#I do kind of want to give it a sort of name either way-

[danveration]

Sleep well, amour.

Parings: Alastor x reader

Summary: You’ve been very intrested in Alastor ever since you met him. He invites you to see his recording studio, which you accept. Then you ask if you can stay and listen to him host! While listening, you fall asleep. How does he react?

Word count: 2844

Warnings: Ummm not really much? Alastor being Alastor! One mention of not being able to sleep sometimes, mention of seeing people in hell doing dr*gs, k*lling eachother, and fighting, mention of reader having bad social skills (?)

part two

A/N: UM!! this is my first time writing for alastor, so apologies if it isn’t the best. Please give me any feedback you want, I’d love to hear it! Also sorry for any spelling mistakes. I hope you enjoy :’)

Alastor the radio demon. You know of the things he’s done, you know that people are quite literally terrified of him. But for some reason... you feel a certain way towards him that you can’t describe, but it’s surely not fear.

You’ve had a some-what odd admiration of him since you landed in hell, only a few months ago. You got spotted by Charlie when you first got to hell. She noticed you looking around nervously and lost, and put two and two together that you must be new. She very kindly introduced herself which was refreshing because.. well.. it’s hell. Everywhere you looked people were fighting, doing drugs, and even killing each other. You were glad there were kind people even down here.

“Hi, you! Uh, you lost?” Charlie smiled you and waved.

“Um yeah! I’m guessing this is hell, huh?” You awkwardly chuckle. Social skills weren’t ever your thing, it seems they haven’t got better after you died, either.

“Yep! This is hell! You must be new? I’m Charlie! Charlie Morningstar. It’s so nice to meet you.” She smiled and stuck out her hand for you to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Charlie! My names Y/n.” You politely smiled back and shook her hand.

After that meeting, Charlie showed you to the hotel in which you eagerly accepted to stay at, her being the only sane thing you’ve seen down here. It was a pretty nice place, no 5 star hotel like back on earth, but it was something you’re very grateful for. Who knows what would’ve happened to you if you haven’t met her.

While she was showing you around, someone caught your eye. He was a tall man, very polite and respectful looking. He was dressed head to toe in old fashioned attire, with a cane to suit his charming look. He was smiling in a way that made you look at him like he was something you wanted to inspect under a magnifying glass.

He glanced at you and smiled larger, stepping over to you and Charlie.

“My, my! What do we have here? Charlie! You didn’t tell me that we’ve got more guests? It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear! The names Alastor!” He spoke politely.

His voice was sort of.. Radio-like? You found it soothing.

“Haha yeah! I found them wandering around on the street this morning! They’re a newcomer, their name is Y/n.” She spoke back, excited to introduce you.

“Y/n! Well, my, my. That’s quite a lovely name!” He said. “Say.. do you listen to radio? I host a brilliant radio broadcast that’ll give you some real insight on this place!” He said enthusiastically.

“Oh.. haha thank you” You smile. “I do actually! I love radio shows.” You immediately feel drawn towads him. You cant tell if it’s just the new scenery or what.. but you want to just sit and chat with him for hours.

Alastor perks up at that. “Oh you do, do you?” He smiled more.

“Yeah! Back when I was.. uhm.. alive, I actually had a whole playlist of them! What do you do your show about?” You ask.

Alastor is delighted to have you take interest in his show. “Well, dear, I do all sorts of things on there! Yes, yes, you think of it and I’ve most probably done it! Most commonly known is the souls I entrap and prison, as I broadcast their screams of horror all over this horrible place and people get to hear the noises of their never-ending torture and demise. But! I also just made a wonderful segment on my mother’s Jambalaya recipe!” He stated.

While part of those sentences gave you chills, you still seemed to take interest in him.

“Well,” you chuckle. “I will certainly check it out!” You smile.

“Ah! Wonderful news, my dear.” He said while he twirled his cane.

Charlie was watching you interact with him and noticed how you looked at him, as if admiring. She smile and said, “well! We better finish the tour.”

She motions for you to follow her and you do, waving Alastor goodbye.

He waves back and yells, “goodbye, sweetheart! Lovely to have met you.”

After that, you wanted absolutely everything to do with him. You’ve also got to know the other people staying at the hotel. Angel, Vaggie, Husk, Niffty, and Sir Pentious. They were overall kind people. Husk found your interest in Alastor to be no good.

“Yeah, no. That, whatever thing you have created in your mind about him, isn’t true. He’s vile, Y/n. Trust me on that.” He grunts.

Angel thought you had some kind of kink towards “scary, creepy men.” Which wasn’t true because you didn’t even find him scary. You found him charming.

“Ah.. Alastor? Fucking sexy weirdo if I do say so myself. He’s got some reaaal problems but hey, if you’re into that-“ You cut him off by saying it wasn’t like that & that you don’t think anything sexual towards him.

One day, you were talking to Sir Pentious about his “crush” on Cherry Bomb. He completely denied it but you could tell from his blush and his nervous demeanour that he was very interested in her.

You were caught off guard when you heard that radio voice coming up from behind you.

“Y/n, my dear! I have a question for you.” Alastor came and stood beside you, looking down from where you’re sitting.

“Al! Hey, what’s up?” You ask, containing your excitement.

Sir Pentious excused himself quickly, seeing one of his “egg boys” were being played with by Niffty. She isn’t one to be gentle.

“So, I know how you’ve been listening to my radio show as of late, and I was wondering if you’d like to see where the magic happens!” He states.

“R-really? I’d be honoured!” You say, smiling.

“Ah! Lovely. Come now, this way.”

You get up and he locks arms with you and chats about his new microphone that he got.

Once you guys arrive, you’re shocked. It looks very professional and comfortable. It suits him heavily. There’s a big open window, a desk, some chairs and sofas, a bunch of technical stuff on the desk along with his new mic that you recognize from his descriptions, and a deer coat hanger?

“Wow, Alastor. This place is so actually so sick. I love it. And the new microphone suits you!” You say. “Thank you for showing me, really.”

Typically, Alastor would never show someone something personal of his, including his studio, but you are an exception. He isn’t sure what it is about you but he doesn’t seem to hate you as much as he does with anyone else. At first he was weirded out, but now he just embraces it. He also feels protective of you. He doesn’t know exactly why you’re even down here. For as far is he can tell, you’re an angel. Always being kind even to those who aren’t kind to you, always saying “please” and “thank you,” all that jazz. Jazz! You even like jazz music, his favourite. He told you that he lived on earth the time jazz music was popular. The 20’s and 30’s. That explains his vocabulary and how he dresses. You just find it more interesting and take time to ask questions about what it was like in that time.

“Why of course, my dear! If I’d want to show anyone here, it would be you.” He says, giving you his iconic smile.

You have a thought. “Hey, Al? Would it be alright if the next time you do a show, I could stay and listen?”

You hope he doesn’t think this is odd.

Alastor raises a brow. “Why would you want to do that?” He asks.

You panic, thinking you went too far by asking and now he’s going to cut you off or something.

“Ha! Kidding, sweetheart! Of course you can. I love when my broadcast is wanted to be listened to. Though I love it as well when they don’t want to.” He says.

You’re relieved, a bit scared, but still relieved.

“Say!” He says. “I was going to make one tonight talking about this silly technology box that thinks he is better than me! You know, expose all his lies and secrets to my listeners, and unwilling listeners. Maybe broadcast it all throughout hell!” He starts laughing manically. Then calms down and stares at you.

“Would you want to stay and listen, hm? I can do it now! I didn’t have any plans today going forward and well, getting it out sooner is better than later, I always say.” He asks.

You know he’s talking about Vox when he mentioned the technology box. Him and Vox have a sort of rivalry going on. Though Alastor seems to not care much about him, Vox is sure obsessed. He’s even gone so far as to making posters about him. Which areee.. not much of a resemblance.

This offer strikes you and you immediately perk up. “Yes! I’d love to.” You say.

You don’t think Alastor knows this but whenever you’re struggling to sleep, you put on his radio show and his voice comforts you to sleep. You’re sure if you told him, he would find it weird.

Little did you know, Alastor already knew. He walked past your room one night and heard static sounds coming from your quarters. He immediately was intrigued and put his ear close to your door to hear his voice. He was surprised, but not weirded out. He found it delightful that you found comfort in his voice. It’s not everyday someone does. Usually it invokes terror and anxiety on anyone who hears. This was new, and he didn’t hate it.

“Lovely! Let me get all set up. You can sit wherever you feel the most comfortable!” He says, adjusting his mic and pressing a buttons on his table.

You find a spot and sit down. Feeling honored to even be in the same room as him, let alone HIS room.

“Ahem! Welcome ladies and gentlemen-“ He goes off into his introduction, before winking at you and starting.

After about 20 minutes, you begin to feel tired and put your head on the side of the wall, still listening but with your eyes closed.

Alastor immediately notices and smirks, knowing how his voice effects you. He continues on and after about another 20 minutes, he finishes up. You’re asleep, slightly smiling.

He walks over to you and looks down.

“My, my. You really are an interesting one, aren’t you?” He whispers. He smiles more softly than he usually does and looks around to find a purple blanket hanging on his deer coat hanger, and gently places it on you.

He feels his heart fluttering while looking down at you and he immediately shrugs it off.

“Mm well, my dear.. I guess you can stay here. I’ll just be over there, transferring my broadcast to the other radios around town.” He says and points to his table.

“Sleep well, amour.” He speaks softly.

[whateveriwant]

might I request how tf 141 tries to turn you on maybe? Sorry kind of a weird request you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to ;-;

Not a weird request at all, anon! Hope you enjoy! 18+ only, GN!Reader

Price

Three words: full body massage

That man loves to get his hands on you, and it doesn’t even have to be sexual in nature, honestly. Any opportunity to touch you, to caress you, to help ease the tension from your body, he’ll gladly take it (and if afterwards you’ll let him ease himself into you, well, that’s just an added bonus 😉)

He might use special rollers or electric massagers sometimes, but mostly he just sticks to those big, strong hands of his

He'll start by slicking up his palms with some oil, warming it up before he applies it to your skin

Beginning with your shoulders, he’ll slowly work his way down your body, paying special attention to the areas you need most targeted

Aside from those tender spots, he’ll also be sure to focus on a few of your more erogenous zones, namely your thighs and your ass (he's an ass man for sure)

By the time he's finished, you're all supple and pliant before him, but there’s something else too – a sort of warm, fluttery feeling in your gut

Luckily, he knows just the remedy for that sensation. And oh! Would you look at that? You're already in his favorite position: prone

Ghost

We all know he tends to be a man of few words, and this applies to every environment he finds himself in

…At least, every environment outside the bedroom, that is

Because when he's in the mood, you best hold on tight to your pants if you don't want them flying off from how he talks to you (but, I guess, your pants coming off is his end goal anyway)

You'll just be going about your day, minding your business, when you'll get a call from him while he’s “busy” at work

He'll start off casual at first, inquiring about your day, your plans for the night, etc., but it won't take long for the conversation to steer to the real reason for his call: to describe the way he's going to fuck you when he gets home

He'll go into excruciating, toe curling detail about all the things he's going to do to you; just how good he’s going to fuck you until you forget your own name

I hope you're not in public when you take his call, otherwise you better have the poker face of a lifetime if you don't want to make a scene in front of several dozens of witnesses

Gaz

He's a big romantic at heart, so rather than just going straight for the bedroom, he'll slowly work his way up to it over the course of the evening

First, he'll treat you to a nice dinner – either by cooking it himself or by taking you to that fancy restaurant you love but think is much too expensive for every day dining

Beneath dimmed, romantic lighting, together you'll share a delicious meal, a glass or two of wine, and of course a tasty dessert to cap it all off

The conversation will be light and pleasant (nothing unbecoming whatsoever), but while he might not outright voice the plans he has for you later in the night, that look he keeps giving you from across the table speaks volumes

When you’ve finished your meal and gradually made your way back home/to the bedroom, even then he still isn't done buttering you up just yet

He'll put on some slow music, maybe light a couple candles to really set the mood, even draw you both a bath if you're feeling up to it

Once he does finally take you to bed, it'll be a seamless transition from an evening overflowing with desire and passion

Soap

‘Subtlety’ is not really a word in his vocabulary, so most of the time when he's horny, he's just turning to you and asking if you want to fuck

However, sometimes when you need a little more build up than that, he has a few tried and true methods he knows will work you up

He'll change so that he’s walking around your flat wearing a pair of gray sweatpants. Wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants, mind you

Whilst wearing said sweatpants, he'll proceed to stretch and flex around you, showing off all those muscles he knows you love, as well as highlighting a few other assets he knows drives you crazy (i.e. bulge printtttt 😍)

He'll then get really touchy with you, starting innocent at first – brushing an eyelash from your cheek, straightening the neck of your shirt – before he gets more and more brazen with his petting

And when he's real close like that, leaning right into your ear, he’ll mutter soft praises to you: telling you how beautiful you look, how good you smell, how soft your skin is where he’s touching just there

By the time he finally goes to ask if you want to have sex, he doesn't even get the words out before you're jumping him like a wild animal. All according to plan…

[remember-the-fanfics]

Gen-Z!Overlord!Reader

• Died at 18, been in hell for a few years.

• Came in after Alastor disappeared, just before Vaggie showed up.

• You were never one to follow what everyone else did. Killing, drugs, theft, or porn.

• Kept to yourself for a few months, getting use to being dead and in hell.

• Accidentally became an Overlord after you killed one in self defense.

"In my defense, she was like super creepy and an asshole. A big one."

• The souls were free but you kept your new territory nice so they didn't leave.

• You made jobs and kept the housing in better shape, only made deals to help souls.

• Gave them a job, house, and protection. You give them a limit of a few years of the deal and if they don't mind it, they can renew it.

"Well I don't want to force them to do something, its rude."

• In return, they keep your territory nice, clean, and less violent than most. Work the jobs you made and protect your little town.

• There's been occasions were you trade souls to other overlords, either the soul did something against them or just an asshole.

• The time on the contract would restart

• To every other overlord, you are a child with a knife and to much power.

• You demolished another overlord because they thought you were weak and tried to destroy you territory.

"You ass eatting bitch-"

• You let others fight for new open territory because you're fine with what you have.

• Panicked when you got invited to an Overlord meeting.

• Apparently you had enough power to be one, then you realized you actually were one.

• It was awkward to meet the most of the overlords. Not knowing who you were to begin with.

"This is for overlords only."

"Oh, I'm (Y/n). I got invited."

• Chatted with Rosie before and after it.

• Camilla likes how you run your territory but you seem so young.

• Did apologized afterwards, introducing you to her daughters, apparently you were around the same age.

• Zestial wanted to know how you took over you territory, interested on how you did it.

• You've only meet Velvette because you need some clothes. She recognized you as the up and coming overlord.

• Throwing the clothes you had in your hands away, saying you need to be in the best lastest trend of clothes.

• You were now stuck having a fashion show as she decided what look good on you.

• While not enjoying all the clothes she had you try on, you kept being nice having conversation when she wasn't yelling at everyone else.

• Velvette learned that you were around the same age so she decided that you were acquainted enough to have her number.

• Apparently it wasn't optional for you.

• You brought back way to much clothes for one person, atleast now you have style.

• Chaotic neutral energy

• Charlie meet you after she heard that you improved a part of hell, wasn't expecting someone so young looking.

"Dying just after I turned 18 just means I look young forever."

• Laughing at your own dark humor.

"Ha...ha.

• Charlie did not find it as funny.

• Told you about the hotel idea and you were right on board.

• Thought it was a good way to stick it to the man and help people.

• Vaggie was surprised when Charlie brought back a child.

• More surprised that you're the Overlord that Charlie wanted to meet with.

• Definitely said Vaggie's name wrong for the first time reading it.

• Meeting Angel Dust after he decided to crash at the hotel.

• Not knowing what he was known for but definitely heard his name from someone.

"You're a kind of actor?"

"Of the sorts."

• After you heard what he was famous for.

"Well, he'll do him and I'll do me but never do each other."

• There was an awkward silence of confusion from everyone.

• Having to explain every reference you make.

• Vaggie made jar for everytime you make a dark joke.

• Charlie has asked you why you were in hell. You shrugged, never living a truly bad life but probably just too chaotic for heaven to handle.

• You leave every few days to check back in your little town to make sure everything was running smoothly.

• You know when something happens, feeling the souls you own in a panic.

• Having to let everyone remember why you were in charge a couple of times.

• Either with your words or actions.

• Luckily Rosie just adores your mannerisms and how you don't completely turn away from her with what or who she eats.

"You could say the food was to die for!"

• She finds your dark humor funny.

• So she keeps an eye out for you, sending letters to you every few days.

• You vist her every other week to just chat, she tells you about easy territories that you could get. You say you would rather show up some punks than have more responsibility with more souls.

• Offers food everytime, you say no thanks everytime.

• Rosie would tell you all the tea about the other overlords or her own town.

• Yay! You have an allie with an another overlord by being friends.

• Also with offering truly worse souls sometimes. On a rare occasion.

• Rosie knowing when you offer a soul to her, she would take her time with it. Enjoying every bite.

• Anyway- Sinners would come up to asking for deal when they are completely down on their luck.

• But whats following a couple of rules for free house and job.

• You give them enough warning before you would shake hands then saying you would know if they even thought of fucking your shit up.

• Putting an add for Charlie's hotel in your territory.

• Charlie almost hugged you to death after seeing it.

• When Alastor showed up, the two of you would have a intense staring contest.

• He wasn't expecting another overlord here, oh wait, you're new.

• Alastor not actually taking the hotel serious, pissed you off but he was more powerful.

• Charlie having to keep you and Vaggie from trying to fight him.

"I didn't know there was a new overlord! Charmed to meet you. Whose territory was up for grab?"

"She was a bitch-."

"I know who exactly you speak of, that's good. She never had any manners."

• Watching him summon Husk and Niffty and was shocked.

• Tried it and summoned one of your workers.

• Excited that it worked! Apologetic for interrupting their day.

"Ah ha! It worked! Oh shit it worked! Sorry!"

• You and Niffty vibe on a similar level. Charmingly violent.

