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ichijager13 · 1 year

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Make it up for you

Summary: After a heated fight, Eren leaves your shared apartment. when he comes back he makes a hell of an apology.

A/N: I’m in love with an imaginary man and he’s making me raising my standards to unreasonable limits sometimes. This is selfindulgent and I’m crying because I know I’ll never have something like this with him. *Sniff sniff*

“Because I fucking told you not to do it”. he yelled punching the wall behind you. “I asked you not to interfere”. you jolted eyes widening and tears threatening to start streaming down your face. Realizing he scared you off, he quickly backs away. You remain there pressed against the wall in a state of stupor. Eren was normally a calm and put-together person. For you to see him like this was quite shocking. You try to get a hold of yourself, take a deep breath and calm down. You walk towards him reaching your hands to him but before you get close enough, he grabs his jacket and storms out of the house slamming the door behind him.

“Eren wait”. You press your trembling hands against your mouth as you fall to your knees crying.

Eren’s relationship with his father and older brother has always been complicated. You chose to stay out of it since the beginning. But that night when Carla called you on the verge of breaking down and told you about what happened during Eren’s last visit and asked for your help to get things fixed between the two siblings you couldn’t turn your back to her.

“Stay out of it”. he simply said wearing a stern look when you tempted to talk some sense into him. but you thought you were doing the right thing. You thought that by inviting Sieg for dinner, things would get better. You pick up your phone and type a text message but then delete it. if he wants some space to clear his thoughts then you’ll give it to him, even if it’s killing you.

With your sobs calmed, you open your laptop trying to finish your next week’s assignment but you are too distracted to focus on what you were reading. You clench your eyes shut trying to sort out your thoughts but when you remember how hard his eyes were and the violence of his actions your tears start falling all over again. You put down your computer, bring your legs against your chest and sit on your couch sobbing quietly.

You have never seen him this angry in the two years you lived together under the same roof. He has always been nice-tempered and easygoing. You were still in your place when you heard the door crack open. You hug yourself tighter making yourself smaller. Your heart starts pounding and your breath catches when you hear his footsteps approaching. You quickly hide your face not wanting to get a glimpse of his angry expression.

“Hey love, I’m sorry for…”. You crawl to the far side of the couch when you feel the dip in the couch next to you. Eren sighs before speaking again. “I screwed up earlier and I’m sorry”. Getting no reaction from you he added. “It’s not your fault, you thought you were doing the right thing”. He ran a nervous hand through his hair pushing back the strands that framed his forehead. “I shouldn’t have shouted and gotten angry at you”. he placed a hand on your knee. “I’m truly sorry for scaring you”. his voice was filled with genuine guilt. He tried to draw you closer but you nudge his hand the moment it brushed your body. You remain there still for a few minutes before he goes out to the balcony to smoke. You stand up and go to your bedroom, slip into your pajama and hide under the bedsheets. You can’t help but start crying when you hear him closing the balcony door and getting into the bedroom. He undresses silently before he takes place beside you. The smell of cigarettes tickles your nose so you bury your face in your pillow.

He can hear you sniffing and it pains him to know that it’s his fault. When your breathing seems to calm down a bit; he scoops you closer spooning you. You feel his muscled biceps tightening around your shaking body. “I apologize for earlier my love”. He breathes against your skin. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way”. He littered your neck with light pecks. “It won’t happen again, I promise”. His hand slipped under your tank top and started drawing mindless patterns. “Please love, forgive me for scaring you like that”. His lips were ghosting your ear shell as he continued to apologize and express his regrets. “I love you”. he whispered nibbling your lobe.

You slowly roll on your side so you could face him. “I’m sorry, I wanted to fix things between you two. I didn’t mean to upset you”. you are stumbling over your words breathing hastily. His calloused hands run up and down your back trying to comfort you.

“It’s alright, it’s not your fault”. He whispers brushing away your tears. “Please, I hate to see you cry”. He pleads before capturing your trembling lips. he continues kissing you until you stop crying. “I love you, my sweet angel”. his words feel like a warm shale wrapped around your soul. you cup his jaw and caress it gently.

“I love you”. you speak voice still quivering from how long you cried. Your lips connect again in a messy and needy make-out. One of your hands slides along his bare chest following the lines of his lean figure. He tilted your face to deepen the kiss before sucking on your lower lip causing a deep moan to escape from you.

“This is the first and the last time I do something like this”. He let out. his voice was husky and filled with urgent need. Bringing your gaze to his, you are met with dark and hungry eyes. Your eyes squeeze shut when he presses his center to yours and starts rolling his hips slowly. “I’ll never scar you like that again”. His hands were molding the fat of your thighs. He is breathing hard and you feel his heartbeat accelerating under your hand. “Let me make it up for you”. he mumbles as his finger hook on your waistband. “Can I?” he asks for your consent before he tugs at it dragging your shorts and underwear along your legs when a shaky yes drops from your lips. you let your head fall back as his fingers go up your legs and brush your inner thighs. “Keep looking at me”. he orders you while massaging your heated entrance. “Wanna see your face shift as I make you forget about earlier”. His middle and index trace the contour of your wet lips and clit before he inserts them inside of you. he groans as your warm gummy walls suck his long digits in. the wet sounds that result from his thrusts make him lose the last threat of sanity he had left in him. he continues stimulating your hungry core as his other hand strip you from your top. His eyes are fixed on your breasts as they bounce while you grind against his hand.

“Eren”. You whine when his mouth closes around your hard nipple.

He catches your hand before it reaches his throbbing shaft. “It’s about you tonight. I’ll take care of that later”. He brought back his mouth to your breasts. He continues massaging your clit with his thumb as his fingers pick up the pace. They go deeper, curling and brushing all your weak spots. Your back is arching underneath him and you are fisting the bedsheets trying to hold on to something. Feeling it’s not enough, you dig your nails into his strong back making him growl. When he feels you clenching around him, he looks up and watches your fucked up face as he makes you reach your peak. “Gorgeous”. He caresses your face flashing you a wide and satisfied grin. “So fucking gorgeous”. He rumbles going down leaving a trail of openmouthed kisses along your body. You gasp and buck your hips when you feel his breath between your legs. He looks up at you slowly dragging his tongue across his lips before he disappears between your burning thighs. He grabs them and parts them further giving him a full view of the mess he made with his digits. He darts his tongue licking your liquids and humming. “And tastes so sweet”. He grits as his wet muscle play with your folds. By the time he pulls away, you are a whimpering and overstimulated mess.

“Eren, enough”. You cried feeling him massaging your intimate part. “Can’t, mmhm, too much”. You slur drunk on what he has been doing to you for the past couple of hours.

“But I’m not done yet”. He pouted bringing his lips against your ear. “I haven’t fucked you yet, I need you to cum on my cock love”. his words made your brain go blank. No matter how many times you had him like this your body always reacts strongly to him. he could fuck you stupid every day and you’d still be a feverish panting mess before he’s even done with you.

“Then quit teasing”. You plead. “Please Eren, I’m tired”. Hearing the magic word, he slammed himself inside of you. you screamed in surprise and pain. With each thrust, he got you stuttering and chanting his name unable to form any intelligible words. He continues moving inside of you even after he cums because he just can’t get enough of the filthy noises you and your cunt are making. When he finally drags his sex out of you, you can barely lift your eyes and look at him when he calls your name.

“So fucked up you can’t even speak huh”. He teases before brushing his lips against your puffy and sensitive ones. “Are you still upset with me?” He asks as he covers your intertwined bodies with a blanket. You slowly shake your head nuzzling his neck. “Good, I can’t go to sleep knowing we’re on bad terms”. He whispers pecking your forehead. “Sleep tight, my angel”. He speaks softly feeling your regular breathing and your body still against his.

“Eren wait”. You press your trembling hands against your mouth as you fall to your knees crying.

“Eren”. You whine when his mouth closes around your hard nipple.

“Eren, enough”. You cried feeling him massaging your intimate part. “Can’t, mmhm, too much”. You slur drunk on what he has been doing to you for the past couple of hours.

“So fucked up you can’t even speak huh”. He teases before brushing his lips against your puffy and sensitive ones. “Are you still upset with me?” He asks as he covers your intertwined bodies with a blanket. You slowly shake your head nuzzling his neck. “Good, I can’t go to sleep knowing we’re on bad terms”. He whispers pecking your forehead. “Sleep tight, my angel��. He speaks softly feeling your regular breathing and your body still against his.

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absurdthirst · 1 year

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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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cherrysoulth · 1 year

Text

FINALLY ALONE

💕Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

✏️Genre/au: Complicated relationships, Yandere, Mafia AU

✏️Rating: PG 18+, explicit

📝Wordcount: 5511

⚠️Warnings: Explicit smut, cumplay (sort of), murder, death threats, obsession.

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Hii! Did you stumble across this work? Glad you're here 😊 Please, let me know your thoughts once you are finished. Feedback keeps me motivated to write 😁

This one-shot is inspired by a story that I'm writing, called: Sandman. There's another one, also inspired on Sandman, called: Staggering and Golden hour

I will post Sandman only for paid members once it's finished. (Memberships won't be available until I the story is completed)

Note that English is not my first language, so please if you find grammar mistakes, let me know. :)

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Jimin shifted over the grey satin sheets, under his velvety covers, as you scrolled through your phone and you looked at his beautiful features from your bed. The white moon in the sky sneaked inside the room through the translucent white curtains, illuminating his side, with its candour.

You could hear Seokjin at the other side of the hallway working on his computer while his father gave him some indications through the speaker mode of his smartphone. You made sure to not focus, on the dead silence that reigned in the house, but still got hints of quantities of packages entering the frontiers of South Korea through Busan, to test. Exactly what you didn't want to hear.

