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ervans · 5 months

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Care for You (Mizu x F!reader)

warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, and violence, soft sex, fingering (r! receiving)

a/n: wow. it's been a minute since i've truly sat down and wrote something. i'm absolutely obsessed with BES and mizu, i haven't felt so passionate about something since TLOU. this is my adaptation of what seems to be the most cliche scenario in this fandom so far: reader finding an injured mizu. i'm a bit rusty when it comes to writing so any and all feedback is welcome and appreciated, follows and notes as well. i have more ideas for works surrounding mizu (including a brothel fic muahahaha) so keep your eyes peeled for my posts :))

The sound of your sandals shuffling against the ground and your heavy pants were the only noises that pierced the otherwise quiet night. The moon, stars, and faint glow of your home in the distance were your only source of light as you trekked up the hill where the soft orange hue was coming from. The walk up this specific hill usually caused you no trouble, having done it dozens of times; however, this time was a tad bit different. Why? The limp, unconscious body that was currently draped over your shoulder.

Earlier in the evening you had heard a commotion down at the lake below the hill your home rested on. It was normal for stragglers, crooks, and opium addicts to travel through this part of Japan and mixing those groups of people usually ended up in some sort of fight. You had paid no mind to the noise, continuing with your cleaning. It wasn’t until you realized you needed more water for your tea that you made your way down the hill. As you reached the shore and saw the mess in front of you your stomach lurched.

Four bodies laid lifeless in front of you on the sand. From what you could tell they all had various stab and slash wounds across their bodies. Fifteen feet away from the tattered bodies lay another smaller one clad in baggy black trousers and stockings, a dark blue haori, and white scarf around his neck with a brown straw hat, round glasses with an orange tinted lens, and a sword, the telltale sign of a samurai on the ground beside him.

From where you stood you could see his chest still moving as he tried to shallowly breathe in oxygen from the air surrounding his struggling body. That brings you to where you are now, struggling up a damn hill trying to save this unknown samurai’s life. Was he responsible for the four bodies you had pushed into the lake? It didn’t matter to you; you weren’t one to judge in a world where it was kill or be killed.

You push the door to your house open and lay the injured stranger onto your mat near the fire. You start to boil water to disinfect whatever wounds he had and open a drawer to grab a needle and thread just in case stitches were needed. They very much were. You quickly realized the source of what seemed like never-ending blood on the top half of his body as you stripped the bloodstained clothing away. A gash about 4 inches long and deeper than you’d like it to be starting towards the base of his ribcage, skin around it starting to turn a yellowish color. It almost distracted you from the way the stranger was wearing chest wraps. Almost.

You frowned looking down at the shallow breathing of the samurai’s chest. Why would he need chest wraps? You thought, fingers brushing over the once white cloth now stained. Unless? You slowly started to undo the bindings, telling yourself you needed to anyways to properly clean the wound. As the cloth unraveled in your hands your small suspicion was confirmed. Two small breasts sat atop the chest of the slender samurai that laid before you, nipples hardening as they became exposed to the air. Your eyebrows raised, head tilting slightly to the side. A female samurai? How? Questions began to fill your mind as you started to clean the wound, gently washing it with the now hot water. It was unheard of for a woman to even touch a sword as it was said to make the blade impure. Where had this woman gotten her sword? Who did she get taught by? Clearly from the mess on the beach she knew her way around a fight.

You finished cleaning and stitching the larger wound and got to work on disinfecting the smaller cuts and scrapes on the upper half of her body. Once you were satisfied with your work, you began removing the woman’s trousers and stockings, revealing another deep gash running from the top of her knee down to her shin. Sighing you started the same process as her chest and prepared yourself for the unknown amount of time you would be caring for this mysterious female samurai.

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It took three days for the samurai to fully regain her consciousness. In those days you had changed the dressings on her wounds, forced broth and water down her throat for some form of sustenance, and carefully studied her whenever you found the chance to. You noticed small things others would easily miss. The way her face seemed like it was always in a permanent frown, her subtly toned muscles from what had to be from years of training, how her calloused hands would twitch in her sleep, stress being the cause of it you had concluded after watching her for a good hour whilst you sipped on your tea, and how insanely handsome she was. Wait what? Handsome? That thought scared you so much that you had refused to watch her for the remainder of the evening besides checking her wounds thoroughly before you went to bed. But you couldn’t ignore those thoughts that plagued your head as your touch lingered for more time than it should’ve.

You were sat cross-legged waiting for your tea to steep when you heard a thud from behind you. Quickly turning around to find what the source of the noise was, you were met with the samurai staring back at you, blue eyes shining in the dimly lit space. And oh, were they blue. You had never seen or known something could be as piercingly blue as the eyes that met yours.

“Who are you? Where am I?” The samurai demanded in a gravelly voice that sent a shiver up your spine. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer right away, mouth slightly agape with shock at the stranger who had, just minutes ago, been passed out. “I asked you a question, now answer it.” She said sternly after a beat of silence between the two of you.

You blinked, raising an eyebrow and rising to your feet. “Well that’s no way to talk to someone who saved your life now is it?”

The woman, stern frown never leaving her features, quickly looked around the room taking in her surroundings. She then looked down at herself, usual blue haori missing and replaced with a softer red one. You hadn’t wanted to leave her bare in the middle of your home and opted to dress her in one of yours while you worked on scrubbing the stains out of hers.

You saw her tentatively try to move, and the flash of pain the appeared on her face for just a second didn’t go unnoticed by you. She pursed her lips and looked back up at you. “Thank you for stitching me up, but I would rather not stay a hostage here any longer. I have more important places to be.”

Your eyes widen and you scoff. “Hostage? Are you fucking serious? By all means you can leave, makes my life ten times easier if you do.” You were lying, you quite enjoyed caring for the handsome samurai, but you would never admit that to her. At least not now. “Good luck walking on that knee by the way, I’m sure it won’t be any trouble for you though.”

You crossed your arms and leaned against the wall as the blue-eyed woman looked you up and down once more before attempting to get up. After a few minutes she was standing, hand against the top of the fireplace to keep her from falling over. You could see her chest rising and falling quickly from the struggle of just standing. She looked back over at you, still leaning with your arms crossed. “Where are my belongings?”

“On the table to your right.” You responded, eyes never leaving hers. You watched her glance over to the table. It was about five feet away; it should’ve been no problem for her to walk over and grab her things. Should’ve. It took her almost ten minutes to reach the edge of the table, her injured leg making it difficult to have a full range of motion. She opted to shuffle inch by inch over to the edge. By the time she got there she was out of breath, looking down at her hands placed on the wood in front of her. You hadn’t moved at all, the only change being your expression shifting from annoyance to amusement as you watched the fit samurai struggle.

After a moment she let out a shaky breath. You saw her knuckles tighten as if she was having an internal battle with herself. “Can you help me back to the mat?” She asked so quietly you almost missed it. You pushed yourself off the wall and walked over to where she stood, taking notice in the way her legs were shaking from lack of use over the past three days. She refused to look at you as you placed her arm over your shoulders and helped guide her back to the mat on the floor. “Thank you.” She muttered.

You looked at her, worry spreading across your features. “Of course. I’m here for anything you need. Consider me your personal caretaker.” You joked. “Although, a good caretaker should know her patients name.” Your words hung in the air for a moment before she responded.

“Mizu.”

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It had been three weeks since Mizu had introduced herself to you. She didn’t talk much about her personal life, which you respected, instead filling the silence between the two of you with your own stories from your childhood. In that time her leg wound had been healing considerably quick, mostly due to the bedrest you ordered her to stay on. The only time she was allowed to move her legs was when she needed to relieve herself or when you would do small stretches with her to keep her blood flow moving. After some time, she was able to get up and walk for short periods of time on her own. The only problem with her quick recovery in her leg was the fact that her chest wound had hardly any progress to it.

Since Mizu couldn’t walk for some time, she exerted all her energy to her upper half, much to your dismay. She would sit up on the mat doing stretches on her arms and shoulders, sometimes raising them so far up you were afraid a stitch was going to pop. It did.

Mizu had been practicing arm movements with her sword, stating that “If I want to achieve my goals, my skills must always be honed and sharp.” Bullshit you thought. She just wanted to aggravate you. How could you tell? The small smirk that would grace her lips whenever she went to pick up her sword, even after you told her it was dangerous, and she could hurt herself anymore. Alas, she was a stubborn woman and it’s how you ended up rushing inside from chopping wood after hearing a sharp yelp from inside your home.

She sat on her mat, one hand clutching the spot above her wound while the other reached for the needle and thread you always kept close by. Once you realized she was going to try to stitch herself back up you rushed over to snatch the needle from her hands and straddle her lap, careful of the wound on her knee. She looked startled for a moment before her whole face turned a deep shade of red once she realized the position you both were in. You had a faint blush as well as you plucked the thread from her hand as well.

“I’m not letting you stitch yourself. You’re going to make your injury worse.” You said looking down at her. She looked up at you with those damn blue eyes you could get lost in for ages, cheeks still red but an amused expression on her face.

“You don’t think I know how to stitch myself up?”

You laughed awkwardly. “Well, no. I just…you just…you just popped a stitch by doing something I told you not to do! How can I be sure you’ll do it correctly?!” Mizu laughed. A sound so beautiful you were sure it would play through your mind for months to come. “I guess you have a point. C’mon then doc, fix me up.” She smirked. You felt your face grow even hotter.

Still straddling her you pushed her robe off her shoulders revealing her chest wraps with blood from the reopened wound soaking through them. You gulped. To stitch her back up you’d have to remove her bindings. And this time she was awake. And would definitely take notice in the way your eyes would roam her chest. Sensing your hesitation, she smiled looking up at you. “What? It’s not like you haven’t seen them before, obviously you have, or I wouldn’t have stitches here.” She was teasing you, you realized. “Here I’ll make it easier for you.” Her hand reached around to begin to undo her wraps. You sat there dumbfounded as they fell to the floor and her breasts were exposed to you once again.

“You just gonna stare sweetheart or are you gonna patch me up?” Mizu’s teasing question broke you out of your trance as you swallowed thickly and got to work on restitching her wound. You felt her piercing gaze on you the entire time and did your best to try and ignore the warm feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Later that night after the excitement of the day you sat sipping on your tea while Mizu slept next to the fire. You couldn’t stop thinking about her. Those beautiful blue eyes, the way her lips turned up into a smirk whenever it seemed you were flustered, and the sound of her laugh plagued you. You hadn’t felt like this in a long time.

Suddenly Mizu woke with a gasp, shooting up from the mat. You turned to her startled as you took in her appearance. Eyes wide with fear, chest heaving up and down, and her hands gripping tightly onto her blanket. “Nightmare?” You asked softly as to not startle her even more than she was. She just nodded as she looked at you, eyes bright in the darkness.

You softly rose to your feet, padded over to where was sat up, and sat down next to her. Her eyes had never left your figure as you made your way to her. You looked down at the blanket, then back up to her asking a silent question.

Slowly she lifted the blanket up and laid back down, giving you room to scoot in next to her. You wrapped your arms around her and brought her closer to your chest in the most intimate position the both of you had ever been in. You had never slept as well as you did that night.

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It had been four days since Mizu’s nightmare, and every night since then you two had slept together, arms wrapped around each other. The dynamic between you had changed drastically, lingering touches and glances to each other becoming a new normal.

Tonight was no different to the past few. You lay facing Mizu while her back was turned to the fire, tracing circles into her rough and calloused hands. The silence was comfortable, but you chose to break it in that moment.

“When do you think you’ll leave?” A flash of hurt ran across Mizu’s face.

“I can leave whenever you want me to, I think I’m healed enough by now. Would you like me to leave tomorrow?” Your heart clenched at the sadness in her voice. You didn’t want that at all.

“No,” you whispered. “I don’t want you to leave me. Ever.” Her eyes softened, moving closer to you she brushed her nose against yours.

“Then I won’t.”

Your lips met her soft ones in a searing kiss, one that knocked the air right out of your lungs. You let out at soft noise as she titled her head, running her tongue across your bottom lip to deepen the kiss and ask for permission to enter. You parted your mouth for her, tongues running against each other as she rolled on top of you, straddling your hips. Her fingers ran down your sides and under your top, tips of them brushing the underside of your breasts as you pushed your chest up into her, silently asking for more.

She pulled away from the kiss, a trail of spit the only thing keeping you connected, and smiled. “I’m going to need you to tell me you want more. Tell me you want it and I’ll stay.”

You moaned at her words. “Yes! Mizu please I want it, I need you.” She leaned down to kiss you once those words left your lips, fingers moving up to circle and pinch your hardened nipples. You let out a gasp into Mizu’s mouth at the sensation and she smiled into you, moving her head to trail kisses down your face to your neck, sucking a purple mark just below your ear.

You raised your arms over your head as she stripped you of your top, eyes lingering on your now bare breasts. “Beautiful.” Was all she said. You let out a whimper at her words. She kissed down your shoulders to your breasts and licked a long stripe up your nipple, the sensation causing you to moan and buck your hips up into hers. As she continued her assault on your breasts, her hand traveled lower down your stomach and slipped her hand into your trousers to run a finger through your slick folds.

You were a moaning, withering mess below her at this point. Between her mouth on your tits and her finger slowly brushing against your clit, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. “Please Mizu. I need you, please.” You begged, grinding your hips up into her hand hoping she got the message. She did. Slowly she pushed her middle finger into your wet heat, savoring the noise that left your lips as she did. Experimentally she curled her finger, finding that spongy spot at the front of your walls.

It wasn’t enough for you. “More, I need more.” You whimpered. Smiling against your breast, she pushed another finger in, thrusting at a quicker pace. You were close, she could tell by the way your pussy clenched around her digits. You just needed one last thing to push you over the edge. Removing her mouth from your nipple, she brought her forehead against yours admiring the way your mouth was slightly agape and the furrow between your brows.

“Open your eyes. You’re to look at me when you cum.”

At her words and her thumb suddenly circling your clit matching the pace at which she thrust, your eyes shot open meeting her icy blue ones, the last thread keeping you from falling snapping.

“‘m gonna cum Mizu, fuck m’ gonna fuckfuck-“ You were sent over the edge, cunt clenching and gushing around her fingers while your back arched off the mat, eyes never leaving hers as she guided and talked you through it.

As you caught your breath, chest heaving, she peppered soft kisses all over your face causing you to giggle breathlessly. She smiled down at you as you looked up at her still panting. “Give me a second, let me return the favor.” She leaned down capturing your lips once again as she removed her fingers from your core, wiping the slick on her pants and rolling to lay next to you. She pulled you into her chest and nuzzled her nose into your hair.

“You’ve taken care of me these last few weeks, let me take care of you. We have all the time in the world, I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

And Mizu always kept her promises.

#blue eye samurai x reader #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai #bes #blue eye samurai netflix #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu smut

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satorisoup · 1 month

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PUT YOUR HEAD ON MY SHOULDER .ᐟ

ft. hq boys and their acts of intimacy <3

cw : fluff + sfw. timeskip! setting. mentions of bathing together.

ᰔ BOKUTO + BUBBLE BATHS

even though he may be a little too burly to fit comfortably with you in the tub, and it takes a couple minutes to get situated without getting squashed, bokuto loves to bathe with you. he enjoys running the warm water, not too hot, not too cold, but just right. he’ll mix in a nice scented soap that makes bubbles rise high in the bathtub, lavender and citrus you can smell in the mist of your bathroom. he’ll hold your hands under the water, and maybe splash you a couple times, but he shows he cares with the delicate touches he leaves on your skin as he washes away the worries of the world with a sponge of suds. he’ll lather your hair in your favorite shampoo, careful to not snag any knots, and rinse the strands with such gentleness you can barely even feel it. and when you’re all done, he’ll wrap you in a warm towel, snug and clean while he kisses your damp cheeks with a huge smile.

ᰔ KITA + FLOWERS

kita vowed that when he started dating you, he would never allow a week to go by without your vase being filled with a new bouquet. he’ll come home to you, new flowers wrapped in the palm of his hands as he kisses you hello. he loves the the way you get excited, eyes twinkling at the delicate petals and floral scent as you thank him over and over. he’ll watch you with a fond smile as you carefully take them in your grasp, setting them into a pretty vase that makes your home light up with color. he won’t let you see the flowers die, always keeping one for himself so he knows when it’s time to replace them. he’ll always tell you the meaning of the bouquet he got, or leave a pretty note tied around the stems. he buys a different type of flower every time, because he knows you’ll enjoy the variety. he adores you just as much as you adore the beautiful flowers.

ᰔ ATSUMU + MASSAGING YOU

atsumu has talented hands from years of playing volleyball, and he puts them to good use when you complain that you’re sore. he’ll knead at the expanse of your skin, smiling to himself as you sigh in content. he’ll rub away the tiredness of your muscles, gentle but calculated touches everywhere you could need. he likes to hold your hands in his, massaging from your fingers all the way up to your arms, and back down to your hands again. he’ll lay your sock-clad feet in his lap, squeezing and rubbing the ache away with his fingers. he’ll sit you on his lap, massaging the discomfort of your cramping shoulders until your melting into his touch. he won’t be rough, making sure his touch is tender and soft while he works the knots out. he kindly kisses your skin when he’s done, and feels that it’s a mission accomplished when you tell him you feel much better.

ᰔ OSAMU + FEEDING YOU

as long as osamu is around, you will always have a full plate. he’s always in the kitchen, a small and sacred book of his ma’s recipes standing proud on an easel. you don’t remember the last time you’ve heard your stomach grumble, because he’s already sliding a bowl your way. he loves how domestic it feels, to use the recipes he once enjoyed as a kid and serve them to you on a silver platter. he likes that you’re his personal taste tester, giving him a thumbs up with full cheeks as you chew. when your sick, he’ll insist on feeding you, hot spoon of soup between his fingers, his hand cusped at the bottom to catch any that falls. he’ll wake you up in the early mornings to tell you the food is ready, and sometimes surprise you with breakfast in bed. he’ll kiss your chubbed cheeks as you munch on one of his special onigiris, and ask you if you want another until your belly is full.

ᰔ AKAASHI + READING TO YOU

akaashi enjoys reading to you every chance he gets. a book held in the palms of his hands, licking his thumb every time he turns the page. he’ll have you curled up to his side, or sat between his legs, as he reads aloud the words imprinted on the page. he’ll add emotion to his voice at the important parts, and he’ll glance at your face to see your reaction. his voice is soft and soothing as he reads, occasionally moving his hand towards your hair to gently caress the top of your head. when it’s nighttime, he reads to you almost as if it’s a bedtime story, bedside lamp warming the room with it’s light as he flips through the pages. chapter after chapter he brings you closer to sleep, pages like a lullaby of prompts and fiction. he’ll pause when he notices your reactions have gone silent, breathing evened out as you lulled into a quiet slumber. he’ll smile as he puts a bookmark between the spine, already anticipating tomorrow when he can continue to read you the next chapter.

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lucky-bucky-boy · 7 months

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Changing Tides

Paring: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 6790

Summary: You and Bucky get paired together for undercover missions a lot because it works beautifully, despite the fact that you don't really even interact at home.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, limited use of Y/N, LOTS of pet names (pretty girl, baby, i think baby girl, my girl etc), praise kink, oral f. receiving, slight angst, reader is in denial for a good bit of this, angst if you squint, reader is a part of the team, this piece takes place in an AU where everyone lives together and everything is happy

A/N: Oh. My. God. I did NOT intend for this to be this long, at one point I thought I was going to have to make this a two-parter but I got it all in here. I really enjoyed writing this, please let me know what y'all think!! :)))

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed and highly appreciated!

Hues of velvety violet and radiant amber mixed, painting the evening sky like a scene out of a museum. The scent of warm sea salt was still palpable in the air, the crystal like water of the wide-expanding ocean reflected the light of the setting sun. Dancing specs of light could be seen in the darker shades of the sky, stars bright and clear against the inky color.

The cold metal of the hotel balcony pressed against your exposed skin, shirt having risen up as you leaned over it slightly. The view was beyond breathtaking, something you would argue belonged on a movie screen. It was serene, offering a moment of reprieve from the typical chaos you endured in a day, and a distraction from the man currently sitting in the hotel room behind you.

Hate didn’t describe the emotions you felt for the brunet. On a daily basis, there was an underlying disinterest but every now and then a seething annoyance would bubble at the mere thought of the former soldier. You couldn’t pin-point why. Bucky himself had never done anything to wrong you after his rehabilitation and reintroduction into society, and you could easily say nothing the Winter Soldier had done counted towards your feelings.

The odd part of it all is the Bucky and you worked well together, great even. More often than not, you found yourself partnered with Bucky on just about every mission the two of you had; from quick in and out missions to undercover operations like the one you were on now. The communication was great, the two of you easily fell into a rhythm and could read each other’s body language like you’ve known each other your whole life. It was easy to slip into a faux-domesticity with him, which was a stark contrast to the daily life you lived.

The day to day with Bucky involved a lack of any form of contact. You’d avoid the gym if he was in it, would eat in silence if the two of you happened to be in the kitchen at the same time, eye-contact was consistently avoided - Really, the only time the two of you were seen together at home was during group training sessions and team-building nights. You were sure to never make it awkward for the rest of the team, never bad mouth or be outwardly annoyed at Bucky’s presence, you just really couldn’t care less if he was there or not.

“Sweetheart,” his voice carried from the room, light and sweet, almost intoxicating with a feeling instantly having your gut turn and catch your skin aflame, “Did you want to go out for dinner tonight or just order room service?” His voice got nearer as he moved to join you on the balcony.The cool metal prosthetic wrapped around your waist as he stood next to you.

A soft hum left your lips, gaze moving from the horizon to the prosthetic then to Bucky’s face. He adorned a slight scruff, long hair pulled back into a low bun; His eyes nearly twinkled as they reflected the setting sky in the distance, he wore soft maroon button down and black chinos that truly made him look like a normal, well-off guy. Tony and Peter had finally managed to perfect the color needed to make Bucky prosthetic look like a normal arm which easily sealed the deal on assuring that there was nothing major that could be easily spotted to dox the two of you as agents.

The flight to Morocco was long and the next 10 days were easily going to be even longer, the last thing you wanted to do was be anywhere but a soft bed. “Room service,” you replied, matching the tone he had asked the question with. You leaned your head against his shoulder, moving your gaze back to the ocean, “Did you do a room check and get our things set up?”

He nodded, “Everything inside is clear and put away,” he squeezed your side softly when he said inside, a subtle emphasis to communicate where it was safe to not be in character. “I’ll go order the room service, you can go shower and get comfortable. I know how much you hate the airport.” He chuckled softly at the end, pressing a quick kiss to your hairline before making his way back inside.

You let out a soft sigh, making it inside as well and closing the balcony door behind you as you did. This really was going to be a long 10 days.

The bitter taste of the wine nearly made your mouth water, sitting somewhere between too intense and the perfect thing to take the edge off. The first full day had been smooth, an easy itinerary of walking and exploring the city. From the outside, the two of you easily looked like a love sick couple; matching clothes, a large diamond in your hand, Bucky always opening the door for you and your soft smile that just couldn't seem to leave you face; but in reality you had been mapping the city, learning the back alley ways and locating any ports that may be needed for a quick exit.

The small patio of the restaurant adorned a handful of tables, lanterns lighting the area in a soft romantic glow, lucious plants filling in any space, the open space allowed for ease of blending into the crowd while watching any passerby on the street. Bucky had taken up a game of footsie with you, chattering along about some of the shops you had passed along the way.

“Is there any shop you’d want to make your way back to?” Bucky took a sip of the wine in front of him, eyes fixed on you intently.

A soft hum left your lips, swaying your head back and forth softly as you thought. “Well, I wanna hit up the history and art museum, so maybe we could see if there’s any other cute shops there? If not, I’d definitely like to look at the jewelry store and bookstore we passed on the way here.”

“Mmm, I do think it’s time to get my pretty girl a new necklace,” the words fell off Bucky’s tongue like he sweet talked you on the daily.

There was that feeling again, the uneasiness that laid in the pit of your stomach and your skin heated up. Maybe this was why you couldn’t stand Bucky outside of missions, maybe you just didn’t want to deal with this feeling constantly. “You spoil me enough, ya know,” you offered a soft giggle, “I can assure you I don’t need any more jewelry, my love.”