• Vaggie has to make sure either of you give the other one a bad idea to do.

• Husk question your age when you went to the bar. Making you do the math.

"Well I died at 18, it's been a few years so old enough."

• Gave you a hard drink which you spit out after tasting.

• You decide hard alcohol wasn't for you.

• Knowing how technology was when you died making you the most technical advance Sinners in the hotel.

-

That's enough for now, just a thought I had when working.

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 5

in which spencer reid and fem!reader are reunited, but the worst kind of sparks are flying. you meet a man named randall. derek morgan buys you a drink (sort of). it seems that some things can't be unsaid.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: r goes to a bar but doesn't drink alcohol, gets hit on by weird men, dramatic, angst, sorry in advance a/n: surprise! i'll see myself out. love you! lmk your thoughts on this bad boy! i KNOW you'll have some! i'm locking all my doors and the cops are on speed dial after posting this. stay tuned for part six tho

You don’t call Spencer for four days. 

Spencer doesn’t call you for four days. 

It’s scary. 

There’s some texting—mostly him giving you updates on how things are going and when he expects to be back. Mostly you giving the messages a thumbs up and saying nothing else. 

Finally, on Thursday afternoon, his ringtone (the Bill Nye theme) makes you jump as you’re sitting on your bed staring into space. 

His caller ID photo—which is simply his passport photo, because you’d thought it was adorable—stares at you. You stare back. Contemplate not picking up. 

But you’re not quite there yet. 

And you cannot keep listening to Bill Nye the Science Guy. 

The answer button is cold under your thumb, but not as cold as your greeting. 

“Hi.”

You barely recognize your own voice. 

It seems to send Spencer for a loop as well, because his reply is halting. 

“Hey! Hi, um—how are you? I feel like we’ve barely talked this week.”

That would be because you told me my feelings for you are stronger than your feelings for me and I don’t know how to stop making every single word I say secretly mean I love you. We can’t have a conversation without me loving you. It will always be in the room or on the phone with us. To ignore the presence of it is impossible, and I don’t know if I can ignore the absence of yours, either. 

“Uh… yeah. I’m fine. What’s up?”

There’s a pause. 

“We wrapped up this morning. We’re getting on the jet here in a few minutes, and, um—I know it’s not ideal, but we missed Derek’s birthday and Penelope is insisting we all go to his favorite bar tonight. And he told me that for his birthday he wants to meet you. So… would you be up for that?”

“You want… to take me to a bar?”

“No. I mean—I know it’s not really your thing, but we missed Derek’s birthday three years in a row, and—and I understand if you don’t want to meet him tonight, but we wouldn’t have to stay very long and I really, really shouldn’t skip it. Derek has saved my life on more than one occasion.”

“You could go without me.”

More silence. Every second hurts, but you don’t understand why he wants you to come meet his best friend if he thinks the two of you are in different places emotionally. 

But maybe he’s not going to break up with you just yet. Maybe he’s going to keep inviting you to bars and foreign film festivals and bookshops. Maybe he’s going to treat you exactly the same as he always has but with this new added layer of knowledge that the way he treats you isn’t actually love, and it never was, and you’re not sure if it has the potential to ever become love. Because if it did—wouldn’t it have already? What more do you have to offer than what you’ve already given him?

Breakup or no breakup, you feel sick. 

When he speaks his tone is similarly chilly. It’s welcome. You want him mad. If he can’t reciprocate your adoration, then the very least he can do is have the decency to reciprocate your reproach. 

“I could. Is that what you want?”

No. I don’t want any of this. I need you to know me well enough to know that. And if you can’t love me then at least get angry. At least show me you feel something other than passive contentment. 

“Yeah. Sure. I don’t know.”

A pause stretches so long your heart pounds. You watch the elapsed time of the call tick by, second by second, and you wait for the anticipation to crack under the weight of silence, to give way to some terrible jump scare or to give way at all. 

But the words that end the conversation (if you can even call it that) aren’t any great relief. They’re just sad, and chalk full of defeat. 

“Alright. I’ll… I’ll call you later.”

You feel like you’ve swallowed an ice cube. All the words you’d like to say are frozen in your stinging throat. 

“Okay. Um… I’ll let you board now.”

“The jet’s not…” but he trails off. When he speaks again he sounds just as hurt as you’d wanted—and it doesn’t make you feel better at all. “Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The line goes dead, and your face is burning as tears fill your eyes for the hundredth time this week. That call was terrible and poisonous and you don’t feel like yourself. 

Things have gone so wrong so quickly, and all you know how to do is ice him out so he can’t do it to you first. But it’s not going to make this better. No matter how mean you are to him, at the root of it all you feel unloved and scared and alone and Spencer knows things about love and relationships that you don’t. He’s confusing you with all this talk of feeling differently about each other and I’ll be home tomorrow I miss you and things get complicated when one person likes the other more and let’s talk in person and will you come meet my best friend tonight. All of it leaves you motion sick and ugly crying in the fetal position. 

All you have to get through this is who you’ve always been, a little of the person you’ve become, and the love you harbor for Spencer which rattles around in your chest like a nail in an empty toolbox. At the moment it hardly seems helpful. It mocks you, pointing out the pathetic hilarity of your paradox. The only person who can comfort you, the person you want more than anything, is the reason you’re so upset in the first place. But you can’t help being drawn to him. 

Maybe the love you have for Spencer is more like a magnet in a compass. 

Even if he doesn’t feel it for you, you do love Spencer. And that goes beyond just loving the parts of him that like you. To hide from that love would be a gross disservice to yourself and all the work you’ve done to get here. It’s not as if you suddenly know exactly what the answer is—but you’re sure that hiding is the most childish, cowardly thing you could do and the furthest you could get from a resolution. Even if you can’t make him love you back, you refuse to allow yourself to fizzle quietly out of his life. This relationship deserves something more than that. 

So maybe you don’t have a plan when you wipe your eyes and pick up your phone. Maybe there’s no strategy behind your actions as you text Garcia for the bar location. But if you keep running from everything you’ll never get anywhere. All you can do is show up. It seems like the next best step. 

------

The pub isn’t too crowded—but for a Thursday night, you suppose it’s a bit busy. 

Boot heels hooked onto the metal foot-beam of the stool you’re sitting on, elbows resting on the polished mahogany surface of the bar, you’re staring into an untouched mixed drink. Then you glance down the bar to your right, at the man who’d bought it for you. 

Maybe your ensemble gave him the wrong idea. 

Coming to this gathering had required bravery, and you came armored. Your ensemble projects significantly more confidence than you’re currently feeling. It was intentional, a form of self-protection—but now you’re wondering if it’s projecting a little too much confidence. 

All done up, clearly still a little rough around the edges, and sitting alone at a bar was bound to draw the wrong pairs of eyes. 

“Hey, darlin’,” the gruff man says, approaching when you inadvertently catch his gaze. “Are you gonna drink that, or should I? Otherwise I’m lookin’ at eleven dollars right down the drain.”

You avert your eyes, scanning the groups dotted here and there. 

“I’m waiting for friends.”

“Does that make a free drink less appealing?”

He takes the stool next to you, off-gassing the scent of cigarettes and leather. 

“I’m not drinking.”

“Really? I’ve never seen a girl who looks as sad as you do come sit at the bar to stay sober.”

You frown, looking back up at the man next to you. He seems like the Hell’s Angels type—tattooed knuckles, leather jacket, grey beard, and a weathered face that’s clearly spent decades with the sun. Fifties, maybe younger and just looks more rugged. What does it say about how I look tonight that this is the kind of man I’m attracting, you wonder. Maybe you look desperate and just as lonely as you feel. As he claims you do. 

“I’m not sad.”

“Alright. I’ll take your word for it. But a happier girl wouldn’t be all alone.”

“I’m waiting for friends,” you repeat, letting the words drip like venom from your tongue. 

“I’m Randall. See? Now we're friends.”

“I don’t need more friends. I like the ones I have.”

Something catches Randall’s attention long enough to catch yours. He raises his bottle vaguely, gesturing beyond your shoulder. 

“Are those angry lookin’ guys in the suits marching right over here the friends you’re talking about?”

You turn your head, brows furrowed, and immediately see the gentlemen to whom your new pal is pointing out. 

Spencer is storming across the bar looking close to furious (which for him, means an expression so placid it gives you chills) followed by Derek Morgan—a man who you’ve only seen pictures of and is even more impressive in person. 

You hate how your breath catches, how your heart is already beating a little faster than usual at the sight of him even though you’re not exactly pleased with each other right now. 

Suddenly the bubbles in your cocktail are once again fascinating.

“Those are the ones.”

“And why are they dressed for church?”

Church?

“They’re FBI.”

“Ah. My lucky fuckin’ day.”

You almost snort. 

“Hey,” Spencer says sternly, hand settling on your back as he partially fills the small space between you and the strange man. “Who’s this?”

You shrug, sit up a little straighter, and take a shallow breath—not because you’re scared of this man but because Spencer is suddenly so close to you and you can feel his warmth and the air bending around him and the scent of him is genuinely dizzying to you. 

“Randall,” you exhale unenthusiastically. But the odd thing is that you’re rather grateful for Randall’s presence. Because now Spencer is here and you have no idea what you’re going to say to him. 

“Oh,” Randall says, sipping his beer unhurriedly before using it to gesture to Spencer. “You’re the boyfriend. You know, that’s funny, because she didn’t mention a boyfriend.”

“I didn’t mention anything. We weren’t having a real conversation.”

Randy holds his hands up defensively, fingers still wrapped around the neck of a sweating bottle. 

“I’m just saying it’s in-ter-esting. Not trying to start anything.” He stands, pauses for another sip—Spencer obviously isn’t sure what to make of this man because he says nothing. “But listen, man to man—you better buy her some flowers or a real pretty fuckin’ necklace or somethin’ because a happy girl in a happy relationship does not come pout at the bar all by herself.”

“Get out of here, man,” Derek finally speaks up. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He sets his empty bottle down and fishes in his pocket for a cigarette, sticking it between his lips. “But—just for the record—I have a wife. I wasn’t gonna do anything weird. Sometimes when you’re my age you just gotta live a little. Buy a pretty girl a drink. Piss off some Mormons, or whatever the fuck you are.”

This guy sounds like a bad Bruce Springsteen song. But part of you would almost rather hang out with Randall than be forced into a conversation you’re not prepared for with Spencer. 

And whose fault is that, you remind yourself. You decided to come be mature. Suck it up. 

“Goodnight,” Derek emphasizes. 

Spencer doesn’t say a word. You can feel his eyes boring smoking holes into the side of your face, and you look anywhere else.  

“I’ll be here next week after physical therapy like clockwork,” the stranger waves as he ambles away—but not before pointing at you. “You enjoy that drink, friend. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

What a weird man. 

There’s silence for a moment—in which Spencer refuses to stop watching you and you refuse to acknowledge that. 

“And here I was thinking Spencer made you up.” Derek has a beautiful smile and a warm, charming cadence as he holds out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Derek.”

You take the proffered hand and shake, offering him a shy smile and introducing yourself in kind. 

“Happy birthday, by the way. Sorry for crashing your party.”

Really, he’s stunning. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. And you’re not crashing anything. I told pretty boy here I wanted to meet you the second he started talking about a friend. But nah, he just wanted to talk and talk and talk about you—” 

“Alright,” Spencer mumbles, blushing, eyes finally torn from your profile. You smile slightly, brows knitting as Derek magically melts some of the terrible tension.

“Pretty boy?”

Before either of them can explain, someone shrieks in your general direction. You startle backward in your seat, and Spencer steps closer, hand sliding up your back as Penelope, JJ, and Emily join your little huddle. For only a second you allow yourself to shrink into him—before you’re straightening your posture like your spine is a metal rod and his touch burns. It’s a knee-jerk defensive reaction for which you have no explanation. You can’t see him, but you don’t feel his hand on you again. 

“Oh my god! Look at this beautiful person who I love!” Penelope exclaims, pushing past Derek to grab your face and kiss both of your cheeks. “Oh my god,” she says again, wiping sticky lipgloss away with her thumbs, “I totally meant to ask before I did that. But your face is just so kissable. I’m so glad you decided to come!”

“Hi, Penelope,” you smile half-heartedly, incapable of reciprocating her cheery mood. Fortunately, she’s cheery enough for a standard commercial flight’s worth of people, and probably thinks of Derek’s birthday as a national holiday—so she doesn’t pick up on this. 

Emily and JJ offer you tamer although perfectly kind greetings. 

“Ooh, what are you drinking?” Emily asks, leaning closer to examine the forgotten beverage in front of you. 

“Not that,” Spencer mutters, grabbing the glass and sliding it away from you. You give him an affronted look—and immediately wish you hadn’t, since you’re meeting his eyes for the first time since he left. His words stall for just a moment as his eyes dart between yours before he’s saying, “you shouldn’t accept a drink if you didn’t watch someone make it.”

The audacity of him to be acting protective makes you scoff. 

“That guy didn’t spike my drink. He was harmless.”

“People thought Ted Bundy was harmless, too.”

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that you don’t even have a response—your eyes simply narrow and you shake your head. A claustrophobic silence falls over the small group. 

“Okay…” JJ murmurs. “Um, do you guys want to go check out the jukebox with me? We have to play all of the birthday boy’s favorites.”

Several enthusiastic yeses go around, but you’re too busy having a stand off with your boyfriend to take much notice. 

Soon, it’s just the two of you. 

“Controlling isn’t a good look for you,” you finally say, spinning to rest your elbows on the bar once more and studying the bottles of liquor on the shelves beyond. 

“Evasive and avoidant isn’t particularly flattering, either. I was under the impression that you had no intention of coming after that phone call earlier.” 

You scoff again as your blood heats. Already the conversation is going worse than you’d expected—and your expectations were not high. 

“Do you think the cab driver was a serial killer, too? Or maybe the bartender?”

He’s still behind you and slightly to the side—but he leans down, resting his own fists on the bar right next to you and speaking lowly, directly over your shoulder. 

“Why don’t you try speaking to me like we’re adults instead of starting meaningless arguments in order to get under my skin?”

From him, that hurts. 

It’s a branch on the tree of your greatest insecurity—the fear that you’re too inexperienced with relationships and that makes you too immature and he’s been lying every time he says it’s not an issue. Because of course it’s an issue. It’s why you fell in love with him, it’s why you don’t know how to fix it, and it’s why you’re incapable of actually expressing any of your feelings to him.

“Why do you think I’m here right now?” you whisper—as sharp and stinging as a poison dart. “I’m trying to be a fucking adult. I don’t want to be here.”

Silence. 

“Then why did you come?”

His voice is so calm it burns like dry ice. 

“Because! Because you asked me to, because—”

You can’t bring yourself to say it aloud. 

Because I’m obviously still in love with you and I can’t just turn that off. I tried to do the right thing. 

Instead you bury your face in your hands and let it hang in the air, unspoken. You know he knows. You just don’t know why he’s acting like you’re so unreasonable for being upset. 

“Let me make this very clear to you,” Spencer murmurs, brushing your hair away from your ear so tenderly, speaking so softly you could convince yourself that he’ll say something kind. It’s the closest he’s been in days and now that he’s here you feel how much you missed him in your bones. And even though you sense a trap, you can’t help but sit up straighter. You’ll be complicit in your own undoing if it means you can have him close. His breath shakes slightly as he inhales and you brace as best you can. “Nobody is forcing you to be here. You told me you weren’t coming and then you decided to show up. I was ready to give you the space that you were too scared to ask me for. But I can only take responsibility for so much of what is ultimately your bad behavior and your adolescent volatility. You can only blame so much of your bad behavior on inexperience before I run out of patience because I don’t find thoughtlessness and emotional immaturity compelling. I told you that if there is a disparity in the way we feel for each other, that was fine, and I meant it. But if you can’t cope with how I feel about you then don’t let me hold you back. I am not holding you hostage. You can leave whenever you want. So don’t waste your time punishing me because you don’t want to be here. And if you do want to be here, good. I want that too. But act like an adult and make a decision. My leniency has limits, even for you. I am asking that you do not push it any further than you already have.”

You don’t know how long it’s been since your last breath by the time he finishes his address.

Long enough that you’re dizzy when you push away from the bar and shoulder through the throng of patrons as quickly as you reasonably can without outright running. 

Long enough that when you burst out the door into the biting-cold night air, and finally take a deep, gasping breath, it burns and stings and aches and so does your head and your eyes as they well with hot, furious, heartbroken tears. 

You speed-walk to the end of the block, hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your cries and all the curse words you’d love to scream. 

Part of you knows you walked away from the bar in case he decided to try and follow you—but when you look over your shoulder the sidewalk is empty. You should’ve known better than to think he’d follow you after that. But at least it means you can have your breakdown by the relative safety of the bar, leaning your back against the dirty brick facade next to the entrance alcove and sliding down until your butt hits the cold concrete and you don’t even care. 

Who the fuck was that man in the bar who looked like Spencer and sounded like Spencer but spoke to you like this is all your fault, like it’s your fault you love him and he doesn’t love you back, like it’s ridiculous that you’d be upset, like you’re cruel and petty for having feelings about it, about him—for having any fucking feelings at all? And to think that was the man who you let know you more intimately than anyone ever has. Every insecurity you’d ever admitted to him was hurled back in your face like it was nothing. Hell—he even handed you the ones you’d never mentioned. He proved every terrible thought you’ve been having about yourself right. 

How could he be so unabashedly mean to you?

Spencer doesn’t have to love you. It seems clearer now than ever that he doesn’t. But part of you wonders if he suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury because that’s the only explanation for why he could go from treating you how he did before to treating you like he doesn’t even like you. 

You feel like you might throw up. 

“Called it,” a rasping, grumbling voice says from a few feet away. 

You look up, and spot fucking Randall standing under a street light ten feet away, still smoking. 

You go back to studying the tar spots on the sidewalk through bleary eyes. Pebbles sting as they press into your palms. Another one of the universe’s terrible jokes, you suppose. Just earlier you’d thought that you’d rather talk to Randall than Spencer and now here you are and here he is. 

“That kid as much of a dipshit punk as I thought he was?”

