#i still need a day or two to get back on my feet but I am eyeing CS so hard rn

[daycourtofficial]

Ferocious beasts with soft bellies

Pairing: Eris x Rhys’s sister!reader | WC: 2.5k | warnings: mentions of pregnancy, some violence from dogs

Summary: Eris’s hounds know you’re pregnant before either of you do, driving the two of you wild with their newfound devotion to you.

Author’s note: hi everyone!!! Thanks for joining me this week, I hope you had a great time!! This one ends on a note I didn’t expect it to, but I do have plans to write follow-ups I kinda wanted to break this up into two. Also this is part of my gingerfucker series, but can be read as a standalone okay love ya bye 😘

Eris’s hounds were incredibly well-trained. He spent thousands of hours when they were pups instilling in them commands, tracking and hunting skills, and alerting him to intruders on the property.

At least, they used to be well-trained.

These days Clover, the leader of the pack, would not allow you out of her sight. All twelve hounds wandered through your house as they pleased, often keeping you company in Eris’s absence. They would lounge about, finding warm sunny spots throughout the house to take afternoon naps in. You’d usually have one or two lazily trail you around the house, staying in the beds you had placed in several of the rooms.

Lately their attachment and sudden devotion to you was getting out of hand. Clover was practically sewn into your side the way she followed you around - she hardly let you out of her sight, keeping an eye on you at all times, following you as you moved through the house. She was even beginning to ignore Eris’s commands, opting to stay at your feet, following you around the house, or with her head curled on your lap.

When you and Eris publicly began your mateship, you had begged him to allow the dogs into your shared bed. “Just one,” you had pouted, “I don’t like waking alone.”

Despite his grumbling, Eris had obliged your request. Things with your family were still quite rough - it had been almost a year by now since you left the Night Court, being unceremoniously abdicated from the throne. You had been in contact with most of your family by this point except for Rhysand, who was still refusing to speak with you since he forced you out of ‘his court’, as he had called it.

Despite your best efforts, Eris still felt guilty over it, the rift in your family caused by the discovery of your mateship. You usually tried to soothe him, not wanting him to feel guilt over the decisions you made. You would choose him over and over again, and problems with Rhysand or any member of your family were not going to stop that from continuing. Besides, his guilt would be better suited as ire towards Rhysand.

Sometimes you did use his guilt to get what you want.

Which is why it initially did take Clover much coaxing to jump into the bed at all, a notion she thought ridiculous at first, but once her paws melted into the mattress, she was quick to lay directly on your side of the bed, placing her head atop your pillow.

“Traitor,” Eris had muttered as you cuddled up to her, petting her soft head.

After getting her into the bed, Clover spent most nights curled up at your feet or by your side, your nights often spent squished between her long body and Eris’s. Soon enough, you were back to asking Eris for another one to sleep in your bed.

“So Clover doesn’t get lonely.”

He spent ages debating with you that no, she doesn’t need a companion in bed with her. It was ridiculous. The three of you were enough for one bed, and he hated to think of how a second hound would complicate things.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he did quite enjoy it when he’d throw an arm around you in the middle of the night and his fingers would meet Clover’s soft fur from the other side of you.

It also soothed some minor worry in him to have you protected from all sides, despite your being more than capable of defending yourself. The mating bond was a precious gift, but it was also a minor curse with the way it coursed through his veins, needing to protect you, to keep you safe, and to keep you both satiated.

“Er, our bed’s plenty big enough for more hounds.”

“Yes, but they’ll get too spoiled. You’ve already turned Clover rotten.”

“I have done no such thing,” you cross your arms, trying to look utterly appalled at his accusation. He gives you a pointed look, then turns his gaze behind you.

Your gaze turned to the hound seated behind you, her long limbs spread across your bed, her little leg kicks and soft snores bringing a small chuckle to your lips that you quickly turned into a scoff.

“That proves nothing.”

In the several months since allowing Clover and Cinnamon in your bed, they were still obedient. They left the bed without disturbing you in the mornings, they rotated who laid next to you and who slept at the foot of the bed, and they would never go to bed without either you or Eris prompting them to.

That all stopped a few weeks ago.

Eris’s hounds had always been fond of you - Eris had spoken of them for centuries before you were able to see any of them. The way he had spoken of them had helped you see he was capable of caring about something that wasn’t himself.

That was its own revelation.

Meeting the hounds was quite nerve-wracking for you - he told you they were quite cold to new fae, and they had detested Lucien’s overeagerness to befriend them - a grudge they still held many centuries later.

“I believe they smelled the desperation leaking from his pores, tainted their perception of him,” he quipped.

Despite Eris’ warnings, you were not prepared for them to warm up to you as much as they had. He brought out his most trusted hound, Clover, to meet you, and you’re not sure if it was the way Eris’ scent was forever entwined with your own, but she warmed to you immediately. She circled your legs before sitting directly next to you, placing her head beneath your hand.

“What does this mean?” you whisper to Eris, not wanting to scare her or set her off.

“She wants you to pet her.”

Your confused expression makes his eyes dance with amusement.

“Surely you understand that means to stroke her head.” He raises his hand in demonstration, petting the air with a bemused look on his face.

You huff, “she could bite me, I apologize for wanting to wait a moment before touching a creature you’ve told me is dangerous.”

“She is dangerous, but surely she’s capable of being more than one thing.”

Nowadays she was capable of such a feat - she was not only beloved by you, but she was also a constant thorn in your side.

It started with subtle things, conversations with Eris where you tried to express how odd they were behaving one night while you sat in Eris’ study, helping him sort through correspondence from his brothers about the lands they oversee.

“Clover followed me into the bathroom.”

“Perhaps I should put some cushions for her to lay down while you bathe. I’m fond of the sight, perhaps she is too.”

You roll your eyes, “I’m serious, Er. She’s behaving strangely.”

Eris set the letter from Moros down, his attention fixed on you. “You spoil her, she is merely being affectionate. You’ll get used to it.”

Eris was wrong, Clover’s behavior only getting worse as the days went on.

“Clover, stay.”

Clover’s brown eyes observed you, your finger pointing toward the floor indicating for her to stay, tone full of finality - a princess’s tone, a high lady’s tone. You were determined to get the hound to listen to you, commanding her to stay in your chambers.

You passed through the door, heading down to speak with one of your advisor’s who insisted he speak with you as soon as possible. You rolled your eyes just thinking about his current issue with one of the trade routes that flows into Spring and how last time he wanted to speak to you, you enjoyed watching the vein on his forehead throb at your reluctance to take his ill advice.

Perhaps during this meeting the vein will pop, at least then the meeting would come with entertainment.

You look down and are startled when you see Clover’s body in step with yours, her fur shimmering in the light as if she were smoke rising from the ground.

Cauldron boil me, Eris is going to kill me if I’ve ruined all of their training.

You stop, pointing in the opposite direction, whispering, “go, shoo Clover.” You don’t even want to consider how she got through the closed door.

Clover just sits in front of you, her gaze piercing, seeing something you can’t. You blow out a breath, hands running through your hair, “okay, you may come with me.”

You’d regret those words.

Clover strode into the room before you, sniffing the air as her nails clacked across the floor. Her focus shifted to the male in the room, Flint’s eyes narrowing at her. She moved her body closer to the floor as she stalked towards him, the hair along her spine raising into the shape of a fin. Her ears were pulled back, a low rumble emitting from her chest.

“Clover!”

Your voice is chastising, but Clover does not let her guard down as she slowly approaches Flint. His eyes are full of fear as she approaches, her feet circling him. He spins in a circle, not letting her eyes leave his.

“Clover!”

You whistle her stop command, but she ignores it. She circled Flint the way she circles mice and rabbits.

She always loved playing with her food.

“What is this? Control your hound.” Flint’s voice is annoyed as Clover raises her head, baring her teeth at him.

“I’m trying.”

You move forward, reaching to grab Clover’s neck, instead missing and falling forward towards Flint. His arms catch your forearms, but Clover was not a fan of his touch and her teeth swiftly sank into the leg of his trousers. Her grip was strong as she tugged at his pants, and he began stammering, shaking his leg trying to rid his pants of her. He backed away toward the door, and once he reached the threshold, Clover let go of her grip, almost causing the male to fall over.

Her growls echoed down the hall as she watched him run down the hall before scampering back towards you, confusion and shock on your face at all that just transpired.

The hound just licked your face gently before laying next to you, her head in your lap.

You sighed, certain that Eris would kill you for ruining Clover.

Later that night, Eris made hisbway to your shared chambers, a bit surprised to find you already asleep. The hour wasn’t too late, however he had caught you dozing while reading over some requests regarding equipment for some farms.

He stripped his clothes, the finery being replaced by some loose trousers before moving towards the bed to find that the hounds had placed themselves on either side of you, Cinnamon occupying his spot on the bed.

“Cinnamon, down.”

The brown hound does not listen to the command, the only response a long sigh of her breath. He stared at the hound - a seventy year old beast who was one of the easiest hounds he’d ever trained, knowing how he expected her to behave from an incredibly young age.

Cinnamon was no Clover, but she was second in their chain of command. Clover was on your other side, soft snores coming from her snout.

There was plenty of room in the bed for the two of you, the two hounds, and, truthfully, several more hounds. Your preference for larger beds from when you had your wings never left after you lost them.

Eris laid in the bed, determined he could outmaneuver his hounds. He moved a hand out to your face, stroking your hair before a soft growl cut him off.

His hand stilled, eyes wide at such a response from Cinnamon. His nostrils begin flaring, heat rising to the surface of his skin in anger. He could feel the roar of the bond in his ears, frustration boiling within him at the defiance and aggression at him touching his own mate.

He tried to swallow it down, refusing to erupt in his own bed while you slept peacefully next to him. His fuse was a short one, his temper always loosely held back by a quick tongue that allowed him to loosen the reins ever so slightly.

He watched them, their bodies curled around your own and thought about your complaints of them following you around, believing it to be a consequence of your softness towards them.

You were spoiling them rotten. You were a few weeks away from giving them table scraps, for Mother’s sake. But then his thoughts veered into Flint’s description of what occurred, Clover guarding you from Flint’s touch like a mother hen-

His heart stalls in his chest, a heavy realization settling over him as he sits up, Sierra growling softly at his abrupt movements.

You were pregnant. You had to be - it was the only logical conclusion other than all twelve of his hounds losing their minds simultaneously. They must be able to scent it on you before fae senses could pick them up.

He wonders briefly if Lucien’s magical eye could see it.

Eris lay frozen on the bed, his thoughts swirling with what to do, how he was going to handle this. He was still quite new to his tenure as high lord - the work wasn’t unexpected by any means, however his position was still quite vulnerable - new power always attracted violence attempting to see how far that power extended.

Things were still difficult in your personal lives - he and Lucien were on tenuous speaking terms, you and Rhysand were not on speaking terms. The two of you hadn’t spoken in almost a year.

It was all so damn complicated - you hadn’t had a coronation as high lady yet, wanting to wait until Rhysand would show up to have the ceremony. The logistics of a babe at such a crucial turning point politically could open Eris up to glaring vulnerabilities.

Long fingers tap at his chest, trying to keep himself somewhat grounded in reality. He had no confirmation for this - his reasoning behind such a theory were founded on the strange behavior of his hounds. He was being a ridiculous fool to get so worked up over unconfirmed theories.

Yet the image of a swaddled little thing kept gnawing at his mind - tiny toes, a tiny nose, tiny fingers wrapping around his. He had adored his brothers when they were much younger, when the world under Beron could be disguised as a good place. Perhaps he could do it.

Eris laid awake for several hours, your soft breathing calming him as he sat and thought about all the possible ways he could ruin all of this.

A tiny part of him let himself hope that, in spite of it all, he wouldn’t.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx

Eris taglist: @secret-third-thing

Thanks for reading 💕

[cambrinkownsme]

༺ ♱ I've Missed You ♱ ༻

pairing - paige x fem!reader

word count - 1.9k

themes :

-filth

-angst

-18+

warnings :

-smut

-cussing

a/n - i feel like i haven't written p smut in a little....

you and paige had been on and off for months. breaking up one day and getting back together a week later. it was toxic, obviously, but you both loved the thrill.

you also loved the sex that you'd have if you even dared to step near anyone else while you guys were "broken up".

the door slammed behind me and Paige. I was already drunk enough to the point where my eyes were water and I couldn't really feel my feet. the last thing I needed was my "ex" screaming at me. I held my breath when I got into my room. I knew that the door would swing open any second now. and there it was.

paige stormed up to me, her hair bouncing off of her shoulders. she was still a little tipsy. I could see it in her eyes.

"so what was that huh?"

she didn't yell but she didn't just talk either. heavy breaths left both of our mouths. the air was thick and infested with the smell of alcohol and old body mist that was slowly fading away.

"fucking answer me. why was that girl all up on you? and why did you stop her?"

i ignored Paige's questions multiple times until she was fed up. I felt her hand hold onto my wrist and I let her lead me to the bathroom. all I could do was groan with annoyance as Paige slid the two of us into the bathroom.

she locked the bathroom door behind us and didn't hesitate to press my body against the door. i knew what was about to happen. paige's hands roamed around my hips and ass while she let her lips hover over my own. i could tell that she was trying to tease me just to piss me off but i wasn't letting her get her way this time. so i stayed still while she became more and more frustrated

"fuck." she breathed out before pressing her lips against mine roughly. i barely got to kiss back before she was shoving her tongue down my throat. our saliva slowly melted together and she let a string of spit fall down my chest while she moved her lips around my chest. she quickly took one of my nipples into her mouth, rolling it around with the tip of her tongue sending a couple whines out of my mouth.

i finally caved and held onto her back while she worked her way down my stomach and to my soaking wet core. she let her fingers dance around the miniskirt that just barely covered my ass before tugging it down my legs. before she did anything else, she lifted herself back up to my ear to whisper "so wet for me just after arguing? y'little slut." her finger ran across my clothed pussy sending waves of pleasure through my body.

"mmm. paige please." i pleaded into paige's ear the moment she took her hand away from my pussy. without saying a word, paige held onto my waist while lowering herself back to where she was. she took her time removing my panties and now her teasing was working. the second my panties were lower than my thighs, i rushed to kick them off. finally, paige dug her tongue through my folds hitting all the right places while gathering all my slick onto her tongue. longer strings of curse words left my mouth the deeper paige went. and just like that i was already close to cumming right on her tongue.

"f-fuck right there. don't stop paige!" i whined out as paige began to flatten her touch against my puffy clit. but then she stopped, ripping her mouth away from my cunt. i couldn't help but hold onto her shoulders, almost like i was trying to hold her back where she was.

"what the fuck paige!?" paige stood up and moved my body away from the bathroom dort before walking out and sitting herself on the bed. my neck snapped around while i followed her out of the bathroom.

"c'mere." she said tapping the bedding next to her. i crawled to her side and waited there while she stared at me with amusement in her eyes. after a while of silence and staring i decided that it was enough. i wrapped my hands around the sides of paige's hips and straddled her lap. my lips trailed across her face, placing kisses on every inch of her ivory skin. i practically had tears in my eyes at the loss of her tongue but tried to ignore it and continue looking into paige's eyes.

"you upset, baby?" she cooed while dragging her thumb across my jawline. "obvious isn't it." i replied.

she then slowly lifted up her tank top just enough to reveal her toned abs. just the sight of her bare stomach caused me to groan. i wanted to ride her abs right then and there but i knew she wouldn't give in that easily. but i still started grinding against her skin. the feeling of my clit dragging across each defined ab created a knot in my stomach. i quickly sped up my pace, now almost bouncing back and forth on her abs. i felt paige's large and cold hands grip onto my ass, slowing me down which only upset me even more.

"n-no." i whined.

"what? tell me what's the rush."

"you didn't let me cum"

"and you flirted with someone else"

"we aren't even together paige"

"well we are now"

her hands had a death grip on my skin, nails two layers deep leaving marks. she continued to guide me at a fast enough pace to have me cumming all over her stomach without seconds. "thats it princess. cum all over me." my words began to get caught in my throat as i rode out my orgasm. the only thing i could let out was loud whines and the occasional 'please.' my eyes were screwed shut, no matter how badly i wanted to see that smug smile on paige's face. she got even more cocky than usual when she made me finish with just her touch. it pissed me off a lot of the time.

i was about to continue riding her abs as much as I possible could but of course Paige couldn't hold the same position for a singular minute. I whined with annoyance as Paige stood up, tossing me to the side. she walked out of the room without saying anything and when she came back she had a 7 inch strap, harnessed to her waist. my breath hitched once I saw the size of her plastic dick but knew just how rough she could get if her buttons were pressed. I was still sitting on the backboard of the bed when paige took my hand into her grasp, leading me to the floor. "on your knees." she growled. so I settled my face closer to her harness, rough carpet felt scratchy and painful against my knees. before I could take a deep breath and prepare for her, Paige slid the purple strap along my tongue and down my throat, not hesitating to go as deep as possible. she started off slow but began to fuck my mouth at an ungodly speed. the tip hit my uvula multiple times, causing me to gag against the silicone in my mouth. but Paige didn't stop until there were hot tears rolling down my cheeks.

she slowly removed the strap from my mouth before taking a handful of my hair in between her fingers and spinning me around so that my face was facing my full body mirror. without even getting a chance to catch my breath, Paige slipped the length of her strap in my cunt, sending a guttural moan out of my lips followed by a string of course words. in the back of my mind I knew that I would get punished for shutting my eyes so tight but a wave of embarrassment washed over me watching my own naked body bent over, moving back and forth with every thrust of Paige's. once the blonde noticed that my eyes were closed, she placed a firm slap on my ass, stopping her thrusts abruptly.

"open your goddamn eyes princess." her grip on my waist tightened, making me wince a little. I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was Paige's red hot face smirking towards me in the mirror. "good girl."

she began sliding her strap in and out of my pussy with ease and at a steady pace. she began to speed up her own hips just at the sound of my whines.

