#so you agree the system is fucked up? Jesus Christ
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libs are so damn annoying, if you have to choose one guy to “protect democracy”, your democracy is fucking dead. “If there is an election where you are forced to pick between two evils, then it’s your duty to pick the lesser evil” if there’s an election where you are forced to pick between two evils, then it’s your duty to rid of the system that’s producing them in the first place
#shut up about ‘you need to vote for Biden’ my god#newsflash there are other people running who aren’t Biden or Trump#‘but giving them ur vote is throwing ur vote away cuz they’re not gonna way’#so you agree the system is fucked up? Jesus Christ
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one would think I'd be glad to be potentially offered my old job back in the midst of a crisis and having absolutely no job perspectives
but I've been crying (I'd say full on whailing) and trying very hard not to throw up for 6,5 hours now
and I'd very much like my fucking body/psyche/nerves/whoever the fuck is doing this TO STOP
#it's not even for certain i haven't even actually said yes MY EYES HURT#I've ate all the variants of sedatives we have at the house but they are all non-prescription so they don't do shit about my nuclear anxty#I've drunk alcohol and stabilized for like an hour tops before that got burned out from my system by this hysteria as well#I should go to sleep but the thought of going to lie in the dark and silence with THIS hell in my head makes me nauseated#god you idiot just stop ALL YOUR OTHER OPTIONS ARE MOSTLY WORSE#also not to mention that maybe it won't even happen maybe we won't agree on conditions NOTHING HAS HAPPENED YET#but my everything is throwing a tantrum like I'm starting tomorrow jesus fucking christ#the thought of waking up tomorrow and having to potentially continue this discussion makes me wish to never wake up at all#AND I'M USUALLY NOT THE ONE TO HAVE THOSE THOUGHTS#it wasn't even THAT bad (although I quit for a reason and they SEEM to be aware of that reason#allegedly#anyway this is not the time and place to be fucking dying over yet here my ass is#freaked out beyond measure by the slightest possibility that her comfy-ass remote homey life can change back#god and the fucking position would actually be so easy if I was able to 1. establish firm boundaries and 2. not give a shit#BUT I WILL GIVE A SHIT AND DESTROY MYSELF ON COMPANY TIME AGAIN#I KNOW I WILL#FUCK FUCK FUCK JUST SHOOT ME#nothing happened yet you absolute MORON#SHUT UP#uuuh#tw suicide ment#kinda??? better save than sorry lol#i don't wanna die i just want to Stop Existing it's too different things#*two
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don't you forget about me (part two)
(part one)
Steve doesn’t know how long they sit there in silence, waiting. It’s making him insane. The seconds pass too slow; the seconds pass too fast. His mind is a storm; his mind is empty. He’s feeling too much; he’s not feeling at all. He paces the room; he sits catatonically against a wall. He needs to get out of here; he needs to stay.
He’s been here before, just barely over a week ago, tense and anxious and despairing and waiting for news. But waiting to hear if Eddie will ever remember him again really should not feel this much worse than waiting to hear if Eddie will ever fucking breathe again. Steve thinks there must be something wrong with him. He’s being selfish and stupid. His pathological fucking need to be loved is not what’s important right now. Eddie is alive and awake and okay and that’s the only thing that really matters. That’s the only thing he should really care about.
Steve’s pacing again now, yanking his hands through his hair as he does laps around the room until Eddie finally appears in the doorway.
Eddie must’ve just cracked a joke or something because the nurse is laughing as she pushes his bed into the room and he’s got this adorable grin on his face. Steve’s heart twists in his chest and he nearly bursts into tears all over again because god does he want nothing more than to press a kiss to those dimpled cheeks.
“Good news, boys,” Eddie announces. “My brain is fully intact.”
“There’s no physical permanent damage to his brain,” the nurse elaborates. “His amnesia is likely a result of psychological trauma and the temporary disruption of brain function from blood loss and lack of oxygen that occurred at the time of his injury. But there is no obvious reason why he shouldn’t regain his full memory, given time.”
So there’s hope. Steve breathes a sigh of relief.
“That is good news,” Wayne agrees.
Steve asks, “How much time?”
The nurse gives an unhelpful shrug. “Impossible to say. It could be anywhere from days to months, or even years. I’m sorry, there’s no way for us to know.”
Years. “Okay.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He can keep it together. He can. “Thanks,” he tells the nurse. “I, uh-” He makes the mistake of looking at Eddie who looks right through him, and Steve can’t keep it together anymore actually. “I gotta update the kids,” he mutters, backing his way towards the door. Wayne nods in acknowledgment; no protests this time at Steve’s excuse to leave.
“See ya, Harrington,” Eddie calls after him, casual, impersonal, like they're nothing more than acquaintances passing by each other in a high school hallway.
Steve can’t get out of that hospital fast enough.
He makes it to his car in record time, slamming the door shut and sinking heavily into the driver’s seat. A ragged sob tries to claw its way up his throat now that he’s finally alone, but he forces it back, staving off his breakdown for just a little bit longer. As much as it was an excuse, he really does have to update the kids.
Steve fishes his walkie out of the glove box. “Code - whatever, I don’t know. Code Eddie,” he says. He doesn’t remember the kids’ system of codes, nor would he be sure which one this news falls under even if he did.
“Is he okay? Is he awake?” comes an immediate, eager response from Dustin. “Over.”
“Yeah, he’s awake, and he’s fine, except he’s got pretty bad amnesia. The doctors say it should be temporary, but right now he doesn’t remember anything since May of ‘85,” Steve explains, trying his best to keep his voice even.
“Steve, come pick me up and take me to see him,” Dustin demands, “right now. Over.”
“Me too. Over,” Mike chimes in before Steve can respond.
“And us,” Erica adds as well.
Steve pauses for a second, both to steady his own breath and to make sure no one else wants to jump in on this too, before he reminds them, “He won’t know you, any of you.”
“I don’t care,” Dustin says, bossy as ever. “Just come get me. Over.”
“Jesus Christ, kid,” Steve mutters to himself. He sucks in another breath; it wobbles dangerously. He’s just about reached his limit on how long he can keep himself from falling apart. “I- I need a minute, alright?” he manages through the walkie. “Can you just give me, like, an hour? And then I’ll take you guys to visit Eddie.”
Steve doesn’t wait for a response before he slams the antenna closed, tosses the walkie aside, and finally, finally lets himself shatter. That sob rips free from his throat, followed by another and another and another. Tears flood from his eyes; his nose runs. It’s an ugly, gross, visceral cry that leaves him exhausted and raw and aching to be held by the time the last sob shudders out of him. Drained and hollow, he craves the embrace of someone who knows him, someone who loves him.
He sweeps up his broken pieces, wipes the mess of tears and snot off his face, and drives to Robin’s house.
“Steve, oh my god.” Robin pulls him into a hug the second she opens the door and sees the look on his face. Steve clings to her. “What happened?”
“Eddie’s awake,” he mutters dismally.
“Oh! Not the tone I’d expect you to deliver that news in, but okay.” Robin pulls back, looking at him with narrow-eyed concern and confusion as she analyzes his puffy eyes and red nose and swollen lips. “And you look like you’ve just been crying because…?”
“Because he doesn’t remember me, Rob,” Steve sighs. “He doesn’t remember anything from the past 11 months.”
Robin’s eyes go wide now. “Shit,” she says, so plainly it startles a short laugh out of Steve.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shit.”
She asks him more questions as she walks down the hallway so they can talk in her room. Steve once again reiterates what was said at the hospital.
“So you didn’t tell him you two were a thing?” Robin asks, closing her door behind them.
“Of course I didn’t.” Steve flops back onto her bed. “I didn’t want to spook him.”
She sits beside him. “You didn’t want to spook him,” she repeats, looking down at him with raised eyebrows, “but you told him about Vecna.”
“Well, yeah. I just-” He lifts his arms to gesture vaguely into the air as he tries to explain himself. “I mean, imagine how you would feel if you woke up in a hospital and some random guy you’ve spoken to maybe twice was by your bedside telling you you’ve been in a relationship with him for the past 9 months.”
“Uh, I don’t know, dingus, probably about the same as I’d feel if said guy told me I’d nearly died fighting some evil twisted creature from a hell dimension,” Robin retorts.
Steve drops his hands onto his chest with a huff, shaking his head. “No, trust me. He seemed far less surprised by that than he did to hear that we were even just friends,” he says, a bit bitterly. Tears are pricking at his eyes again as he looks up at his best friend. “You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Robin. All he saw was King Steve.”
Robin softens, snark replaced with sympathy. “That sucks, Steve. I’m so sorry.”
Steve sighs in agreement that yes this really fucking sucks. He sits up and scoots back so that he’s slumped against the wall, hitting the back of his head against it. “I think I’m a horrible person,” he admits, just venting now, “because of course I’m glad Eddie’s alive and all I really want is for him to be okay, and I know the nurse said he should remember eventually, but there’s still some sick part of me that thinks maybe it would’ve hurt less if he had just died.”
“I don’t think that makes you a horrible person,” Robin assures him as she settles next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “I think you’re just grieving, and grief is weird sometimes.”
“It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt,” he mutters, “when he looked at me without recognition. To see it on his face, just the- the absence of everything that we’d built. I’ve never felt so- so- I don’t know, it was like I couldn’t breathe. He just- he doesn’t know that I love him. He…he doesn’t know that he loved me...”
Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s not that he’s lost someone that he loves, it’s that he’s lost someone who loves him. Because Eddie’s not gone, just his love for Steve is, and that’s what’s tearing him apart. It’s the fact that there’s one less person in the world who loves him. It’s the fact that Steve’s got this big gaping hole inside of him that’s always made him so desperate to be loved, liked, wanted, needed; and his biggest fucking fear is becoming obsolete. He could probably trace it back to his parents, the first to forget him, the first to stop loving him, but the fact remains that now Eddie has fulfilled that fear too. Now Eddie has carved that pit a little deeper, a little darker, validating the voice that whispers within it and tells Steve that he is forgettable, unlovable, so easy to abandon and erase.
“Well, I love you,” Robin tells him, like she can read his mind (which, at this point, she probably can). She slides an arm around his shoulders, hugs him close. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Fragile as he is right now, Steve falls apart again in her arms, and she holds him together. Because she knows him, because she loves him.
It’s a quieter cry this time, soft and sniffly. Whereas the last one wracked through his body and left him fatigued, this one flows from him almost gently, and when his tears finally subside and he lifts his head from where it had been buried in his friend’s shoulder, Steve actually feels a little bit better, a little bit stronger. Which is good, because he’s gonna have to face Eddie again soon.
“Thank you,” he says quietly as he pulls away from Robin, wiping at his eyes and glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It’s definitely been an hour by now, probably more. He stands. “I have to go, I promised the kids I’d take them to see Eddie.”
“Then I’m coming too.” Robin stands with him. “For moral support.”
Steve gives her a grateful smile. “I love you so fucking much, you know that?”
“Yeah.” She grins at him. “I know.”
~
The nurses have changed his bandages and upped his morphine, so Eddie’s considerably hazy now but at least he can raise his headrest and prop himself up a bit without nearly blacking out from pain. He’s boredly flicking through channels on the shitty TV in front of him, alone since Wayne had to leave for work, when Harrington returns followed by a very unexpected group consisting of Robin Buckley and four strange children.
“Sorry,” Harrington announces their presence with an apologetic shrug, “I know you don’t know them anymore, but they insisted.”
“Eddie!” a pudgy, curly-haired kid shouts before Eddie can even react, coming barrelling towards him and trying to hug him.
“Ow!” Eddie yelps, pain flaring even through the extra morphine. “Fucking Christ, kid! Be careful!”
The kid jumps back immediately, eyes wide. “Shit. Sorry.”
“S’fine,” Eddie grumbles.
The kid looks at him expectantly for a moment before seeming to realize, “Oh, right, you don’t remember me. I’m Dustin.”
“Ah, so you’re the guy I sacrificed myself for,” Eddie mutters, and Dustin looks a little sheepish. That means these must be ‘the kids’ Harrington had been talking about earlier. He surveys the group for a second. “Actually, I think we have met before,” he tells Dustin. “And you too.” He glances at a pale, dark-haired kid. The other two - a Black boy with a flat-top and a younger Black girl - look less familiar, though. “There was this, uh, open day thing at the high school for next year’s incoming freshmen; I talked to you about Hellfire.”
“Yeah!” Dustin’s whole face lights up, so bright and infectious it makes Eddie grin too. “Yeah, you did!”
“So you guys joined the club, then?”
This sparks a very animated conversation about D&D, the rest of the kids (Mike, Lucas, and Erica, as they soon reintroduce themselves) gathering around his bed now too to join in. It makes him feel a bit more like himself again, familiar, normal. Except, of course, for the fact that they’re not only talking about how they defeated Vecna in Eddie’s “totally epic” and “sadistic” campaign (adjectives courtesy of Dustin and Mike respectively), but also filling in more pieces of the story of how they defeated him in real life too. Still, it’s nice, fun. He totally understands how he could’ve gotten attached to these kids.
At some point, Eddie glances over to find Harrington hanging back and just watching them talk, fondly, wistfully. Robin whispers something to him and he sort of smiles, just a trace, and whispers something back. They seem close, intimate. Eddie wonders if they’re dating, and then he wonders why that thought makes him feel a bit sick. He waves them over. Harrington looks like he’s about to protest, but Robin gives him a Look and he allows her to grab his hand and drag him to join the crowd around Eddie’s bed.
“So, what’s your deal, Buckley?” Eddie asks her. He doesn’t know her very well, they’ve only crossed paths a few times in the bandroom, but right now that makes her the most familiar person in the room to him. “Are you and Harrington a thing now? Is that how you’re involved in all this?”
Robin wrinkles her nose and drops Harrington’s hand. “Ew, no. Definitely not.”
“She’s my best friend,” Harrington says.
Eddie snorts, doesn’t know why he finds that so comical. (He’s starting to get tired and it’s making him loopy. Or maybe it’s just the morphine.) “You've got a funny choice of friends nowadays, don’t you? Me and band geek Buckley and a bunch of nerdy freshmen.” He looks at Harrington with incredulous amusement. “Who would've thought, huh? Steve Harrington, collector of geeks and freaks.”
Harrington doesn’t seem to find it as funny. He shrugs. “Yeah, well, it’s better than King Steve, collector of asshole bullies and shallow one-night stands.”
“Yeah, ‘course it is,” Eddie agrees through another huff of laughter that breaks off into a yawn. “Didn’t mean it as a bad thing, Stevie. Was a compliment.”
“Alright.” The barest hint of a smile flickers across Harrington’s face now, but then he’s looking away and corralling the kids and saying, “We should head out, let you get some rest.”
And Eddie kind of wishes he’d stay.
(part three!)
taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy (only tagged people who explicitly asked to be tagged; if you would like to be added or removed from this list please lmk!)
#still angsty sorry#we're getting there tho! this will have a happy ending eventually! i promise!#i finally get what ppl mean when they talk abt setting out to write a oneshot and ending up with a longfic bc it's happening to me rn#steddie#steddie angst#steddie fic#steddie fanfiction#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#fanfic#mine#1k#dyfamsteddiefic#<- specific tag for this fic
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so konig with tsundere!reader, when he finally snaps instead of physically he just leaves for a while and when he comes back he's expecting attitude again and instead gets a very apologetic reader who was worried for a bit he actually wouldn't come back. Even lets him fuck her in whatever way he wants without insulting him.