Hearing Spencer described as a kid and a dipshit punk is so jarring you almost stop crying. 

“He’s not a dipshit,” you sniff, voice thick with tears as you find yourself explaining Spencer Reid to this stranger for no reason at all. “He has an IQ of 187. He’s a genius.”

“Ah,” he scoffs dismissively, flicking ash from his cigarette. “Dipshit-ism don’t discriminate. Anyone can be one. Even your genius punk boyfriend. As a recovering dipshit myself I know what the work of a fellow dipshit looks like. And this has dipshit written all over it.”

You sob harder. 

Randall speaks calmly around his cigarette. 

“You know, I’m sorry for whatever you got goin’ on. But I’ve never not been the asshole when I got a hysterical woman in front of me. It’s nice that I can confidently say this time it is not my fault.”

The bar door opens, letting a warm burst of jovial music and chatter into the otherwise still night. Steps that are too heavy to be Spencer’s hit the concrete next to you—you look to your left and see Derek Morgan before he looks down and sees you. 

“Hey—you okay out here?”

“Why don’t you go ask your Jehovah’s Witness buddy? He did this.”

Derek makes a face, locating the source of this interjection. 

“Sir, I asked you to leave her alone once and I don’t appreciate being made to repeat myself. Are we clear?”

“Yeah, whatever. Fuck me for making friendly conversation, I guess. Gonna have to call my wife and tell her to pick me up down the street. I don’t want her on the damn phone while she’s driving.”

Randall wanders away again, still muttering to himself and smoking. Derek watches him go, staring daggers into his back until he turns his gaze to you. 

Goodbye, Randall, you think. Great. Now I have neither of them. 

“Hey,” he softens, crouching down to your level. “You okay?”

You sniff, wiping your cheeks and attempting not to smudge your makeup. It’s impossible not to feel awkward—you just met this guy and now he’s here trying to do emotional labor for you on his birthday. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. This is embarrassing.”

“You don’t look fine. Can I do anything for you? Do you want some food? A drink?”

“You really don’t have to—”

“I know, I know. But look—Reid is always talking about you. You’re important to him, and he’s important to me. I’ve never seen him this happy and I’ve known that kid a long time. It is in my best interest that someone maintain you, and if it’s not him, it’ll be me. Call it a favor to him, if that makes you feel better.” Derek is sporting a slightly more modest Cheshire grin again by the end of his sentence. Listening to him speak that way about Spencer speaking about you, it’s impossible not to feel a teeny bit lighter. Even if you’re not entirely sure where you stand on all things Spencer related at the moment. “So I’ll ask you again. Is there anything I can do for you?”

You sniff again. 

“Sure. A ginger ale or something might be good.”

“Got it. I’ll be back. And come inside if Randall tries to run up on you again, okay?”

Despite yourself you manage a laugh at the way he says the name. His warm smile flickers warmer at this.  

“Will do.”

When Derek returns a few minutes later, the plastic cup he’s holding looks decidedly not like ginger ale. 

“Penelope insisted that this is what you would want. I don’t even know.”

You smile slightly as you take the cup, full to the brim with bubbles and thick red syrup. A cherry bobs underneath the layer of cubed ice. 

“Shirley temple,” you chuckle. “I’ll take it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he says, flashing that brilliant smile again, and you look into your cup as you drink. Maybe your face warms just a bit. You’re still shy around men, you realize. Especially attractive ones. And Derek Morgan definitely qualifies as attractive. 

“So,” he begins, and to your surprise, crouches down in front of you. “I have to be honest—I came out here in the first place because Reid sent me to check on you. But now I’m wondering what the hell he did.”

Spencer sent him. A considerate action that would theoretically signal his care for your feelings. You take another sip, staring into space and trying to digest this information, but it only jumbles with the rest to confuse you more. 

Of course, you don’t know how to convey this to Derek in a way that’s not overly-familiar for just having met the man, so you go with an old standby. 

“I’m probably just overreacting.”

“Uh-huh. I have sisters. I know what an overreaction looks like and if you were overreacting you wouldn’t be out here hiding. What’d he do?”

You can only keep up the facade of emotional stability for so long. Your chin wobbles in a horribly embarrassing way and you look down again. 

“I’m not sure—I’m not sure if he really did anything or if I’m just being dramatic and I don’t want to make him seem—”

“Why don’t you stop defending him and just tell me what he did?” Derek urges. “Trust me—I love that kid to death. But I also know he can be a dick sometimes. You don’t need to worry about making him look bad in front of me.”

Part of you is glad Spencer has such a good friend on his side. And Derek is right—Spencer is an adult. You don’t need to worry about besmirching his reputation. So you take a shuddering sigh, staring into the red of your drink. 

“He just doesn’t like me as much as I like him. Which isn’t his fault, like I said, but—he’s being such an asshole about it.”

Derek pulls a face, strong eyebrows making an impression as they knit.  

“Did he tell you that?”

“Over the phone,” you nod emphatically. “And just now he gave me this whole fucking speech about how immature and horrible I am for not being 100% happy about it. And maybe he’s partially right, I mean—I know people feel things differently and maybe he just was asking for more time. I worry I fucked it up so bad because I couldn’t handle that—but at the same time he didn’t say he wanted more time. He was really fucking unclear and vague about what he wanted, and he asked me to come to this bar like it was nothing when I’ve been worried he was going to break up with me all week. So yeah, I guess he’s right and I have been a bitch about it because I was upset that he didn’t… like me as much. And I wanted him to feel bad because I was so embarrassed, and I also didn’t want to act like everything was normal if he was just going to dump me, I…” you realize you’ve been hardcore rambling and your face heats. “I don’t know.”

There’s a pause, and you worry you’ve done exactly the thing you didn’t want to, which was overshare to this man who seems like he’s significantly more normal and well-adjusted than you. You drink deeply, swallowing sugar and the rest of your words. 

“That’s… bizarre. I don’t mean to invalidate your feelings, but… that just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, projecting annoyance so you won’t start crying again. “I was confused too. I thought he really liked me.”

“No, sweetheart, I’m saying—that doesn’t make sense because he does really like you. Really, really likes you, more than I’ve ever seen him like someone before. I mean, last week I finally finished that Tesla biography he’s been on my ass about for months and when I told him, all he wanted to do was talk about your thoughts on it. And then it wasn’t even about the book anymore. I have never, ever seen Reid pass up an opportunity to talk about Nikola Tesla. I’m talking never in my life. He finds a way to make every conversation about you. I can’t even follow the connections sometimes but he always finds a way.”

Your nose wrinkles. 

“Sorry you’ve had to hear so much about me,” you mumble. Though you’re not really sorry. It feels good. A twinge of joy in all the murk. 

“I’m not. Like I said, I’ve known Spencer for a long time and I’ve never seen him this happy. I’m not about to let him fuck it up.”

“If I make him so happy then why did he tell me we don’t feel the same?” you whisper, reaching into the puddle of syrup and ice at the bottom of your now empty cup. 

“Is that exactly what he said?” Derek asks, after a long pause. You bite the maraschino cherry off the stem and nod morosely, grinding a long-gone stranger’s cigarette butt with your boot just to crush something. There’s another beat of silence. “Alright. You know what I think?”

You raise your head to meet his gaze, your own wide-eyed and expectant. 

“I think you two need to have an honest conversation. You’re both confused and hurting—I promise Spencer is feeling it too. If you talk to him he won’t be unkind to you.”

“He already was,” you admit. 

“I apologize if I’m out of line here, but you just told me you’ve been icing him out all week because you want him to feel bad. I’m willing to bet you don’t realize how sharp these claws are.” Derek grabs your hand as he says it and you marvel at how much he is the opposite of you. Everything he does and says seems so natural and reasonable and charming even if it would piss you off from anyone else—and you just met the guy. You can see why Spencer and Penelope speak so highly of him. “I think you’ve probably both had your moments these past few days. But that doesn’t mean neither of you deserve any more chances.”

He puts your hand back on your knee and pats it. 

“Besides, Spencer‘s not good at mean. I bet he’s inside worrying himself sick over whatever dumb shit he said to you. He’s probably hyperventilating as we speak.”

“It was really out of character for him,” you concede. 

“Yeah. He’ll be apologizing for a long while. It will get annoying. But he sure as hell won’t be doing it again, I can tell you that much. If he does, let me know. Emily and I will whoop his ass and call it a fitness evaluation.”

“I think that’ll be unnecessary,” you laugh thickly, pulling your sleeve over your hand and wiping away the few tears that haven’t quite dried. “But thank you.”

“Anytime. Now, it’s my birthday, and as a grown man I should not be getting involved in someone else’s relationship drama. I was supposed to be on the dance floor a while ago.” His tone is so warm and sugary by the time he finishes it could rot his perfect grin. It’s futile to hide the way your mouth twists into a reluctant smile as you look down and fix your hair—praying he can’t tell how fazed you are by his kindness. “You’re going to talk to him, right?”

“I’ll—yeah. Right,” you say quietly. But the sinking feeling in your stomach knows it’s a thing easier said than done. 

“Good,” Derek grunts, taking your empty cup before pushing himself back up to his feet and offering you a hand. “Do you want me to send him out here or do you want to come find him inside?”

You balk.

“Like—right now? I have to talk to him now?”

Before he can give you an answer you think you’d rather not have, the bar door is opening. From your spot you can’t see who it is right away, but Derek turns over his shoulder and does a double take before looking back at you. 

Spencer steps out onto the sidewalk, eyes scanning for until he realizes you’re a few feet shorter than usual. Sitting on a filthy public walkway is probably his worst nightmare, you realize, as you scramble to your feet and dust the crumbs of concrete from your palms against the back of your cold jeans. He begins to say your name, and it sounds like relief and regret, but you stop him. 

“I have to go wash my hands.”

It’s monotonous and mumbled and comes out too quickly but you don’t have time to worry about that as you brush past both of the men on your way back into the bar, making an immediate beeline for the bathroom. 

Your face burns with anxiety as you shut the door behind you, immediately drowning in the yellowish lighting which is so harsh but seems to illuminate almost nothing. Who paints a bathroom red? It’s suffocating. You feel like you’re inside an aorta. 

Water runs cool over your hands as you sniffle, rinsing the bits of dirt from red indents made by pebbles and things, and the soap is too floral and powdery but you wash twice anyway. Maybe you’ll just stay in here and wash your hands forever. 

There’s a light knock on the shiny wooden door and it makes you jump. Your name is muffled from the other side. 

“You in there?” 

Quickly you wipe under your reddened eyes in the mirror, trying to fix the slightly smudged makeup. 

The door opens when you don’t respond, and there’s Spencer, looking weary and tense all at once. Is that your fault?

“Hey,” you sniff, trying to effect casualness, but it comes out too quickly and your posture is too stiff. Under his all-seeing gaze you cross and uncross your arms, look at him and look away. Your hands end up in your pockets. He’d say crossed arms are a sign of self-soothing. 

“Hey.” His is more measured, and of course makes you feel embarrassed in comparison. The door swings shut behind him as he enters the small room and makes it feel that much smaller. “Are you… hiding from me in here?”

Yes. 

The graffitied toilet stalls to your left suddenly look fascinating. 

“Nope. Just washing my hands.”

This is not what Derek told you to do, you scold yourself internally. Stop being so scared. Be honest with him. 

Silence rings. All the brutally honest things you’d like to say choke you until your throat hurts and your eyes get hot. Yet again you feel like a stupid little girl who’s too emotional to communicate. 

You cross your arms. It’s an indulgence you feel you’re owed. 

Spencer says your name again and it’s too much. He never says it this often. When he does it feels good but now it’s too formal, makes you too aware of your own inadequacy, and how he must be seeing you—a wraith of a girl in a dingy bar bathroom with clammy hands and smudged eyeliner, practically shaking with fear under an unforgiving light. Someone who is too scared and much too sensitive. 

Spencer attempts to speak again. 

“What I said before, it was—”

“Can you just take me home?” 

It comes out on one exhalation and seems to stall him with all the effectiveness of a slap to the face. 

You don’t know where it comes from, either. 

Easier said than done, you’d thought a few moments ago. All the bravery Derek had tried to instill in you is gone, swallowed down the drain like soap scum. And now you’re choosing to let your fear win—because at least that’s a known quantity. The fear will never reject you. It will always be waiting with open arms. 

Too scared. 

The end feels imminent. You try to press yourself back together, fingernails biting into palms, trying to make something feel more tangible than the terrible knowingness that you’re careening toward an end which was supposed to be a beginning. It’s stifling and you wonder if Spencer is breathing it too. 

You can’t look at his face, but you watch him pocket his hands in his pants and there is so much impossible space between you in such a tiny room. 

“Yeah. I can.”

Something breaks. It’s small, and without fanfare. But it feels final. 

It’s just a ride home. Just a ride home. 

That’s all you have left, and you don’t know how you know it but you do. 

Something so important is being left in this stupid, dingy bathroom. Something that was at one point beautiful and shiny and so arrogant in its newness that it seemed it would never become ugly. And now you’re abandoning it without dignity on the chipped tile floor and in the cobwebs on the walls. It was bigger than you, it was you—and now it’s going to be nothing. 

A vehicle honks on the street. A boisterous group laugh explodes somewhere beyond the door. Water drips from a faucet. 

“I’ll… I’ll bring my car around.”

“Okay.”

But he just stands there for another moment. Like he can’t get himself to move. 

If only time would freeze before he could walk away. 

But it doesn’t. 

He sucks in a decisive breath. 

“Okay,” he murmurs. 

It’s that fucking phone call all over again. 

Then he spins on his heels and leaves you there.

Your time is up. 

-

part 5.5

[freaksun]

eddie doesnt let anyone touch his hair. ever.

it reminds him of his late mother, who had the same gorgeous untamed curls. She used to comb his hair when he was little, being ever so gentle and taking her time brushing out the knots.

his father made him feel less-than for just about everything about him, including his gorgeous mane. Called him awful names and always told him to ‘cut that fairy shit’ when it grew too long.

so, ever since she passed, and his father went to jail, hes been growing it.

unfortunately, she never taught him how to take care of it, she’d always just do it herself. So, he doesnt put product in it, he doesnt cut it, he doesnt even brush it. And, stubborn as his mama, he doesnt let anyone else touch it either.

then you come along, happy and sweet, always loving to everyone. he falls in love with you so fast he hardly even notices. you certainly dont either.

one hot summer day you’re both in his room, you on his bed, him pacing, frantically explaining some sort of nerdy campaign idea. you dont know, you havent been listening for a while, too distracted by the way he keeps wiping sweat from the back of his neck. you cut him off rudely, he doesnt mind

“hey eddie?”

“sweetheart?”

“whens the last time you got a haircut?”

he freezes, silent, which is very out of character, dude never shuts up.

“uhh. like a few years ago. why?”

its your turn to be quiet, suddenly all coy. he finds you absolutely adorable as you stare at his floor, trying to find a way to ask him without startling him. as if he were some wild animal, which, he basically is.

“just.. immm noticinggg its kinda matted in the back…”

you try to sound the least accusing as you can. he doesnt seem offended but you can tell hes thinking.

“well, yeah, i. i guess i just havent touched it since. well my mom used to do it for me”

you feel like an ass, touching on something you shouldnt have, making him all quiet and sad. you backtrack.

“jesus, eddie, im sorry i didnt mean to-“

“its okay angel, i know”

he sits next to you. you give him a nervous smile, still sweet, hesitantly reaching for his curls. you can tell he’s hesitant too, but he nods, granting you permission. you take a single strand between your fingers, twirling it.

“Its so pretty, eds. ..would you let me? take care of it, i mean?”

hes scared. but youre so sweet and youre asking so nicely. a part of him is scared if he lets you, he loses another part of his mom. but the other part is staring into your eyes and seeing nothing but genuine affection.

“i.. i guess you could.. try.”

his heart pounds in his chest. You absolutely beam, thanking him immediately and bouncing around the room, looking for a brush. he laughs, shaking his head. you watch as he rummages through his closet, before handing you a light pink brush. you think about teasing him for it but he already looks vulnerable. you smile sweetly instead, taking it from him.

“sit” you point with the brush. he does as you say, running his hands up and down his thighs in a self soothing motion.

“its okay eds, you dont have to be nervous.. ill be gentle i promise” he gives you an unconvincing smile. you return with a guilty one, downturned. you kneel in front of him, in between his knees, brushing his bangs with your fingers.

“we can stop whenever you want, okay?” his cheeks are bright red as he nods timidly

you move to sit behind him, and run your hands through his curls gently, admiring it. you take a part, hold it at the root, and brush gently.

“that feel okay? tell me if it hurts” ever so sweet.

“mm-hm” you can feel his nervousness. “you- you remind me of her, y’know”

youre pretty taken aback, but honoured nonetheless. you keep brushing through the mattes in his hair as you talk.

“Yeah? Wanna tell be about her?” youre not sure if its the right thing to say, but you figure he probably hasnt talked about her in a long time. you can practically feel his energy shift.

“she was sweet. loving and kind to everyone, like you.” you both smile. “and she was pretty. beautiful. i really miss her.” you stop, rub his back a little.

“i can only imagine.. im sorry eddie.” he turns to face you, smiling.

“s’alright sweetheart. thanks for letting me talk about her” he hugs you. you hug him back, tight.

“hows the ole hair going?” He asks when he pulls back, a joking tone to lighten the mood.

“good!!! ive gotten the mattes outta this chunk here, it looks good. your hair is really beautiful, eds” youre ecstatic and it travels to him.

“thank you. my mom had the same hair.” he smiles, turning back around to let you continue.

“i bet she was really gorgeous.” youre extra-extra gentle. He keeps talking and you keep working. He tells you about how she smelled, the softness of her voice, his favourite memories with her. he tells you about the last time he saw her. he tells you all the things hes been holding inside, everything he never got to tell anyone, never trusted anyone enough. and when hes done, his hair is untangled and soft.

you smile proudly, running your hands through his hair, marveling at your work.

“its done” he whips around, looking at you with wide excited eyes

“really??” you nod, smiling wide. he runs over to the bathroom to see for himself. You stand behind him, peeking over his shoulder in the mirror. Hes surprised, looks like he might even cry. you wrap your arms around him, leaning your head against his arm.

