#these aren’t negative thought they’re just thoughts I have. a negative thought would be me wondering who will tell the world I’m gone so I’m | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miniwheat77 · 1 month ago

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Guard Dog. (Captain Price x Reader.)

!nsfw, violence, blood, wounds, brief mention of alcohol, talk of SA, unprotected p in v sex, Minors DNI!

“You know this is stupid right?” Gaz scoffs.

“Why’s that?”

“Getting into fights over the old man. It’s ridiculous.” He shakes his head. “This is like the 3rd time this week I’ve had to vouch for you over him, you seriously have to tell him how you feel or give up on it. This can’t keep happening. I mean she split your lip open today. It needs stitches. And god only knows what she looks like. I mean you’re a girl just like she is but you pack a much harder punch Y/N.” He sighs, he’s driving you to an urgent care. The simple bowling trip you had taken had turned into something much worse when you had run into some newer recruits to 141. One of them had said something slick about your captain, you can’t even remember what now. The blow you took to the face helped you forget.

You’re not sure what it is but people always seemed to have something to say about him. How he was an asshole, hard on everyone. This or that. You just couldn’t handle it anymore, not when you seen what you saw in him. He was so fucking kind. Always trying so hard, always trying to do the right thing. Looking out for his team. It’s all he ever did. And they still had something negative to say about him. It was infuriating.

Just how long could you even take this.

———

“Uh.. I’ll do a Jack and Coke please.” You ask. Words already slurring. The bartender nods and starts working on it. “Oh and uh.. tequila sunrise for her.” You nod over to Sarah. “Hey Y/N.” The familiar voice has you smiling. “Hey Lori. How you doing?” You ask. “I’m good.” She smiles. “You?”

“I’m great. Never better.” You laugh. “Still apart of 141?” She asks. “Yeah.”

She shakes her head. “I finally had enough, had to transfer to another base.” You tilt your head, confused. “What? Why?”

“Just couldn’t handle Captain Price anymore.” She sighs. Your hair stands up and you can feel yourself going into defense mode. The bartender sets your drinks down and you pay her, tipping her more than you intend, you’re sure how this is about to go. She deserves it for the trouble you’re sure to cause. “Really? I like him, he’s by far the best captain I’ve had.” You mumble, bringing the drink up to your lips. “No. I couldn’t handle him. Like.. he’s an asshole, hard on you no matter what. Everything I did was wrong.” She smiles, looking down. “Thought about lying and saying he was touching me to get a different captain on 141.” She winks. Your face goes hard. “I’m just joking of course.”

“Yeah… I hope so. I wouldn’t go around bragging about that.” You mumble. “It was just a joke. Don’t take it so hard.” She rolls her eyes. You know how this is about to go. “Yeah, maybe next time you see me in public you just walk on by.” You grab the drinks but she grasps you by your shoulder. “You’re fucking him aren’t you?” She scoffs. She’s got a laugh hidden behind it. “Actually, no.”

“Oh, you’re his guard dog? Or you just want to fuck him? Yeah I’m sure you do, but maybe look somewhere else in 141 because he’s old and a fucking pri-“ you set the drinks down while she talks and don’t give her the chance to finish, your fist crashing into her jaw, sending her back. A crowd forms immediately, Sarah, the girl off base you had come with rushes up to the bar where you’re on top of her. Swing after swing until she’s no longer fighting back but blocking your face. She sees a guy come forward, his fist coming down onto the back of your head and you draw away, holding onto your head. Another guy shoves him back and starts swinging. Yelling about how he doesn’t hit a woman. She grabs you by the jacket and shoves you back.

Someone else helps Lori and the 4 of you get shoved outside by the bouncers. They’re yelling for you to leave before they call the cops.

“You fucking bitch! Why would you sucker punch me like that?!”

“Cause you fucking deserve it! And you better keep your mouth shut or I’ll tell about how you like to lie about sexual assault too!” Your voice is slurred. She goes quiet after that, the person she had come with walks away. “Shit. How hard did that guy hit you?” Sarah asks. “Pretty hard but he had fucking brass knuckles on.” You hiss, yanking your arms away from her.

Pretty soon a bunch more people come spilling out, the guy who had hit you is barely walking now. Clearly having gotten his ass beat despite having brass knuckles on his hands still. You start yelling obscenities at him and Sarah has to pull you back further. You’re drunk and pissed off now, a bad combo.

“Sit the fuck down and keep this on the back of your head. We’re going to the ER damnit.” She hisses, pushing the cloth into the back of your head. You’re unsure of when she had snagged it. Mumbling as you sit with your head hanging. “Not going to the fucking ER.” You roll your eyes. “Take me to base”

She shushes you and puts the phone up to her ear.

“Hey uh.. Soap?” She says it into the phone. You try to stand up, trying to stop her but she pushes you back down. “Sarah? What’s up?” She hears his tired voice come across the phone. “We uh.. well.” She laughs. “We drank a little too much and some stuff happened. We could use a ride.” She mumbles. “What happened? Is everyone okay?”

“Well. I’m trying to tell Y/N to go to the ER but she won’t listen, so I figured if I get her back to base maybe you or someone else could convince her.” She laughs.

“What’s going on? Is she okay?” Soap stands up quickly. This wakes Ghost up in his bed across the room. “Can you please just get here? We’re on the corner of 5th and 8th NW. Oh and whatever you do. Do not tell Captain Price.” She says.

He sets the phone down with a sigh. Sliding his boots on and grabbing his keys. This is the first time he’s ever gotten a call from her for the both of you, but he’s owed you one. The both of you coming to his rescue a time or two. “What’s wrong Johnny?” Ghost asks. “Uh.. apparently something happened at the bar downtown and Y/N and Sarah need a ride.” He mumbles. “I’ll come with. Give me a minute.” He worries as he creeps out of his shared base room with Ghost.

“Alright.” He hesitates outside and curses himself when Captain Price happens to be passing by, coming off of watch. “Soap, something going on?” He asks. “Uh..” he hesitates. “Y/N and Sarah need a ride from the bar so we’re going to get them.” He mumbles. Captain Price nods. “Mind if I tag along? I could use a drink.” He smiles. Soap knows he’s caught now. “Uhhh…” he hesitates. Ghost sighs. “Just tell him Johnny.”

Soap groans. “Something happened and Y/N needs to go to the ER but they wouldn’t say what for.” He mumbles. “You’ve got to be joking.” He sighs. “Well. What’re we waiting for? Let’s go.” He takes off walking down the corridor and Johnny beats himself up. Sarah is gonna be so pissed.

Price hops into his truck. Soap decides to take his car as well just in case. Ghost rides with him.

They meet at the bar, they’re all familiar with the area, having been to the bar a time or two. They pull up to the curb and see Sarah waiting outside with you.

Soap arrives first and gives Sarah enough time to complain. “What is he doing here Soap?” She seethes. “He overheard Sarah. Not my choice.” He mumbles back. You have your head lowered, a towel against the back.

“The hell happened? What’s going on?” Your Captain asks as he approaches.

“Uh.. well.”

“Fucking- stupid fucking bitch. Who brings brass knuckles to the bar and still loses the fight.”

They can barely make out what you’re saying your words are so slurred.

Captain Price kneels to see the damage, moving the towel for a second. “Oh shit!” He mumbles. Putting it back immediately. “Jesus, that’s a massive gash. She’s going to the hospital.” He breathes. “No! I’m fine.” You finally look up and that’s when they see the already bruised eye you’ve got. A busted lip and blood rushing down your face. “Fucks sake.” Captain Price. “Come on, I’ll take her to the ER.”

“No!” You start flailing the moment he helps you up.

He lowers you for just a second. Voice clear and daring as he says it.

“If you don’t relax and do as I say, I will have you running laps at 4am for weeks.” He seethes. You sigh. You give in, he carries you to his truck.

“Take Sarah to base.” He calls to Soap. He buckles you in and climbs into the drivers seat, pulling off of the curb in a hurry.

“She’s so dead.” Sarah mumbles to Soap. “Yeah? You are too.” He laughs.

“The hell were you thinking? You could’ve gotten yourself fucking killed tonight Y/N.” Price sighs. You scoff. “None of your business. You weren’t supposed to even be here.” Your words are still slurred. He tries not to get mad, knowing that you’re just drunk. “What did you even get into a fight over?” He asks.

You go quiet almost immediately. “Y/N?”

He glances over at you, seeing the way you’ve frozen up.

“I.. it..” you look away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Tell me.” He’s stern.

“Because of you, okay?”

“What?”

You groan. “Because. That stupid blonde girl that used to be on our base was there and she was saying shit about you alright?”

Hearing that you’d gotten into a fight with another soldier has hair rising on his skin. This was not good.

“What did she say?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“The hell is going on with you? You don’t act like this.”

