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marril96 · 2 days ago

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Safe Haven

Chapter 1: Guilty as Sin

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: After months of no contact, Agatha shows up at your door badly injured, and it's up to you to help her.

To say you and Agatha had parted on bad terms would be an understatement of the century.

You'd forgiven her a lot of things, and could forgive so much more, but the one thing you just couldn't get past was her forgetting your anniversary because she was too busy draining some random witch that wasn't even powerful enough to justify leaving you hanging.

You'd exploded. It was like someone had pulled a switch, and an atomic bomb had gone off, turning everything in its path to dust. You'd unleashed all the things you'd been holding back; centuries of pent up rage, of resentment pouring out of your mouth. Raging and burning. Stinging its target's flesh like lava dripping on skin.

Things you couldn't believe could ever come out of your mouth shot out, bitter, venomous. Bullets aiming for the heart.

You'd called Agatha selfish. Had accused her of not caring about you, of valuing power over you. Had said she'd never loved you, and, if she'd thought she had, you'd certainly never felt it. Had told her other witches were right to have never trusted her for not an ounce of her was worthy of being trusted.

"I can't look at you right now. I don't wanna look at you," were your final words before you'd summoned your magic and had taken off for the sky. Far, far away from her.

It wasn't exactly a breakup. The two of you had had periods of separation throughout the centuries, usually brought on by one of you wanting to travel and the other preferring to cozy up somewhere for a few months. In the end, you would always find your way back to each other. The few times you had parted on bad terms, you were back in each other's arms within days.

You could never stay apart for too long.

Until now.

Three months and counting. No calls. No texts. Both of you were too stubborn, too proud to pick up the phone and make the first move.

Not that it would do much.

You doubted there was coming back from this fight.

If someone had said those things to you, you wouldn't want to see their face, either. Not for a very long time. Possibly not ever again.

You didn't even mean what you'd said. You were just so angry, and Agatha had made a mistake, and you'd wanted to punish her. You'd wanted to hurt her. You'd wanted her to feel how you were feeling. Wanted her to feel worse. You'd wanted to shove a knife in her gut and twist it.

What you'd actually done was aim for the heart and shatter it until it was nothing but specks of dirt under your feet.

Every day since that fateful night had been hell.

You weren't sure how you were able to survive; guilt had been eating you alive, bit by fleshy bit. The words you'd said echoed in your head. Had kept you up at night. Had brought tears to your eyes every time you'd replayed them.

Agatha was no angel, far from it, but she didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve a fraction of the venom you'd spewed in her face.

Maybe that had been a breakup, after all.

You didn't see her forgiving you that kind of cruelty.

You certainly would never forgive yourself.

Loud banging shook you back to the present, to your lonesome reality. Someone — something — was at your front door, insistent, desperate to get inside. The hinges squeaked under the force of the blows.

Blood ran cold in your veins.

You lived in the middle of nowhere; a deliberate choice, as your kind historically didn't fare well among people. Or each other. Experience had taught you that witches could be as treacherous as humans, even more so. Miles and miles of trees surrounded your home, cocooning it, shielding it. Hiding it and you from the world.

Who could possibly be at your door this late in the evening?

A lost or injured hiker? A runaway kid seeking help?

Someone who meant you harm?

The prospect didn't worry you too much; you'd made sure the entrance to your home was spelled so that nobody and nothing could get in without your explicit permission. Hunters and rogue witches, as well as regular, run of the mill thieves, had raided too many spaces you'd thought were safe over the centuries.

When you'd acquired this house, you were determined it was never going to happen again.

It was Agatha who had suggested protection like that. She knew how much it meant to you to have a place to call yours, to call a home, so she'd flipped through the pages of that dark magic book of hers that you weren't allowed to come near (with good reason: you'd avoided that thing like the plague) and had found a spell that would protect you from unwanted guests

It had worked wonders so far.

Still, as you cautiously padded to the door, one of your hands lit up with magic; a witch could never be too careful. You unlocked the door and opened it a crack, then wide as your eyes fell upon the familiar dark brown hair.

Agatha.

Your heart raced, first with excitement at seeing her again, then with concern as the condition she was in settled in.

Her clothes were ripped. Her hair was a mess, as if she hadn't brushed it in days. Blood ran down her mouth, down her chapped lips. Deep, purple bruises marred her face, painted it dark and painful.

"Oh, my god," you gasped, in disbelief at the sight before you. This had to have been some kind of an illusion. The Agatha you knew could never get hurt like this. No matter what the situation was, she would find her feet. She would never allow for it to get this far.

Her power was too grand for even a remote possibility of something like this.

Then why was she standing at your door, bruised and bloody?

Why was she shivering?

Why did she look so fucking scared that it broke your heart all over again, as your own cruel words had the night that you'd abandoned her?

"Y/N, please, let me in," she said. There was no usual snark in her tone, no humor. No playfulness that you'd come to miss in the months since you'd last seen her. Her voice was strained, as if it hurt to talk. As if it was taking the last remnants of the strength she had left to push the words out. "Please." There was a pause, a pained one, then she said, completely and utterly weak, "I don't have anywhere else to go."

She didn't even have to ask.

"Come here," you said, reaching for her. It was an instinct you'd grown into over the centuries of being with her. When she needed you — when she was cold or sad or injured — you were at her side with arms wide open. No questions asked. No demands made. All that mattered was getting her well. Making the pain she was in go away.

Hands on her shoulders, you gently coaxed her inside, and then locked the door behind her.

She didn't have to ask to be let in. Didn't have to cower and beg for mercy.

Even with the protection spell, Agatha had been welcome here from the very start. This was her home as much as it was yours. No matter how angry you were at her, you would never deny her access. Had never denied it.

What you had done, you remembered, chills running down your spine like ants, was tell her you couldn't look at her.

Was that why she was in this condition? Did she think you wouldn't help her if she called? Did she think you didn't care about her anymore — that you didn't care whether she lived or died?

Did she think you would slam the door in her face and leave her to tend to herself?

Swallowing the guilt that pressed on your chest like an ill-fitted corset, you helped Agatha to the couch. She walked with a limp, one hand pressed to her side, each breath she took a labor, a chore. Whoever had harmed her had done a number on her.

You'd seen her lose fights before. You'd seen her beg for mercy. But it had never been this bad. Not even close.

Whoever had done this to her had better leave the country, had better leave the fucking planet if they wanted to live for another day. Once you found them, they would wish they were dead.

That was a promise, and you always kept those when it came to Agatha.

"Is this okay?" you asked. "Do you need a blanket, or a pillow, or—"

"It's fine," she said, taking a few breaths to steady herself, each more painful than the other.

It shattered your heart into a million pieces.

She didn't deserve this. No matter what she did or whom she managed to piss off, she didn't deserve to be in this kind of pain.

As tenderly as you could, you laid your hands over hers. Agatha stiffened, startled, confirming your suspicions — she didn't think you care about her, not after the things you'd said.

All the witches in her life had ended up betraying her, turning their backs on her, abandoning her. It was only natural that you would do the same.

It was only life.

She didn't know anything different, anything better.

And you, the asshole that you were, had poured salt over the wound.

You'd told her she'd deserved it.

"It's okay," you said softly, caressing her hands. Letting her know that she was safe, that the danger had passed. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

But you had, hadn't you? You'd promised you would never, but you'd done what everyone else had. You'd turned your back on her. You'd spewed the vilest things you could think of, things you didn't even mean, to hurt her, all because you were hurt and had wanted her to feel the same — had wanted her to feel worse. You'd thrown her mistakes in her face, and had left her. You'd never looked back. And, no matter how much the guilt was eating you up, niggling at your insides like acid, you didn't have the nerve to apologize, to make it right.

You were no better than her coven. Than her bitch of a mother.

Agatha nodded, then lowered her eyes to her lap, to her dirty, bloodied clothes. Everywhere and anywhere but your face.

She might as well have slapped you.

Not that you wouldn't have deserved it.

"Who did this to you?" you asked, trying your hardest to hold back an explosion that threatened to erupt inside you.

You couldn't hurt yourself, not much more than you already have, but you could make sure that the one who'd done this to her paid with their life.

They'd been living on borrowed time since the second they'd decided to lay their hands on her.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

"Hunters." She spit the word like it was poison, like the mere act of saying it befouled her mouth. "They injected me with something that's been blocking my power."

You raised an eyebrow, confused. "A drug of some sort?"

"Try potion."

Now that was interesting. "They're working with a witch?"

Agatha nodded. "A powerful one. It's been two days, and this thing's still alive and kicking."

"Two days?"

They'd had her for two days?

They'd been hitting her, beating her, torturing her for two days?

A few tears escaped your containment, your cheeks burning in their wake.

"Oh, please, it's nothing I can't take. I could go for two more weeks," Agatha said with a shrug, feigning nonchalance. Acting as if what she'd gone through didn't bother her a single bit.

You knew better.

That smile on her mouth was the same one she always hid behind. The one she used when she wanted to hide the pain, the turmoil, despite knowing damn well it didn't fool you. It never did.

"Sweetheart, I am so sorry," you said, on the brink of falling apart.

"Why? You didn't do anything."

That was the problem.

You didn't do anything.

She was tortured for two days, and you were none the wiser.

"I should've been there."

You would have burned those monsters alive. You would've made them beg for mercy, given them hope that it would come, and then you would've taken it away at the last minute. You would've made the punishment fit the crime.

You would do it.

They had no idea what was coming to them.

Agatha rolled her eyes. "Save your pity."

"It's not pity, and you know it," you told her in your most earnest tone. She had no reason to believe you — you'd certainly given her plenty of reasons not to — but you hoped she would find it in her heart to look past that. To give you the smallest benefit of the doubt, a chance to make what you broke whole again.

"Isn't it?" It was her turn to twist the knife, and she knew how to make it hurt without trying too hard.

You deserved it.

As much as it hurt, as much as it bruised and broke you, you had every word of doubt coming.

You swallowed a hard lump in your throat, welcoming the pain. Accepting it as penance. "No."

Standing up on shaky legs, you walked to the adjoining kitchen and started rummaging through cupboards in search of supplies. You didn't have a first aid kit, so a makeshift one would have to do. Some old bandages, a rag, a bowl of warm water. Simple, yet efficient.

Agatha could think what she wanted — she could think the worst of you, and she certainly had that right — but you would still help her. You would still do your best for her.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Getting supplies," you said, picking up the softest rag you had. "We need to get you cleaned up."

A moment of tense silence passed. "I can do it myself."

You looked her in the eyes like you always did when she was being difficult. "Let me help you."

"I don't need your help," she said stubbornly.

If she didn't, she wouldn't have shown up at your door and begged to be let in. She wouldn't have let you hold her hands.

"Agatha," you said with a sigh. Don't do this, you thought. Don't play these games. Not now.

"You don't have to pretend you want me here. I'm only here because I had nowhere else to go," she reiterated.

"I'm not pretending."

"Aren't you? You made it pretty clear you didn't wanna look at me." Her eyes, so blue and sad, filled with tears. Her injured lips trembled. "I'm selfish, remember? I never loved you. I'm not trustworthy. I deserve everything that's ever happened to me. I deserve this."

"No. No, you don't."

But you did. You deserved to have your words thrown back at you. You deserved every jab, every painful poke.

You laid the bowl on the coffee table and sat back down by Agatha's side. "I know I'll never be able to take back all those horrible things I said. For what it's worth, I didn't mean any of it."

"Why'd you say it, then?" Agatha asked pointedly. No pleasantries. No nonsense.

"Because I was pissed, and I wanted to hurt you." It hurt to say it, to admit it out loud, but you owed it to her to be honest. She deserved to know the truth. "All this time, I've been trying to think of ways to apologize. Nothing seemed good enough. You deserve better, and I just couldn't give it to you. So, I left you alone."

You reached for her hand. Momentary relief flooded your veins as she allowed you to twine your fingers with hers. This time she welcomed your touch. Welcomed you.

"I really am sorry," you said. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I wouldn't. I just ask that you let me try to make up for it."

Agatha swallowed. Her eyes fell to your linked hands. You thought she would push you away. That she would tell you where you can shove your apology. That she would tell you that it was too late — she didn't love you anymore. That she wanted nothing to do with you.

Instead, her fingers squeezed yours.

A tiny, silent gesture that spoke more than words ever could.

She hadn't given up on you.

She was willing to give you a chance.

She still loved you.

Just like that, a spark lit up inside you. A sliver of hope, tiny but still there, bright in the turmoil of your mind.

It was more than you could have asked for.

You promised to yourself — to Agatha — that you wouldn't squander it.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @ahintofchaos @fruityhahn @midnight-lestrange

#agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #aaa #agatha all along #marvel #mcu #fanfic #fanfiction #my fics #edit

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cellophaine · 2 days ago

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Chapter X: APPROACH

Masterlist

Pairing: Patrick Zweig x F!Reader, Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan

Warnings: Angst.

Author's Note: I'm not going to apologize for what I've done, but I will apologize for uploading this chapter 10 minutes late.

GIF Source: @/spookyrps

2019. New Rochelle.

There was no music in the elevator, you noticed. You were alone with your thoughts that echoed back and forth in the chamber of your mind. Sleep didn't come easy the night before, even with the help of the prescribed sleeping pills you hardly ever reached for. After all these years, being face-to-face with Art still managed to draw a reaction from you. One that didn't make much sense. You were a different person now, as he was. Things had happened, and you had changed. Knowing that you were in the same building as Art Donaldson, separated by mere floors, shouldn't make you toss and turn in your bed. You were such a fool; you scolded yourself. He probably slept fine next to his gorgeous wife, with their adorable child in the room next to theirs.

Your likeness on the glossy surface of the elevator door appeared well-kempt, but it wasn't a truthful reflection of how you felt on the inside. The little makeup you used did its job, concealing the dark circles and adding colours to your face. Right there along the seam of yourself was the fatigue, worming its way into the slight slouch in your posture, weighing down your body's effort in keeping it upright. Remembering how your mom used to strike at your upper back so you would sit up straight, you straightened up out of an innate reflex.

The elevator door opened to reveal the first floor. You headed for the hallway Jennifer had led you down, barely passing the peripheral of Art as he stood there in the lobby, talking to a man you didn't recognize. You kept your face away from his direction and quickened your pace, hoping he hadn't spotted you yet. You sighed as the almost empty hallway welcomed you in, save for a couple of people ahead of you chattering about the seat placements. But the relief didn't last long. A familiar voice that you'd tried to forget for years called your name. The marble floor echoed the voice's owner's intention of catching up to you, hurried and rushed as if you were to disappear at any moment. You turned around, stopping him in his tracks – only a few steps from where you were standing.

Art was wearing casual attire, a fitted white t-shirt and black pants, yet he still managed to make them look phenomenal. He looked like he was about to head to practice. You remembered it, all those mornings after spending the night together, watching him getting ready for the day.

For a long moment, neither of you talked, only drinking each other in with your sights. Art broke the tension first, seeming to reprimand himself for staring at you.

"You look great."

"You, too."

You reciprocated, albeit a little cold. There was no reason for you to lie and no excuse for the conversation to be longer than it already was.

"It's good to see you."

You sighed and decided to cut to the chase.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for a challenger."

"No, I meant here, right now."

You pointed to the distance between you. His answer lingered on the tip of his tongue, undecided, but eventually rolled off and made itself audible to your ears.

"I … I want to talk to you."

"We have nothing to talk about."

You shook your head. Art took one step closer to you.

"I know that I'm not entitled to your time, but I've missed you."

The latter part ignited the anger in you. How could he say that so easily? You scoffed at his audacity; your own response came with a bite that aimed to hurt.

"I don't think your wife will appreciate what you've just said."

To your surprise, at the mention of the sore subject for the two of you, his resolve remained unchanged.

"Tashi has nothing to do with this."

"She has everything to do with us."

"Not when she resents me."

For the first time in your tense exchange, you relented. You searched for Art's eyes, looking for a hint of betrayal, of deception, but instead, you found defeat. Your resolve softened, and you felt the familiar pull of a memory from when you first met at the Stanford cafeteria thirteen years ago. Two lonely people meeting one another, and now, finding themselves in each other's paths again.

But it should end here.

"Your marriage problem isn't my responsibility to solve."

"I know, and I'm not asking you to. I just … want to talk about us."

You shrugged, keeping your tone nonchalant.

"There's no more us."

At that moment, a mix of voices from a group of people came out from the conference room area, chatting among themselves. The two of you involuntarily took a small step away from each other as if the guilt by distance association was enough to make anyone suspicious. Art's desperation was clear as day.

"Can we talk somewhere else?"

You couldn't say no, so you settled for the next best thing.

"I have to go."

"Can you at least think about it?"

Art closed the distance, reaching for your hand. You were pliant to his gentle touches, overwhelmed with conflicting emotions that lapped at your conscience. A piece of paper was placed in your palm.

"Text me. I'll figure out something for us."

You said nothing to his promise and walked away; your skin felt hot from his touch. You headed straight for the conference room, and your hand slipped the note Art gave you into the pocket of your blazer.

Art's number had not been a resident in your contact for a very long time. You stared at the ten digits later that night in your room, and your fingers itched to do something about it. Burn it or throw it away; it didn't matter. You knew you should do either of those things, but in the end, you couldn't.

At about 12:40 AM, Art sent you the address to a local restaurant that was about a ten-minute drive from the hotel.

Tomorrow night. 7:30.

As the day drew closer to night, the knot in your stomach tightened even more in anticipation. You sat in the car in the restaurant's parking lot for a while despite being there early. When it was 7:38, knowing you couldn't delay it any longer, you straightened your simple outfit and walked into the restaurant. You were greeted by a bored hostess on a slow night; the place was almost empty, save for two other occupied spots. Art's table was in a more secluded area, where privacy was afforded by the enclosed booth with fake vines cascading down to the back of the leather seats in intricate weaves and big leaves. Art stood up when he saw you. The familiarity of the scene stirred a long-forgotten memory that happened seven years ago.

2012. Columbus, Ohio.

Your first book tour. After the reading and signing event, you were free to do whatever you wished, and that meant roaming the aisle of a grocery store, browsing for juice, painkillers and some chocolate. Your eyes pored over the nutritional value, or lack thereof, of a pack of chips when you felt a pair of eyes on you. That, on top of the fact that they wandered into your peripheral and hadn't made the slightest move. You did a double-take when you saw Patrick Zweig standing within arm's reach with a self-assuring smirk on his face.

"Hey. It's you."

"It's… you."

You echoed his recognition, but on the contrary to his amusement, yours was the faintest touch of dread.

"It's been a while."

"It has been. How are you?"

You turned to face him fully. He scratched the back of his head with his free hand.

"I'm … great! You?"

"I'm good. What are you doing here?"

Patrick looked around the aisle as if the answer was obvious.

"In this grocery store? I'm getting groceries."

You looked at the basket in his other hand. It was filled with chips, soda and some bananas.

"Right. No, I mean, in the city."

"I'm here for a challenger. Well, was."

"What happened?"

"I got eliminated."

He dipped his head and averted his eyes from yours, seeming embarrassed by the admission of the fact.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"That's alright. At least I'm $300 richer now."

Patrick gestured to you.

"What about you? What are you doing here?"

"I'm on a book tour."

"Ahh. Sounds like you're doing very well for yourself."

"Thank you."

You felt sheepish at his compliment. The two of you fell into a lull of silence, your eyes intertwined in a languid game of cat and mouse. Patrick looked like he wanted to tell you something, but you had nothing to say to him. So you broke the silence first.

"Well, uh, it's very nice to see you again. I should go."

He stepped forward, trying to capture your attention in the way his body language created an invisible enclosure that temporarily held you in.

"Wait. Can we go somewhere else to talk? I think we have a lot to talk about."

"Do we?"

You levelled him with an incredulous look. But he met you with earnestness.

"Yes, we do."

"I don't think so."

"They got married last month."

It took you a brief moment to understand. Still, his decision to break the news to you in an abrupt manner took you by surprise. Your heart seemed to drop into a bottomless pit, and you could feel the frantic beat of it thrumming along every inch of your skin. You quickly fixed your frown into a forced smile.

"Well, that's great to hear. I'm happy for them."

Patrick gave you a look that said your effort was all in vain.

"You don't mean that."

"We all have to move on at some point. Unlike you."

The venomous bite of your words didn't go unnoticed by the dark-haired man before you.

"If you knew what I know, then you would be just like me."

You scoffed, crossing your arms.

"Please, we're not the same. Stop being cryptic and just say what you want to say."

He tilted his head at you, an idea dancing in his blue eyes.

"How about this? I'll tell you over dinner. We can use some catching up."

Your lack of a response made him feel like he needed to apply a little pressure.

"You'll want to know what happened. Trust me."

You rolled your eyes. You couldn't believe you were seriously considering his offer. You exhaled deeply and decided then that spending some time with your ex's wife's ex-boyfriend was better than a night alone in the hotel room.

"Where and what time?"

His smirk deepened, and you wanted to wipe that off of his face.

"There's an Applebee's nearby. How about we meet up there … around 7?"

"Fine."

That was how you ended up here, sitting across from Patrick Zweig, sipping on a Rum and Coke while waiting for your food. Whatever he wanted to say to you might pair better with the taste of alcohol. You hadn't even bothered to change out of the sundress you wore just hours before when you ran into him.

"How's it going for you career-wise?"

Patrick took a sip of his drink to delay answering your question.

"Oh, you know, it's … good. I'm making a name for myself."

You recalled his grocery haul, the pair of shorts that resembled pyjama pants, and the state of his car when you arrived around the same time as he did. The interior was messy, with rolled-up socks and clothes draping all over the back seat, trash and parking tickets in the front. Doubt swelled in your head.

"Are you? I have a feeling that you wouldn't be sleeping in your car if that was the case."

