#Surprised i've barely seen anyone talk about this

[totallynotgayforyou]

I think tumblr might like this

[dio-icarticaae]

Had a busy week but reading this week's WFA and finishing up Duke's 2 part episode was a great treat.

I liked that they addressed that Duke does have powers, and I hope we get to see him using them in the future. And also how they went through some of his history in comics.

Really like that it was Luke who he had this conversation with too.

[swarvey]

Can you do bachelor hcs where farmer is like super hurt? Like blood gushing from their abdomen or smth?? Like basically life threatening

when they think you're not going to make it | sdv bachelors x gn!reader

summary -> how some of the boys react to seeing you come out of the mines unconscious with nearly fatal wounds. warnings -> blood and injuries, panic attacks, harsh language

a/n: basically a more severe version of this series lol, i hope you enjoy!!! <3 alex's is probs the longest bc i was inspired heh, i started with alex and shane, but lmk if y'all want more!

alex

feels like his throat is closing in on itself when he sees you all beaten up in harvey's clinic

harvey has to yell at linus to get him out of the room when he keeps trying to reach you

completely panics at the thought of losing you

he just doesn't want to be alone again

it was no secret alex hated hospitals, and harvey's small clinic was no exception. he always tried to leave his appointments with the doctor as soon as he could, and although he would accompany you to yours, he preferred to stand outside until you finished. everything about the environment was too much for him, too painful.

so when linus — the local homeless guy he never really cared to talk to — caught him on the street and practically begged him to go to the clinic, he wasn't entirely convinced. only when your name slipped off his tongue did his eyes widen, his feet moving before his mind could catch up.

alex hated hospitals, and now he had a reason to hate them even more.

"y/n?"

his voice was barely audible as the world around him began to fade, only focusing on your paled face and the blood-soaked bandage wrapped around your torso. his breath got stuck in his chest, and an all too familiar feeling began to swarm him —images of his poor mother laying in a cold hospital bed, monitors beeping rapidly as the doctors failed to save her.

not again. please, not again.

"get him out of here!" harvey demanded, pushing him away from your body. alex blinked, realizing he'd moved past the doctor and was desperately trying to hold onto you. "alex, you have to step away, or else i won't be able to help them."

"stop it, they need me! let me go," he loudly protested. he knew it was childish; he knew he sounded like the same kid he was all those years ago, begging to see his mom one last time, but he didn't care. this was you, and he couldn't lose you. he couldn't lose anyone else.

despite his efforts, alex was swiftly dragged away by linus's unexpected strength. before he knew it, he was standing outside the clinic in the cool evening air, chest heaving as he tried to breathe.

"take some deep breaths," the older man said, somehow sounding level-headed. "it'll be okay."

"the fuck do you know?" alex snapped, voice wavering. "you don't know anything about what it's like, do you? what it's like to lose someone? to watch someone die?" his voice hitched, tears beginning to well in his eyes before spilling down his cheeks. "i can't do this. i-i can't do this again, not again, not after last time — i can't—"

"hey." strong hands planted themselves on his shoulders, and his panicked gaze met linus's kind eyes. "this isn't the first time i've dragged people out of the mines, alright? trust me, i've seen worse. they'll be okay."

"you don't know that," alex replied weakly. "they might not make it."

"they're strong, you know that."

"she was strong, too. my mom was the strongest person on this planet." more tears blurred his vision. "look where she ended up."

linus sighed, dropping his arms. "she was," he agreed, and alex looked up in surprise, "but this is different, alex."

"how do you—"

"alex." he turned, meeting harvey's exhausted smile. "you can come in now." alex nodded, wiping his face with his sleeve and giving linus a a grateful look before walking in.

your face was still pale and you weren't awake, but it was clear you were much better than before. a new, clean bandage covered your abdomen, and an iv was attached to your arm.

alex let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "so, they'll be okay?" he asked, sitting on the chair beside you.

"yes, with some recovery, of course," harvey said, sounding just as relieved as alex felt. "though, i would strongly advise not letting them go to the mines for a while. an injury like this won't heal quicky, and it will likely scar. please talk to them after they wake."

"got it, doc. seriously, thank you so much." with another smile and a nod, harvey walked to another part of the clinic, leaving alex alone with you. he kept repeating the doctor's words in his head as he grabbed your limp hand, watching your chest fall up and down with each breath. "you'll be okay," he whispered, though it wasn't you he was trying to convince.

as alex drifted off to sleep next to you, he silently reminded himself to stop by linus's tent the following morning.

shane

he usually acts pissed at you whenever you get hurt, but it's only bc he knows you can handle yourself

usually you can, anyway, which is why he's worried when you don't come home when you said you would

he's quick to leave the house and immediately starts looking for you (tries to convince himself you're just running late)

in complete shock when he sees you in dr. harvey's arms as he rushes into the clinic with maru beside him

shane glanced at the clock for the fifth time in the last minute, frown deepening when you still didn't appear in the doorway. he could practically hear you chastising him for being too dramatic, but he didn't care — you'd never been this late before, and a tugging feeling in his gut told him there was something wrong.

swearing under his breath, he threw on his jacket and left the farm, telling himself that you probably just got caught up at the saloon, or maybe you stopped by the community center. then again, you had mentioned you wanted to get back into fishing—

"maru, get the door!"

a cold wave washed over shane's entire body, making him halt mid-step.

all he could focus on was your bloodied face hanging from harvey's arms as he rushed you into the clinic, maru hot on his tail.

for a second, time seemed to stop.

then, he was sprinting to catch the door and run in after them, panicked words spewing from his mouth before he could even process his thoughts.

"what the— what the fuck happened? where did you even—? are they going to be okay, oh shit, are they gonna wake up—"

"shane," harvey gritted out through his teeth, "you need to leave, now."

immediately, shane stood his ground, jaw clenched. "i'm not fuckin' going anywhere, not 'til they're awake."

"shane," the doctor repeated in a softer tone, eyes pleading with him, "i can't work on them with you in the room. this wound is deep — i need to operate, and you can't be here."

"please," maru added quietly, looking more distressed than shane had ever seen the typically laidback girl. "th-they might not make it."

harvey gave her a look, but didn't deny her words. shane felt his stomach drop.

then, wordlessly, he turned and slammed open the door into the waiting room, forcing himself into a seat as he bit back panicked tears. maru's words kept playing back in his head like a broken record, and suddenly, shane realized he might have to face a terrifying world without you in it.

"fuck," he cursed, letting his head fall into his hands to hide the hot tears streaming down his face. at first, he thought he was angry — he always told you to be careful, that you shouldn't be running around so damn carelessly all the time, you're not fuckin' invincible. you never listened, of course, always spewing something stupid about doing what's best for everyone. after hearing that phrase more than a handful of times, shane thought it was pretty reasonable for him to be a little pissed.

in that moment, though, who the hell was he kidding? he was nowhere near pissed; he was scared.

you couldn't die, not yet — not when he just got better, not when he still had so much left to say to you. the thought of never being able to see your smile again made him nauseous, and he wished he could rewind back to the morning so he could tug you back into bed with him. stay, he would say. you're not leaving my side today, alright?

he knew it wouldn't have worked. he would still try, though.

shane didn't realize how long he stayed in the same position until the waiting room doors creaked open, his head shooting up at the sound. harvey greeted him with a nod, which he returned stiffly as he stood up.

"d-did everything go okay?" he asked, swallowing in an attempt to soothe his rough voice. "are they—?"

"they're fine," harvey replied, a small smile upturning his lips at the sound of shane's relieved swears.

"thank fuck, i don't know what i would've— it doesn't matter, can i come in?" he barely waited for a response before slipping past the doctor and finding your bed.

he caught maru on her way out, giving her another nod. she smiled, wider than harvey's, before making her way to the other room.

shane hesitantly grabbed your hand as he sat down in the chair beside you, scared he might break you if he held you too roughly. when you didn't stir, he laced his fingers with yours and held them to his forehead, pressing a firm kiss to the back of your hand.

"you scared the shit out of me," he sighed, shaking his head. "god, i don't know what i would've done if you— if i couldn't—" he couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence, resorting to giving your hand another kiss. "you better wake up, you hear me? i'll fuckin' kill you if you don't." he half expected you to answer. he could hear your voice in his head telling him to stop acting so tough, that you could see right through him.

instead, the sound of your steady breaths filled the room, and even then, shane felt like that was your way of telling him everything would be okay.

[magerightsmagefights]

I know people tend to forget Wyll a lot in this fandom (I wonder why. What Could Possibly Be Different. Can you spot the difference?/s) but I'm genuinely surprised at the lack of Durge x Wyll content. Especially if you're going Redeemed, there's that inherent flavor of "My lover cannot know the truth, I am horrible and they would hate me, they would be correct to hate me." And with Wyll it's just... so juicy, he's so pure and shining, and Durge is so filled with filth and misery that there's barely a person left underneath.

Idk, as a femme romance reader I've spent so many years reading the "love redeems" arc where a FMC plays beauty to an MMC beast, in every genre, medium, budget, etc. I'm not here to yuck anyone's yum, but beauty and the beast as a story structure has never done it for me.

until it's reversed, apparently, because Wyll as the beauty to Durge's beast needs to be injected directly into my veins like yesterday. All the other companions are good and sweet, don't get me wrong, but their reactions are coded like 'i accept you,' where Wyll to me comes off much more as 'we will heal you.' He doesn't have any funny little quips about you trying to bite him, no innuendos, no "I Will Put You Down" a la Laezel, he's just... so good, and he believes in your inherent goodness, he so easily sees "you" and "your urges" as wholly seperate entities he would step between if he could.

Speaking of which!! The coronation scene, when everyone finds out you're Bhaalspawn? I never see anyone talking about Wyll's reaction compared to other companions getting angry (even Dark Shadowheart will yell at you) because Wyll seems to be the ONLY PERSON who immediately separates you(the person he knows) from you(the person you used to be). Astarion isn't angry, he even appreciates your scheme freeing him from Cazador, but he also kinda falls into the whole "I will talk to you as if you are the exact same person who did these things, this is Your True Nature and I feel positive about it."

Wyll's reaction feels like the only one saying "You WERE that," instead of "You ARE that." It also feels like the only one that kinda-sorta acknowledges Durge's actual amnesia, because he doesn't treat this revelation like a betrayal the way the other "good" companions do. They be saying "The real evil was hiding within our ranks all along" like wym hiding? Durge didn't know either, how tf they supposed to tell you?

Wyll doesn't even blink. Once he knows what you are, his No.1 priority is reassuring YOU about it. The fact you're Bhaalspawn isn't a betrayal; it's a Horrible Burden and he's sorry you have to bear it, but there have been others like you who were good, who overcame, and your blood isn't who you are. His first instinct is to offer hope, to reassure you that there's a way out, he believes so hard that your urges are a defeatable enemy and he's ready to fight them with you.

(I also fall into the Durge And Gortash Fucked camp, and I cannot overstate the tastiness of Durge waltzing into the coronation of their ex, the Worst Man Alive, while bringing along their new boyfriend, the Best Man Alive)

Idk, I've just never engaged in a romance where I played the part of the Beast. As much as people rag on pure, princely archetypes, I don't actually see them that often. I genuinely don't remember the last time I read/saw a male lead behave like Wyll, but I've seen plenty of Astarions, Fenrises, Rhysands, etc. Romance loves a fixable MMC, but so rarely an MMC who wants to do the fixing.

Anyway. Justice for Wyll or whatever. I can only cross my fingers that future DLC will include more romance content, because we all deserve to have a Beauty for our Beast sometimes.

[manias-wordcount]

I'm surprised i haven't seen this more often, but I just love the idea of Loid Forger being in love with someone else while still married to Yor. I mean the whole idea that he didn't have a choice in the matter, and then falling for someone else after he and Yor "get together" has so much room for angsty sexual tension and i've always wanted to see how it could be handled.

Tell No One (Loid Forger x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝘂𝗵𝗵𝗵𝗵 𝗶 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗶 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝗯𝗶𝘁 𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛 𝗶 𝗰𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝗵𝗲'𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗵𝗼𝘁 𝗟𝗠𝗔𝗢 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆!

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

Yor likes your cakes. Anya likes your cookies. He likes your smile. It gives him the perfect excuse to visit your bakery twice a week. 

  “Hi, Mr. Forger! Welcome back! The usual?”

  It gives him the perfect excuse to visit you.

  “Hi there!” He greets with a nod and a practiced smile. He’s gotten good at playing Loid Forger. But for him, it’s just another disguise in a long list of faces and names he has taken on for himself. And you? You’re just another person he uses to secure his role on the stage. Something that keeps him from breaking the so-carefully crafted illusion. So he tries not to dwell on how your own customer service smile turns shy, and your eyes turn away from his at the sight of his a little too genuine smile. He tries not to dwell on it all. Instead, he tries to think about work. About Anya. About Yor. “How’s the shop? Anything happens since the last time I was here?”

  He tries to think about anyone but you.

  But it’s hard- it’s hard because there you go letting out a soft giggle as a memory comes bubbling up from the back of your mind. A pretty little sound he could listen to for hours. But when you start back to talking- talking about the crazy run order that you just barely finished this morning for a couple whose baker got sick the night before the wedding- he finds that he could listen to this voice of yours every single day of his life if he had the chance. And it’s not a new discovery. It’s not a new thought. The same way the little spark he swears he feels when your fingers brush against his as you take his money- always exact change- from his hands is not a new occurrence. He’ll tell no one, but he knows. He knows it’s not new. It’s never new.

  So why does every time he comes to see you feel like the first time he fell for you?

  He tried not to think of you. He tries not to think of you. But the day he stumbled on your bakery tucked in a random hole in the wall and down a couple of stairs on a pathway that was just barely out of his way home from the hospital, he was hooked. The second he opened the doors to a homely little shop and smelt that delicious smell of freshly baked goods, he was interested. But from the moment he saw you, he was gone. 

  Twilight had developed a weakness. For the first since before he could remember. And that weakness just so happened to solidify Loid Forger. And that weakness just so happened to be you. 

  So his excuse was peanut butter cookies for Anya. They were the perfect tool to help her study after all, and she gobbled them up like a madwoman whenever she had the chance. And when he found out that you did seasonal cheesecakes, his excuse included picking up a slice of something sweet for Yor too. Because a husband that come back with all kinds of sweets and treats for his daughter and his wife was a good husband. And that’s what Loid tries to be. A good husband.

  But on visit eleven, you had shyly told him that you wear your grandmother’s wedding ring around your finger because when you’re twenty-six and unmarried, the government tends to not like you. He tries to assure you that you have nothing to worry about. That nobody would ever accuse someone as sweet as you of anything that would get you on the government’s radar. And immediately, he watched you grow flustered at his compliments. You even let him taste a traditional dessert from Hugaria you just learned how to bake the week prior as a thank you.

  But all he could think about as your hands held up the pastry for him to take in his own, his mind could only think about that wedding ring sitting on your finger. And how a real husband would give you more protection than just a dainty old ring. How he would give you more protection. More love. More of anything you ever wanted. More of anything you ever asked for. 

  Loid would take care of you. But Twilight? Twilight would marry you. Twilight would love you. And the fact that it’s so evident to him that he can no longer deny means that the most dangerous person in all of Ostania always manages to have a smile on your face flour lost somewhere in his hair. You make him as weak as you do strong. And that’s dangerous. That puts the whole mission in jeopardy. That puts you in jeopardy. And you don’t even realize it. You don’t.

  So he tries not to think about you. He swears on his life, he tries, he tries, he tries. He tries not to when he’s working at the hospital or out on the field saving lives. He tries not to when he’s passing by your shop in a rush to make it home. He tries to when he’s at home with his pretend family playing the perfect father and husband and man all wrapped up into one. He tries so hard not to.

  But yet, he finds himself coming back more often than he should. And he’ll tell everyone that it’s because you sell those peanut butter cookies that Anya loves. He’ll tell everyone that it’s because he loves the way Yor’s face lights up when he presents her with one of your delicious cheesecakes. And he’ll tell no one that he visits to catch a glimpse of the delicate curves of your body as you bend down to pluck an item from the display case. He’ll tell no one that he visits to memorize every feature of your face and picture it as a memory of what he’s fighting for.

  And he’ll tell no one that he visits to hear your voice and imagine all the sounds you would make when he finally had the chance to take care of you like a real man should. He’ll tell no one. Absolutely no one.

  Just like you’ll tell no one of all the times he’s pulled you to the back of the bakery and kissed you.

[velarisdusk]

Burning Desire

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Series Masterlist Part 4 <- ✦.⁺.✦.⁺.✦ -> Part 6 - Embers to Ice

word count: 17k (AAAAA?) content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, BDSM, power dynamics, bondage, gags, sensory deprivation, pain play, spanking, paddling, flogging, begging, degradation, praise | infidelity, emotional infidelity, explicit language, alcohol, drinking, smoking (cigarettes, marijuana), bitches are fake as fuck, bad rebound choices, i.e. casually fucking someone who you KNOW has had an actual crush on you for years and not caring, the Vanserra family is a loving one in this he deserves happiness ] summary: In a depression following being caught cheating, a troubling phone call brings a harsh revelation. Distraught and in need of comfort, you turn to Eris, who's been trying to reach out since that night. He provides the emotional and physical escape you need. author's note: oh. my. god. i've been working on this for what feels like a decade i feel like years have been taken off of my life. school has been killer (negative), writing this was killer (positive), and i hope you enjoy >:)

It’s been two weeks.

Two weeks of rotting in bed, drowning in self-pity, and starting your days with cigarettes and bottles of rum. Over a week ago, you threw your phone into the drawer of your nightstand, barely resisting the urge to post a pity-filled story for your close friends. Before you essentially vanished, you noticed texts from Feyre and Mor. That was nothing out of the ordinary, but you didn't read them, dreading their content. Were they upset? Angry? What did they think of you? Were the messages even about the situation? You couldn't say if they knew or not.

You also received messages from Az, Eris, and Tarquin. Their concern surprised you, figuring that bro code would have outranked you on the list of priorities. But then, were they even still talking? If you were Cassian, you’d probably cut off all communication.

It was a complicated situation. They all worked together and had for years. They couldn’t just walk away; they were bound by contracts. You wondered how practice was faring if it was even happening. By now, they must have realized that Cassian wasn’t speaking to you. Whether they kept things private or shared the news with Feyre, Mor, or anyone else, you had no idea. You hoped they had the sense not to all come downstairs at once after your departure with Cassian. But even if they were careful, it must have been noticeable when they started reappearing suddenly.

Two weeks of these thoughts hurtling through your mind.

You haven’t told your mother why you showed up disheveled at her door in the night. How could you? You couldn’t bear to face her after admitting what you’ve done.

But as the hours stretch endlessly, a surge of loneliness (only the latest of many) finally drives you to your phone. You respond to the texts from Azriel and Tarquin, reassuring them that you’re as fine as you can be. When you open the text thread with Eris, you’re caught off guard.

Hey, just checking in. How are you holding up?

If you need someone to talk to I’m around. Seriously.

Look, I get that it might seem weird coming from me, but I’m genuinely concerned. No strings, I just want to make sure you’re okay.

I’m not trying to pry, but isolation doesn’t help. If you need a break from everything, my line’s always open.

You sit there, staring at the string of messages, each one making you feel a little more seen, a little more cared for. You aren’t even sure you want to acknowledge that right now. It’s almost too much, the kindness wrapped in Eris’ words, especially when everything else feels like it’s crumbling around you.

But Eris’ texts… they’re a lifeline, a small thread of connection in a sea of isolation. You pick up your phone again, reading through the messages once more, feeling the sincerity behind them. The idea of responding, of reaching out, is both comforting and terrifying. But the thought of facing all of this alone, of letting it continue to eat away at you in silence, is somehow worse.

Your fingers start to move, typing out a response before you can second-guess yourself.

you’re not prying, thanks for checking in. captain morgan’s been keeping me company lmfao

No sooner do you turn your phone off and toss it onto the bed beside you does the screen light up again with a buzz. That was fast.

Sounds like he’s good company, but maybe not the best listener. How about a real conversation instead?

You can almost hear the playful tone in his words, a lightness that cuts through the heavy fog of your thoughts. It’s enough to make you smile, just a little, even as the weight of everything else still hangs over you.

Another buzz and his next message appears.

Seriously, if you want to talk, my door’s open. No pressure, just an offer.

You can tell he’s trying to strike a balance, not pushing it too hard but still getting through your head that he’s there. It’s disarming in a way, and it leaves you wondering if maybe, just maybe, you should take him up on that offer.

thanks eris, i might take you up on that. it’s just… a lot rn, yknow?

There’s a pause, the seconds ticking by as you wait for his reply. You don’t have to wait long, and it’s as straightforward a reply as you expected.

I get it. You didn’t make the mess alone, just wanted you to know you don’t have to deal with it alone. And if you want to get out of your place for a bit, my offer still stands. You can even invite the captain as your plus one if that helps.