Bucky smirked softly, cocking his eyebrows up at you with a knowing look on his face, “You may not need it, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to do it anyways.”

You shook your head, about to offer a rebuttal as the waiter set your food down in front of you, all thoughts being lost to the amazing sights and smells. “This is easily my favorite part of our trips,” you stated, the distraction of food keeping you from noticing the way Bucky’s gaze stayed on you and a soft smile lingered.

Six days of being enveloped in Bucky’s presence, and thankfully it was getting easier by the moment. It had been a smooth operation so far, the information being easy to locate and gather without raising suspicions. As a result, Tony had said to take a day to relax, lay low and assure no one was able to realize there was something more to you two.

Bucky had made a home on the balcony of your hotel, a book in hand and a coffee sat on the little table next to him.He been there since the early morning and it was easily almost noon, not that that you were bothering to check the clock. A day off meant a day of sleep and eating, nothing much more than that.

However, sleeping wasn't something your body wanted to do so you found yourself with a forgotten movie playing on the television, your gaze consistently going back to him. You weren't sure why, but you couldn't keep your eyes off him. You'd been sitting for the past God knows how long trying to figure out why you couldn't pull your eyes away from him. His hair was down, something he didn't do quite often, almost always finding it easier to have it pulled away from his face. From the angle he was sitting, you could see his light gray button down was still completely unbuttoned, his jean shorts a little too snug around his thighs. He occasionally sipped the coffee that was most likely cold at this point, turning the page of the thick novel occasionally. His lips would purse, eyebrows scrunch occasionally, or a small chuckle, or even a shake of his head as he reacted to the words on the page.

The wind picked up some, indicating a small rain storm that was destined to his later in the evening was starting to make it's way in. Bucky pulled a hair tie from his pocket, tying his hair into his typical low bun before picking his book back up. And it finally hit you; Fuck he's pretty.

The thought immediately made your body heat up and the instant feeling of something in between shame and excitement sat low in your belly. It was like a well known secret your subconscious kept for years finally made it over the wall of denial in your brain, immediately making your thoughts run wild; Fuck he's so pretty, more than pretty actually. What if this is why we've been weird for some many years? Wait. Why would that make it weird? Wait. Why is it weird? Why do we get along so well on missions and then act so differently at home? Oh My God… Has the team been trying to set us up?

Shaking your head, you jumped up, apparently too suddenly because Bucky broke his concentration on his book to glance over at you. You could feel he was watching you move around, the only thought in your head now was to get out for some fresh air as you deciphered the flood of thoughts. You grabbed some fresh clothes, slipping into the bathroom with a heavy sigh once the door was closed.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, attempting to ground yourself. Okay, what the hell is going on? The question kept repeating itself over and over in your head as you slipped into a summer dress, a sage flowy piece that Natasha and you bought for this trip specifically. It was cute, and Nat was right when she said it complimented your skin; definitely different than your normal attire but still comfortable.

Walking out of the bathroom, you were relieved to find Bucky still where he was when you entered. After slipping on some sandals, you moved towards him, immediately aware of every detail of your very being. "Hey," you kept your voice soft, waiting for him to pull him eyes from the book and look up at you. There was something about how brightly his eyes shone with the golden sun beating down on him, there was a sense of both innocence and mystique, and the instant feeling of safety just from holding his gaze. "I'm heading out to get some coffee, do you want a fresh one? You've been sipping at the same cup for hours now."

Bucky glanced down at the cup, then to his watch, eyes going wide for a moment before a soft chuckle left his lips. "I've been out here for 4 hours already, shit. Yeah, I'd love a fresh one, doll. Thank you." He offered you a soft smile, "Just get me a-"

"A latte with three honeys on the side," you said matter-of-factly, "I could order for you at just about anywhere at this point." It was a teasing joke, one Bucky laughed at, but you instantly cursed yourself for even saying it.

"We do spend quite a bit of time together," he hummed out, "Did you want to go out for dinner or get room service tonight?" He asked, picking his book back up as he prepared for your departure.

"Let me see how I feel after I get back. But if we go out, it's your turn to pick. I picked last night." You stated before leaning down to kiss his hairline, still needing to keep up the act just in case someone was managing to spy; or at least that's what you were telling yourself. "I'll see you inna bit."

After returning with the coffee, still finding Bucky to be where he was when he left him, it was an instant decision to find a way to give yourself more time a way from the man that had your mind absolutely scrambled. Grabbing a book of your own, you let him know you'd be down by the pool if he needed you, using a quick excuse about wanting some change in scenery before the rain came as you left.

You weren't entirely sure how long you'd been out there, it couldn't have been too long, but you we're aware you were reading the same page over and over again. The words seemed to mix together, jumbling about and not registering even in the slightest, your brain still attempting to make sense of what you were feeling.

You never denied that Bucky was attractive, that's admittedly part of what made undercover missions easy. You never denied that you two got along well on missions, but you couldn't explain or pinpoint why you didn't get along at home. Sure, you were never hostile or rude, but it was exactly friendly or outgoing either. No matter how much you thought and walked through your early memories of Bucky, you couldn't make sense of anything.

At this point, you knew pride was part of the issue. You knew the team would be able to walk you through, at the very least Nat or Pepper or maybe even Steve, but you could never admit to them what you were currently feeling or going through. The only thing you wanted to do, needed to do was to act normal until you got home. Then you could just hide away and go back to not having to interact with the man that was causing you turmoil.

"There's my pretty girl," Bucky's drawl quickly pulled you out of your thoughts, causing you to jump at the sudden push back to reality. Seeing you jump caused Bucky to chuckle, especially as you turned to glare at him and his bright smile, "It's getting late, baby. We should go get some food."

He moved to the lounge chair you had made home in, kneeling down next to you so he was eye-level. There was that feeling again, low in the pit of your stomach that had your skin warming. "There's apparently food trucks at a park about not too far. Why don't we head there and get some food to bring back and watch a movie?"

Instinctively, you reach to tuck a strand of loose hair behind his ear, offering a soft nod and a smile, "That sounds perfect."

You wanted nothing more than to kiss him, the thought immediately making your already warm skin heat up more, feeling flustered and like a school girl. It's not like you haven't kissed, it was just agreed upon that it was reserved for dire need situations. All other physical touchs; hand holding, forehead kissing, even smacking each others ass was okay to sell the facade that you were a happy couple.

Bucky picked up on the change, a look of slight worry on his face, "You okay, doll?"

The laugh that left you was slightly anxious, holding the book in your hand up as a quick white lie, "Yeah, you just came down at a particularly… intense scene."

He immediately laughed, kissing your forehead as he stood up. "You're so cute. Let's get going though."

The bustling crowds offered a great distraction - Bucky stood proudly by your side, fingers interlocked together and swinging your joined hands softly like a love sick couple. The both of you scanned the crowd, trying to figure out where to go and what to get.

The lines weren't too long, there were nearly a dozen trucks, and live music playing. The sun was finally setting, more clouds rolling in and bringing in a cooler breeze that allowed for a reprieve from the beach heat. There were benches with umbrellas set up, lantern lights adorning some posts and wires around the lot. It was cute, and if it wasn't for the mission you were still technically on, it would feel so wrong to be here with Bucky.

After a moment of thought, you looked at Bucky, lips slightly pursed in thought, "I have an idea." You stated matter-of-factly.

He cooked an eyebrows at you, intrigued and slightly amused with your tone, "Let's hear it then."

"Let's get a platter or some random menu item from every truck then go back to the room and eat there."

Bucky looked around and nodded, "Ya know what, doll, that sounds fantastic. Do you wanna divide and conquer or go one by one?"

It was then that you realized the clouds were darkening, and the rain was definitely going to happen sooner than later. "Let's divide and conquer before the rain comes."

With a nod of agreement the two of you split, heading to either end of the trucks and working your way to each other. With the lines being shorter, it didn't take too long to get through them all, the both of you holding multiple bags stacked full of food and tied tightly. Quick words were exchanged before you started heading back towards the hotel, hoping to make it back before the rain.

The effort was fruitless though, with just maybe a few hundred feet left before the hotel you were staying at, the cold rain begins to pour down, the dark sky opening up and letting go every ounce of water it was holding on to. With loud gasps from the both of you, and small playful shriek even, you two took off running into the lobby, screeching yourselves to a stop as you entered and stood on the mats in front of the door. You were breathing heavily, attempting to catch your breath; a quick glance to Bucky showed you he was doing the same.

After a few moments, the two of you made eye contact, bursting into immediate laughter. You were both soaked head to toe, the only thing saved was the food. His shoes make a sloshing sound and your feet slid around in your sandals, you clothes clinging to every inch of your bodies. You were easily a sight for sore eyes, but it couldn't have been funnier.

"Why didn't either of us think about the rain?" You managed to get out through your laughter.

"Who knows, but let's get upstairs so we can get dry." He managed to respond.

The elevator ride up felt like an eternity, the cold of the AC feeling more intense from your wet skin. Bucky opened the door for you, letting you in first. He set the foot down, immediately kicking off his shoes. "Go shower, get warm. I'll pull out a change of clothes for you and we can swap when you're done."

Something about the direction made you freeze momentarily, causing him to look up at you, "(Y/N), you're freezing. Go shower. I'm fine to wait." His voice was soft and caring and there was a part of you that wanted to tell him to shower with you.

In the dim light of the room and the soaking wet clothes made him look even more divine, like he was sculpted from the gods themselves. You nodded, handing him the bags before making your way towards the bathroom. You closed the door, then quickly opening it to call out but he cut you off, "You want an oversized shirt and a loose pair of shorts, gets your ass in the shower." His tone was demanding but still playful. You caught the look in his eyes, mischievous, playful, and a hint of something you didn't want to recognize.

You kept your shower quick, ready to be in comfortable clothes and a bed with good food. After quickly drying yourself as much as possible, you wrapped yourself in a towel, and stepped out into the bedroom. Bucky stood in only his boxers, his own clothes in one hand while he scrolled through the television with the other. It wasn't the first time you've seen him with this little clothing, but something about it now made your mouth dry and your skin heat up.

"All yours," you said, grabbing his attention as you moved to the bed where he laid your clothes out for you.

"Thanks, doll. I'll be quick. You can pick the movie," he tossed the remote onto the bed before disappearing into the bathroom himself.

You stood there for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm yourself before slipping into the clean clothes. Bucky had already made work of getting creative. He pulled the ironing board from the closet and set the food up next to the bed, had fluffed the pillows up into a sitting position, and already gotten drinks for the two of you. By the time you had decided on a movie, Bucky was coming out of the bathroom.

Immediarely, you mind started short circuiting again. He looked soft. He had on a light blue shirt and a pair of light gray shorts, his hair was towel dried and brushed against his shoulders, a slight wave to the brown locks. He slid in bed next to you, getting himself situated and comfortable before handing over the massive spread of food for you to start digging into.

After about 20 minutes of eating and watching the movie in a comfortable silence, Bucky turned the volume down some, "Can I ask you a question?" The tone of his voice alone already told you how he was feeling. There was a sense of worry, anxiety almost to him.

"Of course, what's wrong?" You asked, sitting your food to the side so you could turn to look at him.

Bucky followed your lead, moving the food he had off the bed as well before taking a drink, trying to have a moment to articulate how he was going to ask what he wanted. Even though Bucky was sure the room wasn't bugged, he knew that there's was never a 100% chance of assuring that. The fact alone could make talking about things outside of the mission difficult, and this one one of those moments.

"How's the trip been for you? I know we haven't been on one in a while and I just want to make sure everything's okay, that we're okay." He had turned fully to look at you now, the worry in his voice making it to his eyes.

"Oh…" the response was immediate, and you regretted it instantly the second you so that worry on his face grow, "The trips been wonderful, and uh…" You sighed, toying with the blanket around you, "We're fine, yeah. I'm just… not here?" You said, sort of motioning to your head to get the point across.

Bucky cocked his head some, the worry turning to confusion. "Are we going to be okay when we go home?"

That was something you couldn't answer. What was okay. Was okay how you normally act? Was okay something different? Something better? Something worse?

"Uh… maybe?" You offered, immediately wincing at your own words. You sighed deeply, "I don't really know how to explain what I'm feeling."

"Okay," Bucky took a moment, letting you both sit in the uncomfortable silence that was the lull in the conversation. He was doing his best not to become frustrated, he knew there was most likely no easy way for you to communicate what you wanted to say or even what you were feeling, but he's been able to tell for the past couple of days that things, specifically that you, have been off. "What do you know?"

Your gaze met his again, taking a deep breath in to try to gather the courage to say what you needed. "Things feel… different?"

"Different?"

"Different."

Bucky stared at you for a moment, mind calculating and analyzing has he tried to decipher what you meant. In an instant it all clicked, and you didn't miss the way his lips curled into a quick smirk before his features soften. "Do things feel different when I call you my pretty girl?"

He watched as you immediately became flustered, averting your gaze and watching your chest rise and fall quicker. He thought he had sensed your heart rate quickening throughout the past couple of days, but he had honestly assumed it was anxiety from the mission. He had no reason to think it could be something else; Well, until now.

"(Y/N)," your name came as firm and demanding, causing you to look at him. The smirk on his face was more evident now, "We can continue this conversation now, or when we get home. But just remember, you're my favorite book to read."

You were instantly lost for words, mouth opening and closing as you processed what he just said to you. Waiting until you were home was going to be far too long, but talking about whatever this was now? Right now when you were flustered beyond belief, that flippant warm feeling filling every valley and curve of your body?

"Just say the word, doll, and I'll act like everything is normal. I'll go back to watching the movie and eating and ignoring the obivous."

A soft shake of your head was all you could muster as you search desperately for a will to stop the inevitable, or the courage to beg for it.

"Words, (Y/N). Use your words."

"I don't want normal." You swallowed, taking a shaky breath you continued, "I don't want this to go back to normal."

Buckys lips turned to a smile. "You don't want this to stop when we go home?"

You shook you head more feverishly, "No, I - Fuck, what have you done to me?" You groaned out.

"The same thing you've been doing to me for years, I suppose." His tone was matter-of-fact, cool and calm almost.

"What?" Your eyes had gone wide, mouth dry, and that God forsaken feeling low in your stomach was growing.

"You heard me. Obviously, we'll have some talking to do when we get home." He chuckled

Bucky moved as if he was going to grab the food, stopping once he heard, "No," come out of your mouth, "No. I want to talk about it now."

He looked back at you, eyebrows raising as to silently ask how.

"I want to…" You sighed, shaking your head in disbelief at yourself before leaning forward, cupping the back of his neck with your hand and pressing your lips to his.

This kiss was different; It was electricity filled, igniting every nerve in your body. You could feel the heat from your ears to your toes. It was intoxiting and addicting.

Bucky waisted no time in kissing you back, even letting out a small groan at your sudden assertiveness. His prosthetic hand held onto you waist, the other cupping your face as the two of you broke years worth of tension in one swift motion. Bucky pulled away first, taking in the plumpness of your kiss swollen lips, the sluttering of your lashes as your opened your eyes to look at him, and the darkness of your gaze that was stricken with last.

He looked just as enthralled, blue eyes dark as the night sky and hooded with desire, cheeks flushed slightly beneath his scruff. It finally clicked what the feeling you've been having all week was. Lust; pure, unadulterated lust for the man who was currently pretending to be your husband.

"Well damn, doll," he offered you a toothy grin, squeezing your waist, "Wasn't expecting that."

"Sorry-"

"Don't be." He bit his lip, studying your face for a moment, "Whatcha thinking, pretty girl?"

You couldn't help but get flustered, "That I want more. A lot fucking more." You hand moved up from his neck to card through his hair, his breath hitching some as you did. "Please, James, I need more." Your voice had a slight whine to it, something you hoped he wouldn't be able to resist.

"If I knew you sounded so pretty begging this would've happened years ago," he grumbled before kissing you again. This time though, he re-situated himself, helping you move to straddling him and doing his best to let you still have some semblance of control for now. His hands gripped your hips, keeping you from being able to move away from him.

One of your hands cupped his face, the other running down his clothed chest. You lips move in sink, a squeeze on your hips eliciting a small moan from you that he took advantage of, using your open mouth to slip his tongue in. You could feel the tent in his shorts growing, sitting hard against your core.

An experimental grind of your hips pulled a moan form the man beneath you; The sound was music to your ears, and enough encouragement to do it again.

Buckys hands moved, bracing you as he flipped you over to give himself more leverage and take control. Just as he begin to grind himself against you, he moved his lips from your to your neck. He kissed his way down to your pulse point, drinking in the sweet sounds you made. He sucked softly at the skin, moaned himself when you pulled at his hair.

Any rationale thought was gone at this point, any fears or anxieties you had pushed to the back of your mind as pure pleasure and desire took over the forefront of your thoughts. Once Bucky was sure he would be satisfied with the mark he left on you, he pulled back some to look you in the eye.

"Are you sure you want this?" He breathed out, offering you an out.

You nodded so quickly he couldn't help but laugh softly, "God, you look so fucking desperate, doll. You want me to fuck you?" He had a slight tease to his voice.

Another nod is all you could muster, but that wasn't good enough for him. "Uh uh, come on. Use your words. Need to hear you say it if you want me to do it."

You whined at his demand, pouting at him slightly, "Please."

"Please what?" His tone was more stern now, "If you want to continue, I need to know you actually want this."

His insistence to make sure you were consenting pulled at your heart strings. You nodded, "Yes, Bucky," you kept your voice soft before adding a slight whine and plea to it, "Please fuck me."

He smiled, kissing you much softer than had had before, "I'd do anything you asked me to." His words sounded like a promise that had you own emotions bubbling up.

Bucky leaned up for a moment, pulling off his shirt. He motioned for you to sit up and pulled yours off as well, groaning softly when he sat you skin. "Such a beautiful, pretty girl. Look at you," his hands ran up and down your sides and he took in your body before making eye contact with you again, "Most perfect thing I've ever seen, ya know that?"

He could feel your skin heat up at his comments, watching you squirm. "Take your shorts off, doll." Bucky moved off the bed, kneeling on the floor at the edge, "C'mere." He demanded.

You aren't going to deny him at this point, feeling yourself so tightly wrapped around his finger that you'd follow him into hell if it meant he kept talking to you like this. Once you were close enough, Bucky grabbed your thighs and pulled you to be perched on the edge on the bed, legs on his shoulders with his eyes level with your core.

"Look at this sweet little pussy," he squeezed your thighs tight, "You're fucking glistening, doll." He started pressing kisses to your thighs, avoiding the very apace you needed him at. "Smell fucking divine, I just know you're gonna taste even better."

Bucky watched as you already started fishing the sheets, squirming and biting you lip to hold back any noise. He already decided it was his job to make it impossible for you to hold back. Bucky moved his right hand to interlock with yours, taking his left arm and using it to put pressure on your waist, the cold feel of the prosthetic a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. Just as he squeezed your hand, Bucky licked a thick stripe from your core to your clit, genuinely moaning at the taste.

He wasted no time in drowning himself in your essence. Bucky licked and sucked, offering the occasional nibble, until you were grinding yourself in his face. Once soft gasps and moans were falling freely from you lips, he moved his left hand to your core, the cool digits of his forefinger and ringer figuring prodding your sopping hole. He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking softly as he pushed two fingers in, relishing in the fact that your moans got loud.

Bucky pulled him mouth away, moving to you thighs and sucking hickies into the soft skin while his fingers worked magic. He already knew your body so well, years of working together on intimate missions allowed him to learn how to tell what you liked versus what you loved.

After leaving a few marks, he leaned his head against your thighs, looking up at you through his lashes and watching had your chest rose and fell and you head was thrown back in pure pleasure. "I was fucking right. Taste like honey, could drink you up all fucking day."

He licked a quick stripe again, from where his fingers were to the hilt inside you all the way to your clit. "So, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to continue eating your sweet little pussy until you cum all of face then I'm going to fuck you nice and deep so you feel my cock for days."

He chuckled when he felt your walls flutter around his fingers, "You like the sound of that, pretty girl?" He curled his fingers, hitting the spongy spot that had you gasping for air and eyes rolling into the back of your head. "Look, you're already so close to the edge. You better soak me, baby."

Bucky didn't fall short on his word, getting back to work on your clit with his mouth. His scruff added a nice sensation that bordered on pleasurable pain, fingers moving st the perfect pace and curving expertly, mouth switching between sucking and kitten licks. His right had squeezed your own hand, encouraging you to let go for him.

The pleasure was building quickly, it was intoxicating and inhibition destroying. You leaned up, using your free hand to grab hold of his hair and pull, giving you leverage to grind on his face. Bucky moaned against you, and truly giving you everything he was worth in his determination.

It didn't take much longer for you to fall over the edge, moaning loudly and body convulsing. Your legs squeezed his head as he continued to work you through your orgasm until you fell back, panting for breath.

Bucky pulled away, chuckling softly with a proud look in his face. From his nose down, he was absolutely glistening with your slick, "God you're fucking hot, using my face like that."

Bucky stood, pulling his shorts off, using them to wipe his face some, then tossing them to the side. "Can't wait to see your pretty face when I fill you up. Your gonna take me so good, aren't you?"

You nodded, already getting worked back up. You sat yourself up before he had the chance to grab you, leaning up and carding your hand through his hair again and guiding his lips to yours. You moaned at the taste of your own cum on his lips, reaching down to wrap your hand around his cock, jerking him slowly.

He pulled away from your lips, breathing in sharp. "Uh uh, doll, you can do that another time," he kissed your forehead, a sweet gesture that was a drastic difference to what was currently happening, "Right now, I wanna be buried inside you, making you cum all over me again. Cmon, lay back down for me."

You stole one more kiss before resuming your prior position. Bucky stood at the edge of the bed, pulling you back to the edge and holding your legs spread wide. "You can tell me to stop at any point," he said softly, "but unless you do that, I'm not stopping until you're thoroughly filled with me."

You nodded, offering a desperate, "Please, Bucky. Want all of you," and moving to hold your own legs up as the extra step to prove how much you wanted this.

"So fucking perfect," he groaned out. Bucky grabbed his length, teasing your slit a few times to get his thick tip left before finally pushing in. He was slow, listening to your gasp as he stretched you out so nicely.

Inch by inch, he pushed in until he was bent over you and all the way to the hilt, your lower bodies completely flushed. "You feel fucking amazing around me," he moaned out, kissing every inch of skin he could reach. Just as you were starting to whine, he pulled all the way out before slamming back in, causing you to moan out loudly when you felt him in the deepest parts of you.

Bucky set a brutal but rhythmic pace, changing it ever so slightly until he heard your moans and whines change to be deeper and louder. He moved one of your legs to his shoulder, which somehow allowed him to go even deeper, alternating between full thrusts and grinding against you.

He reached down between the two of you, rubbing circles in your clit with his thumb and watching as your whole body begin to shake with intense pleasure. "Look at you," he moaned out, "Better than my wildest dreams. You gonna cum again for me, already doll?"

He didn't need an answer at this point, he could tell from how your walls were squeezing him that you were close, and as much as he hated to admit it he wasn't far behind you. Bucky kept his movements consistent until he felt you fall over the edge again with a high pitch moan, his hips finally flattering as you squeezed him like a vice, quickly chasing his own high. A few erratic thrusts and he spilled into you with a moan of your name.

Bucky let your legs down, taking a few deep breaths before pulling out of you. He laughed lightly as you whined at the loss of him. He disappeared to the bathroom, cleaning himself up before bringing back a warm, damp wash cloth to wipe you down with. Bucky pressed softly kisses to yoh skin and he wiped you off, kissing your lips before tossing the cloth to the side and climbing into bed with you.

He helped you move back to laying normally in the bed, laughing once he noticed the credits of thie movie were rolling. He wrapped and arm around you, pulling you into his side and letting you get comfortable on him."How you feeling, doll?"

"Good, a little weird, but good." You said, voice drenched in exhaustion.

"Weird how?" He asked, rubbing his fingers up and down your back.

"Good weird. Happy things are gonna be different when we get home."

With how you were laying, you missed the way Bucky smiled down at you, "You don't understand how happy it makes me that I'll get to treat you like this all the time."

"Really?" You asked, already finding it hard to keep your eyes open.

"Doll, I've been yours since the moment I met you, someone was just too stubborn to notice her own feelings." He squeezed your side before going back to rubbing your back, "Get some sleep, we can talk in the morning."

