#not captured or wanted for his power his attention etc.
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dreamling from dreams pov is like I am older than the stars and I will leave my shoes at the door because you do, even though I don’t know why. I’d forgotten what the world looked like before I saw it through your eyes. you give me hope. has it always been this easy? to fall, not as a comet does, but as gently as the sea goes to the shore? I am monstrous, and yet, still you bring me home. I have known love as war, as pain, but never rest. peace.
& hobs pov is like. once I loved you as the sailor loves his north star, so bright, far above him. now I think I love you better for the way you speak to children, how you hold each dreamers hopes so gently in your hands, despite, despite, despite. I would have waited forever and it would’ve been worth it. you tell me you’re a king. you whisper the secrets of the universe in my ear. still, I’m greedy. I want to know how you take your tea, what you eat in the mornings, what you look like when you’re happy down to your bones. you say you know the end of every story before we tell them, every word we’ll say before we speak and yet you come down from your kingdom to hear me tell my stories, again and again.
#dreamling#dream of the endless#sandman#hob gadling#sandman edit#sandman comics#Tom sturridge#& they’re both somehow one day you’ll tire of me & you’re the best thing I’ve seen in centuries#& simultaneously want to be kept and held and by nature Hob would never be satisfied being a kept lover the way some of dreams past loves#thought they could. & Dream knows he can come home to hob & just Be and live in his little domestic bubble & leave. no strings attached#not captured or wanted for his power his attention etc.#anyways. I just love that Hob can withstand the full attention/passion/rage of a being who’s literally older than god & ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#& call him a bitch to his face. that’s so good for him
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GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you wanted revenge on luke castellan)
read part one — THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)
pairing: luke castellan x nemesis!reader (afab, she/her pronouns)
summary: you were very angry and possibly still in love with luke castellan. kill him or kiss him — you still weren't sure what he deserved.
warnings/disclaimers: spoilers for season 1 of pjo + lots of book references. reader + luke are around 21 for most of this. rough? smut (p in v, oral f+m receiving, biting, scratching, slight choking, etc...) 18 + MDNI ! injuries + blood + violence. reader and others drink alcohol + smoke. lots of angst!!! luke + reader have matching tattoos. twilight + other pop culture references. reader kinda gives 'hell is a teenage girl in her 20s' vibes. maybe slightly toxic dynamic between reader + luke but we love complicated relationships ♡
author's note: thank u so much for all the love on part one!! i got a bit carried away with this one oops, but i hope y'all enjoy it :)
♪: "get him back" by olivia rodrigo
(i. he had a savior complex)
if you were less consumed by anger, you might have noticed the sound of his footsteps following closely behind you.
no one was supposed to go into the forest alone, but you were 17 and reckless and not at all concerned about breaking the rules, especially if it meant proving clarisse larue wrong.
you ventured into the woods, farther than you'd ever been before, with nothing except your knife and a chest full of determination to prove that you were strong and brave just like any other demigod, regardless of if you had a cabin or not.
you were younger then, less disillusioned, and more willing to buy into those fantasies of power and glory, spoon-fed to demigods as truth. one that you hoped to cross off that afternoon: being worthy of attention if you could sink your blade into the next monster that dared to cross your path.
everyone would see that you’re not just some little, powerless girl with no reason to be at camp.
and, sure, there was a small but not insignificant part of you that hoped your mother was watching, that she’d finally notice how much of a hero you could be.
you could have died that afternoon. you put up a decent fight, but soon enough you found yourself fallen to the forest floor: blade down, broken arm, bleeding out. a manticore inches away from sending you to the underworld.
you weren’t angry anymore, the adrenaline had left your body. you just were a scared child, silently praying to deities you hoped wouldn’t look away like they always do.
i’m sorry, mom. i couldn’t do it.
you closed your eyes, waited for your fate, and just when you thought all hope was lost —
the sound of a sword ripping through flesh, an injured growl, and then nothing but your ragged breathing.
your eyelids fluttered open.
it wasn't your mother, or any of the other gods, who jumped in to save your life.
standing in the middle of the clearing, gripping his sword, was luke castellan.
he tucked annabeth’s invisibility cap into his back pocket and brought you to the infirmary.
"she's okay, though?" luke asked. he was watching you carefully, ashes from the manticore dusting his orange camp shirt. his arms were crossed, and it seemed that he managed to defeat the monster relatively unscathed.
lee fletcher, son of apollo, nodded as he set your injury.
"nothing more than a broken arm and minor concussion. make sure your girl gets lots of rest, okay? no more monster hunting. probably has to sit out capture the flag tomorrow, too.”
you ignored the churning in your stomach when lee assumed you were luke’s girl. luke didn’t bother correcting him.
lee left to get you some ambrosia to speed the healing process, leaving you and luke alone in the room.
“you know, i’m not a damsel in distress you have to follow around, waiting to save. i’m not your girl.”
“seriously?” he raised an eyebrow, but his cheeks became slightly flushed. “you would be dead if it wasn’t for me. i heard what happened with clarisse, but gods — you didn’t have to go and get yourself killed to prove something.”
he was right, of course. part of you wanted to argue with him for always having to be the hero, but the fight lingering in your throat wasn’t enough to act on. you just sighed and looked away, feeling too impulsive and powerless and exhausted down to your bones.
you felt the bed dip beside you, and then a hand on your shoulder. it was warmer than usual, but the calloused skin still felt familiar on yours.
“they’re not worth it, okay? that’s what you’re always telling me.”
luke’s voice was lower than before, a touch of bitterness laced through.
“yeah, well you never believe it,” you replied, voice hollow. “so why should i?”
clarisse entered the infirmary before he could answer. luke was instantly on his feet, blocking you from her view, hand on the hilt of his sword.
“what are you doing here?” he practically growled.
“i heard what happened,” clarisse explained, looking past luke to catch your eye. you waved at her with your newly applied cast. “i’m sorry about what i said earlier, if that had anything to do with it.”
at that point, you were still trying to figure out where you stood with clarisse. she had arrived at camp just before the new year. you’d been so used to new campers being younger than you, and it was nice to have someone the same age to be friends with.
it wasn’t until the start of march, around two weeks ago, that ares had claimed her. ever since, there had been a newfound animosity between you, leading up to your explosive argument earlier that day. part of you had a feeling she was just trying to fit in with her siblings. it was a subtle thread woven throughout the camp, especially with the ares kids: this hierarchy of power according to the gods, with you on the lower end because your mother was only a minor goddess.
needless to say, it wasn’t anything you hadn’t heard before; it was just that the words pierced through your thick skin when coming from a friend.
but the very fact that she came to visit you, that she apologized and seemed to regret that you’d gotten hurt, healed you more than the ambrosia lee was just coming back to give you.
“thanks, clarisse,” you said after a mouthful of ambrosia.
even with an established truce, luke didn’t move away from you. in fact, he puffed his chest out a bit more.
“if you say anything like that to her again, i swear to all the gods —”
“i just said sorry, castellan,” clarisse scoffed. “now get out of the way so i can sign her cast.”
clarisse attempted to move closer, but luke stayed planted where he was.
“you are not getting anywhere close to her,” luke warned.
“easy, tiger.” you got up to put your hand on his arm, but luke jerked away from your touch. your fingers brushed against his skin however, and even that brief moment was enough to shock you with its temperature. you tried again, this time bringing a hand to his neck, and he let out a hiss upon contact. his pulse seemed quicker than normal.
“are you feeling okay?”
“i’m just fine,” he huffed, and stormed out of the infirmary.
a few days later, you were training with clarisse, when silena beauregard ran into the arena and interrupted you.
“it’s luke,” she coughed, out of breath. “he’s in the infirmary—”
you sprinted towards the big house before silena could finish her sentence.
when you reached the infirmary, luke was being held back by lee and a few others, screaming that he needed to go find you or you’d die. he was holding his sword, and campers wrestled to remove it from his grip. the sleeve of his shirt lifted up slightly, and that was when you noticed it: a gash across his bicep, shallow, but turning a sickly green. the rest of his skin was flushed, his eyes frantically searching for someone — you — and he was breathing heavily between sentences.
it turned out that he’d gone the entire week with the wound festering. one of the manticore’s spikes must have grazed luke, and he hadn’t thought much of it because he was so focused on making sure you were okay.
manticore poison could fuck with someone’s mind if not treated right away. worse: it could be fatal.
despite your heart beating out of your chest and the chaos you walked into, you kept your voice gentle, but firm.
“luke.”
for a moment, everything stood still. luke froze, and the campers took the opportunity to get a better hold on him.
he blinked at you and shook his head. “no. no. you’re not her. i heard her screaming from the forest and - and she’s in trouble. i need to —”
“it’s me, tiger,” you assured him.
you approached him carefully and, despite some whispers of warning, you gestured at everyone to let go of him completely. they might have had a point, because as soon as they did, the tip of his sword was dangerously close to your chin.
“you’re not her,” he insisted. “you’re just some monster trying to trick me.”
you stood in front of him then, and slowly raised your arm to show him your cast. a few people had signed it — beckendorf, chris, clarisse, silena. luke had signed his name too, of course, along with a poor attempt at a cartoon tiger that made you all laugh.
“see? it’s me. i’m okay.”
there were a few moments when you held your breath, feeling the celestial bronze dig into your skin a bit more. and then:
“it’s…you. you’re….okay?”
luke’s speech was slightly slurred. he dropped his sword like it suddenly weighed a thousand pounds; it nicked you on its way down. you didn’t care though, because luke almost fell to the ground, too.
you gripped his wrist to steady him.
“you’re probably not okay, though,” you explained, well aware of the urgency of the situation. his pulse felt weaker by the second, his skin burning against yours.
“i’m….i’m fine. i just need to — she’s gonna die if i don’t —”
“i’m right here. i’m here because you already saved me, remember? you saved me, but you got hurt.”
he shook his head slowly, and his eyes started to flutter close.
“no, i’m okay,” he breathed, his voice smaller than you’d ever heard it. “i need to make sure y/n is okay. she needs me….”
you swallowed the lump in your throat, seeing him start to fade away right in front of you.
you refused to lose hope.
no — you wouldn’t watch luke castellan die.
“i’m here, luke.” you gripped his wrist even tighter to remind him.
“but —”
“just rest for a minute, ” you insisted, guiding him towards a bed. “for me, okay?”
as soon as you managed to get luke onto the bed and, more importantly, calm, everyone else sprung back into action.
chiron was away for the week, so will solace — one of the younger apollo campers, but probably the best healer at camp — used some healing magic, while lee misted luke with cold water to cool him down and another kid dripped some nectar onto his wound.
luke hissed when the liquid seeped into his skin and reached out for you. you felt like the flesh might melt right off your bones, but you let him squeeze your hand for as long as he needed. somebody came around to put a bandage on your chin, too.
you'd always resented the gods, but that was the first time you'd really lost your faith in them. watching luke fight for his life even after saving yours, other demigods joining the battle, and you thinking: this is the life you cursed us with. you imagined the gods, with power to twist fate in their favor, simply enjoying a feast on mount olympus, hermes sipping nectar and not even aware that another one of his children is dying. you supposed your mother wasn’t any better either. her neglect felt like revenge for something you didn’t even know you had done.
after a while, the skin around luke’s wound lost its greenish hue. you released a deep breath when both lee and will declared that luke seemed to be on the mend — he just needed to get some rest, and, best case scenario, the poison should have run its course by morning.
you didn’t ask about the worst case scenario.
you estimated it was around 2 am when you heard luke’s voice again.
“cold,” was all he said through shivering teeth.
you wordlessly grabbed as many blankets as you could, and tucked them around luke. you waited a few minutes to see if it helped.
“so - so cold,” he shivered again. you reached out to check luke’s pulse, and all you could find was the faintest heartbeat. his skin looked pale in the moonlight and now felt ice cold despite his high fever earlier.
no one else was in the infirmary then. you were wracking your brain to remember what you had learned in demigod survival class about hypothermia. something about warm drinks? you ran to the kitchen and made him a cup of hot chocolate — with cinnamon, just how he liked it.
you whispered his name once you were back at his bedside. his eyelids fluttered open. you tried coaxing him to take the drink, but he wouldn’t even hold the mug. you didn’t think twice about climbing into bed next to him, gently sitting him upright against the headboard so that you could offer him tiny sips. you noticed then that he was still only wearing a tank top, so you took off your sweatshirt — which happened to be one of luke’s — and slid it on him.
when the hot chocolate was done, luke sighed. some of the color returned to his face, and his teeth stopped chattering.
“thanks, karma.”
you just hummed in response, setting the mug down on the nightstand beside you and twisting underneath the blankets. luke settled back down next to you. he brushed his thumb over the band-aid on your chin.
“what happened? did clarisse —”
“easy, tiger. it’s nothing — just a little scratch,” you replied.
you spared him from the whole truth. sure, there was a moment earlier when you didn’t know whether or not luke would hurt you. it was only a split second, because that wasn’t your luke. he shouldn’t have had to live with the guilt of something he did by accident, as a result of a poisoned mind.
“anyways, i should be thanking you. you’re the one who almost died saving my life. you were hanging by a thread just a few seconds ago. it seems like you’re not completely out of the woods yet.”
“well, i guess the fates are still deciding what to do with me.” he cracked a smile.
it was a bit morbid, given what you’d been through the past 12 hours, and the fact that the manticore venom clearly hadn’t left his body completely. the possibility of his death had not completely disappeared, though you supposed that, as demigods, the risk always remained higher.
fuck the gods. they weren’t your protectors. they weren’t your family.
the campers who put their whole heart into healing you and luke, the boy who risked his life for you — they were your family.
you took luke’s humor as a good sign. the luke castellan you knew — confident banter, radiant grin, heart of gold — was coming back to you.
the luke castellan you would not allow die, even if you could still feel the cool bronze of his blade linger on your chin.
(ii. he had an ego)
according to annabeth chase, it was statistically improbable for a demigod to reach drinking age. something always kills them first - a monster, a blade, a fatal flaw. the likelihood of survival only gets exponentially lower with each passing year.
she repeated that information to luke on the morning of his 21st birthday.
“thanks for the cheerful birthday wishes, sis.”
annabeth shrugged and hugged him before walking back to the athena table to finish breakfast.
"you hear that, tiger?” you pointed a syrupy fork at luke. “you are literally saying fuck you to fate, just by being alive."
"that’s the way i like it," luke quipped, and stole a blueberry from your plate.
"hey man, happy birthday." chris patted luke’s shoulder on his way to sit across from you and luke. "so, i just talked to chiron and he agreed to let us go out tonight."
you smiled between bites of your pancakes, reaching over to offer chris a triumphant fist bump.
“nice work, rodriguez.”
"we're going out tonight?"
you pressed your knee to luke's under the table.
"of course we are," you hummed. "we have a lot to celebrate."
so, you, luke, chris, and a few of your friends — beckendorf, silena, and clarisse — went into the city to celebrate. one of luke's favorite bands was playing, and you had managed to snag a few tickets. you'd all entered a bar confidently that night, the fake ids you were at once so giddy and paranoid about no longer needed.
there were few times when you could all just kick back and have fun, without having to worry about the responsibilities of being senior counselors. that night, you were all itching for a taste of freedom. or, at least, some alcohol.
"happy birthday to the one and only luke castellan: a hero by any other name!"
everyone raised their shot glasses, echoed beckendorf's words, and threw back their drinks.
the night became louder, more vibrant. yet, even as you laughed and drank and danced with your friends, there was a heaviness lingering in your chest.
for most demigods, birthdays were bittersweet. each one served as a reminder of time running out because of exactly what annabeth said that morning. most half-bloods don’t even live past their teens, let alone the age of 20. you had the blood of gods flowing in your veins, and your lives were influenced by sinister, divine forces from ancient times. you were the new generation of heroes, protagonists of those greek tragedies that made mortals weep.
there was no guarantee that this would last forever, but all of your friends — the people you loved — had beat the odds.
so, who would blame you for getting a little sentimental?
beckendorf and chris had wandered off to play pool, in hopes of winning some bets and free drinks. clarisse was flirting with some girl who caught her eye, and silena went to grab some water after having danced for a bit. you and luke were still in the crowd, swaying to the music. for one glorious moment, you were just a group of twenty-one year olds enjoying a carefree night out.
under the flashing lights, you stole a glimpse at luke. he wore a simple white tank top and ripped jeans, paired with a leather jacket and some rings he borrowed from you so he could, in his words, look more punk-rock. his curls were messy, his skin glittering with a thin sheen of sweat. the chain he layered with his usual camp necklace caught the multicolored light and highlighted the sharp angles of his collarbones.
whatever aesthetic he was going for, luke looked good. based on various eyes following him throughout the room, you assumed others thought the same as well. it made you just a little bit furious, feeling that he wasn't only yours to admire.
“you good?” luke’s voice cut through the noise, but he had to lean in close.
his fingers brushed against the section of waist exposed by your cropped top. you’d gotten so warm that you had to tie your flannel around your waist, but luke’s touch sent a shiver through your body. it made you somewhat dizzy, feeling the cold metal of those rings on your skin. even moreso, when you realized how much you wanted to kiss your best friend, sink your teeth into his smirk and taste the mint chapstick and tequila on his lips.
to be fair, you and luke had crossed that line before, and you were in the fields of asphodel ever since.
not quite friendship, not quite romance. something deeper, more volatile and electric.
you didn’t want to make things blurrier than they already were, though. whatever you acted on that night could have just been dismissed the next morning as a drunken mistake.
so, you just nodded at him and turned back towards the band as though you were never thinking about anything more than the music.
after a few more songs, luke commanded your attention once more.
“hey, didn’t you once say you wanted to start a band?”
“what do i look like, a child of apollo?” you joked, but luke raised an eyebrow at you, clearly wanting a serious answer.
it was slightly alarming, how well he knew you; through your childhood dreams and down to your core.
“in another life,” you conceded. “maybe.”
“in another life,” luke echoed. he leaned in close again. “you’d be a pretty hot drummer, and i’d be front row at every show.”
your lips could have touched if you moved your head just an inch, but he pulled away before you did. he was giving you that classic son-of-hermes smirk, the one that made everyone swoon.
the thing was, you were sure that luke knew the effect he had on people. you had seen him continuously bask in the praise of chiron and other campers, always preening for the crowd's attention, as if he had to do anything more than smile. everyone loved luke — he was handsome, charismatic, strong.
and, yeah, you weren’t immune. your fatal flaw: not loyalty, or anger, or recklessness, but luke castellan’s charm.
you had to keep yourself grounded. it would be a bad idea to cross that line again on his birthday, right?
luke licked his lips as you kept staring at him. you could tell he was waiting for you to do something.
maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your veins or the rhythm of the music vibrating through your bones, but you started thinking — fuck it.
before you could act on that impulse, some person with bright red hair stepped between you and luke. she introduced herself, telling luke she saw him from across the room, and she'd been watching him all night, and would he by any chance want to dance with her?
luke seemed flattered, interested even. he flashed her the very same smile he had just given you, which left a bitter taste in your mouth. you excused yourself before you had to hear them flirt even more.
you walked over to silena at the bar. she had a half-empty glass of ice water melting in front of her, her attention somewhere else. you sat down beside her and followed her gaze to what — who — she was looking at.
“if confessing feelings to someone is hard for aphrodite’s daughter, then there’s really no hope for the rest of us,” you tell her.
silena whipped her head towards you. her cheeks were flushed a light pink.
“i - i don’t have feelings for clarisse.”
“lena, please. we all know. well, except maybe clarisse.”
“what?” she blinked at you, eyeshadow shimmering in the light.
“yeah,” you said with a small laugh. the irony of it all: the head counselor of cabin 10 denying that she was in love with someone. “we talk about it all the time.”
“well,” silena huffed, cheeks now a bright red. “i guess i should tell you that the rest of us talk about you and luke.”
you reached over to grab her water, your throat suddenly dry.
“what about us?” you asked after finishing the drink in one long sip.
“about how you obviously both have feelings for each other. half the camp already thinks you’re dating.”
you started to crunch on whatever ice was still frozen.
“well, we aren’t.”
that reality hurt more than the sharp pain piercing your brain from ingesting too much cold, too fast. you couldn’t even spot luke in the crowd — he and the redhead had probably gone off to some private corner.
“people think love’s a joke,” silena sighed. “but they don’t realize how much power it can have over a person. it can make people —”
“cowards?” you suggested.
silena nodded solemnly. “cowards.”
neither of you said anything for a while, two love-sick half-bloods slumped over a sticky bar counter.
suddenly, silena sat up straight. she tied her black hair up into a ponytail. perfect, of course, along with her makeup. you were sure you had sweat off the glitter she had applied to your cheeks earlier.
“i am not a coward.”
without another word, silena got up and glided towards clarisse, and you were left with an empty stool next to you.
part of you was proud of her for following her heart. the other part couldn’t stop picturing someone else’s tongue down luke’s throat.
“can i get a ginger-ale, please?” you asked no one in particular, hoping that the bartender heard your request for something to ease your nausea.
“you sure you don’t want anything stronger?”
someone slid onto the barstool next to you. he looked around your age, wearing a navy and red rugby shirt. he had what looked like a pretty expensive watch on his wrist, and he was already leaning in way too close for a stranger.
“i’m fine,” you deadpanned.
“oh, come sweetheart, it’s on me.”
you scoffed at the nickname and shook your head.
the guy next to you didn’t care. he snapped to get the bartender’s attention. “two vodka tonics, please. that’s your drink, right? i’m usually pretty good at guessing.”
“dude, i said i’m fine,” you repeated through clenched teeth.
the bartender set two drinks in front of you and rugby shirt pointed towards them.
“well, i already got you a drink, so you at least owe me a conversation.” he slid the drink closer to you.
"i don't owe you anything."
"oh, come on," rugby shirt cooed. "i don't bite." he slipped his hand underneath your skirt, nails scratching along the skin of your upper thigh, through your fishnets.
you growled at the contact and stood up abruptly, more than a little coincidentally knocked the glass over. the liquid splashed onto him. his flirtatious grin melted right off his face.
“jesus christ —you bitch,” he spat. “this is what i get for trying to be nice?”
“that’s what you get for trying to grope me,” you snapped. “but i could do a lot worse if you’re in the mood.”
his face was a pissed-off shade of red, his mouth formulating a response when —
you felt luke’s arm wrap around your waist, pulling you close to him. you side-eyed him, and ignored the hickey blooming at the base of his neck.
“is there a problem here?” luke’s voice was firm, steady.
it seemed like all the fight left rugby shirt’s body, and he put his hands up in surrender.
“oh, sorry dude. i didn’t realize she was taken.”
you rolled your eyes. figured that this guy would only back off if there was a jealous boyfriend in the mix.
“it’s fine, i’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”
“that’s for sure,” the guy continued. “your girl practically bit my head off for being nice and buying her a drink.”
your fingers tightened into a fist.
“that is not —”
“look, i gotta apologize on her behalf.”
“luke, what are you —”
“let me handle this, baby,” he hummed. “trust me, she’s normally a good girl. she just gets….harder to control after one too many drinks.”
“i am this close to throwing my next drink at you,” you insisted.
you weren't naive. you knew luke was putting on an act, but you weren't sure why he felt the need to appease this jerk and put you down in the process.
you hated the way he was acting now — arrogant, condescending, borderline sexist. you wanted to storm off, you really did, but that would mean having to tear yourself away from luke, and.... you didn't hate the firm hold he had on you.
he chuckled and raised an eyebrow at the guy knowingly, like they were the closest friends.
“see what i mean?”
“that’s quite the firecracker you got there,” the guy complimented, as though you were a prize luke had won. “those are the ones you gotta keep on a tight leash, though.”
oh, your patience was wearing thin. if luke didn't take care of this guy soon….
“don’t i know it.” luke laughed when you barred your teeth at him. “look, we all came here to have a good time. why don’t you go join your friends again, and i’ll send over some drinks.”
rugby shirt looked at luke, then nodded.
“alright. thanks, man. and sorry again for the….confusion.”
luke extended a hand, and the guy shook it.
"no hard feelings. i'll be sure to keep her on a tighter leash, though."
rugby shirt walked away, laughing. you were just about ready to bite luke's head off.
you shoved luke away from you. your whole body felt like it was on fire.
“luke castellan, i don’t care if it’s your birthday, if you ever talk to me like that again, i swear to all the gods —” you faltered when luke’s lips curled into a smirk.
that smug, gorgeous, self-important smirk.
“what?”
“i’m just waiting until you’re done chewing me out,” he said, clearly a bit amused. “you done?”
you hesitated, narrowing your eyes at him. “for now, i guess.”
“good, because we have about 2 minutes before our misogynistic frat buddy over there notices that something’s missing.”
he lifted his hand to show off the real prize of the night.
“you did all of that….. to steal the guy’s watch?”
“well, duh. he was being a jerk and i’m the prince of thieves, karma. gotta use my powers for good.”
luke winked at you as you stared at him in awe.
“we really should go though. the others are waiting for us outside.”
you jutted your chin towards the bruise on his neck.
"what about the redhead?"
luke flushed, adjusted his collar to hide the hickey. "i kinda lost interest when she said i was hot for an asian guy."
"oh." you ignored the triumph in your gut. "sounds like a jerk, too."
"whatever." luke shrugged. "hard to find the good ones, right?"
luke turned towards the exit.
"wait.” you tugged him back, and luke looked confused for a split second. “you're one of the good ones, luke castellan. did i ever tell you how incredibly happy i am that you were born?"
luke grinned. "you could stand to say it more often."
his smile was infectious. you liked this side of luke: protective, mischievous, a bit of a trouble-maker.
it made you want to kiss him all over again.
(iii. he lied without flinching)
you couldn’t find luke anywhere.
he wasn’t at the climbing wall, or the arena, or the forge. luke seemed to have a knack at vanishing when you needed him most.
when you finally found him, he was outside the big house, in what seemed to be a somewhat heated conversation with chris and a new camper, ethan nakamura.
ethan nakamura, son of nemesis. you were shocked when your mother’s symbol — swords crossed underneath a set of scales — appeared over his head after two weeks of staying at the hermes cabin.
you were still getting used to having a younger half-brother.
“hey,” you greeted the trio, slightly out of breath from running all over camp. as soon as you joined them, a silence fell over the group. “i was looking for you everywhere, tiger. what’s going on here?”
“actually, we were just —”
“nakamura,” luke spoke ethan’s name like a warning.
“i’m just saying, maybe we should consider —”
luke cut ethan off this time with a sharp glance.
“i already said no. end of discussion.”
“whatever you say, boss,” ethan grumbled.
the trio was silent again, and you eyed each of them suspiciously.
“okay, seriously. what’s —”
“we’ll talk more about this later, guys,” luke interrupted. his tone was commanding. ethan and chris dispersed.
once they were gone, you furrowed your brows at luke, not sure what they would be talking about that could make him speak so harshly.
“what was that about?” you asked for the third time.
“nothing important.” luke gave you a smile that seemed to stretch a bit thin. “you said you were looking for me everywhere. wanna go makeout in the hermes cabin? i’m pretty sure it’ll be empty this time of day.”
you shook your head, no matter how tempting the offer. the scene you walked into made you so uneasy that you completely forgot there was something important you needed to tell luke.
“percy and annabeth just iris-messaged me,” you explained.
“oh,” he quirked an eyebrow at you. “is their quest going alright?”
you repeated everything the kids had told you: medusa, the chimera, ares. clarisse maybe being the lightning thief. luke had to sit down on the stairs leading to the big house when you spoke that last part. you understood why — clarisse was your friend.
sitting down next to him, you sighed.
“you don’t think….you don’t think it could be true, do you?”
clarisse was hot-headed, sure, maybe a bit impulsive, but a war between the gods? that didn’t seem her style.
you hoped luke would assure you, but instead he said:
luke ran a hand through his hair. “it would make sense.”
“what?”
he leaned in close, voice low.
“clarisse was there with us during our field trip to olympus in december. the gods are arrogant enough to leave their stuff in the throne room, and there’s not really any security. she could have easily snuck in when everyone was sleeping. clarisse….” luke let out a heavy breath. “clarisse is the lightning thief.”
“no. no. she wouldn’t —”
“it makes sense, karma,” luke insisted. he placed a hand on your knee. “clarisse is angry at the gods.”
“we all are,” you pointed out.
“well, sure, but her dad is ares. how else do you get the god of war’s attention if not starting a war?”
you took a second to process luke’s reasoning. maybe he did have a point. it was just that sharp pain in your chest keeping you from believing it.
“we don’t know anything for sure,” you decided. “and until we do….we don’t tell anyone. especially chiron.”
luke squeezed your knee, gave you a reassuring smile.
“sounds like a plan.” he moved in closer and whispered: “now, how about we sneak away, and i do that thing with my tongue that makes you squirm?”
you felt something tighten in your lower abdomen. you and luke were still in the sneaking-around-camp stage of your relationship; you both got a thrill from it.
at the time, you figured luke was just offering you a much needed distraction.
he kissed just below your ear to sweeten the deal — and how were you supposed to resist?
you didn’t even question how luke knew when the bolt was stolen, let alone how he seemed to have the theft already planned out perfectly.
(iv. he hid behind a pretty face and perfect teeth)
it had been a little over a week since people around camp — including percy, annabeth, and grover, who had gotten back from their quest — found out about you and luke, together. apparently your friends had a bet going, meaning that everyone other than silena was less than thrilled about your announcement. they warmed up to the idea since then.
it still felt a little bit surreal calling luke castellan your boyfriend.
luke often played the role of the perfect demigod, the one everyone should strive to be. he paid extra attention to new campers and made them feel welcomed. he did his chores on time, stepped in if more hands were needed for kitchen patrol, and spent hours going through reports for chiron. he taught sword-fighting and encouraged younger campers to keep practicing. he did participate in the occasional prank, that mischievous child of hermes streak impossible not to indulge in, but it only made everyone adore him even more. because luke was responsible, but not boring. he was incredibly skilled and driven, but also gracious. he was sensible and charismatic.
you watched that luke — camp half-blood’s golden boy, the hero everyone either wanted to be, befriend, or date — and you were in awe. mostly, you wondered how he managed to bury the anger and resentment you knew was churning inside him, the same anger and resentment you sometimes let slip through.
no, you were not as careful as golden boy luke, who showed no malice towards the olympians. to chiron, to everyone else, luke castellan respected the gods, honored them in everything he did, and taught others to do the same.
that was not the luke who sucked a bruise onto your neck while suggesting something even you might consider blasphemous.
“we can’t just - uh,” you had to catch your breath when luke slipped his thumb underneath the band of your sports bra. “we’d get in trouble, tiger.”
you felt him chuckle against your skin.
“since when do you care about that?”
“since the king of the gods would probably strike us with lightning, or turn us into some horrible monsters, or curse us if we were caught fucking in his cabin."
"that’s only if we get caught."
luke gave you that flirtatious smile, the one he now reserved only for you.
it was that smile that led to luke settling between your legs, fucking you with his tongue and fingers, his other hand digging into your thigh to keep you from writhing too much.
zeus’ cabin was, of course, empty, since his only known child was turned into a pine tree. you and luke had tucked yourselves into the one corner where the giant statue of the god couldn’t see you, setting a sleeping bag down on the cold marble floor and your discarded clothes scattered throughout. the dome-shaped ceiling was decorated with an enchanted mosaic sky that seemed to move. the only sounds that echoed throughout the room were moans as your orgasm washed over you.
"you're so, so pretty," he mumbled, wet lips brushing the skin of your inner thigh. he stayed where he was, awfully concerned with lapping up everything.
you whined his name when you found him taking too long, already a bit sensitive and wanting him inside you.
it might have been your conscious, but you swore you could hear a storm brewing, the threat of thunder and lightning looming. the mosaic sprouted some clouds, growing darker by the second as if a countdown to your doom.
luke, on the other hand, was acting like you had all the time in the world, and then some.
he paused after his name tumbled from your lips again, and you tugged his hair. he propped his chin on your stomach to get a better look of you. luke was gorgeous, with his mess of black curls, deep brown eyes a little more dangerous than usual, smirk shining with your come.
"yes, sweetheart?"
“get up here and kiss me,” you groaned.
once again, luke took his sweet time. his mouth left a trail along your thighs and your hips, your stomach and ribs. it felt like he was worshiping every inch of your skin, scarred and uneven and tattooed as it was. luke took extra care in appreciating the sword engraved on your sternum, the tattoo that matched the one he had on his collarbone.
“hi,” luke whispered once he was face to face with you.
“hey, tiger,” you matched the softness of his voice, contrasting the harshness that followed when luke crashed his lips into yours. you could taste yourself on his tongue, and once he sucked all the air from your lungs, you had to pull away.
you informed him: “there’s a condom in my back pocket.”
“always prepared,” he noted with a smile, reaching over to get it.
you kissed luke again as he entered you, your nails scraping down his back. when he pulled away to look at you, you couldn’t meet his gaze. instead, you were mesmerized by the sharp contours of his body and the healed wounds that lingered, every scar that you knew by heart like they were your own. it might have been strange, but you had a favorite — the faint cut on his hip from when he, thalia, and annabeth were on the run and they had to jump a fence.
if luke hadn’t been thrusting into you, you would have bent down to kiss it.
“eyes up here, beautiful.”
when you complied, luke smiled and ran his thumb along your jaw.
“good girl,” he praised. “you okay if i go harder?”
you settled for kissing the scar on his cheekbone.
“yes,” you finally answered. "please."
luke brought his hand down to wrap your leg around his hip before he started moving faster. your head fell back against the marble floor, but you didn’t care about the impact. you just focused on how good it felt to have luke inside you, his strong hand on your hip, his warm breath on your skin.
after feeling you tighten around him, luke let go a bit more. he dropped his head between your neck and shoulder, his curls brushing against you. as he reached his peak, luke bit your shoulder, hard, to keep himself from groaning too loudly. you could have sworn that you heard thunder at that exact moment. in fact, it seemed to shake the entire cabin.
luke seemed to catch the threat that time, too.
there was no room for pillow talk as the two of you rushed to get dressed and get out of there before the king of the gods lost his patience and struck you with lightning, turned you into some horrible monsters, or cursed you. maybe all three, maybe something worse.
you slipped on your underwear and pants, but couldn’t find the top half of your outfit.
