, offering no real insight. "That's nice for her," she remarks, keeping her emotions well in check.

You quickly change the topic, feeling somewhat foolish for bringing up something she apparently doesn't care about, even though you were simply trying to be open and honest. You decide to avoid mentioning your ex-wife for the time being.

“Anyhow,” you segue, hoping to direct the conversation in a new direction, “Would you like to join me for my next fun run?”

“Me? Up and running at four in the morning? That's about as likely as snow in the Sahara,” Yelena replies, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. “I'll just use a line from my favorite show,” she quips, her laugh filling the room. “‘Jogging is the worst, Y/N! I mean, I know it keeps you healthy. But God, at what cost?’”

Your mouth forms a small 'o' as you consider your response, feeling slightly let down that she isn't even slightly tempted to join you. “To be fair, jogging and running are not the same thing. Running recruits a different muscle group–”

“God, you’re such a nerd,” Yelena cuts in, a mischievous glint in her eyes as her hand delicately finds the back of your neck. She draws you nearer until your lips are tantalizingly close. “Keep doing what you love, baby,” she murmurs, her breath brushing over your partially opened lips. “And I'll continue pursuing mine.” Then she claims your lips in a deep kiss.

Your body instinctively melts into her touch, your hand gently tracing the curve of Yelena's waist, sending a shiver racing down her spine.

"I've got a better idea for a workout that doesn't involve clothes but might be more fun," Yelena suggests with a breathless laugh, stepping back slightly.

A playful smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth as you pull your shirt over your head.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction

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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 2 years

Text

Unavailable**

Y/N has a very specific preference for unavailable/inappropriate people and Harry is her therapist who is supposed to help her work through this.

WC: 12.8K

WARNINGS: 18+ (I beg of you minors, DNI), DARK HARRY, therapist x client, inappropriate relationships, attraction to unavailable people, manipulation, aggressive sexual advances (dubccon kink), pain kink, degradation.

Tagged: @victoria-styles @gurugirl @janelikemaryyy

Y/N wasn’t sure why…but she had a streak. A pattern if you will for going after unavailable men. Something about being noticed by someone who was supposedly so committed to another, it was gratifying to watch their eyes lust over at the sight of her. But then on the other side of that she was constantly riddled with guilt over her trysts. Y/N was only 19 the first time she gave into to her temptation; that was also when her mother discovered Y/N’s inappropriate preference in romantic partners because Y/N’s co-worker’s girlfriend showed up at their house one night in hysterics because her boyfriend admitted to her that he’d been hooking up with Y/N. She went off and rightfully so, Y/N had burning red cheeks and a bloody nose to show for her mistakes. She didn’t fight back because she deserved it.

After that, her mom kept a close eye on her. But obviously, the things she did were done in private. Her latest lover was her mom’s best friend’s husband, Christopher. Christopher was a lawyer, he was in his early 50’s, and he was the kind of man that she grew up calling “uncle”, always was fun and caring, kind, and protective of her. She wasn’t sure what flipped the switch for her to notice and want him, but she got involved with him because she could and it made her feel good about herself, or at least that’s what she would tell herself in the heat of the moment.

She remembers the first time they hooked up. He had been so hesitant and declining her flirtations when she pushed him back into the bathroom after he’d just stepped out if it. He was so nervous, but she sweet-talked him as her hand trailed down his body and groped at his cock until he was hard as a rock. Chris soon found that he couldn’t resist a 22-year old girl who was just desperate and eager to make him come. And after that they started seeing each other and they’d been hooking up for nearly four months, that was the longest she’d ever actually been with someone. Her conquests were not typically long term and few and far between - five actually, she’d only slept with five guys since she was 19. Either way, when Y/N’s mom caught them fucking in his car she dragged Y/N out by her hair, gave her a few slaps and told Chris that if he ever laid eyes on Y/N again that she would tell Candice - her best friend, his wife.

Y/N’s mom didn’t understand what was wrong with Y/N and the next morning she told her that if she wanted to remain a part of their family that she needed to get help. Y/N agreed, thinking that maybe she could see a therapist or something to figure out why she had this inherent need to seek out unavailable people, but then Y/N’s mom pulled out a packet of printed pages and told her that she was going to an in-patient facility for addicts. She was convinced that Y/N was a sex addict and probably a drug addict because “no normal, respectable person behaves the way you do” and a week later she had been shipped off.

That’s how she had ended up at New Beginnings: In-Patient Treatment Center. And much to her pleasure, how she ended up in front of the hottest man she had ever seen. Sure, she didn’t know if he was single or taken, but the fact that this man standing before her was her therapist made him a temptation. What could be more dangerous than seducing your therapist? It was wrong and inappropriate and that made in unavailable enough to pique her interest.

“Y/N, right?” He smiled at her calmly and she nodded, “Come in, take a seat, anywhere you’d like.” He greeted before closing his office door, he was British. Fun.The decor in his office was homey and inviting, she opted for sitting on the couch so that she could bring her legs up and lay one of the many throw pillows on it into her lap. He then proceeded to sit across from her and took her in for a moment before introducing himself. “I’m Dr. Harry Styles. You can call me Harry or Dr. Styles, whatever you feel most comfortable with.” He said and she glanced up at him, mesmerized by his pretty green eyes and his kind smile was comforting. How could someone be hot and adorable at the same time? It baffled her.

“Hi.” She said.

“Hi, again.” He responded with a smile before looking down at the chart he had in his hands, “I will begin by stating that I’m the therapist assigned to you during your stay at New Beginnings. Of course if we have… irreconcilable differences,” he grinned, “I have no problem referring you to another clinician if that’s what you choose. I have over 10 years of experience in the mental health field, four years specifically treating addictions…” he then went on to talk to her about all of the ethical duties, confidentiality policies, and whatnot. She just nodded along when he’d ask if she understood, which she fully did, “So now that we’ve got that out of a the way, tell me a little bit about yourself.”

“Ummm… I’m 22. I…like dogs?” She shrugged awkwardly, “And music? I ummm… I don’t know, what do you want to know?” She sniggered uncomfortably and his neutral expression didn’t change when her eyes met his.

“What’s your favorite dog breed?” He asked and she smiled at that. Choosing to start somewhere comfortable for her.

“I have a top 3 actually, in no particular order-” she said looking at him to make sure he understood that, “Dachshunds, Borzois, and Scottish terriers.” She said and he smiled.

“I like dachshunds and scotties, what’s a borzoi?” He asked with a confused smile and she reciprocated the friendly gesture.

“Those dogs with ridiculously long snouts, look a little like the squirrel from Ice Age?” She said and he chuckled.

“Oh! Those guys, yeah I can see the appeal.” He said and she nodded with a smile, “Apart from your distinguished taste in dog breeds,” he said and she rolled her eyes playfully, “What more is there to you?”

“Ummm, like what?”

“Like, how would you describe yourself?” He asked and she shrugged before looking down at her fingers that scratched at the pillow in her lap, “Throw out a few words for me.” He encouraged. Well, when he said it like that she would definitely cooperate.

“Ummm…Independent. Smart. Tenacious. Incorrigible, or so I’ve been told.” She smiled to herself before looking up at him and he grinned as well before his smile dropped and he looked deep into her eyes, almost as if he was trying to figure her out just through the eye contact they held. It made her nervous so she looked away. She wasn’t easily intimidated by people, but he did the trick.