You thought he would never come back.
You thought he would never come back, and you're going to stay here, scared and hungry, until you're finally dead. Maybe some hikers would find your body in an abandoned house months later. Maybe you'd somehow manage to escape through his military-grade security systems and would have to rebuild your life from shambles. You don't want to rebuild your life, you have already settled into a routine - where you can be an annoying brat all you want, and Konig can be a fucking loser who serves you like a perfect servant.
The thing is - Konig needed to blow off some steam. He took a quick protection contract lasting just a few days, in the same city - he needed to kill and maul someone so he won't kill and maul you. As much as he loved you behaving like a spoiled brat, he needed some relaxation. Find the target, kill the target, save Austria from a terrorist cell ready to blow up the yearly anime festival, and then return, ready to feel the kicks of his beloved tsundere girlfriend near his nuts.
You're crying when he returns home. Like, actually crying.
There are a million thoughts running through his head right now - did you manage to hurt yourself while waiting for him? Did someone hurt you while he was away? You cling to him like a kitten, you beg him to not let you just rot here, you fucking apologize for him. Plead with him. Jesus fucking christ.
Konig hooks you up by your underarms and throws you to a couch, allowing himself to be spoiled with you finally agreeing to ride him - the pose he wanted to try for so long, but you hated being in an active position. You look so cute right now, so fucking vulnerable and open for him - he wants to pick you up and squeeze you, but he is already fucking your tight pussy while you ride him like there is no tomorrow. You are bubbling apologise and begging him to never leave you again...and he kinda feels like he finally house-broke you.
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There's just something about CEO Bucky being a secret Sub that's really appealing to me tonight
Your heels hardly make any sound at all as you cross the carpeted hotel room floor, letting the door click shut behind you.
"It's good to see you. It's been too long." You're only half listening to the man in front of you, choosing instead to find a spot for your bag and fix your hair after the short walk up the street to the hotel.
"It's been far too long." You agree, turning to face him. Fuck, he looks good. His crisp, white shirt has the top button undone, his tie draped over the back of the chair. His black dress trousers look quite uncomfortable now but you don't dwell on it. He won't be wearing them too much longer anyway.
His hair is sitting perfectly and he's clearly shaved earlier that morning. He looks fucking fantastic but as much as you need to feel some control over him, you need to start with having control over yourself.
You take a second to lean over and give him a gentle kiss, your lips barely brushing his. It's gentle and tender but saturated in barely restrained lust.
It's hard not to let this devolve; to let his hands wander over your body, to let your tongue glide against his and your fingers curl in the short hair at the top of his neck. You're hungry for him and you know he shares your desperation but a when you've waited this long, what's a few more minutes?
"You look beautiful." He smiles, his eyes darting from your lips, back up to meet your eyes again. He's so gentle with you; so wonderfully considerate of your needs and desires. He always has been but tonight, you know he needs the release you're going to offer him.
You stand up, shrugging your long coat off, laying it carefully on the chair off to the side of the bed, leaving you in only a dark leather set and your heels.
"Jesus Christ." You hear him whisper and if that didn't make you feel powerful, the weight of flogger in your hand that you slipped out of your bag certainly does.
"I want you..." You begin, crossing the space once again, marvelling in the entirety of that statement. "To take all this off. And then I want you to get on your knees for me. Can you do that?"
It's nice to make a man like this feel small, knowing that's what he wants too. His head nods excitedly, his fingers busy undoing the buttons of his shirt while you cup his stiffening cock through his trousers.
"Good." You're practically purring, heat blossoming between your legs at the eagerness of this brilliant, intelligent, capable man to hand his ability to think over to you.
Once he's naked, he places himself neatly on his knees on the carpet and you enjoy wrapping his own tie around his head, securing it over his eyes.
His cock juts beautifully out from his body, erect and begging for attention that neither of you want to give it just yet.
"Now." You tease, positioning yourself at the edge of the bed beside him, guiding his face to your spread thighs. "I want you to put that pretty mouth to good use. You can do that, can't you?"
"Yes." He whispers between kisses to the soft insides of your thighs and you know in his head he's waxing poetic about the heat of your skin under his lips.
The tips of the flogger trail up his back, gently tickling his skin before you flick your wrist and make them strike his back.
"Talk isn't what I'm looking for." You remind him, your fingers in his hair guiding his head to your cunt.
He laps eagerly, moaning pathetically at the taste of your arousal, flicking your clit and sliding his tongue into your entrance like this is all he's ever needed.
"Traffic light safe word system." You remind him, trailing the tips of the flogger up his back again. "Or just don't disappoint me and we won't need to use it."
#becc'a thots#becca writes spice#ceo!bucky smut#sub!bucky#subby!bucky#this REALLY scratches an itch for me#I got a cool new nail chrome powder and I'm so excited to try it#I did 14 hours in the coffee shop yesterday and the only thing keeping me going was the thought of this nail powder#it really is the little things rn
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𝔸 𝕃𝕀𝕋𝕋𝕃𝔼 𝔻ℝ𝔸𝕄𝔸𝕋𝕀ℂ - chapter twenty-five
word count: 0.8k warnings: swearing, suggestive at the very end, making out
For the first time in his life, Heeseung feels absolutely nothing but anxiety as he dreadfully counts the meters that part him from reaching his destination – your apartment. The silence of the 3 am street only adds up to his nerves, causing him to wipe his sweaty hands on his pants.
He almost turned on his heel and ran back home when he finally stood before the door of your block but after repeating Jay's pep talk like a mantra in his head, he pulls out the key that you gave him a year ago and opens the front gate to – soon to be told – hell or heaven.
He jogs up the ridiculously long staircase, so when he finally makes it onto your floor, he has to bend down and lean on his knees to try and catch his breath. And then he looks at your door. Raising his hand up to knock on the wooden surface, he freezes halfway as he hesitates.
"Am I really doing this?" He asks himself in a hushed mutter, gaze switching from his outstretched hand to your apartment for a solid minute. "I'm really doing this," he starts panicking. "Oh my god, I'm really doing this! Jesus Christ! But what if she... What if I- Jay, I'll fucking kill you if she-"
His entire body freezes as a shrill squeak rips from his throat when the door of your apartment opens up rapidly and bangs against the wall, only missing his head by an inch. He hasn't realized that his nearly whisper has actually turned into a full on chatter. Your annoyed and as beautiful as ever face shows up in your lit hallway, frowning up at him with a scowl.
"What the fuck are you doing, idiot?"
And that was all he needed to make his decision.
Surging forward, Heeseung grabs your face in between his warm hands and pulls you up only to smash his lips on to yours the next second. And they're just as soft as he remembered, just as delicate as before, although slightly stiff from the shock now. But he's absolutely convinced that they were molded to fit perfectly against his.
When the momentary stun finally shakes off of your system, you lean into him immediately, arms reaching around his neck and pulling him even closer. Your hearts thump in your chests quickly, synchronizing with your body pressed flush to his. His lips start to burn from the way you nip and suck at them and he feels this giddy pride at the thought that he's the one who taught you all this.
"If it's still unclear, I love you too," he mumbles into your mouth before tilting his head to the side and kissing you even deeper. You're sighing quietly, the soft sound igniting every single nerve in his body. "So much it's driving me crazy."
"That's good," you whisper, eyes tilting open enough to take in his flushed face. Your hand comes up to stroke his cheek lovingly. "That's really good. Got me scared there for a second."
Your precious smile makes him feel weak in the knees, so following his instinct, he lets his heart spill out everything that he's held to himself for all this time.
"I have for a while, you know? You've been tormenting my mind ever since that project we did in middle school." Heeseung grins at the surprise painting in your eyes. "I was so obvious with this shit, I still don't know how you haven't caught up on it. Even all of those choir weirdos know."
You raise your eyebrow and look him dead in the eye. "Oh, I'm sorry but I didn't know that calling your crush a literal building is supposed to be obvious."
"And you asking me whether my ass jiggles or not was?"
Smacking his arm, you can't help but smile giddily. "Still better than yours."
"Let's call it an agree to a disagree. We were really meant to be, huh?" He hums, tucking a strand of hair away from your face. "And I'd really love if you were my girlfriend."
You pout your lips in a mock pondering. "I'm not sure you could afford me."
Heeseung snorts at that and flicks your nose gently. "I said girlfriend, not a sugar baby."
"Same thing, pumpkin," you muse as you jab your finger in his chest. "Or would you prefer baby girl? My sweet little sugar cube?"
Heeseung scrunches his nose and you can't help but laugh at his expression. "Neither, please."
With a stupid giggle, you raise to your toes and wrap your arms around his neck to press a small kiss to his jawline. Pulling away, you're met with Heeseung's eyes and the sheer adoration in them makes your confidence slightly crumble.
"Well, wanna come in?" You ask, suddenly so fucking adorably shy, Heeseung can nearly feel the heat radiating from your face.
But he can't find it in himself to tease you anymore, so with a crooked smile he lets out a quiet yeah before crashing your lips together in a kiss again, lips eagerly sucking on yours as he pushes on you with his body to walk you inside your apartment, then kicks the door close after you two.
And god damn Jay for not trying to make him confess sooner.
ℂℍ𝔸ℙ𝕋𝔼ℝ 𝟚𝟜 .___. ℂℍ𝔸ℙ𝕋𝔼ℝ 𝟚𝟞
𝕄𝔸𝕊𝕋𝔼ℝ𝕃𝕀𝕊𝕋
a/n: cue to jay in the corner sharpening his knife
𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 @luvmura @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag
𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 (open) @heeseungssidechick @noascats @wonniestars @paragonofroyalty @kaizny @beomsbeanie @iea-tsand @sullyoonooc @magssu @heeheesang @harperwasstaken1 @kxr0mi @msviatrix @msviatrix @wannatinyus @eladandan @casualzo @heart4hees @thatoneembarrasingmoment @mrowwww @r1kitti @gyuszie @ahnneyong @2800 @captivq @wooonkies @heeva @jaklvbub
#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen smau#enhypen fluff#heeseung x reader#lee heeseung smau#heeseung social media au#heeseung fluff
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The Valentine's Dom {Modern!Pero Tovar x F!Reader}
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 13.9k
Warnings: Dom/Sub dynamics, use of safe words, bondage, gagging, oral (male and female receiving), flogging, pussy slapping, derogatory language, semi-public sex, mentions of anal, sex toys
Comments: Professor Tovar hates anything modern, especially technology. Making you insult him at every turn when he scoffs at your modern methods to teach. Archaic and stuck in his ways, you are surprised to find a different side to he medieval professor at the Valentine's dance your college throws every year.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
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|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
"Jesus Christ, Tovar. Get some coffee, will ya?" William shakes his head at his colleague/friend.
Pero grumbles, pouring out the sludge that the university calls 'coffee'. He huffs and looks down at the pink cup in his hand. His own had gone missing, maybe buried under a pile of papers he has to grade, and he just grabbed the first one his fingers touched, not knowing it's yours. You are a professor of Mythology. In the history department alongside Pero and William who both teach East Asian and European histories respectively. Pero always had an interest in Eastern Asia, visiting China many times during his college years to learn more about the culture and the history. After serving in the Spanish military, he spent years researching and writing papers on his findings in Asia, earning him respect and admiration from the historical community, until he eventually found his place teaching in NYU.
"Your accent grates on me this early in the morning." Tovar retorts back to William, leaning against the counter in the break room.
“Everything grates on you this early in the morning.” William teases, smirking at the dark glare that Tovar throws him. “I don’t know how you were in the military and didn’t get in trouble for your horrible morning attitude. Or just your attitude.” Tovar has a very prevalent reputation of being a grouch. So much so that he was routinely bet against as the first professor to drop a kid from his class. The stern man not tolerating a lot of the bullshit some college students believe they can get away with. “Have you looked over the new grading system?” Will asks, changing the subject and hopefully not earning another growled threat of bodily harm.
“Don’t fucking mention that bullshit. Why does everything have to go through a computer nowadays? What happened to good old pen and paper? We teach history. They didn’t have this - this technology in their day and yet we are subjected to it because it’s standard practice. It’s ridiculous.” Tovar growls, taking another sip of the coffee before he pulls the mug away and scowls at it, “who does this mug belong to?” He asks, not recognizing the cute little green alien character on it. “What is a Grogu?” He asks William.
What is a Grogu? You snort when you walk into the breakroom, giving the Spaniard a withering glare. “He’s a cute little baby from The Mandalorian.” You tell him, annoyed that he’s stolen your coffee mug. Tovar just stares at you and you try again. “That show on Disney Plus? It’s everywhere? The Star Wars show?”
“I have heard of Star Wars but Disney Plus? What is that?” He asks, mystified.
You chuckle, “it’s a streaming service. Like Netflix.”
Pero shakes his head, “I don’t like streaming services. Too complicated. Too many subscriptions and then you can never find anything to watch. I have cable. Just cable. You press the channel button, the volume button and on and off. It’s simple. None of this streaming bullshit.” He says, displaying his disdain for technology once again.
William chuckles, used to his friends rants about technology and there was just no use for all of it . “Yeah but you still have the internet, don’t you?” He teases, making the other man scowl at him viciously. Aware of why he was ribbing him and unwilling to talk about that around you.
“Shut up amigo, before you wear my coffee.” He growls, making you shake your head.
“Jesus, Tovar. You are such a dinosaur.” You huff. “I think you would rather live in the times you teach about.”
"What's so wrong about that? They survived or they died. There was no coddling like they do now, these kids are soft. They whine if their internet goes out. No gumption. The internet has made people soft and I use it only when I absolutely must. Those times...they were survival of the fittest."
William snorts, "until you die of syphilis...oh wait...you'd actually have to get laid to get that." William jokes and Tovar narrows his eyes at him.
“Shut up, pendejo."
You press your lips together, smirking at William’s barb. “Perhaps if you weren’t such a grumpy ass, maybe one of your students would want to sleep with you?” You offer, grinning at him. “You know, for extra credit?” You’ve heard the comments about the hot but scary professor. Tovar scowls at you like you suggested running through the dean’s office naked. “Or not.” You shrug. “Can I have my coffee mug back?”
Pero huffs, downing the rest of his coffee, “let me wash it out for you first, hermosa.” He says and takes the mug over to the sink, grabbing the dish soap to wash the rim of the mug and the inside, making sure it’s pristine and dry when he hands it back to you. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.” He says, “I have to get to class.” He murmurs, ignoring the way his stomach twists when your fingers brush his when you take the coffee cup back from him.
You frown slightly when he calls you beautiful. “You’re welcome.” You offer after he’s already turned back around to move away. Tovar is barely ever civil, having called your class ‘meaningless drivel’ several times. Instead of asking if he’s feeling okay, you simply move over to the coffee pot. “Ready for the new semester?” You ask, more William than Pero because you know he won’t answer you anyway.