“do you see my shirt there?”
luke had just pulled on his boxers when he turned and passed the item to you. you weren’t sure why he paused for a second while doing it. then, he whispered:
“shit.” luke’s eyes were glued to your shoulder, where his teeth had broken skin. his cheeks flushed a bright red. whether it was shame or embarrassment, you didn’t know; but you were slightly taken aback. “i’m, i’m sorry, i — i didn’t mean to hurt you. i never want to —”
you placed your hands on his cheeks.
“hey.” you whispered at him softly, and it was enough for him to stop rambling. you could tell he felt guilty, though, since he refused to meet your gaze.
“luke, baby, look at me.”
when he finally did, your heart ached.
it wasn’t like you hadn’t done similar to luke. you’d never broken skin, sure, but luke seemed to enjoy — really enjoy — whenever you used your teeth in the heat of the moment. you just assumed he knew you wouldn’t mind the same.
but, one bite, and luke was almost reduced to tears, all because he was afraid of hurting you.
“it’s fine, okay? i’m fine.”
luke didn’t seem convinced, his brows furrowed with concern. you kissed the crease on his forehead and reassured him once more that you were fine.
“if anything, consider it payback for the hickey i left that took a week to fade away.”
luke smiled softly at that, and you knew he was coming back to you.
“you know, annabeth suggested that i go to the infirmary because of how it looked. i had to tell her i got it during sparring practice.”
“it wasn’t that bad,” you laughed, and so did luke.
thunder rumbled throughout the cabin once more, and you swore the clouds were growing darker by the second.
you were about to finish getting dressed when he grabbed your waist.
“look, if i’m ever too rough whenever we’re —”
“sparring?”
“sure,” he smiled, thumbs rubbing circles on your bare skin. “whenever we’re sparring, just promise that you’ll let me know.”
“of course,” you hummed. “only if you do the same.”
“of course,” he echoed, and he pecked your lips. “i think it’s hot, you know? when you feel like you can let go. when you mark me. i like everyone knowing that i’m yours.”
you bit back a smile, feeling your cheeks grow warm.
“well, i think it’s hot when you mark me, too. especially when you bite me,” you admitted.
“don’t tell me you’re still into the whole vampire thing,” he teased.
“oh, please. you were as obsessed with it as the rest of us. don’t you remember?”
as if either of you could forget marathoning the entire twilight saga with your friends, the six of you squeezing onto the small couch in the big house, sharing one bowl of popcorn and endless cups of coffee to stay awake.
you shivered out of the memory when he brought his fingers up to trace the bite mark he had left on you.
zeus could have sent more thunder. he could have created a whole godsdamned storm, but you wouldn’t have cared.
luke was so close that you had nothing better to do than to close the distance between you.
luke got bolder as the kiss became more heated — he sank his teeth into your bottom lip, his tongue sweeping over the crimson liquid that emerged, the tang of copper invading your mouth.
“easy there, edward,” you joked, and felt him smirk against your lips before moving to nip at your neck.
you trailed your hand down the front of his exposed stomach, outlining the contours and curves. with the moonlight reflecting in, accompanied by the crackle of lightning, it almost looked like luke’s skin was glittering.
“you’re so beautiful," you cooed, nails scraping against the tight muscles of his lower abdomen.
“this is the skin of a killer, bella!” he mimicked.
you laughed at the reference, but when luke seemed to realize what he said, you swore you felt his grip tightening on your hips, though you didn't know why.
“i never want to hurt you,” he finished the sentence you had interrupted earlier.
“you won’t.”
at the time, you didn’t think he was even capable of such a thing.
for better or for worse, that was the night you realized something.
you liked golden boy luke. or, at the very least, you tolerated him.
the rule-breaking, sin-committing, blood-sucking luke?
in the words of bella swan: he was the one you were unconditionally and irrevocably in love with.
except your life wasn't some cliché yet endearing love story about fictional vampires and werewolves.
it had monsters, too. you just didn't realize who they were until it was too late.
(v. he made you look so naive)
there was blood on your hands, but you weren’t sure who it belonged to.
yours or luke’s — it was a toss-up that made you more than a little nauseous.
luke had stolen the lightning bolt. luke had tried to frame percy and start a war between the gods. luke had begged you to join kronos’ army with him. you almost killed him because of it until you realized that he left percy to die.
you summarized everything to chiron and mr. d once you had made sure that percy was getting help in the infirmary. the scorpion poison was still putting up a fight, but percy was strong. annabeth was there with him.
dread simmered in the pit of your stomach just thinking about having to tell her everything, too — to see the look in her eyes when she hears just how much her big brother betrayed her.
“and you have no idea where mr. castellan could have gone?” chiron’s voice was stern, as usual.
you shook your head, not particularly paying attention. you could still feel blood seeping from the blademark luke had left.
“that’s awfully convenient,” mr.d scoffed.
you narrowed your eyes at him.
“what’s that supposed to mean?”
“i’ve heard around camp that you and this luke were quite…. close,” mr. d said, pointing his can of diet coke at you accusingly.
a wave of anger surged through you. it had been building in your gut ever since luke revealed his betrayal, and you didn’t care if it was a god who was on the receiving end of your wrath.
“seriously? i saved percy and told you everything, and you’re here suggesting what? that i’m somehow a traitor, too?”
“seems like the plot of a pretty twisted love story.”
your lips curled into a snarl, and you were about to pounce until chiron dismissed you.
you were in a trance for the rest of the day. chris was gone, too. ethan didn’t seem surprised. silena sobbed, clarisse comforted her, beckendorf cursed luke’s name. other campers kept asking about where their favorite counselor had gone, until they started growing weary of you.
because if golden boy luke was evil, what were the odds that his hot-headed, impertinent girlfriend was, too?
luke left you there, looking like an absolute fool for believing in him, trusting him, loving him.
you couldn’t unsee his blood on your hands. you might as well have been lady macbeth, desperately scrubbing out stains that would never leave.
vi. he was a vice you could never shake
calling all riot grrrls and punk rockers — this show is for YOU!!! come see the SIRENS OF NEW YORK perform THIS friday at joan’s bar ;)
the flyer was an obnoxiously vibrant shade of red and plastered throughout the neighborhood, and it did a good job. one of queens’ best dive bars was packed with people waiting to see the band perform: stella yamada on guitar, mohini banjaree on bass, sally mcknight on vocals — and you on drums.
it was nice and still a bit new, this relatively normal existence with relatively normal people.
you couldn’t cut off the demigod side of your life completely. there was still a war brewing, and you were in regular enough contact with camp.
but, you’d been away for a few years, trying to live the life of a non-halfblood in their early 20s. you had an apartment, a cat and a nice enough roommate. you were in school and working as a bartender to pay for rent and tuition. you had friends who, for lack of a better term, were normal. people who worried about paying off student loans and finding their passion in life, whether it be law school or feminist prose or angry girl music of the indie-rock persuasion. people who spent their time in classrooms or tattoo parlors or their friends’ bathrooms at 2am while bleaching their hair after a bad breakup.
sometimes though, usually late at night when you couldn’t sleep, you had to admit to yourself that you missed your old life.
you missed home. you missed playing capture the flag and training in the arena and having breakfast in the dining pavilion. you missed your friends, the ones you’d grown up with.
you missed —
no. you tried not to let your mind wander towards him, or the consequences of what he did. you both drew blood the afternoon he confessed his sins to you, but he was the one who twisted the knife. he was the reason you couldn’t stand your life as a half-blood anymore.
you just tried to focus on the mortal, mundane things that now composed your everyday life, like the stage you would be performing on in 30 seconds.
before every show, your bandmates went through different degrees of anxiety. you didn’t get stage fright like them. they called you fearless, but the reality was that you had just gone up against much worse.
and yet, that night, you almost froze mid-set, just as you started a cover of the joan jett’s “you don’t know what you’ve got.”
ironically, luke had gotten you a cd of this album for your 15th birthday.
i was caught so unaware, when you made other plans.
think of the devil, and he shall appear.
it couldn’t have been him there, though. last time you heard of him, luke was growing kronos' army somewhere on the west coast.
you pushed through, even though your concentration was shaken.
i can’t stand to hear your name
you had to shake off the feeling of him watching you.
it was just that — a bad feeling, right?
you missed another beat, and mo turned around to give a concerned yet frustrated frown. joan had hinted that there might have been an agent in the audience, and you couldn’t afford to mess up.
oh baby, you really blew it.
the song ended, and your blood ran cold.
it had to be a trick of the light, seeing luke in the crowd, but just the thought of being in the same space again made it impossible to be up on that stage, so exposed.
as the band was getting ready for the next song, you slipped away, out the back door and into the alley for some fresh air. with shaky hands, you brought a cigarette between your lips and pulled out your lighter. it was a terrible habit, you knew.
those were always the ones hardest to quit and you needed a vice to keep you grounded.
so there you found yourself, shivering in your black tank top, just cropped enough that the fishnets you wore underneath red leather pants were slightly visible. the bricks were cool against your back and you exhaled into the soft evening twilight when you realized it hadn’t been a trick of the light.
“you look like buffy the vampire slayer.”
you rolled your eyes, because of course luke would do that. you were on opposite sides of an impending war between gods and titans, a world-ending conflict that luke directly enabled, and he led with a light-hearted comment like you were still the best of friends.
as if you hadn’t been on the receiving ends of each other’s blades ever since luke revealed himself to be a traitor.
“give me one reason why i shouldn’t kill you right now. ”
“because i’m alone.”
“you could still be here to kill me,” you reasoned. “or at least try.”
after everything, you wouldn’t put it past him. you known him to do a lot worse, all to people he claimed to, in a past life, care about.
luke tried again.
“because you always liked a fair fight. i came alone and unarmed.”
you scoffed, dropped your half-finished cigarette to the ground, and snuffed it out with the toe of your chunky patent boot before walking over to stand in front of luke. he put his hands up in surrender as you approached him.
“if you’re not here to fight, then why are you here?” you demanded, fingers brushing against the switchblade in your pocket. you always kept a celestial bronze weapon on you in case you came across any monsters in the city. you looked at the one in front of you, and wished you had brought a bigger knife.
“i just….i wanted — needed to see you.”
your eyes grazed luke carefully.
he looked rough. deep shadows under his eyes, hair disheveled and partially matted down, shirt wrinkled like he’d been on the run for days. his hands caked with blood and dirt, his face, too. a nasty bruise on his elbow, and what looked like another one disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.
you bit down the urge to care. you had to remind yourself that luke was dangerous, cruel, and heartless. you couldn’t stand to look at him for one more second, at least not without biting his head off, or at the very least the cut on his lip.
“no. you don’t get to just —”
the door slammed open, echoed throughout the alley. stella poked her head out, guitar still strapped to her shoulder. from inside, you could hear the crowd cheering.
“jesus christ, y/n! where have you been?”
“sorry, stel. i needed a smoke break and then i ran into a — ” your voice caught on the word friend. “luke.”
his name left a poisonous taste in your mouth, and you swallowed its bitterness.
she saw luke then, who gave her that charming smile of his you hadn’t seen in forever. he extended a hand towards her, but stella just scowled at him and turned back to you.
“are you coming to finish the show?” stella demanded.
“i need to deal with this,” you told her. “i’m sor—”
stella huffed and slithered back inside before you could finish apologizing.
“great,” you laughed cynically. “now one of my best friends is pissed at me, and i might get kicked out of the band. my luck just gets worse every time you force yourself back into my life, castellan.”
you weren’t quite sure how to make of the way he looked at you — maybe apologetic, possibly desperately, definitely some sort of disguise.
“i know….i fucked up, karma.”
you glared at the use of his old nickname for you, feeling a shudder run down your spine.
“yeah, you fucked up. and now everyone, the whole world, is suffering the consequences. me, annabeth, your mom —”
“please,” luke begged once more, voice shaking now. “if you ever loved me —”
“don’t.” you barked. “if you ever loved me, you’d accept that the next time we see each other, it’ll be fighting on a battlefield. until one of us is on the ground, bleeding out, or never again.”
luke stared at you. you glared back at him.
“sorry i’m late, lukey. did i miss much?” a sickly sweet voice cut through the tension.
you turned and saw a cheerleader. she looked relatively normal, but the mismatched legs — one bronze, another furry — along with the red eyes and fangs gave her away.
“you said you were alone,” you pointed out, tilting your head towards the monster. “looks like you brought company.”
“i didn’t,” luke insisted. “kelli’s been hunting me down.”
kelli pouted. “i thought we were playing hide and seek. but it’s over now — i win. please don’t be mad, baby.”
baby. you could have laughed.
“i guess you moved on, castellan.” you meant your words to come across as mocking, so you hoped luke couldn’t sense the resentment behind them.
kelli giggled, and you thought your ears might bleed.
“he sure did,” she cooed and moved closer to luke, running a long red fingernail down his chest. he pushed her away abruptly, and kelli pouted once more. “we miss you, luke. i miss you. please come back home with me.”
“that’s not my home.”
out of everything luke had said, those were the words that got through to you. you glanced at him once more — his hands curled into fists, jaw clenched, and eyes locked on yours, panicking and pleading at the same time.
you had to give in to those pleading, panicked brown eyes.
luke didn’t have any weapons on him. all you had was a tiny pocket knife and some combat skills you’d been maintaining through kickboxing classes with your roommate, but you were willing to put them to good use.
you stepped in front of luke.
“listen — kelli, was it?” the empousa growled at you. “call me sentimental, but i can’t let you take him.”
kelli gave you a snarl, and you whipped out your switchblade. admittedly, it looked a little pathetic compared to her deadly fangs and sharp claws.
“aw, cute!” she mocked, and then pushed you backwards.
you expected to tumble into luke, but he had disappeared. seemed like you did make the wrong choice, to trust luke again.
again — the worst, most sinister habits were the hardest ones to break.
it briefly crossed your mind to chase him down after this for leading you into a trap. for now, you had a shapeshifting cheerleader to take care of.
you managed to side-step kelli’s next attack, and sliced across her arm in the process. she shrieked. her hair bursted into flames, as if your day could get any worse. you tried to get another jab in, but kelli managed to be quicker this time. she punched you in the jaw, then kicked you, hard, with a hoofed foot, causing a dull crack to your ribcage upon impact. the kick sent you spinning towards the brick wall; it stopped you from falling, but knocked the air out of your lungs. you spat, your mouth thick with the taste of blood. your ears were ringing, and you couldn’t locate your knife.
you were definitely out of practice.
“kelli!”
you both turned your attention towards luke, standing at the entrance of the alley with his sword in hand.
“luke!” kelli said like he was her long lost lover. she batted her eyelashes at him, the murderous grin she had given you melting away to something more enticing. “you came to help me finish her off.”
luke tilted his head. “not exactly.”
luke threw the sword towards you. despite a split second of surprise, you caught it; made a sharp diagonal cut. before kelli knew it, she was reduced to nothing but dust.
you dropped luke’s sword and fell to the pavement, adrenaline coursed through your veins from the first near-death experience you’d had in months. even with your body bruised and broken, fighting was a thrill like no other.
luke came to kneel in front of you, sneakers crunching over the ashes of his ex-girlfriend.
“you said you were unarmed.” your voice sounded muffled. you spat out another mouthful of blood.
“half-bloods are walking monster bait. i’d be an idiot if i didn’t have any celestial bronze on me.”
to emphasize his point, luke tucked your switchblade carefully back into your pocket. he moved his hand to the hem of your shirt. it was your instinct to keep him from lifting it up, and he stopped when he noticed your hesitation.
“i’m just trying to see how bad it is,” he informed. his lips then formed a bemused grin. “besides, i’ve already seen everything.”
“shut up,” but you smiled weakly even if it made your cheek hurt.
the skin where kelli had kicked you was turning an alarming shade of purple. luke tried to touch it, but you let out a sharp breath when pain emanated across your ribcage, and he recoiled.
“okay, we need to get you —”
“i’m fine,” you groaned. you struggled to stand up, but you urged yourself to walk away. in your mind, the scales were already balanced.
the moral, logical side of you was in danger of yielding to the wicked desire you always tried to suppress — to be with luke, even once more, just like old times. your quest for vengeance could only be stopped by your hunger for something more, and you needed distance from him before you gave in too much.
“i don’t need your help,” you insisted. “i protected you from kelli, and you gave me the sword that saved my life. we’re even.”
you started to limp away, but luke grabbed your side before you could get too far. you yelped at the contact.
“sorry,” he winced. “just — let me at least get you to a hospital.”
“what do i look like, a rockefeller?” you scoffed, and then grimaced when it felt like a giant was crushing you from the inside out. “i can’t afford that. i have some emergency nectar and ambrosia at my place, anyways.”
“let me at least get you back there, then. please.” he grabbed your hand. “i owe you.”
looking into those deep brown eyes, something in your stomach snapped.
bad habits were always the hardest to break.
“fine,” you coughed. “but one wrong move, and i swear: i’ll go full vampire slayer and pierce a wooden stake through your heart.”
luke nodded once, lips curling into a smile. “seems fair.”
you groaned as luke wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you steady, his hold terribly familiar as he carried you back home.
(vii. he loved you — and you weren’t sure if that was a fact or a weapon)
your apartment was only a few blocks away. luke must have gotten stronger, because he was able to carry you up the fire escape to avoid too much attention.
“i’m not sure if my roommate is home,” you whispered as luke set you down on the carpet by your bed. “so we should try and be quiet.”
you told him where you kept the supplies. he snuck away and emerged from the bathroom a minute later with clean hands and a first-aid kit.
luke knelt down in front of you.
“can i take your shirt off?”
you nodded, trying to keep your eyes from fluttering closed. you were so bloodied up, more so than you initially let on, so you let luke do whatever he needed to do. he took off your shirt, assessed your injury and apologized when the pressure from his fingers made you wince. he wiped the blood off your lips and coaxed your mouth open to feed you some ambrosia, offer you a sip of nectar.
there was no doubt about it: luke was taking care of you.
at first, you imagined your bones stitching themselves back together, and maybe some pieces of your heart, too.
what were the odds that he was manipulating you, though? certainly not zero.
and then you noticed something when he reached over to place the canteen of nectar back with the kit. he was moving slowly, his breathing shallow and fresh blood seeping through his shirt.
“wait. what happened?”
“nothing,” he winced. luke was always good at hiding his pain.
“luke.”
“it was a few days ago. a hellhound bit me when i was trying to escape from….”
kronos’ army. he didn’t need to say it for either of you to remember.
wordlessly, you switched your positions, led him to prop himself up on the bed frame while you crouched in front of him.
“can i take this off?”
luke nodded.
the first thing you noticed was that his muscles were more defined, yet his body was more beat-up than you'd ever seen it. there was a pretty nasty bruise on his shoulder. your eyes traveled down to the bitemark at his hip, and the haphazard stitching job luke must have done to himself. it looked like it could be infected, and with the activity from today, it was no wonder the wound reopened.
like he had done to you just seconds before, you took care of him.
“so…how are our friends?” he exhaled as you ran a cloth over his skin to clean off some of the blood.
our friends. it didn’t feel right that luke could still call them that.
“i’m guessing you know what happened to chris….” luke grimaced, and you hoped he felt a little guilty at sending one of his best friends into a madness-inducing labyrinth. “clarisse and lena broke up, and neither of them will tell me why. beck is doing fine, always coming up with stuff in the forges. i guess that’s as good as anyone can be now, inventing new weapons for a war none of us wanted.”
you couldn’t help but add that last part.
“and the kids?” luke asked as though you were divorce parents and he lost the custody battle.
you looked up at the gray streak in luke’s own hair, remembering that he had manipulated annabeth and percy to hold the weight of the world, a burden that they couldn’t seem to shake.
it made you more than a little uneasy, luke showing any sense of caring for the people he seemed to leave behind and hurt so easily. you wished he hadn’t been so tender and attentive, like all the fighting and animosity had been a bad dream.
luke just had to make everything so complicated.
“they’re fine, all things considered.”
you didn’t offer anything more, anything less.
he was quiet for a moment.
“you seem to be doing alright, though?”
you ignored the question completely that time, focusing on getting the job done. you gave luke some ambrosia and nectar, watched as the infection magically disappeared. the wound didn’t completely heal, and there were many bruises that lingered. you were about to give luke some more when he shook his head.
"you should save the rest for emergencies," he suggested, chin jutting towards your diminishing supplies. "in case something happens."
"is that a threat, castellan?" you asked, only half-joking.
"no." luke reached out to touch your face, perhaps a move to reassure you, but then he redirected himself. "besides, i'll be fine. just need to cover it with some gauze."
"you should take a shower before, then. i'll see what we have to eat."
you helped him up, and sent luke into the bathroom. you changed into clean clothes before going to look for some food.
the ambrosia and nectar made your body feel more powerful than it had in days, even before getting kicked around by a demon cheerleader. no wonder the gods felt invincible, if that was their diet. meanwhile, all you had in your kitchen was a half-empty box of cinnamon poptarts and packets of instant coffee.
you could hear your roommate singing from behind her closed door. you were quiet in toasting the breakfast pastries, and then slithered back into your room to look for something that would fit luke.
luke didn't hear you knock, so you just entered and closed the door behind you gently. on the bathroom counter, you set a pair of sweatpants that an ex had left behind, along with an oversized shirt of yours. before you could leave, there was a knock on the door. luke heard this one, and poked his head from behind the shower curtain. you gestured at him that you’d take care of it. he nodded, and closed the curtain again.
"yeah?"
"do you have any tampons in there?" your roommate's voice was muffled through the door.
"yeah," you replied. "i'll be out in a minute."
"do you mind if i just come in now? i'm bleeding out, out here."
you were about to protest, but the doorknob started to turn, and you panicked. you slipped behind the shower curtain with luke, who looked at you wide-eyed. you placed your hand over his mouth before he could say anything.
you were lucky earlier, that stella's mind was so preoccupied she didn't notice how beat-up luke was. you didn't want to take another chance. you didn't need your roommate asking questions.
once the sounds of shuffling through cupboards stopped, and you heard a small thank you followed by the door closing, luke bit your palm.
"ow!" you hissed, pulling away from him.
"she's gone,” luke shrugged. “you don't need to muzzle me anymore.”
you rolled your eyes. “i put some clothes out for you, and a clean towel.”
luke caught your wrist before you could leave.
“wait. my shoulder is killing me. do you mind…would you maybe help me….”
his question trailed off, and you furrowed your brow when he pointed the shampoo bottle in your direction.
“you practically carried me down 3 blocks and up 4 flights of stairs, but you’re too hurt to wash your own hair?”
“i guess the pain just caught up with me.” his cheeks flushed and he cleared his throat. “sorry, i shouldn’t have —”
something pinched in your chest, hearing him stumble for forgiveness, even if it was so mundane. you caught yourself saying:
“i’ll do it.”
before you could decide if it was a bad idea or not. you got rid of your shorts and tied your shirt up around your waist to prevent the clothes from getting too wet. luke blushed even more at your panties and exposed stomach, as if he wasn’t fully naked — which you were, of course, trying to ignore.
neither of you said anything as you focused on the task at hand, massaging shampoo and then conditioner into luke’s curls until they were rid of the grime trapped within. all you heard were luke’s soft sighs as your fingers scraped across his scalp and steady stream of water hitting the bathroom tiles. luke seemed so relaxed that his eyelids fluttered closed, and he almost toppled over. with your own sudsy hands, you brought his hands to sit at your waist, steadying him.
the space was a little foggy, slightly too warm. you and luke had been intimate before, but never like this. it was almost enough to make you forget.
once all the soap was washed away, you brushed your fingers over the scar on his face, down to the sword tattooed along his collarbone, before you realized what you were doing.
“sorry,” you whispered, pulling your hand away.
“it’s okay,” he hummed, and he moved his hand up to brush against the very same tattoo you had on your sternum, touch burning through a layer of cotton.
you wanted his hands elsewhere — around your neck, between your legs.
the water was running cold by then, and it jolted you back to reality.
you had to keep your desires in check. luke was manipulative and cruel and ruthless — you were enemies, not friends or lovers. you weren’t supposed to want him carnally.
you reached behind him to turn the shower off without another word, and left the bathroom so he could get dressed.
neither of you were armed, but the situation was dangerous. you were barely healing from the claw marks luke left on your life and yet….
part of you wanted him to dig his fingers back into those wounds — to feel him again, even if it bled you dry in the end.
luke’s sword, backbiter, leaned against your windowsill, a menacing reminder of who he had aligned himself with. luke was essentially kronos’ right hand man. he was your enemy.
what were you doing, bringing him into your home, taking care of him and letting him do the same to you?
leaving yourself vulnerable to him, letting your guard down?
now that you thought of it, if his guard was down, you could probably grab your own knife and just —
you heard luke clear his throat and you turned to see him standing in your doorway, shirtless and sweatpants hanging low. it was embarrassing how much you wanted to lap up the drop of water traveling down his chest.
luke must have noticed, so cleared his throat again. your body felt warm all over when you met his gaze, and he gave you an annoyingly confident smirk.
“so, here’s the thing. i’m pretty sure you’re either thinking about wanting to kill me, or wanting to fuck me.”
you rolled your eyes at his arrogance, but couldn’t help but play along.
“sounds like you’ve accepted your fate either way.”
“well, i do have a preference,” he quipped. “i just don’t particularly care as long as it's in your hands.”
it didn’t get past you that luke was checking you out, too, eye trailing over the exposed skin of your legs and lingering on where the t-shirt hugged your chest.
how bad would it be to, for one night, indulge? no concern about what was right or wrong, about titans or gods; no worries about what a prophecy foretold or which side of a war you’re on.
just you and luke: giving into your own twisted desires, and dealing with the consequences later.
another droplet trickled down luke’s torso. it disappeared underneath the band of his sweatpants, and you just couldn’t take it anymore.
you strode over to him, about to crash your lips into his when —
luke stopped you with a hand wrapped around your neck.
“no kissing,” he warned.
“what’s the matter?” you smirked. “i thought you liked it when i bite. worried that you’ll turn away from the dark side if i do?”
luke swallowed thickly.
you were taunting him, relishing in how his breath caught in his throat and gaze seemed fixed on your lips.
it was cute, how luke tried to hold onto some semblance of control, but couldn’t hide the slight tremble in his voice.
“no kissing. that’s my only condition.”
“okay.” you took off your shirt, positioned yourself on the bed to punctuate your point. “as long as you’re fine sleeping with the enemy, castellan.”
luke stared for a few seconds before accepting his fate.
he caged you in with his arms, settling his hips between your legs. his lips traveled down your tattooed sternum, nipping and sucking and re-bruising your skin until he reached the waistband of your panties. luke pulled it up with his teeth, the elastic snapping back when he let go. you whined his name and he looked up at you with dark eyes.
“can i?” his breath fanned over your navel, his nails digging into your hips as he waited for your answer.
“yes. please.”
you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but you could feel luke smirk against your inner thigh before sinking his teeth into it. you whimpered, and luke salved his tongue over the area to ease the sting before removing your underwear. he positioned your legs over his shoulder for better access to where you needed him most.
luke manipulated his tongue and fingers in all the ways he knew ruined you. in return, you gripped his black curls, tightly, and uttered praise in all the ways you knew ruined him.
“just like that, pretty boy,” you encouraged, practically melting into the mattress. it felt so good — dangerously good — to be devoured by luke. “keep doing a good job and i’ll return the favor later.”
luke’s moan vibrated throughout your body and he became harsher, bringing you over the edge. he left a few more bites on your body on his way up to meet you and when he did, luke’s lips and chin were still shining with your release.
you leaned forward slightly to lick it up. you ghosted your mouth over his, and luke groaned when you pulled away.
“no kissing,” you mocked and ran your thumb over his tattooed collarbone.
luke tightened his grip on your hips, surely leaving bruises for later. his eyes feral, his curls a terrible mess, when he grumbled:
“you’re such a —”
you twisted your calf around luke’s leg and you flipped your positions before he could finish his sentence. he grunted as his back hit the mattress.
“don’t worry, sweetheart. i’ll still take care of you,” you drawled, starting to trail your tongue down luke’s body, occasionally incorporating your teeth or sucking brutally, imprinting a constellation of bites and bruises. his skin smelled like your pomegranate mango body wash, and it was more than a little intoxicating.
you weren’t soft or gentle, because you knew how luke liked you — rough, raw, a little ruthless. luke once told you that the wounds you left on his body weren’t the type that left him bitter; they were the type of wounds he wished would never heal.
in a moment of weakness, you left a kiss — just one — on the semi-healed wound on his hip. luke sighed at the gesture and reached a hand down to gently brush his fingers against your cheek.
“i missed you so much, karma,” luke almost sobbed.
slightly shaken out of your lust, you weren’t sure whether to smirk at the hold you had on him, or sob at the reality that you missed him too.
sensing your hesitation, luke removed his hand and told you to continue.
you made quick work of luke’s sweatpants. luke, already hard and throbbing, didn’t last long with your lips wrapped around him. you swallowed him whole, and then some.
“always such a good girl for me,” luke praised when you were face to face with him once more. his thumb swiped over your wet lips to gather what you missed. you granted him access to push into your mouth, and luke groaned when you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked his thumb clean. your teeth scraped the skin on his way out.
what followed was a brief squabble over who should be on top. you won out.
there you were, luke sitting up against the headboard, you on his lap with his length nestled in your cunt. you scraped your nails down luke’s chest, and then curled your hands around the base of his neck. he gripped either side of your waist, thumbs pressing circles into your back encouragingly. luke looked up at you in awe, desperate sighs leaving his mouth as you rutted your hips against his. it felt sinful and wonderful, feeling luke buried deep inside you again, stretching you deliciously. the two of you exchanging animalistic grunts as you used the other's body, chased your high.
when you rolled your hips into his at just the right angle, luke’s moans turned into whines.
“fuck it. please — kiss me.”
you stilled your hips, and luke whined some more. “are you sure?” you asked, breathing heavily.
luke nodded and gently moved you to lay on your back with him hovering over you. he leaned close, nudging the tip of his nose against yours.
“please,” luke pleaded once more.
his brown eyes looked down at you with such hunger and passion, something deep within you ached.
you kissed each other harshly, then. you still tasted him on your tongue and yourself on his. his sharp nose cut into your cheek, mouth attacking yours and vice versa. your nails pierced the skin of his shoulder as he resumed thrusting into you at a vicious pace. luke kept gnawing on your bottom lip until he made you bleed. you groaned, and he slipped his tongue back into your mouth to savor your coppery taste.
yes, luke could also be rough and raw and a little ruthless — which you always loved. but you knew, regardless, you were safe with him in that moment. all he wanted was for you to feel good.
you yanked his curls to force luke to look at you. he whimpered at having to detach himself from your lips.
“i missed you too, tiger,” you finally admitted, calling him that old affectionate nickname you promised yourself you would never use again. “i missed you so fucking much.”
luke gave you that troublesome smile of his. you connected your lips once more. you wrapped your legs around his waist to bring him impossibly closer, and luke wrapped an arm around your back to do the same.
it wasn’t long until you both reached your peak, collapsing back onto the soft mattress, chests heaving. you each lied down on your side, facing each other. you admired luke’s mess of curls, his swollen-kiss-bitten lips, the rose-petal bruises you had left.
you wished the post-sex haze lasted longer, but then luke had to disturb it by saying:
“what you said earlier — i never think of you as my enemy, you know.”
you sighed and covered your face with your hand. “luke —”
“never,” luke insisted. he inched closer, took your hand in his and held it to his chest.
you were overwhelmed by his heartbeat, strong and fast, so you pulled yourself away.
“we’re fighting on different sides,” you pointed out.
you could’ve said more, but all the things that have been said and done already hung heavy in the air, reoccupying the space between you and bursting your brief moment of peace.
“but we’ve always been fighting for the same thing.”
maybe that was true.
in theory, you weren’t against overthrowing the gods. but you couldn't reconcile with everything luke had done, what he was willing to do. you couldn't let your friends and thousands of innocent people die in the name of divine beings who valued power and control over all else. you couldn't hurt or betray people you loved for the sake of revenge. you couldn't turn that love against them, the way luke had, in search of justice.
deep down, you knew it wasn’t right to have him there in bed with you. if it was so wicked, sinful, treacherous — then why did you want him to stay?
“i’m not sure they have a word for what we are,” you concede, returning to the conversation moments ago.
"i guess not."
you let luke bring you into his arms that time. you rested your head against his chest. his heartbeat still steady, but a little slower. you idly traced your fingers across the marks you left on him, and you avoided the ones you didn't.
"how's your shoulder?"
"it's okay," luke sighed. he lifted your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "whatever we are: i love you."
those weren’t the words that were meant to make you sick, but your stomach churned — with nausea or desire, you weren’t sure.
you moved to straddle his hips. your eyes glanced over a scar you didn't register until now. the cut you had sliced across his cheek that afternoon he tried to kill percy, and then ran away from camp. you had a similar one that he had given you during that same struggle.
matching tattoos, matching scars. there really was no word for what you and luke were to each other.
"i love you too.”
at some point throughout the night, with luke’s strong arms wrapped around you and your legs intertwined beneath tangled sheets, it occurred to you that luke must have tracked you down for a particular reason.
maybe he was here to convince you to join kronos' army, to help him overthrow the gods and burn the world as you knew it; maybe he was here to break your heart all over again, just for the sick thrill of it; maybe he did just want to have one more night together, enemies or otherwise. maybe, maybe, maybe.
luke’s soft snores lulled you to sleep, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the scales of justice.
you'd figure it out in the morning. then you'd decide whether or not he deserved a blade to the heart.
#i haven't seen the finale but from the gifs my heart is already broken#and here i am breaking it more <3#luke castellan angst#luke castellan smut#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan imagine#luke castellan#luke castellan x you#luke castellan x fem!reader#saf writes#Spotify#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson and the olympians#pjo show#pjo fanfic#pjo series
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Love Thy Neighbour (gr63) - Part Two
↳ A/N Another day of daydreaming about househusband George sighh. This universe really holds a special place in my heart, honestly. But maybe that's because I'm addicted to the concept of the 1980s and all that I missed from not existing then-
↳ Inspired By: 'Everything She Wants' by Wham! and 'Heartbeat' by Wham!