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mukul039975 · 2 years

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tears-of-amber · 9 months

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Hearth & Home Witchcraft That I've Learned

One of the biggest things that stands out to me when reading about hearth & home witchery is that everyday items are considered magical. Everyday moments, tasks, and chores as well. Its a beautiful way to live, if you really think about it. Big rituals are great, but as someone who is disabled, they rarely are doable. Here is a list of Hearth & Home Witchcraft Tips that i actually practice.

-Enchant a blanket by embroidering a sigil in the corner and using its color correspondences for your needs. It also helps me feel shielded from negative energy during meditation.

-Play music that makes you feel safe and AT HOME. This is almost like grounding, but also can be cleansing to the environment and especially the listeners. For me, its smooth jazz. The chill sound of the standup bass and the wandering piano notes that always seem to find their way to a comfortable key... its soothing to my soul.

-Talk to and about your home (kindly). So often its easy to complain about your living space. How you wish it looked or functioned differently. The house (in my belief) hears you. Treat it with kindness and gratitude for the shelter it provides. I say thank you to the house spirits and my home every morning.

-Find a convenient home protection ritual to do each month. I say convenient because if you overcomplicate things you'll feel less enthusiastic and less motivated to do it, and might even skip several months.

-Make a home cleansing spray using essential oils mixed with an appropriate amount of moon water. I like using a few drops of lemon, rosemary, lavender, and cinnamon. DO NOT spray this in the vicinity of your pets. I only use this spray in rooms where there arent any animals, to avoid complications with their health.

-Wash your bedding as often as you can and say a short incantation before you put it in the wash. It could go something like this. "I cleanse this bedding of all negative energy, from bad dreams, and from and all stress." Sleep is so important to your sense of safety and wellbeing at home.

-Open the damn windows when you can! Stagnant energy is known for dragging down people's moods. And there's nothing quite as uplifting as fresh air. This provides a healthy flow to your house's energy.

-Don't bring things in your home unless you want to incorporate their energy into your environment. This is something that's often overlooked. I especially advise heavy consideration when it comes to thrifting items and bringing them home. Try practicing sensing the energy of items so you can easily tell whats good to bring home and whats not. Thrifting is great! Im not discouraging it btw.

-Fresh flowers work miracles. Not only do they aesthetically brighten the room, but their correspondences and magical properties apply to the room that they're in. Sunflowers are a great example of a flower that encourages positivity, and are extremely affordable to get lots of them. Roses are a bit more expensive usually, but they invite that loving vibe. And African irises are great for psychic enhancement.

Thats all for this post! Reblog it if you found it helpful, or have any of your own cool practices for hearth & home witchcraft to share!

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linopls · 7 months

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kinktober day two

titfucking seungmin x fem!reader summary: seungmin's biggest pet peeve is when you forget plans warnings: warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, 18+, degradation, humiliation, manhandling, use of color system 0.9k words

“seungmin, i’m sorry! i didn’t mean-”

“ground,” he commands. you comply, not wanting to piss him off more than he already is.

“i’ll make it up to you! i promise! whatever you want-” tears are streaming down your face and your grabbing at his legs, begging him to forgive you.

he grabs your chin in one of his big hands to cut you off. “i want you to shut the fuck up. since you want to act like such a slut, i’ll fucking treat you like one.” he forcefully releases his grip on your face, in a throw-like motion. “take your shirt off to match your fucking cunt.”

you quickly take your shirt off and throw it god knows where. you sit on your knees, hands in your lap, waiting for seungmin to make his next move. you had forgotten that seungmin said he would come over after his schedule today and he caught you playing with yourself. he had previously said that this event would probably stress him out so he wanted to come to your apartment and make love to you before falling asleep.

“i’m already fucking exhausted from today,” he says, walking over to your nightstand and opening one of your drawers. “and i expected to come home to my beautiful lover that i could make sweet, romantic love to. but no.” he turns around, a small bottle of lube in one hand and he’s unbuckling his belt with the other. “i came home to a slut, who couldn’t even wait for me to come home to make her feel good.”

he grabs you by the chin again and lowers himself to eye level with you. “i was going to be so sweet and gentle with you today, i was thinking about it the whole way home. but now i don’t think you deserve it.”

you gulp, too scared to respond, seungmin picks up on this. normally you would have a snarky remark or would continue to beg for forgiveness, but today you’re too disappointed in yourself to do so.

“color?” seungmin whispers, lightening the grip on your jaw.

“g-green,” you whisper back, lowering your head.

“good,” he says, as he stands up fully.

“c-can i say one thing?” you ask meekly.

“yes,” he answers, standing above you looking down at your solemn figure.

“i’m very sorry, i-i had mixed up what days y-you said y-you’d be o-over and i,uh, thought it was ‘morrow.”

“shouldn’t be so forgetful,” he laughs, pulling his belt off and throwing it onto your bed.

“i know. you can do whatever you need to me tonight and i’ll make it up to you in the morning.”

“i intend to,” he spits. he pulls his slacks down just enough for his hard cock to spring free, the sight makes your mouth water. “sit up,” he commands.

you do as he asks and sit up on your knees, you’re face to face with his stomach and you look up to him. he looks so handsome like this, telling you want to do and holding this power above you.

“push ‘em together,” he says, removing the cap from the bottle of lube. he doesn’t have to explicitly say it, you know exactly what he’s talking about.

you knew that seungmin was a tit guy, the way he always groped at them or stared at them no matter what you were doing. a couple months ago, you were having a similar scene but you were allowing him to face fuck you. he stopped suddenly and asked if it would be okay to use your tits to get off. ever since then he had become addicted to it and would do it any time you misbehaved.

you pushed your breasts together and he prepared his cock and placed it between your tits.

“good?” he asks. everytime he checks in, it makes your heart swell. you nod in response.

he slowly begins to move back and forth between your soft breasts. “fuck,” he groans.

you nod. you feel yourself dripping all over your hardwood floors and you adjust yourself to close your legs and stop any further leaking.

“sitting nice and still while i use you is the least you could do right now.” he says through gritted teeth.

you try to move again but seungmin grabs you by the jaw and pulls you to look at him.

“why the fuck are you moving?” seungmin yells.

“d-don’t want to make a mess on my floor,” you whisper.

“speak up slut. you were so loud earlier begging for my forgiveness. where is that now?” he taunts, tightening his grip on your jaw.

“i’m making a mess on my floor, d-don’t want to leave a puddle.”

“oh my god,” seungmin erupts into laughter. “you are such a fucking slut aren’t you? i can just use your tits for my own pleasure and it has you gushing all over the place, hmm?”

your face turns red and tears threaten to spill over.

“gonna cry, hmm? save it.” seungmin grabs both of your shoulders and begins to fuck your tits faster.

“push ‘em together further, slut.”

you push your breasts together as hard as you can and seungmin moans loudly in response.

“gonna come all fucking over you,” he spits before releasing his load. he paints your breasts, neck, and jaw white and you sigh in relief. he takes one of his fingers and slides it over a pile of is cum and holds it to your mouth,

“suck,” he commands and you eagerly take his fingers into your mouth.

once you wipe them clean, he ponders for a moment. “push ‘em back together,” he says, stroking his cock back to its full length. “i’m not finished yet.”

seungmin simps please rise !!

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p0ssywhippedcream · 9 months

Text

Zuko has been with the gang for a while now and you've been able to teach him how to do most any chore. He can set up tents, bathe Appa and even dry clothes off without lighting them on fire (it happened a couple times tho). But the one thing he just can't get is cooking.

He stands beside you as you lower a pot over the fire gently, his eyebrows knitted. He watches as you angle it so there's no chance of it falling as it small bubbles appear; signaling its commence of boiling. You sit down on a flat stone and take out a small knife, gesturing a c'mere motion with the blade.

"Can you hand me the tomatoes?" He grabs them and passes them over, ears flushing when your hand brushes his.

"You're going to boil them?" You giggle and shake your head.

"No, this is for the broth and the beef. Everybody has been craving it but Aang is a vegetarian, remember?"

He nods and pops a squat next to you on a large rock. Your ankles touch and his toes flex. "You're making him something separate." You agreed with a hum and begin to slice the fruit over a bowl in your lap.

"That's nice of you." You glance up briefly and give him a sheepish grin. He finds it endearing.

As you focus your attention back to the task at hand, Zuko wonders what he should say next. Before he can really consider it, you toss a piece of tomato at Momo and ask, "Your uncle makes tea right?"

"Uh, yeah. Uncle loves tea."

"How come you haven't learned how to?"

He doesn't want to admit that he didn't pay attention when he should've, when he had time to notice how Iroh did it. "I wasn't taught."

"Do you want me to teach you?" You look up and pause your slicing. The bowl has a small stack of tomato piled inside that tumbles when you shake it.

"I'm not very good at uh.. making things." You snicker, remembering when he burned lettuce a couple weeks ago.

"Yeah, I noticed," You smile to let him know you're teasing and he returns it a little shyer. "I could, though. Teach you. You don't have to be good at it."

"What's the point of teaching me if I'm not good at it?"

"I like spending time with you." You shrug and reach for an avocado across him. Your arm is just too short and he takes the opportunity to grab it for you, turning his head so you don't see his blush. "And you'd get the hang of it, tea is like.. your birthright."

Zuko chuckles. He always thought his birthright was violence. He wonders if it still is. He doesn't say that. "Because Uncle owned a tea shop?"

"Yeah," You laugh, "And you can use your fire bending, yunno? But I'm not sure if you have the patience for it."

"Why's that?" Suddenly Sokka is next to him, holding a pile of sticks and asking you where you want them. You point next to the fire and notice the water jumping in the pot. Standing up, you motion for the broth ingredients and Zuko hands you the pre-mixed bowl. Sokka is quickly distracted by Toph demanding to know where Aang went and Zuko turns back to you.

The crackle of the fire comforts the atmosphere as the sun sets, giving your face an orange hue that dances dramatically from your chin to your nose. You tuck a piece of hair away and Zuko can see the way your eyes glitter in the soft glow, your pupils swallowing the color of their rims.

It's silent for a bit, Zuko simply watching as you stir the pot and occasionally call out for Sokka and Toph to stop arguing. You set down the ladle and pick up a bowl of assorted vegetables and fruits, passing it to Zuko.

"Can you find that bread from the village? I think it's in Katara's bag?" He disappears to rummage and returns holding a half-eaten loaf.

"Okay, that should be enough," You remark as you turn away from cooking and towards his returning figure. You make eye contact with him and your nose wrinkles in the moonlight as you smile, "Can you cut that in half and make a sandwich?"

He sits down and follows your instructions, first wiping the knife you'd used earlier before slipping it in the loaf and beginning to separate it. His dominant hand slices down as he keeps it steady in the other and as he gets to the end, he takes his chance to look at you.

Your feet are bare on the ground, a little dirty and as you shift from side to side, your heels lift enough he can see your bridges. A daffodil is stuck to the bottom of your left foot, staring at him before being engulfed in a step again. You move around the pot, pushing the ingredients stuck to the side back in the middle and the flower is left upside down on a rock.

His finger burns in pain and he notices a small cut. He had finished slicing the bread and had dug into his hand. Cursing, he sets aside your assignment and stands up holding his hand as blood flows slowly. You notice immediately and rush over. You bend down and rip a bit of your skirt, wrapping it around his hand and shushing him back down onto the rock again.

"It's not too deep, you should be okay." He nods, hissing as the fabric rubs the sensitive flesh. "It hurts?"

"Yeah." You press his hand towards you, checking it again and clutching it from the palm.

"You can go back to cooking." You look up at him confused and he continues, "It might burn."

"It's fine, it needs to marinate. You need my attention more."

The firelight covers the furious burning of his face, "Are you sure? It's a small cut."

Your expression is hard to see in the dark but the coy fluttering of your features is obvious enough. You're nervous, and a shade darker on your cheeks and oh, you're blushing too.

"I care about you." You murmur and it's a blessing he hears it.

"I- I care about you too," He offers, the urge to look away would be worse if you weren't already doing that. He watches the twitch of your nose as your smile takes your lips again. You meet his gaze and he realizes how close you are. He feels your hot breath on his face and leans in just a bit more. "You look really... really pretty."

Your eyes crinkle in the corners as your mouth spreads wider and reveals your teeth, dimples making his heart flutter as he confesses, "You're glowing. The- the fire makes you glow."

You digest his words with a gentle laugh covered by your hand. "Yeah," You pause and quirk your head to the side, "You do."

He wants to faint and of course he doesn't know what to say. You help him out again and suddenly your nose is brushing his. "You like me?"

He nods because he's not sure he can speak without squeaking.

"I like you too.." Your words are felt on his lips as you get even closer. Your eyes dart across his face, seemingly checking for affirmation before your mouth is on his and all the blood rushes to his head. His hand comes up to hold your head as he kisses you back. For a second, it's so amazing as you lick across his bottom lip until pain is shooting up his hand and he has to pull away.

Your hair had brushed his still open cut and he cradled his hand a little closer to himself as you re-examine it. "Sorry.."

Zuko looks at you like you're crazy, "Don't be sorry."

You glance up and away, still flustered.

"I've liked you for so long," His admission fills the night wind and you prompt him to continue with wide eyes. He's a little quieter as he finishes with, "Since Ba Sing Se."

He misses your voice dearly as he waits for your answer. He gets it in the form of giggles ticklish as butterflies. He watches you with curiosity until you say, "I was wrong, you are patient."

He laughs too now and you both shake beside the fire with hands holding bellies. The spurt of broth leaping out of the pot brings you back and you scramble up to stir it. Zuko watches as you step over the daffodil again and it flips upright, showing him that it was two, smushed so closely it looked like one. He looks up at you in admiration as you taste the stew and feels a surge of affection for whatever luck landed him at your side tonight.

"You were wrong too," His face contorts in confusion and you elaborate, "You're good at making things... you made me like you."

He's the luckiest guy in the fire nation. He goes to tell you but you speak first. "And I want to teach you how to make tea, but I think I should let Iroh. When we find him."

Zuko's left with a mouth hanging open and a heart stuck between missing his Uncle and loving you for all your kindness and thoughtful nature. He settles on both. "I don't know if he'll forgive me."

You make a strange face as you gaze at him over the open flame, it looks intense in the orange heat. "You don't give his love for you enough credit."

Then you're coming over and pecking him on the cheek, making him dizzy again. You bring your lips to his ear and whisper "I think he'll do anything if you let him teach you to make tea."

His smile is warm and flustered when you teasingly add, "I would, and I like you a little bit less than he does."

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femmefatalevibe · 8 months

Text

Femme Fatale Guide: How To Master An "Effortlessly Elegant" & Put-Together Look

Table of Contents:

Treat your skin like royalty

Take ample care of your natural hair

Dress in crisp neutral outfits that cater to your body shape

Choose your accessories wisely

Embrace feature-enhancing makeup

Keep your nails clean, filed, and simple

Regarding your signature scent(s)

Follow your dental & bodily hygiene routines religiously

Treat your skin like royalty:

Use high-quality skincare twice a day

Wear sunscreen every day

Remove your makeup every night before bed no matter what

Use makeup that doesn't clog your pores/irritate your skin

Change your pillowcases weekly

Eat plenty of produce & drink lots of water

Prioritize sleep

Limit or eliminate alcohol, cigarettes, caffeine, and processed foods/sugary drinks

Keep your skin exfoliated/derma-planed

Take ample care of your natural hair:

Use high-quality shampoo/conditioner combos that suit your hair type & don't cause build-up

Hydrate with a scalp mask 1-4 times a month

Use cold or lukewarm water to wash your hair

Apply shampoo to the roots/hair covering your scalp and conditioner only on the "ponytail" section of your hair

Use a specialty hair towel after getting out of the shower

Always comb wet hair and brush 1-3 times a day when dry

Limit heat on your hair when possible & always use a heat protectant every time you do

Use non-elastic or silk hair ties

Get regular trims at least 3-4 times per year (get your hair layered if it's very thick)

Try to limit how much you dye or, especially bleach, your hair and do elaborate styles with tons of heat & harsh products

Dress in crisp neutral outfits that cater to your body shape:

Embrace minimalist basics (tees, tanks, blouses, sweaters, jeans, trousers, blazers, leather jackets, coats, etc.) in high-quality fabrics (Pima cotton, Merino wool, Tencel, mulberry silk, etc.)

Choose options in black, white, grey, charcoal beige, navy, burgundy, or cream depending on your skin tone and preferences

Invest in a collection of sleek footwear options (black boots, loafers, black pumps, white sneakers, etc.) in minimalist, timeless styles that suit the color palette, hemlines & proportions of your go-to outfits

Ensure your shoes and accessories feel proportional to the weight/silhouette of your outfit, color-coordinate with the rest of your look, and have streamlined hardware from head-to-toe (all silver, all gold, or one piece that mixes silver/gold and another gold & silver piece each to balance out the color palette)

Keep all of your clothes steam and lint-rolled, so they look crisp & fresh all-day

Befriend your tailor to take in or let out clothes as needed when purchased off the rack

Choose clothes/styles that flatter your body shape and proportions

Utilize belts and bra tape to adjust the waist, keep shirts tucked in, and keep straps from falling down or create an impromptu cuff/hem on your pants

When in doubt, select a neutral head-to-toe monochrome outfit

If on a budget, consider choosing black, grey, camel beige items to hide fabric imperfections that could cheapen your look

Choose your accessories wisely:

Select sleek, simple neutral (& almost exclusively) monochrome shoes made with smooth (recycled/vegan) leather with

Pair almost any outfit with a shoe featuring a slight platform, block heel, kitten heel, and/or a sharply pointed toe to elongate your silhouette

Complement your outfit with structured, pared-back handbags with no logos (Focus on quality and construction, not the brand name) in a neutral shade and timeless silhouette

For jewelry, choose at most one statement piece and all others should be focused on different areas of the body (e.g. don't mix statement earrings with layered/bold necklaces or stacked rings * bracelets). When in doubt, choose simple diamond chains or earrings, sleek bangles or chainlink necklaces & bracelets, simple pendant necklaces, and minimalist rings in hardware that all go together

Embrace feature-enhancing makeup:

Cover up any dark circles, blemishes, or hyperpigmentation with a color-matched concealer

Lightly contour with a bronzer that complements your skin tone

Fill in your brows for a naturally full look (or get them professionally tinted)

Apply a light wash of rose, coral, or mauve blush

Use black mascara with a little bit of eyeliner and/or a subtle wash of brown eyeshadow on the lids

Apply a "your lips but better" nude shade or "just kissed' berry lipstick or pigmented lip balm for a subtle wash of color

Keep your nails clean, filed, and simple:

Maintain cut, cleaned, and filed short nails

Opt for a square or almond nail shape

Choose a timeless nail shade (pink, nude, red, beige, dark cherry, navy, dark purple, black) with no nail art

Hydrate your hands and scrub under your nails daily

Regarding your signature scent(s):

Ensure your body wash/lotion and perfume scents don't clash

Test perfumes for a trial day to ensure they smell divine with your unique pheromones

Choose a fragrance appropriate for the seasonal/occasion

Apply a dab on each wrist and on your neck/behind the ears. If the scent doesn't project well on you, try applying these small dabs on the cuffs and shoulders of your jacket/walk into it to get it on your hair (if it would stain your clothes)

Don't layer more than one heady perfume at a time or scents that don't have complementary and/or shared notes

Follow your dental & bodily hygiene routines religiously:

Floss every day (after each meal if possible)

Brush your teeth with an electric toothbrush twice a day

Have mints on hand if you're a garlic, spice, or coffee lover

Keep your lips & hands well-moisturized and protected with SPF

Shower your body daily and be extra diligent in scrubbing your privates, everything behind, and under your arms

Don't use very hot water in the shower (it burns/dries out your skin)

Exfoliate 2-3 times a week with a sugar scrub

Moisturize daily or anytime you get out of the shower

Apply SPF on any exposed sun (especially in the summer or when the UV index is high in your area)

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trashmouth-richie · 1 month

Text

this comes from @serasvictoria with this ask the prompt words were: pillow, caught, crush

18+ no minors, angst leading to smut, vulgar, eddie talks about his dick and steve’s 😌

2.1k // eddie x fem reader

your ex hears you’ve moved on; is he ready to let you go?

send me a prompt!

“Don’t be a dumbass.”

Ringed hands were folded together, glistening from the makeshift dramatic lighting in Gareth’s basement.

In the summer, Hellfire moved locations from one member's place to another, rotating every Friday to a different place. A new aroma to tickle one’s nostrils upon entering whichever home was the designated spot for the evening, to host Hawkins very own hell bound teens.

Some homes were kept nicer than others, while Eddie’s trailer smelled like stale cigarettes and bong water, the Sinclair’s living room was pristine with updated furniture, smelling of warm vanilla and the smell of dinner still lingering in the air.

Gareth takes another gulp of Mountain Dew, wiping the lime colored beverage from his lips. Belching on the spot.

“Why would I lie about that?”

Eddie shifts in the folding chair leaning forward— the chain from his waist clinking on the metal, “whatever man, don’t fuck with me.”

Gareth grins, hands up in surrender, “listen dude, I’m just telling you what we saw, no need to shoot the messenger.”

What Gareth and Jeff had seen weighed heavy on their minds. They had even contemplated on keeping it secret. The two couldn’t decide if Eddie should know or if it would hurt him— in the end Gareth opened his big mouth and blurted it out, in the most repugnant way imaginable.

The painted tin container used to hold dice was crushed under the weight of Eddie’s fist as he hammered it onto the table.

Jeff shook his head, sucking in a breath between his braced teeth, looking away from the soon to be manic Munson.

Eddie’s temper ran hot when it came to one thing—and one thing only, you.

Raking his fingers through his scalp, he kicks the back of his chair upon standing, ragged breaths in and out, eyes to the ceiling. You still had a hold on him, it had been months—and the only one who seemed to not be able to move on was him.

He chuckled, pinching the inner corner of his eyes and shaking his head, “one of you take over as DM, I gotta go.”

Bounding up the stairs before he could hear any bitching from his two longest standing friends, the carpeted steps squished under his quickened boot steps. Stealing a cookie from an iridescent colored decorative plate on the kitchen counter, Eddie stomped out the front door and to the paved driveway, starting his van with a flick of his wrist, pedal to the floor as he reversed onto the street, running over flower beds in his wake.

—

The daffodil warmth of the sun was high in the sky, a small stitch of wind blew the blades of grass gently, feathering the soft pages of your book every so often.

It was a perfect summer day as you laid out on your driveway, ass parked in a tiny kiddie pool from your youth, blue in color, the flimsy plastic circle was filled with cool water straight from the hose.

A few shots of spiced whiskey danced on your tongue and tangoed with the carbonated bubbles of the mixed in Coke, fizzing with each slurp from your straw, you don’t have a care in the world.

Admiring your freshly painted nails in the pastel bubble gum shade he had picked out— it was a stark contrast to the ruby reds you had been accustomed to— but those days were long gone, and things were finally starting to look up for you.

It had been four months since Eddie broke things off, claiming he needed ‘space to find himself’ and although you spent a majority of that time wallowing in ice cream containers and mopping up tears when you saw a brown set of curls, or heard the jingle of a chain wallet— you moved on.

He wasn’t from Hawkins. Didn’t know of Eddie at all, and you preferred to keep it that way. You were never ashamed of the boy you loved for so many years, the only embarrassment you felt was the night he ended things like someone would end a call after placing an order for pizza.

Like it meant nothing to him, like you meant nothing to him. But that was then, and you were happier now.

So when you looked up to see Gareth’s wide eyes staring in shock was not at all how you imagined your date would go. You had been caught red handed by his best friends, and you knew it was only a matter of time before he found out.

Toes twirling in the water you bobbed your head along to the music playing on the portable radio, sunglasses perched on your nose— not a single care in the world.

Until the music turned to something more familiar.. the screech of guitars and aggressive tempos, you could practically feel the warmth leave your skin as the dark cloud of Eddie’s van cast its shadow on your skin, parked in your driveway like he belonged here.

By the way he tore around the corner and through the stop sign— you knew he was pissed. The clunk of his rings scraped against the paint as he reached through the window to open the door—still broken.

“I don’t smoke anymore Munson, but if you’re offering freeb—”

“Who is he?” he interjected, in no mood for your joking tone.