“I’ll tell you when I’m sober alright?”

John’s head spins, he didn’t know what the hell was going on. You got into a fight over him, with one of his previous recruits? The hell was going on here.

He gets you to the hospital without another word shared between the two of you.

It’s hours later when you’re allowed to go home. You get into his truck, sober now. You’ve got fresh staples in your head and couple glued wounds on your face. They had to bring an officer in and take down a description of who attacked you and what he attacked you with since it was considered a deadly weapon in the state you were currently living in. “Alright, time to talk.” He sighs. “What on earth could she have said to warrant such a reaction out of you? I know you. You’re not like this.”

You laugh. Looking over at him.

“Alright but if I tell you, you can’t interrupt. You let me get every bit of this off of my chest and you don’t respond until I’m done.” You look at him, still parked in the parking garage of the hospital. He nods. Getting nervous because this seemed serious.

You sigh. Looking away from him, you start. “I have feelings for you. I have since we started that mission in Afghanistan. The first time I met you, yeah. Whatever. That girl, started in about you. She started it. I mean completely and totally saying some of the foulest things I’ve ever heard. She didn’t like you, she’s wanted to do this or that, accuse you of… of touching her to get you fired.” You pause with a sigh. “And than when I took your side she accused me of fucking you. Called you old and shit.” You shake your head. He’s looking at you, stunned. “So I just lost it okay? I lost it and I swung first. She hit me once in the face and then when I was on her some dude she was with hit me in the back of the head but he had brass knuckles on.” You finish.

“And it’s not out of the ordinary because it’s not the first fight I’ve gotten into over you, it’s the only one you know about.” You mumble.

“That’s it, that’s everything.” You sigh. He’s silent for a while. Thinking of what exactly to say to you. “How many fights have you gotten into over me?” He asks. “Several. Gaz takes me to Urgent Care all the time.” You mumble. After that, he’s silent.

When he still says nothing, you turn to the window. Clearly regretting your admission. “I know it was stupid.. I know that I shouldn’t hav-“

“Y/N?” He asks. “What?” You look at him. He throws the truck in Drive and pulls out of the parking garage. “You can’t fight every single person over me just because you like me.”

You shake your head. “It’s not that. It’s not just that I like you. It’s because you’re the best captain and the best superior I’ve ever worked for alright?”

He says nothing. It’s silent for the rest of the ride.

When you get to base, you get out of his truck. Assuming you’ll get booted off of the base in no time at your admission. About to lose your spot in the best task force you’ve ever been apart of all because of your stupid brain. He says nothing, letting you go. The others don’t hear you come in.

Sarah spots you but doesn’t show herself, only walking out of her room when she sees him follow you inside a few minutes later. “Is she okay?” she asks.

“She’s fine, no concussion.”

She nibbles at her lip. “Captain..” she starts. “Did she.. did she tell you anything?” She asks. “What do you mean?” He looks unimpressed. “About.. maybe how she feels about you? Or anything?” He laughs, looking down at the ground. “Yes she did. She told me about all the fights. All that.” He mumbles. “Oh.. good. I’m sorry about tonight, it caught us all off guard.” She says. “I’ll take any punishment you’re going to give.”

“No. I’m letting you off with a warning and putting Y/N on an extra watch for a couple weeks because she was the aggressor tonight.” He sighs. She nods her head. “Thank you Captain.” She whispers. “Go to bed now.” He nods. She smiles sadly and closes the door. She feels for you.

The next morning, you’re up and sitting in the mess hall. You’re not eating anything but you’re drinking coffee. You’re the first one awake.

“Why you awake lass?” Soap asks. “Head hurts.” You mumble. “Obviously. What’d they do to you? Stitches?” He asks. “Staples.” You huff. “Ouch. He must’ve got you good.” He laughs. “Cheap shot but I probably deserved it.” You laugh. Captain Price walks into the mess hall and it’s Soaps cue to leave.

He gets coffee and sits in front of you. You say nothing.

“I’m putting you on watch for a couple weeks, an extra one.” He mumbles. “Ten to one in the morning.” He says. “Yes sir.” He’s surprised you don’t fight but you never have before. Last night was a different side of you he’s never seen.

You stand up, grabbing your coffee and walking away. He sighs to himself. “She’s got it bad, Cap.” Gaz laughs. He’d walked inside after you. “Yeah, yeah she does. Apparently everyone but me saw it.” He chuckles. “Yeah, it’s very obvious. Just watch her.” He laughs. Price shakes his head.

Later that night, you make your way up the stairs to the watch tower. You expect anyone else but freeze when you see him.

He notices but doesn’t say anything. “Um.. here to take over.” You mumble. “No. I just took over for Soap. Have a seat.” He nods toward the other chair. You obey immediately. Something you’ve always done. He’d been thinking to himself for a few minutes before you came up. About how you always had those marks on your face. Black eyes, split lips. Busted knuckles. He saw it but never asked, and a time or two when he did, you said it was an accident from sparring. How much he’d truly missed, he’d asked around about it and it was a lot. He feels like a bad captain. For not asking and not noticing.

It’s quiet the first few days on watch with him. He checks up on you, asks you to look into a flashlight. Makes sure you don’t have a concussion or anything.

As you start healing and spending more time together. He sees you. Your smile is amazing, your laugh is unmatched. You really start to open up to him. Telling him about yourself and stories on missions. Listening and laughing when he tells you some of his own. You’re easy to talk to.

He’d just finished one, a story. You were laughing. Turning away from him. He’s smiling too. He starts to notice the little scars on your face and hands. Your knuckles are scarred and you have a couple scars across your lip. A couple that scatter your face. Cheekbone, brow bone, the bridge of your nose. It makes him sad, because those are there permanently. Because of him.

He sighs. “You’re a real nice girl, you know that?” He says it before he can stop himself. “Makes me wonder what it is you see in me.” He mumbles. Your smile falters as soon as he says it and he feels bad for ruining the mood. “I’m just an old man, and they’re right. I can be a real prick.” He laughs.

You shake your head, a tiny smile hints at your lips.

“You’re hard on people because you care about them. Your harshest moments are when you’re most scared, when people do stupid things that endanger themselves or others. You never yell or get mad unless you have a reason. Usually to reprimand or correct someone for putting themselves in harms way. You care about people. And you’re… respectful and calm and reassuring. When you see us going through our own shit, you send us home or send us back to base when we’re not feeling it. You try your hardest for us and that’s what I see.” You mumble. “I don’t see what everyone else does. I don’t think the things you do have any kind of malicious intent.”

He looks down at his entwined hands. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He sighs. “But Y/N.” He looks at you. “You can’t keep getting into fights and stuff over this, alright? People will say what they want to say. They’ll do what they want to do.” He shakes his head. “Trust me, it’s hard but you have to be the bigger person and walk away.” You nod your head. “I know.” Your nose burns and tears fill your eyes. Why are you about to cry? “I’m sorry, Captain. I’m not trying to let you down.” He can hear it in your voice that you’re getting upset.

“You’re not letting me down. You’re a great soldier and you’re a good girl. This is just.. a lesson.” He laughs. “I have to go to the bathroom.” You mumble. You stand up, going for the door.

You grasp the door handle.

When it opens a crack, he pushes it shut with his hand above your head. You gasp as it slams back shut, seeing his hand over your head. “What are you doing?” You ask.

You turn to look at him, but don’t expect him to be so close. Grasping your chin and lifting your face to look at him. “You know, out on the field.” He starts. “I pair you and I together, because I don’t feel that others will watch you as close as I do. I watch you like a hawk, I’ve killed over you. Do you know that?” He stares into your eyes. You shake your head. “Think about it for a second darling, go on.” He nods. He rests his entire forearm on the door just above your head. His sleeve presses into the top of your head. He’s insanely close to you.

There’s one scenario he needs you to remember.

When you remember it, you look up at him with wide eyes. “You… killed him because of me?” You ask. You don’t remember it well but well enough. The only time you’d ever seen Captain Price angry like that on the field. He surrendered even, but it didn’t matter. You told your captain you’d keep it to yourself after the fact. The list of secrets you’d been keeping for him kept growing.

“He commented on how pretty you looked. Said that when they got their hands on you…” he pauses. “Wouldn’t let it happen. But you know that.” He laughs. “Wasn’t the first time I’ve killed over you and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Not with how savage and ruthless these terrorists are, they’re bound to say something about you that will push me over the edge. Apparently you defend me just as much as I defend you.” He leans in closer and you close your eyes, taking in a breath.

Your heart races in your chest, the things he’s saying. It’s overwhelming.

When he’s pressing his lips to yours, you’re jumping for a second.

His lips are on yours, this is real.

You’re stiff for a minute but eventually melt into him as he kisses you. He lets you adjust and then he deepens the kiss, reaching for your thighs to lift you up, pinning your hips to the door with his own.