↳ Summary: It’s the end of summer 1984 and you and your perfect little family moves into a quaint suburban neighbourhood to escape the hustle and bustle of the Manhattan lifestyle. Your next door neighbours are a picture-perfect family of their own - or so it seems from the outside. But, as you spend more time with the handsome husband, the cracks in your own 'perfect' marriage start to come to light.
↳ Pairings: George Russell x Neighbour!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)
↳ Word Count: 27.3k
↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, cheating/adultery (and the consequences that may come along with it), use of explicit language, oral (f and m receiving), choking, spanking, some biting, hair pulling, use of derogatory names (slut etc.), unprotected sex, open ending
PART ONE
October 1984
You were sure there was nothing wrong with wanting to work outside in your garden the same afternoon that George happened to be mowing his lawn. Just two neighbours innocently working on their respective properties in the same late morning autumn sun. In reality, you had nothing to really work on since you had just moved in and the seasons were already changing, therefore nothing was in your garden. But you busied yourself with the few weeds and cleaning up the edges here and there, in need of some excuse to keep an eye on your dear neighbour.
You hadn’t seen him all weekend since your spouses were home from work and those two days were always important family time that was otherwise limited during the week. Since your whirlwind of a Friday, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about George. Every time your family ate breakfast in the kitchen, your eyes kept drifting to the counter that he had you up on. Every time you walked past the living room, all you could see was him on top of you on that floral couch. Every time Andrew kissed you, you wondered if he tasted another man on your lips. It was once guilt but now the thrill seemed to overpower it.
After taking your boys to the bus stop that morning, you and George didn’t speak much more than passing remarks about your weekends and your plans for the day. George’s comment about needing to get outside to cut the lawn captured your attention and the sight of him sharply pulling the cord on his lawn mower to bring the motor to life captured your attention out your front bedroom windows. That’s ultimately what got you outside. His bare torso glistening in the bright sunshine was what kept you outside.
It was likely that your staring wasn’t discreet as you pawed dumbly at your empty garden and fleeting weeds, crisp new floral garden gloves on your hands to really look the part. Any advances were halted by the public space of your street you found yourselves on, knowing the gossip of the neighbourhood that could arise with ease, not to mention George’s three-year-old who was entertaining herself on the driveway with a box of chalk. The noise of the gas powered lawn mower disrupted the peaceful suburban street but you would never complain at the view it offered. With your hands distractedly in the dirt, your entire head was turned to the neighbouring property, eyes squinted slightly in the sun but steadfast and focused on the handsome man that blessed your vision.
Your attention was soon torn away from him and to the little girl just beyond as she had stood up from the driveway and was almost skipping across the grass towards you. George kept an eye on her to make sure she wasn’t in the path of his mowing and he slowed down a bit to watch as she approached you. You sat back on your ankles with a friendly smile as the little brunette girl bounded over to you with bouncing curling pigtails.
“Hey, you.” you greeted her sweetly.
She clasped her hands behind her back bashfully and swayed back and forth for a moment in her short denim overalls and white sneakers that were dusted in colourful pastel chalk.
“What are you drawing over there?” you asked.
Nancy held out her hand to you, “Come see.”
You weren’t doing anything in all honesty so her little interruption was welcomed and you removed your garden gloves before letting her take your hand as you stood from the grass. She walked you right over George’s freshly mowed lawn, leaving your footprints behind in the short grass, and soon you were stepping onto the pavement of the driveway. The swirling shapes of colourful chalk filled an impressive amount of the black tar and although most of it was toddler scribbles, you could make out a few stick people and maybe a house or two.
“This is beautiful, Nance.” you complimented as she held your hand proudly, her little fingers wrapped around your index and middle. “I love all the colours!”
She smiled up at you, her eyes as big and beautiful blue as her father’s.
“Hey, wanna do something cool?” you asked.
Nancy nodded.
“Lay down over here in this blank spot.” you guided her over to a clear area of the driveway where she had yet to colour. The three-year-old flopped herself down and laid back so she was flat and you joined her with one of the sticks of chalk. “Now stay nice and still.”
You carefully traced around her with the chalk while she giggled on the ground, so curious as to what you were doing. You spoke to her as you traced her body; going around each leg and along the length of her arms and carefully around her head so as to not snag her hair. When you stood back up, you held your hands out so you could help her up to her feet.
“There,” you gestured to the outline of her body, “A Nancy outline that you can colour and draw clothes on and a face and everything!”
“Woah!” she beamed up at you, “Cool!”
“Think so?” you chuckled, passing over the chalk you held, “Ought to keep you busy, huh?”
“Thank you!” she almost shouted as she dropped to the ground again to get right to work on her silhouette.
The silence that fell over the neighbourhood had you glancing over to the lawn where George had just turned off the mower after completing the front yard. He was absolutely glistening in the sun, skin dotted in sweat from the task of mowing the lawn, and he lifted an arm up to rub his forearm across his forehead to get his hair out of his face. In doing so, his muscles rippled and your teeth naturally caught your bottom lip, feet helping themselves back across his driveway to join him on the grass. He met you halfway until you were standing right in front of each other but his gaze drifted past you to his daughter scribbling away.
“That was a cute thing you did for her there.” he complimented.
You shrugged modestly, “What little girl doesn’t like a little imagination makeover, hm?”
The two of you shared small smiles. There was a pause.
“What were you doing out here?” he asked.
“Gardening.” you answered.
“In your empty garden? In early autumn?”
“Yes.” you crossed your arms over your chest matter-of-factly.
“No other reason?”
You licked your lips but forced yourself not to glance down at his sweaty body standing right before you, “Nope. Just taking care of my property.”
“I see.” George chuckled, certainly disbelieving.
“You know,” you spoke bravely but still keeping your voice down so as to not be heard by little girls or any passing neighbours, “I’m mad at you.”
“Oh?” George set his hands on his hips, “Why’s that?”
“Now Andrew can’t make me fucking cum unless I’m thinking about you.”
His eyebrows peaked for a moment, “Oh, really?”
“Yep. All weekend I haven’t stopped thinking about Friday.”
“Me neither.”
“Andrew came home from work late on Friday night…joined me in bed…and all I was doing was thinking about you and how you made me cum so hard I was shaking.”
“Mm,” George feigned a serious expression upon hearing your confession, “Well, at least your spouse still puts out.”
Your mouth fell open despite your amused smile, “Oh!”
George licked away his grin and glanced towards the street for a moment, his hands sliding into the back pockets of his denim shorts.
But you were right on the response, countering smoothly, “Don’t know why yours wouldn’t when her husband is built like a marble statue and has a tongue that puts linguists to shame.”
He looked right back at you, his eyes dropping to your lips and then to your body before meeting your gaze again, “Don’t know why your husband can’t make his own wife cum on his own when a near stranger got her off twice in one afternoon.”
It was all just flirty playful banter so you weren’t offended in the slightest over someone half dissing your dear husband - especially since it was George of all people. Just having him in front of you made you nervous in the absolute best way and although you weren’t sweaty from working outside like he was, your skin was still burning hot.
Your finger trailed over the thin line of brown hair that led from his navel into his shorts and you offered softly, “Wanna do it again?”
George couldn’t take his eyes off of you, “Do what again? Make you cum?”
You nodded with a soft “mhm”, keeping his lingering stare in the morning sun.
“I’ll be sure to return the favour this time.” you added.
“Oh, really?” George’s soft smirk teased at the corner of his lips, “Is that a promise?”
You knew exactly what you were doing, linking your finger in the belt loop of his shorts to tug on them as you spoke softly but surely right to his face, “Yes, sir.”
George’s breath shuttered slightly and he stepped away from you a bit, “Lemmy put the kid down for her nap and I’ll have a quick shower. Come over in twenty?”
“Don’t shower.” you tisked, “I like you like this.”
With a cock of his head, George asked in such a whisper that you could barely hear him yourself, “Does your husband know you’re this fucking filthy?”
“Maybe I just save it for you.” you countered expertly, both of you turning around together to swap positions on his lawn so you could drift off towards your house and he could do the same towards his.
“Twenty minutes,” he said seriously, “No later.”
You offered him a teasing little two-fingers salute before you were hurrying across your lawn in a near rush. You gathered your wimpy gardening tools (well, more like props) and rushed up your stone steps and right into your house, barely able to kick off your shoes before you were down the hallway and dumping your tools in the sink to keep from dirtying up the spotless house. The stairs pulled you up to your bedroom where you freshened up quickly and made sure you had no grass stains on your jeans or chalk dust on your hands. Then, for the remaining eighteen minutes, you paced your downstairs hallway impatiently.
Making the journey back across your adjacent lawns to George’s front porch was familiar and you took your time so as to not appear too desperate to any possible onlookers from across the street. Nancy’s self portrait was resting beautifully on the driveway and you smiled at it fleetingly and the huge grin she had drawn on herself. Up the few front steps and onto the porch, you knocked three times and stepped back down a step to wait for an answer. Only a few seconds later, George was opening the door for you and ushering you inside, still in his shorts but now donning a white tank top as well.
“Thought I said stay how you were.” you tisked as you stepped inside and he closed the door behind the both of you.
“Felt a little weird tucking my toddler into bed all sweaty and shirtless.” he chuckled as he grabbed the bottom of his tank top and pulled it over his head so it could be tossed onto the bench in the foyer. He made his usual path down the foyer and past the stairs to the kitchen, offering to you over his shoulder as you followed him closely, “Tea?”
“We’re not going to drink it.” you argued lightly.
George turned to face you as he stalked backwards into the kitchen, resting a hand on the counter and the other on the island, “No, but I wouldn’t be a good host unless I offered.”
You pressed a finger between his collarbones and dragged it down between his pecs, “You are already serving me plenty.”
His warm chuckle could be felt under your touch and you bit back your lustful smile as the desire burned stronger within you again. George reached a hand out and tugged gently at the front of your blouse, “I think you have too many clothes on.”
You took his hint and you pulled your shirt off, leaving you standing in your bra and jeans in the middle of his wood trimmed kitchen. The patterned linoleum tile cradled your foot falls as you stepped towards him and urged him backwards with your hand against his chest again, walking in step until he gently hit the counter behind him. George’s eyes bore into yours and the darkness of his pupils kept that lust building inside you until you were sliding a hand up his chest and around the back of his neck and you pulled him closer until your noses brushed. Keeping him waiting, you let the both of you be tortured by the anticipation before your long awaited kiss after your afternoon of passion on Friday.
But after a few seconds, George had enough of it and he grabbed you by the throat and yanked you closer to get his lips right on yours. You had almost fallen right against his chest at the sudden jarring move but you made no motion to complain, clinging onto him gladly as your lips slotted together messily. You shared sloppy kisses in the silence of his house like you had been deprived of each other for months and months. The way he kissed you was erotic in itself and after a few steamy seconds, you tilted your head back to break away from his persistence.
“You okay?” he asked breathily.
You barely offered him an audible response before you were sinking to your knees in front of him and popping the button on his shorts. George shifted in place to stand a bit more comfortably, his hands resting on the edge of the counter behind him as he watched you with his bottom lip between his teeth.
Glancing up at him as you tugged his pants down, you asked, “This okay?”
“Yeah.” he chuckled warmly and kicked his shorts to the side across the floor, “Can’t remember the last time I got a blowjob.”
You tisked pitifully and rubbed your hand over the front of his underwear, following the shape of his hardening cock with your gentle fingers, “Poor, poor man.”
George lolled his head to the side slightly as you touched him, feeling him growing harder with each passing second. His soft pleasurable hums were barely audible but you were extra attuned to him and you looked up his body to his handsome face while your fingers linked in the sides of his boxers.
“If I was your wife,” you pressed a kiss to his abdomen just above the waistband of his underwear before you started to pull them down slowly, “I would wake you up with one every morning.”
George laughed faintly, “You’re an angel on earth, you know that?”
You sent him a little wink as you wrapped a hand around his cock and pressed a wet kiss right to the underside of the tip, pulling a soft groan from his chest before your tongue was following suit. Speaking up to him, you assured him sweetly, “And you have the prettiest dick…who wouldn’t want it in their mouth?”
You shared small smiles before you were wrapping your lips around the tip and sucking on him gently, earning your first proper taste of him. Eyelids fluttering, you moaned softly for more before helping yourself, slowly sinking your mouth deeper around him with your hand securely wrapped around the base of his dick. He was such a good size that you had to open your mouth quite a bit to make sure your teeth didn’t graze him and silently you wondered how it even fit inside you that swiftly the other day.
The excitement of finally having him in your mouth had you drooling and it wasn’t long before your hand was getting slicked up in your spit and it could start to join in on the motions. In slow twisting strokes, your hand kept up the bottom half of his cock while your mouth followed in its pace at the top half, finding a good rhythm together. George exhaled heavily and tilted his head back towards the ceiling, eyes closed, trying to equally focus on the sensations but also distance himself from getting too into it too quickly.
Positioned on your knees between his feet, you felt so perfectly content, tending to his dick in one hand while your other caressed his thigh and the firm muscles that made up his figure. But soon that hand was moving to join your other and it gently kneaded his balls in your warm palm, eyes glancing up at his face to gauge his reaction. The waver across his expression was paired beautifully with a gentle moan and you took that as your go-ahead. You didn’t need to do much as you just held them with a little bit of grip, your focus being all on his cock instead.
Your mouth craved him deeper and you nestled yourself farther down his shaft until you were gagging faintly around him and picking back up those greedy bobs of your head. The filthy wet sound filled the otherwise silent kitchen and George let out the prettiest moan you had ever heard while he dropped one hand to rest at the back of your head. You lead your motions with your tongue, making sure to touch him in all the right spots every time you dropped your mouth down around him and pulled back with the perfect amount of suction that had his jaw falling slack.
“Fuck-” he chuckled shakily, “Do you kiss your husband with that mouth?”
You pulled off of him with a messy slurp, spit dripping down your chin as you answered his rhetorical question with a proud, “I do more to him than just kiss him with this mouth.”
“Lucky fucking man, holy shit.” George groaned.
“Yeah, you really are.” you spoke up at him from your knees before swirling your tongue around the head of his cock.
His hand on the back of your head pulled you down on him again smoothly and you gladly picked up where you left off, choking yourself on his cock until he was completely coated in your spit and his face mimicked that of an expression you’d find in a dirty magazine. You swore he could have easily taken centrefold in your eyes; maybe you were the lucky one to be on your knees for him like that. But you still gave him your best work that was guided by his hand in your hair and he kept himself quiet through a bitten lip as the pleasurable sounds started to come a little stronger now.
Then he was gently tugging at your hair to get you to let up with a breathy, “Stop.”
You sat back from him and coughed faintly from the absence of him in your throat and you wiped your spitty chin with the back of your hand, “What?”
“Get up.” he grabbed your arm and brought you to your feet, “Bend over.”
The orange countertop of his nearby kitchen island caught you gracefully and you gladly bent forward over it with your forearms against the cool surface. George’s hands worked quickly at the button and zipper on your jeans and yanked them and your underwear down your thighs before stepping right up close behind you.
“Fuck, please.” you exhaled, trying to look behind you to get a glimpse of him.
He bent at the knees slightly just to get that perfect angle to nudge the head of his cock against your dripping cunt and the first graze had you absolutely shuttering. He teased you a little more as he dragged it up and down a few slow times, speaking to you, “I can’t wait until Nancy starts school so I can fuck you every day of the week, uninterrupted, where we can be as loud as we want.”
The realization that he would be wanting and willing to keep up this escapade for that long and thensome had your heart racing and was just enough of a distraction just before he finally pushed inside you. Your hands fell flat against the island with a tight gasp from your throat and George set his hand on your shoulder to hold you steady as he slipped in deeper. His quiet groan was stiff and rich and you felt your muscles throb around him greedily.
“Yes, please.” you whimpered, even as his other hand wrapped around to press his palm against your mouth. You still managed to mumble against his hot skin, “Please, sir.”
“Oh my God.” he groaned, starting to thrust into you strongly.
Your hands slid across the smooth countertop to wrap around the sides of the island, gripping onto the edge of the counter tightly as he helped himself to your body. You were already soaked for him and he was dripping in your spit, meaning that right off the bat his otherwise quiet kitchen was privy to the lewd wet sounds of your cunt taking every inch of him with every hard thrust. The reverberations could be felt right up your spine and you gaped against his palm as you stared straight ahead at the fridge on the opposite side of the kitchen, eyes fluttering with the intense pleasure that you had missed so terribly over the weekend.
You tried to stay quiet but the moans that tumbled from your chest were almost completely involuntary and George’s hand tightened over your mouth and he hushed you over your shoulder. He leaned in close almost enough for his body to mould against the shape of yours while he fucked you over the side of the island.
“Get too loud and I’ll stop.” he threatened against your ear.
“No.” you choked out, the simple word muffled by his palm. You reached a hand back to grab his waist behind you, trying to make sure he kept going despite his warning. He was already going so aggressive with it that you could hardly get a good grip on him and you ended up having to slam your hand back down against the countertop. “Please don’t stop!”
“God, you really like it rough, don’t you?” George tisked.
He let go of your mouth and, instead, wrapped his slender fingers around your throat to yank you back towards his chest. You kept your back arched the best you could still with how you now were forced almost straight up and his heavy warm breaths against your ear and your neck were sending you dizzy. Your fingers magnetized to his hair, tangling in the messy and sweaty strands as if in an attempt to pull him closer into you. The filthy clap of his skin against yours was invigorating, falling in steady rhythm with his rough thrusts that made your toes curl against the linoleum tile and behind a bitten lip, you tried to smother your blissful moans the best you could.
“He doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?” George taunted against your ear without missing a beat.
“Not anymore.” you stumbled out.
“Anymore?” George chuckled lowly across your neck, his hand still wrapped snugly around your throat to hold your head back almost against his shoulder, “Could he ever make you feel this good?”
It was hard to think when he was fucking you like that, hard to think back six years when you and your husband were newly acquainted and had the passion of Manhattan and nightlife running through you. It was ages ago now, a lifetime ago even, and it all felt so hazy and muted when George had you like that - it was hard to think of anything else but him.
“Answer me.” he ordered against your ear, still shoving into you in rough strokes that pulled the air from your lungs.
“No, sir.” you said squeakily, “He couldn’t.”
“That’s why you come to me.” George spoke lowly, his hot breath tickling your ear and the nape of your neck in time with his precise thrusts, “That’s why you think of me when he’s fucking you.”
“Yes, sir.” you whimpered, gripping onto the sides of the island again, face screwed up in pleasure.
In a swift movement, he let go of your throat in exchange for a grip at the back of your neck and he pushed you right down onto the island so you were bent over it properly, your cheek pressed against the cool countertop. You gasped sharply in surprise but didn’t object, almost thrilled by the weight of his hands holding you down and the edge of the counter digging into your upper thighs. Giving up control to him was so easy and so ridiculously rewarding, you were already so addicted.
“Look at us, just fucking using each other.” George spoke down to your through his teeth, his focus narrowed in on the motions of his hips as he rammed into you hard over and over again, “Can’t remember the last time I had a perfect fucking pussy like this to just have my way with.”
“It’s yours.” you stumbled out, “I’m yours.”
“Uh huh.” George’s hand tightened on the back of your neck and his other pressed you stronger down against the counter between your shoulder blades. If you could have seen him, you would have been blessed by the sight of his face taken by intense pleasure, his head tilting back to look up at the ceiling with a mouthed curse in near disbelief. But then he was looking back down at you bent over for him, held down under his hands so willingly, and he audibly moaned, “Fuck, yeah, you’re mine.”
The angle he had you at was so good that you swore you were seeing stars, feeling him in every inch of your body like he was completely taking you over. It was lust to an extent you had never felt before and you could only gape dumbly across the kitchen as he held you down and fucked you until your thighs were quivering. The gasping moan that fell from your chest even took you by surprise as your insides churned with pleasure and you could feel yourself tightening up around him, squeezing his entire cock until that warm pressure that spread across your hips had you drooling.
“I’m gonna cum-” you warned shakily, knuckles turning white with how tightly you gripped the edge of the countertop.
“Go on then.” George encouraged.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, don’t stop!” you squeaked, scrunching your eyes shut tightly as it kept building and building inside you.
George didn’t move an inch as he kept going exactly how you needed even if he was starting to get a little worn from the intensity of it all. His deep groans were invigorating and his hands on your body drew fire across your skin and you kept yourself in the moment with absolute ease.
You were a messy chant of ‘yes’ and ‘please’ and other unintelligible words you could hardly remember saying. And, when he made you cum, your entire body shuddered against the counter and you bit down onto your own forearm to keep yourself quiet as your eyes literally rolled shut and the sounds poured from your mouth without mercy. George had already been close enough by your mouth so it didn’t take him long to follow after you, sent into waves of pleasure himself by the addicting vice-like grip of your cunt that literally pulled the orgasm from his body.
He slumped over you a little as he shoved hard into you, his hair falling over his eyes as he came inside you with rich wavering grunts. The feeling of him spurting warmly inside you had you wriggling back on him some more, grinding against his cock to make sure he was giving you every last drop as deep as he could. His hands left your body to set on the countertop on either side of you as he leaned down to kiss your neck softly, humming faintly in the tapering off of his orgasm that he shared with you.
“Fuck.” you huffed, shuffling your forearms under you so you could get your chest off the counter enough to find his lips with yours over your shoulder for a few breathless kisses.
“Was that what you wanted?” he teased as he pulled away from your sloppy kiss.
“Mm, mhm.” you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip to hide your smile, eyes flicking between his gaze and his swollen plush lips. You reached a hand up to pull his face back in for a few more off-centered kisses before he was standing up properly again.
George carefully pulled out and then shuffled up your jeans for you, giving your bum a little smack over the denim and the surprise had your muscles fluttering enough to feel yourself leaking into your underwear. How dirty and glorious.
“Do I have your permission to shower off this sweat now?” he asked as he gave your hips a squeeze, letting you catch your breath for a moment as he stood in the nude behind you.
You stood yourself up straighter too, leaving your hands resting aimlessly on the orange countertop as you replied to him over your shoulder, staring him right in the eyes, “Only if I can join you.”
George’s little smirk that grazed his expression had you turning around to face him and you slung your arms around his shoulders to pull him right up close to you, chest to chest. His hands fell to your waist and he leaned in to pull a few slow kisses from your lips before he answered in a whisper, “Okay.”
Upstairs in the Russell’s bathroom, you found yourself almost too easily dropping your clothes onto the tile floor while George started the water in the shower. He had made sure to lock the door just in case his napping three-year-old woke up from down the hall and came looking for him. The cassette player radio sat on the blue bathroom countertop, the metal antenna angled upwards to gather the radio station signals through the steamy warm air as the shower water grew hotter. The modest bathroom was easily filled with the quiet music of that month’s hits as you stepped into the porcelain bathtub together and George pulled the geometric shower curtain closed behind you.
Still buzzing from your hookup in the kitchen, you shared grinning smiles as your arms swirled around each other; George taking to your waist and you taking to his shoulders. Your chests pressed together closely until water was building in the crevice between your breasts and his pecs and trailing down your naked bodies. His lips were completely addicting to you and you kissed him with every ounce of passion you had in you, even as he kept up expertly with your eager pace. The radio and the shower muted the sounds of your kisses, sending you into a steamy cloud of white-noise isolation together.
After a few moments, you pulled away from his plush lips with a sigh, “Is this too domestic?”
George licked his lips with a sigh of his own and a passive response, “I dunno. I’ve never done this before.”
You smiled, “Me neither.”
“Haven’t gotten my hands on a manual for the right way to cheat on your spouse.” he whispered.
You tangled your hand on the back of his wet hair and pulled his mouth back on yours for a few more kisses, speaking to him between them, “Is it bad that I don’t feel guilty?”
George’s lips dusted across your cheek, “I dunno.”
“Because it feels good.” you mumbled, tilting your head to the side as he kissed down your neck and your eyes fluttered shut, “It feels really fucking good.”
“Mhm.”
“Friday was my wedding anniversary.”
His kisses halted on your neck for a moment as your words settled in the steamy shower around you. He lifted his head up to look you in the eye, searching for your feelings in your expression, his mouth formed in a small ‘o’ and his eyebrows furrowed slightly in the middle. You reached up to gently caress the crease between his brows away.
“I forgot.” you confessed, “Andy brought me home flowers and everything like he always does. He really tried to make me feel special but all I could think about was you.”
“I’m sorry.” George stumbled out.
You tisked softly and slid your hands down his chest, “What on Earth do you have to be sorry for?”
“I dunno.” he said for the nth time since you stepped in the shower, pulling you closer by your waist as if being chest to chest wasn’t close enough, “I just feel like I need to say it.”
“Well, you don’t.” you promised and leaned in to kiss him once, “I promise.”
“And promise me that if this gets too much that you’ll tell me and we’ll stop.” George insisted politely, “I don’t want to ruin your life.”
“My gosh, and I don’t want to ruin yours.” you tisked, taking his face in your hands to pull him in for more kisses.
You shared the warmth of the shower water together, kissing slowly under the steady stream, hands roaming naked bodies like it was something you had done for years. You swore that there was no way he could ruin your life. Right there, just how it was, was so perfect. That silly no-strings-attached affair with your neighbour of all people made life feel vibrant and new and worthwhile again. You had once thought that life was beautiful and perfect but it wasn’t until you had a taste of what could have been that you started to see tears in the fabric of your marriage. Maybe there was a way to have the best of both sides.
You pulled away from George’s lips with one more kiss and you bumped your nose against his, offering in a whisper behind the symphony of music and water, “Turn around. Lemmy wash your back.”
He let you, facing away from you against the shower wall to give you a trusting view of his naked body. You took the washcloth and soap and lathered him up under gentle hands, caressing each curve of his figure in sudsy circles that the warm water washed away with ease. You kissed the back of his neck and stood right up close behind him so your skin was pressed to his, taking your time on his handsome body to give it the loving attention it so deserved. Your heart thudded heavily in your chest, warmth from more than the steamy shower water ghosting across your skin, and you couldn’t help yourself but wrap your arms around his waist and lean your cheek against his shoulder blade.
How could something so morally wrong feel so right?
“Two tickets to Crimes of Passion, please.”
“That’ll be $6.72.”
Andrew shuffled through his wallet to pull out some bills and he slid them through the opening in the glass of the box office. The attendant counted the money and then turned to collect the tickets. As she did, you slid your hand around your husband’s arm and leaned closer to him habitually, thrilled to finally be on an adult-only date with him after so long. One of the older sisters to one of Richard’s teammates babysat in her spare time and it was about time you took her up on that offer. Your steamy fling with the neighbour seemed to have drifted from your mind as you settled into your date night; holding hands in the car and standing close together at the box office. Just a reminder of the simplicity of life and how much you still loved your husband.
The box office attendant returned the change to Andrew and slid you your tickets with a flat, “Enjoy the show.”
You thanked her in unison and then Andrew was leading you towards the doors of the theatre. He held the door for you so you could go in first and your hands naturally found each other as you approached the concession stand. Stopping a few feet away on the multi-coloured geometric patterned carpet, you eyed the menu above the counter to decide on what to order. You were so focused that you didn’t notice Andrew staring at you until you were startled by his quick kiss to your cheek.
Glancing over at him, you chuckled, “What was that for?”
He shrugged, “No reason.”
You wanted to reply with something flirty until your eye was caught by someone disappearing into the theatre, someone who you swore looked a lot like George. Stunned to silence, you just turned back to the concession stand as your husband guided you by the hand to the cash register. He ordered you a popcorn to share and two Cokes and you also added on a box of sour patch kids gummies.
Andrew tisked fondly at your order as the cashier totalled it up, “Just like our first date.”
You just leaned into him warmly and rested your cheek on his shoulder.
Once the snacks were paid for and in your hands, you headed towards the double doors leading into your corresponding theatre as written on your ticket. The trailers were already playing as you entered and the dimly lit theatre welcomed you in. The seats were only about half full and as you started to make your way up the stairs to find a row, someone waving caught your eye. Sure enough, what you had figured was a hallucination was actually reality, as George and his wife were there as well and they were waving you over with smiles.
You glanced back at Andrew, “Do you wanna sit with them?”
“Sure. I don’t mind.” he nodded.
You led the way into their row and you all greeted each other politely, your spouses ignorant to the way you and George stared at each other just a little longer. Since you entered the row first, you were in the seat between George and Andrew; a perfect metaphor for your current internal dilemma you were faced with.
“Fancy seeing you two here.” George greeted as you got settled.
He was holding his wife’s hand on the arm rest between them, unmoving even as you joined them.
“Great minds think alike.” Andrew replied with a smile, “A good ol’ Saturday kid free night.”
“Did you get a babysitter too?” you asked them.
“Yeah,” Jennifer nodded, “One of the sisters of one of the boys on James’ baseball team.”
“Us too.” you chuckled.
“Really great minds then.” George concluded.
You had to force yourself not to look at his soft smiling lips. You all turned to the screen.
Once your snacks were arranged and you were comfortable, Andrew tucked his arm around your shoulders and you tried not to think about the way George stared at you as you scooted a little closer to your husband. You were there on a date after all and you hadn’t expected to see him there, yet alone be sitting beside him.
It wasn’t long until the movie started and the theatre was dimmed into near perfect darkness, illuminated by only the light of the screen and the flickering scenes. Almost right away, the underlying theme of the film was apparent and its ‘R’ rating was very obvious as the salacious plot was layered on thickly. The main character - although a prostitute - was torn between two men who both shared sufficient love scenes with her that had you shifting in your seat. Hitting a little too close to home.
George nudged you as if sensing your slight unsettledness and when you looked over at him, he held out the yellow box to you with a soft, “Raisinets?”
You smiled fondly at him and reached into the box to take a few, “Thanks.”
When you offered him some sour patch kids in return with a tip of the box, his eyes lit up, “My favourites.”
Jennifer elbowed him from his other side, “Shh.”
Andrew glanced over at the three of you for a second before looking back to the screen, unbothered by you shaking some of the gummy snacks into George’s open palm. Then, you turned back to the movie yourself, munching on your shared handful of Raisinets, comfortable under your husband’s arm.
It was hard to focus on the movie as every passionate and dark scene that played in front of you had your mind straying, torn between the men you were sandwiches between, although the memories with the one on your left were more recent and much more thrilling. Your brain whispered to you that you and George could have recreated this movie. You shifted again to hush your mind.
A slight graze against your thigh had you looking down to your lap, only to see George’s hand underneath your shared armrest with his fingers ghosting along the side of your jeans. You licked away your smile at his sneaky move and slowly inched your hand off your lap to join his between the two of you. His pinky brushed against yours without turning his attention away from the film like a real professional and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip to hide your smile as you linked your pinky with his.
Sizzling electricity flowed between the two of you and you could feel it tingling up your arm. Your small diamond ring on your left hand nudged against his knuckle as if as a reminder of what sins you were committing together. It was all expressed in the film playing in front of you, shoving right in the faces of your oblivious spouses. Your discreet touches were so risky but, like everything you found yourself with George, you couldn’t seem to stop.
Once the movie was done and the lights were back on, you separated once more and you turned your attention away from each other and to your spouses. Andrew retrieved the empty bag of popcorn from the ground as the credits rolled up the screen and he looked over at you as you collected your purse.
In a hushed voice, he confessed to you in an amused tone, “That film was so dirty that I swear it almost got me hard in the cinema.”
“Oh my gosh.” you laughed, trying to ignore the near puddle you were sitting in more thanks to your sneaky neighbour than the film, “You’d have to put on your own little movie then.”
Andrew licked away his smile and gave you a little nudge, “Very funny.”
“I’d pay to see it.” you teased as you stood up from your seats.
He just wrapped his arm around your shoulders again and pulled you close to kiss your cheek and then the corner of your mouth and before he could get your lips, you turned your head to your neighbours smoothly. George was already looking at you and part of you felt embarrassed - embarrassed by the affection of your own husband - but you played it off coolly and asked them how they enjoyed the movie. Jennifer wasn’t crazy about it but George complimented the acting with rave reviews, explaining how it was unlike anything he had seen before as the four of you walked out of the theatre together.
Andrew could barely be more than a few centimeters away from you the entire walk to the parking lot and when his arm grew tired around your shoulders, his hand fell lazily into yours instead. It was rare that he was so publicly affectionate but you had to admit it was nice - even if you wished George wasn’t there to witness it. It was a strange balance of content and guilt and embarrassment that you forced yourself to pull the positives out of.
You said goodbye to your neighbours once you had to part ways to your respective cars and you had to stop yourself from habitually moving in to give George a hug. Your mind whirled as you climbed into the passenger seat of your station wagon and Andrew walked around the other side to get behind the wheel. He turned the key in the ignition but let the engine run as he turned to you instead.
“This was a really fun night.” he confessed.
You lolled your head to the side to look at him with a small smile, “It really was.”
“We should really do this more often. And if we now have neighbour friends that want to double date, that’s even better.”
You swallowed your pride, “Yeah, for sure.”
Andrew leaned in and his hand ghosted across your cheek to guide your lips to his, melting into slow tender kisses in the front seat of your family car. You could taste the intent behind his kiss and you smiled against his mouth as he pulled away for a moment.
“Mm, I need to take you to dirty movies more often.” you giggled, pressing a gentle hand to his chest over the fabric of his tank top tucked under his white denim vest, “I like when you’re all touchy and all hot and bothered.”
“Hot and bothered?” he repeated, thoroughly amused, in that sweet accent of his that just made you pull him in again to kiss your smiling lips.
You kissed in the front seat of your car for a few moments with hands faintly pulling at clothes and the back of necks, desperate to get impossibly closer. Part of you didn’t even want to leave the parking lot; just willing to throw caution into the wind and pull him into the backseat with you. But, when you made a move to push his vest off, he broke away from your kiss.
“We gotta go home.” he chuckled.
“But our kid is at home.” you mumbled with a pout as he straightened himself out in his seat, “I wanna be risky with you.”
Andrew kissed you once more before putting the car in drive and his hand fell to your thigh, “Another time.”
It was always another time.
Another time didn’t come all week - at least with your husband. While your spouses were at work, you and George certainly made the most of the empty houses the best you could while he still had to watch his daughter. Because of that, you only managed to get together one afternoon (and almost a second before the three-year-old nearly caught you) but that was enough to keep you somewhat satisfied for the week.