You smile at that, a small huff of amusement escaping you. The thought of getting out of your old childhood bedroom, of not being surrounded by the same four walls that have seen you at your lowest, is more appealing than you’d like to admit. Maybe a change of scenery, and the chance to talk things out with someone, would help.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you think about how to respond. Part of you wants to dive in and take him up on the offer right away, but another part of you hesitates, unsure how it would look if Cassian found out. You decide to keep things simple. You don’t respond.

Without paying any mind to the countless social media, text, and call notifications from your other friends, you open your texts with Nesta and make a FaceTime call. The thought of her blunt honesty is a small comfort in your otherwise bleak current existence.

Her face appears on the screen, and though her expression is one of surprise and concern, you can’t help but feel a twinge of relief.

“Where’ve you been? You look…”

She trails off, her eyes narrowing as she takes in your appearance. You glance at yourself in the small window at the top corner of the screen. Your eyes are puffy and red, your face is pale, and the bags under your eyes seem darker than ever.

“Talk to me,” Nesta says, her voice gentle but firm, as if trying to cut through the fog of your despair.

You draw a deep breath, the weight of your emotions pressing heavily on your chest. “I don’t even know where to start,” you admit, your voice trembling. “Everything feels like it’s falling apart. I’m a fucking mess.”

Nesta’s gaze softens further, her concern palpable. She leans in slightly, her tone soothing yet resolute. “You can tell me whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m here.”

The hesitation is palpable as you search for the right words, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. Finally, you find the courage to confess. “I messed up, Nesta. I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’ve ruined everything.”

Nesta’s expression tightens, her eyes flicking to something off-screen for a moment before she returns her focus to you. She runs a hand through her hair, a sigh escaping her lips as she gathers her thoughts. “Just... try to explain what happened.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions before asking, “Do you know what’s been going on?”

Nesta’s gaze momentarily shifts away, a flicker of something you can’t quite read passing over her face. “I’ve heard bits and pieces,” she begins, her tone deliberately vague. “But I’d rather hear it from you.”

Sensing her evasiveness, you decide to give her a broad overview. You explain the guilt and confusion you're feeling, how everything seemed to unravel and make the situation worse than you could have imagined. You describe the betrayal and the weight of not knowing how to mend things. By the time you’ve caught her up, your words are coming out through hysterical cries and gasps for air between sobs.

Nesta listens quietly, absorbing the emotional weight of your words. Her expression reflects a mix of sympathy and contemplation as she processes the gravity of what you’ve shared.

“I broke that boundary to hell, Nesta. I ruined everything.” Your voice trembles with the weight of your confession, the words feeling like a leaden anchor pulling you down.

Nesta’s brows knit together, her concern deepening as she tilts her head slightly. “What boundary…?” she asks, her tone gentle yet probing, as if trying to piece together the fragments of your unraveling story.

You swallow hard, trying to steady your breath, but a sniffle escapes you. “They’ve all been pretty flirty with me since the beginning, and Cassian and I… we decided early on that we didn’t mind it?” You pause, glancing down at your hands as you fidget with the red scrunchie around your wrist, twisting the fabric between your fingers. “So we’d just let them like… make comments… touch up on me a little–”

A sudden, sharp gasp crackles through the phone speaker, cutting through your words like a knife. Your eyes narrow as you stare at the screen in confusion. That sound hadn’t come from Nesta; you’d been watching her intently this whole time, and her lips hadn’t moved.

You furrow your brows, your heart quickening with unease. “What was that? Is there someone there with you?” you ask, trying to keep the edge of suspicion out of your voice, but failing.

But her face is the image of calm, save for the confusion in her furrowed brows. “Huh? Oh, it was just the TV,” she says, quickly flipping her phone around to show you the screen. The shaky camera reveals a reality show playing in the background, the exaggerated drama of strangers’ lives filling the awkward silence.

But your gut tells you something’s off. The way her hand shook just a little as she moved the phone, the tension still lingering in her posture. It all feels wrong. Despite her attempt to brush it off, the seed of doubt has been planted, taking root in the back of your mind.

Nesta flips the phone back to face her, and her voice is smooth and encouraging as she speaks. “So, what are you going to do? Are you going to talk to him?”

You hesitate, letting out a sigh as you rub your temple. “I don’t know. I’m scared of what he’ll say, or worse... what he won’t say. I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of rejection, Nesta.”

She nods slowly, her expression softening into one of understanding. “You have to do what feels right for you, but running away won’t make it any easier in the long run. I know it’s—and I’m sorry to say this—your fault, but you still deserve to know where things stand, even if it’s hard to face.”

You shift uncomfortably, the weight of her words pressing down on you. “I know, I just... I need time to think. To figure out what I want, what I’ll do.”

Nesta listens patiently, offering her quiet support as you continue to spill your thoughts. The conversation drifts from your immediate fears to the what-ifs. She shares some of her own experiences, her voice a mix of tough love and genuine care, giving you just enough space to feel heard without feeling judged.

The minutes tick by, and soon you find yourself leaning back into the pillows, the exhaustion creeping in. You talk about other things too, and an hour passes before you even realize it, the conversation winding down naturally, both of you running out of things to say. It’s a comfortable silence now, a brief respite from the storm of emotions you’ve been weathering.

“I should let you go,” you finally say, your voice soft. “Thanks for listening, Nes. I... I needed this.”

Nesta smiles, a touch of warmth breaking through her usual stoic demeanor. “Anytime. You know I’m here for you.”

You nod, feeling a little lighter, if only for a moment. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

As you move to end the call, you hear it—faint, but unmistakable. A voice, muffled but clear enough to make out the words: “No way–”

Your heart skips a beat, but before you can react, the call disconnects, leaving you staring at the screen, that single phrase echoing in your mind. The voice wasn’t Nesta’s, and it sure as hell didn’t come from the TV. You know that voice. It’s familiar in a way that makes your stomach churn, your pulse quicken. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks, a cold wave of dread washing over you.

It was Elain’s. You’re sure of it. You sit there for a moment, phone still in hand, your mind racing. But why would she be there hidden from view? Why wouldn’t she just say hello or at least make her presence known? The questions tumble over each other, forming a gnawing pit of unease in your gut.

Then, like pieces of a puzzle snapping together, the thought hits you: Elain was listening in, but she didn’t want you to know she was there. The secrecy, the way Nesta quickly tried to cover it up. It wasn’t just about eavesdropping. No, it felt intentional, like Elain was trying to gain insight into your situation with Cassian. Your breath catches in your throat as the implications sink in. A cold, hard truth begins to crystallize in your mind. She wanted to know the details because it mattered to her. It mattered because she’s involved—because she and Cassian are…

You don’t want to finish the thought, but it’s there, undeniable and ugly. Elain and Cassian. It explains the secrecy, the way Nesta tried to protect her, and the sickening feeling gnawing at your insides.

The weight of it is almost unbearable, pressing down on you as you sit there, phone in hand, processing the cruel truth that’s just come to light. Elain and Cassian. How? Why? You never saw any sign in their interactions before. The bitterness of the revelation is a sharp, relentless edge in your chest — you need to do something, anything, to shake off this feeling.

You push yourself up from the bed with a determined resolve, your mind racing with anger and the need to reclaim some sense of control. First things first: you need to wash off the remnants of the last two weeks, the sweat and guilt that cling to you.

The hot water of the shower is a welcome relief against your skin, and you let the steam envelop you, trying to wash away the emotions churning inside. You lather up, scrubbing away the sweat and liquor and cigarette smoke, letting the water run over you until you feel clean, both physically and mentally. You stand under the spray, letting the water cascade down your body as if it could cleanse the memories away. When you’re done, you run a comb through your hair, detangling the wet strands with care before blow-drying and styling it, every strand perfectly in place and your arms sore by the time you’re done.

You reach for your phone, fingers hovering over the screen as you debate your next move. Finally, with a deep breath, you type out a message to Eris:

you still up for company?

It’s simple, to the point, and carries the weight of everything you’re feeling right now. Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this, but you hit send before you can overthink it, nerves and anticipation bubbling in your chest. As you wait for his reply, you glance at yourself in the mirror, taking in the freshly styled hair, and the clean skin. You look entirely different than you did this morning. You’re someone in control, someone who knows what she wants. Your phone buzzes.

Absolutely. I’ll swing by and pick you up.

You weren’t expecting that, but you don’t hesitate before replying with the address. His response is swift.

See you in 15.

Your eyes linger on the screen, absorbing his words as you double-tap and leave a heart his message. Something is grounding about the certainty in his response. No hesitation, no questions, just action. You set your phone down and take one last look in the mirror, a quiet determination settling in your chest. He’ll be here soon, and you have just enough time to get dressed.

You see Eris pulling up through your window, the white Jaguar rolling to a stop, and you take a deep breath before heading toward the door. As you walk down the driveway towards him, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the car’s window. Jean shorts and a hand-cropped t-shirt—casual and understated.

Eris’s eyes meet yours as you approach the car, his expression softening with concern. There’s no sign of the smirk you usually see on his face. Just a steady gaze that feels sincere. He leans over the center console and opens the door for you, a simple gesture, but one that makes your heart feel lighter.

As you settle into the passenger seat, you set your tote bag down in the footwell. It holds a mostly full bottle of Captain Morgan, a pack of Newports, some gum, and a lighter you grabbed on your way out.

Eris’s eyes flick to the neck of the bottle sticking out of the bag before he asks, “Bringing the party with you?”

You shrug, offering a faint smile. “You did say I was allowed a plus one.”

He nods, his tone softening. “That I did... You okay?” he asks, pulling away from the curb.

You glance at him, a bit surprised at the shift from teasing to concern. “Not really,” you admit quietly.

Eris gives a small nod, his eyes still on the road. “Could’ve guessed the answer, huh?” he remarks, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly.

You offer a wry smile and a quiet “yeah.” You glance out the window as the sunlight reflects off passing buildings. “But I figured getting out of the house might not hurt. What were you thinking of doing?”

Eris keeps his eyes on the road. “I can swing by somewhere if you need to grab something or,” he pauses, a sly grin forming. “Or if you’re up for unwinding a bit…”

You raise an eyebrow, catching the playful glint in his eye. “What are you suggesting?”

He shrugs, one hand gripping the steering wheel casually. “We could stop by my plug’s place and pick something up, if you’re looking to take the edge off. He’s got some good shit.”

You lean back in your seat, considering his offer. The idea of numbing your mind with something other than liquor is very tempting. You glance at Eris, his casual demeanor giving nothing away, but you can sense that beneath the surface, he’s paying close attention to your reaction.

You nod, feeling a sense of resolve settling in. “Let’s do it. I could use a change of pace.”

Eris keeps his eyes on the road, but there’s a flicker of approval in them. “Alright, then,” he says with a grin, shifting lanes smoothly as he changes direction. His hands move with practiced ease, one gripping the steering wheel and the other shifting gears with effortless precision. You glance up from your phone just in time to see him reach into the center console. He pulls out a sleek pack of Dunhills, taps one out, and lights it with a quick flick of his lighter.

The cigarette sits casually between his lips, its ember glowing softly as its smoke curls lazily around him. “Want a cig?” he asks, his tone casual as he cracks his window.

You hesitate for a moment, then nod, reaching out for the cigarette sticking out of the pack. Eris passes it to you with a small knowing smile, his eyes flicking briefly to meet yours before returning to the road and lowering your window for you. You take a drag, the smoke filling your lungs and momentarily dulling the edges of your lingering unease. It’s quite the difference from the menthol kick of your usual Newports. The flavor is richer, with a deep, earthy undertone that’s almost woody. It feels more refined, less about the immediate hit, and more about a lingering, sophisticated aftertaste. You exhale, the smoke curling in the air, and the taste leaves a warmth that’s oddly comforting.

“Helps, doesn’t it?” he glances at you, a touch of curiosity in his gaze.

You exhale slowly, watching the smoke get pulled out the window. “A little… Thanks,” you say, and you both know it isn’t just for the cigarette.

Eris nods, his grin widening slightly. “Anytime. We’ve got a bit of a drive, so just get comfortable. We’ll hit the place soon.”

You settle back as Eris merges onto the highway. The sun is high, casting a warm light over the passing scenery. The rhythmic hum of the engine and the classic rock on the radio make for a relaxing ride. You gaze out the window, watching the landscape shift as the car speeds along. After finishing your cigarette, you hold onto the butt, not willing to litter. Eris is focused on the road, so you just hold onto it, unsure what else to do.

A few minutes later, Eris chuckles and glances over, eyebrow raised. “Were you going to hold onto it the whole ride? Come on, you can’t be serious.”

You give a small laugh, shaking your head. “Well, I wasn’t going to throw it out the window.”

Eris smirks, his eyes flicking to the cigarette butt in your hand. “Just give it to me.”

He reaches over, fingers brushing against your wrist as he tries to take it from you. But you’re quicker, pulling your hand away with a playful glare. “No!” you protest, holding the butt out of his reach. “You’re gonna throw it out the window!”

His grin widens, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leans closer, making another grab for it. “I won’t, I promise.” And for some reason, you believe him.

He takes the cigarette butt from your fingers and, with a practiced motion, opens the center console and undoes the locking mechanism on a glass jar. He drops it in, the jar already filled with likely a pack’s worth. The jar seals with a soft click, likely why you hadn’t noticed any lingering smell before. He shuts the jar and console, his attention never wavering from the road.

The smell-proof jar, not even considering littering, doing it all while keeping his eyes on the road—it’s the kind of thing that shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

The drive stretches on with the radio playing softly in the background. You watch the scenery blur past as the car weaves effortlessly through traffic. With the windows still cracked, you catch a glimpse of Eris’s auburn hair tousled by the breeze. The sun casts long shadows across the highway, and you find a strange comfort in the steady rhythm of the drive. Eventually, Eris slows the car, steering off the main road and into a sleek, gated driveway. The place is an upscale, modern mansion with neatly trimmed hedges. Not what you expected. He parks near the entrance and turns to you with a casual smile.

“I’ll leave the car running,” he says. “Lock up, I’ll be quick.”

You nod, watching as he gets out and heads toward the front door. The gate closes behind him with a gentle click, leaving you alone in the plush interior of the car. After a few minutes, Eris reappears with a small, discreet bag in his pocket. He slips back into the driver’s seat, the bag placed neatly into the center console.

The car pulls out of the driveway, and Eris’s eyes flick toward you as he navigates the streets with practiced ease.

“Any special spots in mind, or are you up for anywhere?” he asks, the hint of a grin in his voice.

You shrug, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Nah, yours is fine.”

He gives a teasing scoff, putting a hand on his chest as he speaks. “My place is special, (y/n), you wound me.”

His words pull a genuine laugh from you. It really wasn’t that funny, but hearing your name on his tongue so casually stirs a nervous flutter in your chest.

“What’s so special about it?”

“Besides the view, or the pool, or the game room?” he pauses for dramatic effect, lowering his voice to a murmur. “Yours, truly.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Is that so? And what makes you so special?”

Eris lets out a soft laugh, his gaze flicking to you before returning to the road. “Well, I’ve been told I’ve got a talent for making things unforgettable.”

“Someone’s got a massive ego.”

He grins, his eyes glinting with confidence. “Guilty as charged. You like it though.”

You roll your eyes at that, unable to keep the smile from creeping onto your face any longer. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Ah, you didn’t deny it. I’ll take it.”

“You’re impossible,” you laugh softly, shaking your head.

As the highway fades into the background, the road before you begins to wind through lush greenery. The towering trees start to crowd in, their canopies forming a dappled, sunlit tunnel. Fields of wildflowers stretch out on either side. The road curves gently, revealing glimpses of a large, elegant house nestled among the trees, its silhouette framed by the tranquil lake shimmering in the late afternoon light.

When you step inside, the first thing you notice is how effortlessly cool the place feels—like it’s been designed with a blend of sophistication and laid-back charm. The living room is spacious and airy, with large windows that let in plenty of natural light, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden floors. The furniture is a mix of sleek modern pieces and cozy, oversized cushions that invite you to sink in and relax.

Eris heads over to a low cabinet and retrieves a small grinder and some neatly rolled-up papers from a hidden drawer. He moves with casual confidence, clearly in his element. You couldn’t help but wonder how many women he’d invited here for a smoke before you, having to remind yourself that this wasn’t that. You’re here as a friend who needs an attentive ear.

“So,” he says, flashing a grin as he begins grinding the weed, “what do you think of the place?”

You settle into the sofa, taking in the room’s ambiance. The walls are adorned with tasteful art, and the scent of cedarwood and something subtly herbal fills the air. It’s inviting.

“Not bad, huh?” Eris continues, leaning against the cabinet and looking down at the papers in his hand.

You chuckle, glancing around. “Yeah, it’s alright.”

His eyes dart up to meet yours, a playful, mock-surprised smile on his face. “Crazy…” he murmurs.

You roll your eyes with a smile. “Oh come on, you know it’s a nice place. I'm not gonna shower you with more compliments than you need.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he sits on the couch, starting on the joint. The sound of the grinder and the rustle of the papers are the background to your conversation. “Fair enough. But before we get too cozy with this,” he nods toward his work, “let’s talk. I’d rather hear how you’re really doing.”

You hesitate, feeling a bit vulnerable all of a sudden. “I don’t know if I can get through it all sober.”

Eris looks at you with a soft, reassuring smile, his fingers pausing briefly as they work the paper. “Just try.”

For a moment, you’re silent, the sound of the grinder filling the space between you. You look around the room, at the art on the walls, the low light casting a warm glow over everything. It’s easier to focus on that than on the storm inside your head.

But then you find his gaze again, and the quiet concern in his eyes makes something inside you crack, just a little. "It’s just… everything’s been so overwhelming lately," you begin, your voice soft. "I keep making these choices that… I don't know how to explain it… I’m digging myself into a deep, deep hole. And I don’t know how to get out." You hesitate as you try to find the right words. “It’s just… I don’t even know why I let it happen. I mean, I love Cassian, he’s everything to me. But every time I’m with you,” the words catch in your throat, and you quickly clarify, “with all of you, I mean… I feel like I’m losing myself, like I’m just drifting through all of it without thinking. It’s like I’m not even in control anymore.”

Your voice trembles as the floodgates open, the words spilling out faster than you can stop them. “And the guilt… it’s eating me alive. Every time I’d see Cassian, it was like I was drowning in it. When we went to sleep at night, when he’d kiss me, when we cooked dinner, when he’d tell me he loves me and I said it back with a straight face, knowing what I’ve done… I keep asking myself why I did it, why I kept doing it, but I don’t have an answer. I don’t even know if I’m looking for one or if I’m just trying to justify something that can’t be justified.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the weight of it all is too much. “I thought I could handle it, that I could keep everything separate, but it’s all tangled up now. I’m tangled up. And I don’t know how to fix it, or if I even can.” You pause, swallowing hard as you try to gather your thoughts. Focusing on how methodically he rolls the joint is the only way you can keep from crying. “The past couple of weeks have been a nightmare,” you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. “Every day feels like I’m just… going through the motions. I wake up, and for a split second, everything’s fine. But then it all comes crashing back, and I remember what I’ve done. It’s like this constant weight on my chest, and I can’t breathe.”

There’s a heavy silence as you finish, the room feeling almost too quiet. You glance at Eris, the exhaustion in your eyes reflecting your need for a break from the emotional turmoil. “I can’t keep talking about this right now,” you say, your voice wavering slightly. “I just need to… I don’t know.”

Eris nods, a knowing look in his eyes. “Yeah, I got you,” He stands up, moving with a relaxed confidence, and heads towards the kitchen. You watch him, feeling a small flicker of relief at the prospect of a distraction. He returns with two glasses of ice, setting them down on the coffee table before lighting the joint and pointing towards your bag for the rum. When you reach to pour the drinks, he gently takes the bottle from you, pouring them himself.

You take the glass when he offers it, the alcohol warming your insides and helping to dull the sharp edges of your thoughts. Eris hands you the joint, a small, encouraging smile on his lips. “Here’s to a temporary escape,” he says, his tone lighter now.

You take a slow drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs and the effects of the alcohol and weed start to mingle in your system. The combination is soothing, and you feel the tension begin to ease. As the minutes pass, you can feel the fog of intoxication settling in, and your thoughts become less jagged.

A while later, the room is darker now, the only light coming from the soft glow of the lamp on the side table. The drinks are empty and the bottle of rum you brought stands proudly, and emptily, in the center of the table. The joint is long finished, and the conversation has shifted from heavy to light. You and Eris are more relaxed on the couch, and the air is filled with more classic rock, the remnants of laughter, and the gentle hum of your voices.

You lean back, feeling pleasantly buzzed, the haze of the alcohol and weed wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth. Eris is sitting right next to you, his leg pressed against yours, his hand resting casually on the cushion next to you. The shared warmth and comfortable silence between you feel natural.

“You know,” you say, your voice slightly slurred but lighthearted, “I didn’t think I’d find myself here tonight, like this. But... I’m glad I did.”

Eris glances over at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “Sometimes the unexpected turns out to be the best part of the night.”

You chuckle softly, the sound mingling with the music playing in the background. “Yeah, it’s funny how things work out. I definitely needed this more than I realized.”