“And why are you here, Y/N?” He asked her more seriously.

“Well, it was on my schedule for today so…”

“Don’t be a smart ass with me.” He said and she looked up at him right away, the serious look on his face morphed into a smirk and she scoffed, annoyed that she fell for his trick, “So tell me, honestly, why do you think you’re here, Y/N?”

“I don’t know.” She said honestly with a shrug.

“So you being admitted here has nothing to do with your sex addiction then?” He asked and she laughed softly and shook her head. Here we go.

“I’m not a sex addict.” She said with a sigh, her eyes not daring to meet his and he glanced down at his file of her.

“That’s what your file says as the reason that you were admitted.” He challenged her.

“My file probably also says that my family believes I have a drug addiction but they made me pee in a cup and drew my blood yesterday when I got here and you’ll find that I’m perfectly clean so whatever is in that file is bullshit.” She said defensively, finally looking in his eyes with irritation and he sighed.

“I’m going to ask you some questions, they may be uncomfortable but I will need you to answer as honestly and accurately as possible.” He said and she frowned. Just as she was starting to like him…

“You don’t believe me?” She asked with creased in brows and a frown on her face.

“It’s not a matter of what I believe, Y/N. It’s a matter of confirming the diagnosis so that I know how to treat you from this point forward.” He explained, “It’s nothing personal, we just need to get through this bit today, alright?” He asked and she sighed.

“Fine.” Y/N huffed.

He then proceeded to ask her questions about her thoughts about sex, her behaviors, how often and how many times she masturbated in a day, in a week. How many people she had slept with and how often she had sex or engaged in sexual behaviors with a partner. Did she feel that her sexual impulses were too great for her to control. Did she only seek sex for orgasm/physical pleasure or did she also enjoy intimacy with partners. Had she ever gone out of her way or done something risky and extreme just to have sex or to obtain sexual gratification. How did she feel before and after she had sex. Did she feel that her sexual impulses, preferences, and behaviors were normal. She wasn’t sure what to make of her responses because the whole time his brows were knitted together as he nodded at her response before writing it down in his fucking notebook. He then asked her similar questions but having to do with drugs. These questions went on for about 15 minutes after he wrote the last thing down in the notebook she sighed.

“So what’s the diagnosis, doc?” She asked, feeling a bit nervous to hear his response. Maybe she was a perverted freak and this whole time she thought she was normal. It made her feel nervous and insecure as he glanced up at her from his notebook.

“Well you’re certainly not a drug addict.” He said and she rolled her eyes, of course not, “But the sex addict part, that’s also not a real psychological disorder, by the way. We would categorize it under an impulse control type of disorder or behavioral. But just from what I’ve heard now, I think it’s worth taking a little bit of a deeper look at. I’m not saying that you have these sexual impulse control issues, but there are somethings that I would like to unpack before labeling your sexual behaviors as deviant.” He explained thoroughly.

“Deviant?” She frowned, feeling completely disgusted with herself the second he said the word. Harry saw the way she completely deflated and recoiled once he said that.

“Deviant is just the psychological term we use to describe anything other than baseline or “normal”,” he signaled with air quotations, “There’s like an unspoken principle in psychology that we call the 4 D’s, they’re the things we look at to assess whether psychological intervention is necessary. They’re deviance, distress, dysfunction, and danger. Typically, if we assess that the behavior of concern breaches into any of these categories we would then recommend getting professional help.” He explained and that disarmed her a bit, he watched the tension slightly leave her frame, “That’s what a lot of the questions I asked you help me figure out. I know that, that was intense and intrusive, so I apologize if you feel uncomfortable or-”

“It’s cool, thank you for explaining. And I mean, I don’t mind talking about sex.” She said just to reassure him that she was OK, she had just never been asked for so much detail before. When he quickly jotted that down in his notebook she felt a tidal wave of insecurity drown her all over again. After a moment of silence as he finished writing he cleared his throat.

“Y/N, I’d like to see you three times a week to start and have you attend two groups a week.” He informed her. “I will look over your schedule and find some free times and add our appointments to your schedule. Do you prefer mornings or evenings?” He asked.

“Evenings. You won’t get much more than an attitude from me in the mornings.” She huffed out a little chuckle and he grinned, the tension breaking.

“I’m sure I can help you work on that.” He said with a chuckle and she smiled. He wasn’t so bad, but also, the therapy hadn’t really started yet, so maybe she’d grow to hate him. Or maybe she’d end up liking him, he didn’t seem so bad. And maybe, just maybe, he’d end up liking her too. “Well, that’s it for today. You’re free to go.” He smiled up at her and she nodded and got off the couch and left his office.

************

Y/N had been a challenge for Harry to say the least. She was charismatic and talkative up until he’d get into the nitty-gritty stuff in session. Suddenly it was like she forgot how to speak and she would just shut down. The first time it happened Harry informed her that he didn’t mind silence, he could sit there in the silence for the remainder of their session if she so chose. They practically did that first time up until the last ten minutes of the session when she then asked him a question. He was surprised by her resolve. Sure, the whole time she didn’t make any eye contact with him, but she was a headstrong little thing. She had described herself as tenacious if he recalled correctly.

After that first week he decided that he needed to change his approach, he needed to regain control of the relationship. Going into that second week he adopted a more professional and direct approach to her and then the insecurities started bleeding through. The moment he no longer seemed approachable and friendly she became more cooperative. She had an innate tendency to be in good favor with him, and he was sure with others too. He wasn’t cold or mean, but he cut out the filler chit-chat he normally engaged in with his patients. His extent of “ice-breaking” was asking how her day had been and then he’d jump into the session.

He could see by their third session that week that his change to their interactions was causing her distress. Distress wasn’t always a bad thing, but as a psychologist it’s within the code of ethics that they should not cause harm to a patient, whether that be physical, psychological, or emotional harm, it could ruin a person. So he needed to tread carefully with this. During their third and final appointment during that second week he added in a little bit more of a personal touch; after she confirmed that she had a good day he asked her what about it made it good and he watched her light up at the tiniest morsel of extra attention he gave her and she was even more cooperative this time around. She finally talked about her home life when he asked.

“So you would say that you and your mother don’t get along?”

“It’s not that we don’t get along…” she sighed, “I don’t think she gets me. All my life I was this perfect little princess up until I-” she stopped herself and his eyebrows creased, “until suddenly I wasn’t and she just… never trusted me again. She just saw me as someone disappointing and dirty.” She frowned.

“Does that have to do with why you were admitted here?” He asked and she swallowed hard but nodded shamefully, “It’s something to do with why she believes you have a sex addiction.”

“Yes.” She confirmed.

“Do you want to tell me what it is?” He asked and she sighed. She felt conflicted because on one hand if she admitted this and was able to stop carrying around the weight of the guilt on her chest it could feel great. But what if her admitting what she had done made him all weird and distant again? She didn’t like feeling like she had done something to make him upset at her.

“I…I want to but I can’t.” She accepted, eyes training on a little out of place string at the edge of the pillow in her lap. She started picking at it to distract herself from the discomfort she felt in the moment.

“Why not?”

“Because people clearly don’t react well to this so I… would rather not.” She huffed, irritated that the little string was not blending with the seam of the pillow and she pulled at it.