When Friday rolled around, the last thing you had really expected was to be standing in George’s foyer in a party dress. Andrew had a work event that you were actually invited to and you were certainly not going to pass up an opportunity to join him in the city for extra one-on-one time when you could take it. In your periwinkle dress, Richard stood beside you with his small suitcase in hand, ready for his sleepover with James who had just come barrelling down the hallway. The young boys embraced messily and you barely managed to crouch down to get a hug and kiss from your son before he was slipping away to play with his friend.
“Thanks again for having him stay over.” you said to Jennifer as you stood back up.
“No problem at all.” she shrugged. Still in her work skirt and blazer, she hadn’t even had a chance to take off her shoes yet upon her arrival home by the time you showed up. “We’re just glad that James has found such a good friend.”
“And one that just lives next door at that.” you chuckled.
She smiled politely at you and then turned towards the kitchen, calling out, “George! Are you ready? You’re going to make her miss her train at this rate.”
“Yeah! Coming!” he called back.
Then, he was emerging from around the corner, half distracted still with a tea towel still draped over his shoulder.
“Sorry, was just putting the last of the dinner on.”
Jennifer snatched the tea towel off his shoulder as George got his first look at you. He nearly stopped in his tracks although under the eye of his wife, he had to play it off coolly. You held your clutch purse in your hands and had to look away from him to keep from blushing like it was your senior high school prom or something just as ridiculous. The voluminous periwinkle frills of your sleeveless party dress encircled the top hem across the sweetheart neckline over your chest and around to your back, leaving your collarbones exposed to house a string of pearls. The snug bodice followed the shape of your figure into a stitched V-across your hips where the fabric flowed outwardly into a satin skirt that rested around your knees.
“Wow, you look amazing.” George complimented passively, although once he walked past his wife to grab his car keys from the small hook beside the door, his eyes were raking shamelessly down your body.
“Thanks.” you answered softly.
He turned back to Jennifer, “You most likely won’t need to touch the dinner. It should be ready for me to serve when I get back.”
“Okay, good.” she chuckled and they both leaned in to share a brief kiss. “Drive safe.”
“I will.” George opened the door and ushered you outside first.
Although Jennifer closed the door behind the both of you before you had even stepped off the porch, you still walked at a bit of a distance from each other towards the driveway and George’s family car. It was still warm from Jennifer’s drive home from the train station that George was now taking you to.
“Thanks for driving me.” you said as you got in the passenger seat.
“Of course.” George replied as he turned the key in the ignition, “Anything for you.”
His eyes darted towards his house as if scanning to make sure no one was looking out the windows before he reached an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in for a quick sneaky kiss.
As you both settled back in your seats with giddy little grins, he complimented again, “And you look so fucking beautiful.”
“Thank you.” you breathed, glancing down at the skirt of your dress that was draped out over your lap in stain waves. Your white heels were resting politely on the floor of his car, your knees together, and your hands folded over your clutch purse like a proper lady.
George pulled out of the driveway and headed down the street in the direction of the train station and, as you peered out the window at the passing evening neighbourhood, you couldn’t help but try to figure out the feelings that were burning within you. On one hand, you were excited to see Andrew and have this special night with him and have a chance to reconnect as husband and wife, but, on the other hand, you had George beside you who made your heart race like it was the honeymoon phase all over again. As if reading your mind, George reached across the front seat and set his hand on your knee, caressing your skin with his thumb, and the shivers that rose at his touch tingled right up between your legs.
The train station was mostly emptying as commuters from the city were heading home during the peak rush hour chaos. You were one of the few who were heading into the city at such a late time as the others who were on the same page as you were ready for a Friday night out in Manhattan with their friends. That used to be you. How different life was now.
George parked and you looked over at each other with calm smiles, his hand giving your thigh a tender squeeze. In the privacy of his car, you leaned in to kiss his soft lips, lingering there for a few seconds before pulling away again. His hand lifted from your lap to the side of your neck as he licked his lips in anticipation and pulled you in for more. You met halfway for a few more close-mouthed kisses with your hands still staying perfectly still on your lap.
When he pulled away, he glanced down at your body, eyes lingering on the strapless dress wrapped snugly around your chest with the frills accenting the sweetheart neckline, “This dress…is unreal.”
“Think it’s okay?” you asked, reaching up to nudge at some of the frills.
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re gonna be the best looking one there.” George draped his arm around the back of your seat, “But that is usually the case.”
You smiled sweetly at him and leaned in for more kisses, easily locking his lips with yours as the passion in his modest car rose by the second. His hand on your face pulled you in to deepen your kiss, his tongue teasing yours, and when you opened up for him, you shared soft pleasant hums of appreciation.
“God, your husband’s a lucky fucking man.” George mumbled between kisses, “He better be showing you off tonight.”
You giggled softly into his mouth, blindly shifting your hand from your lap to his chest and up to his shoulder. His head tilted naturally to the side a little more to deepen your kiss and the way he took control had your insides twirling with desire. Your fingers tangled in the back of his soft hair, tugging gently at the roots to get him impossibly closer, and George moaned softly into your mouth at your insistence.
He pulled away after a few more seconds with a bite to your bottom lip, “Looking like that and kissing me like this…you’re gonna send me home to my wife with a boner.”
You smiled proudly and whispered against his lips, “And she won’t even do anything to help.”
George chuckled lightly and gave you a few more kisses before answering, “No. I’ll have to have a wank in the shower and think of you.”
You broke away from his kiss with your hand sliding down to his chest to put some more space between you, glancing down to his lap habitually before saying, “I’d offer to just bend over and fix it myself if I didn’t have a train to catch.”
George’s hand around your neck startled you pleasantly as he tugged you in for more sloppy feverish kisses and your fingers tightened on the material of his t-shirt. He kissed you like it was the last time you were going to see each other, like he wanted to make sure you didn’t forget him, and his tongue helped himself to your mouth between ungraceful impolite kisses. Dizzy from the way he kissed you, when he let you break away, you were panting despite the grin plastered across your face, lipstick slightly smudged and cheeks flushed pink.
You pulled down the sun visor in his car to clean up your makeup and he watched you with his hand on your thigh as you opened your clutch purse to reapply your lipstick and powder quickly. His hand squeezed your thigh and slid up your skirt and back down tauntingly until you had to nudge him away.
“I’ll see you.” you said with a smile as you opened the door.
“See you, gorgeous. Have a good night.” George wished you off as you climbed out of the car.
You leaned back into the car and pointed a warning finger at him, “Take good care of my boy.”
He grabbed your finger and pulled you closer to leave you with one more kiss, staining his lips in the fresh application of your pink lipstick, before he promised you with a soft, “Of course.”
You almost didn’t want to leave him but with a final wave through the windshield as you headed towards the station building, you hurried on your way. After buying your ticket and finding your seat on the train, you forced yourself to look forward to the man who was waiting for you at your destination despite the uncomfortable ache that burned between your legs for the man who had dropped you off. Torn between two and managing to play it off, life felt thrilling.
It was about an hour to Grand Central Station and, as promised, Andrew was waiting for you in the main terminal. You saw him from the top of the stairs, leaning against one of the old stone walls that framed the impressive arched atrium amongst the bustling Manhattan crowd around him. He spotted you at almost the same time and with a warm smile, pushed himself away from the wall to meet you as you reached the bottom of the stairs.
“There’s my girl.” he greeted sweetly as your hands naturally found each other’s and he gave you a brief kiss before taking a second to admire you in your dress, “You look beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous.”
“Thank you, honey.” you smiled.
“How was the train ride? Alright?”
“It was fine.” you kept one hand in his as he started to lead you off through the busy station to the main doors, “How was work?”
“Lowkey, which was nice for once. Just getting set up for the party tonight, mostly.” Andrew said.
You emerged outside together into the crazy chaos of Manhattan as the sun set behind the skyscrapers and the lights and sounds of the city guided you towards the crosswalk. Standing together on the curb, hand in hand, you scooted a little closer to him and tucked your free hand around his bicep just to be closer. It was thrilling to keep the secret that before you got on the train you were making out with another man in his car and, now, you were the perfect image of husband and wife back in the city where you met. And Andrew was completely clueless.
“I’m glad you could come.” he spoke to you behind the noise of the city.
You looked at him fondly, “Me too.”
His office building wasn’t too far away from Grand Central Terminal and after only a brief walk, you found yourselves in the elevator and headed up to the floor. Andrew reminded you about the context of the party - that it was one of the higher up’s retirement party - and he was going to make sure to introduce you around so you knew who was who. It had been a while since you had been around his co-workers and although you knew them somewhat, there was a lot that had changed apparently.
As promised, once out on the office floor surrounded by nicely dressed employees and a few celebratory streamers and balloons, framed in floor to ceiling glass that overlooked the New York wonder around you, Andrew took you around by the hand and introduced you proudly as his wife to his co-workers. A few recognized you but a few others had to be filled in but were generally nothing but polite. Some of the higher ranking individuals made sure to praise Andrew’s hard work well to you - as if you didn’t already know - to which your modest husband went a little pink in the cheeks and brushed it off with a smile.
It wasn’t long before the introductions and brief discussion about families and kids naturally fell into conversations about work. By then you had a drink in your hand with your other tucked in the crook of Andrew’s arm as you stood at his side while he chatted. Time and place called for work talk since there wasn’t much else that made sense to talk with co-workers about but you couldn’t help but hide a yawn behind your glass before playing it off with a lengthy sip. The fruity alcohol burned slightly as you finished the last bit in the bottom of your icy glass and your bored mind kept straying to George and what you had gotten up to in his car earlier. Lingering in that unfulfilled puddle of desire, it was easy to transfer that need towards your handsome husband in his collared button up and tie.
You tugged on his arm gently and when he looked over at you, you whispered to him, “Come get another drink with me?”
Andrew looked back to the small group he had been mingling with, “Excuse us.”
He took his hand out of his pocket to intertwine your fingers as you walked together across the office floor towards the glass framed conference room where the table was stocked full of drinks and food. There was even a hired bartender that had a cooler with him and could mix up a few simple drinks if you wanted and that was where you went first, asking for a refill on your cocktail while Andrew grabbed a small plate and picked at the snack arrangement of finger sandwiches and vegetables and dip.
With your drink in hand, you joined him with a sigh, “I’m starving.”
He offered out a slice of carrot to you and you ate it out of his fingers before he added a few more to his plate, “I got us a few things to share.”
Your hand slid over his shoulders and down his back and you whispered to him softly against his shoulder and the blue fabric of his button up shirt, “You look so unbelievably handsome tonight.”
Andrew offered you a smile in reply, his brown eyes shining, but before he could answer, everyone was called out to the main office space by the CEO clinking his fork against his glass. The two of you joined the rest of the large group and lingered near the back to share your small plate of snacks while the CEO spoke highly about the retiring individual and all that he had accomplished for the company.
Although you didn’t care much about the man who was retiring since you hardly knew him, you were there to support Andrew and that’s where your attention lay. Once your plate was empty, Andrew had his arm around your waist to hold you close at his side with his gaze on the speech going on across the office. You set your hand on his back and trailed ghostly twirling shapes up his spine and back down and when he glanced at you, you just smiled softly at him.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
You merely nodded and he kissed your cheek.
The speeches wrapped up not long later and the music was turned louder to really begin the party. Some people even started dancing while most lingered around to mingle and chat and there were more than a few wives in attendance who looked as bored as ever, hearing their husbands drone on about work talk.
“Andy,” you glanced back at your husband, “can we sneak off for a bit?”
“Sneak off?” he chuckled, “What for?”
You were so obviously staring at his lips but you forced your eyes to his when you made some passive excuse, “It’s just a little loud. Can I see your desk?”
Andrew smiled widely and set the empty plate down on the random desk you had been leaning against together and he took your hand, “Alright. Right this way, my lady.”
Although the music from the party was played through the office speakers, the farther away from the large group you walked, the less the added noise of conversation interfered with your mind. Across the stretch of the office floor, Andrew led you by the hand towards his desk and weaved through the endless rows of desks and chairs and filing cabinets to get there. Near the middle of it all, he fell to a stop in front of a desk that looked just like all the others with a small chunky Macintosh computer monitor and a neat row of files.
You helped yourself to his desk chair and you leaned your arms on his desk to admire where he spent more time than he did with you. The framed wedding photo of the two of you was set right in your line of vision and you reached over to pick it up with a smile. You could see the slight bump of growing Richard that was not quite hidden well enough under your white fall dress in the picture taken outside the New York City city hall. Andrew leaned back against his desk beside you, watching you admire all his little belongings he had at his desk to make it feel more personalized and homey. When you set the wedding photo back down, you smiled at the baby picture of Richard right beside it, your little boy sitting happily on the floral couch in your tiny apartment almost four years ago.
“What do you think?” he asked.
You looked up at him from your spot in his chair, “Very nice.”
“Yeah?”
You glanced at the small box-like monitor in front of you, “You even have a computer!”
“Really neat, isn’t it?” Andrew tapped the top, “It really speeds up our work sometimes. Truly incredible.”
“And you have pictures.” you gushed, sliding a hand across his desk again to poke at the wedding picture.
“Of course, I have pictures. I always like having you around.”
You looked up at him and he lifted a hand up to gently caress your cheek with his thumb, his simple touch swirling that strange mixture of lust and guilt around in your stomach. Searching for a distraction for your mind, you stood up from the chair and situated yourself in front of him, standing between his feet in his dress shoes and his hands found your waist. You leaned against his chest as he was resting back on his desk and your arms draped around his shoulders, letting your lips capture his softly.
In the quiet corner of the office separate from the rest of the party going on only a few metres away, you kissed slowly at his desk, arms around each other so tenderly. It was so easy to kiss him; you had the history together that made it easy. You moved so well together like it was a rehearsed dance and every move was anticipated, knowing just how he would tilt his head and just about when his hands would move across your waist. His palms took to the curve of your ass over your satin dress and with a gentle squeeze of your flesh, you were moaning softly into his mouth, tugging at the back of his neck to get him to kiss you harder.
“Okay, sugar,” Andrew chuckled out of your kiss as he turned his head away from you, “We should go back.”
You peppered kisses across his cheek, staining his skin in faint lipstick prints, making your way back to his lips, ignoring his pitch. He kissed you a little longer, pulling you right up against his body greedily as he did, and you could have stayed there for hours.
“Seriously,�� Andrew patted your bum to get you to let up after a few more seconds, “we can’t do this here.”
“Take me to the bathroom.” you pitched, batting your mascara lined lashes at him as your hands dragged down his chest.
Andrew grasped your wrists in his hands, “We have a whole empty house waiting for us later.”
“But that’s later.” you said, “This is now.”
“This is also my office.” he whispered to you, “My boss can turn the corner at any moment or walk into the bathroom at any moment. We can’t afford for me to lose this job.”
You pouted, “Right.”
“When we get home,” he said against your cheek, “I promise.”
“Do you?”
It was out of your mouth before you could think about it, sounding so doubtful of his word right to his face, but who could blame you?
Andrew blinked at you in half surprise and he nodded once, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, “Yes. I promise.”
You pulled a tight smile and nodded back, brushing it under the rug until he would be able to really follow through, and you stepped away from him with your hands falling into his, “Come dance with me then.”
Andrew pushed himself away from the desk with a loving smile and let you pull him back towards the party and the noise of the office. Once you were back amongst the crowd, your hands joined and you moved together to the upbeat music with his co-workers, not unlike how you would share late night dances in Manhattan clubs when you were freshly twenty and freshly met. Only you two in the crowd. Although, your mind couldn’t help but drift to George and wondering what he was doing at that moment.
When the party was over and you both had enough drinks to be slightly buzzed, you and Andrew returned to Grand Central Terminal to catch your train back home. The coach was quite empty at the late hour it was since not many suburbia-folk were leaving the city at nearly midnight; most were long at home and in bed. Because of this, you had your train car to yourself as it trekked along out of the city and towards the quiet outskirts and the tamer life on the border of Connetiticut.
Your feet were tossed up on Andrew’s lap beside you and his hand was running up and down your shin carelessly as you stared at each other and eased into the uncomfortable train seats. You broke your momentary silence first with a soft, “Tonight reminded me of when we were younger and cooler.”
Andrew smiled over at you with a playful scoff, “Speak for yourself. I’m still cool.”
“Sometimes.” you humoured him.
He gently pulled one of your heels off and helped himself to your foot, pressing his thumbs into the sole to give your tired and sore feet a massage. You watched him for a moment, debating delving into a conversation that had been on your mind for a while, but the liquid courage in your system helped to answer that question.
“Do you miss life before Ritchie?” you asked him.
Andrew looked up at you again with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? I love our son, I can’t imagine life without him.”
“I know, I know. Me too.” you assured him easily, “I just mean…when we didn’t have the responsibilities we do now. When we could go out - no questions asked - on a Friday night and dance at clubs until we could hardly stand and come back to our shitty little apartment and fuck like rabbits.”
“My God.” Andrew laughed, habitually glancing down the train car as if to make sure no one could hear your confessions. He looked back at you, “I mean, sure, I miss that - it was fun and thrilling and everything - but I don’t miss it more or less than what we have now. We have a family together now, sugar, isn’t that wonderful? A family and a house of our own and you’re my wife. It’s different, but it’s just as good in its own way.”
You looked down, picking aimlessly at the frills along the top of your dress.
Andrew gave your ankle a squeeze, concern in his voice, “Do you not feel the same?”
“I dunno.” you shrugged, “I am happy. I am so unbelievably happy that we have Richard and that I have you and we have that absolute dream of a house to call our own. That part is so wonderful and I am so thankful for you for working so hard to be able to provide us with all the niceties.”
“But?”
“But I…” you sighed, trying to find the right words.
Andrew kept his concerned gaze on you, reaching out for your hand to hold reassuringly and you linked your index finger with his over your thighs.
“I miss the passion.” you whispered, speaking to his hand on your lap, “I miss when making love wasn’t just boring old people missionary that lasts three seconds. It’s like we got married and had a kid and now we’re stupid celibate senior citizens or something. It used to be so good. It used to be incredible.”
Andrew had a gentle pout on his face when you finally glanced up at him to gauge his reaction. He rested his head against the train seat, the darkened nature whizzing past behind him through the large windows as he focused all on you, and his other hand caressed your thigh just under the hem of your dress, “I’m sorry.”
You shook your head, “You don’t have to say that.”
“I miss it too.” Andrew confessed, “I just…I just feel old now. Almost like moving to this bigger place has completely exhausted me and I feel so guilty for not giving you what you need. Even when you ask for it, I’m so worried about letting you down that I just shut you out instead.”
“You can’t let me down.” you promised, leaning forward towards him to kiss the corner of his mouth before resting back in place in your seat, “I’m trying to be more understanding because I know work demands so much of you and I never want you to feel like it’s a chore.”
“Oh,” Andrew scoffed with a smile, “Sex with you is never a chore.”
You gave his hand a little tug, “Sometimes it feels like it’s done because it has to, not because we want to. That’s when it feels like a chore.”
“What can I do?” he asked genuinely.
You thought for a moment, shamelessly thinking about the prior three weeks with George and all the magical afternoons you shared, while also thinking back to life when you were newly dating and everything was so fresh. You smiled softly at it all before answering, “Be rougher with me.”
Andrew’s worried expression melted into amusement and he turned his head away from you for a second with a smile he tried to lick away before he was looking back at you and his warm brown eyes flicked between your lips and your eyes.
“Being soft is nice sometimes but…you know how I like it. Be really demanding and rough with me and toss me around.” you slid your foot back from his lap and gently rubbed it over his inner thigh and across the front of his slacks, “And surprise me with it…come up behind me in the kitchen or something. Remember that one time in the apartment?”
Andrew chuckled softly, “Yeah…you broke two plates. The set was a gift from my mum.”
“Yeah.” you laughed faintly, “Make me break more important shit. That’s what I want. That’s the passion I want.”
“Well,” his hand that wasn’t linked with yours trailed up your shin and back down in ghostly touches as your bare foot rested on his thigh, “we do have the house to ourselves tonight…and I did make a very important promise to you earlier, did I not?”
You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, “Mhm.”
Andrew leaned towards you slightly, his hand sliding farther up your leg until it was disappearing under the skirt of your dress, “And you are so unbelievably beautiful tonight. Won’t be difficult to hold up my promise.”
You reached out and grabbed his tie and yanked him closer messily by it, forcing his lips on yours in an ungraceful kiss. His hand lifted from under your dress to the side of your neck to hold you close, melting effortlessly into your touch after your years together, sharing in the passion on the empty midnight train. The hints of his promise could be tasted on his lips and tongue and you tugged a little harder at his tie until he was almost completely leaning over you, his hand in yours pulling away to slide along the inside of your thigh and up under your dress, teasing you with ghostly touches that made you shiver.
The call for your stop through the speaker system interrupted you and you pushed your husband away with a giddy grin and a lick to your lips that were smudged with your lipstick. Just like George’s had earlier, Andrew’s mouth was also dotted in the faint pink hue and you turned your smile away from him at the realization that you had two men completely claimed by you, enamoured by you, and you selfishly were thrilled by the entire concept.
Andrew followed you off the train and then took your hand for the walk across the darkened and nearly empty parking lot to your family car. You walked right across the empty parking space where George had kissed you goodbye earlier and you swore it rose a shiver up your spine at the mere memory. Since then, you had been absolutely burning for touch and Andrew’s promise lingered in the front of your mind and stayed ever present by the way he nearly pulled you by the hand across the parking lot.
The drive home was silent apart from the radio and once Andrew pulled into your driveway by the light of the single porch lamp you had left on, your gaze shifted to the neighbour’s house. It was dark, all the lights off and everyone asleep at the very late hour it was. You silently wondered if Jennifer managed to get over herself long enough to put out.
“Coming?”
Andrew’s voice startled you out of your thoughts as he climbed out of the driver’s side and leaned back down into the car. You only smiled at him and gathered your purse to hurry after him along the front walk and up the stone steps and into your house, letting the door close behind you.
You had barely had a chance to put your clutch purse down on the console table inside the floral wallpapered foyer before Andrew was coming up behind you and wrapping an arm around your middle to pull you right back against his front. Smiling into the entryway of your darkened house, illuminated by only a single lamp left on in the living room, you set your hands over his arm around your waist and his other hand gently brushed your hair over your shoulder so his lips could have access to your neck. You tilted your head to the side slightly to give him room to kiss across your skin, trailing slow open mouthed kisses along your shoulder and right up under your ear.
“Oh my God.” you chuckled breathily, finally assured that he really was going to keep his promise.
Andrew’s soft moan against your neck had your mouth falling open slightly, eyelids fluttering as you basked in his warm kisses in all the right spots on your neck, and his hands caressed your hips and around your waist. He pulled you back on him a little harder and you habitually leaned forward just the very slightest amount so you could discreetly rub your ass back against the front of his slacks.
“That’s it.” he breathed against your ear, hands sliding up your body still tucked in the flattering bodice of the periwinkle dress until he reached your chest. He kept kissing your neck while his familiar hands traced the curve of your breasts over the frilly top of your strapless dress and soon he was pulling it down just enough to reveal your chest to your empty house.
You reached a hand back to slide around the back of his neck and into the ends of his dark hair, holding his face in your neck as he licked over your soft skin and kissed up under your ear while his hands groped your breasts possessively. The metal of his wedding ring grazed your warm skin and reminded you of your devotion to each other, almost allowing your neighbour to be completely forgotten from your mind. It was easy to not think of anything else when your handsome husband was moving slowly with you, grinding on each other until you were falling breathless, not unlike how you spent a lot of Friday nights in the clubs of Manhattan before responsibilities took over.
But then he was grabbing your arm and pulling you a few steps over to the open entryway into the living room and he situated you to face the wall, forcing your hands up against the drywall. You leaned your forearms against the flat surface so you could bend over a little more for him, wiggling your ass back against his crotch again. His hand came down in a precise smack against your ass over your dress and you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip in anticipation.
“This what you wanted?” he asked lowly.
In the dimly lit house, you were attuned to the sound of his belt being undone and your insides pulsed with desire at what that simple sound implied.
“Yeah.” you exhaled in response to his question.
Your dress was bunched up around your waist next and your husband tugged your underwear down until they rested around your ankles and he stepped up close behind you. His left hand then went around your neck and you hummed contently at his touch, letting him pull your head back enough for him to kiss along your jaw, while under the fabric of your dress you could feel him nudge the head of his cock against your dripping cunt.
When he pushed inside you steadily, your mouth fell open at the warm pressure it pushed across your hips and his hand tightened slightly around your throat. Andrew’s soft moan against your ear was igniting and you reached a hand back again to pull him in for a kiss by the back of his neck. Your tongues met first in off-centered kisses that moulded into your rehearsed dance of swollen greedy lips just as he started to thrust into you properly. Still in your heels, you spread your legs a little wider over the foyer floor, bending forward towards the wall to get him deeper.
“Fuck.” Andrew huffed stiffly, taking his hand from your throat for a grip on your shoulder while his other tried to push up the satin skirt of your dress out of the way. He gave you another light smack to your bum before grabbing a snug handful of your flesh as if to tug you back into his precise strokes, “Just want me to take what’s mine, huh?”
“Yeah.” you exhaled dreamily, lifting your forehead from the wall to turn towards the living room instead, letting your soft pleasant moans tumble from your lipstick-smudged lips.
“My God, you feel incredible.” he groaned, fucking into you a little harder, a little faster.
Once so distracted by him, your attention soon focused on the single lamp in the adjacent living room that cast a warm glow over the carpeted floor and floral couch. Your memory served you well as you thought of your first afternoon with George when he took you into that very same living room and changed your world. You could almost see it now, too, as you stared at the couch, watching you and your neighbour engage in such unspeakable acts while your husband was away at work. Now, said husband was very much present, nestled deep inside you where George had once been, his hands all over your body and his lips meeting your neck again in hot wet kisses.
“Andy…” you breathed.
He rested a hand against the wall you were leaning forward against, taking you over in strong thrusts that nearly had your legs struggling to stay steady underneath you. If it weren’t for the familiar scent of his fading cologne, you would have so easily fallen into the mindset that he was George and you knew you needed to get away from the living room before it ruined your night.
“Andrew…honey.” you tried again, grasping his wrist.
He slowed, heavy breaths falling against your cheek, “You okay?”
“Yeah, I just…” you pushed yourself away from the wall a little which had you backing stronger into him, pulling a small grunt from his chest, “I wanna go upstairs. Want to get out of these stuffy clothes and get my hands on you properly.”
Without a word, Andrew pulled your head back against his shoulder and his lips found yours in sloppy kisses, hands trailing your body before he was guiding you away from him, letting his dick slip out of you, “Okay. Go on then.”
You stepped out of your underwear around your ankles and left them on the floor as your priority was turning around long enough to grab him by his tie so you could pull him after you to the nearby staircase. The living room lamp was left on in your rush upstairs, the darkened second floor welcoming your hurried footsteps across the wood floor and into your shared bedroom that was blessed by the faint light of the street lamps outside your front windows.
You switched on your bedside table lamp and when you turned back to your husband, he was already kicking off his dress shoes and shoving down his pants to the floor. To save time, you helped him to loosen his tie and start on the buttons on his shirt and as you did, his hands slid around your body to unzip your dress. Neither of you had to share a word as your lust for each other took control, breathily heavily together in the comfort of your empty home under familiar touches of your spouse.
When you pushed Andrew’s shirt off his shoulders and it fell to the floor, you ordered him firmly with an excitable grin, “Get on the bed.”
He obeyed you easily and sat on the side of the bed so he could shuffle himself backwards to the middle and he situated himself back against the headboard, draped out naked for you. His hands went behind his head as he watched you leave your dress in a puddle on the floor and his habitual lick to his lips as you joined him on the bed, naked apart from your pearl necklace, had you smiling cheekily.
“How do you want me?” he asked.
As he tried to move from his spot, you pressed a hand against his chest to stop him, “Like this.”
You tossed a leg over his lap and then spit into your hand so you could reach down and stroke his dick before angling it properly against your cunt. The look on his face was erotic, staring wide-eyed at your hand on him with his bottom lip held snugly between his teeth. And when you sank down on him slowly, his jaw fell slack, face fluttering in pleasure, and he let out the sweetest moan you had heard from him in a long time.
“Oh my God.” he exhaled.
You adjusted your position a little with your feet anchored flat on the mattress on either side of him so you were squatting over his lap and when you started bouncing, his breath caught in his throat. At the pace you set, the erotic clap of your skin filled your bedroom and certainly reached out into the hallway through your open bedroom door; the joys of an empty house were not to be taken lightly. It had been honestly years since you had been on top of him like that and Andrew had been so focused on work and the boring side of life that he forgot how much he had once enjoyed it.
His big brown eyes stared at you like he didn’t want to look at anything else for the rest of his life, hands resting faintly against your thighs to let you do it yourself, gaping up at you in near awe. But the sounds he made were enough to make your heart race. You hadn’t heard him whimper like that for who knew how long and with the house being empty, he wasn’t worried about being too loud.
“Fuck, baby.” you choked out, anchoring yourself against his chest with both hands as your knees ached underneath every bounce of your hips.
“Yes.” he whimpered, his face screwed up in handsome pleasure, dark features shadowed by the warm light of the lamp, “Yes, yes, fuck-”
The broken moans and whimpers that tumbled from his swollen lips were addicting, wavering as if he were near tears, and they only grew louder and more insistent as you kept going, bouncing on his lap harder, faster, until his head was tossing back against the pillows. He moaned richly to the ceiling, eyes squeezing shut, struggling to catch his breath, and his hands tightened on your thighs until you swore he was pressing indentations from his nails into your flesh.
“Knew you missed it too.” you said cheekily down to him as you stopped your motions to grind right down on him.
Andrew reached a hand behind him to grab onto the pillow, still whining through your shared bedroom as you flicked your hips back and forth messily on his lap. He panted underneath you, staring up into your eyes with unmissable lust spread all over his face, and you just had to move back into those greedy bounces to watch how his expression withered under your control. He turned soft so easily when you took over, unlike George who always seemed to have the upper hand even when you didn’t expect it. The thought of George had your eyes squeezing shut to try and keep him out, striving to focus on your husband underneath you and the pretty sounds that he let out.
His fading accent always seemed to get thicker like that, laced into his words more strongly than normal, especially with how his voice whimpered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit-”
“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” you groaned softly, “Wanna make you cum so bad.”
It was as if that line alone flipped a switch in him, reminding him who had been the one to initiate the night after all, reminding him that it was your desires that spurred the need for making the most of this empty house. Andrew sat up under you quickly and wrapped an arm around your back to keep you against him even as he flipped you both over, trapping you underneath him smoothly. Your gasp froze in your chest as he pinned your wrists down beside your head and started fucking your properly without wasting a second.
The air left your lungs for a moment in surprise and you could only gape up at him dumbly for a moment, even as he stared right back down at you with those beautiful brown eyes that you had fallen so deeply in love with. When your brain finally caught up, you heaved for breath in a gasp that was laced in so effortlessly with a moan, head tossing back against the bed with your hands bunching into fists from where he had you held down.
“That’s it.” Andrew praised from above you. “That’s more like it, huh?”
“Fuck!” you squeaked, “Holy shit, yeah, that’s what I want!”
“Yeah?” he chuckled breathily, keeping up that same pace and same angle just to watch how your face contorted in pleasure.
“Choke me.” you begged, “Please, please choke me.”
He let go of your wrists so he could set both hands around your throat, remembering just what you liked from those wild Friday nights in your early twenties. You grasped onto his biceps as he kept his arms straight, your nose scrunching up slightly as that warmth grew inside you so quickly and you linked your ankles together behind his back to keep him close. He was suddenly easily comparable to George with how quickly he was getting you there and, of course, that thought that passed your mind brought you right back to your neighbour’s house when he would rock your fucking world mid-week.
As your eyes shut tightly and your jaw clenched your mouth into a pulled tight line, your mind filled with images and memories of the man next door, almost taking Andrew’s heavy breaths and handsome moans as his. He was just doing everything right that you were getting dizzy, moaning uncontrollably through your bedroom even as the bed squeaked underneath you and the strength your husband was putting out for you. The world easily fell away, hovering you in a blissful world of isolated pleasure.
“Are you gonna cum for me?”
“Yes, sir.”
It was out of your mouth before you could think, running on pure instinct, initially unaware that you let the title only reserved for George slip past your lips when addressing your husband. Andrew groaned heartily and cluelessly from on top of you, his dark hair falling over his forehead and his hands tightening a little more around your throat.
“Fuck, that’s it.” he said through his teeth, “Cum for me.”
You were right there, so close, desperate to feel those addicting waves of pleasure tear through you. But you were stuck there, lingering right on the precipice, and you desperately reached down to rub at your clit while your husband fucked you into your bedsheets and your mind pictured George all around you. Your moans grew higher and more desperate, your body tensing.
“That’s it, that’s my girl.” Andrew egged you on breathily from over top of you, still shoving into you hard, “Cum for me. Come on.”
George would have dirty talked you right into orgasm and you let the words he once spoke to you take up your mind, letting him talk you into it even from a distance, and in seconds you were falling into that quiver worthy orgasm. It shook right through you, arching your back off the bed and you cried out through the warm air of your bedroom as your fingers pressed into the flesh of Andrew’s bicep. It was a miracle you didn’t moan George’s name when you came from how much he took over your mind in order to get you there but you still slung your arm around your husband’s shoulders and pulled him down on top of you.
“Fuck.” he groaned into your neck, embracing you closely even as his thrusts turned faster and sloppier.
You just had to tighten your legs around his waist, ankles linked and locking him in, although you didn’t need to beg much at all because he made no move against your limited strength to pull out. He came inside you strongly, grinding into you in precise strokes that had you clinging onto him around his shoulders and your fingers tangled in his hair. You shared in the bliss together in a tangle of sweaty limbs and soft pleasurable sounds. Part of you was so caught up in the fantasy that you were almost startled when the man on top of you leaned back from your embrace just enough to look you in the eye and it was Andrew and not George. But you played it off with a smile and he kissed you a few times, giving you both a second to ease out of the waves of pleasure that had just taken you over.