"fuck paigey d-don't stop." she took her hand that wasn't holding onto my waist and quickly it moved to my bare tit, massaging it while speeding up her thrusts even faster. "fuck fuck fuck I'm so close p." Paige began to fuck me through my second orgasm, all the juices that left my already soaking wet pussy slid down my thighs and down my calves. "that's it baby..." she whispered under her breath in contrast to the pornographic words and whines that left my mouth. she lifted the upper half of my body up closer to her face and whispered "wanna give me one more pretty girl?" and I couldn't say no. "mhm. whatever y'want."

paige held my back against her chest while she shoved her 'dick' in me at a slower speed. she began placing kisses all over my shoulders and neck without stopping her thrusts into me. just the noise her strap made against my pussy sent me over the edge for a third time. "shit right there!" I waited out as Paige's tip hit all the right places at once, causing me to gush all over my own legs and her strap. the second she removed her strap, it was her tongue.

she pushed my body onto the bed and used both of her hands to lift my legs over her shoulders. her tongue flicked at my already abused clit. she used the very tip of her tongue to lick all of the left over arousal that was spilling onto her strap or my legs. "mm fuck, taste so good for me." the vibrations of her voice almost sent me to heaven. now she was finally slurping and digging through my folds with her tongue, slowly sliding it further inside. "holy fuck! please don't stop Paige." my hands were now tangled in her hair which I could barely grab due to how tight my thighs were wrapped around Paige's head and ears. she continued to gather all of my liquids, moving her tongue faster than ever and not missing a single drip of me that spilled into her tongue which was shaped into a cup just to make sure she was able to get everything in her mouth. my legs began to shake as I reached my fourth orgasm. my legs fell like jello onto Paige's shoulders while my head was thrown back against the pillow.

before Paige to swallow all of me, she pressed her tongue against mine, giving me a taste of myself while kissing me sloppily. my legs were wrapped around her hips while her face hovered over my face. "so fucking pretty." she said, moving a strand of my hair behind my ear. I had words that needed to come out but I was too fucked out. Paige could clearly tell.

"say it. I know you want to." she said sternly.

"I've missed you-" I began to speak

"yeah you did" Paige snapped back before pressing out lips together again.

[ma1dita]

when the curtains close

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.3k

summary: (post-tlt) The one where you lose two people in the Labyrinth that day. All strings are cut. (Pollux, Annabeth, Percy, and Mr. D find out the biggest difference between you and Luke.) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: yeah to me this fic sounds and feels like that tiktok of the girl humming to her microwave. split povs: pollux, annabeth, your depictions of the titular battle of the labyrinth at CHB, some blood/gore, death & grief. the usual. you forced me to by lizzy mcalpine. references to cat on a hot tin roof by tennessee williams if you squint

(posted 5/14/24, semi edited—def coming back to this)

—

The first time Pollux has a panic attack, time seems to stop and the world keeps moving on without him.

He’s reminded of a time when you rambled on about how anxiety takes possession of the senses like a moment frozen in a snapshot meant for you to identify. In the memory, you had your feet kicked up on the dash flipping through a DSM-5 while he and Castor took turns speeding up and down Farm Road (totally normal older sister behavior from you, and when a cop pulled you over, the three of you narrowly escaped a ticket by talking in riddles and godly smoke that smelled like grapes). Pollux still remembers the sound of laughter in the car blending like three different chords to an archaic melody (or squawking crows in the strawberry fields)— the bond between you three laid out before time knew limits and was always meant to be.

It’s still his favorite song. You’re their favorite (and only) sister, they love to joke. These are facts that will never change.

“You two have each other, and well, I’ve got this,” you had said, the Zippo flicking open and closed against your thumb in the blossoming darkness of the car. Pink and purple rays of waning light blanketed the old hatchback as it steadily made its way back towards Half-Blood Hill, comfortable silence shared in the way only siblings can stand to be quiet—when there are no words needed to get a point across. But you’ve always set yourself apart from the pack, not needing anyone like how they need each other.

Not since Luke left, at least. The growing distance between you three since your untimely resignation from camp was proof enough. Pollux’s eyes met Castor’s in the rearview mirror as they both noticed your sad smile. His brother’s voice broke through the silence then, having always been the one blunt enough to say what was on his mind, “You’ve got us too if you let us see you more often.” Your fidgeting stops.

“It’s not you two, it’s just hard to be back here sometimes. I see things for what they used to be instead of how they really are now. Now it’s just… it has to be all business.”

Pollux cracked a smile, “S’what you get for growing up. Soon we’ll just be annoying voices in your head like you are to us.” Shutting your textbook, you turned to look at them from the passenger seat, eyes that match theirs darting between their blond heads, “All of us have to grow up eventually. Except maybe you two— I prefer you in my nightmares like the kids from The Shining. Whenever you get sick of Dad, come see me. Gods know that camp deserves a break from the two of you too.” Your knuckles knocked against both of their heads affectionately as he put the car in park, “My built-in bodyguards, huh? Always looking out for me.”

All words and meaning escape Pollux now as he stands in the greenery of the North Woods with battle gear ill-fitted to his large frame. It’s the first siege he’s ever taken part in, the first time he’s had to use battle strategies outside of Capture the Flag and the first time he’s slashed his way through monsters and demigods with the intent to try and kill or be killed. Sword and Shield could have never prepared any of them for this—as his eyes meet Castor’s and then yours with all of you thinking the same thing, the three of you join the sea of iridescent orange through mind-numbing black moving like a sharp three-pronged sword.

This type of stuff isn’t typical for him, he thinks. He and Castor are used to being comedic relief— being the source of laughs and juice boxes for pesky little campers instead of facing the real world outside the boundaries of the Mist. Perhaps your father babied them to make up for the time he lost with you, but there’s a moment where he wonders how being kept soft will keep him alive in a world as harsh as this one.

Childlike innocence is ripped away from them in the bubble they’ve inhabited until this moment. Home is now a warzone and like lambs set up for slaughter, the twins both turn to look at you as a shuddering gasp leaves your mouth at the carnage in your surroundings, monster blood and fallen friends and enemies at your feet. Breaking away from formation to take a deep breath, he looks at the sky and wonders where your father is, but smoke and soot fill his lungs and he coughs desperately for a breath of fresh air.

Pollux thinks he must have stopped breathing before Castor took his last breath. It wasn’t supposed to be a competition, but sometimes life was just funny like that.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Just like you told him.

Castor was always the more manic one while Pollux knew how to endure. Children of Dionysus are forced to befriend insanity before it makes an enemy out of them—twisting the ugly into what’s real and creating something beautiful out of the deranged. You’ve shown the boys how you detach from emotion by recognizing the details—separating fact and fiction, a methodical process only describable by the blood that runs through your veins. Pollux doesn’t know where to start—everything happens so fast but it plays out in front of him like someone put the pieces together to a stop-motion animation.

He sees Castor’s sword fall to the ground when he gets slashed on the forearm and sees him get clubbed over the head with a metal weapon he’s only seen bad renditions forged for theater practices and hanging on the walls of the armory. Castor falls first to his knees, and then into the dirt with a thud. He never knew there could be that much blood coming out of a person, much less a mirror image of himself. Pollux sees your face come into his line of vision, deep maroon splatters on your face glittering with hints of ichor and then you’re moving because he can’t. The enemy is coming back for him now, and for a moment he wonders if Castor will be mad if he lets him. He sees you turn in an instant, swinging your sword down on the neck of the aggressor, a teenager not much older than he and his brother are—were. It’s funny how his brain immediately makes the switch to past tense, and how he can’t stop thinking about how he’ll now and forever be older than his twin. Pollux then sees you catch the body of the boy you just killed as life seeps out of him slower than it did for Castor.

It doesn’t make him feel any better, though.

His knees hit the ground next to his twin, touching the sludge of dirt soft like quicksand and moist with what he hopes is not blood, but Pollux is not quite sure of what else there is to hope for. His fist is wrapped around Castor’s shirtsleeve, touching faded orange and sweat as he holds on for dear life. Maybe if he tries hard enough his soul will still be intertwined with his. Your hand touches his shoulder, five fingers reaching out to brush the back of his neck and the feeling of your skin helps him refocus a bit, even if you’re saying something he can’t make out. Then the metal of your Zippo lighter feels cool to the touch within his palm and he knows what he needs to do.

The battle isn’t over, but for the three of you, everything stops here. There is no going forward without your brother. You were never meant to be children of war.

Pollux hears the sound of his heartbeat thundering through his ears, blood rushing through his veins and can’t help but notice the silence amid the chaos. There are no words fit for this—and even if there were, Castor and you were always the more talkative ones. He hears the spark of the purple flame between his fingers, blowing the smoke over him and his brother’s body, and their father’s powers blanket them like how you used to tuck them into bed, warm and safe. This is what your family is—unconventional and unending even in different realms of existence. And then Grover’s scream of panic echoes through the air and everyone hears that. Hysteria ensues as monsters and demigods alike run amok, and Pollux realizes he’s stopped shaking. In his father’s domain, he will always find comfort.

You stand above him now directing campers calmly with a free hand—a brewing storm crackling underneath your skin that he now understands. Hidden by the illusion of smoke, Pollux’s tired bones rest alongside his brother’s dead ones— together as they always were meant to be.

The three of you together, his little family—that is a fact he hoped would never change.

The smell of grapes envelops him as he leans his forehead against your muddy leg… when did the battle end? It almost masks the scent of death that rips through the air as your hand brushes through his sandy hair. Pollux stinks of sweat and you stifle a laugh as you see him smell his armpit. You three were always the same type of fucked up. He doesn’t look down at Castor laid across his lap but knows he would’ve found it funny too. Ignorance of reality even for a moment serves as a comfort. Purple meets purple as he looks up at you with a smile that doesn’t fit his face anymore and he croaks, “Wonder what dad would say about our first battle…”

Glory was never meant to be this bittersweet—it tastes like blood in his mouth until he wipes it away from his cheek and realizes it’s Castor’s. In a way, it’s his too, everything about him and within him is exactly the same down to the star stuff the fates wove them from.

“I’ll be the one to tell him. You take care of Castor,” you answer, as if there’s anything else he would want to do and then he realizes you’re crying— and he’s seeing all of the pieces put together in front of him in this photograph in his mind.

Pollux blinks slowly.

Suddenly the image he has of you is more defined— there is new meaning to the sadness you could never shake off all these years, and he is too young to lose his greatest love, which makes him realize then that so were you.

How long does this have to go on? he wonders, grabbing onto your hand with an eagerness only comparable to the feeling he got when you and Luke whisked him and Castor away from Florida all those years ago. This punishment of living while half of his soul does not—what is he supposed to do next? This was supposed to be the safe place. There is nowhere left to run. His thumb rubs circles into the back of your shaking blood-soaked hand, a secret within the smoke.

Pollux thinks there will always be a part of him frozen in time now, a memory of this day hung up in his mind like a portrait as he holds Castor’s cold hand in his warm one.

—

Annabeth finds you in the middle of the strawberry fields before the sun sets. She knows you won’t be sleeping tonight, not if you can fight it— not when there’s so much to do. You’ve long grown out of your ripped-up and tie-dyed camp shirts, and the one slung on your frame is newly pressed and starchy from the storage room of the Big House, still stiff against your freshly washed skin. When she’s close enough to touch you, you’ve been scrubbed clean of today.

She doesn’t have to be a daughter of Athena to know that you know that she’s there even if you can’t see her, but for once she feels like she has to hide. For once, Annabeth Chase doesn’t know what to say. How can she explain the feeling of guilt that coils around her brain like barbed wire—how can she even begin to apologize for the thing wearing her brother’s skin, knowing that it killed yours? For once, her hubris is crushed by the sinking feeling of humiliation.

“Was your first quest all you thought it would be, Annie?”

As she takes her navy cap off, silver braided strands around her face wave in the wind as a reminder of what Luke put her through. Though as she looks at you now with your berry-stained fingers plucking at stems one by one instead of using your powers, she thinks that your mind is elsewhere—anywhere but here, where everything is a painful reminder of your five years as a camper.

Five years with Luke.

Mourning him isn’t a new feeling for either of you, even though he comes in and out of your lives like a poltergeist you want to bash across the head, just always out of reach. But he’s a constant, even when he’s not here and he’s what binds you two together as you huddle hidden away from the rest of camp.

“He did this for you.”

It’s not a question, more so a fact out of Annie’s mouth when you finally meet her eyes and sigh, “Luke’s always had a way going about things. The most stubborn man to ever live.” You toss another strawberry into the crate at your feet. No one’s working right now, trying to tend to the injured and the dead. Everyone’s doing their best to chase away the nightmares that are bound to come, and she knows you’ll be making rounds with her on the night shift to ease everyone’s anxieties. But there’s a thought so strong it makes her head hurt, bursting at the seams until she can’t stop with her last-ditch effort to fix her found family.

“Maybe if we find him, we can save—”

“He’s been out of time for a while now, Annabeth. We both knew that,” you say, voice firm and unwavering. You’ve never sounded so monotone before, and it hits her as her mouth falls agape, “You’re giving up on him? Why…why would you give up on him?” Anger courses through her veins like fire and she’s mad that she’s at the center of this prophecy, of Hermes’s anger for his doomed son who will love you until the ends of the earth.

And what of her?

What of the hope she has in happy endings, how is it that you’re so damn calm? Annabeth kicks at the crate, strawberries rolling out in different directions and your jaw tightens as you let her be petulant, let her scream and yell until her inner child can catch up with the reality of the world around you.

“How could you?”

Your name echoes as she repeats it, grabbing at your shoulders and she’s as desperate as the truth that shakes her when you cup her face in your hands and wipe her tears.

“You’ve carried the weight of the world Annabeth– you know what it feels like to let it go. It’s time to let him go. There’s nothing I can do or say to fix this.”

Then it hits her that you knew of his fate and yet this was still the outcome. There was nothing else to do but watch him be puppeteered by a Titan and have to fight evil while it wears his face.

“He came to you after he saw me, didn’t he? Why didn’t you tell me? Why don’t you love him anymore?”

Because it wouldn’t have changed a thing, your eyes say. Instead, you grimace as you say, “Wouldn’t that be funny if it were true?” You lean down and pick up the fallen berries, some bruised and covered in dirt, and then you look at her again with teary eyes.

“Some prophecy huh? To lose a love to worse than death. What could we have done besides love him until the end?”

“He’s still in there. I know you know that too. Don’t talk about him like he’s not,” Annabeth insists, and a sad smile settles upon your face. It’s as gentle as the kiss of the breeze on your cheeks.

“I lost a brother today, Annie.”

“Me too.”

—

The funny thing about planning funerals is that with all the fuss it takes to organize one, you still find extra time on your hands. Barely getting any sleep and dragging yourself out of your dad’s bed, Pollux snores loudly next to you after hours of working on Castor’s shroud. Sleep wasn’t expected for either of you, but being unconscious was the only way of giving your brains a reprieve. The both of you have been busy doubling down on the preparations, even if it means Mr. D won’t be back in time while he’s out rallying gods for war.

The faster Castor’s earthly body is reconnected with his soul, the easier his trip will be into the Underworld, Nico says, and it’s funny how comforting the little emo pipsqueak can be when it comes to matters of death.

Perhaps this is the solace you bring to others with things you’re able to control—keeping camp afloat is something you were always good at, and helping every traumatized child that comes up to you for a juice box or a lullaby eases the guilt that follows you. Walking around Camp Half-Blood for more than a weekend made you feel like a judge, jury, and executioner. Though most of the campers from almost five years ago have either aged out, defected, or died—the ones that remain still look at you like you’re trouble.

Perhaps you always will be.

You even found yourself with the time to pray to Hermes last night for your brother’s safe passage into the afterlife, though if he’s angry at Annabeth, he must hate you for letting Luke go. Dinner didn’t seem appetizing enough anyway, so your whole plate was tossed into the hearth. You hope he likes chicken and rice.

But if a god can’t fight fate, what did he expect you to do?

The Iris Message to your dad last night was difficult, to say the least. Pollux’s hands shook as he continued to paint grape vines onto the silk cloth and the both of you didn’t say anything when your father started to cry. He out of all of the gods knows what it’s like to be tested to the limits—to endure pain and it’s a gift you and your brother are grateful for in times like these. Watching the god display the human emotion that either of you couldn’t as freely made it more real though.

There was also the interesting predicament of Chris Rodriguez being locked up in the basement of the Big House. Replacing screaming fits with serenity was almost second nature, and your gentle hands were what got Clarisse to truly respect you again for the first time in years. You could hear her sneak downstairs and talk to him while he slept (and the look in her eyes when you’d greet her with a cup of coffee made it known to you that she finally understands what it means to love someone who’s lost—two demigod daughters filled with a lot of rage and hurt were more alike than they think).

So the morning of your little brother’s funeral, you found yourself on the shoreline of Canoe Lake, setting your Redbull against the post of the dock and looking out onto the water.

You needed to do something with your hands. In the past few days, if your fingers were not occupied by pen and paper, a guitar, supply crates, or anything else that was helpful to others and all the more distracting for you, it’s been so easy to pick at any little thing. Perhaps it was your subconscious trying to reflect the damage on the inside, but today, your nail polish was chipped beyond belief. A small price to pay to not lose it without a signature boyish smile to ease your worries and amber eyes that could help you escape from the routine.

Running camp was always easier back then with your runaway boy and his scarred cheek.

How pathetic.

Crouched over in the sand, you plucked stones and filled your pockets with them. They knocked against each other — weighing your pockets down as you walked closer to the dock. Swinging your feet off the side and chucking them into the water, you could barely achieve a ripple.

It’s so quiet that you end up wondering if the rocks in your pockets would weigh you down to the bottom of the lake. It must be nice down there, to exist away from everything.

Bubbles surface slowly in front of you, then Percy’s head bobs in the water as he squints at you through sunlight.

“You chucked a rock at my head!”