Suddenly, you heard a hanger fall on your closet and you instinctively reached for the gun under your pillow. It then came to your mind, that you had put that multilayer dress in a plastic hanger because you needed to purchase new ones. You rolled your eyes to the spoiling Seokjin was doing to you, soon you would not be able to fit a needle in your closet, if he continued. You let go of the weapon and laid back from your ready position. Jimin was unbothered in his slumber and once more, you thought it just made sense that you were his guardian.

You were asleep by the time Seokjin checked in the room and whispered a goodnight. Everything seemed fine although if he had detected the closet door cracked open, and went to check it, he would have discovered the intruder.

Taehyung waited for a bit after he heard Seokjin close the quarters' door to sneak out. The dress you had heard fall was left behind on its spot, to match the sound that was very likely heard from the outside. His knees silently landed at the side of your bed as he observed the same rays that previously enhanced Jimin's ethereal image, doing favours to yours.

He would have touched you if he didn't know that was certainly going to wake you up. Instead, he just stayed there in that same position, watching you sleep for the next two hours; until slumber started to make his lids feel too heavy to keep them open.

Just like that, he walked out of your room through the corridor, towards the other end. He opened another room and looked inside to another sleeping figure. His eyes displayed darkness, a silent death threat and his knuckles turned white over the clear wood structure. Making use of his skills he slid out of the house undetected, giving one last look to your window.

He lies in bed while tears stream down his temples. Just like they did as he knelt in front of your peaceful figure, your image engraved on his retina like a favourite movie. One that he will most likely never see again in broad daylight. Not while Seokjin breathed down his neck on every corner, on every shadow.

You are the one and only thing they seem to have in common. The same obsession, the same desire. Yet it is Seokjin who chases at his heels and not the other way around.

If he had only not scared you off in the tunnels that day. If he would have walked beside you past Seokjin as the eldest hid to smoke near the access, maybe you wouldn't have looked at him so much after. Maybe your heart wouldn't have been taken. Maybe you wouldn't have been yearning for the man's love to the point of accepting him when he had turned into someone undeserving of it.

Maybe you would have started reading together with Jimin. Maybe he wouldn't have followed Seokjin and then The Hitman. Maybe he wouldn't have helped burn the school down. Maybe you wouldn't have set the first match that turned the place into hell for the caretakers tied inside. Maybe you wouldn't have carried the burden of four deaths with you at the age of ten. Maybe, you wouldn't have accepted the training and wouldn't have thought that was what you were meant to do. Maybe, he wouldn't have been so eager for his father to let him join. Maybe you and him wouldn't have your hands so stained with blood.

If only he hadn't spooked you out.

Those maybes could be certainties, and now, you would be lying at his side in his lonely room, with a ring on your finger that would prevent Seokjin from ever getting so close to you.

The tears are followed by sobs. His wail can be heard from the outside of his room, where a guard sits on a bench against the wall and looks in his direction. Namjoon, the early bird of the house, also hears it and walks his way down the hallway to stand in front of the door.

His brother’s broken heart dwells in his and a single tear falls from his left eye as he stands there; knowing he is unable to console the pain Taehyung is suffering.

He doesn't knock since he will not accept a no, simply walking inside finding his brother curled hugging himself as the torment of his soul keeps on escapes through his vocal cords and the wells of his eyes.

"Have you gone to see her?" he asks calmly. Although a fury in him wants to slap his brother for risking his life, he is well aware that his brother is a prisoner of love and the recklessness that comes with it.

Taehyung's only response is to sit down with pained eyes and continue his mourning by putting his forehead against Namjoon's chest. His hands hold feeble against his brother’s firm shoulders, making the hurricane he once was feel now like a breeze from a butterfly's wings.

"Good evening, Taehyung." says a calm voice behind him as he reads the manga book in his hand. His eyes bulge and he takes a second to start turning around, slowly in his garden chair. He leaves the closed book on the glass table in front of him.

His brother stands next to Seokjin, the one whose voice it was impossible not to recognise. His gaze dances between Namjoon's apologetic eyes and the man who's kept him on the run for eleven months and now stands no more than six feet from him as if nothing had happened. The urge to look at you at his side, dressed in cream with transparent sleeves, it's almost unbearable but he lets himself take the full picture instead; discreetly getting your image translated to his brain. He can't dare to focus on you, not without knowing the conditions of this visit, not if it means he can lose you as a consequence. Not again.

"Darling, why don't we go to my gallery, I have new pieces I would love to show you." Namjoon says, distracting you.

You were indeed watching Taehyung, who has a new haircut and has finally taken the black as an option. He looks skinnier, that's what's kept your interest the few moments you have been allowed to observe and your heart blossoms with worry. You feel the need to nourish him, to take care of him, making sure he is ok. However, you know that's not a possibility right now, so you move at the second Namjoon speaks.

Taehyung involuntarily responds to the movement and watches you walk next to his brother towards the house. Then immediately jumps back at Seokjin, who looks at him with a smirk, inclining his head in your direction and asks, "She looks prettier by the day, doesn't she?"

Taehyung, knows its best not to answer and keeps quiet. "Smart." mutters Seokjin before advancing. "I was thinking I maybe exceeded myself with the consequences of your actions. At the end of the day, I did invite you to our bed and maybe wasn't clear enough with what was expected." he says as he takes one of the chairs and sits down, then motions for Taehyung to join him.

"I do not intend to share Amnon. Ever. Now, I think that much has been left clear." he says as if a death threat was no big deal and Taehyung can only nod with a very tense jaw. "What I need to know, and that is to let you walk free again, is if you can live up to that agreement?"

Taehyung doesn't respond immediately and that makes Seokjin raise a brow, "I'm not a subject of yours, I never was." he points out, acknowledging his status. "But as it is stated in the unspoken rules, no associate shall touch a partner's wife or girlfriend. I live up to those rules. Back in the day I just thought you consented to it."

Seokjin chuckles, "-hm, yeah. I guess you do." he says calmly but then gets closer to Taehyung's face. "However, I know you have always wanted her. I'm not blind." 'Neither are the cameras in my house, little tiger.' "That, I hope, for your sake, has dropped while you were in excommunicado status. Maybe running around has kept you occupied enough—For the last ten months."

Taehyung's jaw almost drops when he realises what the knowing look and the wrong month count means. He can only nod. Seokjin then smiles, although his eyes are the darkness that will keep Taehyung on his toes. Or so he thinks.

"Sweetheart?" says Jimin as he opens the door of his two story house and your tear stained face shows in front of him. You immediately hug him and he holds you pulling you inside the house. "Is he dead?" he says, voice cracking with emotion.

"I am." you pronounce, letting go of him, allowing your body to slide down his dark hardwood door. He squats in front of you.

"You have broken up with him…" he says and his voice sounds just as strained as it did before. "I don't want to feel." you mutter, letting your head fall backwards and your pain exit your body in hopeless sobs.

Next thing you know, he is dialling Jungkook asking for something to amuse you. He asks you to move the pity party to his comfortable living room.

As you follow him in, your eyes take in the precious view of his decor. Moulded walls with tonal murals in the upper part extend throughout the hallways. While in most rooms, although maintaining the aesthetic, there are no paintings. In fact, the whole house is mostly decorated in neoclassical style with soft blues, cream and golds with really luxurious details like chandeliers that make the whole place look like a palace. The seating is simple, against the more rigidly decorated furniture, but it's comfortable, and soft to the touch. Jimin has fake fur blankets draped all around the house and is also a fan of cushions. The whole place is a dream.

To add to it, and in contrast with the initial decoration, he has natural looking additions as if Mother nature was taking over his house; making the whole place look like it's out of a fairytale. The room you usually use, has a branch coming out of the wall, by the window seat, and purple crystal details hang from it. The rest of the room matches what is pictured in the whole house but each room is themed.

Yours has wallpaper inside the upper panel with bits of a foggy forest in a hundred-eighty degree view. You started calling it "The Witches Room" and everyone does now. The four post bed's linen is normally grey and purple matching the crystals, and that's exactly what you expect whenever night comes today.

You aren't sure what Jungkook has mixed in the whiskey he served you, but you are definitely high. All of you are.

You have taken residency over the carpet in front of Jimin’s glass-closed fireplace and the tears fall as you roll in laughter. Truth be told, you are much higher than them but yet again they have snorted a bit, so it's just an illusion of sobriety.

At some point, Jimin is on Jungkook’s lap and they are kissing. Their lips unite gently, soft skins moist with the liquidy nectar of their mouths and you can only watch it like you would a miracle. 'Bless this damn bisexual man.' you scream internally.

Growing with them hasn't made you insensitive to their beauty and you used to fantasise about kissing them as a teenager. Maybe even situations like this in which the kiss would escalate between the three of you. It was all fantasy, of course. At the end of the day, the only guy you wanted to turn that into reality with, was Seokjin.

The laugh turns into a sob and you roll to your side, silencing yourself to not disturb, looking at the flames.

"What can we do for you, sweetheart?" mutters Jungkook when Jimin parts from the kiss and looks at you. He also moves from over him and both crawl to your side.

"Don't let-" Jungkook’s phone interrupts you and Jimin scowls at him. "I have to answer, it's him." he mutters and you roll back from looking at them to your foetal position. Jimin starts rubbing your arm affectionately as you try to disconnect. "Boss.-I-Yeah." He stands and walks outside, down the hallway.

"He's going to tell him where I am. I have to leave." you say, standing with difficulty.

"Amnon-"

"I don't want to see him. I know what I want but he can sell glasses to a blind person. I fear I'll cave in this state." you explain, taking hold of your own weight against a chair.

"You can't drive like this, let my chauffeur drive you." says Jimin, looking at one of his guards in the hallway.