William nods, "yeah. Too many fucking drop outs to file. Guess no one likes European history?" He snorts and Pero smirks, "maybe if you stopped doing an entire semester on the potato famine, amigo."
William huffs, "the fucking British crown led to-"
"Okay, okay." You get in between them, knowing Garin will stand there all day if you let him rant about his Irish history.
"I should get in there. I want to be early. Intimidation is the best way to filter them out early." Pero says seriously, knowing that some students take his class thinking it's an easy A.
You snort. “You could always have fun with your class, Tovar.” You suggest. “It’s about teaching them things they wouldn’t get from letting their class course sit idle on their computers.” You know very well that Tovar doesn’t do online books. He’s very hands-on and has even had to provide the books for his class because they are no longer published. “You know, a power point would go a long way.”
"Absolutely not. I have the whiteboard and the textbooks. I don't need anything else. Maybe the projector at times but nothing else." He is adamant. If he uses technology, then his students will simply be on their laptops fucking around and not listening to him. "fun won't get them into their chosen career, will it? I am simply teaching them life skills."
You roll your eyes, not subscribing to that mentality at all. “That’s fine.” You huff, taking a sip of your coffee now that you’ve doctored to your liking. “Most of the kids who drop out of your class pick up mine.”
“Good for you. Taking my leftovers.” He chuckles, “I only teach the ones who want to learn. I’m not here to babysit.” He scoffs and crosses his arms, “you might enjoy babysitting but that’s not for me.”
You huff, rolling your eyes at his mentality. “I enjoy teaching people about mythology, it’s not babysitting. The kids in my class are just as challenged as yours.”
“Well, you give them online tests and quizzes, señorita. Do you not suspect they are cheating?” He raises his eyebrows when you don’t respond. “Exactly. There’s no cheating in my class. It’s old school. Just how I like it.”
You roll your eyes again and sigh. “Whatever, Tovar. Go live in your cave and I’ll run my class how I see fit.” You snark, sending William a grin. “Enjoy your first day of class, gentleman.”
Pero watches you go, pleased he won this round with you. You’re always trying to mock his old fashioned ways but he won’t let you win. He knows his class is hard but it prepares his students for their future careers. “You’re gonna end up together. You know that, right?” William teases Pero who wrinkles his nose.
“She’s the last woman I’d want. She’s too…opinionated.” He lies slightly, knowing you are gorgeous and smart but you clash with him too much and he won’t be the one to give in in this feud you have going on.
You huff to yourself as you walk down the hall to your lecture hall. Why you let Pero goad you, you’ll never understand. The man reeks of superiority complexes and caveman antics. Obviously not someone you should even consider a friend, let alone speak to outside your role as a colleague. “Fuck him.” You hiss to yourself as you shake your head. He’s not going to make you change the way you run your class, just like it will be a cold day in hell when he changes his own ways.
When the students filter in for his class, Pero stands tall and grabs the chalk, starting to write down the notes for today's lesson. He knows that a lot of his students think he’s old fashioned, even down to his loafers and blazers but he doesn’t care. He likes things a certain way and that won’t change.
Your first day goes exceedingly well. Every class, you have the students fill out a little questionnaire online about them. It’s just highlights that might be helpful if they need some additional help with your course load. The syllabus is acknowledged by all students and you’ve directed them to the site where all your lectures are uploaded so no one had to spend time copying down notes instead of engaging. You want them to think, to question. Humming happily, you watch the last class of the day file out of your room.
****
A month into the semester and Tovar is already exhausted. His hand aches from writing for hours every day on the whiteboard and then grading. He’s burning the candle as he sits there after hours, grading his latest test. His glasses are perched on his nose and he rubs his cheek while he takes a break. “Mierda.” He grunts, standing up and deciding to get a coffee from the break room.
Office hours have run over, making it a long day for you. It’s the longest of the week, but everything is going well, several of your students coming to you to make sure they were on track. Sighing to yourself, you carry your coffee mug to the break room to wash out for tomorrow. You frown when you hear someone moving around, most of the staff having gone home for the night. “Tovar? What are you doing here?” You ask, walking in to find the Spaniard fighting with the coffee machine.
“Busy grading papers. Trying to figure out that new damn system they have forced us into. They won't accept my handwritten grades anymore. Told me I have to join the 21st century.” He scoffs, knowing that he might be antiquated but at least he isn’t stuck in his phone all day, looking at mindless shit. “Why are you here so late?” He asks, turning back to the coffee machine and failing to handle it. “Pendejo.” He growls at the machine, knowing he’s missing a step with the new machine. Why can’t they stick to the pot of coffee that goes stale after a few hours? Now it’s a Keurig with pods and he’s confused.
You snicker and decide to show him some pity. “Let me.” You nudge him out of the way and open the top of the coffee maker to pop a pod on. “Look, it's easy.” His coffee mug on the tray, you close the lid and press a button to start his coffee. “My office hours ran over late tonight.” You admit as you turn back towards him with a smug grin on your face, proud that you could work the coffee maker for him. “Was just coming to clean my coffee cup and go home.”
“I’ll walk you to your car.” He insists, knowing it’s dark outside and no one is really around. He might not agree with your teaching methods but he wants you to be safe.
“Oh, you don’t -” You shake your head but he cuts you off.
“I do.” He grabs his coffee, “go get your things and I’ll put my coffee on my desk. I’ll meet you at the door. It’s freezing out there so you’d better not have parked too far away.” He half jokes with you, walking off before you can argue to get his coat and set his coffee down.
Huffing to yourself about his completely gruff, yet sweet gesture, you quickly clean your coffee mug and go back to your office to grab your coat and bag. Halfway expecting him not to be in the hallway when you come out and lock your door.
Tovar pulls his coat closer around his form, readying himself for the bitter cold. Keys in hand, he opens the door for you and lets you guide him to your car.
“It’s close.” You promise and he grunts when you walk him clear across the parking lot.
“You and I have a different interpretation of close, hermosa.” He snorts, breath visible in the cold.
“And no one asked you to walk me out.” You retort, irritated that he could manage to make a sweet gesture seem like a chore. Your car keys are out and you click the key to open the doors, the car already turned on and warming up for the past five minutes. Although you still wonder why he calls you hermosa. “Why do you call me that?” You ask, looking over at him as he rounds his shoulders for warmth. “Hermosa. You didn’t last year.”
Pero narrows his eyes, trying to remember if he called you that or not. “I, uh, you know what it means?” He asks, trying to keep his face as impassive as possible.
“Yes. It means beautiful.” You respond coolly and Pero wants to curse himself but he remains calm.
“Well, would you rather me call you fea?” He retorts, a little harshly. Why couldn’t you accept the compliment and let it go? You’re always pushing him.
You stiffen, any chance of civil conversation lost. As if you had one with Tovar. “Sure.” You snarl, snatching your door open and shoving your bag into the passenger seat. “Have a good night, cabrón.” You climb into the car and slam the door, the idea of offering to drive him back across the parking lot vanishing under the fact the man is as bristly as a pissed off porcupine.
Pero sighs, knowing you’re pissed at him but it’s better this way. He’s damaged goods and there’s no way you’d like what he’s capable of, what he likes. He knows you’re a strong, independent woman. You would not be able to handle his…peculiarities. He shivers, making his way back across the parking lot to go back in and finish his grading. His coffee is cold and he curses it but he can’t go back and get another one. He didn’t pay attention when you showed him how to use the machine. He was too busy watching you.
Even though you spent far too much time irritated than you should have the night before, you come into work ready to just ignore the temperamental Spaniard. Tired of dealing with his surliness, you vow to just not speak to him unless you have to during staff meetings. “Morning.” You murmur to William, purposefully not looking at where Pero is pouring over his grade book.
Tovar knows you’re annoyed with him. He even had Garin show him how to use the damn coffee machine so he didn’t have to ask you again. You would’ve made fun of him and his jaw would’ve ticked. You are cocky sometimes, smart as a whip but your occasional arrogance grates on him. “Morning.” William greets you, glancing between you and his friend. “You ready for the upcoming Valentine's dance?” William asks you, knowing you tend to be on the committee for the sweetheart dance that occurs every year. It can get rowdy so all staff are asked to attend.
You huff playfully, rolling your eyes as you set up your own coffee cup. “Oh absolutely, what’s not to love? Watching horny college kids grind on each other and get shit house drunk. Or having them hit on me in horrible fashion.” You shake your head. “One kid last year told me that I needed to spank him and he’d let me dominate him.” That one had made you giggle. “Someone has mommy issues and I will not be the one to exercise them for him.”
William guffaws and Pero snorts in amusement at you dominating anyone. You might be arrogant but when it comes to it, he knows you’re all talk. “Well, the good news is that Tovar here is chaperoning too.” William announces and you and Pero both say “what?”
William smirks, “didn’t I tell you I put your name on the list?”
Pero growls at the mischievous look on his friend’s face. “Pendejo.” He growls out his warning.
Your jaw rocks slightly as you fix your coffee with sugar and creamer. “Too bad you are not chaperoning, William.” You murmur, taking a sip and sighing at the perfect taste. “I’m sure the girls would rather moon over you than be glared at like being young is a crime.” You cut your eyes over to Tovar but you don’t say anything to him. “I would have shared my liquor with you.”
Pero rolls his eyes, focusing back on his grades, “it’s not smart to drink in that situation, hermosa. Especially around those stupid college boys. You know they all jerk off over you in their dorm rooms. You should be careful.” He warns you, having heard the comments and he hates the fact that he wanted to shut their mouths.
You grit your teeth, wanting to snap at him that you aren’t the idiot that he thinks you are. You never drink during the fucking party. “Thanks Daddy, I’ll keep that in mind.” You keep your voice sugary sweet before you turn on your heels and march out of the break room.
Fuck, Pero’s cock twitches and he is glad to be sitting down as you stride out of the room. His eyes focus on your ass as you storm out of the room. “She needs to be put in her place.” Pero grumbles and William grins, knowing that his friend doesn’t mean that in the way it sounds.
“Sure thing, man. You need to just tell her what you want.” William says, grabbing his coffee and making his way to his office. Pero rolls his eyes at his friend, knowing he’s messing with him. He should go and take his name off of the chaperone list but he won’t. He knows he needs to go and look out for you.
All week you’ve been giving Tovar the silent treatment, not that the man cared or even noticed. He was too busy being flustered by the new grading system that they put in place. Which you secretly snickered about since you’ve had no problem putting it in use, finding the system easy to use. Now though, you can’t avoid him. The dance is about to start and you look around at all the students starting to pour into the space. Your own dress is a little flirty, a red wrap number that made you feel slightly better about being single for yet another year. The black lingerie underneath was for yourself since you had no one to show it to. Tovar walks up to you and you can’t resist holding out your insulated cup to him. “Vodka?” You offer, knowing damn well that it’s water.
Pero knows you better than that. You look like a heartbreaker in that red dress and he knows half the boys in this room will be jerking off thinking about you later…himself included if he’s being completely honest. William is glaringly absent tonight, taking his wife on a date. “I can’t let the General down.” William joked with Pero, using the playfully nickname for his wife.
“You look beautiful.” Pero says, wanting to give you a compliment.
You blink at him for a few seconds, sure that you’ve misheard him. Pulling back the cup, you bite your lip, flustered by the compliment. “Thanks….” You murmur. “You look, uh, good too.” You offer, seeing what all the girls are talking about. His dark slacks and maroon shirt look good, fitted to his broad frame and he’s slicked his hair back. The scar over his left eye makes him seem even more dangerous now.
Pero tries to not react, just shoves his hands in his pockets while you stand there, watching the young adults grind sloppily against each other while hip hop music plays out. “They call this shit music?” Pero scoffs, turning to look at you again. “You got a date after this?” He asks, wondering if the black lace he spots under the wrap dress is for someone he doesn’t know about.
“If eating pizza on my couch while watching a shitty romcom by myself counts as a date.” You joke, before you turn the question around. “How about you? You look like you’re going out on the prowl after this. Does the grumpy, foreboding professor have a date?”
Tovar smirks, shaking his head. “Why? Would you be jealous if I did?” He teases, pleased that you don’t have a date. He rocks on his feet, trying to get with the beat but it’s nothing like the easy listening radio he has on in his car. 70s and 80s tunes to enjoy and actually hear the lyrics unlike this nonsense. The club music is what makes him feel ancient.
Rolling your eyes, you scoff playfully. “Why would I be jealous? You hate me, that’s clear.” It hurts because you’ve never actually done anything to him beyond trade barbs, but that was life. “If you have a date, maybe you can get laid and not be such a cabrón tomorrow.” One kid stumbles nearby, capturing your attention as you try to determine if the guy is already plastered, but it seems like it’s more that he’s clumsy than anything so you relax. Taking a sip of water, you watch all the kids having fun, starting to move your hip slightly to the beat.
"I never said I hated you." Pero huffs, not turning to look at you as he watches the kids grinding and getting way too close but it's college so he doesn't give a fuck. "I don't hate you." He adds, turning to look you in the eye. "I find you...complicated."
“Complicated….” You raise a brow and wonder why he thinks you’re more complicated than any other woman or person on the planet. “Sorry for being complicated.” You feel oddly judged and for some reason it hurts. Why you care what Tovar thinks of you, you don’t know. “I am just trying to navigate a world that is still severely male dominated and not be walked over professionally.”
“You are incredible at your job. You allow silly things to distract you. Like the emotions of the students. You’re there to teach, not to nurture. This isn’t kindergarten, they are old enough to manage their feelings. You are smart, strong…sexy.” Pero reveals, turning his gaze back to the crowd, “it’s frustrating to see you not reach your full potential because you hold yourself back. You could be the head of the department in a couple of years. You have the potential. You need to stop dating those fools that upset you and focus on yourself, on what’s important to you. Or find a partner who helps you get where you need to go.” He finishes his speech, knowing this is possibly the most he’s ever said to you but he means every word. You are incredible and it frustrates him how you don’t focus and reach your potential. You allow yourself to be distracted. He’s overheard you telling the women about your failed dates, how lackluster they were in and out of bed.
Your jaw drops, shocked to have heard an almost impassioned speech from the man who used grunting as a form of communication. “It’s easy for you to say ‘find a partner’.” You snort. “I’ve yet to find a man who can be dominant and yet also agree that my life shouldn’t revolve around him. That every night I shouldn’t be kneeling on the floor waiting for him with his dinner ready.” You had a need to be taken care of, to submit, but never found a man worthy of it. “And don’t tell me to try the BDSM clubs around here, all of them think it’s some 50 Shades roleplay.”
Pero’s eyes widen, eyebrows raising at the words that just came out of your mouth. You’re submissive. Something he wouldn’t have guessed considering how strong willed you are. “Yeah? You’re looking for a modern dom?” Pero leans closer so he can whisper in your ear. “Someone who treats you as an equal outside of the bedroom and someone who treats you like the needy little whore you are in the bedroom?” He knows you could slap him but he’s willing to take the chance.
His words send a shiver through your entire body, making your cunt clench deliciously as you imagine Pero growling orders at you, at just that pitch. You inhale softly, turning to look at him. Your lips are inches away from his but you can’t kiss him, he’s your co-worker. “Too bad there’s nothing modern about you, Tovar.” You whisper back. “I think you would have been good at it.”