You gasp into his lips when he ruts his groin into you. This is what you had dreamt about for months and it was actually happening.

Your mind is foggy, you go with whatever he’s doing. Letting him memorize every curve of your body, the feeling of his fingertips on your bare skin and the burn that they leave. He pulls away from your kiss and runs his thumb over your bottom lip. Tracing the small line scars with the pad of his thumb. The grooves of his fingerprints rough from callouses. His hands are rough and calloused but his touch is soft as he glides his hands over you. Sliding them up your shirt and gripping your hips. He’s all but panting as he tears into you.

Your lips and cheeks flush red, breathless from nearly nothing but the thought of him. The feel of his tough hands on you.

He tugs your shirt up and over your head, thankful that it was just you and him alone. For hours. Once the fabric is discarded, his lips are on yours again. He refuses to think of anything other than you. Not worried about the cameras or what could be going on around him. He slides his shaft through the hole in his jeans, zipper unzipped enough to expose him. Letting you down long enough to get one leg out of your cargo pants before he’s raising you up again. Lowering you onto his dick. Sheathing you entirely on his fat cock.

When he bottoms out a gasp leaves your lips, a hiccup of the remaining air leaving your lungs. He’s a lot. More than you’ve ever taken and it’s been so long that you’d forgotten. The stretch of him burns a bit and tears corner your eyes. It’s unexpected. He shakes, hissing through gritted teeth at the feel of you wrapped around him. Your smooth skin and gentle pleas have him shaking more. “S-shit you feel good.” He breathes, burying his face into the crook of your neck, raising you up more at the bend of your knees. He slides deeper, places untouched by anyone but him. You wrap your arms around his neck and hold onto him. He wraps his arms around your middle, like a bear hug.

Only his cock is buried in you to the hilt and he’s not stopping until he’s made you his. He was always a selfish man.

John doesn’t care anymore, you’re his. You’re his and he’ll show you that you belong to him. That you’ll never feel this way with anyone else. He’ll make sure of it. He uses the wall to hold you still, hips jackhammering into yours at a ruthless pace. Just when you’re about to tap out, he adjusts just slightly and you can take a little more. Your thighs shake in his hands and he’s not letting you out of his grasp. Not until he’s ruined you. Not until you realize just what you’ve signed yourself up for you. A shaky cry leaves your lips and that’s how he knows he’s found it.

“Found it ah?” He laughs, it’s a taunt.

“That special little place, that feels so good? Such a good girl for me.” He breathes. “Ah! You’re s-so deep Captain.”

He hisses, your unsteady voice and how you say Captain has his nearly finishing right there. It’s straight up sinful leaving your lips in such a tone. “Fuck- got me close already.” He growls through gritted teeth. He’s a wild animal. Chasing after that high, desperate for it. A mewl leaves your lips when you cum. It’s unexpected and fast, the tip of his cock abuses that sensitive spot inside of you. Too much to handle. He sends you right into a blinding orgasm and you shake in his hold. His belt rattles with every hard thrust he takes. Over and over until he’s hissing out, nose wrinkling up as he finishes inside of you. Not a second thought about pulling out.

He’s breathless, panting hard as he halts his thrusts. Letting you throb and convulse around him. The little sparks shooting through you, remnants of what he’s just given you linger.

He lets you down and your legs shake, you have to hold onto him. He can’t help but laugh.

He helps you clean up before walking you back to your room. Asking Gaz to take over watch a little early.

He licks his lips as he hesitates leaving you at your door. “Um.. we’ll talk more tomorrow. Alright? Just uh.. try not to get into anymore fights darling.” He laughs.

“You want to stay?” You ask. Opening your door up wider for him. He laughs. “How about you grab some clothes and come back to mine hm?” He tilts his head. “Okay Captain.” You smile. When you turn your back to him, he can’t see your blushing red cheeks or the wide smile on your lips. How all of this time you’d waited and it was finally here.

The both of you walk back to his room, your change of clothes in hand.

Sarah and Soap watch from down the hall, trying to contain their laughs.

#call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #captain john price #mw2 smut #price mw2 #captain johnathan price #captain price #john price x reader

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velarisdusk · 3 months ago

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Burning Desire

Eris Vanserra x Reader

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

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

It’s been two weeks.

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

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

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

Two weeks of these thoughts hurtling through your mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another buzz and his next message appears.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’ve you been? You look…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you still up for company?

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

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

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

See you in 15.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s so special about it?”

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

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

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

“Someone’s got a massive ego.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nudge him playfully, your smile widening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

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

#velarisdusk hockey au #acotar #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x reader smut #eris vanserra smut #eris acotar #acotar smut #acotar reader insert #hockey au #acotar hockey au #as per yoozh if you see typos FUCKING TELL ME PLEASE THATS SO EMBARRASSING

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audhdnight · 1 year ago

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Spanking is to parenting what prisons are to criminal justice. Allow me to elaborate:

What does spanking do? “It teaches kids to behave!” Actually, no. It teaches kids to fear their caregiver(s). But say we go with that line. How does spanking teach kids to behave? “It shows them the consequences of bad actions!” Actually, no. It shows kids that when the caregiver is displeased, the kid gets hurt. In the mind of the child, the sequence of events is not [misbehave:consequence]. It is [caregiver unhappy:pain]. And maybe you’ll say “But my kid stopped mouthing off after I started spanking them for it”. Okay, sure. Maybe they stopped responding when you argue, but only because the learned to fear what their response would bring. They’re not holding their tongue because they realized it’s disrespectful or rude or whatever else you believe it is. They’re holding their tongue because they know it won’t do any good and will only make the situation worse for them. I can guarantee they are still thinking all those rebellious naughty talk-backy thoughts. They just aren’t saying them out loud. Spanking did not teach your child to behave, it taught them to walk on eggshells.

Similarly, prisons do absolutely nothing to enforce laws. Prisons do nothing to fix the real crimes that do get committed. A shooter or rapist or embezzler being incarcerated does not bring their victim back to life, un-traumatize them, or make reparations for any damages. Additionally, it makes life a living hell for the innocent people who end up in jail (OF WHICH THERE ARE A HELL OF A LOT). And maybe you might say that the point of prison is to encourage good behavior, because no one wants to go to jail. I would ask, then, why there are so many prisons, of which so many are full or overcrowded. Clearly, the threat of incarceration is not keeping people out of jail. Additionally, much like a child who was spanked being afraid to do normal things in their own home for fear of displeasing their caregiver, regular non-criminal people are afraid of prison, even though they have done nothing wrong. They know they could be incarcerated because of falsified evidence, biased testimonies, unfair trial, or simply bigotry. Especially people of color. Even though they haven’t done anything wrong, they are scared of what could happen to them if the person in power (police) was unhappy with them.

Negative consequences unrelated to the actual incident do not discourage “bad behavior”. Just like a child who is spanked will simply learn to be sneakier, a thief who goes to jail will simply cover their tracks better next time.

Stop spanking your kids, and abolish prisons. Have a nice day.

#gentle parenting #criminal justice system #prison abolition #police brutality #parenting #corporal punishment #prison system #child abuse #don’t hit your fucking kids

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coichii · 3 months ago

Text

22:43 - HYUNJIN

pairing - nerd!bf!hyunjin ♥︎ fem!reader

genre: angst, comfort & college AU

word count: 0.7k

warnings: negative self talk & swearing like once

A/N : this is very self indulgent bc 2 weeks in and math is already eating my ass ! also I’m sorry if this sounds rushed 🙏🏾 like I said math is beating me rn

“Ok, then after that you carry the x and combine the common factors.” He says, but to be honest, it all sounds like gibberish to you.

Math is the hardest subject to master in your eyes. All those formulas and variables go in one ear and out the other.

Hyunjin, being the incredibly smart and sweet boyfriend he is, kindly offered to help you. Of course you gladly accepted his help, but it would be a lie say you weren’t 5 seconds away from crying.

You groan, throwing your head down on your hands. You couldn’t understand a thing. The feeling of inferiority and stupidity were wracking your brain.

“Im so stupid, why can’t I understand this.” and more self deprecating thoughts were going through your mind. You hadn’t even realized that you had started crying, or that hyunjin was trying to get your attention.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?!” You hear his voice cut through your thoughts. He looks at you, obviously panicked from your sudden outburst. “I- I don’t know, i’m just s-so-“ You can't finish before a fresh set of tears and choked sobs are coming from your body.

Immediately he’s moving to hold you in his arms, stroking your lower back as you continue to cry. Quiet praises and hushes come out of his mouth, small kisses being placed to either side of your face.

It takes you a while to get yourself together again, choked sobs turning into small hiccups. You look up at hyunjin, a small, warm smile plastered on his lips.