A playful smile appeared on his lips.

"Ouch. The hostel I was staying in had bed bugs, so my car was the next best option. I'll go to a motel after this, though."

You hummed, thinking back about what Art had told you about Patrick.

"Isn't your family rich?"

"They are. Not me."

His long middle finger traced the rim of his drink in a pensive mood.

"Why don't you ask them for help?"

"I don't want to. Let's just say we always fail to come to an agreement when it comes to the choices that I've made."

Your acknowledgement came in the form of slow nods of your head. You understood him for not wanting to depend on your family for anything. It would only give them one more reason to call you a disappointment for daring to seek their help.

The waiter brought out your food, and your conversation was pulled into a lull of quietude as you ate your food. You dabbed the corner of your mouth for a drop of the creamy pasta sauce, while Patrick munched on three pieces of fries. You picked up what was left off moments ago.

"You're still privileged in a way, you know? You could give up and crawl back to your family's mansion. I'm sure they'll welcome you back with open arms."

"I could. But there's no fun in that. Besides, I prefer being a disappointment anyway."

You shared a small chuckle. Under the low light of the restaurant, you allowed yourself to take him in fully. Curly dark hair, contrasted with the soft edges of his face. The light stubble along his jaw added a rugged charm to his laid-back attitude. You couldn't help but compare him to Art. Patrick's confidence was loud, veering on cocky. Art's was quiet, but full of surprises when the moment called for it.

The heady allure of Patrick and his association with Art had started to draw up dangerous ideas in your mind. You inhaled sharply, your fingers rubbed your temple in small circles in an attempt to bring yourself back to the conversation. The one you needed to have the moment you settled in the booth of Applebee's.

"So … they got married."

"Yeah. Pretty recently. Didn't even get an invite."

A sardonic huff of air escaped your lips.

"Join the club. I found out about their engagement last year, but I didn't think …"

You trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought. But the silence did it for you. Patrick nodded.

"Art moves fast. He knows what he wants and he goes for it. And no one can tell him otherwise."

"I know it all too well."

"Little fucker."

You took a sip of your second Rum and Coke. A deep sigh escaped your lungs.

"I get it, though. She's beautiful, she's passionate about tennis. She can help him in ways that I can't."

At that, Patrick stayed quiet. His eyes took you in, all of your honesty and insecurity displayed in a glass case in front of him. You felt the briefest brush of vulnerability on your spine and shivered, but you ignored it. Despite the lack of dialogue and contact during the short period Patrick visited Stanford, your shared history ran deeper than the surface-level interaction that you had.

Patrick set down his burger and wiped his mouth with the napkin. His fingers created a rhythm on the wooden table, but then, the dull melody was cut short.

"Art is devoted to Tashi, but she's not."

"What do you mean?"

You prompted him to continue.

"Tennis is not everything to Art. But to Tashi, it is."

"I figured as much. It's not new news."

An inkling that Patrick was deliberately withholding information from you came to your mind. You sat up straighter, setting your fork down.

"Spill, Patrick."

He relented after a moment.

"I was in Atlanta last year. A couple of months after they got engaged."

You looked at him, unsure where he was going.

"Both of them were there for the Atlanta Open. I … saw Tashi in the hotel they were staying that night, and we … slept together."

You searched for a hint of deception in his face, only to come up with none. His face remained unreadable, betraying nothing, leaving only sincerity despite the irony of the situation. Your mouth opened, and closed, as you were at a loss for words. Patrick shrugged as if what he had just confessed was no more than a harmless, made-up tale.

"She wants an obedient little dog to carry out her fantasy of being a great tennis player. And Art is more than eager to do that for her."

He continued, seeming oblivious to your lack of response.

"She didn't seem happy, being engaged to Art. And if I can be honest, I think Tashi only likes Art because he's loyal to her to a fault, and he'll do anything to please her. I don't think she even loves him."

That somehow took you out of your bewildered state.

"Are you even listening to yourself? He was your best friend."

"My best friend? Who sabotaged my relationship, stole my girlfriend and basically abandoned me for her?"

Your rebuttal shot forward like a bullet out of its chamber.

"So you slept with her? To revenge? Even though she was engaged to Art? You're no better than him, Patrick. Two wrongs don't make one right."

You shook your head and couldn't help the thought that rolled off of your lips.

"You tennis players are such fucking assholes."

Patrick only nodded in agreement and didn't say anything. You sighed, asking the question you'd wanted to know.

"Does Art know?"

"I don't think so."

You shook your head, feeling a wave of fatigue taking over.

"I've had enough of you people. Just leave me alone."

He held his hands up in defence.

"All I'm saying is, you still have a chance if you want it."

You gave a rueful smile.

"Am I an idiot for wanting to believe you?"

He took his time, roaming over you with a pensive gaze. You felt exposed under it, after the confession you had never dared to verbalize out loud. Perhaps it was both of your positions in this game of tennis, the back and forth that inexplicably wove the four of you together in these intricate patterns, so tightly entangled with one another, that made you feel like Patrick would recognize. There was only understanding, and no judgement. The irony was that. Tennis was a simple game when you stripped it down to its barest principles, but the interconnection between everyone was anything but simple.

"No, you're not. You must really love him."

You looked down at your empty glass, unable to meet his eyes.

"I hate that I still feel this way about him."

Even though both of you were hurt by Art, you couldn't help the question that came afterward.

"Do you miss him?"

Patrick was his best friend, and Art was his. They had a life-long history between them that you weren't privy to. Your pain and his were different in kind, but you could understand all the same.

"I do."

The rest of the meal was cast in a sombre hue, with both of you mulling over a mutual understanding and the similarities you shared. Neither of you was the winner, but that didn't matter now.

"You didn't have to pay for my meal as well."

He said as you walked together to his car. You came here by taxi, and Patrick had offered to give you a ride back to your hotel. You waved a dismissive hand.

"Don't mention it. Giving me a ride back is enough."

His car was only within a few strides away when Patrick stepped in front of you.

"I can do more than that, you know? To pay you back."

"How?"

"I, we, can make Art jealous."

You halted and repeated your previous question. He arched an eyebrow, his expression said nothing but trouble, and when understanding dawned on you, you levelled him with a glare.

"No. Sleeping with you is the last thing I need right now."

"Who said anything about sleeping?"

You scoffed at the obvious bait, sidestepping him to reach the passenger side of his car.

"We can make out, take a photo, and I'll send it to Art. Make him realize what he's missing."

"If you want to kiss me, just say that. No need to make up excuses."

You rolled your eyes at him and realized just how much closer Patrick was to you than moments ago. He dipped his head to look at you, his gaze traced the shape of your lips and drifted to your eyes. When he spoke, his voice softened, low and careful, and your curiosity responded, pushing back the guard your inhibition had put up.

"I really do."

He leaned in, and you rose on your tiptoes to meet his lips. The touch was gentle and slow at first as you tested the pieces you needed to fit together. Then Patrick took over, and you followed his lead. His presence was all-encompassing, sweeping over your senses. Your lips lapsed and locked together in a feverish rhythm, a playful and exhilarating chase of lust. His tongue prodded at your entrance, and you opened yourself up to him. Your tongues intertwined, determined to draw whatever you needed from the other.

You didn't know when Patrick had pushed you up against his car, but you were grateful as your strength had become dependent on him. The cold metal of his car and the solid yet soft feel of his body created delicious friction on your skin. You grasped at each other's body, groping and pulling, your lips barely parted for a much-needed gulp of air. He grunted when you bit his lower lip, and that earned you a harsh, handful squeeze of your ass under your sundress. Your body called to his, and yet, a small part of your mind beckoned you to resurface, to come to the admission of the truth that you had been running away from.

Your ardour exchange slowed as you parted to breathe. Still, you met each other in the middle for brief touches, and you eventually pulled away. Patrick's thumb rubbed at the curve of your bottom lip as if he were admiring his work of art, which was swollen and glistening with his mark. His whisper was warm on your lips.

"Did you think about him?"

You nodded and swallowed.

"Did you think about her?"

It took him a moment, but he nodded. A woeful smile graced your swollen lips.

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"Revenge is always a good idea."

You touched his jaw, forcing him to meet your eyes.

"You don't win by sleeping with me. I don't want to be a perpetual pawn in the game that all three of you play. Besides, I don't think Art cares anymore."

Patrick shook his head.

"About what happened all those years ago? Maybe not. But I think he still cares about you."

"It doesn't make a difference though, does it?"

"I guess not."

You playfully and gently pushed him back, making Patrick set you down on your own shaky legs. Your front brushed against his arousal, and you bit your bottom lip in amusement.

"Come on, you still have to drive me back."

Before getting out of his car in front of your hotel, you reached for his hand.

"It was nice to see you again, Patrick. I really mean it."

His hand came up to meet yours, giving it a soft squeeze.

"You, too. I'm glad that we got to catch up."

You left his car without saying another word. Your heart was heavy, but at ease. Moving on and forward was your only option, but it felt much easier now. Still, you wished you would never have to see any of them ever again.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!

For updates, please follow @cellophaine-archives

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afreakingdork · 1 day ago

Text

Writing Request - Reader x Josh (Until Dawn) Body Shots🫗

Y'all thought I only did rottmnt? Nah, and @mermmarie tapped me for some reader x Josh Washington body shot goodness! We're in the last day, people! I might not get too man more of these done but encourage your friends to vote!

From now until the poll closes, if you can prove to me that you voted Hassan/Mikey in this poll then I will do any short story writing request like the one below or draw you any doodle of your choosing!

ᴰᶦˢᶜˡᵃᶦᵐᵉʳ: ᴵ ᵃᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸ ᵃˢˢᵒᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵒʳ ᵉⁿᵈᵒʳˢᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵉᵗᶦᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᵒʳ ᶦᵗˢ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˢ.

We got a little mature content down below, but not explicit! Enjoy~

The party was in full swing. The house was bursting at the seams with people and every step had to be taken by the side. You squirmed past others, not bothering with apologies and only trying to find a sliver of enjoyment in a sea of decadence. The Washington's had always been known for their ragers, but hearing tale and seeing them in person was something else.

You needed a drink.

You were trying your best to get one, but you kept getting boxed out. Between the multi-room mansion and the throngs of people, you were just about done with getting shoved. A crack opened up between two people making out and you made a dash for it. They stumbled for inebriation and made waves which resulted in a parted sea. It was a clean trip to an embarrassingly large kitchen and a drink selection that would make a bar jealous.

You held your cup close and the liquid went down sweet with the mixture with a satisfying burn on the back end. It was perfect in knowing exactly how much intake you were getting and you mingled as your body loosened. A song you liked came on and you swayed with its motion. The thump settled into your brain and its bass took your body.

It helped you slip into a satisfied trance and forget that your friends had dipped last minute. In any other scenario you might not have gone alone, but you had spent all that time getting ready. Fuck it, you thought, you looked too good to waste it on another night at home so you'd gone out.

You would be careful enough, you long decided. Your drink was never out of sight and if it did, they had more than enough liquor for you to pour another. You had nothing on you to pinch beside your phone and that was safely tucked away in a place that you would know in an instant if anyone was copping a feel.

Such a thing was happening now as someone ground against your ass in rhythm and you lolled your head back in time to see who it was. A mediocre man was a little too bold behind you, but you supposed that was to be expected. It was always those guys who had just enough to their facial structure that sloppily thought they could reach above their standards.

This was the main fare of the party, the average masses. You danced with him before you felt his hand ghost over your arm. It felt a little more leading and you thought he might grab your and to finally face you, but instead he shot away. The warning signs went off in your mind and you clearly saw your cup blocking the way. With a dreary glance you knew that meant it was time to dump it and left whoever behind to go refresh your beverage.

Someone screamed out something about a chance of hail and there was a shattering. You looked up where you were pouring a bottle and could sort of see out of a kitchen window through overly floral curtains. Outside some boys had proudly torn their shirts off and were just as busy peacocking as they slammed back shots. It was entertaining enough and you sipped as you headed out there.

You watched on with some amusement as a violent game had been concocted. You never did figure out whatever rules they had set, but the clear goal was drinking and then hucking the small glass receptacles as hard as possible at some gaudy sculpture. It was a movie set piece, you vaguely knew, from the Washington's dad, that had taken root in the garden with a few other ugly pieces.

"Where's Josh!? He's got the arm! He could hit peak, I know it!"

"Yeah, man!"

"Where's our Party Poobah?!"

"What the fuck!?"

There was good natured ribbing and you concealed your mouth as you turned away from the games.

Josh.

It wasn't like you expected to see the man of the hour. He was legendary for hosting these parties, but he was just that. He was there for the purpose of getting lost in himself. The action was where he was and everything around that was a merry hurricane. He was the epicenter and since he attracted only level five events, he was an anomaly.

You wouldn't just be lucky to see him, it would be some kind of miracle.

It was about on par as getting into a VIP section. Skinny girls with pale skin were guaranteed access and that alone bored you. Men's picks for stereotypical hot chicks as about on par with the audacity of the large swathe of average guys. It was all an exhausting back and forth game of mediocrity that you would have no part of.

"Move aside! We're on a mission!"

That was Josh.

With your arm crossed to more comfortably hold your cup, your head rose high.

Speak of the devil and he doth appear, you amused yourself as you tried to place which direction he was. The music just swallowed up noise enough that it happened to throw voices. It filled in space you might have hoped to delineate, but said man had the power to conjure storms.

"This is the party police!" Josh came in with sharp eyes and a face splitting grin. "Prepare to be strip searched!!"

He was flanked by lackeys that weren't Chris, but you doubted the other man was far behind. The others weren't so easy to manipulate into Josh's little schemes and you watched as he, the boss among, them signaled them to fan out in a military manner.

They took on the role of dogs, something you had a feeling Josh had told them to do beforehand, and you watched them howl. They then fanned out, sniffing up skirts and startling men with a sharp gab to their asses. All manner of reaction was had, but when a man on all fours snuffed his way up to you, you looked down at him with enough disdain that he moved on with his tale between his legs.

"Idiots." You heard Josh say in a voice that almost seemed like he hadn't meant it.

You looked up and found him staring squarely at you.

Your gaze grew dull as he must have meant that insult for you.

There was a flash of attention in his eye before he surged forward.

"They say you can't teach old dogs, but I think that's true of all animals!"

You almost looked behind you because if he was talking to you, you weren't sure what he meant.

"Humans too." He came squarely up to you. "Don't mind them, beautiful. I've been running around looking for you all night."

"Me?" You asked him with a tip of your cup.

"Oh yeah!" He grinned with something that had a malevolently edge.

Confused signals failed to spark in your mind as he circled you.

"I mean..." He was behind you. "... look..." He came around your side with a slink. "... you..."

It oozed palpable desire and your skin lit even though he hadn't touched you.

"Gorgeous. Supple. I need you. I've been looking for candidates."

Your guard went up. "Candidates?"

"Yep." He swept up from your body and leveled with your eyes. "I'm scouting. Needed a ringer. Be mine?"

There was a boyish tilt to his last question that straddled the line between his devious nature and honest begging.

Your stomach bubbled and you shifted your hips to quell it.

Josh watched on like he picked up every micromovement. "I wouldn't just say this. I've searched the whole party. You're the one."

The whole party.

There were hundreds of girls here.

You?

It was flattering, but you still weren't sure what you were signing up for.

"And what exactly is this for...?" You lowered your cup.

Josh positively beamed. "You're the perfect glass."

Your mouth rounded out in confusion and you were about to ask when he caught your wrist.

Your hand shot up like a flag. "I've got mine!!! Let's do this!!"

"Finally!"

"Let's go!!"

"Hell yeah!!"

"Shots! Shots!"

Before you could do anything else, you were being ushered through the house. Not quite carried, your feet only hit the ground once every few steps as the mob steered you. The only constant was Josh's cuff around your wrist and besides that was the roving pack of men that puffed like slobbering sled dogs.

You were soon in a room with four massage tables set up and for the first time, you got enough ground to snap back on your tether.

"What the fuck!?"

"No, baby shh...!" Josh came around you with cautious hands. "Just look. Look!"

He moved so you could peer around him and watched as three men broke from the pack. They escorted girls of their choosing in different manners. One took one gentlemanly by the hand while another hoisted a squealing girl up in his arms. All their destinations were the tables though and they each laid down with smiles plastered to their faces. They men tended to them with hungry eyes and you watched as each of them rolled their shirts up to expose their stomachs.

"We're having a little competition." Josh said as he also surveyed the scene. "Drunkest wins."

"No, thanks." You responded instantly.

"Not you." He gave you only his profile. "Unless you wanna...?"

Your cup had disappeared in transit and you cocked a hip at him.

"Alright, alright!" He held his hands up defeated and addressed you. "I'll explain."

You cocked a brow.

"Body shots."

Both words popped off his lips and pounded in your ears.

"You see them..." He came around you like sharing a secret and used the arm over your shoulders to point at the others. "They're the idiots. They don't care about the competition. They don't even care about getting drink. They picked all these twigs and for what? You can't hold liquor in that! I'm here to party and I'm here to drink. Make sense?"

You meant to think with reason, but you saw one thing.

Josh's tongue.

Ever since he'd uttered the phrase, you had been watching it.

It rolled around his mouth.

It caressed every letter.

It tongued every nook.

Every cranny.

It was going to run over you.

The superseded reason and you held out for one last complaint. "Typical. You just want me for my body."

He recited your name so clearly that it almost seemed like he tapped some nefarious database.

You gaped at him.

"Partly true. That body is banging." His eyes dip purposefully before re-locking onto yours as he continues. "But believe me, I made sure you were invited. I'm sorry your friends couldn't make it."

It felt like there were a hundred things wrong with that statement, but the way he looked at you, like you were the only being in the world for him, shot straight to your core.

You belly button.

Where he was going to jam his tongue.

"Fine." You managed to make it seem just blasé enough.

"Excellent." He was all teeth and for a moment you feared you'd be devoured.

Instead he took your hand in a firm grip and lead you to the table. In his own fashion and unlike the others, he didn't try to force you. He stood beside and bowed for you to take the table like this was your competition to win. It made you feel all the more important as you hopped up.

He pressed along side you and his eyes never left yours as you wriggled to get comfortable on the firm table. You got as settled as you could before you went for your shirt. There was chatter all around and you thought Josh might ogle you, but he kept his gaze nothing but reassuring. He quirked a brow when you were settled and ready before he brought his head up to announce the rules.

There was a designated pourer who would come around so no one could cheat drinks. They alcohol would flow as necessary until someone tapped out or if the liquid ran out of bounds. That meant not getting slurped up before it leaked off someone's body and with that Chris walked through with a bottle held high in demonstration.

Cheers and bets were placed behind you, but Josh gave you his eyes again. "Just you and me, gorgeous."

You lowered your lashes at the all too obvious flirt and it only made him smile wider.

The competition commenced.

You couldn't really see the other tables, but you heard a loud sucking along with a girl giggling out of her mind. The next person went and the guy complained for both his girl to suck it in which earned him ire. He demanded Chris pour more, but the guy only approached you with his bottle tipped.

"Ready?"

"Always, Cochise."

Chris poured the shot into your belly button.

It pooled up and with a healthy glug and you tried not to shiver at how the room temperature drink chilled straight through your body. A little streaked through the folds in your stomach and Josh shot forward with his tongue extended. It scraped wet and warm over your skin before teasing around your center. He flicked his gaze up, making hard eye contact before his tongue retracted and his lips puckered. With the expertise of someone who had clearly done one too many hands free shots, he drank you dry.

Your stomach flipped, but he wasn't done. He circled his tongue as a moat around your belly button and licked inward for the sake of it. it spoke of what else he could do with the appendage and you arched a little off the table. He kissed down into your soft belly to ease you and you vaguely heard Chris come around again.

"That's one out!"

You blinked as you hadn't heard any dissent.

To your immediate right, the girl and guy there were fighting about how she hadn't told him she had an outie.

More booze was poured into you in your distraction and you squeaked at the chance it would be lost. Josh swept wide, drinking in your skin and catching both sides of leakage in an expert arch. Your lips crinkled a squiggled line and he lifted up with shining lips. "Doing alright there?"

"Fine. Totally fine." You hiccuped.

"Very fine." He lobbed back.

Your head flew back to the table and you heard him chuckle in a way that sounded like it was all around you.

"We're down to two!"

You didn't bother looking.

Josh had found your hand beside the table and squeezed it as he readied himself.

It was just a little mortifying, as if you needed to be soothed, but he refused to let go as Chris appeared once again.

"Bottom's up!" The glasses-clad man chuckled.

"To the top, my good man!" Josh cheered.

"You sure? The other's spilled that way" Chris glanced at his best friend.

"Oh, she can handle it." Josh looked at you.

You believed him.

Flat out, without question.

You were stupid and you liked it.

You readied your stomach in your best flex and Chris poured.

You felt yourself fill and the bare arch you were doing pushed your breasts further into the sides of your cups. The weight held heavy and parted so you had the best view for the moment your stomach overflowed and Josh dove in.

With unsightly slurps, his tongue darted fast and he sucked with all his might. He caught your skin up into his mouth in puckered moments that didn't linger because there was more booze to drink. It spilled a messy burn around your belly and he was apt to lick the plate clean even while it soaked his face.

A single drop escaped down a fold.

"Josh!" You gasped.

He was at the pinnacle of the cup and looked up at you under his euphoric lids.

The drip tickled your side before it disappeared onto the table.

"That's out!" Someone called.

An upset tore through the crowd.

Josh lazily finished his drink and you felt heat pulsing straight down your body.

When he finally came up, it wasn't to accept silver, he had only gold in his eyes.

The winner was celebrated, but Josh tucked closer into you. "You know... I feel like I've only gotten a taste..."