The man walks in and takes the order directly from Jimin's lips. You know they do listen to what you say but they simply have to act like they don't, out of respect.

"He asked if she was here." says Jungkook approaching Jimin as he waves goodbye from the porch, with a cardigan over his grey silk pyjamas. Jungkook does the same and sighs, but Jimin looks at him inquisitively. "You know how much of a bad idea it is to lie to him. Your brother does not listen to reason when it comes to her…" he replies as the car makes it to the main road off of the property.

"I know," he mutters. "I'm glad she decided to get out of the house before he comes… that relationship has to end. It's not good for anyone." Jimin says with a really low tone, turning on the coffee machine as they enter the kitchen, putting in a capsule for Jungkook, after showing it to him.

"One of them will end up dead if they keep it going, I'm sure of it." responds Jungkook and Jimin scowls at him. "They don't always think clearly being around each other… In this business-"

"I- I know. That is what I'm telling you. It has to end. " Jimin mutters, looking at the hallway to the guards, as if he was of a controversial opinion.

At the same time, you are driven to the city with no destination, like you have asked the driver.

The lights, the people walking the streets, it feels like you are watching a movie through the windows of the car. Your head rests against the cold tinted glass as you observe them, imagining their lives; the old woman with her son, buying the last presents for their visiting family members, maybe for their in-laws, since he seems to wear a ring. The couple with matching winter clothing, with their bags full of decorations sticking out, smiling to each other make you sink down in your seat and lean back against the headrest, letting silent tears fall and how this break up took place comes to mind.

You were decorating the house with Seokjin's assistant when it finally hit you. The feeling in your gut, that one stirring every now and then while being around Seokjin for the last couple of months finally making sense.

You walked down the ladder, placed to reach the top of the tree to put the star, and sat over the biggest present box, looking at nothing specifically. Had it been how he treated Taehyung that afternoon, when he came to bring presents to add to the tree or that you were simply over it all? His overprotective and controlling attitude, although not forceful, had finally gotten to you.

The simple thought of having to spend Christmas with him and his associates was making the floor move under your feet and you felt like you were going to faint. It had to be over. Finally, with the calmness of decorating it came to you. The anger, the sorrowful feeling of being distrusted and thought unwise to make certain decisions, was finally bigger than your love for him.

The whole argument after Taehyung had kissed your forehead and squeezed your arm the day before, was tiring beyond measure and you hadn't even fought back this time. You simply had fallen silent and stared at him blankly, and his discomforts fell silent too.

You had left the room without a word, with a prudential time for him to speak again and before he left to take care of business, you only so briefly said goodbye to him. He had looked at you and noticed the dying feelings inside of you, but he was in a rush, couldn't stay to hunt down the truth. Bad luck.

Just like that, you chugged down half a liquor bottle from the mini fridge between the seats and asked the driver to take you to Kim's Manor. Uncalled, without heads up, you were standing, slightly unsteady, in the main entrance without an escort, twenty minutes later.

The housekeeper almost lost it when he saw you, his eyes bulged and he quickly moved away to help you get on a pair of slippers. Namjoon's over the top courtesy. No wonder his lovers had dreamy eyes whenever they were around; Princess treatment can feel really good.

"I'll let the master know you are here," he said, with urgency.

"No need, I haven't come to see Namjoon," you told him, making him gasp.

There were only two masters in the house and it happened that being near you almost got one of them killed. Or at least, having to play hide and seek for a good while.

"Missis, I-" he tried to speak but you could sense the internal fight between his own feelings of protecting his beloved master and the proper treatment of a family friend.

"Do your duty but I'll show myself the way," you said as you walked in and up the right set of stairs, to Taehyung's bedroom.

He wasn't sleeping, if you were honest, you didn't expect him to be and you wouldn't have come if you did. It was early for him. He was in bed, playing a game on his phone, wearing full silk pyjamas with a robe and soft Christmas socks. You were right of course, he raised his eyes from his phone first as the door opened, then left his phone aside when he saw you enter. You locked the door. With no particular plan, just for privacy.

He sat criss-cross over the bed and you leaned on the door. "I have broken up with Seokjin. I was at Jimin's but he was coming over… I know I shouldn't be here," It all suddenly hits you, the consequences, how thoughtless you have been. It isn’t over, not until Seokjin said so, he was going to the house to mend things and you should have stayed to keep your ground. It wasn’t until you voiced it that you realised you had made the worst possible decision. Taehyung isn't just your childhood best friend but also Seokjin's nemesis, in his eyes. Your heart starts beating faster.

"It's okay," Taehyung objects, paralysing all your thoughts.

"No it's not," speaks the voice of reason from inside you, through your vocal cords. You turn to try to unlock the door and seek Namjoon, before a misunderstanding can reach a fatal ending.

You had forgotten how long Taehyung's legs are, until he has reached you and closed the inch-wide crack you have managed to open. "Don't leave now," he mutters. "Please," he begs, causing you to turn around in the few inches of space he has left for your body.

"Taehyung, I-" you can’t say more. His lips are on yours, soft and gentle yet the way he breathes through his nose and how he lets his head fall on your left shoulder right after speaks love letters of contained passion.

"I love you," he mutters, voice cracked and tears starting to dampen your clothed skin.

The breath gets caught in your throat, as if seeing your life pass before your eyes, every little moment of closeness you have had with Taehyung until that very moment that ruined everything, played backwards in your mind. Your heart jolted. Seokjin's fears were true. Your indulgence with Taehyung, the tenderness you felt for him, the need to care, the fact you allowed him in Seokjin's bed and were always advocating for him to be forgiven, all translated to one simple sentence, "I love you too." Not childlike love and not only friendship love, not even just that pure and genuine love of wanting the best for each other. Love that makes you grip his robe to keep his body close. You have always done that, never wanted him too far from you.

Always pulling the hugs a little bit longer, always wanting him to stay, always wanting him near. Always lingering on his beautiful features and lying to yourself with the thought that you wanted a good girl for him. Always looking away when he kissed someone else, on the pretext of giving him privacy, yet feeling a slight twinge in your chest and telling yourself it was normal. You didn't want your friend to be taken away from you. Unaware that because you never had been given reasons to be jealous with Seokjin or simply trusting him, that would have been the feeling it would awaken in his case too. Unaware that you didn't just enjoy the view of Adonis Seokjin fucking another man but that you also enjoyed the view of Taehyung being taken. That it was the view of both men thaw had you wet and touching yourself with passion, even to the memory of it.

You quickly pulled him against you. The strange dizziness and clairvoyance of the drug mix making you feel slightly out of your mind. "Fuck me, Taehyung, I fucking love you how could I be so blind?"

He kisses you and pulls you against his chest, "Don't blame yourself now," he mutters against your hairline.

"Fuck me," you whisper, feeling his back and then groping his buttocks. You move away to meet his eyes, palms against his abdomen, "I feel like I have missed a lifetime of having you inside of me," you say, landing an accepted kiss from an astonished Taehyung, hands running all over him.

"Slow down baby, you are drunk," he says gently, grabbing your wrists and pulling away.

"And high, but it doesn't make it less true." you say looking at him devilish and then biting your lower lip.

"Oh wow, then I'm definitely not doing this," he says, letting go of your wrists and getting as further away from you as possible, reaching for the intercom at his nightstand. "Wyatt, can you get a room ready for the lady please, she's unwell," you hear him say and he has to hang up at the moment he feels you kissing his manhood over the clothes. "Good lord," he groans to the ceiling, before doing the right thing and walking away again. "You have to stop," he urges, seeing you crawl in his direction and you act the brat by lying on your back with your arms crossed. Pout included.

"Tomorrow or past it, when you are sober and fresh, if you still feel like doing these exact same things, I'll surrender to your will. I will please you with any means necessary," he says, squatting next to you.

You can only succumb to the capricious nature of the alcohol and drug. There over the floor, with its fluffiness you grumble and lie on your side, "I have just embarrassed myself, haven't I?"

"Further from the truth," he says, "I'm happy if this is the true level of comfort you feel with me but I can’t be sure you're not uninhibited right now."

You wake up foreign to the bed you are in, panicking until you realise where you are. The room is modernly decorated and although it has a forest painted on the tall wall against the bed's headrest, it looks nothing like Jimin's house. This one has hardwood floors and ceilings, keeping the warm aesthetic all the private areas of the house have. The top to bottom windows let in the light and the view of the gardens, but they also have blinds. The ones you forgot to draw last night.

You turn on your other side with no use, because you are already too awake. The sound of the toilet being flushed startles you to look in that direction and Taehyung slides the door to the ensuite open a few seconds later, shirtless. "Sorry," his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Have I woken you?"

"No-no, the sun did," you mutter confused, unable to remember last night, nor even how you ended up sleeping here. You wear nothing but a jumper and your panties, and apprehension takes over. If you have slept with him, you would like to remember it. You feel tension at the pit of your stomach, an awful dread of having experienced him but being unable to recover the events or what you felt, what it felt like. Your eyes redden with unfallen tears and your cracked voice says aloud, "Have we-?"

"Oh nononono-" Taehyung waves his hands in front of his body, distracting you from the thought. "I had a bit of a time to make you understand you were too intoxicated, but I helped you get to sleep. Nothing more than that." It's in that last sentence that his tone betrays him. You have always known when he lies. It's as if you knew every chord of his melody and were able to spot a single tone moved in it.

"Taehyung-"

"I killed Seokjin." he says with a monotone, as if not accepting it has happened. Your eyes bulge and you feel your heart slow down, a tear falling from your left eye but unable to process the whole meaning of it; in a sudden void. You can’t find words to express anything because your mind goes blank, yet your mouth opens slightly as if you want to say something.