“Can you tell me what happened, my love?” His voice sounds gentle, slighting healing the current tears in your heart. “I don’t k-know i think I got a little frustrated” You lie. You didn’t want to tell everything about how you were feeling to him.

It’s not that you didn’t trust him, you just didn’t want to be so vulnerable. However, he obviously caught this.

“You’re more than a little frustrated. Tell me what’s wrong so I can help you baby, that’s all I want to do for you.” The way he says it and looks, has all your walls opening immediately.

“I’ve just been so stressed. I can’t keep up hyune i can’t. I can’t stop myself from comparing me to my classmates. They’re so much better than i am. They don’t cry under the littlest bit of pressure, and they certainly aren’t crying over fucking calculous. I just.. don’t know what to do anymore.” You trail off at the end, heat rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment, even more so from his lack of response. You’re about to apologize for ranting before his voice cuts yours off.

“Oh Y/n, i wish you could see your self through my eyes.” He starts, eyes warm. “You really don’t know how absolutely intelligent you are. You got into this amazing school, your writing is so beautiful it brings me to tears, the way you explain your work is so incredible, and so much more. You are the smartest person I know baby, don’t compare yourself to anyone else you hear me. Not understanding something doesn’t and will never ever make you dumb.”

All you can do is hug and kiss him. The thoughts of inferiority don’t disappear, but they are definitely drowned out by the love of your life’s words.

You pull away, flashing him a bright smile, which he gladly reciprocates. “Now, why don’t you say we take a break and watch some spirited away, hmm?”

“But love, we still have all this left to finish.” You frown. You don’t want to pull him away from his own work just for you. “It’s okay, I honestly think I could use the break too.”

You sigh as you agree, his puppy eyes he starting staring at you becoming to much to handle.

As you get up, packing away your belongings, you can’t help but to think just how lucky you got to have a boyfriend as smart, loving, and caring as him.

back to masterlist

#skz x reader #skz #stray kids #straykids x reader #kpop #skz fluff #straykids x you #hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin comfort #hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #hyunjin skz #skz comfort #straykids comfort #needed this cus math is actually my biggest enemy

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damiansgoodgirll · 6 months ago

Note

Hey girl, I absolutely love your writing style so I was wondering if you could write about reader dating LA knight but them having a huge age difference (like he’s 41 and reader’s in her twenty’s) and people finding out about reader’s age and not being okay with their relationship but LA being so in love with her that he would go against his own fans to protect her from negative comments

first time writing for him!

la knight x reader + rhea x reader (platonic)

‼️a little angst (please tell me you get the reference from the title lol)

coal digger

“they hate me…” you said throwing yourself on the hotel bed.

“who?” your best friend rhea asked you.

“the fans, the people, everyone!”

“no one hates you” she laughed at your dramatic reaction.

“the comments they are leaving under our post together aren’t nice. the comments they are leaving under my post are mean and terrible! it’s clear that they hate me!” you said. rhea knew what you were referring about.

you and la knight started dating just a few months ago but the sparkle between you two was evident. you worked backstage as one of the social media managers and you loved your job at wwe, especially when you had to tour with the wrestlers to film and take pictures for the socials.

that’s how you two met. you were asked to take a video and you immediately connected. he was fun and charismatic, you were fun and charismatic. he was hot, you were hot. he was kind and you were kind.

rhea said that he was your soulmate and you almost believed her.

five months later, you two confirmed publicly your relationship. your colleague were happy for you two, saying that you found each others. his fans, on other hand, didn’t like you at all.

they thought you were there just for fame and money and that you didn’t really love him. they couldn’t be more wrong but you knew there was no arguing with the fans.

plus, your age difference wasn’t making it easy for you to be more likeable to his fans.

he was 41.

you were 25.

most of the nice comments were about how “gorgeous of a daughter he had” or “he found his sugar baby”, the worst comments were when they called you a “goal digger looking for fame” or just simply a “slut”.

“those aren’t his fans. his fans probably don’t even care about who he’s dating. those are just girls who are jealous because you two are dating and they’re not…you shouldn’t listen to those people y/n” rhea tried to comfort you.

“i know i shouldn’t but it’s not really nice when they’re calling me a slut just because i fell in love…” you were hurt and rhea realised that too but before she could talk, your boyfriend entered the room, sign that he just finished training for his upcoming match.

“hello ladies” he smiled at the both of you. rhea smiled back but you were too lost in your thoughts to acknowledge him.

“i’ll leave you two alone” rhea smiled before going somewhere else.

“what’s on your mind pretty girl?” he said sitting next to you on the bed.

“your fans hate me…”

“no they don’t” he replied back.

“but they do…and”

“and it’s bothering you…” he finished the sentence and you nodded.

“the don’t like me. they don’t like us together and i get it, maybe they are jealous, i would be jealous too if someone else was dating you” you said making him laugh “but it’s the lack of respect that i cannot stand. you don’t like me? just say it nicely please because i can’t stand seeing more comments of me being called a slut just because i love you and we are together…”

“wait what?” he asked a little shocked.

“what?”

“they called you a slut? are you serious?” you nodded at his question “this is not right at all, i’m so sorry love you have to go through this every single day…i had no idea of the mean comments they were leaving under your posts…they should definitely stop”

“they don’t want us together because of me. if i was your age probably no one would have said anything…but i’m 25 and they keep calling me a gold digger and”

“coal digger” he said making you chuckle.

“not the right time for the modern family reference” you laughed again.

“i know i just wanted to see your pretty smile” he smiled back at you “listen to me…i love you” he said sitting closer to you and opening his arms to let you lay your head on his chest “i love you so much y/n that words can’t even describe it…you are everything to me. i know comments get on your head but you shouldn’t let them okay? i love you for being you and that will never change.” he softly kissed your head and you smiled into his chest.

“thank you…”

“you don’t have to thank me love” he smiled back.

he knew his words would have helped you but he wanted his fans to understand that he was feeling for you was real.

so he took his phone out. took a cute selfie of you laying on his chest with your eyes closed and a big smile on his face.

i’m the luckiest man alive. i love this woman with all my heart, some of you probably won’t even understand but i don’t care. respect my girl and our relationship, thank you.

and then he posted it.

you saw his with your eyes little opened and you smiled. you loved how protective he was and you loved him for that.

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theastromind · 1 year ago

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Astrology Observations

I've had this blog for like 10 or so years and I've finally made my first ever astrology observations post. I hope y'all like it 👀

Most Scorpio placements I know have a really sweet tooth. They always gotta have something sweet after their meals.

People with Saturn in the 1st or negatively aspecting their sun can be really hard on themselves.

Neptune in 1st natives always have people projecting things on to them. Others think what they want of them regardless of how they actually are.

Because Neptune is the planet of illusions, when it’s in the 1st they also have a warped perception of themselves, whether that be negative or positive.

The most stubborn signs are the fixed signs, starting with Taurus and Scorpio. Leos can also be very stubborn because they hold a lot of pride within themselves. Aquarius are probably the most easy going out of the fixed signs, but when they like something, they tend to stick to it and can find it hard to change their mind.

Libra placements are seen as flakey, but they just want everyone to get along and be happy. They also hate injustice and aren’t afraid to stand up for others.

Tauruses tend to bottle up their emotions a lot. Especially if something has hurt them in the past, it’s hard for them to open up, and then almost shut down as they feel like they should carry the burden alone.

Sagittarius placements are the most open minded people I know. They are the most non judgemental out of the signs and want to experience and learn about different people and different cultures.

I also feel like because of this a lot of Sagittarius’s are more likely to be pansexual or bi, as they are open and accepting of anyone they meet.

Scorpios tend to have walls up around them as they may have likely experienced betrayal in the past. They can have a ‘I can’t trust anyone but myself’ mentality, so it takes a good while for them to open up to you. Because they feel things so deeply they honour their emotions and don’t want them to be taken advantage of.

People with their moon in the 12th can find it hard to find where their emotions stem from. It’s not that they don’t feel emotions, they actually do quite a lot, they have a hard time placing them. They are very receptive to other peoples emotions as the house is ruled by Pisces, their intuition is very strong if they have this placement.

I have a theory that whichever house your Saturn is in, is where you have a small body part. So for example my Saturn is in the 1st house and I have a really small head. My friend has her Saturn in the 12th and has really small feet.

A lot of people when they hear ‘Mercury in retrograde’ they’re like “oh no, gotta be more wary about relationships and communicating” etc. but those with natal Mercury retrograde have this kind of stuff happen to us every day. They have can have a hard time communicating their thoughts properly, and can get overwhelmed when they fall out with someone especially because of a miscommunication.