He nods, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “It’s good to let go now and then. Just don’t forget there’s still shit to unpack when you’re ready.”

You let out a deep sigh, your gaze drifting around the dimly lit room. There’s a moment of hesitation as the weight of your earlier conversation looms on the edge of your thoughts. The alcohol and weed have softened the edges, but the heaviness is still there.

Eris shifts slightly, his hand moving a bit closer in the process. Whether it was intentional or not, you don’t know. “You know,” he says gently, “it’s not every day you find someone willing to listen without judgment. You should take advantage of that.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the pressure build behind your eyes. “Cassian… he’s been nothing but loving, nothing but kind to me. And it kills me, Eris. It kills me to look at him and know that I’ve betrayed him in the worst possible way. Multiple times.” You feel the lump in your throat as you continue, the warmth of the alcohol making it easier to let your words flow. “I keep trying to think of ways to fix it, to find some sort of answer or way to redeem myself. But...” Your eyes search the dim room as if trying to find some clarity in the shadows.

“I keep going over every moment, every decision, wondering where things went so fucking wrong. It’s like replaying a movie where I know the ending is tragic, but I can’t look away. I did this shit to myself…

“The hardest part is that he saw everything. He didn’t even need me to confess; he saw it with his own eyes. And everytime I replay that night, I think about how coldly he looked at me. He’s never looked at me like that before. Not that I don’t deserve it.” You glance at Eris, the weight of your emotions clear in your eyes. “I’m trapped in this cycle of guilt and regret, and it’s suffocating. I don’t even know what I’m looking for anymore—whether it’s forgiveness, understanding, or just a way to get rid of all this guilt. The thought of facing Cass again… God, I can’t…”

Eris’s eyes narrow slightly as he takes it all in, draping an arm across the back of the couch. You aren’t quite close enough for it to wrap around you.

You mentally chastise yourself for wishing you were. Thinking like that is what got you into this mess.

His voice is low but steady when he speaks. “You’re human. You made choices. Bad ones, sure, but it doesn’t make you a monster.” He pauses, his gaze intense. “It’s easy to get lost in guilt. But you’re not doing anyone any favors by going MIA. Especially not Cassian.”

You scoff. “Cass doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“How are you so sure?” he asks, his fingers drumming lightly against the couch, the rhythm steady and patient, unlike the chaos unleashed in your mind by the simple question.

The Facetime with Nesta shoves itself to the forefront of your mind as if your subconscious has been holding it back all this time. You’d heard Elain’s voice in the background, imagined her laughter mingling with Cassian’s, imagined him sharing her breath, his tongue deep in—

The thought hit you like a sucker punch, just as the air had been knocked out of your lungs the moment you’d put the pieces together.

“I’m pretty sure Cassian is fucking Elain,” you blurt out, your voice shaking with the weight of the confession.

Eris’s expression doesn’t change, but his eyes sharpen. “Why do you think that?” he asks calmly, though there’s a new edge to his voice.

You swallow hard, the memory still raw. “When I was on a call with Nesta, I heard Elain in the background. She was trying to listen in on me ranting about this all to Nesta… She didn’t even say hi to me, didn’t let me know she was there. Why would she do that unless she was hiding something?”

Eris raises an eyebrow, his expression skeptical but curious. “You might be reading too much into this,” he says, but the sharpness of your gaze makes him backtrack quickly. “Alright, alright, I didn’t mean it like that. Just… how are you so sure they’re involved?”

You exhale sharply, frustration evident. “Cassian is incredibly vindictive in bed,” you say, thinking back to all the times he’d gone hard on you just for catching you making eyes at one of the guys. “I’ve been through his friends, I’d be more shocked if he didn’t try to go through mine.”

Eris’s eyes narrow thoughtfully. “Most of his friends.” He doesn’t elaborate but the implication is clear. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but it’s not always best to assume the worst.”

A fleeting thought crosses your mind. Eris is right. You and he never crossed that line, despite the heated moments over the years, despite the events the night of Ianthe’s party. If Cassian is dropping you off on your mom’s doorstep just to go after your friends, maybe it’s time for you to stop moping around and start embracing some fun yourself. Why should you sit at home and stew when he’s out there doing who knows what? Who knows who? For all you knew, Nesta had fucked him too. And, honestly, Eris doesn’t look half bad in that black, fitted t-shirt and tailored jeans, the thin silver chain around his neck glinting in the low light. There’s a roguish charm about him, just as there’s always been. It’s something that makes him undeniably tempting.

You look down at your lap with a sigh, a feigned sadness in your eyes, and a playful pout on your lips. “Well, if Cassian’s going to do whatever he wants, maybe I should too.” You look up, letting your gaze linger on him, lowering to his lips before meeting his eyes again.

Eris’s eyes flicker with surprise, but he maintains his cool as he raises a brow. “Is this where we’re headed now? I thought we were in the middle of something a bit more serious.”

You scoot closer to him, close enough for the hand on the back of the couch to rest on your shoulder if he wanted it to. “Maybe I’m tired of pitying myself. Or maybe I’m feeling adventurous.” A glint of mischief sparkles in your eyes before you slip back into your act.

Eris chuckles, a faint smile curling his lips. “A distraction, huh? You know that won’t fix anything.”

You shrug, maintaining your demeanor. “Who says it has to be about fixing anything? Sometimes a little distraction is just what you need,” you level. Tired of the theatrics, you scoot even closer and grab that god-forsaken hand, placing it gently on the back of your neck.

Eris’s fingers linger there, his expression shifting from playful to intrigued before he traces soft patterns on your skin. “Is that right? And here I thought you were just looking for a friendly ear.”

You lean closer, your voice dropping to a softer, more flirtatious tone. “You mean to tell me you didn’t have any other intentions? Not a single fleeting thought?”

Eris’s gaze drops to your lips, his eyes narrowing with intrigue. “So, what are you suggesting? Are we breaking some rules tonight?”

You let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, something like that. A night of enjoyment. No strings attached, just...”

Your words trail off as you close the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a slow, heated kiss. His hand grips the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. It starts slow, almost exploratory, but quickly deepens as you both lose yourselves in the moment. The taste of liquor lingers on his tongue, a heady mix of rum and something uniquely Eris. You savor it, letting the alcohol-infused warmth of the kiss sweep over you. Your lips move against his with increasing urgency, and you gently tug at his lower lip, pulling him closer.

Eris’s hand tightens around the back of your neck, his fingers sliding into your hair as he angles his head to deepen the kiss. His tongue meets yours with a bold, almost possessive stroke, and you pull back just slightly, your breath mingling with his. Your eyes lock, the heat still palpable between you. “I like the taste of you,” you murmur, a playful glint in your eyes.

He exhales, a low, throaty sound that’s part groan, part sigh, as if you’re unraveling him with every word, every touch. It’s the kind of sound that sends a shiver through you, making you feel like you’ve got him right where you want him. His eyes darken with desire and amusement before he leans back in to capture your lips again. This time, the kiss is more intense, a dance of passion and need. His hands roam to your waist, pulling you even closer. The world outside seems to fade away as you both lose yourselves in each other.

Eris’s lips trail down to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You arch into him, the sensation of his touch making you shiver. You let out a soft moan as he kisses a sensitive spot just below your ear, making your pulse race. You’re left feeling lightheaded from the drinks and the smoke, and every touch, every caress feels electrifying. His hands slide up to your back, pulling you tighter against him, if possible.

His lips return to yours, and this time, the kiss is unrestrained, filled with a raw, urgent need. You can feel the strength in his arms, the way he holds you close, as if afraid that letting go might make this moment slip away. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze smoldering. There’s a breathless pause, the intensity of the moment hanging between you. “You said you were feeling adventurous,” he says, and you shrug. “How adventurous?” His voice is low and his words are laced with an intensity that wasn’t there before.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound almost breathless from the heated kiss. “You’re not planning on taking me out back and murdering me, are you?” you joke, looking out the large windows at the sea of tree silhouettes around you.

Eris’s lips curl into a half-smile. “Well, I hadn’t thought of it, but now that you mention it…”

You nudge him playfully, your smile widening.

Eris’s expression turns serious again, though the amusement in his eyes doesn’t fade. “I promise, nothing like that. But I do have something in mind that might be a bit… beyond what you’re used to.”

You look into his eyes, feeling a mix of anticipation and excitement. “I sincerely doubt that,” you say, your voice steady. You’ve had more than your fair share of sexual escapades, indulging in all kinds of experiences in past relationships. And with Cassian, the bedroom was never without a spark—rarely did things stay simple.

Eris’s eyes brighten with satisfaction. “Good to hear.”

He stands and grabs another joint he’d rolled earlier, offering you a hand to help you up. You take it with a playful smile and follow him.

The music fades as you follow Eris down a short flight of steps. The hallway is lined with eclectic art and framed photos. One with Eris surrounded by a bunch of dogs, a grin on his face that’s more genuine than you’ve ever seen. Another with the Vipers, his arm slung casually around Azriel, all of their faces flushed with victory. You have to talk yourself out of paying too much attention to Cassian in that one. There’s even one of him with who you assume is his family, standing in front of a cabin, all smiles and warmth. It’s a side of him you’ve never seen before, and it makes you see him in a different light—one that’s more personal, more real.

At the end of the hall, a large bookshelf stands against the wall. Eris pauses, throwing you a sly glance before reaching for one of the books. He pulls it, then pushes the bookshelf open, revealing a short set of steps leading down into a hidden space below. How cliché.

“After you,” he murmurs, gesturing for you to step inside.

You look at him with creased eyebrows, to which he only gestures his arm in again. You find a lounge, set slightly lower than the rest of the house, with five or so steps leading down into it. The room is richly decorated, with dark wood paneling, plush seating, and warm, ambient lighting that adds to the intimate, secluded atmosphere.

Eris follows you inside, closing the bookshelf door behind him. The room is completely private, a hidden sanctuary within his home. He steps closer, holding the joint he rolled earlier between his fingers. “What do you think?” he asks, his voice carrying a note of quiet pride.

You take a moment to absorb the space, your eyes drifting over the rich details—the king-size bed on the far wall, the soft glow of the lighting, the floor-to-ceiling mirror on one wall, the smooth texture of the dark wood, the way the room seems to envelop you in warmth. It's intimate without being suffocating, luxurious without feeling ostentatious. You notice cabinets discreetly integrated into the walls, their contents hidden behind polished doors. A smirk tugs at your lips as you turn to face him. “I can honestly say I wouldn’t have expected this from you, Eris. A sex dungeon? Really?”

Eris arches a brow, looking mildly offended. “Dungeon? That’s what you’d call it?”

You raise an eyebrow in response, your teasing tone unwavering as you gesture around the room. “Isn’t that what it is? Hidden room, dark wood, all the ambiance… seems like a dungeon to me.”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Dungeons are cold and grimey. This is a private lounge, a sanctuary, carefully curated for… specific tastes.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound echoing softly in the room. “A curated sanctuary, huh? You really do have a way with words.”

Eris’s lips curve into a smirk as he reaches for your hand. “Words, among other things.”

He lets the words hang in the air, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. You arch an eyebrow, leaning in slightly as if challenging him. “Among other things?” you echo, your tone playful. “Care to elaborate?

He steps closer, his gaze steady and full of intent. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he replies, his voice smooth as silk. “But first, I need to know how far you’re willing to go.”

Your heart skips a beat, not out of fear but from the thrill of the unknown. You’re no stranger to pushing boundaries, and something about Eris’s confident, almost predatory demeanor only heightens your anticipation.

Instead of answering directly, you take a step closer, closing the remaining distance between you. “You really think this kind of thing is—What was it you said? ‘Beyond what I’m used to’, was it?” you tease, your lips curving into a smirk.

Eris’s smile widens, his eyes gleaming with challenge. “Alright, alright,” he murmurs before he pulls you in by the small of your back for another heated kiss, and he speaks against your lips. “You have full say in how this goes, I don’t want to go any further than you’re okay with.”

You pull him off by the hair on the nape of his neck, and the muted hiss that escapes him shoots straight to your core. “Oh, well if I’ve got full say,” you say, sarcasm lacing your words. “Give me whatever you think I can take, and then some.” You give him a dazzling smile, but he can only look at you in wonder.

His hands find your waist, giving the flesh there a tight, possessive squeeze. He leans forward, bringing his lips to your ear. “C’mon, pretty girl, strip for me.” His voice is low, almost coaxing, with a soft yet commanding tone that makes your skin tingle.

Though you’re surprised at his suddenness, you don’t hesitate. As you begin to strip away your clothes, Eris steps away, moving toward a large set of deep drawers. He looks back at you as he goes, drinking in your every movement as you peel off each item of clothing. First you shed your shirt, then the shorts, followed by your socks, underwear, and even the scrunchie on your wrist. The air thickens with anticipation as you wait, rather impatiently, to see what he’s looking for.

“Y’know, most guys wouldn’t have their back turned to the beautiful, naked woman in their basement,” you muse, examining your nails as you stand perfectly tall.

“First, it’s not a basement.” He turns to you, black rope in hand, his smirk tinged with an emotion you can’t quite place. “But you’re right, baby. I’m sorry. How about I make it up to you?”

You have to suppress a shiver at his words, or maybe it’s because of the cool air on your bare skin. He takes you in like it’s his first time seeing you, like he didn’t have you practically grinding against the heel of his hand two weeks ago. You’re not sure if it’s the substances in your system or the prospect of doing whatever he can imagine to you, but he feels different today than he had then.

Eris reaches into one of the drawers and pulls out a small, sleek controller. With a quick press of a button, a rig begins to descend from the ceiling, the soft hum of the motor filling the room. He keeps his eyes on you, holding the controller loosely in one hand as the rig stops at around eye level.

His tone is almost casual as he walks back towards you with the rope, the controller goes into his pocket. “Ever use one of these before?” You can only shake your head in response as you walk around the metal hook, thinking for the first time that you may be in over your head. “Good. Go ahead and kneel there for me.”

Eris moves behind you as you kneel, working the rope through the rig and instructing you to place your hands behind your back. The rope isn’t as rough against your skin as you anticipated. His hands work with practiced ease, securing your wrists together. He steps back, watching you with a satisfied expression. Then, with deliberate slowness, he begins to raise the rig, the rope tugging your wrists upward. The position forces you to stand as it continues to rise, his eyes narrowing as you do.

Once you’re in position, bent forward with your arms forced behind you, Eris steps closer again, his fingers tracing the line of your spine. “You look so good like this,” he murmurs against your ear. His fingers skim up your arm, lingering at the nape of your neck. His touch is almost tender, a stark contrast to the tension in the room. “Is it okay if I–”

“Do whatever you want,” you interrupt, your voice steady even as your heart races. “If I don’t like it, I’ll let you know. Just do something, please…” You needed a distraction from your thoughts, and the newness of this all was sobering you up.

A slow, approving smile spreads across his lips as he nods. Without another word, he goes to a cabinet, selecting a few items with deliberate care. When he returns, the scent of him envelops you as he carefully ties a blindfold around your head, plunging you into darkness.

You hear the soft rustle of fabric and the click of something plastic. Before you can dwell on it, the world goes silent as something is placed over your ears. The shift is sudden, disorienting. The subtle hum of the room, even the sound of your own breathing, everything fades away, leaving you in an almost eerie stillness.

The rope tugs uncomfortably, but not painfully, at your wrists, the tension in your arms pulling you taut. Your heart pounds, each beat echoing in your chest, reminding you of the vulnerability you’re allowing yourself. Then you feel it—a gentle tap on your jaw, followed by his thumb brushing against your lower lip, pulling it down slightly. You take the hint, opening your mouth for him. The next thing you feel is cool metal pressing against your lip as he slides a ring gag into place.

“If you need to stop,” he says after raising an ear of the sound-canceling headphones, “shake your head and I’ll check on you. Nod if you understand.”

Just as you do, the pad is back over your ear.

You feel the air shift as he moves around you. Deprived of your sight and sound, your body becomes hypersensitive to every touch, every brush of fabric, every subtle shift in temperature. The tension in the air is palpable, your anticipation growing with each passing second.

A light touch trails down your spine, causing you to shiver involuntarily. The sensation is followed by the warmth of his hand as it settles on your hip, steadying you. You can barely hear your own breath, the sound muffled and distant, heightening the sense of isolation. Then, a gentle tap against your inner thigh. You instinctively spread your legs, the vulnerability of the action sending a rush of heat through your body as his touch lingers, waiting.

Then, without warning, a sharp sting lands across your ass. Your body jerks in response, the sting quickly dissolving into a low, throbbing heat. The unexpected strike pulls a soft whimper from your gagged mouth, but before you can even process it, another comes, and then another, each one precise and measured.

The blows alternate with the soft caress of his hand, the contrast between pleasure and pain pushing you deeper into the headspace he’s crafting for you. The strikes aren’t overwhelming, but each one is enough to remind you of the power he holds in this moment, the control you’ve willingly surrendered.

You lose track of time, each sharp strike followed by soothing touches, the rhythm lulling you into a dazed, almost meditative state. The gag keeps your mouth open, forcing you to focus on the steady rhythm of your breathing, each inhale and exhale carrying a mix of adrenaline and endorphins. The warmth of saliva trickles from the corners of your mouth. The rhythmic stinging across your ass slowly transforms into a heated, throbbing warmth that radiates through your body. Each strike, followed by the soft caress of his hand, leaves you in a heightened state of arousal and anticipation, melding into pain and pleasure that lull you deeper into the experience.

Suddenly, the warmth of his touch disappears, and you’re left in disorienting solitude. The absence of his presence makes you acutely aware of the emptiness left behind, amplifying your anticipation. Without warning, you feel something cool against your inner thigh, followed by the unmistakable sensation of a vibrator pressed against your dripping cunt. It’s startling, and though you can’t hear it, you moan, loud and needy.

His hand is on your hip, steadying you as the vibrations increase in intensity. The buzzing becomes loud and clear as he gently pulls the headphones off, and you hear them thud as they fall somewhere. The sudden reintroduction to sound is jarring as the room’s noises flood back in—the loud hum of the vibrator, the sounds you hadn’t realized you were making, the now husky tone in his voice. Each sound is more vivid than before.

Eris’s voice breaks through this new sensory flood, warm and approving. “You’re doing so well for me, baby,” he murmurs, his tone a soothing balm. After being spanked, then paddled for God knows how long, between his calm, reassuring voice and the relentless vibrations against your cunt, you aren’t sure how long you’ll last.

His fingers replace the vibrator, brushing lightly against your clit. He teases your folds, just enough to drive you wild with need. You squirm against the rope, desperate for more contact, for release.

“You want more, don’t you?” Eris’s voice is low, almost a purr as he leans closer. His breath is warm against your ear. “Tell me what you need.”

He rubs slow circles against you, his fingers like fire against your skin. You try to articulate what you need, but the gag muffles your words into incoherent sounds. The frustration of being so close and unable to finish draws an exasperated groan from you, and he responds with a deep, dark chuckle. Eris’s touch withdraws entirely, leaving you in aching anticipation. The sudden absence of his touch is maddening, your body craving the completion he’s denying you. You can’t see him, but you can feel the warmth of his presence lingering near.

Minutes pass, or maybe just seconds—time has lost all meaning in this swirling haze of sensations. Without warning, you feel the sharp sting of a flogger grazing your inner thighs, just enough to remind you of his control. The flogger’s strikes alternate between gentle taps and more forceful hits, never quite enough to satisfy your growing desperation, but enough to keep you on edge. Each touch pulls you further into the comforting fog he’s woven, and your whimpers morph into sharp yelps of pain, each one more urgent than the last.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs, his voice laced with mock sympathy. “Does it hurt, baby?” His tone is tender, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it that promises much more pain.

You groan, the sound a mix of frustration and need, but Eris’s expression hardens. The flogger lands on your skin again, a sharp crack that reverberates through your body. He grips the hair at the nape of your neck tightly, yanking you closer until your breath mingles with his. You can feel the heat of him, the solid presence that’s both terrifying and intoxicating. His lips hover near your ear, his breath raising goosebumps on your skin.

“Do you have something to say?” he asks, his tone noticeably darker and more dangerous. There’s a tense, almost impatient edge to it, a sign that stepping out of line is not an option. “A complaint? Are you ungrateful for what I’m giving you?”

The flogger’s strikes become more deliberate, more vicious. Each one lands with a stinging, biting pain that blossoms across your skin, the sensations mingling with the ache of your muscles straining to hold the position he’s put you in. He’s toying with you, savoring your helplessness, the way your body trembles and arches under his control, the way your breath hitches in anticipation of each new strike.

“Who’s in charge?” he whispers in a slow, deep voice, every word dripping with malice. You try to answer, but the gag in your mouth turns your response into a pathetic, muffled sound. Your eyes squeeze shut in frustration, tears of helplessness welling up and quickly absorbed by the blindfold. You can’t form the words, can’t tell him what he wants to hear, and that only makes it worse.

He clicks his tongue, a sound of feigned disappointment, and tugs your hair again, forcing your head back. “Ah, couldn’t quite catch that,” he sneers, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement.

