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#mr brisk
antibeachballsociety · 9 months
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flowerbloom-arts · 1 year
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Who knew the antithesis of a Moomin would be skiers in striped sweaters.
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ask-mr-brisk · 1 month
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Excuse me, Mr Brisk? I was watching your show today - as one does - but despite having watched your debut episode at least ten times, I managed to snag this screenshot from a scene I'd never seen before! Is it a special edition broadcast with never before seen content? Congratulations on your marriage by the way 😊
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Ah yes, this is indeed a special episode that aired before the season's debut, in which I hold hands with a gay male hemulen- an adoring fan. We are not married, however! No, no. I was informed that the hint of such could be profitable, but the shot was tanked on account of being "queer bait." I don't find anything queer about the bait, but then again, we don't want to promote homosexuality TOO much! Aha
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zeppozzoe · 11 months
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free to use icons please at least like or reblog if using
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💝Snorkmaiden and Love Life💝
Snorkmaiden is infamous for falling in love with man after man in the comic strip, deserting Moomintroll in the process.
However, today I will not be judging Snorkmaiden for the lack of simply dumping Moomintroll's butt so she doesn't have to deal with his violent jealousy that ruins nearly all her relationships, instead, I will be judging each character she fell for based on datability.
The list will be sorted in order of appearance, and will only extend to the comics Tove was involved with (every comic between Moomin and the Brigands and Fuddler's Courtship) simply because I do not have access to all of Lars' comics and narrowing it down to Tove's comics makes it astronomically easier for me to actually list these men, let alone judge them. I will also NOT be taking into account any of the adaptations of these characters, I will be strictly focusing on their comic appearances since taking into account THOSE versions of them will be taking into account alot of things that come with them and it would complicate the list even further.
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And with that out of the way, let's start with Snorkmaiden's first (after Moomintroll);
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Clark (Moomins on the Riviera)
Clark may seem like your archetypical douchebag celebrity at first glance but he is surprisingly one of the more kind men Snorkmaiden's had the.... (Dis)pleasure? Of falling for. "Honey" seems to be a default pet name he gives to women, although we don't see him call anyone else that (he calls Snorkmaiden honey even when they were complete strangers though).
Snorkmaiden and Clark seemed to have quite a bit of fun and Snorkmaiden had 0 conflict or complaints about him until he turned down her invitation to go swim when the Moomins left the hotel after his duel with Moomintroll. His apology gift for the declination was also very sweet of him so he seems to care about Snorkmaiden based on that.
We don't know much about Clark and can only speculate on his life and behavior based on his friend group and status, he could easily have turned sour if given enough time but using only what we know he seems like a good chap for a celebrity guy with poor taste in beach wear.
7/10
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The Pirates (Moomin's Desert Island / Moomin Under Sail)
The only reoccurring interests, they really don't do anything as interests. Mymble and Snorkmaiden seemed to enjoy them for the idea that they're dangerous but quickly lose interest when presented with otherwise.
They are a clever sort, I'll give them that, they have made plans and those plans do succeed in the end which is more than I can say for the plans of most other characters, but they are definitely not worth engaging with on a personal level nor are they interested in such follies in the slightest. Bad news but fun to read about.
2/10
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Mr. Brisk (Moomin's Winter Follies)
Mr. Brisk is definitely on the lower end of the ranks when it comes to datability. He's never interested in Mymble nor Snorkmaiden until he rides his victory high against Edward the Seal (and even then I doubt he saw them as more than fans) and overall he has this personality that is difficult to deal with on an interpersonal level (with his massive yet fragile ego, competitiveness, fixation on sports and s****dal tendencies).
He is not the WORST person in the world, objectively speaking, but he does not seem to be in any place to treat another person kindly in any respect. His sports moves may be impressive but he's like one of those celebrity sportsman who are only impressive in their field and are fun on a good day but you can't see yourself being real friends with, let alone dating.
2/10
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The Fillyjonk (Moomin Begins a New Life)
He's definitely one of those fixer-upper types, I gotta say. His lack of agency when making plans with Snorkmaiden was one of her major complaints about him but that seems to be fixed when he formed a rivalry with Moomintroll, so there's definitely an obvious space for him to change, however I wouldn't call him a catch with the way he is. Even Moominmamma called him a wet (someone who doesn't have strong opinions or agency) and seemed worried for Snorkmaiden because of him.
He seemed attached to Snorkmaiden since he was bold enough to break into a Jeweler's to win her back but also he ditched her to "buy cigarettes" when a threat like "the Black Hand" (Moomintroll) presented itself.
Not a bad guy but not great either. Come back when you get go through some character development my dude.
4/10
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The Nobleman (Snorkmaiden Goes Rococo)
He is... Hmm... He seems nice enough for a parody of a french nobleman but he doesn't offer much besides being needy and kind of dim. He is certainly nice enough to Snorkmaiden what with offer her a reward for saving him and inviting her to the King's dinner since he couldn't carry her on his horse, but he seems to prioritize his own needs and doesn't think for Snorkmaiden's wellbeing either.
He seems nice but not nice enough.
5/10
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The Revolutionary (Snorkmaiden Goes Rococo)
Love his hair! Do not enjoy his personality. He is truly one of those bark and no bite preachers who make speeches upon speeches and poetry and songs about eating the rich but when it comes to actually doing anything about it he most certainly lacks and even acts cowardly towards the royal guards. He appreciated Snorkmaiden for her admiration for his writing abilities but he doesn't hold any regard for her suggestions or interests outside of that, not to mention his casual sexist comments towards her. He quite literally ditches her after being invited to the King's dinner in place of a revolutionary meeting, which is the most hypocritical thing he could've done and rightfully tipped Snorkmaiden over the edge to finally leave him.
His ideals are something that ought to be admired, of COURSE all men should be equal, but there are holes in his ideals and he simply does not act out what he preaches. Come back when your morals are less flimsy and tone down the sexism!
4/10
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The Accountant Fillyjonk (the Conscientious Moomins)
He is straight up a very cute guy. He is very endearing and actually asked Snorkmaiden out on a date which is very rare for these fellows, and his passion for accountancy is something even Snorkmaiden admires. He was very eager to help but was rather oblivious at Snorkmaiden's coyness, though he was still very nice about it.
However, his one downfall was surprising Snorkmaiden with the gift of a cleaned typewriter which she devastatingly did not appreciate, but that's simply a matter of taste (I personally would've appreciated something like that).
A rare good fella. Wish his appearance wasn't so brief.
8/10
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The Poet (Moomin Under Sail)
Hmm.... Mixed feelings on the guy, honestly. He is a stowaway leech to be sure but he does have some sincerity in his affection for Snorkmaiden among his plans to be the most comfortable person on the boat indulging in fruits and whiskey. But the Moomins' and Too-Ticky's disdain for him was not totally unfounded, he seemed a little too pretentious and a little too absorbed in his status as a poet which he believes gives him licence to laze about as he wishes.
Snorkmaiden's genuine devastation when he got carried away by the Niblings was heartbreaking to witness but the Moomins' indifference and even relief towards him by contrast was hilarious.
Still, he needs to get his act together and become a more independent guy if he really wants to up his datability rating.
6/10
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Dr. Hatter (Fuddler's Courtship)
Hatter's a very... Interesting fellow, and Mymble and Snorkmaiden most certainly took that interesting-ness as a main vocal point of his appeal. As seen with Fuddler, he could easily become friends with someone if he dared, but his overwhelming paranoia and lack of competency in being a psychiatrist should probably be signs that he's not a good date, and I doubt he even is interested in the least. If a psychiatrist uses Freud as an exclamation that's probably a red flag in the kind of stuff he believes.
His personality shift into a physiologist seemed to have made him much friendlier and less skittish (neg. sense) but he became incredibly pretentious about medicine and such, you probably can't hold a very interesting conversation with him like before (which is probably why Mymble lost interest in his quickly).
He... Is there, certainly, but he's a pills-and-drops man now, not a dating man.
4/10
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Under the cut are the notes I've compiled about each character so you can make your own judgements on them without having to read the comments, let me know your thoughts! (Warning: it's long)
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Clark
- Is introduced as one of Marquis Mongaga's friends who like the Moomins for being weird
- Invites Snorkmaiden to swim in the pool and lets her be when she declines due to a lack of bikini (he calls her honey already, could simply be an impersonal pet name)
- Next time we see him, he's swimming on the beach and recognizes Snorkmaiden ("Hiya, honey, haven't we met before?")
- They go boat skiing together in the background on the next panel with Clark riding the boat and Snorkmaiden doing the skiing
- Snorkmaiden calls him a "man of the world" when arguing with Moomintroll
- Clark asks Snorkmaiden if she always lives in luxury
- Appears awkward and avoidant when Snorkmaiden and Moomintroll start arguing in front of him
- MT calls out Clark and challenges him to a duel
- Clark and MT seem to be arguing in the background of the next panel
- Clark is then seen marching away in the next
- Unlike in the movie, Clark offers the fencing swords straight (100% sure the movie writers just did that choice fakeout to make Clark look alot worse)
- Clark calls MT a pipsqueak who can't even hold a sword properly and narrates his strategy
- He has terrible peripheral vision it seems (makes sense since he wears glasses)
- Clark gets hit in the head by MT off-screen and he looks like a kicked puppy when we see the aftermath
- Snorkmaiden goes to say goodbye to Clark and tells him about how she and the fam are living under an old boat now that she doesn't have money then invites him for a swim tomorrow, Clark politely declines saying he'll be very busy for some time and goes back to reading a newspaper
- Snorkmaiden declares that she hates him afterwards
- (after shenanigans before the Moomins finally leave) Mongaga gives Snorkmaiden a sort of..... Fur cape? Coat? Thing? Saying it's an apology gift from Clark for his rudeness since he felt a little unwell
- End of Clark's presence and the whole comic thereafter
The Pirates
(Moomin's Desert Island)
- The pirates are found drinking rum and eating from a bowl on the beach, they hear Mymble and Snorkmaiden nearby and one of them says "Halt! Who is giggling?"
- They seem stunned to see Snorkmaiden and Mymble in the next panel
- They get blown up by fireworks that MT lit trying to protect Snorkmaiden (since they were chasing after her and Mymble)
- They get injured and patched up by Snorkmaiden, Moominmamma then puts them to work by making them rebuild her rock garden
- They say they can't work without drinking rum
- They get to work and feel totally embarrassed about the job ("After this we can never be pirates again. How unmanly.")
- Moominmamma plants a little head kiss on one of them as a reward
- Snorkmaiden and Mymble lose interest because they aren't "cool" anymore
- They ask what the stone wall is for and then decide to plan a mutiny against the Moomins
- They steal their barrel of rum while the Moomins go diving and celebrate not having to garden
- The pirates stumble upon the Moomin ancestors transporting the crates of fireworks and assembling them into a large tower
- They run and warn the Moomins about the ancestors trying to blow up the island
- Island goes boom boom and it starts raining, which makes the Moomins miss home, so the pirates offer their rum barrel to cheer them up
- their presence in the comic ends
(Moomin Under Sail)
- They're reintroduced by having their and the Moomins' ships nearly hit eachother and Moominpappa and the pirates recognize eachother, much to the pirates' dismay.
- One of the pirates say this is the second ship the Moomins have sunk, Moominpappa justifies himself by saying he knows but THEY started it.
- They say that the least the Moomins can do is bring their loot aboard, Moominmamma then offers hot rum.
- Moomintroll tries to lift a heavy chest and asks if it carries cannonballs, one of the Pirates says it's just eight pieces of gold.
- Snorkmaiden opens a chest full of brocade and jewels
- The Pirates' ship goes up in flames and starts sinking while the silver treasure is still on board, Too-Ticky jumps in and one pirate mourns her death, saying she would have made a great buccaneer. The other one says she's found the silver and Too-Ticky hops back on the boat covered in soot
- One pirate orders Moominpappa to change course to some islands with rich prizes, Moominpappa retorts that it's his ship. The other pirate then replies that he's sunk their ship (revealed to be called the Bloody Mary) and Moominpappa folds to their orders.
- The Pirates happily drink inside the cabin while Moominpappa and Moomintroll sleep inside a tent on the deck, they complain about this.
- One pirate requests that they bring "the young wench, the buxom one" (referring to Snorkmaiden)
- Moomintroll tells Snorkmaiden to not dare go to the pirates and she replies "I dare, too!"
- Moomintroll laments about this
- Snorkmaiden dramatically declares that she is at their mercy, only for the pirates to ask her to darn their socks
- Next day, the pirates spot a merchant ship and make way to the cabin to get their firearms. Once they get inside Moominmamma locks them up and says she'll only let them out if they leave the merchantman alone
- Moominpappa offers to put them ashore, but they say that the ship is their prize
- One pirate says they can't go on like this and the other shushes him saying he has a plan.
- They talk outside the tent about their plan to slit the crew's throats that night, Moomintroll overhears them, tells Moominpappa about it while the pirates are sharpening their knives and the crew leave via life boat. The two look out the window and their plan to simply scare them off the boat with such a threat worked, much to their relief.
- Their presence in the comic ends.