"It was an accident." he finally speaks again in what has felt like time stopping, making you gasp as you snap out of your stupor. "That's why we are here. That's why we are not in my room. There was blood on the rug. On the bed too. Yes, also on the floor." the way his voice stays to a monotone while he looks to a spot on the floor, as he speaks, tells you he is in shock. "The service was cleaning it a few hours ago. I just-" he then looks at you. "I didn't dare to enter." He then seems to realise, "That's not important. I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to kill him, he came at me with a gun, I had the shower on, he thought you were in it-That we had sex, then-then everything went so fast. I didn't even have time to think! I just reacted-Like we were trained-I didn't think! How could I not think!?" he frantically explains, starting to pull his hair forcefully in distress.

You rush out of the bed, making sure to move his hands away to restrain him from damaging his scalp. "Taehyung, stop." you whisper, taking him in your arms. "It was self-defence… you just knew how to save yourself better. But, you were just surviving, nothing else." you shush him, although you are only pushing away whatever comes with his revelation, numb to the feeling. Not truly calm. Not fit for advice.

Once again, lust answers at the nonsense and you kiss on his neck. "Amnon-" he whispers with a husk in his voice.

"Please…" you whisper against his skin.

He succumbs this time, grabbing your ass as you work with your mouth on his pulsepoint. He doesn't stop you, when your mouth slides down his torso and his breath falters beautifully at your advances. This time he doesn’t know what to do with his hands when you kiss him over his trousers. He was half hard already but the gesture, when you don't move your lips away, makes you feel him grow to his full mast.

His hands grip your shoulders, pulling up and you oblige to stand, eyes trailing your features and the lines of your body as you do. They stop at your core for a second and his head falls backwards as he grunts.

When he looks at you again his eyes are full of lust, "Are you sure about this?" he takes the caution not to mention Seokjin again, the one thing that can be an obstacle, for its obviousness.

You respond physically first, sitting on the bed and letting your upper body fall, the jumper exposing a bit of tummy with the stretched movement.

When he moves, he does slow but when his hands touch you everything seems to take a hurricanes pace. He kisses, he bites, your lips, your neck, your chest, your abdomen, your thighs, until you are a flooded pool of desire, vibrating with need for him. Although, it is when his mouth and tongue take possession of your nub that you feel like you are meant to be like this. When you cum, you feel like you are floating in the sky.

The nakedness of his member makes you surround him with your legs, and you can already tell he is just as eager to be inside of you as you want him. It slides strongly against your walls as you press your chest against his, hugging him with your whole body as he enters you.

There's no closeness enough now that he is with you like this. You feel like you want to fuse with him, get inside of his body, in a different way that he is in yours, feel his blood flow in your veins. The next need is so over the top, the way you visualise your bodies melting together that you wonder if the drugs are still playing part in the experience.

Breathing fast under his body with his abdomen against yours, you feel your ecstasy flow through your body like burning magma of joy. "Taehyuuung!" you scream as your hands reach to the bed to grab on the sheets underneath. He chuckles but doesn't stop moving, frenetic with sensations. Then he feels it rushing, almost unexpected and pulls out spilling over your belly as he keeps stroking with his hand. You giggle, out of your mind.

"Look at your pretty cum…" you mutter, touching the splurts that have reached your ribs, extending it. You do think what you said, it's white and has spilled in drops like painting, except for the accumulation in your belly button. "You had a lot in you, didn't you?" you ask, meeting his eyes.

He looks astonished but pleased with his lips parted. "I'm sorry." he says and rushes to the bathroom with large steps, coming out with wet wipes to clean you. So careful, so sweet, you close your eyes and let him do it, even when he cleans on your slit, where a first spill had left dripping remnants.

"You didn't need to apologise," you say as he throws the last wipe on the bin next to that side's nightstand. "I love you," You say, as he looks you in the eyes. "your seed too."

"I love you too…" he lets out a breath, walking to meet you on the bed, hugging you abruptly. "I would do anything for you. Anything…" he says in the same tone against your head.

You don't remember falling asleep but in your slumber, not wanting to wake up, you feel Taehyung's breath at the side of your face that doesn't touch the pillow you lie on. He is caressing your shoulder, sliding down through your arm and coming back, slowly, again and again. You almost smile and turn to hug him but you hear him whisper, "We are finally alone," in a way that makes your skin crawl.

Then you remember, Seokjin didn’t come armed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed this. Let me know your thoughts and reblog to let it spread 😊 See you soon! ~

Work beta read by @pars-ley and @abitjess 💜

#bts smut #bts au fic #bts angst #taehyung x reader #taehyung x oc #taehyung x you #taehyung au #taehyung angst #Taehyung mafia #Seokjin mafia #taehyung smut

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safety-pin-punk · 1 year

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Punk 101: Recording Music

To answer the question: ‘How do you record music off of a streaming service’ (for legal reasons I wont say which one I recorded off of)

Warning: it can get a bit complicated and is illegal

More Important Warning: at the end of this post there is a video with flashing lights

Also a point to make: you shouldnt do this especially for smaller bands. They make money off of streaming. They need money to survive. Support small bands

Step 1. Put the playlist together

This can be on Spotify, Tidal, Apple Music, etc. You just have to be able to access it on your phone or tablet (something that takes an aux cord)

Step 2. Turn the sound to Analog

This is accomplished by running it through an aux cord. If you have a newer iphone or simply a device that has no aux output, you need to get an adapter. But the music HAS to be transferred out of a digital format otherwise you wont be able to record through any encryption (Im not a computer person please dont ask me to explain streaming encryptions)

Step 3. Turn it back into digital

Heres the thing, you can’t really record analog (well not without a HUGE quality loss in sound). This is the part where I warned it can get complicated. I’m going to show the ‘advanced’ way. But you could probably also just find a way to plug the aux into a computer as an input too.

Personally, *if* I were to record music (which I totally dont do cause its illegal) I’d run my music through two different boards

The one on the left is an old as fuck board that has amazing sound, the one on the right is a Denon, which we currently use for DJ gigs. The aux is the input into the old one, which in turn is the input into the new one.

Side note: I’d only add the old board into the mix if I can’t get the aux input loud enough on the Denon to match any pre-recorded music. That’s important for a DJ. The old board would let me give it an extra boost.

Step 4. Sound match (kind of optional, but recommended)

If you want your music to be the same volume as all the other music you have, you have to sound match with a song you already have. I like this song:

You need to record about 20 second demos and compare them with the original song while messing around with the settings until it sounds good without damaging the equipment. As you can see it might take a few tries to get the sound to match. But once it does, you dont have to change the settings for any other song you record.

If you are using a board to record or boost your audio, these are lights that you want to pay attention to. You never want to ‘peak’ your boards. Its not good for them and will shorten their life span.

Step 4. Record

Newer boards often have recording functions (like the Denon). If you are on a computer, use whatever recording application you have available. Save each track. (Maybe listen to the first few to make sure you arent cutting off the very beginning or end of a song). Keep track of which song was recorded in what order if you cant name them right away.

Save the songs onto a usb or on your computer. From their you can rename the files

Step 5. Do with it as you please

Want to turn it into a cd?

Punk 101 Master List

My entire set up for recording: FLASH WARNING

#punk 101 #music #recording #flashing tw

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horsetailcurlers2 · 3 months

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YET ANOTHER long and obnoxious stream of my thoughts while watching grey’s anatomy for the first time (season 14 because i’m still hanging on by a thread)

-why did megan hunt have a fresh coat of mascara and some lip gloss on when she got flown in with her gaping abdominal wound LMAO

-teddy!!!!!

-i absolutely think they should tell megan about meredith and riggs and let her make an informed decision on whether she wants meredith to be her surgeon. this is greys anatomy, of course there’s gonna be a conflict of interest. they’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.

-somebody tell me when the show stops being worth watching. so far i’m hanging on bc i’m mildly interested in how jo and alex turn out, i want teddy and amelia to interact, and i’ve warmed up to arizona since she broke up with callie. obvi i love meredith i just don’t know how much more they can do with her before i just want her to take a warm bath and retire to somewhere far far away with her children.

-did amelia relapse offscreen???? wtf is going on???

-okay she has a tumor i guess. sure, okay, whatever. !!!!

-she put a gun in her !!!!!!!!! for a man???

-i don’t love the way they’ve introduced the new intern class. they set it up as if we already know them, whereas i feel like with every other class of interns we’ve gotten eased into it a bit more before we’re just tossed into this unfamiliar dynamic

-okay but wait i do like that in this ep w the roller coaster (and the people who are supposed to be baby cristina, george and izzie) they referenced the old intro. i think the writers knew they needed a little nostalgia to hook people back in at this point. jury is still out whether or not it’s working on me.

-maybe i’m stupid but why in the fuck would they have so many important things dependent on one networked computer system. why on earth would cardiac monitors be hackable?????

-idk about maggie/jackson…. seems too incest adjacent

-the casual gaslighting and manipulation with paul stadler is so well written

-“jackson avery, you are such a disappointment, i thought you were woke!!!”

-genuine question: do they just not do chemistry reads on this show when they cast romantic interests???

-*choked up*”right before she died, she told me i should be more slutty. and i just wish i could call her and tell her how slutty i’m being” i really do love maggie

-maybe i missed it but why does carina have an italian accent but andrew doesn’t?

-i like the development of jo and meredith’s relationship

-i think meredith and this firefighter woman should kiss on the mouth

-i like april better now that she’s kind of a mess

-OOH wait does helm have a little crush on meredith bc i’m kind of obsessed with that

-if there’s one thing greys usually kills it with its casting younger versions of characters for flashbacks

-i miss joe the bartender :(

-oh my god he gives them fake cancer so he can charge them for fake chemo?????? what the fuck

-too much of an emphasis on these lesbian cookies…. suspicious

-okay yeah that makes sense. i love this

-nurse olivia!!