Sucking your drink until the ice clinks together at the bottom—whiskey making you ballsier than you ever had been—you finally answer, “Who is who?”

He crosses his arms, trying to stay calm, although all he wanted to do was scream, “the guy, cmon princess, don't play dumb with me.”

Staring at him you can’t believe the audacity of the boy standing in front of you, coming here, demanding to know what’s going on in your life when he’s the one who practically skipped on his way out of it.

instead of stomping around and causing you a scene, you simply ignore him, “you’re in the way.”

“Huh?”

Pointing with a lazy finger to the sky you watch as his eyes follow, “don’t tell me you came here to bitch me out, you’re wasting your time.”

He leans in over your body so close that you can see the chocolate color of his eyes, eyes that you'd lose count of the times you’d stare into them.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me who he is.”

“Okay.” You say nonchalantly, unbothered.

“Okay?”

“Yeah go ahead, stay. ‘s long as you want,” you push yourself up from the pool, standing in a string bikini that matched your nails, “I’ll be the bigger person here, and I’ll leave.”

Water dripped down your thighs as you walked to the front porch and pushed the door open, ready to slam it shut and twist the lock upon entry—but a dark boot prevents your dismissal.

Rolling your eyes you try to kick his knee to get him to move but he wouldn’t budge, and you huff in annoyance.

“Pretty sure this is harassment.”

You ignore the way he walks in your house like he knew his way around, even though he did, your house was a second home to him for years.

Shutting the door with dramatic flair, Eddie leans into your space, inches from your nose, “just answer my question sweetheart— and I’ll be on my happy little way.”

“You’re deranged if you think I’m telling you anything.”

He cocks his head and laughs like a jerk, mocking you.

“Thata more than likely, but I know better than anyone,” his eyes undress you, fingernails skating across your thighs, “how much you like it.”

You turn and shout over your shoulder, “go home Eddie— I’m not in the mood for this!”

He barrels around you, demanding your attention.

“Aww you’re not in the mood?” his voice dipped to a gravelly bite of anger as he put his hand over his heart, “my sincerest apologies to your feelings baby…but I somehow don’t give a fuck about your little feelings when I find out from Gareth that you were sucking some guy’s dick in the Starcourt parking lot.”

Your face heats in embarrassment and Eddie’s eyes are glassy, coated with pain. You never wanted to hurt him, never wanted him to look at you the way he is right now.

“Ed—”

He smirks.

“I think it’s cute…honestly, still doing the same shit you did with me…” he moves to brush your cheek with his thumb, “I’m flattered.”

“Get out,” you bite back, making to shove him to the door but you’re no match for him.

“D’dya swallow for him like you did for me?”

“Get..”

“He bigger than me?”

“…out!” your shoves are fruitless against his broad shoulders.

“Last I checked Harrington was the only one who had me beat… unless you’re fucking him too.”

The slap startled him, but he knew he deserved it. The torment in your eyes was fueled by his words and he fucking hated himself for making you feel that way.

He was hurting too, body shaking with rage and swallowing tears the whole drive here. But, when your tears fell on the apples of your cheeks— all his pain turned to gloom.

“I’m sorry— I— That was a dick thing to say.”

“Do you think getting over you was easy for me?”

“I don’t know.”

“It wasn’t.. and truthfully I don’t think I am yet, but what fucking choice did I have?!”

“Babe—.”

“I loved you, Eddie… I still fucking love you. Why isn’t that—”

His large hands clutch your cheeks, warm lips press into yours with a magnetic force you had forgotten about. Eddie’s tongue tasted like the tobacco spice of a camel, and a subtle hint of mint, and you devoured it like you were starved.

He whispers and groans how he was so stupid, a real dumb mother fucker, and that he never should have ended it.

Accepting his apology—for now—you pull him towards the couch, heels rocking on the carpet until they hit firm on the plush sectional, still lip locked with the man you swore, that you hated to your friends but your pillow heard a different plea ever since he broke your heart.

His arms wrap around your waist, fingers daintily pulling the string from your bikini bottoms until the soft fabric hits the floor. His Hellfire shirt joins them before you both collapse into one another on the cushions, Eddie’s hair draped into your face hiding you both away from consequences and the reality of bad decisions.

He breaks away from your lips to lick up the slope of your neck, and your head angles back in ecstasy. His body temperature was like fire against your skin, curling your legs around his back you couldn’t get enough of him.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” Eddie grooaned, grinding into your naked cunt, his tongue kitten licking around your neck, working his signature hickey into your skin, “my angel.”

You moan feather light in his ear, fingers twisted into his curls. His hand works down your front, sliding between your slick folds with skills you swore only he possessed.

He played your body like a guitar, knew how to tune you up, the proper way to hold you. A true expert of his craft— your pretty little noises would harmonize from the simple touch of his fingers, your sweet cunt clinching onto him like vice.

“Missed that sound,” he chuckled, his bangs pushed up from the angle on your neck as you came undone, “so pretty like this… drunk on how I’m making you feel.”

Your eyes were pinched shut, chest heaving from the breath shattering orgasm you haven’t had since you got dumped by him. Nobody came close to the way Eddie could do it.

Kissing him square on the mouth, you twist your tongue with his, massaging them together as if a flame could spark from the pink wet muscles.

Intimacy with Eddie felt like home, like a warm blanket straight from the dryer when you were freezing. A cup of soup to soothe an itchy throat.

He melted into you, collecting each gasp you choked out with a kiss from his lips, doing a poor job of hiding the smirk on his face when your breath was stolen from his pistoning hips.

New— but entirely the same, your bodies fell back into each other like no time had passed and he made up for what was lost, twice. Each time your cries rang out like music to his ears— his favorite song.

You slept now, adjusting to his arm wrapped around you, a kiss to your forehead, and a new plea in your pillowcase— for Eddie to stay, forever.

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie drabble #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb

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roguelov · 9 months

Text

Let Me Help

Summary: On a mission with Miguel to stop a variant of Doc Ock, you accidentally inhale something you shouldn’t have. You actively try to ignore these burning desires raging through you. However when Miguel notices your odd behavior, he finally confronts you. A confrontation that leads to this thing you need most: him.

Word Count: ~6.6k

Reader: Afab (no fem pronouns used)

Warnings: SMUT (sex pollen, fem!masturbation, fingering, unprotected sex, riding, oral (fem!receiving), doggy style, multiple orgasms, slight praise kink, voyeurism, cockwarming, switch!reader, switch!Miguel), smut with some feelings, unestablished relationship, mutual pining

MINORS DNI/ 18+ ONLY

The salty harbor water splashed against the algae covered docks of the warehouse district. Smog of the city filtered into the already cloudy night sky. The sea and city - cars and boat horns - clashed together in an odd cacophony. Your nose wrinkled as the sting of salt mixed with newly poured asphalt.

On top of a warehouse, you and Miguel stood side by side overlooking the massive, old and rundown, area. Another anomaly was plucked and dropped off in a universe where they shouldn’t be. The Spider-Man, Peter W. Parker, of this world was unfortunately and temporarily subdued by the anomaly, a variant of Doc Ock. Peter was completely paralyzed from his encounter and was resting back at HQ as a team tirelessly tried to work on an antidote for him.

“Be careful,” Miguel warned.

“Always am,” you smirked under your mask, before leaping off the building to search the west end of the docks.

Miguel scoffed. Yet, his eyes watched you intently as you landed on another building. You slipped inside one of the broken windows and disappeared from view.

He paused, hesitating for a second, then turned away.

Searching through your area, the anomaly wasn’t in the first building. Or the second. You hoped, sending out a small prayer to the universe he was in the last building. If not, maybe Miguel had more luck than you.

The last warehouse was filled with wrecked boats strewn up on lifts, scattered repair parts, and half broken shipping crates. Moving around, your footsteps were light, and unheard. Nothing creaked, and dust barely moved. You tried a few office doors only to find them locked, or rusted shut. Sighing, you knew of another way to enter and luckily they all lined the edge of the warehouse.

Outside once again, you carefully scaled the building approaching the first set of windows. Brown paper covered most of the dirty glass, yet one window had no covers. The paper was luckily torn back. Peering inside, it was a packed room.

A manager's office was reinvented. The desk was pushed to the far wall. Crates piled into the room, acting as other workstations. Old and battered scientific equipment, some even haphazardly thrown together, filled the desk and crates. Cracked glass - cups, beakers, and vials - were scattered about. Scraps of tarp were laid across the floor and hung from the walls as if for protection. A harsh pungent smell soon assaulted your nose. Your face scrunched up in disgust. Chemicals, any and all so it seemed, were carefully placed into rows on the floor and on top of crates. While vials lined a chipped wooden shelf, poorly screwed into the wall. Each one a different color, and labeled with a system you didn’t comprehend or care to understand.

It was crowded, an office turned into a makeshift lab.

Yet, your eyes fell back to the obvious man taking up the cramped space.

If you could call him that.

He was an experiment, a genetic splicing, gone wrong. He was a human on top while stormy blue grey tentacles were his legs. Strangely, he moved so easily. The appendages carried him with perfect posture, and also effortlessly reached for material around the homemade lab. As a tentacle slithered past your view, you quickly noted the tips had black barbs.

You carefully pushed on the window to thankfully find it unlocked. You crawled through and softly dropped in. But, he was somehow alerted to you.

He whipped around, beakers and vials with unknown liquid swayed in his hands. Massive goggles were strapped around his bulging inky black eyes. Tubes of water wrapped around the side of his neck over gills. A torn, stained lab coat hung off his bare torso. Yet, despite his somewhat menacing appearance, he cowarded at your presence. A whine, a bubbling of water, erupted from him.

You raised your hands, hoping to calm him, “Hey, hey, there’s no need to be scared. We’re just going to get you back home, okay?”

As if proving your point, he glitched. He groaned, leaning into a wooden crate. His massive eyes locked with yours. He violently shook his head. “No, I’m not going back.”

“I’m sorry, but you have to. If you don’t you’ll destroy yourself and possibly this universe.”

“No!” He immediately threw whatever vial he had in his hand.

You easily dodged it, but it splattered into the wall behind your head. A sickly sweet aroma filled your nose. You coughed, waving it away. While you were distracted, he fled. He moved with surprising agility, and squeezed through a small air vent.

“Shit.” You coughed one last time. You pressed your watch, calling Miguel. Clearing your throat, you said, “Miguel, I found him. Far west end of the docks, and he’s on the move.”

“Understood.”

You stepped forward and the world tilted. You quickly stumbled into the crates. You grunted as a dull ache rolled through you. Clenching your jaw, you shoved down the pain.

Not now. We will deal with this later.

You dove through the window to catch Doc Ock who was scrambling down an alleyway. His tentacles made a distinct ‘thwap’ as he ran away. For a moment, your vision blurred. Your grip loosened as you slid down a few inches down the brick wall. Gritting your teeth, you shook your head. Everything cleared again. Ignoring the obvious signs, you fired a web and swung down into the alley.

Miguel, however, beat you to it.

Landing in the alleyway, Miguel stood over the now unconscious Doc Ock. The red glowing webs secured around his torso and tentacles. You let out a silent thanks.

Miguel turned around, and approached you. “Are you okay?”

His voice reverberated throughout your body. Your heart leapt into your throat. You let out a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself. “Yeah, I’m good.”

His eyes trailed over you. You were breathing heavily, why? Did the two of you fight? How did this anomaly slip past you?

“Ready?” You asked, already opening up a portal.

“Yeah,” he muttered, grabbing the anomaly.

After dropping off the anomaly at HQ, you said your quickest farewells and practically ran back home to your universe, to your apartment. Your chest started to constrict horribly when Miguel was nearby. It wasn’t the giddy childhood crush you were already accustomed too, but this deep heart wrenching ache of desire.

It frightened you.

You had to get away from him.

Returning home, you found your city basking in the moonlight. Neon signs and billboards flickered in the distance. And the usual rush of cars quieted down just enough for most of the city to fall asleep. However, sleep would not come tonight for you.

You tossed and turned endlessly. Your heart raced, like a hummingbird in flight trapped in a cage. Sweat beaded over your forehead. The dull ache from before started to move farther south of your body. You groaned and arched your back.

What … what the hell is this?

You rolled over, burying your face into the pillow.

We’re fine. It’s fine. It’ll pass.

It didn’t.

The moon, with its siblings of stars, fell and the soon burning and bright sun rose over the horizon. Yet, these sensations never wavered. Dare you say, they intensified. Your sheets were kicked off the bed, pillows tossed across the floor in fits of rage, and your clothes skewed and damped with sweat.

Fuck.

Your body ached horribly.

Hot flashes surged through you in intense waves. You groaned, curling into a tight ball. However, it was the growing heat between your legs that was becoming unbearable. You unconsciously rubbed your thighs together. The minimal friction, basically nothing, caused you to moan.

“Fuck,” you whimpered.

Shower. A cold shower might help.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you shuffled into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you. You turned on the show to the coolest, and still comfortable, temperature. This should help, hopefully. Stripping out of your sweaty clothes, you hopped in. You hissed slightly. The water was a shock to your overheated, clammy skin. Pressing your palms into the shower wall, you dunked your head under the water like a poorly done baptism. You needed to cleanse yourself and your unholy thoughts.

You forced yourself to stay there. You gritted your teeth, and squeezed your eyes shut. The water pounded over you. Each drop were needles: sharp, quick, and irksome. But, standing under the water, you were still unbelievably hot, still painfully aroused.

Screw it.

One hand skimmed down your body between your legs. One swipe over your soaking folds and your knees nearly buckled. Still holding yourself up with one hand, and hunched under the running water, you slowly dipped your fingers inside yourself.

And immediately, his face appeared behind your closed eyes.

You could easily conjure up a scenario, and you happily indulged in your fantasy.

He was in the shower with you. Still bent over, his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you up. His chest pressed firmly into your back. His skin was so warm compared to the cool water. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear. His thick fingers were inside you, it was his fingers bringing you to your release.

You moaned, pumping yourself faster.

“That’s it,” his voice whispered in your ear. “Just like that.”

“Shit,” you hissed.

“Come on,” he encouraged with a light chuckle. His hand brushed up your sides to your breasts. He gently pinched and played with your nipples. “Come on, cum around my fingers.”

You curled your fingers, making your walls flatter. You whimpered. The sinfully wet sounds mixed with the water rushing over you. You were close, far closer than you expected.

His lips skimmed down your neck. “That’s it, almost there.”

You bit your lip. You quickly flipped yourself around, supporting yourself with your back to the shower wall. Your other hand played with your clit, swirling around, as your fingers worked faster. It was messy, it was desperate. A whine rumbled in the back of your throat.

“Oh, please, cum for me. You’re so close, I can feel it.” His fingers curled, beckoning you towards your end.

It built and built, then it all snapped so suddenly and forcibly. You came hard around your fingers. “Fuck,” you hissed out.

He hummed, working you through your orgasm. “There it is.”

You leaned heavily into the wall, panting and dizzy from your rapid orgasm. You closed your eyes for a second, and let the water wash everything away.

Meanwhile, a familiar looking portal opened up in your bedroom. Miguel stepped out with a tension wrought into his shoulders. His mask retracted and his crimson eyes slid over your room, your messy room. He raised an eyebrow, surveying your room. The one thing that concerned him the most was you weren’t here.

Where were you?

“Fuck.”

Miguel’s head whipped over to the closed bathroom door. He heard you so clearly. He almost moved, almost burst through the door, but he stayed rooted in place.

Why couldn’t he move? What if you were in trouble, what if -

The shower turned off. He heard you move around, and he saw your shadow flash under the door. If you were moving, then maybe nothing was wrong. Then without warning, the bathroom door swung open with a resounding bang.

Miguel flinched, startled by the sudden noise.

Water still dripped down from your hair and down your face. Hunched forward, you propped yourself up with one hand on the doorframe. Your chest heaved. You gulped down air as if you ran a marathon. You wore only a baggy shirt which clung to your still wet skin. Your eyes swiveled over, instantly clocking Miguel’s unexpected presence.

Miguel’s eyebrows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?” You asked, ignoring his initial question.

“You haven’t responded to my calls.”

You glanced over to your watch, blinking on your nightstand. “Sorry, I was busy.”

His eyes trailed over your body. Concern filled him. He repeated, “Are you okay?”

“Just dandy.”

His lips thinned. Why were you like this? So goddamn stubborn sometimes. “You don’t seem fine, especially since our mission last night.”

“I’m just tired,” you huffed. “And a little sore.”

God, even now your body was still aroused. And with Miguel being here, it was making everything so much worse. Your fantasy from only moments ago was seared heavily into your mind.

He needed to leave before you did something you regretted.

Miguel sighed, crossing his arms. “Are you sure? Did -“

“I said I’m fine.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever.” So be it. He pressed a button on his watch, opening up a portal back to HQ. He paused. He clearly wanted to say something, but didn’t. He stepped through without uttering another word.

You wanted to call him back, you wanted to shove him onto the bed, you wanted to him and happily bounce on his -

You groaned loudly, rubbing your hands over your face.

Dear god - universe, whatever - just someone save me from myself.

You reluctantly crawled back into bed. Maybe, the shower helped. Maybe, with Miguel gone you could rest. Maybe, this was all over.

Maybe, you were just delusional.

Tonight was no better than last night. In fact, it was probably worse. Fantasies of Miguel flooded your mind, and you couldn’t satisfy yourself no matter what you did.

You will find a solution tomorrow.

There had to be one.

The next morning, before the sun properly greeted the world, you pushed yourself up and out of bed. You had an idea on where to start. Not bothering with your suit, you kept your baggy shirt and pulled on an old pair of sweatpants. You slipped on your watch and opened up a portal to HQ. You marched directly towards the area where all the anomalies were being contained. Containers lined the area as their chorus of voices begged to be released. Your eyes swiveled around, trying to locate the one anomaly who had any possible explanation to your current endeavor. But, you couldn’t find him in the sea of people. Getting frustrated, you turned your attention towards the person operating the ‘Go Home’ machine.

“Spider-Byte.”

Margo, the purple holographic girl, whirled around. She smiled only for it to falter given your appearance. You were obviously and very plainly pissed. You glared icily, unable to calm yourself. Worst of all, every time you moved, pain and pleasure rolled through you.

“Whoa, are you -“

You cut her off, “The Doc Ock, the one Miguel and I brought in yesterday, is he still here?”

“Uh.” She brought up a screen and tapped on it. “Yeah, he’s still here but not for long. I’ll have him back home in a few hours.”

“I only need a few minutes. Just point me in the direction where he is.”

Margo did so without question, she gestured down a row of anomalies. Mumbling your thanks, you spun around weaving down the aisle until you finally saw him. You stomped over and pounded on the container.

“What the hell did you do to me,” you gritted your teeth.

The man blinked owlishly. “I’m sorry - oh, oh! You! Oh, this is fantastic! I’ve been hoping to see -“

You slammed your fist again. “Answer me! What the hell did I inhale!”

He shrank, and squeaked. “Oh, uh, that’s … that’s complicated.”

“How so?” You sneered.

“Well,” he fidgeted, his tentacles squirming around. “I don’t know exactly what I gave you.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I … I was experimenting with my toxin and - and I was constantly adding new compounds to it or trying to rewrite it.”

You clicked your tongue, and raised an eyebrow.

“And well, I was trying to make it stronger, more of a deadly venom than a paralyzing agent.”

“And so you don’t know what you gave me or what was in it?”

“… no … I needed more time to study it.”

“Fantastic.”

“Well, what are your symptoms? Tell me, what are you feeling? Any discomfort? Any pain? What about hallucinations?”

He was like a giddy child.

“Oh, yeah definitely some discomforts,” you sarcastically replied. You shook your head and turned away. He shouted after you, but you simply ignored him. It took all of your strength and willpower to not break through the containment and pummel him.

Taking calming breaths, you swiftly left the area. Passing by all the anomalies, each of them shouted at you as you tried to think of a way to make this suffering end. Peter W. Parker apparently was still in the medical wing dealing with his paralysis. So, time seemed to be the only reasonable solution you could think of. And it had been a day, surely it would wear off by now.

Even if you felt worse every hour.

“(Y/N).”

A hand curled around your wrist.

A fire unfurled in the pit of your stomach by such a delicate touch. You shuddered. You kept your head trained forward, and your back to the last person you wanted to see. He couldn’t see you like this.

Not now, not after yesterday.

“What’s wrong?” Miguel asked, then took in your disgruntled appearance. “You look like …”

Horrible? Like shit?

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” you quickly answered, tugging your wrist out of his grasp.

“Clearly,” he sarcastically replied.

You bit your tongue. Dear god, his voice. So smooth, so rich. “I’m tired, okay? So, I’m just going home.”

“Wait -“

“Good day, Miguel.” You pressed a button and stepped through the portal.

Miguel clenched his fists. He was about to chase after you when Lyla appeared saying others needed him. Begrudgingly, he left. But, this wasn’t the end for him. He will get a proper answer from you.

You sighed deeply, standing back in your room alone. You collapsed forward onto the bed. A muffled groan erupted from you.

I can get through this, I’ll be fine.

An hour passed.

An ice pack, barely cold anymore, laid across your forehead. Your pants and underwear were discarded. You constantly tugged on the collar of your shirt and fanned yourself. Your body ached. You wanted to claw at your skin, you wanted to rip your hair out, you wanted -

You wanted Miguel. God, you wanted him terribly. You wanted him to bend you over.

“Just like that,” you imagined he would coo as he slipped his cock inside of you.

You tried pleasuring yourself, but nothing helped. Nothing satiated you. This swelling sensation only became more and more intense.

You hissed and curled up onto your side. The ice pack slid off your forehead. You lazily picked it up, tossing it onto your nightstand. Your eyes blinked slowly. You stared blankly at the wall, trying to focus on something - anything. Anything but the dampness between your legs, anything but your spiraling perverted thoughts.

Move.

Do something.

Call for help.

You languidly pushed yourself up, and hunched forward. Your head fell into your hands. Your chest continued to heave and tighten. Your heart pounded and rang in your ears. “Fuck me,” you muttered under your breath.

“Only if you ask nicely,” Miguel chuckled.

You shivered.

Almost summoned by your thoughts, yellow and orange lights burst to life behind you. You twisted around. A portal opened up, and a familiar hulking figure walked through: Miguel. Seeing his face, your heart sank. You whipped back around, unable and unwilling to face him.

Why? Why the hell was he here?

He squinted, seeing your decrepit posture on the edge of your bed. “Still fine I see.”

You rolled your eyes. “What do you want? I’m trying to rest.”

Miguel shuffled over. “I came here to see why you’ve been acting weird.”

“It’s nothing.”

He sighed, a short disappointed sigh. He lowered himself onto your bed. A notable gap was between the two of you. Yet, you could feel the heat roll off of him. You unconsciously leaned slightly towards him, desperately seeking him out.

“Talk to me.”

I’m worried about you, he thought.

He hadn’t stopped worrying. You were constantly on the forefront of his mind. Most of all, he wondered why you were avoiding him. Why were you locking yourself away in your room? What happened?

You stayed silent.

Miguel gently rested his hand on your shoulder. “Look -“

You flinched. You leapt away and hastily took a few steps away from him. “Don’t touch me.”

One touch and your body nearly crumbled.

His hand fell. Shock evident on his typically stoic face. His fist clenched. Anger was now getting the better part of him. “I’m trying to help you.”

You hugged yourself, keeping your back to him. “I’m - I'm fine.”

“No, you’re not.” He stood up. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” you repeated harshly.

Miguel clicked his tongue. He had enough of your constant dismissal. He grabbed your shoulders and whirled you around to finally face him. You gasped. He stared intently down at you, dissecting and analyzing you. You were panting, your skin glistened with sweat, and notably your pupils were completely dilated.

“What -“

You jerked away from him. And you unconsciously rubbed your thighs together.

Oh. Oh.

Miguel’s cheeks darkened faintly. He placed his hands on his hips, and glanced away. He cleared his throat, “How … how long have you been like … like that?”

You crossed your arms, and sighed. There was no use hiding it anymore. “Since our encounter with Doc Ock.”

His eyes flickered up. “So, he did do something to you.”

“… yes.”

“Which was?”

“He … he threw some substance at me and I accidentally inhaled it.”

He rubbed the spot between his brows, a common place for his headaches to start. “And why did you tell me?”