A smile tugs at your lips, almost indiscernible but definitely there, “I was trying to skip them. Didn’t know you were doing water tricks in there, kid.” His grin gleams like freshwater pearls, pulling himself up onto the dock as his hand clasps yours. Shaking his sopping hair, Percy’s gangly frame sits next to yours like a wet bag of sand—all wrinkly and misshapen and sprinkling you with lakewater.

“Maybe next time don’t pick rocks the size of your fist. How many have you got in there? Your aim is scarily accurate,” he laughs and you huff and shake your head when his hand sticks into your pocket and takes out a few smooth ones to roll around in his hand. You mirror him, watching him skip a few stones into the water that reach a good distance before sinking into the depths of the lake.

There’s something sad about feeling comfortable to trauma dump on the teenage son of Poseidon, but with the way he grabs your arm at your third unsuccessful toss of a rock, you can’t do anything else but sigh.

“Why didn’t any of you call me, Percy?”

He was waiting for this question—it’s been banging around in his head since the beginning of Annabeth’s quest, and perhaps her talk with you yesterday didn’t go as expected so once again he’s left with the difficult part.

Things happen to turn out pretty difficult for him a lot, he's noticed.

Many things could have been made easier in the past few weeks: Ariadne being your stepmother and her blessing to you would’ve made the Labyrinth easier to navigate, and having another demigod to fight alongside him instead of a mortal girl would’ve been a plus too. But he looks at you with ocean eyes and a smaller smile that reminds you of how he looked at you when you dropped him off in Montauk the summer you met him and quit your head counselor job.

“You’ve already made a lot of difficult decisions. We weren’t sure if…”

The rotten wood beneath you creaks under your shifting weight as you turn to him, tucking your legs underneath your bottom.

“Didn’t think I could handle it?”

He shakes his head, “The opposite, actually. Annabeth has this notion that you’re the only one that can save him. You know, back on my first quest I met Luke’s dad and he told me something…”

You swallow instead of answering. There’s no way Percy is giving you Hermes’s advice right now. Somehow this feels like karmic retribution after years of spiting that asshole, and what he tells you next is more of a sign that it must be true.

“He said, ‘Do you know what that feels like? To be so close to someone you love knowing neither of you has any choice but to keep hurting each other?’ I didn’t get it then, but I do now.”

“With Luke and his mom?” you ask, picking at the remaining slivers of varnish on your thumbnail.

“With you and Luke. I didn’t call you, because… why would I want to see you hurt after everything?” Percy says this like it’s something he would do for everyone.

Perhaps it is, but the knot that forms in your throat feels as heavy as the boulder you almost sunk into his skull. He’s tall enough to lean your head against now, and you don’t mind the water spots that will form along the side of your funeral outfit. The shape of him it leaves will remind you of the little brother you gained through so much loss.

“Plus he has a new girlfriend. Absolute horse of a girl,” he jokes. It slips over your head but you still giggle, “I could’ve taken her.”

“I know, that was Grover’s worry. You’re prettier anyway…” Percy pauses, and then clears his throat, “You’ve always taken care of this place, y’know? Even after….I just think someone ought to take care of you.”

Your shoulder bumps against his as you finally skip a rock. It only bounces across the water twice and you think Percy might have had something to do with it, but you’re not bothered by the help this time around.

—

You wake up in the dark of night to see your dad looming in the doorway to his office. With drool and a post-it stuck to your cheek, he comes over to ruffle your hair in amicable silence.

“Hard at work or hardly working?” he chuckles, leaning over your shoulder to scan over the paperwork sorted into piles for him to sign from his absence.

“Hm. You wish,” you scoff, leaning against your arm as you look at him. He’s not in his usual eyesore of attire, wearing a clean-pressed suit with his hair slightly slicked back.

“You look good. The meeting went okay?”

“Grover will be. The Council of Cloven Elders? Not so much. Neither are the gods ready to take sides. Putting out little fires everywhere as we speak.”

The wheels of the office chair roll as you swing your feet, and if you both listen closely enough you can hear Pollux snoring upstairs. Chiron loved the earplugs you gave him.

Your father’s face smooths out a bit at the sight of you and the sound of his son’s breathing upstairs and he asks, “Are you? Good?”

A shrug slides off your shoulders, “How does one be good in a world like this one?”

A startling scream echoes off the walls of the Big House, rattling the floorboards from below as your father grimaces.

The work is never done for you two.

“Don’t look at me like that. It was worse when he first came here.”

“Don’t doubt it,” he mumbles, brushing lint off your shirt before he notices you’re donning neon orange. “Didn’t do laundry, princess?”

“Pollux and I haven’t gone back to our cabin since... I can wake him up if you—”

Mr. D shakes his head and goes to toss his body onto the couch against the window, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Dad? Do you think Chris is a bad person?”

A beat passes and you think he may have fallen asleep, but then his voice sounds like gravel scraping up his throat.

“I don’t think anyone can be bad, kid. I think it is more often that people get lost. What Rodriguez needs is someone to take hold of him gently, and hand his life back to him—you…Clarisse… that’s what we’re giving him.”

Now you’re silent, staring at the dust on his name placard at the edge of the desk.

“Do you think otherwise?”

He calls your name again, and you look up like you’re about to lie to him but don’t have the energy to.

“Princess, do you think you’re a bad person?”

He stands up and walks around to your side of the desk, sitting on the edge so you have to look at him.

“I killed someone. During the battle. Didn’t even think twice about it, slashed his neck as soon as Castor went down and…” you sniff. “I kill monsters, not children, Dad. How does that make me any different?”

The last time blood was on your hands like this it was Luke’s in the Garden of Hesperides. All these years later you ended up being right— the only person you vowed to get bloody for is Luke Castellan, and now in a twisted turn of fate, you’ve bloodied your hands because of him.

“Because you did it for your brother. There are no other explanations needed.”

He sees the exhaustion in your eyes, the drop in your shoulders, but your dad also sees the strength in your bones that spans generations and he knows you and Pollux are strong because you are both his.

“Humans believe in life everlasting—glory, as some call it, but they’re too focused on achieving it on earth instead of enjoying what life has to offer,” he scoffs, “Everyone has the guts to die, but no one has the guts to truly live. How sad.”

“His name was Rowan. Son of Hecate. I taught him how to whistle the summer I left. This is all my fault, Dad,” you say shakily as he comes near and pulls you into his side. He shushes you but you relent.

“Luke’s killing all these people to fulfill a promise he made for me. I’m just fucking disgusted with myself for being the cause of it all. What good life can I deserve when wherever I go I leave a trail of blood?”

Love and addiction must be so alike; to know that to be sober you can’t indulge in the vice ever again—not only does it hurt you, but others around you. But through the years you’ve always kept the taste of his name in your mouth, the feeling of his skin under your fingertips, and the knowledge of why he’s destroying the world so he can make you a better one. Insanity stems from fighting for so long that you embrace the pain; feeling something so intensely that when it consumes you you’re able to walk out the other side and wear it as armor.

Not everyone is hardwired to persevere. There are moments like a night like these where it would be easy to give up. Instead, you pour two glasses of whiskey you’ve conjured and hand one to your dad. You both sip on your drinks slowly, embracing the crawling feeling of the burn.

“Liquor is one way out and death is another,” your dad sighs blissfully. He almost looks rejuvenated by the alcohol he knows he’ll hear about from Zeus later, but perhaps the death of his son is a good enough pardon.

“For some of us, we don’t have to think about the answer.”

Mr. D grabs a pen off the desk and starts signing papers to do something with his hands, and then you speak again, “I think I’d rather die than for people I love,” and your dad’s attention whips to your blank face staring at the moon outside the window. “Instead of killing for them. I’ve never been a good soldier, Dad.”

Mr. D looks at you thoughtfully and wonders where all the time has gone that you sit there in front of him with more knowledge than him at your mortal age before saying, “You’re my daughter. You’re a fighter. Death is for chumps anyway.”

He lifts you by the arm to try to usher you up the stairs but you stay in his office chair swatting his hands away.

“Got work to do, you and I. Not getting rid of me until it’s done.”

“When are you going home?” he asks, pulling up a chair next to yours.

“I am home.”

You don’t look up from the papers you were filing, stubbornness leaking through your voice.

“If there is a war coming, I want to be home as much as I can. I’m finishing my last semester and I’ll be here before and after classes. You can’t stop me, dad.”

And he knows that too.

There is no such thing as leaving Camp Half-Blood for you.

Never for too long. Your love for it is scattered everywhere campers can see.

—

In all these years, you never believed I loved you. And I did. I did so much. I did love you. I even loved your hate and your hardness. - Tennessee Williams

[raz-writes-the-thing]

request. headcanons for simon price x reader who fucking DEMOLISHED their knees biking for several hours straight help me -🐉

so i know you probably meant Simon Riley x Reader but I'm just gonna do my own thing with this and give you both Simon and John hcs. A twofer if you will hehe x

(thank you for this im foaming for cod reqs)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!Reader hcs

Simon would think your complaining was the most annoying yet cutest thing ever. He'd for sure mock you (affectionately) about it, too.

"Poor baby, eh? Your poor legs are tired, oh, what a shame."

^ he says while massaging your muscles to help ease the pain for you. Despite his mockery, he's not going to just sit there and watch you in pain.

If you've got bruises on your knees he will kiss them better and go get you frozen peas out of the freezer to put on them.

"Don't need these swelling up on us, love."

Followed by him propping you up and making you both a cup of tea.

Don't get him wrong, though, he's still going to be making fun of you for the next several days and forcing you to stretch your muscles even when you don't want to.

In the morning he would run you a warm bath and tell you to get in. While you're in there, he'd make the two of you breakfast (it's terrible- Simon cannot make food, bless him)

Simon sets you both at the dinner table, takes one bite, spits it out and dumps both of your food in the bin. He tells you to stay put and goes into town to pick you both up food.

He'd offer to take you with but he seriously doubts that your knees would like the rumble of his bike.

John Price x GN!Reader

John is much softer about it all. He'd come in and see you wincing and immediately ask what's going on.

After you tell him you went a little overboard on the biking, he'd chuckle and set you down on the benchtop, encouraging you to stop making dinner.

"Sit there a minute, gorgeous. Have you put ice on them yet? No, why not y'goose, eh? Alright, love. There you go. All better, yeah?"

He'd crowd in between your legs and hold the ice packs in place for you. He'd give you a couple cheeky neck kisses, chuckle gruffly into your neck when you gasp and then tell you to sit tight while he finishes making your dinner.

He'd hand you your dinner and you'd both eat it at the bench. You sitting on the bench happily chewing away (if a bit tired) and John leaning up against the cabinets.

Once you're both done, he'd put the dishes away and pick you up, delighting in your squabbling about how you can, in fact, walk, thank you very much, Captain Price.

He'd put you gently down on the lounge first before lifting your legs gingerly and sitting down with them in his lap. He'd put one of your favourite shows on and sit there quietly massaging your feet and legs.

"Sorry, darlin'- got to keep the blood flowing. I know it's uncomfortable now, but trust me, you'll thank me later."

He definitely falls asleep that way, hand still around your calf and head thrown back. Ungodly loud snores escaping him.

In the morning you're still sore, but it's not as bad as it was the night before and Price spends all day pampering you and taking care of you anyway.

[frozenjokes]

Put Me In Perspective, Or At Least In My Place (Another Retrospective On Aromantic Love)

“Above your head like this. Both hands, look at me. Both hands, Grian. It doesn’t take a lot of strength, just step forward and release around eye level.” Cleo demonstrated, holding the axe at the end of its handle and releasing the weapon. It flew in what had to be a perfect arc before burying itself in the wood, a bullseye of course. She threw the axe like she’d done it a thousand times, and honestly, she probably had.

“Don’t people throw them with one hand, too?”

“Yes. It’s just harder. Try this first.”

Grian pursed his lips, stepping forward, throwing, then squeaking when the axe bounced terrifyingly off the wood, hitting the wall before rolling and bumping the curb that separated the stall and his feet. Ah. That was frightening.

“Nearly took out our ankles there,” Cleo said, not sounding all too concerned.”

“It- Can it bounce over that?”

“Not easily. But not uncommonly either. Try not to do that.” Cleo strode forward, plucking the axe off the ground and handing it to Grian. “Don’t throw it while I’m in there.”

“I wasn’t going to!”

“Maybe you won’t, but some people need to be told,” Cleo grunted, ripping the axe she’d thrown from the wall and spinning it thoughtlessly in her hand before burying it in the stump that split their twin alleys. “Try again. Keep your wrists straighter, release at eye level.”

Grian shifted his weight, frowning, “Surely you brought me here to talk about something else other than axe throwing. ‘Cancel your plans, I’m picking you up,’ is an extremely ominous message to receive from a stranger at 8:00 at night. How did you get my number again?”

“Pearl. And we aren’t strangers, we’ve met at least once at that big friend get-together thing, you know. That awful pizza place? Regardless, I’m friends with runners, so force is necessary 90% of the time. If you want to skip to the talking, we can talk, but I don’t know if you want to hear what I have to say.”

“I probably don’t.”

“Then start throwing and I’ll do the work. You’ll get it to stick, just give her a few tries.”

“You seem to have a lot of faith in me.”

“Everyone gets it eventually.” Cleo looked relaxed, unconcerned, and Grian tried to match the energy, but he couldn’t quite shake his anxiety. Well. He was here, so he might as well make the most of it.

It took six more tries before he got an axe to stick. Wow that was satisfying- but the air seemed a little too heavy to celebrate more than Cleo’s tasteful clapping. Maybe he should come back here with Pearl and Impulse.. Jimmy maybe? He’d kill to see Jimmy try this actually, even if he’d likely crush Grian in the end. When Grian went to collect the two axes from the stall, Cleo finally spoke.

“I’d like to know what’s going on between you and Scar. Properly. It’s been a particularly shitty week for our friend group and Scar’s been in a foul mood for more reason than one, so we haven’t talked. And I’m not just here to interrogate you about Scar either, I’d really like to know what’s going through your head as well. Have you seen each other this week? Have you talked at all?” Cleo was firm, but nothing about their voice was hostile. There was a worried longing there, the kind of urging that came from a deep concern for a good friend.

Grian took a deep breath. “Not much. I saw him a couple days ago when I was getting lunch with Pearl at the zoo. He only texted me one other time to tell me he wouldn’t be.. we have this mutual place we hang out, and he just told me he wouldn’t be around this week. Too much going on. I’m really sorry about Etho by the way, I hope you guys find him.”

“Thank you. Bdubs got in contact with him yesterday, so we know he’s alright. We still don’t know where he is or when he’s coming home, but from what I’ve heard, he’s keeping frequent contact. Hasn’t called me or Scar, but that’s typical. With any luck he’ll be back safely soon. That’s what Etho said anyway. Still all sorts of concerning, but we’ll take what we can get.”

“That’s good. I’m glad.” Grian tried not to be hurt that Scar hadn’t updated him, but failed miserably despite the fact it probably wasn’t any of his business. He just would’ve liked to know, that’s all.

“It is. So how did that clusterfuck of a night happen between you and Scar? How did that start?”

“Oh,” Grian mumbled, fidgeting with the axe still in his hands. Cleo took the other from the stump, throwing it almost lazily, like the question didn’t matter to her much at all. Grian decided to do the same, focusing on the secondary activity instead. “Well.. he invited me over. That was a couple hours after our first spat, and I was still feeling weird about it all. Wasn’t well.”

“I figured. He reached out to you first?”

“Yeah. We weren’t supposed to do anything though, just.. get it out of our systems. I was so mad at him- I’m still so angry, and not even for any reason in particular. I’m just mad.”

“Then how’d you end up in his bed?”

“Oh. I kissed him. He was pissing me off.”

“Right.”

Grian scoffed, snagging his axe off the floor of the alley after a failed throw. “How did you think this all went down? He told you the jist, basically. Not nicely, but he told you.”

Cleo shrugged. “I just wanted to know a few more details. Place my judgment a bit more accurately. From where I’m standing, you’re both idiots self destructing in the dumbest way possible. I would like it very much if this didn’t happen again, not only because it’s bad for both of you, but quite frankly, it’s embarrassing.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion.”

“Come on.”

Grian curled his lip. “Listen, I don’t understand why it’s such a huge problem for Scar and I to work out our differences with a little violence. We're consenting adults and the sex was kinda nuts, so if we’re both having fun there’s no issue. In any case, I’m pretty sure this is solving all of our problems.”

“Oh? Do explain.”

Grian rolled his shoulders, throwing his axe and getting it to stick for the second time, “We’re just letting off steam, Cleo. Two months of awkward tension does a lot to a man, it does a lot, nothing good. This is like a shortcut to the whole ‘tiMe hEaLs aLL’ bullshit, we’re like- getting it out of our system.”

“Uh huh. And this is going to resolve your unrequited feelings for Scar how..?”

“I’m getting it out of my system, Cleo.”

“Ah, so having really good sex with a man who isn’t looking for the same things in a relationship as you is going to fix you.”

“You got it.”

“That’s the dumbest load of horseshit I’ve ever heard.” For the first time, Cleo’s axe bounced off the board. She strode to pick it up wordlessly.

“Alright.” Grian landed another axe, just inches from the bullseye.

“Grian,” Cleo sighed harshly, and Grian avoided her eye, uninterested in her scrutiny, “Listen. As dysfunctional as the both of you two are, I don’t actually believe this couldn’t work. You two have been as thick as thieves for ages, and as much as you’re scrapping now, I don’t think that’s indicative of how you actually feel about each other. You’re just hurt people hurting each other, and you don’t have to be. For goodness’s sake, Scar would have been happy to be in some sort of relationship with you, he just didn’t want to lose you altogether. Somewhere I think that got lost in translation.”

“Scar doesn’t want to date me. He only offered to appease me, it was as obvious as anything.”