“do you like it? Its a little poofy, but you can wash it out and it’ll look be-“ he cuts you off by turning around and hugging you. he hugs you tight, lifting you up.

“thank you.” you can tell he really means it.

[luveline]

i see ur thinking abt the marauders and i was just thinking abt them too!! i just saw a thread on twt abt how much men hate their girlfriends but wont break up with them (😖😖) and couldn't stop thinking abt how james would be so BAFFLED reading it!! would you be able to write something for that? its perfectly fine if not!! ily <33

I luv you! I'm not sure what thread you mean but I made a guess, sorry if it's not right ♡ fem, 1k

modern au. cw mention of toxic/hurtful relationships

"What is that?" James asks, pushing the sheets back as he climbs in beside you. His bowl of cereal is heaping, upwards of ten weetabix doused in milk, sugar, raspberries, blueberries, and a generous squeeze of honey.

"What?" you ask, showing him your phone screen. 

James leans over you to scroll back up. "Men who hate their girlfriends?" 

"Oh, it's like, people posting their screenshots, I think." You click on the tweet he'd been pointing at and show him the replies underneath. "It's just boys who act like they don't love their partners but won't break up with them either, there's loads on there." 

"What?" he asks, holding his bowl in one hand. "Can I?" You give him your phone happily, watching as he reads through some of the examples, screenshots from different websites and forums. "'Recently had to tell a friend's bird that he was calling her all sorts of names. I'm loyal to my friends, but you could hear the hatred in his voice sometimes. She left him two days later and he was surprised, for some reason.'"

James' eyebrows pinch. He continues, "'Am I in the wrong for asking my husband to stay awake with me during my early morning labour? He keeps bringing it up.'" James shows you your phone screen. "Like, he's mad she didn't let him sleep through the birth of their child?" 

"You know, there was a video on there a few weeks ago where a girl had put together a compilation of her boyfriend play fighting with her, and each video got nastier and nastier." You reach for the spoon to his bowl to start chopping up the weetabix the way he likes. "He was kicking her legs from under her and she was laughing it off. Once or twice, I'd think it was funny, but he wasn't even laughing himself." 

"Why the fuck?" James asks. 

"I don't know. Can I have a raspberry?" 

"They're in there for you to steal…" James watches you chew. You try not to pay too much attention to his staring, plopping your phone down in the sheets between your legs. "Why are these boys getting with women they don't like?" 

"I don't know, Jamie," you tell him honestly, wading through his bowl for another raspberry. "I think they get comfortable." 

He accepts the spoon back from you and you slouch down the fabric headboard together. James eats his weetabix slowly, the TV sending a light blue light into your otherwise dark room. "It's a bit late for supper," you murmur. "Were you hungry?" 

James puts his bowl on the nightstand. Coils of curls brush your forehead as he leans down, one big hand on the back of your neck and the other stretched across the shoulder furthest away from him, holding you in place as he kisses the top of your head. It's a weighty kiss, full of love. "I love you. Don't ever let anyone treat you like those boys on your phone, yeah?" 

You hum lightly. "That's what boys are like." 

"I know. I'm just begging you not to let people do that to you." He rubs your shoulder roughly, a massaging that hurts in the good way. "You know, if you can. I get that it's not their choice." 

"Yeah. I think people want so badly to be loved that they'll take the pretend kind. I was lucky to find you before you found someone else. You always make me happy." 

"This is what I mean," he whines, resting his cheek on your forehead. You sigh happily at his touch, more than ready for a night of his arms around you, a heavy leg thrown over your hips to lock you in. "You think you're lucky because of those dickheads." 

"No, it doesn't have anything to do with them. Just you." 

James sits up to turn your face to his. "Love you," he says, kissing you quickly. 

"Love you too. Don't stress about the phone, babe, you're not the audience they're looking for." 

James hears your teasing tone toward the end, poking your side. "What's that for?" 

"Nothing, just, you tried to follow me into the bathroom last night even when I told you I wasn't showering. If you're that eager to sit with me while I pee, I doubt you'll be the kind of guy who ends up on that forum." 

"It wasn't about the peeing, stop trying to shame me," he grumbles, again pulling you in for a hug, "it was separation anxiety. I miss you."

"I get why these women end up like that, though," you say quietly. "I get why they stay. If you started shoving me for a laugh or whatever, I'd think about this, because you love me. Does that make sense? I'm so happy right now that I wouldn't want to believe that you didn't love me anymore." 

"I know. It's fucking sad. I can't believe they do shit like that, it's pure selfishness." James settles back in his pillow. "I wouldn't ever do that shit to you. I know everyone says that, but I have to say it anyway." 

"I know, Jamie. Don't worry. I'm not worried about it, only talking." 

You offer him your hand. James takes it, rubs the back of it, brings it to his lips for a barely felt kiss. "Is there anything happy on that app?" he asks. 

"Uh, I saw a video of a baby girl who only stops crying when her cat comes to check on her. Or a pregnancy reveal where the boyfriend starts crying and begging her to get married." 

James rests his face on your shoulder, snuffling into your skin contentedly, "Ah, so my future. Put it on, angel." 

[asidian]

I've seen a lot of really excellent analysis on Charles' reaction to Edwin's confession, but there's a huge aspect that I haven't seen talked about at all yet. And that is, namely:

Charles Rowland is a people-pleaser.

Doesn't seem like there's a connection there, does it? Have a seat, my friends. Let me break this down.

The show lays the groundwork for this aspect of Charles' personality early. It's one of the very first things we learn about him, in fact. He's kind and agreeable and helpful, and he's always, always smiling. When Crystal insults him, he laughs it off. When Crystal and Edwin fight, he scrambles to diffuse the situation. He calls himself "a good sort of a chap," and it's important to him that he is.

In episode 3, we find out why. At home, love was always conditional for him. He spent his entire life trying to please his father, and he confesses to Crystal that no matter how nice he was, or how good at sports, it was never enough. That's how Charles sees the world. If he can make people happy, he might actually be good enough for them to love him.

Not only didn't he earn his father's affection, he didn't even manage, in his own eyes, to clear the low bar of being good enough to earn the privilege of not being hurt. And his mother, he says, was "quiet." From the flashback we see, she never stepped in for him or defended him. However hard he was trying, it wasn't enough to get her to intervene on his behalf.

So who else does he have? His "friends"? The ones who literally murder him when he steps in to stop them from doing a terrible thing? The act he put on wasn't enough to win them over in the end, either. However friendly he was, however personable, they turned on him and left him for dead.

Then he meets Edwin.

And when he meets Edwin, he's at his absolute lowest. He's not smiling and putting on a show, for once. He's in a corner of an attic cowering while he slowly freezes to death. But here comes Edwin, offering him kindness, and company, and comfort.

All these things that Charles has spent his whole life chasing, trying to be good enough to earn? Edwin just gives them to him.

Of course he stays with this boy. Edwin is there when he's lost in the dark, shining a light to guide the way. Edwin has seen him unsmiling and afraid, not a shred of his usual act in place, and Edwin has offered him kindness anyway.

So they begin their time together. And what are the things Charles will pick up on almost immediately?

Edwin says right away that he's spent ages in hell. He's plainly had an awful time. He doesn't know how to handle people anymore, but Charles, he knows how to be amiable, how to smile, how to offer levity when things get grim.

So he does. He falls back into what he thinks Edwin needs, the way he always tried to be what his father wanted to see. In the very first episode, he tells Crystal, "I try to be extra happy for all of us, don't I? And I do a pretty good job."

He doesn't ever discuss his own trauma because these boys are terrible at communication, but more than that. He doesn't ever bring it up because he's busy being the support he thinks Edwin needs.

And importantly, Charles doesn't have the self-reflection skills to realize that's what he's doing. Crystal clocks him with shocking accuracy, three episodes in. "He's been hiding it from you," she tells Edwin. "Probably been hiding it from himself." She's spot-on here: when Charles doesn't want to examine his own emotions, or can't face them, he shoves them down under a smile and he carries on pretending.

But that's not the only thing Charles will have picked up on from Edwin.

It's blindingly obvious that Edwin is bad at people. He's terribly repressed. He's from a culture in which emotional honesty and physical affection were not valued or encouraged. But more than any of that, Edwin has his sexual awakening during the events of the show. Before then, he is absolutely clueless about his own wants.

So we have a situation where a consummate people-pleaser who has spent his entire life learning that he has to earn affection finds his way into a friendship with the first person who ever saw him with his mask down and gave him kindness anyway.

Of course he stays with this boy. Of course he wants to keep this.

And what's the best way Charles knows to win someone over? Well, by being what he thinks they want.

So, out come the smiles, for Edwin's sake as much as his own. But more importantly, out comes whatever Charles thinks he needs to perform, in order to keep what is the single most important relationship in his entire life and afterlife.

At this point, Edwin has shown zero romantic or sexual interest, not just in Charles, but in anyone at all. He doesn't especially seem inclined to dating, or to romance, or even to physical affection.

So Charles takes his cues from Edwin, and the cues are very firmly, for thirty years: this boy doesn't have a glimmer of interest in him, not that way.

Fast-forward to the events of the show. Fast-forward to a staircase in hell, where they are being chased by a literal demon. Suddenly his best mate, who he has spent thirty years with, who is his most important person in the world, is saying that he's in love with him.

Of course he needs a minute. Of course he has to sort that through. Any feelings he has for Edwin are things that he has spent literal decades firmly ignoring in the scramble to try and earn affection by being what he thinks Edwin needs him to be.

Because Charles is a people-pleaser at heart. And he may be dreadful at self-reflection, but he is aces at hiding things from himself.

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Hey,

Do you still take Hannibal requests? If you do, could you please write a story, where Hannibal get‘s very jealous after a night out in the opera. The reader had finally met Franklyn, who is very interested in her ( because she‘s friends with Hannibal and part of the cheese folk).Hannibal is visibly angry when they are back in their opera seats… Could you also please end it with smut ( if you are comfortable with that).Thanks for considering!<3

A/n: Hey Hon thanks for the request i hope you like it!

Hannibal Lector x Reader: Jealousy, Jealousy

Warnings:smut, biting, kissing, penetration (p in v), fingering, possessive behaviour, public sex, unwanted flirting (from Franklin), fluff, happy ending, no use of y/n, female reader

Word count:2,9K

Hannibal is pissed. No scratch that. He’s seething. But you can’t see it. No one can. He’s just that good at hiding it. Even so, everyone has a breaking point. 

This was Hannibals.

Franklin had met you at the last opera you and Hannibal had gone to and from that moment it seemed he had grown some sort of infatuation with you. Hannibal always loathed his sessions with Franklin, his ever growing desire to be Hannibal’s friends making the doctor rather uncomfortable, but he never imagined it could get worse. Boy was he mistaken. It seemed like Franklin couldn’t utter a single sentence without mentioning your name. Hannibal watched him dance around the subject for days until he finally got to the point.

“You think you could give me her number?”

“I'm sorry?”

“Her number. I wanted to ask if she’d be free for some wine tasting but I don't know how to reach her. And then I thought you must have her number since you two seem close.”

“I don’t think she’d be interested.”

“Oh well maybe you could give me it anyway and i could ask-”

“I will not be giving you her number and that is final.”

An eerie silence took over the room. Hannibal watched Franklin open and close his mouth silently before settling back into his chair. It seemed clear to Hannibal that his patient had finally gotten the message.

 Once again he was wrong.

You were nursing a glass of wine that Hannibal had picked out for you as your eyes studied the opera house. Hannibal was next to you, his body mare inches from yours but not close enough to allow contact. You watched people come up to Hannibal in greeting before quickly going away.

“As always you’re quite the topic.”

“I don’t know what you mean dear.”

“Don’t be modest Hannibal. It's clear these people admire you. They may even wish to be you.”

You caught sight of a girl making flirtatious eyes to Hannibal and couldn’t help but smirk.

“Or maybe be with you. Either way they consider you appealing.”

Hannibal watched you as you spoke, his eyes never leaving your frame. It was intriguing how observant you could be and how unseeing you were at the same time. It didn’t matter how many women tried to impress him, his eyes always found themselves glued to you. You always had his full attention.

Always.

It was beginning to become a problem.

Hannibal had been so focused on looking at you that he hadn’t noticed someone new had approached. It was only when Hannibal heard the familiar voice that he realized you two had company. The doctor watched Franklin greet you with a kiss on your hand. The sight itself made Hannibal clench his hands into fists. He tried to remind himself he was in the middle of a very crowded place. A place filled with people who knew him. Seeing him throw a punch at a patient would ruin his career. Still he’d never felt an urge to knock someone out so much in his life.

You were always a kind person. Very well mannered and aware of your words. So it shouldn’t surprise Hannibal when you kept conversing with Franklin, occasionally even laughing at his terrible jokes. Hannibal zeroed in his attention on your lips. He observed the way they wrapped around the rim of the glass as you took a sip of your drink. The drink he’d picked for you because he knew you pallet better than anyone.

It had occurred to Hannibal a few months back that he was growing interested in you in a not so friendly way. But it was only when Franklin asked for your number that he realized how deeply he was falling for you. He wanted you for himself. And he would make that happen.

You were starting to get annoyed. Franklin was a nice guy but it was clear he didn’t know how to take no for an answer. You could see the way he was subtly, at least in his eyes, trying to flirt with you. It’s safe to say you weren’t interested. Not that he seemed to be getting that message. A noise rang out into the room telling you all the intermission was coming to an end.

“Well look at that, time just flies when you’re having fun huh?”

You gave Franklin a weak smile .

“We should be going, Franklin. Our seats are at the top so we have to climb a lot of stairs.”

“Oh okay.”

“Maybe we'll see you at the next opera?”

God you hopped not.

“Actually I was wondering if I could get your number.”

You froze, a concerned smile plastered to your face. Gosh he really didn’t let up did he? In a moment of pure panic at the thought of having to deal with Franklin calling at all hours of the night you grabbed onto Hannibal's arm. The doctor's focus moved to where your delicate hands were wrapped around his forearm. You looked up at him with pleading eyes before turning back to Franklin.

“Actually I’m already spoken for.”

“Oh wow I didn’t….realize.”

“Yes well we are very much together so…. Yeah.”

And uncomfortable silence covered the three of you. You tried to think of something to say. Anything to get you away from here. Before you had time to come up with something Hannibal spoke.

“Come on dear. If we don’t hurry we might miss something.”

You let out a relieved breath as Hannibal moved his hand to wrap around your waist, guiding you away from Franklin. You kept your eyes forward as the two of you walked. It was only when you were out of Franklin's view that you started laughing. You braced yourself on your thighs as you laughed.

“Oh gosh. That was just dreadful. He was so-“

“Annoying.”

“Incredibly annoying! Honestly Hannibal I don't know how you can deal with being in a room with him for an hour.”

“Didn’t seem like you were having such a hard time.”

You lifted your head to look at the doctor with a curious expression. He was looking down at you with a look you rarely ever saw, at least not directed towards you. Hannibal Lecter was annoyed. And at you no less. You crossed your arms over your chest.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You seemed to be enjoying talking to him. Laughing at his jokes. Making small talk.”

“It's called manners, Hannibal. As far as I know you value them quite a lot.”

Hannibal stalked over to you causing you to take a step back. Your back hit the wall, making you gasp. Hannibal hovered over you, his eyes boring into your soul.

“Hannibal what are you-“

“Did you enjoy his attention? Did you like the way he was looking at you? He was staring so hard I was surprised his eyes didn’t pop out of their sockets.”

“What the hell’s gotten into you?”

“Into me? Weren’t you the one who was just clinging onto my body like I was your savior?”

You’d never seen Hannibal like this. For the first time since you knew him he looked like an animal. His usually neat hair was slightly flopping over his face and the expert calm facade he always had seemed to have slipped. He looked like a predator and you were his prey. You lifted your hand so that you could touch his arm. He looked at your hand on his frame. It was as if your touch was burning him. He needed to feel you but he was afraid of what that would mean. You whispered his name causing him to face you. You looked up at him with wide eyes, your lips slightly parted as you breathed.

He hadn’t even realized he was boxing you into the wall with his body until he felt the heat that radiated from you. He couldn’t think straight with you so near him but he couldn’t bear to be far from you either. It was then that he realized just how much he craved you. He felt like a lion who’d been starved for days and had finally been given a piece of steak. 

He was going to devour you.

Without a second thought Hannibal shoved his lips against yours. Your body reacted immediately, hand moving to wrap around his neck as he deepened the kiss. Hannibal moved his hand to your leg, hitching it up. You gasped into his mouth as his fingers skimmed over your skin. He enjoyed the sounds you made as he pushed your underwear to the side. His fingers moved over your pussy and he couldn’t help but groan as he felt how wet you were. Your nails dug into his blazer as he inserted one of his digits into you. Your back rubbed against the wall as he continued to bully his fingers into your cunt. A moan slipped through your lips before you managed to cover your mouth, the realization that anyone could just walk by and see you finally becoming clear.

“Hannibal we-“

“Shhh I’m trying to enjoy the opera.”

You could hear the opera singer belting out a note from afar. The sound was dulled by the heavy doors but you could still make it out. Hannibal hummed the song as he continued to finger you. You were trying to keep as quiet as possible but he wasn’t making it easy on you. He knew exactly what to do to have you screaming out for him.

“Hannibal please, I'm so close.”

“Oh yeah? Think you deserve it?”

“Yes please. Please make me cum.”

“Even after flirting with Franklin in front of me?”

This little shit.

“Hannibal please…. I’m sorry.”

“Who do you belong to hum?”

“You.”

“Speak up dear, I can't hear you.”

“You Hannibal! I belong to you!”

“That's right. Go on then. Cum on my fingers.”

You hid your face in the crook of Hannibal's neck as a silent moan ripped through your body. He felt your teeth graze his collar bone through his shirt as your mouth opened in pleasure making him smirk. Your juices continued to coat his fingers as he attempted to help you through your high. Your body shook against him, your limbs spasming as you tried to regain control of your brain. You knew Hannibal's knowledge of the human body made him good at many things but you never stopped to contemplate the effect his expertise would have on a more sexual context.  