You tsked and sneered, “Oh sorry, boss, I can’t come in today. I can’t focus or do anything because I am unbelievably and painfully horny.”

God, this is humiliating.

Miguel sighed deeply, dropped his shoulders. “Well, maybe Doc Ock can -“

“He can’t help. I already confronted him, he was just a mad scientist who didn’t know what he created.”

He shifted his weight side to side. “Well, have you … you know …”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Miguel, we are not having this conversation.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes scanned over you again. God, he couldn’t deny that you were absolutely delectable right now. His mind ran rampant with impure thoughts. It was the way your lips parted as you breathed heavily, it was the way your body squirmed, it was the way you desperately tried to bury the noises ready to jump out, it was the way you adamantly avoided his gaze, it was the way your hardened nipples poke through your shirt, it was the way how he could smell you and your arousal.

He wasn’t blind to your beauty. He was simply ignorant to his feelings and attraction. He buried it deep within him, unwilling to acknowledge any of it. But, seeing you now, seeing the discomfort you were in, seeing you in such a needy state, he wanted to help. He took a cautious step forward, “Maybe I can help.”

You snapped your head up, staring wide eyed at him. “What?”

“I said maybe I can -“

You shook your head and backed yourself away from him until your back bumped into the wall. “No, no, what needs to happen is that you need to leave.” Swallowing down such desire, you closed your eyes and muttered, “Just go.”

“I’m not leaving.”

Fucking hell.

You shouted, “Just get the hell out of here!”

Miguel didn’t respond. Cracking open your eyes, his gaze bore directly into you. It was a searing gaze. Your knees nearly buckled under the intensity. He stepped closer.

“Please,�� you whispered, practically begging. “I - I … just … just not like this, not because of my dumb mistake.”

He froze, and his eyebrows knitted together.

Your gaze dropped to the ground. You couldn’t - and wouldn’t - look at him.

He slowly continued to walk towards you. You forced down a whimper. Sandwiched between the wall and him, he gently grabbed your chin. You flinched and squeezed your eyes shut. It pained you immensely to fight so fiercely against your desires and needs. He tipped your chin up. “Look at me.”

You kept your eyes closed, and your face scrunched up.

“Por favor, cariño. Please, look at me.”

Your heart flipped at his unusually sweet tone. You opened up your eyes, and was immediately greeted by his strangely, endearing, rosy crimson eyes.

“Good,” he murmured.

Oh, fuck.

Biting down on your tongue, you forced down any noises that almost dared to crawl out. You dug your nails into your palms. You wouldn’t dare touch him because if you did you wouldn’t let go.

“If I didn’t care for you in this way, I wouldn’t be here. I would be back at HQ working on a cure, on some antidote.” His other hand reached out and rested on your hip. He drew you close, flushing you to his chest. “But, am I at HQ right now?”

You didn’t trust your voice. You simply shook your head, a small twitch.

“You’re right, I’m not. I’m right here asking - begging - to let me help you.” He bent his head down, brushing his lips over yours. “Please, I want to help … I’ve … I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Miguel.”

“Please.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I don’t … I don’t know what’ll do. I don’t know if I can control myself.”

He slowly pulled up the hem of your shirt. His hand skimmed across your lower back. He laughed once, “I can handle it. Please, let me help.”

His fingers lightly touched your skin. A groan rumbled in the back of your throat. “I don’t want you to think differently of me,” you whispered as your eyes dropped to his lips.

Your excuses were hollow now.

He moved his head, letting his lips brush over your neck. His hands snaked further up your back, and his talons gently scraped down. You moaned, arching your back into his touch. Your hands latched onto his biceps, squeezing them.

“My opinion of you won’t change,” he muttered into your neck. His leg slid between yours. Your swollen clit rubbed against his massive thigh.

“Fuck,” you hissed, clinging onto him.

“Just say yes, cariño.” He nuzzled his face into your neck. “I want to help.”

You cupped his face, looking directly into his eyes. His eyes were begging, pleading, for you. You brought him down, giving him a sweet, loving kiss. He hummed, wrapping his arms around you. However, you quickly broke the kiss before he could truly enjoy it.

Miguel didn’t understand. How would he know? He inadvertently poured gasoline over the already raging fire inside of you. Your eyes darkened. You pushed Miguel backwards until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he flopped backward. He held himself up on his forearms, stunned by your sudden change.

A smirk curled over your lips. A beast, one you had been holding back for more than a day, was finally unleashed. Locking eyes with him, you slowly stripped out of your shirt - your only article of clothing - letting it dramatically drop to the floor.

Miguel’s eyes greedily drank in your naked figure.

You crawled onto his lap, straddling him. You pushed him down so he laid flat against the bed. His hands instantly rested on your waist. You hovered over him, planting your hands on either side of his head.

He looked up at you with absolute adoration. He could not describe how thrilled he was right now.

You bent down, kissing him passionately. As you took the lead, you opened your mouth, deepening the kiss. Miguel hummed. He brought your hips down, making you grind down on him. You moaned into the kiss. Breaking apart, you muttered, “Fuck.”

You peppered kisses all over his face, and across his jaw. You desperately wanted to trail your lips all over him. It was such a ravenous feeling. You needed to mark him, to bite him, to taste him.

“Take the suit off,” you murmured, kissing the corner of his jaw.

He let out a pleased sigh. The digital suit retracted with a whirl of colors, revealing himself to you. You bit the inside of your cheek as you felt the tip of his cock brush against your inner thigh. Your lips brushed down his neck. He tilted his head, allowing you better access to do whatever you wished. Your heart soared. You slowly - teasingly so - kissed the crook of his neck. His grip on your hips tightened. Like a switch, you attacked his neck. Your teeth scraped across his sensitive skin. You nipped all along his neck needing to mark his skin. Oh, it excited you to know that these bruises would be under his suit tomorrow. Your tongue swirled over soothing any pains.

Miguel moaned.

What a beautiful sound.

Stopping your attack on his now blemished neck, your lips trailed further down his body. You kissed over his chest, occasionally biting his skin. Your eyes flickered up, seeing his head tilt back. You ran your teeth over his nipples. He groaned. You licked up his chest, tasting the saltiness of his sweat. You kissed up his jaw to his ear, and gently nibbled on his lope.

Miguel clenched his jaw. His heart flipped in his chest. He didn’t expect this, he didn’t expect to ever be here like this with you. He surely didn’t expect the control you quickly had over him.

And oh, he loved it.

Lifting yourself up, you teasingly rubbed his tip across your dripping folds. He groaned, almost whimpering.

“Fuck, Miguel,” you moaned.

At such a simple movement, you were seeing stars. You weren’t sure how long you would last. You wanted to draw this out longer, you wanted to have more fun with him, but you couldn’t.

You needed him. And you were nearly insatiable.

You slowly sank down on his cock. Miguel hissed. You placed your hands on his chest, panting. Miguel soothingly rubbed his thumbs over your hips. You moaned, feeling how he stretched and filled you. No one made you feel this full or good. As you bottomed out, you swore under your breath.

Miguel chuckled to himself.

But, his amusement was cut short when you started to move. Lust flooded back into his veins. He moaned out your name. His talons popped out and dug into your hips.

You set the pace, a nearly brutal but wondrous pace.

And Miguel thought you looked divine.

Your head tilted back to the heavens. Your lips parted as you whispered his name like a prayer. Your body arched like an angel soaring up, like a renaissance painting. Your hands traced up your hypnotic body, playing with your breasts. He wanted to draw you back down, he wanted to shower you in kisses, he wanted to flip you over and pound into you. But, this was all for you. You were the one who was affected by something strange, you were the one to take the lead. You rolled your head, glancing down at him. A soft smile tugged on your lips.

Oh, the way you looked at him, the way you bounced on his cock, the way your eyes softened with affection, he felt his heart was going to explode.

His cock twitched inside of you.

You hummed.

You rolled your hips, and he swore in Spanish. Smirking, you changed the pace. It was slow and easy - just to have your fun, no matter how short lived it might be - then flipped to hard and fast - desperate to reach your end. And your end was coming quickly.

You happily split yourself and continuously moaned out his name. “Miguel,” you moaned, dropping your hands back on his chest. “I - I won’t last much longer.”

Miguel felt your walls clench around you. He gritted his teeth, and moaned. “That’s okay, that’s okay,” he whispered.

He helped you, lifting your hips along with your movements. He slammed you back down right as he bucked his hips up, grinding you further onto him. You gasped and swore.

“Fuck, Miguel, keep doing that,” you whimpered.

He smirked, enjoying your sounds. Moving you faster, you pounded on his cock. Your nails scratched across his chest in red ribbons. The coil tightened and tightened in the pit of your stomach.

You whined.

Miguel wanted to squeeze his eyes shut and lose himself in the feeling of you. But, he also wanted to watch you come undone. So, he watched hungrily.

It was getting sloppy and erratic.

You closed your eyes. You dropped your head, tucking your chin to your chest. But, fingers gently guided your chin back up. “Eyes on me,” Miguel murmured. “Please, I want to see it.”

You melted into his touch, then he bucked his hips right as you went down. The coil snapped. Your walls clamped down around him as your orgasm crashed through you. You moaned out his name as you stared down at him with hooded eyes.

Miguel clenched his jaw. Oh, what a sight. His cock jumped.

Your movements, however, didn’t slow down. You wanted Miguel to cum, you wanted to feel it. You grabbed Miguel’s face and forced him to sit up. You kissed him heatedly as you still rode him. Miguel hummed. Your fingers threaded into his dark curls, and yanked on them.

He whined.

Your eyes sparkled. “Come on, Miguel. Cum for me.”

Miguel shivered. Your words, your body, it was so wondrous. He bucked his hips up, cumming inside of you.

Finally stopping your relentless movement, you dropped your head onto his shoulder. Both of you were gasping for air. Your eyes flickered down, seeing the mess you both created.

You shivered.

Miguel, however, surprised you. He flipped you over, landing you on your back. You gasped. Before you could do or say anything, Miguel dropped to his knees onto the floor, yanked your body down the bed, then nestled his face between your legs.

He devoured you like a starved man.

Your lips parted in a silent moan as your eyes rolled back. You arched your back, and tangled your fingers into his hair.

He wanted to taste you. God, he dreamt of this so many times. Although, he didn’t dare admit it out loud. He groaned. He lifted one of your legs, tossing it over his shoulder. His hands fiercely grabbed your thighs. His talons scraped along your inner thigh. He buried his face deeper. His nose brushed over your already sensitive clit and you cried out. He growled, the taste of you and him on his tongue was divine.

“Miguel,” you gasped.

He forcibly pulled himself away, panting. His chin and lips were covered in mixed juices. His eyes were lit with primal desires. He smirked, flashing his fangs. You scrambled up. You grabbed the back of his neck, smashing your lips to his. You easily slipped your tongue inside his mouth, swirling it around. You hummed in delight, tasting him and yourself.

You still wanted more.

Needed more.

The residual of whatever affected you still lingered.

You pulled away from him. Your combined hot breaths filled the minimal space between the two of you. With you still on the bed on your knees, you finally had some height over Miguel. You cupped his face, and tilted his chin up. His arms wrapped around your waist, pressing you into him. You smiled then brushed your thumb over his lip. Without hesitation, he parted his lips and you slipped your thumb into his mouth. His tongue ran over the pad of your thumb, and the tip of his fang grazed over it.

You shivered, causing him to smirk.

You removed your thumb. You couldn’t help yourself. You leaned down, kissing him sweetly again. It was a confession, and a thank you. He sighed into the kiss. You slowly parted, lingering for a second. It was so tender, despite the cum and saliva coating his chin and your lips. And your following words reminded Miguel how and why he got into this bizarre, surreal situation.

“I want you to fuck me from behind,” you whispered.

Miguel’s eyebrows shot up for a moment, then he chuckled. “Of course,” he purred. Whatever you wanted, he was happy to do. “Can you get on your hands and knees for me?”

You bit back a smile. Your fingers skimmed along his jaw as you backed away and got into position. Miguel watched, transfixed. His eyes trailed down. Seeing your soaking folds, he moaned softly. He can still taste you on his tongue. He licked his lips. Crawling onto the bed, he carefully grabbed your hips.

“You’re too good for me,” he confessed quietly.

You sighed under the simple praise.

He lined himself up, just teasing your entrance. You began to fist the sheets in anticipation. He leaned down. His broad chest pressed firmly into your back, and he whispered in your ear, “But now, let me be good for you.”

He easily pushed himself in.

You moaned unabashedly.

“That’s it, let me hear you,” he grunted.

This round was hot and fast. There wasn’t adoration or love this time, this was solely desires and sins. This was using each other’s bodies.

And Miguel was animalistic. God, it was utter bliss.

You grinded back, meeting his thrusts. You dropped down onto your forearms unable to support yourself fully. Your face buried into the sheets as you cried out. His cock was kissing spots you didn’t think was possible.

Miguel smiled, enjoying your muffled sounds and how you squirmed. His fingers reached around and began to play with your clit. You swore as your body shuddered. Your walls fluttered around him.

He rolled his head back at the sensation. It was as if you were made perfectly for him.

“Miguel,” you whined.

You wanted this so badly. You moved your hips feverishly in tune with his. Skin slapped together, wet noises echoed, and voices cried out. Miguel gasped. His talons buried into your hips, drawing out small specs of blood. He gritted his teeth, almost baring his fangs.

“Ay dios mío,” he grumbled.

Neither of you would last long.

You were begging under your breath. You needed it, you needed him. “Fuck, Miguel, please.”

“I know, I got you,” he groaned, pounding into you. “Let go, cum for me.”

You moaned.

With his fingers, his pace, and your already stimulated body, you came. You gushed around his cock, and slumped heavily into the bed. As your walls clamped down again, Miguel hissed as he spilled himself inside of you. He continued to gently rocked his hips as you both came back down to reality.

The air buzzed with the aftermath.

Your grip on the sheets loosened. You turned your head, glancing back at him: his chest covered in new bruises, his sweat covered forehead, and his fangs and talons were still out. You shivered at the sight. His eyes flickered over, connecting with yours. He gave you a tired smile. He bent down and kissed the spot between your shoulder blades.

You hummed softly.

Miguel rolled onto the bed. His arms wrapped around your waist as flushed your back to his chest. His now softened cock still buried inside.

“Better?” He murmured into your ear.

You nodded.

“Good,” he sighed. “Just … just stay like this with me, please.”

To be fair, you had no energy to argue or care. A day of exhaustion finally caught up to you. You relaxed into his embrace, enjoying the comfort as well as the fullness of him still inside of you. You placed a hand over top of his and intertwined your fingers with his. You squeezed his hand.

“Thank you,” you muttered.

He kissed your shoulder. “You’re welcome. Now rest, cariño, I got you.”

I always will, he thought as you drifted off in his arms completely satisfied.

#across the spiderverse #spiderverse #atsv #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x afab!reader #miguel x reader #miguel x afab!reader #afab!reader #smut

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vampcubus · 9 months

Note

Oh boy so this is what we’re doing now.

Demon!Reader biting Giyu when they fuck, and he likes it, but you’re usually just so careful with him that he wonders what he did so wrong to deserve it.

“You’re just so cute, it’s hard for me to not just eat you right up.”

-someone who most definitely does not have a name as silly as ‘lune.’ Imagine that.

i dunnooo you sound like my lune-y bear 🤨

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : nsfw, sub!giyu, dom!demon!reader, biting, blood kink.

Just imagining riding him into oblivion. Pinning him down and taking what you need from him without mercy. Leaving him reeling beneath you. He's making a mess of himself, tears bubbling at the corners of his pretty sapphire eyes, a creamy white ring forming around the base of his even prettier dick from a previous release as you bounce on him.

The action that spells his doom is when he throws his head back, baring his pale throat to you as if you aren’t by all intents and purposes, a predator. Your mouth waters, saliva filling your mouth and before you can think to stop yourself, You’re lurching forward to claim your quarry.

Giyu shouts hoarsely at the feeling of your fangs piercing the flesh between his neck and shoulder, wine-colored blood dribbling down to pool at his collarbone. His cock throbs, his legs kicking uselessly as the harsh pang of pain mixes with the pleasure of your hole swallowing him. His first thought is that he’s done something to make you angry, and his heart sinks. But you haven’t slowed your hips in the slightest, and you’re lapping at his blood quite happily, caressing the length of his throat as you suckled at the wound.

When you finally pull away from his neck and see his dazed and confused expression, you can’t help but grin. You drag the tip of your long tongue over your blood-stained lips, catching any stray droplets. “Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself when you look so delectable beneath me, Gi.”

That’s all it takes for him to throw his head back again with a whine and blow his load, back arching off the bed all prettily as he pumps you full of cum <3

#‧₊🦇˚⊹ ashi writes #giyu tomioka x reader #giyuu tomioka x reader #sub!giyu #sub!giyuu #sub giyu #sub giyuu #demon!reader #dom!reader #dom reader #n/sfw

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babybluebex · 2 months

Text

venus pt.1 | angus tully x fem!reader

summary: after being accepted as barton academy's first female student, you didn't think it could get any worse. as the fall semester progresses, you start to form a friendship with the outcast, angus, but what happens when the holidays come and you are the last two students on campus? PART 1 OF 2 pairing: angus tully (the holdovers, 2023) x fem!reader tags: canon compliance (this is a complete rewrite of the film, just with the added reader insert), lots of swearing, teddy is an asshole but what's new, 70s ideals about feminism (which YES is a warning), mentions of grief/loss author’s note: oof here we go, part 1 of my long-teased angus fic! be aware that this is literally 11k words, so i apologize for the absolute brick wall of text you're about to encounter (but don't worry, i put a read more on it :) ) also, if i missed any warnings/tags, pls dm me and let me know if you think i should add something! other than that, enjoy!

There were worse fates than this, right? There had to be, you were sure of it. You felt every pair of eyes on you as you walked down the center aisle of the chapel, acutely aware of the overwhelming masculine energy that you were drowning in. After all, at Barton, it wasn’t every day that these boys saw a girl. You wondered how long some of them had gone without laying eyes on a member of the opposite sex (a real one; skin mags don’t count).

It also didn’t help that the priest at the front of the room had intentionally brought everyone’s eyes to you the moment you walked in. You had tried to slip in unnoticed, but he had said “Ah, here she is now: our very first Barton lady! Come sit up front with the headmaster!”

You anchored yourself in the frontmost pew, next to the headmaster with a hippie beard, and kept your head still and staring straight ahead. You had known very little about Barton before that school year— you were from nearby Boston, and had gone to a larger high school with, not only a more mixed gender breakdown, but a significantly different economic situation than Barton. You had been shocked, as you took the bus from town to campus, at how many Mercedes and Cadillacs you had seen near the school. You felt like a fish out of water, in more ways than one.

The priest didn’t end his taunting when you sat down, though. “Many of you probably wondered, when you got on campus for the beginning of the semester, what the new building next to the dormitory was,” he began, and you heard a few mumblings from the row behind you, confirming their confusion. “Well, gentlemen, this year… Barton has become coeducational. The new building, Blackwell Hall, named for the esteemed Elizabeth Blackwell, is the girl’s dormitory.”

The mumbling behind you increased to a dull rumble, and you slightly turned your head to get a glance at the boys sitting behind you. All high school boys, kids your age, staring at you and wondering what your deal was. You took notice of one boy in particular, the only one around you not gossiping with his friends, totally uninterested and picking at his cuticles. Before you could even think to wonder about this boy, someone from near the back of the chapel yelled “Is she gonna be in classes with us?”

“Yes, she will,” the priest said. “She is a junior, so, gentlemen, make sure you welcome her warmly to our school.”

You sat and endured chapel while burning from all the stares in your direction, and, as soon as the priest dismissed the lot of you, you shot up and made your way to the doors, clutching your handbag close to your body. The August air hit your face as you stepped out, and you started back to Blackwell Hall, where your things sat, ready to be unpacked, but someone called out to you, demanding your attention.

“Hey, girl!” You turned to see who had shouted, and you were met with the sight of a boy with caramel-colored hair, wearing a sports coat and tie. Come to think of it, all the boys were wearing coats and ties. You hadn’t been told anything about a uniform, and suddenly your jeans felt less than appropriate. The boy had a cigarette in his hand, and he beckoned you over to him, and you clenched your back teeth as you (for some reason) obeyed.

“You’re a junior, huh?” the boy asked, and you nodded. “What classes are you taking?”

You pursed your lips. “Precalc,” you began. “Ancient Civ. Home Ec. Bio.”

“Gym?” he asked, and you shook your head.

“There’s not a girls’ locker room,” you said, hoping he understood your explanation.

The boy ashed his cigarette, and he said, “What period do you have Ancient Civ?”

You tried to recall what you had written down, and you said, “Fourth period, I think. With Hunham.”

“Oh,” the boy said with a winning smile. “I’m in that period too. Maybe we could be study partners.”

You drew in a breath and cleared your throat. “Maybe,” you said softly. “What’s your name?”

“Teddy,” he replied. “Kountze.”

“Right,” you mumbled. “Well, um, I’ll see you around, Teddy.”

“Um, are you going to the cafeteria?” Teddy asked hastily, like he was looking for something to talk to you about. “I-I was about to head there, and, if you wanted someone to sit with, I have a spare seat at my table.”

“I’m not,” you told him. “Gotta get back to my dorm and finish unpacking. I only got in town today.”

“How did…” Teddy started. “How did you get in? Your folks hear that Barton was going coed and got you in?”

You shook your head. “I went to Central High School, in Boston,” you replied. “I was doing a research project and saw in a newspaper that Barton was going coed and having a lottery for the first female student. I sorta put my name in as a joke, and then, when I won, it… Wasn’t really a joke anymore. I had to take some academic placement tests, since Central isn’t exactly a highbrow school, and I got a scholarship that covered a lot of my tuition. The board of trustees waived the rest of it, so…”

“You’re going here for free?” Teddy asked incredulously. “Jesus, I didn’t even know we had scholarships.”

“Of course you wouldn’t, Kountze,” a voice said from nearby, and you turned your shoulder to see the boy from chapel who didn’t give a shit about you. He stood tall, rail thin, a mop of dark curls on top of his head. He had eyes like black holes, his pale skin so translucent around his eye sockets that he had purplish-red bags underneath. “Nobody’s going to tell the bottom scum about possible academic achievements. It’s cruel to tease people with something they’ll never have.”

“Fuck off, Tully,” Teddy snapped. “Don’t you have some porno mag waiting for you?”

The boy (you supposed his name was Tully) pushed his hands into the pockets of his coat and skulked away, and you scoffed under your breath. “Charming,” you mumbled, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from his back as he left the scene.

“Jesus, yeah,” Teddy said. “That’s Angus Tully. Biggest asshole here, thinks he’s better than everyone else. God knows why, he’s such a fuckin’ loser. He’s in Hunham’s fourth period too.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at Angus Tully’s back, and then redirected your attention to Teddy, who was presently snubbing out his cigarette with the toe of his shoe. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” you said softly, and, without another word, departed for your dorm.

You appreciated that Barton had built a separate dorm for the female students, but, seeing as you were the sole resident of the building, you were irked by it. It was too big and empty, too lifeless and soulless. Certainly, they had built it with future generations in mind, hoping that more girls would eventually enroll and prove the building a necessity, but, for now, you found yourself aching with loneliness. You missed your mom and your sisters, in your small apartment in downtown Boston, just a few blocks from your old high school. You missed hearing Linda Ronstadt records playing from your older sister’s room (the one she shared with your mom), or the ceaseless sound of the air conditioning unit buzzing away in the window of your room (the one you shared with your other older sister). Barton just felt too… Good for you. But, it was as your mother had told you: it was an opportunity that you could not afford to pass up.

You didn’t have a lot to unpack, and you hung up your clothes as you chewed your lip. For some reason, the interaction outside the chapel was sticking with you. Not Teddy, although he certainly had made himself hard to forget. No, you were thinking about Angus Tully, apparently the head asshole of Assholedom. You would be seeing him tomorrow too, for the first day of classes, in Hunham’s Ancient Civ class. You had never taken a class like that— your old school didn’t even offer the Advanced Placement program, so obnoxiously pretentious classes like that were out of your realm of understanding— and you were almost worried that you would flunk right out.