-olivia of course has a right to still be upset but it’s a little weird to assume alex didn’t change at all in the past ten years. not to mention it’s weird to act morally superior about it now when she cheated on george with alex

-“if you wanna rebuild you have to tear it down first” bingo

-did i miss amelia getting her own place or is she taking this girl to meredith’s house??

-okay i guess she’s just moved in with owen again. i need to pay better attention lol but so much keeps happening and it’s a lot of mush to sift through

-“meredith grey is straight” “ever hear her talk about cristina yang?” LMAO

-PREGNANT?

#if you are ever curious why i have enough time on my hands to move through the seasons so fast #don’t worry about it. next question #greys anatomy #these are all tagged under #greys reactions #meredith grey #teddy altman #jo wilson #amelia shepherd #maggie pierce

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 2 years

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if u dont mind asking, how do you identify streaming websites to use? there's this one show where a few episodes r practically unfindable to me. how do u find what you once thought was nearly unfindable? (like the josh series haha)

Funny you should ask that right now, as I have just tried stepping away from that and fucking hell I hate it. Listening to Mark Watson on a podcast recently made me decide I want to hear his radio stuff, and I downloaded his Address to the Nation and Mark Watson Talks a Bit About Life shows easily, but while looking for the first of those, Mark Watson Makes the World Substantially Better, I saw it was available as an audiobook on Audible. And figured I do try to pay for things when paying for them directly is an option, so I should do that here. So I bought it on Audible on my laptop, download it there, but I want to hear it from my phone. Sign in on my phone, find that my account on my phone doesn't have it. Sign out and sign back in using the same email address and password that I used when I bought the thing on my computer, it still gives me different library that doesn't have it. Try to manually take the file on my computer, transfer it to my phone with a cable, and open it with the Audible app. Doesn't work. Look up options for turning the aax file into an mp3 so I could play it with my normal music player, and they're all either more expensive than just buying the book again from my phone, or they're incredibly complicated. Everything I try just leads to something telling me to sign up for an Audible membership for a bunch of money per week or linking me back to Amazon. Every moment of it is not just frustrating but also depressing, looking at how Amazon is connected to everything and our world is nothing but pushing people into signing up for regularly payments to big corporations to get media curated by those corporations, making me have trouble remembering why I thought paying money to Amazon was the more ethical option and this is dealing me more psychic damage the more I try to figure it out. Jesus Christ I hate it.

Okay. Anyway. Sorry about that, I realize you were not looking for that rant with your question; your message just happened to come in after I'd spent 90 minutes losing my mind over this to no avail and remembering why I just download things directly. Finding things that are hard to find is often just a matter of persistence, having a list of streaming sites and going through them. You can find a lot of others by just searching the first name. Like if one version of [streaming site] doesn't have it, search the name of the site and you'll get a page full of results with slightly different versions of it, that all have slightly different collections. Options tend to get sketchier as you go down the page. That's mainly the strategy I use - I start from a few main sites, and if it's not there I start looking for their other versions.

I'll avoid mentioning the sites by name, but this is a really good place to start if anyone doesn't know how to find them. There's lots of useful stuff in that link, and from all of those options you can find similar ones. You can also Google "alternatives to [site]" and you'll get long lists and can try all the options on those lists. That's how I finally found the show Josh - it was about the 15th version of one site that had it.

As a general rule, adblockers are pretty much mandatory for this sort of thing, and a VPN is a generally good idea for added security. Some of the sites can be sketchy, but none are as soul-destroying as trying to navigate a system in which Amazon will not let you have access to a file you've paid for, and even if I do figure it out I'll only have the file in a special format that can only be played in their special app that's full of ads pushing a monthly membership on me, and I hate the state of the world. I just want to listen to Mark Watson and his friends say nice things in 2008.

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just-otter-thoughts · 2 years

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I need to vent about this real quick because it's so silly but is giving me an identity crisis.

My entire harsh belief of vinyl as inherently better than digital is absolute bullshit. I listen to music with the express intent to experience exactly what the artist wanted me to. That's why I moved from shitty Spotify AAC streaming to FLAC. The difference is night and day, and I can very easily tell if the bitrate of an MP3 or AAC is any lower than 256kbps because my ears are accustomed to FLAC, especially in songs I'm really familiar with.

It's a factual statement that any lossless audio codec is going to sound better than a lossy compressed MP3 or AAC or OGG or *shivers* WMA. That is not the case when comparing vinyl to CD, however. Long story short, I was on Instagram and on a comment section, someone was complaining about the "shitty resurgence in vinyl." I promptly responded that it's not shitty at all, and that a hard engraving of the signal is simply superior than any digital media we have nowadays.

I was wrong as fuck. Someone started telling me that vinyl isn't perfect like I thought it was — and it's my fault that I don't know, really, because I just took "hard-engraving of audio signal" as a synonym of "you don't have your experience skewed" so I thought vinyl was perfect — and that there's so much that can happen to it, things that simply do not happen to CDs.

And I'll tell y'all... I wanted this person to be wrong so bad. But they weren't. I Googled it and went past page 2. I searched it up on Reddit. I read audiophile articles. On vinyl, the bass is more inaccurate, you have wow and flutter, signal to noise ratio, all these things that just don't happen on CD. (And I'm talking specifically CD here, again, streaming audio quality is shit forever! Even if you have lossless streaming, that's gonna depend on your internet quality and a ton of other factors like what device you're listening from. Unless someone wants to prove me wrong about this too, which, hey, after today you're welcome to). My only argument against the Instagram stranger was audio signal aliasing which is inherent of 16-bit 44.1kHz signal, but even that is masked by the audio equipment, and audio anti-aliasing is much much simpler than video and it's also necessary to drive speakers anyway.

And I felt so lost because I have this dream of collecting vinyl. It's so freaking expensive too, and I literally always daydream of taking it out of the sleeve, out of the inner sleeve, dusting it a bit, setting it on the mat and putting the needle down, then experiencing exactly what's in the master, no bullshit whatsoever. And to discover that right now I'm having more hinderance-free fidelity with my FLAC audio files and my kind of studio-grade audio interface and headphones hurt my feelings so bad. That's not to say I'll stop wanting to collect vinyls — I already have the equipment anyways — but damn it if it didn't kill my dream.

It's an option, as well, to collect both. Hell, I'm a lover of physical media and that one you can't argue me out of thinking it's inherently better than intangible files. So writing this made me feel better (a bit, because purchasing two audio formats means more money spent) because I've updated my inspirations. I want both. The problem, really, is just distortions and problems added by vinyl but that can be preferrable.

My dream is really to have an entire room dedicated solely to physical media. Shelves upon shelves upon shelves of vinyls, tapes, DVDs, Blu-Rays, Books, and now the most recent addition: CDs. I already have two albums on vinyl (which I haven't listened to entirely, mostly due to the fact my turntable has been on repair for like a month due to payment complications (I'm underage and my parents are poor)) and I wanna get them on CD now. Hell, give me a live album on DVD or Blu-Ray, I want it all. I wanna hoard media. In fact, right now, in my computer, I have a folder called Data Hoarder. It's where I keep movies, TV shows, tons and tons of music, books and so many game installers and physical media rips. I have a version of Half-Life, one of my favorite videogames, that was released on a CD-ROM in 1998! A digital rip of it, of course.

The folder is currently 388.6Gb, out of which 158.4Gb is games, 20Gb is movies, 102.9Gb is TV Shows, 27.6Gb is Anime, 26.2Gb is music, 42.6Gb is ROM dumps of old games, 106Gb is just PS2 games, and the rest are miscellaneous files. I'd rather it all to be physical but hey, ya can't win 'em all.

#long post #vinyl #cd #physical media #media preservation #lex speaks his mind

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systemrestart · 2 years

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Putting some feelers out....

There is a visual novel called Aoi Shiro. it’s a yuri visual novel about a kendo club that goes on a school trip to a temple by the sea, and, while there, various mysteries surrounding the temple, an island off shore, and the characters emerge. The characters are put in danger as they try to unravel why the main character feels she remembers this place, why a girl has washed up on the shore, and why a storm has come to tear the island and the temple apart.

A lot of lesbian/wlw/sapphic narratives, especially from visual novels, tend to stick to certain genres....... mostly slice-of-life. Aoi Shiro delves into action, fantasy, and mystery which I think is super refreshing.

Sadly, the initial translators who released the patched english version have vanished from the internet, and all their links and original files are down, plus it’s hard to set up even with the original files. You can find some downloads on backend sites of course, but I can’t speak to their safety or if they work.

BUT! I still have the original files, saved from my old computer as a teenager, and I have the game working. Would anyone be interested in watching me stream it? ie, reading through Aoi Shiro together with me? It’s been a long, long time since I played it, so a lot of it will be fresh for me, and I want to share the experience of re-reading it with people. I won’t give anything away, only talking enough to contribute to discussion.

Reading visual novels alone is fun, but I think there’s something special to having a group of people experience a visual novel together, and discussing it as we go along. If you’re at all interested in visual novels with complicated, interwoven storylines, japanese fantasy and folklore, and a yuri story that has action and mystery and a little bit of adventure, let me know if you would possibly want to watch me play through it....!

EDIT: well lol nevermind, A REMASTER AND OFFICIAL ENGLISH RELEASE IS INCOMING!!!!!

#aoi shiro #aoishiro #visual novel #yuri #wlw #i know this is a niche game so if no one is interested i totally get it #but i watched VN ''lets plays'' as a kid and teen and honestly it was fun hearing their thoughts as they read #and if it was ongoing even discussing with them in the comments #so i think this could be fun! and i want to share Aoi Shiro with people #what do you think?