“That was absolutely unreal.” Andrew breathed as he shifted off you and laid at your side, draping an arm across his forehead as you both stared up at the ceiling and tried to catch your breaths. He glanced over at you, “Was that okay?”
A smile perked at your lips, trying to ignore the guilt that bubbled within you over the fact that you still couldn’t get George off your mind, and you told your husband softly, “That was fucking amazing.”
He grinned and rolled over to kiss you once before he was getting up, “I’m so exhausted.”
“I need a shower.” you stated and got up after him, reaching behind your neck to unclasp your pearl necklace.
“This late?” he questioned as he retrieved a pair of underwear from his dresser drawer.
“Yeah? I have train germs and cum all over me.” you pinched his hip on the way past and dropped your necklace onto the surface of the dresser.
“Oh, hardly all over you.” Andrew called after you playfully as you disappeared into the ensuite bathroom, “I was very organized in my delivery, thank you very much.”
“Truly. I am most impressed.” you responded over the sound of the water once you turned the shower on.
You stepped into the shower and let the warm water caress your body, your eyes staring unblinking to the tile wall, wondering where you went wrong in life to find yourself in such a predicament. You had the best husband you could have possibly asked for, who was willing to listen to you and do whatever you wanted, and yet you still couldn’t be properly satisfied without thinking of another man. The water was turned hotter until it made your skin turn red, burning the reminder of your own filthy shortcomings from your conscious.
When you closed your eyes in the heat of the shower, the water washing away the day and the essence of your husband leaking down your inner thighs, all you could think about was George’s hands on your skin, his body pressed against yours in the shower stream, and the yearning to have something that wasn’t yours.
November 1984
Richard looked so small carrying his baseball bag over his shoulder, the body of the bag nearly dragging along the gravel parking lot as he trudged towards the baseball field all set for his big end-of-season tournament. Every time Andrew tried to offer to carry his bag for him, he was met with a very determined ‘no’ from the five-year-old until finally your husband gave up and you shared the responsibility of watching your son figure life out on his own. As always, you proudly carried the cooler full of snacks for the team, making the most out of the last game until next year.
The November air of New England was growing cooler now and the trees were starting to change into their brilliant autumn hues of orange and rich red. Although it had only been a few weeks since you had moved into your new house, nearing three months, the days seemed to speed by - and only more so when you had your neighbour to keep you company while your spouses were at work and your kids were at school.
Said neighbour greeted you with a smile when your little family approached the baseball diamond and he crouched down to offer Richard a fistbump, “All ready for today's big game, all star?”
“Yeah!” Richard grinned back at him, bumping his little hand against his.
“Yeah, we’re gonna kick some butt, aren’t we?”
“Gonna kick butt!” Richard agreed excitedly.
George stood back up and ruffled Richard’s dark hair, “That’s the spirit. Now go on and get warmed up with the team.”
Lugging his bag with him, Richard struggled to run over to the team bench where the other little boys were goofing around in the dirt. As always, George and Andrew shared polite handshakes in greeting and you shared pleasantries with your neighbour not unlike how anyone else would.
“By the way, you both are still coming to the barbeque after the game, right?” George asked, “Most of the team already RSVP’ed but I figured since you don’t have far to travel, that it would be a given to see you there.”
“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.” Andrew answered.
“Did you want us to bring anything?” you asked politely.
“Just your beautiful selves.” George grinned at the both of you, his lingering glance at you in particular going unnoticed by your husband, “I already have everything ready to go.”
“Think it’s going to be a big celebration?” Andrew asked, “Our team has been pretty good recently.”
“Oh, yeah.” George set his hands on his hips with a playful scoff, “I have no doubt our boys are gonna win. But either way, it’s been an incredible season so there will be something to celebrate regardless of today’s outcome.”
You couldn’t help but stare at him in his blue jeans and navy blue and yellow team t-shirt, the matching branded baseball cap sitting on his head and his biceps causing the short sleeve shirt to pull tight around his arms. With a lick to your lips, you forced your eyes away from him and looked out towards the field where the opposing team was getting into their positions.
“We should let you coach.” you told him, “I will see you at break with the snacks.”
George sent you a smile and a friendly wink, “Looking forward to it.”
Then, you followed Andrew towards the metal bleachers that were packed with other parents and family members who had come to watch the final game of the season. Some of the other mothers whom you had grown somewhat close to over the season had saved you a spot and you and Andrew sat amongst friendly faces that seemed so common in your quaint neighbourhood. It was barely even mid-morning but you were already feeling tired and you watched the game set up in silence, half-listening to the other women chat together while Andrew busied himself with gossip with the other fathers.
Baseball games were always a great way for you to pass the time as you could often stare shamelessly at George while making it look like you were watching your son. Of course, Richard took up the majority of your thoughts but his handsome coach was a close second. That day was no different.
As anticipated, their team won the final game of the season - and thanks to Richard’s last home run that brought two boys back to home plate. You and Andrew literally jumped out of your seats cheering as your son ran around the bases with a huge grin across his face and even George was cheering loudly from the team bench. All the little boys ran into the centre of the field for a big group hug and then they were lined up to shake hands with the opposing team to show their good sportsmanship.
The first thing that Richard did when he ran off the field was make a beeline straight to you and you dropped to your knees to welcome him into your arms as he shouted, “Mommy! Daddy! Did you see me?!”
“Oh my gosh, we sure did! That was so amazing!” you gushed, holding him close.
“Talk about kicking butt, Rich, that was incredible!” Andrew added, couching down for a high five to which your son smacked his little palm against his.
“We are so proud of you!” you finished as you pulled away from your hug to hold Richard’s grinning face in your hands.
But then he was wiggling out of your grasp with a passive, “Thanks!”
He was of the age where his friends were growing in importance and you watched him rush back over to his team to celebrate in their youthful exuberance together. Andrew set his hand on your shoulder and, as you stood up, it slid down to your back so he could pull you close and press a kiss to your cheek.
“He’s getting so big, huh?” you smiled fondly.
“Sure is.” Andrew rested his head against yours.
You nibbled faintly on your bottom lip with an ache in your heart rising to the surface. Richard definitely was growing up and that just meant more and more of a reminder that your first and last baby was slipping through your fingers. You wanted another so badly but maybe it just wasn’t written in your cards.
The post-tournament barbecue was held in the backyard of the Russell’s house and all the families of the boys on the team gathered to celebrate the winning game and the successful season. Carrying little plastic trophies, the boys ran around the backyard together in their baseball uniforms and pretended to fight each other with the trophies as makeshift lightsabers. Meanwhile, the sisters of the team - some slightly older and some slightly younger - played on the swingset and around in the grass and tried to not get stomped on by their adrenaline swelled brothers.
The parents lingered on the spacious back patio and you and Andrew had taken to one of the outdoor couches with cold drinks in hand, chatting amongst the group although both of you tended to listen more than talk. Well, you weren't doing much listening either because across the patio stones was the barbecue where George was grilling up the hot dogs and hamburgers in only his jeans and a white tank top, still with that darned baseball cap sitting over his frazzled hair. With the glass bottle of your Coca-Cola resting against your pursed lips, you stared at him shamelessly, taking in the muscles of his bare arms and the shape of his body that, in private, you were very familiar with.
Jennifer walked out of the back door of their house with a plate of fruit and dip and on her way past, George stepped back from the barbeque to reach a hand out to stop her. She stopped expectantly but when he went in to kiss her cheek, she pulled a frown and stepped away from him, muttering something to him that you couldn’t make out from your distance. George’s eyes followed her to the outdoor table where she placed the spread and then he was staring right at you. Neither of you made any expression to each other or any indication of what was going on in your heads and he just turned back to the barbeque with a quick adjustment of his hat.
You turned to Andrew at your side, his arm still comfortably around your shoulders, and you set a hand on his chest to get his attention, “I’m gonna see if they need help with lunch.”
His sweet brown eyes followed you as you stood up, letting his hand linger in yours for a moment longer, “Alright, love.”
With your Coke bottle in hand, you walked across the patio stones to the smoking barbecue and you situated yourself beside George, “Need any help?”
He smiled softly at you, “Nah. I got this handled.”
You glanced around discreetly before speaking quietly, “Saw her dodge your kiss.”
George scoffed with a shake of his head, his attention focused on flipping the burger patties on the grill, “Yeah. Embarrassing, huh? How revolting I must be to have my own wife not want to kiss me.”
“Hardly revolting.” you countered. “In fact, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”
He glanced over at you and licked away his smile, “Brave of you to come over here and flirt with me with all these people around.”
You gaped in mock offence, “I am not flirting.”
“Oh really?”
“I am merely stating the obvious.”
“Which is?”
“That your arms right now look like you could really throw me around and show me a good time.”
“If you’re good, I can prove that to you later.”
“I’m always good.”
George’s gaze dropped to your lips for a split second before he was looking back to the barbeque with a small clear of his throat. You tried not to stare at him for too long but it was hard when he looked so good, somehow looking just as warm and delicious as ever even in the slight breeze of the autumn air. Looking back across the patio, Andrew felt your eyes on him and he looked at you in return, raising his hand up for a little wave. You smiled lovingly at him for a moment before focusing back on George’s grilling and the way his hands worked those tongs like a masterchef.
You pushed yourself away from the barbecue with a quiet, “I’m going to see if your prudish wife needs help inside.”
“Okay.” George laughed, physically restraining himself from smacking your ass on your way off.
Jennifer was inside the kitchen through the single back door, hurriedly arranging the burger toppings onto various plates for people to serve themselves from. At the sound of the door opening and you stepping inside, she glanced up for barely half a second before her attention was back to her work.
“Was wondering if you needed any help.” you asked.
“Yeah, can you take these out to the table?” she thrust a stack of paper plates and napkins at you without so much as a look, “Thanks so much.”
You pulled a tight lipped smile in reply and turned on your heel to leave just as quickly as you had entered. As requested by your gracious hostess, you arranged the plates and napkins on the large glass outdoor dining table and made sure there was going to be room for all the food. Some of the serving dishes were already out there as neighbours had brought some side dishes and you began unwrapping the saran wrap from the top of the bowls of potato salad and coleslaw.
Only moments later, George came up beside you with the platter of hamburgers and sausages and he excused himself politely to squeeze past you but still managed a faint graze of your waist on his way that sent shivers up your spine. Jennifer finished bringing out the rest of the condiments and toppings including buns and soon the crowded backyard was all piled around the outdoor table to eat away the excitement of the morning. The hostess was desperately trying to keep some semblance of order as the children rempaged the table and the adults were not much different. Andrew helped Richard to get his burger all dressed up and although you were sure George’s grilling skills were wonderful, you didn’t feel very hungry. For once, it wasn’t due to guilt.
Standing out the outskirts of the distracted party, you lingered with an empty plate in your hand. George suddenly appearing beside you startled you slightly but his hand on your back eased you quickly.
“Not eating?” he asked.
“Not really hungry.” you answered without tearing your eyes away from your husband and son.
George grabbed your wrist and leaned in to whisper, “Come with me.”
Completely trusting of him, you let him pull you into the house through the back door and you discarded your unused plate onto the kitchen island as you swept right past it. You didn’t even have time to take off your shoes as he led you down the hallway and right around to the carpeted stairs, nearly taking them two at a time. This wasn’t new and you could tell exactly what his obvious insistence was hinting towards but it had always ever been when your spouses were far away in the city. This was risky.
“George.” you whispered sharply as he rounded the corner at the top of the stairs and pulled you down the second floor hallway.
He helped himself to one of the doors near the end of the hall, turning the handle and walking right into his bedroom. You had never stepped foot in that room before and part of you didn’t even want to walk over the threshold but he was persistent and he yanked you in after him until you were stumbling against his chest. The wallpapered master bedroom could barely be offered a second of your attention as George swallowed your lips up with his, kissing you like he hadn’t felt real human touch in years. His skin was beautifully warm and he still smelt like the charcoal from the barbeque and the sweat from the baseball game, the complete essence of masculine energy that made you weak.
“George,” you mumbled against his lips, raising your hands to cradle his face, “we can’t do this.”
He didn’t seem to care as he kicked off his sneakers and knocked his hat off his head, letting it fall to the carpeted floor with a dull thud. Despite your protesting words, you were still the one who yanked him in by the back of his neck for more greedy kisses, shoving your tongue against his until he was moaning into your mouth and you were kicking off your shoes yourself.
“We can’t do this.” you repeated between kisses as his hands pulled your shirt over your head and then went right to the button on your jeans as his lips trailed messy kisses down your neck. Your eyes caught on the window across the room, the sheer curtains still allowing the rustling trees of the backyard to be visible and if you focused, you could hear the muffled chatter of the party down below on the patio, laced in with music from the radio. You clung onto him tightly, using the last ounce of ethics in you, “Our families are just out that window in the backyard-”
But he shut you up with another kiss, his large hand tangling in the back of your hair to pull your lips on his so strongly that you swore your knees almost went weak. Your arms tossed around his shoulders as he shoved your jeans down your thighs and you blindly shimmied them off and kicked them away. George lifted you right off the ground and carried you over to his bed only a few short steps away and he dropped you down on the floral duvet and soft mattress.
You scooted farther to the middle, not bothering to process the fact that this was the bed he shared with his wife every night because he was standing in front of you and peeling off his tank top and unbuckling his pants. Your teeth captured your bottom lip as he dropped them to the ground, denim pooling around his ankles, leaving him entirely bare in front of you for the uncountable time since you moved into that quaint house next door.
“Gotta be quick.” George joined you on the bed, glancing back over to the door to make sure he had locked it before he was tapping your thigh to get you to move. You shifted out of the way and he laid himself down on the bed properly before he was grabbing your leg to guide you back over to him. You weren’t sure exactly what he wanted you to do but then he was situating your body to straddle his face and your eyes went wide. This was new. As if reading your mind, he offered an explanation while his warm hands rubbed up your thighs to your hips, “I’m gonna go fucking crazy if I wait any longer to eat your pussy.”
Before you could reply, he was wrapping his hands around your thighs and pulling you down onto his mouth, letting you settle down right on his tongue. Your mouth fell open through a shaky gasp at his first touch and your hands bunched into fists in the air, unsure where to even touch. George moaned up against you as he licked his way into your body, his eyes fluttering open to gauge your reaction. Your stiffness had him chuckling and he turned his head to kiss your thigh.
“Put your hands in my hair.” he instructed, “Or on the headboard. Whatever you want.”
You dropped your hands down to rake through his tangled hair that was slightly dotted with sweat from the long morning in the autumn sun and his hands on your thighs slid up your hips to start to rock you on his mouth. You soon caught on and you kept up those movements yourself, grinding on his mouth and tongue with your hands snug in his hair.
“Oh my God.” you exhaled, eyelids fluttering.
“Have you never ridden someone’s face before?” George mumbled up against you and when you shook your head, he gave your bum a little smack with a casual, “Your husband is missing out.”
“Shut up.” you tugged at his hair to get his mouth back on you, nustling yourself down on his tongue a bit harder.
George chuckled lowly as he groped your ass and lapped at your pussy with his warm wet tongue, working with the movements of your hips. It certainly wasn’t the first time you had his mouth between your legs but being able to set the pace yourself was unreal and you gaped at the wall in front of you and you ground yourself on his mouth harder, faster, fingers tugging at his hair. He only encouraged you on with pleasurable moans against your pussy, trying to keep up with your motions until you were just smearing your liquids all over his face.
His hot breath against your skin was shiver-worthy and his hands only ignited your sense ten-fold as he reached up to grope your breasts and pinch your nipples. You pulled one hand out of his hair to set on his chest behind you for added stability, trying to smother your sounds through a bitten lip just in case someone was close enough to hear. But the house was perfectly empty with everyone distracted in the backyard, meaning only George was privy to the sounds of pure erotic pleasure that tumbled from your lips.
Your clit was aching against his tongue and he tended to it generously, eyebrows furrowing with pleasure as he had you falling into bliss on top of him. His name coming from your mouth was the sweetest sound like that’s where it was meant to be and soon it came over and over again like a chant, gradually getting higher and needier. Your hand in his hair tugged harder as your hips moved faster on his mouth as if you were just completely using him, feeling erotically prioritized like never before. You were dizzy.
No, really, you were actually dizzy, and once you clued into the way the room spun around you a little, you slowed to a stop. Your legs were quivering on either side of his head and George - not wanting to waste time - took that opportunity to switch positions and roll you over onto your back with him in his rightful place on top of you.
“You okay?” he chuckled softly, noticing your wide blinking eyes.
“Yeah. Got a little dizzy there for a second.” you confessed, sliding your hands up his biceps.
“Wanna stop?” he asked.
“No.” you answered almost too quickly. “I’m fine.”
With the muffled sounds of the guests and the music outside, George angled the tip of his hard cock against your messy pussy, dragging it between your slick folds a few times before plunging it steadily inside you all the way. Your head dropped back against the pillow that smelt like him, offering him the sweetest groan to the ceiling.
“That’s it.” George exhaled, shifting slightly to grab your legs and he pushed them back towards your chest. With his thumbs hooked in the backs of your knees, he had you nearly folded in half, giving him a perfect unobstructed view he started to thrust into you.
Your hands grasped the pillow on either side of your head as he fucked the sweetest sounds from your chest. Every single time he always knew just how to treat you and it never got old; it only ever made you crave him stronger, addicted to the way he could fuck you like no one else could. On his knees for you, his thrusts were slow but hard, shoving into you roughly each time until the headboard was almost hitting the wall in time with the rhythm.
“How’s that?” he asked you, gaze unwavering from yours.
“Faster.” you begged, “Faster, please, sir.”
“Yeah? Want me to make you cum and send you back to your husband with my cum dripping down your thighs?”
“Yes, sir.” you nodded, voice breaking slightly as he started to fuck you faster. Your mouth dropped open and your eyes nearly rolled back, letting out a jagged moan to the ceiling with your knuckles turning white from how you gripped the pillow case.
“Yeah, you’re my dirty fucking slut, aren’t you?” he removed his left hand from your leg to wrap his fingers around your throat, pinning you down snugly to his bed, ordering, “Hold your legs open for me…let me in as deep as I can go.”
You let go of the pillow to grab a hold of your legs, pulling them towards your chest by the backs of your knees. Staring up into his eyes, it felt like heaven. The way he treated your body felt like pure erotic heaven. Nothing had ever felt so good before him and you swore nothing would ever feel that good after him.
“Good girl.” George praised through his teeth, making a beautiful harmony with the wet squelch of your cunt taking his aggressive thrusts and the bed squeaking underneath you. “Good fucking girl…I want you to cum for me.”
“Yes, sir.” you whimpered, watching closely as he lifted his right hand to slip his thumb in his mouth before dropping it down to rub at your clit. Your mouth fell open with a whiney gasp, eyes struggling to stay open as the intensity tore through your body. All you could manage out was a faint chant of “yes, yes, yes” as you felt the warmth building inside you.
George’s handsome groans were a struggle to hold back too and you could see the way his jaw clenched behind the bite to his bottom lip as he tried to hold back. But you and him were a red-hot mix, unbelievably passionate, like you were two halves of a whole, and it was impossible to slow down together.
So you came together, like perfect harmony, clinging onto each other with limbs tangled on top of bed sheets, sweaty bodies meshing as one, and you never wanted to let him go. It nearly brought a tear to your eye as you shuttered in his arms and came around him, squeezing him so tightly that he let out the richest moans against your neck as he curled into you. With a few more strong thrusts from your handsome neighbour, you were mouthing a blissful swear word to the ceiling as you felt him coming deep inside you like he always did.
As if hit by a sudden streak of clarity, your momentary pleasure dropped off into shocking realization. Playing it off, you still offered George a smile and a kiss as he shifted off of you and right away he was reaching for his underwear. You had a party to return to, after all.
So you forced yourself to your feet as well and got dressed alongside him, happily accepting his kisses before he walked you to the door. The moment you reached the end of the hall together and the top of the stairs - George tucking his hat back on his head - Jennifer turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs.
“There you are.” she said, “Where were you?”
You kept walking down the stairs as casually as you could, trying not to let the quiver of your legs show too much. George answered for you, “She wasn’t feeling well so I showed her the bathroom and got her some ibuprofen.”
“Just needed a second.” you said with a tight smile to his wife, “Nothing serious.”
She nodded faintly, leaning on the handrail as you drifted past her and she turned her attention to George, “I need help cleaning up.”
“Yeah, of course.”
The three of you emerged from the house together and you habitually smoothed down your hair as you approached Andrew and a few of the other parents. Your husband smiled at you warmly and slid his arm around your waist with a kiss to your cheek, “There you are. Where’d you run off to?”
“Just the bathroom.” you said softly, unable to even feign a smile.
Andrew stared at you for a moment, assessing your melancholy expression, and he rubbed your back and leaned in closer to check in, “You okay?”
You pulled a tiny close-lipped smile in his direction and nodded, “Feeling a little funny but I’m okay.”
“Did you want to go home?”
“No, no.” you waved him off, “I’m fine.”
Andrew turned back to the conversation with a few of the other parents, his arm still around you comfortingly, and his hand slid into the back pocket of your jeans. The move would have usually made you blush pink but instead you were just hoping he couldn’t feel how your legs quivered underneath you. You crossed your arms across your chest and let your mind stew, piecing together all the ways you hadn’t felt yourself that last week, all leading up to today.
As if on cue, you felt a thick drop of cum slip out of you and into your underwear, unbeknownst to everyone around you including your husband. You closed your eyes for a second and took a deep breath and said a silent prayer in hopes that you weren’t pregnant.
First thing the next morning, you took the car to the grocery store to pick up a few things to prepare for the week ahead. You were still feeling off even after your good night’s sleep and although you pinned it to an annual fall cold, you found yourself in the pharmacy aisle in front of the home pregnancy tests. Maybe it was because you had been through it once before that subconsciously you knew what your symptoms could have been hinting towards, but outwardly, you wanted to avoid it at all costs. In fact, you almost went home without one because if it happened to come back positive, you swore your life would be entirely ruined. But you bought one and hid it in the bottom of one of the brown paper bags so when you carried them into the house, it wasn’t easily noticeable to your husband or your son.
The moment you walked in the door, Richard was rushing over to greet you, already dressed for the day undoubtedly by his father since he was still in pyjamas when you had left. Your little boy trailed after you into the kitchen where you set the paper bags on the counter and he pitched to you sweetly, “Mommy, can I go ask if James can play?”
“Of course, baby.” you reached down to pet his hair, “Did you already ask Daddy?”
Andrew appeared in the doorway to the kitchen too in his usual running gear, giving your son a playful little nudge to the back of his head, “I already said yes, silly goose. Why do you have to ask Mommy again?”
“I dunno.” Richard giggled and slid around your legs to hide from his father.
“Because you’re a Mommy’s boy, aren’t you?” you said with a smile, glancing down behind you to your son who had himself wrapped around your legs.
Richard only smiled bashfully against your thigh, his cheeky brown eyes sparkling up at his father who crossed his arms over his chest dramatically.
“I get it.” Andrew sighed heavily. “No one loves dad.”
Richard giggled from behind you and slithered between your legs to cheer up his father with a hug of his own and a promised, “I love you, Daddy.”
“Oh, thank you.” Andrew gushed and crouched down to swallow his laughing and squirming son into his arms properly, showering him in kisses all over his face, “I love you too.”
“Ew!” Richard squealed and wiggled away from him. “No kisses!”
“Go play.” Andrew gave his bum a little pat to send him off down the hallway, “Get outta here.”
The sound of Richard’s feet down the hallway brought a fond smile to your face as you turned your attention to the filled grocery bags without making a move to unpack them. Andrew stood back up and tugged at the corner of one of them, trying to peek in.
“What’d you get?”
You grabbed them away from him a bit harder than anticipated, “Nothing exciting.”
His eyebrows furrowed briefly despite the amused smile on his face, “Okay.”
“You going on a run?” you asked casually.
Andrew looked down at his snug white t-shirt and red jogging shorts, answering sarcastically, “Nah, I just know how much you love my tiny shorts so I thought I’d wear them around the house some more.”
“Shut up.” you laughed lightly.
Andrew set his hand on your back as he leaned in to kiss your cheek, “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Love you.”
“Okay. Love you.” you kissed him goodbye and watched him leave.
When the front door was shut and both your husband and son were gone, you hurried to throw any refrigerated items into the fridge before grabbing the pregnancy test box from the bottom of one of the grocery bags and you hightailed it upstairs. You closed your bedroom door and closed your ensuite door just to be safe before opening the box and removing the contents onto your bathroom counter.
It looked not much unlike one of Richard’s play chemistry sets as you carefully set up the two vials in the provided stand and filled them both with a few drops of liquid from the small eyedropper. Then, you sat yourself on the toilet with the clear plastic cup held between your legs, silently wishing for a miracle. You were hoping it would be negative and Andrew would never have to know and it could all be brushed under the rug and forgotten about. Yes, you wanted more kids more than anything but life had made it a bit more complicated.
When you were finished and flushed, you used the second eyedropper to add urine to both vials before capping them to let rest and you discarded the garbage and washed your hands. There was a forty-five minute wait on the at home tests - the fastest of its kind so far, the advancement of technology was truly incredible - but that still felt like an eternity to you. So you left the tests on the small plastic stand on your bathroom counter and returned downstairs to finish putting away the groceries.
As a distraction, you selected an album from your library and turned on your record player in the living room, turning up the volume a little more to keep your mind away from the life-changing decision that was brewing in your upstairs bathroom. You tended to the dusting of the main floor and you put away some of the clutter that mostly consisted of Richard’s toys, letting the music take you away. Well, so much so that your mind was completely invested in the melody rather than the weight that lingered on your shoulders.
Andrew returned from his run an hour later as promised and he greeted you in the kitchen where you were making lunch. You didn’t acknowledge him much as the song that was playing had you invested in the rhythm and you swayed softly around the kitchen, barely processing him telling you that he was going to get a shower before lunch. It wasn’t until he was halfway up the stairs that it clued into your mind and you dropped the knife onto the counter with a clatter.
“Wait! Andy!” you called loudly after him to try and top the music. You hurried down the hallway and yanked the needle off your record to send screeching silence through the house before you took the stairs two at a time, calling his name again desperately as you turned into your bedroom, “Andy, honey.”
But he was already in the ensuite bathroom and that was right where you found him, standing at the counter with the two vials in hand. He turned to you, revealing the creamy white toned liquid inside - the white colour indicating a positive result. You swallowed back the bile in your throat for reasons he need not know about.
“What is this?” he asked firmly, his furrowed expression unreadable.
“I-” you swallowed, holding yourself up on the doorway, “I didn’t want you to see that yet.”
“You’re pregnant?” his eyebrows raised.
You didn’t quite know what to say. Andrew turned back to the counter and set the vials back on the stand before bending over to the trash bin to retrieve the empty box. You knew perfectly well what the colour meant but you let him double check and when he did, the box was tossed back into the bin and he set his hands on his hips with an exasperated sigh.
“Fuck.” he swore stiffly, raking a hand through his hair and he rubbed his fingers over the back of his neck.
Your words had abandoned you, not having prepared to find out this way - right in front of him. You could see him through the reflection of the mirror, staring at how his face was screwed up in thought as if he were going through every phase of grief in his mind, trying to figure out what to say or do next.
Finally, he inhaled deeply and said, “I thought we agreed that we were going to stop at one.”
“Well, I didn’t do it on purpose.” you protested strongly.
Andrew turned back around to you, “I have been nothing but completely accommodating to what you need…putting my own shit to the side for you because I love you. But I specifically said…”
He faded out, pressing his fingertips to his temples in frustration.
“What are you talking about?” you couldn’t help the edge that came to your voice.
“These last few weeks, after you asked me for another kid and I said no, you have been on some mission to ‘rekindle our passion’ and have just been pulling me to bed every chance you get.” he laughed humorlessly, “Now I see why.”
“What the fuck?” you frowned, “That’s the biggest amount of bullshit I have ever heard come out of your mouth.”
“I don’t want another kid!” Andrew said sternly. “I barely wanted the first one! But we made it work because you were happy and it was what you wanted and I gave up my apartment and my goals and my life for this family because it was important to you. You who I had only known a few months but I swore was the perfect girl for me. I love you so much but now it’s just a blatantly obvious infinite loop of you taking, taking, taking and me just giving it all up for you.”
Andrew pushed past you into the bedroom and your head turned after him with mouth agape. You were entirely stunned speechless. In his white t-shirt and short red shorts, it was almost humorous how this conversation was happening as he paced the room.
He turned to you again, tossing a hand in the air, “When do I get what I want? Huh? When do you do something for me?”
“When do I do something for you?” you snapped back, “Are you serious? I do literally everything for you! I raise your kid, I cook your meals, I do absolutely everything around the house so you don’t have to lift a finger!”
“I mean in life! With our goals! Why do we always have to do what you want? This house was what you wanted, getting married was what you wanted, having a bunch of kids is what you wanted. I didn’t want this! I didn’t want this stupid job that I am working my ass off day in and day out to get enough money to get by.”
“Oh, Andrew, stop it.” you scoffed, “What was your other choice, huh? A musician? An actor? A fucking Formula 1 driver? You had no sufficient, sustainable, real plans before me. You were a loose cannon before me. You were going to be broke and starving until someone got you straightened out and that just happened to be me. Life isn’t fantasies. You’re not going to be some top of the charts musician on MTV or World-Fucking-Champion and you just have to get over it.”
Andrew shook his head angrily and crossed his arms over his chest with a huff, turning away from you, “Can’t bloody believe this shit.”
“You’re twenty-six-years-old, Andrew! You’re a grown man with a wife and a home and a kid and a nice-paying stable job. So many people would kill to be in your position.”
He turned back around to you quickly, jabbing his finger against his chest, his voice loud and firm, “But it’s not what I want! I’m sick of working my ass off every single day just to get by at a job I can’t stand! I put my blood, sweat, and tears into providing for this family and all I ask is a little compassion and a little give.”
You threw out your hands, shouting back at him, “What do you want from me?”
“How do you expect me to provide for a second kid when we can barely survive with the first?” Andrew took an angry step towards you, “I wish you just listened to me when I told you no-”
“You sound ridiculous! I didn’t knock myself up behind your back.” you snapped. Your words tasted bitter on your tongue with the silent knowledge that you truly may have done just that. You didn’t want to throw gas on the fire and make it a million times worse. Instead, you could only push away your internal battles and pray to God that the child growing inside you had the same dark features that were now staring angrily into your face.
“Do you want me to tell you that I’m happy?” Andrew retorted. “Do you want me to lie to your face and tell you that I’m overjoyed and that we’re one big cheery happy fucking family?”
“Talk about compassion.” you spat, “A little reassurance wouldn’t kill you.”
“I can’t work any harder than I do.” Andrew reiterated, pressing his palms together, “One step further and my back will break. I will break.”
“I just want a family with you!” you protested loudly, tears brimming in your eyes, “I’m sorry that I love you and that I want children with you! I’m sorry that I’m a shitty wife for…for whatever I did that you’re currently yelling at me over!”
“Well I’m sorry that my best isn’t ever good enough for you!” Andrew countered even louder.
You couldn’t hold back the small frustrated sob that slipped past your lips.
“Shit.” he huffed and turned away from you, taking a few steps across the room with his hands raking through his hair.
The sudden silence lingered tense between you and you choked on it as you took a jagged inhale through your tears. Andrew stood a few paces away from you, still in his ridiculous jogging outfit, his fingers clutching his dark hair as if he were about to rip it right out of his head. You habitually looked over to one of the side windows of your bedroom that stared directly towards the neighbour’s house and in that moment you could have given anything to just be with George instead, wanting to just fall into his arms.
Andrew sniffled and turned around to you, barely able to even look at you as he said flatly, “I’m just gonna go for a walk.”
“I made lunch.” you called after him as he walked right out of your room.
“I’m not hungry.” he replied from the stairs.
You listened to his every footfall on the stairs and then the sound of the front door opening and then shutting loudly. The house fell silent. Perfectly, eerily silent. You swore the sound of your breathing was echoing in your ears.
Out of pure anger and frustration and self-hatred, you stormed back into the ensuite bathroom, bursting in so strongly that the door flung open hard enough to hit the wall. You caught yourself against the counter where the small plastic standing housing the two vials stood, both tests containing the murky white liquid of your positive result. Swearing loudly at yourself, you dumped the vials down the sink and threw everything in the trash bin as tears blurred your vision.
Now that you were alone, you had the opportunity to let yourself process what this positive meant but the fight with your husband that was fresh on your mind just caused you to crumple to the ground with the heels of your palms pressed to your eyes. You swore to yourself over and over until your voice was breaking and the tears that leaked down your cheeks overflowed from your palms and onto the tile floor.
But, as always, you had to pull yourself together. Lunch was growing warm down in the kitchen and you had to go get your son from his playdate so he could eat. You wiped your eyes in the bathroom mirror and straightened out your hair the best you could before returning downstairs. Stalling, you switched off your record player and set Andrew’s plate in the fridge just in case he wanted it later, before you finally allowed yourself to step outside.
The crisp fall air filled your lungs and you took a deep refreshing breath as you walked down your front porch steps and began the short walk across your lawn to the neighbour’s house. Life felt like a hazy dream as you ascended their porch and knocked on the front door, barely processing anything that had happened that morning. Maybe dissociating was the right thing to do because subconsciously you knew that if you didn’t, the moment George opened the door and you saw him, you would have completely broken down. Instead, you greeted him with a tight lipped smile.
“Just here to grab Richard for lunch.” you said flatly, the roughness to your voice from your crying obvious to everyone but you.
George hesitated for a moment, staring at you, before turning into the house, “Ritchie, your mom’s here!”
Your little boy’s voice called back from upstairs, “Coming!”
George looked back at you, asking quietly, “You okay?”
You sniffled and nodded faintly, turning your head away from him to keep your composure.
“Hey,” he reached out a hand to touch your wrist, “what’s going on?”
You stepped away from him, out of his reach, “I’m fine, George.”
Richard bounded down the stairs and burst right out the front door, throwing himself around your legs, “Mommy! Can we eat fast? James and I were in the middle of a race.”
You put on the best smile you could offer the light of your life as you took his precious face in your hands, “Of course, my love.”