You tossed and turned all night, dreading sunrise and morning. Breakfast was served at 7, and classes began at 8, beginning with Precalc for you, then transitioning into Biology. After third period free, you had Ancient Civ, then an hour for lunch, then Home Ec, then your last few hours of the school day were reserved for something that, on the fax paper that you had been given at the front office, was called “Secretarial Studies”. You hated to think what that meant (surely, Barton wasn’t trying to prime you for being a secretary and nothing more), but mostly, it meant that your school day basically ended earlier than for others.

You awoke early, showered and scrubbed yourself clean (the water pressure in the shower was better than the fourth floor apartment that you used to deal with), and you dressed yourself in what you hoped was becoming of a Barton girl. The dress had initially been purchased as an outfit for special chapel occasions, Christmas and Easter or whatever, but you knew that your regular jeans and wrinkled t-shirt wouldn’t be enough for your new shiny academy.

Once again, as you entered the cafeteria for breakfast, you felt all eyes on you. You scanned the room for an empty seat (you didn’t fail to spot Angus Tully, sitting at the cornermost table, not conversing with everyone else) and sighed when you saw an open chair right next to Teddy Kountze. He spotted you and waved, and you made your way over.

“Hey there,” Teddy said. “How was your first night?”

“Fine,” you shrugged noncommittally. “Kinda quiet, though.”

“Yeah, nobody else in the whole building,” Teddy sighed. “No roommates or anything; that must be nice.”

“Nah, not really,” you replied. “I got used to my mom and my sisters, and it was just too quiet. Not nearly enough chaos for me.”

“How many sisters do you have?” A boy across the table from you asked.

“Two,” you said. “Both older. And my mom lived with us too, so there was always something going on.”

“Shit, for sure,” the boy said. “Are you gonna join any clubs while you’re here? Or sports or something?”

You didn’t exactly love the way that the boy said that. “While you’re here”. Like you weren’t going to stay at Barton for very long. “I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I’ve never really been a sporty type. I might see if the yearbook needs help or something.”

“You could join chess club,” the boy laughed, and Teddy (and pretty much everyone else at the table) laughed too.

“Why? What’s so funny about chess club?” you asked.

“Nothing,” Teddy sighed as he finished laughing. “Except that Tully’s ugly mug is there.”

“Tully?” you repeated. “Angus?”

“Do you know him?” a different boy at the table asked.

“No, not at all,” you said quickly. “Just… Heard some stuff about him, that’s all. How he’s apparently a douche.”

“You’ll see,” Teddy assured you. “In class, try to challenge him on something. See how he reacts, and you’ll get why we all hate him.”

You wrinkled your nose at the thought, but decided to not let it bother you. You made your way to class, hanging close behind Teddy and not really listening to him as much as you were admiring the school building. It was so… Old. So was your old school, but Barton was beautifully old, whereas Central was just old. Dark, shiny wood everywhere, framed oil paintings of people; it was a feat. You finally separated from Teddy when you reached the classroom for Precalc, and you hesitantly stepped in. A handful of guys were there, sitting on their desks and chatting, and the room fell dead as you stepped inside. You hazarded a small smile, and quickly made your way to the back of the room, your preferred spot in any classroom, but you were stopped in your tracks.

Angus Tully. He sat in the back corner, close to the window, his tie loose and crooked around his neck. He was looking out the window, but his eyes slid over to you as you approached the desk beside him.

“Hi,” you said gently. “Can I… Um, can I sit here?”

Angus shrugged, as if he didn’t care, and you slung your bag across the back of the seat before you settled yourself down. You tapped your fingers on the desktop for a moment, wondering what the next course of action was, and you mumbled out, “I-I heard you were in chess club?”

“Yeah,” Angus grunted out. “What about it?”

“Oh, nothing,” you said, anxiously smoothing your skirt on your thigh. “Just, umm… I was wondering if there was, like… If you guys were open to new members.”

“Probably,” Angus said simply.

You nodded slowly, waiting for his next words, but they never came. “Right,” you said softly. “Okay.”

To your disappointment, Angus Tully and you shared every class together, except for your free period and Home Ec. His demeanor never changed a single bit throughout the day, sullen and curt. He didn’t speak during class, didn’t answer questions or even seem as if he was paying attention. It was odd. You were thinking about it as you settled into a desk in the back of the Ancient Civ classroom, and you yourself were hardly paying attention to the teacher, a one Mr. Hunham, until he called your name. “Miss?” he said, and you lifted your cheek out of your hand. “Would you like to introduce yourself?”

You blinked a few times, your face positively burning hot, and you cleared your throat. “I’m sure you all know my name by now,” you began. “Know that I went to a public school in Boston, got in here on a lottery and a scholarship… I guess there’s not much else to know about me.”

“Have you ever studied ancient civilizations before, Miss?” Mr. Hunham asked. He seemed well-meaning, if maybe a little sarcastic.

“No,” you told him.

“Any experience with Latin?” Mr. Hunham asked next.

You deflated. Shit. This was that sorta school? “No,” you said, a little quieter this time.

“Well, that’s alright,” Mr. Hunham said. “We’ll catch you up to speed. Now, gentlemen— Ah, and lady— let’s open our books to the first chapter.”

All during class, you felt hot tears pricking at your eyes. You were humiliated. All these words and names that everyone else seemed to know, and you had no fucking clue what any of it meant. It was all Greek to you— Latin, actually, but that didn't matter. As Mr. Hunham was mid-sentence about some sort of war, the bell to end the class sounded throughout the room, and you instantly closed your textbook and began to shove it into your bag. “Read the rest of the section tonight!” Mr. Hunham called over the sounds of your classmates packing up and chattering. “There will be a quiz on Friday!”

You shouldered your bag and tried to avoid eyes as you skated out of the room, but a voice saying your name held you back. You hoped your eyes weren’t red as you turned to see Angus standing limply in the hallway. He had stayed quiet during Mr. Hunham’s class too, sitting again in the back corner, and you had managed to forget about him as you wallowed in shame. “Yeah?” you asked.

Angus carefully walked closer to you, and he said, “The library has tutors sometimes. If you need help with Latin.”

“Oh,” you said softly. “Thanks. I just… Didn’t know people still spoke that.”

“Not really, it’s a dead language,” Angus said. “But it’s helpful sometimes in classes. A lot of Ivy League schools have Latin courses that are required.”

“Well, thank God I’m not going to an Ivy League school,” you chuckled mirthlessly. “I’ll be lucky if community college takes me.”

“You go to Barton, colleges will be fighting for you to go there,” Angus shrugged.

“But I’m not somebody,” you protested. “I’m not a senator’s kid, my dad isn’t a CEO, like… I just go here.”

“But the name is good enough for schools to want you,” Angus said. “They want the prestige, that’s all.”

You thought on it for a moment, and you mumbled, “Thanks, Angus. I’ll, um… See you tomorrow.”

The whole first week of classes progressed at a snail’s pace. Every day was torturous— all of your classes, except for Ancient Civ, were easy. Home Ec was a complete wash, since you already knew how to sew and cook, and Secretarial Studies was just as you had feared: teaching you to type, mostly, but nevertheless skills needed to do office work. You were a little offended; you were the only student in the class, which was helmed by the front office manager Ms. Crane. Obviously the boys didn’t have to take this class, so what was Barton trying to say?

Finally, it was Friday night. Your dorm building was quiet again, and, even though they had provided a rec room with a radio and a few bookshelves, there wasn’t too much for you to do. You curled a loose thread from your sweater around your finger as you considered your next move, and you sighed as you grabbed your keys and shuffled into your shoes.

You pushed your way into the boy’s dorm, and there was a palpable change in energy. The lights seemed brighter, the air thicker, sounds coming from all manner of places. Some doors were open, the residents standing and chatting, and you could distantly hear the sound of a television playing somewhere on the first floor. Much livelier, more lived in; you wished you could have been placed there instead. You followed the sound of the television down the hall, past the chatting boys, and you noticed how conversations paused as you passed by. You despised that.

The door to the rec room was wide open, and you peeked in nervously. The television was playing some rerun of Gilligan’s Island, and boys were scattered to all corners of the room. Some played pool, some sat on the couches, some stood by the open window and smoked, but everything seemed to stop as you crossed the threshold. You made your way to an empty section of the couch and sat down, grinding your teeth as boys young and old watched you. You sighed, and you said, “What’s going on?”

The boy next to you, some kid that you knew was in your Bio class but didn’t know his name, frowned. “Huh?” he asked.

You jerked your head towards the television. “The show,” you said. “What’s happening?”

“Oh,” the boy said, and everyone resumed their conversations. “Umm, don’t you have a TV in your dorm?”

“Just a radio,” you said with a shake of your head. “What episode is this?”

The boy shrugged. “Wasn’t really paying attention,” he said.

You bunched your mouth up and sighed again, and you stood up. You could sense the disappointment as you left the rec room, but you couldn’t stand being in there any longer. You knew that being ogled at came with the territory of being the only girl at a boys’ school, but you couldn’t imagine it would have been anything like this. You slipped your hand into the pocket of your jeans and found a few errant coins in there, leftover from some excursion from God knows how long ago, and you started up to the second floor. In your building, there was a bank of phones on the second floor, and it made sense to you that this building would be the same.

Luckily, you were right. There was just as much business on the second floor as on the first, but the little phone bank was a calm corner. You sighed and examined the phone for a moment, trying to find the slot to put your dime, and you frowned. What the fuck?

“Just dial nine, and then the number you wanna call.”

You jumped in fright. “Jesus Christ!” you seethed, whipping around to see Angus. He sat in a shadow of the phone bank, a book in one hand and a half-eaten apple in the other. He looked a little more casual than he did in class, his tie gone and shirt unbuttoned one or two to show the top of his undershirt. Still looked a little Grim Reaper in the face, though. “You scared the shit outta me.”

Angus huffed a short laugh through his nose. “Thought you saw me,” he said.

“I did not,” you mumbled. “Where’s the coin slot?”

“These aren’t payphones,” Angus told you. “Just dial nine for a non-school number, then dial away.”

You drew in a deep breath and shoved your dime back in your pocket, and you picked up the phone and started to rotate the dial, starting with nine, then going for your family’s apartment number. You felt Angus’s gaze seering on your back, and you cradled the phone to your shoulder as it rang. “Do you mind?” you asked.

“Do I mind what?” Angus asked.

“Scram, man,” you sighed. “I’m trying to call my mom, and I don’t want you listening to it.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have come to a public phone if you wanted a private conversation,” Angus said, and you tilted your head at him in annoyance. “Doesn’t Blackwell have a phone bank?”

“Yeah,” you said. “But I didn’t wanna use it.”

“So you came here instead,” Angus said. “I think you like the attention.”

You swallowed thickly, anger tepid but starting to rise. “You don’t know me at all,” you bit at him.

“Why’d you come to this building to make your call if you knew that every guy would stop to stare at your ass?” Angus asked. “You knew that. You’ve been here a week, you know by now that you attract attention. I think you like it, but you can’t admit it because you have that whole quiet mystery girl thing going on.”

“Fuck off, Tully,” you mumbled. “I’m not here to be some goddamn puzzle for you to solve. And I’m not gonna fuck you if you figure out my backstory, so just go away.”

“Who said anything about fucking?” Angus asked smugly.

You glared at him and that stupid crooked smirk on his face. “Stop staring at my ass first and we might get somewhere,” you told him lowly, just in time for the call to pick up.

“Hello?” your mother said, and you sighed in relief.

“Mom, thank God,” you laughed lightly. “You took so long to answer, I was worried nobody was there.”

“Oh, no, pumpkin, I’m here,” your mom told you. “I was just in the shower.”

“Is Rachel not home?” you asked. “Or Anna?”

“Rach is at work,” your mom told you. “She picked up extra hours at Neiman Marcus. She thinks they might promote her to manager at the end of the year.”

“Oh, wow,” you mumbled. “Good for her. And Anna?”

“Started taking night classes,” your mom said. “She started on Monday too.”

“Cool,” you chuckled. “What’re you doing tonight? I think ABC is showing some sort of movie—”

“I’m going on a date,” your mom said, and your mouth went dry.

“What do you mean?” you asked. “Like… With a guy?”

“Yes,” your mom said carefully. “He’s nice, I met him at work. He’s taking me to a movie and dinner.”

“That’s…” you started. “Cool, Mom. Good for you.”

“What about you?” your mom asked. “Surrounded by all those boys, there has to be someone who’s caught your eye.”

You sighed. Your lip trembled, and you closed your eyes. You were acutely aware that Angus was still sat behind you, and the fact that you hadn’t heard his book turn in a few minutes meant that he was absolutely listening to your phone call, the little shit. “No, not really,” you said. “Everyone here is either too rich, too smart, or too… Asshole-ish. Some are even all three.” You made a point to turn your head towards Angus, and you heard his little huffing laugh before you turned back to the phone.

“Oh, well,” your mom said. “Maybe you’ll find someone. How are classes?”

“Fine, I guess,” you said. “I’m taking a class about ancient civilizations, and apparently I missed the class where they teach Latin, so I’m sorta lost. And Home Ec sucks because I already know how to do all that. And they’re making me take something about how to be a secretary, and that’s so infuriatingly sexist that it makes me angry.”

“It’s a bunch of men, in charge of a bunch of boys,” your mom sighed. “They’re trying their best to adapt to you.”

“I can’t even take gym class because they don’t have a place for me to change clothes,” you lamented. “Not that I wanna take gym anyway, but you see why I’m upset!”

“I know, pumpkin, it’s okay,” your mom said.

“Why would they go coed if they can’t even integrate girls in properly?” you sighed. “I wish I had just stayed home and gone to Central. Would’ve saved me a lot of trouble.”

“You’ll be alright, you’re still just adjusting,” your mom assured you. “But… If, by Christmas, you still don’t feel like you belong there, I’ll pull you out and you can go back to Central. But I have to know by Thanksgiving, so I can start the paperwork in time for spring semester”

“Sure,” you said. “That sounds good to me.”

“Alright, baby,” your mom said. “Richard will be here any minute, and I have to finish getting ready. I’ll be at work until 4 tomorrow, but call any time after, okay? I love you so much.”

“Love you too,” you mumbled, and you held the plastic phone by your face as you listened to your mother hang up and the dial tone drone. After a moment, you hung the phone back up on the hook, and you readied yourself for Angus’s petty insults as you turned to leave the phone bank. But they never came. You eyed him, sitting there on the wooden bench, his dark eyes focused on yours, and you snapped, “What?”

“Nothing,” Angus said lightly, sliding back into the darkened corner and picking up his book. “Nothing at all.”

That was your weekly exercise. Week in and week out, all you did was classes. You wanted to avoid as many interactions with the others as possible, so you stayed quiet during class, kept to yourself, didn’t accept invites to parties or football games or to sit at lunch tables. You took to having lunch with Ms. Crane in the front office, and she seemed to commiserate with you about all the boys. “Some of these kids are real stinkers,” she told you. “But they’re teenage boys. I think it’s a law that they have to be.”

Your saving grace was the deal you had made with your mom. If you could just wait until Christmas break, you could go back to your old school, to your old friends, and you could forget about the hell that was Barton. You kept your grades up, so that Central could see that you hadn’t turned into some kind of slacker, and you consistently got B’s and A’s in your classes. Except for Ancient Civ.

The exam booklet slapped down on your desk, a red F blazoned across the front. You sighed and started to thumb through it, trying to figure out where you went wrong as the other boys also realized their grades were low, and your heart sank when you saw all of the multiple choice questions without a flaw. So it was your essay question that led you astray. On the very last page of the booklet, you found your essay, handwritten yesterday on something about ancient philosophers, and a red note in Mr. Hunham’s handwriting. See me after class.

You could hardly pay attention to the conversation between Teddy and Mr. Hunham. Your mind was racing, wondering what he wanted to talk to you about. You should have gotten a perfect score, but something held that back. Surely he didn’t think you had cheated? Or copied someone else’s work? You thought that you and Mr. Hunham got along (as well as any student can get along with their strict, hardass teacher) and your heart sank at the thought that you had definitely somehow disappointed him.

“... Offer a makeup exam” got your head out of the clouds, and you focused on Mr. Hunham at his podium. “You’ll all get a second run at this after break.” The class muttered and mumbled, only to be cut through by Mr. Hunham’s next words: “Of course, it will not be the same exam. You will now be responsible for new material as well. Your grade will be an average of the two.”

As Mr. Hunham instructed the class to open their books to a new chapter, you were shocked, along with everyone else, when Angus spoke. “No offense, sir,” he began, and you sucked in a breath. You had learned that, whenever any of the boys at Barton didn’t intend offense, that offense was certainly on its way. “But is this really the best time to be starting a new chapter? I mean, we all appreciate the, uh, makeup exam gesture… But our families are here.”

You rolled your eyes. Speak for yourself, Tully. Your mom had to work that day, as did both of your sisters, and you gotten instruction to take a Greyhound into Boston and someone would meet you at the bus station to bring you home. It wasn’t exactly the best plan, but it was what worked. Your mom had arranged with Barton to let you back on campus during break to empty your dorm room, and you sighed a thing of relief. Almost done. You were so close to leaving Barton in your dust and washing your hands of the entire school.

“Most teachers have already canceled class,” Angus continued. “We have chapel in forty minutes, then we’re out of here. I mean, our heads are elsewhere.”

“And where exactly is your head, Mr. Tully?” Mr. Hunham asked, and Angus shrugged.

“Uh, I don’t know. St. Kitts.”

Jesus. Of course Angus Tully was going to fuckin’ St. Kitts for Christmas. You would be lucky if your family could afford to have the heat turned on for Christmas.

Your annoyance turned to dire anger when Mr. Hunham decided to scrap the idea of a makeup exam and dismissed the class without another word. You hurried to shove your exam booklet in your bag, and you glared at Angus as you edged out of your row. “Thanks a lot, dick,” you mumbled, then left the room, not even waiting to see Angus’s response. Your heart raced as you tailed Mr. Hunham, and you finally called his name as he approached the door to his private office.

“Ah, Miss,” Mr. Hunham chuckled. “Yes, yes, let’s sit down and discuss your exam.”

“I-I didn’t do anything wrong,” you said hurriedly as he unlocked the office door. “I didn’t cheat or plagiarize, you didn’t even mark off any points. I don’t understand why I failed.”

Mr. Hunham said nothing as he led you into his office, and you wrinkled your nose. God, it smelled bad in there. Nevertheless, you sat down in one of the chairs across from his desk, and you waited with bated breath as he sat down in his seat. He examined you for a moment, for long enough for you to start to feel weird under his walleyed gaze, and, finally, he said, “In actuality, Miss, you didn’t fail. You got the highest score in the class.”

“B-But I got an F…” you protested. “Angus Tully got a B!”

“I wrote an F on your paper, but you actually got a 98,” Mr. Hunham told you. “Near-perfect score, I only took off in your essay question for misspelling ‘Periclean’.”

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Then, why’d you write an F on my paper?”

“Because I was disappointed in you,” Mr. Hunham said. You felt sick. Your skin was hot and your stomach roiled, and hot tears pricked at your eyes. “I heard from Ms. Crane that you were leaving Barton.”

You nodded silently.

“And why is that?” Mr. Hunham asked.

You sighed. “I miss my old school,” you admitted with a thick throat. “My old friends. Nobody likes me here, and I… Just think I’d be better off back home. I’m not a Barton person.”

“What is a Barton person to you, Miss?” Mr. Hunham asked. His hands were clasped at his chin, his bifocals in his fist. He seemed genuinely concerned about you.

“Someone not me,” you said. “Rich… Smart… Important. All those guys are gonna go to good colleges, and I’m gonna be stuck waiting tables my whole life.”

“You are smart, Miss,” Mr. Hunham told you. “You passed all your classes with flying colors, you made Latin look like a piece of cake. If you wanted to, you could go to any college in the country. Or the world!”

“I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for that stupid lottery,” you mumbled. “I don’t belong here, sir, we both know that.”

Mr. Hunham fixed his mouth in a thin line and sighed, and he said, “Of course. Well, I do hate to see you go. Your essay on the siege of Troy was… Very good.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “Umm, have a nice Christmas, I guess… See you around.”

Chapel that day felt exactly the opposite to your first chapel at Barton. The dread that had filled the air at the beginning of the semester had now changed to an excitement about going back home, and, even though you still felt like everybody was staring at you, you couldn’t shake the feeling. You were done. You had made it. After you moved during break, you’d never have to lay an eye on Barton or any of those boys ever again. You had to admit that you were going to miss Ms. Crane, and maybe even Mr. Hunham too, but the positives far outweighed the negatives.

After chapel let out, you hurried back to Blackwell Hall and grabbed your suitcase and changed out of your nice dress, and you made your way to the front of campus, where a Greyhound bus sat, waiting to take kids into the city. You stepped on board, taking a seat towards the back of the bus, and you looked out the window at one last gaze at Barton Academy. Although, you couldn’t admire the architecture or the pretty way the snow glistened in the midday sun. No, you could only see the tall, lanky, dark-haired kid standing on the steps of the chapel, waiting for someone.

Even though you despised Angus Tully and didn’t really care if he lived or died, it was a sad sight to see him waiting like that. He looked so dismayed and forlorn, his suitcase at his feet, his hands in the pockets of his winter jacket. Maybe in another world, you and Angus could have been friends. Your mind wandered, thinking of meeting Angus somewhere else— your mind conjured the image of a bookstore, reaching for the same book and having a little back and forth on who should have it, before Angus acquiesced, but not before writing his phone number in the book.

The rumble of the bus nearly lulled you asleep on the two and a half hour drive to Boston, and you roused yourself as the bus pulled into the station. Gathering your things, you departed, along with a handful of other Barton boys. They quickly found their families that were waiting on them, and you wandered through the station. Your mother hadn’t indicated who would be picking you up, or where in the station to meet them, and you made your way to a payphone. You were sure she was at work, but you wondered if you could call the restaurant and ask for her. Before you could put your dime in the phone, though, you heard your name being called, and you looked to see an older man smiling at you from across the room.

Fear flashed hot in your face, but you kept your composure as the man approached you. “Hey, you look just like how your mom described you,” he laughed. “I’m Rich.”

“Who?” you asked.

“Rich,” he repeated. “I’ve been seeing your mother for a few months. She’s working the afternoon shift, and your sisters are both busy, so your mom asked me to get you.”

“Oh,” you nodded. “Right, yeah. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You seem tired,” Rich told you. “Long day?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” you chuckled. “I’m just glad to be done with Barton, that place can go to hell.”

“I thought Barton was a boys’ school,” Rich mumbled.

“It’s a long story,” you sighed. “But whatever, that’s in my rearview now.”

“Alright,” Rich said. He seemed confused, but he took up your suitcase for you. “We already put fresh sheets on the pullout, so when we get back, you can take a nap if you want—”

“The pullout?” you repeated. “Am I not sleeping in my room?”

Rich winced. “Ah, well,” he began. “You see, my daughter is sleeping there, and—”

“Your—” you started. “Why is she in my room?”

“The bed was vacant,” Rich shrugged. “She’s lived there for a few months now.”

“And why is your daughter living with my mom?” you asked. “Do you… Did you move in?”

“Well, when your mother and I got married, we figured it was the logical thing to do.”

Your heart nearly stopped. Married. Your mother had gotten married, and hadn’t told you a single thing about it. No wedding invite, no pictures, not even a ‘hey, Rich and I are getting hitched!’ You felt sick and lightheaded, and you tried to take a steadying breath. It just sounded all shaky and unsure, though, and it made you feel even worse. “I, uh…” you began. “I…”

“What’s wrong, pumpkin?” Rich asked, and the camel’s back broke. Nobody can call you that but your mom.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” you asked. “Rolling in here, doing all this bullshit, and for what? Are you trying to prove something? Win an award or what? Let’s see how quickly we can marry the single mom, that’ll go down great with her three adult children!”

“Rachel and Anna said they were okay with it,” Rich said.

“But you didn’t ask me!” you cried. “God, this is exactly what she wanted, huh, throw me in a boarding school and forget all about me? Fuck this, I don’t need this.” You snatched your bag from Rich and turned on your heel quickly, and you didn’t even hesitate when Rich called “Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here!”

You begged and pleaded with the Greyhound driver to take you back to Barton. He said that he had to stick to a schedule and was really sorry, but he changed his tune when you dug into your bag and grabbed your pocketbook, pulling out a few 20s. You didn’t have a lot of money in the first place, and watching those bills go in his pocket hurt, but, in the end, you got back to Barton just as the sun was starting to set. You knew that whoever was staying over break would be shocked to see you (maybe even elated, depending on who it was), but you didn‘t care about reactions. You just didn’t want to think at that moment.