Once you’d come back down to earth you pushed your body off of Hannibals allowing you to look into his eyes. You continued to breathe heavily as you looked at him trying to figure out what would happen next. You hadn't expected him to lean down and kiss your lips but you welcomed the action. You warped your arms around his neck tugging him even closer to you. Hannibal's hands made their way to your hips squeezing lightly at your flesh. You bite into his bottom lip as his mouth moved away from yours. You couldn’t help the giggle that made its way out of your lips.

Hannibal grinned down at you, his thumb caressing your hip bone as he continued to observe you. Your hair was covering your face and your lips were swollen from kissing him. Hannibal didn’t look much better, his pupils were dilated and his heart was hammering in chest. You noticed the wild look in his eyes and in a sudden burst of confidence you decided to move your leg up against Hannibal's body. His eyes darted to your leg before moving back to your face. You bite into your lip, your fingers moving to tug at the small hairs on the back of Hannibal's head. You watched his brows furrow a bit at the action. “You gonna fuck me Doctor lector?”

“What makes you say that?”

“The look on your face.”

“And what look would that be?”

“The look of a man who is about to turn into an animal.”

Hannibal's expression faltered slightly at your comment. He wondered from a moment if you’d understand him if he told you what he was capable of. He wondered if your eyes would widen in fear or if they would simply spike up in curiosity. You placed your palm on his cheek causing him to focus on you once more.

“You okay?”

“No.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m starved.”

Hannibal gave you a wolfish grin as his hand made its way to your ass. You gasped as he pushed your body up, legs instinctively wrapping around his hips. You steady yourself on his shoulders waiting to see what he would do. Hannibal tugged your dress up your legs allowing him to view your underwear. He moved his hand to his pants tugging at the zipper. You watched him in anticipation, eyes widening as he pulled his dick from its confines. You whined as he pushed your underwear to the side, positioning himself near your entrance. A gasp left your lips as he pushed into you. Your nails dug into his blazer. Hannibal braced one hand on the wall as he began to pistol into you.

Your moans filled his ears as he continued to brutally fuck into you. The sound of you combined with the sounds of the opera far away were like music to his ears. He wondered why he’d never thought of doing this before. You’d been to his home many times it wouldn’t have been hard to get you into his bed but he supposed this was nice too. He felt a rush move through his body at the thought of someone walking in on the two of you. He wished it would be Franklin, the need to show his patient that you belonged to him becoming overwhelming. His head moved to your neck, tongue moving against the soft skin before he sunk his teeth into you. Your walls clenched around him at the action causing him to let out a grunt.

“Hannibal-ah ugh ah shit- don’t stop.”

He was never going to stop. He’d feast on your body for as long as he could, in every way he knew how. He would never be satiated with the feeling of you. There was no going back now Hannibal would have to make you entirely his. 

He continues to nibble at your skin, desperately trying to mark you as much as he can. He wants to scare off any other suitors but he also enjoys the thought of you walking around covered in marks he’s given you. Mine, he thinks, this one is all mine. You're clenching around his dick like a vice which tells him you’re getting closer to your release. He wants you to beg for it, wants you to ask him to cum. It seems you can read his mind because without him even opening his mouth you’re already whining for him, telling him how good he feels and how much you want to cum on his dick. So he lets you but not before filling you to the brim with his seed. He wants you so full off him that his cum starts to seep out. He wants you to smell like him so everyone else knows who you belong to. 

You’re having a hard time getting your heart to calm down. Hannibals still holding onto your body, trying his best to keep you upright as his own legs threaten to buckle. Neither one of you speaks, opting to just share the space in silence for a moment. You hear muffled applause, the sound telling you that the opera has ended. You pull your dress down covering your body once again. Once you think you're decent your hands move to Hannibal now soft dick, stuffing it back in his pants for him. He doesn't move away from you as you straighten his tie or when you fix his hair for him. He lets you build his facade back up without any complaint. As you finish making sure he too is decent you place your hands on his chest.

“Can’t ruin your reputation, can we now Doctor Lecter?”

He smiles at you, his own hands moving to fix your messy hair. Then he moves to place a gentle kiss on your lips. It's a tender action which causes your heart to skip a beat. As the two of you share a loving kiss the doors of the opera open. People pile into the hall you and Hannibal are in, not one of them aware of what was happening a couple of minutes prior. You allow Hannibal to guide you into the crowd, his hand comfortably warping around your waist. You let your body curl into him.

“Let’s go home my dear. I’m dying for another meal.”

Something about the way he talks makes you think he isn’t talking about food.

[n0tamused]

HSR/Genshin characters as dragons

A/n: I feel like this is a bit shorter than my usual dragon posts, I apologize for that. But I also have to say (for my sake at least) that these images of dragons aren't what my finished art looks like. At best I'd call them colored sketches, so please - if you're interested in my finished works, check out my instagram as I have way more concrete examples of my art! <3 Thank you. And if anyone is interested in a c0mission, you can feel free to check the carrd link in bio! They are still open!

Contents: Jing Yuan, Capitano and Aventurine as dragons, x reader, gn reader, tinge of angst, headcanons

Jing Yuan:

-Jing Yuan, although looking really fluffy and soft as he does, is a formidable warrior. He didn’t get to be a General for nothing at all

-His fur does hide a lot away and it does give him a rather gentle appearance, making him a bit easier to approach than your regular dragon. His species specifically wasn’t made for war but rather for more endurance and some more milder things, but Jing Yuan excels in all aspects of his kind and has proven himself worthy of his station during the wars and during more diplomatic events.

-It goes without saying, but this guy is cunning, he has his brains about himself and knows how to play an opponent where necessary, although he does prefer more honorable approaches and would never do anything purely “evil”

-Some wonder how he hasn’t turned brown from how much he loves to bask in the sun in his dragon form. And oftentimes it has happened when someone went to check on him and he was just knocked out in a nap coma, not laying in any shade, just all sun. If he was in his human form he would have been burnt to a crisp

-But there’s something about Jing Yuan’s dragon form that is rather comforting, to both you and honestly anyone else. Everyone knows stories of old kings and leaders of planets and countries that are described as these powerful and frightening individuals that hid their softness for special people in their hearts. Jing Yuan, although powerful, does not evoke fear in his people like those kings from the stories do. His presence does command respect, yes, but people can approach him and talk to him just fine, without any unwarranted fear that he’d reprimand them or punish them for saying anything he may dislike.

-He has a lot of patience with people in general, and all diplomatic meetings he attends go by smoothly

-Jing Yuan doesn’t shy from his dragon form at all, and at times he prefers it when the sun is not as strong, so he can soak up every single ray of sun he possibly can. He has quite the bit yard so he doesn’t lack space either

-Loves to see you cuddle him. Since he is quite big, he does tend to not move much if you decide to hop onto him while he’s sleeping and cuddle him, just in case you find yourself under his claws by some chance. He doesn’t want to crush you. Other times he is rather playful, gentle all throughout, as he picks you up or nudges you with his head. Once he smacked you with that big tail of his, and although it looks mad fluffy that thing does have weight to it alright.. you were knocked into the grass bro

-Older age has turned some of his coat a darker shade and some of those spots also came in later in his life. It is something he doesn’t mind, he is quite fond of his spots

-He lets you do his hair or help him with his armor in dragon form. There are always those small and annoying clasps that are bothersome to put on so he entrusts them to you

-Some of the armor does hide scars from his past battles, but so does his big thick mane. That’s also some of the reasons why people think he doesn’t do much fighting since he always looks so well put together and “clean”(no visible scars) both in human form and in dragon form

-He is also very clean btw, smells fresh. Chef kiss

Capitano:

-His name has only existed in rumors and legends for centuries, and he has long since become some sort of  ghost tale. Some believe this dragon exists, some don’t, some use the stories to scare their children with, others laugh about it..etc

-No one doubts Capitano, the strongest man alive, the first of the Fatui exists, but the question of his dragon form is another matter. Many don’t even believe those are one and the  same, due to the lack of all the proof that the two are correlated 

-Capitano has never admitted to anything either to anyone outside of this Fatui fold, and he never truly had the need to take the form of the ice beast. He is the strongest man in Teyvat, he can do everything in this form without causing too much of a ruckus, he doesn’t need a dragon to wreck more havoc and cause more of a scene yk

-Although in his battle against Mavuika… maybe they both let out their beastly forms yk and they just duked it out a bit until both sustained damage and that fog curtain was blown over them and they retreated

-In his dragon form he is quite cold to the touch, it’s almost like he doesn’t produce much heat at all, and although his breath sometimes smokes and fogs from his nostrils, his scales are never warm. 

-His scales are dense and thick, made for protection and endurance, but they do hinder some of his ability to be flexible

-Don’t be fooled though, although he isn’t the most flexible or speedy dragon around, he is a killer tank, a machine. His claws and teeth can pierce anything and everything, and that tail of his is also something to be wary off. Even if he has his back turned to you that tail seems to possess a mind of its own and lashes about to protect him if someone tries an attack from behind (side note: inspired by an iguanodon, specifically that big claw on his front legs)

-Ice powers of course, he can freeze the ground underneath him and summon ice projectiles, as if he wasn’t a battle beast already 

-This form is quite rare to see, and for a long, long time his darling didn’t even know about it until that battle with Mavuika that brought it out of him

-It was nothing to scoff at or turn your head from. You were worried for him when you heard he was injured, and to know he had pushed himself into his dragon form also speaks great volumes of the intensity of the battle itself

-He doesn’t see it as important even after you expressed your concerns and bafflement after having found out. He just sort of shrugs it off. No big deal 

-His wings look quite heavy, and they are, so he does require quite the run up to take to the skies

-In human form he does have some scales on him, so if you’re cuddled up to him at night you can feel them under your fingertips. Capitano is quite open to your touches, rather relaxed after being with you for so long and these days, your touches often lull him to sleep. He sleeps on his back and sleeps like a log. He usually has an arm around you and the scales on his chest and arms are free to be examined by you

-He is quite scarred, and Capitano is not opposed to telling you how he got which scar. His way of storytelling isn’t exactly rich, it’s straight to the point but not boring

-Sometimes he leaves his tail around when he goes back to his human form, but only if he knows no one will see him, except you. 

Aventurine:

-Although the smallest in the list today, and a smaller stature for his species in general, Aventurine’s strength lies in his head. Due to the rough past he preserved through with luck and cunning, he knows what the world is like and how it operates

-Most people base their judgment on visuals and vocal tones, so Aventurine has gained quite the rep for being flamboyant and extra. Just like he wears so many fancy layers and clothes in his human form, he adorns his dragon form in pretty pearls, gold, rings, scarves, fluff..etc. Everything to show this image of confidence and maybe a bit of cockiness and arrogance

-As the money goat of the IPC, he has to look the part too, no?

-As mentioned before, he knows what a lot of people look at and what they look for, and due to the smaller size of his dragon he is able to walk through most places in that form too, bringing more attention to himself and more opportunities too.

-Of course he has had his fair share of insults directed at him, both in human and dragon form, but he tries not to let it ever show. The dragon form does tend to ward off any truly malicious individuals though, and his status as a Stoneheart has granted him a fair share of protection as well. Not many would dare to strike a Stoneheart.

-By nature he is quite colorful, additionally Aventurine also takes great care and hygiene of his looks. I mean dude probably has his own perfume brand along some others, he smells good and does leave a lasting impression overall

-The only thing he wishes he could get rid of is that branding on his neck. It is there no matter what shape he takes and it is glaringly obvious to anyone that looks at him. He can hide his eyes, but he can’t hide the red letters on his neck that the feathers or his collar fail to cover up. Even after so many years after it happened, the feathers in that spot of his neck never grew back, the tissue being far too scarred to allow any new growth.

-It is the only thing he  could visibly react to when in the presence of someone else. He may huff and puff, try and jest about it before switching topics

-No matter how much he takes care of himself though, he’ll never be able to wash off the blood of his skin and feathers, the blood of his people that died while he survived, then the blood of the master that abused him and kept him chained up.

-His feathers may look glossy, clean, pristine, but if it were up to him, he’d pluck them all out

-In private, if you catch him before he reverts back to his human form, he tends to not let you touch him

-He makes some excuses, that his feathers are too oily, or that they don’t smell good, or that they’re too rough and this and that, and he just goes back to his human form before you can protest against it

-If you really insist he will agree on gifting you a couple of his feathers for keepsake, your pick too. You can use it as an accessory, or maybe house decor - sell it if you want to, he doesn’t mind what you do with it

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

Tags: @moonlitreveri3 @lexidraws @drowning-in-cabbages @creationsabyss @grimulf-of-the-wilderness @st4rrl1ghtwastaken @the-inquisitive-constellation @voiddance @the-bilkush @fictionally-attached @cheese-enjoyer9471

[zweiginator]

i crave inexperienced art like air. he’s never touched anyone except himself so his first time with you is a flurry of questions. “is this good?” “there?” “too much?” he’s so sickeningly sweet about it to the point you have to just take control. whether it’s his hand or his dick, you forcefully grab either and show him how while getting yourself there. he’s moaning and spilling in his pants like he’s 15 again. (i’m ovulating and going INSANE rn.)

mmmm art who is repressed. art whose grandma is very traditional and wants her grandson to be respectable, kind, and masculine in the chivalrous, soft way as the young men in her generation were.

so while she never outright said art should save himself, he would be far too guilty if he had sex. so he doesn't.

and as a twenty year old sophomore in college, he has done a good job at fulfilling this promise. he's only touched himself a handful of times; he doesn't remember how each time began--he just felt like he had to.

but after each time, each desperate thrust into his fist, each pass of his thumb over his aching cockhead, each time he came until he was shaking and out of breath--he felt so guilty. just dirty.

he can't imagine how bad he will feel after having real sex.

and he doesn't even worry about the possibility until he meets you. a pretty girl in his class who is so kind. you're so airy. he doesn't know how to explain himself or exactly what that means--he guesses that you're just sort of like a big breath. you feel good, natural, easy.

he can't help himself, looking at your body. his eyes pass over you and he wonders, like a pervert--like a bad, bad boy--what you look like underneath your clothes. the perk of your nipples, the curve of your breast. he wonders how your waist would feel. and he is really, really curious about your pussy. he's never seen one. but he doesn't just want to look it up to quench that thirst, that desire. he only wants to see yours.

you come over to his house to study quite a bit. you like how sweet he is. so hospitable; he always has drinks and a snack waiting for you. always listens to your ideas. always compliments how smart you are.

but art feels like a monster. he feels like a wretched excuse for a man. because whenever you leave, he has to touch himself. he gets that same ache in his stomach, his balls. he needs to cum. he hates that word, but it's true. he spits in his hand and fucks his fist and dreams of it being you. dreams of you taking from him, taking his virginity. having him all for yourself. whatever you fucking want, he would give it to you. your name spurts from his mouth like the ropes of cum that coat his hands.

and he scrubs his body raw afterwards. hates himself.

but soon, touching himself isn't enough. the more you come over to study, the more he gets those evil aching sensations but not to touch himself--to touch you. your skin looks so soft. you smell so good. your lips are glossy. he likes how they curl up when you smile.

he cuts you off as you're talking.

"can i please kiss you?" his request is quiet, his voice full of trepidation.

"yes. i was wondering when you would."

art didn't realize you were waiting for him. he launches forward. to hover on top of you on the couch. he's lazily made out with a girl before, but it wasn't anything serious, and they both sucked at it.

art's kisses are eager, his lips ache for more the second they close upon your own. he wants to do it again and again. so his mouth opens wider and he experiments. pushes his tongue against yours. he moans into your mouth, moans your name again and again. he's so desperate to touch you, but he doesn't know how. you push his hand under your shirt; you're not wearing a bra.

he feels the impossibly supple skin, the peak of your nipples.

"fuck--" he whimpers, rolling it between his fingers.

this time you moan. it makes him so hard. he doesn't know how someone could be this hard.

"is this good? do you like this?" the way art asks it isn't in the sexually charged way, it's a sincere question; he's worried he's doing a bad job. that you don't like this.

but you pull him back in. a 'yes' rolls from your lips as you nibble on his and your hand snakes down his torso. he's toned an hard there. he's harder when you feel his cock, straining.

and when you palm him, it's lazy. but art mewls against the corner of your mouth; he's basically drooling. his mouth falls open and you realize he's cumming. his hips jerk and he hides his face because god, that's embarrassing.

"we gotta get your stamina up." you whisper against his neck.

art nods and bites back a smile because you said we and not you.

[hotnbloodied]

Hiiii can I request popular yandere classmate x oblivious reader, oh and can it be smut pleassee?

Thanks for your ask! I started randomly naming all my yanderes even if they are all one shots, I don't know if I want to keep it though. We'll see. This one almost fucking tore me to shreds, I might need a break after this. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

-˚ʚ♡ɞ˚HB˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Yan!Popular Boy X Oblivious Reader (!!SMUT!!)

!Warning! This post contains yandere themes and topics that may be uncomfortable to people who are sensitive to the topic, read at your own discretion.

CW: not proof read, yous/yours used, gn reader, there is SEX, sloppy lewd writing, yandere tendencies, reader is kind of silly here. (LMK if I'm missing anything.)

!!READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!! MINORS DNI!!

It was the first group project of the year! You and three other people were going to be randomly assigned together to work on a research project about something or another. The first two seemed like nice people but the third was Atticus, your friends have talked about him before. Wasn’t he popular or something? When the group met face to face you finally understood why, he was funny, charismatic and quite the looker. Your group decided to meet up in the library and you thanked your lucky stars that it seemed everyone was working well with each other. The other two in the group knew each other and were friends so when one of them had to leave later on in the day the other one did so as well leaving you and Atticus the only ones in the group still in the library.