Pero smirks, seeing the way your pupils dilate, “just because I’m not a fan of technology and the social bullshit that brings doesn’t mean I’m a man who expects a woman to run around after me. I don’t want a housewife, I want a partner. I want someone who lets me own them in the bedroom but stands beside me in the classroom. I don’t want a mouse, I want a woman who knows what she wants and understands me. Don’t judge me by my teaching methods, hermosa.”
It’s true that you have judged him by his teaching methods, sure that he is just as archaic as they are. “So don’t judge me for being tech savvy. Just because I use our new grading system and am perceived to be a strong woman doesn’t mean I don’t want to be spanked until I cry and then have my clit rubbed while being told I’m a good girl.”
Pero’s nostrils flare and he stares at you, eyes darkening as he imagines how sweet your cries would be. The mercy you’d beg for when he spanks you. The way you’d moan his name when he finally gives you what you want. “If you want that, I can provide that. All you need to do is be waiting at my office door after the party is over. If I stand here any longer, I’m going to drag you off to my classroom and fuck you on my desk and I’m sure neither of us want to jeopardise our careers for our baser instincts. I’ll be on the other side of the room. If you’re not outside my office after, I’ll understand and have no hard feelings. If you are there, I’ll take you to my house, tie you to my bed and edge you until you’re begging to cum. Then I’ll make you cum until you beg me to stop.” He promises, whispering in your ear and letting his breath wash over your cheek before he pulls back and strides across the room, discreetly adjusting his semi.
Fuck. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire and your clit is throbbing as you think about what he just said to you. Imagining how good it would feel to finally have a man take control and let you submit like you need to. You hastily take a sip of your water, amazed how he looks so unaffected by what he just proposed. He looks bored, or angry. Biting your lip, you look at your watch, a few hours left for the party and you already wish they were over.
Pero stands on the other side of the room, sipping his water and he keeps an eye on the college kids who are basically dry humping at this point. He snorts and glances around until he sees a senior walk over to you, holding his hand out. Pero clenches his jaw, eager to see what your reaction is.
You hesitate before you take Brian’s hand. He’s one of your students who has finally started to socially interact, the kid had never wanted to go to any dances when he was younger. Slowly coming out of his shell in your classes, you know you can’t turn him down for a dance. “Surprised to see you aren’t here with Tara.” You murmur as the two of you move out to the dance floor.
Pero just watches for now, holding back, but he’s clenching his jaw and his fists, hating how this kid gets to hold you. He makes it about half way through the song before he’s striding across the dance floor, dodging the grinding kids until he’s tapping on the shoulder of Brian. “Can I cut in?” He asks gruffly.
Brian instantly drops your hand, eyes wide at the sight of the fiercely stern medieval studies professor. Brian had admitted that while he made it through his class, Tovar terrified him. “A-sure, p-pro-professor.” Brian stutters and you give him an encouraging smile.
“Go ask Tara to dance, you two are always talking about each other.” You confide with a wink.
Pero grunts when the kid scurries off, no doubt gathering his balls to ask the girl to dance, and he reaches for your hand to pull you closer to him. He knows people are watching but he doesn’t care, his need for you overtaking his logic. “Did you enjoy the dance with the boy, hermosa?”
“It was fun.” You end up immediately breathless over the way he pulls you close with zero hesitation. “He’s a good boy.” You bite your lip and look into Pero’s dark eyes. “Were you jealous of my dancing with him?”
Pero scoffs, “no. I wasn’t jealous. I know that kid can’t give you what you want, what you need, querida. I simply wanted to touch you.” He says with a smirk, suddenly aware of how much you want him when you shiver slightly under his grip. “You’re a needy little one, aren’t you?” Pero says as he leans in closer, not touching your lips or face since it’s still professional but he’s closer than just colleagues.
“Fuck.” You practically whimper the curse, drawn in by the sheer possessiveness in his tone. Licking your lips, you look down at his for a brief second, considering kissing him but you’re sure he wouldn’t want that. “I am.” You confess softly. “It’s been a long time since…”
Pero chuckles, “since someone treated you right and made you cum?” He guesses, “don’t worry.” He reaches up with his free hand to gently grip your chin, “you’ll be satisfied come morning with me. You won’t leave my bed until you are able to walk.”
“Please…” you beg softly, unsure of what kind of title Pero prefers when he is in control. His hand is warm and large, you had never realized how Fucking big his hands are and you want them on your body. “Whatever you want.”
“Better get your things and meet me outside then.” He smirks and lets go of your chin, interested to see how you react and what you do. He is already half hard, glad he didn’t wear tight trousers as he steps away from you when the song ends. “Meet me outside.” He demands, forcing himself to not drag you out of the damn gym now.”
You nod breathless and whine slightly when you realize that you hate his hand moving away from you. How he’s already tapped into your neediness is amazing and you are looking forward to seeing what he can do when you are alone. “Let me- let me get my purse.”
“Good girl.” He murmurs, glancing around and acting like nothing happened when he steps back to go grab his coat from the check. He is ready to show you what he has, what he can do. He wants you to be wrecked.
You’re eager as you collect your purse and your own coat, knowing that you might not know what to expect with Pero. Will he want you to drive to his house or leave your car here? The weekend is completely open and you wonder if this is just a one time thing. A Valentine’s Day fling of sorts
Pero waits patiently by the doors, ignoring the looks from passing students and he inhales sharply when he sees you coming towards him. You want him. It’s clear in the haphazard way you put on your coat. “You ready?” He asks, voice lowering as he glances at the retreating student.
“Do you want me to follow you?” You ask quietly, biting your lip as you look at the students and then back at him. You’re nervous and excited. Anticipation racing through you happily and making your skin tingle. You always thought Pero was attractive, but now that you know he’s a dom? You’re dripping.
“Yes. Follow me.” He orders, walking to the door to open it and the cold makes him shiver as he guides you out into the parking lot and to your car. His hand cups your jaw and he rubs your lower lip with his thumb. “I’ll see you at my place.” He says, gesturing to his car.
This is insane. You are following Pero to his house so he can fuck you. It’s not like you have ever been there; or even kissed the man. Still, you climb into your car and follow him as you both leave the campus and start towards an older, residential section of the college town.
Pero is eager, gripping the steering wheel tight as he makes his way to his house, watching you in the rear view mirror to make sure he doesn’t lose you. He is eager, cock hardening in his pants as he imagines you spread out on his bed, tied to his headboard. Tonight has not gone how he expected, he expected to be heading home alone but he’s so ready to make you moan his name. When he pulls into his driveway and parks in his garage, he gets out of the car to wait for you, giving you a moment.
Climbing out of your car, you have come up with a few things to talk about. First being your safe words and hard limits. This is basically his audition, you told yourself about a thousand times. It will be disappointing if he’s the same as all the others, but you will just tell him that you’re not interested in a repeat performance.
Pero guides you inside, taking your coat and purse and leaving them by the front door. “Come sit.” He orders, gesturing to his sofa after he hangs up his own coat. “You want something to drink? Water? Tea?” He offers, a little nervous but nerves always help him in this situation. He knows this is an audition for both you and him and he wants to go over his rules.
“Water would be nice, thank you.” You murmur softly, looking around his house curiously. Pero never invited anyone over, William being the only one who had been inside. It’s surprisingly clean and tidy, with the exception of a study which was obviously used to grade papers and work at home. “Thank you.” Pero hands you the drink and you take a sip of it before you look at him. “I guess we need to talk about rules and expectations?”
He nods, sitting down beside but not super close to give you space if you want to leave. He rubs his hands together, gathering his thoughts. He never speaks without thinking first. “Hermosa-” He says your name, “I am not a traditional Dom. I know that the real world is equal and I would never expect you to be my submissive in public. This is purely for our private pleasure. I don’t believe that women should be submissive in their daily lives. You’re a strong, independent woman and I don’t not wish to change it. However, in my home, in our private time, I want - if you want me - I want you to be pleasured and give pleasure. Be punished for bad behavior and accept that punishment within limits. I am a strict dom, I expect complete obedience unless we use the safe words and of course within your limits. I expect you to submit to me, submit your body to me. Take what I give.” He finishes his speech, knowing you’ll want to respond.
It sounds so perfect the way that he describes it. It’s what you want but a lot of men or dominants want total control. At least the ones you’ve found. You nod. “I use ‘Arina’ for my safe word.” You smile at the use of the Greek goddess of peace in your bedroom activities. It was quite fitting in your mind. “And I don’t like fisting, or any type of ‘waste play’.” You had one man who thought that your hard limits didn’t matter and he could do whatever he wanted. That relationship died quickly.
Pero nods, “then those are my limits too. Let me show you what I like to use and you can decline what you don’t want.” He says, standing up to take your hand and he guides you to his bedroom. He has a special drawer full of his toys and he gently lays them on the dresser. They are all sanitized and ready to go. “Tell me what you don’t want and it goes back in the drawer.” He offers, wanting you both to be on the same page.
You look over the toys, surprised that he had such a variety of things. Especially since he’s a man who hates technology. Your fingers brush over the plug and you raise a brow at him, but he just looks back at you and waits. “Everything looks good.” You admit. “But it’s been awhile since I’ve had a plug in.”
Pero is pleased that you liked all of his toys. He steps back from you, keeping his dark eyes on yours. “I’m going to prepare. Strip down and kneel on my bed, head down. You will only address me as sir from this moment on. Safe word is ‘Arina’ and you are to use it whenever you want. I will stop immediately. Do you understand?” He asks.
“Yes sir.” You reply and he hums in contentment.
“I’ll be back.” He strides out of his bedroom, heading to his study so he can strip down to his pants, shoes off and shirt off. Mentally preparing himself for treating you how you want to be treated. This isn’t romantic. It’s not loving. This is what you both need.
The tremble in your fingers as you unzip your dress has nothing to do with fear, and everything to do with anticipation. You want this, you need it with almost pathetic desperation. The mindless fuzziness that you get when you give yourself over to someone else and having your choices taken away. Peeling your dress off, you wish you had asked if you were to leave your lingerie on, but smirk to yourself as you decide to keep it on. Sliding out of your heels and kneeling on the bed wearing the black lace. It will be fun to see how he reacts.
Pero rolls his shoulders, preparing himself, and he walks to his bedroom, opening the door. Fuck, he curses internally, seeing the lace on display on your body. His hackles go up a little, wondering who you wore this for, wanting to ask you, but he likes silence. Silence builds anticipation. He grabs the knife he keeps on the side, flicking it open, and he slowly walks over to the bed. He doesn’t say a word as his hand trails along your shoulder and he grips the band between the cups of your bra, pulling it away from your body so he can cut it off with ease. Your shoulders tense but you don’t say your safe word and he drags the knife through the lace, removing it from your body.
Your teeth clench together, keeping the gasp in that you want to make. He just ruined hundreds of dollars worth of lace but it was sexy. Making your cunt clench as he cuts the panties from your body and tosses the ruined material to the floor. Your head stays down, although your breathing has picked up, shivering slightly.
Pero senses how your breath picks up, and he smirks, tossing the lace aside and he steps back so he can admire your body. Fuck, you’re gorgeous. Beautiful tits. Groomed thatch of curls above your cunt. “Who did you wear this for?” He asks and you remain silent, knowing he hasn’t told you you can talk. “You can speak.” He gives you permission, folding the knife and walking over to the dresser to grab the flogger.
“Myself, sir.” You keep your head down but your voice is steady. “I wanted to feel good.” You had every intention of using your toys and masturbating but things have turned out much better. Pero tuts, and you don’t think that he believes you.
“It deserved to be seen and appreciated but you’ve been naughty. Not telling anyone about what a dirty little girl you are. So I had to do it. And you need to be punished.” He sets the flogger down on the edge of the bed and grabs you, loving fast to drape you over his lap when he sits on the edge of the bed. “Now, you’re going to count. If you stop counting, we start again. Fifteen flogs for being so fucking dirty and hiding it. Remember your safe word, hermosa, and use it if you need to. I won’t be soft.” He wants, grabbing the flogger and bringing it down on your ass cheek.
That first bite of the flogger makes you cry out, eyes watering. “One!” You gasp out, sucking in a deep breath and feeling the pain radiate.
“One what?” Pero growls and you immediately try again.
“One, sir.” You amend, hoping that is what he wants.
Pero lets your insolence go, deciding to be kind seeing as this is your first night together. He rubs the skin for a second before he brings the flogger back down.
“Two, sir.” You gasp and he smirks, loving how wrecked you are already.
“Thirteen more to go.”
It wrecks you. Hit after hit with the flogger. You can tell that while his strikes are sharp, he doesn’t increase intensity like some do, nor does he pull back. Each strike is precisely measured and your skin feels like it’s on fire. Stinging welts raise and you whimper when his hand slides over them. “E-eight, sir!” You know that you have tears sliding down your cheeks, but you don’t try to brush them away. They are for Pero’s pleasure to see after he’s done.
You struggle when he gets to twelve, he can tell by the way you yelp but you don’t give your safe word. He even gives you some extra time between flogs, rubbing the skin. “Fuck. Fif-fifteen, si-sir.” You choke out and he sets the flogger down, grabbing your chin to turn your face towards him so he can admire your tears. “That’s what you get for dancing with that kid. You’re mine. My little whore.” He slaps your sore cheeks with his free hand and you cry out. “You loved this didn’t you?” He teases, sliding his hand between your thighs to find your soaking cunt. “Oh yes. You loved it. Dripping like the slut you are. You want me to touch you?” He asks, teasingly rubbing your folds but not sliding between them.
“Please sir, please.” You sob, your cunt aching already and you want to squirm down on his fingers, force him to touch you but you know that would just delay any relief. His touch, his teasing is making you crave more. “Please touch me, sir.”
He chuckles at your sobs, knowing you seem desperate for him to touch you. His fingers trail along your inner thighs, brushing your folds but never dipping in. He finally smacks your cunt with the palm of his hand, loving how wet it is when he pulls it back. “Lay down on the bed. I don’t want you to move an inch.” He orders, grabbing your hips and sliding you off of his lap to deposit you on the bed. He stands up, reaching for the silk ties with a smirk, his cock aching in his pants but he desperately wants you to walk away from here satisfied and aching for more.
Your chest heaves when you see the silk scarves. You had imagined rope, but this is even better. Biting your lip as you try to obey him, the urge to lift your hands to the headboard nearly makes you move, but you want to be good. Desperate for him to touch you, or better yet, fuck you. You still haven’t even seen his cock but you felt his length against your stomach when he had you over his lap.
Pero works fast, securing the silk to his headboard, opening the slats on the headboard he had made himself. Wanting something custom that didn’t look like what it was used for. He smirks and shuffles to straddle you, still in his slacks. “Arms up, hermosa.” He orders, working fast to secure you to his headboard and when you’re secure, he hums in appreciation. “Do you want me to touch you?” He asks, questioning you while he straddles your thighs.
“Yes sir.” You nod your head quickly, nearly breathless as you pull against the restraints. They are secure but not so tight you are uncomfortable. “I would like you to use me, sir. However you need, whatever you want, sir.” Having a dom that doesn’t allow you to say anything wouldn’t be fun either so you had said a little more than yes or no. How he reacts will tell you how strict he is.