You whimper, the sound a pitiful mix of plea and frustration, and he chuckles, a dark, cruel sound that sends a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly. He’s enjoying this — enjoying how easily you bend to his will, how every strike of the flogger makes you jerk forward with a cry. He wants to see it all, the way you crumble under his touch, the way you surrender every last shred of control and hand your worries away to him.

“I control how this goes,” he growls. “You said you’d be good for me, baby. Did you lie? Do I need to stop treating you like a good girl? Because I can do that if that’s what you want.” The flogger strikes down in the middle of your back with a crack that feels like it splits you open, and you cry out, the sound desperate. Your body lurches forward, but Eris’s hand is still in your hair, holding you in place, forcing you to stay still, to take every single lash he’s giving you.

“Look at you,” he hisses, his voice dripping with condescension. “So fucking needy. You love this, don’t you? Being my little toy, something I can break however I feel like.”

The words cut deep, the filth of them sending shockwaves through you. You hate how true they feel, how much you crave the pain, the degradation he’s giving you. The flogger strikes again, harder this time, and your knees almost buckle from the force of it. But you don’t fall. He won’t let you.

“Oh, you like when I treat you like this. You like this a lot better than before, I can tell. You’re just a fucking hole, aren’t you?” he continues. “A pretty little slut who’ll do anything to please me. Do you even have any shame left, or do you need me to fuck some sense into you?” The flogger descends again, and again, each strike punctuating his filthy words. “I’m going to break you, baby. Turn you into the perfect little slut who’ll take everything I give and then beg for more. And you’ll love it, won’t you? You’ll love being nothing but my whore, thinking about nothing except wanting my cock.”

Each word, each degrading, filthy word, sinks into your mind, pushing you further into the haze of submission. The pain of the flogger, the sting of his words, they’re all you can think about. Your world narrows to just him — his voice, his hands, the way he’s tearing you apart and building you back up, molding you into what he wants, what you need.

He pauses, the flogger still resting against your skin, the rough leather a reminder of what’s coming next. He drags it slowly down your back, letting it scrape over the welts he’s already raised. The sensation is entirely new, a subtle pleasure and pain that leaves you trembling.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmurs, his tone a bit gentler now, but still laced with that underlying cruelty. The change gives you whiplash. “I can see it. You want to be good for me, don’t you? You want to show me just how perfect you can be.”

The flogger strikes again, and you gasp, the sound a desperate cry. But this time, he doesn’t stop. He strikes again, and again, the rhythm relentless. Each lash pulls you further from the chaos of your thoughts, dragging you into a dark, twisted place where nothing exists but him. The pain and pleasure blend together until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

“You’re going to remember this, baby,” he promises. “You’re going to remember how it feels to be mine, to be owned. And you’re going to beg me for it again, aren’t you? You’re going to come crawling back desperate for me to use you, to turn that pretty little mind off and break you all over again.”

He’s right. You can feel it, deep in your bones, in the way your body responds to him, in the way your mind clings to every word he says.

Eris’s eyes never leave your face, his gaze predatory as he watches you fall apart for him, unraveling under the weight of his dominance. You’re exactly where he wants you — lost in the moment, completely detached from anything and everything happening outside these walls. As the flogger comes down one last time, sending a final, searing wave of pain through your body, you know that this is exactly where you need to be tonight.

Finally, when you’re trembling, he lowers the flogger and returns to your clit, the light, teasing touch of his fingers reigniting the fire within you. “You feel that, baby?” he whispers, his tone teasing. “Feel how wet you are for me? You like when I hit you, don’t you?” He drags two fingers up your center, gathering your slickness on them before bringing them up to your open mouth. “How badly do you want to come?”

You nod, desperate to show him how much you need this, but he’s not finished with you yet. “Tongue out,” he purrs, his voice a low, silky command that sends a shiver through your already trembling body. Without a moment’s hesitation, you obey, sticking your tongue through the cold metal of the ring gag. A string of saliva spills out at the motion, glistening in the low light, and you hear a soft, satisfied exhale from him.

Eris drags his fingers down your tongue, cleans them off inside your mouth, pressing them against your tongue. “Can you taste how badly you want it?” His voice is a dark, teasing caress, each word wrapping around your mind, sinking deeper into that place where only his voice and touch matter.

You can’t respond, not even attempt to, but the question is rhetorical anyway. He doesn’t need an answer; he knows. He withdraws his fingers, leaving your mouth empty, yearning for more. The loss makes you whimper, as does the ache in your jaw — a pitiful sound that he savors as he continues, his tone a mix of mockery and care.

“You can taste how good I’m making you feel, how much you love it when I hurt you. You want to taste something better, baby?”

Before you can process what he means, you hear the familiar flick of a lighter, the soft his as the flame catches. Your heart thumps in anticipation. A moment later, the smell of weed fills the air, earthy and heady.

Eris takes a slow, deep drag from the joint, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment before he leans in close. His lips brush against the edge of the gag as he exhales, blowing the smoke directly into your mouth. It’s so unexpected, so sudden, that you choke, your body convulsing slightly as you try to inhale and cough at the same time.

The thick, pungent smoke fills your lungs, burning them and reigniting your high. You can feel him watching you intently, relishing the way your body reacts.

“Breathe, baby,” he murmurs, his voice deceptively gentle. “I want to see how much you can take.”

Your chest heaves as you fight to draw in air through the second cloud of smoke he blows your way. He chuckles, and with an almost casual motion, he reaches up and unfastens the gag, pulling it away from your mouth. The relief is immediate, but it’s laced with the residue of his control, the taste of smoke lingering on your tongue.

“There we go,” he coos, running his thumb over your wet, trembling lips. “Such a good fucking girl, taking what I give you. But we’re not done yet, are we? No, you’re going to give me more, right?”

His thumb presses against your lower lip, parting your mouth slightly, and you instinctively suck on it, the action almost automatic. Your body responds to him without thought, driven purely by the need to please, to submit, to give him everything.

When he finally, finally begins to untie you, his hands are gentle but firm, his touch careful as he releases the ropes one by one. The sensation of freedom is almost overwhelming after being bound for so long. But before you can fully process it, his hands are on you — supporting you and guiding your arms back down slowly and carefully. He pulls the blindfold from your eyes, and you try to readjust to the lighting.

He’s taking another pull, holding the joint between his lips as he takes you in. But that isn’t what stops you in your tracks. At some point during your immobility, he’d rid himself of his shirt, and you couldn’t stop your eyes from taking him in. His hair is tied back into a bun, strands having fallen loose around his face, and his chest is covered in a glistening layer of sweat. Images of Eris spanking you, walking around you and assessing where to land the next blow, of the muscles in his arms flexing as he strikes. The hungry look in his eyes and the tightness of his jeans as he watches you writhe under his touch.

“How do you feel, baby?” he asks, his tone teasing with an undercurrent of genuine curiosity. “Did I get you there? That nice little headspace where it’s just you and me?”

His voice is soft, but there’s an edge of satisfaction in it as if he already knows the answer. “Did it help?” he continues, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “Did I get you out of that busy little head of yours?”

You nod, still dazed by the intensity of the experience. You’d felt blissful before, sure, but this was entirely different. This was unadulterated endorphins and adrenaline. He grins, the expression both proud and wicked. “Good,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm against the lingering sensations.

But he doesn’t stop there. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Now, let’s see how long I can keep you floating, yeah? You’re not done yet.” Eris tosses the flogger in the general direction of the shelf it goes on, and guides you with a commanding yet gentle touch to a mat on the other side of the room, placed in front of full-length mirrors. The surface underfoot is soft and inviting, and he helps you kneel in the center, the plush cushioning molding to your knees. He moves behind you, his hands brushing along your arms until they rest on your shoulders, a comforting weight as he leans in close. He hands you the joint, inviting you to take a few hits before handing it back. The smoke in your mouth, in your lungs, it only boosts the floating feeling you have from the experience of this all.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice a low, velvety whisper that wraps around you like a warm embrace. “So beautiful, so ready. But I need you to understand something, sweetheart.” His hands slide down your arms until they reach your wrists, guiding them up to the back of your head. “I need you to be ready to trust me completely. How far I push you now is all about helping you relax, so you can completely lose yourself.”

He pauses, letting his words sink in, his breath warm against your ear. “This isn’t about making things difficult, not for either of us. It’s about you letting me guide you through this. I want you to be my good girl, to follow my lead and take everything I give you.”

His hands rest on your shoulders again, squeezing you lightly. “You’re going to do everything I ask, aren’t you? You’ll be obedient, you’ll let me push you, because you know I’m going to take care of you, don’t you?” His voice is soothing, like honey, and you can’t help but melt into it. “You’re going to give me all of you, every last bit, and in return, I’ll give you everything you need. Remember how you begged for this last time we were together? I want you to be that good girl for me again.”

As his words echo in your mind, you recall the last time you were with him, at Ianthe’s party. The memory is all too vivid — your desperate need, your willingness to surrender completely. You had been so open, so eager, voicing all your desires and pleas. The way you had let go of all inhibitions, the intensity of your submission, and the way your words had spilled out in a fervent, almost frenzied confession. The memory is as intoxicating now as it was then, all things considered.

His words are a gentle invitation, luring you in with a calm confidence that makes it impossible to say anything but yes. You feel hesitant as you consider the depth of your commitment. The tension in your chest tightens for a moment, but then you nod slowly, your voice soft. “Yes,” you murmur, the word barely a whisper but laden with an unspoken promise to embrace whatever he asks of you.

Eris’s fingers brush lightly over your hands, guiding you to interlace your fingers. He steps back to observe you, his eyes raking over your form, taking in every detail. The floor beneath you is hard, unforgiving, but his presence—his authority—keeps you grounded. The anticipation builds as he circles you slowly, like a predator assessing his prey.

“Knees wider," he orders, his voice still soft but with a firm undertone that brooks no disobedience. You adjust, spreading them further apart, feeling the strain as your muscles stretch. You watch him through the mirror, watch how he gives a satisfied smirk as you obey. You finally see how blissed out you look. A dewy sheen of sweat covers your body, your chest rises and falls deliciously with each breath, and your skin is red where you remember him flogging you. You couldn’t imagine what your ass and thighs looked like; red as fire, you imagined, if the lingering, stinging pain was anything to go by.

“Arch your back for me.” His hand is at the small of your back, applying gentle pressure until you curve just the way he wants. The uncomfortable position has you on edge, completely exposed, and yet there’s a strange comfort in the way he controls you, in how thoroughly he’s taking over your body and mind.

Eris takes his time, relishing the sight. “Look at you, already so perfect for me,” he purrs, his hand trailing down your spine in a slow caress that sends shivers through you. “You’re going to stay just like this, sweet girl, you hear me?”

You nod as he runs a hand over your head in a soft caress, trails that hand down your spine. Then, without warning, his touch sharpens—a sudden, firm grip on your hips, followed by the sting of his hand against your ass. The first slap is light, almost playful, but it quickly escalates. The next one lands harder, and he pauses to run his hand over the reddened skin, soothing it briefly before delivering another, even harder.

"Does it hurt, baby?" he teases, his voice a low murmur in your ear. "Or does it just make you want more?" He doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he continues, alternating between sharp spanks and gentle caresses, pushing you to embrace the pain, to find pleasure in the way he’s handling you.

"You’re so good for me," he continues, his tone dripping with satisfaction. "Taking everything I give you. I bet you love it, don’t you? The way I’m making you feel?" He chuckles a bit at your lack of response. “You can speak now, sweetheart, I took the gag off for a reason.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath. “Hurts…” you manage to whimper, your muscles shaking. “Hurts really good. I want more.” He spanks you again. Hard.

“Is that how good girls get what they want?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed and you recover from the sting of pain.

“No, I’m sorry,” you rush out, wincing from the pain of the spank, the soreness in your legs and arms. It’s too much. “Please, will you give me more?”

He takes one last, long drag from the joint, finishing it off and throwing the roach towards a bin. He drags his fingers down your back again, only to grip your hips and pull you further back, adjusting your position until you’re even more exposed, your knees straining to hold you up. The discomfort is intense, but the way he’s pushing you has you on the brink of something deeper, something more primal.

Finally, he moves in front of you, his eyes dark with intent. He cups your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. "If you want more you’ll have to work for it, baby.” You nod eagerly and he smiles endearingly. “You’re going to show me just how badly you want me," he says, his voice a mix of tender command and raw desire. "And you’re going to do it the way I like."

He steps closer, guiding your face until your lips hover just in front of the zipper of his jeans. "Open that mouth wide for me," he coaxes, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip before pressing it down. "That’s it. Nice and wide."

You obey without hesitation, the need to please him overwhelming everything else. He pulls you into him, his hand resting over your interlaced ones, rubbing your face and mouth into the denim. You feel pride at the way his cock grows stiffer without having taken him into your mouth. You can only imagine how good it must feel to get fucked by that cock, to have it slam into you from below when you ride him, to take it so deep down your throat you can’t even taste his release. A low ‘Now, look at that’ pulls you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see his arms crossed over his chest.

“I don’t even have to ask you to keep going,” he says, his voice laced with arrogance. Your ears turn red with embarrassment when you realize you’ve been practically nuzzling your face against his cock, but oddly, there’s a twisted sense of contentment mingled with it.

He takes his time undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, mere centimeters from your still-open mouth. No one can make taking jeans off hot. No one except Eris, apparently. His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, but not too much—just enough to remind you who’s in charge.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. His cock is hard and throbbing, a rich, warm shade of pink with a slight flush at the tip. The girth is impressive, making your mouth water with anticipation. It stands proudly, the pre-cum at the tip glistening slightly under the dim light. You lean in, ready to take him into your mouth. The heat and tension in the air are palpable, and you’re just about to close your lips around him when he gently but firmly grips your hair.

"Not yet,” he murmurs, a playful edge in his voice. “You’re in a hurry, aren’t you? I haven’t given you permission yet.”

You pause, your lips hovering inches away from him. Your eyes flick up to meet his, a mixture of frustration and amusement dancing in your gaze. “You’re cruel, you know that?” You drop your arms, the strain of holding them there finally too much. He notices the shift, but to your relief, he doesn’t say anything, letting it slide.

Eris smirks. “Cruel? I prefer to think of it as… thorough. You wouldn’t want me to rush, would you? A little patience never hurt anyone.”

Your eyes narrow playfully. “Patience, huh? I expect a good reward afterward.”

He raises an eyebrow, his grip on your hair loosening slightly. “Is that so? And what kind of reward are you hoping for, baby?”

“Something a little more satisfying than just this,” you say with a teasing smirk, your wit finally returning after being silenced for so long. “I’m thinking you could make all this worth my while.”

Eris chuckles softly, looking down and relishing the view of his cock hovering over your face. “I will, without a doubt. But you need to be patient,” he repeats. His eyes linger on you as he shifts, rubbing his cock slowly against your cheeks and lips. The touch of his skin is warm and firm, and each movement is calculated, gliding with a teasing pressure. The pre-cum at the tip leaves a subtle, slick trail that only adds to your arousal.

You feel the ridges and veins of his cock brushing against your skin. His touch is firm but purposeful, making sure you feel every bit of his arousal. He takes pleasure in the way your lips part involuntarily, the way your breath hitches with each stroke. Eris’s breathing grows a bit heavier, his gaze intense as he watches your reactions, savoring the build-up and the control he exerts.

As he continues, he lightly traces his cock along your jawline and over your closed eyelids, creating a delicious blend of sensations. The warmth of him mingles with the coolness of the room, heightening the contrast between the two. He pauses occasionally, teasingly pressing his cock against your lips or rubbing it against your forehead, only to shift and start again.

Your need intensifies with each passing moment, the teasing just shy of maddening. You try to keep your composure, but the craving to have him in your mouth is overwhelming. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you whisper, “Please… let me.”

Eris’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk, clearly pleased with your plea. “Now that’s what I like to hear,” he murmurs, his grip tightening slightly in your hair as he guides you closer. “Go on, baby.”

With a soft breath, you lean in, finally closing the small distance between you and him. The moment your lips wrap around the head of his cock, a soft groan escapes him, and it sends a thrill through your body.

Slowly, you take him deeper, your tongue gliding along his length, savoring the warmth and the weight of him. The slickness of his pre-cum makes it easier to slide him into your mouth, and you hollow your cheeks as you move. His fingers thread through your hair, guiding your rhythm, and you can feel the tension in his body, the barely contained control he holds over himself.

You focus on the sounds he makes—the low, husky breaths, the occasional hitch in his voice when you find a particularly sensitive spot. Each reaction spurs you on, encouraging you to take him deeper, to push the limits of your own control. Eris’s voice, rougher now with desire, breaks through the haze of your focus. “That’s it, just like that,” he praises, his grip on your hair loosening slightly to let you set the pace.

His hips start to move in time with your motions, a slow, steady thrust that matches the rhythm you’ve established. You relax your throat, taking him in further, feeling the head of his cock brush against the back of your throat. The sensation is overwhelming, yet you revel in it, the sheer intimacy of this act, the way you’re entirely at his mercy, yet completely in control of the pleasure you’re giving him.

Eris’s breathing grows more ragged, the tension coiling tighter within him. He watches you, his gaze heavy-lidded with lust, his usual composure slipping just enough for you to see how much he’s holding back. The knowledge that you’re the one drawing out these reactions from him makes you bolder, urging you to take him deeper, to drive him closer to the edge.

But just as you think he’s about to let go, he pulls back slightly, halting your movements. “Not yet,” he breathes, voice strained but firm. “I’m not done with you.” His words are a promise, and though you’re aching to continue, you obey, releasing him with a mix of anticipation and frustration.

Eris's hand slides from your hair to your cheek, his touch gentle now. He leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead in a brief, almost tender kiss before he straightens up. Without a word, he helps you to your feet, his hands steady and reassuring as they guide you toward the bed.

He lowers you onto the soft sheets with care. The roughness from before has melted away, replaced by something softer, almost reverent. As you settle onto the bed, Eris kneels at the edge, his hands gliding over your thighs, spreading them slowly.

He looks up at you, and there’s a tenderness in his eyes that makes your heart stutter. But just as quickly as it appeared, it fades away. He’s silent as he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh, his lips lingering there for a moment before he continues, trailing soft, slow kisses up your leg. Each touch is feather light, as if he’s savoring every inch of you.

When he reaches your core, he pauses, his warm breath ghosting over your most sensitive spot. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, and you feel a shiver of desire run through you. But instead of diving in, Eris takes his time, pressing a soft kiss just above your clit, then another, slightly lower. His lips are gentle, tender.

Finally, his mouth closes around you, and he begins to work with a slow, deliberate pace, his tongue moving in languid strokes that send waves of pleasure through you. There’s no rush, no urgency—just a steady, sweet rhythm that makes you feel cherished in a way that takes your breath away.

His hands slide under your thighs, lifting them slightly as he brings you closer to his mouth, his tongue swirling in a way that’s both gentle and utterly consuming. Each movement is tender, every touch filled with a quiet, unspoken affection. He takes his time, coaxing soft moans from your lips with each delicate flick of his tongue, each gentle suckle.

The pleasure builds slowly, like a tide rising within you, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge, not from overwhelming intensity, but from the sheer tenderness of it all. Eris’s name escapes your lips in a soft, breathy moan, and he hums in response, the vibrations sending a fresh wave of sensation coursing through you.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t rush you to the peak, but lets you linger in the sweet, tender pleasure for as long as possible. It’s only when your body begins to tremble, when you’re right on the brink, that he finally picks up the pace, his tongue moving with a little more pressure, a little more focus, guiding you gently toward the release you’ve been craving.

And when you do fall, it’s into the softest, most blissful release, the kind that leaves you feeling weightless and utterly at peace. Eris stays with you through it all, his mouth never leaving you until the last tremor of pleasure has faded, and then he pulls back, pressing one final, lingering kiss to your trembling thigh. When he does pull away, it’s with a soft, almost reluctant sigh. He moves up your body with the same tender care, his hands trailing lightly over your skin, leaving a path of warmth in their wake. When his eyes meet yours, there’s a softness there.

Eris doesn’t rush. He leans down to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours in a way that’s more about comfort than urgency, more about reassurance than demand. His mouth moves slowly, languidly, tasting you as if he has all the time in the world.

Your hands find their way to his back, sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as your body arches instinctively toward his. There’s a quiet, almost reverent intensity in the way he touches you, his hands moving to cradle your face as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours.

He shifts slightly, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh, hooking your leg around his waist as he settles between your thighs. You can feel the hard, insistent press of him against you, the heat of his skin melding with yours, and it sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

“Are you ready?” he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft.

You nod, breathless, your eyes meeting his with a trust that’s unspoken but absolute.

Eris presses a soft kiss to your forehead before lining himself up with your entrance, and with one slow, deliberate thrust, he fills you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and comfort, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as he begins to move.

He sets a gentle pace, his hips rolling in slow, deep strokes that leave you gasping. There’s no rush, no frantic rhythm — just a steady, measured movement that builds a different kind of tension. Eris’s hands cradle your face, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks as he watches you, his gaze never leaving yours. Each thrust is accompanied by a whispered word of encouragement, a soft murmur of praise that only heightens the intimacy between you.