Mr. Brisk
- Mr. Brisk is introduced after the Moomins jump out of the attic of their house and into the soft snow
- He introduces himself by greeting Moominpappa, saying a catchphrase, his name and the organization he works for (The Great Outdoors Association)
- He tells them about how he loves the cold weather ("Refreshing! Wholesome!") and invites them along, saying their days of leisure are gone (*I can sure say he's not good at marketing sports that much*)
- He tries to teach the Moomins how to ski but not very well
- He pressures Moomintroll into going down a large slope by asking if he's a cowardly weakling in a very ominous way
- He then says none of the Moomins seem to possess a natural talent for skiing, but then tells them to not feel intimidated as they're going to switch to skating
- After the Moomins fail, he suggests they go skate with a sail
- *Moominmamma asks the others if they think Mr. Brisk is given to them as punishment for their sins*
- Mymble gets introduced to him and gains a crush after witnessing him go ice lake diving
- He seems to turn into a detrimental influence on Mymble, seeing as she tries to learn how to skate, learned to "understand" that they are all "degenerate weaklings", and made a snow sculpture in his honor
- Mymble wears a pretty dress just for him and Mr. Brisk doesn't seem to care, practically ignoring her and then telling her it's not practical for skiing
- Moominpappa tells Brisk that there are no penguins or polar bears in Moominvalley and Brisk replies with "You wait!" and distributes the fliers for the winter games via birds
- Mymble discovers a natural talent for skiing, however Brisk somewhat waves her off by saying "Alright alright" and telling her about his interest in competition results
- He apologizes to Edward the Seal about the ski jump not being built for someone of his weight
- Snorkmaiden gains a crush on him after witnessing his ski jump
- Brisk loses to Mymble in the ski race and goes to sulk about getting second place and how his career/self-esteem is down the drain on the cliffside, Moomintroll nearly tries to kill him by jousting him off the cliff with a tree but doesn't go through with it because Brisk already feels like garbage
- Moomintroll tells Mymble where Brisk is and Mymble offers him the first prize trophy, Brisk declines saying she doesn't understand
- Mymble tells Edward the Seal to go against Brisk and go easy on him to restore his self-esteem, Edward agrees to this and after Moomintroll tells him about it Brisk says he shall live up to their faith in him
- Brisk and Edward get into a snowball fight with Bris being overly enthusiastic about it
- Edward buries him in snow but Brisk manages to get out of it and pin Edward to the ground so he can admit defeat
- Brisk "wins" and gets cheered on by everyone
- He starts hanging out with Snorkmaiden and Mymble alot until Stinky reveals the truth about the Edward situation
- Brisk's self-esteem collapses and in a rage he challenges Edward to a bobsleigh race and if Edward loses Brisk will tear him to pieces
- Brisk, as they are sledding down: "HONOUR OR DEATH!"
Edward: "You're an aaaasssss...."
- They both crash into the snow, Edward asks Brisk if he's alive and Brisk challenges him to ice skating
- Edward break the ice and forfeits out of frustration, leaving Brisk feeling hollow inside
- The girls are trapped on a floating ice sheet and call for Brisk to save them, Brisk ignores them and goes to the cliffside to attempt suicide
- He actually goes through with the attempt but causes an avalanche in the process which lets him survive
- Brisk unburies everyone (except Stinky) from the snow, not out of the goodness of his heart for these weaklings but because a little exercise wouldn't hurt
- Brisk is honored as a hero, laurels and everything
- Brisk promises Edward he'll get his revenge next year
- Mymble asks Brisk to dance with her but he declines, saying dancing is a futile sport
- He apparently "went back to the North Pole" after Mymble leaves feeling dejected
- Brisk's presence in the comic ends and so does the comic thereafter
(He gets mentioned in Moomin Winter and Snorkmaiden Goes Rococo afterwards)
The Fillyjonk (Moomin Begins a New Life)
- Is introduced after Moominpappa and Stinky enter the party with their undiluted moonshine, Moominpappa notices Snorkmaiden with a new interest and asks "What will Moomin say?", to which Snorkmaiden replies "I've started the new free life, and so have you!"
- Snorkmaiden and the Fillyjonk seem to have been in the middle of dancing in this exchange, with the two holding eachother.
- Later we see the two making plans to run away together in the middle of the night for the sake of this "new life" they're starting, Snorkmaiden asks what they'll live on and the Fillyjonk replies "perhaps you can fetch a little bag of food from home?"
- Moominmamma prepares food for them and observes that the Fillyjonk seems like "such a wet" (according to Cambridge dictionary for "being wet": used to describe someone who has a weak character and does not express any forceful opinions)
- Moominmamma asks before giving them the food if the Fillyjonk is used to running off with women, the Fillyjonk answers saying not really but they're trying to follow the (white) prophet's teachings
- Next morning, Moomintroll seems already aware of what happened to Snorkmaiden and thinking this freedom stuff is stupid and decides to become a highwayman, dressing up like a gun-toting criminal under the pseudonym of "Black Hand" and spies on the couple among the grass.
- The Fillyjonk asks Snorkmaiden if she likes being run off with, Snorkmaiden replies of course, and the Fillyjonk follows up with asking "Didn't we do it properly?" to which Snorkmaiden replies "Oh do shut up!" (She seems pretty sick of him already and it's only been a night)
- The Fillyjonk said he wouldn't have run off with her if she hadn't agreed to it, and she says that that's just the issue
- Moomintroll plants a written warning between them and the Fillyjonk says "How awful!" while Snorkmaiden says "How exciting!"
- Due to his cowardice, the Fillyjonk excuses himself to "go and buy some cigarettes", Snorkmaiden sees right through this and thinks he'll never come back.
- The Fillyjonk later breaks into a jewelry store before Moomintroll does in the hopes that getting jewels for Snorkmaiden would win her affections back from Moomintroll
- Both boys take a pile of jewels with them and set them somewhere Snorkmaiden will find the next morning and Snorkmaiden feels conflicted on which one to choose, or if she should choose both or neither pile
- Snorkmaiden starts following the new (black) prophet's teachings and forces both the Fillyjonk and Moomintroll to apologize to eachother and turn themselves in to the police for burgling the jewelry store (neither one is sincere in their apology. The Fillyjonk in particular says "A new life without women! (For you)")
- They try turning themselves in but the prison is already full and the policeman's getting extremely stressed about it
- The Fillyjonk is seen in the background among the crowd watching the prophets fight
- End of presence for the Fillyjonk
The Nobleman
The Nobleman (Snorkmaiden Goes Rococo)
- Is introduced by riding in on a horse and the horse throws him down right in front of Snorkmaiden. Snorkmaiden believes this to be a heroic rescue from the bandits trying to take her anklet
- the bandits verbally plan to shoot him and steal his horse, the Nobleman puts his hands up in surrender and Snorkmaiden defends him with an umbrella
- Snorkmaiden asks him if he's okay and the Nobleman mistakes a pain in his chest as a bullet wound, after Snorkmaiden tells him the bandits didn't shoot he realizes it must've been a whale bone
- He thanks Snorkmaiden and offers her half his fortune
- He suddenly gets ill and asks Snorkmaiden to get his smelling salts from his bag
- He sneezes from the "salts", as Snorkmaiden mistook a snuff box instead
- He laments how he's had a terrible experience so far, what with almost getting killed, and says Snorkmaiden will certainly get a bag of silver as a reward
- It turns to night and he asks Snorkmaiden to get a blanket for him, Snorkmaiden thinks it was for her until he asks her to put it around his shoulders
- The Nobleman tells a boring story (as indicated by Snorkmaiden yawning) about why he takes 4 glasses of hot milk everyday. He then takes off with his horse, saying it's a pity it can't carry two people, and invites her to the king's dinner tomorrow before leaving.
- end of his presence in the story
Bonus: 2 likely different noblemen are seen taking a liking to Snorkmaiden in a party, one is simply enchanted by her "perfect slopping shoulders" and the other is directly interacting with her, taking her paw and offering a seat next to him and then offering to send a coach to take her home, and before she leaves he tells her that he's quite "bouleverse" (stricken/enchanted) by such a mysterious lady like her.
The Revolutionary
- Is introduced when Snorkmaiden accidentally enters a room where he's giving a political speech to 4 rather bored people about rising against the oppressive upper class
- He points to her, mistaking her as part of the oppressors and pointing out her being "bedecked with fabulous jewels" while the people have no bread, then references Marie Antoinette's famous "let them eat cake" line by saying they don't like cake
- The Revolutionary tries to extend a hand to his fellows but they leave before he finishes his sentence, then he despairs at them being gone. "If I could only make them see how unhappy and oppressed they are!"
- Snorkmaiden is enchanted by his way with words and the revolutionary reads his speeches/poetry to her by candlelight. Snorkmaiden tells him how clever he is and he acts rather touched by the compliment, "Oh.. well.. I THINK they're rather good.. :>"
- He calls her the most intelligent woman he's ever met and says she shall be the genius of the revolution, then tells her to sew small caps for "everyone" (possibly referring to his "fellow revolutionaries")
- Snorkmaiden knits winter caps inspired by Mr. Brisk and the Revolutionary says they aren't very "revolutionary" (badumtsh) but she's already made 3 of them
- Snorkmaiden mentions how Brisk wore wore hats like that last winter but then realizes he wouldn't be born yet (because time travel) and the revolutionary says "Don't worry your pretty little head. I know women are often confused"
- The revolutionary reads his piece about how all men will be equals, Snorkmaiden asks how and he says they'll wear the same clothes. Snorkmaiden asks what about the women and he answers saying they'll be equals, but "not to the men, of course" while patting Snorkmaiden's head
- The Revolutionary continues with another speech while Snorkmaiden makes breakfast, Snorkmaiden asks if the people will agree and the revolutionary says "they'll have to be guided, of course" (Snorkmaiden is starting to call him dear)
- He asks what the food is and Snorkmaiden says they're small pancakes with strawberry jam, the Revolutionary looks dismayed, saying he usually has pork dumplings and pickled herrings. Snorkmaiden looks frustrated and thinks about how Moomintroll never ate such things so she doesn't have experience with them
- The Revolutionary despairs about not having an audience for his new speech, and Snorkmaiden suggests that while he is clever, talk tends to bore people, so they must have action! "Fighting on the barricades!". The Revolutionary asks what barricades are and she explains that she doesn't really know... they're like trenches but up, not down.
- Snorkmaiden puts up a poster and asks what he thinks, the Revolutionary stares at it contemplatively. Snorkmaiden says it's sure to bring people in but he whines "But the revolutionary spirit..."
- The Revolutionary spots a gendarme (french paramilitary police officer) and he and Snorkmaiden hug eachother, afraid they'll become martyrs
- The gendarme bangs on the door and the try to escape through a small door but Snorkmaiden gets caught before she could enter. Snorkmaiden says she was just trying to get into the cellar to get some jam
- The gendarme asks if she put up the poster and when she proudly says yes he just tells her to take it down before leaving, as bill-sticking is prohibited on that street.
- Snorkmaiden is bewitched by the fine weather and suggests they go on a picnic, the Revolutionary declines and wishes to not be disturbed as he is composing a revolutionary song for the big meeting tomorrow. Snorkmaiden gets snippy and says "You and your silly revolution!"
- Snorkmaiden suggests they go out on the shore and pick seashells, the revolutionary asks what for and she continues her suggestion, saying they'll pretend to be pirates "Like Moomin and-" before being cut off by him saying "how very silly!"
- Snorkmaiden snaps at him saying she's tired of him and how he doesn't like picking sea-shells or playing pretend and.. and.. how he likes pork dumplings!
- She knits angrily lamenting about his and his silly revolutions, how he's nothing like Moomintroll. He doesn't even like pancakes and jam! But then she realizes the Revolutionary doesn't seem to be there
- She finds a letter left on his chair, stating that "darling", he can't hold the meeting because he's been invited to the king's dinner
- Snorkmaiden declares that she hates this stupid century and runs away to reunite with Moomintroll
- Comic ends
The Accountant Fillyjonk
- Introduced while Snorkmaiden is working as a secretary. He awkwardly brings up the weather and then asks what she's doing that night, when Snorkmaiden says she's doing nothing he brings up how there's a lecture on general accountancy and bashfully asks her to join him
- Snorkmaiden coyly says she can't even type on the typewriter. The Fillyjonk helpfully guides her and tells her to type "Invoice", when he reads out that she wrote "Love" it flies over his head and tells her she hit the wrong buttons
- Snorkmaiden is seen putting on makeup back in Moominhouse and Moomintroll asks her why, she says she's going out with somebody who ASKS her out.
- Moomintroll acts petty, speculating that he's some book keeper with pimples, a little mustache and no chin, Snorkmaiden retorts by asking where Moomintroll's chin is
- Snorkmaiden says the Fillyjonk is ambitious and studies accountancy, and that he doesn't have to study about personal magnetism (unlike Moomintroll throughout the comic) because he's got something REAL. She then leaves and Moomintroll attempts to get the last laugh saying he bets he doesn't take her out dancing.
- While at work again, the Fillyjonk says he has a surprise for her, Snorkmaiden lights up but then deflates after the Fillyjonk says he's cleaned the typewriter very bashfully
- Snorkmaiden immediately storms back home saying she's resigned from work
- His presence in the comic ends
The Poet
- He is introduced constantly surrounded by flowers and butterflies, he sees that the Moomins' and Too-Ticky's ship is unnamed and suggests that it should be named the Ocean Orchestra, after his own poem. He proceeds to recite his poem but then gets interrupted by Too-Ticky saying their boat doesn't have a flying jib. He whimsically exits the scene as Moominpappa suggests they name their boat "Mermaid" instead.
- Later, the crew (Moomins + Too-Ticky) notice there are signs of someone else being on the boat and find that the Poet his stowed away with them, hiding in the lifeboat eating cake, drinking whiskey and having a pipe with tabacco and a matchbox to the side.
- The Poet acts guilty by saying they should punish him by sending him to a desert island, as it is "poetic justice". And he admits to stealing their whiskey and tabacco to further cement his guilt. Moominpappa backs off saying he's welcomed on the boat and the Poet smiles at him rather sincerely.
- He asks the Moomins if they forgive him for stealing their stuff and Pappa assures him that they do. The Poet then goes "Of course, a poet must have some licence" (as in: freedom to behave as one wishes, especially in a way which results in excessive or unacceptable behaviour.)
- Moominmamma offers elderberry wine but he declines, saying he'd rather have whiskey and more fruit
- The Poet quickly turns to indulgence as he makes the Moomins set up a comfortable hammock with umbrella and side table. He comments on the lapping waves and calls the seagulls lost souls of sailors, lost at sea, circling their wake. Too-Ticky sneers at him and says they've fed them lots of refuse.
- Moomintroll says they should get rid of him somehow and the rest of the crew (except Snorkmaiden) agree to this
- Moomintroll gives the Poet a foot bath and the Poet says the crew (he calls them philistines) must be happy to have a poet on board, Moomintroll begrudgingly says "very"
- The Poet throws an anchor to the sea before realizing it isn't tied to the boat, then brushes off the loss. Moomintroll looks at him angrily
- Moominpappa laments how he can't even like the sea anymore because of how much the Poet adores it. Moomintroll says that atleast he's one character Snorkmaiden hasn't fallen for.