He likes what you say, the look in your eyes has him throbbing so he reaches down to unbutton his pants, pulling his aching cock out. “I want to see what that smart little mouth can do.” He murmurs, shuffling closer until he’s straddling your chest. “Suck.” He demands, looking down at you while he grips his cock, pulling back the foreskin to expose the leaking head.
Shit, he’s uncut. Your mouth waters at the sight of his hard cock and you know there’s no way he’s not going to make you gag. He’s thick and the dribble of precum makes you stick out your tongue like the eager little whore that you are so he can fuck your mouth.
The way you stick your tongue out has him chuckling deeply and he grants you mercy, shifting closer so you can wrap your lips around him. You flick your tongue over the tip and he hisses at how hot and wet your mouth is when you wrap your lips around him, eyes wide and innocent despite you being anything but. He rocks his hips, pushing deeper until he hits the back of your throat, only half way in your mouth.
You groan around him, loving how he fills your mouth. He doesn’t push too deep but he starts rocking his hips so he moves against your tongue. The salty burst of him makes your cunt clench and you try to open your throat even more so you can let him push past your gag reflex.
“Tranquillo.” He murmurs, watching tears spring to your eyes and he wants you to be able to take him down your throat but you can’t push yourself. He gently rocks into your mouth, wanting you to take him like a whore but this sexual relationship is built on mutual trust. He can’t push you too hard, he has to accommodate what you can and can’t do.
You appreciate the fact that he’s not pushing too much too fast. It’s been a long time since you’ve tried to train yourself to deepthroat. You moan softly around him, hoping that the vibration feels good against the head of his cock.
“Mierda.” Tovar grunts, reaching up to grab the edge of the headboard to balance himself so he can push his cock a little deeper. You choke around him but he murmurs, “relax. Take my cock. Be a good girl.” His whispers make you breathe harshly through your nose and he hums in delight when you take him a couple of inches deeper. “You’re doing so well, hermosa.”
Your praise kink makes you preen, eagerly wanting to make him happy. Wanting to give him exactly what he wants. For long minutes, he continues to pump his cock into your mouth at the same methodical attention to detail that he had flogged you, making sure he doesn’t overwhelm you. You appreciate it since your hands aren’t free to signal him or push him away.
He is close to cumming but he doesn’t want to cum down your throat, not tonight. He pulls out of your mouth, a string of saliva keeping you connected until it breaks. “Did so good. You want me to touch you?” He asks, shifting off of you to kneel between your thighs, pushing them apart and back so he can get a good look at your cunt. It’s dripping, a wet spot on the sheets below that makes his cock twitch. “Answer me.” He demands, slapping your thigh.
Your cry is sharp but you immediately nod. “Yes sir.” You gasp out. “Please touch me, sir. I need it.” Your thighs press together slightly, needing some friction but Pero’s body is keeping you from moving too much. “Please touch me, sir.” You beg, not caring that you sound pathetic.
“Since you asked so nicely…” Pero trails off, shifting to kneel between your legs. He pushes them back until your knees are in your chest, pressing them back enough for him to access your cunt and he spits on it, loving the way his saliva slides through your folds. With a hum, he leans in and pushes his tongue deep, loving the tangy taste of you as he widens his jaw to get as much of you as possible into his mouth.
You cry out his name, tugging on your restraints and you regret having him tie you to the bed for the first time. His hair was made for pulling and you want to feel the strands wrapped around your fingers. “Fuck!” You shudder as he flicks his tongue over your throbbing clit. “P-sir!” You almost said his name, but catch yourself while trying to twist yourself so you can see him.
He catches your mistake but he lets it slide. Tonight is an audition, if you want to see him again, he will punish you next time you do it. He sucks your clit into his mouth, fingers digging into your thighs and shifting to slide under your ass, tilting your hips so he can slide his tongue deep inside of you. Pressing his nose against your clit, he hums into your cunt, loving how you sound, how you taste.
It’s raw in the way that he seems to have you. The rasp of his tongue seems to just have the perfect rough edge to it in order to make you want to rock your hips up. You don't, though, you are supposed to let him do what he wants. “So good, sir. So fucking good.” You whine, closing your eyes and letting your nails dig into your palms slightly to ground you.
He can tell you’re close so he pulls back, loving the whine that escapes your lips. He reacts quickly, reaching up to grip your jaw, “are you complaining?” He growls at you, wondering what you’re whining about when he’s the one in charge.
The mewl you make is pathetic and you shake your head, denying that you are complaining. “No sir.” You whisper, wanting to be good for him. It’s hard when it’s been so long since you’ve cum from anything other than your own toys or fingers. It’s harder to let go this time since it has been so long but you want to be good for him.
“Good. Open your mouth.” Pero orders and you comply. He spits into your mouth, wanting you to taste yourself from him without kissing you, and he keeps his grip tight on your jaw. “Swallow like a good girl.” He demands, watching as you follow his order. “Good.” He lets go of your jaw, sliding his hand down your body to squeeze your breast and he pinches your nipple, loving the way you gasp. “You’re so desperate to cum. I bet I could make you cum just by doing this.” He slaps your tit, chuckling at your gasp, then he pinches your nipple again.
Moaning softly, your eyes close, giving yourself over to him. Not wanting to see what he does next. Needing to just experience it. It’s obvious Pero isn’t going to let you cum anytime soon, so you arch up when he slaps your tit again. “Fuck!” You gasp, enjoying the sharp sting of it and then the tug on your nipple that follows. Every since one them shooting straight to your cunt to make you burn even hotter.
God, you’re fucking perfect. Pliable and obedient. Sexy and so fucking needy. He can tell you’re holding yourself back. He chuckles and kisses your chest until he is taking your nipple into his mouth. He has to stretch you out for his cock so he pushes two fingers into your weeping cunt while he bites down on your nipple.
“Fuck, oh fuck.” You whimper, overwhelmed by the stretch of his fingers and his teeth on your breasts. Loving how your walls immediately clench down on h and tries to suck them in deeper. “Yes, so good. Fuck so good.” You pant breathlessly.
He presses his thumb to your clit, pushing a third finger inside of you to stretch you. He pumps them, curling them until you squeal his name. He smirks against your breast in victory, biting down on your other nipple after he kissed across your sternum. “Cum for me, cum and show me what a needy little slut you are. Want you to soak my fingers.” He orders, shifting so he can look at you, thumb rubbing your clit.
Your body immediately responds to the gruff order, stiffening as your cunt locks down around his fingers with a cry of sublime pleasure. The hot squelch of your cum gushes around his fingers as he pumps them into your spasming hole.
Pero works you through it then when you slump against the mattress, he withdraws his fingers and brings them to your mouth. “Taste yourself. Taste how delicious you are.” He orders, pushing his fingers into your mouth before you can decline.
You moan around his fingers, licking them clean over everything. Keeping your tongue twirling around the digits until he is pulling them free from your mouth. “Thank you, sir.” You murmur softly, looking up at him through hazy, satisfied eyes.
Pero hums in contentment at the easy way you react to him, instinctually following his lead. He doesn't have to explain everything, you just know. He shuffles off of the bed, cock still hard, and he walks over to the nightstand to grab a condom. He pushes his pants down, leaving him bare, and he rips the packet to roll the rubber down his cock. Kneeling on the bed, he reaches up to untie your hands from the frame. "Hands and knees. Now."
You move a little sluggishly, the bliss from your orgasm still making your limbs heavy but you turn over. Pushing up to your hands and trying to rock your ass out towards him. Of course Pero would like to fuck you from behind, it’s probably his preferred position. One of control and power. You don’t look over your shoulder because he didn’t give you permission.
Pero caresses your ass, skin still raised from the flogger and he can’t help but slap the skin again, making you cry out. He shifts, reaching down to grip his cock and he pushes into you in one thrust, knowing he’s worked you open enough. Leaning over you, he kisses along your shoulder before he bites down, loving how you whimper.
“Ohhhh fuck,” your head drops between your shoulder blades, gasping as he stretches you out. “You’re so big, sir.” You moan, your walls contracting around him as he holds still inside you.
“Mierda.” He grunts, knowing he could easily blow his load here and now but he won’t. He wants to savor this. You are perfect around him. “You’re so tight, hermosa. Fuck, so good for me. Taking all of it.” He grunts, pushing deeper inside of you as you open up for him, stretching around him and he looks down at your pussy lips. “Fuck.” He hisses.
You want to say his name, but you don’t. Your fingers twist in the sheets under you as you barely resist rocking back. “So good, sir. You feel so big inside me.” You moan, eyes closing at the way he throbs in your cunt. “Please, please move, sir.” You beg Pero, needing him to fuck you stupid. You want to ache like he promised you that you would.
Pero grabs your hips, fingers digging in, and he starts to fuck you. Hard. He gives no mercy, hammering into you and he nudges your knee with his, spreading you open even more. When you whine and reach back towards him, he grabs your wrists, bringing them together in his hand to both keep you still and control you. “You like this?” He asks and you don’t answer him. “Fucking answer me. You like this?” He repeats with a growl.
“Y-y-yes s-sir!” You squeal, unable to stay upright and falling onto your face as he continues to pound into you. All you can do is take and moan, making your noises muffled slightly by the covers but you love it. You will feel him tomorrow, and probably the day after that. He feels like he’s in your guts and you wish you could see what he looks like as he thrusts into you.
His jaw is clenched, sweat glistening on his forehead as he thrusts into you. He’s not gentle, you don’t want him to be. His free hand squeezes your tits, pinching your nipple and he looks down at you taking his cock again to see your puckered hole clenching. “Fuck.” He groans, leaning down to let his spit drip onto it, pressing his thumb against the skin.
You choke out a sound of surprise but you don’t clench up. Knowing that he is in charge. Instead, you let out a filthy moan as he presses a little harder and rubs, not enough to breach you, but you are panting. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.”
“I’ll fuck you here another time.” He promises, rubbing the skin while his cock pushes deeper, his grip still tight on your wrists as he controls your body. He shifts his thumb to your clit, wanting you to cum, and his wrist turns over once he slides it down your torso so he can rub your bundle of nerves.
You almost choke out that there might not be another time, but you know you are lying to yourself. This is too good and you will put up with his archaic antics if it means that he fucks you like this when you need. Moaning in agreement, you feel your body start to tense up again, getting really to cum. “Sir-“
“Beg for it.” He can tell your close and he wants to hear your sweet cries, your pleas for mercy. Beg me to cum.” He says with each thrust inside of you, his fingers on your clit are unrelenting.
“Please, please, I need to cum.” You sob, his demand unleashing the torrent of babbling. “You’re too good, it’s- it’s too good, I want to cum.” You gasp out, hands flexing as he holds your writers. “Please sir, please please please let me cum, please.”
Usually, he’d pull out and make you writhe but tonight, he wants you to want him, to want to be in his bed again. He’s tortured you enough so he presses his thumb harder against your clit. “Cum for me. Cum for me, hermosa. Cum for me now.” He demands and you cry out, clamping down on his cock. He loves it and within a dozen thrusts, he’s pushing deep and spilling into the condom, your name on his lips as he bends over your body, trapping your hands between you.
You go boneless beneath him, moaning softly as your body relaxes and you try to catch your breath. Even though your entire body is relaxed, now your mind is starting to spin. Wondering if he was pleased and if he wanted you in his bed again. Wondering how this would play out at work, if he had been serious about being able to keep it separate. “It was good.” You mumble quietly.
Pero hums, kissing your shoulder, and he reaches down to grab the base of the condom, slowly pulling out of you. He’s quick to tie it off and toss it in the trash can he keeps in the corner, grabbing his boxers to pull them on, and he walks over to the bed. “It was excellent.” He tells you, “I’m gonna get you some toast and some water and you’re gonna lay here as long as you need to, if you wanna nap, you can nap. I have papers to finish grading.” He tells you, grabbing the cream he keeps in the drawer to rub onto your ass and he grabs the wet wipes to clean you up. “Are your wrists sore?” He asks, pulling the silks out of the slates so he can put them away. You shake your head and he adjusts you to lay you down on his pillows, covering you with the blanket. “I’ll be back.” He promises, walking out of the bedroom and j to the kitchen.
Laying in bed, you wonder if you should go. He is taking care of you, but he has every intention of leaving you here and going to work on his papers. It’s not exactly the aftercare you had been expecting but this isn’t like you are in a relationship. Sliding to the edge of the bed, you realize that you don’t have any underwear or a bra since he cut them off of you. Huffing to yourself, you stand, wincing at the flare of pain and shuffle to the bathroom so you can pee.
Pero knows he should pull you close and wrap around you, tell you how good you were, but he can’t do that again. Last time he let his heart get involved, it got stomped on and he doesn’t have time to nurse wounded feelings. He’s too busy with his work and writing his dissertation. He works in making you toast and turns just as you walk into his kitchen, wincing a little. “You, uh, wanna eat before you leave?” He asks softly, setting the plate down on the table.
“Thanks.” You don’t sit down, your ass still too tender for the hard wooden chair right now. Instead, you give him a smile and pick up the toast to eat it quickly. The sooner you can leave, the better for him apparently. Your dress covers you until you get home, so that’s all that matters and you can shower and decompress on your couch after. “I’ll be quick.”
Pero nods, “take your time. I, uh, I would like to do this again if you want to.” He says, a little nervous that you won’t want him again. Maybe he wasn’t rough enough or maybe he was too rough. He’s anxious and his Dom nature slips aside to reveal the insecure side of him ever since his ex had claimed he wasn’t enough.
“I would.” You admit quietly. “I just don’t want to bother you. So let me know.” He seems hesitant and you wonder if he’s just being polite. “If not, no hard feelings, okay?” It would probably be humiliating, because he knows what type of things you like. He’s been inside you. You swallow another bite of the toast, reaching for the water to take a sip. He’s not said anything and you don’t want to look at him in case he’s unhappy with you.
“No hard feelings? Did you - did you not enjoy yourself?” He frowns, leaning against the counter and wondering if he’s done something wrong. This is no longer Dom/sub stuff. This is between you and Pero. “I’d love to see you again but…if I was too much…I understand.” He says, a little briskly, feeling like he did satisfy you.
You shake your head, taking another bite of your toast. “It wasn’t too much.” You murmur softly. “It was perfect. It just seems like I didn’t please you.” You finally look up at him. “Since it- you know, I don’t know.” You blow out a sigh. “You just seem eager to get me out of your house. I know this is just- physical, but I just thought….” You shake your head again. “No, you’re right. I should go. It’s better to just keep it strictly, um, dom/sub dynamic outside of work.”
Pero frowns, walking over to you to grip your chin. “It feels like what?” He asks, wanting to know exactly what you’re thinking. He’s confused and he wonders why you’re pushing him away. He thought you had a good time tonight. He doesn’t understand why you want to leave so suddenly. “Do you…tell me what you think, hermosa.” He demands, wanting to know what you want.
You feel almost reassured by the pressure of his fingers gripping your chin and the slightly stern edge to his tone. “I had just thought that this would be us getting to know each other better.” You admit quietly. “Beyond the bedroom. But it’s okay.” You try to nod as if you aren’t having your face cradled. “I understand. This is just how you are.”