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helenaheissner · 4 days

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Love During Robot Fighting Time: Chapter 23

Faith

12 Months Earlier

“Mom, Dad, I’m trans,” I said, staring at them through my computer screen, clad in my new light blue dress, a feeble attempt at makeup adorning my face, my disgustingly low voice cracking with anxiety.

They were both wearing their dress uniforms, Dad’s silver-white hair short-cropped and managerial, Mom’s darker locks bound in a tight regulation bun. They both sat on the white sofa I’d used to watch cartoons on, in the living room where I used to do my homework on the mahogany coffee table, framed photos of myself and DJ hanging from the white walls behind them. He was the picture of an all-american boy, grown into the kind of son any parent would be proud of.

And then there was me.

Mom’s jaw hung open, while Dad’s frown betrayed his usual stoic neutrality.

“Please say something,” I said, fearing a repeat of Olivia the other night. I hadn’t wanted to do this so soon, but they started calling me on FaceTime, and after a few minutes sitting there with my hands trembling, bunching up the hem of my dress, I called them back on my computer.

And there they sat.

“You’re trans,” Dad said, finally, slowly, chewing on each word like he was trying to avoid swallowing the truth.

“I am,” I said, still bunching up my dress in my hands. I could hear my heart echoing inside my chest, sweat pooling on my brow, everything so damn loud.

“How long… How long have you known this?” Mom asked, her voice struggling to decide on a tone.

“A really long time,” I said. “A little less than ten years.”

“Ten years?!” Dad said. “And you’re just telling us this now?”

“I… I… Yeah,” I said. “I was scared.”

“Well you should be, this is gonna make your life a lot harder,” Dad said.

I blinked. “I know.”

“Do you? Have you really considered this from every angle? About what the costs will be?” Dad said. “You’re now a double-minority. You realize that, right?”

“I-”

“Take this from someone who’s a minority in a major institution- it makes things harder. You’re held to a higher standard, and if you don’t meet that standard, they come down on you vastly harder than they would otherwise. And there aren’t that many women in STEM, let alone trans women in STEM-”

“Dear,” Mom said, putting a hand on Dad’s shoulder.

“What- it’s true,” Dad said. “I’m just giving our daughter the warning she’ll need to-”

“Daughter?” I said, leaning forward, my vicious pulse slowing ever so slightly. “So you’re… You’re not mad?”

“What? Of course I’m not mad,” Dad said. “You’re my kid. I don’t really understand all this trans stuff, but you’re still my kid.”

I choked back tears. “A-a-and you, Mom?”

Mom exhaled slowly. “If… If this is what you really want, I won’t get in your way. I don’t really understand these things either, but… I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you still love me?” I whispered.

“Of course I still love you,” Mom said, tears streaming down her face.

“Ca-can you please call me Faith, then?”

“Faith?” Mom said, struggling to smile. “Faith. Okay. My daughter, Faith.”

“Our daughter, Faith,” Dad said, squeezing Mom’s hand.

I wept openly, not caring about the mess I was making of my mascara. “Thank you. I love you both. Thank you.”

Mom wrung her hands together and said, “Your father… He’s right, though. This is going to make your life a lot harder and a lot more complicated. Are you prepared for the level of scrutiny you’re going to start being subjected to?”

“I… I don’t know yet,” I said. “But I don’t think I really have a choice. This is who I am. And I want to show her the world.”

“Okay,” Mom said. “Then we’ll support you.”

“Absolutely, we will,” Dad said. “Life is gonna be tough, but we’ll help in any way we can.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I’m sure I’m gonna need it.”

After a bit longer, mostly the folks asking me to tell them the whole story of how I realized it all, how I kept it all inside, how I’d promised myself I’d come out when I was a champion. They said they would help me find a clinic in LA that would take our insurance, Mom said she had a few outfits and accessories she would send me, and Dad said he would get a hold of DJ and tell him for me.

And when it was over, they were gone. And I still had to face the world.

I wasn’t sure I was ready. But there wasn’t really much of a choice.

A day later, my Dad emailed me some paperwork to help me file my name change, as well as a list of common reasons people’s petitions got rejected. A day after that, I filed it.

A week later, I started sending out job applications under my new name. It only took another day before I started getting rejections left and right. They all used the same neutral, nondescript language, saying they’d ‘found other candidates more suited to their needs.’ I looked up from my laptop after opening five of those emails at once, over to the college diploma on the wall, the one I’d crossed out the deadname from and wrote ‘Faith’ over with a sharpie, as well as the Valedictorian sash hanging on a hook next to it. I sighed deeply, trying not to torture myself with pointless questions like ‘what could they possibly mean by that?’

A week after that, I found out my petition had been rejected, meaning I had to start the whole process over. It turned out I’d forgotten to initial something, so I refiled, only to get another rejection. After a dozen calls to City Hall, I found out I was missing a form. So I filed again, ate through the fee again, only to get the hearing scheduled for six months later because that was all they had available, if only I’d filed sooner they’d have been able to book me for next week. Oh, the tragedy.

A month later, I saw a doctor and they prescribed me Estradiol and Spironolactone. A month after that, I finally got a job. Waiting tables. I needed something, and it was the only gig I could find that wanted someone like me.

I got fired in less than a month. Some little kid kept screaming ‘why’s that boy wearing lipstick? Why’s that boy pretending to be a girl?’ I’d finally had enough and screamed ‘shut the fuck up.’ Very loudly.

That was how I found out restaurants don’t offer severance pay.

I’d gone home that night and collapsed sobbing on the couch, woke up having a panic attack. Zeke rushed in and held me tight, helped me through it.

I got another job, this one for an engineering firm. As a secretary. I hadn’t even applied for it, they just called me for an interview and told me they wanted to hire me as a secretary when I got there, right as I was about to show them a portfolio of all the projects I’d worked on.

I swallowed my pride and did what I had to do to keep the lights on.

I’d been working on my voice over the months, and I sounded better, so there wasn’t too much misgendering happening when I answered the phone. Usually, anyway.

I couldn’t stop thinking about what Dad said, about how this was going to make things harder. I hated it when he was right. And I hated it even more than I hadn’t been honest with him and Mom: I wasn’t ready. I’d already known that.

I wasn’t ready. And I wasn’t sure I ever would be.

***

Present Day

I woke up in Zeke’s arms, heart beating so fast it made my chest vibrate, the cold, locked-in feeling of a panic attack oversaturating my conscious mind. Like I was still there on that day I’d blown up at a kid; like I was still sitting in my apartment reading the tenth rejection email, bundling up under my blankets and wanting never to leave my room again; like I was still sitting in front of my laptop waiting for my parents to pick up the Facetime call; like I was still sitting there while they processed the sight of me en femme, too shocked to say anything and forcing me to go first.

Like I was still in the seconds before I’d come out to Zeke and Olivia.

Like I was still biting Kate Calloway’s head off when she was just trying to be nice and congratulate me on my win.

I didn’t feel like a winner. I don’t even remember the last time I did.

Zeke’s eyes flickered open, green and gentle, at first brimming with joy and recognition as he looked at me, only for it to shift to concern within a second of the wakefulness. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I whispered.

“You okay?”

I shook my head.

“Bad dreams?”

“Mixed with very real memories, yeah,” I said.

He ran a hand through my hair, cupped my cheek, and kissed my forehead. “It’s okay. I’m here. And you’re here. Now. In this moment, with me.”

I gulped, and I nodded, and buried my face in his bare chest, his musk helping me wake up and ground me in reality.

And it was a pretty great reality- I had a boyfriend I adored and a girlfriend I adored just as much, I was a champion, and if I won another fight, I’d have an opportunity to defend my crown. I lived in the greatest city in the world, and I did what I loved for money.

But I hadn’t seen my parents in years, my brother in twice as many years, and my attempts to find work in the off season had proven largely fruitless. And I… I was getting better, but there was still a part of me that I really didn’t like. A version of myself who was stubborn and cowardly and more than a little stupid.

I didn’t just want to do better. I wanted to BE BETTER.

“Zeke, am I a good person?” I asked, pulling my face free of his chest.

“Yeah, of course you are,” he said.

Didn’t even hesitate. But then again, he wouldn’t. He’d only ever seen me through rose-colored glasses. What would happen as we went further in this relationship, and he saw more of me, the parts I didn’t like? Would he still feel the same way?

Would Kate still feel the same way?

“Thanks,” I said weakly.

“You don’t seem convinced,” Zeke said.

“I… Yeah, I dunno. Maybe that’s one of those things you can’t really hear from other people. You have to come to the realization on your own, or it doesn’t take?”

“Isn’t that what you said about being trans? You know, the whole ‘Prime DirEggtive’ thing?”

“Heh. Yeah. I guess it is kinda like that,” I said. I kissed him on the cheek, then sat up. “C’mon, that’s enough ruminating for one morning. I believe that it’s your turn to make breakfast, up and at ‘em, big guy.”

I swung my legs off the mattress and climbed out of bed.

“Yes ma’am,” he chuckled. “Happy to be of service.” Then he reached over and smacked me on the ass.

“Eeep!” I squealed. “What was that?”

“Think of it as a tip. For the service.”

“Hm, I see,” I said, mincing across the room, showing off my bare legs, only a barely-buttoned pajama top covering my chest. “Well, I require a tip of my own.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“Because I’ll be cleaning while you cook,” I said.

“You raise a good point,” he said, sitting up, brushing his dark curls out of his eyes. “And what tip may I provide you with?”

“Cook naked,” I smirked.

“I think I can arrange that,” he smiled, before pulling the covers off of his body and climbing out of his bed. “I’m already dressed for the part.”

“Indeed you are,” I said, drinking in the sight, calming myself down by satisfying my thirst.