- Moomintroll immediately gets proven wrong.
- Snorkmaiden is wistfully listening to the Poet read (presumably) his book titled the Ocean Orchestra.
- Moomintroll asks if he'd like to be put ashore and the Poet declines, looking very kindly at Snorkmaiden while speaking
- Moomintroll very menacingly adds that he knows a desert island where he can be really poetic, the Poet declines again saying he loves the boat and Snorkmaiden
- Moomintroll snaps at him and tells him to leave her alone, the Poet and Snorkmaiden only guiltily look up together
- That night, the Poet gets attacked by Niblings while the rest retreat to higher ground.
- The Poet throws his poems in self-defense and the Niblings just eat the papers, then he tries to attack them with a harpoon but is finally carried off by the Niblings off to the sea.
- Snorkmaiden asks Too-Ticky to "save her hero" but Too-Ticky says there's not much one can do
- The Moomins superficially mourn him. Moominpappa throws a potted flower into the sea and says "Well, ahem, this one must say, he DID rhyme his poems"
- Snorkmaiden genuinely mourns him and Moomintroll gives her some lackluster comfort saying the Niblings probably haven't eaten him. Snorkmaiden becomes totally distressed and Moomintroll continues saying if the Niblings didn't like his taste, they may have gnawed the edges, sort of. Snorkmaiden snaps at him saying the Poet was a great man and Moomintroll simply replies "Well, let's hope he has an awful taste"
- End of his presence in the comic
Dr. Hatter
- Dr. Hatter is introduced via a newspaper article read by Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden, they see this as an opportunity to help the Fuddler become more attractive to Mymble (Jr)
- The two hope that Hatter read their letter and Mymble runs up to them saying that a man is moving into an empty house by the fig trees and that he seems exciting. The two run and check if it's him.
- Dr. Hatter appears to be skulking around the house's premises and Snorkmaiden says he might be one of Hatter's patients
- Hatter paints his name on a wall (DR. HATTER, psychiatrist), disagrees with the aesthetic and redoes it (PSYCHIATRIST, Dr. Hatter)
- Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden take Fuddler to his house and Hatter's door is covered in chains and locks he peaks out the window and mistakes them for spies. Moomintroll corrects him and Hatter throws down all his keys for the locks to them, saying he can't be too careful
- The trio go inside and finds memorial portraits of his parents, and toys scattered around the floor. Moomintroll asks if Hatter will be good for Fuddler, perturbed by the sight.
- They looks at some other images on the walls, featuring a homemade Rorschach test (which doesn't even follow the rules of an actual Rorschach blotch), an upsidedown photograph from a patient and other miscellaneous posters
- Hatter appears behind a screen and a load of junk. Moomintroll introduces Fuddler and Hatter tells him to come as the middle of the floor is "so lonely"
- He comments on how Fuddler seems normal and sensible to wear a saucepan to protect his head, however, Moomintroll looks like a case of "Natvomania" (appears to be a made-up disorder) to him. Moomintroll snaps saying it's a crazy idea, however Hatter retorts by pulling up a certificate certifying that he is, in fact, sane
- Fuddler talks about his dreams and Hatter comes closer to a diagnosis. Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden quietly leave them to their devices and Snorkmaiden comments "Isn't he clever?"
- Moomintroll hopes Hatter can help Fuddler and Snorkmaiden says "Of course!! He's wonderful!"
- Mymble shows up and asks Snorkmaiden "Have you seen Dr. Hatter? Isn't he marvelous!" and Snorkmaiden replies "He's so interesting!". Moomintroll scoffs saying he's silly.
- Mymble and Snorkmaiden continue to becomes further enamoured by Dr. Hatter, much to Moomintroll's chagrin.
- Fuddler and Hatter share their button collection and trade buttons, which excites Fuddler. Snorkmaiden and Moomintroll witness him running out of the office happily and Snorkmaiden ponders if Hatter will take her in for treatment too. Moomintroll decides that he should chase Hatter away.
- Moomintroll hires a ghost to scare Hatter, Hatter wakes up to the sound of rattling chains and consults his book about dream meanings, thinking that the current situation is a dream, and then gets spooked by the ghost.
- "My Freud!" cries Hatter, thinking the ghost is his subconscious taking form and says how awful it looks, and that he must analyse himself "again". The ghost threatens to appear three more times and Hatter declares that he'll leave.
- Snorkmaiden, Mymble and Fuddler all become upset about Hatter leaving, with Fuddler in particular begging Moomintroll to help until he feels guilty
- Snorkmaiden and Moomintroll beg Dr. Hatter to not leave as he's packing, Hatter says that he must as the house wakes his subconscious. Snorkmaiden says they'll bring him cases, Hatter is surprised as he believes everyone seems normal, but Moomintroll replies that they're awfully mental, Hatter pauses his packing and says "Oh dear".
- Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden gather some patients to visit him (among them being Mrs. Fillyjonk and the Inspector)
- Snorkmaiden is the first patient, Hatter seems awfully avoidant/shy about whatever subject he's talking about. Snorkmaiden tries to bring up something that nearly happened to her once but he interrupts her saying that the symbols are what matters and asks if she's ever dreamt of bees, Snorkmaiden gets annoyed and says no.
- Mrs. Fillyjonk is the next patient, Hatter shows her one of his homemade Rorschach tests and she says it's an ink spot, he checks a book and goes "aha!" which worries Mrs. Fillyjonk. He then asks her how often she washes and if she brushes her teeth several times a day, Mrs. Fillyjonk nervously answers yes and Dr. Hatter checks his book, vaguely saying "It fits in". Mrs. Fillyjonk asks "Fits in with what?" and Hatter says it's too early to say so she should come back tomorrow.
- The Inspector is patient number three, Hatter makes him play a game of Perfection. Hatter tries to make him put the shapes in the right holes and Inspector ropes him into playing along with him. Hatter brings up how "they" are all after him, and asks if the Inspector ever has bad dreams, the Inspector says not often but he does. Hatter then says "they" are after him because he grows roses, Inspector suddenly gets anxious because he also grows roses. Hatter tells him to come back any time as the Inspector leaves the office, now paranoid of spies.
- Moomintroll notices everyone who visited Hatter are acting strangely. Snorkmaiden suggests Moomintroll should go to Hatter aswell because he thinks everyone is too normal, Moomintroll is baffled by this as he looks at mrs. Fillyjonk staring at herself in a hand mirror.
- Snorkmaiden gets the Moominparents involved in making dr. Hatter stay by using Fuddler to guilt trip them, Moominpappa says people already think they're weird even if they don't try and Snorkmaiden says that Hatter doesn't so they will try this time.
- The Moomin family get on a row boat in front of Hatter's house and pretend their sailing on water, Snorkmaiden says the water is cold and Hatter asks if the fish are biting, then realizes that the ground isn't actually water.
- Hatter invites them to his house and the family continue their boat delusion charade, Snorkmaiden asks if he wasn't going to leave and he says no! Not with them in their present state.
- Moomintroll asks if he can put his nonexistent fish on the table, Hatter says not on the mahogany table, "but that wouldn't matter, would it..." he asks. Moomintroll does a hand stand and asks why everyone is upsidedown, Hatter puts a hand over his mouth in worry.
- The rest of the Moomins do a handstand aswell and ask why Hatter is upsidedown, Hatter laughs it off and says it's just a whim and joins their handstanding. They ask if he can cure them, but Hatter says that although they give him a headache, somehow he thinks they're quiet normal
- Hatter suddenly decides to take his leave but then Moominmamma invites him to a party, Hatter declines because "spies everywhere!" but they insist, dragging him by the arms
- Hatter visits Moominhouse and takes notice of the fence, saying it's very bad, then says it's terrible that they live in a tower, then says the round windows show that their case is very far gone
- They go inside and Moominmamma offers him wine, Hatter says there are symbols of the most sinister kind everywhere.
- He sees the tree growing inside their house and says they must be suffering from "Virulent independentia" (another made-up disorder) so he takes them somewhere else.
- Hatter makes them go inside a fenced container for a tree sapling, locks them up and tells them to be calm
- The Moomins panic and go back on their pretending, but Hatter believes they're suffering from delusions and then asks if they sometimes think they're umbrella stands or egg-beaters.
- Mymble comes in and Hatter says he doesn't have time for her as the Moomin are very interesting to him. Mymble says she thinks she's a flower stand and Hatter takes her in as another case, Mymble begs him to give her private treatment but she's locked up anyway.
- Fuddler comes in and blows up the cage with dynamite, knocking Hatter unconscious in the process, Mymble rushes to Hatter's side and completely ignores Fuddler which angers him.
- Moomintroll pours water on Hatter and he wakes up with a new hairdo. Mymble says he's had a traumatic experience and Hatter says "Traumatic? You've been reading trashy novelettes, young lady!", then says how water invigorates the glands. Mymble thinks the explosion must've brought up his subconscious.
- Mymble asks if he's alright and he says of course he is, Mymble then asks if he'll be treating her psyche and Hatter says that's stuff and nonsense. Chromosomes, gangliae, bacilli, they're the stuff!
- However, Hatter says she seems undernourished and tells her to put out her tongue. He prescribed her iron pills, vitamins and warm underclothes to make her fat and healthy again. Moomintroll asks Mymble if she's happy that Hatter's treating her and Mymble says that he isn't interesting anymore.
- Moominmamma notices Mrs. Fillyjonk and the Inspector are still acting strangely and tells Hatter that he's given them complexes. Hatter scoffs at the idea of complexes and says he's a pills-and-drops man, strictly pills and drops. He'll makes them some pills though, or drops..
- Later, Dr. Hatter actually does develop some complex-reducing pills for them but Moominmamma already cured them so there's no need. Hatter despairs as his effort lays wasted but says Moomintroll surely must have complexes and gives the pills to him in the name of science.
- Moomintroll starts shrinking and Snorkmaiden panics, going to dr. Hatter about it and Hatter finds it interesting, though he does give her the antidote to pour on Moomintroll.
- Comic ends
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boydykeglam · 2 years
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Brisk and Breezy, or, Little My attempts manslaughter. Multiple times
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briskkat · 1 year
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Bikini Bottom characters as humans part 2
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mint-cat-06 · 2 years
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thiz iz from may i waz nervous to post but here moomin oc ,:)
so i waz too lazy to come up w/ name i named him "mouse" lol
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eskemumriken · 2 years
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🎶 Bright and breezy, free and easily coasting into a snowdrift 👌
Good job, mate.
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flowerbloom-arts · 9 months
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Well?
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ask-mr-brisk · 1 month
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Happy Valentine's day! To all the fellas, purchase my signed photo today.
To the ladies...on your mark, get set, GO!
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fightclubgayporn · 6 months
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this guy scared the absolute bejesus out of me as a kid. he still does
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hintsofhoney · 5 months
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Don't Forget It
Paring(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader
Summary: While working a case with Dean, he gets jealous of the way you interact with a suspect and decides to remind you who you belong to.
Tags: 18+, p in v, unprotected sex (be smart), rough sex, jealous dean, spanking, light dom/sub dynamics, sex in a public place, begging, voyeurism if you squint
Word Count: 2.2k
A/N: Just another finished work that's been sitting in my drive, collecting dust. Beta'd by my loves @makeadealwithdean and @wayward-dreamer; love you both to the moon and back 🤍 GIF is mine. Enjoy!
You can also read me on Ao3!
DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST |  SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST |  MAIN MASTERLIST
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You don’t miss the way Dean’s eyebrow raises when you lift one leg to sit on the man’s desk, twirling your hair and batting your eyelashes as you try to get him to confess. You’re fully aware of the way your pencil skirt is riding up, revealing more skin than you care to show to this douchebag probably-murderer, but it’s clear that he’s way more interested in speaking to you than Dean. If it helps move the case along, you can turn on the charm.
Dean’s watching you from the corner of the room as you flirt with the sleazebag, his jaw clenching as he reminds himself that you’re just doing your job, but it doesn’t make him want to remind you who you belong to any less. Especially when you look like that . Tight skirt, the top three buttons of your blouse undone, and then when you lean over pretending to laugh at something this guy had said, he catches a glimpse of your black lace bra, and he finds himself trying not to think about ripping it off of you. Not that it was working.
“You know, you’re a pretty little thing, Agent,” the man smirks, and then he’s reaching for the exposed part of your thigh and you’re wishing he wouldn’t , and Dean clears his throat so loudly it startles the both of you. You hop off the desk as the suspect turns around to look at him.
“I think we’re done here,” Dean says, walking over to the desk and pulling a fake business card with his real phone number on it out of his inner suit jacket pocket. “If you remember anything, Mr. McAnn, give me a call.” He tosses the card carelessly onto his desk.
Mr. McAnn huffs. “Yeah, alright, Agent.”
You and Dean both know the phone call isn’t coming; you’re going to need to find another way to prove the dickhead sitting in front of you murdered his wife — possessed or not.
“Let’s go, Y/N,” Dean grits out, his eyes not leaving Mr. McAnn’s as he walks to the door. You follow suit, and the anger in your boyfriend’s voice doesn’t go unnoticed. Dean’s already ten steps ahead of you by the time you’re fully out of the office.
“Dean!” you call after him, speed-walking to match his brisk pace down whatever corporate building hallway you were in. “Slow down, I’m in heels!” 
You catch up to him and grab his wrist, spinning him around. 
“The hell’s gotten into you?” 
He huffs in disbelief, his hands coming to rest on his hips as he tongues the inside of his cheek, thinking of how to answer that question. 
“You can’t be serious,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest and raising your eyebrows, realizing what’s gotten his panties in a twist. “I was trying to get him to confess , Dean.”
“I’m not — I know. Okay? But —” he pauses, beginning to stalk towards you, a hunger in his eyes that tells you exactly where this interaction is heading. You nearly trip over yourself as you walk backwards, a soft gasp leaving your lips when your back hits the wall. “Doesn’t mean I like watching you slutting it up for the asshole.” 