“Oh.” Pero frowns, shifting to sit down and he lets go of your chin. “I- I didn’t know if you wanted more or just the sex. Im sorry hermosa. I- I want to know more about you, I do.” He promises, knowing you might get tired of him but he wants to take the risk.
“It’s okay.” You shrug slightly. “If you don’t, that’s okay. Like you said, I should just focus on my work and use this as a release.” He had made it clear he thinks you are too emotional.
Pero feels awkward now and he knows that if he sits there, making conversation, it won’t be authentic. With a sigh, he stands up and takes your empty plate, “did you enjoy tonight?”
“I did, thank you.” Your time is obviously up, and you wonder if he’s always been this way. Instead of asking, you turn to start walking towards your purse. “I think I will go home and soak in a bath because you did it right.” You praise him. “Have a good night Pero.”
He nods, following you towards the front door and he opens it when you get your purse. “Drive safe.” He murmurs, “call me when you get home.” He demands, reaching for your arm, “I don’t text so call me. Let me know you’re safe.”
You snort, not commenting but thinking that it’s very Pero to not text. Instead, you nod and walk out to your car. Pero doesn’t close the door, he stands in the doorway and watches as you get in your car and back out of his driveway. You don’t live terribly far away, only about ten minutes and you can’t wait to soak in that bath.
Pero shuts his door and walks into his bedroom to change the top sheet, wanting to keep everything clean and tidy. When his cell doesn’t ring, he frowns and decides to call you. “Hello?” You answer and he grunts, “you didn’t call me to tell me you got home safe.”
“Sorry.” You don’t really think it’s a big deal, you are an adult. If you had left the party and driven home, you wouldn’t have called him. “I got home and got in the bath and got caught up reading.” You are out of the bath now, dressed for bed and honestly ready to sleep. “But I’m home and I’ll see you on Monday.”
Pero isn’t happy with your answer, partly wishing you had stayed with him so he could’ve run you a bath but you’ve made it clear where you stand. “Okay. I, uh, I’ll see you Monday. Goodnight, hermosa.” He murmurs, hanging up the phone and shoving it on his desk as he runs his fingers through his hair. It’s obvious you want sex and only sex, and he doesn’t disagree with that. It’s less complicated, especially considering your roles. He tries to continue grading his papers but fails, deciding to get into bed himself.
Your weekend passes too quickly. Checking some of your lessons for the coming week only takes an hour or so, but then you are still engrossed in your book and laundry, cleaning your place, meal prepping for the week. You had halfway anticipated Pero calling you again, but your phone stayed silent. So you did what you needed to, replayed that night with your wand pressed to your clit.
When Pero comes into work on Monday morning, he struggles to figure out the coffee machine but gets there in the end, sipping the hot brew as you come in to get your own coffee. William looks between you, sensing something is different but he can’t tell. “Morning.” Pero finally breaks the silence, looking over at you, ignoring the way William raises his eyebrows.
“Good morning.” You decided that you weren’t going to try to flirt or be coy with Pero. He wouldn’t appreciate that sort of thing. “William, you missed a nice dance for the kids.” You shift your eyes over to his friend. “Hopefully you treated Mae Lin to a good night out?”
William nods, “of course. We are working on baby number two.” The Irishman blushes a little and Pero is pleased for his friend. He knows that William and Mae Lin have something special. You prepare your coffee and Pero is pleased that you are okay, you seem to have recovered from his flogging. “Did you enjoy the dance?” William teases.
Pero rolls his eyes, “if you enjoy those horny bastards grinding on each other like it’s mating season.”
The fact that he didn’t even enjoy dancing with you or taking you home annoys you. Will, by all accounts, is Pero’s best friend and he is pretending like it didn’t happen. You snort and turn around from the coffee bar with a roll of your own eyes. “Yes, Tovar is much more suited for an eleventh century brothel.” You snort. “Pay a few coins to take care of his needs and then leave to continue selling his sword.” You’ve always thought Pero would have been a mercenary if he had lived in those times, he’s talked about their struggles enough and you had even teased him about the full armor he has that is a replica of the time. LARPING is apparently not something Pero Tovar does, although you had enjoyed teasing him about it. “Don’t expect him to admit to enjoying anything that isn’t torturing his students or reminiscing about the ‘good ole days’.” Pushing away from the counter, you stride towards the door, annoyed with yourself for caring. “I need to get ready for my first class.”
Pero watches you go with a little longing in his eyes, he didn’t want to disrespect you by talking about you in front of William. He doesn’t want to have the other professors overhear and gossip about you. He stands up, without a word, and strides out of the break room and down the hall to your office.
“Bye then, arsehole!” William shouts from the break room but Pero ignores him, quickly moving to open your office door.
“You’re mad at me.” He declares as he steps inside and shuts the door behind him.
“Nope.” You pop the p of your answer and don’t bother looking up at him. Staring at your computer screen and checking your emails. “I am getting ready for my class, like you should be doing.” This is what he wanted, wasn’t it? You are a little hurt, but you’ll get over that. You and Pero weren’t friends before you let him fuck you, so it stands to reason that he wouldn’t let you become more friendly after.
He huffs, placing his hands on his hips, “I didn’t think you’d want me to tell William what we did this weekend while other people were listening. Even us dancing together would be off brand for us. I- I can’t stop thinking about how you looked, how you felt, how you tasted. I want you again. I want you in my bed again.” He reveals, “I don’t want to forget that it happened because I want to do it again.”
That makes you look up at him, jaw dropped because of the sheer emotion in his voice. It’s impassioned. “You didn’t call.” You murmur softly, admittedly hurt that he hadn’t reached out at all. “So I thought you changed your mind.”
Pero sighs, “I didn’t call because I didn’t think - I wanted you to recover. I wasn’t easy on you and I didn’t think you could take more than one session. Let me fuck you again. I want this to be…I want to continue doing this.”
You lean back in your chair and watch him for a moment. You aren’t in the dom and sub roles right now and Pero shifts uneasily, like he’s uncomfortable. “Okay.” You decide after a moment. “Tonight? Or do you want to leave it for the weekends?”
“Now.” Pero demands, reaching over to flick the lock of your office door. “I want you now. Stand up, take your panties off under that dress and place your hands on the desk.” He demands, working on his belt buckle to pull it through the loops. He is half hard just seeing you sitting there, remembering how you were in his bed when he was inside of you.
The fact that he wants you now makes your cunt clench. It’s not exactly the dynamic that you had at his house, but it’s still forceful and it makes you stand up and quickly pull your skirt up so you can strip down your panties and kick them off. Watching him as you place your hands on the desk and wait to see what he’s going to do.
He grabs his belt, looping it in his hands and he steps closer to you. “Safe word.” He murmurs and you say it clearly, making him hum. “If you want me to stop, slam your hand on the desk twice.” He says, “open your mouth.” You follow his order and he places the leather strap in your mouth, working to secure it around your head, the rest of the leather hanging down your neck. “I need you to be quiet.” He says, reaching for the metal ruler you keep on your desk. He grabs it and brings it to your cheek, slapping you gently with it. “Be a good girl for me.” He murmurs, “then you can go teach your little class.” He slides the ruler down your chest, brushing your nipples with the edge.
You shudder, both from the edge of the ruler catching on your breast through the bra and your shirt, and the sexiness of the entire situation. You aren’t going to be able to sit in your office and think of anything else from now on. Moaning quietly against the leather, you close your eyes and breath through your nose. Already starting to drip, you push your ass out slightly to entice him.
He trails the ruler down your stomach, glad your skirt is pushed up, and you keep your hands on the desk. “Don’t move. Do not make a sound.” He growls into your ear, bringing the ruler down to your cunt, pushing it between your folds until the cold metal touches your clit.
Inhaling sharply, it’s so hard to not move as he does what he wants to you. Making your walls flutter and your stomach curl in pleasure as he rubs the metal against your clit, warming the metal up with your hot cunt. You try to steady your breathing, but it hard when all you want to do is beg him to fuck you.
He rubs your clit with the metal ruler, pulling it away and you whine around the leather, but he doesn’t make you wait because he brings the ruler down on your clit, slapping it with the metal.
Your small cry is muffled by the leather between your teeth, making sure no one walking past the office knows what’s happening in here. It makes you even wetter to know that he would do these types of things outside the comfort and safety of his own space. “Fuck.” You pant, words inaudible and look over at him, loving the dark lust swirling in his eyes.
He slaps your clit again, loving how you moan against the leather, and he sets the ruler down on the desk. “Stay there.” He demands, working on unbuttoning his pants to pull his hard cock out. He reaches for his wallet, pulling out the condom he keeps in there and he tosses the wallet onto his desk, the condom wrapper falling to the floor, and he rolls it down quickly. “Fuck. You’re dripping. You like this, don’t you? Being my little whore at school.” He murmurs, nipping the skin behind your ear as he grips his cock. He kicks your ankle, spreading your legs wider, and he pushes inside of you in one thrust, knowing you don’t have a lot of time.
Your back arches in pleasure and pain from the intrusion. Having him spear up into you forcefully takes your breath away and you gasp behind the belt. That beautiful ache returns almost instantly and you are pushing back against him desperately. He’s right, you do love this happening right here, love the thrill of being in your office. In public.
He loves how reactive you are but he needs you to cum quickly so he pushes you forward, pressing you against your desk, onto your papers. “Hands stay on the desk.” He orders, thrusting into you. It’s rough and it’s dirty, your moans muffled and he grabs the ruler again, pushing it between you to rub your clit. “So needy for my cock, you’ll even take it in your office. Such a good little whore for me.” He coos into your ear, slapping your clit with the ruler again.
You whine, clenching around him and rolling your eyes back when he slaps your clit again. It’s feeding into all your needs right now and every thrust strikes against that spot inside you that makes your legs shake. The desk is sturdy enough that it doesn’t move but the container of pens and markers shake and jolt on the surface and the slap of his thoughts against yours becomes audaciously loud.
He fucks you hard and fast, needing you to fall apart around him before you’re late to your first class. He slaps your clit again, “cum for me, hermosa. Cum on my cock like a good girl.” He orders, pushing deep inside of you.
It doesn’t take long to obey him. Five hard thrusts later, you are stiffening up. Your cunt locking down around him and there’s a very serious concern that you might ruin his pants with the flood of cum that gushes out of you. Your cry against the wet leather is louder than before but you don’t care, riding out your high before you slump against the desk and pant.
Pero tosses the ruler down on the desk, grabbing your hips to keep you still as he works you through your orgasm and heads into his own. “Mierda, mi puta. I- fuck. Me voy-” He cuts himself off with a grunt as he buries his cock deep and fills the condom. Your name a groan on his lips.
You know there won’t be any aftercare this time, not where you are. You whine when he’s pulling out of you after a few seconds and you push yourself up. Watching him remove the condom and tie it off as you reach back to unbuckle his belt from around your head. Now you need to straighten your appearance to get ready for your class.
Pero takes the belt, admiring your teeth marks, and he quickly tucks himself away and puts the belt back on. “I want to see you tonight at my place.” He murmurs, stepping towards you to grip your chin, “I want you to be in my bed again.”
You hum quietly, looking into his eyes and you want to ask if it’s just for another session but you don’t. You nod. “Okay. I’ll come to your house after my last class.” You agree, certain that he would send you home after.
Pero leans in to kiss your forehead before he steps away from you, adjusting his shirt and tie before making his way to his office to get what he needs for his first class. Tonight, he wants to treat you properly, show you how good he can be. This is purely sex but for some reason, the lines are already blurring. His dislike for your modern ways ebbing away and he finds himself liking you more and more.
You giggle slightly to yourself as you finish getting ready for your class. You had gone to the Valentine’s dance for your college because you were bored and there was nothing else to do. Now you are walking into your class with a sore cunt, a dom, and a date for him to make you cum again. Maybe Pero isn’t so bad after all.
#pero tovar#pero tovar x reader#pero tovar x f!reader#pero tovar x you#pero tovar smut#pero tovar fanfiction#pero tovar imagine#pero tovar the great wall#tovar x you#tovar x reader#modern pero tovar
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Hey Iris
Fandom: Star Trek
Characters: Jim, Bones
Summary: When Bones uses their new intelligent personal assistant to ask about tickling Jim starts to wonder if this was a bad idea.
A/N: In my active era?? Maybe not.
Words: 1k
The tech was new enough for Jim to be excited when he agreed to try it out, but he felt a twinge of wariness as he watched the intelligent personal assistant get installed on his ship. With the motivation to make life easier for them all, including the captain, Jim had decided it couldn’t hurt to bring some ease onto the Enterprise after the year they’d had. They called it Iris, though Starfleet insisted it had no gender.
“A non-binary helper,” Jim said as he stared at the tiny plug that had been connected to the system. “Let’s see how this goes.”
At first they used it because it was new and exciting; asking the most simple of questions just to see if it actually would work.
“I told you it came from Russia!” Chekhov exclaimed, pointing at the general air around them. “Iris just confirmed it. You can never question me again.”
“We can question you plenty,” Uhura said with a fond roll of her eye. “But I’ll give you that one.”
After a certain point, they used it because it was easy; work-related questions where the answer could be in their hands in no time.
“Iris is quick,” Sulu said, frantically writing down its words on his pad.
Jim hummed. “Wait. Let me try something. Hey, Iris. Could you print out the answer to Mr Sulu’s question?”
The stack of papers were in Sulu’s gleeful arms in no time.
One day, Bones decided to use it for pleasure. The pleasure of seeing Jim blush to death, that is.
Iris worked all over the Enterprise. Jim had to admit he’d used it more than once to see where a certain crew member was situated on the ship, but he tried not to ever break any boundaries using it and had urged his crew to be mindful as well. Just because they could technically know everything, it didn’t mean they should.
Bones started using it to mess with him after clarifying that no one else but the people in the room where a question or request had been uttered could hear the answer. It had been such an innocent request, but Jim knew how he looked when Bones asked Iris to explain what tickling meant to them, and he knew damn well how he looked when Iris complied immediately.
“Why are you doing this?”
Bones’s grin was softer, but fatal nevertheless. “To see you squirm, of course.”
Jim wondered if he would actually make him squirm, or if he was using Iris to get Jim to ask for it. It had become his new thing; especially once he’d realized Jim almost never could just straight out ask for it.
“You’re awful.”
“Hmm, you keep talking and I can’t hear what it’s saying. Hey Iris. Could you explain what tickling is again?”
“Tickling is the act of touching a part of a body in a way that causes involuntary twitching movements or laughter.”
Jim wanted to sink through the floor. It was stupid. This was just basic information. Not even teases.
Wait.
“Hey Iris.”
Oh no.
Bones was bluffing. He knew he was.
“What is a tickle kink?”
Jesus fucking Christ.
Jim stood so abruptly he probably would’ve interrupted Iris had it been human. “Bones, please.”
“Please what?” Bones asked over Iris explaining what a goddamn tickle kink was.
“Stop this.”
“Oh, but I’m not done. Hey Iris. Can you give us some tickle teases?”
Jim was going to murder him.
“Okay, okay!” he cried, holding up his hands. “I’ll ask for it, are you happy?”