“I don’t doubt there’s truth to that. He doesn’t do well under the pressure of a love confession, and that’s no one’s fault. But his feelings on romance are a lot more complicated than ‘wanting’ or ‘not wanting.’ You did the right thing to refuse him, Grian, he wasn’t ready. But I think it’s worth talking to him again. Laying everything out on the table. And I can’t speak for what Scar wants, his brain is a mess of tangled wires and sparks, but he’s obviously had plenty of time to think about this, and he might surprise you. If there’s one thing I do know about Scar, it’s that he loves to give things like this a try. And I mean that. He does love it.”

“But Scar won’t love me. Not like I want to love him.”

Cleo hummed, thoughtful as they considered the ceiling, “You know, I don’t know if that’s true.”

Grian huffed, “Unless I’m misunderstanding what ‘aromantic’ means, I don’t see what you mean.”

Cleo shrugged. “Scar loves everyone in big sweeping gestures. That doesn’t change from person to person, whether they’re family, close friends, lovers.. it doesn’t change. But there are still levels, right? There’s still loyalty. You’re thinking of Scar as loving you like a friend, but I think that’s the wrong approach. Making that distinction makes it seem like his love would be less intense, like he wouldn’t still give you everything he has. Try.. a scale, 1 through 10, maybe. For you, you’re looking to give Scar your 10 on the scale, right? A 9 or 10, whatever it is, that’s the kind of love you want to give, the kind of love you’re looking to receive. In Scar’s brain, he’s been giving you that 10 for months, and if you asked to spend the rest of your life with him, he’d probably go ahead and accept without hesitation. That’s just how he feels about the people he’s close with.”

Grian didn’t speak, still working out how to process those words, but Cleo did not mind continuing in his absence. “If you’re worried about not being #1, then I’m afraid you’re fighting a losing battle, friend. With anyone. You’re contending with mothers, brothers, sisters, friends that go back to high school, grade school, diapers. Being intimate doesn’t outweigh those bonds, not for most people. And this isn’t to say that a relationship with Scar would be exactly the same as it would be with anyone else, it won’t, and if you’re the type of guy that gets insecure when your partner is physically friendly with other people, then forget it, but in my truest of hearts, if you’re looking for someone to love, I believe Scar would be more than good for you. He would treat you well,” Cleo paused, thoughtful before continuing, “And honestly, things literally can not get any messier between you two. There are zero stakes to giving this a shot. You’ll either feel a lot better about yourselves or you’ll go your separate ways, both of which are a huge improvement to whatever the fuck is happening between you two now. Maybe you’ll even stay friends after talking all this shit out. Who knows.”

Grian returned his axe to the stump, needing to sit down. To think. He was quiet for a long time just sitting there, the only sound being the bustle of other customers and Cleo’s own axe hitting its mark time and time again.

“You really think he’d want to give it a shot?”

Cleo shrugged and shook her head noncommittally, “Who knows. But it wouldn’t surprise me. So long as you two actually talk this all out, I think anything could happen. And Christ, if you two decide to get together and still want to ‘fall down the stairs’ then have nasty sex afterward, that’s your prerogative, but for crissakes, at least wear some sort of padding or a helmet or something, don’t actually kill each other.”

Well. He had gotten Scar that helmet, hadn’t he.

“I’ll think about it,” Grian mumbled, eyes lidded. And he was. He was thinking quite hard about it.

[armored-angel4798]

Eddie was excited. It’s hard not to be when you get to hang out with your best friend who you hadn’t seen for TWO WEEKS. Steve had been clocking a lot of overtime at his new vet tech job. While he loves that Steve is doing something he enjoys now, he misses his beautiful face. Robin was coming much later in the day because unfortunately, she still had to work. Eddie was so excited to get some alone time with Steve. He could hear the stereo playing from the front door. Not really Eddie’s music, but if it makes Steve smile he’ll listen to anything. The scene Eddie was met with when he walked into the house turned his brain into mush.

Steve was dancing through the kitchen in his briefs that left NOTHING to the imagination and using a spatula as a microphone. Eggs were frying on the stove, almost seeming forgotten as Separate Ways played. Eddie officially loves Journey, in fact, he needs to go buy their tapes right now. He’s frozen. Looking away from Steve being happy and free (read: in tight little briefs) is the most monumental task he has ever attempted. He failed. Much like his first two attempts at senior year. He was debating on clearing his throat to let Steve know he was there when he pointed the spatula right at him. Steve froze. Eddie, still frozen, gulped and kept staring. Really, what else was he supposed to do? He has been in love with his best friend for the better part of a year and he walks in on this? His brain is gone. It has leaked out of his ears and been replaced with his dick. His dick that had very much chubbed up without his say so.

“Eddie!” Steve sounds shocked.

It broke Eddie out of his brainmushdickhardfrozen state, and he panicked.

“I’ll go, um, I should leave, yeah. I’ll leave and you can call me, uh, when you’re decent. NOT that you aren’t decent. You’re the most decent man I know and I really respect you so much. So I gotta go.”

“Eddie! Eddie! Wait don’t go.”

“You’re…. IT’S really fine, Steve. I can come back later I’m sorry to interrupt your morning.”

Eddie convinced his cinder block feet to turn so he could walk away. A hand wrapped around Eddie’s wrist before he could take a step.

“Eddie, please stay. I’ll.. I’ll put on some clothes and we can hang. I just didn’t realize you’d be up so early.”

“I would rather you didn’t put on clothes.”

Steve’s eyes widened and Eddie slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Oh, really?” Steve asked.

“Oh my god!” Eddie shrieked not hearing Steve’s seductive tone. “I can’t believe I said that out loud! I’m so sorry Steve, I will go. I’ll just go. I don’t need to be here today. I’m just making a fool of myself. I’m…”

Eddie was shut up by a pair of lips pressing to his. Operation brainmushdickhard was back in full swing as he was pressed against a wall.

“Shut up, Eddie.” Steve whispered when he pulled away.

“You, uh, you are really good at making me.”

“I gotta get my eggs, but then we can discuss further what our plans are for the day.”

Eddie has died. This is the only explanation. He’s dead and this is his heaven. The only thing that would make this better is if Ozzy Osbourne burst through the door asking him to join his band. He stared at the door waiting for it to happen. Then he realized looking at the door was making him miss Steve’s ass jiggling. Can’t have that. Steve was turning back towards him. Plate of eggs abandoned on the counter, pan in the sink. Eddie imagines that this is what it feels like to be a prey animal stalked by a lion. Steve kissed him again and Eddie was helpless, his knees weak as Steve ran his hand down Eddie’s torso. Steve nipped at his ear and Eddie /whined/.

“What do you say we see what we can do about this, hmm?” Steve whispered in his ear as he palmed Eddie through his jeans.

“Is this real?” He asked

“If you want it to be.”

“I want it. I want you so bad.”

“You have me, baby.”

Eddie melted. When Robin got to Steve’s house they were clothed on the couch (thank God). Eddie was practically in Steve’s lap.

“Oh, you finally got your shit together.” She said when she saw them, “also, I’m not staying over if you didn’t change your sheets.”

Eddie blushed and Steve laughed opening his other side for Robin to join them.

[m-jelly]

Mask of the heart - Chapter 4

Levi x fem!readerRoyalty, Demon Levi Ackerman, Protective Levi Ackerman, Possessive Levi Ackerman, Cuddly Levi Ackerman, Masks, Curvy Reader, wedding, demon ceremony, smut, unprotected, multiple orgasms, multiple creampies, dirty talk.

In this chapter: It is wedding day! Levi finally gets the gift you got him. The two of you marry and you do the demon ceremony.

Ao3

It was just a perfect morning. Yesterday Levi and you explored each other a little for the first time, then you explored each other more until the night came. The two of you did everything but sex. It was exciting and comforting to be with the man you loved, plus it was healing for Levi. It was also clear that the two of you were liked together on a deep level. Levi often said you were his soulmate and you were beginning to believe him, it seemed like you two slotted together just right.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains as the air was slightly warmer than yesterday. Breakfast had been served, and you were enjoying your food together. It was so cosy having Levi’s arms wrapped around you as the food was set up. He kept snuggling the crook of your neck to hide his face from his staff. He never wore his mask with you, but he was still not ready to not wear it around his staff so he was hiding in the crook of your neck.

You smiled at Francis. “Thank you.”

The butler bowed. “Enjoy breakfast. Oh, your ladyship Anne has a message for you. She has said the package you delivered is now full.”

You gasped in delight. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re most welcome. I also need to inform you that your dress fitting is in a few hours before the wedding. Your lordship, you have a suit fitting soon. Your wedding is set for 2 pm today.”

You petted Levi’s head. “He says thank you also.”

Francis chuckled. “I will leave you both be.”

You waved to Francis as he left the bedroom. As soon as Francis was gone you tried to pull Levi’s arms off you, but he squeezed you tighter. “Levi, we need to eat breakfast.”

He whined. “But cuddles.”

“We can cuddle after.”

He released you. “Promise with a kiss.”

You turned around and kissed him. “I love you.”

He blushed hard. “I love you too.” He watched you slip out of bed and move to the table set up with food. “You look so beautiful.”

It was true, you were a vision of beauty as you wore your long night dress that was slightly see-through with your hair down. Your cheeks heated up because of how Levi looked at you, it was as if you were the most beautiful creature in the world. It flustered you to be seen as so desirable. You smiled at your lover as he gazed at you. You opened your arms causing him to sprint over and hug you.

You let Levi go and let him help you sit. “Such a gentleman.”

He sat down and gazed at you. “I want to spoil you so much.” He reached over and caressed your cheek. “I love you with everything in me. My bunny. My soulmate.”

You leaned across the table and kissed him. “You’re my everything too.” You smiled and caressed his cheek. “Let’s eat, we have things to do today.”

Levi ate his food quickly so he could sit and admire the beauty that was you. “You’re so cute.”

You sipped your tea and hummed. “Thank you. You’re incredibly handsome.”

He blushed. “Thank you.”

You light up at him accepting your praise. “Levi.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know, it’s progress, right?”

You giggled. “It is!” You smiled a little. “I’m so proud of you.”

He slipped off his seat and sat at your feet. He gazed up at you before resting his head on your lap. “Thank you. It means a lot to hear that.”

You played with Levi’s hair. “You’re so sweet.”

He hummed and nuzzled against your lap. “I’m hungry.”

You glanced to the door. “I can ask Francis to bring more food.”

He growled a bit. “Different kind of hungry.”

You gripped Levi’s horns. “Down boy, down.”

He huffed. “Just for a bit.”

You put your arms over his shoulders before slipping off your seat and lying on Levi. “It never is just for a bit.” You slowly sat up as you dragged your hands down his body. You pressed on his lower abs and made sure to push your breasts together. You smiled at him as your dress slipped off your shoulders. “I’m glad that I arouse my husband-to-be so much.”

He purred as he took you in. “So beautiful.” He ran his hands up your sides as he slowly sat up. “Such plump and soft breasts, I just want to bite and suck.” He cupped your heavy mounds and felt the weight of them, they were such a marvel to him. Your whole body was incredible to him, he loved his curvy lover. He swiped your sensitive nipple with his thumb. “You’re my perfect little bunny.”

You grabbed his hands when there was a knock at the door. “Ah, it’s Anne.”

Levi whined when you jumped off his lap. “Bunny.”

You pulled on your dressing gown. “Levi, I’m going to open the door.”

He crawled to the bed and face-planted it. “Mm.”

“Grumpy.” You opened the door and smiled at Anne. “Good morning, Anne.”

She smiled at you. “Good morning. I have the delivery for you.”

You took it from her as Levi groaned loudly. “Thank you.”

Anne giggled. “His lordship in a mood?”

“Yes, I told him no.”

“Bless him.” She winked at you. “I’ll ask people to leave you both for a bit. I think this delivery might be a lot for him.”

You hugged the box. “Thank you.”

“Have a good day.”

You bowed to her as she closed the door behind her. You turned and walked over to your whining and groaning man. You placed the box on the bed. “You gonna cheer up for me?”

He huffed. “No.”

You sat on the bed by his head. “Even though I have a gift for you.”

He lifted his head and gazed at you. “You got me a gift?”

You nodded. “Yep.”

He climbed onto the bed and sat. “Okay, I’ll behave for a bit.”

You giggled before while pushing the box closer. “I do hope that I haven’t overstepped or this makes you uncomfortable.”

He patted the spot next to him. “Sit.”

You scooted over to sit next to Levi. You hugged his side and smiled as he opened up the box to see it was full of papers. “Wow, they went all out.”

He frowned. “All out?”

You blushed a little. “Yeah. You see, I asked the staff to do a little task for me.”

He picked up the first letter and started reading it as a blush slowly formed on his cheeks. “Ah.”

You nibbled your lip. “I asked the staff to write how they feel about and see you.”

He read the next one and placed all the read letters on your lap. “Mm.” He smiled more and more as he read each letter. He chuckled at one. “These are fun.”

You gasped when you saw one on royal paper. “Erwin made one for me.”

Levi growled. “I don’t want to read it.”

You kissed his cheek a few times. “Read his letter. He’s your friend.”

“But you asked him and you’re excited he made it.”

You kissed his neck. “I love you. I’m with you. I’m marrying you in two days.”

He perked up. “You are.”

“Read his letter. I can imagine he put a lot of thought into it.”

Levi released a long sigh as he started to relax. He slowly read the words from his best friend and felt his heart swell at the kindness. “You’re right, he put in a lot of thought.”

You smiled at Levi. “Good?”

He nodded. “Very.” He placed the letter on your lap and saw the last letter had your handwriting. “This from you?”

“Yes.” You kissed his shoulder. “I thought I would add something from myself.” You slipped off the bed and went to the walk-in closet. “I’m going to change as you read mine.”

Levi’s eyes scanned your loving words, he had heard you say them countless times but seeing them written down moved him because he knew he could read them over and over again even in dark times. He pressed his lips against the page with a gentle smile on his face. Your letter was the cherry on the top. The light confidence in him was swelling. He never thought his curse would be broken, but you came along and made him feel like he was worthy of love and life.

He dropped your letter on the bed as he walked towards you, his body slowly changing as he moved closer to you. He softly called your name. “Your letter.”

You hummed. “Was it okay? I tried my best.” You finished putting your dress on and turned to face Levi. You gasped as you admired the man before you. “Levi.”

He cradled your face in his hands and kissed you. “I love you.”

You smiled sweetly. “I love you too, Levi.”

He gripped your waist and lifted you. “I really love you.” He carried you to the bed and lay you down. “My love.”

You mewled and panted as he started kissing your neck and chest. “Levi.”

He stopped mid-kiss when he heard a knock at the door. “Our wedding!”

You giggled as he jumped off the bed and ran to the door. You sat up and realised Levi was shirtless and missing his mask. “Levi!”

He opened the door to gaze at Annie, other maids and Francis. “Sorry, blame me for us not being ready.” He saw they were gazing at him in a similar way to how you looked at him. “Something wrong?”

You walked over to Levi. “Darling?” You lightly touched his cheek. “I’m proud of you.”

He glanced over at you before looking back at his staff and then it hit him, he was not wearing his mask and all of his staff could see what he looked like. “I-I…uh…”

Anne gasped. “Your lordship, you’re so incredibly handsome!”

As soon as Anne’s praise came out it caused a massive chatter to happen. Every single member of staff talked about how wonderful he was, how handsome, how kind, how perfect and how he was just the best. The more they talked, the more emotional Levi became. For so long he never saw himself as anything, but now people were speaking their mind and telling him how they really thought about him.

Levi felt a rush of emotions. “Thank you, all of you. I adored my present. I…you…” He rubbed his tears and chuckled. “You’re all so wonderful. What a perfect start to the most magical day.” He pulled you against him. “Are you ready to get married?”

You squealed in delight. “Yes!”

Anne took your hands in hers. “Your ladyship, let's get you dressed up.”

You walked away as you heard Levi whine. You gazed back at him. “I won’t be long. I’ll be at the wedding.”

Levi leaned closer and kissed you. “I can’t wait.”

You waved to him as you were pulled away. You moved down the hall until you reached your wedding room. It was so delicate and floral in the room. As soon as you arrived your clothes were removed and you were placed in a bath with flowers. The bath was nice, but you would have preferred sharing it with Levi. You had gotten so used to doing everything with your man that it was strange to not have him.

The maids dried you off and started dressing you up for the day. First, you had your underwear with straps and belts, it was sexy underwear for Levi and you knew the staff had hopes a child would be conceived soon. Next, you were strapped into a pretty and delicate corset that showed off your curvy figure. As soon as you were tied up they lifted a thin white dress up and over your head. The dress was a little long at the back and looked like perfection. It was a delicate cream-like white with little flowers carefully stitched in on certain parts. It was off the shoulder so you could show off your ample chest and delicate neck. The last touch was putting your hair up with a few flowers and earrings to match.

Anne gazed at you. “Your ladyship.”

You smiled a little at her before walking over to the mirror once they finished your makeup. You paused a moment and gazed at yourself, you looked like a spring goddess. “Oh…oh my…” You welled up. “I look so beautiful.” You sniffed a bit. “Thank you, all of you.”

Anne presented you with flowers. “You look like a goddess.”

You took your flowers as you felt your cheeks heat up. “Thank you.” You released a long sigh. “I better get moving, huh?”

Anne walked with you. “You look like a dream. The count will be speechless.”

You paused before you left the home to go to where your wedding was being held. “I ah…” You welled up. “N-need a moment.”

“My ladyship?”

You shook a little. “Just thinking of my parents. I just…I need a moment.”

Anne bowed before hurrying outside to find Levi dressed in his suit looking like a demon prince. It was a beautiful sight seeing him without his mask and it was odd that he had no tail anymore, he looked like King Erwin. She moved closer and bowed her head. “Sorry to interrupt your conversation, Your Majesty and Lordship.”

Erwin smiled. “No need to apologise. Is everything okay?”

“Her ladyship is a little emotional, she’s thinking about her parents.”

Levi’s eyes widened. “Bunny.” He gazed over at the home. “I’ll go see her.” He sprinted across the garden to his home. He threw open the door to see you sitting at the bottom of the grand stairs in tears. “Bunny.”