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think and if you would like more of these!~ ⭐︎

#astrology #theastromind #astrology observations #astro placements #astrology community #astro community #astro observations

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knavesflames · 4 months ago

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halloooooo !! I’m not sure if requests are open but if they’re not it’s okay if you don’t write this. I wanted to ask if you could write an Arlecchino x reader (fluff, can be fic or headcanons or anythint) where reader is insecure about her face ? Like they don’t think they’re pretty enough bc of their friends and stuff. Thank you !! Take your time and have a nice day <3

I needed something like this rn so I’m almost glad it took so long for me to get to (though I am sorry, i have been so busy) a lil hard to be positive right now but i tried my best!!

Word count: 707

Contents: fluff, insecure reader

UTC!

Your friends are beautiful, handsome. They truly are. Your girlfriend, Arlecchino, is stunning too. It seems everyone around you has the perfect face, looks utterly amazing. You find yourself admiring them whenever you’re around them. Yet, you, yourself, are not any of those things. Not in your own mind. You can’t even look at yourself in the mirror, at least, not recently. You find your eyes burning with hot tears the second you catch a glimpse, and you find yourself growing bitter at the sight of anyone who doesn’t look like you. At least before it got so bad you could joke about how you wanted to be them, and now jealousy has given way to hatred, even if they’ve done nothing wrong.

It isn’t like Arlecchino hasn’t noticed, either. The way your makeup mirror has been flipped around so you don’t have to see yourself, or the way you purposely avoid looking towards any reflective surface, even during intimate activities. And if we’re honest, Arlecchino loves to make you look at yourself while you’re coming undone because of her, except her recent advances have been met with a firm ‘no’.

She can’t figure out why you suddenly began acting like this. Any mention of either your frame or your face turns you angry and silent, with your fists clenching. You aren’t angry really though, you’re just sad. Sad you won’t ever look like the people you wish you could look like. Devastated at the thought that Arlecchino will one day see sense and leave you for one of them. The thought of that hurts you so much you begin distancing yourself from her, too. Arlecchino, at first, is confused. She, for the life of her, cannot understand any of this. Yet, the day comes where you can’t even bring yourself to look at her while she speaks to you, and she can’t seem to keep herself quiet anymore.

“Look at me,” she snaps. She tries not to lose her temper with you, not when she knows there’s a clear reason why you’re acting the way you’re acting, but you’re not saying anything, you won’t even look at her.

You feel your own jaw setting, all of your negative feelings bubbling up for no reason. Unfortunately this time, she seems to be the target. “Or what, you’ll leave me for someone prettier?”

Arlecchino doesn’t flinch, but her expression, the one that’s usually so graceful and emotionless, crumples into a frown of pure disbelief and confusion. Her voice this time comes out as a quiet hiss. “What? You doubt my affection for you after all this time? Is that what this is about?”

When you go to argue back, and your voice breaks into a cry, she softens as much as someone like Arlecchino can soften. “I see,” she murmurs, sitting down next to you. Her hand softly lands on your knee, squeezing it gently. “This again, is it? I have told you countless times—“

“It doesn’t help. I still feel this way.” Your attempt at a venomous response does nothing but highlight how you’re feeling, the exact opposite effect you wanted. Still, you sniffle, your hands curled in on themselves as you talk. “No words will help that I want to rip off my own skin because it feels like I am the ugliest creature to ever walk the earth, or that I feel like I have been created for the universe to be amused at my torment.”

“Yet to me, you are a creature full of beauty and grace. You are wonderful, your face is, too. Do you not think I would have left if I wanted to?” Your response to her words is silence. Unfortunately for your brain, she has a point. She could leave in a heartbeat, you couldn’t stop her if you pleaded. She stays, though. Doesn’t that say enough?

“If I didn’t know better, I would say you are a descendant of a goddess. So, how dare you speak about yourself in that way? I did not fall for your friends, or some girl on the street. I demand nothing but the best for myself, and that is exactly what I have. Next time you feel this way, you come to me.”

#🔥 𝔎𝔫𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔰𝔣𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔦𝔫𝔟𝔬𝔵 #genshin impact #arlechinno genshin #arle #arlechinno x reader #genshin x reader #genshin wlw #genshin fanfic #knavesflames #arlecchino fluff #arlecchino x you #arlecchino x reader #Arlecchino genshin #Arlecchino #arlecchino genshin impact #genshin impact arlecchino #arle fluff #sigh i hate my face and my body time for plastic surgery #I’m so filled with rage I’m self projecting so hard it’s insane sorry

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aimseytv · 5 months ago

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this isnt an ask just a ramble i needed to get out about au sunship, i've never had tumblr before and im running on little sleep so this isnt going to be very coherent

But like the parallel between when guqqie felt guilty about getting aimsey to lie because they didn’t want acho to see them differently/yell at them vs aimsey getting angry that guqqie told michella about what hera did because aimsey didn’t want anyone to see guqqie negatively and yell at her (i can’t phrase things right) THESE SCENCES ARENT SIMILAR BUT THEY REMIND ME OF EACHOTHER SO MUCH LIKE KIND OF FORESHADOWING??

AIMSEY SAYING

“other people’s opinions… aren’t something we can control, ….. you need to not worry about what other people think of me…”

Guqqie “people shouldn’t judge you based on one action… i just want people to see that your good”

“…i just don’t think you should be so worried about the way people are gonna perceive me because at the end of the day their thoughts don’t really matter”

and guqqie being like “they matter to me i want everyone to like you cause your great”

“as long as you like me then i’m okay”

And this scene isn’t made like a very big deal but like it does matter obviously and then later after mr. loverman (before they see guqqs for the first time) aimsey doesn’t think guqqs likes it anymore and so like they feel like what everyone else always thought of him guqqie also thinks of him now (“youre just a demon”)

and then during the wall scene when aimsey is like did you tell michella and guqqies like yeah and aimseys upset because like

“i didn’t want people to see you in the wrong way, guqqie!”

“that’s not up to you!”

“yes it is! ….. i didn’t want people to see you the same way they saw me! i didn’t want it. i didn’t want it anymore. and i just didn’t want people to start making up these things and painting you in a terrible light-

people expect these things of me and they expect me to be this bad thing and i just didn’t want that to happen to you. i just didn’t want it ok…

if i told people that you beat me do you genuinely think people would just look at you and they would think that everything’s ok? No, they wouldn’t guqqie! they would see you differently. and i didn’t want that okay! i just didn’t want that! i just wanted things to be okay…”

so we’ve kind of known this whole time that aimsey really does care about what others think of him but they didn’t quite let on to it when guqqie was talking to her about it but during the wall scene we really see how much others seeing aimsey in a negative light has affected it and how much he’s been hurt by it to the point where they’re genuinely terrified of guqqie also having to go through that!! and just!!! They announcement has made me rewatch a lot of the vods/the ausunshipduo movie and im brain rotting about them but no one I know will listen to me ramble so i just needed this to go somewhere (sorry) ive reread this to see if it makes sense but my eyes hurt so idk if it does or not (im so sorry)

this is so sweet i read the entire thing :) glad you love ausmp gamer

#asksey

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signanothername · 2 months ago

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penny for your thoughts on dadmare and more fandom takes??

🪙

Tbh Anon you have to be a bit more specific with what fandom takes you want my opinion on cause I genuinely can’t think of any shshhshshs

But for dadmare… hmmmmmmm

It’s… I have complicated feelings about this trope

Like on one hand, I love the exploration of dadmare as a concept and would genuinely love for it to be explored in a deep meaningful way

On the other hand… the fandom never actually explores it in a deep meaningful way so everytime I come across dadmare a part of me dies inside

Like the fandom immediately settles for “tired generic dad trying to control his rowdy kids” and i’m here like :’)

Like i’d love for dadmare to actually be explored in depth, like the shift for Nightmare from being a bitch to being “dadmare” how does Nightmare deal with MTT in a dadmare way while staying true to his character

How did Nightmare develop and change and how does he feel about being “dadmare”, does he struggle to face the consequences of the abuse he put MTT through and how does he make it up to them? but like also for the love of god you can explore this trope without having MTT act like children, they’re literally +30 old men and you don’t have to infantilize them for the trope to work

Also hot take but everytime MTT call Nightmare “dad” unironically an angel loses its wings, it just ruins the vibes for me, like dadmare is a trope yet people genuinely take it too literally, which again just plays into the infantilization of adult characters

Hell, relationships aren’t one sided, how does MTT feel about Nightmare’s shift, do they trust him or do they take it as an opportunity to escape, do they hate Nightmare but warm up to him or do they not care for his change of heart

Like here’s an example, when people write dadmare, they write his ability to absorb MTT’s negativity to relieve them of their pain right? Ok cool, I LOVE THAT! What I hate tho is the fact every single person in the gang seems to “trust” Nightmare with their life and how all of them react the same way

Basically the MTT are reduced to cardboard cutouts that are literally just duplicates of each other, they all have the exact same reaction to anything Nightmare does, like you’re actually gonna sit here and tell me that Killer trusts Nightmare with his soul????? What did Nightmare do to earn that trust, and Killer isn’t a trusting person to begin with

Hell what did Nightmare do in the first place? Even when the interpretation of Nightmare is that he’s kind from the beginning and that he “saved them”, do you honestly believe that Murder would genuinely feel saved? Are you gonna tell me Horror is gonna stay and live with Nightmare by his own volition and abandon his brother where he only goes back to “visit” him? Since when has Nightmare become more important to Horror than Papyrus?