He’s got you fully caged in between his arms now, one hand on either side of your shoulders, his face inches away from yours. 
“You’re mine .”
You roll your eyes. As hot as he is when he’s jealous and possessive, it’s not like he can fuck you in this hallway. Plus, he’s being ridiculous anyway. 
“Your point ?” you prod, probably further than you should. 
“My —” he huffs again, his hands back on his hips, shaking his head before looking around. “Oh, I’ll show you my fucking point, sweetheart.”
He grabs your wrist, ignoring your squeal, and drags you a few feet down the hall, turning into the women’s bathroom and locking the door behind him. His eyes quickly scan underneath the three stalls before he determines the two of you are alone. 
“Dean —”
He cuts off your protest with his hands on your waist, walking you back into the nearby sinks before hoisting you up onto the counter. 
“Dean!” you yelp in surprise. 
He pays it no mind as he reaches for your blouse, tearing it open in one quick motion, plastic buttons clattering to the floor.
“Dean!” you scold, and Jesus, how many times can you say his name in different ways in one minute?
He remains unphased, focused on two things and two things only, both of which he reveals as he pulls down the cups of your bra.
“Christ, Y/N,” he breathes, cupping your breasts in his hands as he stares at them like it’s his first time ever seeing boobs. His thumbs flick over both of your nipples at the same time, and you arch your back as a moan escapes you.
“Mm, fuck.”
He leans in, his breath fanning over your earlobe as he continues tweaking your nipples. “Might as well have shown that dickhead in there these fuckin’ tits, the way your shirt was hanging open. Left really fuckin’ little to the imagination, Y/N,” he whispers, drawing more sounds from your throat. “He was probably sitting there thinking about doing all the things I’m doing to you right now. And I don’t like that. That’s my fuckin’ point.” He pinches one of your nipples, a yelp leaving your lips. “Understand?”
You nod, unable to form words.
“I can’t hear you.” He pinches the other peak and pulls a little. 
“Oh — fuck! Yes, I understand,” you answer. “I’m yours, I’m yours.” 
“And don’t forget it.” 
His lips find your breasts, and soon he’s sucking bruises into your skin and teasing your nipples with his tongue. He’s everywhere at once, everywhere but where you really need him, and you’re not sure how much more of this torture you can take.
“Dean, please,” you gasp, and he lets out an irritated grunt as he pulls his mouth off one of your breasts, seeming annoyed that you had interrupted his fun with your begging. You can’t blame him – he’s a boob guy. Especially if they’re your boobs. 
“I’m not done yet,” he states, before resuming his attack – for lack of a better word – on your breasts.
You groan in protest, the heat between your thighs building, and you spread your legs as far as your skirt will allow. The cool air that hits your core reminds you that you had chosen to forego underwear today, and you reach down to shimmy your skirt up to your hips while Dean’s still focused on your breasts. You’re able to spread your legs a bit further now, and you can’t help but chuckle at the fact that your boyfriend still hasn’t noticed you fully on display. 
He pulls away an inch or so when he hears your giggling. “Somethin’ funny?”
“You really are a boob guy, huh?” You shake your head in disbelief, biting back a smile. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, and you use the opportunity to lean forward, simultaneously pulling him towards you by his shoulders so you can whisper in his ear. “You’ve been so focused on them you haven’t taken the time to look down yet, have you?”
He pulls away, still confused, until his eyes dart down to your core. “Jesus – wait – did you –”
“Was debating between those panties you really like or just foregoing them altogether,” you shrug.
“Fuck,” he breathes, staring at your dripping core for a few moments before a second wave of feral hunger hits him. “ Fuck .”
Before you can even process his movements, you’re bent over the counter instead of sitting on it, your legs kicked apart with two fingers plunging into your heat. 
“Oh my – Dean !” you squeal at both the abruptness and the roughness of it all.
“Don’t know what you expected, sweetheart, walking around with everything on fuckin’ display.” He crooks his fingers at just the right angle, and you bite back a scream.
“I – fuck – nothing w-was on display – oh God !” 
“Might as well have been. This tight little skirt of yours doesn’t leave much to the imagination, either. And then to find out there’s been nothing underneath it this whole time?”
“Ow!” you exclaim, as a loud smack fills the air, courtesy of Dean’s hand landing on your bare ass. 
“ Louder ,” he growls. “I want the whole fuckin’ building to know they can imagine whatever they want, but I’m the only one who gets to act on it.” He pulls his fingers out of you and spanks you again.
“De – oh, fuck !” you choke out. “Please, Dean.”
“Please what?” he asks nonchalantly, and you can hear his belt buckle clinking behind you.
“Fuck me. Please, I need you to fuck me.”
“ Need me to, huh?” You hear the zipper of his slacks, and you shift your weight in anticipation, your ass squirming. He lands another smack on your left cheek – the hardest one yet.
“DEAN!” you yelp, and you’re certain the entire building heard that one.
“There you go. Now beg that loud and I may just give you what you want,” he chuckles, grabbing a fistful of your hair and bringing your face up from the counter while he runs his cock through your soaked folds. 
“Please!” you groan.
“Mm-mm, not hearin’ you, sweetheart.”
“Deaaaan!” you whine, pushing your hips back, trying to force him inside you. 
“You know what to do, Y/N.” 
You close your eyes and take a deep breath – there’s only so much of this you can take. You focus on his cock teasing your folds for a few moments, and that’s all the encouragement you need.
“Please, Dean! Please, fuck me!”
“That’s better. Louder.”
“Jesus fucking – FUCK ME, NOW!”
You’re rewarded immediately, and he bottoms out inside you with ease. 
“Was that so hard?”
“Fuck me,” you reply through gritted teeth, “or I’m gonna go get Mr. McAnn to do it.”
That is both the very wrong and very right thing to say. 
You yelp as he yanks up harder on your hair, your chest leaving the counter. His hand moves to rest on your neck – not choking you, simply holding you in place – and then he pounds into you harder than he ever has before. 
“You are something else, you know that?” he hisses, his thrusts hard and fast. “I know you were only acting like a slut for Mr. Douchebag back there, but it just comes so – fucking – easy – to you, doesn’t it?” He punctuates his words with more thrusts. “And not wearin’ any underwear – that wasn’t for the act, hm? That was because you were hopin’ to end up like this, yeah?” His hand moves from your throat to grip underneath your jaw when you fail to answer. “ Yeah ?”
“Yeah – oh m-my God – fuck , D-Deaaan.”
He smirks, watching you in the mirror above the counter as you slowly come apart on his cock. “No, you don’t have to act like a slut for me, sweetheart. You just are one, hm?” 
You nod to the best of your ability. 
“Open your eyes, look at yourself,” he orders, his grip on your jaw tightening as his thrusts speed up. You do as you’re told, meeting your reflection in the mirror. You’re not sure if your mascara is smudged because of sweat or tears, your hair looks like a bird has made its home in it, and you can’t remember a time that you’ve looked this fucked out. “See what I mean?” Dean questions. “Sluttiest you’ve ever fuckin’ looked. Not that I’m complaining.” 
You feel the dam inside you about to break, and you let out a whimper in warning. 
“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, almost out of breath, his tone laced with pity. “Are you gonna cum?”
“Mm-hm,” you nod, whimpering again.
“You like being my slut that much, hm?”
“Dean, please,” you beg, squeezing your eyes shut, stalling your release as much as you can. You’re not sure why – it’s not like you have to wait for his permission – but you find yourself wanting it. 
“Christ, Y/N,” he breathes, quickly realizing what you’re asking for. His thrusts are becoming erratic, and you know he’s close too. “Hold it, baby. Can you do that?”
“I don’t –”
“Mmm, I think you can. I’m – fuck – I’m close. Be a good little slut and hold it. Want you – shit – want you to cum with me, sweetheart.”
You find yourself nodding, focusing on Dean’s pants in your ear instead of the precipice of your release, and a few seconds go by before expletives are falling from his lips and you know it’s safe for you to let go.
Your dam breaks. “Oh, God – fuck – Dean!”
“Fuuuuuck,” he moans, filling you up. He lets his forehead fall to your shoulder as he catches his breath, post-orgasmic shivers running through him as you ride out your high, your walls clenching around his cock. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he pants, lifting his head to press a kiss behind your ear. “Such a perfect fuckin’ slut.”
You manage a soft giggle as your body settles. “Only for you, babe.”
He chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder as he stares at your reflection in the mirror. 
“And don’t you forget it.”
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moomshroomsoup · 1 year
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oops Little My forgot to check his restraints
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freedomfireflies · 8 months
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Five to Go Live*
Summary: The fifth and final part to One for the Money*
Mr. Styles, your boss (and the CEO of the company you work for), offers to help you expand your OnlyFans business.
But maybe you want more.
And maybe he does, too.
Word Count: 11.5k (I have no idea what happened tbh)
*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*
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“Good morning, Mr. Styles.”
The tense frame of the man pacing in front of the window stills when he hears your greeting. 
You’re five minutes early, coffee in hand, ready to begin your workday.
However, he doesn’t turn around as you enter his office. But the slight glimpse of his profile lets you know he’s acutely aware of your presence.
He stays by his desk, offering nothing more than his silence as you set down his drink and move for the couch.
“Good morning,” is his brisk greeting. It’s not any warmer or colder than usual. It’s just him. “Do you have the reports I asked for?”
“Right here.” You drop them onto the coffee table. “Ready for your meeting this afternoon.”
“Good.” He stares out at the city, unwilling to look you in the eye. “And you’ve confirmed with Nadia?”
“Yes. She’s calling for a driver as we speak.”
He nods once, fingers flexing beside his thighs before he finally ventures a glance over his shoulder. “And I suppose you’d like to talk to me about the other day.”
You flip open the laptop and pull up your email, eyebrow raised. “The other day?”
He turns to you, and you feel his heated stare. “I believe I owe you an explanation.”
“Not really,” you respond, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “You agreed to help me with the video, and you did. I didn’t expect you to stay, Sir.”
Your peripheral catches his slight frown. “You didn’t?”
“No.” You open his schedule and begin jotting down a few notes from Nadia’s email. “You’re not exactly the cuddling type. Probably would have been weirder if you had stayed.”
His hands disappear into his pockets as he regards you. “I never meant to upset you.”
“You didn’t.” Another shrug. “I knew what I agreed to, and now we’re done. No harm, no foul.”
The frown deepens. “Still, I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that—”
“Mr. Styles,” you interrupt, turning to face him, “I wasn’t under the illusion that things would change just because we fucked. I didn’t need aftercare, I didn’t need your words of affirmation, and I didn’t need you to stay.”
Something unrecognizable passes over his features.
You lean forward. “We’re good, Sir.”
The office goes quiet. You know him well enough by now to know what it looks like when he’s biting back a response.
And you imagine there are quite a few things he’d like to berate you for, but instead, he merely clamps his jaw shut and nods.
“All right.” He returns to his desk and takes a seat. “Let’s begin.”
The rest of the workweek carries on like usual. Things return to normal. Or at least to the way they were before he admitted to knowing about your outside activities.
And you find that you’re grateful for that. It’s much easier to only imagine him as your boss instead of your…business partner. 
What happened that afternoon in the hotel room was great. Fantastic, even. But it was only ever an act of generosity. A favor, more like. He helped you exactly the way he said he would and now it’s over.
You won’t ever have to think about him like that again.
So…you don’t. 
At least, you try not to. But it proves quite difficult.
After deciding against posting the whole video for your channel, and instead only uploading the part where he comes on your tits, it becomes harder to ignore what you two have done. 
 After all, the response is overwhelming. Positive, excited, and extremely lucrative. Most of the requests are for more of the mysterious man they’ve come to know, and you try not to feel disappointed when you realize there won’t be any more guest appearances. 
You wonder if he’s watched it. Wonder if he remembers that day the way you do.
Sometimes you slip up, and you watch the beginning just to hear him talk to you. You watch the way you undress him. Watch the way he kisses you. Watch the way he drives himself inside of you and begs you to come for him.
But then it hits you. Like a fucking freight train. It won’t ever happen again, and lingering on the one time it did isn’t healthy.
So, you turn it off, and attempt to resume life as normal.
You reach out to Max to apologize yet again for what happened, and he’s incredibly understanding. He asks if you’d like to meet for drinks and go over another scene for the future.
And you agree because you will do anything to put Mr. Styles in your rearview mirror.
You don’t mention the meeting to your boss. You figure it won’t do any good, and even if he disapproved, it’s not like he would tell you.
This is your game now. Not his.
So, with a new lease on life, you head for the bar to meet with Max, eager to find out what he has in store.
He’s happy to see you. Pulling out your chair and refusing any attempts at apologies that you offer.
Which you’re more than appreciative of, although you can’t help feeling a bit guilty that he didn’t get the content he’d been wanting.
“Seriously, don’t even worry about it,” he repeats for the third time since you sat down. “Honestly. I get it, once other people get involved, it gets complicated.”
“Yeah,” you agree quietly, sheepishly glancing down at your lap. “But still. He shouldn’t have…I shouldn’t have let him run you out like that.”
He smiles. “It’s fine. Listen, your boyfriend has nothing to worry about. Really. And we can proceed however you feel is best—”
“Oh, no, he’s…he’s not my boyfriend,” you interject, head shaking quickly. “No, he was just…nobody. He’s nobody. Anymore.”
Max studies you for a moment, seemingly curious at your insistence. “Oh? Does…he know that?”
You swallow thickly and take hold of your glass. “Yeah. He does.”
A beat before he nods.
“All right.” Max takes a swig himself. “As long as you’re sure this is something you want.”
You nod but can’t help finding yourself hesitating. “Yeah, it’s…yeah. Of course.”
His expression softens. “Boyfriend or not, he still has a hold over you, doesn’t he?”
And you grimace because you hate the way it sounds. Hate how obvious it must be to everyone else. Hate that it’s even a thing at all.
“No, he just…he’s infuriating,” you argue. “I mean, you were there. You saw what he’s like.”
“I was and I did,” he agrees with a smirk. “Infuriating is the nicer way to put it.”