You sniffed a bit. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t stop thinking of my parents. I just…I miss them. I wish they were here.”

“You…I’m sorry but you are breathtaking. Fuck…” He blushed hard. “I know you’re sad, but you’re just so beautiful.”

You giggled as you rubbed your tears. “Thank you.”

He knelt before you and held your hands. “Sweet bunny.” He kissed your hands. “I’m sorry your parents aren’t here. They were robbed of their life and their chance to see you grow up into an incredible woman. You’re strong, brave, beautiful and amazing.” He leaned up and kissed you. “I love you.”

You smiled at Levi. “I love you, Levi.” You sniffed. “You really think they’d feel that way?”

He nodded. “I know it. Your father would cry at how pretty you look and your mum would say that you are a princess.”

You laughed. “I think so.” You gazed deep into Levi’s eyes. “Thank you.”

He leaned up and kissed you again. “Mm, you’re amazing. I know you feel alone, but you’re not anymore. You’ve lost one family, but you’re gaining one. Our staff are your family. My mother and father will be your family.” He growled. “Tch, even Erwin.”

“You forgot something.”

He frowned. “I did?”

You nodded and tapped Levi’s chest. “The most important family I’m gaining. You.”

He hummed a laugh. “That’s right.”

“We’ll make our family bigger too.”

Levi went bright red. “Y-Yes. S-so many s-sweet children.”

You stood up and pulled Levi with you. “We’ll have a wonderful family.” You titled your head and kissed him. “Okay, I’m ready to get married now.”

Levi picked you up and spun around with you. “Yes!” He placed you on your feet. “Ready?”

You grabbed your flowers and then smiled. “Yes.”

He held his hand and walked with you outside and to where Erwin was waiting. Levi hurried you along until you were both in front of Erwin. “We’re ready.”

Erwin bowed his head. “Wonderful. First will be your marriage, and then it’ll be the ancient demon ceremony. The ceremony will take place in private.”

You nodded. “I understand. I just want to marry this handsome man.”

Erwin chuckled. “Great enthusiasm.”

The wedding was so perfect and simple, it was all about uniting two souls together in love. Erwin made a small speech about the world and life before turning it on love. Next, it was speeches of love that you and Levi had for each other. Once you exchanged your vows of dedication you held hands as a string of flowers were wrapped around your waists.

Levi tugged you along. “Come, we have to walk a path in the garden.”

You giggled as you walked with him. “What’s this path?”

He squeezed your hand. “It represents the path of life, it is long and has many twists and turns, but we go together and reach the end as one.”

You walked with him through the garden and felt your heart flutter. “It’s so beautiful out here.”

“It is.” He stopped by a small river. “See? Trouble.” He scooped you up like a bride and stepped over the river. “I’ll protect you and keep you safe.”

“I’ll protect you too.”

He placed you on your feet. “You’re so cute.”

You pouted a bit. “I can, honest.”

He hummed a laugh. “I know.”

The two of you talked back and forth as you made your way around and out of the garden. As you got closer to your friends and family, they were shouting and cheering for the two of you. Some of the shouts were rude ones suggesting that people thought you and Levi would possibly come back with grass stains.

Levi stopped in front of Erwin and then exchanged rings with you. He leaned down and kissed you passionately as everyone cheered. “Mrs Ackerman.”

You giggled. “Yes.”

He smiled. “We need to sign a magical document.”

Erwin made a scroll appear. “Sign this and the magic laws in all lands bind you.”

You grabbed the floating pen before Levi and scribbled your name. “Levi?”

Levi took the pen. “You were really enthusiastic, that makes me happy.”

“Can you blame me?”

He signed and released the pen. “Mine.” He grabbed and showered your face with kisses. “My darling wife.”

Erwin cleared his throat. “Levi? We need to relocate.”

Levi scooped you up causing you to squeal. “Yes.”

Erwin walked over to the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen.”

Levi spoke to you causing you to tune out what Erwin was talking about. “We’re going to a special room for the ceremony. Erwin will handle our guests.”

You lightly touched Levi’s cheek. “Will it be just you and me?”

“Yes. It’s a very private ceremony.”

You blushed a little. “Does it involve an intimate moment?”

Levi cleared his throat. “It does often lead to physical things.”

You admired the blush on his cheeks. “Exciting.”

He followed a path of flowers into the woods until he reached a shimmering wall. He released a long sigh before stepping through the veil and into a beautiful room full of flowers, fresh food and the soft singing of birds. Ahead of him was a white bed on the floor lined with floral decorations. When Levi came to a stop at the bed, he knelt on the floor and sat you down.

You gazed at Levi to see he looked a little sad and scared. “Something wrong?”

He sighed. “It’s taken me all this time to look like this, to look normal and now I have to go back to that ugly demon form to do this ceremony.”

You knelt and cupped his face. “Pretty sure I fell in love with you when you looked that way. I love you for you. I love all of you.”

He closed his eyes as he leaned into your touch. “You always make me feel so loved.”

“I’m glad. You are loveable.”

He kissed you before pulling back and standing. “Excuse me. I have to remove most of my clothes or they’ll rip up.”

Your cheeks burned. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that.”

He chuckled. “Maybe another time.” He pulled his jacket off with medals first, then he started removing his cravat, shirt and trousers so he was just tight bottoms. “I don’t think I need to say don’t be afraid, but I’ll put it out there.”

You gasped black markings covered his body and scales lined parts of his beautiful body, like his pecs, abs and V-line. The horns on his head grew bigger and stood proud on his head as his tail whipped behind him, even his claws were back. It made you shiver to see the man you loved in all his demon glory. “Levi…”

He gulped hard. “Well?”

You gripped your chest. “My heart is racing and I am having so many dirty thoughts.”

He chuckled. “That makes me happy.” He held his hand out causing a rush of warm air and black light lined with white to light up in a circle around the bed. He muttered under his breath in his ancient tongue. He lifted his other arm causing two pedestals to rise, one with a chalice and the other with a knife. He lowered his arms. “Let us begin.”

You wiggled a bit on the bed and smiled. “I’m ready.”

He grabbed the chalice and knife before joining you on the bed. “We have a drink to make.”

You looked into the cup to see it was a glittery white liquid. “Pretty.”

He placed the cup down and used his claw to cut his finger and let the water drop into the cup. “My blood, an offering of my flesh to my eternal.” He reached for your hand. “Are you willing to offer your flesh for eternity?”

You reached over to him. “Yes.”

He smiled. “Sorry, this might hurt.” He cut your finger and let the blood drip into the cup. “I don’t like that part.”

“Because you have to make me bleed?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, I want it.” You leaned closer and kissed his cheek. “I really do.”

He growled at you. “S-Sorry, I need to be calm.”

You hummed a laugh. “Sexy beast.”

“I am.” He picked up the knife and tapped the tip against his chest. “I now offer up a part of my soul for eternity.” He pulled the knife back to see a little bit of light dancing on the end. He tapped it on the edge of the cup. “Now, for you.”

“Do I need to open my dress up a bit?”

“I would like that, but no.” He tapped the knife against your chest and pulled back a bit. He smiled as he admired it. “Pretty soul.”

You giggled. “Thank you.”

He tapped it into the cup. “Now, hold the chalice with me.”

You placed your hands on Levi’s. “Ready.”

He spoke in his native language and then smiled at you. “Two souls united as one, one immortal and the other not. With the binding of love and the promise of loyalty, our love will transcend the stars. All you need to do is accept.”

You smiled. “I accept!”

“Drink.”

“All of it?”

He shook his head. “Some of it and then I’ll have the rest.”

“Ah! Okay.” You brought the chalice to your lips and gulped down the sweet cool liquid causing a rush to go through your whole body. “Mm.” You pulled it back and licked your lips. “Delicious.”

Levi winked at you. “Means we’re a good match. Now, I’ll drink. I will apologise beforehand that this might cause me to be a bit…aroused.”

You nibbled your lip. “I’m already there, so having you join me is good.”

He growled a bit before downing his share of the drink. He panted as he felt a rush go through him, you truly were his soulmate. He tossed the chalice to the side and growled at you. “Bunny.”

You pawed at his chest. “Levi.” Your body started to throb with need as the drink and its power entered every inch of you. “Mm.”

Levi pounced onto you as the circle and symbols around the bed began to light up. His claws gripped the bed as he started panting with desire consuming him. He admired you for a moment, your chest heaving in your corset with your hair falling out of the updo you had. The glazed look of love and arousal in your eyes was electrifying. His hands pushed under your dress and played with your panties as you wiggled and whimpered with need.

He crashed his lips against yours and hummed in delight as he felt his connection to you was on a different level than normal. He lifted his hips a bit when you started tugging at his bottoms. He grunted when you pulled out his demon dick. He released your lips. “Darling bunny, let me.” He shivered when you tugged your panties to the side and pushed his tip inside you. “F-Fuck.”

You arched your back. “N-No foreplay. Take me.”

He panted a bit. “Are you sure?”

You nodded and wrapped your arms around him. “Please.”

Levi dragged his claws down the bed causing it to be torn under his touch. He rammed his cock into you causing you to scream out in pleasure. Every single bump along his length rubbed you in the right way, his tip pressed deep within you ready to pour every drop of his seed. He leaned closer and nipped the crook of your neck as he started bucking fast and passionately into you. His eyes rolled back into his head as he marvelled at how wet and hot your pussy was for him.

It was magical how he moved within you. You had slept with men before, but there was something so addictive about a demon’s cock. It was as if his cock was made purely for pleasure because every drag and push into you made your body burn with ecstasy. You were lost to the pleasure that your demon husband gave you. All you could do was hold onto him tightly, squeeze your walls and massage his perfect penis that pumped in and out of you.

You tangled your fingers in Levi’s hair as tears filled your eyes, you were just so overwhelmed with joy and love that you couldn’t help but get emotional. “I love you.” You turned your head a little. “Levi, I love you.”

Levi released your neck and gazed at you. “I love you too.” He softly said your name. “I love you so much.”

You smiled at him as your tears rolled down your cheeks. “You’re perfect. This is magical.” You moaned as he began grinding against you. “You’re my world.”

Levi wiped your tears away. “My perfect and sweet wife. Are your tears happy ones?”

You sniffed and nodded. “Yes.”

He smiled at you. “That’s beautiful. I’m so happy.” He kissed you passionately and hummed in delight. “My darling wife. Mine, all mine.”

You panted as your coil tightened. “Levi.”

He leaned up a little and gripped the bed tightly, and then he started bucking as hard and as fast as you could take it. He admired how your back arched for him, your hair became messy and your breasts almost spilt out of your corset. He snarled as his demonic love and desires consumed him. His love for you was all-consuming inside him. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to fully control himself. As he moved deep within you he could feel your soul and his changing. Your life was moving to an eternal one and your souls were linking together.

You threw your head and cried out as you felt a body-shaking orgasm consume you.  “A-Ah!” You gasped and tugged at the bed. “L-Levi.”

He tapped his forehead against yours and slammed his cock in deep. He moaned your name as he poured his seed into you. He panted a little as his balls tightened and cock twitched. “Mm.”

You shivered against the bed. “Warm.”

Levi dragged himself out of you. “I want to see you, all of you.”

You nodded weakly before sitting up on your legs. “Mm, weak.”

He pulled his underwear off and threw it so now he was in his full naked demon glory before you. “Do you need to rest?”

You shook your head a little and smiled. “No. I want more.” You blushed a little. “Can you keep going?”

“I can.” He moved his hand on this twitching cock. “Can’t you tell?”

You blushed a little. “Mm, so thick and hot.” You reached over and lightly touched him. “More.”

He chuckled a bit. “I will give you more. Now, turn your back to me.”

You shuffled a little so your back was to your husband. “Yours.”

He untied the back of your dress slowly and helped you move it up and over your head. He tossed it to the side and began untying your corset. “So beautiful and soft.”

You helped him pull your corset off your body so you were sat in your underwear with straps. You pressed your hands against your breasts and looked back at Levi. “Am I appealing?”

He wrapped his arms around you and nipped your shoulder. “You are a tempting goddess.”

“And I am all yours.”

He chuckled a bit before pressing you down on your front as his lips left loving kisses down your back. “Lift your hips for me.”

You did as he asked of you and hummed as he took the last of your clothes off, so now you were naked against the ceremony bed ready for your husband to love you more. You wiggled your bum at Levi as you dragged a pillow closer and purred at him, you just wanted to take you and ravage you until you had no voice.

You let out a croaked cry. “Levi, please.”

He grabbed your hips with his large claws before slamming his cock into you. He wrapped his arms around you and bucked hard. He nuzzled the crook of your neck and inhaled your perfect scent. As he moved deep into you he could feel your hips lifting to meet his perfect thrusts. He shifted his hand and held yours as he slapped his pelvis against your plump bum. In this position, he was reaching the deepest parts of you, it was even more arousing knowing that he was fucking his cum deep into you.

Levi tilted his head and kissed your ear. “You feel so incredible, like nothing I’ve ever felt before. You’re so hot and wet. You take my cock so well. I can get so deep inside you.” He nipped your ear. “I just want to keep fucking you and cumming inside you.”

You whined as you felt so flustered. “Mm.”

“Every inch of your body is godly.” He panted against your ear. “It is made to be pleasured, made to be loved, made to be bred and made to be fucked.”

You nodded shyly. “O-Only by you.”

“Yes and for eternity.” He growled. “You’re mine, all mine for eternity. My good little bunny.”

You turned your head and mewled. “Y-yes.”

He kissed you as his hand slipped down your body. “Are you a good girl?”

You mewled. “Yes.”

He lightly tapped your clit with his finger. “Are you my good girl?”

“Y-Yes!”

As soon as he moved his finger against your clit and pressed his dick deep into you it was like the stars were exploding. The pleasure surging through your body rendered you speechless. The little protective bubble you were in was filled with the lewd slaps of Levi’s animalistic bucking into you. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you enjoyed how he made you feel. You kept your hips lifted and began to buck back against him. It was like there was a coating on his penis, or maybe something on his skin or it was his cum, but you were just addicted and you didn’t care if your legs got weak, you just wanted more.

You panted as you felt yourself drooling. “More.”

A deep chuckle came from Levi. “More? Does my bunny wife want more? Is what I’m giving not enough?”

You shivered. “M-More.”

He knelt up, pressed his hand against your shoulder then gripped your hip and lifted. “I’ll give you more. Try not to lose your voice.”

You screamed as he pounded into you like never before. His bucks were inhuman and it was electrifying. Your whole body was on fire with pleasure, you couldn’t believe how good it felt to be fucked by a demon that loved you. You reached down and moved your fingers against your clit. Your thighs shook as your nerve endings pulsed and throbbed. You bucked back against Levi, but you were unable to keep up with him. You had placed yourself at the mercy of your husband. You couldn’t believe that the shy and sweet man you had met was now railing you within an inch of your life.

Levi released your shoulder and held your hips in both his hands. “You take me so well. What a good little bunny wife you are.” He panted. “Destined to be together. You came all the way here just for me.”

You cried out as your walls collapsed. You flopped against the bed as your body spasmed. “A-Ah, ha, ha, ha.”

Levi lifted your hips a little more before pressing in deep. He leaned over you as he released a long deep moan as he poured his demon cum deep into you adding to the load already inside. He shivered and mewled. He eyed your body and softly moaned your name. “My love.”

You weakly rolled onto your back. “Levi? Are you okay?”

He gazed at you and admired how beautiful you looked on a bed of flowers, your hair around your head like a crown, he couldn’t help but smile at how stunning you were. “I’m perfect.” He shifted a little and slipped his cock back into you causing you both to mewl. He pressed his whole body against yours as he moved deeply and slowly. “I have you, that’s why I feel perfect.”

You lightly touched and caressed his horns. “You’re incredible. I love you so much.”

He tapped his forehead against yours. “I love you forever and always, my darling wife.”

You softly panted and moaned as he moved deep within you. “I feel so loved, so free with you.”

He tangled his fingers in your hair. “Do you feel different now you are eternal?”

You nodded as tears ran down your cheeks. “Yes. I get eternity with you.”

Levi kissed you over and over. “And I with you.” He smiled as he let his emotions consume him. “I’m never letting you go. You’re all mine. Forever and always.”

You giggled as you felt your heart swell with love. “Yes.”

“I will love you for all eternity.”

You caressed Levi’s cheek. “And I will love you for eternity too.”

He smiled and kissed you over and over. “I know. You gave up your mortal life for me. What a loving and beautiful act.”

You hummed as you kissed Levi with all the love in your heart. “Levi, fill me once more. Give me every last drop.”

He smirked a bit. “I will, everything I have is yours.”

Your lips joined each other as you kissed passionately with all the love in your hearts. Time seemed to slow down as you worshipped each other. Bodies and souls becoming one as you explored each other with not a single concern in the world. All the guests were forgotten about and the impending wrath of Prince Jareth Lovell. This moment was about the two of you coming together knowing that your love as a couple was truly for eternity.

You reached up and lightly caressed his horn. “Levi.”

He showered your face with kisses. “Cum. Enjoy your pleasure.”

You wrapped your legs around Levi and smiled when his tail tangled around one of your legs. You leaned your head back as your husband kissed and nipped your neck. You arched your back a little as you let your pleasure wash over you like a soothing wave. “Mm.”

Levi rocked his hips a little faster before pressing in and releasing his last big load into you. He panted and nuzzled the crook of your neck. “Mm, mine.”

You lightly played with his hair as he softly moaned your name. You giggled as he said your name again. “I’m here, Levi. I’m here.”

He pulled back a little and smiled down at you. “You really are, aren’t you?”

You nodded. “Yes.” You pouted as his demon features faded away and only his horns remained. “No more scales, huh?”

He blushed a bit. “No, but I will bring them out any time you want them.”

You giggled. “Exciting.”

He dragged himself out of you and pulled on his bottoms. “Let me help you change, then you need water and food.”