Your bodies move together in perfect harmony, each roll of his hips sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. The world narrows down to just the two of you, the softness of the sheets beneath you, the warmth of his body above you, and the gentle rhythm of your bodies coming together.

Eris leans down, his forehead pressing gently against yours, his breath warm and ragged as he moves inside you. “You feel so good,” he whispers, his voice husky, laced with a deep sense of awe. “So perfect.” His words send a shiver down your spine, the intensity of the moment wrapping around you both.

He shifts his angle slightly, his hips pressing deeper, and you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders. The new angle has him hitting just the right spot, each thrust making your toes curl with pleasure. “Eris…” you moan, the sound of his name on your lips seeming to spur him on.

“Right there?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear as his hand trails down to grip your hip, holding you in place as he drives into you with slow, deliberate thrusts. “I want to hear you, baby. Tell me how it feels.”

“It’s so good,” you gasp, your voice trembling with the intensity of it all. “You’re perfect, Eris, just like that.”

His pace increases slightly, still measured but with a growing urgency that matches the heat building between you. Each thrust is powerful, and precise, and sends waves of pleasure rippling through your entire body. You can feel the sweat starting to slick your skin, your breaths coming out in short, desperate gasps as he brings you closer to the edge with every movement.

“Look at me,” he commands softly, his voice gentle yet firm, and when you do, you find his gaze locked on yours, his amber eyes dark with lust and something deeper, something that makes your heart stutter. “I want to see you when you come,” he adds, his voice dropping to a rough whisper, his thumb brushing tenderly across your cheek as his other hand slides between your bodies to find your clit.

The moment his fingers touch you, you’re lost. He circles your clit with slow, deliberate strokes that match the rhythm of his thrusts, his gaze never leaving yours, his lips curling into a knowing smile as he watches your reaction.

“Please…” The word slips from your lips before you can stop it, desperate for more, for everything he’s willing to give. Your hips lift to meet his thrusts, your body arching into his touch as the pressure builds inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until you feel like you’re about to snap.

“Please, what?” Eris’s voice is teasing, but there’s an edge of intensity there, a deep desire to hear you say it, to have you begging for him. “Tell me what you want, baby. I’ll give you anything.”

“Please, I want to come,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper as the pleasure threatens to overwhelm you. “I need it, Eris, please.”

His eyes darken with satisfaction, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, teasing kiss as he picks up the pace, his fingers moving faster against your clit. “Then come for me,” he whispers against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “Come for me, baby. I want to feel you.”

That’s all it takes. The combination of his words, his touch, and the deep, steady thrusts of his cock send you spiraling over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body clenches around him, your back arching off the bed as you cry out his name, the pleasure so intense it’s almost too much to bear.

Eris doesn’t let up, driving you through the waves of your orgasm with steady, unrelenting thrusts, his fingers never leaving your clit until you’re trembling beneath him, completely spent. He watches you the entire time, his gaze heated and possessive, a soft groan escaping his lips as he feels you come undone around him.

As your orgasm begins to subside, he leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, possessive kiss, his hips still moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and breathless. “So fucking perfect.”

You’re barely able to respond, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, but you manage to whisper his name, your hands gripping his shoulders as he continues to move inside you, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more urgent.

Eris doesn’t hesitate, sensing the way your body melts beneath him, still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. With a smooth, practiced motion, he flips the two of you over, his hands guiding you to straddle his waist. Your limbs feel like jelly, weak and trembling, but he shushes you softly, his hands firm on your hips.

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm as he brushes your hair away from your face. “Just lay on me. I’ve got you. Let me take care of you.”

He pulls you down gently, your chest pressed against his as your head rests on his shoulder. His hands slide up and down your back, grounding you, before they settle on your hips again, holding you steady. You barely have time to catch your breath before he starts moving, his hips thrusting upward with powerful, controlled strokes.

The sensation is overwhelming as he fills you completely, the force of his thrusts sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body. You can feel every inch of him, the heat of his skin against yours, the strength of his body beneath you, and the way his cock drives up into you with unrelenting intensity.

“Eris…” you moan, your voice muffled against his neck as your fingers dig into his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he takes control.

“Shh, just feel me,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. His hands tighten on your hips, guiding your movements as he continues to thrust up into you, each stroke hitting deeper, harder. “Let me make you feel good.”

Your body responds instinctively, your hips moving in time with his as he drives into you over and over again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your gasps and his low groans, the intensity of it all threatening to unravel you once again.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, his pace relentless as he chases your pleasure. His hands roam your body, one sliding up to cradle the back of your head, pressing your face against his neck, while the other grips your waist, pulling you down onto him with every thrust.

“God, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice rough with need. “So tight, so perfect. You’re gonna make me come, baby. Just like that.”

The words send a fresh wave of heat through you, your body clenching around him as you feel yourself spiraling toward another climax. The intensity of his thrusts, the way he holds you so close, the deep, reverent way he whispers your name — it’s all too much.

“Eris, I’m…” you start, but the words dissolve into a moan as he slams up into you with a particularly hard thrust, your vision going white as another orgasm crashes over you, more intense than the last.

“Oh, you giving me another one, sweetheart?” he growls as he feels you tighten around him. “Let me feel you.”

Your body convulses in his arms as you shatter, the pleasure ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless. Eris’s grip on you tightens, his own release just seconds behind yours as he thrusts up into you one last time, pulling out as he comes with a low, guttural groan, his cum spilling over your ass in hot, erratic bursts.

He holds you there, both of you trembling, your bodies entwined as you come down from the high together. His hands are gentle now, soothing as they trace patterns on your skin, his breath hot and ragged against your ear.

After the intensity of your release subsides, Eris’s touch becomes gentle and soothing. He cradles you in his arms, his fingers brushing tenderly over your back and sides as he presses soft kisses to your forehead.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice low and filled with concern. “You did so well, you know that?”

You nod, your body still shivering slightly from the aftershocks, but a soft smile plays on your lips. “I’m okay,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath.

Eris gives you a reassuring smile, his hands moving soothingly up and down your back. “Good,” he murmurs, his tone tender. “I’m here. Just relax, let me take care of you.”

He carefully disentangles himself from you, his movements slow to avoid startling you. As he rises from the bed, he gently helps you shift so that you’re on your stomach, your hips slightly elevated. “Just a second,” he says softly.

Eris heads to a nearby cupboard, opening it to reveal a small, built-in towel warmer. He retrieves a warm, damp towel from inside, the comforting heat emanating from it as he brings it back to you.

He returns to the bed and carefully unfolds the towel, its warmth a welcome sensation. “I’m going to clean you up now, okay?” he asks gently but doesn’t wait for an answer as he begins to dab at your skin. The warmth of the towel is soothing, easing any lingering tension.

His hands are gentle as he tends to you. “You’re doing great,” he murmurs, his voice soft. “Just wanted to make sure you’re all clean and comfortable.”

Once he’s finished, he places the damp towel aside and returns to your side, pulling the comforter over you both. He settles next to you, pulling you close and pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. You snuggle into his embrace, feeling the warmth and safety of his presence. His arms are steady and reassuring around you, and his murmurs of affection make you feel cherished and adored.

You finally find your voice, looking up at him with a tired but content smile. “That was incredible. I didn’t expect to feel so…” So good? So much? So intimate?

Eris grins, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

You snuggle closer, your head resting against his chest. “I feel like I’m floating. In a good way.” You mentally kick yourself — of course, it was in a good way. Who says floating in a bad way?

Eris wraps his arms around you a little tighter. “You deserve to feel this good. Just know I’m always here for you, not just for things like this, for whatever. Whatever you need, (y/n).”

You sink deeper into Eris’s embrace, the warmth of his body seeping into your own. The comforting weight of his arms and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest lull you into a state of serene contentment. The intensity of the earlier moments fades into a gentle afterglow.

As you relax, your thoughts begin to wander, drifting back to the complexities of your life outside this moment. Cassian's name surfaces in your mind, but it's quickly followed by the image of him with Elain. The idea of them together interrupts your peace. It should sting, but somehow, it doesn’t.

Instead, the memory of Cassian and Elain feels distant, almost abstract, overshadowed. You'll deal with it another time.

You shift slightly, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat. The world outside, with its complications and unresolved emotions, feels like it’s receding. In this moment, the only thing that matters is the warmth between you, the sense of being cared for, and the gentle hum of satisfaction that lingers from your shared intimacy.

Eris’s soft breathing and the comforting pressure of his touch anchor you, and you let yourself drift in the quiet aftermath, content that you’ve found a moment of peace and connection that you can hold onto.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@blessthepizzaman @celear @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @girl-math-aint-mathing @halo-hanging @julesvanslutta @lilah-asteria @meeperthejeeper @paleidiot @panther-girl-124 @secretlyhers @starlightazriel @scarsandallaz @uncxmfxrtablex @xxemmarldxx

[7s3ven]

POPULAR. luke (pjo)

( master list )

IN WHICH… Y/N is tired of being bullied her whole life so she makes a deal with Luke. As long as she does his bidding, he’ll make her popular.

“Beggin' on her knees to be popular. That's her dream, to be popular. Kill anyone to be popular, sell her soul to be popular.”

Warnings : toxic! luke + y/n (but they’re lowkey iconic together), gore, death, manipulation if you squint, dark themes, y/n + luke are both pretty messed up, pretty gruesome near the end, not proof read

A/N : Me when I wanna write toxic one shots to express my feelings but I've been in toxic relationships and writing fluff is how I comfort myself :c

—

Years ago, the young Y/N would’ve scoffed in her face. Maybe even spat at her if she was feeling bratty enough. Why make a deal with Luke? It was like selling your soul to the devil.

Camp Half-Blood loved Luke, adored him even. But under all that courage and glory was a monster. Y/N had seen it first hand when he turned his head for a split second during a duel, his eyes going dark and his lips curling into a cruel sneer.

Nobody except Y/N ever noticed that hidden darkness behind his soft kindness. It wasn’t her fault she made that wretched deal. He approached her first, staring so longingly into her eyes and speaking with a voice so charming that she hung off every word.

The first time he talked to her was when she was eating breakfast, isolated from the rest of her chattering siblings. Ares was her father, which explained all her retrained anger towards the world. She was the lowest of the bunch, never socialising with anyone and avoiding all group activities to the best of her ability.

She was skilled with a spear but did anybody notice? No one did. Except Luke. In a way, he was her saviour in this eat or be eaten world. Y/N was a tough cookie to crack but getting her head shoved into toilets every day could wear down anybody.

Luke wasn’t usually one to take an interest in girls. He had plenty fawning over him for his attention but none of them could catch his eye like Y/N. There was something about her precise aim with the blade of her spear and the way she gulped down her ice cold water without a second thought. Call it creepy, but Luke found solitude in secretly watching Y/N train.

“Y/N.” Was the first thing Luke had ever said to her. She looked up in surprise and Clarisse’s face turned sour at the sight of the Hermes boy. Her beady eyes narrowed as his hand brushed against Y/N’s shoulder.

“You’re pretty good with a spear.” He quietly whispered in Y/N’s ear so none of the other Ares kids could hear him. “If you ever need a sparring partner, I’m right here.”

Y/N lips parted in shock as she watched him slink off towards his own table. Her siblings stared at her in curiosity before turning back do their food, scoffing at her.

Every minute, Y/N would steal small glances at Luke. And every time, he caught her and gave her a knowing smirk. She looked down at her plate after being caught for the fifth time, her cheeks flushing red and turning hot. She no longer felt hungry.

Y/N stood up, scraping the rest of her food into the fire. She felt a presence behind her but she paid no mind to it until they spoke it.

“So, did you think about my offer?” Of course it was Luke. Y/N flinched, almost dropping the porcelain plate into the fire to join her discarded meal.

“Why me?” She asked, her voice nothing but a quiet whisper that barely reached Luke’s ears.

“Why not you?” He replied, cheekily tilting his head.

Y/N could come up with many reasons to that question. She always took Luke as someone who carefully picked who he interacted with, especially when it came to girls.

“May’s prettier.” She said, nodding over to the bright brown-haired girl tucked in the middle of the Aphrodite table.

“Yeah, she’s pretty but you’re prettier.”

“Vivian’s smarter.”

Luke glanced at the Athena girl with not much interest, shrugging. “Not my type.” Vivian’s was everybody type with her sharp-witted mouth and perfectly cut bob.

“Why are you talking to me, Luke?” After a while, Y/N cut straight to the chase. She furrowed her brows in confusion, a little uneasy with how close Luke was and how girls were glancing over at her.

“I’ve seen you fight.” Luke continued to avoid her questions, much to her annoyance. “Like I said, I’d be happy to be your sparring partner. Today, five pm. Does that work for you?”

Y/N stared at him, hesitating for a moment before she slowly nodded. “Yeah… I’ll see you then.” She briefly smiled before rushing off, dumping her plate somewhere else.

Luke wasn’t expecting much when he showed up at the arena, holding his newly sharpened sword. He figured that if Y/N didn’t end up coming then he could at least get some solo practice in.

But no, she was sitting on a bench inside the arena, fiddling with her spear. She lifted her head, her eyes locking with Luke’s.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise. I didn’t know you’d actually show up.” He dropped his sword in front of her, grinning.

Y/N shrugged. “It… seemed rude not to.” She muttered, looking down at the ground around.

“I’ll be honest, Y/N. I didn’t just want to spar with you. I’ve come to make you a deal. I’ve noticed that a particular someone keeps shoving your head into a toilet.” Luke smirked when he saw Y/N stiffen. He crouched down in front of her, “What if I told you… that I could make it all go away? Just like that.”

He snapped his fingers.

“I can make you popular, Y/N. So popular that no one, not even Clarisse, will mess with you again.”

Y/N gave Luke that same narrowed glare that Clarisse often sent his way. “What’s the catch?” She asked, causing Luke to chuckle.

“Smart. The catch isn’t that big. All you have to do is whatever I tell you to.”

Y/N’s eyebrows raised slightly as she finally made eye contact with Luke again. He charmingly smiled at her. She thickly gulped, weighing out all her options in her head. She could reject his offer and be the victim of relentless bullying… or she could accept and never get hit by Clarisse again.

Luke frowned at her hesitation. “The choice is your’s.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered to look at everything but him. She slowly nodded. “Okay.” She whispered. “Okay. I’ll do it. Deal.”

It started off small. Steal someone from Clarisse, easy enough. Y/N was almost as cunning as Hermes himself, which slightly impressed Luke. He gave her a nod of approval after she dropped Clarisse’s beloved spear in front of him. As promised, he stopped the bullying, but in a way Y/N never expected.

After yet another failed game of capture the flag, Y/N was walking towards the large crowd of demigods when Luke abruptly picked her up and kissed her. Dating or even being around Luke Castellan was guaranteed to make you popular and Y/N had somehow been roped into it without her knowledge.

Her tasks weren’t too difficult until Luke told her to do the unthinkable. To pick a target and violently murder them as a warning to the camp that bad things were coming.

“Luke… you know I can’t.” She muttered as she hid behind the Hermes cabin with him. She was clutching onto his arm, begging him to give her another task. Luke stared down at her in annoyance.

He rolled his eyes, slightly sneering. “Come on. It’s easy. I’ll even show you.” Y/N peered at him through her lashes, looking like a deer in headlights. But she couldn’t say no. She could never say no to Luke when he had his lips pressed so firmly against her’s and when his fingers traced delicate circles around her waist as he lifted her shirt.

After that short conversation, Y/N’s nights consisted of sneaking out to meet Luke. He taught her how to wield an ax, how to knock someone out, and even explained how to dismember a body. Clearly, he had studied these dark topics.

Y/N lay on the forest floor, staring up at the stars. Luke was nearby, his arm lazily slung around her waist and pulling her closer towards him.

“We have to be careful.” He whispered in her ear, tucking a strand of her hair away. Y/N knew that if Luke went down, she’d be forced with him and vice versa. He pressed a light kiss to her neck, inhaling the smell of her floral perfume.

Luke had a twisted obsession with the idea of murder. It thrilled him. The vivid image in his mind of blood splattered across the floor and limbs bent at awkward angles made his stomach churn but... it was exciting.

"Luke... what are we doing with our lives?" Y/N muttered, turning to face him. When had everything gone downhill? When did they suddenly turn into borderline murders and sadists? Perhaps Luke was always like this and he infected Y/N with his disease. But if she was willing to do anything to become popular, even drive a knife through someone's heart, then it just showed Luke that she might be as abnormal as him. “Princess,” Luke’s voice was barely a whisper as he handed her a cigarette. He often kept them hidden under his mattress, only taking them out when he needed to destress. He lit the tip for her and watched as she slowly took a drag, blowing out a mouthful of smoke.

The pair stared down at the body in front of them. They weren’t dead, merely knocked out. Outside, the wind was relentless. It smashed against the wooden walls of the abandoned cabin, as if warning Y/N and Luke to stop whatever madness they were about to commit.

BORN IN GRIEF,

“Do you ever think it could have been different if the gods gave a fuck about us?” Y/N asked, tilting her head to the side. She took another drawl from the cigarette before passing it over to Luke. “Would we be less… messed up if they actually cared?”

Luke shrugged. “Maybe. But this is who we are, we can’t change that.”

RAISED IN HATE,

Y/N would never admit it out loud but she and Luke were sick. Sick for even thinking of doing this and suddenly, Y/N’s stomach lurched. A tiny morsel of her personal morals held her back from approaching the body but she was also curious. How long would it take until the demigod before them realised their doom?

HELPLESS TO DEFY THEIR FATE.

They stirred but their eyes never fluttered open. Luke and Y/N exchanged a look before he gestured her forward. She held the wooden handle of the ax tightly, dragging it along the floor as she stepped towards the unconscious body.

Y/N was unusually calm when she lifted the ax, the sharp blade glinting in the moonlight. Suddenly, the demigod awoke with a desperate gasp. They scrambled back at the sight of Y/N.

LET THEM RUN,

“Please, don’t… what have I ever done to you? Don’t kill me! I haven’t even completed a quest or been claimed yet!” The demigod clasped their hands together, begging for sweet mercy. Y/N merely gazed at them, wide-eyed and unmoving.

“I’m afraid she won’t listen to you.” Luke made his presence known. The demigod’s eyes flickered over to him and they let out another gasp. They couldn’t beloved that Luke, the son of Hermes, the heartthrob of Camp Half-Blood was sitting idly on the sidelines while his companion was staring at them like they were an experiment. Simply a hypothesis that needed to be tested.

“She works for me. She’d kill her best friend if I told her to.” Luke gestured for Y/N to continue. The ax was raised above her head, ready to pierce the heart. Y/N swiftly swung the blade down. It buried itself in the demigod’s chest and a drowned-out scream slipped past their lips.

LET THEM LIVE,

Y/N’s eyes shook as she stared at the body in what could only be described as desperation. Desperation to land another sick blow.

Y/N lost count of how many times she raised the ax up and swung it down. All she could think about was the euphoria and giddiness rushing to her head. Blood stained her skin but she didn’t stop until the demigod was nothing but a mangled corpse, unable to be identified just by looking at their gruesome face.

Thunder crashed and lightning flickered. Rain poured down, the gods’ way of expressing their grave disappointment.

BUT DO NOT FORGET WHAT WE CANNOT FORGIVE.

Luke blew out another cloud of smoke, gazing at Y/N with his own twisted version of love. “Red looks good on you.” He uttered, spinning her around like she was in a beautiful ball gown and he was her date to prom.

Y/N laughed, the thrill of killing taking over. Luke’s lips curved into a smile. He had never heard the sound of her laugher before. And he was already intoxicated. Her lips tasted like smoke and tangy metal and he pulled her closer.

THEY ARE NOT ONE OF US, NOT OUR KIND.

PJO TAG LIST : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @outerbanks-stuff @jennapancake @csifandom @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @annispamz @justanotherkpopstanlol @soraya-09 @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @prettylilsimp @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @uniquely-her @imafrkinsimp @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @8812-342 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @ch16rles @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @julielightwood @crybabysbakery @jsbaby @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @froggiesstalks @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @csifandom @luvvfromme @mashiromochi @kamiliora @yorksyree @mqg125 @jamesmackreideswife @niktwazny303

[cupcaketeddybehr]

when your credit card declines pt. 2

featuring: gojo, geto, and sukuna!!! sorry the storylines are all so drastically different LOL i made gojo's a meet cute 😅 also i've never written for sukuna before so i really hope you guys like it!

here's part 2 as promised! thank you so much to the lovely lovely @luvxoxo for the request!! ILYSM!!

for anyone who has a request/just wants to chat, my ask box is open!! (please please please please send me requests)

tags! <3 : @itawifeyy

Gojo

you sigh as you peer through the pastry display case at your favorite cafe. you came as soon as you got off work, but it doesn’t seem like you came early enough. with fifteen people in front of you, you’re sure that the three boxes of kikufuku, your favorite sweet treat, are going to disappear by the time it’s your turn. after dealing with annoying, entitled clients for the entire day, this brings your mood to a new all time low. unsure of what you’re going to end up ordering, you stay in the line, hoping that some kikufuku will be magically left by the tine you get to the front.

the man behind you doesn’t make waiting in the line any easier. either talking to himself or talking to someone who barely responds to him, he’s talking at a volume that’s making your ears ring. you have no choice but to listen as he excitedly gushes about the progress of his students at whatever school he teaches at. you assume that it’s the nearby jujutsu school you used to attend as a child. you feel the gusts of wind his exaggerated hand movements create on your neck. eventually, one of them end up accidentally smacking the side of your head. you turn around to yell at whoever's behind you when you make eye contact with the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. you take in his expressive blue eyes and perfectly styled white hair. you’re wondering how he looks this good after a long day of work.

you two stare at each other a bit until the black-haired man next to him, who you assume is his friend (weird because you haven’t heard him talk the whole time), smacks him and hisses, “satoru, apologize”

satoru blinks and says, “oops, sorry, i didn’t mean to hit you,” still not breaking eye contact.

all anger suddenly leaving your body, you shake your head, “it’s okay” you stare at him a little longer, both of you waiting for the other person to say something. when neither of you do, you turn back around, a bit disappointed. maybe you were being delusional.

you drag your feet as the line in front of you gets shorter. you hear people shoving each other behind you, and you hold back a giggle.