“He’s a dick,” you correct, making you both smile. “But I trusted him. And I trusted his judgment. And him being so…blunt is sometimes a good thing. Because there’s no room for overthinking or questioning what he really wants. He tells you. Exactly how he feels, exactly how he feels it.”
Max nods thoughtfully, urging you to continue.
“And yet there are so many things I feel like he’s keeping from me,” you murmur. “And maybe he doesn’t owe me answers. Maybe it doesn’t even matter, but I just…there was this moment when we were on the same page. When it felt so seamless, and easy, and good. And now…”
Max sighs. “Now he’s nobody.”
You both grow quiet as you let this settle.
“Yeah,” you whisper, taking a sip of your drink. “He’s nobody. And it’s nothing. And it’s over anyway, so…I’m free to do whatever I’d like.”
He laughs. “That’s a great attitude.”
“Why thank you very much.”
“Of course.” He rubs his hands together. “Well, I guess in that case…maybe we should go over—”
“Peach Valentine.”
And almost as if you spoke him into existence, that familiar voice finds you. Cutting right through your conversation as chills fly up the back of your neck.
You almost don’t want to look. Want to pretend that this is merely a subconscious projection of the very last man you want to see.
But you can feel his presence behind you. Can smell his cologne and can see the surprised look on Max’s face.
Of course he’s here.
Slowly, you turn around, letting your eyes find the tall figure looming only a foot or two away.
He’s wearing an expression you know all too well. The one that tells you exactly what he’s thinking without him having to say a single word.
And your stomach sinks.
“Sir,” you whisper, voice oddly timid before you clear your throat and straighten up. “Hello.”
For a moment, he’s quiet. Offering nothing more than a blank stare. Then, he looks at Max. He looks at you. And nobody speaks.
Finally, his jaw sets, and his hands bury themselves deep within his expensive pockets. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m…I’m meeting with Max,” you reply, shooting a smile toward your new friend.
Mr. Styles frowns. “You didn’t tell me you were meeting him.”
“I didn’t think I had to,” you retort, lowering your voice as you send him a pointed look. “Seeing as we’re not partners anymore.”
His eyes narrow. “You’re still my assistant. And your well-being is my concern.”
“Oh? I thought what I did with my personal life didn’t concern you.”
“It does when it has to do with him.”
Your glare begins to mirror his. “Well, since I am in need of a new business partner, I figured Max would be the perfect one to ask.”
Mr. Styles rolls his shoulders back, regarding you carefully. “And since when are you in need of a new business partner?”
“Since my old one walked out on me.”
This does it. His features twist into an unforgiving and rather harsh look of disdain as he steps closer and drops his tone. “I told you, I needed to explain—”
“No, you don’t need to explain,” you correct. “I’m not upset. I’m not bitter. I’m not angry. But that doesn’t change the fact that our agreement is over.”
His teeth grit. “Just because I left doesn’t mean I was ending our deal—”
“It does in my book. I don’t have time to wait for you, Sir.” You sit up, leveling the playing field. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”
His fingers suddenly wrap around your upper arm, tugging on you until your feet hit the floor, forcing you to stand. “I need to talk to you.”
A bit surprised, you blink rapidly and attempt to pull yourself free. “Mr. Styles—”
“Now, Peach.”
You want to argue. Want to fight him on this. Want to stay strong, stay with Max. Send the mean man away.
But you know him, no matter how belligerent he’s being. And there’s something in those eyes that you’ve found yourself lost in that persuades you to nod and follow him to the hallway.
The moment you’re alone and the loud music has been dulled to a quiet hum, you step away from him. Put the necessary distance between your bodies as he watches you go.
“You shouldn’t be talking to him,” he says simply, almost as if it were obvious. “In fact, you shouldn’t be here at all.”
You scoff, rearing back to stare at him incredulously. “I’m sorry…you’re joking, right?”
“It’s a work night,” he replies, still infuriatingly cool. “And we agreed you wouldn’t do business with him—”
“We agreed?” Your eyebrow raises. “No, we didn’t agree on anything. You ran him out of the room without so much as checking with me first. And since when are we a we at all?”
He’s far too calm for your liking. “I told you, I’m still your boss. And partner. I want what’s best for you—”
“Really? Is that why you left?”
Once again, he scowls. “I told you, I had things to do—”
“Oh, I’m sure,” you snort. “Look, I don’t care why you left. I don’t even care that you left. But you did leave. So if I want to film with Max, I have every right to do so—”
“You do,” he agrees. “But you’re much smarter than that, Peach. And you know it.”
“Yeah? And what makes me so smart, hm? Sleeping with you?”
His expression twists into something you don’t recognize. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Sleep with you? Or point out that we did?”
“Peach—”
“No, you know what?” You take a brave step forward. “You have no right to come in here and demand that I leave him. Max is a good guy. In fact, of all the people that I’ve messaged on OnlyFans, he’s the only one that hasn’t said something skeevy or inappropriate.”
His expression falls. “Are you being harassed?”
“Not if I don’t respond. The block button exists for a reason. And that’s not even the point. The point is that you told me to do this. You told me it would be good for my channel to collaborate—”
“But not with him.”
“Then who? You?”
The hallway stills as Mr. Styles leans back. “This was never about me.”
“No. It wasn’t. It was about me,” you agree. “That’s what you promised. That this would be about what I wanted to do. And I want to meet with Max.”
The glare returns. “If you’re trying to punish me—”
“Punish you?” You laugh but it’s void of all humor. “Punish you for what? For being exactly who I thought you were?”
“You shouldn’t be here with him,” he says again, and your eyes roll.
“Then where should I be, huh, Sir? Should I be at home? Like a good little girl?” You take another step forward. “Should I be on my knees, waiting for you? Should I be fucking myself with that toy you bought? Pretending it’s you?”
You notice the muscles in his jaw constrict as he steels himself and throws you a look of warning. “Peach—”
“Because if I can’t fuck Max, and I can’t fuck you, then what do you want from me?” Another step. “You’re never happy. I can never make you happy—”
“Peach—”
 “I get that this meant nothing to you. I get that.” You’re only inches away now. “But…you’re so confusing. You’re so goddamn confusing, and I never know what you really want. Sometimes I think I do, and other times…”
His lips purse shut but his eyes are soft.
“I feel like we used to want the same thing,” you admit quietly, heart in your throat as you stare up at the beautiful man before you. Your rage dwindles down to a contemplative annoyance. “And now we don’t. So…excuse me for trying to find somebody who does want me.”
Suddenly, he surges forward. Stepping up to you so quickly, and with so much power that it forces you to stumble back into the wall.
He cages you there, his broad chest brushing against yours as he peers down, features hard and unmoving.
“And you think that somebody is Max?” he sneers, almost as if mocking you. “You think that he wants anything more from you than the money you’ll make him?”
“Who cares?” you argue, but it’s weaker than you’d like. “It’s an investment, you said so yourself—”
“I am your investor. Not him,” Mr. Styles nearly barks, practically chastising you. “How could it ever be him—”
“Because he’s everything you aren’t.”
He doesn’t even flinch, instead cocking his head to the side as he smirks. “So that’s what this is? You’re trying to replace me? Trying to find somebody better?”
“Well it’s not hard.”
The Cheshire-like grin grows. “Fine, Peach. Let me ask you this…do you like who you are with him? Do you like the role he puts you in?”
Your lashes flutter. “I don’t…I don’t know what you mean—”
“Yes, you do.” His head dips until he’s fully in your space, making it impossible to know anything else but him. “Do you like how he treats you as though you’re nothing more than a means to his end?”
A breath catches in your throat. 
“Do you like how it’s never about you? Only him?”
You squirm back into the wall, once again attempting to create a bit of distance, but failing miserably as he places a hand next to your head.
“Do you like how insignificant he is?” His voice has dropped to a dangerous purr, like silk that slips across your cheek. “Or did you like it better with me?”
A question meant to trap you and you can do nothing more than stare at the buttons on his shirt as you will yourself not to gasp.
“Because I think you like yourself better in my reflection,” he murmurs, his other palm now smoothing across your hip, subtly tugging you into his body. “The way I make you beg for me. The way I touch you. Kiss you. Fuck you.”
The words weigh heavy on your chest, making it hard to breathe as his nose softly ghosts against yours. 
“Everything is better with me. And you know it. So why are you wasting your time with him? Hm, Peach? Who are you really trying to punish? Me…or you?”
And you could just slap him. You really could. Could fucking slap the dimples right off his face for being so smug.
“I’m not punishing anybody,” you whisper, nails curling into your palms to brace yourself. “I’m just doing what you told me to.”
“Well now I’m telling you to leave him.”
“Why?”
His eyes flick between yours. “Why do you think?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. I want to hear you say it.”
The frown returns. “Peach—”
“Say it, Mr. Styles,” you repeat. “And maybe I will leave him. Maybe I’ll walk out of this bar, and never look back. I’ll delete his number, I’ll block him, I’ll never think of reaching out to him again. I’ll leave. With you.”
You can see the way he internalizes this. Can feel his grip tighten, can see the muscles in the arm beside your head flex.
“Just say it,” you mumble again, reaching out to brush your fingers down his chest. “Tell me what you really want. Because maybe I want it, too.”
Everything moves around you. The world, time, this moment.
But neither of you move.
And as the seconds pass, you can’t help but silently will him to finally be honest with you. To finally succumb to what he really needs. To make everything that’s happened mean something.
Then, his eyebrows weave together, and his lips turn down. “I want you to go home,” he finally says, and your heart drops so fast, it makes your head spin. “You’re drunk, and you shouldn’t be alone with him.”
“I’m not drunk,” you retort, now shoving on his sternum to create that space you so desperately need. “I’ve had one drink. And I’m not alone. You’re here.”
And maybe it’s too dark in this hallway to be sure, but you’re almost positive you see something painful flash behind his eyes.
“I won’t be for long,” he replies as he pushes off the wall and steps back. “I have other things to do besides babysit you.”
And that is your slap to the face.
Your hands ball into fists by your side. “You are such a fucking asshole. I never asked you to babysit me. I didn’t even want you here—”
“Clearly you need it,” he argues. “Since you aren’t capable of making decisions on your own. Even when you’re sober.”
You scoff so loud, it makes your throat sore. “I was doing just fine without you—”
“You were scraping by,” he corrects. “And you could do so much better if you realized that he’s nothing but a waste of time and sperm.”
Your nose crinkles as you make your way to the end of the hall, ready to rid yourself of him. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t…I can’t argue with you over the same goddamn thing. Okay, Max is nice to me. He tells me what he actually feels, and that’s something you could never understand.”
You think you see the briefest hint of disappointment, but it’s replaced just as quickly by a look of unamused indignation. “Fine. If you’d like your sex life and your career to be as mediocre as his cock…by all means. The choice is yours.”
“It is,” you agree coldly, ready to turn on your heel and run. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Styles.”
With that, you exit the hallway, leaving him behind.
And he lets you.
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The following day, things aren’t as awkward as you expected. Mr. Styles doesn’t mention your run-in at the bar, nor does he attempt to restart the conversation about Max.
He treats you the way he did when he first hired you. With nothing but professionalism and distance. 
At first, you’re thankful. There are no more sly comments or lingering stares at your chest. He follows your terms to let you make your own decisions. He lets your business be yours.
And he’s nothing more than your boss.
But as the days progress, you can’t shake the nagging thought that something bigger is afoot. Almost as though something is wrong. Off.
Maybe it’s just in your head. Maybe you want to believe he’s more affected by this little falling out than he pretends to be.
But you’ve known him for over a year. You know what it looks like when he’s upset, and this…this is not it.
However, you decide to push away the inclination altogether, and carry on with your work as usual. Because even if something is wrong, it’s none of your concern anymore.
That is until Nadia mentions it over lunch.
“Listen, he’s a very complicated man,” she says when you comment on his odd behavior, waving her salad fork through the air. “He tries so hard to appear uninterested, but I know it’s just an act. Nobody is that heartless.”
You swirl your French fry around in your ketchup, mulling this over. “I don’t know. He doesn’t…I don’t think he’s heartless. I think that’s just…who he is. He has a one-track mind.”
Nadia snorts. “Please. You should have seen him before…”
Your little lunch corner goes oddly silent as she suddenly presses her lips together and winces.
“Before…?” you repeat curiously, head tilting.
“Nothing,” she’s quick to reply, dismissing the comment with a flutter of her hand. “No, nothing. He just…he was more open when he first started the company, that’s all.”
You know there’s more to that story than she’s letting on, but you don’t push. Instead nodding your head as you return to your burger, letting the inquiry rest.
However, the subject is changed for all of three minutes before she sighs, and finally says, “Okay, look, it’s none of my business. And I don’t even know all of details, but maybe this will help make your job…easier?”
Once again struck with curiosity, you motion for her to continue.
“He had an assistant before you,” she begins. “His first assistant actually. I don’t know too much because I was working the mail room. But I do know that they were really close. Maybe friends, maybe more. I don’t know. But they were close.”
You lean back in your seat, endlessly intrigued as you wait for the rest.
“And everybody loved them together. She made him so happy. He was always smiling, always laughing, always walking around the office talking to everybody. Engaging in chit chat and catching up on everyone’s lives.”
It’s odd to picture your boss so open. So…infatuated. In fact, this fantasy she’s painting doesn’t sound like the man you know at all.
You have to wonder how different things would have been if he were still the same.
“Anyway, I don’t know what happened exactly, but something bad,” Nadia sighs. “The rumor was that she was seeing somebody he didn’t like. He got crazy possessive over her, and it drove them apart. She quit, and he became this sullen, hollow version of himself. And now that’s just who he is, I guess.”
“That’s…so sad,” is about all you can offer, frowning some as she nods.
“Yeah. It was,” she agrees. “After her, he didn’t hire another personal assistant for quite some time. Until you, actually. Which was kind of surprising, and I think we were all a little worried for you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, you seem to be handling him just fine, which is great. But…I don’t know. He just became very…cold. Distant, I guess. Doesn’t really create personal relationships anymore.”