You followed the low din of boyish muttering to the cafeteria, and you steeled your nerves for entering. You could discern only two voices, maybe a third if you listened through the thick door hard enough, and you quickly pushed on the metal handle in the middle of the door to slam the door open.

Heads whipped towards you. You didn’t recognize a lot of them— some younger kids, and a guy that was on the football team and was a senior— and your heart sank into your stomach when you saw Teddy Kountze sitting at the dinner table. So you would be spending Christmas break with Teddy. Great.

But the bad feeling got worse when you saw who was sitting one seat down from Teddy. Angus fucking Tully. He stared at you with no joy or humor in his eyes, and you huffed out a breath.

“Miss?” Your gaze went to the head of the table, and a little bit of relief washed over you as you saw the face of Mr. Hunham. Was he supervising the holdovers? “What’re you…?”

“Got room for one more?” you mumbled, approaching the table and securing the seat between Teddy and Angus. You instantly reached for the serving dishes, wanting anything to occupy your shaking hands, and you slowed to a stop as you noticed the whole table staring at you; even Angus wasn’t trying to hide it, his black eyes as big as dinner plates. “What?” you barked, and the energy resumed at the table in a snap.

Dinner was finished soon after, and Mr. Hunham pulled you into the hall as the boys were cleaning up. “I thought you were going home to Boston for the holiday?” he asked gently.

“I can’t…” you started. “It seems like I don’t even have a place in my own family.”

“What do you mean?” Mr. Hunham asked.

“My mom got married without telling me,” you told him. “And the guy and his daughter moved into our apartment, which could barely fit me and my mom and sisters in the first place, and now they’re there, a-and she’s in my room! That fucking bitch is in my room, and I-I—”

“Easy, easy,” Mr. Hunham said, putting his hand out to placate you. “Calm down. Listen, I understand that this is hard, it’s awful, but resorting to that is not what’s going to help you. We’ll find a place here for you tonight, and tomorrow we can call your mother and try to get this straightened out.”

“Can I not go to my dorm?” you asked.

“The school shut off heating and plumbing everywhere except the main building,” Mr. Hunham explained. “We’re sleeping in the infirmary.”

“Jesus Christ,” you huffed. You were so angry that you could kick something. “So now I gotta bunk up with them?”

“It’s definitely not ideal,” Mr. Hunham mumbled. “But it’s just for one night. We can put up a partition, if that would make you more comfortable.”

“Fuck it, whatever,” you sighed. Your eyes hurt, and a headache was starting to throb at your skull, and you said, “I don’t care.”

The boys were split into two rooms, the youngers (and Angus) in one, and Teddy and Jason in the other. The only other empty bed was in Teddy and Jason’s room, and you were quick to settle in and start off for the bathroom. Just as you were leaving, though, a beanpole in a white shirt and flannel pajama pants stopped you in the doorway.

“Hey,” Angus said curtly. “Where’re you going?”

“Shower,” you told him. “Brush my teeth, stuff like that.”

“Why did you come back?” Angus asked. “A little birdy told me that you were quitting Barton.”

“I…” you started. You wanted to tell him everything, but you were worried about the leverage he’d have if he knew. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“Nah, I think it is,” Angus said with narrowed eyes. “We know why everybody is holding over. His parents are on a mission trip, his family is in Korea, Kountze The Cunt’s having his house remodeled, and Jason’s dad is waiting for him to cut his hair. Why’re you here?”

“Why’re you here, Angus?” you asked. “I thought you were going to St. Barts or St. Kitts or something.”

“Obviously not,” Angus said quickly.

“Then, I’m obviously not quitting Barton,” you said, and instantly regretted it. “I might be… Haven’t decided yet.”

“What, don’t you like it here?” Angus asked. “Isn’t it a glorious beacon of education and brotherhood—” He stopped himself, dramatically clenching his fist in front of his face. “Oh, that’s right. Brotherhood.”

“Shut up,” you huffed.

“C’mon, man, leave her alone,” you heard Jason start from the room behind you, but Angus either didn’t hear or didn’t care.

“You left, and then came back,” Angus said. “What’s wrong? Mommy decided she didn’t want you anymore?”

You couldn’t help yourself from letting your tears spill over your lashes, and you clenched your teeth. Angus held your eye contact for longer than you thought he would, and he only averted his eyes when your tears gathered at the corner of your mouth. You drew in a shaking breath, aware that everybody was staring at you, watching you cry, and you sniffled and left the room without another word. The showers were empty, and you jerked the handle to start the water, then locked the door to the room.

Your tears flowed freely then, and you sat on the tile floor and sobbed into your hands. You hoped that Angus could hear you crying from down the hall, and you hoped that he felt bad about his words. Knowing him, though, he had forgotten about you as soon as you left his eyeline.

By the time you finished your crying and your shower, the lights were off in both the rooms, a soft snoring coming from Teddy and Jason’s (and your) room. Your pajamas didn’t feel like they were enough for the cold in the infirmary, and you edged by the snoring Teddy in his bed to get to yours. The sheets were crinkly and dry and rough, and you bundled the wool blanket up to your chin as you tried to sleep.

That was destroyed, though, when you heard a “Psst!” come from the doorway.

You sighed. “Fuck off, Angus,” you mumbled sleepily.

“Just— Can I—?” Angus huffed. “I’m trying to apologize to you.”

“I don’t want your fuckin’ apology,” you said. “Just leave me alone.”

“I shouldn’t have said that to you,” Angus whispered. “I was… Out of line. Or projecting or something, I don’t know. My mom and stepdad went to St. Kitts, but uninvited me so they could celebrate their honeymoon. I guess I’m just familiar with how it feels to not be wanted.”

You sighed and rolled over to face the doorway, and you settled yourself up on your elbows. “Can you just…” you started. “Think before you speak? I know it doesn’t really seem to matter to you, but sometimes, words hurt. Like, really hurt.”

“I know,” Angus mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“You really have to work on not being a huge asshole,” you told him. “You know, nobody here likes you. They all call you names and shit.”

“I know,” Angus said. “I don’t care. But you’ve gotta try to not be so judgmental. I think you write off everyone here because we’re from different tax brackets. Some of us don’t have it easy.”

You pressed your lips together. “Fair enough,” you said finally. “I’ll, um… Keep that in mind.”

“Alright,” Angus said. “Good night, then.”

“‘Night,” you said, and you watched Angus stalk out of the doorway and back to his room. You sat for a few moments more, thinking about how easily Angus had read your thoughts, and you wondered if the other boys could see right through you as easily. You were almost humiliated all over again at the thought that everyone could read you like that, but it didn’t matter. When the morning came, you’d call your mother and work out whatever the problem was, and you would be home in Boston by the next night.

It didn’t work out that way. You called your mother twice in the morning; the first time, she didn’t pick up the phone, and the second, she would hardly talk to you. “Mom, I just wanna know what happened,” you pleaded. “Why didn’t you tell me? I-I would’ve been supportive!”

“Would you?” your mother asked.

“Yes!” you sighed. “I wouldn’t have been happy, but I would’ve accepted it if you were happy!”

“Then, why can’t you accept it now?” she asked.

“Because you didn’t tell me!” you replied. “You didn’t ask me how I felt about it, if I wanted it to happen, if I even like the guy— I hadn’t even met him once before you did it!” You paused, chewing your lip, and you said, “Mom. Tell me the truth. Are you pregnant?”

“No, pumpkin, I’m not,” she sighed, but you could tell she was nearing her wit’s end.

“Is that why you hurried to marry him?” you asked. “I-I’m telling you, I don’t care that you got married, I’m just upset because you didn’t tell me!”

“Okay, stop,” your mom said firmly. “I thought you’d be happy for me, baby.”

Anger flared in your stomach. “Dad hasn’t even been gone for a full year yet,” you mumbled. “And you’re already replacing him.”

“We all mourn differently, pumpkin,” she said. “I’m sorry that you can’t see that Rich makes me happy. I... I don’t feel lonely with him.”

“Well,” you sighed. “If this is how you mourn Dad, I don’t think I wanna come home. I think I’ll stay at Barton.”

“Where are you gonna go after the holiday ends?” your mom asked.

“Staying here,” you said plainly. “I can personally go up to Central and withdraw my paperwork over break. If you want to erase me and my father from your life so bad, then you’ve got your fuckin’ wish.” You slammed the phone back on the receiver with shaking hands, and you turned to leave the front office, only to run straight into—

“Fuck off, Angus,” you sniffled, side-stepping him and starting down the hall, back to the infirmary.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Angus said quickly, snatching your wrist in his hand and tugging you back. “What happened? Are you going home?”

“No,” you sighed. “I’m staying here. I never wanna see any of them again.”

“You said something about your dad…” Angus mumbled. “Is that true? Your dad’s dead?”

You wiped at your eyes, and your chest went hot. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” you mumbled.

Angus sighed, and, for once, he did something nice for you. He pulled you into an embrace, not too tight but not so loose that it felt like he didn’t care, and you pressed your cheek into his shoulder. “My dad’s dead too,” Angus whispered. “You don’t have to talk about it, but… I sorta get it.”

You sniffled again, and you finally let your arms wrap around Angus’s thin body. You sat in silence for a moment, hugging each other, and you only parted when you heard a small scuttle from down the hall, near the infirmary door. Your head turned to see the youngest kid, Alex, standing, watching you two, and you stepped away from Angus and wiped your face. “Guess I’m staying,” you mumbled.

“Guess so,” Angus echoed.

The days were monotonous. Hunham would wake you up when the sun rose with a declaration of “It’s daylight in the swamp!”, and you would go through the routine of studying, then exercise, then more studying, then a little bit of free time. In the absence of gym class for months, the exercising was a little difficult, and you were left exhausted and panting every time, and you felt awkward with the guys around. However, after that brief moment with Angus, he had started to be… Better. He was still a dick most times, but he would do little things for you now; pass you the lunch dishes instead of sliding them in your direction, offer to sharpen your pencil during study time. It seemed that finding a similarity had broken his shell for you a bit, and you appreciated it.

You had taken to helping the cook with meals. Mary Lamb was a good woman that you had minimally interacted with (she had come and given a lesson in Home Ec about cooking, which really nobody paid attention to, but you had made a point to), and you felt a special kinship with her because of her Curtis. She was the only one you told the truth about your father to, and you knew that Mary wouldn’t say anything to the others about it. She seemed as if she appreciated the help in the kitchen, especially from someone who was competent there like you were. You liked talking to Mary, hearing her stories and letting her hear yours.

Just as you were starting to think that maybe break wouldn’t be all that terrible, less than a week into it, things changed. You shivered in the cold library, despite your sweater, and you tried to focus on the textbook in front of you, but it was nearly impossible. Angus was sitting next to you, and, every so often, his hand would inch out and he would doodle a little figure in the corner of your notebook. You rolled your eyes jokingly at him, trying not to laugh so Hunham wouldn’t fuss at you, and you shifted in your seat a bit to reach Angus’s notebook. You began to crudely sketch him, big dark eyes and messy hair, and he stifled a snort. Mean, he wrote underneath your sketch.

Accurate, you countered.

Before either of you could write anything else, there came an odd sound from outside. It was quiet at first, but it grew louder and louder, and you looked upwards, as if the ceiling of the library would allow for any sort of view of what the noise was. It was a loud chopping noise, growing ever louder and louder, drawing the attention of all of you, and even Hunham closed his book and said “What the hell is that?”

But, from across the table, a smile grew on Jason’s face, a knowing grin, and, all at once, everybody stood from their seats and went to the window. You couldn’t see as well as the others, being shorter than everyone else, but Angus put a gentle hand on your side and pushed you in front of him, letting you get closer to the window. His hand, positioned just above your hip on your torso, made a shiver run down your spine, but you attributed it to the sight of a goddamn helicopter buzzing overhead, lowering itself onto the snowy, abandoned football field. “I knew it!” Jason exclaimed. “He finally caved, the big softie!”

“What the fuck is that?” you asked quickly.

“Jason’s dad owns a helicopter,” Angus explained under his breath as Jason pushed away from the window with excitement.

“Any of you guys like to ski?” Jason called as he left the library, and the younger boys gasped with excitement. You all caught onto the idea at the same time, and the boys filed out, following Jason, but you stayed still at the window, watching the helicopter’s blades slow to a stop.

“Miss?” Hunham asked, and you closed your eyes. “Aren’t you going with them?”

You shrugged, hoping to seem less hurt than you actually were. “I can’t,” you said. “I don’t have any skiing gear or whatever, I’ve never even done it before… And anyway, I’m not about to call my mom to ask for permission to do that.”

You sat in the hallway outside the office as Hunham called all of the boys’ parents, being granted permission for the excursion, listening as each boy reacted with glee. It felt like a sick joke; of course you were left all alone again. Before you could ruminate on it for too long, the beanpole came and sat himself next to you, quiet as he scratched absently at his chin.

“Want me to get you anything from up there?” Angus asked. “Fridge magnet or postcard or…?”

You shook your head. “No,” you managed with a heavy, thick throat. “Thanks, though.”

Angus sighed, his eyebrows furrowing together as his jaw tightened, and he tilted his head towards you. His dark eyes looked soft, kinder than you had ever seen from him or thought was capable, and he said, “Sorry.”

You couldn’t help yourself. Your tears spilled and you clawed your fingernails into your palm, trying to stop from sobbing and heaving, and Angus moved closer to you, until his hip touched yours. He slung a skinny arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his body, his hand gently pressing into your head and ushering you to hide in his neck. He shushed you, whispering “If Hunham sees you crying, he’ll think I did it”, which did nothing other than make you laugh a little and sniffle hard.

You quickly parted from Angus’s warmth, wiping your eyes with your hand and seeing your mascara smear on the back of your hand. “Gonna go to the bathroom…” you mumbled, and Angus nodded, keeping his seat as you stood up and hurried down the hall. The women’s bathroom next to the office was hardly used, only ever you, Ms. Crane, and the lone visitor using it, and you clutched the porcelain sink as you gasped for breath. Jesus Christ. Would anything ever go your way? Being stuck at Barton over the holidays with the other boys sucked, sure, but now you were all alone with Hunham and Mary. Alone again. You wondered if you’d always be alone.

You ripped off a paper towel and dabbed at your eyes, trying to fix your makeup, and you pressed cold water to your face to try to calm yourself down. Fuck everything about this. It was unfair. Maybe Hunham would take it easy on you, loosen the reins a little. You trashed the paper towels and adjusted your sweater, trying to seem put-together, and you stepped out of the bathroom to see Hunham and Angus standing outside the office, embroiled in an intense conversation. “... Just one more time, please,” you heard Angus say, and Hunham put his hand up.

“There’s no point,” Hunham said. “The front desk says they’re not answering. He says they’re away on some excursion.”

You started closer, and you watched Angus’s face fall, his eyes narrowing. He mumbled something under his breath, and Hunham harrumphed. “I’m as disappointed as you are, if not more so,” he said. “I could’ve been spending the rest of my vacation reading mystery novels.”

“Angus?” you said, and he slid his eyes over to you. “Are you… What’s happening?”

Angus shot Hunham a deathly look, and he side-stepped your teacher, brushing past you, his arm knocking your shoulder. You locked eyes with Hunham, then quickly turned and started off after Angus. His long legs had carried him down the hall quicker than you were capable of, and you sped up a bit. “Angus!” you called for him, and you finally came up on him at the door to the infirmary, taking his arm in your hand. “What’s going on?”

“I’m staying here,” he said bitingly. “Mom and Stanley aren’t answering their phone.”

On some level, you were glad Angus was staying. At least it wouldn’t be just you there. And you were glad it was Angus, as opposed to Teddy or someone else. “Oh,” you managed. “Well, umm…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Angus said flatly. He leaned up against the doorway to the infirmary, listening to the other boys packing up, and he added, “In fact, I’d rather you didn’t say anything.”

You sighed, flicking your eyebrows. “Got it,” you mumbled. Your eyes lifted from the floor to see Ye-Joon, bag in hand, and he softly bid Angus a happy holidays, giving you a curt smile as he edged out of the infirmary. Jason lightly touched Angus’s arm as he told him to take care, doing the same to you before he departed, and you made eye contact with Teddy as he shouldered his bag. He didn’t have his sights set on you, though; he spoke to Angus.

“I guess that just leaves you and the chick, huh?” Teddy asked. “Be sure to do all your homework— and no funny stuff while we’re gone.”

If you could have swung a punch at Teddy, you would have. All the boys at Barton were the exact fucking same— Secretarial Studies, sex jokes, it was never-ending and never-changing. You watched Angus’s neck go flushed, and Teddy added, “Oh, almost forgot! I found that picture you were looking for.” Quickly, he stuck a square Polaroid in Angus’s shirt pocket, and a smile crossed Teddy’s face. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Tully. You too, Miss. See you after break.” He winked at you, making your skin crawl, and he departed the room with a chuckle as Angus snatched the picture from his pocket. From your vantage point, you couldn’t see what it was, only the back that read HAPPY HOLIDAYS, but Angus’s mouth screwed up at it, and he flicked it down onto the ground. Your eyes followed it, and you saw a portrait of a family, a mom and dad and a boy, and you recognized the dark eyes and sunken features of the boy. But, in a blank space of the picture, in Teddy’s handwriting, an arrow pointed to the boy and declared “Fuckwad”.

The cold was biting, even through your coat, as you stood on the football field and watched the boys load into the Smith’s helicopter. Your hands were deep in your pockets as you stared into space, wondering if it could get any worse. As the helicopter took off, the wind blew your hair back, and you watched as it rose, up, up, and away. A heavy energy fell over you three, and your teacher let out a heavy sigh. “Well, let’s make the best of it,” Hunham said, flat but trying to put fake life into his words. The look in Angus’s eyes was harsh enough to kill, and Hunham averted his gaze from him over to you, his two little wards, the holdovers. “Shall we?”

#angus tully #angus tully x reader #dominic sessa #dominic sessa x reader #the holdovers

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wiltedivinity · 3 months

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ıllıㅤ𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 ; all you saw was red. the blood in his hands, the blood on their bodies, the blood on your own, and the color of the roses you're engulfed in. he wondered at the fact on how far you've brought yourself to get away from him, physically and emotionally, knowing you won't even get to escape a few meters. but you wondered... why?

ㅤ⨯ if any of the following trigger you, please click off: dead dove: do not eat ; non-con ; female!reader ; violence ; (minor character) deaths ; assault ; possessiveness ; yandere themes ; choking ; toxic & unhealthy relationships ; forceful actions ; suggestive themes ; semi-smut ; threats & insults ; angsty? ; childe is an asshole ; not proofread

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Why… Why… Why… You wanted to ask. You wanted to scream out till’ your lungs give you in. Your feet were planted on the ground firmly, refusing to move an inch as you watch the Harbinger pierce his blades into the chest of your mother repeatedly, the water of his weapon slowly being stained with dark blood, blood that’s mixed with different victims that have witnessed his wrath. Including yours. You eye the wound on your arm, the red liquid was still dripping and staining the ground under you. “Why…” it barely even came out as a whisper, more like a simple breath of the wind most people would ignore but not to him. What can you expect from a man that made You, a person he should have cared less for, his main priority in his life.

“Why…?” you sobbed out, bringing your head up from the floor to find him staring right back at you. The Harbinger stands up and carelessly lays your mother figure to the ground before kicking it out of his sight, dissipating his water blades into thin air as blood continues to stain him and maybe you in the process. “‘Why,’ you ask?” Childe hums, making his way towards you, raising his hand to meet your cheek but you slap it away before he could even touch. “Answer me.” you grit your teeth at the man who was smiling sadistically at you.

“Wow, what a feisty girl. Didn’t know you had it in you, love.” he chuckles, his hand coming in contact with your hand, gripping it and dirtying it with mixed blood. You groan and pull your hand away from his grasp and land a hit on his face. You leave him breathless for a second before his pupils dilated, touching the very spot you slapped him on and caressing it. “You’ve changed quite a lot.”

“I could say the same for you, Tartaglia.” you scoot away from him, your fists clenching in case he makes another move on you. He simply just laughs, each breath he takes, his laughter goes lower and lower until he is glaring at you with that very same sinister grin on his face. “As much as everything you do makes me breathless,” he says through his smile, “You speaking my codename isn’t it. Change that up, hun.”

“Nothing you do will make me change what I feel about you.” A hint of resentment was visible in your eyes, your pupils decreasing its usual size. You tried… Tried to seem threatening but to him he adored it. Even if you managed to intimidate him, he wouldn’t really back out, can he? He knows he’s stronger. He’s a survivor of the Abyss, the Eleventh of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. Even if he was the Eleventh, the title of being a Harbinger alone is impressive and shows a symbol of great power and strength.

“You think so?” Childe sniggers. “I know so.” you reply boldly, attempting to stand back up only to get knocked down by the stomach by Childe’s elbow, “Oh, we’re not done yet. You’re staying here until our business is done.” you glare at his response, what does this man mean by business? If he means torturing you more than you know that seeing your family die before your eyes is more than torture. You attempt to dart away from him if standing wasn’t an option but he stops you by gripping your ankle.

“Get your fucking hand away from me, Tartaglia.” you sneer but it doesn’t stay for longer when he has his hand around your neck and pins you down, using it as a leverage. You can see his eyes darkening from your lips simply saying his title. “Like I said… You’re staying here until our business is done, [Y/N].” he emphasized with a growl at the end of the sentence as he quickly squeezed your throat. You felt the wetness in the corners of your eyes drip as he pushed you further into the ground. Eyes widening instantly when you realize he’s blocking your airway by choking you, his grip on your neck was unbearably tight and if he continued to stay like this you would–

You can’t breathe, you’re letting out panic and quick pants from your mouth as you try to get his grasp from your throat by pulling his wrist away but he’s stronger… You know that. So why not give up? You don’t want to. You can’t either. You try to kick him off with your legs punching his gut, Childe only groaned and laughed. “Hah,” he sighs, but that quickly turns into loud laughter.

“Haha!” he jests, pushing you on the floor as your consciousness slowly slips away from you. “Go on! Keep trying, it makes the job easier. Just look at you, turning blue from my hand around your throat.” he muses, a grin forming on his face sinisterly. You want to argue, but not in this situation. You could barely breathe and voicing out your thoughts will worsen. But in the end, you’d faint from the loss of breath and he would win in the end. He can easily overpower you anytime he wants. That’s a perk of being a Harbinger trained under an unknown woman from the Abyss.

“Sleep well. I’ll be waiting.” he coos lowly, your eyelids drooping lower as you let out your last breath before you faint. Once you do, he slowly pulls his grasp around your throat and admires the handprint on it. A nice dull, desaturated red. Almost the color of the blood of his opponents. Childe brings your unconscious body into his embrace and carefully stands up, looking back to see the limp figures of your family members laying on the floor, all bloodied and dismembered from his hold. If he could be honest, it was their fault, they disapproved of him ever since he was a member of the Fatui and the idea of their precious daughter to get associated with him was something they’d never want. You were okay in keeping contact with him and didn’t think much of his status. But that didn’t go through with your family. They even go as far as to separate the two of you and cut all ties with his family in order to keep you safe and away from him.

Oh what a bad decision they made.

Your eyes groggily open, and your body twitches beneath the mattress you were sleeping on. Your hand tries to touch your brow, but something prevents it. You examined your wrists and discovered that it was connected to the headboard of the bed, leaving you vulnerable and unable to move. You struggle under the restraints, desperate to be freed but a door has already been opened before you could move any further. "Ah, you're awake," says a familiar voice from the other side of the room, as footsteps approach your bed.

“I hope you don’t mind the chains. I didn’t want you escaping so this was a better alternative!” A glee came from Childe, that broad and boyish smile of his not wavering one bit when he sees your harsh glare. “Let me go,” you growl, shuffling on the bed aggressively but it only worsens the pain on your wrists.

“Oh come on, don’t get mad at me now. Be thankful you got chained in my bedroom instead of something much brutal.” He grabs your chin to stop you from moving too much, his grip is tight, one wrong breath and he’ll tighten it more so you sit still.