Zeke ambled into the kitchen while I traded in my pajama top for a sports bra, a baggy t-shirt, a pair of basketball shorts, and a Pride-colored LA Dodgers cap. I tied my hair into a ponytail and set to work scrubbing the toilet and sink and shower while Zeke put some Lupe Fiasco on our speakers and started frying sausage and potatoes together on the skillet.

All was going well, the exercise-induced endorphins and gender euphoria I got off of cleaning helping to clear my head. And then our doorbell sang out.

“Babe, what time is Kate coming over today?” I said, stepping out of the bathroom and wiping my face off with a damp wad of paper towels.

“Not until she gets off work. Which should be, uh… Ten minutes ago, actually.”

“Cool!” I said, “shame she has to see me all sweaty-”

“So take a shower, I don’t think she’ll mind,” Zeke laughed.

“Pfft, good point,” I said. “Though the blushing virgin’s mind might get blown by all that.”

“Heh. Blown,” Zeke chuckled.

My heart sang. I reached for the doorknob and turned it…

And the other side was my older brother and parents.

“Surprise!” Mom and Dad said at the same time while DJ’s eyes bulged as he looked over my head, at, presumably, Zeke’s bare ass.

“What the hell,” my brother said.

That was when Mom and Dad both blinked and registered my naked boyfriend in the kitchen.

Zeke turned around and yelped, “Oh God!” He ran off into the bedroom shortly thereafter.

“What the hell indeed,” Dad said.

“I can explain,” I said weakly, anxiety and shame slamming into me once more, a tidal wave of dread and mortification that swept me up and threatened to drown me.

A few moments of silence went by. It really didn’t help that Dad and DJ were both in their dress uniforms, while Mom was wearing a skirt suit that made her look like some sort of rich businesswoman. She was wearing diamond earrings- I didn’t even know she owned diamond earrings. “Well?” Mom said.

I sighed heavily. “Please come in.”

Why. Does. This. Keep. HAPPENING. TO. ME?!!!

They followed me inside, at which point Zeke came back out in a pair of jeans and a button down shirt he’d neglected to tuck in. “Colonel Watanabe. Mrs. Watanabe. Nice to see you. And, uh… Is it Major Watanabe?” DJ nodded, clearly unimpressed.

“Nice to finally meet you. Faith told me so much about you-”

“I doubt that. She and I have never been exceptionally close,” DJ said. Well, some things don’t change, and my brother’s brutal absence of tact was apparently one of them.

“You, um… You surprised me,” I said, scratching the back of my head. “I was, uh, cleaning.”

“And I was making breakfast,” Zeke said.

“Do you often do that while naked?” Dad asked.

“No,” Zeke said awkwardly.

“No, what?”

“... No, sir?”

“Better,” Dad said.

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH- “Okay, look- let’s just deal with the proverbial elephant in the room. Zeke and I are together now. Okay? I know this is probably a surprise to you-”

“Not really,” DJ said.

“It’s not?” Mom said. “I thought you were gay, Faith.”

“I did too,” Dad said.

“All I know is that you’ve lived with the same guy for years and according to Dad he’s all you talk about,” DJ shrugged.

“How long has this been going on?” Mom asked.

“About a week,” Zeke said, then hastily added, “Ma’am.”

“You don’t have to call me that, Zeke,” Mom said with a gentle smile. “I’m a civilian. You can just call me Mrs. Watanabe.”

“You still have to call me sir,” Dad said.

“Same with me,” DJ added.

“Right. Sirs,” Zeke said. “So, uh, what brings you to the City of Angels?”

“We knew Faith’s final match of the regular season was tonight, so we decided to surprise our daughter who we hadn’t seen in a while. If you make it to the playoffs, we’ll probably stick around a bit longer,” Dad said.

“I’m on leave for a few weeks so I figured I’d come too,” DJ shrugged. He looked like he was struggling to hold back a tidal wave of raucous laughter at the sheer uncomfortableness of the situation. “Aren’t you going to offer me something to eat or drink, Mr. Underhill? Where’s your sense of decorum?”

I swear I heard Zeke groan under his breath. If I hadn’t been all sweat and gross, I’d have sat down next to him and squeezed his hand. Instead, I simply said, “What would you guys like? Zeke already made some hash, and there’s coffee in the percolator-”

“I asked your young man, Faith,” DJ said.

Zeke stood up. “Coffee? Water? Something to eat? I, uh, know how to make mimosas because I used to have to make them for my mom growing up, but I think I got rid of all the booze already-”

“Coffee is fine,” Mom said, putting a hand on Dad’s knee. And just like that, I saw my father relax by a very small margin. He was still staring at Zeke with an uncomfortable intensity, but he looked at least one percent less homicidal.

Zeke rushed upwards and began assembling a makeshift collection of coffees. I, meanwhile, stood still as a statue while holding my breath. Oh God, they were disappointed, they were freaked out, they hated this, I was letting them down again by boning my roommate and not telling them until I was literally forced to! Goddammit shit- okay, no, breathe. Breathe. You can salvage this. You just have to put all your cards on the table right this second and if you are LUCKY they won’t think you’re a lying liar who lies to her own family and Dad will stop looking at Zeke like he wants to sic a black ops team on him.

I breathed a very deep breath and said, “Okay, um… There’s one other thing you should probably know about.”

“Oh yeah?” DJ smirked. “And what’s that?”

“You see-”

The door shot open with a quick push, and my beautiful goober of a girlfriend of course came rushing through, looking like twenty million dollars in a red house dress with white stripes and a ring pearls around her neck. “Hey, cuties! Don’t worry about putting clothes on, I don’t mind this… Time…”

Kate blinked rapidly as my family met her gaze. Zeke, carrying four coffees on a tray, sighed and groaned simultaneously. “Um… Hello.”

“Hi,” DJ said. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m-”

I buried my face in my hands, parted the fingers and mumbled, “I can explain.”

***

“A polycule?” Dad said.

“A polycule?” DJ laughed.

“I’ve never even heard the term before,” Mom said. “We used to just call them swingers. So… You and this Kate girl, you’re sharing Zeke?”

“No, no it’s more like we’re all dating each other,” I said.

Zeke and Kate had gone out to get doughnuts for everyone, at my request. This conversation was going to be a lot easier for me alone. The family had given me a few minutes to wash my face and put on people-clothes, and they sat down on the living room couch while I stood in front of them and explained my deviancy to my star-spangled parents and brother.

“That’s… Very unusual,” DJ said.

“Yes, it is,” Dad said.

“That Kate girl… She looks awfully familiar,” Mom said.

“That’s… Probably because you’ve seen her on tv. She used to go by Keith. Keith Calloway.”

“From the tournament?” Mom said. “Don’t you two hate each other?”

“We did,” I gulped. “Then I came out. Then she came out. Then we started getting to know each other and… Things escalated.”

“I’d certainly say so,” DJ snickered.

“Don’t start with me,” I snapped.

“Hey now-”

“No, seriously,” I said. “I can take this from Mom and Dad, but as you yourself said, we’ve never been that close, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t judge me on my lifestyle.”

He held up his palms flat. “Fair enough. Sorry to judge.”

“Faith,” Mom said. “We’re just a little taken aback by all this. You’ve always been… A bit different from other people-”

Oh God, here it comes.

“-A bit on the strange side, to be sure-”

There it is.

“-But we never expected you to do something so… Unorthodox. Even after you… You…”

There it fucking is. Guilt lanced my chest, sharp prongs tearing through my resolve. Screw it, time to be direct about this. “Are you disappointed in me?”

Mom blinked, and her jaw dropped. “I… I…”

Don’t know how to answer that question. Duly noted.

“We’re disappointed you didn’t tell us,” Dad said. “It’s like how you knew you were trans for years but didn’t tell us-”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” I protested. “It wasn’t personal.”

“Is this?” Dad asked. “Was you not telling us about this personal?”

Then it was my turn to blink.

“Just be honest with us, Faith,” Dad said. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted from you. Honesty. Please.”

“... Yes,” I said, surprising myself. “It was personal. I was scared of how you two specifically would react, so I was putting off telling you.”

“When were you going to tell us, then?”

“... Probably after I won another championship,” I said, running my bare feet across the floor in a horizontal line.

All three of them looked at me in a way that made me feel even more ashamed than I already was. I tried to think- what would Kate or Zeke do in this situation?

Kate would stand her ground. Zeke would be honest. They’d both try to do the right thing.

“Look, guys,” I said, “I know I should have told you about this. About a lot of things. But this is ultimately my life, and I can live it how I want. With who I want. And I’m financially independent-”

Dad said, “That’s not entirely accurate, Faith. We’ve had to float you money on numerous occasions in the past year.”

“... Okay, fair enough. But I’m working on it. You know I am. And I really think if you got to know Kate and Zeke you might see what I see in them. They make me really happy- isn’t that good enough for you?”

“... Of course it is,” Dad sighed. “It just… I worry about you, out here, doing what you do, being… Who you are.”

“And I know that, and I appreciate that,” I said, stepping forward and putting a hand on Dad’s shoulder. He flinched- I don’t think I’d ever done something like that before. “But I’d also really appreciate it if you would trust me. Trust that you raised me to look after myself.”

Dad sighed lightly. “Okay.”

“Okay?” I said, smiling hopefully.

“Okay,” Dad repeated while Mom nodded.

I looked at DJ, who said, “I mean I don’t really think I get a say, I was mostly just messing you.”

I squinted. “Seriously?”

“It’s my God-given right as your big brother,” he smiled.

I flicked his forehead. “Jerk.”

Then I extended my arms and pulled all three of them into a group hug. I felt them all go rigid with shock- I’d never been the huggy type growing up. Honestly, we’d never been a very huggy family, all things considered. But… Things had changed. I had changed. For the better. And I had Katie and Zeke to thank for that.