You held out for a single second before matching his darkened gaze. "Get ready to drink up then."

#me #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing request #requests open #rally until the tally #until dawn #Joshua Washington #until dawn josh #josh Washington #x reader #josh x reader #until dawn josh x reader

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leynaeithnea · 2 months ago

Note

Just finished your beautiful beautiful very yummy and very angsty analysis of love in paradise ( maybe I shed a little tear here and there, maybe I didn't, you can't know that ) so I thought this would be right moment to leave you an ask for a gods game analysis maybe?? *stares at you with big brown eyes*

Last one of this saga!!!! Yayyy

Praying ill remember all the musical parts ive heard about but im sure theres so much hidden i forgot/didnt hear about yet

30. God Games

We open with a choir of course, because...gods! Athena decides to do something (finially)

“Father, God King” (athena asks daddy for help SIJGSEIG)

“Rarely do I ask for favors” being the good favorite daughter

“Now, I’m knocking on your door, with hopes to save a friendship with one who’s a prisoner far from home....Odysseus” I LOVE the melody of this part somehow??? especially how the drop before “odysseus”, ALSO SHE CALLS IT A FRIENDSHIP INFRONT OF ZEUS TOO

“Divine intervention, is that what you seek?” ........yes, bruh. Zeus dont fuck this up, u are decent enough in Homers Odyssey

“To untie apprehensions that were placed on that Greek?” okay i had to google “apprehentions, and apperently it both means “arrest” and “concern/fear”...........to untie the arrest on Ody, and at the same time the concerns of Odysseus THATS GENIUS, Ive heard Homer does a lot of these double meanings of words in his Epics and IM SO HERE FOR IT, also “that Greek”, come on, dont use it as a slur >:)

“You are playing with thunder for a man full of shame”..................NOW WHO PUT THIS SHAME ON HIM YOU MF, YOU WHAT KIND OF SICK GAME IS THIS-

“But if he’s worth the risk of going under, why not make it a game?” Lukes vocal performance in this part is something else, like dude??? hello? youre a tenor SIEJGSEIGJ, its good, also WDYM GOING UNDER??? HUH??? ....yeah of course you make it a game, because everything is a game to you, because really, theres nothing and noone who poses a thread to you

“Convince each of them that he ought to be released, and I’ll release him” the slight echo effect in that voice.......fascinatinggg, wish i knew if the melody in this part had any meaning, gotta look it up

“Who’s them?” Athena god of wisdom asking about details before agreeing to deals *cough* Odysseus, learn from your friend

“Apollo” APPOLO MY GUY ehehehehee

“Hephaestus” okay, fair

“Aphrodite” the wWAY HE PROUNCES HER NAME?? OMG

“Ares”, yea yea imposing yada yada

“Hera” cant exclude his wife

“Or me” OR me, so its ALL of them, or him? bruh

“What do you say?” WHAT IS SHE SUPPOSED TO SAY

“Great” ehehehehe apollo <3

“Very well” just doing it because

“Eh” shes so excited

“Alright” he IS excited

“Groovy”....ok? um...imma move on

“Bring it” of course she would choose all of them over Zeus, its Zeus, he just WANTS you to loose, bc hes the god king

“Apollo!” parrot

“You all know I’m a fan of catchy songs” god of music yada yada HIS VOICE

“so with so many sirens gone, I think Ody’s in the wrong”.........there are so many reasons to dislike Odysseus and you pick the SIRENS? .......did you just join for the fun and had no real reasons or did u get dragged there or-....but its ok, your voice is amazing, also IIRC it should be the melody of suffering??? of different beast??? i forgorrrr norrrr also Lyreeee in the background! ehehehe

“They were trying to do him worse, All he did was reimburse them Now they’ll tread with caution first To live another day and sing another verse” maybe the melody was in this part. also, yeah tell him athena, what kind of argument is that, they tried to kill him he just did what he had to--------admittely he was VERY cruel about it, but athena doesnt have to mention that, and well Ody probably protected even more sailors in the future through his actions

ALSO DONT COME AT ME WITH “but all the sirens are dead” THERE ARE MORE, theyre obviously not talking about the sirens Ody killed, its about all other Sirens out at see that woudlve seen the others dying after being brutally cut down by a human, they WILL be more cautious in the future

“If that’s true, release him”, yeah u really had nothing to argue against, he just shrugs it off LMAO

“Hephaestus!” Hefefuf ehehehe ALSO JORGES DAD YAY adorable, tho when first listened i rly thought it was Jorge with voice changer again THEY SOUND SO SIMILIAR

“Trust is not given, it’s forged”...true, valid argument, Also Scylla melody??? I THink?

“Why should I give him my support? He sacrificed his own cohort”......well....um.....he didnt rly have much of a CHOICE ....but its a more valid concern, the sounds that sound like a hammers in a forge sound cool btw

“Did you forget they failed to listen?”.........yeah literally

“He was betrayed and then imprisoned” IMPRISONED AH ODY, but yeah EXACTLY, the WIND BAG, THE MUTINY AH

“But if you make the right decision He can still build a future with those who miss him” AND BUILD TRUST WITH THEM AGAIN AHHHHHHH yes. Hefefuf choose right.

“Fine, release him” good.

the music making it sound like steps in a game as you level up....fine, it sounds nice

“Aphrodite” seductive, i like it

“Your little high and mighty Odysseus” SHeS pissed, and does not like Ody you can hear the “high and mighty” in her voice :”) ouch

“Claims to love his mother But let her die of a broken heart” LIKE HE HAD A CHOICE IN THE MATTER HE TRIED TO GET HOME SHE DIDNT HAVE TO JUMP

“He was busy fighting”, yeaaah

“More like busy spiting the cyclops”.........yeah okay we can get behin that this was stupid decision but it wasnt a rational decision either he just lost his best friend, THATS LOVE TOO; GIVE HIM SOME SLACK

“Let him feel the pain that his mother felt and rot” WHY U BE SO COLD HEARTED , i love the melody/music in this tho

“Wait, please reconsider this”, athena using quick thought on a goddess, intriguing! also shes begging her :tear: aw man

“Really Athena? These old tricks?” annoyed older brother breaking into quick thought to the rescuse of his lover, makes him likeable somehow, i love the delivery of this line

“Ares!” yeah shes pissed

“What kind of sick coward Holds back his power While his friends get devoured? He didn’t even fight Scylla Didn’t even try to kill her Hides inside a wooden horse to get the job done Never handles things upfront” sorry that he didnt want to DIE dude??? i get your concern with straight forward, open combat but???? is dying on the battle field rly that much worse than wanting to come home COME ON, he wins, he is EFFECTIVE, are you jealous of his stragedies? HE GOT MENTORED BY ATHENA; OFC HE WILL CHOOSE THE SMART WAY OUT NOT THE QUICKEST-WAY-TO-DIE WAY OUT smh

“Pathetic and weak like his son” thats a low blow what is your issue with telemachus bro, the drums for ares makes sense

“Hold your tongue now His son’s my friend” awwww shes calling him a frienddddddd

“And tell your lover that a broken heart can mend” AHAHAH “tell your lover”, true true

“You want more bloodshed? Then set him free To get back to his homestead, he’ll make everybody bleed” SEUHGSOUEGESH “if you let him back he’ll kill everyone” Ares: :D thats what i like to hear, Athenas piano playing again, as she fights Ares is fun too

“Ugh, release him”, what made them change their mind? Esp Aphrodite? was it Athenas concern for Telemachus? and for Ares athenas promise of bloodshed? maybe who knows

“Hey baby”.....okay, flirty? from Hera? alright, lets interpret it as motherly flirting

“Hera” how to hit those high notes

“So many heroes So many tales Give me one good reason why yours should prevail” NOW THAT is intersting, everyone else so far gave a reason NOT to release him, but now Hera asks her to give her one reason WHY he deserves to be released “dont tell me of all the sins he didnt commit, tell me of the virtue he holds” typa thing

“He’s got the mind of a genius”, fair, but there would be others

“Try harder”, encouraging, she doesnt rly want her to loose does she? she support it, she just wants to see if Athena is worth it, i do like this characterization (as long as i ignore the disco animatic, i know its Jorges creative freedom but my brain tries to refuse ANYTHING that would be a reference to modernity, let me live in the bliss of ignorance to pretend its a movie set in ancient greece x)

“He’s pretty skilled with words”, hes a lair, i love him for it

“You can do better than that”, ...yeah

“He’s kind of funny?” running out of reasons athena, also YOU THINK HES FUNNY? LMAO ur right, the odyssey is quite the commedy for anyone but odysseus (and a few others but yk)

“Eh” doesnt sound convinced heh

“Never once has he cheated on his wife” HA HA HAHAHAHAHA HA right thing to say to Hera

[also the whole debate about “did odysseus cheat or not” no. idc what anyone says. if anyone argues he INITALLY consented to Calypso: fine, its blurry in the narrative, anyone can choose how to interpret that as they wish, but Circe was bestowed upon him by Hermes (in the myth at least, in Epic there ofc very clearly refuses her, and she accepts him (hear that calypso? HEAR THAT CALYPSO)) and Calypso, at the very least later on turned VERY unconsensual. FOR SEVEN YEARS., but the “he liked her no more” could also mean she didnt like her as a person anymore after she saved him. its not 100% clear how the relationship started out, we just know how it ends rly, but given the historic context too, it might very well be that it wouldntve been considered as cheating, even if it was consensual, would hera consider it cheating bc she does so with Zeus? maybe, idk, i think the idea of Ody being (one of) the only greek hero(es) that doesnt cheat is one i like, he gets praised enough by homer for all his skills he might as well have the skill of being true to his wife, in EPIC we know that Ody refuses her from the beginning so whatever did or did not remain unnamed in Epic, would NOT be cheating,.........and anyone who mentions Odys proof for cheating being the telegony or any other later versions where suddenly children show up, and he offs penelope for cheating and telemachus marries circe, can kindly, do some more reading into the history of the text and how later authors added their own twists, we dont know if the odyssey from homer was the most well known version, i think, but its the one we consider canon now, and i rly refuse to believe that Ody coming home only to get a new wife]

“Release him” the side glace Zeus mustve gotten LMAO

...ok angry zeus choir again, rly?

“I’ve played your game and won”, she did, fair and square

“Release him” you better

“You dare to defy me?”, what happend to your voice zeus? also....are you pissed that she called you out on cheating? bro, ur just pissed that she choose everyone else over you, grow up zeus

“To make me feel shame?” shame about loosing the game or shame for the humiliation about cheating, mhh

“No one beats me, no one wins my game!”, sounds like my 3rd brother, but hes at least cute when hes throwing a fit about a game having rules

“Thunder, bring her through the wringer Show her I’m the judgement call The one who makes her kingdom fall! ”.your voice is getting worse btw, but...are we talking about pride still? Athenas pride? or is “her” just Athena now? mhhhh, Odysseus DID call her “selfish, prideful and vain”, so maybe it does refer to her pride, she DID Have a character arc tho >:) unlike zeus, hes just an ass, also he gets a choir background for this? intersting,

NOW HE THROWS LIGHTING AT HER??? thats intense, i was gasping when i saw, night sound design

“Is she dead?”, he does sound concerned, is it bc big brother energy or bc athena was zeus favorite child? or do they know how Zeus fucked up just now? hah..ha

the flashes you can hear in the music....aaaah

NOW THIS INSTRUMETAL PART

IS SO BEAUTIFUL ITS SO GOOD THE WAY “WARRIOR OF THE MIND” AND TELEMACHUS LULLABY AND LEGENDARY BLEND TOGETHER AND BECOME “ATHENAS FINIAL STAND” (as its supposedly called) ITS SO GOOD i ah i like this part the most of the song, together with apollos voice aseghsegij Aphrodite is fine too :) and "rly athena; these old tricks"

AlSO her having a flashback to Ody giving her Telemachus to hold after his birth, PLS??? Thats so vulnerableeeeee aaaaaaaaah yeah, yea that was good

“Let him go, please, Let him go”, she reaches out to Zeus, as her light dims and she begs him to let Ody go, nothing left of the selfish and prideful goddess, she was selfless- sacrifcing herself and ler go of her pride to beg to Zeus to let him go, who stops as he grabs to throw another lighting, in shocked realization of what he has done.

The song fades out. And we are left to wonder if Athena is ded or not

now initially i rly thought Jorge killed a goddess

by now im more hopeful that she isnt dead (im hoping for that, mostly for the fun of sticking to the source material of Athenas help in the last chapter(s) of the story)

but

im still doubting a bit. the chance is there that she is, infact, dead, but i dont know how that would impact the narrative-,...i suppose we’ll see, either in the vengence saga, or at the lastest in the ithica saga x)

#god games #epic the musical #leyanalyses #LeyAnswers #epic the wisdom saga #i kept forgetting to do this but its done now!#im not in on the hype around the song #but its still good #quite good #the instrumental part at the end kills me a lil

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synthshenanigans · 8 months ago

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Really dumb set of messy doodles of Whole meeting Darrell for the first time & being very confused as to why there's a chicken in his head

more context/the idea I had:

#i wanted to make this like legit maybe 7 months ago #but i kept doing other stuff & then kept forgetting #oh well its done now at least #chonny jash #chonnys charming chaos compendium #cj whole #cj darrell #-atlas art-

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subsequentibis · 4 months ago

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there's something really, really interesting to me about an omnipotent character or to a lesser extent a character with heightened senses transformed in some way into a human and being keenly, horribly aware of the Lack. no longer being able to sense or know thing, no longer being able to see or feel or hear, being frustrated or scared by the dulling of their senses. it's really fascinating to me.

#ignore me #i started reading ancillary justice so it's on my mind again #this also with madam hotel of course #other things ive read or watched that i forget now...#but also i had this story i was working on that was like. au of canon characters that got so ooc it might as well be its own thing #about a borrower type guy who lived in a national forest and kept it clean and neat #and the forest's guardian spirit fell in love with him and protected him #it had a huge physical form constructed of vines and was so aware of every piece of life in the forest that it could walk across the ground #and not crush a single ant. like the vines would roll out of the way to avoid them even as it walked over them style of thing #and one day the forest spirit gets trapped in human form - either it wanted to try to be flesh to be closer to this guy #or someone doing a dastardly deed like land development had done it i don't recall now. i don't think i settled on it #anyway. the sudden loss of all that awareness was terrifying and the forest spirit was wracked with nervousness and guilt #abt accidentally killing bugs and the like #i should check on that wip and shape it up

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m0llygunn · 2 months ago

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a job well done (eddie munson x fem!reader one-shot)

summary: long-term admirer, recent tutor — you find out eddie's failing gym. in an ode to help him, your expertise expands beyond just textbooks — to your fortune, he teaches you something you've been dying to learn too

contents: 18+, smut!!!, porn with plot, lots of ball action <3, oral (m receiving, mentions of f receiving), pet names and praise (baby, good girl), somewhat-inexperienced!eddie, tutor!reader an: i made an $8k mistake irl so heres 8k words that i wrote to forget about it (just kidding (not abt the mistake, that's very real) i started writing this in july 2023 but recently rewrote most of it to make it into a big ol' one shot-ish thing) wc: 8.5k

“You’re failing gym?” you gasp, jaw dropping as your eyes scan over his report.

“No!” he replies, trying to steal the envelope and its contents from your hands. You turn your body just in time for him to grasp at nothing but air.

You started tutoring Eddie about a month into the semester. He’s been a willing participant for the most part and that’s why when he kept coming up with excuse after excuse for why he didn’t have his midterm report you knew something was up.

You took it upon yourself to do some investigating. Nothing invasive, just when you got to his place for a regular tutoring session, you decided to look through his bag while he was in the bathroom. On his bedroom floor, filing through the bags endless messy contents, you eventually came across the familiarly coloured yellow envelope and helped yourself to a peek at what he was keeping a secret from you.

Mere moments later, he was back. He immediately noticed what you had in your hands and crashed to the floor trying to get it away from you. Evidently, a failed attempt.

“You have a — oh god, not just a D, a D minus, Eddie.”

“That’s not failing,” he mumbles under his breath. You wave him off before dropping his report to the floor in front of you. He grabs it, crumples it into a ball, and petulantly tosses it to the other side of his room.

“You never even told me you were taking gym.”

“Cause how’re you supposed to help with gym?”

“The tests! There’s a whole health portion, I could’ve been helping you with that,” you say, getting worked up over it. Eddie’s been doing so well, this was truly blindsiding.

“Yeah… cause I really want help from you with the health portion,” he grumbles sarcastically.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what it sounds like it means,” he shrugs.

If you weren’t paying attention, you might think he was angry — maybe even being mean. Luckily, you’re always paying attention to Eddie Munson, and you see the way his face flushes to a bright, crimson red. His annoyance is actually just embarrassment — which is good — at least he has some level of remorse for his failing grade. You can work with that. You take a breath, exhaling it slowly, forcing yourself to calm down.

“Show me what you’re working on.”

“No,” he shakes his head, reaching into his bag, shuffling around some papers before tossing a heavy textbook your way. “Let’s just do math.”

“No, you have a B minus in math now, that doesn’t need help. You need help in gym.” you reply, tossing the textbook back at him.

“I don’t.”

“Eddie, you do.”

Sitting up to your knees, you reach into his bag once more, taking out his binder and dropping it to the floor in a pointed thump. He mumbles some kind of disagreement, spine going stiff with his hesitancy to let you go through his stuff some more, but he doesn’t make any attempts to physically stop you.

You flip through the disorganization that you’ve told him countless times to organize until you come across a diagram of a penis and a vagina. Bingo.

“Told you,” he mumbles, scoffing to himself.

“Told me what?”

“Why would you want to help me study that?”

“Uh— cause it’s part of your class and I don’t want you to fail,” you say matter of factly. “Believe it or not, Eddie, I like you, and your success translates to my happiness.”

Bright red continues to flourish across his skin, affecting the apples of his cheeks all the way down to his throat. He turns bashful, eyes locking down on the carpet.

Eddie’s shy — not often, but he is. You wouldn’t think so from the way he acts at school and in most public atmospheres, but get him in a room, one-on-one, and he’s all blushed cheeks and shy touches. It’s sweet and it’s one of your favourite things about him — but you don’t have time for sweet shyness right now. He’s failing gym for christ sake — gym.

“So, how do you want to do this?” you ask, slapping your hands to your thighs. Eddie startles, jolting before his wide eyes find yours.

“Do what?”

“Study this,” you motion to the diagram on the floor separating the two of you.

“I— I’m not… we’re not—“

His eye contact goes rogue again, diverting anywhere else — everywhere else that isn’t you. Shy, shy, shy. Too shy. More shy than normal. And you have an inkling that it has to do with the subject of the conversation at hand.

“Oh my god, Eddie. This is basic human anatomy. I think we’re grown up enough to handle a little penis and vagina,” you state, tacking on a laugh.

You get a hint of Eddie's true personality beyond his shyness — it emerges through a quirk of his lip, the corner of it tweaking upwards into the hint of a smirk.

“A little penis?” He parrots, his smirk fully emerging now. This boy.

“Cue cards? Should we do cue cards?”

He groans, body deflating. “You know I hate cue cards.”

“Okay, so let’s just go over the parts for now, then we can move on and do something else.”

You clear out a bigger area on the floor, making space for your study session. Eddie helps by kicking back stray articles of clothing and then picking out what looks like spilled weed from the carpet and collecting it in the palm of his hand. You’re a touch more productive, taping little pieces of paper over the diagram labels. When you’re done, you sit up admiring your work. Eddie stands, dropping his little handful of greenery onto his desk before sitting down on his bed.

“Do you want to do it up there or down here?” You ask.

The slight double entendre isn’t lost on you, you heard it before you even said it. Now knowing how shy Eddie is about this stuff, you couldn’t help but push your luck, and the blush that spreads across his cheeks makes it entirely worth it, especially while you deadpan and pretend you have no clue.

“I’ll come down there—“ He says and you watch him physically recoil as his words set in. You resist your laughter.

“Come, Eddie. Faster,” you tease, laughter starting to bubble up. A smile breaks through his embarrassment.

“Jesus Christ, you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? You like seeing me suffer?”

“Me? Teasing you on purpose? Never.”

With a shake of his head, he joins you on the floor, leaving a large gap between the two of you. “Can we not do this, I already know this stuff.”

“Oh yeah? Eddie Munson is well versed in human anatomy?”

“I’m — I’m not going to answer that,” he crosses his arms.

With a clap of your hands, you ignore his pouty demeanor. “Okay! Let’s just do this, the quicker you memorize everything the quicker we can not do this.”

With both of the diagrams set up, you give him the option of starting with the penis or vagina first. He chooses the easy answer, opting to go with the penis.

One by one you point out each part of the penis, asking him for the anatomically correct name. You quickly understand why he’s failing.

“Okay, and this one is…?”

“The head,” he states.

“I mean… sure,” you nod hesitantly — “but the little arrow is pointing there — the glans. This one?”

You continue going through the chart, teaching Eddie the proper names for everything. When you finally graduate to the diagram of the vagina, Eddie is physically squirming in his spot.

“Eddie, relax. Seriously. We’ve all seen a vagina before.”

“It’s so fucking hot in here, are you hot?” He groans, standing up and tripping his way to the window, slamming it open with a grunt.

He’s barely made his way back before you have a thought.

“You’ve seen a vagina before, right?”

He freezes — just for a moment, but you catch it. On his way to return to his spot on the floor he pauses, then continues moving as if you haven’t asked him a question. When he sits, you quirk a brow.

“Yeah!” He answers. His voice tunes so high, it begs to crack.

You nod skeptically. You wouldn’t say he’s lying per se, but something seems off. Something that you’re interested in getting to the bottom of.

“Let’s take a break, okay?” You offer.