“But that’s my job, isn’t it? To hear you out and help with what you’ve got going on?” She continued pulling and then frowned when she realized that, that one little string was what had been holding the pillow together and she watched in horror as it split open and she immediately looked up to Harry.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” She said lowly and Harry watched her become so small at this little mistake. Like she was waiting for him to blow up on her and chew her up and spit her out. She was genuinely afraid and it completely broke the act he had put up for her that whole week.

“It’s OK.” He assured her.

“It’s not OK, I completely destroyed your pillow. I-I can see if someone has a sowing kit that I can borrow or-”

“A sowing kit in an in-patient psychiatric facility? Good luck.” He chuckled and she bit on her lip as her worry faded into a smile at his little joke. “I promise you, it’s alright. I didn’t really like that pillow anyway. Just got it because it went with the color scheme.” He reassured her and she nodded, still a bit unsure. “Now, if you’re not ready to talk about what happened to land you in here can you at least tell me why are you hesitant to share that with me?” He asked and she breathed out before she started picking at the sides of her thumbs, a nervous habit he had observed she had.

“I’m nervous.”

“About?”

“About making you angry.” She said and swallowed the lump forming in her throat, “If I tell you what happened I’m scared that you’ll confirm that I’m some sex deviant or freak and that you’ll treat me differently. That you won’t want to work with me anymore, that you’ll be disgusted and not want anything to do with me like everyone else.” She explained with a frown, avoiding his eyes. There was a fuck ton of shame and anxiety weighing her down in this moment, it was tangible in the air right now. He wanted to make that go away, he wanted to make her feel safe with him, give her confidence that he wasn’t going to abandon her - it was his job to do that.

“Hey, Y/N-” he said.

“Hmmm?” She asked and he frowned as she looked back down at the pillow she had destroyed.

“Look at me, Y/N.” He encouraged and after a few seconds her eyes flickered up to his, “I would never judge you or abandon you over a mistake you’ve made. I’m here to help you and being a prick about anything you tell me doesn’t help you. Now, I will be honest with you and call you out on your shit. But if you feel that I’m making it personal or attacking you in some way you can also call me out on it. We’re a team, you and I, we’re here working together to help you heal. And I can’t help you or give you the tools you need to heal if you can’t be honest with me.” He explained. As he told her this she felt that her attraction towards him morphed from just a physical one to a deeper one. This wasn’t good. “If you’re not ready to share it yet, that’s OK. But I just need you to know that at some point we’ll need to cross that bridge.” He explained and she bit her lip nervously and nodded in understanding, a tense silence taking over them as she thought about what he’d just said to her. She looked away from him again and he could see the cogs in her mind turning. Time was almost up, he briefly glanced to the clock behind her, it actually was up. He was about to tell her that they could pick up on this during their next session when she just…

“My mom found out that I was fucking my uncle.” She said suddenly and he was frozen, not expecting her to just come out with that then and there, “Well, he’s not actually my uncle, he’s my mom’s best friend’s husband, just a family friend that we just call uncle because he’s always been around. I would never actually fuck-“ she paused, looking concerned at his silence, “I’m not into my family in a sexual way, OK?” She clarified through a ramble and he nodded as her eyes met his, clearly terrified at how she phrased what she’d just admitted, “But I…I tend to only pursue unavailable or inappropriate men. Somehow this preference translated as a sex addiction to my mom. I just… like what I can’t have I suppose.” She said a bit sadly and he wasn’t sure what to say.

He couldn’t really unpack this with her now, time was up and he needed to get home. On the other hand, she was his last patient of the day and he could go over a bit, but this needed more time than just ten minutes over their time, he really needed to sit down and unpack this with her. He was processing, deciding what he should say.

“Are you angry at me?” She asked nervously and his eyes met hers again, she looked so afraid and ready for him to confirm what she feared most and his eyes softened as he continued looking at her.

“No Y/N, I’m not angry with you.” He said tenderly and she bit her lip nervously, “Thank you for telling me and for trusting me with that.” He continued and she nodded, “I ummm, I was actually about to tell you that our time was up before you dropped that bomb.” He smiled and she chuckled and brought her hands up to her face as she chuckled nervously into them, shielding her face in embarrassment.

“Oh god. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know we were at the end of our time.” She said, sounding a bit muffled as her hands obstructed her face.

“it’s alright.” He chuckled, “It’s a bit past 8:30, so we can’t possibly unpack all of this now it’s a bit late.”

“No, yeah. We can talk about it next week.” She reassured him and he shook his head.

“No, we’re definitely going to meet tomorrow. I’ll let Betsy know on my way out that we’ll need to meet tomorrow at our regular time.” He said and she nodded, “But I’m glad we ended on this note, it gives you tonight to really process how it feels to have shared this with me. And well, I’ll also take advantage of the time to do my own processing. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” He said, his eye contact with her not wavering and he watched as her lips eventually turned up in a smirk, “Not like that.” He warned through a nervous chuckle and shook his head as his cheeks started staining pink, “Jesus, Y/N. Be a little serious yeah?” He grinned and she rolled her eyes playfully.

“Yeah, alright. M’sorry.” She hummed half-heartedly.

“No you’re not.” He mumbled lowly with a timid smile as he scribbled something down in his notebook. She looked at his pretty and warm smile and then down at his big, veiny hand as he gripped his pen dragging it across the page as he jotted down whatever thought was on his mind. He was absolutely and undeniably breathtaking. Time felt as if it stood still as she watched him; her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, a physical expression of her intent to refrain herself from letting her mind go to where it wanted to go so desperately. After what was actually just a few seconds he closed his notebook and then looked back up at her. His eyes immediately fell on her mouth, noticing just how hard she was biting her lip and he cleared his throat, effectively snapping her out of her inner battle.

“Well, again thank you for opening up to me. I’m sorry that we aren’t able to go through all this now and I hope you don’t feel regretful about it, but if you start to feel bad about telling me what you did and it gets to be distressing just let one of the nurses know, OK? They can call me and we can talk on the phone or if necessary, I can come in and talk you down if things get scary or overwhelming, OK?”

“Yeah, OK. Thank you, Harry.” He responded and he nodded with a smile.

“Perfect, you’re all good to go. I’ll uh- I’ll see you tomorrow, OK?” She nodded and stood from the couch and quietly made her way out.

As soon as his office door shut after her he exhaled a shaky breath. Harry felt nervous about this. Just the way she had looked at him just now. The way that she had reacted when he had pulled away from her a bit this past week… initially he thought that maybe she just really needed validation from others or attention, but after what she’d just disclosed to him he was starting to think that maybe she was attracted to him. He wasn’t trying to flatter himself or anything like that, he knew that he was attractive and had good and desirable qualities, but as he looked back at their interactions and as the pieces of the puzzle that were Y/N started falling into place he couldn’t help but feel slight concern.

Y/N was beautiful, she was smart, as she had described herself, and she was charismatic, and nice. But considering what she had just shared with him he knew that part of her had to be alluring and cunning; how else does one get a committed person to stray from their partner? There was a nagging feeling deep inside of him that beckoned him to just talk to one of his fellow clinicians about this, to get some insight about how he should go about this with her. But it worried him that they might tell him that the ethical thing to do would be to cede her case to someone else. There were a of couple reasons for why he wouldn’t want to give up her case. Not only had he promised her that he wouldn’t abandon her, but he had put in great thought and work into building rapport with her and gaining her trust. He silenced that nagging little voice in his head and decided that he could do this. He was more than capable of helping her on his own.