Bones, fucking Bones, smiled innocently at him. “Ask for what?”
Iris had stopped talking and the silence was suddenly deafening. Jim huffed, feeling his face flush. Stupid, all of it. And yet he found he couldn’t let the moment drop. Not that Bones would let him, but still.
Still.
“For you to tickle me,” he finally said, aiming for accusation. “That’s what you want me to say, isn’t it?”
“I was mostly just messing with you, but if you want me to tickle you you could’ve just asked.” He let out a laugh. “Well, I guess you just did. Hey Iris? Make sure the door is locked and the room soundproof. I feel a sudden urge to go for your hips and I know you can’t remain calm for that.”
Bones was a dead man, but Jim was a dying one. He took a step back, unsure of why. Bones would get him anyway. He would let him get him anyway.
The couch was soft when he landed, knees on each side of him as fingertips brushed over his sides for starters. Just to wake his senses up. Just to show him what was going to happen. Jim started giggling immediately, which was embarrassing each time, but Bones simply laughed along with him before he latched onto his hip bones and wouldn’t let go. Jim screamed, once, outdrawn, before it got broken up by laughter. Maybe it was a good thing Iris had made the room soundproof. They’d been busy, his skin had been starved, and he’d forgotten just how good Bones was at this.
“Fuck!” he cried, head thrown back and hands flailing to grip something without shoving Bones off. “Wait, wait, wait-”
“For?”
Jim didn’t know. Jim couldn’t speak.
Briefly, as Bones sent ticklish shocks through his body, Jim wondered if Iris was registering what was happening at all. Wondered if it would use it against him somehow. No one on this ship would judge him, really, but this wasn’t theirs to hear.
Maybe he would bring it up with Bones afterward. He wasn’t really in a position to hold a discussion.
“Oh my god, switch spots please-”
“Say please.”
“I just fuckin’ did-”
“I didn’t hear you.”
It was a dance, with Bones leading just enough to keep Jim on his toes, but stopping for long enough to make sure he wasn’t overstepping. His pauses came as switching spots so that he was tickling one that wasn’t as bad, and so Jim made sure to breathe when he went for his sides again, gently teasing the curve of his torso.
He wasn’t done, and Jim was glad, because he wasn’t done either.
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I do think comparisons between Iraq & Ukraine are pretty silly tbf. There are comparisons to be made, and the US invasion of Iraq was monstrous, but they are different wars, bad for different reasons. Ill take it from the perspective of “challenging the international order”, the idea that Iraq is just as much of a challenge to the “don’t invade countries” liberal order that Ukraine is, and it happened first to boot, so that order is dead already anyway.
This idea both removes context and misunderstands the ‘order’. Saddam in 2003 was absolutely a pariah state, second only to North Korea but without any powerful backers. The 1991 Gulf War against Iraq was a joint partnership by both the US *and the USSR* amoung many many other partners, they had NO friends. In the intervening years his regime probably killed over 200,000 people in repressions & ethnic cleansing campaigns, particularly against Kurds. The country was heavily sanctioned, isolated, and loathed - many did think in 1991 Saddam should have been removed. These reasons are all part of why Iraq was invaded in 2003 to begin with, it was the acceptable target and a task leftover from the ‘weaker’ era of the 90′s. In late 2002 the UN Security Council voted unanimously in resolution 1441 that Iraq was in violation of its ceasefire agreements relating to the development of WMD’s and issued it a series of ultimatums. Russia & China voted for this resolution. The world agreed Iraq was a problem - for a lot of wrong reasons btw, but its what they thought - they just disagreed on how to deal with it.
All of this is to say that while international governments objected to the Iraq war, no one, like, really objected. Seriously, you may have wished they did, and of course there were some behind the scenes little projects scrapped here or there, but no one sanctioned the US or it allies over anything, no one backed Saddam, no one pulled out of NATO or anything like that. The US Coalition of the Willing - worst possible name ever btw like jesus christ read any book, Bush - was 49 countries, including the United Kingdom, Japan, Australia, Italy, Spain, and hey, Ukraine! France threw a huge fuss and then we all invaded Libya together not even a decade later. No one cared! Many opposed it, the majority of countries opposed it. But that is very different from caring enough to do anything about it.
(People sometimes have the very funny idea that if the US invaded like Canada that the response would have been the same, like we are just too strong everyone would bow down! People would just grumble and move on. That is extremely not true, the US invading Canada would be a political revolution. The fact that it was Iraq is very relevant to how tepid the response was)
Now two objections are gonna come up here. First, “But the UN!” The UN condemned the war! Well, no, it didn’t, it couldn’t because the US has veto power, but Kofi Annan said that it did in a speech. But, and this is very very important - the UN is virtually irrelevant. The UN was *never* a lynchpin of the international order, it never did fuck all. During the entire Cold War it was just a dueling ground for US/USSR vetos, it never seriously guided policy. I’m exaggerating a bit for effect here, it helped build norms and it was a diplomatic staging ground, it has peacekeepers and aid budgets, sure. But the UN is overall a failure, government has stayed national, the US and to a lesser extent Europe have always been the absolute foundation of the modern liberal order - and half of them fought in Iraq.
Btw the reason you *think* the UN is part of the international order is that you grew up in the 90′s/2000′s - after the fall of the USSR there was this “UN Moment” where we thought liberalism would be triumphant and a new international system could be built. This led to projects like the United Nations Transitional Authority in Cambodia, the 1991 UN full occupation via peacekeepers of the country to build a new, liberal government to replace the Vietnamese puppet regime previously ruling the place. It completely failed in every way, Cambodia is a dictatorship today. All of these projects failed, the Rwandan Genocide happened under the nose of the UN, Saudi Arabia sat on their Human Rights Council, they failed because the UN is structurally a joke and cannot succeed. But in the 90′s there was a zeitgeist of the UN As The Future, and you think that was an already-achieved dream as opposed to a branding exercise that was scrapped but you had already stopped attending Model UN conferences at that point and didn’t get the memo where all the cool kids pivoted to NatSec Council Crisis Committees so they could do actual politics.
The second is ‘but morally, it was wrong, it set the tone!’ and I, look that's sweet, really, but I can’t bring to myself to care. The International Order is not morality. Maybe it should be, you know fine it totally should be, but it isnt, and it never has been. The liberal international order is an order built by states for states - liberal, democratic states. It is whatever they say it is. Now, if what they are saying it is radically changes, even if its the same states, then its totally fair to point out that it radically changed and its a new order now. But *being hypocrites* is not a change, god is it not a change. Just look at the list of military operations by the US during the Cold War, its fucking endless. If the Vietnam War and the Sandinistas and the Suez Crisis and the Sudan Bombings and the Somalia interventions didn’t doom the world order, Iraq wasn’t going to.
Because the order has *never ever* been no war. Its been no wars for territorial conquest, no wars against democratic liberal states. And whatever other sins the US has committed, during the Cold War we did not wage war for territorial expansion. Once the empires of Europe collapsed they got on that boat too, and it has stuck. The reason that the governments of Europe, despite loathing the Iraq war, just moved on, is that they knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the US was not going to annex Iraq, or genocide ethnicities, or anything like that. We would set up a government that was democratic, liberal, and leave. Or ya know try and fall flat on our faces, but same difference. With financial interests locked in and military bases and yadda yadda sure sure, but we always did that, France does that too. That’s the Order.
Funnily enough, the Iraq war *was* an attempt to change the liberal order - to make it MORE itself, more liberal, more democratic. Rumsfeld and co envisioned wars after Iraq, a world where state by state democracy would be imposed, and no more would liberalism be held back by tepid penny-pinchers and peaceniks. No more genocide, no more autocracy (unless you had nukes or were named Saudi Arabia ofc!), a creeping wave of democracy doing to the rest of the world what had so, so successfully been done to the former USSR. That dream is buried in blood and sand in Iraq - and with its death the liberal order was reinforced, the Iraq war proved the *strength* of the current international order, that it existed the way it did for a reason.
Russia’s war in Ukraine began as the opposite of that in every way. Russia after 2014 was itself a form of pariah state, aggressively nationalistic, autocratic, anti-western. It openly mocks and denigrates the western international order as hypocritical nonsense. Maybe Russia is right (it isn’t) but who cares, it still opposes it, that is what *makes* it a challenge, Russia explicitly *states* that it is. The war is not only for territory, but to send a message to other states on Russia’s border that the international order doesn’t apply to them, in Russia’s land wars of conquest are good to go. In almost every way it is the opposite of Iraq.
But as irony demands, as their shockingly-pathetic army flounders from defeat to defeat, as the Russian people flee the country in droves, as nearly every ally abandons them, the outcome might be the same as in Iraq. I can’t think of a more resounding reinforcement of the power of the liberal international order than the global military apparatus of that order uniting to defeat one of their strongest opponents in the field of battle. Bush’s liberalism is dead, but Biden’s might be ascendant.
Assuming we all don’t get nuked of course.
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By Chad Hewitt
In 1998, I was a fifth grader at a Catholic school in a small town in Ohio. This meant school uniforms, mass twice a week (or more, if there was a holy day that week), and a strict adherence to the principles outlined in the Catechism of the Catholic Church. These principles included two types: the fundamentals of Jesus’ teachings, like the Beatitudes (“Blessed are the persecuted”) and then others, never explicitly stated in the Bible but upheld within society over thousands of years and filtered down into the parochial school system (i.e.“Don’t be gay”). The former were taught through Scripture, sermons, and sacraments. The latter were enforced by other kids, television, and my developing pre-adolescent brain.
As the youngest of three boys in my family, I learned how to operate within these sometimes conflicting paradigms. “Love thy neighbor as yourself”, but only if your “self” is a certain thing; “thou shall not lie”, unless it’s about something like your sexual orientation. Then by all means, lie, lie and lie some more.
Imagine my confusion when during the course of my usual weekday afternoon routine of watching Total Request Live at my best friend Stiv’s house, a music video premiered by a brand new artist named Britney Spears. While I had absolutely no understanding of what the phrase “Hit me baby one more time,” meant, in that moment I immediately felt something come over me, just like Harry Potter receiving his wand for the first time. I had no idea what kind of wand it was exactly but I would soon find out that most of the other boys didn’t even receive their letter to Hogwarts. Yes, we would all agree that Britney was “hot”, but I sensed that the way I felt about her was different and wouldn’t be shared, much less celebrated, by my friends at school. The girls, maybe. The boys, very unlikely.
But if we’re being honest, who doesn’t like Britney Spears? If you find yourself in a room of people who don’t turn the fuck up during “Toxic” then that room, quite frankly, is dangerous and you should get out. The difference was that I loved her for other reasons. Reasons that I couldn’t really put into words and probably wouldn’t even if I could. Reasons that pointed to something about myself that I was taught for so long was shameful and bad. Reasons that, if embraced, would upset my entire worldview and consequently, the relationships that were formed through it. At that time I wasn’t even totally sure if these feelings were real or not, but I did know that sooner or later, I would have to confront them. When I did let myself imagine my life in the context of these fears, the best-case scenario was loving a person that the Church would not consider acceptable, and that would mean a blatant rejection of Christ's love. And so I ultimately had to choose. God’s will or mine. To spare myself the sense of grief and loneliness I would feel from turning my back on God, I dug my heels in, so to speak.
Thus, Britney became the first of many of my guilty pleasures. Since I wasn’t necessarily “allowed” to genuinely love her, I had to love her ironically, justifying my requests for her songs at school dances as a joke. Through my high school and college years I had many more of these “guilty pleasures”, always justifying things that made people even slightly suspicious as an ironic interest and never serious. Because if enjoying those things made something else true about me, then all hope for my eternal soul was lost. *collapses on a chaise lounge*
Recently I had my 34th birthday party, and since Jesus didn’t get to have one of those, the theme was “What Would Jesus Have Done?” Everyone had to dress up as some version of Jesus, whether real or made up. My boyfriend did exceptional work in coordinating the party, which was replete with bespoke cocktail menu (including my favorite, “The Gay Wedding at Cana”), communion wafers as snacks, and a neon cross. I showed up in a priest's robe, and some people didn’t quite understand why, given the theme’s parameters. It was meant to be ironic: I was in costume as a version of myself that might have been if I had never come out. The actual me was enjoying his friends, dancing with his boyfriend at a gay bar in New York City to Britney Spears’ music. Heaven.
This is one of the bigger surprises to me about coming out as queer as a former Catholic: seemingly overnight, all of your guilty pleasures become sanctified. In this new world, liking Britney Spears doesn’t conflict with one’s identity or morality or religion. Britney Spears is the religion. Thinking back now about that first hit of serotonin from hearing “Baby One More Time”, I realize there was something familiar about what she was singing. The song isn’t necessarily about someone whining to an ex for attention. It could also be an actual prayer: the words of a person begging for some kind of signal that they are loved. The desperation and sorrow of a person that feels badly about themselves but doesn’t seem to understand why. The conviction of a person who knows their prayers will be answered one day.
At one point at my party while everyone was dancing, “Oops I Did It Again” started playing and I tore off my robe, revealing a second costume underneath: a shiny red bodysuit. My favorite version of my own personal savior.
#deconstruction#exvangelical#deconvert#ex catholic#excatholic#exchristian#post christian#ex christian#catholic#post catholic#lukewarm#religious trauma
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okay okay so I got tagged by @fizzycherrycola @the-magpie-that-stands-high and @kitaychan (I think that was everyone???) like I feel so bad for not posting a lot of writing lately so please take this little snippet of something I've been working on for an ask
Alfred begrudgingly accepted the pat on his shoulder and watched his father make his way to the front of the room, holding back an eye-roll. It was best to leave the subject be though he knew Arthur was going to want to bring this up again; this wasn’t even accounting for Matthew who had been constantly eyeing him from across the table. Alfred figured the last time either of them had seen him break out in a cold sweat was back in the second World War from some nasty disease or infection. No, the Spanish Flu was the worst either had probably seen him this century.
Fuck he wished it was as simple as that.
Having the shits or the Black Plague would make him feel less of an ass than he did right now.
By the time lunch was called, he was cold and shaking, stomach raw. He paced the hallway for even just stopping for a second would make him feel even more ill. More attention was drawn his way but it seemed that Matt didn’t have the same balls he did over the phone to approach him and upright ask him what his deal was.
His cravings were getting painful.
The sandwich and chips he was offered were devoured in less than a minute and he snacked on whatever tray of British pastries came his way.
His stomach felt empty even as he lost track of how many ladyfingers and tarts he had stuffed in his gullet.
The most he was grateful for was Gabriel slipping him his flask of red port without question, which warmed him a bit and took some of the edge off. It didn’t help with the aches in his muscles but he was grateful nonetheless. In theory, he could have rushed back to his hotel room to take what he needed but he feared that would only get more people asking questions. He didn’t know why he cared. Most everyone at this meeting was part of the old world and cocaine amongst various other drugs had been in all their systems at one point. Fuck and it wasn’t like they thought Matthew or he were innocent children regarding those things.
There was still another half of a meeting to go.
Words kept pouring from everyone’s mouth, pointless and slow.
Just make your damn point and sit back down.
Everyone was muffled like someone had put a pillow over Alfred’s ears but he knew the problem was everyone having a rough time projecting their voice.