You sat up and felt your body aching. “Mm, my joints ache a bit.”

“Ah, sorry.”

You hummed a laugh as he started to help you put your clothes on. “Don’t be sorry. I wanted every moment of what we did and I would like more.”

Levi blushed. “M-More?”

You fixed your hair. “Well, I’m sure you feel the same.”

He helped you to stand. “If I could make love to you all day long, I would.” He started pulling on his clothes. “However, we have guests and my parents would love to meet you.” He stood up and pulled on his jacket. “My perfect wife.”

You walked up to your husband and linked your arms around his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you.” He wrapped his arms around you and kissed you. “I’ll love you forever and always.”

You smiled at him. “So, tonight we’ll consummate our marriage, correct?”

Levi frowned a moment because you just had, but then he realised to were letting him know that this was the ceremony and next it was the marriage ceremony. “Correct.” He picked you up and chuckled. “I have such a wonderful wife.” He kissed you. “Come, let’s eat, drink and celebrate.”

You kicked your legs. “Yes, my darling husband.”

He purred as he carried you. “Wife.”

[ghostlygothicgay]

More IV thoughts:

Cw: NSFW, possessiveness, IVs huge cock jealousy issues, ownership kink, collars, leashes, fluff, IV having a stick up his ass at times

brought in partnership to you by my favorite enabler @stonedstargazer666

Im not a writer btw, this was made in a horny haze while day dreaming about him. I'm an artist by trade.

IV is a possessive man

He pretends it's him being protective, both of you know it's not quite the truth.

In public he prevents himself from doing the stuff he really wants to. He's a man who values his privacy and keeping his life to himself, his life includes you as a big part of it. There's never any huge displays of affection or possession when out in the public eye because of that, mostly just fleeting touches, wrapping a finger around yours, knees touching under tables. Little things that remind you that he's not ashamed of the relationship.

There are times when holding himself back becomes difficult. If people are too friendly or ,god forbid, flirting with you, it sets him ablaze. If a glare could kill the person flirting with you would have disintegrated into dust. Still he manages not to make a scene out of it.

His grip is tight on your shoulder when he leans down to speak calmly into your ear, pretending that there's something better that you need to tend to. His hand slips down your arm as he walks off, expecting you to follow. You know how he gets jealous, although it's annoyingly childish you know he had his insecurities. You usually will follow after him shortly to find him with his arms crossed off near the doors, waiting for you to finish whatever you were doing before joining him. When you question him about it always something along the lines of: "had a bad feeling." Or "you know how I am."

He's fine with your friends, as soon as he knows what they're about. He needs to know that they won't do anything stupid to put you into danger. He tolerates them and will put up with them if you drag him to do an activity as a group, don't expect him to be enthusiastic about it though. For awhile he got pissy about you being with them without him, which you chastised him for and he backed off. Thank god. He will ask you what everyone will be going to do, expect him to text and check on you quite often.

Your occasional annoyance with his possessiveness still doesn't stop him from wanting to keep you to himself. You'rd precious prize bestowed upon him by sleep itself for his devotion. He knows it's wrong to want to keep you though, but his mind will still wander to it when you're laying in his arms late at night. Having you with him at all times with no reason for anything else to tempt you to leave. He doesn't think you'd be disloyal, he just can't help himself. He's insecure about himself even if he doesn't want to admit it. Those late nights with you sleeping in his arms are his time to think about ways to keep you close to him. With cute dates, making your favorite food, movie nights, gifts. Sometimes his mind does slip to the more sinister...keeping you on a literal short leash, not letting you go anywhere without him, keeping you inside, having your undying devotion and love. He knows having to head any of that would upset you, so he keeps his mouth shut about his strange thoughts soon to be turned fantasy.

At home and out of the public eye he's much more open about his protectiveness. The neck is a special point of interest for him, he can't keep his hands off yours whenever he passes. You'll hear the stop steps of his feet approaching and a graze to the back of your neck before it slips away, neither of you speak while it happens. It's partly as a way to say hi without opening his mouth, you both know the other reason he does it. The way your pulse beats and adams' apple moves under his palm always makes his breath quicken.

When the two of you sleep it's like he's trying to absorb you into his own body some nights, hands gripping you wherever they can find bare skin. Pushing and pulling you into a ball so he can wrap himself around you like an animal would it's young. Whenever you wake up the next day your muscles ache, he'll always massage the tension out and apologize with sweet words. Other times you'll wake up with those hands resting around your throat and him watching you peacefully sleeping, his thumbs brushing your skin so lightly as to not wake you.

Your sex life with him also plays into his need to own you, it's a place for him to be able to channel all his frustrations and desires that he doesn't let out. He has a liking for collars and what they represent, getting you a soft leather one to wear during more intense, thought out sessions. Whenever you choose to wear it around the house to tease him he struggles to hold himself back, and oftentimes ends up behind you gripping your body and putting his head into the place where your shoulder and neck meet.

When he gets like this it's so fun to tease him, he gets so desperate but won't do anything unless you give him the go ahead to do so. Eventually he'll break a little and plead with you to do something, even just a kiss would make him happy! You can feel him half hard though his loungewear against your behind, when you grind against him he lets out such shaky breaths. Hands sneak up to hold the rings of your collar while he grinds himself against you, he'll dry hump you till he finishes in his pants if you don't let him go farther than that. Times like that it feels more suitable that he wears the collar.

If you let him, he'll put a leash on your collar and use it to get you where he wants you. Having you on the ground, bare and on all fours, while he sits fully clothed is a power trip fantasy he discovered with you. A tug on the leash to get you between his spread legs is enough to make him pant. The look of obedience on your face makes him want to take you In front of others just so they can see who you answer to, but that would be giving them too much. He'll tug on the leash when you suck him off, making you take him deeper and choke. It feels wonderful.

He bought you yet another collar. Not a leather one with space for a leash but a simple silver chain that serves the same purpose that's suitable to wear outdoors, he has a matching one. His fingers often play with the thin chain around your neck as a way to soothe himself and reassure that you two belong to each other.

[voidandabyssal]

Heyy i saw your request are open :D, im sorry if this is cringe but can i get uhhhhh....can i get a uhh...can i get the lovely undertale and underswap boys with a tired s/o who came back from school or work

Some context:

One day i came back from school and i literally just pass out cold on the sofa and slept for a good 4 hours until my parents woke me up lmao

I wanted the boys reacting to that kinda scenario, would they be worried? Would they be chill? It's in your hands now 🥸✊️

Also thank you so much for be writing for undertale i love your works, please take as long as you need, no pressure

Take care 👋

Fear not anon, cringe is dead and I am busy burying it 6 feet under

Sans:

Sans spots you knocked out cold on the couch soon after returning from his own tiring job

He joins you right away

Sans doesn’t want to push you awake or anything so he just collapses on top of you.

Luckily he’s pretty light so him crashing down onto you doesn’t wake you up

If Papyrus doesn’t catch either of you two, then you’d both probably sleep until the next day

When you do wake up (likely to the sound of Papyrus’s lecturing) you accidentally shove Sans off of you

He goes crashing to the floor. The perfect wake up call for such a lazybones! (At least that’s Papyrus’s opinion)

Papyrus:

Like Sans, Papyrus walks in to you already passed out on the couch

He gives you the deepest, most withering look he can manage and exhales the most disappointed sigh he can give

You are spared the wrath of Papyrus’s lecture, for now! He is much too busy finishing up this year’s paper work!

(He can also see how tired you are so he leaves you be)

At least until it’s 8pm and your still knocked out, then he shakes you awake

Though he doesn’t lecture you

He really shouldn’t encourage such lazybones behaviour! But he also noticed how tired you were lately

He can make one exception, just this once though!

Blue (us sans):

Blue was too busy cooking in the kitchen to notice your long nap

When he goes out to get you ready for dinner he notices you

Weren’t you napping like 4 hours ago?! Blue gasps, have you turned into Stretch?! Has his brother’s bad habits finally rubbed off on his favourite human?!

He has a moment of silence for you before he tugs you out from the couch and plops you down on the dining room chair

Can’t sleep if you’re too busy eating

Blue also tries to feed you some sweet desserts! Then you’ll have more energy!

Then you can hang out more!

Stretch (us paps):

You’re so tired when you get home that you fall asleep on Stretch. Just collapse on him like as he lays on the couch watching the latest nabstation show

Stretch wraps his arms around you and follows you right into sweet, sweet unconsciousness

He wakes up briefly just to chase Blue off from bothering either of you

Then he carries you up to his room. There, now you can sleep fully uninterrupted for however long you want

He regrets doing that when you both wake up at 3 in the morning and have all the energy in the world

(You accidentally wake up Blue and now you’re both stuck listening to his lecturing. Send help!)

[anamoon63]

Hi guys, I am writing this in case anyone wonders why I have been kind of MIA lately. No, I haven't forgotten you, but I have had a difficult week, more than a difficult week, I have been through a real ordeal. Where or how it started it's a long story which I don't have the time or the energy to tell, so I'll just share a brief chronology of what happened during this past week.

Friday May 3 - I turned in my finished work and set out to do my sims posts, play and rest for the weekend since more work would be coming my way on Monday.

Saturday May 4 - My husband came down with the flu, I spent most of the day with him in the emergency room.

Sunday May 5 - I spent it taking care of my husband, who fortunately no longer had a fever. I barely slept two hours at night giving care and medication.

Monday 6 May - My birthday, we couldn't go out for dinner as usual, so we celebrated at home.

Tuesday, May 7 - My son comes down with the flu, too, another afternoon in the ER and sleepless night caring for him and bringing down his fever.

Wednesday, May 8 - My son starts to feel better, and begins to recover very quickly. I start working on the following translations, at the same time I take care of both my husband and my sick son, do food, laundry, order home medicines, and all kinds of small chores, including disinfecting things. It's like going back to 2020.

Thursday, May 9 - My husband no longer has a fever but does have a cough that won't go away and minor problems with his asthma.

Friday, May 10 - Mother's Day, my son was feeling fine, my husband still had a cough, and had a doctor's appointment at noon, when he returned, we celebrated at home just like on my birthday, I spent the rest of the day working, and juggling a thousand other things. In the evening my daughter started to feel sick, but still no fever.

Saturday, May 11 (yesterday) - My daughter woke up with a fever, another visit to the ER. She was prescribed flu medicine, painkillers and rest, and sent home.

And that's my odyssey so far. On top of it all, from Wednesday through Saturday we were in the middle of a heat wave with temperatures of 37ºC with real feel of up to 45ºC; at night we get a "cooler" temperature of 29ºC. So imagine a person with a fever of 38 ºC and with this heat, obviously it's not of much help.

Surprisingly, I haven't gotten sick so far, but I'm not claiming victory. I have been taking care of my family for a week, sleeping two or three hours a night, getting up at different times to check on them, or give them medicine. I don't have time for getting sick! Lol. Thankfully, everyone is better and last night for the first time in a week I was able to sleep straight through. Honestly, I don't need many hours of sleep, but I am routinely and usually I am in bed a 11 pm and up at 8 am every day, so all this did upset my sleep cycle a little bit.

Anyway, that is the reason why I wasn't here much, since the whole day I was too busy, and at night I was so tired all I wanted was to go to bed. I apologize if I've fallen behind on your updates, I'm not ignoring you in any way, I just didn't have the strength or the time, not even to play The Sims. If I did, it was just a little free play to distract myself.

Last week I told you that I was juggling a lot of things, well now I have even more things, lol, at times I feel really exhausted, and even a little cranky from lack of sleep, the first few days my feet and legs hurt so much from going back and forth, but I'm fine, healthy, and in good spirits. Today I believe, as never before, that the universe does not send you more than you can handle.

At this point my family is already in recovery, if I don't get sick too, it's likely by I'll be able to get back to my simming routine. Now, if I do get sick, I hope to recover as quickly as the others. Whatever happens, I'll be around. Know that, even if I don't comment, I read you, and I am with you, especially with those who are going through difficult times of any kind.

Ok, I said to myself this was going to be a short post, but I made a wall of text instead (for a change). My apologies if it's written in a sloppy or confusing way, I just wanted to write it quickly to let you know where I have been and what has been going on with me these days. I hope you are all well, please take care of yourselves, health is a treasure that can be lost at any moment, the flu is a nasty disease, we must never let our guard down and forget to take the necessary measures to prevent it.

Last, but not least, I want to thank all of you who have mentioned me, tagged me, sent me asks and/or stars to my inbox, commented and/or liked what few posts I could do these days, I appreciate it very much and I'll try to reply to you as soon as I can, though I've fallen so far behind that I don't know if I'll be able to find your mentions in my notifications. In any case, thank you very, very much to all of you for thinking about me in my absence. 💗 I'll see you soon, hopefully, with more sim adventures, stay tuned!

[lilypadlys]

Mushy May Day Twelve - First Time

Ship: Aurora/Phantom

Notes: Aurora and Phantom having sex for the first time. Not necessarily explicit but still mature for this chapter. Also Aurora is a air/water multi so has water ghoul traits like gills and being wet. Prompt list by @forlorn-crows. See prompt list here

Word Count:  1354

Read on AO3 or below the cut

Phantom wasn’t sure how to go about it. He couldn’t deny, nor hide how crazy Aurora made him. They were inseparable since they were summoned together and it meant Phantom was nearly constantly forced to keep his shit together around Aurora. Her smile, the way she laughs, loud and unabashed, how her flirting seems effortless. All of it makes Phantom want to melt into a puddle.

As it turns out the feelings are mutual.

As Phantom sits on the couch fidgeting and trying to work up the courage to subtly proposition her like he's seen the older ghouls do with each other, Aurora emerges from the kitchen. She eyes him and plants her hands on her hips in a sassy little move that has the other ghouls in the common room smirking.

“So are we doing it or not?”

Phantom turns bright red. “Wha?”

“Are we going to have sex or not?”

“Right now?”

“If you want to.”

“Ah, yes! I want to!”

“Then come on then.”

As the two of them disappear to Aurora’s room the rest of the pack dissolves into giggles.

“Bahaha that’s one way to do it!” Swiss laughs.

“Did you teach her that?” Cumulus eyes Cirrus.

“I wish. I couldn’t teach her that sass if I wanted.” Cirrus snorts.

In Aurora’s room however, both ghouls are so silent they could hear a rat squeak. They sit on her bed, still clothed and several feet apart from each other.

“So now what?” Aurora asks, her cheeks now pinking in nervousness.

“I thought you knew?”

“Of course not! This is my first time!”

“Me too!”

They blink at each other before bursting into giggles.

“Why’d you march out like that then?” Phantom manages between giggles.

“I thought I would need to impress you first.” She admits.

“Huh, but you already have. If you haven’t noticed I’m a nervous wreck around you.”

“I thought you were just shy?”

“Well that too but…”

“So we’ve both been dancing around this for months then, huh?”

“Haha, I guess so.”

“So, wanna do something about it?” A bit of her earlier sass creeps back into her tone.

“Uh huh! But where do we start?”

“Oh yeah. Uhh, kissing?”

“Sure.”

What quickly follows is the usual first kiss awkwardness. First they hesitate to lean in, smiling embarrassedly at each other. When they finally do lean in, they both make the mistake of closing their eyes. They go straight for it, neither of them tilting their head so they end up bonking noses. Phantom cups his nose in shock and Aurora falls over backwards giggling.

“Well that was romantic.” Phantom deadpans, only causing Aurora to laugh harder.

When she recovers she sits back up. “I’m not laughing at you, I swear! It's just the situation. Okay to try again?”

He nods and they lean in more slowly. At the last second Aurora tilts her head and this time their lips end up gently brushing. They pull away quickly but emboldened by success, they try again. This time they hold it a little longer, press a little harder.

“Wanna try with tongue now?” Phantom asks.

“Okay.”

They do, experimenting with parting their lips and exploring each other’s mouths. It’s a little awkward at first but they find a rhythm. After a longer more confident kiss they pull away a bit breathless.

“How was that?” Phantom asks.

“Good! I think I see why the others like this so much. Do you want to keep going?”

“Yeah. So clothes off next? Only if you’re comfortable though.”

“Yeah, that’s okay!” She starts to take her shirt off but then stops. “Want to get each other’s clothes?”

“Okay!” Phantom helps Aurora slip her shirt and shorts off until she’s left in her bra and panties. Aurora does the same for him until he's down to his boxers. Now that there's no way of hiding the bulge in his boxers he blushes, shy.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Aurora instantly checks in.

“Just feel nervous. I’m okay to keep going though.”

“Don’t worry. I’m nervous too. Excited too though.” She reaches for his hand. When he gives it, she slowly brings it to her panties allowing him to see how wet they’ve gotten.

He gasps then smiles, the little confirmation of her arousal helping his own nerves.

“Keep going?” She asks.

“Yeah.”

They peel off the last layers of clothing and they’re suddenly bare to each other.

It’s not the first time seeing each other naked. They saw each other when they were summoned of course, before blankets were draped over them and they were whisked off to baths and clothes. Still they were scared and disoriented then. Not exactly the time to do much ogling.

Now though they can go slow and admire. Eyes trace curves and lines. Tentative hands soon follow. Aurora’s hands find the slight plush swell of Phantom’s tummy and his gravitate to her little tits.

They let their hands wander curiously. Aurora’s trace lines of vitiligo on Phantom’s chest while his gently run over the back of her neck on the way to her scalp. Along the way he accidentally brushes her neck gills and she hisses.

“Ahh sorry! Are you okay?”

“Do that again.”

“Wha?”

“Do that again!”

“Okay…”

Phantom repeats the motion, stroking his fingers over her gills and she moans. Their eyes meet in shocked eye contact.

“Well,” She chuckles. “I guess you learn something new every day.”

Phantom continues petting at the outer fringes of her gills. Aurora slumps into him in enjoyment. He thinks she’s just melting into the pleasure when it’s his turn to hiss. Her hands have found his chest and have begun thumbing over his nipples.

Her eyes crack open to meet his.