“Yeah, a break’s, uh — good.” He exhales, letting out a breath of relief. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, fanning it in and out, getting some air flow on his skin. It’s very suspicious and you have to assume —

“So, you’ve never seen a vagina,” you say.

Eddie’s eyes go wide. “I have! I’m not a virgin.”

“You’re squirming like one.”

“I’m not!”

“There’s nothing wrong —”

“I’m not!” He says much louder, cutting you off.

You believe him, seeing the full depth of sincerity in his amusedly large, and overly serious eyes.

“Okay,” you nod.

“I’m not,” he insists once more, tone leaning towards stern.

“I believe you, Eddie.”

The two of you sit quietly in your respective spots. You could busy yourself with getting some more studying stuff ready, but somehow — even though there was some verbal finality — this conversation doesn’t seem over.

And with an inhale from Eddie, it’s not.

“I’ve just never been like…” he pauses, thinking, “I’ve just never been all up in there.” He makes a crude motion with his hands, both palms splayed out flat in your direction, moving outwards like he’s spreading something out.

“You’ve never eaten a girl out before?”

“What are we doing?” He says, dropping his head into his hands, scrubbing at his cheeks with both palms.

“You don’t have to answer. Seriously, if I’m really making you uncomfortable, I’ll stop. Swear.”

His chest inflates with a deep breath, then his head pops up. “I have but only for like a minute, in the dark, parked outside of the hideout after a gig,” he confesses. You raise your brows, surprised.

“You work quickly. A minute, that’s impressive.”

“No… Jesus, no,” he winces. “I fucking wish. We got interrupted and… yeah she never wanted to hang out after.”

“Oh,” you hum. “That sucks.” You tilt your head at him, frowning apologetically.

“Yeah. She, uh, I’m pretty sure she had a boyfriend but I didn’t know when we… yeah.” He concludes his confession with a shrug before sitting back to lean against the side of his bed.

“That really sucks. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, tacking on a laugh. It’s not a nervous laugh. It’s genuine and you take his lack of nervousness as permission to continue the conversation.

“So… Do you have a tactic?”

“Tactic?”

“Yeah. Like, most guys use the alphabet on the clit thing, which is awful by the way, don’t do that.”

“I think…” he raises his brows. “I think, maybe, just being overzealous is my thing. I don’t really know — I haven't done it enough to have a tactic.”

“Overzealous is good…” you nod, “as long as it’s strategic.”

Eddie meets your gaze. He’s intrigued — “Elaborate?” he asks.

“Like, sure if you want to go to town and eat the pussy, go for it, but the only place it really counts is the clit — of course everything else is nice too, but the clit is definitely where it matters,” you nod to yourself, punctuating your statement. “And—” you add on, raising your hand, bringing together two of your fingers to mime the curling motions of getting fingered. “I like when they use their fingers too. It's a lot better like that.”

Eddie goes silent. He looks like he’s thinking, maybe even committing your words to memory— but it’s an odd look he has on his face. One you’ve never seen before from him.

“Sorry, did I say too much?” You laugh, trying to diffuse. Eddie looks at you, shaking his head in amused disbelief.

“Why the fuck are you tutoring me in going down on a girl right now?” He laughs.

You smile, appreciating his amusement. Tilting your head boastfully, you accept his comment like a compliment. “Just a natural born teacher, I guess,” you tease.

He nods, humming agreeingly. He doesn’t say anything more but you’ve got a handful of curiosities burning through your back pocket, and when in rome…

“Are we done with this conversation,” you ask, “or can we keep going ‘cause I might have a few questions for you?”

“Hasn't this whole conversation already been an interrogation of my experiences?”

“But this might be your only opportunity to teach me something, Edward.” You jet out your lower lip, pouting it, rounding your eyes at him — trying your best to keep this going.

He rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance.

“Are you about to ask me if I can move my dick without my hands, because the answer is yes but it’s not full control.”

“That’s not what I was gonna ask, but very cool.”

“Sorry. That’s usually what girls ask.”

That has been a curiosity but your questions… your questions are much more… sophisticated?

“So can I?” you ask.

“Can you?”

“Ask you questions?”

He bites his lip, pointedly making you sweat it out. With a dramatic sigh, he gives in. “Go for it.”

You sit up straighter, very pleased with his answer.

“Balls,” you state. Eddie’s eyes widen immediately — you ignore the regret that flashes across his face. “Do you like them being touched? Every time I’ve done anything with them, the guy kind of, like, recoils and it feels like I did something wrong.”

“Jesus…” he clears his throat with an awkward laugh. “You’re really going for the big questions, huh?”

“The big questions?” You raise your eyebrows suggestively.

“No, Jesus I’m not implying my balls are — holy shit. My balls are normal sized, that’s not what I meant.” He continues to laugh through his embarrassment, cheeks heating right back up to that very cute, bright, red colour.

“I’m just teasing you, Eddie. I’m sure your balls are lovely and perfectly normal sized.”

He hums appreciatively but it gets stuck in his throat, coming out as a high pitched croak. He clears his voice, nodding as he raises a hand to the back of his neck, wringing it nervously.

“You don’t have to answer, but I would appreciate knowing,” you say, softly, sympathetic — leaning into apologetic. He nods again, and you can tell the gears are spinning in his head as he thinks over his answer.

“They’re just… sensitive,” he swallows. “But… I do like them being played with, or sucked, or licked… or whatever.”

His eyes focus on the far wall, not out of nervousness or shyness this time, but more like he’s giving his words some real thought. You appreciate it and wait patiently for him to continue.

“I guess I would have to say that it’s personal preference, so ask?” he continues unsurely, eyes still focusing elsewhere. “I mean, no guy is ever gonna be mad if you ask to put their balls in your mouth — or… whatever you want to do with them.” He looks at you with wide eyes as he suddenly gets nervous again. You wave him off, letting him silently know that ‘balls in your mouth’ is not an offense to you.

“Could you cum from someone playing with your balls?”

“Holy shit,” he gasps, laughing. His hand that was wringing his neck drops to his lap in a heavy thud. At the same time, he brings up both knees, hugging them halfways to his chest as he mulls over his answer. “Um? Maybe? But, I think a big part of it is a visual thing — like, it adds to the hotness when they’re into the balls?” He finishes, adding an unsure inflection to the end of his remark. You nod, narrowing your eyes into a squint as you absorb what he’s saying.

“So it doesn’t feel good?”

“It does,” he quickly corrects, “just anything on the head feels way better.”

“Okay… good to know.” You nod, moving on. “And dirty talk. You really like that? Like, when the girl’s going on and on about your ‘big cock in her tight little pussy’, is it not weird?”

“Jesus, you really aren’t holding back with these questions.” He smiles through the blotchy redness growing down his neck all the way to the collar of his shirt.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” you promise, dipping your face lower to catch Eddie’s gaze. He holds it for a second, before letting his eyes roam the room.

“Dirty talk is hot, obviously, but… it’s not when it’s rehearsed shit like that. It makes it feel like they’re performing — and maybe I’m just doing a piss poor job and they are performing — I don’t know, but I’d rather hear about what you actually like that I’m doing. Even if you’re telling me to go faster or harder or whatever. That’s fucking hot.”

“Alright, so be genuine. Cool,” you nod.

“You done with questions?” He meets your gaze with raised brows for a fraction of a brave second before quickly looking away.

The thing is, you’re not done.

“So, hypothetically, if someone you didn’t like played with only your balls, and it wasn’t hot— like nothing about it was hot, would you still cum?”

He doesn’t give you the same surprised initial shock as he did with all the other questions. This time he just lets out a long, evenly staggered breath through puffed out cheeks.

“I think…” He hugs his knees closer to his chest, rubbing both his palms along his shins quickly, filling the silence with the sounds of skin on denim.

You can see the edge of his words in his expression, like he wants to say something but is holding it back. Whatever it is, you wait patiently — you do sit up a little straighter though, eagerly leaning inwards, listening with baited breath to his quiet, pensive hum.

His lips twitch, mouth opening then closing. With a loud exhale, he lets go of his shins, letting his knees drop from their upright position, and with that, his resolve breaks.

“Fuck it” he curses — “Probably. Sometimes I think that the wind blowing the wrong way could make me cum. Like, I’m fighting for my fucking life to not get hard right now.”

He ends his speed-run confession with a pant, chest shallowly heaving with each breath. Excited wings beat inside your chest, dipping down to your belly as you absorb what he's just said to you.

“Really?” you ask, blinking wide eyes at him. His breathing evens out, and he meets your gaze.

“Yeah,” he shrugs shyly — cutely.

“You know I like you, right?”

His face falls. “What?” His brows press together, furrowing with confusion and you really don’t know how you could have been clearer about this whole ordeal.

“Eddie,” you smile. “I’ve told you like a million times that I like you — like earlier, I told you barely an hour ago before we got started.”

You said it quite plainly too; ‘Believe it or not, Eddie, I like you, and your success translates to my happiness.’

“Yeah, but I thought you meant as a… a person? Or a friend?”

You can’t help but laugh — not at him… well, a little bit at him, but this is just so ridiculous, how could he be so clueless.

“I love my friends but I don’t think I would fill all my free time teaching them math and all the anatomical correct names of the different parts of the penis.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, they’re good people but that’s not exactly my idea of fun,” you tease. “Of course I’m serious, Eddie. So if you wanted to make a move… I wouldn’t be opposed.”

At this point, after a confession as straightforward as that, you’d hope for movement — anything — even him getting closer to you, moving in for a kiss at the very least… but he stays sat in his opposite spot, his binder with the vagina diagram laid out flat, separating the both of you.

Maybe you read this wrong — backpedal.

“Did I just make this weird? Should I have not said that? I like tutoring you too, I don’t want you to think I’m expecting something from you just because I’ve been helping you.” You ramble apologetically, shrinking into yourself as you feel your whole body start to flush with icky embarrassment.

Eddie’s spine goes rigid as he sits up pin-straight, shaking his head emphatically.

“No! I like you too,” he interjects, leaning towards you, putting a hand on your knee. “Even before you started tutoring me.”

“You do?” You sigh a breath of relief. Meeting his eyes, you smile sweetly, ignoring the whiplash that still has your stomach pinched in a half knot.

His voice gets soft with his confession — “Why do you think I didn’t want to sit around looking at penises and vaginas with you?” he laughs quietly, “I was terrified of getting hard and scaring you away.”

The mention of him getting hard has your eyes flickering downwards for a split second. You can’t tell, but you tease him anyway — “And how’s that working out for you?”

“If you’re asking if I’m hard…” He trails off, smiling nervously, leaving you with a confirmed suspicion.

“Should I make a move?”

“Well, I’m not opposed.” He says it like it’s a joke — you know he’s being funny, breaking tension or whatever, but you don’t laugh. You perk up, tummy filling with fluttery feelings because that’s permission.

Permission to crawl the short distance between the two of you.

Permission to help yourself to his lap — pulling your skirt up high enough to straddle his upper thighs.

Permission to let your hands feel from his shoulders, down to his pecks.

Permission to be this close to him — close enough that you can see every shy detail, every cute freckle, every nervous flutter of his lashes.

Best of all — it’s permission for an intimacy you’ve been waiting for — longing for.

You sink yourself against him and — “Oh,” you gasp, “you weren’t kidding.”

Through the thin cotton of your underwear, you feel the hard curve behind the zip of his jeans. It has you biting your lip, holding back your grin.

His eyes coast your features, narrowing in on the tweaked up corners of your lips. He ghosts a quiet ‘yeah’, dipping his face downwards, hiding his own coy smile.

You just won’t have that — you bring your hands to his cheeks, tilting his chin upwards, encouraging him to look at you. He lets you guide him, lets you wash your gaze over his features — lets you rake your eyes over every detail, even when his skin grows pink and you know he wants you to be looking anywhere else.

But you can’t help it. The rosy tint to his cheeks looks too warm, too inviting. His lips are just too pink, too bitten. And most of all, his eyes have become too deep, too capturing, especially when the usual gold in his brown has resolved to being just the thinnest ring, glinting and shimmering around absorbing black orbs.

“Your eyes are really dark right now,” you observe aloud.

“Yeah?” He asks and you nod your head. You watch him as he lets his own gaze search your face. He swallows, coming to his own conclusion. “You just looked amused.”

You smile. You are amused but — “I’m not just amused.”

“No?”

“I’m also really turned on.” You feel it in your belly, multitudes of warm winged flutters, sitting low, radiating heat throughout your whole body. You lean in closer, watching intently as his brows rise, moving to hide beneath his bangs as he processes your second confession of the evening.

“You are?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Want to know what I’m thinking about?”

He swallows thickly, and that golden ring in his eyes gets the faintest bit thinner.

“I do.”

You sit more comfortably, bringing your hands back to his chest and letting your bum press fully to his thighs. He lets out a near silent groan as your front sinks to his and when you adjust your hips, his hands dart to your sides, holding you tightly.

“First,” you smile, batting your lashes at him. “I’m thinking about kissing you.” A soft swoon washes over Eddie's face, eyes turning soft for you. His eyes blink down to your lips, but you have more to say. “I’m also thinking about your balls in my mouth.”

The softness steps back, shock taking over. “Jesus christ,” he curses yet again, drawing out each syllable in a low groan.

“And since I’ve been sitting here, I can’t help but think about how your cock would feel inside of me.”

“Fuck.” He meets your gaze, eyes rounding, jaw going slack. His chest begins to rise more rapidly, his breathing growing heavier.

The feeling of him between your legs is undeniable now — he’s hard, very hard, uncomfortably hard. You let your hands slide up his chest, to his shoulders, letting your fingertips graze along the warm skin of his neck. He blinks heavily, eyelids growing weighted, swarming with evident lust. It makes you excited, makes you want more.

You lower your voice to a breathy whisper, leaning in closer, letting your lips graze the shell of his ear. “How’s the dirty talk, Eddie? Am I doing good?” You purr. His fingers pinch into the flesh at your sides as you shift once again, rolling your hips just enough to feel that hint of pleasure between your thighs.

Eddie stifles his moan. “S– so good. You’re doing so g-good,” he stutters. His breath hitches as you press a kiss to the edge of his jaw, and then another, moving downwards to his neck.

“What are you thinking about?” You pull away, looking at him through your lashes. You barely have a second to react before his hands are on your jaw, tugging you into him.

It catches you off guard at first as his lips mash to yours. It’s entirely overzealous, bidding his earlier statement true by multiple definitions. It’s not terrible, but it is desperate.

Flattening a heeding palm to his chest, you pull away just the slightest bit, letting your lips faintly graze his.

“Slowly, Eddie.” you whisper.

His interrupted desperation manifests as a quiet huff against your lips. Regardless of how hard he is beneath you, and how badly he wants to mash his mouth to yours, he nods, noses bumping together as he does.

This time you lean in. You guide the kiss, moving slowly, tenderly, and he follows your lead, moving gently, catching on quickly. Your upper lip presses between both of his and it's so delicate, so earnest, that it makes your heart thrum. It's exactly what you needed, and you reward Eddie with a quiet hum, letting your hands wrap behind his neck, pressing your chests together.

His breath fans over your skin as he hums back, letting his hands glide to your lower back, hugging you closer. His lips massage yours, slowly, and he takes his time, letting you melt into him entirely.

When you feel the pressure of his tongue licking across your lower lip your anticipation really sets in. You open your mouth, rolling your hips upwards as you move in closer to him. With a huffed, eager grunt, and with fingers kneading bruises into your skin, he licks into your mouth completely contradictory to it all, still giving you softness in the kiss. You’re elated by it all, swept up, enraptured by him being so sweet to you.

You sigh breathily as you have to pull away.

“That was really good,” you fawn, dropping your head to rest against his shoulder. You let out another sigh, smiling contently to yourself. You’ve been wanting to do that for a long time — really too long, if you’re being honest.

Eddie hums an agreement. You intend to go further than just a kiss, but you give yourself a moment to bask in it all. Just a moment, that’s all you need.

And in the next moment, with your wits gathered, you wiggle your hips. Eddie’s palms press tightly against your back and he lets out a sharp gasp that melds into a whimper. You giggle a quiet apology.

“Too much for you?” you tease.

“Nuh-uh.” He shakes his head, his warm cheek pressing to yours. “M’just really hard right now.”

He is — you can feel it, and you can feel the mess growing between your own thighs.

A simple solution; you hint at rolling your hips another time. It’s hardly any friction, just testing the waters. You’re surprised when Eddie pulls you inwards, guiding your hips, encouraging you to move. He lets out a low groan as the squish of your thighs pass over his length, one that you hardly register over your own gasp as you get your first real hint of pleasure.

With his help, you build a slow rhythm, grinding to the curve in his denim, one that has your eyes fluttering shut and Eddie tensing, letting out meak whimpers and low moans. It's nice, it really is, but as nice as it feels for you, you weave a hand between the two of you, suggestively placing it on the buckle of his belt.

“Can I ask you another question?”

“Yes,” his voice comes out as a heaved breath. Very eager to continue.

“After you cum, how long does it take for you to get hard again?”

“Sh-shit — it depends. Sometimes —” he swallows thickly and you hear the gulp in his throat — “sometimes it’s barely a few minutes.”

“I want to try out what you taught me, but I want you to fuck me too.”

“We can — yeah we can do that.” His voice wavers as he bites back his excitement, trying to play it cool. Despite that, you feel the overzealousness in his pants, twitching with enthusiasm.

You press a chaste kiss to his lips before scooting back on his legs, weaving your hands between the two of you to pop open his belt. Just as you unweave the leather and toss the heavy buckle to the side, holding the button under your thumb, Eddie’s hand meets your waist — not stopping you, just getting your attention.

“Can I…” he starts. You look up at him, pausing your movement. He continues, “can I try what you told me too?” His eyes barely meet yours, growing bashful all over again.

“Of course you can,” you say sincerely. You finish unbuttoning his pants, tugging the zipper down while leaning in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You don’t gotta be shy, Eddie. I like you already, a lot.”

He nods, but you can still see a hint of cautiousness in his expression.

“I’m serious, Eddie. I want you to be comfortable with me. Anything you need, anything you want, you can tell me.”

He nods. His mouth mulls for a moment, but he nods a second time, assumedly coming to a conclusion. “Can we move up to the bed?” he asks.

“I’d like that,” you smile and he smiles back.

Just as you lift your leg to get off him, you let out a surprised yelp as he does the bravest thing he’s done yet, both hands grabbing firmly at your bottom, tugging you into him and up as he pushes himself off the floor. He moves the both of you up to the edge of the bed with one strong flex of his legs and your stomach swirls with the rush of it all.

From there, it's a giggling tussle of limbs, him pulling you up the bed, you pulling his pants off. Eventually, you both settle, him pantless, sitting with his back to the wall where his headboard should be, and you, by his side, knees pressing to his thigh. Your fingers wiggle with excitement as you take the thin cotton of his boxers, lacing them just under the waistband.

You shimmy in your spot, shaking your hips, letting out a happy hum as you begin to pull them down. Your belly fills with good nerves, butterflies, and your mouth salivates. When you get them down as far as you can without his help, he silently chimes in, lifting his hips, hooking his own thumbs into the material. With a quiet humph, the fabric passes his length, freeing it to bob against his shirt-covered belly.

Tempestuously red. Furiously flushed. Severely erect. Poor Eddie. Happy you. His tip is blushed to a deep crimson, glistening with the pearlescent sheen of precum. It has your body flushing hot everywhere — from your cheeks all the way south to where you grind yourself down onto the backs of your heels just to feel a pinch of salvation.

Somewhere between where your ogling started and where you had to physically swallow the gathering saliva in your mouth, his boxers got discarded entirely, your own shirt disappearing along with them — because it is just so hot all of a sudden.

If you weren’t completely blinded by your impeding tunnel vision, you would have seen the way Eddie gawked at your newly revealed skin, absorbing every inch, taking in every feature to your body. You would have seen the way his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat and the fresh cherry red blush spread to his cheeks. You would have seen the way he had to forcefully peel his eyes away from your chest when he felt your fingers press into his bare thighs as you situated yourself between his legs. But you didn’t have a chance to notice all of those details, not when you felt the thrilling thrum of anticipation bubbling up in your bloodstream.

“You ready, Eddie?” You ask, grinning at him. He blinks slowly at you, no answer, making your smile falter.

“You look pretty,” he blurts out, much to your delight. “Really pretty. All the time — not just now because you're about to — you’re just beautiful, s’what I want to say.”

“Thank you,” you say, pleasantly surprised. Eddie on the other hand, cringes at his own rambling, face scrunching in defeat. You like him even more for it — “I think you’re beautiful too, Eddie,” you smile. “And not just because I have your pretty cock in front of me.”

Eddie huffs a soft laugh and you gleam, pleased with yourself.

With actual consent, you take him in your hand. Gentle at first, easing him into your touch. Just barely grazing your thumb over the tip, you smear the slick precum around, before sinking your fist to his base. He lets out a tensed moan, exhaling — exhilarating. That quiet, throaty noise has you lighting up, already feening for more.

Leaning down further, arching your back, you gather your saliva in your mouth before letting it spill out in a single string over the tip of his needy head, falling down just to be caught by the upwards rise of your fist. This time he sucks in a sharp breath and you live for it.

Closing the distance between your mouth and his cock, you lick the tip gently, pressing your tongue to the river of precum that sits in the curves of his slit, relishing in the saltiness that makes your mouth water effortlessly. You hum, feeling the pulse between your legs grow deeper, more intense. You push your hips back, angling them, searching for any sort of relief.

While it doesn’t satiate the need between your thighs, Eddie notices your squirm, and brings a splayed palm to your side, letting it curve to your skin. It settles in, warming you, encouraging you to distract yourself in such a beautiful way by taking him into your mouth.