Without the other two here, people were more inclined to come by to say hi to Atticus causing him to get distracted, you didn’t care much honestly, you had work to do after all. You overheard a couple of the people who came to talk to Atticus talk about some sort of group karaoke and that he should join them. “Sorry guys, I’m still with my group partner,” he apologized. You looked up, “it’s all good, this is just the first day after all.” Atticus looked at you incredulously. “See? Even your groupmate thinks it’s fine. Join us, Atticus, the girls are asking for you.” Internally he was annoyed, he already said no and the least his groupmate could do was back him up. Were you really that stupid? Eventually though, he was able to convince them to leave him alone. But when he turned expecting to see you still sitting there you were gone. Your stuff was still here so he assumed you went to get more material to research.

Scanning over the library he spots you eventually, struggling to reach for a book on a higher shelf. He sighs and starts walking over to assist but it turns into a run when he notices that you’re about to get toppled by said books. He covers you from getting hurt and curses at himself because having books fall on him fucking hurts. “What are you doing?” He says sternly, “if you can’t reach something ask for help.” He gasps, some of his true self leaked out, his image of a prince type is over. “Dang I’m sorry, you’re right. No sense in getting myself hurt, thanks! By the way, are you okay?” Suddenly, his heart raced, he didn’t know why. It might have been the way you looked under him currently, or it might have been the way you accept his rough tone with you, but either way he was going to explore it, explore you.

The project goes by smoothly, you still hang out with Atticus since the two of you exchanged numbers due to the project. You found it really weird though, each time you hung out with him and his friends, his friends were never able to make it. You hope you’re not scaring them away. Little did you know that if anyone is scaring people away it’s Atticus. The more time he spent with you was like heaven but also hell. He loved spending time and learning new things about you but, fuck, why were you not picking up any of the hints and flirty signs he was giving you?! Like today when it was just the two of you again, you two were at the movies and he tried to get an arm over your shoulder. “Oh my! Are you cold? Here, you can have my jacket.” And wrapped him up in your jacket! Sure, being able to smell your scent was nice but that’s not what he wanted! To rub salt on the wound too, after the movies his friends spotted him and invited you two to join them and you ACCEPTED! “Oh sorry, were you guys on a date?” One of his friends asked. “Oh no, we’re just chilling! We’d love to join you!” You responded. He almost choked up blood.

He went to his last resort and feigned sickness. Worry etched your face and you apologized as you helped carry him away. He convinced you to go to his place since it was nearby and was a bit hurt that you agreed so readily, you were going to be in a private space with him after all. Arriving at his place you helped him inside, all the way to his room. As you wished him better and got up to leave he tugged your arm. “Wait a minute,” he says. “Hm? What’s up, need something?” He hugs you, “I… I need you.” Not sure what he meant, but feeling like he needed this, you hugged him and both of you stayed like that for a while. That was, until his lower half decided to act up. “Do you, uh, need help with that?” You ask, almost too innocently. His face flushed, “help with this…?” “Of course, a boner is a natural part of your body, you know. Though I also heard that boners don’t happen just because someone is horny though…are you horny?” Atticus felt the blood rush to his head, all he could do was meekly nod.

You were sucking on his member, he could tell that you’ve done something like this before but maybe not too often due to the slight hesitation you exhibited. Regardless though he never imagined you would have been so willing to do this for him, should he have asked sooner? The sight of your mouth wrapped so prettily around his cock, he wasn’t the type that was quick to cum but just because it was you doing this act on him he felt close. He couldn’t have that, so he grabbed your shoulder and urged you on to his bed. “Take off your clothes,” he instructs. You did as he told, he gulped, he wanted this for how long now? It felt surreal that this was real. He couldn’t help but use his hands to explore your body, groping, touching, feeling your warmth. Your breathing quickened, you weren’t sure why he was taking so long, his exploration of your body started making you feel needy. You were close to telling him to hurry but let out a yelp when he started to suck and lick on your chest. He worked his way down to your lower area.

“What are you doing? Is all this necessary?” You ask him. “Please,” he begged, “I just need this, won’t you let me?” You whimpered, this is good and all but all this teasing is something you aren’t used to. He sucked and tongue prodded you for a while, you said that you would let him do what he wanted but you wanted to release soon and his tongue wasn’t doing that for you. “Hey, uh– hnn!!” Before you could say anything more he inserted a finger then two into you, rhythmically finger fucking you. Making sure to brush against your g spot each time. You were so close and Atticus knew it, so he stopped making you whine even louder. “Why did you stop?” “Grind on my dick,” he ordered. Sluggishly you got up and did as he was told. “Don’t even try to insert before I allow you to.” So you rubbed your sensitive area against him, slow at first but even you can grow impatient and you’ve been that for a while. Your wetness making a mess and with your bodies grinding against each other a squelching sound reverberated through the room along with the heavy panting and moaning. “Soon please?” You begged. Atticus needed you badly as well so he pushed you down on the bed again and aligned himself before pushing in causing you to scream out from the intrusion. He jackhammered you silly, “fuck, fuck, fuck, please. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” he chanted like a mantra, “I need you so bad.” What followed was one of the hardest orgasms you ever had. He unsheathed from you and quickly went to your face marking your face all over with his seed.

After a couple of beats you asked, “hey, uh, can I have some napkins?” “S-sorry,” he scrambled to his drawer and took out a box of tissues. After you cleaned yourself up you asked, “I’d like to borrow your bathroom.” He told you that it was down the hall. You took your clothes and left his room, when you came back you thanked him. “Well that was fun! I’m going to head home now. I’ll see you later alright?” And left. He was shocked, how fucking clueless can you be?? He was going to make sure you understood that you were his now and he was going to move heaven and hell to make sure that happens, his darling.

[bunnyhugs77]

City Seven

Pairing: Jungkook x Waitress! Reader 

Word Count: 2k

Content Warning: reader is kind of unfiltered, judgy! reader, quiet! jungkook, pierced! jungkook, inspired by the seven mv, judging a book by its cover, obessed! jungkook, ft jimin, reader eats her words, jungkook is a little cocky.

Other Content

Jungkook is filthy and a little mean, big dick! jungkook, dom! jungkook, strength kink, unprotected sex (don’t even), jungkook has a high sex drive, brat tamer! jungkook?, hair pulling.

»»————-　★　————-««

“Y/n!” Laura practically shouts your name as she walked into the bustling kitchen where you collected three main courses, balancing two on your palms and the last one on your forearm. 

You’d become pretty competent as a waitress after being one for the last three years, balancing the meals and listening to Laura was an easy feat. “What?” You lean in to hear her clearly as the sound of clanging pots and yelled orders were swirling in the air. 

“Let me take this table from you, serve table 4.” Your brows furrowed as you felt Laura help herself to take the plates from you. “W-what are you doing?” You stop her from taking the last plate from you, curious to know what she was up to. 

“Just trust me. They ordered two old fashions, now go!” She says as if she was bursting with anticipation. You let her take the last plate from you, a little disappointed because the family you were serving seemed like they were going to leave a good tip but you trusted Laura. Sort of. 

Once you got hold of the two alcoholic beverages you leaned into the swinging door with your hip and walked through heading to table 4, and once you spotted Jimin sitting there you knew something was up. 

“Two old fashions.” You smile, placing them down gently while making sure nothing spilled. You put Jimin’s down first and for the first time made eye contact with the unfamiliar brunette. 

He smiles at you. “Y/n, this is my friend, Jungkook.” You smile back to be polite. “It’s nice to meet you.” Your expression showed kindness but in your heart, you were more than ready to kill Laura. 

She was always trying to hook you up with someone while on the job. Either way, he wasn’t really your type, he seems too quiet and soft-spoken. Your type was the kind of guy that was more outgoing and could take control. 

Before you could ask the two what they wanted to order you felt a light grip on your bicep tugging you away near the bathrooms. “Laura! What are you doing? I’m trying to do my job.” You weren’t sure if you had said those words out loud based on the way she completely disregarded your words and replaced them with her own.

“He’s cute right?” She inquires and your brows furrow almost immediately at her jumpiness. “Who?” You were playing dumb and it was obvious. 

Laura deadpans. “You know who I’m talking about. Jungkook, obviously. He’s cute right?” Her smile creeps its way back onto her face as she speaks but you back away from her leaning against the wall that you had no idea Jungkook was listening through.

“I mean, yeah sure but he looks too..” Jungkook’s brow raises as he waited for you to find the words. “nice.” You finish. “He looks like he’s a nice guy, y’know? The kind that holds the door and cries when he comes.” Both his and Laura’s jaws drop in astonishment. “I can’t believe you just said that.” Laura covers her mouth giggling with a snort but she soon starts to pout. 

“You really don’t think he’s cute?” She asks again and you groan. Laura was insufferable, she just did not know when to give up. “I never said that. Maybe in the country, he’s a 10, but here, he’s a city 7 at best.” Jungkook had heard enough and made his way back to his seat. 

Never in his entire life had he been ranked anything below a 10, he’s even scored a few 12s but a city 7? How could you? He knew he was a 10. He deserves a 10. Not to mention your little comment about him crying when he comes; he was going to make sure you ate your words.

He made sure to lay it on thick for the rest of the night. Dark stares and suggestive comments, so much so that Jimin had to excuse himself twice just to give you both privacy. 

Whether you wanted to admit it or not this city 7 was starting to grow on you. He had a sarcastic sense of humour paired with an enchanting smile. You supposed you could give him a chance.

One chance was all he needed.

3 weeks and two dates later the two of you found yourselves stumbling into your apartment, with Jungkook kissing you desperately as you both kicked your shoes off and he shrugged off his jacket all while you led him to the bedroom but you paused in your steps at the revelation of his sleeve of tattoos. 

you had no idea these were hiding beneath his denim jackets and turtlenecks. if you’d known about the tattoos and the bulging muscles that were covered up so well, you never would’ve called him a 7. He’s a total 10, and he was about to prove it to you.

“W-wha-” you loosely pointed your finger to his muscular physique as he worked on undoing his belt. he grins wickedly as he glances up, relishing in the victorious feeling of seeing you go awestruck at the sight of his body.  

he steps towards you slowly, the branded waistband of his boxers peeking over his jeans. “what? never seen a few tattoos before?” he smiles in that same pleasing way he always does and it irks you, because you know he knows what he’s doing. 

all this time you’ve been underestimating him. “what-- when, how- “ he gently cups your face and whispers against your lips, “You ask too many questions.” that was the last thing you heard before his lips were on yours again.  

The kiss was unlike any of the tender and sweet ones from before. this one was hungry, messy and bordering animalistic. The way his tongue worked with yours in an erotic harmony made you forget all about your presumptions of him when you first met him. he may be quiet but he most certainly wasn’t shy, especially not now. 

he laid you down on the bed and he kissed all over your body. abusing your sweet spot that was below your ear. the sounds of your heavy breathing that slowly but surely morphed into breathy moans were only inflating his ego. if he could get you this desperate just from his mouth he knew he could absolutely ruin you with his cock.

for you on the other hand the last 45 minutes seem to have been a blur. One minute you and jungkook were out at the bar listening to the jazz band fill the room with an undeniably sensual ambience. you were feeling a bit bold and let your heel run up the inseam of his pants under the table. 

and he’d warned you to stop since you were in public but you were in a defiant mood and continued anyways. pressing down his cock with the tip of your stilettos watching his accessorized fist ball up the tablecloth in an attempt to bite back his groan. within seconds you felt his grip around your ankle and push your foot down before abruptly standing up. 

not without discreetly adjusting himself in his slacks but of course you noticed it. “Get up. We’re leaving.” he orders but you pouted, “but I wanted to listen to the music.” The look he gave you was like none other he’d seen before. you were used to pushing his buttons, it was just in your nature to piss him off but he usually didn’t care much or if he did he didn’t show it. 

“Now.” you roll your eyes and followed him out of the bar. 

It's thanks to your previous behaviour that jungkook had decided to edge you twice on his fingers and tongue. you were squirming and insufferable forcing him to pin your thighs down with his arms as he continued to eat you out like a man starved. 

“ju-jungkook! please-” you begged, refusing to look at the man between your legs, staring up at the tear-blurred ceiling instead. “Please what? What do you want?” He’s an evil man for asking you such a question and cutting you off with the works of his tongue once again leading you to scream out. 

you sounded like sin, wrapped in a body that was clearly shaped by the gods above and gifted to him personally. “let me cum--please!” He pulls away from you right when he felt you were on the edge again, pushing down on your legs as he felt you begin to thrash around.

“stay still princess, or I won’t let you cum.” the name was doing you wonders and you swore you could see stars. “please, I’ve been good.” and jungkook just has to laugh, because what a fucking liar you are. “Really? Do you think teasing me out in public is being good? Why should I let you cum hm? Aren’t I just a City 7? Only 10′s can make you cum right?” 

your eyes shot open wide and for the first time you looked down at him in shock, “y-you heard me-” he didn’t give you the chance to respond before he was abusing your clit with his tongue bringing you over the edge so quickly your body could hardly process it. you came with the scream of his name. 

“Look who’s crying when they cum.” he mocks you, throwing your own words back in your face.  

Without a break, you were being manhandled and flipped over onto your stomach as he dragged you to the edge of the bed. your back arching at the intrusion of the swollen head of his cock pushing between your folds. jungkook had to brace himself as he thrust inside your soaked cunt.

a deep groan falls from his lips at the feeling he’d been searching for for weeks. He’s dreamt about this moment for weeks, way before you even knew who he was. When he’d seen pictures of you and Jimin at Laura’s place he knew he had to have you. 

“ooh fuck!” you moan once jungkook bottomed out, you hadn’t realized just how thick he was until you felt his cock split you open all around “yeah, you like that?” You nod repeatedly, unable to speak. Your arms were feeling weak and soon your head was flush against your pillows. 

“Answer me, baby.” he grunts, punctuating his demands with a particularly powerful snap of his hips. one that sent the fat of your ass rippling with each thrust. “yes! fuck! I love it, love your cock, please don’t stop.” you whine loudly taking everything he gave you. 

That only encouraged him to absolutely drill into your poor pussy, the sounds of your bare flesh slapping against one another ricocheted off the walls and back into your ears. you had no idea what you’d gotten yourself into with him. you felt yourself inching closer and closer to that ecstasy, you were so close you could taste and jungkook could most certainly feel it. 

the way your walls convulsed around him nearly restricting his range of motion, “Ah shit baby, you feel so fucking good.” he groans next to your ear, the tone of his voice sending you into shock. god you were so close, but jungkook was slowing down. “why-” 

“you wanna cum?” he asks you, and you nod as if you were on autopilot. “please,” you beg for the nth time. “Then take it back.” you really tried your best to understand what he was referring to. “Take back what you said about me being a city 7” you hesitated for a minute, regaining enough strength to hold yourself up again, fighting between your bratty nature and your throbbing pussy. 

“Okay fine, you can get yourself off.” he shrugs, beginning to pull out but you push your hips back up against his pelvis. “No- no!” he grins at the sound of your objections, resuming his wild pace as though he had never stopped. 

he pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail, his erratic thrusts never faltering as he did so, “Say it.” he growls in your ear and your eyes roll back as you felt his cock rub against a certain spot within you, “I take it back! You’re a 10, everything about you is a 10, you’re a 10- fuck! please let me cum!” he smiles, satisfied with your words. 

“Cum.” you didn’t hold back, you came down with a piercing moan that you’re sure your neighbours would be complaining about tomorrow morning, jungkook following closely behind you. 

--

Initially, you’d thought you and Jungkook’s little night would be a one-time thing but he just couldn’t seem to stay away from you, no matter how hard he tried. 

His dick begged to see you again, and he made sure he did.

At Jimin’s birthday party, he had you bent over the bathroom counter, he would come over and fuck you against the wall, holding you up steady as ever as he pounded into you. Every second of every day he found a way to be inside you.

That’s how you found yourself tangled up in his sheets the morning after one of the filthiest nights you’d ever experienced with a guy. “Good morning,” you heard Jungkook whisper in the rasp of his morning voice as he kissed your collarbones. Slowly making his way up your neck, “Jungkook, aren’t you tired?” 

He shrugs with a foolish grin, “Why would I be? I’ll never get tired of fucking your brains out.” You laugh, “Really? Never?” He shakes his head.

“Seven days a week.”

[thelov3lybookworm]

Replaced

Summary: Rhysand thinks Azriel has become oldand deserves rest. And while Azriel loves his friend a lot, who the hell does he think he is telling Azriel what to do? The apprentice Rhysand has ordered Azriel to train isn't lessening his frustration either.

•○●⛦●○•

Word count: 1697

Warnings: azzie being a thirsty teenager, reader being sassy, azzie deciding he wants to be a flirty lil hoe lol

A/n: JDVNJDMSNCSDMCN OMGGG I LOVE YALL SOO MUCH I CANT TELL YOU HOW HAPPY I AM RN 😭😭😭 as a thank you gift for you all being so nice and supportive of me for over a year now, i present to youuuu my first fir for the celebration week hehe hope you all enjoyyy 🤭

p.s: I WOULD LIKE TO SAY THIS HERE AS WELL EVEN THO I THINK IVE SAID THIS BEFORE IN PRIVATE TO MY WIFEY POO. @berryzxx THANK YOU MY LOVE MY LIFE FOR LISTENING TO ME RANT ABOUT ALL THE FICS I EVER WRITE BUT ALSO ESPECIALLY THE CELEBRATION FICS AND HELPING ME COME UP WITH IDEAS🥹

p.p.s: based on an indian song i used to listen t nonstop which me and berry concluded i should not have been listening to lmaooo like what even was that 😭

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"Any questions?"

Y/n shook her head, eyes fixed on the neat scribbles on the pristine white paper in her hands, going through the schedule handed to her for the tenth time.

"Perfect then," the high lord muttered, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the mahogany wood of the table in his office. "Be on time for your training, starting tomorrow. You know, my spymaster is a rule follower and hates tardiness."

Y/n dipped her head, finally meeting the glittering violet of her new employer, essentially.

She stood, knowing she was dismissed, and fell into a deep bow. "Thank you for this opportunity again, my lord. I might not be a shadowsinger, but I will prove to be an amazing spy."

"Looking forward to working with you, Y/n. Hope you will live up to your reputation."

As Y/n now stood in the training ring, sweat rolling down her body in rivulets, she wished she had asked Rhysand more questions about his spymaster. For starters, she should have asked if the male was a grown adult or a terrifying toddler.