You have to admit that this makes sense, although it doesn’t exactly help make things any clearer for you. “That must have been hard for him.”
“Yeah. And maybe he taught himself not to care, but…I think he hides who he really is because of her,” she admits with a shrug. “Which sucks. ’Cause he’s such a good guy, deep down. He just…he’s afraid, I guess.”
You hate the way your heart breaks for him. Hate the way this humanizes him. Hate the way it makes you second guess every interaction the two of you have ever had.
“Does he ever talk about her?” you ask next.
“No, never. I don’t even remember her name, to be honest. It was forever ago. Five or six years, at least.”
“Wow.”
“Mhm. As far as I know, he doesn’t date, either. I think he fucks around a bit. I mean, he’s a guy, after all,” she teases. “But he doesn’t really do anything…meaningful. Maybe he doesn’t know how anymore.”
Your stomach twists around an invisible knife. “I guess that makes sense.”
“Yeah,” she hums, digging back into her salad. “I don’t know. If he’s being rude, just tell him to fuck off. That always works for me.”
You laugh as the subject is dropped and the two of you carry on with your lunch.
But you think about it for the rest of the day, the information following you back to his office where you’re quick to find that he’s left for the afternoon. 
So, you sit with this discovery as you go through your tasks. Unable to stray from the thought for very long before your throat constricts, and you feel a wave of disappointment.
You text him as you’re leaving for the evening. A simple, “Finished prepping the presentation. Hope you’re okay,” before you tuck your phone away and head home.
Hours go by without a response. Not that you really expected one, but you can’t help feeling slightly guilty for the role you played in pushing him to open up.
And no matter how out of line he was, or how justified you were in asking for his honesty, you know how hard it must be for him to be honest with you.
Especially if what Nadia said is true.
After messaging Max for a bit about your upcoming video, you decide to run yourself a bath, letting the bubbles fill the tub as you watch the water rise.
You’ve barely slipped out of your socks when your phone vibrates on the porcelain sink, making you jump some at the sudden noise.
The familiar name flashes across the screen, making your heart skip as you hesitantly hit the green button and bring the phone to your ear. “…hello?”
“You did it, didn’t you?” Mr. Styles says, but even through the static, you can hear that there’s something off. 
“Did…what?” you ask hesitantly.
“You fucked him,” comes the reply. Blunt and void of any civility. “Max. You fucked him, didn’t you?”
With narrowed eyes, you turn the water off and step out of the bathroom. “I don’t believe that’s any of your concern—”
“So, yes,” he answers for you. Then, you hear him chuckle to himself. However, there’s something chilling about the way he laughs. Bitter, almost. “You’re very easy to read, Peach.”
You can feel your expression fall into one of annoyance as you lean against the wall in the hallway. “Mr. Styles—”
“Was he good?”
You glower. “Mr. Styles—”
“I already know the answer is no,” he continues. “Even your own fingers would be better, but…maybe I just wanted to hear you say he wasn’t.”
You contemplate this for only a moment before you cautiously ask, “Are you drunk?”
You can hear the subtle slur slip through the speaker, and your eyebrows raise as he snorts.
“No, I’m curious,” he retorts, but it makes your heart pound. “And I’m still a subscriber. So I want to know what to expect.”
Your stomach wrenches. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Why are you avoiding my question?”
“Mr. Styles—”
“You like to torture me, don’t you?” he interrupts, and there’s a hitch in your breath. “You always have. From the first day I met you. You were wearing that really nice dress. And your hair was up in that pretty ponytail. And you walked in like you were trying to walk into my life and ruin me.”
Your head falls back into the wall, eyes fluttering shut. “Sir—”
“And I let you,” he carries on. “I let you ruin me. I let you do the one thing I promised I’d never do, and now what? Now you’ve gone and strutted your way into somebody else’s life.”
And maybe he doesn’t know what he’s saying, but you feel this overwhelming rush of emotion, anyhow. “Mr. Styles, where are you?”
“Where would you like me to be?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Says you.”
You huff. “Mr. Styles—”
“Tell Max I said hello,” he says instead. “And then tell him I don’t mean it.”
“Mr. Styles—”
There’s some sort of loud noise on his end before the line suddenly beeps three times and the call goes dead.
And you can only stand there, flabbergasted, as you stare at your phone. Wondering what the hell just happened.
You’re frozen for a good minute or two, running through your options. He normally doesn’t reach out when he’s drinking, at least not to you, and definitely not this late.
Maybe it’s a silent cry for help or maybe he just wanted to bother you one last time.
Either way, it breeds something unnerving in your gut as you groan to yourself and head back to your room to retrieve your shoes.
You don’t imagine he’s out. He has to be at his apartment, so at least you know he’s probably safe. But you don’t know what he might do. You don’t know what that sound was, and if he’s managed to hurt himself, but you don’t think anyone will be there to help for quite a while.
You grab the key he’d given you a few months ago. It was meant only for emergencies, although you’ve never needed to use it.
Tonight, however, you decide that this is as good an excuse as any.
You call an Uber to take you to his place, the lavish apartment building smack in the middle of downtown, quite a bit away from you.  
Thankfully, the traffic isn’t too bad this late at night, and you’re grateful for the quick trip as you’re brought to a stop just outside the sidewalk in under thirty minutes.
You jump out, greet the doorman, and book it for the elevator before hitting the button for his apartment at the top of the building.
It’s a good three-minute ride before you finally reach his floor, and once those doors open, your heart leaps into your throat.
Even the hallway is exquisite, and your dirty Vans squeak along the newly waxed floors as you approach his apartment, and fumble with the key.
You unlock it as slowly and quietly as you can, hoping not to startle him if he is in fact inside, and the moment the door is cracked, you call, “Mr. Styles? Are you here?”
Everything is dark as you enter. Not a single lamp to be seen, only the soft glow of the city lights outside of his many large windows, and the pale shadow of the moon cascading across the floors.
You see silhouettes of furniture, walls, and a few appliances. Enough that you manage not to trip over anything as you make your way into his living room. 
And then, you see him.
The shape of his body is outlined by the window to your left. He’s sitting on the floor, back against the wall as he stares out at the tall skyscrapers before him. 
Your heart sinks as you pocket the keys and approach slowly. “Mr. Styles?”
He’s still. Deathly still, in fact. As if he hasn’t even heard you. He doesn’t even bother to look over or investigate your presence.
And then, he murmurs, “You shouldn’t be here.”
Your breath hitches.  “Maybe not,” you reply quietly, taking another cautious step. “But I was worried about you.”
He snorts, arms slung over his knees, a crystal glass in one hand that’s only got a few drops left. “How nice.”
“Mr. Styles,” you try again, “are you all right?”
Now close enough to catch a glimpse of his profile, you see the sweaty hair matted to his forehead. The strain in his jaw and the red rim around his eyes. 
“M’fine. You can go,” he calls.
You take another step. “You didn’t sound fine—”
“Well I am, all right?” he suddenly sneers, turning to face you as you lean back. “I don’t need your fucking pity.”
“It’s not pity. It’s concern,” you correct briskly. “You’re drunk, and upset—”
“Yeah? What was your first fucking clue?”
You shoot him a look of warning as you bridge the gap and hesitantly crouch down to his level. “Why are you drinking?”
“Because I fucking can,” is his reply, his normally soft green eyes now as sharp as the edge of a sword. “Is that a problem?”
“Maybe. Do you remember calling me?”
“Of course I fucking do. But I don’t remember asking you to come here.”
“You didn’t,” you agree. “But I wanted to. Because I was worried.”
“Why? Don’t you have better things to worry about now?”
You’ve never heard him sound so insecure, and you’re reminded again of Nadia’s story as you glance over his expression. “I haven’t slept with Max.”
This is the only thing that seems to reach him, his lashes fluttering as he leans back, although his scowl remains put. “Why not?”
“We just haven’t yet. We’re still planning the video.”
“So you’re going to?”
“I think so, yeah.”
“You think so.”
“I plan to.”
He scoffs beneath a quiet breath and looks back out the window. “And you needed to come here to tell me that?”
“I came here because I wanted to make sure you were okay,” you tell him again. “And to set the record straight.”
“Why? You were right, it’s none of my fucking business.”
“It’s not, but you still seem to care.”
He snorts. “I don’t fucking care who you sleep with, Peach.”
“Sure, okay. Is that why you tried to keep me from doing it?”
“I was trying to help.”
“You’d help me a lot more if you were honest.”
“I am honest. I’m always fucking honest.”
“Not about this.”
His eyes return to yours. “I told you, you can do better. That’s my honest opinion.”
“Fine.” You take a moment to study him. “Then why did you offer to help me?”
His head drops back against the wall as he mulls this over, but his gaze never leaves you. “Because you needed the help. I knew you could make more money if you just did things a little differently, and I was right.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“What else would it be?”
Your head tilts. “Why did you agree to be in the video with me?”
“You said you didn’t have anyone else.”
“Why did you get me custom jewelry with your initials?”
His teeth begin to grit, the grasp on his glass tightening some. “What?”
“The peaches would have been fine. My initials would have been fine. But you wanted me to wear your name,” you remind him. “Why?”
“I already told you, I wanted him to know who your real partner was—”
“Yeah? Then why did you leave?”
His lips press together. “I thought you didn’t care—”
“I do now. Why?”
“I had somewhere to be—”
“Where?”
“Where?”
“Yes, where? Where did you have to be?”
He seems to fight himself on the answer before finally admitting, “The gym.”
You lean back, blinking quickly. “I’m sorry, you rushed out of there to go to the gym?”
“Yes.”
Now it’s your turn to scoff as you shake your head. “Wow. No, I should have assumed as much. Makes perfect sense. Clearly that was so much more important than just telling me I made you uncomfortable—”
“You didn’t,” he suddenly interjects, shooting you this look like he’s disappointed in your response. “I left because I knew I couldn’t stay.”
“You couldn’t stay? And why the fuck not?”
“Because—” He stops himself, once again clamping his jaw shut as if wrestling with the truth. Then, he drops his head, eyes finding the floor as he glares at the marble beneath. “Because I couldn’t.”
And you want to scream because you don’t know if he’ll ever be honest with you. Don’t know what to do to reach him.
“You know what I think?” you finally huff, and he looks up. “I think this is about her.”
Confused, he glances over your expression. “Her who?”
“The girl who used to work for you. Your first assistant. The one who left.”
Instantly, the atmosphere changes, his entire demeanor shifting on a dime as he presses his back into the wall and shoots you a venomous look of intimidation. “Oh you do, do you?”
“Yeah.” You hold your ground, keep your shoulders stiff. “I think you loved her. I think you were honest with her. I think you let yourself trust her, and I think…she broke that trust.”
You can tell he’s not quite sure what to do with this, furrowed brows still knitted together. “And where the fuck did you get that?”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s true, isn’t it?”
His finger taps the edge of the crystal in thought, but his contemplative expression remains. “Even if it were, what does this have to do with us?”
“Everything,” you say simply. “She broke your trust, and you chose not to get close to anyone again. But then you started helping me. And we got closer. And created a bond—created trust. And the second you realized, you ran for the hills.”
He snorts again, but he doesn’t rush to deny it.
So, you carry on. “Max coming along only made things worse for your fragile little ego. And maybe you were trying to keep it from happening again, but you did a really shitty job of it. And now here we are, sitting on your floor, saying everything but what we really mean.”
He’s angry. He’s so very angry, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly, fighting himself on what he really wants to say.
You scoot closer, gently reaching out to take the crystal glass from his hand so you can place it on the floor. Then, you rest your palm atop his arm, and meet his eye.
“Harry,” you whisper, and he sucks in a sharp breath, tensing beneath your touch. “I’m not her. And maybe that’s a good thing, maybe it’s not. But I have only ever wanted it to be you.”
He’s quiet but you have his full attention. And the intrigue in his features urges you to continue.
“Even before you told me that you watched, I imagined you,” you admit quietly. “I’ve always imagined you. Your voice, and your hands, and your face. And yeah, I didn’t mind keeping things…professional. Strictly about the content and nothing more. But…you have to know I wanted more.”
Once again, the back of his head meets the wall, as if bracing himself from your honesty.
“I wanted more,” you repeat. “And I thought you did, too. Maybe that’s why it’s been so hard, and maybe that’s why I tried to use Max to move on. But I never wanted Max. I only wanted you. I just…I wasn’t sure I could have you.”
He looks down at your hand, gaze softening when he sees the way it looks on his arm. Like he’s mesmerized by your touch.
“And I need you to tell me right now what you want,” you say softly. “I need the truth. I have to know if we’re running around in circles for no reason, or if…maybe we can get off this ride together.”
He’s silent for quite a long stretch, letting himself ponder a response as the apartment fills with a solemn quiet.
You study his face in the soft glow of the moonlight, wonderstruck by the sharp curve of his jaw in contrast to the soft curls near his cheeks.
Even now, he’s breathtaking.
Finally, he clears his throat. “Ellie.”
“What?”
“Her name,” he says, “was Ellie. And you’re right, I did trust her. But I ruined it. Not her.”
Now it’s your turn to listen as he recalls this memory to you, nodding gently for him to continue.
“She didn’t…she loved somebody that wasn’t me. That was her only fault,” he murmurs, once again staring at your hand as your thumb strokes his tan skin. “And it wasn’t even a fault. But I hated it. Because I wanted it to be me. And it was never going to be me. We both knew that.”
Slowly, his arm turns over, allowing your gentle touches to dance along the more sensitive skin.
You smile.
“I crossed so many fucking lines,” he admits quietly. “As her boss, as her friend. I pushed her away only to drag her back and try to keep her close. I suffocated her. I let myself need her in ways I shouldn’t have. She had every right to leave. In fact, she should have left sooner.”
You feel the tips of his fingers brush against you as he subtly grabs on.
“And then you,” he whispers, eyes still locked on where you’re connected. “I’d been doing so good. Didn’t let myself slip again, and then you came along, and everything was fucked. Because I knew I couldn’t do to you what I’d done to her. But I let myself think about you anyway. Even when I shouldn’t have.”