***********

Y/N was extremely proud of herself. After the time she told Harry what her real issue was he was so gracious about it and every part of her was screaming, begging for her to make a move on him and she resisted. Also, he could probably see it coming from a mile away, she was sure of it, because whenever she could say something a little suggestive or talk about things in a certain way he tended to just smirk down at his notebook as he jotted things down. Things got really tempting on a few occasions when she saw that he had checked her out, but still she resisted. She had been at this facility for a month and boy, had she actually enjoyed it. Harry had helped her untangle the very twisted web that she was. He helped her understand why she was stuck in the pattern she had been in for so long. Most of it had to do with her upbringing, her view of herself, and her self worth. She would be leaving the following day and it was her last session with Harry. She was going to miss him, genuinely, and as she sat before him for the final time she felt a little sad. He had just notified her that he would be giving her some referrals for a clinician before she left the following day and then he got right down to it.

“So, it’s your last day. How are you feeling?” He asked her, trying not to dwell on the fact that he was upset that this was her last day in the facility. He would probably never see her again and it made him feel…sad.

“I’m excited to get to shower with a curtain and be able to open a window.” She said and he chuckled, “But it’s bittersweet.” She admitted and then looked around his office, she felt safe with him. She liked that he was the last person she got to see during her days here. Her eyes then fixated on the single lamp on his desk giving the space a warm and inviting glow. The same kind of glow he seemed to emanate on his own.

“Why bittersweet?” He asked her, crossing his arms pensively. She then realized that he didn’t have a notebook on his lap today. Harry was waiting for her response but he was hoping that she’d say something along the lines of missing him. Truth was, that in this past month with Y/N he started to understand why these men she set her sight on gave in to her seductions. He thought that she would cave at some point, even flirted a bit at times hoping that she’d be pushed to make a move on him, one that he had mentally decided he’d take advantage of if it came, but it never did. She excited him, kept him on his toes. And as he watched her lick over her plush and pretty lips before speaking he felt jealous of whoever she would soon find to kiss and lick over her lips. He never got his chance.

“Well I have made some friends here that I’m not entirely sure I’ll be able to keep in touch with.” She explained, “I know at first I was resistant and a pain in the ass, but the staff have all been great as well…” she said and then sighed, “And well, I’m really going to miss seeing you too, Harry.” She finally said it and he smiled, he tried not to look excited as she said this.

“What do you think you’ll miss most?” He asked, “About me.” He then clarified and she smiled, “I’m not fishing for compliments, by the way.” He grinned and she giggled. He most definitely was fishing for compliments.

“I’m going to miss talking to you for sure. I know that we’re not supposed to be friends with our therapists or whatever,” she said with a roll of her eyes, “But if I’ve ever had a best friend in my life it would be you, I think.” She explained, “I like how you make me feel about myself. And how you helped me see myself. I understand myself more because of you. And I’m sure you already know this Harry, but you’re smart and kind and not intrusive even when you’re asking me awkward questions like how many times I masturbate in a week.” She said with grin and he chuckled.

“That was one time.” He interrupted with a smirk and she giggled.

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that or will ever be asked that again, so it was memorable.” She stated and he chuckled.

“Yeah, it certainly was. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that some people masturbate almost every single day.” He said in a teasing tone and she scoffed.

“OK, like you don’t?” She said with an incredulous look and then caught herself and shook her head, “Sorry, what I was trying to infer is that guys get themselves off far more frequently than girls do. I wasn’t like thinking about you jerking off!” She said quickly and he smirked, his eyes not leaving hers, “Or at least I wasn’t.” She stated shaking her head and laughed awkwardly, “Sorry. Anyway…” she said looking down at her lap, avoiding eye contact with him because of her fumble and Harry bit his lip as he watched her nerves consume her. Everything about her body language indicated to him that she was into him and it was a real temptation.

“I do. By the way.” He added in after a moment of silence took over and she looked into his eyes.

“Do what?” Y/N asked suddenly a bit confused.

“Get myself off everyday. Or almost everyday.” He admitted nonchalantly and she felt her insides start to fire up at his confession, “At least once. I’ve got a really high sex drive.” He disclosed and she bit on her lip, her eyes darkening a bit as her mind started going places it shouldn’t and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Yet you’re not committed here.” She joked to try and dissipate the tension brewing between them and Harry smirked at her comment. Maybe this was a test of some sort? If it was about mental strength then she’d failed, she had already pictured him stroking his cock and squirting his cum all over her face. But physically, she wouldn’t give in. She could fantasize all she wanted, but she was not going to bend her will, so she looked away from him.

“Are you nervous?” He asked her and Y/N nodded, still not looking back in his eyes.

“Yeah, of course. What if I fuck up the second I’m out of here? Like if Chris wants to talk one-on-one and I completely throw out everything we’ve worked on together.” She shook her head with a frown and then finally looked back at him for some sort of guidance and reassurance now that she had been vulnerable about her concerns with leaving. He didn’t want to think about her with another man the second she walked out of here, it made him jealous.

“I wasn’t referring to you being nervous when you leave. I wanted to know if you felt nervous here, with me.” He clarified and she swallowed thickly, but shook her head.

“Ummm…no, I wouldn’t say I feel nervous with you.” She stated and he licked over his lips as he took her in for a moment. It made her heart pound in a way that she hadn’t felt in a while now. Then he stood up and approached the couch she was occupying one side of. He then sat down on the other end of it, his eyes still locked on hers.

“What about now?” He asked and she shook her head. He then moved to middle seat, beside her, “And now?” He asked again, her heart was beating wildly. From here she could smell his cologne and see his handsome face up close. Her pupils dilated, her body’s way of communicating that she was excited and captivated by the man before her, it didn’t go unnoticed by him, nevertheless, she shook her head, “Be honest.” He challenged her and she exhaled shakily.

“Yeah, it makes me a little nervous.” She confessed. He hummed and reached his hand towards her and settled it at her waist as his face came in close to hers. So much so that the tips of their noses brushed and she could smell the fresh mint on his breath from the fucking gum he was always chewing.

“And now?” He asked and she bit down on her lip, her eyes focused on how close his body was to hers, “Hey, be a good girl and look me in the eyes when I’m talking to you.” He demanded and her entire body fluttered when he said that and she had to obey him, “Are you nervous now?” He asked again and she nodded, “Use you words.”

“Yes.” She breathed out.

“Why?” He asked her, leaning in closer so that their lips almost touched.

“Because this is…wrong. We’re not supposed to be doing something like this.” She said.

“Am I to believe that if I were to reach into your panties and feel over your pussy it wouldn’t be all hot and sticky for me?” He asked, his lips skimming against her own and she wasn’t sure what to say, “Answer me.” He demanded and she shook her head.

“I can’t do this. We can’t. We shouldn’t.” She said shakily.

“Obviously. But do you want to?” He asked her and she bit down on her lip to suppress her moan. She was turned on beyond belief, “What if I told you that I have a wife and kid waiting for me at home? Would you want to then?” He asked and she shook her head, “You’re a liar.” He stated and she was feeling conflicted and unsure about what was happening but it was so fucking hot, she wanted to know how far he was willing to take this.