You let your tongue swirl. Flick. Caress. Your lips graze before closing, and you suck. Cheeks hardly hollowing, the noise he lets out makes you want to keep being gentle — draw this out, make this last.

But like a devil on your shoulder, you want to skip forward. You want his balls in your mouth, that’s the guise of this whole encounter, isn’t it? To practice what he’s taught you.

Jumping right to the chase, abandoning his desperately swollen cock, doesn’t strike you as the way to go about this, so you continue to be gentle. Pulling off the tip, kissing him up and down his length. Pressing your lips where needed and drawing circles and lovey hearts across his skin with the pointed angle of your tongue.

It's not fruitless. Every noise, every groan, every heavy breath, pleading whimper, fills you up. It fills you up until it has you leaning your body into his hand on your rib cage, needing to feel him wherever you can, while taking him fully into your mouth. Swallowing him down, deeply hollowing your cheeks, gliding your lips and flattening your tongue until your nose presses to the wispy patch of coarse hair at his base.

“Fuck— fuck.” Eddie groans through a strangled breath.

His hand leaves your ribs and you whimper at the loss, only to be reunited with the physical contact as he takes hold of your head with both of his hands, pulling you up. You whine, chest collapsing with defeat. You pout as soon as his cock leaves your mouth. Looking up at him, he looks worked up and frayed — all a shivered mess — but eyes sincerely apologetic as he catches your disappointment.

“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting that.” He pants heavily, catching his breath while you catch your own. Your pout lessens, and instead, your pride sets in. You did that to him.

Wiping your gathered tears, you place a tentative hand on his length, watching him for any protests. His head knocks back into the hard wall, but he never loses sight of you, now looking down the angular slope of his nose, watching with amorous, lusting eyes.

You dip down, reapproach, but this time you give into your own desire, indulging yourself.

Lifting his cock, you nose down his length. His eyes turn wide, but still, no protests.

“Can I put your balls in my mouth?” You ask, doing just as he told you to do, embellishing your simple sentence with pleading, fluttery lashes and persuasive, pinched together brows.

His lips press into a purse as he swallows, and then they part with approval. “Yes,” he says. You watch as his tongue swipes along his plump bottom lip, and you can’t help but smile up at him.

Appreciation sits on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t say it, you show it. Bowing your face low, you lick up the centre of his sack, flattening your slow moving tongue with an oath of sincerity — this makes you burn. For a moment, you believe that you’d be content if this was for you and you only, but then you meet his gaze, and you see the way he burns too.

His eyes devour you — your hand wrapped around his cock, thumb barely touching index, your chin settled deep between his thighs. You burn identically and it makes the swirl of butterflies in your stomach rise high, beating heavily in your chest. You get lost for a moment, but a thumb on your cheek, sweetly swiping softly against your skin, brings you right back.

“Pretty girl,” he hums.

You tilt your head, nuzzling into his grip, humming a tender thank you. His thumb swipes again, just under your eye before settling behind your ear, sitting there with no intention but to be tethered to you.

It’s sweet, and you return the gesture, pressing two kisses, one to each side. You shift your focus, returning back to the moment.

Head still partially in the clouds, you do something daring without thinking, and you suck one of his balls into your mouth. Eddie lunges forward, bending at the waist, nearly folding in half as his stomach tenses harshly. He whimpers, and you pull back immediately.

“Sorry!” You shift, looking at his contorted expression. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

He quickly relaxes himself, patting your cheek as he settles, unclenching his thighs that had tightened at your sides.

“No — no.” He shakes his head, catching his breath “Do it again.” He gently guides you back down. “I was just distracted, caught me off guard,” he explains.

Distracted like you were. You understand, and you let him guide your face back down.

This time you’re careful. With his eyes on you, you start again, licking, feeling the silky skin with your tongue as you gauge his reaction, peering up at him through your lashes. He nods, and you carefully take him into your mouth, letting your tongue roll cautiously along the velvet skin.

You’re careful not to do too much, but you grow more confident when you see the way his mouth falls open with his own appreciation.

“Fuck,” he exhales. “Just like that. Good girl,” he praises, groaning as you suckle delicately. His cock jumps in your loose fist, reminding you just how long it's been since you’ve paid it any attention. Tightening your grip, you run your fist up, then down languidly, multitasking in a way that has Eddie gaping, jaw slack, mouth parted wide, eyes owlish and filled to the brim with heated astonishment.

With your mouth, you switch to his other side, doing the same, rolling your tongue exploringly, seeing what has his stomach tensing and noises pulling from his lungs.

As you let your thumb run over his leaking head, he lets out a throaty groan. His thighs tense around you once more, but instead of backing away, you lean into it, embracing the new-found way to make him squirm.

His breathing quickly becomes rapid as you take more of him into your mouth, sucking more confidently, and pulling away every now and again to press deserved kisses. Your fist moves quicker, focusing on the tip — purposeful, as you remember what he taught you.

You suck, and glide your hand in smooth strokes, over and over, showing him just how much you like him. If he didn’t believe you before, he has to now.

With a strong, devoted rhythm built, the skin against your tongue eventually begins to pull taut. He throbs in your hand. You know before he says anything, even before his hand can flex its grip on your cheek. You pull away, letting him fall from your mouth with a quiet pop. He lets out a worn sigh of relief as you sever the threads of spit from your mouth to his balls and shift, moving back to his wired-up cock, twitching at just the sensation of your breath on his over-flushed tip.

Rearranging yourself, you sink your fist, moving it low to his base, and then you adjust, moving your hand to cradle his balls in your palm. His stomach flexes and he lets out a pitiful whimper — he's so close, even while you're barely touching him.

“Please,” he rasps through a strained breath.

You have nothing but appreciation for the man in front of you, reduced to pleading. You want nothing more than to satisfy him.

Gentle, a thing of the past. You take his cock in your mouth deeply. Swallowing his thickness down, taking him as far as he fits, pressing him to the very back of your throat. Your eyes water, and you breathe heavily through your nose, never once forgetting to massage him in your hand.

His chest heaves, and his fingers weave their way into the hairs at the base of your neck, tugging — communicating. His helpless moans draw out, getting longer and deeper, drawing out each and every flutter in your belly, adding to your fire.

You can’t believe you’ve been sitting around, tutoring him, teaching him math when you could have been doing this. This is much better — much, much more fulfilling.

You rise and fall, bobbing quickly, and he encourages you, helping you find the pace that brings him to his edge. He swells in your mouth, and draws upwards in your hand. You hum, encouraging him to let go.

“I’m gonna —” he tries to speak, but a rogue whine cuts him off. He sucks in a sharp breath — “I’m cumming, I’m —” Panic invades his voice as his grip in your hair turns harsh, pulling, stinging your scalp. You hum again, and then you feel the spill.

The warmth of his cum invades the back of your throat, loading your senses with the distinctly musky taste and a bitter-flavoured swell of sweetness in your chest. Pleased, you swallow it down, and ask for more with the purse of your lips on his overworked tip. His hips buck up into you as you happily swallow everything you can, lapping it up with your appeasing tongue.

His body relaxes until you don’t stop. Then he’s flexing again, sucking in harsh, gasp-like breaths, using his hands in your hair to guide you away from his over-sensitive cock.

Both his palms cup your cheeks and you rise, straightening out your spine, walking your knees up the mattress to be closer to him. His hand falls to your knee, encouraging a bend, welcoming you back into his lap. You happily take a careful seat on his thighs.

“Holy fucking shit,” Eddie gushes unapologetically.

His body slouches into the mattress, but he continues to beakon you forward. You follow his weak, weary pull and he guides you to his lips, attaching his mouth to yours in a lazy kiss. His beholden tongue greets yours, unaffected by the lingering flavour of his seed that coats your lips and mixes with your spit. He devours it gratefully.

“That was —” he starts, pulling away just to peck your lips again — “So, so— I don’t even have words.” His hand slides loosely across the expanse of your bare waist as he presses a frenzy of chaste kisses to your lips, making you giggle.

“I did good? I thought I hurt you for a minute.”

“No— shit, you did so good, baby.” Eddie hums, fondly pressing his cheek to yours as he hugs you closer.

You feel his praises blaze at something inside of you, thrumming through your bloodstream, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t highlight your own neediness, the one left abandoned between your thighs.

Despite the restlessness that grows in your twitching hips, you try to relax, focusing on the sentimental feeling of the rise and fall of his chest, letting your body slink into his, fitting seamlessly against him until his breathing returns to a steady rate. You patiently wait for him to make the next move — especially after him letting you lead most of this evening.

Just as you’ve let your eyes flutter shut, resting them for a peaceful moment, a kiss to your shoulder has your excitement kicking up in your lower belly, waking up those warm, winged creatures once again. He presses another kiss, and then another, following the slope of your shoulder. Down the curve, to your collarbone, high on your chest, kiss after kiss until his lips meet the plumpness of your breast that spills over the cups of your bra.

The swell of your breast, across, to the centre, his lips find your sternum, and you keen into it, unafraid of coming off as desperate.

It’s barely anything, just innocent pecks, but it has you impatient, tilting your head back, curving your body to offer up more skin to him. He hums a warm tone, affectionately following the path of your sternum, nosing his way down your cleavage, sighing a deep, warm breath against your skin, adding a few extra heated degrees to your body temperature — you thank him with a breathy moan.

His hands move to your sides, tickling along your flesh, leaving goosebumped skin in their path as he traces along the band of your bra, fingertips gliding until they meet the clasp.

“Please,” you whisper, biting your lip as he finger paints small swirls along your spine. You push yourself closer, needing more.

And he gives you more. The band tightens around your ribs as he finds the edge, and you hold your breath.

One clip comes undone easily, granting you a hint of relief. Two follows, leaving just the third hook stuck standing between you and the promise of pleasure.

Then he stops — worse actually — he doesn’t just stop, he completely abandons the clasp on your bra as his head pops up, nearly clipping the edge of your jaw. He pulls you flush to his chest, tucking your head to his shoulder.

It surprises you, making your heart pound for an entirely different reason.

“What—” you begin, but his heedful palm spreads across the plain of your upper back, halting your question, making you pause. Unsure and curious, you turn your face, pushing against his grip on you, trying to see what’s wrong.

His face is contorted into a flat, focused look as his eyes fixate on the closed door of his room. You’re totally confused by what has pulled his attention, but then you hear a clatter from the living room of his trailer. You turn to look at Eddie.

His eyes pinch shut with disappointment. “No,” he groans, dropping his head to your shoulder in defeat.

“Is that —”

“My fucking uncle,” he mumbles into your skin.

“Oh,” you say quietly, trying to fight the unresolved neediness of your body from turning you into a slouching ball of disappointment.

“He's not supposed to be home yet,” he groans, and it comes out huffed, like he's annoyed, but you know it's not directed at you. Part of you is relieved to hear that upset edge in his voice, because you know how easy it would be for most boys to shrug it off when they already got what they needed.

His palm swipes across your back, rubbing it in a soothing way before he pulls away, finding your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes.

You shrug, it's not like this is his fault. “It’s okay,” you promise.

“It’s not.”

You smile. “It is,” you say, delighted by his sincerity. “This just means we’ll have to pick up where we left off another day.”

“But you didn’t get to cum.”

True but — “I still had fun.”

He dips his face, chin bowing downward, bitten lips jetting out with his generous empathy. “I’m sorry,” he says again, and you giggle at his niceness. He might be more upset than you are, and you love it.

“Eddie, you know me,” you grin. “You said I did a good job, and there’s nothing better than the satisfaction of a job well done,” you beam, and you’re very pleased when you get a good chuckle from Eddie.

“Next time?” He proposes with a raised brow.

“Next time,” you agree.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

merci buckets hope you liked if you did make sure to hit! that subscribe button and leave a like down below (aka comment and reblog <33333)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader

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pyrrhiccomedy · 7 months ago

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I am genuinely so proud of my wife for becoming a crafts person over the last few years.

Like, I was always a crafts person. I was an arts and crafts kid. My parents sent me to classes or summer camps or after-school clubs pretty much continuously from when I was about 5 years old, and over the years I did metalsmithing, stained glass, polymer clay sculpting, loom weaving, oil painting, charcoal drawing, clothes-making & tailoring, carpentry, woodcarving, macrame, miniatures, beading, jewelry-making, basket weaving, leatherworking, paper-making, bookbinding, papier mache, decoupage, sand sculpting, and probably more that I'm forgetting. There was never a day in my life while I was growing up when my entire bedroom floor wasn't taken up by 2-5 different ongoing art projects. As an adult, it's given me the firm confidence that I can walk up to pretty much any crafting skill, and get the hang of it, and enjoy doing it.

My wife never had that. She wrote, but that was really her only artistic outlet. Art & craftsmanship were just not any of her business. She always expressed admiration for my gumption when it came to making things with my hands, usually with a "bigger idiots than me have done it" attitude, but she was certain she'd be bad at it if she tried it, and that she wouldn't have fun. As evidence, she would offer every time in her life when she had attempted to learn a craft, and didn't have fun, and all the Arts And Crafts kids picked it up a lot faster than her.

Which like - yeah! Learning how to do a new craft is a skill all on its own! Fine motor control is a skill developed over time! So is spatial reasoning, and materials intuition! She wasn't just 'trying to learn wreath-making,' or whatever, she was trying to learn how to learn how to make something with her hands AND wreath-making, at the same time, so of course it would take her longer than the kids who already had the first part, and of course it would be more frustrating for her. I knew she wasn't uniquely bad at crafts: she just didn't know how to approach picking them up, because she was never encouraged to learn.

And then the pandemic hit.

And while we were all trapped inside and going insane in new and exciting ways to all of us, she tentatively decided to pick up embroidery. She probably wouldn't stick with it, she explained: she'd probably be bad at it. It probably wouldn't be fun. But she thought embroidery was pretty, and literally what else did she have going on?

And then she did stick with it. For over a year. And she got pretty good at it! She embellished a baseball hat for her sister with cactuses and wildflowers from where they grew up which came out adorable. She made an embroidered portrait of one of our friends' cat that they still have displayed in their entryway. And she discovered - and remarked on it often, with mild surprise - that she was having fun. She'd say a lot of stuff like "this stitch was so frustrating at first, but now that I get it I really like doing it," or "I kept getting this tangled but I've figured it out now. I just needed to relax."

Then she took up pottery. We did that as a couple for about a year, too. Now she's a knitter.

And it's just been so great, to see her eyes light up when she sees a sweater she likes, and hear her say, "I could make that!" She's slowly let go of the perfectionism that I think holds a lot of people back from doing crafts: that dismay when you make a mistake which leads to discarding a whole project, or starting something over. More and more she's taking on the veteran crafter attitude of "oops lol, whatever I'll just keep going." She's picking things up faster. She's taking pleasure in learning incremental steps. She's started to see crafting as something that relaxes and engages her, instead of as something inherently frustrating. I've gotten to watch her learn to find joy in making something with her hands. I always knew she was creative and artistic and capable of learning how to do anything. It's been so much fun to watch her start to take that on as part of how she sees herself.

We have this running joke about how she will prematurely declare herself to be in an era. Like, she'll go swimming twice and announce that she's now in her "swimming era," and then never go swimming again. Or she'll make one smoothie, buy a bunch of fruit, and declare that we are now in a "smoothie era," and then a week later we have to throw out a bunch of fruit that's gone bad.

The other day (while she was knitting, and I was sitting on the couch next to her doing crochet), she went, "I feel like I've gotten - like, I'm a bit crafty these days, I think. Like, I've done a couple of different crafts, and gotten pretty good at them. I think this is now, kind of, you know...something that I can say that I do."

I supplied that I would even go so far as to say that she was in her "crafting era."

Her eyes widened. "It's an era?"

I pointed out that it was something she'd been doing pretty much continuously for the last three and a half years. That feels like the start of an era to me.

"Yes," she decided. "It's an era. This is my crafts era. I'm a crafts person now."

She's planning to make me a sweater with a duck on it for fall.

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cinnabeat · 2 years ago

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i should read more books specifically for the joy of looking up new words

#i havent done that in a while #like now i see a word i dont know and i just kinda fifure it out from context clues #i mean i did that before too but #but before i would look up the words immediately #im starting to do that again mostly bc ive been encountering words i have no idea what they mean #but also im doing it for words that i absolutely know but i forget the nuance bc i havent seen them in a while #so i gotta read more to get my vocabulary up #its been getting dumber recently #i struggled monday thru a critique bc i literally kept forgetting how to say things lmao #i was like theres a word for this i know but i cant remember it at the moment #most embarrassing jight of my life #michi tag

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recklesssezon · 1 month ago

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𝗛𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗶

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | alessia russo x mma!fighter

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | alessia and ella find themselves in chaos of trouble and you have to go save them.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 | blood, violence, slurs, misogyny, i suck at warnings

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 | just gonna silently drop this here and dip. thank you to the anon that requested this!

“I knew I shoulda drove. Now look at what you've done. You gotten us lost.”

Alessia sighed, turning the wheel down an unknown neighborhood. “The map said turn left, Less!” she groaned, dropping her head on the steering wheel, halting the car in the middle of the road. That was the second wrong turn she had took, they’ve only been down three blocks.

Ella made the absolute mistake of letting Alessia drive. She should have manned up and drove with her tweaked ankle that surely would have gotten them to dinner faster.

“I swear it said turn right!” Alessia exclaimed, peering around the neighborhood for some familiarity. Ella gasped in disbelief, snatching the phone out its holder, shoving it right into Alessia’s face.

“Left! It said left!”

Alessia grinned sheepishly, the clear displayment of a left turn route proved Ella’s point. “We’ve all mistaken our left for our right.” Alessia flinched back when Ella reached over the console, threatening to strangle her. Alessia released her foot off the petal backing herself far from Ella as much as she could. Momentarily forgetting to put the car in park.

The car rolled forward, the two girls were far too busy fighting to notice the sudden movement. They jerked, Ella frozed mid-climb, Alessia had stopped screaming. Blue eyes staring into one another as stunned as they can be. Both too scared to look at the situation they found themselves in.

“What did we just do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you look?.”

“Why don’t you?”

“You’re the driver.”

“You’re the idiot that attacked the driver!”

“Okay. Let’s both look on the count of three.” Alessia nod, she grabbed Ella’s hands interlacing them for the worst to come. One…Two…Thr-”

“Hey!” Their heads snapped to the booming voice, a man furiously marching towards them. Hurling slander at the top of his lungs. Terror surged, and Ella repeatedly slapped Alessia to take action. “Drive! Drive!”

Alessia stammered, fumbling the gear between reverse and drive, “I can’t! The road’s too fucking small!” The attempt to make an escape was useless, giving up, Alessia scrambled out the car. “Sir! Sir, I’m sorry I didn’t mean-” She stumbled back startled by the closing proximity as he continued his march, no sign of stopping.

“You think I care what you mean! You hit my fucking car!” He screamed, inches away from Alessia’s face. She turned her head, shielding herself from the strong aggression. Ella instantly went to Alessia’s side, yanking her back. “I paid pounds for it! Only for some two stupid girls to wreck it!”

Ella scrunched her nose in disgust, spit flying everywhere from his yellow jagged teeth. Smart mouth as ever, Ella said, “Technically, we didn’t wreck it. A little bump to the side is more like it. So don’t go get your teeth in a twist.” His face grew beet red by the second, Alessia pushed her best friend behind her. There was no way they were going to get out of this alive if Ella kept talking.

“I understand you’re angry but we’ll pay for the damages.” Alessia pleads, hoping that by taking responsibility they’ll be good to go. “We?!” Ella cried, wincing when Alessia stomped on her foot. She threw a stern look, silently warning Ella to shut her mouth. “Yes, we. We’ll take full responsibility and pay for all expenses needed.” Alessia forced a smile, praying that what she said was enough to settle the tension.

He chuckled, “You think I’m going to trust two whores to have that kind of money?! Do you take me for a fool?! This is a vintage Rolls Royce, your family's generational wealth couldn’t pay for this!” He slammed his fist onto the hood of Alessia’s car, pointing a threatening finger at her. “I’m going to call the police, don’t go anywhere!”

Alessia gulped, her stomach tightened as storms of emotions winded her. She felt stupid for being distracted, stupid for not putting the car in park. She wishes that things will be handled privately, no need for the media or you to hear about this, especially you. But, while Alessia was preoccupied, Ella had made a call.

“Hello, mate? I think it’s best you get down here, Alessia’s a bit in a situation…Yeah, we’re nearing that pond you threw Lucy in last month. Alright, see ya. “

Ella tucked her phone in her pocket, just catching the man walking away. “Don’t stress too much, I’ve got it handled.” Alessia looked at her with red eyes, hot tears brimming slightly over the edge. Ella pulled Alessia to her side, wrapping an arm around while they waited. It didn’t take long for you to arrive, two minutes after the call to be exact. It’s a good thing they didn’t make it far with Alessia’s poor driving skills.

Her eyes grew large at the sight of you racing over, she didn’t expect you to be here. She zeroed in on Ella, knowing she had something to do with your sudden appearance. You had become the team’s go to person whenever they were in trouble, especially if Alessia was an unwilling participant. Then, certainly you’d show up.

“Alessia! Are you okay, love?”

You engulfed her in your arms, looking over her shoulder, Ella nodded assuring that she was unharmed. Alessia released a breath, the security of your arms brought her comfort more than she could imagine. “I’m okay. But what are you doing here? You can’t be here.” Alessia’s words tremble with worry. You were still under investigation after last year’s incident. Headlines that followed hours later spread like wildfire.

You became the center focus, your name and photos plastered on every media outlet there is. Your team did some damage control and ceased the fire but that wasn’t enough to call off the rumors and speculation circulating you.