You can feel tears crawling up the back of your throat, and the wounded look on his face is like a fist to the heart.
“And for some fucking reason, I thought offering my advice would allow me to know you without ruining anything,” he sighs, tugging you a bit closer until your knees collide with his. “Which obviously didn’t work. And then I was looking for excuses to be with you. To have you. To touch you. Even though I knew better. Even though I had to know better.”
He takes a deep breath. Holds it. 
“I didn’t want to lose you,” he eventually exhales. “And I got scared that the only reason you felt like you wanted more was because I somehow tricked you into it. I confused you, I manipulated the situation. It wasn’t real. And I wanted it to be real. But then Max, and I got so fucking angry, and I knew I was doing it again. And I couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to you.”
He won’t look up. He won’t meet your eye, and the hard set of his jaw makes you take hold of his other arm and squeeze it tight.
“Harry,” you whisper, but his head shakes quickly.
“It doesn’t matter what I want,” he barrels on, fingers wrapping around your elbow, keeping you close. “Because I can’t have it. I can’t have you. And you were right, I can’t be your partner anymore. I can only be your boss.”
You frown but it’s sad. “Harry—”
“Mr. Styles,” he corrects, finally shooting you a look of warning that breaks your heart.
But you aren’t deterred. Instead, you release him so you can wedge yourself between his legs and take hold of his face. “Harry,” you repeat, urgent but gentle. “This? It’s not the same.”
He struggles a bit in your grasp, tensing up as he tries to pull away. But it only lasts a second before he’s settling into your embrace, allowing you to guide his attention to you.
“It’s real,” you whisper. “It’s so fucking real. It was real even before you called me poor and badly dressed.”
This earns you your first smirk of the evening, and the butterflies that explode in your gut nearly make you dizzy.
“You’ve tried to push me away over and over. But I’m still sitting here, on your floor, begging you to talk to me.” Your thumbs delicately brush across the bags under his eyes, and he seems to nuzzle into your palms. “It’s not the same. You’re not just my boss or my investor. You’re my partner, Harry. And I can’t do this without you.”
His arms slowly slip around your middle, encouraging you onto his lap as his legs drop.
And you eagerly oblige, straddling his hips with ease as you look down at him.
“I don’t want to do this without you,” you murmur. “So don’t make me. Please.”
For a moment, you aren’t sure what he’ll do. What he’ll say or feel. He’s still somewhat tense, and far too quiet.
Then, he tugs, crashing your lips into his.
And it’s the most honest thing he’s ever done.
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“Turn around.”
The strong command leaves no room for argument as you quickly spin on your heel, eager to obey.
Your ass is revealed to the camera. Bright red from the many spanks Mr. Styles has landed to it. It complements the dark black lingerie set he recently purchased for you, something you’re both rather proud of, and perhaps the main feature of this video.
You hear him hum his approval as he approaches, large hands slipping over the curves of your hips. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs before shoving you onto the bed. “Think it’s time we show them what a wet little whore you are, hm?”
You feel his finger hook into the crotch of the panties before he’s ripping them aside, allowing your swollen cunt to glisten for the lens.
You gasp as the cool air hits you, but it quickly melts into a desolate whine when you feel his touch ghost up the back of your thigh.
“Look at you,” he muses, palms pulling on your cheeks to spread you open, giving your audience a firsthand glimpse of your mess. “So fucking pathetic, aren’t you, Peach? And all I’ve done is spank you.”
“Can’t…can’t help it, Sir,” you pant, steadying yourself on your hands and knees as your eyes flutter shut. “Just want you.”
“Oh you do, do you?” He kneads your bruised flesh with admiration. “Do you think you deserve it?”
You squirm a bit as you whimper, desperate to lean back into his touch before he lands another smack to your thigh, reminding you to stay still.
“Yes,” you finally answer, chin meeting your chest. “Wanna deserve it for you.”
You hear him chuckle under his breath as he allows his touch to travel toward your dripping pussy, large digit pushing through your folds just to make you mewl.
“I bet you do,” he replies, running up and down your cunt to collect you. Tease you. “But we have a deal, don’t we, honey?”
You want to kill him and kiss him all at the same time.
“Yes, Sir.”
“We do.” He pats you again, this time gently. “Go on and grab it, all right?”
With a nod, you outstretch your shaky hand for the object sitting on the bed only a few inches in front of you.
Already tender and slightly swollen from the way he played with you earlier (casually and much too cruel), you feel a rush of excitement as you hand him the chain.
After taking hold of it, he moves to sit in front of you, allowing him better access to the front of your body as he motions for you to sit back on your ankles.
“You ready?” he asks quietly, eyes flicking between yours as he looks for your consent.
You nod. “Always.”
With that, he reaches for your exposed tits and begins preparing your nipples for the clamps.
You swallow a dozen whines and whimpers as he works them shut, the subtle ache quickly dissolving into an immeasurable type of pleasure.
And he’s smiling so big, like he’s so proud of you. Proud of the way you look, proud of the way you feel, proud of the way you obey.
It makes the yearning in-between your thighs that much worse as he travels the other end of the chain down to your clit.
Once again, he plays with you. Drags his fingers up, down, and through to make you writhe, and make sure you’re ready.
Then, with great care but devious intent, he slips the clamp along the base of the sensitive nerves and secures it.
You choke on a gasp, body stilling as the sensation becomes a bit more familiar. It’s quite thrilling. Not painful, but prominent. Taunting you with its power as you glance down at the way it holds you.
Harry leans back to study you, carefully observing every pull of your brows or hitch in your breath. “You okay, Peach?”
You nod, lip sliding between your teeth.
He frowns. “Color.”
“Green,” you say quickly, nails digging into your thighs as you release a heavy exhale. “It’s just…new.”
His expression softens as he reaches out to grasp onto your chin and squeeze once. “I know, my love. But you’ll take it for me, won’t you?”
And you say, “Yes,” with so much adoration and excitement that it returns those dimples to you.
His eyes drift toward the computer, checking the status of the livestream you assume before he leans forward and presses his lips to yours. 
You know your faces aren’t in the frame, but it makes your heart pound nonetheless as he offers you a moment of his affection. 
“How’s your ass?” he mumbles between kisses to your bottom lip.
You nod gently and sigh into his mouth. “Good. Sore.”
And he chuckles as he sends you a devious wink. “Good.”
With that, he stands, and begins to undo his belt as he returns to his spot behind you. He doesn’t plan to be gentle today. Not for your first live appearance, and you’re grateful for his punishing hand as it ghosts down your spine, guiding you.
It travels between your thighs, tapping them briskly as a reminder to keep them spread as you bend back over.
And once you’ve braced yourself against the mattress, you feel those long, skilled fingers nudging at you again.
“Sir,” you whisper, desperate for the friction as he keeps his touch light, merely tracing patterns along your folds while humming to himself.
“Yes, Peach?”
You swallow thickly. “Please?”
“Please?” His thumb moves up to brush over your tighter hole, and you gasp again as you await any sort of contact. “Please what?”
“Please…please touch me?”
“Touch you,” he repeats thoughtfully, as if considering it. “I don’t know. Have you disobeyed any of my rules?”
With a quick shake of your head, you glance down at the duvet beneath you, the expensive fabric soft beneath your clenched fists.
“Have you used any naughty language?” he asks, the tip of his middle finger lowering to circle through your arousal. 
“No,” you breathe.
He begins to push in, leaving your other opening alone. At least for today. “Have you called me by the wrong name?”
Not aloud, you think, biting back a smirk as you murmur, “No, Sir.”
The digit travels a bit further, the feeling of him pushing past your tight walls like heroin as you reel.
“Have you taken your punishment like a good girl?” he inquires next, and you chew on the inside of your lip as you nod.
“Yes.”
And you can’t exactly see him, but you can practically hear his smirk as he suddenly adds a second finger in beside the first, just to surprise you.
“Yes,” he agrees. “You have. Been my perfect peach, haven’t you? Guess you’re showing off for them, hm? Letting them think you’re actually an obedient little cock-whore?”
And maybe you are showing off, at least a little, but it’s hard not to obey this man. He just makes it so…worth it.
“Yes,” you call again, desperate to please him. “Only for you, Sir.”
Suddenly, you feel his fist against your scalp, scraping through your roots as he furiously yanks, forcing your head up.
“Only for me,” he nearly seethes, dipping down to press his lips against your ear. “Want you to fucking say it. Every time I touch you. Every time I make you come. Want you to say it. Remind them who you really belong to.”
Apparently, having his initials glimmer from your nipples isn’t enough, but that’s more than all right with you.
You’ll happily vow your life to him as many times as he needs. Because there’s something empowering about having a man beg you to be his.
And for the first time since you’ve met him, you realize…you’re on the same ground. Equal partners. Equal power. 
You and him.
One.
With that instruction, he curls, now stroking and thrusting into you with a fervent need to force you up the mountain. 
“Only you,” you whisper between salacious moans for relief. “Only, Sir.”
“That’s right,” he hisses, smacking his other palm against your ass before groping at the tender skin. Soothing it and stimulating it at the same time.
The pace increases, faster and faster until you feel as though you can’t breathe. Until you’re trying to meet his rhythm by rocking back into his touch, but the hand on your hip holds you steady. Makes you patient. 
“Only you.” It’s almost inaudible, released through quivering lips as you begin to slip into your first. “Only you. Only…”
He plunges in to the knuckle, beckoning you toward your release as it hits you hard. Fireworks go off behind your eyes as you keen, sweat beading around your hairline, and chest heaving.
“God, only you,” you barely manage as you fight for air. “Just you, Sir. Always.”
He takes his fingers out, allowing the world to see your come drip along the insides of your thighs. And the loss of contact makes your chest ache as you whimper and peek over your shoulder for a glimpse of his face.
He’s smug. Because of course he is, endlessly pleased with the way you’ve come undone so quickly.
Wet digits quickly outstretch for your cheeks, pushing on your lips to accentuate your already obvious pout.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he warns darkly. “You know better.”
You glance up at him with remorse and desperation, hoping your tiny hum will be enough to sway him. “M’sorry, Daddy.”
It’s the first time today you’ve used the nickname, and you watch the effect it has on him as he tightens his grip and scrapes his teeth together.
“Peach,” he grumbles, “don’t fucking test me. Not today.”
“I’m not. Promise. Just wanna feel you.”
And that’s the truth. It’s all you ever want. Want his cock, his time, his attention. Anything he’ll give you, and he knows this.
Because he wants you just as bad.
And maybe, if he had the strength, he’d punish you for this little game. He’d waste hours just making you wait for him. Tying you up, leaving you to beg, taunting you with something you can’t have.
But today, that would punish him, too. And you can see that he doesn’t have the capacity to go without you, not even for show.
So, he releases his hold on you only to land a very firm and sharp smack to your cheek. And it stings but it feels so good, forcing another groan as you lean back. 
“And you will,” he finally decides, settling behind you again as he begins to tug his pants down. “Gonna feel me for days, honey. Make sure you can’t fucking sit without thinking of me.”
Just the image of you in one of those boardroom meetings, legs still bruised and clenched tightly together as you sit for hours on end makes you gasp.
He’s gotten braver recently. Normally, he’s tame. Making you rest on his lap in the privacy of his office while he absentmindedly runs circles over your clit. Answering emails as he plays with you. Like it’s just an average workday.
But now he tries to tease you in public. In meetings, at lunch, when you’re apart. Making you sit with a remote-controlled toy deep inside your cunt during a meeting with the board of directors. Changing the tempo over and over again while forcing your silence. Leaving you to squirm in your seat as you silently beg him for mercy.
Sometimes he gives it to you. Most times…he does not.
You imagine this week will be no different. Especially after today. He always gets a bit more insatiable after the two of you have posted a video together. 
He’ll make you watch it in his office. His now favorite tradition. And the comments and response will encourage something in him that makes you giddy. Possessive yet proud. Like he wants to outdo himself next time. Make you come harder, longer, faster. Make everyone watching eat their fucking hearts out.
You feel the tip of his swollen cock brush down your folds, lazily rubbing against you as he alerts you of his presence.
Just the feel of him makes you breathless, back arching as you silently plead with him for more.
He won’t give it to you, at least not yet. Not until he’s had a chance to watch you soak him.
He presses his hand against it, trapping it to your cunt while gliding it through your arousal. Gentle thrusts that have you clenching around nothing until you hear him curse to himself.
“Beg me,” he calls, grasping onto your ass cheek to pull it apart, allowing him a better view. “Beg me to fuck you, Peach. Beg Daddy to make it better.”
“Please,” you comply instantly, a subtle quiver in your voice. “Please, Daddy. Need you. Need to feel you. Hurts.”
“Oh, honey,” he coos, finally circling the rim of your aching hole and pushing in only an inch just to pull back. “Bet it does. Know I’ve been teasing you all day, haven’t I?”
You whine again. “I deserved it. Always love it when you tease me.”
He chuckles under his breath, and you know you’ve made him proud. “That’s right. Know you do, my love. Because you know I just wanna make it better for you, hm?”
“I know.” You attempt to wiggle back into him, but his unrelenting grip keeps you frozen to your spot. “Always do, Sir. Always make it better.”
He slides in again, further this time, allowing your body to stretch for him. Then, he slides out, leaving you to wilt as you swallow a groan.
“And I always will,” he answers, knee knocking into your inner thigh as an instruction to spread your legs a bit further. “Just have to behave for me. Think you can do that, Peach? Think you can be good for me?”
And you’ve never wanted anything more, head nodding quickly before he finally thrusts into you with such power and dominance that it knocks the wind from your lungs.
Truth be told, you never know what you’re going to get with him. What rhythm will drive him. But you’ll take anything he offers. Because hard and slow or fast and eager…it’s perfect. Sets your nerves on fire and leaves you desperate and depraved.
The sounds of him pushing through and pulling out are sure to be captured by the microphone. You can’t see the computer, but you imagine the audience is loving it. They always seem to enjoy sounds as much as you do. And Harry’s sounds are the best.
Your quick breaths intertwine seamlessly with his unforgiving grunts. Like a melody for the soul, and you slowly slide down until your chest meets the mattress, although your ass stays up.