Because by the way the high lord had sung praises in the illyrian’s name, talking about how patient, composed and kind he was, Y/n would have assumed he would be a pleasure to work with.

The overgrown manchild she had been training with was anything but.

As she stared into his hazel eyes, trying not to snap his pretty neck, Y/n wondered if he had serious personality disorder or he was going through some sort of mood swing. Because the male glaring down at her panting form was not the sweet, caring and soft spoken male Y/n had envisioned.

"You still have three laps left, and then hand to hand combat. Or are you as forgetful as you are untrained?"

Y/n straightened her back, her mouth shut tight as she released a frustrated breath through her nose. "I know how many laps are left, thank you very much. I am not old enough to forget things, especially not old enough to be replaced by someone better and younger."

His eyes flashed, his shadows thickening. The side of Y/n’s lips kicked up in satisfaction. Her remarks had found their mark. Without waiting for whatever words he was going to throw at her next, Y/n turned away, sprinting her way through the barely visible dirt path around the training ring.

He looked murderous the next time her eyes met his, but at least he wasn't yelling at her to speed up or your posture is shit.

Even though he put her through hell for the rest of the afternoon, it all passed in a blur, because the moment he turned away from her, his hands flicking in a dismissive gesture, she stalked over to the water station and gulped down two glasses of water.

In that moment, only she existed, the glass attached to her mouth and her parched throat weeping with joy.

Mother, thank you for giving us mere peasants water.

When she was done, she moved to retrieve her jacket discarded near the exit, only to find Azriel still present, now conversing in furious whispers with the Warlord.

Y/n had no interest in engaging with them, and by the way the general glanced at her, worry written all over his face, she knew he would try to corner her.

Swiftly, she picked up her jacket, slung it over her shoulders and began retreating towards where the two illyrians stood, hoping to sneak out of the space they weren’t blocking off when she heard their low voices.

"Still, you’re being too harsh Azriel-"

"If she wanted to be a spy for Rhys, she has to go through this training-"

"She’s already trained to be a spy, Az. quit being an asshole."

"If this is too hard for her and if she is going to go cry about it, then she doesn’t deserve this position."

Y/n stopped and turned to look at the bastard, who had the audacity to stare back with his eyebrows raised.

"Yes?" He grumbled, impatience rolling off him in waves, as if he couldn’t wait to be out of her presence.

She let her eyes wander as she studied the illyrian with the red siphons, then back to Azriel. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Rhys has already discussed the time with you, has he not?"

"Aww, no need to get snappy, princess. I’m just making sure you are not backing out." she pouted, fluttering her lashes before turning away, grinning in triumph at the way his face turned red in anger.

Oh, was she going to have pleasant dreams tonight.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Azriel’s pov.

It had been a week since the fae female started training under Az, and he was beginning to lose hope.

He had put her through as much turmoil as he could, both mentally and physically. Still, she seemed determined to work for Rhys.

Maybe she only cared to prove Az wrong and stay, maybe she just wanted to annoy the fuck out of him.

Whatever the reason, she was resilient.

He put her through hours upon hours of gruelling work in the afternoon heat, yelled at her every chance he got, tried to get under her skin when he knew she would be most tired and likely to snap, put her through every torturous and unnecessary task under the sun. But still, she did not snap once.

Not once did Azriel think she was going to leave, not once did she threaten to leave, not once did she go to Rhys to ask him whether her training was supposed to be this gruelling when she was already trained from Prythian’s best spy training institution.

He was not going to pretend it did not make him respect her. Day by day, his curiosity increased, he wanted to know why she was still training under him, even though he did everything he could to bully her away.

And he was not going to pretend like it did not make him want to get to know her, maybe get closer, because he could not remember the last time a female had piqued his interest to this level.

He could feel it.

Feel himself falling, but of course, like the thick skulled bastard he was, he refused to accept the fact that his respect for her resilience was more than just that.

Sure, she made him wish for a taste, but he was not going to admit that.

He could already hear her soft pants as he got closer to the training area, his lips lifting on the corners unconsciously.

She was standing opposite one of the training dummies, honed in on the battered thing. It seemed like everything else had ceased to exist, like she couldn’t care less about anything going around her as she swung her sword at the dummy, again and again.

Her focus, the determination with which she trained even though her trainer wasn’t present…

It was hot.

She was hot.

She would probably have a sassy remark on her tongue if she knew the thoughts in his head, but she looked like she did not even realise he had arrived-

"Stop looking at my ass. And You’re late."

He glanced up, his eyes travelling slowly over her form as she turned to face him, her hands wrapped around the sword he had made her practice with yesterday. Her chest heaved, her shoulders moving along, the few strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail, that smug smile on her lips…

And her eyes. They shone with delight at having caught him being tardy.

Deep down, it warmed him, but on the surface, his lips shifted into a sneer.

"I think this is enough training-"

She let out a laugh. "What?"

He stared at her, unamused.

"Sorry, it’s just… Do you have a fever?"

He sighed as she stepped forward, slapping away the hand she reached out to touch his forehead.

"If you want to continue, I have no problems. Get started, twenty laps."

She smirked. "That’s more like it."

He stared at her, bewildered as she cackled, then stepped closer.

"I think it’s slipping, spymaster."

He blinked. "What’s slipping?"

She rolled to her tiptoes, her mouth dangerously close to his ear. It made shivers run down his spine as his eyes focused on the training dummy on the far end of the ring covered in long slashes, the filling spilling out in a few spaces.

"Your facade." She whispered, her hand coming to rest on the back of his neck.

He stiffened. "I don’t know what you mean-"

"Oh cut the crap spymaster, I see right through you."

Az turned his head to meet her gaze. "And what do you see?"

"I can see you, starting to like what you see."

It was like a cold breeze passed through the room, turning his body cold before his heat regulating system turned on again, making him feel hot all over.

"And what do I see?"

Azriel knew his game was over, knowing she knew he was beginning to like her, but he was not going to give in to her easily.

"Me. You see me, Azriel, and you like it." She stepped back, letting her hair loose as she manoeuvred around him. "Pity, you are not getting any of this. Not now, not anytime soon."

He turned on his spot, watching as she stalked away, and he knew damn well she was swaying her hips more than she usually does just to add salt to the wound.

Being a spymaster, he took note of the minute details, of course.

Before she vanished down the stairs, though, she turned to look at him. Her eyes roved leisurely over his figure, and when her eyes met his, she smirked, puckered her lips, blew him a kiss, and then sauntered off.

A challenge.

Azriel wasn’t known to be the most competitive person in the inner circle for no reason.

She had just challenged him, and Azriel would be damned if he lost.

He was going to win this one, and oh was he going to win spectacularly.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[itoshiexx]

thin line

synopsis: four times itoshi rin said he hated you, and the one time he finally said the truth.

pairing: itoshi rin x gn!reader | words: 5k (insane) | warnings: enemies to (implied) lovers, cursing (rin being rin), rin is a total tsundere and emotionally constipated, banter, teasing, one (1) sexual implication towards the end, i use the word hate a lot, kinda proofread

notes: oh my GOD. you have no idea how hard it was for me to write (and finish!) this. writer's block has been kicking my ass really hard and honestly i don't even know if i like this but i swear to god if this flops i'll kms. (jk. maybe. or not.)

masterlist sae's 4+1

i.

itoshi rin was a hater. 

he didn’t consider himself one, naturally. rin thought he was a pretty chill guy, but apparently, everyone who had some sort of interaction with the younger itoshi felt the same kind of vibe coming from him. at least, it was what his stupid teammates said after claiming rin was always hating on something — whether it was the line in the coffee shop being too long, every pass given to him by isagi or the librarian with “a stupid fish-face”.

on his defense, no one liked long lines, isagi had two left feet when it came to passing and the librarian was a fucking weirdo. even if he was a hater, he had a plausible reason for everything he hated. 

“itoshi.”

that included you, of course.

rin was pretty convinced it was impossible not to hate you. every time he entered your shared biology class, a mere look at you was enough for his irk to grow even more. everything about you was just obnoxious.

you were loud. and, although unpleasant, that wouldn’t be much of a problem if you just weren’t unable to shut the fuck up and stop rambling excitedly at every friend you met. and you had many. you were some kind of weird social butterfly with infinite energy for social interactions — in a way, you reminded him of bachira. 

but bachira was not always jumping at every chance to refute him with a know-it-all smirk. bachira wasn’t perpetually ready to throw witty remarks at his rudeness. and bachira definitely didn’t have a pretty gleam on his eyes every time he headbutted with rin.

in short, you were everything itoshi rin hated. and the worst part was that you knew. you knew how much your very existence annoyed him, and it seemed like you took as your life mission to make the next two years of his life a living hell. 

“itoshi.” your voice reached his ears again. well, maybe if he just ignored you, you would… “itoshi!”

“what the fuck do you want?” he snapped, diverting his attention from the match playing on his phone to look at you. “i told you not to call me that.”

another thing he hated — to be called by his last name. it reminded him way too much of sae, and that was something rin didn’t want to do. but it wasn’t like he was going to tell you that, so he’d rather let you think he just didn’t want you to address him at all. which wasn’t a lie, either. 

you gave him a puzzled look, tilting your head like an innocent puppy. a fake naivety, of course. “we’re not close enough for me to call you by your first name, though.”

“thank fuck.” 

your eyes rolled at that. “language, itoshi.” he glared at you again, and you fixed your posture, putting your hands on the back pockets of your jeans. the malicious smile you gave sent chills down his spine. 

“well, i just came to deliver you the news since you missed last period. there’s a project worth 75% of our grade to be delivered in two months, and guess what? we’re together!”

oh, hell no.

“you tell terrible jokes.”

“i’m serious, though. if you don’t believe me, just ask your friends,” you said, so absentmindedly that rin felt his blood pressure rising. he opened his mouth to retort, but you beat him to it. “and before you try, the teacher already said no one can work alone and that the pairs cannot be exchanged.”

his left eye twitched, and he was pretty sure all his muscles were tight and ready to combust. life just couldn’t give him a break, could it? it was like he was being punished — forced to work with you, of all people. what a fucking nightmare. 

how the hell was he supposed to endure two months of constant interactions with your annoying sassiness and the pretty curve of your lips when you smirked? it might just drive him crazy. 

“so, when can we start, partner?”

rin rolled his eyes so hard they almost got stuck on the back of his skull. 

“i hate you.”

ii.

the soccer field was probably the only place rin felt at peace. the smell of grass and sweat was as familiar as his home, much like the round shape of the ball on his feet and the path to the goal. despite his rowdy teammates and their dumb antics, there wasn’t much that was able to distract him and break this peacefulness.

“itoshi!”

there was still something, though. or someone, for that matter.

the shock of seeing you in his “happy place” was so big rin nearly tripped on the ball, successfully letting bachira steal it from him. the snickers from reo and isagi made his skin boil with anger, but his harsh glare was directed at you — the fucking source of all his problems. 

and no, he was not being dramatic. 

“what are you doing here.” 

it wasn’t really a question, more like a veiled threat; but you seemed oblivious to it, or simply didn’t care about his reaction. something in him even thought you liked getting on his nerves. he was sure of it when you smirked.

“the project, dummy. we need to start today if we want to get it done in time. it’s pretty long, hence why we have two months.”

“i can’t today,” was all he said. 

“why?”

“because,” rin spat with venom on his tongue, “i have an important game next week.”

you stared at him in silence. rin would have thought about how the sun shining on your back framed you with a perfect halo and gave you a nearly angelic look if he wasn’t so busy controlling the heat on his face from your scrutiny. he hated when you did that. he hated you. 

“we have to start today, itoshi. i’ll wait until you finish practicing so we can go to the library.”

he hated your stubbornness. he hated your voice, too — how it sounded like a siren’s melody, ready to trap him and bring him to the bottom of the ocean.

“fine. suit yourself.”

the young itoshi turned around and went back to the field, ignoring aryu’s pestering and shidou asking about who you were and if he could have your number. rin pondered if a yellow card was worth shutting up the insect, but eventually decided against it; he didn’t want ego to bench him, especially when they were so close to the tournament next week. 

the rest of the game went pretty smoothly, although rin and his teammates could tell he had half of his focus on the sidelines, where you sat prettily at the stands with your laptop. a perpetual scowl was on his face throughout the rest of the match. you were so damn distracting it was annoying. 

once the match was over, some of the boys went home, while others continued practicing, rin being one of them. he was expecting you to grow tired and give up, especially considering it was getting darker and colder, but you didn’t waver. your face was still present on the stands, haunting him even if he closed his eyes. you even had the audacity to smile when your gazes crossed.

he hated your smile. he did. 

hours passed until every one of his teammates had gone home, and rin was the only one left in the field. deciding it was finally enough (and not admitting he was starting to worry for you), he stopped his moves, finishing up with a few stretches so that his muscles weren’t too sore. he stored the footballs on the cart and put away the cones, something that was already routine at that point since he was usually the last one to leave.

finally, rin walked towards you. 

“i’m done,” he said as he approached you on the sideline of the field. his gym bag was right at your side, and he ignored the electricity that sparked his skin when it grazed yours. 

your eyes averted from your laptop to look at him. “oh, hi! thought you’d take a little longer,” you retorted. “anyways, i’m done too.”

he stopped his movement. “what?”

“yeah, i finished the first topic. only fourteen more to go.” the giggle that flew out of your mouth reverberated through his body. rin watched as you stood up and stretched, looking away when your shirt rode up and a sliver of your stomach could be seen. you then proceeded to put your laptop away, and his brows furrowed. 

“i don’t get it. i thought you said… you said it was too much stuff to do by yourself.” you nodded, not even looking at him. rin kind of wished you did. “and yet you did everything?”

“well, yes.”

his scowl only worsened. “what the fuck? why?”

you slung your bag through your shoulder, looking at him with those damn doe-eyes that always sparkled so much. it was annoying. why did they remind him of the stars? and why did rin wanted to watch the night sky on your face?

“you said you have an important game next week, so i figured it wouldn’t kill to do the first topic by myself,” you answered. “don’t get used to it, though! you’re gonna have to help on the next ones, partner.”

the young itoshi ignored the stupid nickname, his brain still trying to catch up to everything. something just wasn’t clicking…

“so why the hell did you wait for me to finish practice?”

you didn’t even falter.

“thought you could use the company.” you shrugged. and although your voice was nonchalant, you were smiling. and not your typical mischievous smirk — it was a sweet, sweet smile, dripped in honey and all things good in the world. 

rin’s heart leaped on his chest. he could feel his cheeks becoming flushed, but he blamed it on the cold. 

coming to think of it, it was really cold. and you sat there for hours… if he looked closely, he could see your frame shivering from the lack of proper clothing. 

a little tsk came out of his mouth, and rin impulsively took off his jacket, throwing it on your face — ignoring the “hey!” you sent his way.

“what’s that for, itoshi?!”

“so that you don’t freeze to death, dumbass.”

rin had to admit your gaping expression was kind of cute. not that he would commit to memory or something… that would be lukewarm, and he was anything but lukewarm. especially when it came to you. 

“don’t get any ideas, though,” he said before you could retort, turning around to follow the path to his dorm room, “i still hate you.”

iii.

things were calmer after the game passed. rin often found himself at the university library with you after his practice, leaving around nine or ten, and walking you to your dorm building simply because he didn’t want to be bothered in case something happened to you. not like he was worried for your safety or anything.

you still got on his nerves, but the project was going surprisingly well. rin learned you were very dedicated and meticulous, meaning you put in a lot of effort to focus and make everything as perfect as it could be. he wished he could say his focus was also as sharp as ever, but the scent of your coconut shampoo always lingered on the study booths and made his mind fuzzy. 

it was tuesday night and you were both on your laptops doing research and writing on your paper, falling into the same little routine you established the past weeks. the library was nearly empty as usual — though you always sat at the furthest cabin because rin didn’t like to see, hear or speak to people — and the only sound in the ambience was the pitter patter of the rain. 

everything seemed to be going fine, but things changed when the rain got heavier and became a strong thunderstorm that made the lights go out.

“fuck,” rin cursed under his breath, looking around to hear other people mumbling complaints and the librarian saying she would turn on the power generator, asking for calm and patience. he squeezed the bridge of his nose, annoyed, and turned to you. “hey, do you think—”

then he stopped. 

the only source of light was the screen of your laptops and the occasional lightning striking on the dark sky, but rin could see you on the other side of the table as clear as day. and he felt his heart squeeze impossibly hard with the sight. 

you were shaking like a leaf, hands squeezed tight and nails prickling your skin, and your eyes were widened and so, so scared. he had never seen you wear such an expression, always familiar with your confidant, cheery self, and he decided he didn’t like one bit. 

“hey,” he whispered, trying to grasp your attention. however, your eyes were focused outside. “hey, look at me.”

slowly, your orbs met his, and rin felt his breath hitch. there were tears on your lash line threatening to fall, and panic began to rise on his throat; but he forced himself to stay calm for your sake. 

“what’s wrong?”

your lips trembled, but nothing came out. he hated your voice, but found himself missing it. so he tried again.

“are you… afraid of the dark?”

his question was answered when the sound of another thunder reverberated again, making you visibly flinch. his gaze softened when a small hiccup left your lips. 

“oh. it’s the thunder.”

you nodded, still unable to talk. rin could see you were forcing yourself to keep your sobs contained, as if the mere thought of crying in front of him was as dangerous as standing at gunpoint. like his words — venomous, harsh, cold words — could hurt you just as much as a bullet. 

his stomach churned with that thought. he hated it. 

so, as carefully as he could so as not to startle you, rin stood up from his seat and walked around the table until he reached the chair at your side, sitting on it. he felt you body tense with the proximity, more so when he slightly turned to stare at you, and felt the need to say something.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, so impossibly soft you could hardly believe it was itoshi rin saying those words to you. 

it was even more unbelievable when he enveloped your body in a hug, bringing your head to his chest as if to shelter you from the thunder. 

rin really hoped you couldn't hear the unrestrained beating of his heart. everything about that moment made him nearly combust; from the ever present smell of your shampoo when he rested his nose in your hair, the evident relaxation of your frame when he hugged you or the small arms that held his waist as if he was the only lifeline in the ocean. 

you let your sobs and sniffles run free, burying yourself deeper in his embrace, and all rin could do was pat your hair and whisper soft reassurances on your ear. 

it’s okay. you are safe. i won’t let it hurt you. 

he didn’t know how long you both stayed in that position, but as he enjoyed the warmth of your body next to his, your sobs eventually died out along with the roaring sound of thunder. the rain became thinner and the lights finally came back, although neither of you made a move to separate. 

the silence lingered for a moment before you broke it, “thank you.”

the male only hummed, trying to hide his disappointment when you slowly backed away. though his hand didn’t leave you, going from your hair to rest on your hip in some type of reassurance squeeze. 