All of the sudden, his grin widens, but not in a good way. “Or maybe you’d like what I originally planned more.” The dark glint on his eyes becomes evident, “But let’s get you fed first. It’s been hours since you’ve passed out and you must be starving after that long!” And it switches up all too suddenly. It’s as if the man forgot that he kidnapped you and did monstrous things to your family.

He then places the tray on a desk near the bed. Childe eyes the handcuffs on your hand and shrugs, “You’ll get used to this.” He assures you, taking the hot, steaming bowl of soup and placing it near your face, the spoon already scooping the broth and placing it in front of your lips.

“Come on. Say ‘ahh’” the ginger-head instructs, blowing air on the spoonful of stew so you’re able to consume it. You wanted to protest but your stomach grumbles before you can do so, making the harbinger chortle. “Might as well open your mouth. It’ll make things easier for you… And your stomach.” He points out.

You purse your lips, shaking your head. This causes Childe to frown heavily, “You really are stubborn, aren’t you?” His jaw clenches, “You’re lucky I’m a patient man. Now, eat.” He shakes his hand, a little too aggressively but not enough to spill the bouillon. “No,” You furrow your brows, turning your head away from the spoon. “You heard me the first time.” You argued back, your fists already clenched. You would’ve thrown a punch on him if you could if it weren’t for the handcuffs.

“You really don’t know who you’re messing with, [Y/N].” The way he spoke your name was strong, almost intimidating. “I can shut the fucking mouth of yours if I wanted to. Hell, I’ll do that right now.” Childe smiles grimly, the sinister gleam on his eyes shine, the hand that was holding the spoonful of soup placed inside of his mouth, his free hand clutching onto your shirt and pulling you raspingly into his lips, forcing you to drink in the hot liquid.

You feel his tongue penetrate through your lips, forcing them open. Your chin was trapped between his fingers and he uses this to tilt your head backwards so you can drink the broth that he pours. You feel yourself coughing into Childe’s lips but he doesn’t budge one bit, only pushing you down the mattress with his arm behind your neck. Your attempts in pushing away were fruitless, so your only choice was biting his lip until it bled.

Fortunately that worked, though he didn’t pull away instantly. He let his tongue explore your mouth before doing so, it seems like he was enjoying how the soup tastes mixed with his blood. Childe lets out a few breaths before looking down at you, the corners of his mouth still stained with a bit of red liquid and dried up broth. “Don’t you think I’m done with you. You barely finished a portion of the soup.” He chuckles, his hand making its way to the bowl to scoop more fluid into his mouth until your foot kicks his thigh, making him freeze and look towards you.

“I-I’ll eat… Just not from your mouth.” You try to reason with him but he continues to drink up the liquid, his cheeks puffing a bit from the soup taking up the space inside of his mouth. You just know that he wasn’t going to do it your way by the way he’s leaning down on you and pressing his lips against yours. Pouring in whatever he has in your mouth yet again. You furrow your brows as tears flow down your cheeks, the taste is bitter. It leaves a bad taste on your tongue and a fog in your mind.

You pant heavily, your chest was visibly rising from up and down as you stare up at Childe without breaking eye contact. The man didn’t show one bit of remorse for what he’s done to you. That shit-eating grin that was spread across his face shows it. He shuffles and rises up from the bed, taking the half-eaten bowl of soup before walking away. The moment he’s at the door, he turns his head to look back at you, eyes watching you from head-to-toe before nodding and walking away, seemingly amused.

You shake on Childe’s bed, throwing your head back as you sob. What have you fucking gotten into? Your eyes are squinted tight, your wrists are still painfully wounded from how forceful Childe was when handling your body not too long ago when you’re trying to set them free from the chains. To set yourself from things getting worse. You couldn’t stop wiggling your body on the mattress in an attempt to loosen yourself from the handcuffs.

This could’ve ended differently… Maybe if you knew and saw the red flags in his letter or the way he acted when he was around you, you would’ve escaped. But you should doubt that. The man’s a Harbinger, a child who fell into the Abyss, a striving and unmatched warrior and most importantly, a manipulative companion who always gets what he wants. And you being a long-time friend only worsens it since the both of you knew each other more deeply than anyone else. He knew your weaknesses, your likes, dislikes and everything.

And you don’t know any of his weaknesses. It was hard to guess. You only knew a few and it was you. But being his weakness also means being his strength, you know how you get him. You were his source of motivation. If you weren’t then he wouldn’t be torturing people to tell him about your whereabouts ever since your family cut ties with him.

“Don’t sleep on me now~ We still have yet to clean you up!” Childe chimes in the room once again, a towel in his hand as he approaches and kneels on the floor. His arms are on the mattress of the bed, his head firmly placed in between them as he stares at you. “I haven’t bathed you properly and seeing the stains on your shirt, you wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping in something dirty, right?” He attempts to sway you. “I may be a bad guy, but I’m no monster.” You wanted to laugh. What the actual fuck does he mean by that?

You decide not to protest. You were too tired to do so and your lips could barely sound out a breath. “Good girl.. You’ve finally learned your lesson!” Childe grins at the wig hut of your tired face, the blush on your cheeks evident from the messy and hard kisses he’s been giving you. He trails his finger on them, slowly moving them downwards until they reach your neck, carefully grasping it, causing you to choke on your deep breaths.

“Good girls deserve rewards, correct?” Childe tilts his head with that stupid grin on his face. He must be proud at how much of a mess he’s made out of you. How much control he has over you. He knows you know it, he’s laughing to himself right now. “So let me reward you..” His smile drops, as well as his voice.

He didn’t waste a millisecond to bring his right arm under your knees and his left arm beneath your back. Shaking you a bit so that you wouldn’t sleep when he bathes you. “Stay awake for me, pretty. Don’t want you drowning.” He snickers with a teasing grin on his face. He takes quick but careful steps to the open door that leads to the bathroom. He sat you down in the bathtub and prompted you to take your clothes off. You can feel the embarrassment bubble up inside of you as well as your jaw tightening. “Come on, now. Don’t get too shy~ You’re gonna get used to this soon enough.” he traces the shape of your cheek before he lets his finger move lower to your neck to unbutton one button of your collar.

“You’re a big girl now, right?” He murmurs softly, grabbing your hand and placing it on your shirt, silently commanding you to undress. “But I don’t mind if I could do it instead. I’d be more than happy to see you trust in me in this.” Childe was trying his best to go easy on you. He knew he wouldn’t go anywhere if he continued to torture you.

He’ll make sure he’s all you can rely on. The only person you can trust in this dim cabin in the middle of nowhere.

“No.. I can do it.” You push his hand away as you slowly unbutton your shirt, each time you show a bit of your skin with each button, his gaze intensifies. He couldn’t help but put his hands on the sides of your stomach, his thumb brushing the soft and bare skin. He leans in and uses his teeth to drag the collar of your shirt to the side to reveal more of your figure. “So pretty..” he praises, licking a stripe of your shoulder. You sat there, frozen and clutching onto his shirt, attempting to push him away.

He notices this and controls his urges. He’s not gonna do anything, yet. “Undress the rest of your clothing for me.” He pulls away and stands up to discard his gloves. You do as he says and unzip your jeans, kicking them off. You were only left with your undergarments and the way he eats up every bare skin of your body makes you feel unsafe to what he’s gonna do next.

Childe really has a hard time breathing at the sight of you. God he’d just take you there right now but he slaps himself to the thought of it. “Not yet..” He scolds himself internally. He’ll do it once the time is right. For now, he needs you cleaned up. “Take those off too.” You swore you heard a low grunt at the end of his sentence but you didn’t dare question it. You unclip your bra from behind, struggling a bit from taking it off before finally letting it fall off your shoulders and onto your lap.

Childe stares at you, admiring every curve and contour but he snaps out of it once your hands lowered to take off your underwear too. His eyes were stuck on your lap and at the sight of your cunt. He lets out a heavy huff he didn’t know he was holding for so long and grabs your undergarments, placing them in the sink. A moment later, he turned on the water faucet and washed your naked body with soap. Occasionally brushing the scars (that he made) with his thumb to soothe you (as well as admiring it as if it’s a work of art.)

It didn’t take too long to finish bathing you. It’s probably the first time you’ve behaved around him but that doesn’t mean you’ll tolerate him for long. Childe gently grabs your chin and tilts it upwards for your eyes to face him. You thought he’d do something he wasn’t supposed to but he just simply caressed the bruise on your cheek. You could only sigh and hope whatever he wanted to do just finishes.

“Let’s get you settled..” Childe gets up from his kneeling position and grabs a white towel. He turns his head and gestures to you to get out of the tub. You did what he commanded and stood up from the water and stepped out of it. You cringe at the cold breeze meeting your skin as the water droplets sticking on your drop to the ground.

You notice the ginger-haired man’s hesitance when seeing your bare body in all of its glory. The water made your skin glisten a bit, all he wanted to do now was mouth your neck, your collarbone, literally anywhere. He wasn’t being picky at this point. He just wanted his hands all over your body.

He couldn’t contain himself much longer and dropped the towel as he desperately strides towards you to wrap his arms around your waist and pull your wet body on his clothed one. His hands obsessively ravaging your hips and your back, “Fuck… So pretty for me, yeah?” He grunts at the feeling of being so close to you, chest-to-chest, trapped in his arms with no escape and no choice but to deal with his horrid affection. “All for me…” His fingers pat your bare hip until it reaches your ass, squeezing it lightly. You froze and clutch onto his shirt, “Stop… Please..” You plead, but he growls. “Fine..” he responds but doesn’t let you distance yourself from him.

Childe grabbed the towel that fell on the floor, he turns to you again and dry your body up, periodically brushing your intimate parts with his lips, saying it was to quicken the process. He wasn’t even trying to make a better excuse.

With one last stroke of the towel around your breasts, he pulls away and admires his work. “I’ll get you some clothes. Come with me.” he places the towel on a towel rail and leads you to– most likely– his room.

He sits you down on the edge of the bed as he explores through a closet of clothes. Maybe… Just maybe you could knock him out. He was really distracted at the moment but you don’t have anything to attack him with. Even if you did, you’d be dead. He’s not that weak nor does he have slow instincts to sense what’s wrong.

“Hey..” Childe snaps his fingers in front of your face, snapping you out of your trance. Your eyes widen and blink a few times before looking up at him, confused. Childe stares at you for a moment before letting out a chuckle and sighing, amused at your act. “Done daydreaming, sweetheart?” he teases before handing you some folded group of clothes. “You’ll catch a cold if you stay like that for too long. But I don’t mind such a sight either way… I’ll think of other ways to heat you up if you let me.” He smirks and you internally cringe at his remark in trying to bed you.

“I’ll be fine. Thank you, Childe.” You grin awkwardly at him and attempt to grab the clothes from his hands but he refuses to give you it. “[Y/N].” He spoke your name. He sounded mad, as if you did or said something wrong and offending. “Yes, Chil–”

“Don’t call me that.” He cuts you off with a stern tone. The way his eyes narrow at how your lips voiced out his name— his codename to be specific. A name that’s normally used by either enemies or acquaintances that he's barely close with. “It’s Ajax.. Just call me that, [Y/N]. It’s just two syllables and four letters.”

“...”

Childe notices your silence and sighs, feeling frustrated. “Just this once at least.. Please?” he begs and you swore he looked pathetic like that. You can’t believe this is the exact same man who just committed manslaughter yesterday and got rid of your whole family. “...Ajax.” You mussitate, a hint of annoyance within your tone from his persistence.

You were unable to catch the self-satisfied smile he had on his lips. Childe lets out a content hum as he places the pile of clothes on your hands and pushes you to sit on the edge of the bed. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He expresses his mirth fatuously, “Get dressed. I’ll take a bath. Behave for me, alright? Don’t go out without my permission.” He spoke softly, holding your shoulder, his grip was threatening but soon enough softened, taking it out of your body. He stared at you for a moment, his gaze on you didn’t waver as he studied every detail on you.

With a turn of his heel, he left and entered the bathroom, closing it and locking it as water started running inside.

You sat on the bed's edge. Feeling overwhelmed, the sound of his voice, the way his touch sends shocking shocks through your body. You were overthinking what had just happened and didn't see how your body began to shake from the cold. You wore the long-sleeved sweater and pajamas gently, shaking the thoughts out of your head. It strangely fits... Did he get your size while you were sleeping? But it didn't appear brand new if he did manage to get your size and buy clothing for it.

You stood up and walked onto the exit door of the bedroom you were in, looking towards the door where Childe was bathing. When you're close enough, you palm the knob and turn it slowly so as not to create too much noise.

The corners of your lips raise a bit when you successfully open the door but it soon drops when you hear another door creak behind you. “What do you think you’re doing?” an austere voice rumbles from a few feet. Slowly turning your head, you’re met with the sight of Childe’s bare chest that was dripping with hot water.

You were so distracted by his sudden closeness that you didn’t notice his hand closing the door while leaning in front of you so it couldn’t be opened. “Be a dear and get out of the way.” his tone wasn’t as gentle as before. You warned yourself not to get him mad or else you’ll face something you’ll regret. You let out a sigh as you take a step to the side and awkwardly walk towards the bed to sit there again. Childe seems to calm down from the way his shoulders slump as he locks the door. He turns to look at you before making his way over to the bed, “Look at me.” he commands, gripping your chin harshly.

Once making eye contact with you, he stayed silent. You knew what he was saying from how his eyes were narrowing while he let out uneven, heavy breaths.

It didn’t take long for him to pull away in pure silence so he could dress up. Once finished, he crawls over to you and forces you to lay down on the mattress with his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you locked within his embrace. You feel his nose brush up against your nape, breathing in and familiarizing your addicting scent. “You smell divine..” The man murmurs from behind, his hand palming your stomach in a loving way. He feels the way you tense up from his touches and he hums, grinning from the feeling. “Relax… I won’t do anything yet.”

His ‘reassuring’ words only served to stiffen you up. Childe sighs before his grip tightens around you and wraps a leg around your pair. He decided to just stay silent, assuming you’ll get used to his presence around you soon enough. It’s not like you have a choice either way.

“Dear…” Childe murmurs longingly as he turns his body to face yours. He’s been tossing and turning all night during his sleep and he didn’t notice that until now. He opens his eyes tiredly with a sheepish smile as his arms wrap around the soft figure in front of him, “I’m so sorry about that… Did I wake you?” he asks, his tone tinged with a bit of guilt.

No response.

Childe purses his lips as he shakes his head and sits up, gripping what seems to be your shoulder and forcing you to look at him.

But it wasn’t you. It was just a pillow.

Upon his realization, he quickly got up and searched around the house for you. It’s not like you’ve gotten far, right? Not to the point you’re outside the cabin he’s trapping you in. All the doors were locked, windows closed shut so that your weak body couldn’t open it.

That is, until he noticed the front door lock on the floor. He wouldn't have seen your escape if it weren't for the gleaming metal flashing in the dark. As he slammed the front door wide, he noticed footsteps, footprints pointing towards the woodland that encircled the lodge. He grits his teeth before donning the dark, heavy coat that had been hanging nearby before stepping out to get you and take you back inside.

Even though everything was dark, he could see where he was going. Where you were going. It won't be long before he catches up with you. He realizes you didn't go very far. You're too lost in this forest and you'll end up back where you started(. There’s a reason why he set up this specific forest when trapping you). Do you really think you can escape him that easily? He chuckles to himself. It’s amusing. It’s good to have some determination, some hope at least, but it’s also good to be realistic.

You ran and ran as fast as you could, away from the cabin in the woods, away from the creature within it. Your feet hurt severely. You’ve underestimated how harsh the winter of Snezhnaya is, how the breeze alone causes your whole body to turn numb from the cold. What’s worse was that you couldn’t stop moving no matter what. Even a single second counts, driving you closer to your escape.

You struggle to breathe after all that movement, causing you to stumble against a thick tree root. You pant, taking heavy breaths to regain your composure but you can’t really be calm in a situation like this, can you?

You stood up, dusting the snow off your clothes as you continued forward, trembling a bit from feeling the sudden warmth rising up your body. Fuck… This is gonna be the death of you..

You hear footsteps tapping behind you, approaching you slowly and surely. A howl can be heard from behind that was soon followed by a growl. You slowly turned your head in search of the source of the sound and quickly regretted it. The sight of the darkish Rifthounds glaring at you sent a shiver on your spine. They were quite far but it didn’t take awhile for them to start noticing your presence and preparing to teleport or sprint at you.

You saw the Rockfound Rifthound instantly turning its body, disappearing for a second before appearing right in front of you, about to swing its tail to attack you. You shriek out loud, your legs instinctively move to the opposite direction only for you to instantly get knocked forward when feeling the tail make contact with your back. Groaning, you attempt to get back up, ignoring the sights of the Whelps drawing nearer towards you.

You clenched your fist before grabbing a big enough rock and throwing it at the Rifthound that just attacked you to catch it off guard. Seeing it roar in pain and the Whelps looking towards their leader, you took this chance to escape from the creature's grasp.

Never have you felt this much adrenaline rushing through your vines. You felt so dead yet so alive right now…

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a static of Electro rotating over to you. The projectile makes an impact on your side, causing you to get pushed and injured in the process. You grunt gutturally, clutching your hip and left arm, hissing as the sting worsens the more contact it has with your hand and other solid things.

You look over to your side, spotting a Thundercraven Rifthound nearing you along with its accompaniment of Whelps. Your hands swiftly touch the ground swiftly, moving it in hope to find another rock but to no avail.

You were trying to think of a way to escape this but there was no way out. You were surrounded by the mobs, and they looked like they wouldn’t let you off the hook easily. You spot a current of Electro and what seems to be aiming at you. You pulled your arms to your face, blocking whatever was about to touch you.

You hiss at the feeling of the electrifying scratch on the small reveal of your skin and twitch when hearing the wail of the Rifthounds around you. Another guttural sound erupts not so far from where you sit, causing you to press your face deeper into your arms.

“Get up.” Someone spoke, their tone serious and authoritative.

It took about a few seconds to do exactly that. You spot that the Rifthounds were gone, only leaving parts of their body left behind. You knew you weren’t strong but it did surprise you that every single one of them was taken care of. “T-Thank you, mister–?”

“I said– Get Up.” His voice booms through you, causing your ear to ring a bit. You perk your head up with your eyes squinted, “Apologies… I–” A breath was taken away from your lungs upon feeling the man’s hand wrapped around your neck, dragging you from the ground up to the sky. The hand squeezes your throat tightly, making you swing your legs on instinct to kick whoever was holding you. “All under my mercy now, huh? What happened to your acts of disobedience? Did it all get thrown out the window once I teach you your lesson?” The man scoffs, harshly dropping you on the snowy ground and kicking you on your stomach, making you turn and tumble down into a group of bushes.

You hiss, the feeling of small pricks picking into your skin, causing small but nasty scars that leave you groaning. You couldn’t see, some even scratched near your eyes and for you not to get blinded by them, you squint your eyelids shut.

“Please– I’m sorry! Let me out!” You sob, trembling in fear, in the stinging pain of the pricks. “Oh, are you now?” The man walks towards the bush, tapping his foot as he watches you struggling. ”Do you mean it?” He plants his foot on top of the bush, slowly but surely deepening its form to strangle you more.

“Yes– I do! Agh–”

“Beg for your life if you mean it.” He deepens it once more. Even if you were under this confined space of a bush, you can spot the sadistic grin plastered on his face, clearly enjoying every second of your suffering. “P-please… I plead.. For mercy. Please.. I can’t br–eathe-hah!” You breathe heavily in between your words, the form of the bush only trapping you little by little. “Do you promise… Pinkie promise to not escape out of my grasp? To obey my every command, dearest?” You feel your hand being taken out of the bush and into the cold air outside. You whine, feeling the small pricks touch your skin in the process.

A pinkie awaits to intertwine with yours, “I’m waiting.” He reminds by delving his foot deeper, causing you to cry out in agony and wrapping your pinkie around his, “I promise! Please!”

“That’s my girl.” He jests in amusement as he pulls away, cracking his knuckles and stretching his body to dive in and carefully but surely pull you out of the spiky bush. He cringes a bit once spotting the small spikes in your skin. He sighed and decided to take care of them later since keeping you warm was his priority right now. Taking his jacket off and wrapping it around you, he made sure the pricks didn’t bother you on the way back to the cabin. He takes a look at the rose bush one last time before picking one of it up and placing it on the chest of his jacket.

He caresses the petals before his fingers meet your chin to tilt them up, “C’mon.. Rest. You’re gonna need it.” He hushes you quietly before forcefully closing your eyes.and pecking your forehead. You couldn’t soften up in his presence even if you wanted to but the way your body just betrays you, forcing you to go limp to gain rest it needs, it gave you no choice to stay awake even if you wanted to.

“You’re awake, I see..” A voice spoke from above. You twitch, turning your head to the source and furrowing your brows upon spotting the oh-so familiar, scarred and freckled face that was right in front of you. You attempt to push him away by nudging your knee against his abdomen but that was countered from a sharp pain coming from both your legs. “..Ahah–!” You let out a roar of discomfort. Chidle grins and jests upon seeing your face contort in displeasure, “You should think twice before doing that. I still haven’t fully catered your body yet.”

He pulls your leg lightly which is enough for your body to get dragged onto his lap. “Don’t move.” He commands, emphasizing it with a squeeze of your thigh.

You internally whimper when you feel him slowly but surely take the thorns out of your skin. “How cute.” he laughs softly, patting a wet, warm towel on the small open wound. “You’re doing great. Just as you should. Continue behaving for me, will you? It’s not like you’re going anywhere with these.” He plays around with the chains around your ankle that was connected to a wall. “It fits you well, don’t you think?” Childe murmurs lovingly, as if he’s admiring the work he’s done on you… Trapped, under his mercy, with no escape.

After finishing up the wounds on your left leg, he leans in close to your face, his hand cupping your waist to bring you closer to him, close enough to place a kiss on your forehead. “There we go… Such a behaved little thing.” Childe jests before standing up and dusting his pants. “Hopefully this will be enough for you. Sleep well, alright?” He pats and ruffles your hair, his hand sliding down to your cheek and caressing it. “Don’t try escaping me. Because next time, you won’t even get to be sleeping under this damnation.”

You tried to bite his palm because it was so close to your mouth, but he took his hand away and quickly brought it back to hit you, turning your head the other way as your cheek erupted in pain. His hand catches your chin and angles it violently in his direction as you hiss. He's grinning viciously, his eyes twitching with annoyance at your attempt to turn the tables on him again, “Still being a bitch? Thought you learnt your lesson… Maybe I should’ve left you to rot.” He snarled, gripping your chin tighter.

“Waste of fucking breath.” He pushes you against the wall and lets go of you, standing with a displeased expression and turning to take his leave as you groan in pain. You clenched your hands into a fist as you watched him climb up the stairs and reach for the door. Childe looks back, glancing upon you one more time before smiling in content to himself and shutting it, following with the sound of a key locking in.

You were now by yourself. But then again it was much better than having to be breathing the same air as the man who just hit you.

You side meets the dirty mattress under you as you hug your knees, seeing as he didn’t give you a blanket to keep yourself warm. You were unable to muffle down your silent sobs, clutching onto your own cheek as it continued to sting. You question… You wonder, why?

…Just why?

Ouch… Huh?

You groggily opened your eyes, the feeling of something biting your neck. A wet sensation was followed after and you instantaneously snapped out of your tired trance to grab whatever was in front of you. “Ah– Geez… Relax, will you? This mattress is dirty enough.. Wouldn’t want blood to stain it too..” Childe groaned, his hand groping your hip harshly to make you pause. He pulls his face away from your neck, wiping the saliva dripping from his mouth. “H-hey! Have you not had enough already?!” You screeched and tried to get him off of you but were unable to. “Shut it.” he scoffs, shutting your mouth by forcing his lips onto you.

He slips his hand underneath your shirt, touching every part he wishes. “You feel so divine.. I wonder how you’d feel around me, yeah?” He grins against your lips. His tongue intrudes into your wet cavern, drinking in your moans and muffled noises. The wet sounds of his mouth against yours, showing how desperate he is for your taste.

You whine, feeling Childe’s hand exiting your shirt to enter your shorts instead, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your clothed cunt. He sighs, pulling away from the kiss, admiring the string of saliva connecting your lips. Licking his lips, he brings his face close to you until you are nose-to-nose.

“Wanna try that out with me, my dear?”

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