He seems to like this angle, nails scraping down your spine before he lands another smack to your cheek. “There she is.”
Both sets of clamps are stimulated as you’re pushed against the bed, making your eyes roll back every time he drives himself to the hilt.
The pain is delicious. Exactly what you’d needed, and just when you think it can’t get any better…he slips an arm around your stomach and forces you back up.
Instantly, his hand is on your throat, tugging your back into his chest as he settles you down on his cock. 
Dominant fingertips press into the sides of your neck, playing with your airways as you gasp. And for a moment, you are nothing more than his toy. Just a body for him to use, and the idea makes you clamp down on him until he groans and nuzzles his nose into your shoulder.
But you know it’s more to him than that. Know that you’re not just this thing for him to abuse and ruin. He wants to worship you. Treat your body like the divine gift it is, and even though this display of aggression is uncouth…it’s meant for you. To make you feel good. Everything he does is always for you.
“So good, baby,” he whispers, just quiet enough that only you can hear. “Fucking love the way you feel, Peach. Always so warm for me. So wet. My perfect hole.”
You shudder, nails reaching for his arm to scratch down his skin. Desperate to be even closer to him. 
His hand then drops to your chest, finding your breast and groping at it mercilessly as you cry out. The clamps are tugged, stimulating the rings, and forcing your back to arch. So many sensations are being exploited that it’s nearly impossible to think straight. Your mind is mush, focused only on one thing to keep from drowning:
Him.
“Wanna come, don’t you?” he taunts, now louder so the audience can hear. “Wanna come on my cock, so they see what I do to you?”
You nod quickly, unable to vocalize your agreement. But he doesn’t need it. He knows. Can read your body like a book, and it makes him smile into your heated skin.
“Good,” he whispers, pressing a lingering kiss to your neck before reaching down to undo the clamp around your clit. “Go.”
The moment the pressure is released, it hits you. Your toes curl, your eyes roll back, and you make so many noises, you wouldn’t be surprised if the people below Harry’s apartment can hear you.
He works you through each ripple and aftershock, perhaps hoping to send you into a third, but your body needs a moment to recharge. 
And this is more than fine with him because it gives him a bit more time to watch himself disappear into you. His favorite part.
You collapse in his hold, held up only by his strong arm that’s thankfully bare, allowing you to glance down at his tattoos.
He takes his shirt off for almost every video now. He knows that nobody will be able to recognize his tattoos, but he especially knows how much you love them. Love to lick them, trace them, stare at them.
Your perfect pastime, and you think this now as you grip onto his wrist and squeeze. 
He exhales into your shoulder before he’s suddenly cursing and pulling out, the sound of his slick cock slipping from your cunt making you whimper.
With a single pat to your hip, he growls, “On your back.”
You nearly throw yourself down onto the bed, finally able to face him fully as you’re met with the sight of his flushed cheeks.
He’s so beautiful when he’s turned on, and you feel nothing but grateful to be able to witness this sight firsthand. Even your audience is denied such a pleasure, and it makes it feel that much more special to you.
He pushes your legs apart and settles between your thighs, grasping onto his cock before guiding it toward your chest.
He never comes inside you on film. He claimed it was because they don’t deserve to see it, and you didn’t argue. You like the idea. Occasionally he’ll capture a short clip of the way he leaks out of your pussy, but it’s never posted. Instead saved just for the two of you to watch whenever you need.
So while you’ll miss feeling him inside of you today, you know that it’s worth it. You like that you get to keep something for just the two of you. You like this possessive side of him.
Love it, in fact.
Nodding at your breasts, he silently instructs you to grab them, to which you do, pushing them together as he brings his swollen and soaked cock closer.
Slowly, he slides between your tits, disappearing beneath the supple flesh as you both groan your approval.
He’s already seconds away from his own release, but he edges himself by fucking your tits for as long as he can. Staring wordlessly at the way he looks beside his initials on your nipples.
“Fuck, Peach,” he breathes, brows knitted together as his jaw clenches. “Like it like this, don’t you? Like it when I come like this?”
And you do, a soft sough of agreement all you can offer as you look down at the way his tip pokes through the valley you’ve created. The contrast of his pink flesh against your skin is beautiful. Artful, even. And it makes you smile, wider than you have all day.
His pace is slow, allowing you to feel the slickness paint your chest before he’s suddenly tensing, the muscles in his stomach contracting quickly.
You await his offering eagerly, practically panting as you watch him run his palm along his cock before he’s releasing all over your torso and chest. 
He falls forward, bracing himself with a hand beside your head while you throw your arms around his neck to keep him close.
“Thank you, Daddy,” you whisper as he milks the last few drops. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
You feel a shiver roll across his body at your comment before he’s smashing his lips into yours, dancing his relieved sighs across your tongue. 
It takes a good minute or two for you both to find your bearings, but once you have, he reaches toward the nightstand where the remote lies.
Aiming it at the camera, he clicks a couple of buttons, and the red light turns off, signaling that the livestream has ended.
Now alone in his massive bedroom, he grins down at you. “My sweet fucking girl. Did so well for me, honey.”
You bask in his praise, nuzzling your nose against his before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “That was fun. Like it when you fuck my tits.”
“Yeah?” He’s smirking again, palm now smacking against your breast just to watch it jiggle. “Good. ’Cause I don’t plan to stop.”
Your arms snake tighter around his neck until he’s forced to lay his chest against yours. “Think they liked it?”
“I know they did,” he murmurs, face disappearing into your neck as he breathes you in, sweaty or not. “They love you, Peach. You’re so good to them.”
You press your lips into his hair.
“You’re good to me, too,” he adds quietly, sliding his hand across your body until he can hold onto you. “Always so fucking good. Best thing that ever happened to me.”
A sort of flutter happens in your stomach as you squeeze him tighter. “Ditto.”
You stay there for a few minutes at least, teetering on the verge of sleep before Harry declares you need to get clean. 
He scoops you up and carries you to his large bathtub, dipping you into the warm water once it’s ready and settling himself on the other side to face you.
You talk for what feels like hours, until you’re pruned, and the bubbles have disappeared. You go over the scene, go over what you think the comments will be, and even go over his schedule for the upcoming work week.
It’s weird the way you’ve managed to balance the relationship of boss and lover. You’re able to distinguish the two and create the appropriate boundaries. Making it easier to work together without driving each other nuts.
 Something else you’re grateful for.
You stare at his wet abs as he talks, smiling to yourself as you admire every curve of his stomach, and every nipple he has to offer.
He splashes some water at you when he realizes before grabbing hold of your ankles and sliding your closer.
You kiss until you can’t breathe, and life feels really good.
Really fucking good.
Once you’re out and dried, you make your way back to his bedroom to make sure everything from the livestream is in order.
You scroll through a few of the responses together, making mental notes of what to do next time. And once you’re both in agreement that everything looks good, he adds it to your shared profile.
Appropriately titled,
Peaches and Cream.
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I have no excuse for this or explanation, I'm just gonna blame it on the sick meds I took 🙃
I already miss them but I'm absolutely going to be doing some extras and maybe that'll make it not hurt so much 😭💞
Thank you to everyone who's read and been so kind and supportive!!! You have my entire heart forever and ever, I cannot tell you how appreciative I am 🥹♥️ This has been so fun!!
Peaches and Cream forever!!
Previous Part:
~ Four to Go*
~ Full One for the Money Masterlist
~ Other Harry Blurbs
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xxshujiswhorexx · 26 days
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Baby Bunny~
(Chapter 1)
Vox x Reader; Valentino x Reader; Alastor x Reader; maybe Lucifer x Reader
After your untimely death, Mr Vox was kind enough to take you in and give you a job as his assistant. However, it appears that you’ve caught the eyes of few other demons, who are certainly not afraid of a little competition…
Frankly, Vox was a stressed out man.
Endless meetings to attend, scripts to review, and catastrophes to clean up; very little could consistently relax the poor man. Luckily, one of these particular vices just happened to be readily available; you.
Oh, how he loved to watch you flit around his offices, big floppy ears twitching with concentration, large brown eyes peering up at him, searching for approval and validation. It almost made him feel guilty, the way you obeyed his every beck and call.
Regardless, your presence had become a somewhat comforting one in his workplace, ever since you had the unfortunate fall from earth following your untimely death. Your loyalty to the overlord only made sense, given his boundless generosity towards you, providing you with a job as his personal assistant, as well as a small flat inside his studio.
Thus, when he discovered that Valentino had decided to send you on an ‘errand’, he was less than pleased. Of course, you with your unbridled kindness and timidity couldn’t even think of refusing such a request, despite the sex maniac holding no legitimate power over you. So, off you went, suddenly feeling rather exposed in your open white blouse and tight leather skirt (a favourite outfit of Mr Vox), as you wandered through Pentagram City, glancing back occasionally at the directions that Mr Valentino had so graciously provided.
All of a sudden, you feel yourself slam into something, or more aptly, someone. Your nose begins to twitch in fear of the consequences, knowing full well the cruelty of the sinner residing in the area. Peering up at the stranger with teary eyes, you mumble an apology, and pull yourself back up on shaky legs.
“Not to worry, my dear! Accidents happen, of course! Although, you really should watch where you are walking, darling.”
The static in his voice, almost tangible, sends shivers down your spine, his glowing eyes intensely staring into your own, as if to bear witness to your very soul.
“How rude of me, I neglected to introduce myself. I’m Alastor, darling, the Radio Demon.”
The man, Alastor, extends a hand to greet you, but the mention of his title causes you to freeze, and flinch away in fear. The demon’s smile strains in reaction, appearing confused and mildly offended.
“T-the Radio Demon? M-Mr Vox said I’m not allowed to speak to you..”
Alastor’s grin tightens at this comment, his snarl baring gums, yet he chooses to feign ignorance.
“My dear, it’s impolite to not return a greeting.”
Due to the mild threat in his tone, you reluctantly tell him your name, your bunny ears twitching in fear, as you look up at him.
“Now, my dear bunny, wherever were you off to on this fine morning?”
“Mr Valentino w-wanted me to s-speak to Angel Dust about his s-supposedly ‘poor work ethic’. S-so, I was h-hoping to find him at the Hazbin Hotel..” you trail off, unsure of how much information you could safely disclose.
But Alastor’s grin only brightens at the news.
“Well, my dear, you’re in luck! I was just about to head over there myself!” With that, he pulls you closer to him, evoking a surprised yelp from you, and wraps his arm tightly around your waist, setting off at a brisk pace.
Alastor hums a jolly tune, seemingly ignorant to your struggles in keeping up with his quick pace, almost being dragged along. Finally, once you had reached your destination, he finally releases you, this time choosing to grab you by your arm. But, for some reason, he chooses to spare a moment, and look you over.
You stood a fair bit shorter than him, having to crane your neck to meet his eyes, but furthermore you were simply trembling with fear. Your nose was twitching, your floppy ears fluttering with anxiety, and your doe eyes refusing to meet his gaze.
You truly were just adorable. Oh, he was going to have fun breaking you.
And with that, he flung open the hotel doors, the action catching you off guard, as you jump again.
“Awfully jumpy today, my dear? Why, is everything alright?” He asks with a condescending grin.
“Just peachy, Mr Alastor.” You manage to mumble out a reply, starting to overcome your fear of the radio demon.
“Now, now, you mustn’t lie, my darling. But, trust me, you have nothing to fear here.” He draws you closer again, his clawed hand playing with your hair, as you looked up with a tight frown. Once he got bored of your lack of reaction, he decided to switch his focus, petting your bunny ears. This action caught you off guard, their sensitivity causing you to whimper, bringing a hand to your mouth to stifle your noises. Alastor’s grin grew ever wider, finding a new way to push your buttons. He increases pressure on his ministrations, causing you to yelp as your jelly legs gave out and you collapsed against his chest. He finally relents in favour of hoisting you back up onto your shaky legs and wobbly knees, forcing a whine from you at the loss of contact. He chuckles darkly at your compliance, your passive nature truly pleasing him. Perhaps he should keep you around; that truly would annoy Vox… but that’s a thought for another day. For now, he needed to build trust in you.
“Toots? What are ya doin here, cutie?”
Angel’s New York drawl fills the room, his voice full of concern.
“M-Mr Val sent me, Angie. Please, I-I don’t want you to get hurt…” your eyes well up at the thought of poor Angel’s contract, as he rushes over to hold you.
“I just came to warn you, Angie. Mr Val isn’t pleased. He’s mad at you, and he’s gonna make it hard for you. P-please, Angie, come back, for your own sake. I miss you…” you trail off, sniffling.
“I know ya do cutie, and it’s ok that big V’s mad at me. I can take it, sugar. But, toots, what about you? Does Vox know ya here? He’s gon be real mad that you been hanging with smiles over there.” Angel rebukes you, concerned for your own wellbeing.
“M-Mr Val said he’d tell Me Vox that he’d sent me on an errand for him, so I think I’ll be fine…”
“Sure, toots, whateva ya say.” He pulled you in for a tight hug, as you buried your head in his chest fluff.
Angel seemed a lot happier now. You were glad that he had begun to escape Mr Val’s clutches.
“Angel, who’s this?” A chipper voice interrupted your thought, as you were greeted by a tall blonde girl, who seemed ecstatic to see you.
“Charlie, this is Y/N. She’s Vox’s assistant and just came ta check up on me. Y/N, this is Princess Charlie Morningstar; she runs this shitty hotel where I’m stayin.”
Suddenly aware that you were in front of Royalty, you bowed nervously and squeaked out a greeting. Your timidness was met with aws and statements of your cuteness, causing your face to darken slightly out of embarrassment.
“Well isn’t she just adorable! Now my dear friends and guests, I believe I should be escorting our dear bunny back to her workplace. After all, we wouldn’t want your boss to worry about, would we? “
You gulped at Alastor’s words, nodding your head vigorously, as he once again, grabbed you by the arm and began marching away.
“See ya, cutie! Come visit sometime!” Angel yelled as you left.
“Bye-bye, Angie! I’ll definitely come see you again!”
And with that, you set off towards the entertainment district.
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