In terms of Alessia, her name was out of the limelight. Your team along with hers worked overtime to ensure that her and her friend’s association with you wouldn’t be put to questioning. The possibility of your career tanking was on everybody’s mind, the last thing you wanted was for Alessia and her mates to get mixed up in it all.

You furrowed your brows, assessing your surroundings. Your eyes wandered over Alessia’s car, “I came as soon as Ella called. Said that you were in trouble, and it looks like she wasn't lying. What the hell happened?”

“Alessia hit another car and then this grumpy old man came out of nowhere and started yelling! He called us stupid and whores! I’m not a whore!”

Ella kicked the rubble on the road, more comfortable to express her anger now that you were here to ensure that she wouldn’t get hit for talking her smack. You looked for Alessia for confirmation, rest assured, she nodded. You sighed, pressing a kiss to Alessia’s forehead. “It’s alright, Less. I'll go have a little chat, rough him up a bit and then we can go.”

There was no point in stopping you, she had learned the hard way. You cupped her jaw, the heat radiating from her red cheeks soothed your cold hands. “Stay with Ella until I’m done. I mean it.” Alessia searched for anything else other than the love and determination, you always held. You didn’t let go until she said what you wanted to hear.

“Yeah, I’ll stay with her until you’re done.”

You softly smiled, understanding that she didn’t want you fighting her battles for her. Ever since your public outburst, Alessia’s been walking on eggshells with whom she interacted and how she interacted, becoming more reserved to avoid another mishap. “Don’t worry your pretty head. It’ll be quick.” You kissed her lips, smiling when she refused to pull away. You gave her a parting peck.

“Ella, you mind pointing him out?” Ella pointed an accusatory finger to the flat behind you, confident that you’d be kicking some ass today, and maybe she could jump in, earn some street credits to her name.

Alessia stared at her friend in betrayal, Ella shrugged, “What? If she ends up in prison, at least you know she’ll get your name tattooed on her neck.” Alessia rolled her eyes. Though you assured her multiple times that prison wasn’t in your future, it didn’t stop the possibility from potentially becoming a reality. “Maybe she could be the next Mike Tyson.”

The door opened, revealing a woman in her thirties, a wash cloth in hand. “Hello, darling. What can I do for you?” You gave a charming smile, not expecting a woman to be on the other end. Did the man that just called your girlfriend and friend a whore have a wife? “Um, I’m looking for your husband I presume. I wanted to speak about some problems we've made along the way.” She smiled politely, seemingly unsuprised that her husband got caught in a web of trouble.

“Oh, I’ll go get him for you.”

You gave thanks, rocking on your heels as you waited. A man appeared with a beer in hand, a phone in the other. “What do you want?” His voice gruffed, your nose twitched at the stench of alcohol, body odor and family disappointment.

"An apology. You see the two girls behind me. Well one of them is my girlfriend and the other is her best friend. And I don't know about you, but I don't take anyone disrespecting my girl lightly."

He scoffed, the audacity to scoff in your face had your self-control hanging by a thread. He stepped out the door threshold, guzzling his beer before throwing it down on the pavement. Shards flew up a few inches, yet you stood your ground.

"Yeah? What the hell are you going to do about it, bitch?"

Instantly, you grabbed him by the collar, throwing him down the small steps to his freshly cut lawn. Groans escaped his mouth, his body curled up withering in pain from the blow to his back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You skipped the steps, kicking his ankle when he tried to stand. “Many things but none that are worth discussing. What’s your name? Because I don’t think hillbilly bob is it.” He pushed himself up to his knee, this time you let him. He glared up at you, grumbling his name.

“Paul. The name’s Paul.”

You motioned for Alessia and Ella to walk over, “Girls, I know you already met, but this man here name is Paul. Now, Paul, we're going to try this again. Give the girls the apology they deserve.” You tapped your foot, unfazed by the lasers he shot at you. You’ve dealt with the worst people, all who're skilled in kicking your ass. Baseless men like Paul failed to install fear in you. You were the BloodHouse for crying out loud. You weren’t so easily shaken.

“She hit my car. I'm not apologizing for shit."

You huffed, your team thought it’d be best for you to lay off matches for a while, you haven’t stepped foot in the cage with another fighter for months. Your body was itching for a fight, a real one, and it looks like you found one. “I really wish you didn't say that.” You pulled your fist back, striking him across the jaw.

He fell back, and white flash of pain surged from his back to his jaw. Blood flooded his mouth. He gathered up the little strength he had to spit on you. You inspected at the red blob on your shoe, your heart pounding in your ears. Your fingers twitched, feeling the uncontrollable urge to pummel Paul black and blue.

You rushed forward, grabbing Paul by the ear, forcing him up before you tore it off. You inched closer, dropping down to a whisper. “You're lucky that she’s here. If it was just you and me, I would’ve beaten you until you’re tube fed. Now, say you're sorry.”

Fear striked through him, his doe eyes looking at you like some kind of monster. He turned to the girls, reluctant but nonetheless muttered what you were looking for. You purse your lips, unsatisfied. Grabbing his wrist, twisting his arm behind his back. "Louder and make it sincere.”

You weren't a very patient person, never have been, never will be. A trait you honorably gotten from your father, you pushed Paul's arm further as he took his sweet time.

“Sorry, girls. Seems like he lost his voice, no worries I’ll get your apology.”

“Babe, I don’t think-”

“Come on, mate. Say it. It’ll be done and over with before you know it.” Alessia threw a look over her shoulder, silently blaming Ella for dragging you into this mess. Ella raised her hands in surrender. She was partially to blame for this she'll admit.

He visibly clenched his jaw, no matter how hard he tried to conjure up his strength he was no match for you. Your stance established the power imbalance between you two. Him barely holding himself up while you stood firm. Ella smiled in triumph, Alessia winced as the man croaked out an apology, a fearful one, but one nevertheless.

You smiled at Alessia who stood weary behind you, she was still getting used to the extent violence could go, slowly she became immune but time could only tell. "What do you say, love? Do you think he's being genuine?"

Alessia glanced at you and then to the man down on the ground, her chest filled with a pride. “Yeah, I think he’s fine.” You patted Paul on the shoulder, feeling a hint of glee when he hissed.

“Told you were lucky.”

Though you weren’t done as they thought. You dragged Paul, not minding the dead weight as he tried to stop you. You flipped open the bin, readjusting your grip on the back of his shirt before tossing him in. You closed the lid, kicking it to the ground. Smirking when a shout came from the fall. You turned to Alessia, looking for a job well done.

Ella applauds, entertained by the show you provided, disbelieving that this is what she’s been missing. “Can we go now? I’m getting hungry.”

“Gladly. Wait before I forget.” You pulled out a wad of pounds from your pocket, throwing it beside the bin, “For your car!” You gave it an extra nudge, slinging your arm around Alessia as Ella took your spot and continously kicked the bin.

“Take that you arse!”

#woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal x reader #woso fanfics #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #hound

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inkedinshadows · 1 month ago

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Truth-Teller

Day 26: Knife play — Azriel x f!reader

Warnings: language, shadow play, use of knives (no cutting or blood involved)

Word count: 1.230

A/N: this one is based on this suggestion

Your wrists and ankles were tied to the wooden chair by your mate’s shadows, preventing most of your movements as the tip of his dagger traced a line down your cheek.

When Azriel hadn’t come to bed, you had gotten up and found him brooding in the garden, a haunted look in his eyes. It took you some time, but you eventually got him to open up, and he admitted he felt like a monster who did nothing more than cause harm and hurt people with Truth-Teller. Your heart clenched at seeing him like this, but your reassurances didn’t seem to work. Then, you had a sudden idea.

“Use it on me,” you said.

Azriel seemed confused, so you clarified, “Use Truth-Teller on me.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, love.”

You chuckled. “Not to hurt me, Az. Fuck me with it.”

It was the only way you could think of to make him change his mind. You convinced him to take you to his dungeon so that every time he went down there to fulfill his spymaster’s duties, he would think of this moment, of you.

And now you were naked in one of the cells, the shadows swirling around his wings and along your body.

Azriel placed the tip of Truth-Teller under your chin to tilt your head up. As your eyes met, anticipation and excitement coursed through you.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked quietly.

You nodded. “I’m sure.”

“And you’re not afraid I will hurt you?”

“You could never hurt me, my love.” You offered him a soft smile. “I trust you. You’re my mate.”

Something seemed to shift in his eyes, and the shadows tightened around you. Some tendrils slipped between your parted legs to tease your clit, eliciting a whimper.

“My mate,” he repeated. His voice was a bit rougher than before, void of his usual warmth. It sent a shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” you breathed. “I’m yours.”

He leaned down until he was a few inches from your face. “You’re mine.”

It wasn’t a question, but you nodded again, holding your breath. His shadows gathered around your thighs, brushing against your slick entrance, and you did your best to keep your eyes on your mate.

Azriel smirked, a wicked gleam entering his eyes. “And you wouldn’t mind me marking you, so you don’t forget it?”

You knew he could get possessive, but you always liked it when he left love bites or small bruises on your body as a reminder. You were his, and he was yours.

“Of course not,” you whispered.

You thought he would bite your neck and give you a hickey, but he pulled back instead. He dragged Truth-Teller down to your chest, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You sucked in a breath as he used the blade to flick your pearled nipple, and then he slid it across your stomach. You winced when he pressed it into your skin, not hard enough to pierce and draw blood but enough to leave a red line.

His shadows swirling around your clit kept your mind occupied, creating an almost overwhelming mix of pleasure and pain as Azriel focused on tracing the dagger over you. He drew line after line, but you couldn’t see what he was doing until he stepped back to admire his work.

You finally looked down, and a sound between a gasp and a laugh escaped you as you realized what he had done. What he had written.

The soft flesh of your belly was now marked by six simple letters. A name.

Azriel.

“That’s… creative,” you chuckled. You had not expected him to come up with something like this, but the idea of having his name carved on your skin, if only for a couple days… the scent of your arousal grew stronger, covering the smell of humidity permeating the cell. “I like it,” you added, warmth spreading through you-

Azriel looked smug, as if he knew you would appreciate it. He knelt between your legs, flipping Truth-Teller in his hand so that he could press the hilt against your clit, drawing a quiet moan from you.

“I thought you might,” he murmured as he kissed your thigh. “You always love it when I leave my sign on you.”

You nodded, and your breathing became a bit shallow as the hilt slid toward your entrance. Your voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “I do…”

Azriel coated the handle of the dagger with your slick arousal. His eyes locked on yours, and he pushed it inside you. You whimpered, hips bucking, but the shadows tightened around your wrists and ankles, and you stilled.

Once the hilt was fully inside you, he began to slowly pump it in and out. Tendrils of darkness slithered up to your breast to swarm around your nipples, and your moans echoed along the stone walls.

“Is this what you wanted, love?” Azriel drawled. His hand rested on your thigh, squeezing gently. “For me to fuck you with the hilt?”

“Yes…” you murmured, the only thing you managed to get out.

You watched the black hilt disappear inside you, glistening with your wetness every time your mate pulled it out. You had suggested it, but you would have never imagined it would feel so good. And seeing his name written on your stomach… you clenched around the knife, fingers gripping the armrests and head falling back.

“So good…” you mumbled, though the words were a bit slurred.

Azriel smirked. “Yeah? You like having my dagger inside you?”

You nodded frantically. He sped up his rhythm right as the shadows swirled faster on your nipples, and you were already panting by the time his thumb joined in and started to draw circles on your clit.

“Fuck, yes…” you blurted. Your eyes fluttered close, and you were struggling against the shadow restraints, hips rocking to try and take the hilt deeper, though Azriel was careful not to hurt you.

You felt his dark chuckle skitter along your skin. “Show me just how good Truth-Teller can be,” he murmured, voice low and sultry. “Come on my blade, love.”

His fingers moved faster over your clit and with the next thrust of his dagger, you came undone. You shuddered, crying out as you tried to close your thighs, but the shadows kept you spread for Azriel to fuck you through your orgasm.

He slowed down once you came down from your high, leaving you panting and trembling. He pulled the hilt out and you opened your eyes to see him turning the knife to this side and that, watching the way your release was smeared over it. Meeting your gaze, he brought it closer to his lips and licked it clean.

The shadows disappeared, finally allowing you to move again. You traced a finger over the red letters on your stomach, then smiled as Azriel sheathed Truth-Teller at his thigh.

“See?” you said cheerfully, hands coming up to cup his face. “You can do good with it too. And now you can think of me every time you're down here.”

He was relaxed now, that haunting anguish completely gone from his eyes as he nodded with a soft smile.

You drew him in for a gentle kiss before resting your forehead against his. “And you can use it on me whenever you need a reminder.”

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings

Kinktober taglist: @thyellablackk @p1nkfluffysocks @maddieboo8 @a-courtof-azriel @whataenginerd @loviseamms @chaconnelatte @okaytrashpanda @scarsandallaz @velarisdusk @olive-main @krispypotato @scorpioriesling @fourthwing4ever @asaucecoveredsomething

#kinktober 2024 #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fic #azriel smut #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar smut #acotar fanfic #acotar x reader #sjm #sarah j maas #kinktober #fanfic #smut

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atrirose · 5 months ago

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꒰ 🍮 ꒱ SHUT UP AND KISS ME ! enhypen

s : kissing them to shut them up ! ᆼᆽᆼ enha x f ! r .. ㅜㅜ warning : kissing duh + FLUFF ꒰ᐢ. ̫ .ᐢ꒱ seiu : had this for the longest time in draft and now baby is free !! for my srugulla @bywons

— HEESEUNG LEE

“and he kept looking at you so i had to say something” your boyfriend rambled about how this cashier was checking you out infront of him, and as your boyfriend he took an offense to that “hee, calm down babe” you said still dragging him “no this is not for me to calm down like what is wrong with people? i am clearly there and he thought it is the perfect day to be- mmh”

you pulled him by his collar to reach your height, smacking your lips on his as he barely has the chance to register what is happening, he was shocked but he overcame that fast as he pulled you closer by your waist and deepening the kiss “are you calm now?” you questioned letting his collar go, he takes a deep breath basking in your smell “maybe if i can get couple more”

you smacked his shoulder as he smiled, completely forgetting about the cashier, he is so easily distracted when it comes to you it’s cute.

“babe, your chapstick taste good can i borrow it”

— JONGSEONG PARK

“do you not love me anymore?” jay sat right next to you on the couch as you were doing your assignment, its only been 4 hours since you started doing it and you wouldn’t mind taking a break but this assignment is due today and you have to do it no matter what “babe it’s not that, i just to need to finish this okay”

jay pouts as you continue typing on your laptop, if you told how he acted at home with you, all clingy and cuddly, no one would believe you, jay scoots closer to you making you side eye him “just tell me you don’t love me anymore and i will leave, not that hard” he said with wide eyes trying to tempt you “because i can clearly see you don’t care anymore, i have been pacing around for hours and you-mmmph”

you turned towards him, capturing him in a kiss to shut him up, “i promise just 4 more hours and then we can do anything you want okay” you said whispering against his lips as he smiles “okay”

“you’re mean to use my love against me to shut me up”

— JAEYUN SIM

“babe, he didn’t know stop sulking” you said at your evidently upset boyfriend, sitting in the passenger seat “he tried to ask for your number infront me, your boyfriend? that is insane” he kept on pouting and mumbling “only because he didn’t know, and he apologized too” you said driving into your garage “i don’t care? the damage has been done, my whole mood for today is ruined, because of a scum” he huffed

“hey now let’s calm down” you said holding his hand still in the parked car “no but just think about it” before he could ramble on and on you decided it better not to waste your day on some random stranger and kiss your pretty boyfriend’s lips, he relaxed in your kiss, his lips moving against yours as his hands traveled back of your head to bring you closer, deepening the kiss, you did start the kiss but you have no control over it now.

no matter how much you try, jake’s hands wouldn’t let you break the kiss “oh my gosh jake” you said catching your breath, he giggled, pecking your lips, he got out taking the groceries out, and just like that your boyfriend is happy as a dog who got called a good boy, if he had a tail it would be wagging.

“darling are you not coming? i want more kisses”

— SUNGHOON PARK

“so you want to tell me something” you side eyed sunghoon “about what?” you asked having no idea what he is talking about “about how and let me sit down when i say this” he sat himself so close to you that he could probably see all the atoms making up your body “what are you talking about” you faced him

“jay asked when can he come to help you cook” you looked at him confused “why are you? wait so i dont understand what is wrong with that?” you asked “what’s wrong that is, you could have asked me, we could have cooked together” he said sulking, head on your shoulder like a slumped puppy “last time we cooked together, we burned jake’s pan” you said smoothing his hair as he grumbled incoherent words muffled on your shoulder “but that’s because we were kissing and i didn’t want to let go” as if that was any better to use it as an excuse. he got up from your shoulder “and anyways tell jay no, we can grill, cook, bake and anything on our own like we don’t need him- mmhm” you kissed him and he wined in defeat because you pulled this illegal move and there is no way he would let even a single kiss go.

his lips moved against yours, he smirked in between your kiss as he let his whole body fall on you due to which you fell back on the sofa, you both were sitting on, with him on top of you, you squirmed but he just kept going, slipping his hands onto your waist, holding you down “don’t use my trick on me doll” he said before kissing you again. at the end you had to canceled on jay as sunghoon never let you off the sofa. “your lips are swollen, sorry” he is not sorry he is clearly smiling a stupid grin. such a loser

“you’re like addiction”

— SUNWOO KIM

“so any particular reason why you haven’t responding to me for the past 30 minutes” you opened to let a very cranky sunoo in your apartment, he looked like he ran from his house to yours, “i’m sorry i was sleeping sun” you moved aside for him to enter, he removed his jacket, his white shirt was sticking to his body because of sweat, it is almost see through “im sorry did you run here?” you questioned still eyeing him.

“yes i did because someone said they would call me 30 minutes ago and then went blank” he said arms crossed, stilling breathing heavily “do you want water, im sorry babe it’s just-” before you could finish he already entered his mom mode.

“you have no idea how worried i was, i thought you got kidnapped gosh yn i actually ran so fast, and for your information i have never ran this fast and this much in my entire life” smack, your lips were on his, you tiptoeing to maintain the kiss, he was shocked at this sudden kiss but gave in, bending down and caging you between the wall and him, he picks you up as your legs looped around his torso “you sneaky little” he said eyeing you with a pout.

“you are very sly for this yn” you hugged him still mid air “it’s sticky sunoo” he hummed “bare with it, it’s all your fault im sweaty anyways” he walked over to your living hall, still carrying you.

“it’s insane how much you mean to me, and what i can do for you”

— JUNGWON YANG

“so?” you looked over your composed boyfriend, his legs crossed, arms folded, eyes closed “so what yn” you are currently stuck on a ferris wheel which you forced your boyfriend to get on “i thought it would be cute, i didn’t know it would stop” you said dropping your head low “yeah well look what happened? it’s been 35 min since we got stuck up here and”

you didn’t know it would happen, come on you didn’t have magical powers to predict future, so you got up angry “what are you doing yn” jungwon looked at you with a confused look “look stay put, you will fall” before he could continue you leaned in for a kiss, falling in process but jungwon caught you still surprised at your kiss, your lips were still attached to his, as he pulled you in his lap to prevent you from falling, his hands traveled to your thighs to have a stronger grip on you “what are you doing? you are going to break bone falling like that” he said face only few centimeters away from yours “maybe i should keep on kissing you until we go down so you can shut up” he smiled.

“why don’t you try that”

— NISHIMURA RIKI

“so funny ha ha ha” riki said sarcastically as you looked at him “what are talking about” he glared at you “thought it was just you and me so why is this thing here” he eyed your friend who decided to join while you were out with your best friend or was it really just that?

“hey now that’s rude” you said as your friend laughed awkwardly “not like you both are dating so i decided it would be fine but if you both are awkward i can leave” your friend got up to go, before you could stop him riki spoke up “no we are leaving, you stay” he grabbed your hands dragging you out of the cafe “that was rude riki” he stopped “guess what i don’t care, i don’t care if it’s rude or not he was annoyingly close to you, you looked uncomfortable, he tried to get with you, he said we are not dating so it wouldn’t be a problem but guess what”

you shut him up by pulling on his jacket to lower him, you kissed his lips as his tensed body relaxed pulling you closer by the waist “shut up dummy, don’t you know there is a better way to keep boys away from me” you looked at his handsome face still confused “one more?” asked as you giggled and kissed him again “one more” you kissed him again “one more?” you stopped moving few inches away from him “wait yn” he tried to pull you back “no ! your free trial is over now” he pouted “so if i ask you out then?”

“then hmmm, i will see about it” you said as he hugged you, you felt a vibration as he giggled “i sure do hope the trail was only for me”

“will you be mine?”

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i-cant-sing · 5 months ago

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i was just minding my business like scrolling to find new fics to read since i was so so bored and while i was finding some delicious fics (ahem ahem: yandere big brother bakugou x little sister reader) ur post suddenly idk the word (lumitaw (its a filo word)) and i was screaming and immediately dropped what i was supposed to read to read yours 😭😭😭

i got the worst memory ever to exist because i keep forgetting their names but i think i'll grasp them once the next chapter is out (hopefully) but yeaaah!!! baris reminds me of abbas in a way but ig he's a bit more.. brute yk what im talking about????? ig he's ok..

OH! and i have a theory about the painting, y/n's face getting smudged maybe because baldwin or SALAUDDIN decided to smudged it to forget how they look due to heartbroken (prob not baldwin,, but i feel like salauddin would do that ??) i guess im getting married again 😔😔 i feel like im betraying my pookie salauddin 💔💔💔🙏🙏 BUT ANYWAYS THANK YOU FOR THE UPDATE SNOW!!!! AMAZING AS ALWAYS!! can't wait for the next one already!! 😭😭😭 i think i'll send more of my thoughts if something crosses over my mind (prob when im in the shower)

ooohh i like your theory(portrait pictures at the end). i like it a lot. expanding on it:

Baldwin would probably cause the painting to be smudged because he's kissing it, kissing your lips, drunk off his mind, tears streaming down his cheek as he spends hours sitting in front of it, talking to the painting as if u still exist, begging u to come back from heaven, even apologising for all he's done, just please- come back, angel...