“Is this okay?”

“Uh huh.” He sighs in enjoyment as she gives a nipple a little pinch.

She pulls a moan from him when she gets her mouth on his chest, sucking on one of his nipples. She giggles, still latched on and the vibrations feel oh so good. In return he licks hesitantly at the fringe of one of her gills and she goes stiff. She barely has a chance to ask for more before he’s doing it again. On one pass, his tongue accidentally dips into the slit a little. She gasps in pleasure as he does in surprise as she drools slick onto his leg.

“That feel good?” He asks even though they both know.

She purrs in response, pressing herself fully into his lap and baring her neck to give him all the access he needs.

As they sit like that, him tonguing at her gills, her playing with his chest, they both start to feel a heat grow in their guts. The sensation of each others hands and tongues goes straight between their legs.

Phantom is full mast by this point. As Aurora shuffles in his lap, her clit brushes against his cock and they both squeak. They both glance down between them and back at each other. Making full eye contact, Aurora purposely grinds against Phantom’s cock. The sensation is delicious and they’re both quickly lost to it. Aurora plants her hands on Phantom’s shoulders and he supports her hips as they grind against each other.

Being newly summoned and not yet fully settled into their vessels, the grinding alone is enough to be almost overwhelming. It isn’t long before they’re both babbling. Phantom feels his balls drawl tight. Aurora choses that moment to get a hand between them to stroke him and it’s all over. He paints his belly in his own cum and she continues to grind chasing her own orgasm. She finds it when his hand finds her clit and rubs in tight quick circles. Then she’s drooling slick over them again and sighing prettily.

As they come down from it they slump into each other and fall back onto the bed.

“Ohh that was good.” Aurora sighs.

“Yeah that was amazing.” Phantom agrees. “Sticky though.”

“Yeah.” She frowns, taking in both of their messes. “Bath?”

“Kay. Let's go steal Rain’s tub so we can both fit better.”

“Sounds good.”

[naffeclipse]

I lived babes

[girlwithfish]

Having no external maladative coping mechanisms is so crazy like ofc i still do the rumination stuff emotional numbing avoidance but like more outward actions like getting high every day or self harming i dont do either its kind of weird esp at times when i am really emotional in a bad way and dont know what to do like . i need a pen rn or i need a nic addiction or to become an alcoholic or maybe i should just start [redacted] oops! but no im gonna. play guitar or something i guess

[prickly-paprikash]

Pushing aside the fact that I am, quite possibly, a Kendrick fan—disregarding my biases, I think Drake needs to stop. Push Ups was a good diss. Surface level, vapid, but it possessed that mean, petty spirit that carries a diss track all the way. Even bringing up accusations that are, realistically speaking, unlikely still works because a diss is supposed to show just how much you hate a person and how cleverly you can bring it.

Taylor Made was weird. I get that it was a strategy. Drop the main diss first and then drop this one to really prod at Kendrick. Using Pac and Snoop AI voices sucks though. Distilling Kendrick as Taylor's underling also doesn't work because Kendrick only collaborated with her once (twice when they remade Bad Blood) and that's it. Meanwhile Drake is out here always looking for new, up and coming artists to pounce on their trends or cling to established artists. Then it got taken down, because of course it would have been. You used 2Pac's voice. Did you really think his estate, his family, wouldn't do anything?

So he bought Pac's ring and used his voice without permission. More and more we see just how much of a vulture Drake is.

And then Euphoria drops.

Your first diss was met with solid reactions. Your second got taken down. Kendrick drops on a random hot Tuesday, and in a matter of hours surpasses your numbers that took weeks to accumulate. Kendrick did that. Euphoria was also harsh, clever, and sounded so good that people kept replaying it over and over again. Once more, Kendrick schools you.

A few insiders then say that Drake will drop that night. Right after. But he then allegedly gets cold feet. A few hours later from when Drake was supposedly ready to drop but backs out, Kendrick drops 6:16 in LA.

In your previous disses, you begged Kendrick to drop something with quintuple entendres. Euphoria did that. But he took it a step further by naming his second diss 6:16 in LA.

June 16: Father's day. Referencing the fact that Drake has been proven to be a deadbeat father.

June 16, 1971: Tupac's Birthday. Kendrick idolizes him. Drake steals from him.

June 16, 2019: First episode of Euphoria drops. A show Drake is listed as a producer on. A show about underage girls entering a life of sex, substance abuse, and more. Things that Drake has been accused of repeatedly in the past.

June 16, 2011: in June 2, 2011, Kendrick posted on his twitter that there will be a concert at Toronto on 6/16. Allegedly this is where Drake and Kendrick first met.

6:16 AM: The time of release for this track.

6:16: Multiple possible Bible verses, given Kendrick's Christian background.

Other claims felt like reaches though, so I'll stick to that.

The final two lines of 6:16 also reference the Michael Jackson, R. Kelly, and their song "You Are Not Alone". Drake, who has always claimed he is Michael Jackson or at the very least his equal/successor, is now tied to him in a way he does not want. Because we know all of the dirt that came out after MJ's death. We all know what R. Kelly was sent to prison for. And we all know what Drake has been accused of multiple times.

Kendrick also alludes to the fact that you have a leak in your circle, Drake.

So Drake drops Family Matters. A scathing 7 minute song that makes fun of the GKMC van. Saying that Kendrick's daughter isn't his. Saying that his wife cheats on him with security. Saying that he beats his wife.

Now, these are enormous accusations levied. But Kendrick has responded before, years ago, that the DV accusations were false. He has also always been open about his faults. Adultery. Sex addiction. Insecurity. God complex. Kendrick, for better or worse, has always laid out nearly every aspect of his younger life on his songs. This also helped by the fact that in both Euphoria and 6:16, Kendrick says that Drake has spent millions on finding dirt on him but came up with nothing. Again, these accusations can still be proven true and if so, Kendrick needs to be held accountable for them.

But if not? Then Drake just adds another to the pile of "He's a liar and a master manipulator."

Drake also posts a Parody on his Insta that gains little to no attention because 30 minutes after dropping Family Matters and supposedly going on his victory lap, Kendrick drops meet the grahams.

Another thing. 6:16's cover was a glove. That meant nothing to us, the audience. meet the grahams makes it make sense by zooming out of the glove and showing off a shirt and drugs that Drake supposedly uses. Drake has not had any receipts with his accusations against Kendrick. Kendrick puts Drake's supposed prescription, his full name, on a bottle of Ozempic. Kendrick, for now, seems to make good on his threat. OvO, Drake's company, is full of leaks. And they're leaking it straight to Kendrick Lamar.

Nearly 24 hours later, Kendrick drops Not Like Us.

Euphoria was a general character dissection and assassination of Drake: Insecure about his identity as a biracial man. Culture Vulture. Blaccent user. Code switcher. Fake abs. Womanizer. Misogynist. Using black features just to feel black enough. A deadbeat dad that knows nothing of raising a child. And even revokes Drake's ability to use the N-Word (I have no stake in that I am Asian so I will keep my brown mouth shut for that).

6:16 in LA was an ominous threat that slowly reveals that Kendrick has insider information on Drake. That he is ready to leak so much more should Drake continue.

meet the grahams is a brutal open letter to Drake, his parents, and even to Adonis, Drake's son. Saying that Kendrick could be a better mentor to Adonis. Saying that Drake abandoned you and that's not your fault. Don't be like your father—whatever anyone says, for better or worse, you are a black man and don't code switch just to make yourself feel better. He says that Drake failed his mother for what he did to women. Saying that Drake's father is the cause of his gambling issues. Drake is a body shamer. Leaving the mother of his children to rot. And of course, the reveal that Drake has a secret daughter, the same way Pusha T revealed Drake has a son. Adonis.

And of course, now. Not Like Us. Where Kendrick goes all in on one topic that he has alluded to in every diss track before. Drake is a groomer. A pedophile.

I am sick. I should not be tuning into this beef. But my fever can go ahead and end me, I need to know how this ends.

[earthtooz]

x : TO LOVE, TO CHANGE: *+ﾟ

in which: you tell veritas you love him. he gets upset with you.

warnings: contrary to what the synopsis implies, it's fluff, i promise. 1k words, first time saying ily, slightly cranky reader, no mentions of reader's gender, dr. ratio being so in love he becomes so soppy and lovestruck. confessions.

a/n: there's a phenomenon that happens whenever i write for dr. ratio, and it's that my heart literally lunges out of my chest and begins typing at the keyboard for me. i should get it checked out. anyways, this is to preemptively celebrate his release!!

“Why- why are you mad?” You exclaim, watching the way Veritas crosses his arms and pouts with the petulance of a child. His gaze has strayed away from your eyes, and all you can do is sit in his lap with your arms hanging at your sides, brain tirelessly racking for all the reasons that you could have angered him.

He doesn’t give you any clues, displeasure brewing in his eyes instead.

“Is it because I said ‘I love you’?”

The purple haired scoffs and sticks up his nose, hair bouncing with his actions whilst you jostle slightly on his legs from the quick action. As much as you love his side profile, you’d love it even more if he spoke to you about what is bothering him.

During this moment, the world stills. You think he’s genuinely mad, and Dr. Ratio’s fury-driven state is not something you should take lightly. Really, you’ve seen it multiple times, and though it has never been directed at you, you hope it never will be. Which is why you sit on his lap now, tensely anticipating his response, and for the answer as to what you did wrong. 

“I was meant to say it first,” he grumbles, losing the arrogance that fills his tone whenever he speaks, air filling with sincerity. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I was meant to be the one to say ‘I love you’ first.”

Your confusion is tangible at this point. Audible, if you will, because it rings like cicada sing. “Are you being serious?”

“Deadly.”

“You- why, then couldn’t you just have said it?” You sputter, slapping his defined deltoid, concern slowly melting into frustration. “Need I remind you that it was me who confessed to you first as well?”

“Yes, and it was positively the best day of my life.” He says that like it’s a simple fact. No sentiment, no heartfelt declaration, just another logical statement straight from a textbook of his life.

They say to be loved is to be changed, but no matter how much you love Veritas, all he knows is how to be an astronomical pain in your ass. Does he know how scared you were for his answer? You thought you did something unforgivable, or that he didn’t love you enough to respond in kind, or worst of all, that he wanted nothing to do with you anymore?

However, he's acting petty because he was not the first one to say those three words? You frankly don’t know why your heart beats for him as strongly as it does. In fact, you want to whack him over the head with his own codex.  

Placing your hands firmly on his shoulders, you shuffle out of your position from his lap, planting your feet onto the ground. “Oh, you are so infuriating! Pretend I never said anything, I’m going back to my office until you-”

Not even two steps away from him and a hand clasps around your wrist to drag you back to where you started: on Dr. Ratio’s lap. His arms come to wrap around you like chains, leaving no room to wrestle him out.

“I never said you could leave. Especially not after telling me you love me,” he grumbles lowly into your collarbone, breath tickling your skin.

“I’m starting to regret it.” 

“Can’t you at least say it again?”

“I don’t want to,” you grumble, arms snaking up to rest around his shoulders. “You don’t deserve it.” 

“Well, that’s a little harsh. Is this how you treat the ones you love?”

“You haven’t even said anything back,” you pinch his skin. “Talk about harsh.”

“Do you remember the first time we met?” he asks with a fond chuckle, not missing the opportunity to leave kisses in a trail along your skin, making his way up your neck. Then, when his eyes meet yours, you almost crumble in embarrassment at the memory he’s injected into your mind. 

You push him away and raise a hand to shield your eyes from him, clearly reliving a haunting memory. “Please don’t remind me.” 

“Y’know, it’s not everyday someone gets to scold me and be right. If you weren’t so beautiful, I wouldn’t have let it slide, but it’s not everyday a gorgeous genius falls into my lap with guts to challenge me.”

“I was… agitated that day, so stop talking about it, please. In fact, for my sake, please just forget that moment. Completely.”

“Forget about it? Completely?” The scholar asks with genuine shock lacing his tone. “I fell in love with you in that very moment, how can you expect me to stop talking about it? You rendered me a fool in love and expect me to not think about the very moment it happened? Sweetheart, it was a pivotal moment of my life!” 

“Not pivotal enough if you can’t even say ‘I love you, too’.”

“On the contrary, I have loved you longer. I yearned for you in wakefulness and in my dreams. I wished for you to look my way, and when you did, I never wanted your eyes to stray from me. How heartbreaking it was when they did.” His hand has snuck under your shirt now to rub circles on your skin. If he detached from you, he fears you’d slip away from him, and the worst thing you can give him is space. “Do you know how it felt chasing after you because you were the only one out of my reach? For three years, the only thing I wanted was to be yours. You made me an idiot.”

Stunned by his confession and the weight of it, you let him continue, sharp tongue softening. The only motivation you offer is a hand coming to cup his cheek, tucking aside his bangs so you can see his expression in its entirety. 

His gold eyes shine when they look back up at you. For the first time, you feel like you’re seeing the parts of him that Veritas hides from everyone else. 

“I love you.” He continues with heart wrenching devotion. “I’ll continue loving you until the streams stop, the rivers freeze, and the oceans dry. With three hundred thousand, eighty-three thousand, five hundred and seventy-one discovered planets in the cosmos, that phenomenon will approximately take-”

You seal his lips with yours in a gentle kiss, cradling his jaw and swallowing his words. Like wax to fire, Veritas sinks into you, completely helpless against your affections. 

But, oh, you love him, and nothing else in the entire universe matters.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

the pro

part ii: what we're willing to accept

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.

Notes: My brain chose violence this morning. Not beta-read because when is it ever.

Length: 4.8K

Warnings: Slow burn; unhappily married reader; divorced Art Donaldson; infidelity; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; unsafe sex

Summary: Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.

He's the biggest men's tennis star since Andy Roddick.

That’s what your husband says, as if it’ll entice you. As if you know anything about tennis, about the pro that your husband says will be coming to the house to teach you to play.

It’ll be good for you. You need a hobby. 

You don’t gripe or argue. You don’t tell him that five months into your marriage shouldn’t have you looking for a new hobby. You should still be in the honeymoon stage, spending all of your time with him, hanging off of his arm, off of his every word. But he works so much and he’s away so often—

I don’t want you to get bored. 

It’s a sweet gesture. The maid handles the housework; you have a chef that handles most of the grocery shopping and cooking, unless you insist on making something yourself; you have a housekeeper that arranges for anything you need—dry cleaning, maintenance. And it’s no wonder that with all of his money, his power, he can just order a retired pro tennis player up to your house, like you’d order a pizza. There’s a tennis court in the back of the mansion, a few feet from the pool. You’ll get some new outfits, the best sneakers, the nicest rackets. You’ll finally have something to do to fill your days. 

Art Donaldson. 

You know his name before the lean, fair-skinned patrician man turns up at your front door. He trails you through the house, politely declines your offer of a beverage. 

“You ever played tennis before?” He asks. 

You haven’t. Before your husband arranged this for you, you hadn’t so much as given the sport more than a passing thought. You don’t have the heart or confidence to tell that to a man that’s made tennis his whole life, so you just give him a small, guilty smile and say no, you haven’t. He nods, waves you off, insists that it’s fine. 

“We’ll start with the basics.” 

-- 

Two months of lessons on the basics make your arms tired, and your hands sore. But where your swings are clumsy and your grip is weak at first, you can see improvement in the way that you move. Your steps are less clumsy when you go after a ball; you’re more aware of the service line and the base line; your forehand stroke from contact to your left shoulder is smoother; your rotation and follow-through on your backhand is coming along, but has a long way to go. 

Art’s instruction is calm and steady. He explains technique as much as he demonstrates it. When you get something wrong, he doesn’t scold, just lightly corrects. When you do something well, his encouragement is constant and free-flowing. Every accurate move and motion is met with, “Nice,” or, “Perfect,” or, “That’s it.” 

On the days when you don’t have a lesson with Art, you practice. You order a tennis ball machine to work on your forehand and backhand. You attempt (and fail) to learn how to slice on your own. You try anyway—you can only imagine the way his eyes might light up if you manage to surprise him. 

You’ve tried to ignore the rising interest that you have in Art, but you can’t help the little…Crush that’s developed. He’s just so attentive, and kind. When you find yourself smiling these days, it’s often because of something that he said, or did. You can’t remember the last time your husband made you feel giddy this way. It was probably when you started dating—before you’d made the decision to marry for comfort, rather than love. Your husband is practical, rarely physically affectionate, more heavily involved in his job and social circles than with you. 

But you’ll have to find a way to thank him. He’s given you a hobby, and a man that grins at you like you just painted the goddamn Mona Lisa when you serve your first ace. 

-- 

“So, tell me about the Mark Rebellato Academy.” 

Art smiles, dipping his head as he reaches for his coffee. It’s taken a few months, but you finally convince him to have something to drink with you after practice. Your chef is blessedly out shopping for ingredients for dinner, so you have the kitchen all to yourself. Art has watched you putter around, seeming surprised that you know where everything is. You can’t blame him; the kitchen is chef-grade, and you don’t cook much these days. 

“Did your husband tell you that’s where I went?” 

“No.” 

“Then how do you know?” 

You’re too embarrassed to admit that you’ve done some googling, and watched a couple of clips of him interviewing before and after his matches. 

“I’ve just heard,” You fib. “Tell me about it?” 

He leans back in his seat, eyes skating across your face as he seems to consider something. 

“What do you wanna know?” 

“Did you enjoy it? I mean—” It feels like a dumb question once it’s out, and you hurry to redirect, “With what you know now, if you had the choice, would you have learned how to play tennis somewhere else?” 

He considers for a moment, trailing his finger over the side of his cup. Your gaze flits to his fingers, and your own flex around your mug handle. You’ve spent far too much time looking at and thinking about Art’s fingers—their length and quickness; the slight roughness of his calloused hands; the lingering tan line from where his wedding band used to sit. 

“Yeah,” He admits, drawing your full attention back to his face. “I would. It was foundational, you know. I’ve been thinking of sending Lily there.” 