“M’not lying.” She defended herself.

“Yeah, you are. I just know that if I told you that my wife neglected me you’d be halfway there. What would really get you there would be if I told you that from the moment I saw you I was just captivated by you. That I’ve never seen someone so fucking beautiful. That she doesn’t compare to you. That I would never cheat, but you’re the exception.” He said and she whimpered.

“Th-that’s not fair, Harry.” She said with a frown and he felt a little guilty for a moment. She was right, he was being a manipulative piece of shit, but he wanted her so fucking bad

“Yeah, you're right, Y/N. S’not fair, so I’ll be straight with you. I meant every word I said except I’m not married and I don’t have a kid. And I know that makes me…not your type, but let me tell you something. Who needs some used up old guy to make you feel good when you could have someone to keep up with your needy little cunt? Who can fuck you and make you cum whenever you want. Or maybe you just like being a dirty little secret, is that it?” He asked and she was panting now, suddenly feeling his other hand settling over her hand that was firmly planted on the couch.

“Harry-”

“That’s what you get off on, isn’t it? Being the side piece.” He said and she pouted, “Am I hurting your feelings?” He asked and she nodded, “I’m sorry, baby.” He cooed, “How should I make it up to you? Hmmm?” He asked her and then she realized he had pressed her hand against his erection, it was straining against his trousers, and she bit her lip and looked up into his eyes as he guided her hand over the outline of his cock. “You’re so fucking perfect, you know that?” He hummed, “Just thinking about you gets me all worked up, baby. Come so fucking hard when I think about holding you down and fucking your face until you’re choking for air.” He said and she moaned.

“You really think about doing that to me?” She asked and he’d done it, her resolve had crumbled.

“That and so much more.” He hummed.

“What else?” She asked as she started reaching further between his legs to let her fingers graze over his balls and he moaned when she did.

“The last few weeks I’ve thought of just making my move and having my way with you. Your body language, the way you look at me, the things you say, it’s all been screaming at me that you want me to fuck you. I wouldn’t even bother with stretching you out for me or waiting to get you wet for me, just force my cock into you dry if I had to, just wanted to fuck you.” Her eyes closed and she moaned again, squeezing her thighs together to feel some relief from the now constant throb of the hot and sopping mess that was her pussy.

“Please,” She panted, “do something, anything, just want to make you come.” She whimpered and his brows furrowed as he heard that.

“You want to make me come, baby?” She nodded, “And what about you, huh?” He asked her and he watched her eyes, almost tearing with desperation.

“Who cares? I just want to be good for you and make you come. As many times as you want, wherever you want. Just wanna make you feel good.” She keened and he wasted no time in pressing his lips to hers in a deep and needy kiss. After a moment he pulled back from her.

“I don’t know who the hell you’ve been with but in my book good girls get to come as many times as they want. And you, Y/N, are such a good girl.” He spoke before kissing her again, “You were so good before, saying no, rejecting my advances. You’re right, I didn’t play fair in the end there, but life’s not fair, baby. Next time you know that you need to be ready to face your ultimate temptation and beat it.” He said and she nodded before he kissed her again, “I’m really proud of you though.” He praised her and it made her feel like she was walking on air.

“Thank you, Harry.” She responded and he hummed before kissing her again. This time it deepened even more as their tongues met desperately. Licking into each other, sucking, nibbling, biting…Y/N felt like she was on fire as his heavier body weighed hers down.

“What do you want, baby? Tell me and I’ll do it.” He said and she looked into his eyes.

“Please fuck me.” She said softly and he nodded and dipped down to kiss her a little more intentionally. Slower and deeper and it made her feel strange. The only time she’s ever been kissed this way was when she had her first kiss. It was foreign to her to feel a tender touch coming from a man. Especially as his hands smoothed under her shirt, caressing her sides cautiously before covering her breasts, kneading and squeezing before pinching at her nipples. She whined as he did it again, but harder.

“Fuck, again!” She begged and this time he pulled back and pulled off her shirt before dragging the cups of her bra down before taking one of her nipples in his mouth and sucking hard making her hiss. His hands slid behind her to unclasp her bra and he just tossed it somewhere to the side before squeezing her breasts hard and moving to the next one and sucking against her already hardened nipple. He pulled back and looked at her bare chest, nipples taut and sensitive from his harsh sucks and nibbles. She wasn’t expecting it when he brought his right hand up and slapped at her her breast making her hiss. Her eyes met his with a darkened look and he grinned before doing the same to the other one and then reaching down to pinch her nipples between his thumbs and index fingers and she let out a choked cry at the pain mixing with pleasure.

“Harder?” He asked and she looked into his eyes and nodded with her lip bitten hard beneath her teeth, “You sure?” She nodded again and he pinched with more force making her mouth fall open and he watched as her body became covered in goosebumps and after a few seconds he let go and she moaned as his warm palms came over her breasts and held them tightly, reliving the sharp stinging feeling she felt shooting to her sensitive little buds, “Fuck. Are you OK?” He asked softly and she nodded, “Use your words for me, baby. Want to hear your voice.”

“Yes. I’m OK.”

“You liked it, right?” He wanted to confirm; with her tendencies he didn’t want her doing things she didn’t like just because she thought it would please him. He wanted to make that clear to her.

“Yeah. I like a little pain.” She said and he hummed before smiling.

“I do too.” He assured and she bit her lip upon hearing him say this. Her eyes glanced down to the very evident bulge in his pants, there was already a faint little wet patch where the tip of his leaking cock was pressed against. She reached forward to skim her index finger along the outline of his cock, she saw it twitch in its confines as she tickled over the tip and then back down towards his balls.

“So if I were to…” she suddenly squeezed hard at his balls and he lunged forward with a hiss at the sting that shot through his body before his eyes rolled back and he moaned.

“Oh fuck, baby.” He grunted as she loosened her grip and gently rubbed over them.

“That’s OK?” She asked and he nodded at her. Truth be told he always liked to fuck hard because there was nothing like the jolt he felt from that little sting he’d get when his balls would swing up and smack harshly into whoever he was fucking. It was the cherry on top for him, especially if the person he was fucking wasn’t comfortable to giving him a little bite of pain with his pleasure. She smirked up at him.

“What’re you smirking at?”

“Nothing, you’re just as much of a kinky freak as I am.” She grinned and he hummed and leaned down to kiss her lips tenderly and just as she was losing herself in the kiss her bit down hard on her lip and she yelped before he pulled away with a grin.

“S’nothing wrong with being a little kinky.” He hummed and she smiled, “Now, how would you like me to fuck you, baby?” He asked and she melted internally at the way the words sounded and felt like thick, warm honey coming from his lips.

“Hard and rough. Please.”

“Fuck,” he breathed out with a smile, “You’re such a good girl with those manners.” He hummed, “Now, go on, baby. Get my cock out.” He said and she immediately moved her hands to his trousers, working at his belt and tugging it out before tossing it aside and popping open the button, looking up at his eyes as she blindly pulled down his zipper and tugged down to reveal his muscular and tattooed thighs, “Good girl. My briefs too though, baby.” She nodded and tugged them down his thighs as well.

Y/N literally felt her saliva start to pool beneath her tongue as his thick, heavy cock fell forward between their bodies, the dark pink, leaky tip lightly grazing at her stomach a few times as it bobbed up and down a few times before it was still.