Meanwhile Salauddin would probably be staring at your portrait angrily. He understands why you had to leave but.... you couldnt have told him where you were goinh? Do you not think he couldve protected you? He wouldve used his whole army, gathered Muslims from all around the world to protect you. Did you... did you not have the least bit faith in him? deep down, he knows u did this to prevent a war between him and baldwin but.... Salauddin wouldve gone to war for you. Happily. This wasnt your decision to make alone. Now, he stands in front of your portrait, he has it in his palace now, and he doesnt say voice it out like baldwin, but he has complaints. HE keeps them inside, mentally talking to you, telling you just how stupid you were for sacrificing yourself, for jumping off that stupid cliff. How u shouldve just- just asked him for help ONCE, and he wouldve fought until his last breath if it meant keeping u safe. In his mind, u sacrificed yourself to protect Baldwin from murdering innocent muslims or anyone else u wouldve seeked help from.

And now? All Salauddin can do is pray for you. He wakes up late into the night and sits on the prayer mat, making dua for you for hours, reading Quran for you, has animals slaughtered on eid on your behalf, even doing charity and hajj (pilgrimage) on your behalf, just so that you can have more good deeds in your name. He still has the chess board u gifted him, but he's stopped playing chess. He never played the game again, it was only a painful reminder of you. The one person who he could never beat.

As for your painting, why it was smudged? Salauddin didnt want anyone to see your beauty, thats why he kept the portrait hidden in his room, but then he feared that one day when he's not around anymore, someone will see you. So, he used a rag soaked in turpentine to smudge your face, but couldnt do more than just the bottom half of your face. He thought that was fine, after all, thats how u did often appear when you were around, wearing a niqaab, a veil that covered your face.

Now that he looks at your eyes, he realises his mistake. He heard the wise tell him-

"Eyes are the windows to the soul."

He now knows it to be true.

This is what I think the portraits look like:

Notice that this is the earrings Salauddin gifted Y/n when she was in the market with him:

How Baldwin's been:

#yandere baldwin #yandere Salauddin #king baldwin x reader #baldwin #baldwin x reader #king baldwin iv #king baldwin x you #Salauddin #Salauddin x reader #time traveller au #yandere x reader #yandere x #yandere x you #male yandere

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draconic-desire · 9 months ago

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A Dance With the Dragon II — Mates

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

[Part I] [Part II — You are here] [Part III] [Part IV]

Neuvillette brings you to your new “home”, which also comes with new challenges.

Warnings: Emotional manipulation, forced imprisonment, Neuvillette accidentally goes a little feral here, brief non-con at the end

One of the first things Neuvillette did was move you from the apartment at the Palais Mermonia (your prison for the past four centuries) to his personal residence. Securing his palms to your waist, he teleported you directly into the foyer of the massive home.

The interior was splashed with blues and whites that matched the Chief Justice’s own color palette. The upper walls were decorated with friezes depicting various marine creatures, from floating otters (how ironic) to bobbing seahorses. A grand spiral staircase led to the upper floor, while a set of double French doors connected the foyer to a massive living room adorned with plush love seats and armchairs, tasteful artwork of Fontainian landscapes, and enormous windows that overlooked the sea. It appeared the house was set into a cliffside, with the waves battering the rocks far beneath you.

You paced into the living room, running your hand along the blue silk couch cushions. To your left, a door led out to what appeared to be an inclosed courtyard with a miniature fountain. To the right was a closed door, a familiar dragon carved into its exterior. Your arm burned in resonance.

Though you were loathe to admit it, the place was beautiful.

“Do you like it?”

Shifting your gaze to him, it was clear that Neuvillette was desperate for your approval. Ever since he let you outside to discover the true length of your imprisonment, you had rarely spoken a word to him. Clearly, your silence had done a number on him, as the normally composed man was fidgeting nervously.

When you kept quiet, Neuvillette cleared his throat. “I admit, part of why things took so long was due to my insistence that everything be perfect for your arrival. I rearranged our bedroom perhaps a dozen times, and I couldn’t for the life of me decide what your personal room should entail.” When you glanced out towards the fountain, he coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, that was a…sentimental addition. It makes me think of how we met.”

You’d never forget that Archons-damned fountain. If only you hadn’t been so naive. Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, go away.

Neuvillette extended his palm towards you in what appeared to be both a peace offering and an order. “Shall I give you a tour?”

Suddenly your feet appeared very interesting. What were you supposed to say? This technically was your home now, like it or not. You’d become painstakingly familiar with it with time. Although you weren’t imprisoned within the Palais as before, your new life still promised shackles nonetheless.

“Could you just show me my personal room?” You sighed. “I’d prefer to just rest after that.”

Neuvillette smiled softly, relishing the sound of your voice. “Of course.”

Twisting his fingers through your own, he led you towards the dragon door. Once again, your hidden tattoo pulsed with energy. It felt like a pull forward, a welcoming embrace. You realized then that there must be some sort of warding spell on this room, likely meaning only you and your captor could enter.

Marvelous.

Pushing the door open, Neuvillette swept his arm gracefully through the entrance. “After you, my love.”

You stepped in and immediately went still.

For in every direction around you was rows upon shelves upon stories of books.

Neuvillette had build you your own personal library.

And not just that. You noticed that entire sections pertained to your personal interests—marine biology, photography, even your personal favorite genres of novels. A separate door labeled Dark Room promised an avenue for you to pick up photography again. Similar couches and chairs as the living room were arranged around a huge coffee table, and a cracking hearth added to the cozy atmosphere.

Your throat bobbed. You had always dreamed of owning a room like this, a place where all your passions converged. But to have it under these circumstances…you didn’t know how to react, torn between frustration and a grateful little voice in the back of your head that you buried at once. No, I didn’t earn this. I don’t want this. It was forced on me.

All you could choke out was, “This is…mine?”

“Down to the last book.” You could hear the pride in his voice. “I spent the most time on this room. Over a century to get it right.”

You startled. A century? Your heart stumbled, but your hands fisted by your sides. So much given, yet what had it cost you?

Shaking your head, you simply said, “I’d like to be alone.” Connecting your eyes with his, you could see his hurt, the expectation of a grand reaction on your part that you refused to indulge.

However, the look was quickly wiped from his face, for he must have seen something broken in your facade. A muscle in his jaw feathered as he approached you, a gloved hand stroking your cheek. “I understand you must be overwhelmed. I’ll leave you to explore,” Neuvillette said, placing a kiss on your forehead before heading for the exit.

“Neuvillette?”

Said man turned back towards you, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Why me?” You grabbed your arm where the shadow of your draconic tattoo hid. “Why…all this?”

His gaze immediately softened. “My dear, we have centuries for me to show you.”

~*~

It was times when Neuvillette was vulnerable that it was hardest to hate him.

He had returned home after a long day at court to find you sitting in the courtyard on the edge of the fountain, peering up at the night sky as if the stars held some answers. Moonlight bathed you in an ethereal glow, and if he didn’t already think you a goddess, he would have pledged himself to you then and there.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, too involved in your own thoughts. True to his word, Neuvillette had given you time and space to enjoy your new (cage) home. You had to admit, it was a major upgrade from the Palais, and you knew the Iudex would continue to let you explore Fontaine, if you tolerated his presence beside you. However, you knew this dance wouldn’t last—it was only a matter of time before Neuvillette expected something in return. It was abundantly clear that he desired your affections, but how far would he go in order to sway you? To fully make you his?

A sea breeze whipped around you, eliciting an involuntary shiver to rip up your spine.

A sudden warmth enveloping your form brought you back to reality. Blinking in surprise, you peered up to see the Chief Justice smiling softly at you, his purple irises sparking with longing and care. His elaborate attire was gone, leaving only his pale undershirt.

He’d given you this coat.

“I…thank you,” you mumbled, averting your eyes from the man.

“Do my ears deceive me? Did my dear (Y/n) actually acknowledge me?”

Your grip on his robes tightened. “Don’t mistake my words for kindness. I haven’t forgotten what you are.”

A sigh. “Despite what you may believe, I’m not a monster.”

You deadpanned. “You’re quite literally the Hydro dragon.”

“Archons above,” Neuvillette whispered, glancing up at the sky as if it held the key to winning your heart. “I was referring to a monster in the definition you humans use.”

“What? You mean like a man who would kidnap and imprison an innocent person—”

“Considering you are not in the Fortress of Meropide, I’d hardly consider this imprisonment.”

“What, have I offended you?” A scoff left escaped you. “If you want to play house, at least own up to your actions. Don’t pretend you’re some sort of gentleman.”

Neuvillette was silent for a beat, his mouth a thin line. Unexpectedly, his muscles relaxed as he released his tension. He lowered his large frame, taking a seat next to you. “You’re right.”

You sketched a brow in surprise.

Neuvillette trained his eyes on his palms, facing upwards in his lap. “I understand neither what it means to be human, nor what it means to be a god. I was given this duty to protect and uphold the laws of Fontaine, and yet I cannot save those who need it most.” His fingers formed fists, and his lids closed solemnly. “Carole, Vautrin…all of the others I have failed…”

You worried your lower lip. Although he had already informed you of his friends’ fate in your absence, it was still a raw wound for the both of you. Yet the anguish in Neuvillette’s eyes twisted your heart. How could a man be so duplicitous, so capable of both justice and blind obsession?

As if sensing your conflict, Neuvillette gently took your face in his hands, tilting your chin so that your eyes locked once again. His eyes danced with silver sparks of emotion, like cracks of lighting across a dark sea. A thumb brushed away a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“So if I can protect but one thing, one person, I will do it.”

~.~

You often noticed that Neuvillette’s horns got stuck in his robes.

Honestly, it was kind of humorous. In the beginning, watching him struggle gave you a sick sense of satisfaction. You’d take any circumstance that inconvenienced him, however petty that might be.

But today, seeing the Chief Justice pouring over a case regarding the protection of Fontaine’s sea life at an ungodly hour, head propped on a fist to keep him awake, you couldn’t help but feel sympathetic when he emitted a low hiss as his horns tangled into the ornamentation of his attire once again. “Damned human attire,” he cursed.

Neuvillette wasn’t an inherently bad man. In fact, your own case aside, he had invoked significant and positive change in Fontaine’s legal system. He judged cases fairly and prudently, working himself ragged each day to ensure the nation’s safety. It would have been admirable to you in any other circumstance.

You didn’t know what possessed you when you stepped behind him and carefully untangled his twin blue horns.

At your touch, Neuvillette immediately froze. His heart rate skyrocketed and his mind went blank because you were touching him.

And not just anywhere, but his horns. Unbeknownst to you, a dragon’s horns were the most sensitive part of its body, only to be handled by itself or its mate. One brush was akin to a lovers embrace, the whisper of a kiss, the hot breath shared between partners in the thralls of passion. Not only was the touch intensely intimate, it was also an acknowledgement—an acceptance of the male’s advances onto his partner.

Oh, if only you knew how many times he had fantasized about this, your acknowledgement of him and his love for you. Although his rational, human side knew your touch as unintentional, the dragon within Neuvillette reared and roared against his skin, demanding to be set free upon its mate.

“Your horns were caught,” was all you said as you settled back into the sofa, flipping to the marked page of your novel.

If you had looked up, you would have witnessed the Iudex gently touching his horns in awe. He swore he could still feel the brush of your palm against him, shivering delightfully at the mere memory of your touch.

Little did you know that your simple act of kindness would unleash the storm.

~*~

The one unfortunate deviation of your current accommodations from the Palais Mermonia was Neuvillette’s unyielding insistence on sharing a bed.

You had foolishly thought escaping him, even if just within the confines of your shared home, would be simple. You believed the library, what he even referred to as your room, would be your bedroom as well. Despite the lack of an actual bed, the plush couches and ever-lit fire provided more than enough comfort to lull you to sleep.

But when you had opened your eyes, you were mere inches away from Neuvillette’s shirtless, sleeping form.

You had assumed it was due to the draconic symbol guarding the room; perhaps it linked you to him more than you had thought. So, the next night, you decided to sleep in the parlor instead.

Only for your hopes to be shattered the next morning when you awoke not only in bed with your captor, but with your limbs entwined.

Anger, shame, and a touch of something you couldn’t quite place—something not entirely unpleasant—flooded you as you tore yourself out of his embrace. How was he doing this? Was it magic, or would he physically carry you to bed each night?

This pattern repeated itself. You would pick various places around the huge house to retire for the night. However, you would wake up in bed next to Neuvillette each morning without fail.

You had even reverted to your previous stubbornness and slept on the ground a few nights, but to no avail. It seemed you were bound to his bed.

Tonight, you decided to face the issue head-on. You stormed up the stairway and into the spacious bedroom, ignoring the pain in your lower back due to all the errant surfaces you had tried to sleep on. The downy pillows and lush, cream comforter practically begged you to surrender to the king-sized bed and its occupant.

Instead, you halted at the foot of the bed and crossed your arms. “You have to stop this.”

Neuvillette immediately looked up from the tome in his lap, his reading glasses slipping down his nose. He hadn’t yet changed out of his white dress shirt, and the buttons revealed a hint of his toned chest as he set the book down. “And what exactly are you demanding I stop?”

You huffed a laugh. “I wish I could say all of this,” you waved your hands around, as if that would convey the entirety of the situation, “but I mean putting me in your bed each morning.”

“Our bed,” he corrected, as if that were the issue.

“No, your bed. Are you really telling me that with all this space, you can’t just let me sleep alone?”

He removed his glasses with a sigh, setting them on the nightstand. “I could, but I don’t want to.”

You seethed. “Well, I do.”

Neuvillette’s violet gaze pinned you with something like hurt. “Have I truly done something to upset you? It seemed as if you were settling into our new home quite nicely. Our conversation and touches were…” His throat bobbed. “Pleasant.”

You narrowed your eyes and bit out, “Don’t take any of that as complacency. You’re still a monster.”

Neuvillette flinched in response and, for just a moment, you felt a piece your heart falter. That is, until he whispered, “Mates don’t sleep apart.”

The room went utterly still.

Your voice came out as a breath of air, but the words were clear: “I am not your mate.”

It was then that you noticed the claws emerging from his fingertips, piercing into the sheets under his form. His eyes flashed silver, dangerous as knives. You could have sworn you saw a pair of elongated canines as he grit his teeth. “You have no idea how difficult it has been,” he breathed, voice tight, desperate.

On instinct, you took a pace back. You suddenly felt like a cornered animal, unable to avert your gaze from those claws that looked ready to tear into you. Clearly you had misjudged the situation—the Hydro Dragon was a starved, deadly predator, and you were practically served on a silver platter as its next meal.

Icy panic raced through your veins. You’ve never seen him like this, so out of control and inhuman. Trying to mediate the situation, you put your hands up in surrender. “Neuvillette, listen to me. Just calm down.”

You had hoped that saying his name would do just that, but it seemed to only rile him up further. The Chief Justice of Fontaine actually growled in response. You couldn’t tell if it was a warning or a plea. “You deny your mate, and now you’re telling me to simply calm down?”

Another step back. Just put out the fire and deal with the consequences later. “I apologize for being confrontational. I think it’s best if I just go—”

Before you could react, Neuvillette pounced forward and grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you onto the bed. You released a cry and tried to scramble away, but he spun you around and pinned your back against the mattress with his muscular frame. He loomed above you on all fours, his hands gripping your arms and applying just enough pressure to hold you still without hurting you. The glint in his eyes, however, promised pain that was yet to come. You were the prey about to get its throat torn out.

“Wh-what are you doing?” You struggled, heart skyrocketing at the feel of his arousal pressing against your core.

"Something I’ve needed to do for four hundred years," he growled huskily, his breath fanning your lips moments before they slammed against yours.

The kiss was hungry, predatory. Obsessive. You could feel the release of each year, each century, as his mouth devoured yours. You arched your back in an attempt to get away, but Neuvillette was quicker. He lifted your form easily and slammed your back against the bed once again. At your gasp of shock, he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You fumbled around for something, anything that you could take purchase of. Your arms were pinned, but you were just barely able to grab onto the first thing and tug: his horns.

Neuvillette moaned, a deep, throaty sound that sent heat flooding through you.

It was in that moment you realized your mistake. You recalled how some marine animals with horns had millions of nerves within them, making these appendages a source of sensory stimulation. When you had started adjusting his horns after they were getting stuck, it must have been like touching his—

Oh, fuck.

Neuvillette released you arms, grinding against your thigh. “Do that again,” he begged, though it came out as more of a growled order.

“Neuvillette, stop—” An involuntary whine escaped your lips.

Your lewd noises only instigated him. His movements became more erratic as he slid a clawed hand up your leg and to your core, which was protected by only a nightgown. You jerked as his finger pinched your clit, eliciting another whine.

Neuvillette’s eyes sparked with heat, dual purple flames that devoured your form. “That’s it, my dear. Let me take care of you.” He bit down on your neck, causing you to cry out. He was marking you before he took you fully.

“Tonight, you become more than my wife. You become my mate.”

~*~

You laid there limply in Neuvillette’s arms. He peppered you with kisses and whispered words of protecting you and lofty dreams of your future together, but it fell on deaf ears. None of it made you forget about the bites along your neck or your throbbing core.

You couldn’t believe you had let his kindness fool you for even a second.

You had to escape this prison.

#yandere #yandere neuvillette #yandere neuvillette x reader #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #dragon #obsessive love #tw kidnapping #tw noncon touching #neuvillette doesn’t understand the concept of personal space #neuvillette is down bad #mates

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cherienymphe · 7 months ago

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Teenage Dirtbag XV

JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, mentions of violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, blood, semi public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

⭑

“Mother, please…”

Your parents and Rafe found your exasperation amusing, your back vibrating from the feel of his soft chuckle as you leaned against him. The blond wrapped his arms around you as your mother quietly pleaded for ‘just one more’. Your father wasn’t on your side on today of all days, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“You know how she gets,” he told you. “Let her have this.”

“It’s just Midsummers,” you said to them. “We do this every year.”

You tried not to let your unenthusiastic thoughts slip through too much, but where there was once a time you loved Midsummers, you mostly just wanted to get the night over with now. It still brought you joy—this you wouldn’t deny—but it wasn’t the same as it used to be. You used to look forward to it, and while you enjoyed getting dolled up and seeing your parents’ friends as they asked about you, you didn’t enjoy smiling in everyone’s faces and gushing over how happy you were with Rafe.

You looked forward to the food and drinks and floating around in a beautiful dress, but you didn’t look forward to Rafe’s hand on your waist all night. You didn’t look forward to laughing along as countless people wondered when Rafe planned on popping the question. You didn’t look forward to posing for countless pictures.

…as you were currently doing.

“Mother,” you sighed.

“You should be used to this by now,” she softly laughed. “…and grateful because I’m going to be far worse than you could ever imagine on your wedding day.”

Your stomach twisted at that, and you swallowed down bile just as Rafe tightened his arms around you.

“Stop being such a brat and just let your mom take the picture.”

His voice was quiet as his lips grazed your ear, and you kept a smile on your face as he straightened again. The older woman made a noise of approval, and you felt no relief when she was finally done. You glanced at Rafe just as your mother turned to your father to discuss the best ones, face even as your boyfriend adjusted your necklace.

He’d just bought it.

“Just stop smiling,” he murmured. “You look like you’re being tortured.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

Rafe paused, staring you down for a moment before a small smirk made its way onto his lips. Dropping one arm, the other hand moved towards your face, touching your red lips.

“Cute…”

“We’ll meet you both there,” your father said over his shoulder as he walked your mother to his car. “…and please don’t forget to set the alarm. I think someone broke into our pool house.”

His words made your heart drop, and you whipped your head around to stare at the older man with wide eyes.

“What?” you said, voice uneven.

Your father made a gesture with his hand like he was scolding himself for forgetting to tell you that.

“Yeah, I went in there the other day looking for my golf clubs, and it just looked…off. Lived in,” he said, opening the car door. “I might install a camera or two, I don’t know.”

They bid you both goodbye, none the wiser to the internal turmoil he’d just caused, and you swallowed just as Rafe started to pull you back inside. You heard him scoff.

“Probably some Pogue looking to mooch,” he snidely commented, making his way to your father’s bar. “Typical.”

Clearing your throat, you grabbed your purse.

“It’s probably nothing,” you found yourself murmuring. “Besides, it’s a pool house, not exactly The Hilton.”

“Babe, your fucking basement would be like The Ritz to those people,” Rafe said with a shake of his head as he downed a quick drink. “You think too highly of them and their lack of standards.”

You really didn’t want Rafe of all people to preach to you about standards, and you huffed.

“Do you plan on driving there drunk or…?”

Rafe was in a lighter mood today, and so that actually brought a chuckle out of him. Pouring one more drink out of your father’s bottle, he made his way to you. When he kissed you, you could taste the alcohol on his lips, and you watched him pull away to empty the glass.

“I need something in my system if I’m going to be around my family and their friends all night. Especially Rose’s book club women,” he said with a shudder, guiding you out after setting the alarm.

You were almost to his truck when he stopped you, forcing you to face him. You felt nervous as you looked at the blond because you had no idea what he was thinking nor what was about to come out of his mouth. You rested your hands on his arms as he pulled you closer, his own hands comfortable at the small of your back. His blue gaze flitted between your own.

“Try to lose the pout, alright?” he said to you. “Your knee is much better, your nose is practically like new, and you look good enough to eat.”