“shut up, suguru”

you hear the two shove each other back and forth, careful not to hit you or anyone else with their antics.

when you get to the front of the line, you look into the display case again to look at the leftover kikufuku. to your disappointment (but not your surprise), there are none. turning to the cashier, you ask, “do you have any more of that?” as you point to the empty platter labeled “kikufuku”

she shakes her head, “sorry, all we have left are kikufuku pre-orders”

you frown, continuing to look at the display case, hoping to find something worth buying.

“you can have some of mine” satoru says from behind you. he looks at the cashier and asks her to bring his pre-order out from the back.

“no, it’s really okay i-“ you stop mid-sentence as you see the cashier come out of the kitchen with more kikufuku boxes than you can count. you can’t even see the top of her head. you look at suguru, who has his hand over his eyes, embarrassed. “i take it back.”

satoru laughs, “you can have a box!”

“ONE BOX? YOU HAVE SEVENTY”

“BECAUSE I PREORDERED”

you huff, ‘i guess… thank you, satoru”

he beams at the sound of his name, nods, and goes to look at the other pastries, asking suguru if he wants anything. currently, his eyes are only on the sweets in the bakery.

you take a glance at him as the cashier asks you to swipe your card for the box of kikufuku. you fish for your card in your wallet and then tap it on the machine.

“sorry, could you swipe that again?” the cashier asks. you panic and wonder how much money you have left in your account.

satoru suddenly looks away from the pastries and looks at you, “why are you paying?”

you’re confused, “i’m buying the box? if you don’t want me to anymore its fi-“

he steps beside you, asks the cashier to add a few more other sweet treats, and tells her to add your tab to his. “do you want anything else?”

“why are you being so nice to me?”

“maybe i want to take you out on a date” he says. “also- i never got your name”

“yes! uh- i mean, i’d love to” you grin, “and my name’s y/n”

he smiles and dumps the seventy boxes of kikufuku and bag of pastries on his friend. “suguru, hold this.”

grumbling, suguru takes the boxes and bag as satoru pulls out his phone.

“can i have your number?”

you nod, taking his phone and typing in your number and name with a little heart next to it.

“wanna come with me to this kikufuku shop tomorrow? i haven’t tried it yet” he asks.

“didn’t you just buy seventy boxes?”

suguru peeks out from behind the boxes, “he’ll be done with these by tomorrow.”

Geto

you walk through kyoto’s don quijote superstore with your boyfriend, suguru, on the phone. wandering the aisles searching for cheap peripera and romand lip oils and glosses, you can’t help but notice how shiny suguru’s hair looks through the screen. you swear that it’s reflecting light, sheen glistening as he moves around the house.

“sugu?” you begin, “did you change your haircare routine?”

he rubs the back of his neck with his hand, “noooooooo”

you gasp, betrayed. “you changed it and you didn’t tell me? is that why your hair looks so much better than mine right now?”

he doesn’t even try to argue that your hair is on equal footing, “maybe” he says, as he looks anywhere but you.

you glare at him through your phone, “we literally share the same hair care products. what have you been using?”

“i have a secret stash that i take out when you’re not looking” he sheepishly admits. “satoru told me that your hair looked better than mine the other day.”

you sigh, knowing how suguru is when it comes to his hair. “really, sugu? you’re letting your hair come between us?” you pout, jokingly. his entire ego relies on the appearance of his long black locks.

he laughs, “sorry, angel, my hair and i have a special relationship”

you roll your eyes, knowing that he would buzz his hair off if it meant saving you from a life or death situation. but that was the condition. you had to be on your deathbed. “can you at least tell me what products you’re using?” you beg.

“i use ten different products.”

“WHAT. you must be joking.”

he walks up the stairs and pans his phone camera to the stash of haircare products he’s apparently been keeping under the bed. your eyes widen as you spot every single one of the ten products. among them are hairbrushes, hair oils, dry shampoos, combs, and hair ties (the fancy spiral ones that don’t leave dents).

“why do i feel like this is the equivalent of you cheating on me”

he laughs, “baby, you’re being dramatic.”

“suguru. remind me which one of us keeps a secret stash of hair care products under the bed because he’s too scared to be tied for best hair?”

he clicks his tongue, “fine… i’ll help you find the products. but not all ten”

“why can’t i just use yours?”

“they’re mine.” he says possessively. “but i promise to help you find some.”

you grumble as he gives you step by step directions to the shampoo and conditioner aisle. apparently, he knows the way to the hair care aisle by heart.

when you flip the camera over, he points to the viral &honey shampoo and conditioner. “get that, angel. it’s a really good brand”

you two spend about thirty minutes picking out hair oils and hair masks before you’ve just about had it. “suguuuuu this is too much work” you whine.

he laughs and starts walking towards your garage. “i’ll be there in ten, okay?”

he arrives exactly ten minutes later and you take on a mindless, drone-like state, letting your boyfriend do all the work for you. you watch him as he squints at the labels of all the hair care products, making sure that they either contain or don’t contain a bunch of ingredients you can’t pronounce.

when it’s time to check out, you’re walking hand in hand to the cashier when he starts massaging his temples, “shit, i forgot the new tsubaki hair mask i wanted. i’ll be right back, okay angel?”

“okay sugu! get me one too!”

after looking at the ten person line, you decide that you might as well queue to save time. apparently, people move faster than you thought, because you’re at the front of the line with everything on the conveyor belt. you feel like your parent just left you at the cashier.

panicking, you glance behind you at the long line of people. no way you’re getting back in that. you decide to just tell suguru to come back another day for the hair masks. you double check the total and swipe your pink credit card on the machine.

“i’m sorry, could you try that again?” the cashier asks. you look at the screen and pray that the bold “DECLINED” message is just an error. when you go to swipe again, your card is snatched out of your hand before it’s even halfway to the machine.

“sorry i took so long, angel. i had to fight people for the last two hair masks.” suguru explains. “also- didn’t i tell you to call me whenever you’re buying something? you shouldn’t have to spend your money on anything.”

you breathe a sigh of relief, “usually, i would offer to pay… but i think i’m broke”

suguru stifles his laugh, “remind me to transfer money to your account when we get home, baby.”

you giggle and kiss him, “you’re the best!”

a week later, your hair starts looking a little shinier than his and the cycle begins again.

Sukuna

after admiring sukuna’s tattoos for months, you’ve finally psyched yourself up enough to get one.

you hold his bicep still as you color around his black markings with sharpie while he’s quietly eating his extremely rare-cooked (was it even cooked? you have no idea) steak. “kuna? what tattoo do you think i should get?” you ask as you hand him your phone.

he scrolls through your “tattoo” pinterest board with a look of distate. “these wouldn’t suit you, brat”

you frown as you glance at the pins he’s looking at. you had been hoping to get a cute little studio ghibli linework tattoo on your arm. “why not? I think they’re really cute.”

“something else would look better. those look weak and pathetic.”

you start to get annoyed when he takes a sharpie from your pile and takes hold of your arm. “kuna… what are you doing?”

“drawing your tattoo, obviously” he grumbles. he seems to be annoyed at the fact that you consulted pinterest before him.

the pen strokes on your arm lull you to sleep as sukuna draws all over your forearm, elbow, and bicep.

thirty minutes later, he flicks your forehead to wake you up. “i’m done, brat”

you yawn groggily as you take in the masterpiece on your arm. it’s an entire sleeve of beautifully drawn flowers.

“kuna… this is beautiful.”

“i know” he says, “it suits you.”

you grin at him, “awww thank you, kuna”

he nods, “you can look up the meanings of the flowers later.”

MEANINGS? your boyfriend knows the meanings of flowers? you know that he gardens, but you didn’t know that he loved flowers this much. “i love you so much! you’re so cute!” you squeal while you throw your arms around his neck.

“ditto… and don’t call me cute.”

you tug on his hand and pull him to the car, “let’s go!”

before you know it, you’ve been laying down on the tattoo bench for almost two hours. the piece is huge, and you’re sure that you’re going to be here until they close. sukuna sits beside you, brushing his long nails through your hair and squeezing your free hand with his other hand every time you wince.

at some point, tears are falling down your face. sukuna yells at the tattoo artist to get out while he wipes the tears from your face and kisses your forehead repeatedly. “you can do it, just a little bit more. it’s going to look so pretty on you”

you nod, squeezing his pointer and middle fingers with your hand.

when the tattoo artist walks back in, sukuna shoots him a glare before returning to his original position. an hour later, he’s stroked your hair so much that you’ve fallen asleep.

when the tattoo artist pokes your shoulder to wake you up, you take a moment to admire the beautiful spread of flowers on your arm. as you turn to tell your boyfriend, you realize that he’s fast asleep on the chair. now that you’re looking at him, you have no idea how he fit into that chair to begin with.

you quietly make your way to the counter to pay, trying not to wake sukuna. when you pull your credit card out of your wallet, it somehow suddenly goes flying right into sukuna’s hand.

he walks towards you , running a hand through his hair. “WOMAN. how many times have i told you that you’re not allowed to pay for anything in this relationship?” he snips, inserting his platinum american express card into the slot.

“oops”

“whatever, just don’t pull something like that again. i ordered you a credit card linked to my account. it’s coming tomorrow.” he says.

your eyes widen, “WHA-“

he clamps his hand over your mouth, “shhhhh… just accept it”

you nod slowly, “okay… thank you kunaaa”

“mhm” he says as he spins you to the side to get a good look at your new piece. “do you like it?”

“of course i do, you drew it” you say, staring adoringly into his eyes. “wanna tell me what flowers you drew?”

he points to each one as he names them, “alstroemeria, calla lily, baby’s breath, camellia, daisy, marigold, and rose”

“wanna tell me what they mean?”

“no. google it.”

later, when you go to google the flowers, tears well in your eyes at your boyfriend’s thoughtfulness.

[alstroemeria (devotion and friendship), calla lily (magnificent beauty), baby’s breath (everlasting love), camellia (perfected loveliness), daisy (cheerfulness), marigold (power and strength), rose (loyalty and love)]

you come up behind him and jump on his back, kissing his cheek, “you’re the best”

the corner of his mouth lifts, “so when are we getting matching tattoos?”

thank you so much to @saradika-graphics for the beautiful dividers and support banners 🫶

and thank YOU so much for reading! i appreciate you!

[impyssadobsessions]

DPXDC Enemy of my Enemy is the Worse "Excerpts" (Part 1?) I have more Ideas

Okay I kepy thinking about the prompt Enemy of my Enemy is the Worse I made LOL- (gonna post excerpts.) Probably wont fully write this.. as much as I like to right now LOL. If this inspires anyone to write, go for it.

"So now what? Going to vivisect me? Experiment? Rip my molecules apart like how my-Mr. Fenton keeps telling me." "Unfortunately, no." Agent K grumbles. "And its dissection, not-" Agent O tries to correct. "I maybe dead-but I'm not THAT dead." Danny rolled his eyes, flashing them at the two men in white. He can't believe any of this is happening. Oh he wished he listened to Jazz.. or Sam or Tuck more. He pulled at his ghost proof bindings, them having him ridiculously buried in the restraints. "Actually, Mr. Phantom, is it? I wanted to talk." Another bald man walks in, his suit notably black. Danny raised his eyebrow unimpressed, "What? Is it the Guys in Black and White now? Not that I'm against it, I'm all for equality, but it does seem a little off brand. I'm guessing the bleach bill is getting too high." Agent O was about to speak out- when the guy in black raised his hand to silence him. This guy only looked slightly amused, which gave Danny the creeps. "Of course not. That'd be ridiculous, though I'm not against inclusivity either. I'm Lex Luthor, and it is my recent interest in ghosts that had allowed the GIW to reach its full potential. " "So another annoying billionaire. Great."

"So you know of me? Perfect, then we can keep this simple. In truth, I am only interested in one ghost in particular." "We can capture him without involving ourselves with this scum-" "This GHOST has not only evaded my notice for YEARS, but has been stealing very valuable technology that would go beyond NASA's comprehension. Though I don't doubt your expertise, it has not come without notice that this particular ghost is seen the most-" Lex flicked his eyes down at Phantom. "With you." Agent K and O unrolled paper from their suits to reveal a picture of Plasmius. "The Wisconsin Ghost." - "Plasmius?!" Danny spoke same time the Agents did. Lex smirked at the Agents then down at Phantom. Danny took a moment to register what was going on before busting out laughing. "Really? What makes you think I'm buddy buddy with Plasmius? He's a total fruitloop and honestly- not surprise. He steals blueprints from my p---Dr. Fentons all the time." "You steal their items as well, if we recall." Agent K raised a brow. "Well-I- Just because- YOU USE THEIR BLUEPRINTS TOO!" "Enough. " Lex starting to sound annoyed, Danny felt like it was a win. Serves bastard right. Man did he hate billionaires. "I've observed your work in Amity Park. If I dare say you are quite similar to many of the masked vigilantes that plague this Earth. Even more heroic in my opinion." Danny was not biting at whatever trick Lex was pulling. Though he didn't miss the skip of his core at being recognized something other than a menace. 'He's lying to you.' he repeated in his head. Pulling on his bindings again to remember the real situation before him.

"That being said, I like you to do as heroes do and capture this criminal, then bring him to me." "Look, thanks for the compliment- but we both know I'm not seen as a hero. So why don't you quit the buttering 'cause I'm not interested in culinary and tell me what's in it for me. Even though I'm barely c-average on the best of days, I'm not dumb. I'm not doing this for free or just some lame you will be spared nonsense. Been there done that." Lex smirked again, "I'll grant you immunity from GIW and you can have your haunt back." "Wait? What?!" "But it took so long to capture him-" "IF you manage to capture Plasmius and bring him to me before GIW can." Danny glanced at the two agents as they puffed out their chests. Cocky. They really think they could capture Vlad? Then painfully reminded himself that they did catch him. "And if I don't agree?" "We DISSECT you and use you for very unethical and highly painful experiments that are legal on subjects like yourself." Agent K happily boast. "Riiiight." Danny clicked his tongue, "Add in that these guys are not allowed to be in a 50 miles radius from Amity and I'll do it." "No-" "Deal."

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

Danny looped on back to the entryway as he finished swooping through every room of the manor. "Alright! Come on out Fruitloop! I know you're still here-" Just as Phantom floated down to land, he felt a hard punch in his face that sent him skidding across the room into the wall. "OOF" "Guess I should have seen that com...ming..." Danny rubbed his jaw, turning back to see who punched him. His eyes widening as he recognized the heroes he was facing. "Phantom. We're taking you into custody." "YOU CALLED THE JUSTICE LEAGUE ON ME?!" -----(Fight happens)--- Flash manages to hold Phantom, using his speeding molecules to keep Phantom from phasing through his grip. Danny gritting his teeth as the other heroes ready to capture him. Fine. If he can't phase through, he'll just phase in. Phantom uses his icy breath to freeze everything around them. Superman quickly uses his laser vision to melt the ice covering the room in mist, trying to keep themselves from being frozen. "Flash!" When the mist cleared the was no sign of him. Superman using his hearing to try and locate him- despite guarding his right side, he was kicked into the wall by Flash. Flash's eyes glowing bright green. "Well this is weird." -Proceeds to fight in Flash's body for a moment, until he gets knocked out of it. Danny's on his last legs, thinking he barely done a number on them (Not realizing he had been giving them quite a fight). Danny tries to reason again only to hear Amity Park doing great since GIW involvement. Still he isn't backing down. Even mentions Lex is backing them. He knows its only temporary peace if its really peace at all. Which he suspects is a big farce. Besides the portal still resides in Amity. GIW can't get a hold of that- portal. If he can't make them hear him out, then he'll show them why Vlad isn't just some victim. (Not realizing what Justice League may have already discovered) "Want to know why the number 2 worse billionaire is after Fruitloop?" standing up as the net placed on him burned and electrified him. It hurt so much, but he wasn't ready to quit now. Superman flew out in front of the others to block Phantom as Phantom tackled him. Phantom just uses rest of his strength to crash Superman through layers of floors til they reached the secret lab. Superman flinging Phantom into the other side of the room just as they landed, making him slam into a green tube, shattering it. The netting having dropped to the ground away from him. He coughed, shaking as a white ring dangerously popped around his waist shakily dancing, until Phantom sucked it back in. Not yet. The green ectoplasm from the tube soaking into his skin. His eyes widening as he saw what the green ectoplasm was from, jumping back with a disgust yell. He watched the clone fizzle out. "ALREADY? Really Vlad?" He shook off the creeps. "What is this?" "A Lab, du-UAHHHHHHH-" He found himself being spun around by Flash, and flung into the air where he was lassoed. Wonder Woman yanked on the rope tight, swinging him down into the opposite wall. He really was tired of being walled by them. Batman was quick to cuff him as Superman froze him in place. Danny raised a tired brow, unamused. "Are we chill now?" "No." "Thought so." ---bit more talking. Danny navigating his way through the truth of the lasso before using his wail as his last ditch effort to escape. Manages to escape through the portal as the lab collapses.

[karasbroken]

So I've been thinking about sex scenes a lot, for obvious reasons, and that had me thinking about John and Aeryn's physicality with each other. And a lot has been said about Ben and Claudia's chemistry, which is undeniable. Yet Ben actually brings a lot of sexual energy to scenes in Farscape in general. Just watch new reactors get uncomfortable during John/Chiana scenes or reference any of the other women he kisses and cuddles.

But there's something special about John/Aeryn and I think it shows up best right here in this little moment at the beginning of Infinite Possibilities Part I, Daedalus Demands.

I don't know who decided on the framing in this shot. I do know that these two, Ben especially, are very aware of camera angles and tended to be in frame, as much as possible, in an equal way. Side by side, or at least heads level, rarely one looming above or below the other, and Aeryn as likely to be higher as John. It wouldn't surprise me if they chose this, but if anyone has a script, let me know?

In general they give us unusual positioning versus how TV couples are often portrayed (the woman being enveloped by the man, or looking up to him, or being under him). But this particular setup, coded as post-coital, isn't one I can immediately recall being used in another show. It's almost spooning, but flipped, John was using her hip as a pillow while they talked right before this. (The preface is just so unbearably cozy and cute, teasing each other about him being crazy and it all being her fault.)

But then John gets frisky, and he doesn't move to kiss her, or grope her chest, or roll her under him (yet, if it hadn't been interrupted this would be a nice position to transition to '69' which is another thing I can't recall being hinted at outside of porn).

No he turns his head and kisses that hip--not a part of the body that usually gets comments in TV or real life. John, though, has paid it a lot of attention, given this little throwaway line from Unrealized Realities: "What you should really ask - is how I know you've got a birthmark on the sweet spot of your hip."

It's so charming, and so so sexy. The way she bites her lip as his mouth brushes the skin there makes it pretty damn clear that John goes down on her and is good enough at it to get her immediately interested.

And oh, how he loves to play with the edges of her clothing. This isn't the only time John's fingertips stray to that gap of bare midriff flesh the wardrobe team loves to give Aeryn. (It's to help keep her cool, can't risk Sebacean heat delirium, right?)

So of course John's finger starts to slip under the band of her panties and it's about to get going (again, these two are insatiable) and then the damn wormhole has to appear to distract him!

I've been trying to deconstruct why these two are so fucking hot so I can borrow a little of that for my stories. It's not just "chemistry". It's the little details that we haven't seen a thousand times before, making them feel like real people who enjoy each other's bodies, rather than actors performing for the camera.

They are actors, of course! Just friends, despite what RPF stories might like to fantasize about. But they clearly trust each other enough to slip into a physical connection that is amazingly natural. It's fun to watch and I hope you didn't mind my indulging myself a bit on this one.