Matthew was horrendous. His moose dragging, slow ass was like sandpaper on Alfred’s nerves. His points didn’t make sense, weren’t aligning with what he swore they had discussed and agreed upon months past, and Jesus fucking Christ Matthew spoke as slow as molasses and soft as down feathers.
He took a sip of water.
He scratched behind his ear.
He crossed his legs.
He chewed the tip of his pen.
He uncrossed his legs.
He stood and suddenly all eyes in the room were on him.
Matthew was staring at him with a stupid expression. Those droopy eyes that too much resembled his own were looking at him with false concern- like this wasn’t his fault in the first place. Yell at him over the phone, rush him here and make him forget to take his medication to keep his body and mind in check.
Matthew’s fault this meeting couldn’t end.
Matthew’s fault that he was on edge back in the late ‘50′s for going behind his back to protect Arthur’s stupid pride.
Matthew’s fault that his home burned.
Matthew’s fault for not fighting with him against their dear father.
His stomach twisted, the sweat on the bridge of his nose making his glasses slip away from his eyes.
His accusations meant nothing. He’d done far more wrong to his brother than he had ever done to him.
I always feel like I add a little too much and I'm honestly unsure who to tag because I feel like I'm so behind and everyone has already been tagged ;-; Please partake if you wish, I love reading upcoming stories!
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got anything to say about KTB/Lancer on the whole?
you know me so well.
first of all about lancer as a whole: cool system! i like big mechs and i like sci-fi and i’m not hard to please. lore goes hard it’s 90% of the reason i like spreading lancer propaganda. the other 10% is a genuine mystery because it’s not a narrative heavy system and i’m a narrative heavy guy but i’ll get to that when i talk about KTB
i generally agree with most of your criticisms about lancer combat (and i think they’re all pretty common criticisms of the system generally), NPCs get better abilities than PCs do and structure while not unsalvageable is a horrid mechanic that makes death spirals not great and can fuck up some builds completely if you roll unfortunately. honestly my biggest beef with lancer is structuring especially in a post-7th sea economy (whoa a system that makes death spirals fun and rewards risky behavior! holy shit) but i think the runner-up in terms of beef i have with lancer combat is something i haven’t talked about much and it’s the absolute state of trying to play support and have offensive capabilities
as you know i am lancer’s #1 support/controller advocate which is why i think it’s fucked the only support mech with decent frame stats is the black witch. “it would break game balance if supports had good stat lines” KTB is official content i am confident they don’t care. what if you wanted to do some scuffed bullshit por ejemplo what if a sunzi could maul the shit out of enemy NPCs. but god said 7 HP 7 heat cap or whatever its stats are. what then. in a sentence: yeah lancer doesn’t really incentivize creativity you can’t do stupid bullshit that the game didn’t intend for you to do which is extremely upsetting. i mean like you can it just won’t be a viable build 8/10 times which is SAD. PROFOUNDLY SO. building mechs in lancer is actually so fun imagine if thinking outside the box was allowed
anyway yeah KTB
jesus fucking christ
it's not that i think the talents and licenses and frames in KTB being really fucking good is in and of itself a problem. in a game when the NPCs can do bullshit like they can in lancer i might even invite it (though, i don't necessarily think anything in KTB is actually good at combating the NPC problem, it just gives PCs unfun bullshit of their own <- SSC white witch killed this user's grandma). i've taken house guard on 2/3rds of the builds i've actually played.
the problem is that KTB is just markedly better than anything in the base game or any preceding supplements. it also doesn't help lancer's general issue of talents being designed by someone with terminal striker brain- like oh wow cool strikers and defenders get some really great talent options and admittedly some support frames can really benefit from house guard (sunzi) but there's still 1 talent for hackers. like where's the versatility
"mars that's a problem with lancer not KTB" yeah you're right. my vendetta against KTB is pretty easily explained and fully a gripe with combat mechanics- i unironically think white witch is bullshit in a way that's not fun to play but this criticism doesn't extend to, say, emperor, which i still think is bullshit and also it powercrept the lancaster, which is my problem with emperor. emperor is cool, but i recall in a discussion about this we had someone said that the stuff in KTB is kind of like what paladins are to base D&D and i'll say it, powercreep is bad game design! if the content you put out after the base game is unequivocally stronger than specific stuff before it, that's stupid! dustgrave is also bad about this, seeing as a talent in dustgrave powercrept accelerate (one of the best systems in the sunzi license chain), and another talent went "what if your NHP polycule helped you deal more damage" as opposed to like. "what if your NHP polycule gave you more invade options. or tech options generall sorry that isn't about KTB either. i'm also cranky about dustgrave can you tell
KTB did add bonds though which doesn't redeem it but i fucking love bonds because it makes lancer's narrative play less barebones and i like narrative play a lot as a fan of putting miserable little freaks in situations
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so sorry feel free to skip, big rant ahead.. but good ending :)
i really hope i can get free university tuition for the next year.. there are two vacant positions atm and i think i have a great chance of getting one.. i enrolled last year with 50% discount based on exam results but this discount is only kept if you stay high enough in student ratings and it kept me awake at night throughout the year and feeling guilty, and the workload was completely draining, and i was physically unwell and um. 0 friends and so i had a complete mental breakdown at the end of the year + a failed class and no year-end thesis which meant i needed an individual plan for the next year which meant no discount AND additional pay for extra courses. Decided to drop out, but instead re-enrolled in the same program for the second time to preserve 50% exam discount which is still appliable. Asked for credit recovery for all of the courses i actually completed last year and bless the faculty office because they agreed and spent this year taking my sweet time recovering and attending uni 3 times a week for language classes and thesis. And funny thing is i did pretty well last year. But complete burn out and absolutely shattered mental health, i really couldnt do it anymore. and i don't think ive recovered from it completely, i now resent the thought of any kind of confrontation or trying hard at something or taking an additional interest in something because that just means more work and thought. none of it pays off. i now give up when met with the smallest inconvenience and pushing through with anything is too much. i played The Sims Fucking 3 University one time and got so anxious and mad because the memory was painful. And i dont even remember the stuff that happened during last year that well at all, its all a complete haze, like it never even happened, but somehow still had its consequences. but like pretty much everyone was going through the same stuff in the same circumstances, but i didnt see anyone else struggling that much so i ended up thinking i am a wimp just wasting our and others' time and money and didnt complain or express my worries to anyone. i didnt exactly have anyone to express them to but well....
on the bright side i think I have succeeded in developing a "fuck-all" mentality in the last year and i hope to utilize it next time i am met with the same workload. Plus my groupmates this year round are amazing. i struggle to form close friendships or acquaintences, but they are all very nice and sweet and supportive of one another, its really nothing ive ever seen of classmates or colleagues. And i also think i have made good progress in learning Finnish and have regained just a bit of my passion for linguistics, i wouldnt want to resent the field forever because if it comes to academics i dont think im suited for anything else. my mother has been nagging me about taking what is essentially a gap year, and saying i was making stuff up when i told her about my decision and that ive been really struggling for the past year, even though i was just wailing at the time. But its alright i guess, i don't take it to close to heart, although it does make me so mad sometimes.
im better off now, but im still so scared of plunging back into all that anxiety, restlessness, exhaustion, competition and feelings of stupidity and inferiority. I have mostly dealt with the last two, but i dont think i will be able to take the stress if it is the same as last year. If i stay on paid tuition, then i have to continue securing my discount. And that means extra work in every subject, because you can't get max and pre-max grade by just completing the course perfectly, you're required to do extra work for the last two marks. I realize and understand that this is a common system, but jesus fucking christ i want to be able to choose not to do so and still continue studying like normal, not be handicapped in learning stuff i actually have to learn in other subjects because of useless shit i need to waste my time on for that sweet sweet 9 or 10. and you're competing both with people like you on paid tuition AND with people on free tuition who have some issues i think as the difference between mark 8 and mark 10 is only seen in the student rating and not recorded in the diploma, and the student rating does not mean jack shit if you're on free tuition, literally no one cares for it outside of calculating discounts and transfering from paid to free tuition. I don't want to think badly of those on free tuition who choose to compete in the system, but i believe i have become too senstitive about this topic. I want to bonk them with a cardboard tube to make them change their minds and see the appeal of being free to fuck all when it comes to grades and just do what they actually enjoy in the academics field or on the side, but that doesnt happen.
and so i have a pretty good chance of getting on free tuition with my current grades. I worked my ass off last year with most of the courses, and i got a "great" on both language classes and thesis this year. As far as i know, im first in rating among those on paid tuition. im sending mind control waves to faculty so that they give me that free tuition. i promise i will get worse grades on purpose so that people who are still stuck in clinging to discount hell have a bit of an easier time. i'll read papers for fun and find joy in learning new things again. i will do minimum wage monotone work needed for dictionaries or corpora like all the cool kids. Fuck it, i will do some afterclass activities now that ill be able to afford to spend my free time on random shit. ill attend historical dance meetings regularly, its really fun. ill make some friends even. just PLEASE give me the free tuition. if i don't, i will sigh deeply and continue trying to grind, but ill be upset.
maybe i need to stop whining and just go on with it like everybody did, but pleaseeeeeee. I think i worked hard. I completed every assignment without taking a look at how much it weighed in the grade formula. I helped fellow students when they struggled with something. I had almost perfect attendance. THIS stupid thing will change my life, stupid thing being free tuition. i cant afford to not get a mind boggling cool education, my family will execute me. Please just let me get my stupid little linguistics degree (i mean it includes programming and maths so.) and go on with my life... ...
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jesus fucking christ the mind numbingly stupid shit sophie is spewing is beyond words. this has to be up there with the time she called anti endos a hate group but said she’s fine with them existing because she’s fine with Actual hate groups existing. i just wish people had just a fucking crumb of common sense. like has she ever thought “hey, i’m talking about an extremely stigmatized and extremely severe mental illness that i don’t have, maybe i should stay in my lane unless i’m positive i know what im talking about, or at least listen to the people who do have that mental illness.” her response to being told she’s wrong and hurting us is to keep insisting she’s right. it’s so fucked up but i can’t say i’m not used to it as a DID system, and not just from her but from society in general 🤷♂️
what i really hate about sophie is her inability to compromise or understand that she can be wrong about things. she always has to be right, and assumes herself as some kind of pillar of truth when sometimes she can't even read a paper and understand what it's talking about correctly.
like, i don't care about arguing with her about endo shit because i don't care about endos. but when she's spreading misinformation about DID and comparing animal alters with zoophilia, her idea, when corrected, is to insist she's right and apparently say that she and i agree on a lot more things stated in the discussion than i actually believe we do.
we agree that harassing zoophiles for existing and not hurting any animals is bad. we also agree that respecting the autonomy and identities of animal alters/headmates, in some capacity. but that's kind of about it.
like, she never said anything about confronting trauma or trauma processing when healing, she literally just automatically assumed that because i was talking about "healing" as a DID system, that i was talking about therapy/fusion, and in the anon ask, completely skipped over the fact that i said they could still appear as animals internally completely healthily. and then said something about "who's to be the judge of the healing process?" like girl did you read the post.
not to mention she and other people came onto the post and said that animal alters can still healthily exist as animal alters, and implying i said that they have to be human, like girl stop. at that point you're cherry picking and can't even understand what i'm talking about when i talk about an animal alter healing from their trauma.
she did this repeatedly until she stated that we allegedly agree on everything and now she's confused as to why i'm pissed when that wasn't even the original thing i was trying to argue, (but i guess that part is a little bit my own fault, haha).
and once again, using a vague definition of zoophilia that i have never seen used in a positive context. like, has she ever thought about the fact that the definition of zoophilia doesn't include mentioning therians/alterhumans/furries because they just weren't on the radar, and/or because of the fact that they're not biologically non-human animals, and therefore can consent?
and especially not talking cartoon animals *because* of the fact that they are anthropomorphized (in the literal use of the word) to the point where they could theoretically consent to sex, and also do not resemble real-life animals in the same way that a photograph of an animal does?
like, i really don't feel like the definition is as muddy as she thinks it is when you bother to think about why it is the way it is across the board. sure, different definitions use different wordings, but in my opinion they're all coming to the same core concept of zoophilia: an attraction to real life, non-anthropomorphized animals.
it's just stupid, lmao.
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I hate so many new features Microsoft made/windows made
Making it hard to make a local account
Microsoft online account so ingrained in everything I don't know when I'm online or not, saving to a shared drive somewhere or my ACTUAL COMPUTER, I never gave permission to back up my stuff on one drive or whatever but it sounds like it's auto doing it, what if I don't want tax forms and sensitive shit on there??
Microsoft office itself is a mess. Some initial nice additional tools, but now find/replace works worse, making pdfs/exporting gives me less setting control, it won't tell me what fonts are true type so I need yo go through 1600 pages and manually find chinese fonts and change them to a true type font after I already spent 4 hours testing and making pdfs to see WHAT fonts were even true types. So many basic features now have less access. Meanwhile editing is a fucking mess. I ONLY want to view my spelling errors, maybe grammar errors. I'm trying to speed proofread. I don't have time to see it suggest to reword writing from a fucking novel that was already purposely written as "probably harder" Stop telling me to delete probably. I had to go through 3000 "spell grammar check" today and a vast majority weren't real. It flipped out on Chinese so there's 1000 marked errors, and then on commas and ; suggestions which were wrong, and meanwhile I only wanted has/had misuses since I noticed this document had those grammar errors when reading. 90% of the errors shown to me I had to click ignore on because they aren't fucking errors. To use this for something professional I'd have wasted days slowly reading this stupid goddamn editor. And it only helped in that it highlighted some areas so I could notice have/had grammar stuff and go in and edit myself since it's suggestions on corrections were wrong. Fucking wanted 8 hours just to catch like 30 real mistakes in 1600 pages, making a few extra errors when I clicked its auto-correct too fast when Words correction was Wrong.
I wanna kill modern technology move to all online, on an online account tracking u through multiple systems, linked to Alexa and the Microsoft spying voice thing, where a fucking laptop won't even have full functionality unless ur on a logged in account tracked online. I liked fucking windows xp functionality just fine, it's all I needed, the app store is a nice add on but Jesus christ I just want to use my fucking computer and search my COMPUTER for my programs not all of online! I just want to be able to run basic fucking features and enjoy the speed of modern tech (since windows xp probably is way too small to run much anymore). I'm so tired Jesus. And if I, a computer degree fucker, am enraged and fucking exhausted, no wonder non tech literate people pick up a new computer or tech and deem it too confusing. It is. I feel like it's on purpose! To get fuckers to agree to all the "track you and your data and personal info" pop-ups, make it impossible to figure out how to opt out, make it easiest to agree and login and tie everything to something using you, make it hard for you to fix anything and hard for any feature to work so you buy new tech faster, so you waste more hours on their tech not knowing how to fix shit. I wanna steamroll Microsoft the entity I'm so godsamn tired.
#rant#feel free to ignore#positive: new speedy laptop with memory to run things#negatives: ALL my shit is backing up online automatically! i dont want that! i want my stuff saved local#and private. and then i can PERSONALLY decide if i want to back up anything when needed#also microsoft word is a piece of shit
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