Rafe leaned in, gently pressing his lips to your cheek.

“Things could always be worse,” was what he said to you when he pulled away, a hint of a threat in his voice as he stared into your eyes.

Yes, you supposed that was true, and you allowed him to walk you to the passenger door.

You didn’t know what Ward had said to him exactly, but you couldn’t ignore the restraint Rafe had practiced for weeks, now. You didn’t know if Ward had legitimately found something to scare him with or if it was a conversation that went more along the lines of ‘at least wait for her to fully recover’. You realized that your thoughts were bordering along something much worse than praising a fish for swimming, but it was relieving to not have to deal with Rafe’s violence and especially for this length of time.

The reprieve was almost enough to make you feel bad for seeing JJ behind his back.

Almost.

“I almost didn’t recognize you.”

The dark-haired girl turned to look at you, her confusion dying down as she placed the face to the voice. Kie weighed your words over in her mind, head slightly tilting from side to side before a small smile adorned her face.

“I know that’s meant as a compliment, so I’ll take it as one,” she said, taking her drink from the bartender. “I look like an uppity Kook princess…no offense.”

You didn’t take any offense to it.

“I know you wouldn’t dare be caught dead here willingly,” you commented, and Kie rolled her eyes over to her mom.

The woman was talking to your mom, a third woman with them that you didn’t recognize.

“It’s amazing how you know me so much better than my own mom,” she snidely replied, taking a sip of her punch. “She keeps waiting for me to ‘grow up’ as she puts it…”

You felt her eyes on you as the bartender finally gave you your own drink. You discreetly shook your head when he asked if you wanted anything else in it, the man no doubt familiar with how underage attendants got their way around here. At Kie’s surprised look, you spoke.

“I still take painkillers, so…”

The tan girl nodded at that, and a look passed over her features that looked a lot like concern.

“Sarah told me that your leg is much better.”

“It is, yeah,” you confirmed. “I can walk without a splint for the most part, but Rafe and my parents still want me to stay off of it if I can.”

She nodded, a soft ‘that’s good’ reaching your ears. Kie looked like she wanted to say more, and despite you two being friendly—with her eventually coming around to you—it was very clear in this moment that you were not friends. You blamed Rafe for that and was just about to go find him when she spoke again.

“It’s not my place…it’s really JJ’s to tell you the truth, but… He was really out of line that day in the hospital.”

Her words took you by surprise, her expression even more so because she looked genuinely embarrassed by what had occurred.

“Yeah, Rafe’s an asshole, and sure, sometimes he’s an asshole to you, and we’re probably the only ones who ever see that, but… JJ accusing him of that was really gross and uncalled for,” she continued.

You looked down at her words, unable to defend JJ in the way you wanted. Everyone thought he was just being a dick who hated Rafe, but in actuality he was right, and you took a sip of your drink.

“His feelings aren’t any excuse to accuse someone of something like that…”

You looked at her again at her words, expression inquiring.

“You know, about Rafe…and you,” she eventually added, albeit reluctantly.

She shrugged at the look on your face, her own expression softer than what you were used to.

“I think he likes you,” she said, shocking you. “Or…at the very least you surprised him. You’re just not what he expected.”

You struggled to respond to that, taking another sip.

“What makes you say that?” you wondered with a scoff.

“He brings you up sometimes. Just to me,” she added at the look on your face. “Nothing crazy. I just think he worries about you dating Rafe, and I keep telling him you’re with that guy for a reason.”

You swallowed, unsure of how to feel about JJ talking to Kie about you.

“There’s probably a whole other side to Rafe the rest of us will just never see…”

You thought to yourself if she only knew.

“That’s flattering,” you slowly said, attempting to steady your heart. “I didn’t even think JJ cared enough about me to talk about me to anyone. Especially to you.”

Sarah was always vocal about how tight-knit John B.’s friend group was before she came along. There’d been a few days where you absentmindedly listened to her talk about how she’d felt like she was intruding at first, only feeling welcomed by all after some time. You especially remembered a few comments on how protective Kie was over her boys, doubly so towards Sarah considering their history.

“I was surprised too,” the other girl agreed. “…but I guess he just wanted to talk to a girl about it.”

You only nodded at that, and you could feel her gaze on you, although it was hard to read when you looked at her.

“You know he’s here tonight…”

Even though your face didn’t move, your heart did skip a beat in your chest, and you sharply inhaled. You didn’t need her to confirm who she was talking about, but she did anyway, and you took another sip of your drink.

“He’s making some extra money,” she explained. “I didn’t get why he’d want to work Midsummers of all events, but…maybe now I do.”

Your gaze met hers at that, and before you could really study her expression, you were interrupted.

“You’re going to hang by the bar all night?” Rafe wondered, saddling up next to you as he flagged down the bartender.

He only just noticed Kie after a moment, throwing her a dismissive look before resting his blue eyes on you.

“Is she why I’ve had to entertain myself with Kelce and Topper despite coming with my beautiful girlfriend?”

You hated the way he talked about her like she wasn’t there, but before you could scold him on it, Kie made herself scarce with one last glance thrown your way. You forced it out of your mind, sighing at him.

“You three were discussing football. I figured that was your subtle way of excluding me…”

After being handed a drink he was just shy of being legal for, Rafe snaked his arm around your waist. He pressed his lips to yours, humming to himself.

“If I’d wanted you to go away, I would’ve said so,” he murmured into the kiss.

His lips made their way to your cheek, and that was the moment you took note of familiar blond hair over his shoulder. Just as Kie said, he was wearing a uniform, a serving tray in his hand, and you blinked. Was he really here just for you? It seemed like way too big of a risk to take, but you found yourself glad that he was.

You needed to tell him that he couldn’t sleep in the pool house for a while.

It was then that you heard Kelce call your boyfriend over, and you both turned to see the other guy waving him over. He and Topper and some of Rafe’s other friends were laughing down at someone’s phone, and Rafe squeezed your waist.

“Now I’m telling you to entertain yourself,” he chuckled. “I won’t be long.”

He left you to go and see what was so funny, and you tapped your finger against your glass a few times before stepping away. JJ’s blue gaze was already on you when you glanced over, and you looked back at Rafe one more time before stepping into the building. A few beats had passed before you heard footsteps mirroring yours.

Knowing this cursed place like the back of your hand, you were quick and discreet in slipping into a storage room. You swallowed down the rest of your drink as you slowly paced, telling yourself you were on a time crunch. It wasn’t too much longer before you had company, and you were quick to get your words out before JJ got the wrong idea.

“You can’t stay at the pool house tonight,” you told him, giving him pause. “Not for a while actually. Not until I can convince my father he doesn’t need to install cameras.”

You sighed.

“I might just tell him I’m the one who’s been in there.”

The blond nodded at that, and you watched him purse his lips.

“So…this isn’t what I thought it was going to be.”

You couldn’t hold back your smile at that, gently laughing to yourself.

“No, JJ,” you admonished. “Rafe is…right outside.”

You gestured towards the door.

“…and his friends will keep him occupied for a while sure, but definitely not long enough to…”

You trailed off, shrugging and dropping your arm. Your words made JJ’s eyebrows raise, and he gave you a look you were more than familiar with.

“That sounds like a challenge.”

You gave him a look.

“JJ…be serious…”

He slowly made his way to you, keeping his eyes on yours the entire time.

“I am,” he breathed, gaze finally dropping. “You look beautiful.”

Rafe had given you the same compliment, but it meant more coming from JJ’s lips, and your own lips parted. Your stomach always flipped when he said things like that to you, and you reminded yourself that you hadn’t met up with him for this. You said that, but the more you looked at him the more you thought how nice he looked in something akin to a suit.

JJ’s blond hair was just a tad neater, resembling Rafe’s almost, and you didn’t think you liked it. Too busy taking in his uncharacteristic appearance, you didn’t pay attention to how close he’d gotten until his hand was touching your necklace. It was a tennis one, the expensive piece of jewelry catching the light, and you focused in on JJ’s face just as he let out a low whistle.

“Rafe bought it,” you explained, noting how much it felt like a collar. “He insisted I wear it tonight.”

You glanced at the clock on the wall, telling yourself to leave, to tell JJ that you’d see him later. However, you couldn’t deny that you didn’t want to, hating that you were here with Rafe instead. You wanted to prolong your time with the other blond for as long as possible, and you knew that JJ was thinking the same thing by the way his hand rested on your cheek.

“JJ…”

Your voice was low as he moved closer.

“Rafe isn’t going to be distracted forever.”

He looked between your eyes at that, his teeth sinking into his lip. He seemed to be contemplating it for a few moments before dropping to his knees. Your heart thudded in your chest as he reached under your dress, dragging your underwear down, and you didn’t stop him as your stomach flipped. You didn’t miss the way he slipped them into his pocket as he stood, lips immediately finding yours.

You couldn’t resist rubbing your thighs together in anticipation, feeling heat settle in the pit of your stomach. JJ tasted the inside of your mouth, and you could tell he’d had a drink or two earlier. He took his time in kissing you, mouth slowly moving against yours, and somewhere along the way he seemed to remember where you were…what you were not supposed to be doing…and who you had to get back to.

Resting between JJ and the wall, you helped him undo his pants, hand immediately wrapping around his cock the moment it was free. He hissed against your lips, and you couldn’t hold back your smile, kissing him harder and stroking him. He groaned into the kiss when you squeezed him, and reminding yourself of Rafe, you pushed your lower half against his.

One of JJ’s hands slid behind your thigh before hooking your leg against his waist. He rested between your legs as his lips traveled down your neck, and with your underwear in his pocket, you could feel the tip of him poking at your bare skin, a shudder passing through you as you wrapped your arms around him.

Guiding the tip of him between your folds, JJ pushed himself through his fist a few times before sliding into you with one quick thrust. You threw your head back, gasping at the tight fight and thinking you liked it a little better when you weren’t as wet. The slight burn made you buck your hips, and JJ’s hands were tight on you as he started to thrust into you.

You couldn’t swallow down your moan, reaching out to press your hand against the wall as JJ fucked you. Wrapping your other arm around his shoulder and neck, you pressed your face against him, teeth sinking into the nice shirt he had on. His hands were guiding your hips to meet him thrust for thrust, his cock stretching you out. You grew wetter with every movement, and it wasn’t long before each thrust was smoother and easier than the last.

For a few moments, you forgot all about Rafe and Midsummers and the fact that you had to go back out there and smile on your boyfriend’s arm. There was even a faint thought that he might be looking for you that you pushed out of your mind. All you could focus on was the feeling of JJ inside of you, chasing both of your climaxes. You wanted to keep fucking him for hours, but you knew that wouldn’t be possible, now.

You glanced at the clock again when JJ left open mouthed kisses against your throat, groaning against your skin as you squeezed him. You kept pushing your hips forward to meet his thrusts, dripping around his cock, and pulling at his uniform. Your other hand reached between you, dipping under your dress and circling your bundle of nerves. Your toes curled at the feel, and when you came, you came hard.

You swallowed down your moan as you tightened around JJ, and when your climax triggered his own, he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. You clung to each other as you came together and getting it in your head that you needed to go, you dropped your leg. You were going to help JJ get redressed, but he deterred you with a quick kiss.

“Go, go,” he urged, ushering you out of the room, and you hurried to make sure your hair and dress were fine as you sped away from the room.

You were down the hall when you felt JJ dripping down your thighs, and with a start, you realized he still had your underwear. You were contemplating turning back when you heard your name, the sound getting closer and closer until Rafe finally rounded the corner. Your eyes were wide as they met his angry ones, and you didn’t get a word out before his hand tightened on your arm.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“The bathroom,” was your quick answer, blinking before adding to it. “…and then the kitchens. I was trying to find a ginger-ale. My stomach felt weird.”

“I’ve been looking for you forever,” he spat, pulling you in the opposite direction of the party. “Sarah and my dad are being especially irritating, right now.”

When Rafe pulled you into an empty room, your heart sank.

…because you knew what he wanted.

“Rafe…not here…”

Your words actually gave him pause, and your boyfriend looked at you like you’d lost your mind. One of his hands pressed to the very door you were leaning against, and you watched him tilt his head at you. His hair wasn’t so neat now—a sign that he’d been running his hands through it—and you swallowed at the way he looked between your eyes.

“We’ve never not fucked at Midsummers,” he told you. “It’s practically a tradition, now.”

He softly laughed to himself, finding that funny.

“Can’t we just go? Let’s just go home and shower and-.”

“I’m not ready to go,” he cut you off, eyeing you. “My sister has been annoying me, and my dad is making me want to snort four lines of coke, and instead, I choose to fuck my girlfriend.”

The determination on his face made your nerves spike, and you were all too aware in this moment of the feel of JJ’s cum drying on the inside of your thighs. You didn’t think Rafe would even notice such a thing in his haste to be inside of you, but you knew you didn’t have the capacity to not feel icky fucking Rafe after just doing so with JJ.

“…but for whatever reason, she’s fighting me on that.”

Now, he looked angrier than he did before, and you looked towards the ceiling.

“I thought we were past this…”

When you looked at him again, his face was much closer.

“I thought we were on the same page about the least you could do in this relationship.”

You looked down at that, chest clenching painfully at the memory. The silence between you was thick with tension, and when he slowly reached up to touch your face, you let your eyes close.

“Are you going to fuck me, or do I need to give you another nose job?”

At his soft words, you looked into his eyes. Rafe was entirely serious, and with a shaky sigh, you reached for his belt. He didn’t say a word as you unbuckled it, and you shuddered when he leaned in to kiss your cheek, inhaling at the feel of you slipping your hand into his pants. His hand reached up to the back of your neck as you stroked him, fingers finding that stupid necklace and tightening it around your throat.

“Fuck,” he cursed against your skin.

Rafe moved you towards an empty table, hurried in pushing you onto it, and he didn’t hesitate in covering your frame and guiding himself into you. He groaned at the smooth entry, kissing you again and pushing his hips against yours.

“So wet for me already?” he hummed into the kiss.

He reached under you to lift your hips a bit, holding you right where he wanted you as he thrust into you. So eager to fuck you, Rafe didn’t even notice your lack of underwear. Or at least not enough to comment on it if he did, too preoccupied with taking out his frustrations on your body. You held onto him and his arm as you squeezed your eyes shut, fighting to convince yourself that you weren’t as horrible as you felt.

It wasn’t even twenty minutes ago when JJ was inside of you, fucking you in some storage room and fighting to make you come before you had to get back to Rafe. Now, here you were, once again in an empty room but having sex with someone entirely different. You shuddered as you recalled Rafe’s words, knowing that it wasn’t your arousal for him but instead a combination from both you and JJ after the other blond had come inside of you.

The thought made you want to shy away from the man on top of you, but there was nowhere to go. The table shook beneath his rough thrusts, and Rafe seemed to forget that you were there as he pounded into you. You flinched and squirmed beneath your boyfriend from both the rough treatment and the overstimulation, feeling torn between wanting to come again and pushing Rafe away.

When he fisted his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling your head back, you knew that you were in for a long night.

Your chest was painfully tight as you stared at Rafe in horror. Your boyfriend looked nothing like the gentleman he pretended to be but instead like the monster he often was. Only this time, that violent gleam in his eyes wasn’t directed at you. It had set its sights on JJ.

“Rafe…come on, this is ridiculous, let’s just go,” you repeated for the umpteenth time.

It was only an hour ago that you were hanging onto him as he fucked you in some empty room, pent up and angry at both Sarah and Ward. Now—somehow—you’d found yourselves outside as his friends held JJ’s arms, your boyfriend gearing up to hit him again. It was unfair and disgusting and cruel.

“You’re being an asshole, and for what? Because he’s here?”

The party was still going on, and twenty minutes ago you’d thought you were leaving. Now, you were basically forced to watch Rafe hurt the guy you were sleeping with. He kept telling you to leave, that this wouldn’t take long and wouldn’t be much longer, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to abandon JJ so easily.

“Rafe!”

“Get in the damn truck,” he called over his shoulder.

He sounded exasperated with you, and his friends chuckled. You looked between them in disgust, most notably at Topper who clearly wasn’t enjoying this as much as the others but didn’t have the balls to actually say something. Disappointed in all of them, your eyes briefly met JJ’s, his practically pleading with you to just leave.

You huffed.

“Fuck this,” you spat, making your way back towards the building to find someone who worked here.

Your tone must have caught Rafe’s attention because he was quick to stop you, roughly grabbing you.

“Woah, woah, woah,” he chuckled, but it had an edge to it. “I thought I said to wait in the truck?”

He looked at you like you’d lost your mind.

“What, you’re-you were going to go tattle on me?”

“This is shitty, and I won’t stand by and let it happen,” you replied.

“Who gives a fuck? He’s a Pogue!”

“…and so that makes this okay? I want to go home, and you want to stand here beating on someone who can’t even fight back!”

Rafe looked between your eyes, and you hated the way he tilted his head.

“Why do you care so much about what happens to him?”

“You’re so stupid-! It could be anyone, Rafe,” you sneered. “This is childish and mean.”

Rafe stared you down for what felt like too long—too still—and your heart beat faster the longer it went on. Before you knew it, his hand had fisted into your hair, and he was dragging you over to his friends.

“See… This is why he’s always making googly eyes at you,” Rafe said, not sounding the least bit amused. “This is why he’s making comments and accusations about me and our relationship.”

Rafe maneuvered his arm around your neck, holding you close as he grinned at JJ.

“You’re too nice, baby. Too sympathetic,” he chuckled, gesturing to the other blond. “He’s got himself a little crush, I just know it.”

You attempted to move out of Rafe’s grip, but he wouldn’t budge. You hated the bruising that was already forming under JJ’s eyes and the blood on his lip too. You made a noise of protest when Rafe kissed you on the lips, sloppily and rough, before turning away.

“Hey, JJ,” your boyfriend softly said, tone mocking. “She’s just being nice…because that’s just who she is.”

“Rafe…”

“Don’t go getting any ideas.”

“You’re making a fool of yourself,” you spat at Rafe, knowing that he was doing so in more ways than one.

Rafe looked at you in mock outrage, shrugging.

“I’m just trying to help him out,” he told you. “It’s not my fault these Pogues always want what we have.”

“Rafe, stop this,” you hissed. “You’re being an asshole.”

The words had barely left your mouth when his hand roughly closed around your chin. You winced at the feel, and neither you nor Rafe missed the way JJ tried to break free. Rafe’s friends chuckled at the sight, but Rafe didn’t, merely staring at the other blond.

“Look at you,” he finally mused. “I don’t know whether I should feel flattered or offended that you feel so protective over my girlfriend.”

There wasn’t a hint of humor in his tone, and before you could quite marinate on that, you were harshly thrown to the ground. The mood seemed to shift at that, and you could tell that his friends hadn’t been expecting that. You didn’t know if Rafe was drunk or high or both, but he’d never been so public in his cavalier treatment of you.

“She’s my girlfriend, JJ, and I could do anything I want to her…”

You attempted to push yourself up when you felt the sole of his shoe on your knee…that knee.

“I could set her little healing journey back…”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, sure that he wouldn’t with so many witnesses, but also…not so sure. You glanced at JJ, but the other blond was staring at Rafe with wide eyes, and you couldn’t tell whether he was angry or scared. Probably both.

“I could rip her hair out right here…” he gestured to his friends. “…and do you think any of them would stop me?”

“Rafe,” Topper finally said, and your boyfriend’s gaze snapped to him.

“Would you?”

Topper just stared at him, but his silence spoke volumes, and you only attempted to stand again when your boyfriend finally moved his foot. He pointed around, his gaze resting on JJ again.

“None of them are going to do shit,” he said to him. “So, what makes you so special to think you have a say in how I treat my girlfriend?”

Your lips trembled as you finally stood to your feet.

“…because she was nice to you once? Because she doesn’t want me to kick your ass now?”

You looked between them, the faint sounds of the party reaching your ears.

“Truth be told, I should kick your face in for that stunt you pulled at the hospital,” your boyfriend sneered.

“Rafe, you’ve made your point!”

You hated this entire pissing contest he was doing, and at this point, you half expected Rafe to whip it out and mark his territory. He stared JJ down for what felt like too long, his friends equally uncomfortable now with the turn the night had taken. You could see it in his eyes that he wanted to slap you clear across the face—maybe even break your arm—all just to prove that he could do whatever he wanted to you, and there wasn’t a thing JJ could do about it.

Rafe, however, settled for harshly grabbing your face and spitting right into your mouth as you gasped.

Taken aback, you couldn’t hold in your coughing fit, forced to follow along as he roughly grabbed your arm.

“Like I said JJ. Anything I want,” he repeated.

Dragging you along, Rafe tossed his next words over his shoulder at his friends.

“That Pogue’s all yours.”

You felt riddled with disgust the whole way to his truck, humiliated and angry. You blinked back tears as you recalled the way his friends did nothing, didn’t even move a muscle as he threw you to the ground, and you didn’t know what you hated more—that or Topper’s cowardly attempt that he ultimately backed out of.

Once you were at his truck and away from prying eyes, the slap came harshly and swiftly.

It made your ears ring and your cheek sting, tears forming behind your eyes as Rafe leaned in. His nose grazed the burning cheek, and you could hear his labored breathing as his chest heaved against your arm. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and neither did you, just staring into the darkness as a few tears finally spilled over.

“That is the last time you defend that Pogue…especially around me,” he whispered. “Do you understand?”

You started to nod when his hand circled around your throat, making you sharply inhale.

“I want to hear you fucking say it.”

Pulling at his arm, you eventually gave up on that, forcing the word out.

“Yes,” you struggled to say.

Shoving you away from him, he opened the passenger door, telling you to get inside. Wiping your face, you did, settling in the seat with a newfound hatred for Midsummers.

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