Richard took your hand and nearly pulled you down the stairs of the Russell’s front porch and George stepped out after you to stand on the top step. He watched while your son led the way home and you didn’t offer your concerned neighbour a second glance.
You ate lunch with your son at the kitchen table, expertly dodging his questions about his father’s whereabouts. He scarfed down his sandwich and chips quite quickly - in a rush to get back to his friend and their play - but you picked haphazardly at yours, your already limited appetite only dwindled more so since your hostile conversation with your husband only moments before. You couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting another little angel just like Richard and you admired him adoringly as he squeezed the life out of his juice box until the straw made a loud slurping noise.
“Done!” the five-year-old announced, turning to you with that sweet smile that had his pretty brown eyes scrunching closed at the corners, “May I be excused, Mommy?”
You reached over to pet his face, wanting to engulf yourself in your son completely, wanting your entire life to revolve around him and nothing else, “Yes, my love. Go and play.”
He hopped off his chair and threw his arms around you for a fleeting hug before he was rushing back down the hallway and out the front door. You stood from the table and collected your dishes to bring to the sink, tossing out your barely touched sandwich on the way alongside Richard’s empty juice box. It didn’t feel real that Richard was going to have a sibling in a few short months - if you thought about it too much and the weight that it carried on your conscious, it made you absolutely nauseous.
You stood at the sink with your hand pressed to your mouth, trying to take deep breaths, and trying not to think about how a blue-eyed baby with light features would be the worst thing to happen to you in your life. What would that mean for you? For Andrew? For George and his marriage? You had to take this secret with you to the grave. You had to cut things off with George and never speak of it ever again.
And then your hands flew to the side of the sink to catch yourself as you vomited.
About an hour later, you were cuddled up on the couch under the family room blanket, flicking through the TV channels for something of even the slightest interest to you. But with your mind so busy, nothing seemed distracting enough. Your eyes drifted to the clock on the kitchen wall that placed you in the later half of the afternoon and you sighed. That’s when the front door opened.
After six years of marriage, you could recognize Andrew’s footsteps without even needing to look and you kept your eyes on the TV screen playing some talk show through the otherwise silent house. Your attention was attuned, instead, to the sound of the front door closing and his keys on the table and his every footstep into the family room. He lingered in the archway for a moment and you didn’t dare look at him. Your curled up figure and the tissues that scattered the coffee table pitched your sorrow well enough.
“I’m back.” he said flatly.
You sniffled before answering with a faint shrug, “Okay.”
Andrew sighed and took a few more steps into the room, “Can we talk, sugar?”
“Not if you’re just gonna yell at me again.” you mumbled.
“I didn’t…” he exhaled deeply and fell to a stop at the opposite end of the couch from you, “I didn’t mean to freak out on you like that.”
You sniffled again. You didn’t look up.
“I was just really taken by surprise. I didn’t expect that and I just…had a bit of an existential crisis, I’m afraid, and might have taken it out on you which was very wrong of me.”
You grabbed the remote from beside you on the couch and turned off the TV to give the conversation the attention it deserved although you still didn’t want to look at him. Maybe it was the anger or the guilt, you weren’t quite sure. Andrew took your move as an invitation to sit down and he did, keeping a respectful distance between you.
“I’m really sorry I got so upset. I was a real prick to you. You didn’t deserve that.”
Picking at the blanket that was draped over you, you muttered, “Thank you.”
“Maybe this all isn’t what I had dreamt up for my life initially but it doesn’t mean it’s bad.” he continued, “In fact, it’s really good. It’s so good that sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve it.”
You finally looked over at him, “You deserve the world.”
He met your gaze and offered you a small half smile, “So do you.”
There was a pause where you just stared at each other from opposite ends of the couch for a moment.
“Do you really not want another baby?” you asked.
Andrew sighed and looked at the carpet, “It’s not that I don’t, it’s that I don’t want to never see you again. I already feel so distant with how much I have to work and to afford another kid? Even the thought of what that would entail exhausts me.”
“Maybe you gotta ask for a raise.” you said lightly.
“Yeah,” he chuckled faintly, “I might have to.”
You turned your attention back to picking at the threads of the blanket.
Andrew looked over at you again, “I never even asked: How are you feeling about it?”
Tired? Stressed? Terrified? Exhausted? Guilty? Depressed? Nauseous?
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Kinda bad after our blow-up this morning.”
Andrew sighed and scooted closer to you, holding out his arm and you instinctively met him halfway on the couch to cuddle into his side. He pressed a kiss to your head as you rested against his shoulder and he held you close.
“Don’t let your crap husband get in your head.” he teased.
You smiled faintly and reached a hand out of your blanket to tap his thigh under the short fabric of his red jogging shorts, “You in those ridiculous shorts.”
“Hey,” he swatted your hand away, “you love these shorts on me.”
He was still faintly sweaty from his earlier jog and then from walking the neighbourhood for who knew how long but you still gladly shifted on the couch with him to drape yourselves out together, cuddled up and forgiving in each other’s arms. With your head on his chest, you closed your eyes to listen to his heartbeat and your arm around his middle squeezed him closer, wanting to absorb yourself into his familiarity and go back to when life was simpler. Andrew’s fingers trailed over your shoulder and into the roots of your hair, easily calming you down and taking the edge off of your stresses, his lips dusting a few soft kisses to your head.
He then shifted beside you to face you a little more and he pushed the blanket farther down so he could lift up the bottom of your shirt and his fingers ghosted across your abdomen. It still looked the same as it always had but the secrets it housed inside were almost unspeakable. With your heads resting together comfortably, you and your husband stared down your body to the spot which warmly housed what you prayed was your baby grown in wedlock.
“I love you.” Andrew promised into the air. “And this baby was made from that love and there is nothing more beautiful than that.”
You pulled a tight smile, barely whispering an audible “I love you” in return.
The following week went by in a haze. The news of your pregnancy stayed between you and Andrew and although your husband seemed to be warming up nicely to the idea of having a second child, you were in a state of limbo. When Andrew was at work and Richard was at school, you didn’t dare leave your house in fear of running into George. In fact, you were even having Richard wait outside on your front porch until he saw George and James heading to the bus stop so he could go with them instead of you. In reality, it all sounded so pathetic.
But you knew that one look at him and you would crumble and if you were set in your ways to break things off with him for the sake of your family, you needed to be strong. There were certainly better ways to go about it but it was a dire circumstance and your brain was foggy and the early months of pregnancy were really starting to hit hard with the symptoms. Karma, you were sure. You had dug yourself a hole and you were being forced to lie in it.
When Andrew returned home on Friday night just in time for dinner, as usual, you were already exhausted from a long day of doing not much of anything. Fatigue was real and you had spent it all on making dinner, therefore not offering much conversation over the meal. Besides, your mind was going a mile a minute anyway - way too much going on to really formulate a coherent thought.
With Richard watching TV and playing in the family room after dinner, Andrew helped you to clear the table and start on the dishes. You washed them at the sink and he took drying duty, making sure to put everything away where it went around the kitchen.
“I ran into Jennifer on the train tonight.”
You didn’t acknowledge his statement at first, silently waiting for him to keep talking as you held out one of the wet plates to him.
“Jennifer Russell. Our neighbour?” Andrew continued and took the plate from you to dry it off.
“Yes, I know who you meant.” you said softly.
“Oh. Well, she and I got to chatting and we were thinking about having another double date night soon. Maybe just something simple like a dinner? I offered that we could host.”
You laughed breathily towards the sink, “I’m hardly up to cooking a whole meal for two families right now. I’m lucky if I go an hour without puking.”
“That’s okay. We can order something in.” Andrew offered, “It’d be a nice treat.”
You debated quietly for a moment as you scrubbed the plate in your hand. In reality, your hesitation wasn’t necessarily about the need for dinner prep as it was more towards the anxiety of seeing Jennifer’s husband face to face. Then, you asked, “When?”
“Tomorrow?”
The part of you that really missed George tugged at your hormonal heartstrings and you debated for one more second before finally, “Okay.”
And tomorrow came before you knew it.
And George then was standing in your foyer talking to your husband with a clueless smile on his face, his hand resting on his wife’s back.
And you were wondering why on earth you thought this was a good idea.
“Come on in.” Andrew hung up your guests’ jackets in the front closet, “Make yourself at home.”
While the children helped themselves to the family room where Richard’s plentiful toys were littered across the carpet, you four grownups took to the living room to chat while you waited for dinner to arrive. Andrew chose a record from your abundant collection and as he did so, the rest of you took your seats.
On your way across the room, George’s hand ghosted over your back and he offered a breathy, “Hey.”
You barely smiled in return, “Hi.”
He and his wife took to the chairs and you and Andrew shared the modest floral sofa. Conversation progressed easily although your mind was distracted by the memories you held with your neighbour on that very couch. It seemed George was thinking the same thing as he stared at the upholstery and then met your gaze, letting a faint smirk prick at the corner of his mouth. You looked to your lap, unresponsive. George’s smile faltered.
But you pitched into conversation where possible to appear as normal as you could to your unsuspecting spouses. You were good at playing the part of devoted wife - as you had learned over the prior few weeks - and your hand rested on Andrew’s thigh innocently as you talked amongst yourselves and stayed tucked under his loving arm. George seemed to be analysing your every move with his eyes not often straying from you. You tried not to give him much in return, focusing your attention on Jennifer’s incredible mundane story about work.
KFC was ordered for dinner and when the driver arrived, Andrew got up to pay while you got the dishes ready in the kitchen and organized the kids at the table. Your polite guests helped to plate the take-out food once Andrew brought in the brown paper bags and you divided everything up and served the children first. You made sure they each had a juice box and plentiful napkins and George cut up Nancy’s chicken for her on her plate at the same time. Andrew and Jennifer took your grown-up plates to the dining room, leaving you and George alone in the kitchen with the kids for a moment.
When you drifted over to throw away the plastic straw wrappers in the trash bin under the sink, George followed you to rinse his hands quickly. Before you could escape, he grabbed your sleeve with one finger to stop you.
In a quiet voice, he asked, “Are you avoiding me?”
“No.” you answered flatly.
“Are you sure? I haven’t seen you all week and on Sunday you seemed upset. Now you can hardly look at me. Does Andrew know-”
“No.” you said firmly, stopping the conversation quickly in such a risky location. Your eyes darted past him to the kitchen table where your children were munching away happily, clueless. You looked back at him, “I don’t want to talk about this. Especially not right now.”
Then you slipped away from him and through the doorway into the adjacent dining room. Andrew and Jennifer were already sitting at the set dining room table, diagonally from each other, and your husband pulled out your chair for you beside his with a smile. You sat down with a quiet thanks to him and George joined you and took his spot across from Andrew, his eyes lingering on you with uncertainty.
The side dishes were lined in the centre of the table and you all passed around the bowls and helped yourselves to the servings over casual chatter. You stayed quieter than usual, picking at the food on your plate as you tried to keep your nausea at bay - the cause being your newly discovered pregnancy but also the guilt that never failed to turn your stomach and raise bile in your throat. Your fork nudged against a piece of macaroni salad as George shared a story from that week surrounding something cute that Nancy had done but you were barely listening. Instead, you stared at your plate and took the smallest bites known to man, silently praying - as you constantly had been all week - for a brown eyed baby. In reality, you knew that the likelihood of that was not in your favour.
The sudden feeling of your mouth dampening had you setting your fork down onto your plate with a shaky, “Excuse me a moment.”
Andrew watched as you got up quickly from your chair, your napkin falling to the floor, and you disappeared out of the dining room. Your guests sat, startled, as your footsteps hurried up the stairs to the second floor followed by a dull thud of your door closing.
You dropped to your knees in front of the toilet just in time to throw up into it, your hands gripping the sides of the bowl as the cool tile stung against your knees. Tears burning your eyes and you shut them tightly as you slowly wiped your lips with the back of your trembling hand, sniffling back your regretful sorrow. The soft knock at the bathroom door had you flushing the toilet before answering with a faint acknowledgment. You had half hoped it was George - but why would it have been? - although Andrew slipping inside the bathroom with you shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise.
“Hey.” he cooed, crouching onto the ground with you and he pulled your hair out of your face and away from your flushed skin, “You okay, my love?”
You sniffled and slouched against the toilet, “No.”
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” he kissed your temple and then carefully helped you to your feet and over to the sink. Like he always had done when you were pregnant with Richard, he wiped your mouth with a cool damp cloth and brushed your tangled hair for you as you rested lazily against the vanity.
“It’s so embarrassing.” you mumbled.
“Hm?” Andrew encouraged as he finished with your hair, fluffing the soft curls over your shoulders.
“We have guests and I just ran away from the table to puke. That’s so embarrassing.”
Andrew smiled softly as you leaned back against his chest and he tucked your hair behind your ear so he could kiss your cheek, “I’m sure they understand.”
A slight panic hinted at your voice, “You didn’t tell them, did you?”
“No. Although I’m thinking we should.”
“No.” you answered quickly.
Staring at each other through the mirror, his arm around your middle and his hand rested over your stomach, Andrew questioned, “Why not? Now seems like a perfect time.”
You couldn’t think of a valid excuse that wouldn’t completely give you away. You merely shrugged.
“Don’t be embarrassed, sugar.” Andrew reassured you with a warm smile, “They have two kids of their own, after all. I’m sure they’ll be happy for us. Besides, maybe now Nancy can have a playmate.”
Oh yes, you thought to yourself, George is going to be just so happy. This whole situation just screamed ‘happy’.
Back in the dining room, you and Andrew returned to your seats and you offered a soft apology to your guests over your sudden disappearance.
“Are you alright?” George asked politely, his wife at his side watching you worriedly, both of them full of friendly compassion.
You pulled a tight smile and a curt nod as you picked up your fork again, “Fine.”
You couldn’t look at him. You knew that if you did, you would be sent to vomit again by the hellscape of emotions that swirled around your mind. But Andrew had a different plan as he set his hand on top of yours on the table and he looked over at you as if asking for your permission to speak. You didn’t move, eyes downcast to your plate, played off effortlessly as shyness.
“We actually have some news we want to share.” Andrew announced to your guests.
The children in the adjacent kitchen laughed and chatted loudly, the sounds of their joy echoing around in your mind, stirring stresses of how much their lives could be affected by this simple announcement. Nothing felt simple anymore.
George shifted in his chair as if he knew something was going on - something not quite right. He speared another bite of his dinner with his fork without taking his attention away from Andrew’s accidentally dramatic pause while his wife continued to eat, unfazed, at his side. Andrew gave your hand a squeeze and your mouth felt dry, blood gone cold, and your breath was held in your lungs.
Your husband looked at your guests with that soft smile of his, “We’re expecting.”
As Jennifer swooned with celebratory congratulations, the noise of the room fell into echoing silence as you finally looked up from your plate and your gaze instantly magnetized to the man sitting diagonally across from you. George was already staring at you, his handsome face fallen in stricken shock. Your internal thoughts settled heavily on your conscious, realization that the choices you shared were the sole cause of this announcement that was feigned at joy by your spouses.
You only had to glance at George to see it all over his face.
He knew it too.
THE END
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Series: The Rogue Who Coaxed You | (joel miller x fem!reader) (18+)
Part 1: The Phone Call
pairing: boss!joel miller x fem!secretary!reader
summary: you suck joel off while he takes a Very Important call
warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] mean!joel but reader is way into it, joel respects you approximately 0%, age gap (no specifics), infidelity, hella power imbalance/dynamics, daddy!kink, also hella degradation and humiliation kink, oral (m receiving), use of slut, whore, etc
extra disclaimer: we are going to be HEAVY on the infidelity in this series, folks. it’s basically its own character. it’s frequently referenced by the characters, very in-your-face, and will be used as a kink in this series. So if that bothers you, you may want to skip this one ❤️
word count: ~2.5K | ao3
a/n: the infidelity kink bug has bitten me and I am stokeddd. I fucking love writing joel as a dick with a massive dick. i'm planning this as an interconnected series as opposed to linear, so we might jump around. But I have a lot of ideas for these two so I hope you like them 😊(also she said i didn't have to but i'm still gonna shout out max @macfrog for her Elite ceo!joel series Sex on Fire which i HIGHLY suggest for a joel that is a little....nicer lmfao)
Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi
You like to think that you’re an okay person. You donate to charity when you can. You occasionally buy food for panhandlers on street corners. You’re always nice to waitstaff. You’re not a saint by any stretch of the imagination, but you like to think you have some redeeming qualities.
“Oh fuck, baby, just like that. So good with that dirty mouth of yours.”
Okay, so you’re on your knees with a mouthful of your boss’s cock right now. Who hasn’t dabbled in a little ethically dubious workplace activity? Maybe it’s a bit wrong, a bit scandalous, but where’s the fun in following the rules?
“So pretty on your knees for me, baby. Keep goin’, just like that,” Joel spurs you on from above, his fingers carded in your hair and his legs spread wide for you to fit between.
When you moan softly around his cock, his head hits the back of his office chair with a quiet curse. Rug burn is already sprouting on your knees through your black nylons, your matching black pumps long discarded by your feet in the alcove beneath his desk where his chair usually resides—now pushed out slightly to accommodate you.
His cock is thick and glistening with your saliva as your head bobs on it obscenely, inches appearing and disappearing like a crude vanishing act.
“So fucking naughty for me. The perfect naughty little secretary, all for me, yeah?”
You nod as well as you can with your mouth occupied, eyes straining to remain fixed on his, just how he likes. He loves looking into your eyes when he takes you, capturing your attention as well as your body. Loves knowing that you know exactly who you’re doing it for. Loves looking into your eyes in the more professional moments in the office, knowing they’re the same ones staring back at him while one of your holes is being filled by him.
You whine around him as you pull up off him, spit clinging to him from your lips. “Love your cock, daddy,” You purr, sucking kisses along his shaft to tease him.
“I know you do, baby. It loves you too,” He sighs, his eyes fluttering shut and his hips rocking subtly to rub his cock along your plumped lips.
The pointed tip of your tongue drags up the vein on the underside of him when a rhythmic beeping comes from Joel’s phone. Joel taps a button with a brisk, “Yes, Laura?”
The voice of the receptionist fills the room through the intercom function on his phone. “Mr. Miller, your wife is on line one.”
Okay, so you’re sucking off your married boss in his office. Who…who hasn’t, right?
Fine. You’re not a great person. But…fuck. The way Joel looks at you. The way Joel fucks you. You can rationalize being a shitty person. Maybe even delight in it. And that’s Joel’s fault, not yours. Couldn’t be yours.
Joel sighs and flexes his hand at your scalp. He leans forward slightly and presses a button again. “Thank you, Laura.” He flattens his back against the chair again and looks down at you. “I’ll get rid of her, just give me a sec.”
You think for a brief moment, then whisper against his cock with a playful glint in your eye, “Answer it.”
Joel quirks an eyebrow at you, but he doesn’t pull you away. “That’s fucked up, dirty girl.”
Your smile imprints into his hardened flesh, the filthy look shimmering in your eyes still going strong. “Scared?”
Joel snorts, shaking his head. “Fine. But you keep fuckin’ quiet, you hear me? Not a fuckin’ peep, or you’ll be very sorry,” He threatens vaguely, leaning forward for the handset.
“Put it on speaker.”
He hesitates as he studies your impish grin as you place little kitten licks up his cock. He gives you one last hard look and repeats, “Not a fuckin’ peep,” as he hits a couple buttons on his phone.
“Hey, honey,” Joel greets, relaxing back in his chair and scratching at your scalp with his short, manicured nails. You sigh at the sensation, burrowing your face into the base of his cock, his zipper scraping lightly at your cheek as you suck at him with leisurely movements.
“Hi, baby,” Her mezzo-soprano tones ring through the office, and you inhale the musk of his groomed pubic hair as you mouth at him. “Just got in finally. JFK was a fucking nightmare, as per usual.”
“As per usual,” Joel recites in understanding affirmation. He glances down at your head in his lap and tugs lightly on your hair, tilting his head toward his cock in silent instruction.
Your mischievous smile returns as you grip him around the base and slip the head of him back in your mouth, eyes drifting closed at the delicious weight of him on your tongue. Joel taps under your chin twice, and your eyes spring back open to gaze back up at him.
He very distinctly mouths, “Eyes open.”
You nod obediently before sinking further into him, mouth watering again as he fills your mouth back up.
“Had Douglas waiting an extra two goddamn hours at the airport in Austin while the incompetent assholes found my bags. But I guess that’s what we pay him for.”
“It is indeed what we pay him for,” Joel parrots, thumb petting at your temple as you suck him down, tongue dancing into the slit of his cock on your upbeats.
“And then, god fucking dammit, Joel, and then I come home. Fix myself a goddamn drink. And she’s fucked up the ballerinas again, Joel!”
Your eyebrows raise as you lock eyes with him. He rolls his eyes at you in response to his wife’s words, and presses onto the top of your head, urging you further onto his cock. You restrain the gag that threatens to break through, raising your mouth back up slightly to stem the noise. Joel nods approvingly down at you with a dirty smile, stroking at your hair.
“What happened with the ballerinas, honey?” Joel inquires, cool as a fucking cucumber with his dick roving every crevice of your mouth.
“Julia fucked them up again, Joel! They’re all cattywampus!”
Joel’s mouth contorts as he tries not to laugh. “Cattywampus, Claire?”
She sounds absolutely put out. “Yes Joel, cattywampus. Arabella is where Maureen should be, Siobhan is completely turned around, not even facing Charlotte. It’s a mess in here, Joel. She does such a good job otherwise, but if she can’t get this right we’re gonna have to let her go. It’s not that hard to dust a cabinet and leave everything intact.”
While Joel’s wife rants about her ballerinas, you’re savoring the taste of her husband, each bead of precome slipping free of his tip, every inch of his cock that is coated in his own unique Joel taste intermingled with your spit. Joel’s lips remain parted in pleasure, intermittently wetting them with his tongue as he devours the sight of you swallowing his cock over and over.
Joel offers her a very astute, “Mmhmm,” in response.
“And for some reason, god only knows why, she spritzed this god-awful, sickly sweet linen spray all over our sheets. It’s horrid.”
You choke on Joel’s cock unexpectedly, quickly wincing and quieting yourself down as Joel yanks at your hair in reprimand, mouthing down at you through clenched teeth, “Quiet!”
But she doesn’t comment on the sound if she hears anything.
Joel sighs, licking his lips and rolling his hips into your mouth shallowly. “I’ll talk to Julia, honey. I’ll make sure she doesn’t mess up your ballerinas again.”
“Thank you, baby.”
“I like Julia, I don’t want to have to fire her. And I hate having to hire new help, you know that.” Joel’s eyes take in the bob of your head, the stroke of your hand around him, the dribble of your spit from the corners of your mouth, and gives you an open-mouthed smile laced with filth. It encourages you, your head moving faster on him as your hand comes up to massage at his balls.
His eyes clench as he lets out a long, tampered breath through pursed lips. The first real indication that what you’re engaging in is actually impacting him. A calculated move on your part, since you know he can’t resist his balls being played with, and it pays off. You love that little dent that carves between his brows.
She sighs and says, “You know I like her too, it’s just…she needs to do shit right.”
Joel swallows and clears his throat. “I know, honey. I said I’ll talk to her. Now I have to go, okay? I need to work.”
“Okay,” she replies, sounding a little pouty for a grown woman in her 40s.
“I’ll see you at home.”
Her voice suddenly goes more sultry, inviting. “And I’ll be waiting for you at home. In a little something I picked up on Fifth Ave. Missed you up there, big boy.”
Your nostrils flare as you look up at him, and he looks down at you with a clear order in his eyes. Behave.
Joel matches her tone, letting his eyelids sag down a bit over his eyes, his lower lip sliding between his teeth and popping back out slick with saliva. “Looking forward to it. Missed you too, honey. I’ll see you.”
She purrs her goodbye, and Joel leans in to hang up the call.
Joel takes a deep breath and lets himself collapse all the way back in his chair. “Such a good little slut, being so quiet for daddy,” He coos, gripping harshly at your scalp again and pulling you off his cock.
You can’t scrub away the crease between your brows, the bitterness on your face. “You gonna fuck her tonight?”
Joel scoffs, yanking your head back to ensure you’re looking at him. “She’s my goddamn wife. ‘Course I’m gonna fuck her.”
“She doesn’t do it like I can.”
A sneer pulls up on his face as he looks down at you, internalizes your self-proclaimed prowess. He rests his forearms on his thighs and bends down closer to you, pinching your chin between his thumb and the knuckle of his pointer finger, enough to make it hurt. “And I’m countin’ on that. Know why?”
You shift your jaw in obstinance. “Why?”
His eyes scan over your face with superiority, and when he speaks, it’s without even a hint of remorse. “Because you’re the nasty bitch. The nasty holes for daddy to fuck however he wants. The filthy whore who does all the shit no respectable wife would ever do. I can go home and be the husband she needs me to be ‘cause I fucked all the disrespectful, depraved shit in my brain into your tight, slutty little body.”
You shuffle on your knees, staring him down. You knew this. You’ve known this for a long time. He fucks you like a two-dollar whore, then goes home and makes love to his wife. And you like being the whore. His whore. His mistress. You like him depraved and degrading.
But you hate that he fucks her at all. You don’t hate her. Just what he does with her. Even if you’re the other woman.
So you don’t argue further. Just pelt him with a sassier, “Yes, daddy,” than usual.
“Come here,” He spits back at you, his iron grip on your hair jerking you back onto his cock. “Prove to me you're worth my fucking time. Show me what you’re good for.”
And you do.
You take him down deep, the fat head of him dragging against the back of your throat as he fucks up into you, using your mouth.
“That’s what you are, isn’t it? Just a hole for me to fuck?” He groans as your throat constricts around him before he pulls you off, just to fuck right back in again.
You nod when you can, your eyes watering and spilling over as you open yourself up for his taking. Your throat is scratchy, sore, and fighting against him. He doesn’t care.
“Yeah, that’s what you are. Just a slutty little secretary. Sole purpose is to obey your boss. Spread your legs when he says to spread ‘em. Open your mouth when he says to open it. Shut the fuck up when he tells ya to shut the fuck up.”
You whimper around his cock as he fucks your mouth, your pussy clenching between your legs as he degrades you.
Joel’s thrusts begin to staccato as he reaches his climax, shoving your head all the way down onto his cock until your nose smashes against his pubic bone and his come jets down your throat, forcing you to swallow him down in his entirety.
As he releases you, you spring off his cock, your head falling to rest on his thigh, panting and rasping in breaths. His hand reaches up to grip the back of his chair at the headrest as his chest evens out.
His hips raise as he stuffs himself back into his slacks, successfully hiding it from view until he pulls it back out to fuck his wife tonight, your saliva dried into his skin.
“I have a confession to make,” You whisper, cheek still pressed against the cotton of his pants.
He peers down at you, stroking a hand over your hair. “Yes?”
You sigh, lifting your head and setting your chin on his knee. “I moved the ballerinas. Last night. When you were fixing our drinks.”
Those stupid fucking porcelain ballerinas, all pristine on their glass shelf. You’re actually surprised she noticed, but the fact that she did has your chest welling with satisfaction.
A moment passes before recognition creeps across his features, and then a scandalized grin. “You little devil. You could’ve cost poor Julia her job, baby.”
You shrug, a hand coming up to caress his other knee. “Maybe I could be your maid instead. Get one of those sexy little outfits.”
“You can borrow the one I make Julia wear when it’s just me at home.”
You give a soft gasp, realistically knowing he’s most likely just joking, but also knowing him well enough that it’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility. “You dirty old man. Exploiting your maid.”
He smirks, dipping his head low to murmur in your ear, “She likes it. Something the two of you have in common.”
You can’t exactly argue with that. You’re a glutton for punishment, and you both know it.
“And wear a lighter perfume next time, baby. Claire’s already gonna be confused when the maid insists she didn’t change the linen spray.”
You muffle a laugh into his slacks and nod. As long as there’s still a next time, you’ll do whatever the fuck he wants.
All the red from your lipstick has transposed onto your knees beneath your stockings as you slip out the door, a pleasant ache in your jaw and your joints as you complete the rest of your secretarial duties for the day.
Joel still looks flawless when he switches the lights off in his office and heads out for the night, Douglas waiting for him with the car and Claire waiting for him in his bed with her Fifth Avenue negligée.
And you…
Well, you drive yourself home to no one, playing with your clit to the daydream of whatever Joel might see fit to use you for tomorrow.
Part 2
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#joel miller x reader#boss!joel miller#boss!joel#mean!joel miller#joel miller x you#the last of us#tlou#joel miller smut#joel miller fic#katy wroted fic
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Can you write sth where Neteyam gets jealous ? And kxolo assures him that he is forever his to calm him down? Btw I love your story so much.
Jealous Neteyam- A Ma Neteyam Special Episode
Pairing: Alpha Male OC x Aged up Omega Neteyam
Warnings: jealousy, insinuated sexual content, MDNI, alpha/omega dynamic, power imbalance, possessive behavior, threat of violence, PDA, etc.
A/N: Thank for this request nonnnie and everyone else that rooted for this "drabble". (Someone needs to teach me how to actually write a drabble because this ended up way too long). And thank you for being so patient<3
“Hold still.” Vamai hissed, free hand reaching out to put Neteyam back into place. The other omega, however, didn’t bother to give her words heed or even a second thought. Neteyam’s focused gaze remained trained on the pair across the clearing.
“Who is she?” He mumbled, forcing his voice to remain calm and collected, an effort that became increasingly more difficult as he watched the delicate omega’s tail flicker back and forth in delight while grinning up at the Olo’eyktan.
Vamai groaned dramatically when her friend shifted onto his knees, prowling forward to get a better look through the bushes. Swatches of vibrant colors were rubbed and scattered across Vamai’s hands from the homemade pastels she had been wielding for the past hour. Still, the portrait of Neteyam was far from over. At this rate, it seemed to her that it would never be finished in time.
“Her name’s Neyra, I believe. Just some silly omega.” Vamai huffed, determined to wave the conversation away. “Now if you’ll just face me and shut up for two seconds I promise to portray you properly in all your ethereal glory.”
Neteyam’s own tail curled when he saw the small female laugh loudly at the incoherent words coming from Kxolo’s lips. Neteyam’s sharp teeth drew blood upon seeing the small beginnings of a smile forming on his mate’s face. A smile that was usually directed at him. A smile that should be directed at him.
“Nete!” Vamai yanked on his tail, illiciting a responding hiss from him, finally turning around to face her. “Please for the love of Eywa, just give me five more minutes!”
Neteyam sighed and finally gave his friend some undivided attention. Or as much as he could handle while flickering his eyes over to the pair periodically.
“Remind me what it is you want to do with this portrait.” He was in no mood to sit for another hour, especially with the bouncing energy soaring through his veins. His hindbrain was quickly becoming restless, constantly baiting him to take actions that would end with Kxolo in his arms instead of by the over eager omega batting her eyelashes at him every two seconds.
Vamai shrugged, feigning a demeanor of nonchalance that was easy to see through. Her fingers worked viciously against the canvas, eyes darting up at him every other stroke. Taking a peek at the half finished work Neteyam had to admit it was a fascinating process. Combinations of vibrant colors were placed in the oddest of places and yet over time they began to form a picture that captured his likeness. Were it not for the screeching laughs of Neyra bashing against his eardrums, he would’ve found more interest in understanding her process.
“I just thought it would be a nice gift for Olo’eyktan. Lets him look at your pretty face whenever he wants.” She cooed, pinching Neteyam’s cheeks until he bit back at her hand. Neteyam was in no mood for teasing.
“Nice for him or nice for you that he’d be in a grateful mood?”
Vamai beamed proudly and gave a noncommittal shrug.
“What do you need from him?” Neteyam narrowed his eyes at her, for the first time paying full attention to Vamai.
“It’s always advantageous to be on Olo’eyktan’s good side.” Those golden orbs shone with plotting mischief. “Something you should do well to learn.” Vamai winked but Neteyam was already rolling his eyes. Her spiked laughter however, died off gradually.
“Oh.” She stared past his shoulder. Neteyam whipped his head around so fast a sting of strain bloomed along his neck. The discomfort quickly sunk to the back of his mind as he witnessed the female snuggling back against the Olo’eyktan as he directed her posture in shooting a bow and arrow. To Kxolo’s credit, he went stiff as a board under the younger girl’s touch. It, however, was nothing in comparison to the clipped retribution Neteyam wished Kxolo would give her. His own hand instinctively balled into a fist imagining what he would do if given the chance.
“Common whore.” Vamai scoffed.
No matter how infuriating the scene was to behold, his eyes couldn’t stop drinking it in. Slitted eyes traveled along their frames, analyzing every point of contact between the two. It wasn’t enough to notice the way Kxolo’s tail curled in apprehension or shifted his feet to lean away from the omega.
There shouldn’t be a need to shift away in the first place because Kxolo was not hers to touch. Not hers to run hands over and admire his impressive physique. Not hers to chatter away endlessly to all while intertwining soft pleasant words with poised bats of her eyelashes. Not hers to entrap in the act of innocent incompetence.
He had seen her shoot before, posture perfect and aim admirable. Neteyam was sure of it.
“Are you…going to do something about it?” Vamai questioned, leaning forward on her knees to get a better look.
Do what exactly though? Release his mate from her needy grasp by dragging her away by the hair?
No, that would only bring one thing. A red ass and additional lectures from his heated alpha about public appearances as Olo’eyktan’s mate. Neteyam had already been cutting at Kxolo’s patience earlier that day upon making a bratty comment during the painstakingly long meeting with Kxolo’s advisors. Neteyam all but betted on getting thrown over his mate’s knee after the pinned look that was sent his way. Turns out, flattery went a long way for the omega after all.
“I can’t. Wouldn’t be appropriate.” He emphasized the words with air quotes. The clink of grinding teeth made the omega realize how tightly clenched his jaw had become. Vamai hummed thoughtfully before putting the pastels to the side.
“Do you want me to hit her?”
“What?!”
Vamai made a show of rolling her shoulders and stretching those limber arms along her chest. Her overdone show of confidence greatly outmatched her physical appearance of strength. Neteyam was left wondering how she would fare in relation to the taller girl. He had learned that Vamai’s ego was not the most reliable source to base decisions off of.