[malfoyswand]

𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬

pairing: draco malfoy x reader

summary: your best friend, draco malfoy, plans a surprise to ask you to the yule ball.

word count: 1.8k

genre: fluff

warnings: none, just soft draco :)

author's note: thank you to the lovely reader who requested this, it's my first request so i really hope i did this justice! also yes, i got a little inspired by that one gilmore girls episode with the 1000 flowers for the proposal lol

➪ masterlist | requests

"Mate, I think you're overthinking this."

Blaise Zabini reported his opinion of the matter, but Draco Malfoy barely comprehended a word he had spoken. The only things on his mind were (Y/N) and of course, the bloody Yule Ball.

If he was honest with himself, Draco was at least partially excited for the dance. He knew it was meant to be one of the greatest nights he may ever experience while at Hogwarts, but he wasn't sure if he would. The dance was only a week away and somehow, Draco found himself without a date.

If anything, the Yule Ball was making him nervous.

"I'm not, Zabini!" He spoke quite loudly, then softened his voice as he realized students had looked their way. "This needs to be perfect, alright? This is (Y/N) we're talking about, you know how I feel about her."

Blaise couldn't help but sigh, with a smile on his lips as the two of them walked to their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. It was quite a feat for Malfoy to tell Blaise that he had romantic feelings for his best friend, (Y/N). Blaise knew that Draco dreaded being seen as anything but tough to the world, the fact that a girl had this much control over his emotions spoke volumes. 

"Exactly my point, Malfoy. She's been your best friend since first year, I doubt she would ever be disappointed or angry with whatever you come up with. Besides, she's just a girl. Just ask her to the ball like how you would ask a girl out on a date."

"Er.. well.." Draco began to speak, the hand that wasn't holding his books scratching the back of his neck. The two of them finally stopped walking besides the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Blaise's eyes widening as he tried to hide his laughter.

"You're telling me that Draco Malfoy has never been on a date before? Merlin!" His laughter echoed down the chamber, earning him a scoff and a playful shove inside the classroom by Draco. "Sorry, sorry. I just thought that with every other girl in this school begging to be your date to the dance, you would've taken at least one of them on a date." His voice was spoken quietly, careful that the other students wouldn't hear their conversation.

Draco shook his head as the two of them sat down in their seats, pulling out their books and parchment. "No. I've turned them all down. They're just not her, know what I mean?"

"You're down bad, mate." Blaise smirked slightly to himself, whispering the only advice he could really offer his friend. "Listen, girls like being asked out in a personal way. You know the kind of things (Y/N) likes, all you have to do is make it special and she'll be swooning."

"Right." Draco mumbled to himself as Professor Moody began to teach his lesson. However, he certainly wasn't thinking about Defense Against the Dark Arts. Instead, Draco glanced over to where you sat across the room. He knew you better than anyone, yet he had no idea how to ask you to the Yule Ball.

That was when the idea struck him. The new bag you bought last week caught his eyes, he noticed the way the bag had intricate floral designs sewn into it. A memory replayed in Draco's mind. He couldn't help but smile to himself as he wrote on a spare piece of parchment, folding it into a paper crane before sending it your way.

Your hands caught the paper crane, grinning as you knew exactly who it was from. You tried to ignore the way your heart seemed to skip a beat each time you saw one fly towards you. On the piece of parchment, it read:

Meet me at the Astronomy Tower tomorrow morning before breakfast? - D.M.

You lifted his gaze to meet his awaiting gray eyes, your head nodding before turning back to the professor's lesson. Draco did the same, but his mind was already running through a mental checklist on all the supplies he had to get to make his idea come to life.

The next morning, you woke up wondering why in Godric's name you decided to meet up with Draco this early in the morning. The sun was just starting to rise outside the window, and none of your other roommates were even awake. You groaned as quietly as you could, practically tiptoeing around the dorm bedroom to avoid waking everyone else.

As you brushed your hair in the girls' lavatory, you felt the butterflies in your stomach begin to flutter around again. You cursed yourself under your breath as you tried your best to focus on your breathing.

Lately, being near Draco Malfoy has always made you more excited than you really ought to be. Of course, he was your best friend so you had always been excited. But now, even one glance at him caused a warmth to glow within your chest. The feeling was a foreign one.

As you walked through the castle towards the Astronomy Tower, that warm feeling in your chest arose again as you caught sight of him. He was pacing near the entrance door, mumbling as if he was rehearsing something. You cleared your throat as you walked towards him, Draco stopping in his tracks.

"(Y/N)." He spoke your name, his lips forming into a soft smile. "Thanks for meeting up with me, I know it's a bit early for you." His tone was playful, he knew you were not much of a morning person. 

"About that, why so early in the morning, Malfoy?" You gently shoved his shoulder, he only laughed in response. He opened the Astronomy Tower door entrance, his hand indicating for you to step inside first. 

"You will see."

You walked up the long set of stairs up the tower. You couldn't see the fact that Draco was a nervous wreck behind you, his hands having to wipe themselves on his slacks to remove the sweat from his palms. As much as you hated to wake up this early in the morning, you knew the views up from the tower would be gorgeous. Draco knew that the Astronomy Tower was, quite honestly, your favorite place to admire the landscape.

“Oh my..” Your body stopped in its tracks once the two of you reached the highest level of the tower. Your eyes couldn’t take in your surroundings fast enough it seemed.

It was as if every surface of the tower was covered in red roses. Somehow, someone must have placed hundreds of roses in vases, scattering them around almost every corner of the room. The light shining into the tower only amplified their beauty, it was as if each petal seemed to come alive as the sun continued to rise.

“D-Did you know these flowers were here?” You stuttered as you started to pace around the room slowly, your fingertips grazing upon almost every petal there was. Their beauty took your breath away.

“I did.” Draco bit his bottom slightly as he watched you, desperate to know your reaction. He couldn’t tell if you liked or hated them. “They’re for you, actually.”

Your eyes darted from the roses you were admiring to Draco, your body facing his. Although you were truly flattered, the idea of him doing all of this for you made your head spin with so many questions. You knew Draco Malfoy better than he may ever know himself, you had never seen him do anything this nice or extravagant for anyone before. 

“You said a couple of weeks ago that you wish spring would come along so you can watch the flowers bloom again. Of course, it’s only December, as we can all see.” Draco answered your question, a slight chuckle falling from his lips as he pointed outside of the tower. More snowflakes began to fall, covering the castle with even more snow.

“So, I thought to bring the flowers to you. And I only assumed you liked roses, from your bag.” His eyes went from watching the snowflakes outside to your bag that was decorated with tiny red roses around it. Since when did Draco notice something so mundane, like a new tote bag?

“I just.. don’t know what to say.” Your voice came out as a whisper. Him decorating the entire Astronomy Tower with roses, just because you said you missed the spring and summer flowers, was entirely insane. You couldn’t come up with the words, so all you could do was step forward to hug him tightly.

Within an instant, you felt Draco’s arms wrap around your waist, his head resting in the crook of your neck. He closed his eyes, smiling softly to himself out of relief and joy. He was relieved and happy that you had liked the surprise, but he knew what he must do, even though it terrified him.

“That’s not the end of the surprise.” He said as he slowly pulled away from the hug. All of a sudden, it was as the boy became aware of every heightened emotion he was feeling. “But I must do this properly..”

Your eyebrows raised as you watched him turn around, picking up one of the red roses from their vases. If you weren’t convinced you were dreaming at the moment, you would have sworn you saw a small bit of sweat on Draco’s forehead as he looked towards you.

“I-er..” He took a step forward towards you, any closer and your bodies would have made contact. With a deep breath to calm himself, he handed the rose to you. “Would you want to go to the Yule Ball with me, as more than just a friend?”

Your lips slightly parted as you took the rose from him. You had slowly been falling for your best friend for the past four years, but you had convinced yourself that the Slytherin Prince would never fall for you. For four years, you had thought that he would never settle for you, when every other girl in this school begged for him just to look their way.

Once you realized you had failed to give an answer, you closed your mouth and smiled in his direction. “I would love to, Draco.” You responded, stepping forward once more to close the gap between you two. You pressed your lips softly to his cheek.

When you pulled away, you realized that Draco’s cheeks were slightly pink as his eyes widened. You couldn’t help but laugh slightly at the sight. Draco Malfoy was notorious for being the calm, collected one of the two of you. Seeing him as, essentially, a nervous wreck over you caused that warmth to be felt in your chest again.

“Who would have thought I could make Draco Malfoy this nervous?” You joked, attempting to calm his apparent nerves.

“Who said I was nervous?” He scoffed just as playfully, grabbing a few more roses to hand to you. You took them in your hands, smelling their pleasant aroma as you followed him back down the staircase.

“Malfoy, you were just as red as these roses.”

[asa-do-your-thing]

Among the ferns

18+ MINORS DNI Halsin x F!Reader 2.6k Warnings: SMUT, cunnilingus, p in v sex, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, size kink, fluffy smut as always no proofreading no nothing this is for you bby :3 @foxyanon

As the night grew colder, your companions retired to bed one by one. All except for Halsin, who had made a promise to stay up with you. He didn't mind avoiding Lae'zel's loud snoring; he preferred talking with you anyways, and sleep wasn't coming easy for him this night.

“Tav, may I ask you something?” he asked gently, looking down at you with a small smile. The full moon illuminated the small clearing in the woods where you had set up camp and a soft breeze played with the undergrowth.

The fire that had once crackled and danced with life was now reduced to glowing embers, casting a warm, orange glow on Halsin's face. His eyes twinkled with curiosity and earnest sincerity, making them as captivating as the night sky above.

"Well, Halsin," you responded, cradling your cup of warm cider between your hands. "You can ask me anything." Your tone was light, playful even. This was not the first intimate conversation you’ve had with him, nor would it be the last.

His brow furrowed slightly under his tousled locks. "It's just..." he hesitated, looking slightly unsure of how to phrase what was on his mind.

You chuckled lightly to yourself, finding his uncharacteristic shyness amusing considering that he was normally so confident and outspoken. With his muscled frame and towering height, he was often mistaken for a brute by those unacquainted with him. But you knew better than most that there was a lot more to him than met the eye.

"Why have you never spoken about your romantic partners before?" he finally asked, voice barely above a whisper. A breeze rustled through the leaves overhead, adding a symphony of soft whispers to the stillness of the night.

A hush fell over you both as you considered his question. The forest around you teemed with life – crickets chirping in the underbrush, an owl hooting in the distance – yet all sound seemed distant as you pondered your answer.

"Truthfully?" You start, shifting your gaze from the dying fire up into the night sky, blushing gently. "I suppose that is because I've never… had a romantic partner before.”

The revelation hung in the air, ungraspable as moonlight. Halsin took a moment to truly absorb your words. His head tilted slightly, the glow of curiosity was now replaced with surprise. "You mean…" he stumbled over his words, a rare occurrence for him indeed, "You've never…?" He didn't need to spell it out; his meaning was clear.

You found yourself shaking your head in confirmation, your cheeks heating up. The confession had left you feeling lighter somehow, liberated even.

"I know it's unusual," you admitted, your fingers idly tracing the edge of your cider cup. The warm ceramic felt grounding against your skin amidst the otherwise ethereal atmosphere of the night.

Halsin, still overwhelmed by the revelation, defaulted to silence as he stared at you with intense concentration, as if trying to understand an enigma. His gaze seemed to penetrate beyond your skin through to the very essence of who you were. It was a gaze that could make anyone feel seen for perhaps the first time in their life.

The silence lingered but didn't feel oppressive; instead, it held a certain comforting intimacy that carried an odd tranquillity with it. Perhaps it was due to understanding that sometimes words were superfluous and that silence spoke volumes more than any spoken language ever could.

Finally, as if breaking free from a trance, Halsin shifted his gaze away from yours and stared into the almost extinguished fire. His fingers absent-mindedly picked up a stick and prodded at the glowing coals – it seemed like he wished to say something, but held himself back out of respect.

“Halsin, I… Look, it’s not like I have no desire for… it, it’s just that no-one ever, uh… invited me for…,” you stammered out and looked at him, trying to gauge his reaction.

"I see," he finally answered, his voice just above a whisper and filled with an understanding that you hadn't expected. He looked back at you, the light from the dying fire dancing in his eyes. “Well, under any other circumstance…” he trailed off, looking at you with a softness you hadn’t seen before.

His gaze held yours as he continued, “I would have invited you for...” he paused as if searching for the right words, “a quick, intimate encounter.”

Your cheeks heated up further at his admission. The mere thought of it sent a jolt through your body, making your heart flutter.

"But," he quickly added, seeing your reaction, "given what you've revealed... I think I would be entirely satisfied sharing just an innocent cuddle." His words settled over your ears like a soothing balm, calming your anxious thoughts.

It was a simple offer — one of warmth and companionship without any expectation or pressure.

You felt a burst of adoration and gratitude for him. It was as if Halsin was offering to meet you at your pace, to hold space for you in a world that often demanded too much too soon. He understood, perhaps better than anyone else ever could.

“Halsin…” You couldn’t help the soft smile that graced your lips. The tension that had been building dissipated into the cool night air.

He smiled back at you then – not his usual mischievous grin but something far more genuine and tender.

Together, you sat in silence once more, the crackling embers providing a warm glow to your faces.

“Actually, I… uhm… wouldyouliketoteachme?”, you pressed out and immediately looked away, afraid that he would reject you.

“I mean, everyone’s asleep, you know this forest well, you are a gentle man and as far as I know you you are a very good teacher and I’ve liked you for so long and you’re good looking…,” you rambled, sure that your cheeks couldn’t heat up even more than they did in that moment.

Halsin blinked, taken aback by your sudden outburst. Then he laughed, a rich and warm sound that echoed softly in the quiet of the night. “Easy,” he said, his voice gentle yet laced with amusement, effectively cutting through your rambling. His gaze softened even further as he reached over and took your hand into his.

"Thank you for the compliments," he said, his thumb gently caressing your knuckles. His touch felt like a spark in the darkness, both startling and comforting at the same time. "And for trusting me enough to ask."

There was an earnest sincerity in his eyes that made you feel seen – really seen – for perhaps the first time in your life. It was as if he truly understood the depth of what you’d asked him. That he grasped how much courage it must have taken you to let down your walls and bare a part of yourself you’d kept hidden away for so long.

The silence that followed was pregnant with anticipation, each moment stretching on as you waited with bated breath for his response.

“Alright,” Halsin finally said, breaking the silence. His tone was somber now, filled with a level of gravity that reflected just how seriously he was taking your request.

“If this is what you want... If it’s something that feels right for you…” He paused to give you one last chance to change your mind. However, seeing no hesitation in your eyes, he simply nodded and continued, “Then yes, I’d be honored.”

A sense of relief washed over you at his words. It was as if a weight had been lifted off your chest - a wide smile spread over your cheeks and you hugged him, losing yourself in his warmth and scent.

Gently, he cradled your head against his shoulder, the rhythm of his heart a soothing lullaby as you relished in this newfound intimacy. It wasn't long before he scooped you up into his arms, rising from the bed of moss and ferns to carry you further into the forest. Your heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness as pine needles rustled beneath his feet, creating a symphony with the nocturnal creatures singing their songs.

The forest that had seemed so intimidating before now felt like a safe sanctuary under Halsin's guidance. He deftly navigated through the complex labyrinth of towering trees, guiding you through dappled moonlight that slipped through the rustling canopy above.

Eventually, he came to halt in a hidden glade awash with soft silver light. It was an enchanting spectacle - fireflies danced in the air while a gentle brook murmured in the distance, providing a harmonious backdrop to this still moment. Here, beneath the vast expanse of stars, Halsin laid you down gently on another bed made of moss and ferns.

Halsin hesitated for just a moment before beginning to remove his clothing, piece by piece. His movements were unhurried and deliberate, affording you enough time to adjust to each new revelation of skin and muscle underneath. He was beautiful in all senses of the word – not just physically but in his vulnerability too.

Once he stood undressed before you, it was his turn to ask for permission. His voice was low as he asked, "May I?" His respect for your comfort evident in that simple question.

“Y-yes, you may,” you muttered and gasped as you felt his hands working on the laces of your dress and the feeling of his lips on the nape of your neck. “You may do anything you wish, as long as you… are gentle,” you whispered, drawing in a big breath as he bared your breasts, gently tracing his hands over the gentle curves.

"Yes," he murmured against your skin, "always gentle." His voice was a soothing rumble that reverberated through you, making your heart flutter in response. His hands were warm against your cool skin, his touch so tender and careful it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

He guided you to recline on the mossy bed, his strong hands supporting your back as you did so. The moss was surprisingly soft underneath you, nature's own cushioned bedding. Halsin continued to worship your body with his hands and mouth, his every touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. You gasped as he traced kisses down your neck, over the valley between your breasts, and then lower still.

You gasped and blushed at the sensation and bit your lip as you felt his big finger gently slipping between your wet folds. Gods, it felt so good, and the longer you looked at him pleasuring you through half-closed eyes, you felt your inner fire burning hotter and hotter. Everything about him drove you wild. From the way he loomed over you, to his strong, yet gentle hold on you, not to mention the way he caressed you - it drove you to the brink of insanity.

“Let go, my love… moan for me, my sweet thing… let nature hear your call…,” he muttered, alternating between rubbing your pearl, licking and kissing it gently.

Gasping, you struggled to breathe as the pleasure coursed through you like wildfire. You'd never felt anything like this, and it was all too much and not nearly enough at the same time. His touch was electric, igniting every nerve ending in your body and sending sparks of ecstasy ricocheting along your spine. Moans tumbled unbidden from your lips, mingling with the chorus of the forest around you.

"Halsin," you whimpered, arching your back off the cushiony moss beneath you. "Oh gods, Halsin... it feels... it feels..." Words failed to do justice to the sensations he evoked within you.

He chuckled against your damp core, sending a shiver cascading down your spine. "That's it, darling. Let it out. I want to hear every little sound that escapes those pretty lips of yours."

Emboldened by his words, you did just that - moaning louder as he continued his ministrations. His tongue flicked and swirled over your most sensitive spots, teasing and taunting you until you thought you might combust from the aching need building within. Every stroke of his tongue or caress of his fingers seemed to send you higher and higher still, until you were certain your heart would beat right out of your chest.

"Halsin... Halsin... I... I'm..." You panted, but could not finish your sentence, as a huge wave of pleasure crashed over you. You cried out in unadulterated bliss as your body shuddered and arched beneath his touch. Halsin continued to caress and kiss you, milking every last shudder and gasp from your body until at last, your cries subsided into satisfied pants.

“You did perfect. Now… are you ready for me? Or should I let you rest?”, he asked sweetly, pulling himself out from between your thighs and up to you.

It felt like you were dreaming - and could do nothing else but to shake your head and hold your chest, gazing wantonly up at him. “No, no rest, I… I need you, I want you, but… are you sure that it is going to fit?”

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent shivers down your spine. “Oh, my love, I've imagined this moment for so long... and I assure you, I will fit. Just…” He leaned in to replace his words with a fiery kiss, his tongue teasing yours as he gently slipped his hardness between your wet folds.

It felt like he was right - it stung for a second, but it was a perfect fit, and he filled you up completely as he entered you inch by inch, stretching you to the limit, even though he was still holding back from plunging completely into you. "Feel how perfect we fit together?", he whispered into your ear, gently kissing the top of your head.

"Y-yes," you panted, arching your hips against his. "Halsin... please... don't stop." You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him onward.

He obliged, slowly and steadily, surging into your depths as if he had all the time in the world. The sensation was unlike anything you'd ever experienced - a delicious friction of stretching and heat that bordered on pain but was oh so exquisite. His every movement sent waves of pleasure crashing through you anew, his length hitting places inside you that had never known such stimulation before.

As he rocked his hips against yours, a primal, animalistic growl escaped his lips, and his grip on your hips tightened just enough to leave marks. You didn't mind, though - if anything, it spurred you on further. Your hands tangled in the moss beneath you, nails clawing at the ground as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

"You feel so good... so tight... around me," Halsin groaned between gasps, the pace of his thrusts increasing marginally with each breathy moan that escaped your lips. "I... I've wanted this... for so long... You, bouncing under me… in the woods…"

The way he spoke to you - so guttural and raw - was enough to send you over the edge a second time. Your climax washed over you like a tidal wave, hot and consuming, leaving you reeling in its wake. "Halsin!" You cried out his name as your body clenched around him, contracting around his hardness and milking him for all he was worth.

"Gods...," he panted, his thrusts growing erratic as he too lost control. "I... I can't... much more... So tight…"

With one final, earth-shattering thrust, he stilled inside you, his essence welcomed within your depths as you both shuddered through the climax together. Halsin collapsed atop you, his breathing ragged in your ear.

"That…" He finally managed between breaths. "Was… better… than I ever imagined."

You smiled up at him, your insides still convulsing and hugged him tight, not minding that he squished you under his large, shuddering body. “You’re… you’re a good teacher. The best.”

[prettypinkporkchop]

Okay okay what aboutttt Paul x reader but reader is bi and Paul kinda gets jealous when she checks out other women🙂‍↕️ maybe little heated argument🤫

"I'm not shy, I'll say it! I've been picturing you naked!" You and Kim scream the lyrics to slumber party.