“Lily?” 

A bittersweet smile twists his lips. “My daughter.” 

“Oh!” It catches you off-guard.  

“Tashi, uh—” He clears his throat, “Lily’s mother, my ex-wife. She and I are thinking about schools.” 

“I’m sure they’d be glad to have her. Does she play tennis?” 

“Little bit. She didn’t start until last year, but she's a natural.” He clears his throat again, presses, “Are you and your husband planning on having kids?” 

“Oh god no.” You blurt it out, and realize as he raises his brows that you’ve spoken too quickly. You lean back in your seat, stirring your coffee quickly to distract yourself from your growing embarrassment. “He actually has kids already. Two girls, seven and ten. They’re at boarding school and they stay with their mother when they're on vacation. I haven’t gotten to spend much time with them.” 

“...He seems to be pretty busy.” 

“He is.” 

“So it’s just you in this big house?” He tips his head to the side, brows knitting with curiosity. “What do you do all day?” 

“Play tennis.”

He grins, chuckling, and your stomach flips at the sound. 

“It shows, you know,” He says. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I can tell you’re practicing without me. And,” He leans across the table, running his fingers lightly over the exposed skin of your bicep, “You’re getting stronger.” 

You wonder if he can see or feel the goosebumps that break out across your skin at the gentle sweep, his gaze heavy on yours.

“I have a good teacher,” You murmur. Art’s lips twitch with a soft smile, his hand gently cupping your arm. 

“Just good?” He plies. 

“The best. A real pro.” 

His smile widens, and the flash of his tongue sweeping across his lower lip makes your face go hot. You know that you’re caught when Art’s touch becomes firmer, pulling your arm toward him just a little. 

The sound of approaching footsteps startles you, and you hurriedly tug your arm away. The sight of your husband makes your heart leap into your throat. 

“There you are,” He smiles. “Art, how’s she doin’?” 

“She’s killing it.” 

You don’t dare look at him, but you can feel the weight of his attention lingering on you still. You just give your husband a smile, tipping your cheek up obligingly as he leans down to kiss it. 

“Actually, Art,” Your husband straightens up, hands resting on your shoulders. “I’m glad I caught you. There’s a charity event for a local club this month. It’s for uh…What is it?” He squeezes your shoulders for answers, and you have to keep from rolling your eyes. 

“It’s a charity tennis match to raise funds to fix up the local courts. They need resurfacing and they’re raising funding to keep the fees down.” 

“We could use a sponsorship from the foundation,” Your husband adds. 

“Honey,” You glance back, wary of insulting Art. But—

“I’ll do it,” Art agrees. “Send me the details.” 

“Excellent,” Your husband grins. “Maybe we could coax you into a match or two.” 

You don’t chastise him this time—not when you see something light up in Art.

“Maybe.” 

--  

You haven’t seen Art play before. You’ve specifically avoided it. You’ve known that when you saw it, you would be too intimidated to do a damn thing on the court with him. But now, you can’t stop watching him. You don’t even care that you probably look so out of place—where everyone else is watching the ball, you’re just watching him. 

His movements are so neat, so precise. It’s like watching a dance. He’s running the poor guy on the other side of the net up and down the court. And the sounds that he’s making—god. Every little grunt and groan is weaving increasingly filthy thoughts in your mind. You already know that you’ll seek out the memory of those sounds, as you reach between your legs later. His shirt clings to his chest, showcasing the muscles that you’ve always suspected he has. Strands of hair plaster to his forehead as sweat drips over his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, over his jaw. 

When he scores a match point and he looks toward the cheering crowd—when his eyes land on you instantly, without having to search—it’s like you’ve been hit by a bolt of lightning. You can’t think, or move. You barely have the focus to applaud, but you manage to raise your hands and clap. 

-- 

Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch. 

Coffee becomes a post-lesson ritual. He starts to stick closer and closer to you as he follows you into the house until he begins to rest his hand on your lower back, guiding you to your door. He keeps nearby when you’re making it, brushes droplets of sweat off of your forehead or neck. Every touch is electrifying; you have to make a concentrated effort to keep your hands steady, your face neutral as your heart pounds and your stomach floods with butterflies. 

He pushes you harder on the court, and you force yourself to meet the level that he sets for you, even when you don’t feel confident in it. But you want to make him proud. 

It spurs you to lunge a little too far. 

The sharp stabbing pain in your left ankle makes you shriek, and you tumble to the ground, dropping the racket with a clatter. You hear the pounding of his feet, glance up just in time to see him clear the net before he’s on the ground at your side. 

“What hurts?” 

“My ankle,” You grit out, hissing softly as he helps you straighten your leg out. He smooths his hands over your calf, leaning over you and gently guiding your foot in a few different directions. You whimper as he starts to guide your foot to the left. 

“Okay, okay,” He soothes, “Let’s get you inside.” 

For as much as you damn the throbbing in your ankle, you thank it a little, too. You lean heavily against Art, making the slow, arduous journey back to the house with his arm wrapped tightly around your middle. 

When your husband comes home, he finds you with on the couch with Art coming back in from the kitchen, an ice pack in your hand. 

You’d hope for concern, but your husband frowns, glances at the swelling knob of your ankle, and simply asks: “What did you do?” 

“She lost her balance.” Art sits down on the other end of the couch, soothing you as the chill of the ice pack makes you shift with discomfort. 

“Are you going to be able to walk tomorrow?” Your husband presses. “We have dinner at the Fineman’s.”

“I'm still going, don't worry about that."

“...Tomorrow might be a bit soon,” Art warns. 

“I’ll be okay. It’s just a sprain, right?” You tip your brows up, hoping, praying that he’ll agree for your sake. His fingers flex around the ice pack, jaw ticking as he clenches it. He doesn’t say a word as your husband sighs heavily, grumbles, “I hope so. Still, we should put a pause on the lessons until she’s fighting fit again.” 

Art finally tears his eyes from yours, a tight smile on his lips. 

“Of course.” 

-- 

“How’s the ankle?” 

It takes you a moment to scrounge up an answer. You can’t believe that he called. You knew that Art had gotten your number when you started taking lessons with him, but he’s never used it beyond texting to confirm a lesson time now and again. 

You look down at the still-swollen flesh as it strains against the thin strap of your slingbacks. 

“Fine,” You lie, “It’s um—” You glance over your shoulder, listening for your husband. “It’s not that bad.” 

“Good enough to walk on?” 

Hardly. 

“Yes.” You think you’ve gotten away with it, but when you hear Art sigh and chastise, “You should rest,” You know that you haven’t.

“I have,” You insist, “All day.” 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“Yes.” 

“You can tell him no, you know.”

Your mouth works wordlessly, body going hot with indignation. You can’t think of a thing to say. You can’t tell him that he’s wrong, that your husband’s connections are the lifeblood of his business. You can’t tell him that if your husband’s business falls apart, you won't be able to afford those tennis lessons, and then how the hell are you supposed to see Art again? 

You just yank your phone away from your ear and hang up. 

-- 

I invited Art. 

It shouldn’t be a surprise, but your husband’s statement makes you feel like you’ve swallowed your tongue. You haven’t seen or spoken to Art in nearly two weeks. Your doctor recommended putting off any physical activity, which your husband surely relayed to him. He was the one whose name was on Art’s checks, after all. 

Your husband has always thrown a massive party to kick off the summer. Every year, 150 of your husband’s closest family, friends, and business associates flooded into the house. It shouldn’t be such a surprise that your husband invited Art after the performance he had given at the fundraiser—$25,000 from the foundation, and ticket sales went through the roof when it had been announced that the Art Donaldson would be making an appearance. Your husband owed Art a lot, and probably saw this as an opportunity for him to network, to take on more clients. He had been evangelizing Art’s training to any of your friends that would listen—how good you are on the court, how engaged and energetic you seem to be these days. 

It’s one thing to know that you’ll have to put on a happy face for the crowd, but to know that Art will be among them makes your insides twist with nerves. You can’t stop thinking about the way that he had spoken to you when you were hurt; his calm, steadying demeanor as he’d gotten you inside; the careful coaxing and gentle touch that he’d used as he’d taken your shoe off and examined your ankle more closely. 

You think about it now, as you strap on another pair of heels. Your ankle really is doing well, though you have a little lingering pain in shoes like these. You’ll likely be on your feet for the length of the party; it’s going to be a long night. You look over yourself in the mirror, self consciously tipping your ankle from side to side for anything that he may spot or catch out. But there’s nothing, you reassure yourself. You slide your hands over the skirt, plastering on a smile as your husband pokes his head into your dressing room. 

“Almost ready in here?” He asks. 

“All set!” 

-- 

He doesn’t come over to you. On the crowded patio, you can feel him watching you—you’ve gotten so used to seeking out the sensation that you can’t ignore it now. The first true look at him is agony. He watches you from just a few feet away, a glass of champagne in hand as he speaks with your husband and the Finemans. He openly looks you over, eyes drifting over your body to the flash of ankle revealed by the slit in your dress. He tips his head to the side just a little, squinting before his eyes flit back up to your face, lips twitching with a small smile. 

You want to hate how good it feels; you want to be angry with him for his smug knowing, his insistence of You can tell him no, you know. But it feels so goddamn good to have his attention again that you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed. You know that you’re staring—that you both are—and you force yourself to turn away and excuse yourself from the conversation you’re in. You go inside, murmuring your thanks for the waitstaff that pass you along the way.

The house isn’t nearly as busy as the patio, and you're able to slip into your darkened study unnoticed. You leave the lights off, certain that if you turn them on, people will be drawn in to bug you, like moths to a flame. The party’s lights and music filter in through the partially-closed blinds. 

You lean against the desk, circling your ankle and wincing a little. You’ll hide for a few minutes, let it rest—

Your breath catches in your throat as the door opens. You expect your husband, ready to scold and usher you back to the guests. 

You only have a second to get a look at Art before he shuts the door behind himself, plunging the room back into darkness. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the desk as you use it to ground yourself. 

“...Do you need something?” You ask, voice wobbling with nerves. 

“Wanted to come say hi.” 

“Well. Hi.” 

You hear him chuckle, his footsteps muted by the carpet. 

“Thanks for the invite.” 

“It wasn’t my idea.” It’s not polite to admit, but you want it to sting him, just a little. Maybe it does; in the dim of the room, you can’t see Art’s expression as he comes to a stop just a couple of feet from you. 

“Do you want me to go?” He asks. You know what you should say, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. 

“No,” You whisper. You feel the heat of him as he comes closer, his hands resting on the desk and caging you in. You bite your lip as gently brushes his nose against yours. 

“He isn’t taking care of you.” 

“My ankle is fine.” 

“I’m not talking about your ankle.” He lifts a hand, smoothing it over your hip as your breath mingles. Art’s fingers drift from your hip to stroke over the apex of your dress’s slit. His fingers slip further down, and you nod as he palms your thigh. Before you can say or do a thing, Art sinks to his knees. He curls his hand around your left calf, lifting it. You shiver as his lips press a gentle kiss to your ankle. His hand and lips travel up, easing the fabric of your dress higher with each second. The first brush of his knuckles against your panty-covered clit makes you jolt. Your hands dig into the wood of the desk as his fingers hook between the fabric and your skin. You lift your hips without a word, allowing him to draw them down. 

Art presses a kiss to your mound before he lowers his head, giving your lips a sweet, sucking kiss. You gasp softly as his tongue swipes across your clit. You look down despite the fact that you can’t see him well. You can just make out his blissful expression, his eyes closed as his laps broadly across your aching cunt. You lower your hand to his neat hair, winding your fingers through it, unable to help grasping it. His heady moan vibrates against you and you nearly cry out at the sensation. You manage to just catch it, the sound dying in your throat as Art buries his tongue inside you. He sweeps his thumb over your clit in rush, harried circles, panting against your heated flesh. You rock your hips down against his lips, tightening your grip on his hair as you guide him. He lets you do as you please, whining against your skin as your movements become less controlled.

“Art,” You warn, “I—Oh, oh god—” 

He hums in encouragement, sucking your clit back between his lips and lashing it with his tongue. Your jaw drops open, your hand shoving Art even more tightly against your skin as you cum suddenly. A stunned, breathy moan slips from your lips as Art leans back, smearing his lips against the inside of your thigh. 

You use your grasp on Art’s hair to draw him back up off of his knees, giving him a crushing kiss as he catches his balance. You swipe your tongue across his lips, whining against his lips as you taste yourself on him. He presses close, his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You reach down, palming and squeezing his length as you trade slick, messy kisses. He steers you back onto the desk as you fumble to undo his belt, button, and zip. 

“Condom?” He asks. 

“Pill,” You reassure, shoving his pants down. You lap broadly across your palm, grasping Art’s length and guiding him closer. He brushes the tip of his cock against your still-throbbing clit, smiling as you whine. You’re going to ache tomorrow, but you’ve never been so happy to be sore.

“Art.” 

“Sssh.” 

“Please—” It’s hardly out of your mouth before he shoves his hips forward, seating himself fully with a single thrust. You bite down on your lip to quiet your moan, curling your arms around your shoulders. He rocks into you with firm, quick strokes, his mouth covering yours. You can hear things on the desk rattling with each thrust, kisses growing less controlled as he hoists your thigh up around his hip. 

“Oh, god,” You breathe, “We have to be quick—He’ll come looking—” 

“Not until you cum for me again,” He urges. “I need to feel it, sweetheart.” 

“Art—” 

“When’s the last time he did this? Hmm?” He presses, “When’s the last time he made you cum? When’s the last time he tasted you?” 

“Never,” You admit with a shiver. It seems to renew Art’s passion, his thrusts and hold growing more intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands hooking tightly in the fabric of his jacket. He yanks the front of your dress down, bowing over you and drawing one of your nipples between his lips. You whimper as he toys with the bud, tugging it gently with his teeth before swiping across it. You arch into the slick heat, using your leg to tug him even closer as you chased the swelling curl of your orgasm. 

“Just like that,” You urge, “Ffffuck—yes, yesyesyesyes—”

Your eyes squeeze shut as your hips buck down against his, pussy pulsing as he spills into you. Your heart pounds in your chest as the two of you slow and still. Art rests his forehead heavily against your neck, peppering gentle kisses across the exposed skin. You have to move—now. You don’t know if anyone heard you, but if someone did, you’re screwed. If no one did, your husband will probably be looking for you anyway, ready with a scold for neglecting your hostess duties. 

“...I have to go,” You warn softly. It takes Art a moment to move, but he does, gently drawing himself back from his still-throbbing cunt. You hear the clanking of his belt buckle as he tucks himself away, and you reach down, righting your dress where it’s been pulled away. You take up your panties from where they’d been discarded on the floor, tugging them on before you straighten your skirt and hurry out of the room. 

--  

“Can I see you?” 

It’s only been an hour since the last guest has left, and you are so, so fucking tired. You glance toward the bathroom door. You know that you locked it, and you’re certain that your husband can’t hear you over the shower running, but you can’t help but be paranoid.

“You just saw me,” You remind him. 

“Tomorrow,” Art clarifies. 

“Where?” 

“I’ll send an address.” 

You bite your lip, toying with your earring. Your pussy is still aching from the stretch of him, your ass sore from getting fucked on the desk. 

“...You regret it?” He asks. 

“No,” You don't give your answer a second thought.

“I’ll send an address. Whether or not you see me is up to you. Just…think about it. Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

You lower your phone, hanging it up and watching his contact information blink away. It’s only a moment before a text with an address lights up your phone. You don’t have to think about it. You already know what you’re going to do. 

--  

You know that you’re staring, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. Art has spent so much time in your home, so you feel entitled to look around a little bit. You eye the row of trophies on his mantle, photos of him playing when he was young. You come to a stop at a picture of him with a young girl, a racket in her hand and a medal around her neck. 

“Is this Lily?” You ask. 

“Yeah,” He nods. “First competition.” 

“Already getting gold,” You smile. “The Mark Rebellato Academy isn’t ready for her.” 

Art chuckles, nodding as he steps around you.

“You, uh…You want something to eat, or drink, or…?” He trails off, tucking his hands into his pockets as he takes a couple of steps back toward his kitchen. You turn to face him, taking him in more fully. 

“Art?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Why am I here?” 

He doesn’t answer for a few moments. You can see him weighing his options before he comes closer. 

“I…I’ve been thinking about last night.” 

Fear shoots through you, but you force yourself to stand tall. “Okay.”

“I could lie and tell you that it should be a one-time thing, but I can’t remember the last time I got through a day without thinking about you. And I think you’ve been thinking about me, too.” Art stops as the tip of his shoes brush against yours, and you let your eyes slip closed as he rests his forehead against yours. 

“Tell me I’m wrong,” He pleads. “Tell me to fuck off right now and I will never say another non-tennis related thing to you again.” 

-- 

When he fucks you, he curls close, chest pressing against yours as he catches your lips in a kiss. You sink back against his pillows, your head cradled by his broad palm as he rolls his hips achingly slowly. You don’t bother to hide your whines and moans, and you revel in his. Every grunt and whimper and groan that Art lets out lights you up. 

And when you cum, you don't have to quiet yourself. His name tumbles out of your mouth, cushioned between expletives as your nails dig into his shoulders.

--

"What time is he home tonight?"

You don't want to think about it. You want to stay in this cozy little bubble, trailing your fingers over his muscled chest as he massages your nape and kisses your forehead.

But you know that you'll have to let the world back in sometime.

"I don't know," You admit. "Late."

"...Could stay."

"He'll be suspicious if I'm not home when he gets there."

Art sighs softly, running his hand down to rub between your shoulder blades.

"This isn't going to be easy, is it."

"What?"

"Letting you go every day."

"Every day?" You tease, pushing yourself up to get a better look at him. "Don't get greedy, Mr. Donaldson."

He smiles, raising his hand and cupping your cheek. "Is it greedy to know what I want?"

You shake your head a little, lowering your lips to brush against his.

"Not when I want it, too."

part ii: what we're willing to accept

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