“What? I can do it. Say the words and that bitch is on her knees.” Pastel covered hands twisted together to crack her small knuckle audibly. Laughter bubbled up his throat but there was no hint of humor present in the other omega’s resolve.
“N-no Vamai… you…you can’t.” He shook his head at the ridiculous idea. “Kxolo would be outraged.”
“That painting is practically a get out of jail free card.” She confidently asserted while rolling her eyes. “Just say the word.”
Perhaps not his best moment for his moral character, but imagined scenarios of Vamai flanking the unsuspecting girl to her knees played at the front of his mind’s eye. He wondered if her outrage would somehow be traced back to him. Even if not, could he really survive watching his friend suffer retribution while he carried the heavy weighted responsibility of the outcome? His parents had raised him to be honest and unfortunately for him, Neteyam found that this only resulted in making him a terrible liar with a heavy conscience.
“Just finish the painting.” His tone dragged with disappointment as he forced himself to turn away from the scene. Vamai opened her mouth as if to say something but hesitation flashed over her countenance before it was closed just as fast.
Neteyam’s one comfort was Vamai’s obvious surveillance of the scene behind him. Every stroke of those messy pastels followed by her sharp glare shooting past him.
Neteyam liked to think of himself as a reasonable Na’vi. Admittedly life had dealt him an interesting flurry of events that had provoked childish reactions out of him at times, but overall the male prided himself on being able to keep a lid on his emotions. No matter what his mate said, the omega had enough willpower to hide his mask of jealousy.
So, when they sat down around the familiar communal fire and Neteyam noticed the annoying girl among the crowd he skillfully averted his gaze towards the trees. The best form of self discipline was to not allow oneself the luxury of temptation. His alpha lounged next to him and engaged in friendly conversation over the day’s hunt and advisory meeting but Neteyam couldn’t recall a single topic from the interaction were a knife held to his throat. Neyra’s screeching laughter seemed to racket along the trees in an elaborate assortment of torment. His ears had pressed so fair into his braids, Neteyam momentarily worried they would become buried there.
Forcing his attention away from the group of gaggling girls had proven to be a full time job and one that came with very little reward. The small group of friends that surrounded him and his mate at every meal were caught up in their own affairs and pleasantries, leaving him to painfully suffer through a dinner of distracting himself. The effect, however, left him forgetting that he was still technically paying for the outburst earlier that morning. Fully immersed in his practice of self control the omega had completely missed Kxolo sharing the story of that particular instance with the group.
“It’s always a toss up what will win out first, huh? Neteyam’s flattering or Olo’eyktan’s heavy hand.” Pulo chuckled and it was the male's hand playfully knocking against his knee that finally made the words register.
“What?” He muttered, eyes darting among the group lazily.
“Are you feeling well, Neteyam?” Tamil cut in before the other alpha could tease him further. On a normal night the omega found Tamil’s voice a common source of comfort and ease. Currently, however, that pleasentry was stolen from him when his gaze was finally ensnared by the group of girls and he found them staring right to his left. Directly at Kxolo.
Kxolo who remained sprawled out across the moss with spread legs and attentive eyes that had shifted towards his small omega.
One of the girls with tightly wound cornrows leaned over to whisper something into Neyra’s ear. Through the haze of smoke drifting past the fire’s flame, Neteyam could still clearly make out the blooming blush that adorned her cheeks as she continued to stare at his mate. For the upteenth time that evening the group broke out into a fit of giggles. Neteyam couldn’t recall the sound being as aggravating when Kiri and her friends spent the night in the family hut and gossiped all hours. Now, however, it was equivalent to the brash of crunching metal as it was directed at his mate.
Wonder swirled to larger waves as he observed the way the girl’s eyes obviously raked over the alpha’s form without shame. At some point one of them in the back shyly pointed towards the flex of Kxolo’s bicep when he reached out to grab another leaf of meat. It was disgusting. An ultimate show of immaturity and that thought alone should have calmed him down into brushing their awe away but Neteyam couldn’t care less about their age.
He knew that jealousy had sunk its claws into him at that moment because all he could see the girls as were threats. Threats that needed to be neutralized.
“Fine.” He dully responded. Tamil shot him another concerned glance but it quickly shifted when he saw the small omega nestle up onto Kxolo’s lap.
As expected he was received graciously, if not a little surprised, but a happy hum at the back of Kxolo’s throat was all there was to show for it. Twisting himself around to be half facing Kxolo, Neteyam made himself comfortable between the outstretched muscular thighs. The usual warmth crawling up his bloodstream at the Olo’eyktan’s affectionate touches was dimmed. He preened back against the soft touches and brush along his shoulders but it was half hearted.
Instead Neteyam started to kiss slowly up the side of Kxolo’s neck. With a flick of his wrist, the Olo’eyktan had managed to silently signal the group to carry on conversation without them. He had become increasingly skilled at letting their friends know when it was time to divert their attention away. As his lips trailed up the expanse of smooth skin, Neteyam struggled to concentrate and get lost in the moment. He was all too aware of the onlookers from across the fire.
A large part of him yearned to twist and drink in their reactions fully, but that would spoil the moment. What good was a claim, after all, if it was only done half heartedly? Kxolo seemed to think the same.
“You’ll have to do a bit better than that, little one.”
Neteyam jumped, as if he had almost forgotten the male was there, the same man that he had his lips greedily trailing over.
“If you want to give them something worth watching you first need to forget they are there.” Kxolo captured his chin gently and forced their eyes to meet. As if under a spell that Neteyam was all too familiar with, ease rippled along his body. One look at those pools of melted gold and the omega could feel himself sinking into the moment.
Luckily for him, there was no hint of disapproval or anger present in the Olo’eyktan’s expression. He remained relaxed and at ease. If the omega squinted his eyes just right he could detect amusement in his mate’s countenance. Choosing to keep that part of him at bay from Neteyam or rather from the group of girls, it was hard to tell but he chose to take the blessing in stride. The outburst at the morning meeting must not have mattered after all.
For reasons unbeknownst to him, Neteyam felt a sudden wave of apprehension lacing his stomach. It wasn’t often that Neteyam found himself in control of these situations. He had never realized how much he had become dependent and used to his alpha taking the reins. It was effortless and mesmerizing to follow Kxolo’s commands during their times of intimacy. Experiencing it from the other side, however, as the Olo’eyktan looked up at him expectantly, Neteyam suddenly felt massively inadequate.
Without thinking it through, the omega gravitated towards turking his face into the curve of Kxolo’s neck. There the musky scent was strong and soothing, a place Neteyam was familiar with being.
Then a chorus of shrieks and giggles ripped through that atmosphere, tearing his serenity to pieces. Neteyam dared to peek out of the corner of his eye and was rewarded with the sight of Neyra whispering to the group with a crooked smirk plastered along her thin lips. Vamai seemed to notice too if the harsh grip crushing her soft fruit was any indication. He briefly remembered her offer of taking the girl down and once again it glimmered with appeal.
No.
This was not her fight.
Kxolo was not her mate and therefore Neyra was not her enemy.
She was his.
Fuck the rules and fuck the consequences, he would sooner return to Eywa than let some silly school girl take his alpha away.
A burst of motivation flooded his veins and darkened his composure. So without warning, Neteyam licked a broad stripe over Kxolo’s mating mark. The effect had a vibrant shiver ripple through the alpha and it served to spur him on. Neteyam took particular joy in the way one of Kxolo’s legs incidentally kicked out as he bit down on the alpha’s mating mark. The shock was temporary, however, and before either of them knew it, they were completely enraptured in the moment.
The Olo’ektan’s hands trailed and mapped over Neteyam’s lower back and hips greedily as he took the torment on his throat in stride. The giggling had either ceased or Neteyam’s hearing had finally tuned them out, but regardless he was grateful for the reprieve. Especially when his alpha was emitting a low strain of groans to rumble his throat. Neteyam’s hips moved on their own accord as they rolled against Kxolo’s groin. Were it not for his mate’s stern hands pining those hips in place, the clan was sure to experience an explicit show in a matter of minutes.
Kxolo trailed his fingertips carefully over the groves of Neteyam’s spine with ultimate precision. It was a harsh comparison to the way the omega’s lips and teeth were tearing at the sensitive skin of his throat. Pulo was sure to not let this go for at least a few moons, especially with the marks that were sure to be blaringly visible by the end of the night.
The onslaught of kisses began their descent to Kxolo’s collarbone. This effectively had Neteyam bending down to reach the area and therefore arching his back for Kxolo’s viewing pleasure. His eyes took in the sight with a greedy lust clearly tangible from across the fire. One peek up at his alpha and Neteyam felt almost giddy to recognize that spark of desire in his mate’s eyes.
However, this time something else caught his attention instead. The shimmer of light across the black hair was borderline alluring and the omega found himself reaching for the kuru without another thought. The glossy braid was smooth against his delicate touch. Kxolo stilled.
Neteyam dared a peak up at his alpha only to be met with blown out pupils and raised eyebrows. He was weary, watching the omega with a posture that spoke of his readiness to jump in. However, luck was on Neteyam’s side because when he gently stroked down the length of the braid, all apprehension was blown to bits and Kxolo had to bite his bottom lip to keep a groan at bay. Success shined through the omega’s countenance.
His fingers continued to explore the hair protecting his mate’s most intimate part, banishing the looks thrown his way to the side. For a moment he swore he could hear Pulo’s muted chuckle but it was cut off abruptly. Perhaps he imagined it.
One thing was for sure, the little display did not go unnoticed. Frantic whispers were being exchanged across the fire from the cluster of young girls and the sound was music to Neteyam’s ears, especially when accompanied by his mate’s groans of pleasure he was trying to keep muddled. Confidence overtook him in stride and Neteyam allowed himself to take it one step further than he knew was allowed.
Without giving Kxolo a warning or time to intervene, the omega brought his own braid forward and eagerly allowed their tendrils to dance and wrap around one another.
Sparks of fire and electricity consumed his focus, enough to drown out the surprised gasp that came from his alpha. The stream of consciousness flowed freely between them like a river that Neteyam was more than happy to find himself lost to. No matter how many times they had made the bond, he never tired of the feeling, the absolute assurance that this intimacy was special and belonged to only them. He would web and flow between every passing thought and feeling thrumming in their bond until his muscles would relax and body mold to his mate’s.
However, there was no world where Kxolo believed this act was meant for a public setting. Shock and disapproval vibrated through the connection and Neteyam didn’t darelook up at his expression.
A single thought traveled down the length of their connection, until it had wedged itself into a comprehensible message in Neteyam’s brain.
Your mischief knows no bounds, little one
Warmth pooled at the base of Neteyam’s stomach as he continued to litter marks on the skin of Kxolo’s abused throat. From the corner of his eye he could easily spot the dumbfounded look on the girls’ faces. Not a single one of them seemed capable of whispering another remark or even regaining their composure.
My jealous little mate
Even from their mental connection, Neteyam could hear the inflection of amusement coming from Kxolo. His head whipped up to glare at the Olo’eyktan but that simply earned him a messy kiss. His fingers found their way into Kxolo’s decorated braids as his mate did him the great pleasure of claiming his mouth in a feral kiss. The sensation was enough to throw his world off its access and keep his head spinning.
Kxolo kissed as if he was devouring the poor boy and another thought rippled through the bond in suit.
Every piece of me already belongs to you, my love
Neteyam's hands tightened their grip in the silky hair as his lips continued to follow Kxolo’s lead.
I know
Despite the outright inappropriate display they were making, the omega could sense Kxolo’s deep satisfaction and pride brimming inside. This instance would no doubt be a moment that the Olo’eyktan would hold over his head and tease him about until Neteyam could no longer deny how head over heels he was for his mate, but that would be a later problem he was willing to endure.
I hope it’s worth it, baby boy, because as much as I love this new possessive side of you, your ass is going to reap the consequences of such misbehavior.
Their kiss broke as Kxolo then began to leave hungry kisses along Neteyam’s own untouched throat. He glanced over at Neyral to see her poor attempt at hiding her displeasure. Their eyes caught for a moment and she glared at him with blushing cheeks and a clenched jaw. The omega was quick to return the favor with a wide grin.
Oh it was worth it.
More than worth it.
Taglist: @kayjaydee17 @theunfortunateplace @creepytoes88 @perfectprofessorloverapricot @4ashes-stuff @neteyamssyulang @young5643-blog @namjooncrabs
#ma neteyam drabble#ma neteyam#jealous neteyam#omega neteyam#sub neteyam#avatar fanfiction#avatar way of water#avatar smut#avatar wow#dad jake sully#neteyam#neteyam sully#male x male#avatar#avatar james cameron#omegaverse#alpha oc#strict alpha#alpha beta omega#jealousy#possessive neteyam#avatar fandom
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Treebark Week 2024 - A Post-Mortem
Hi! If you haven’t seen, I have released seven (7!) videos for Treebark Week 2024! This wall of text is my behind the scenes and also post-mortem thoughts on the project, which I found worth documenting.
Even if you don’t end up reading the text, I appreciate every comment, tag, and view my videos get. I did it for the fun of it and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t do it for the attention. I did, because I think these videos are the funniest things I’ve ever released. Shoutout to @thefluxqueen for being my partner in crime and confidant for these. You saw my vision.
I wanted to do something for Treebark week but admittedly I had noooo idea. So this whole gimmick was a fun set up for me to stretch my creativity in. What started as “I’m just going to do everything in mspaint with a mouse” spiraled to “I think it’s going to get boring if everything’s in the same style, so I’m going to have to do something different everyday.”
The important factor to me throughout all of this is earnesty.
Even if its life started as a joke, this project is a love letter in every respect. This is what I grew up on, this is the YouTube that is precious to me. Capturing this era of time in 7 videos is all at once easy, yet surprisingly laborious.
First I planned the songs. Fitting the songs with the prompts was a brain scratcher, but once we (me and Spain) had a few in the rest slotted in pretty easily. Common thread was, of course, any popular song from the mid-late 2000s.
The first confirmed song was Sugar, Sugar for Sweet (Day 2) courtesy of Spain, given the Eddsworld video. We had a few songs for Burn (Day 3) or Infernal (Day 4) which we threw out (Elli Goulding’s Burn, 2NE1’s Fire, Steam Powered Giraffe’s Fire Fire, etc.) I ended up digging through my old playlist and listened to 20% Cooler, which after a realization I immediately slotted it for Frost (Day 1). Spain brought up the Heat Waves parody (Cold Spells) for Frost too, to which I realized I could just do regular Heat Waves, so that became what I did for Burn.
Bring Me To Life was brought to my attention (I forgot how, maybe Youtube recommendations?) and with the lyrics, it became the song for Blood (Day 7). The all time classic, Angel with a Shotgun, fit in nicely with the prompt of Divine (Day 4), so there was no contest. Another classic, Everytime We Touch, was harder to fit but I eventually reasoned through the prompts enough to fit it with Lips (Day 5) (the everytime we kiss part).
At this point, nothing I’ve found fit Day 6 (picnic/garden/strawberry) at ALL. So I decided the only way I knew how. RANDOM CHOICE!
Mad World won but that was a trap, for I have biased myself toward Animal I’ve Become at that point and it almost won, so I went with that instead. This is a lawless land.
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The actual video ideas really came to me in piecemeal, so I’ll explain how I got each idea as I cover each day in order of when I completed them.
20% Cooler (Day 1) was the most straightforward of the days. It was done in 1 hour and 30 minutes and I was purposefully being extremely literal about the lyrics. I already had the vision for what I want, and I didn’t want to care about quality all that much, so it came together really fast.
For my process, I lined with mspaint brush and then bucket tooled with default colours. I took advantage of the new layer system mspaint added for some scenes, but otherwise it was as simple as just drawing. (Pictured, 3 layers for 2 scenes.)
It was really easy to just quickly edit in Windows Movie Maker 6 too, I just dragged the pictures in, slapped effects, roughly timed everything and it’s done.
Programs used: mspaint, Windows Movie Maker 6
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Sugar, Sugar (Day 2) was an honest effort at avoiding any complicated animations. I initially thought of doing an animation similar to the original video that inspired the song choice, but eventually scaled back because. I don’t want to animate.
Thus came the decision of subject matter. I ended up settling on the demon roleplay because I thought it was the campiest thing in the world. And it was a sweet reunion, no? The lyrics just fit the vibe, and in a moment of brilliance (hitting the showers) I thought to make a visual novel. One reflective of old flash games and like the visual novels of cultural zeitgeist at the time.
I’ve known about Ren’py for quite some time now, but I’ve never properly learned how to use it. For this my task was simple. Find out how to change sprites, backgrounds, and move people into the scene.
Sprites and backgrounds were easy, so those were the first things I did. Ren’s sprites were inspired in design by Demon Hunters in the Warcraft world, mostly because I was playing a lot of Hearthstone and liked the idea. Martyn’s sprite style was inspired by early 2000s anime visual novels, like Higurashi (though I’ve personally never consumed it nor do I actually recommend consuming this piece of media (neutral) its ripple throughout the anime community was felt. Notably, parodies of the anime’s opening were very popular.) I toned back the stylizations, but trust me when I say that Martyn’s hands were purposefully big to be yaoi hands. It didn’t end up that big, and I did not give him the dorito chin here so, immense self control on my part (or cowardice?). False and Joel were just my regular style. For all this I used my tablet instead of my mouse.
The programming part was a little troublesome, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t google, so it got done pretty fast. There’s other small bits, like how I mismatched the background sizes, the sprite sizes (with each other)(minorly) but for the most part it came together pretty quick. Once the VN was done, it was just about recording it. So I put on the song, and danced along.
[You can download the VN here]
Programs used: Ren’Py, OBS, mspaint, After Effects (just to move the scene over at the beginning)
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So I knew I wanted a classic style AMV, so that eventually became Everytime We Touch (Day 5).
The pictures mostly come from a discord server I’m in (hi [redacted]!!!!) and I thought of it like a nice homage to the insanity we had in there. Bless all of you guys, you guys were the ones I wanted this series to be made for the most.
Not much to say beyond that, besides me just editing it all on movie maker as usual.
Programs used: Windows Movie Maker 6
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Angel With a Shotgun (Day 4) was the last to be planned for. I predicted it was going to be the easiest to make on the fly (it was) and just kind of winged it. I wanted a unique style still for it though, and the idea of drawing their cubitos came pretty late.
I was not exempt from this trend in my youth (my art in mspaint, age 11, me and my sister)
The rest was history. Just kidding, I really wanted something to do with the shotgun thing so I literally searched “shotgun” in Curseforge and got MrCrayfish’s gun mod just for the shotgun. I loaded up the 3rd Life world I had from my Broken Lives animatic (it’s a custom made world using the seed) and just got to work with FreeCam and OBS (it’s my first time with FreeCam too!)
A rejected clip I didn’t use because of skin consistency / continuity.
Programs used: Minecraft, mspaint, Windows Movie Maker 6
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Heat Waves (Day 3) acquired a pixel art style as an homage to its original lyric video. People have said it reminded them of Homestuck, which I honestly don’t mind. It fits the era and I did grow up with it. It kinda looped back in on itself that way.
I blame this frame, here's it as a gif which lies unused.
For the video, the more I rewatched bits of Last Life for it (it’s been a while!) I realized it had a lot more potential than I initially thought. Though I doubt most of it didn’t come through in the final product (I limit these videos to a minute or less, if possible, excepting credits and allowing few more seconds over the minute mark so long as it felt warranted), I tried to cram in what I thought fitting to the prompt the whole time.
The watch tower burning was an easy pick, a classic Treebark moment you might say. For the rest of it, the nuance laid a lot in how Martyn presented the Shadow Alliance. “The Dog, The Shadow, The Roots. We make this place burn.” Under the eyes of the moon, it witnessed this pact form, and its resolution for the server. The moon is included in multiple frames because of this, as a stand-in for the eye of the Watcher(s) I included at the start, watching Martyn through the series.
In a lot of ways, how Lizzie and BigB turned red I also found fascinating. Lava and explosions you could argue are an extension of burning and fire, and an explosion was also how Martyn left the series. Ren, from the start of this alliance, inexplicably committed to and saw through what ultimately rips the people he was loyal to away from him.
Martyn on the other hand, I drew in the later portions quite aware of the position he’s in, hence only his eye in the frame with the last 4 folks. This to me starts a path for him toward where he goes in the later serieses (notably in Limited Life). This is all very “vibes” and instinctual kind of “trust me on this” sort of read on c!Martyn honestly.
On missed opportunities, I’m almost upset at how I never brought up the moment Martyn buys a love crystal from Scar (never used, it got blown up) which I (and a lot of other) may have delusionally thought it was for Ren. Besides that, I never had a chance to desaturate the colours in the video leaving only red (which Ren did upon the encounter of the establishment of the Moon Cult)(it really emphasized Martyn’s lips!), I tried just plain desaturating, but ended up ditching it since it never felt like it jived well with the rest of the video.
All that aside, I finished this one really late (for me, which was past midnight on the day it was going to be posted), so I’m glad it was out on time. It’s the one I put in the most effort for, and I’m glad to see people enjoy it.
The eye on its own, which reveals the Watcher symbol I accidentally did in the wrong orientation. Oops!
Programs used: Aseprite, After Effects
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Animal I Have Become (Day 6) was thought on for a while. Eventually I have my eureka moment and I thought it was a nice shout out to the Bannedstory community who I’ve followed in my early days, where I’d watch animations of people’s custom OCs (original characters) made with Maplestory sprites animated to audio clips that I really wasn’t supposed to be listening to at the time lol. That, and all the online games and the like I grew up with on the early internet. I personally didn’t partake in it, but roleplaying on those was a common sight, and I found it endearing.
My partner in crime for this day in particular was @thefluxqueen, because I really can’t be bothered with character customization for a lot of these games (I respect the craft but I lack the patience), but I knew who LOVED doing that. He really knocked it out of the park, helping me do the Gachalife, Club Penguin, and the characters for Animal Jam and Ponytown. For the latter, they handed me the account information and we just went to town.
A Treebark stream in a just world.
I can’t tell you exactly how I assigned the lyrics, but I definitely assigned the animal sections during the chorus so it was a surprise (and so it also fit the lyrics). I did have fun recording and we had a fun time in Ponytown. We were shown where other mcyt fans are by a Grian pony (Hermit Hill) and then we hung out there sitting down while we workshopped the Bannedstory segments with both our sonas together. All in all a great time.
It took a few takes.
Programs used: Bannedstory 3 (I would’ve loved to use 4, I grew up with that!), Gachalife, Club Penguin, Animal Jam, Ponytown, Windows Movie Maker 6, OBS
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For Bring Me to Life (Day 7)... I ended up getting more attached to the thought of it the longer this project went on.
I wanted it to be the end all be all, go out with a bang and everything. I kept thinking and thinking, how do I end Treebark week? After a week of homages, how do I make the last one?
What’s beyond my childhood? It was just growing up. But it’s not like I had to let anything go. My artistic endeavors are influenced by all of my experiences. I saw good reason to bring it all home, do a callback to the styles of the entire week, it’s my victory lap.
And why not call back every instance of Treebark through the entire series then? This evolved into me learning more about Martyn’s lore because I want to be informed! I want to make this as someone who earnestly loves the narrative of these characters, and the stories they’ve told.
From a story perspective, it felt like Martyn was always doomed to tragedy. Suppose the life series always does end tragically, but Martyn’s Vtuber in relation to all this has its own inherent tragedy to it. In my eyes, this roamer of cyberspace constantly has to live through different lives with familiar people. The people he loved and cared for in one world will always be ripped from him, and he knows that.
Amongst everything the Unguided Hand gets me the most. In the video I drew the Ren he chases as a shadow. He’ll never get the Ren he knew then, back. Even if he meets another Ren in another world, it's never going to be The Red King. To me, Limited Life is the snapping point, a point of selfishness above all else in the comfortable knowledge that he wins, without ever needing to experience the same closeness and loyalty he had in lives past. The realization that this is what the game was about. Winning at all costs. I wanted the progression to reflect that.
Deep down, maybe he yearns to be saved from all that. The song echoes that sentiment. I tried to match the lyrics to how I saw the timeline of events as close as possible for that to hit. In this, Ren is his anchor, someone that he gets drawn to no matter the incarnation. The tragedy is that Ren, even if he knows about what Martyn’s going through, can’t join him in this journey. Martyn will always be alone in this experience, and Ren can only be a short comfort before the cycle starts anew.
I quite liked the pixel art I did for LimLife!Martyn
From a meta perspective, this video (and by extension, the whole series) is about art and creating. I have been obsessed with art for 14 years now, and as time goes on I’ve grown fond of every way that we, as people, have evolved our storytelling. The multitudes of mediums that we have developed to express ourselves and share narratives will continue to fascinate me endlessly. Cringe be damned, there is a universal desire to create and enjoy stories of all folds. From the smallest story told from painstakingly typing chat boxes for little custom-made characters to say, to the highest production play put on for multiple hours in a game of Minecraft.
And at the beginning of my journey lay paper and pencil. Bring Me To Life is an elaborate pun on my end, yes, but also a reflection of my roots. I started my journey as an artist endlessly doodling the adventures of tiny magical girls fighting demons, drawing fanart of costumes in MMO games I found cool, and sharing them with my friends at school. I find myself still drawing, still creating, for hundreds, if not thousands of eyes to see. Still I get inspired by the stories others tell, and I create in turn. In appreciation, in love.
Bring Me To Life as a song, is a slate that, to me, reflected what I saw in the relationship of Treebark. Bring Me To Life is also a demand, of a piece of art that I had a vision for, that I wanted to bring to life. I struggled at how to end it for a while. Closing the book became very straightforward. It’s the end of this video, this saga, and another way that me, as a Watcher myself (as what they’re originally meant to represent) exercises control over stories in my own unique way. Creation is never limited to a select few. I think everyone should keep getting inspired by the things around them, and keep making art in turn.
To the people who’ve made it til the end here, make art, keep creating. Do shitty doodles, write whatever you want, make sounds and crafts and keep living. That’s all I really want, and this was what this whole series was about.
Programs used: mspaint, Aseprite, Blockbench, Bannedstory 3, Pencil and paper, After Effects
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Inevitable (Kang the Conqueror x Reader)
Word count: 1.8K
Summary: you don’t know kang, but he knows you
Tags: antman and the wasp: quantumania spoilers!!, canon divergent, avenger!reader, one-sided affection, soulmates (kinda), denial
Request: anon: “Ohohoho the DRAMA of a Kang fic okok so how about an avenger who’s super powerful, and loves Scott as a friend and is a good person and has a strong moral compass, somehow they end up in the quantum realm with scott and cassie etc…. And when they meet kang it’s like he knows her… he shows her them in the future being lovers etc… it’s almost like they’re soulmates and she is horrified, she thinks he’s good looking but nuu he’s a bad guy…. How will it all turn out o.O”
A/N: loved this prompt- I did deviate a towards the end but still hope it lives up to expectations. kang was fun and interesting to write for. complex villains are the best ngl lol
cross-posted to ao3 • mcu masterlist • writing masterlist
You didn’t blame Cassie for her invention going haywire and pulling you all into the Quantum Realm. Still, it wasn’t exactly ideal.
When you, Scott, Cassie, Hope, Janet, and Hank all got sucked into the Realm, you all got separated. You, Scott, and Cassie ended up together thankfully. You could only hope that the others were all together as well.
The three of you did your best to stay out of trouble. Except that’s exactly what you got into because, well, who knows? Avengers seem to have bad luck. If you were superstitious you’d say that you and Scott both being there amplified that.
There was an attack by what you thought was a sun—you all quickly found out it wasn’t—and then some big purple… thing. You were saved, but then next thing you knew, you were being captured by what Cassie called quantum people.
Great.
They separated you and brought you to their weird town. It was a marvelous setting, but you didn’t exactly get to admire it all that much. The people surrounded you and chanted loudly, spiking your anxiety. At first you were scared, especially when they poured red ooze into your mouth. You suddenly could understand them.
The leader, Jentorra, warned you that because you were from above, he would be hunting you. The Conqueror. He didn’t sound like someone you wanted to be captured by.
The attack was sudden. Ships shooting blue lasers descended. Robots, or what you thought were robots, began to go after people. It was a mess. Some of them evacuated, some fought. You, Scott, and Cassie ran. You all knew that you were the targets and you couldn’t get captured. Not before finding the others. You saved as many people as you could along the way.
There was a giant floating metal head—MODOK is what it called itself—that stopped you.
Turns out, it was an old acquaintance of Scott (and sort of Cassie). Darren, they called him, showed his—maybe this was mean, but it was true—hilariously ugly giant face. He took you to a tower and divided the three of you into cells. Scott cracked some joke about how he had been in jail four times—one more than Cassie.
Darren revealed that he worked for the Conqueror, who built him into what he was. As it turned out, the Conqueror built a lot of what you were seeing.
You were pacing around your cell, trying to devise a plan, when the sound of heavy footsteps began to echo through the hall. It caught your attention. You watched as a man in a green and purple suit approached Scott. His face was veiled in blue and his eyes shone with the same color.
He walked right up to Scott’s cell and they began to conversate. You were diagonal to Scott and next to Cassie. You weren’t sure if the man even saw you.
You heard Scott tell him he was an Avenger, and the Conqueror casually asked if he’d killed him before. “I’ve killed so many, they start to blur together…” the Conqueror mused.
Scott asked who he was, the Conqueror told him he was the man who had lost time. He began to explain that he had a plan for Scott.
You couldn’t fully hear him, and you decided to speak before you could think to stop yourself. “Hey, if you’re revealing your evil plan, can you clue us all in?”
The Conqueror fell silent. He turned to face you. The moment he laid his eyes on, a chill ran through your spine. The blue mask was gone. You could see him more clearly now. The look on his face… there was recognition in his eyes. Sure, he said he’d killed the Avengers in other universes, but this didn’t seem like that.
“Oh, you…” the Conqueror said, seemingly surprised. Pleasantly surprised. “MODOK said there was one he never met. I didn’t know it was you. I should’ve, though.”
The fact that he was handsome threw you. You were expecting someone… scarier looking? Or more alien. Although you supposed not every villain you dealt with after Thanos would be like him.
“Am I that much of a surprise?” you asked, raising your brows.
“A bit,” he admitted. “You look so… well, like you.” The Conqueror approached your cell, Scott forgotten.
“Okay, what does that even mean?”
“I haven’t seen you in so long,” he sighed out. There was a longing in his eyes that seemed so out of place given everything you knew about the man. “It’s good to see you.”
“I don’t know you,” you told him, shaking your head.
“Oh, but you do,” he replied smoothly.
The barrier on your cell dissipated suddenly. The Conqueror extended his hand out to you, passing easily through the barrier that had once been.
“If you would come with me, Y/N.”
You hated the way he said your name. There was an unearned sense of familiarity. Despite the allure in his tone and the gesture of his hand, you ignored it. The Conqueror let out a sigh. He turned on his heel and began walking away. Slowly. Waiting for you to follow him like he knew you would.
You looked to Scott’s cell. His eyes found yours. He didn’t speak, but he was trying to warn you silently.
That was Scott, always looking out for you. But if you had a chance to negotiate, maybe get you all home unhurt. You had to try, right?
You stepped out of the cell. The Conqueror hadn’t gone out of sight. The moment he heard your movement, he halted his own. You didn’t know the man, but you could see the victorious smile he wore before he even turned to face you.
“I knew you couldn’t resist,” he said knowingly. You began walking towards him cautiously. “I have something to show you, dear. I think you’ll find it quite enlightening.”
You stopped next to him, jaw clenched. “Who are you?” you questioned. “I want a name.”
“Kang,” he revealed. “You can call me Kang.”
You nodded. Okay, that was something. You waited for him to lead the way, and he did. He didn’t offer his hand again, he realized you had no intention of making contact with him.
You looked over your shoulder one last time. You couldn’t see Cassie from the angle you were at, but you gave Scott an assuring look. The one he returned didn’t quite match your confidence.
“I have to say, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Kang revealed once the two of you were alone.
“Yeah, because this is what I had on my schedule today,” you replied sarcastically.
Kang let out a laugh. It was short, but genuine. It was an odd sound to hear from someone who’d sent an army to take out civilians. That reminded you that you in fact should be scared of him.
You arrived in what appeared to be the center of Kang's tower—or whatever the hell he wanted to call it. It didn’t matter what it was, it was where he had been leading you.
“What’s on your mind?” the Conqueror asked, looking your way. You were put off by sincere curiosity.
“Okay, what is going on?” You couldn’t keep it in any longer. “Why did you bring me here? Huh? Why just me?”
“Nice to know some things never change,” Kang said, mind distant for a moment. Then, his gaze refocused on yours. “You always were a curious one.”
“Stop talking like you know me!” you snapped.
Kang remained eerily calm. “But I do. That’s what I wanted to show you.”
Without further word, Kang turned his attention to—well, you weren’t sure what it was. Your best guess was something similar to a projector. He did something, you couldn’t tell what, but suddenly beams of light shot out of it.
In front of you was a projected image of… you? You weren’t alone, though. At your side was the Conqueror himself. His arm was around your waist and your head was resting against his shoulder. You were both dressed formally. You couldn’t tell where the two of you were or what you were looking at, though.
The way the projection displayed, you were staring into your own eyes. It was unnerving to say the least.
“I liked this universe,” Kang spoke up. You nearly jumped, suddenly becoming aware of the fact that he was at your side in reality as well. “We had a lovely wedding.”
Your head snapped to him, unable to believe his words. Kang looked at you and let out a content sigh. “We’re married in a lot of universes. And even in the ones where we aren’t, we’re bonded.”
“You must’ve forced me.” It was the only explanation you could think of. “You say you’ve killed the Avengers—I’d never abandon my friends to love someone who’d do that.”
“There was no force.” He sounded briefly offended before regaining composure. “As for the ‘why’?” Kang allowed a small smirk to cross his face. “I won’t spoil the ending, dear, but I’ve seen it. I’ve seen every ending.”
“Why are you showing me this?” you asked.
“Because, I need your help. Well, you and your friend. Scott, right?” he finally recalled. “I need to get out of here,” Kang explained.
“I saw what you did to those people,” you argued. “Why would I help you?”
“My future directly impacts yours,” he explained simply. “If I get out of here, you could come with me.”