You love Paul more than anyone and anything. He is your soulmate, after all! But you're bi, which he totally accepts! He loves you, period. He doesn't mind you joking around about finding women attractive. Especially if they're celebrities, he doesn't care. But one thing has been bugging him. You're super flirty with Kim. She's straight, but you two just have that friendship. Paul doesn't get it. Also, when you guys go out and you see a pretty girl, you HAVE to tell her she's hot. Most girls do that to each other, right?!

Kim jumps on your couch with her phone as a microphone, "OOOH OOH OH OH OH SLUMBER PARTY!" She screams.

You laugh and admire her beauty. You two are interrupted when Paul and Jared walk into the house. Paul turns off the speaker and crosses his arms with a smile. "You two are something else." He shakes his head.

Jared grabs Kim off of the couch, putting her on the ground. "Did you guys have fun while we were out?" Jared asks.

You hug Paul, shoving your cheek against his bare chest. You nod your head at Jared and then look up at Paul. "I missed you."

He kisses your forehead. "I've missed you too, baby."

Kim and Jared get ready to leave the house. You grab onto Kim and hug her. She giggles and hugs you back. You give her a joking kiss on her cheek. "MWUAHHH!" You exaggerated.

She does the same to you and then jokingly pats your bottom. "Bye, bitch." She winks.

When they leave, you turn to Paul, who looks mad. "Is something wrong?" You step closer to him.

He surprises you by grabbing your arms and moving you out of his way, forcefully. He walks into the bedroom and you hear the door lock.

"Paul? What's wrong?" You knock on the door. You hear nothing come from the other side. "Paul, we can't fix it if you don't talk to me." You wiggle the doorknob.

The lock clicks, and Paul opens the door, glaring at you. "Get your ass on the bed, now." He demands.

You gulp and do as he says. You sit on the edge of the bed. He walks in front of you, fuming. His chest is heaving. You can tell he's thinking of what to say.

"Did you cheat on me with Kim while I was gone?" He asks.

"What?! Are you nuts?" You try not to laugh at how ridiculous he sounds.

"Don't fucking play dumb. You know I hate when you hit on other women. It makes me feel insecure. It makes me feel like you'd rather be with a woman. I've never seen you kiss Kim like that, and I've definitely never seen her touch you like that!" He screams his last sentence and picks up a vase that held your makeup brushes.

You want to cry. He's scaring you. You know when he lifts things while he's mad, he's going to throw it. "Paul, please put that down." You ask.

He scoffs and then tosses it at the wall. It shatters, and your makeup brushes go all over the floor. This set you off. You stand up and push his chest.

"Hey, I've never cheated on you! And you know what, fuck you for even considering that! Just because I like girls does NOT mean I want I want to cheat on you with one!" You scream.

You pushing him made him grab your shoulders and push you onto the bed, not hard. Just trying to keep your hands off of him. He's looking down at you.

"How else am I supposed to feel?"

"Paul, it's not fucking like that!" You squirm under him, kicking your feet. You try to get him off of you.

"I'm not letting you go if you're going to hit me." He warns.

"Pick up the glass, Lahote!" You yell in his face.

He let's you go, standing up and walking away.

You lay on the bed and start crying. You curl into a ball and sniffle. You hear him leave the house, slamming the front door. You just cry until you're asleep.

----

You finally get the courage to step out of the bedroom. You notice Paul is still gone. You check life360. Oh, he's at Sam's. You sigh and walk into the bathroom. It's always the first place you go to when you're upset. You get in the bath and sulk. But the warm water always helps.

You see on the sink, he had bought you relaxing bath oils. There's also roses. The lights are dim, and he set out your comfiest and favorite pajama set. You turn on the water, making your bath very warm.

After sitting in the bath for an hour or so, you get out and wrap a towel around you. You hear the front door open, and the phone on the sink goes off, life360 telling you Paul is back home. He knocks on the door. You stand still in front of the foggy mirror.

"Baby doll?" He asks softly.

"Hm." You say dryly.

He opens the door and walks in, standing behind you. "I am so sorry."

You shake your head and open your moisturizer, putting it on your face. His hands lift up your towel at the bottom, putting his hands on your bare waist. Your bare ass is out, and it's against him, but you can tell it's not in a sexual way. He just wants skin contact.

"I was on the phone with Jared. Him and Kim explained things to me. I understand now.. and I'm so sorry. I feel like an idiot. I understand it's just a girl thing." He chuckles at the end before saying.

You can't help but smile at him through the mirror at his immaturity. "Don't be goofy." You reply.

"I uh, also went to Sam's. This is embarrassing, but you should know. I felt so bad for yelling at you and holding you down. I asked Sam to punch me. I may or may not have been sobbing like a little bitch." He chuckles at himself.

You turn and face him. "Good. But I do want to apologize too for making you feel the way I made you feel. I only love and want you." You touch his cheek.

He smiles and places his hand above yours. But now, looking at his face. Uh oh. Here we go horny bastards.

You drop your towel. He looks down at you and then sucks on his teeth, moving his tongue. Within a swift movement, he grabs onto your throat. You lift your head up slightly and bite your lip. "Give me all you've got." You breathe out.

He slams his lips onto yours, kissing you with tongue all sloppy. He pulls away and bites your lip. He lifts you onto the counter by grabbing your ass. He kisses you again and then puts his fingers on your wet area.

The night was full of spanking, hair pulling, praising you, leaving marks all over you, making you finish over and over.

After that, you are breathless on the bed, so sensitive with bruises on your neck and thighs.

[crowsongcaws]

Jimmy and Tango looked happy together.

Scott couldn't look away from them.

He'd been the one to tell Jimmy it was okay to visit the Hermitcraft server without him. Jimmy had asked him a million times if he was sure, and each time, Scott had told him yes because he trusted Jimmy and trusted everyone on the Hermitcraft server. What was a relationship without trust?

Jimmy was leaning against Tango. They were sitting on a picnic blanket looking out across the bay, occasionally talking about Grian, who sat at the other side of the bay. The two of them watched as Grian reeled in a pufferfish, and together they laughed at Grian's misery. It was only once their fit of giggling died down that Tango spoke again.

"I'm glad you're here, Rancher," he said.

Scott didn't need to see Jimmy to know how he looked in that moment—his pink-flushed face split by a wide, fond smile.

"So am I. I love you," Jimmy replied in a tone so soft it made Scott's heart flutter even if the words were directed at another.

Scott felt his throat close up.

He needed to break the moment, but he didn't want to. Scott was suddenly somehow glad that Joel was there. When he'd hopped into the Hermitcraft server, Joel had been the one to help him search for Jimmy. Now, Joel had a surprisingly comforting hand on his shoulder.

"If you don't say something now, you're just gonna go back and beat yourself up about this," Joel murmured to him.

He knew Joel was right.

"I just..." Scott trailed off, the words getting caught in his throat as he heard Jimmy and Tango laugh again—Grian reeled in a leather hat across the bay.

"Go get 'em, Scott. You deserve to be happy," Joel eventually told him, catching Scott off-guard yet again. He managed to weakly smile at Joel, and then he started walking towards the two.

It was pleasantly warm despite still technically being Winter, approaching the beginning of Spring. A slow breeze drifted through the air, the sun just now beginning to set. The bright blue sky above them was tinted orange, fluffy clouds lazily crossing above.

Scott couldn't believe that this was going to happen.

Neither Jimmy nor Tango heard Scott marching towards them until he was within feet of them. Only then did Tango turn around, the sun glinting off his circular red glasses. The motion caused Jimmy to turn around, and within seconds, the confusion on his face morphed into surprise.

"Scott?" Jimmy tried to say, "I thought you said you were busy—?"

"I was," Scott interjected. "I was busy, but I..."

Tango was just looking at him equal parts curious and confused. His mouth was parted ever-so-slightly, the sharp tips of his teeth barely visible. His golden-blonde hair looked somewhat messy as if he'd gone on a run recently. Scott swallowed hard.

"...I just wanted to say that both of you are very important to me," Scott finally managed to say, forcing himself to muster up the usual confidence he suddenly found himself lacking.

Taking a deep breath, he reached a trembling hand into his pocket and pulled out a box. He barely managed to hear Tango say oh under his breath as he dropped down to one knee.

"I've known of both of you for years, but I never really got the chance to know you until Grian's games started," Scott said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "I know those games have caused so many nightmares, but if I could go back and change it, I'd keep it all. Meeting both of you was the best thing to ever happen to me."

Jimmy's hands were cupped over his mouth, tears already streaming down his sun-kissed cheeks. The wings on either side of his head flapped in shock, no doubt beating just as fast as his heart. Tango, on the other hand, looked almost blank to just about anyone else, but Scott saw his hair sparking to life and the way his tail flicked here and there. His attention was on Scott, and the look in his eyes made Scott feel revered. He forced himself to keep speaking.

"3rd life was hard, but moving on after it ended was harder. I hadn't seen you for you until 3rd life, Jimmy, but how could I forget after it all? People joked that you were only dragging me down, but no one saw just how much I depended on you. You made each day brighter and easier, you made me confident, you gave me the strength to make myself strong. When I thought we were done for that game, you saw another chance, and you always convinced me to get back up and try all over again because giving up just wasn't for you, and it never has been." "Stop it, Scott, you—" Jimmy cried, his face already flushed and tear-stained. "Oh, Hun—" "Petal, you're going to make me cry, and I'm not even done yet," Scott said with a watery grin, and then he faced Tango. "Tango, lovely, double life was hard. The circumstances were difficult, and every single day was a struggle with Pearl and Martyn. Seeing Jimmy so happy without me used to make me so, so jealous, and then double life ended. I never would've expected you to come to me and ask if I was okay after I... well, after double life ended. But I'm so glad you did. The moment you did that, I saw what Jimmy saw. Kind, thoughtful, and just as resilient. None of it was a mistake. I would go through the hurt all over again for the love you've shown me afterwards." At that, Tango's blank expression shook to keep his composure. His hands were trembling, almost like even his own body wondered if he should dare to accept the praise and affection. However, all Scott had to do was smile at him, teeth and all, and a few tears began to slip down Tango's face. One long second passed, and Scott realized he needed to open the box. Inside it, two rings sat side-by-side, both with rose-gold bands designed to look like twisting vines dotted with the occasional miniscule gem. Though both had identical bands, one had an oval-shaped sunstone while the other had a similarly-shaped moonstone. "Sunstone for you, Jimmy—bright, reliable, and charming. Moonstone for you, Tango—resourceful, clever, and persistent," Scott explained, and then with another pause, he added, "There's no one else I'd rather be with than you two. Will you marry me?" "Yes—" "If you take my last name—" Jimmy and Tango both glanced at each other, and before any of them knew it, they were all laughing. "Scott Tek?" Scott asked with a grin heavy in his voice. "Better than Tango Major!" Tango cried out. "Jimmy Tek has a ring to it..." Jimmy murmured. "Wait, wait, why aren't either of you taking my last name?" And the cool breeze swept their good-natured bickering into the air all while crickets chirped and people across the server worked and laughed and haggled for supplies. It would be just another day for anyone else, something that would turn into an event that happened a few weeks ago, then last spring, then a few years back until all that was left was the memory of the warmth Scott felt in his heart and the way Jimmy and Tango laughed together like a melody only they knew in that moment, but wasn't that enough? More than enough, Scott thought to himself. And it was the truth.

[matchamiko]

lol neuvillette just sucking ur nipples or smth is enough to have u going a bit insane right??? RIGHT????

Giggling so hard rn

Warnings: breast worship/play, dry humping, mentions of masturbation, mentions of penetrative sex; previously established relationship.

If there’s one thing Neuvillette is, it’s thorough. You ask him about one of his trials after he returns from the Opera Eclipse, and he’s talking for hours about every piece of evidence in the case; you shyly ask him to brush your hair and he’s producing several combs and brushes and an oil to massage your scalp; he decides to take you on what humans call a date, and you’re trekking through the purple fields in the countryside to the most darling little picnic spot and dining on pastries until dusk, and then returning to the city to stroll about the fountains and gardens arm in arm with the promise of a mightily thorough kiss at the end.

And he’s no different when playing your body like a fiddle. He's got you folded into his lap, office door locked, blinds only half drawn but there's no danger of anyone looking in, not when he's so wrapped around you that it's hard to seen even a glimpse of your bare skin. It started as a visit for tea, the leaves you brought from your village in the Vale fresh and still warm from being dried over a fire, chatting idly in the way you two did that Neuvillette found so refreshing and simple. Then it led to you shyly asking for a kiss, having missed him so dearly and so wantonly, shown in the way you gripped his lapels and leaned further into him with a questioning sigh and an answered grunt. And now, you're half dressed spread over his thick thighs, his coat strewn next to the two of you and his gloves somewhere with it.

"Let me taste you," he murmurs against the column of your throat, hands running up the length of your back and down again, squeezing your hips into a dizzying grind. Your breasts press deliciously against the cotton of his shirt, nipples slipping and rubbing over his chest and every time you shudder with pleasure, Neuvillette basks in the way you arch harder into him like a cat. You feel wonderful, writhing over his groin and trying not to let your darkest desires overtake you like you so often did. The precious little tea farmer he'd befriended and then courted and then decidedly and silently pledged himself to; you're full of dirty secrets and filthy wants that has him spiralling into territories he'd never even thought about before. And your tits were one of them, to put it frankly.

He's fucked you before, numerous times, to your hearts content and more often than not, to your dictation and command. It wasn't surprising that your precious Iudex wasn't particularly well versed in human seduction, and you bravely stood up to the task you had completely made up, of showing him everything you desired and introducing him to everything he desired. But today, in the secrecy of his office, the knowledge that just outside the doors, people mill about and wait for an appointment with him; Neuvillette steps away from his duties and demands the feel of your supple skin against his teeth.

"I admit," a hand grasps the fat of your breast, squeezing roughly with the whoreish rhythm you have going on with your hips, "I've been thinking often about having you like this, desperate and desiring me all from the touch I give you here," fingers pluck at your nipple before he dips his head and takes it into his mouth. He's done this before, too many times to count, but with him being fully dressed and you an absolute mess in his lap; it feels different, raw and unfiltered in the wavering sanctity of his office. You can feel Neuvillette's tongue flattening over your nipple, swirling and curling like he does between your legs and it sends you arching into him, further into his reclined figure and deeper into his lap. A dizzying moan leaves you chest when you feel the hot, hard press of his cock through his trousers, confined in such a way that it's mind numbing when you grind against it. He pulls back for a second, looking up at you with hair strewn about his face, cheeks red and ears redder, panting hot and wet against your skin.

"Don't stop, please," he doesn't care for your politeness, doesn't care for your request, doing as he pleases with your body; one hand gripping your bottom and urging you to grind against him, and the other grasping meanly at your tit. Neuvillette seems positively ravenous this afternoon, though it should have been obvious in the way he allowed you to push him over to the settee and mount him without asking.

"I'm plagued with thoughts of you during matters that I should be attending to, important matters that garner my fullest attention and yet -," he suckles a bruise into the swell of your breast, held firm by his hands, squishing them together and nuzzling into the crevice between, breathing deeply enough to shudder, "All I can think about is you, what I want to do to you the next time we are alone, the next time you allow me to have you in such undignified ways," you're shaking when he regains his focus and takes your nipple into his mouth, tugging and nipping and gnawing like he does on his bottom lip when he's concentrating, suckling hard before letting go with a pop - allowing you to take a gasping breath and to look down at how positively enthralled he is at he taste of your doughy flesh,

"You don't need to be so formal while you're playing with my tits Neuvillette," you've always been more straight forward, more brash and crude, than him; having grown up in the countryside, in another nation, a whole other life to the one he leads. He leaves a wet trail from his tongue over your nipple, catching it between his sharp teeth and tugging enough to make you whine lowly, "I - can't stop thinking about you too, 'specially when I'm on my own," the implication is implicit but Neuvillette surges up into you, hips strong and knocking into yours with a grunt. He's filled suddenly with images of you writhing in your bed, hand stuffed between your thighs, fingers wet and slick in your cunt - the same he can feel pulsing and purring over his lap.

"Tonight, I've cleared my last appointment so I can spend it with you," he gasps, lips swollen from their assault on your breasts, eyes unfocused and pupils blown wide with want "After supper, after I spoil you like I have promised; you are showing me everything you do when you are alone and desperate for me,"

[lllivia]

This was never supposed to happen

Natalie Scatarccio x f!reader

Summary: Nat's asshole of a dad ruins everything

Warnings: not proofread, angst, homophobia (might have gone a bit far idk 🫢), modern au

Part 1 of 2

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Music blasts through Nat's speaker as you lay on her bed, spread out comfortably as she sits on the floor scrolling on her phone.

10 minutes go by with the comfortable silence before you decide to put down your phone and finally speak up, not completely sure if this was a good idea.

"Hey Nat.. Yk how I told you that I kinda haven't kissed anyone before?" You pause for a second "Well I've been talking to this.. Person for a while and it's starting to get serious... So I was just wondering if maybe you could, idk - this is probably dumb but, teach me?"

You say quickly, staring up at the ceiling and expecting the worst.

"Okay"

"..Okay?"

"Yeah okay, I'll teach you dumbass" She smirks and crawls onto the bed, propping herself up on her elbows to hover over you.

Nat was always quite comfortable with who she was, openly talking about her experiences with men, while you on the other hand were much more reserved. So you weren't necessarily surprised when she said yes (since it was only going to be two girls practicing after all), but you still feel your hands get sweaty resting on your stomach as you stare right back at her, glancing down at her lips just to notice the shadow of her smirk still imprinted on her face.

"So um, what should I do? " you say awkwardly, fidgeting with your sweater as you struggle to not look away from the girl who's face is now merely inches away from yours.

"Just follow my lead okay?" She responds in a surprisingly soft voice before finally leaning in to where your lips ghost over each other, sighing slightly before gently pressing your lips together. One of her hands slowly creeping up to cup your face like she's afraid you might break if she adds too much pressure.

"Is this okay?" She pulls back to ask, her face flushed and her lips redder than usual as she scans your face for any discomfort.

"Yeah, yes, you can keep going" you respond quickly before pulling her back into you, unable to describe the tingling sensation fluttering through your entire body as your lips meet again in a slightly rougher matter, pent up need for your friend that you didn't know you had suddenly crashing down at you all at once.

"Shit Nat" you groan as she bites down on your lip, both of you forgetting that this was only supposed to be practice as her hands-

"WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE"

You quickly pull apart, your eyes flying open as you try to scramble away from Nat as her father stands in the now open doorway.

"WHAT KIND OF FAGGOT FILTH HAVE YOU BROUGHT INTO MY HOUSE GIRL??" He yells, pointing a dirty finger towards Nat as his other fist grips onto a half full bottle of alcohol, his disgusting breath seeping through the room as spit fly's out of his mouth.

Nat doesn't know how to respond, seemingly too shocked to answer as her dad continues shouting at her.

"ANSWER ME FREAK! YOU WEREN'T RAISED TO COMMIT SUCH SINS. YOU'RE A FUCKING DISGRACE YOU HEAR ME?? A DISGRACE.

NOW GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE BEFORE I DECIDE TO SHOOT YOU AND YOUR GOOD FOR NOTHING FAG FRIEND"

He finishes, his last sentence barely having left his mouth before you run outside, your heart beating faster than it ever has and tears now streaming down your terrified face.

You turn back towards the trailer as you suddenly hear glass shattering, all your other worries almost forgotten as all you can think about is if Nat is okay.

You were about to go back inside when Nat storms out the door, slamming it behind her as she steps forward.

You weren't exactly sure what to say as you look at her, you'd never seen her in such a vulnerable state before. The usual cool and confident Natalie now replaced with a nearly crying girl, her hair disheveled, her shoulders shaking from the suppressed tears and one of her hands bleeding from a deep cut that you could only assume came from the shattering sound that come from inside the house mere seconds ago.

As she tries to hold in her tears she refuses to meet your eye, her expression changing between hatred, embarrassment, shame and more as she furiously wipes her face with her sleave.

"Nat? Are you o-"

"Go."

"What?? Your hand clearly needs medical attention, we can go back to mine"

"Just go."

"Stop being stupid Nat, I can't fucking leave you like this" you say and step towards her, anger starting to creep into your voice as you can't understand why she's acting this way towards you.

"I SAID GO" she suddenly shouts. "you heard what he said dyke, this was clearly a mistake and it was never supposed to happen!"

Her bloodshot eyes finally meet yours again and all you can see in them is hate and despair, tears spilling out as she bites her bottom lip hard before she looks down at her feet, immediately regretting everything she just said.

"Get the fuck out of here y/n" her voice breaks.

"Nat.." is all your broken voice manages to squeak out as your eyebrows furrow, the tightness in your chest feeling as though it might suffocate you as you finally turn away from her, walking away from who you thought was your best friend only 15 minutes ago - now feeling unsure that you'll ever see her the same again.

_

a/n: I'm too impatient to wait for the poll to finish, also I can't decide if this should have a sad or happy ending 😜 SEND REQUESTS, MY INBOX IS BASICALLY THE SAHARA DESERT RN CHAT 😢😢😢