“Holy shit.” She whispered, completely mesmerized by his penis and his lips twitched up to the side in a smug smirk.

She liked that his pubic hair was there and well maintained. She let her eyes wander up to the laurels he had tattooed right above where his hair grew thicker. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed nervously, but she found that her mouth had again produced an ungodly amount of saliva, so instead she glanced up at him as she slightly parter her lips and then brought up her hand to spit some on it and he bit hard on his lip, nodding at her. She took this as the go-ahead to wrap her wet palm around his hot and hard cock. She dragged her fist up, letting out a small whimper as she watched his foreskin hide the tip of his cock for a moment, collecting his pre-cum, and then she stroked down and rubbed her thumb right under the head of his penis and then up and until she was rubbing against where he was leaking for her.

“Shit…” he huffed, watching her hand playing with his cock. It was better than he had imagined it would be. She looked up at him as her other hand went to his balls and squeezed gently at first and he moaned quietly. Then she added a bit more pressure and his brows knitted together as he frowned but still emitted a pleasured moan as she gently stroked his shaft, “Harder.” He groaned and a tingle of excitement shot through her body at his request as she added even more pressure to her grip around his balls and focused her strokes right over his tip. Harry’s eyes squeezed shut as he let out a strangled moan, “Fuck yeah.” He hissed as his eyes opened and met hers. They were dark and overcome with lust. Lust for her. She wanted him to come, she started stroking faster and kissed his lips quickly.

“Want them in my mouth.” She said and he nodded standing and rearing back, letting her get on her knees. The second his balls were within reach she opened up her mouth and sucked one into her mouth, knowing he didn’t mind some pain she sucked a bit harder, loving how his fingers raked into her hair and gripped it forcefully. She continued working her fist over his shaft quickly. As for her hand that was unoccupied, she ran her index finger under lips, lubricating it with the spit that was dripping out of her mouth. Without any warning she rubbed it against his asshole and he moaned, but relaxed himself so that she could press her finger past the tight ring of muscles. He was so tight and hot, and finally she felt the slightly raised bump inside and rubbed her finger into it. Harry felt his knees buckle as she rubbed into his prostate.

“Oh fuck, you’re gonna make me come!” He panted in a deep and gruff voice. His abs started tightening and his balls drawing up, slightly aching as she sucked at them just right. He was getting there so quickly, faster than he expected but this with her was far more pleasurable than he had dreamed. “Fuck, Y/N fuck!” He grunted as he started tipping over the edge, “Wanna come in your mouth, want you to taste my sperm, baby.” He panted, losing his resolve to hold out any longer as she moaned against him. She quickly brought her mouth over his tip and he starting bucking into her mouth shallowly. He glanced down to watch as half of his cock disappeared between her perfectly delicious lips.

The sight alone was more than enough to push him over the edge. Harry’s eyes clenched shut as the pleasure started to take over, his thrusts becoming inconsistent and sloppy as he burst in her mouth. He pulled her hair harder as her finger prodded hard into his prostate, effectively milking him for all he had to give her. He hissed as she started to suck around his tip, drawing as much of his cum out of his cock as possible. After a few seconds the sensitivity started to take over, but he didn’t want her to stop. He felt like his mind had completely spiraled and that he had shifted into a completely different plane of existence as she slowly started to slow down but not enough to interrupt the stimulation. His whole body was buzzing deliciously.

“Fuck baby, don’t stop. Don’t stop.” He found himself breathing out and she moaned around his cock, “Please don’t stop. Make me come again. Have so much more for you, baby girl.” He moaned. The truth was that Harry had been training himself for this exact situation. He was always training to last for ages, to come multiple times in short periods, to shorten his refractory period - he didn’t want to waste time when it came to sex. This is why the overstimulation he was feeling now was enough to keep him going. It was the perfect mix of pain and pleasure. His free hand was planted on the couch’s armrest, his arm was completely tense and his legs were quivering, barely holding him up as he felt himself just seconds away from his next orgasm. His breathing had hitched and the lack of proper oxygen intake from his shallow breathing made his throat and chest start to burn. And harder than the first one, this orgasm really did him in. He didn’t even have time to warn her, he just completely lost control as he bucked his cock desperately into her mouth, so much so that her hands instantly moved to grip the the backs of his thighs, nails digging into his skin with a delicious bite as he filled her mouth with his warm and generous load once again.

Y/N was struggling to breathe, he’d come so much this time, she could feel it and her spit leaking down her chin. Her throat was burning because she was so desperate for air, but the tip of his cock was forcing itself down the opening of her throat and despite her hands squeezing hard at his thighs, begging for him to draw back he wasn’t pulling back. It was making her eyes water and for her to start to feel a little lightheaded. Finally, after a few second he started drawing back and she took in a deep breath before coughing as she leaned her face against the tiger inked into his thigh.

“Shit…” He panted with a shaky voice as his fingers raked through her hair tenderly, “Sorry, didn’t-” he gulped down the air he was taking, “Didn’t even give you a warning, baby.” He apologized and she shook her head and smiled, her eyes still closed as she tried to catch her breath.

“It’s OK, that was so good.” She got out with a scratchy voice and he bit his lip. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a sexual partner, what a shame that he’d probably never see her after this. It just felt wrong to lose her, he didn’t want to think about it right now. Not as he felt her nuzzle closer to his thigh before kissing it gently. She then glanced up to him and he smiled down at her and she grinned before pushing herself to stand. She then glanced around and went to pick up her bra and shirt and he frowned.

“What’re you doing?”

“Getting dressed.” She smiled at him.

“We’re not done yet.” He said and she glanced down at his cock. It wasn’t soft, but it wasn’t hard either, she then looked up at his face again, “Gimme like five minutes, yeah?” He grinned as he walked over to his desk and took a drink from his water bottle and she narrowed her eyes.

“Five minutes?”

“I’ve been practicing a long time just in case I was ever in a situation like this.” He shrugged with a grin and she giggled. Harry stayed by his desk and toed off his shoes and then pulled off his socks before completely tearing off his pants and briefs. “Now, c’mere.” He hummed and she made her way over to his desk. He grabbed her face before kissing her slowly, but the way he was using his tongue and lips against hers were making her stomach flutter with butterflies. Suddenly he let her go to make space for her on his desk. She heard as a few things scraped against the surface of the wood while a few others fell to the ground. His hands landed on her ips and then slid back to grab at her ass. He lightly smacked at her a couple times before telling her to jump. He caught her and seated her on his desk, spreading her legs apart by her knees to settle in closer to her.

As they continued kissing Y/N turned her head away before letting her lips wander down his jaw and then his neck, sucking lightly but not enough to leave marks. Her nimble fingers started unfastening the buttons holding his shirt closed, fingers tickling at his skin every now and again and it made him smile as her lips kissed at every inch of newly exposed skin on his chest.