You let out a mocking laugh at that. “No way. I already told you, I’d never be with someone who has done the things you’ve done.”
He looked offended. Hurt, even? But it wasn’t like you lied. There was even a flash of anger but he regained composure.
Kang stepped close to you and you stepped back. Behind him, the holographic image changed. You and Kang. Then it changed again, then again. Picking up speed. You were watching as your future in hundreds of different universes played out. Different paths, different lives, but they all ended up the same way. With Kang.
He was proving a point.
“You and I are inevitable, Y/N. In every universe where we exist,” the Conqueror revealed calmly—calculating—and continued to approach you.
You shook your head. “No,” you stated firmly.
Kang tilted his head slightly, eyeing you curiously. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
It was right in front of your eyes and yet you refused to accept it. “I know it’s not true.”
“You don’t know anything,” he dismissed passively. Like he just knew he was right and didn’t see the need to genuinely argue. “Not yet, at least.”
It wasn’t until Kang’s hand rose to your face, his gloved hand brushing your cheek, that you’d realized you had fallen still in front of him.
“But you will see,” he revealed in a way that you could only label as ominous. “You always do.”
#quin-ns writing#request#kang the conqueror x reader#kang x reader#kang#kang the conqueror#quantumania#ant man and the wasp quantumania#kang the conqueror fic#jonathan majors#marvel#mcu
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If It Kills Me
Pairing: Mafia!Lee Know x Reader
Summary: You are the sunshine in Lee Know’s life. He will never let anything or anyone change that.
Warnings: Cannon level violence
A/N: Hello everyone! I’m thinking about turning this into a series. This was written on my phone so please ignore spelling errors, weird spacing etc…Nice comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated.
p.s
I do NOT consent to have my work posted, translated or published to any third party site or app.
Enjoy!
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Lee Min-ho, leader of south korea’s most prominent Yakuza syndicate SKZ had 8 people in this world that he cared about. Seven of which were men he had met in various stages of his life. Those men were like brothers to him. But you, you were number eight to be found but number one in the ways that matter.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
“Sunshine! Come here please.” You hear your husband Lee Know calling for you. The day you met him, you were wearing a yellow rain coat. He started calling you that in his head before he found out your name. The nickname stuck because that’s exactly what you are to him. In his dark and violent world, there you are shining through it.
You bookmark your page and set down the book you were reading in your home library. Walking down the long hallway to his office. On your way inside Seo Chang-bin, head of security, opens the door for you. “Good Morning Binnie” you greet as you pass him. He returns your greeting before turning off to the side to speak into his ear piece. Probably speaking to Han Jisung your personal guard, turned best friend.
Upon entering the office, the first thing you notice is your husband in all his glory.
Lee Know is powerful in every sense of the word. But his beauty makes you weak. He is sat behind a large oak desk leaned back slightly in his chair, top 3 buttons of his crisp white button down undone. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal his tattooed forearms. Years of history hidden in the ink. As he pushes away from the desk his large thighs spread slightly. His eyes are trained on you, capturing your every movement.
He notices the change in your demeanor immediately, smiling to himself. Lee Know is attentive like that. He can read you better than anyone and he does it well. “Yes?” you ask as you rock on your heels, hands tucked neatly behind your back. He cocks a brow and beckons you slowly with a finger. Once you’re close enough he wraps you in his arms and pulls you into his lap.
Lee Knows flashes you his a genuine smile and leans in to kiss you. You lose yourself in his hold. His hands are delicate holding you like fine china. He keeps you exactly where he wants you. Close. Only pulling back to catch his breath and allow you to catch yours.
He looks at with nothing but love and adoration. He opens his mouth to speak but before he can you hear an explosion and gun fire ensues. His entire face changes as he looks at you, points to his book case and says one word, “Go.”
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Dear Lutha,
Thank you very much for your kind and quick response to my previous (and very first) question, which was about 'caging' in D/s relationships. I really enjoyed it and I'm looking forward to reading your post on the topic.
Since I appreciate your thoughts so much, I am writing to you on another topic. In some dramas with strong D/s elements (such as Cutie Pie, Love in the Air, My Personal Weatherman, You are mine and even sometimes in KinnPorsche), infantilization dynamics are to be seen. This element is all the stronger as the age gap is marked, even though it can still show up anytime.
I'm not necessarily talking about the Dad/little dynamics, but of a more general Adult/minor type relationship, where the former leads and protects the latter through the usual parental tools (like scolding, giving lessons, correcting, punishing, rewarding etc.. .).
For me, this pattern is for example very strong in a series like My Personal Weatherman, where Segasaki assumes a parental role towards Yoh, who often acts and speaks like a child (either spontaneously or in reaction to his partner's attitude). If I understand them correctly, @notfreetoday's detailed and fascinating posts on language(s) in My Personal Weatherman tend to validate this impression.
So, I wanted to ask you a/ if you would also describe parts of these relationships as consensual infantilization and, b/ if so, if they are in your opinion different from common D/s dynamics. Or whether they should be seen as a particular expression of a mere D/s dynamics.
If you have time, I would be happy to read your thoughts on this matter. Thank you once again for your delightful posts.
Best,
Yassa
Hey Yassa!!!
I'm so glad you enjoy my writing. It means a lot!
"Where the former leads and protects the latter through the usual parental tools (like scolding, giving lessons, correcting, punishing, rewarding etc...)."
Labeling discipline as infantile is limiting. We use corrective tools even in the work place. If you mess up then you get scolded, given a lesson, correcting, and so on. We all need correction at any stage of age. It just depends on your hierarchy on how that correction is given. With a D/s relationship, the hierarchy places the Dom at the top. Therefor, if a Dom just like a Boss is found to be wrong, the consequences will be far different from those given to a sub or subordinate. It's an imbalance in power control.
However, I think I'm capturing what you are really trying to ask. All the shows you just mentioned are BT/b relationships. Which is a D/s relationship involving a Brat Tamer Dom and a brat submissive. This is the type of Dom that I am. We are typically very cool, calm, and collected. We are protective but much more loose on the leash than other Doms. We will often engage in romantic play or play fighting, but push us too far, and you will see an intensity in us that will send shivers down your spine. Regardless of how gentle we seem, we will gladly give it to you if you deserve punishment. Due to our submissives liking to push our buttons, you'll see a more tug of war relationship. Depending on if we want to get ahead of it or let it play out is how you'll see us lead. Which is why you see more disciplining in a BT/b relationship.
The Brat Submissive - Brats in general are overly-aggressive, sarcastic, sassy, and your general coyote. They have no intentions of submitting to anyone's authority or discipline if you have not earned their respect.
The SAM Submissive - The SAM is a type of brat. A SAM type submissive, also known as a Smart-Assed Masochist, is just that, a smart-talking submissive with a quick tongue. Usually, their Sammie behavior isn't actually a cry for attention; it's just their way of being playful. In fact, most SAMs when actually threatened with punishment will back off, saying that they were only playing and that they didn't mean anything by it. Occasionally, this behavior can be incredibly frustrating to their partners, but the rewards far out weigh the negatives.
My Beautiful Man: Starts out as M/s which is Master slave and moves into a deep D/s. No BT/t in this relationship.
Not Me: This is a soft D/s relationship, but it's there. White is a little bit of a brat but much more subservient.
Love In The Air: Very much BT/b relationship. With a Primitive Brat Taming Dom and SAM submissive.
Until We Meet Again: I recommend this one for seeing the difference between a deeper D/s relationship that is Dean and Pharm. In comparison to Win and Team who are BT/b.
Between Us: WinTeam's story. Brat Tamer with a SAM submissive. The difference in Team is that he is a Dom outside of their relationship. So what is called a Sexual Submissive Only.
I Will Knock You: Deep D/s with large age gap. The youngest being the Dom.
Stay By My Side: D/s relationship with a stricter Dom but a brat of a sub.
My Personal Weatherman: A Deep Brat Tamer with a brat submissive.
Hope this was helpful! 💜💜💜
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glitch (interlude ii) (k.b.)
Summary: pekka rollins likes to plot.
Pairing(s): kaz x fem!reader (established relationship, not seen explicitly in this piece)
Word Count: ~550 words
Warnings: allusions to coming violence, brief mentions of theft, maiming, etc
Genre: too short to really have one
Author's Note: oh man, my fingers slipped and here's the second interlude for the midnights series. the next proper part is coming soon! this is just plot for people who want a very, very brief glimpse into what pekka rollins has been up to!
Pekka Rollins did not like to sit idly.
He drummed his fingers on his desk, awaiting the most recent letters' arrival. For eight weeks, he schemed up plans and dispatched his closest associates to find information on this Y/N L/N who had appeared on his radar. Each Friday on the evening's eighth bell, he received numerous reports, and he spent the following Saturdays adjusting his plans as needed.
Initially, Rollins expected the girl to merely be a weapon of Kaz Brekker's making. He assumed she would be nothing more than someone caught in the web of gangs in the Barrel, a university student who strayed too far. Rollins would have no problem hurting her to get to Kaz Brekker.
But as the reports came in, week after week, Rollins discovered that Y/N L/N was a threat in her own right. The girl was connected to numerous thefts, maimings, and killings since her arrival in Ketterdam. Most were in the Dregs' name, as expected, but the earliest crimes were of her own accord. At sixteen, she attacked, robbed, or mutilated some of Ketterdam's wealthiest. Her earliest association with the Dregs was the same year: she stole a valuable necklace from one of the Merchants and easily evaded capture. Presumably, that was her ticket into the Dregs. And in the three years since, she'd only become more lethal.
It didn't take long for Rollins to realize that he'd chosen a good target. He could take out a significant threat before she could turn her attention to him, and he could weaken Kaz Brekker in the process.
The door to his office creaked open, and Rollins sat up straighter. A Dime Lion slipped inside, a letter in his hand, and Rollins thrust his hand out. "Well?" he prompted. "Is that all?" He surveyed the gang member, some low-level grunt he didn't care to remember the name of. The glint in his eyes indicated he hoped another letter was hidden on the kid.
"Yes, Boss," the Dime Lion said, ducking his head and looking at the floor. The Boss's gaze had only become more murderous and impatient since he heard about Kaz Brekker's newest weapon. "It's the one you've been waiting for, sir." He passed the letter to Rollins and quickly excused himself, eager to escape that piercing glare.
The door slammed behind him in his desperation to get away.
Pekka ripped into the letter like a man starved for information. He unfolded its contents and quickly skimmed the words scribbled across the page. Inside were the names and signatures of three men agreeing to be part of Rollins' plot; beneath those was the amount of kruge wanted in return for their services.
He hissed through his teeth. Saints be damned, it was a steep price, but if all went as planned, he wouldn't have trouble paying it. The money would come from Kaz Brekker's pockets, leaving him vulnerable on numerous fronts. Rollins just needed his Dime Lions and the three mercenaries to do their damn jobs and do them well.
With luck, Pekka Rollins would make sure Kaz Brekker was no longer a problem and wouldn't have the power or money to recover from the blows Rollins hoped would land.
TAGLIST: @tonberry-yoda, @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r, @futurecorps3, @statsvitenskap, @sapphiccloud, @casualladyinternet, @d34drapunzel, @noctemys, @whitejxsmine, @so6, @franzelt
#kaz brekker#crooked kingdom#six of crows#six of crows duology#kaz brekker x reader#kazzle dazzle#soc kaz#soc fanfic#shadow and bone#the grishaverse#shadow and bone season 2#sab season 2#grishaverse fanfic#freddy carter#the crows#kaz brekker x fem!reader#kaz brekker x you#sab season two#kaz brekker x y/n#pekka rollins#pekka rollins up to no good#midnights but make it kaz brekker
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Hi! First of all I wanted to say your Pretty s/o series is so cute! I’ve enjoyed reading the ones that are available at the moment 💕 I was wondering, is it okay if I request an addition to the pretty s/o x one piece character with Luffy and Shanks?
a/n - awww tysm! I thank @zorokinniemoment for the idea :D straw hat boys :3 and it's always ok for you to request stuff tysm <333
Warnings ⚠️ - kinda suggestive on Shanks’ part 0-0, fem reader, you have to listen to my horrible taste in music I’m so sorry 💀
Closer <3
(This version’s only on YouTube ._.)
Shanks
- The red haired pirate is already- WELL INFORMED of literally how gorgeous you are
- He makes sure you know every second he’s with you (which is most of the time)
- nah like you’re getting ready in the morning right?
- you’re looking in a full body mirror at your outfit
- He comes up behind you and starts trailing his huge and gentle hands across your waist, leaning forward to kiss the side of your neck
- “Mmm, you look beautiful as always.”
- and since it’s in the morning- he doesn’t have a shirt on- and his voice is all low and soft ✨
- When he kisses your neck while saying compliments about you, his voice sent vibrations up your neck
- In public, I mean- I don’t think anyone would dare try to lay a finger on you since you’re with a warlord, but still, you’ll get the flirty gazes
- He honestly doesn’t mind it, he’s really laid back and is ok with it since he completely trusts you
- But if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable, he’ll definitely do something about it
- Whether that be giving the marines a death stare while wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him
- Or maybe even putting you in front of him so people will know that you’re with him
- He doesn’t really care what the marines do, it’s definitely a plus that they don’t even wanna capture you! That’s great!
- He’s happy that he has less things to worry about on that part
- The last thing he wants is for someone to snatch you away from him while he wasn’t watching
- If you’re ever feeling insecure, oh god this man will literally make you feel better instantly
- Maybe he’s a bit confused at first as to why you’re insecure but- he leaves that thought for later
- He’ll pull you into his lap as you list off the things you were insecure of
- Then he’d memorize every body part that you said, and when he pins you down to the bed?
- Those areas are getting a ton of attention
- Kissing, squeezing, sucking, you name it
- Shanks is going to show you that your body is fucking beautiful
- (let’s say you were insecure abt your thighs)
- He’d make you bend your knees, taking one of your thighs and starting to pepper kisses on the insides of them
- His beard sometimes tickles you 0-0
- “Why are you insecure about these gorgeous thighs? Mm? I like ‘em.” He says in between kisses.
- He loves your body
- He kinda wants to show that negative consciousness that it’s literally the dumbest piece of shit for telling you that you’re not gorgeous af
- if you’re insecure? This man is showing you that you’re fucking gorgeous no matter the time, place, etc. 💅
Luffy
- Honestly all he cares about is you- so he didn’t really look at your beauty at first
- It’s a plus tho! He thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in all the seas
- Sanji agrees
- Marines don’t want to capture you! That’s awesome, he thinks that they’re just scared of you when in reality they just think you’re too pretty
- Luffy has lived with that thought all throughout his time with you
- Whenever you get flirty gazes in public, he’s so proud because he thinks those are looks of fear 💀
- He thought that they were scared of your power 😭
- When you finally told him what it meant, his brain had to load (if he had any left at the time)
- “WHAT?!!!! THEY’RE NOT SCARED OF YOU?!”
- Man died right then and there from shock
- He’ll start clinging onto you, making weird faces at the marines, sticking his tongue out lmao
- “BLEHHH Y/N’S MINEEEE!”
- He acts like a child when someone’s trying to steal his favorite thing in the world
- Marines lowkey get mad and start targeting Luffy, taking extra care that they don’t harm you one bit
- “JERKS!” Luffy yelled, easily taking care of them
- “Hmph. You’re mine.” He said, wrapping his arms around you tightly, holding you close to him
- Now? He’ll always have some kind of arm around you lmao
- Luffy protective mode ✨
- If you’re insecure about your body I don’t think he’ll understand
- “What’s insecure?” Confused
- Luffy istg
- you have to explain to him what insecure means 🗿
- After, he’s still confused but for a different reason
- “Wait why?! You’re pretty!”
- the thing about Luffy is that he never lies, and he’s always so straightforward it’s funny
- “Insecure is for ugly people right?”
- You felt better after he said those things
- He was confused on what he did to help you but at least you’re feeling better 👍
- He feels proud that he can make you feel better even though he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing 😭
- He once thought that your “insecurities” was a real guy, and asked you where they were so he could beat them up
- “Huh?! Who’s this Insecure guy?! I wanna beat him up!”
- Luffy. 🥹
- He cares about you sm, it’s just that he’s missing most of his braincells
- you’re 100% more pretty than Boa, she can’t even compare to you 🙄
- Sorry boa.
a/n - Luffy’s trying his best I swear 😭 Shanks simps, rise. 👀
<3
#one piece#one piece hcs#luffy x y/n#luffy one piece#monkey d. luffy#luffy x reader#shanks x reader#shanks one piece#shanks#shanks x you#anime hcs#one piece x reader
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As far as book-to-movie adaptations go, The Hunger Games does a pretty good job. But one thing I will never be able to forgive is how dirty they did Finnick.
If you've read the books and watched the movies, you know exactly what I'm talking about. For those of you who don't know, I'll explain. Remember how the District 13 soldiers infiltrate the Capitol to rescue Peeta (and Johanna)? In order to create a distraction for this operation to take this place, the rebels take this opportunity to hack all the Capitol channels. But they need something with sufficient shock factor to capture the Capitol's attention. This is when Finnick steps up and spills some MAJOR TEA in front of the camera. Now, in the books, Finnick's speech is the main focus with the infiltration happening in the background, but the movie does the OPPOSITE (for reasons I will never understand).
People who've only watched the movies don't even know what Finnick said and how important it is because of how the movie overshadows his part there and let's it become fucking background music for the most part.
Finnick talks about how, as a victor, the Capitol sold him (his body that is) to the elite. Basically, they sex trafficked their victors. Keep in mind that Finnick won the games when he was 14. All the victors were minors when they won. And in order to assuage their guilt, to pretend like this was somehow not a really fucking messed up transaction, his "buyers" would offer him gifts- money, jewels, clothes etc. But Finnick figured out a much more valuable thing to exchange. He asked them to tell him their secrets. And because he was dealing the Capitol powerful elite, he learned just how rotten the Capitol was at its core. And the best secret he learned was of how Snow came to power- by poisoning his enemies. And it was from that poison (he also probably had to consume it to prevent his enemies from suspecting something) that he had bleeding sores in his mouth that he tried to disguise with the scent of roses.
Apart from exposing Snow's corruption, Finnick's confession exposes another truth - that the games are never truly over. The victors may leave the arena, but they remain the Capitol's pawns. And if not pawns, they become examples. Johanna and Haymitch were the latter. Johanna was also expected to do what Finnick did. But she basically told the Capitol to go fuck itself and so they killed her whole family. Haymitch had played smart in the arena by using the Capitol's own force field to win. And so they had already killed his whole family (and girlfriend) for that. So they had no one to blackmail him with.
Now think back to what Finnick said to Katniss when they first met. He tells her, "You could have made out like a bandit, jewels, money, whatever you wanted." Katniss ribs at his popularity in the Capitol by talking bout people,"paying for the pleasure of his company, " not realizing just how true that statement was. (He replies "secrets" is you recall). Finnick was alluding to a fate Katniss would have also had to face like other victors if she hadn't been reaped again.
The games were never fucking over. The victors would always be the Capitol's pawns for as long as it suited the Capitol. And I will never be over the fact that the movies quite literally drowned out Finnick's story like that.
#the hunger games#fandom#my writing#spilled ink#spilled thoughts#writers on tumblr#finnick odair#thg finnick#thg series#thg#hunger games#capitol
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Ok ok what if what if
The reader is like one of the only fruit bats in the world like a rare breed of fruit bat. Which means they got captured get experimented on a lot and gets abused
Draxum finds out about this rare breed of fruit bat and wants to experiment himself so he orders the dark! Turtles to go get them but once they see them they want them for themselves??
OOGA BAT READER MY BELOVED /GEN
Note: I'm gonna be gone from the 27th-31st to visit my family so I'm trying to get most of my asks out, Now, for simple asks that I can do on my phone during that time, I might answer but overall, I'll be gone lol
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Now, Reader is implied in the others to be a Giant Golden Crowned Flying Fox, which is already endangered according to CITES
And considering canonically, you only mutate into the creature you last touched
It would be almost confirmed that no other mutant is a GGCFF.
Now, I'm going to get into a little rant about Endangered or Otherwise extinct Animals that you can mutate into
Depending on what you are, is how Draxum will react, if you're an Endangered or Extinct-in-the-wild Mutant, you have his interest (If you're a mutant who mutated from an actual EXTINCT animal, like, there aren't any in captivity, or in the wild, then you definitely have his attention)
So, for example, Creatures like Tigers, Leopards, Wolves, Parrots, Komodo Dragons, etc, They're VERY interesting to him and would like to study how similar they are to their wild counterparts
So, a Giant Bat mutant with powers, while not extremely deadly, is something he would want.
Sending the turtles to capture a fragile, untrained, new mutant, would be easy, right?
Wrong, as he didn't account for the idea of the Turtles becoming interested in you themselves.
After the turtles terrorize you (because they're ASSHOLES), They tie you up and throw you into the turtle tank (It does, in fact exist in this AU)
Mikey starts messing with you, making you flinch and shake
After that fucking nutcase of a turtle is happy with causing fear, he starts trying to braid your neck fluff (Which he ends up ripping out a few strands 'accidentally')
You hear one of the other turtles call him up to the front of the Turtle tank for a few minutes
even with your amazing hearing, you can't make out what they're saying 100%
It goes on for about 10 minutes before the Tank slowed, then swerved violently, making you fall over.
Hearing the engine rev aggressively as it sped up was startling, you could feel the Turtle Tank shake.
A scarred-up turtle in dark blue comes from the front, sits you upright and squats down to look you in the eyes
"I'm gonna take off the Muzzle, but if you scream, I WILL give you something to scream about" he said as he twirled his blade, you nodded nervously
As he unraveled the Muzzle he stared at you, as if waiting for you to scream, bite, hiss, or even spit, but you kept your mouth shut
"Awwwhhhh I was hoping for an easy fight" he pouted as he got up, picked you up and slung you over his shoulder.
The door to the turtle tank opened and he walked out, the smell hit you before anything else could've, smelled metallic and of Spiteful little shits getting the snot beaten out of them.
He walked out of the small little garage area and into what felt like a Living room but for clinically psychotic dead inside mental patients on crack.
You saw a short, equally if not worse scarred-up rat, he was staring intently at the news he was watching, before his ears pinned back, signaling he heard them enter
Whipping his head around he looked the boys up and down before spotting you
He asked his students if that was the bat that they were supposed to bring to draxum
.....
"no....??" the brothers spoke in unison
The rat looked at them and went back to the news, something about a teenage girl getting skinned alive, only thing left was her black hair in two pom poms, you cringed at the words being said.
The four brothers walked into another part of what you assumed was their house, however this part seemed for like a Mad Scientist's wet dream.
They sat you down on the floor and you got a better look
There was surgical tools and engineering equipment everywhere
Suddenly, the purple one, oddly not nearly as roughed up as his brothers, came over to you and studied you
"Definitely Acerodon jubatus" he said blankly
"Alright, who's gonna do the honors of telling them our decision" he looked over at his three brothers, all of which seemed uninterested in saying anything
"Okay, jackasses, I'll say it, We decided that instead of giving you to that Sheep-like freak of nature, You'll stay with us." he stated calmly, as if he was saying it was cold outside and not that he just committed several felonies.
Before you could say anything, he got up and walked over to the surgical equipment, picking up a syringe and walking back over to you
"I don't necessarily need to explain but I will, This is anesthesia, I'm putting you under so I can put a tracker in you." is all you head before blacking out
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Pls ask me for more endangered (Not necessarily being Bat! Reader)! Mutant readers they're my favorite to do omg
#save rottmnt#dark! rottmnt au#rottmnt headcanons#rottmnt#rottmnt x reader#donnie x reader#donatello#raph x reader#raphael#michelangelo#mikey x reader#leo x reader#leonardo#master splinter#baron draxum
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tdp overarching themes (redemption etc)
What will happen when Ezran/Harrow’s narrative of love and Aaravos/Viren’s narrative strength meet, who wins?
Will it be possible for Ezran to win the dark mages over to let go of pain and end the cycle of violence? Or is death the only way to protect the world and his loved ones? Will Ezran have to learn to become stronger himself?
is it even possible to kill a startouch elf? oor to convince him to maybe not, like, conquer xadia?
i don’t have these answers but i diiiid compile a bunch of relevant shit
I kind of went through Harrow’s letter to Callum and added related quotes or moments that seemed relevant to the overarching themes discussed and how they stand on opposing sides
orange is harrow’s letter, read in 1x06
red is ezran’s speech, given in 4x03
these are the main voices but there’s also
pink is ibis in 4x03
black is zubeia in 4x04
purple is various aaravos quotes
pink is various viren quotes
both from 2x09, 3x05, 3x07, and 4x04
green is soren, janai, amaya and rayla briefly (4x03 & 4x08 & tdp trailer respectively)
“Soon you will both face a lie. The great lie of history.
“His name was Aaravos, and yes, he was a star. One of the great ones, respected and loved by all. Until we uncovered a long hidden treachery.”
Advisors and scholars will tell you that history is a narrative of strength.
“Search your heart. There’s something that you want very badly. But something or someone stands in your way.”
They will recount stories of the rise and fall of nations and empires. They will be stories of armies, battles and decisive victories.
“And this bright future will require us to conquer Xadia?”
But this isn't true strength. It's merely power.
“I can destroy them all! I have all the power I need!”
“If you want to say something to the Dragon Queen, you should say it to her face. her real face, that can bite you in two!”
“It hurts! I feel pain about this and I am angry!”
I now believe true strength is found in vulnerability...in forgiveness, in love.
“We all want peace and we all want love. But violence tests us!
In a twisted way it converts us to their cause.”
“You tried to win them over with loyalty and friendship but they ignored you. those who fail tests of love are simple creatures who deserve to be motivated by fear.”
“Because pain and loss feel so terrible inside. You want to hate. You want to hurt someone else. so what do we do?”
So, what is the plan? To fulfill your wishes, of course. Is your wish to rule Xadia? I wish for humanity to flourish. And it cannot flourish with a knife forever at its throat.
There is a beautiful upside down truth, which is that….
These moments of purest strength appear as weakness to those who don't know better.
“These are the champions you’ve gathered to try to stop me? They’re nothing but pathetic children!”
“How can we stop this cycle?”
Violence.
Loss.
Pain.
For a long time, I didn't know better.
“In the name of love, you may perform acts so unforgivable that you may never forgive yourself.”
Violence,
“You must take down the Dragon Queen and capture the baby dragon. Then you will have the attention of all the world, and the power to do what you want.”
“Bring terror to Del Bar, to Neolandia, to Evenere, and to Duren!”
Loss,
As I write this, the sun is setting while Moonshadow assassins prepare to end my life. A few months ago, I took my revenge on Xadia. Tonight, it is their turn.
“I am going to destroy it, before it can be used to do any more harm!”
Pain,
“Every great crisis the world faced seemed the work of some ingenious and powerful leader, but in each case, it was secretly Aaravos, whispering in their ear.”
“Aaravos. A startouch elf responsible for more pain, death, and suffering than anyone else in history.”
“I am not a killer.
But if you seek to return that staff to its true owner, you pose a greater danger to this world than I can allow.”
You must die.”
stop! i just want to yell stop. but that’s not enough. it won’t work.”
“I do not mean to be cruel. But we must be ready to sacrifice. Even the things we love.”
“Well played. She will be a valuable asset.”“She is not an asset. She is my daughter.”
I ask you and your brother to reject history as a narrative of strength and instead have faith that it can be a narrative of love.
“I think about a positive vision. a faith we can all share, that we might build a future together in hope. a future where we can be safe with each other. but… it’s not that easy. or simple.”
“Everything I do, and everything I ask of you, is for the future of humanity.”
“The whining child king, in over his head and he knows it.”
because people are still hurting and they are still angry. we can’t ignore that, or pretend it will go away.
“Oh, my time is inevitable.”
somehow, we have to hold it all in our hearts at the same time. we have to acknowledge the weight of the pain and loss, but open our eyes and allow ourselves to hope and maybe forgive and love again.
“You cannot have your cake and eat it too.”
We have to give today’s children a chance to inherit a future filled with peace.
“I've tried to be selfless as a king, but as a father, I have a selfish wish. And that is for you and Ezran to be...free. Reject the chains of history. Do not let the past define your future, as I did. Free yourself from the past. Learn from it, understand it, then let it go. Create a brighter future from your own hearts and imagination.”
Destiny is a book you write yourself.
To give them that, we have to hold pain and love in our hearts at the same time.
“There is an aching pain mixed with love that you feel in these moments.”
“Just have two cakes.”
“This is called A Song of Love and Loss.”
I'm proud of you. And I love you unconditionally.
“If the fallen star is a danger the whole world will face, this is a chance to solve our problems together.”
“How do you kill a startouch elf?”
idk man. what if aaravos doesn’t have to die? what if it’s not too late for him to be redeemed? this is kind of a guilty pleasure hope of mine but still. the dragon prince is a story of letting go of generational trauma and past pain, of letting go of pain and differences, most importantly, of letting go of a narrative of strength, of a strong katolis, a strong lux aurea, a strong empire over xadia, and believing in a story of love and hope. if there’s anything that could drastically change things its the guy with a lot of power and a lot of ambition and pain ready to cause a whole cycle of pain all over again. if there’s anything that would drastically change things it would be changing his heart. and if theres anyone who can change it, it’s the kid who feels the most for him.
#this may have been the dumbest lil adhd thing i have posted yet idk#self spaghettification#what will happen when these rhetorics clash?#and when ezran and aaravos meet#will it be a story of punishment or of restoration#is it possible to kill a startouch elf?#is it possible to win his heart over?#ezran#tdp ezran#harrow#tdp harrow#viren#tdp viren#aaravos#tdp aaravos#amaya#janai#soren#tdp quotes#tdp 4x03#tdp 4x04#tdp 3x07#tdp 3x05#tdp 2x09#the dragon prince#tdp theory#ibis#my thoughts#tdp meta
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BSD Rewatch Ep2
In episode 2, near the beginning, Dazai says something interesting after stating that the other ADA members didn't pay much attention to his barrel suicide antics:
"Anyone gifted with supernatural powers has something wrong with them inside…"
I've seen speculation by others in the fandom that Abilities come from some kind of trauma. I'm not saying this is any kind of confirmation of that speculation, but it is an interesting statement that he throws out there.
Could also refer to the idea that having an Ability eventually twists a person in some way - having power, having something weird with you, etc, can change a person. Being clearly different from others and from other Ability users (usually, it seems no 2 Abilities are similar), an Ability user is a lonely person with unique experiences that cannot be shared by anyone else. No two Gifteds can see the world the same way. And it is virtually impossible to share the impact one's Ability has on a person or forces them to experience.
And interestingly, later on in the episode, Tanizaki repeats Dazai's statement, "I swear, anyone gifted with supernatural powers has something wrong with them inside…"
So this isn't just a random statement…
From Tanizaki's POV as the 'bomber' enemy, clearly his take is that Ability users are unnatural freaks who can cause problems (he's there for 'revenge' after all). Although the stance of the public is rather unknown in BSD, this shows that there is at least some sentiment floating around that Ability users are some kind of mutant, unnatural form of humanity. Maybe not even human.
The fact that we learn a little bit about an 'Ability War' - some war possibly fought against Ability Users (or is it with and not against Ability Users?) - as well as the government's elite Hunting Dog team meant to hunt down and kill Ability users like they are rabid dogs, and even the government's Special Ability Department, meant to track and handle 'rogue' Ability users and the issues they cause - this all points to a pervasive distrust of Gifteds. At the very least from the government side, even if we never really see what the public thinks of them.
Having such sentiment plied on one from outside means one can possibly begin to believe it.
I'd say it's a thread that isn't really taken anywhere later on in the series - and it's NOT baked into the makeup of what we are exposed to as daily life in the BSD universe - but the major enemy of the series, Fyodor, very much believes this. So this is very much foreshadowing.
I'd just appreciate it if we could see more of this in the world building instead of having it relegated solely to plot moments.
And furthermore, it's interesting (admittedly jokingly), but at the end of the episode, Dazai says that were Atsushi not to join the ADA, he's a wanted tiger (despite the legal distinction between a murderer and a proven plea of insanity, which would be a parallel) and he would at best be fired, at worst captured and shot. Despite being a human being, who, even as a tiger, has not even harmed another human. Perhaps Dazai means that in his tiger form, he'd inevitably be shot rather than as a human, but. That still throws a bit of light on the idea that Ability Users are an exception to a normal treatment of a human being.
#bungou stray dogs#bsdrewatch2023#bungou stray dogs meta#ep2#Honestly I was wondering if I would even have anything to contribute since I don't tend to rip out pieces to espouse on like everybody else#But it's interesting that everyone tends to key on different aspects for different reasons
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🕊 hello everyone! 23f, experienced advanced literate - novella writer, and desperately craving a low fantasy / historical roleplay based in an east-asian setting—perhaps ancient china, wuxia-inspired? the options are limitless when it comes to worldbuilding! i don’t have a specific idea im set on and im more than happy to brainstorm together; perhaps a classic arranged marriage, an assassin disguised as a concubine sent to murder the emperor/lord, vampires and malicious devils, elemental powers, political intrigue and poisonous palace courts, a peasant catches the eye of a fearsome prince, or a foreign princess, held hostage by the emperor to keep her kingdom subservient, captures the unwanted attentions of his bloodthirsty brother/son… honestly im open to anything!! if you have any ideas, don’t hesitate to tell! let’s plot together 🫶
mxf pairing preferred, in which i write f.
please be enthusiastic and contribute to the plot , i don’t want to be the only one putting effort. let’s build it together! i just wanna gush about our oc’s and the story itself. bring me the headcanons, the worldbuilding, tiktoks, tropes, pinterest boards, playlists—you name it.
;- please, if i message you, don't just say 'yes im interested'; give me a little intro of yourself as a writer, ideas you might have / what kind of muses you were envisioning / etc., otherwise i won’t respond. i’m looking for creative, descriptive, and lengthy writers that don’t shy away from detail—so if you’re semi-lit to lit, don’t interact!
dead dove and dark themes [such as elements of dub/noncon, toxic/unhealthy dynamics, obsession - yandere, etc.] are all heavily welcomed and encouraged!!
like if you’re interested and I’ll reach out! 🫶
give a like and anon will get back to you
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