Hell since when can Murder, Killer and Horror communicate well?? Since when were they super close to each other and since when was Murder ok with Killer’s existence considering his very dangerous Determination and Chara-like nature?

Since when was Killer super emotional in stage 2 and since when was his other stages completely forgotten to fit the perfectly happy and healthy family that the fandom is trying to force onto these obviously unhealthy characters with unhealthy relationships and destructive behaviors

Like don’t get me wrong, people are obviously allowed to explore their fave characters however they like, but my point is, I can’t enjoy the trope of Dadmare even tho i want to, cause the fandom just settles for very straight forward answers to every problem, every little problem is immediately resolved with a snap of a finger

Everything is happy and rainbows and roses and any problems the MTT have they just go to dadmare and suddenly they’re no longer self destructive cause dadmare immediately saves them cause he always has the answer!!!

And i’m here still waiting for an interpretation of dadmare that actually pulls me in and actually interests me like

#anothers ask

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world0fmadness · 2 months ago

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LOVIN

peter steele x reader

♡ nsfw headcanons for peter!

୨୧ i combined two requests for this one because i think they’re just very similar and work well together! hopefully the anons do not mind <3

♡ requested by anon | view my metal masterlist here

reading music recommendations: love you to death by type o negative - remember me by centox

* 18 + content, please do not read if you’re a minor *

♡ due to his height and general build, peter really likes when you ride him!

୨୧ wether it be riding him as he lays back on the bed, his big hands gently gripping your hips and guiding you as you bounce on his cock, your hands resting on his chest, him looking up at you with glazed over eyes and his mouth dropped open to release deep moans and groans

♡ or when you simply straddle him on a seat, wether it be the couch in your living room, a seat in front of a dressing table backstage and so on!

୨୧ he likes that quite a bit because it nearly makes you eye level with him, your eyes holding deep, intimate contact as you grind on his cock and balance yourself with hands on his broad shoulders, digging your nails in just slightly when he reaches that spot so deep inside of you, making stars fill your vision

♡ peter specifically absolutely loves watching you orgasm in these positions, admiring the way you throw your head back, showing off your neck previously marked with love bites, your hair cascading down your back and falling over your chest

୨୧ another way he likes to fuck you is by holding you up in his arms, against walls and such!

♡ your legs can barely even wrap around his entire waist whilst his big hands effortlessly hold you under your thighs

୨୧ he’ll bring one of his hands up and place it behind your head, making sure your head doesn’t bang against the hard wall or door, don’t worry! he can still hold you just fine with one hand

♡ he’s just so tall and broad, he can’t really do missionary and similar positions, they strain his back and just aren’t comfortable for him at all…

୨୧ obviously i do not have to go crazy deep into it because we’ve all seen it but his cock is big too

♡ when you ride him, it hits all the right, perfect places inside of you, constantly hammering against your g-spot as you moan and whine in ecstasy

୨୧ peter would probably be able to make you squirt really easily too!

♡ when he feels your cunt tightening around him even more, gripping his cock as it pulses inside of you, he’ll usually bring one of his hands to your clit and give you some extra attention there, only causing more pleasure to course through your body

୨୧ you squirting pulls him into his orgasm too, the feeling of your cunt being the tightest it can be around him, your walls spasming as you gush? yeah, it’s game over for him

♡ when peter cums, he likes to cum inside of you! so it really is no wonder you guys end up with a kid…

୨୧ so let’s talk about that a little!

♡ peter never really had a breeding kink… at least, not before he met you and had been with you for quite a while

୨୧ it’s probably you who brings up the idea of children, likely when watching him play with your cat or do some household tasks…

♡ your mind just gets filled with images of him holding a little double of himself on his hip as he does the dishes or holding the baby down to the cat, showing them how to stroke it and talking softly down to them in his deep voice

୨୧ but not only do wholesome thoughts fill your mind as you watch him… oh no, dirty, filthy thoughts are quick to bandwagon!

♡ thoughts of him holding you down on his cock, thrusting his hips up into you and stilling as soon as he cums, his cock settled deep inside of you to assure his none of his cum goes to waste…

୨୧ thoughts of going multiple rounds, making sure your body gets its fill of his cum, only stopping when you both physically cannot go any more…

♡ you have to shake yourself out of it, quickly clenching your thighs together to quell the need you feel in your cunt but peter notices your odd behaviour and looks towards you with a raised eyebrow, approaching you and placing his large hands on your hips before asking what’s up

୨୧ at first you assure him it’s nothing, but he knows you better and when you do just tell him, you blurt it all out! every thought you’ve been having, filthy and fluffy alike…

♡ only then, does it awake something in peter too, your spoken thoughts infecting his mind as he listens with slightly wide eyes before slipping his hands under your ass and picking you up, holding you on his waist as he smirks

୨୧ it doesn’t take long for him to have carried you off to the bedroom, sharing open mouthed kisses as he slowly strips you of your clothes, discarding of them across the floor before he pulls away to admire your nude body with glazed over eyes, taking his spot next to you before taking your hands in his and helping you settle atop him

♡ baby making with him is soft, he makes love to you as you do him, he wants it to be special and somehow even more loving than usual sex with him

୨୧ most of your thoughts about peter turn out to be true and played out, the multiple rounds especially!

♡ peter barely even stops to catch his breath, not that he really needs to because you’re the one on top, he just guides your bounces atop him, one of his hands going up to grope and caress your boob as the other stays gripping your hip

୨୧ right after finishing inside of you, he just lets you catch your breath and recover before you start bouncing again, praising you a bit from below

♡ he won’t be the most talkative during sex but he will mumble some things to you, his voice even deeper than usual as his mind is foggy with pleasure and love

୨୧ when you guys are finally done, out of breath and beyond tired, peter will help you slide off his cock, groaning deeply when he sees cum slowly start to ooze out of you, offering to run you a bath if you want one

♡ if you do want a bath, he’ll make it a bubble bath, not even bothering to get redressed as he goes to run the water and prepare the bathroom for you!

୨୧ he’ll either get in the bath with you, allowing you to rest back against his broad chest as he talks to you softly or he might just sit next to the bath as you bathe, washing your hair for you so that you can just relax

♡ if you just want to sleep, that’s totally fine with him! he’ll let you rest your head on his chest as you drift to sleep, stroking your stomach under the blanket, talking to you quietly about how you’ll make a great mother and if it didn’t work this time, you can just try again tomorrow

୨୧ and when you do fall pregnant?

♡ peter adores pregnant sex with you, always letting you drag him off to the bedroom due to your hormones going crazy, praising you and telling you how beautiful you look carrying his child, bringing his large hands up to massage your sore boobs <3

#requested ✩#peter steele x reader #peter steele headcanons #type o negative x reader #type o negative headcanons #headcanons

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lowkeyremi · 1 year ago

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Self Conscious Connie x black!reader

AN: Connie's been on my mind for awhile now. I remember younger me being self conscious about my stretch marks lmao!! Just comfort writing cuz connie would hype your ass up

CW: connie smacks ur ass once, slightly suggestive cuz ur half-naked(?)

There’s a pout on your face and for good reason you tell yourself. That fancy floor mirror Connie bought for you reflected your body. Your face is pretty and your body’s pretty, but these stretch marks… they aren’t cute.

You sigh looking at them on your thighs, they mark parts of your ass too. “They ruin my body.” You whisper quietly to yourself. You think of those girls on magazine covers, they don’t have stretch marks, just pretty clear skin.

They don’t add anything to your beauty, they just take up space on your body.

“Ouuuuu what my pretty mama doing in here???” Connie wolf whistles when he sees you half-naked in the mirror. Those thoughts you have about yourself disappear briefly. Connie your boyfriend (and ultimate hype man) smiles showing all his teeth. He gives you a hug from behind and takes a step back to look at you some more.

“Gah damn look at you, all pretty, all the time.” He bites his lip and you giggle a little bit.

“I was just looking at my stretch marks…” You trail, not continuing the sentence any further. Connie would scold you for thinking negatively about your marks.

“Ain’t they pretty? Shows how phat my mama’s ass is. They look so good on those thighs too.” His hands are quick to trail your stretch marks which littered your thighs and ass. There’s a warm feeling inside your stomach, a feeling of being loved.

“I was actually thinking the opposite. I don’t really like them.” You mumble, Connie tells you to speak up so you repeat what you had just said louder.