“Your tattoos are pretty.” She spoke absentmindedly before she sunk her teeth into his clavicle, making his hands dig into her thighs at the sting from the surprising action. As his pecs came into sight she felt even more dizzy. She kissed down his sternum, smiling at the tickles on her lips and the tip of her nose from the smattering of hair on his chest. She had finished unbuttoning his shirt and her hands slid up his tummy and over his pecs before she turned and bit down gently on one of his nipples. Just from that his cock started getting stiff again. She then did the same to the other, she smiled smugly against his warm and soft skin as she felt his grip tighten around her thighs. She pulled back to get a good look at him and smiled again upon seeing the butterfly tattooed right over his stomach, it was so pretty. Harry’s heart started thumping hard and his tummy fluttering with more than just anticipation and lust, as he watched her take in the tattoo inked into his stomach. The smile that spread on her face brought a warmth to him that he didn’t know he was missing until it came.

“Did it hurt?” She suddenly asked and he smiled and nodded.

“But as you know, I don’t really mind that.” He grinned and she sniggered as her finger traced the outline of it, making his abs flex with the slight tickles. He was a fucking masterpiece, “Do you have tattoos?” He asked and she shook her head.

“My mom thinks they’re vulgar, always said she’d kick me out if I got one.” She said and he hummed, “I do want one though. I’ll just get it when I’m out of there.” She hummed. She could now feel his fully hard penis against her thigh as her finger absentmindedly followed the dips of his abs and she smiled up at him, “Impressive.” He chuckled lowly.

“Told you. It also helps when you’re really into the person you’re with.” He added and she glanced down as she felt her face becoming hot at his compliment.

Harry smiled as he watched her break eye contact timidly and after a few moments he gripped her chin between his fingers and coaxed her to look back up at him. His eyes scanned over hers for a few seconds before he leaned down to connect their lips in a much slower and sultry kiss. Y/N was not really one to allow for tenderness to seep into her sexual encounters, but this kiss was something different. It made a warm feeling glaze over her heart and slowly spread through her entire body, like a thick syrup.

Their kiss started inching away from tender and towards the territory of hungry and desperate. His hands spread her legs for him and wrapped them around his hips. He pressed his body flush to hers and moaned into their kiss as his big, thick cock snuggled into the hot and sopping folds of her pussy, his tip nudged against her clit every now and again, making both of them shudder. He shifted his hips until he felt his tip catch against the dip of her entrance and he pushed forward but not hard enough to push past her opening. She was getting so desperate for him; hungry to feel him slowly push into her and spread her. She was just about to protest his teasing when out of nowhere he forcefully shoved his cock all the way into her without warning. His darkened eyes watched as her delicate features creased with what was evidently discomfort. Her lips turned down as a surprised groan spilled past them. She was fucking tight. Her cunt’s vice-like grip even caused some pain to his cock as he se settled deep into her. He didn’t give her time to adjust, she’d get used to it in just a bit. She winced as he dragged his cock out almost to the tip and then rammed back into her hard.

“Shit!” She whimpered feebly, fingers gripping hard into his biceps for some form of grounding and he groaned from deep in his chest as her clenching walls did the absolute most to try and get him to stop and give her a second to adjust, her body resisting his thrusts from the shock of it all, “It hurts a little, you’re too big!” She gasped and his lips met hers sloppily as he opted for grinding into her instead, trying to get his cock in deeper, as deep as he could get it.

“It’s alright, baby. It’ll start to feel good soon.” He promised her, his lips skimming and smearing against her own as he spoke. She wiggled her hips a bit and just then she gasped and curled into his body; her arms hugged around his back and squeezed him tight. Harry smirked as he started to pulse his hips, feeling her legs start to quiver as his cock stimulated her g-spot. “Fuuuuuck.” He moaned. It felt so good against the tip of his penis, so spongey and warm, the texture and ridges of her cunt were absolutely perfect for him and he started going a bit harder.

“Oh my god!” She gasped into his chest and he hummed in delight before he bit down hard on his lip as her nails raked down his back. Hard.

“Told you it’d feel good soon.” He hummed knowingly.

“Yeah. Fuck yeah!” She confirmed, “You’re fucking me so good!” She whimpered, “Harder, please. Fuck me harder!” She mewled.

Harry grunted loudly and pushed her further back on his desk until she was laying on her back and he climbed on the desk and kneeled, pulling her hips into him. He shoved his cock back into her pulsing and sore little hole and immediately started to pick up the pace and force of his thrusts. Her breath had suspended for a moment as he pounded away at her without mercy. All that could be heard for those few seconds were his labored breaths and the sound of his balls thwacking wetly against her ass. He pressed his hands to her inner thighs, spreading her even more open for him, allowing him to get closer to get in deeper, this is what made her gasp for air as a strangle moan left her throat. Harry watched with a nearly pained look as her little pussy took his entire cock, right up to his balls over and over and over again. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand as a delicious and familiar tingle shot through his whole body. He then lowered himself down, his nose skimming hers and his lips hovering right above hers as he continued his thrusts.

“Oh my god, you’re so good, Harry! So fucking good!” She praised through a moan, “I’m gonna come soon!”

“Would love to keep giving you my cock to get you there, but only good girls get to come.” He said and she pouted.

“So good for you!” She whimpered, her teary eyes met his own darkened and stern eyes.

“Are you really?” He asked and she nodded, “Don’t think so, Y/N.” He said and she frowned even more, her chest stirring with hurt and offense at his words. A total contrast to the warm and delicious feelings swirling and brewing in her tummy.

“I am good. I am.” She fought back, trying not to get too upset over this.

“No you’re not, Y/N.” He huffed, “You’re an insatiable, manipulative, little whore.” He said and the moment the words left his mouth she felt a tingle shoot up her spine. He felt her walls clench down hard around him as he said this and he hummed, “Is that being good?” He asked and she shook her head with a frowned and then he gave a really rough thrust and it completely opened her up for him so that he sunk deeper and his tip collided with her cervix. She gasped, body taught as a bow at the feeling of pain and pleasure blending beautifully and chaotically, making her brain feel like mush as the only thing she could feel now was him, “Holy fucking shit.” He grunted out and started pulsing his hips gently, his tip kissing her cervix with every movement, it had his toes curling. Y/N felt like she was going to combust, more so because with the way he was thrusting she was getting just enough contact against her clit and holding back her orgasm was getting harder. Hot tears started to streak down her face from the desperation

“Please, Harry! Please, let me come!” She sobbed and he grinned wickedly.

“No. You’re a selfish and disgusting home-wrecker.” He berated her, he didn’t stop because he felt her start to pulse around his cock at this, “And you like it, you can’t lie to be about that. Makes you feel good, huh? And special? As if that’s the only thing you’re good for.” He said and she frowned again “Don’t pout and feel sorry for yourself, baby. It’s the truth and if that’s who you’re gonna be you better fucking own it.” He said and she moaned, her back starting to arch. “Tell me what you are. Wanna hear you say it.” He egged her on.

“Harry-”

“Admit it and I’ll let you come.” He said and she whimpered and looked into his eyes.

“I’m…” she frowned, “I’m selfish and disgusting.” She confessed, “I’m a home-wrecker and I like it.” She confessed, “I do like how it makes me feel, it is what I’m good for.” She whimpered in a feeble voice and he groaned and shook his head, a little too fucked out to say anything else.

“Come for me, Y/N. Come for me so I can fill your little pussy with my cum.” He said and she gasped and started to tremble as a tidal wave of pleasure just took her out. He started pounding faster into her cunt and started to rub at her clit until she was moaning until he felt her cum gushing from her entrance, splashing against his tummy and thighs from the force of his thrusts, “Oh fuck, even have you squirting on my cock, baby. Fuck!” He mewled and after a few sloppy thrusts he was groaning as his orgasm almost felt like it punched him in the gut. He felt as his balls pulsed hard against her, pumping all of his cum into her needy little cunt.