***

My heart nearly stopped beating while Mom and Dad looked over Dai Gurren. Somehow, this was more nerve-wracking than them walking in on my boyfriend making hash browns while naked. The three of us stood in front of the bot, inside the garage while Kate and Zeke clung to the back desperately trying to avoid getting caught up in my parents’ wake.

“Hmmm,” Dad said. “Interesting design choices.”

“Interesting how?” I asked, barely able to squeak out the words. Please don’t say you hate it, please don’t say you hate it, please don’t say you-

“I don’t hate it,” Dad said. “But I don’t love it, either.”

FUCK.

“It’s certainly ambitious,” Mom said, walking around it and examining it from all sides. “Show me the picture of the robot you’re fighting tonight?”

I pulled up a photo of Jolly Roger from google images and handed the phone to my mom. “Hmm,” she said. “Okay, I think I see what you’re going for. Though I’m worried about balance- you have a lot of weight on the front and I’m afraid you might wind up falling on your face, so to speak. Who’s idea was it to use this many drills?”

“Uh, it was my idea, ma’am,” Kate shouted from the back of the garage, tentatively raising her hand. “Zeke also contributed to the concept.”

Please lower your hand, Kate, I thought.

“Please lower your hand, Kate,” Zeke muttered. Heh.

Kate lowered her hand.

“I see,” Mom said. “Ms. Calloway-”

“Please just call me Kate. Or Katherine.”

“Ms. Calloway,” Mom reiterated. “May I ask where you studied?”

Kate went stiff as a board. “Uh… CSU.”

“CSU?”

“Cal State,” Kate said, looking at the floor. “Northridge.”

“I see,” Mom repeated. “And you did graduate, yes?”

Oh, Goddammit.

“Yes, ma’am,” Kate said.

“Kate is a good engineer,” I said firmly.

“I never said she wasn’t,” Mom said.

“She’s also the best bot driver I’ve ever known.”

“That’s what you said about Olivia,” Dad said.

“She’s better than Olivia.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Kate said.

“Take the compliment, babe,” I said, not looking back at her.

“Oh… Okay,” she said nervously.

“Fair enough,” Mom said. “I just hope you’re thinking things through when you listen to her advice. I know you’re dating her, but you’re also in competition with her.”

I flinched. That idea had been on my mind lately, and I’d been avoiding thinking about it… But the ideal situation was that Kate and Zeke and I all made it to the tournament, at which point there was a real chance of our rematch. My hands trembled, and I closed my eyes and choked out, “Look. You two are the best engineers I’ve ever met, and yeah, I’m biased because you’re my parents. But I still trust your judgment, just like you’re supposed to be trusting mine. Do you think this design will work against Jolly Roger, in your expert opinion?”

“I think so,” Dad said, squatting low and inspecting the installation work on the faceplate.

“You mean it?” I said, his words a mild balm to the wound of my anxiety.

“Yeah,” Dad said. “Like your mom said, there’s the balance issue to be concerned about, but given that you’re expecting to lose at least one of these drills during the course of the fight, it will hopefully make that less of a problem. My dear, what do you think?”

“I think it’s workable, though it’s not how I would have done this,” Mom said.

I winced. “I know. But it’s how I’m doing it.”

Mom looked at me, long and hard, then at Dad, then at Kate and Zeke, before she finally sighed and said, “Then it’s good enough for me.”

The anxiety decreased in intensity, little by little. Maybe if it kept going like this, I wouldn’t be having a panic attack right before the fight.

***

I started having a panic attack right before the fight.

Zeke and I were in the pits, and I could feel it coming on, but I couldn’t do anything to stop it. Ice cold fear, biting at my chest and stomach, cranking up my pulse and freezing out rational thought. I stood in front of DG, opening and closing my hands. My parents were in the audience tonight. My parents and my brother. And they were trying, yes, and they wanted to be better than they’d been, yes, but they also at their core had tendencies towards being hyper-critical and judgemental, more than a bit condescending, and prone to getting hung up on what could go wrong.

All of which were tendencies I’d inherited. So that certainly didn’t help.

I blinked and realized Zeke was waving his hand in front of my face. “Hey. You still with us?” he asked, conjuring up that dorky, winning smile.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to muster up a smile of my own. “Just, uh, got lost a second. Where’s Katie?”

“Getting interrogated by your brother,” Zeke said.

“What?!”

“Kidding!” Zeke said with an awkward laugh. “Kidding. She’s running late, is all.”

“Don’t joke about that, please,” I said, scrunching my brow and poking his chest.

Zeke grabbed my hand and gave me a twirl, and we waltzed a few rounds. The ice in my chest started to melt, fear and dread slowly evaporating with each step. Amazing. He hadn’t said anything, he’d just gone for it, and… It made me feel better right away. Seen. Heard. Taken care of.

Loved.

My eyes bulged (heh, bulge) wide when that last word sounded inside my mind. I tried to push it away- it was too soon for that, we’d only been together a very short time, even if we’d been friends for years. I didn’t LOVE Zeke…

… Did I?

I breathed in through my nose and concentrated on dancing, letting each step calm me further. Whatever words I wanted to apply to it, at the very least, Zeke made me feel very, very good, and that was what was important.

Zeke cupped my chin and leaned in for a kiss, which I lovingly (don’t read into it) returned. “Better,” he smiled, his lips barely parted from mine.

“A bit,” I smiled.

“Alright then,” he said. “Let’s do this thing.”

***

“AND IN THE RED SQUARE! THIS SHIP HAS SAILED THE SEVEN SEAS! IT’LL TAKE YOU AN WORLDWIDE VOYAGE AND SINK TO POSEIDON’S DEPTHS! THESE LADIES WILL MAKE YOU WALK THE PLANT AND BURY YOU WHERE X MARKS THE SPOT! IT’S… JOLLY ROGER!!!!”

Nia Westfield and Lenora Li stood at attention is their sailor uniforms alongside their additional three crewmates: Sasha Cunninghma, a statuesque blonde with guns of steel; Georgia Wilder, a medium-height black woman with long braids and longer legs; and Vera Quincy, a lean and short redhead with close-cropped hair. They were stoic pictures of feminine strength, and I was both very turned on by them and very afraid of them at the same time.

We wheeled our bots in the box, and when we heard the ‘Robots! Activate!’ recording play, I punched the button and drove DG directly towards the enemy.

Perhaps as a show of respect, JR did the same with us.

We collided at the exact middle of the box. Drill met drill.

Drill shattered drill.

Our centerpiece drill was destroyed immediately, but so was their primary weapon. And we still had five more, all of which were penetrating the ship’s bow. I pushed DG forward against the massive weight of JR. JR shoved us around with its superior mass, but it just pushed our drills deeper and deeper in until cracks began to form in the wooden shell. Gurren chipped away at the enemies’ wheels while DG was shoved into the screws even as we shattered the wooden shell entirely and started digging into the metal interior. The screws, however, whittled away at us.

“TEN SECONDS HAVE GONE BY- JOLLY ROGER HAS GOT TO LET DAI GURREN GO!” Derek yelled.

“I DON’T KNOW IF SHE PHYSICALLY CAN, DEREK!” Marty countered.

Indeed, she couldn’t. JR wheeled us out, and I tried to backtrack and get free, but we were stuck.

Well, most of us, anyway. Gurren was busy taking out JR’s back tires. One was successfully destroyed, that just left the other one-

Only for JR to keep wheeling back and crush G under its weight.

“No!” Zeke cried out as the minibot was broken beneath the battleship, a sickening crunch as the wheels popped off and the smaller parts were flattened.

Up to me, then.

Everyone was watching. My parents. My brother. My partners. The whole damn professional robot fighting community. With my shaking hands, I pushed forward. I breathed into it, and remembered what I was doing this for: love. Of my family. Of my relationships. Of engineering, and of this sport. It was a big word, a scary word, but… I was ready for it.

I was ready to love myself.

And I was ready to fucking win.

I applied maximum velocity and drilled and drilled and drilled, only for JR to start turning and shaking. A metallic snapping sound shot out, and DG’s faceplate was torn off in a violent tug.

“OH HELL NO! DAI GURREN HAS BEEN DE-FACED!” Marty cackled.

Shit. Shit shit shit that was bad shit shit shit-

Wait a second.

The faceplate was still drilled into the front of JR. The pirate ship’s weight was totally out of balance. And it was missing its back-left wheel. It could only go back-right.

This would be tricky. Desperate. Probably wouldn’t work. But I needed to do this if I wanted to go to the playoffs. And I wasn’t doing it for my parents- at that moment, I didn’t care about living up to their expectations. I was doing it for me, and for Zeke, and hell, even for Katie. I wanted to prove her right.

I did a lap around the box, letting JR position itself towards me. It was clearly planning on ramming me into the screws again. It was near the exact center of the battle box, just as the kill-saws were sprouting up. I found the appropriate angle, forty-five degrees on their right hand side, and floored it. I slammed into the side of the ship, at a small patch of exposed metal not taken up by my faceplate, kept going even upon impact.

The ship tipped.

Slowly, slowly, it tipped over, and landed on its back, directly onto the kill-saws.

Its mast was devoured by the saws, and it was left on its side by the opposing force, unable to move. I didn’t give them a courtesy shove. I just started crying tears of relief as the countdown went by and my victory was announced.

And just like that, I’d done it. I was going to the playoffs. Zeke looked too stunned to move, but I took him by the hand and guided both our respective index fingers towards a face in the crowd. Not to my family, as happy as I was not to have embarrassed myself in front of them. But to Katie. We both pointed, and then I drew my hand back and blew Katie a kiss. And Zeke did the same.

***

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