His hand comes down on your ass and you aren’t even phased at this point, he loves to smack your ass. “I don’t know why you don’t like ‘em, shows that you’re all natural. I get the real deal.”

“Yeah I know, but if you could, wouldn’t you want my thighs and ass to look normal?” It’s a stupid question really, because your smitten boyfriend is obviously gonna disagree.

“This is normal, just cuz stretch marks aren’t ideal in the beauty industry doesn’t mean they’re ugly. I’m dating you cuz I like you for you, not just your body. You’re pretty with stretch marks. Remember that.” He rambles.

You smile at him and kiss the tip of his nose, “I love you, Con.”

He grabs you by the waist and pulls you in for a real kiss, when he breaks the kiss he rolls his eyes, “thought you could get away with one little peck, done lost your mind. I love you too.”

#aot x reader #aot x black reader #connie aot #connie springer #connie x black reader #connie x reader #connie springer x reader #x black reader #black reader #attack on titan

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lovelessrage · 9 months ago

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Loveless: A Loveless Review

[Plain Text: Loveless: A Loveless Review]

Trigger Warnings For: Discussion of sex, sex negativity, platonormativity, arophobic tropes, and anti-loveless rhetoric

Disclaimer/Disclosure: I couldn’t finish this book. This will factor heavily into the review, as it has to do with how some scenes, details, and the writing quality were just very hard to sit with and continue. I got about 50% through, so I didn’t just skim pages and get back to you on it.

You might guess I don’t think of this book highly if I had to put it down and stop reading. This would be correct. However, I have more in depth thoughts than that. If you like this book and don’t want to read negative things about it, that's fine, but I implore you to read it anyway. A lot of the problems in this book are present in a lot of creations I see and can be a valuable teaching lesson; loveless people aren’t out to ruin your fun because biases got questioned.

Alright. Enough disclaimers. Review under the cut.

The Bingo Card: Surprisingly, Not A Strikeout

People who have been following me for a while may remember I mentioned I went into reading this book with a bingo card in hand: Loveless and Tired Bingo, a sheet made by yours truly. I did not get Bingo with this book! I did, however, fill 17 spaces out of 25; it just didn’t happen to line up, not because the book passed with flying colors. We’ll return to the Bingo Card at the end of this post to see what it looked like. But, letting you know, that’s a rate of 68% of all squares ticked on Loveless and Tired Bingo. Not looking so hot.

Let’s start with the meat of the post so nobody has to read it all if they just wanted my representation opinions. Other things like writing will be shuffled down for your convenience.

Edit: Past Scowl is a liar and a fraud and did not have maims glasses on, and misread the bingo card! I did get Bingo. Oops. Point still stands because the data is the same, I just gave this book a sliver more credit than it deserved for not getting one.

Platonormativity, Envy, and The Loneliness Whirlpool

If this book had a full course meal, normativity would ironically be a key ingredient in every plate on the menu. Loveless has a platonormativity problem that confronts you from page 1, more realistically before that; the blurb!

[Text ID: From the marvelous author of Heartstopper comes an exceptional YA novel about discovering that it's okay if you don't have sexual or romantic feelings for anyone... since there are plenty of other ways to find love and connection. /End ID]

I promise not all my complaints will be raving about one sentence, but this kinda encapsulates the entirety of my problem with Loveless: Georgia Warr is not supported in her own novel. Loveless is a deeply insecure book that many can relate to, but, really… does it alleviate that insecurity, or just cover it up? There’s an unspoken “but” to every part of Loveless’ philosophy about aspec people [especially aroaces], where they must have platonic love to make them whole, to “fix” and “redeem” their lacking attractions. This has always bothered me, and it’s not an uncommon opinion in the community, unfortunately.

Aroaces aren’t allowed to simply “be” – they must be more. They must be so platonically invested you forget they’re aroace, because they have all this other type of love to give the world. It’s reflective of a view on a community sourced from hurt and exclusion, of someone trying to rebuild their worth on a new forefront. It doesn’t make it less of what it is, though: it’s a “yes they’re valid, but” statement that serves as the backbone for far too many aspec-focused media.

Georgia is a deeply unsure character, and there’s nothing wrong with her being this way; she’s a fictional character made to represent a journey of acceptance, not a real person with the ability to inflict harm on other real people. She does reflect the author’s biases in many ways and many points on the same token, though, acting as a mouthpiece. This often comes in Georgia’s insistence her friendships are simply stronger than other relationship types, as well as her reflexive tendencies to judge the friendless.

One of my many, many hurdles in this book had to do with Rooney [someone save her and half the cast from this novel, please], when the group realizes she’s only a socialite, not really a long-term relationship holder, and the entire room devolves into silent judgment. Georgia does not defend her newfound friend, simply noting she thought differently of her. What about Rooney not having many friends changes her outgoing personality? It doesn’t. It’s simply the fact that Rooney being friendless makes her weird, as with many things Rooney is unfairly demonized for in this novel.

The emphasis on friends doesn’t end here, and persists through the entire novel, practically. It is the main focus, when it isn’t talking about Georgia’s disinterests, and her friend circle is very important to her. All of this is fine. What isn’t fine is the expectation and casual enforcement of friendship being all you have, so you must seize it; this book, even though I wouldn’t recommend it, is often given as The Book on being aroace, but I wouldn’t agree [you’re free to tell me I can’t have an opinion on that if I’m not aroace, but at least read on before deciding anything, alright, official hear me out warning]. One, not all aroaces are alloplatonic, and two, this:

Why Is This Book Written Like A Workplace Safety Seminar

It’s a very… cookie-cutter way to be aroace, and cookie cutter aroaces exist in real life! The rep should exist, no doubt, and shouldn’t be taken away from anyone. It’s not my problem per se that the book is semi-stereotypical. What my problem is has to do with something I see a lot.

The book falls into many of the pitfalls of what I’m dubbing “the pamphlet effect”: when a novel, show, etc. continuously needs to halt the plot to remind the audience this character is different, and explains this to you in a way that resembles an educational pamphlet at a pride event. Georgia Warr feels like an example given to explain a concept more than a person, and I feel bad for her because of how little this book engages with her actual character when it shines through. I understand the book is primarily centered on her journey through the spectrum, but very little is given to make Georgia’s experience unique outside of one scene off the top of my head. Her interests, hobbies, and unique feelings only seem to play a role when it comes time to be an author mouthpiece on slutshaming for fun and sport; only one scene, the forced kiss with Jason when rehearsing the play, really blends her life experiences with her aroace experiences.

Georgia feels designed to be an everywoman, and it was very disappointing to say the least. Very little of the book actually feels like I’m with her, or learning about her unique take on being aroace as a theatre fan or young adult figuring things out; it just feels like Georgia [and the reader] are being dragged through the Cliff’s Notes version of what it is to discover being aroace, rather than a look at how a character like this might feel differently than others on a fuller, whole scale. She’s a hole that can fit most shapes into it, which makes her broadly relatable, but not as fun or engaging to read about if you don’t fit precisely in the demographic Georgia is for; even if you do, is there much to engage with beyond “I’m like that too!”?

This isn’t just a Georgia problem, either, as many, many characters in this book are walking stereotypes or very flat. But, we’ll get into that later [if you want to get into it now, skip to Writing Problems, Oh My!].

The Fingering In The Room: Loveless’ Weird Ideas About Sex

Alright, if you’re sex repulsed and braved the storm to get some insight, this next paragraph is just complete confusion about this book’s sex scenes and talking about some of the details within. If you want to skip that, skip the next paragraph.

Why is everybody fingering each other? Fingering is fine and it feels good, but it is basically the only sexual act this book knows outside of making out with tongue. Someone having sex in Loveless? They better have clipped their nails because at least two are going in. It feels like a point of research that was skipped because it was unimportant, which. Pretty much, yes. But when you’re someone who pays very close attention to sex scenes because you’re of the opinion they can have artistic value, as well as conveying the author’s views on sexuality, I come away with “is fingering what Oseman thinks young adults do?”. Anyways. Something I noticed.

[Okay sex repulsed people, you’re good. No in depth descriptions beyond this point, just the word “sex”.]

I should’ve titled this section “In Defense of Rooney Bach” because oh this poor girl. Oh you are just there to be gawked at.

First off, let’s begin in a good place: this book always has to clarify it isn’t slutshaming its characters, followed by slutshaming its characters. Rooney is, for the uninitiated, very sexually active. Georgia’s envy often leads to a judgemental, close minded view of Rooney that often pins her sex life as “too much” – something many sexually active women get villainized for. It strikes me immediately how Rooney is constantly picked on for her sexuality as a woman in ways no male characters who aren’t asexual either are treated. None of the men she flirts with or spends time with are reprimanded or “held to account” by the book; Rooney alone is breaking the rules. Rooney’s descriptions are often bookended with a disclaimer that she isn’t being called a slut, she’s just like one, which… This is slutshaming. You can’t just say you aren’t doing it to not be doing it.