“Oh my god!” She whispered as she hugged him tight, “Can feel you filling me up.” It made her feel some kind of way. She’d never fucked anyone bare, no one had ever actually came inside of her before and it was incredible.

“S’my little pussy now, isn’t it?” He asked her as he slightly pushed himself up to look at her face. She was all fucked out, mascara smeared, eyes heavy and skin blotchy, and looking like she wasn’t all there. Nevertheless she nodded at his question, “Filled you with my come so now you’re all mine.” He repeated and kissed her lips tenderly, completely opposite to the way in which he had just fucked her. Already, she could feel her inner thighs and pubic bone were sore from his aggressive maneuvers, she’s sure that her pussy would hurt too in a little bit once she regained feeling there. They made out languidly for a little bit and he had started to soften up a bit more. “M’gonna pull out, OK? S’gonna feel uncomfortable.” He warned her and she nodded, biting on her lip to muffle the whimper that bubbled in her throat. He too hissed a bit and then moved off of the desk. Now she started to feel the thrum between her legs, still it was a bit dull and would likely get worse in the next hour. She had never been fucked like this, she was unsure of what to make of everything that happened, all she knew was that she didn’t regret it one bit. Everything had been so good because he seemed to know what buttons to push and how and when to do it. Like he had been given a manual on her and memorized it. The fact that he was her therapist probably helped a bit, but he also understood her on a deeper level, they were in a way the same.

Y/N couldn’t bring herself to move yet, she just stared at his ceiling as she heard him shuffling around. She started getting drowsy and let her eyes flutter closed for just a few minutes.

“Y/N, hey.” He squeezed at her calf and she groaned tiredly, “Bend your legs f’me, baby.” He said and she did so with his help, still drowsy as hell, “M’gonna clean you up, OK? Sorry, s’a bit cold.” He said and she frowned and hissed as she felt a soft damp texture against her center, but soon the cold soothed her swollen and beat up pussy, “Push, just a little.” He said and presumably wiped up his sperm leaking from her entrance, “Good girl.” He hummed and pressed a kiss to each of her knees before pulling away. “Grab my hand.” He said and she did and he pulled her up to a sitting position. Suddenly she felt really cold and exposed. Her blurry eyes adjusted and saw that he was now in his briefs, “Here, have a little water.” He said extending his water bottle to her and she took it with shaky fingers and glued some down as he rubbed over her thighs gently until she was done. Her eyes met his and he looked a little worried, “Are you o-” he stopped himself, “D-do you regret it?” He asked and she frowned and shook her head.

“No.” She assured softly and he looked more at ease. “Do you?” She asked and he shook his head with a timid smile.

“But I ummm, obviously didn’t use a condom, didn’t even ask you if it was OK t-to come inside of you. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I got really lost in the moment.” He rambled, “Are you on something or can I bring you an emergency contraceptive early tomorrow?” He asked and she smiled at him. Is this what sex is like for everyone or is Harry just thoughtful and caring like this? She asked herself, “What?”

“Nothing, you’re just really sweet.” She said as he hands came over his and rubbed over them, “And I’ve got the implant so we should be OK. Also I’ve always used condoms, given my…regular preferences, so I’m also aware that I’m clean.” She assured him and he nodded.

“OK. Me too. Sorry, we’re doing this all wrong, but ummm, I’m not usually this impulsive.” He explained and she giggled.

“It’s alright.” She assured and he smiled.

“Alright, let’s get you dressed.” He said and he collected her clothes and helped her get her bra and top on. Even slid her panties up her legs and helped her with her pants, “There you are.” He smiled.

“Thank you.” She hummed and he gabbed her face gently and leaned in to kiss her once more. Just a soft and sweet kiss that made her breathing suspend for just a moment before he pulled back, the space between them was still minimal as he pressed his fore head against hers.

“I want you to know that the things I said about you, being a whore and selfish and I don’t even know what else…”

“A disgusting home-wrecker is what you said, I think?” She responded and he frowned upon hearing it.

“I hope you know in your heart that you’re not those things. It was just a sex thing and-”

“I know. Kinda into the degradation thing too, don’t worry. S’rather tame to what I’ve heard in the past.” She said and that made his stomach twist with hurt for her.

“But you know that it’s not true right?” He asked her again and she stayed quiet, “Baby, s’not true. This past month you’ve worked so hard on the root causes of what was leading you to make those choices. You’re so much more than your mistakes and regrets. Remember who you are. But I know it's hard sometimes, so if you ever find yourself doubting or forgetting that please call me. I’ll always make time for you.” He assured her and she bit her lip as her eyes watered, she was trying not to cry but when he kissed her forehead the tears started to fall and he hugged her into his chest as she started to sob, “Shhh, shhhh, s’alright.” He comforted her with a soft and comforting whisper, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” He reassured her. It was time for her to get back to her room, it was a little past 8:30 now and he drew back from her once her crying had calmed and he helped wipe at her tears.

“Thank you, Harry.” She said and he smiled at her once more.

“Try getting down?” He requested and as soon as she landed on the ground her legs trembled and her knees gave. He caught her almost immediately and they both giggled at that, “OK, just lean here for a little until you’re good enough to walk. I’ll walk with you you to your room, OK?” She nodded with a smile. He finished getting dressed and gathered his belongings before they made their way down the halls and finally they got to her room and he stepped just a bit past the threshold, they both glanced out into the hallway before he dipped down and kissed her deeply for a few seconds before he pulled back.

“Let me leave my card with you now and I’ll jot down my cell on the back, OK?” She nodded and he pulled a pen from his backpack and a business card from his wallet before scribbling his number on it and leaving her with one final kiss goodnight.

*************

Harry and the nurses that mainly worked with her had a little farewell surprised for her on her way out. A card and some flowers, nothing over the top, but still sweet. Y/N’s mom saw the genuine sadness that Y/N’s team had for seeing her go, but also heard how proud of her they were and that she would be just fine. Then the time came for Y/N to actually go and she hugged her care team members, leaving Harry for last, maybe he stood on the end on purpose because he wanted to be her final goodbye. She smiled as she went up to him and hugged him tight around his stomach, discreetly breathing in his scent.

“M’gonna miss you. But I promise you, you’re ready and you’re gonna be just fine. I’m so, so proud of you.” He said as she squeezed her tight before letting go and she sighed shakily as a fresh wave of tears streaked her cheeks and she giggled and rolled her eyes.

“Sorry guys.” She sniffled and everyone giggled away the tension. She was still gripping Harry’s hand tight, not quite ready to let go yet.

“Ready, sweetheart?” Her mother asked and Y/N looked to her nurses and then at Harry who squeezed her hand tight.

“Remember who you are.” He mouthed to her and she nodded and took in a deep breath and let him go. She had no idea what would come of this or if she would ever even need to call him at any point in time, but as she walked out the doors with a final wave goodbye and her eyes met his one last time she was just filled with happiness to have crossed paths with him.

———A/N———

If you like this ending you don’t have to continue to parts 2 & 3, they are a bit more serious. No smut until part 3 & it’s more romantic than kinky.

READ PART 2

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