Rooney is also a victim of a very arophobic trope, and one that is also misogynistic: the Broken Woman. Why is Rooney sexually active? A rough breakup that broke her heart and makes her fear intimacy on account of potentially being wrong again. Sure, sex feels good, but explicit focus is made on the fact she is only not engaging with romance because she tried and it didn’t work. For a few chapters, admittedly I was hoping for a book where an aroace and aroallo can get past some differences and expand each other's worldviews; what I got was Georgia thinking pretty poorly of Rooney through unaddressed envy and sex negativity, and Rooney being made to only like hookups because she’s messed up. Because of course a woman could only enjoy that if she had a negative experience that forced her on the path!

Also, another scene I didn’t like was Georgia and Pip watching Rooney have sex while she is completely unaware of their presence? Jason leaves as soon as he notices, but the two of them watch before Pip makes a comment on how disgusting it is and Georgia agrees. I’m shocked at how little this is brought up as being violating or creepy.

If it was a better book, I would have expected it to result in some kind of furthered conversation about boundaries; it could've been a place for Georgia to start establishing what she likes and dislikes, starting with Rooney preferably keeping her out of her sex life when she’s able. Instead, this event gets brought up solely for jokes, and for a motivation for Pip to start hating Rooney, despite her insistence it wasn't because of the hookup and she isn’t slutshaming. Always a great sign when that needs to be clarified. This is a PSA for everyone: you should not need to clarify you aren’t trying to slutshame. If you feel the need to do so, you are probably being sex negative.

This book isn’t very fond of sexually active people, nor is it kind to characters that are. I can understand why being asexual and sex repulsed is representation people would want, but I also think there’s many, many ways to write it without making it an exercise in shame.

Ironically Kinda Arophobic In Some Parts

This is a short section of a thing I noticed, hated, and had as a contributing factor for my ending early: this book loves aphobic tropes. There’s already the trope against aroallos of not needing romance because of being broken into only liking sex, but also the problem with Pip and Rooney.

I’m a lesbian, for clarification, and I’m saying from experience that I hate the archetype of the angry, jealous lesbian. It’s everywhere. It’s in this book. Pip, upon even the idea of being rejected, starts berating and demeaning the girl who turned her down, even if she was only turned down in her head. The book passes it off as a lighthearted, funny story that Pip got so mad at an ex-crush she was suspended for throwing an apple at their head. Why do I bring this up?

Is it not ringing any bells that this is arophobic? That a character so hostile to romantic rejection is treated as a joke? Many, many aros, and queer people in general, have experienced violence for turning down someone. It’s a serious issue for aros and a real fear in rejecting someone. I found it incredibly hard to read and sit through as everybody passes off Pip’s tendencies to do this to the women that reject her as a silly, funny Pip moment and not a major issue for the aspec community. I don’t care if it’s enemies to lovers, because it doesn’t really feel good to read at all. The only tension is built off the back of something I’ve experienced in real life and many others have as well.

Lovelessness: The Insecurity Unaddressed

This book, despite its title, is obviously about a loving character. Many people might not see this as a problem: first off, loveless doesn’t always mean the same thing, and second, many aroaces express feeling loveless when coming to terms with their identity. Here’s my rebuttal.

One: Georgia fits no definitions of the label. She subscribes to none of the beliefs. She loves her friends actively and sees their relationship as more than romance or sex, as something greater to her.

Second, this is because anti-loveless rhetoric is everywhere and all over this book. Not once is it suggested Georgia could live as loveless, or truly be without love. In the end, she is surrounded by it, simply learning to accept friendship instead. The way her insecurity isn’t met with “you’re complete as you are”, and instead with “you can still be complete if you simply fill the void with friends”, is anti-loveless. Nobody is allowed to be whole on their own without a subplot where their doubts are reinforced or they’re explicitly made to be broken inside.

This is shockingly common, and always sad every time I see it. Many aspects fear being loveless, as if it is a curse or blight they must cleanse. This book is one example out of many, but it doesn’t make it less hurtful when a book that runs against everything your community stands for [self-acceptance and the optionality of love] bears your name regardless. It is a book for people who are afraid of loneliness, and it answers their insecurities with “you’re right. You do need other people. You just need to find a way to still find and have a life partner!”. This is damaging to loveless people, especially those questioning an aplatonic identity.

Again, it’s not unique to Loveless. But, it’s reflective of a broader issue of aplatonics who may be seeking community constantly being presented with “you ARE broken, but friendship can fix you!”, a “solution” many can’t use, and often leads to even more self-hatred.

That’s about it from the aspec side of things. If you got this far, congrats! The rest is opinions on the writing, and the bingo card finale. You can drop off here if that’s all you came for.

Writing Problems, Oh My!

This is veering into heavy personal opinion, so, I will remind you: I don’t usually like YA, but YA can be a very good genre! I do not think this book is a good representation of what good YA looks like.

The writing quality is one of the hardest things to get past, because of a major problem I observed: Oseman is better at comics. This isn’t so much a vilification as a recommendation that it would’ve been much better suited for a different type of media. This kind of “media dysphoria” is present in many of the ways the book operates: many scenes would flow perfectly well in a visual piece. Georgia’s inner monologue has a tendency to jump suddenly into scenes and interrupt the action in a way that would be perfectly natural as a narration bubble put over a drawing of the scene around her. There are entire pages of just… text messages that would be much better suited to a visual medium where you could make these dialogue bits look much more interesting through different shots, or drawing what the background would look like on a screen [The Girl from the Sea does this well, for example].

There’s also the fact I cannot place in my mind if I'm too old for this novel. A lot of the jokes boil down to “hah! Sex!” in a way that instantly alienates me from the writing. The jokes can be pretty juvenile and repetitive, and serve to be the equivalent of a comedian saying “eh? Get it? That was a joke.” six times.

This isn’t to mention the fact many of these characters are complete cardboard. Sorry. Jason does not need to exist. When he appears in a scene, he is ignored or completely leaves it on his own. He really only serves to drive Georgia’s character forward, rather than have one of his own. I found myself forgetting he was present in a scene at all until he spoke again and reminded me of his existence. The book would practically be unchanged if Georgia temporarily dated Pip and Jason was never a factor, plus or minus the Shakespeare Soc plot.

Many interesting characters suffer from severe Pamphlet Effect syndrome. Most of the girls do. In a better novel, they would be more in depth, but Loveless doesn’t really afford them this luxury. I need to take the girls very far away from this novel, okay. I need someone to write a version of Loveless where they have personalities. There’s crumbs there. Please, someone make a loaf of bread out of it. They deserve it.

Another thing, but minor: the breakneck pacing at some points followed by slow slogs of not a lot happening contributes to the reading issues. You may thing something would be dwelled on, just for it to go flying away into the sunset as 3 more things happen and then one problem lasts for 2 chapters. I found it very hard to catch up with Loveless, while other parts I felt like I was constantly waiting for it to catch up with me instead.

The Final Frontier: The Bingo Card Returns

And without further ado, the Loveless and Tired Bingo Card for Loveless by Alice Oseman! Completed with help from other readers braver than I.

[Image ID: A bingo card made from a basic template. It has no title, and all the text is black on a white background. Some squares are marked with a blue X, while others are marked with a red scribble. The marked squares are: “Not prioritizing friendship treated as freak behaviour”, “Jab at loveless sex thrown in”, “Something about not being like THOSE people”, “Universal type of love is laid on thick”, “The answer to all your problems is finding some pals”, “Found family ending”, “Platonic-romantic binary”, “Love still treated as universal [free]”, “Friendship is more wholesome or pure”, “Amatonormativity BAD [platonormativity is my bestie]”, “Platonic love being more powerful or sumn”, “You still love your friends though, right?”, “Friendship saves the day”, “Still thinks you need dedicated people to survive”, “Being alone treated as worst thing in the world”, and “Friendships are more stable than partnerships anyways”. The unmarked, blank squares are: “Something about "players" and pickup artists where no commitment is villainized”, “Character fears being loveless and is kinda aplphobic about it”, “Aspec double standards [one is normal, one is weird]”, “You still love your FAMILY, right???”, “QPRs mentioned by no nuance given to their diversity”, “Friendship forced upon a character against their will”, “Comment about some people being inhuman gets brushed past”, and “Simply prioritise your family instead!!” /End ID]

Would I recommend this book? Uh. No! Well. Yes, but not as a good book for aspecs. I’d recommend it solely to read it yourself and form your own opinions. But, no, I would not recommend it to any aspecs I know, especially not loveless ones, aplatonic ones, aroallos, or if they're an aroace looking for support.

Ah, Loveless, how you vexx me. Never again. See you in the next, much shorter post.

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