“i-i’m sorry, it’s just…”

“you don’t have to explain,” he interrupted. then, hesitantly added, “only if you want to.”

“it’s not something big or anything… this fear has just kind of been there. i think something happened to me when i was a kid and it was thundering, so every time it happens i just… freeze.” you shook your head. “it’s stupid.”

he frowned. “it’s not stupid if it makes you this terrified. it’s okay, we all have fears.”

you were yet to look him in the eye, seemingly embarrassed about your triggered phobia. “i cried on your shirt.”

“yeah.”

“it has tears stains.”

“yeah.”

you sighed. “i’m sorry.”

he squeezed your hip again. “don’t apologize.”

you finally raised your head to look at him, and rin could very much consider himself a lost man at that moment. your eyes were glistening from the remnant of tears, but that pretty gleam was still there, barging its way through any sadness and any fear to present itself with the shy smile you sent him.

even if it was still dark, he would be able to see it, because you shined. brightly, scorchingly and so, so mesmerizing, like some sort of classic painting worth millions of dollars. if rin had the choice, he wouldn’t want to look away. 

“i think it’s enough for today,” you said, “do you mind if we continue tomorrow?”

“i don’t mind,” rin answered, although he secretly wished to bask in your warmth for a little longer. “i’ll take you to your dorm building. i brought an umbrella.”

because he knew you were a klutz and would most likely forget. not that he paid attention to you or something. 

you smiled again, and rin had to use all of his might to let go of you and go back to his chair to pick up his stuff. silently, you both put away your things and left the study booth towards the exit, where the younger itoshi opened his umbrella and started to walk towards your destination. he felt his skin burning when you tangled your arm with his so that you were squeezed together under the shelter for the rain.

around ten minutes later, you finally arrived at your dorm building. and then, as the little minx you were, you stood on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek before running inside along with your goodbyes. 

“thank you, rin!”

he stood there like a statue for what felt like an eternity, feeling his face impossibly hot. rin touched his cheek in mild disbelief, feeling butterflies erupting on his stomach without permission. 

it was only then he realized you called him by his actual name, and a smile inevitably took over his features. 

fuck.

itoshi rin hated you. but that day, he discovered that he hated seeing you cry even more.

iv.

he didn’t really know what the fuck he was doing there. rin was not the kind of guy who went to parties, much less fraternity ones; but somehow he ended up in one on a saturday night after a lot of convincing from his teammates. he claimed he only accepted so that isagi would shut up and stop pestering him, but the said boy insisted to say he only agreed after learning you would be there. 

which was absurd, of course. a completely crazy, delusional and absurd thought. why would he want your obnoxious self to go and ruin the party? rin hated you. 

right?

the music was loud and the people were even louder. there were dozens of bodies on the makeshift dance floor swaying to the beat, along with some people playing beer pong and small groups scattered around talking as best as they could. rin was part of the last type, although he was tuning out everything that bachira blabbed on his ear like a madman. his focus was solely on the entrance.

and then, you came in. 

it was like a stupid romance movie — the way everything seemed to be in slow motion. from the way you walked, to the slight movement of your hair, to the blink of your curved eyelashes. and god, how much he hated that. 

he hated the way your mere presence prickled his skin. how your voice soothed his lousy thoughts, how your smile lit up the room. he hated this urge inside of him to look for you every time he knew you'd be in the same vicinity, like you were some source of life that he couldn’t live without. 

“are you okay, rin-chan?” bachira’s voice took him out of his thoughts. he blinked a few times.

“yeah, i’m fine.”

now, rin wasn’t a drinker; the red cup on his hand was merely for show. but he gulped some beer at that moment, as if trying to wake up from a hazy dream or get out of a trance. it made sense — he did think you were a siren of some sort. 

there was no other reason for the spell you put on him. 

the party went on, and he spent a few hours avoiding you like the plague and pretending he wasn’t stealing glances at every chance he got. truth is, he was always paying attention when you were swaying your hips on the dance floor like there was no tomorrow, glaring at every guy who thought about getting close while holding back his own desire to do the same.

it was only when you left to the backyard that his teammates finally decided to say something.

“you should talk to them” reo advised, eyebrows dancing in a weird, wiggly way. rin grimaced.

“what? why?”

the boys rolled their eyes and groaned, tired of the younger itoshi’s behavior. 

“rin, man. you are clearly interested in them. and i’m pretty sure they’re interested in you, too,” isagi said slowly, as if rin was a child. “otherwise, they wouldn’t make the effort to pester you.”

rin could feel his face flushing. “i’m not—”

“don’t even try to deny it. it’s kind of obvious, really,” chigiri butted in, an exasperated countenance on his face. “just go, rin.”

he let out a tsk, chugging the rest of his drink and throwing the cup on the trash. “i’m going out just because i don’t want to keep listening to you idiots.” 

“yeah, right,” nagi snickered, and the others followed, watching rin turn his back and move towards the backyard, where he would inevitably find you. 

the chilly air hit his skin the moment he stepped out, and rin kind of thanked the relief it gave to his hot cheeks. quickly looking around, it was easy to spot your lonely frame leaning on the wall, staring at the stars as if they weren’t in your eyes. he walked to you like his feet had their own will, and once he got close enough, leaned the side of his body on the wall, facing you.

“you’re cold.”

not even a hello, how are you to start. great conversationalist, itoshi rin.

you turned your head to look at him, smiling when recognition took over your features. “hey, itoshi! didn’t think i’d meet you here!”

the giggle that went past your lips was the only reason he didn’t scowl when you didn’t call him rin.

“parties are not really my thing, but my friends convinced me to come.” you nodded, understanding. he blinked a couple of times, and said again, “you’re cold.”

you slightly flushed. “it’s just a bit chilly, but it’s not a big deal…”

but rin was already shrugging off his jacket, moving to be right in front of you as if to shield you from the wind. he handed the piece of clothing to you. “here.”

“oh… thank you,” you answered, bashful, taking the jacket and putting it on. 

last time he lent you one, he didn’t stay to see how you looked like. but at that moment, rin was sure there was nothing prettier than the sight of you in his clothes. he swallowed a nervous lump from his throat.

“so… why are you out here by yourself?”

“needed some air. i danced a lot and it was kind of stuffy in there.” you shrugged. then, fiddling with your fingers, you look straight into his eyes. “and maybe… maybe i was hoping someone would follow.”

someone. you had your eyes on someone. 

rin didn’t know what was worse: the stinging pain on his heart or the bitter taste left on his tongue. what he did know was that both felt like poison, one that would spread through his veins and consume him whole. and that he shouldn’t feel like this. because he hated you, after all. 

he must have made a terrible grimace, because you threw your hands in the air in exasperation. 

“for fucks sake.”

and then your lips were on his. 

it was just a fleeting moment — something way too quick and definitely not enough to sate the dormant hunger inside of him. in the blink of an eye, you were already back in your place, staring at him with doe-eyes and a hundred doubts written in them. 

rin freezed for a whole full minute with his mouth agape, until finally lunging forward to kiss you again. his right arm wrapped possessively around your waist to glue your bodies together, while his left hand found a place in your jaw, cradling your face as if you were some precious jewel. his lips were hungry on yours, and you gasped with the intensity, giving him the opportunity to shove his tongue inside your mouth. 

kissing you was exhilarating, like scoring the perfect goal or winning a championship. adrenaline ran high on his veins and his head was a little airy. and rin swore he never felt so alive. 

when you finally parted, you were both panting, chest heaving with every breath. rin rested his forehead against yours, directing both of his hands to your middle as if to look for grounding. 

“you still hate me, itoshi?” you asked in a whisper, mouth inches away from his but still not close enough. that dangerous gleam was still settled in your eyes, and he could swear you were the perfect definition of sinful every time you batted your eyelashes at him.

“call me rin.”

“okay,” you giggled lightly. “you still hate me, rin?”

he could feel his blood pulsing on his ears. “yeah,” he answered, way too breathless for an athlete of his caliber. 

and then, holding your waist tighter, “kiss me again.”

v.

“we should get coffee.”

rin’s words cut the silence as you were exiting the library yet again. you looked up to see his face staring straight ahead, expression unreadable as always, but the light redness on the tip of his ears told you all you needed to know. 

you decided to be a tease, as always. “hm… i don’t know, should we? you sure you want to spend even more time with someone you hate?”

he scowled like usual, but this time, there was a small pout on his lips. you thought he looked the cutest when he was like that, all shy and trying to maintain his stoic act. 

he grumbled something under his breath. 

“what was that?”

“i said,” he sneered, “i don’t hate you, stupid.”

you arched your brow. “you don’t?”

“do you think i would have kissed you if i did?” the smirk you give him is both charming and infuriating. rin would have said he hated it, but he was done pretending. 

“i don’t know, itoshi. you are kind of emotionally constipated.”

“shut up,” rin quipped. then, he snaked your waist with his right arm as you walked side by side, pulling you closer. “and didn’t i tell you to call me rin?”

there was just mischief in your eyes when you answered, “yeah, but i like to get on your nerves.”

the male scoffed, still in disbelief with your antics. 

“you’re a damn brat. i think you just want me to teach you my name tonight.”

rin could practically feel the heat on your face, and he smirked when he saw how red you were. god, you were so cute. 

“at least take me to dinner first before we hate-fuck,” you still managed to joke, despite the slight shakiness in your voice. he rolled his eyes, and pulled you to a stop by the arm. 

you both stood in the middle of campus, feeling the gentle caress of the breeze and listening to the birds chirping. it was a peaceful day, with the sun high up in the baby blue sky. rin thought there was no better time than at that moment. 

his hand traced your arm until it reached your own, and he squeezed your fingers in reassurance. 

“i don’t hate you,” he said again. “i just hate the way i don’t hate you. not even close. not even a little bit. not even at all.”

he watched your eyes light up and smile brighter than the sun, and he almost laughed at the disbelief in your voice. 

“did you just quote ‘ten things i hate about you’?”

it was his time to flush. a small shrug was all rin answered with — he didn’t want you to know he specifically chose this sentence because that was your favorite movie. not like it mattered when you were gleaming at him and making his heart leap on his chest. 

“well, then,” you squeezed his hand back, “let’s get coffee, rin.”

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[biteofcherry]

Don't need your name to own you

dark fae!Ransom Drysdale x female reader

summary: You're not interested in anything personal the Scaretale offers. You just want to see it from the inside. Then, once your curiosity is sated, you're going home. But you forgot what curiosity did to the cat...

warnings: dark fae!Ransom; dark!Ransom; dub-con; drugging of sorts; power imbalance; dirty talk; Master/pet undertones (but no pet play); degradation mixed with praise; humiliation; brief F/F/F; oral (f receiving); rimming; fingering; forced orgasm; squirting; anal play; anal sex, unprotected sex;

word count: 5.6k

Author’s Note: Fae isn't exactly a monster, but it's still very fitting for the Scaretale universe 😎 Especially with how wicked and devious Ransom is. It's definitely dark, even if it feels light and almost playful, too. It's how the fae get you😏 Also, this is the very first time I wrote something so long for Ransom! But I have to admit that I had fun writing this devious, kinky Ran. I know @stargazingfangirl18 is doing a happy dance about it, lol.

To the tiniest button, to the last line, to the very detail - preparation was something you excelled at. It gave you a sense of control, too. Which, in turn, boosted your confidence. 

If you were prepared, nothing would surprise you. 

It’s why you researched Scaretale for over six months; following not only the online reviews, gossip, or comments from people and monsters who attended, but also spending hours upon hours in the library and online archives. You browsed everything there was about fae and their customs.

Since the Scaretale was founded and owned by a fae, you figured it had to be created and ruled by the fae magic. Learning about it as much as you could was a smart move if you wanted to enter the club. 

And you wanted to.

It tempted you.

Not for the reasons most of the people went there - to search for love, or to taste the spicy taboo. No, you were curious. So achingly, annoyingly curious. 

You wanted to walk in there, soak up the atmosphere and observe. Your thoughts often derailed, wondering how the interactions inside the club looked like. Was it a full on debauchery (so cliche), or maybe so similar to a human club (how disappointing)? 

You’ve put a lot of thought into choosing your wardrobe, making sure to not pick anything too revealing as to not attract too much attention. As well, nothing too modest, because to some monsters that was even more appealing, with the whole innocence and fragility concept. 

You weren’t going there to fill anyone’s lust. Only to sate your own curiosity. 

By now you knew the exterior of the club by heart, having walked by it so many times and admiring the details. It had that enchanting allure of a building that stood out from all the others, veiled in mystery that one couldn’t resist unraveling. Like the abandoned, or supposedly haunted houses in the movies, where kids dared each other to knock on the door. Though Scaretale looked less creepy and more magical. 

There were big, stained-glass windows, yet nothing could be seen through them. Not even in the late evening when the colorful glass glowed from the inside, but no shadows passed, no silhouettes were visible. As if the windows were only a decoration and not a means to give view either way. 

Curved vines, with detailed leaves and thorns, weaved around the entrance. The door, too, seemed to be made from delicate, thickly woven ivy, though to the touch it was sturdy like steel. 

The door opened easily, just from a single push. They closed behind you soundlessly. 

Pleasant warmth welcomed you. Not too stifling like in most clubs, but rather reminiscent of a summer evening when the warmth lingers, but leaves room for evening freshness. 

A softest kind of breeze brushed around your ankles and up your legs, like the faintest touch of gentle hands. It teased your collarbones and swept up your neck to flick a sensitive spot behind your ear. It evoked your surprised, tiny gasp.

That sensation wasn’t palpable enough for you to startle and search for invisible hands, but it piqued your already high curiosity. 

Was it a welcome every human who entered received? Or maybe the sensations upon arrival were attuned individually? 

Or was it just your own imagination?

If your unsatisfied curiosity was pulsing earlier, now it raged with hunger. You barely kept your pace slow, while all you wanted was to immediately check every nook, study every creature, taste and touch every single detail. 

That would draw unnecessary attention. Which you didn’t need. You wanted to snoop around undisturbed. 

And definitely not becoming someone’s interest. 

Feigning nonchalance, you cast long glances at each booth and the monsters occupying it. A group of orcs, who were attempting to be politely quieter than their booming voices allowed. Two vampires, both more occupied with their sleek phones than with the pretty waitress who brought their wine. Though it seemed she had one of the orcs watching her every move.

At first, even at a second glance, it appeared that Scaretale was a boring, high end type of club where everyone was behaving themselves and only considering courting someone who caught their eye. 

But you felt that raw, intense pulsing in the air. A tension that wasn’t about to break into violence, but rather into a primal chase and claiming. 

That elegant veneer veiled a lethal doom. 

Your blood rippled with a wave of thrill. Just adrenaline, you told yourself as your instincts tensed in anticipation. 

Your gaze shifted back and forth, across the endless room, over every booth and nook and iron-wrought railings cutting off a few alcoves. Any moment now someone could snap. Any monster was bound to leap and find their prey, who would yield willingly, or put up a fight. To some, the prey would crawl over - mesmerized, enchanted, or simply so desperate. 

A venus flytrap.

The club, you realized, was like a pulsing, living entity that lured humans in with sweet poison of mystery and promises of love; only to trap them the moment a predator lurking within decided to claim them. 

You moved forward, toward the glowing oval bar that stood in the center of the grand space. As you approached, you felt your mouth going dry, your throat aching for a drop of liquid. Frowning, you forced yourself to swallow your own saliva. 

Scaretale belonged to a fae. A dark fae. There was no way you were going to eat or drink anything served here.

That’s how people bound themselves to the fae. At least according to most legends. Even if it was an exaggerated lore, you preferred not to find out for yourself. 

A blue haired woman minded the bar. She moved gracefully, floating from one end to the other in dance-like steps. Her smile was gentle, not a fake one forced to appease customers. She paused for a second as you neared the countertop, lips parting as if to ask what you wanted to drink. Before she uttered a single sound, her mouth closed and she twirled away, ignoring you completely.

You were about to study the short encounter, wondering why unexpected rudeness happened, but a different presence entered your personal space.

You felt a peculiar tickling grazing your skin, like tiny drops of carbonated drink bursting around your mouth and nose when you took a first sip of freshly opened soda, or champagne.

It wasn’t an overwhelming body heat you’d expect from most monsters, nor a piercing coldness a vampire might give off. This man’s aura was fresher. Like a stream weaving through the midsummer forest.

“Ain’t you a curious little creature?” His voice drawled in a soft, velvety mockery. 

Eyes still glued to the empty space where the bartender stood a few seconds ago, your body froze on the spot the second the mysterious man invaded your personal space. 

As his voice reached you, your curiosity yanked you into movement. 

You had to see who it was.

Your eyes found themselves on level with a male chest. Not the broadest, if you compared it to some other monsters in the club that night, but corded with lean muscles. His shirt was a pearly white, similar to satin, or maybe silk. Definitely expensive. Tiny, golden buttons on it were fucking monogrammed. 

Your gaze slowly dropped down, where his waist narrowed into tight hips and long, long legs (clad in equally expensive pants). His arms hung loosely at his sides, forearms exposed where the sleeves of the shirt were rolled up. 

His skin was fair, a faint glow caught deep beneath the skin surface. What instantly caught your attention and filled you with an alarming sensation, were the black tips of his fingers. Color darkest at the fingertips, gradually fading as it went down his knuckles and into his palm.

Not just black, but a night sky ink that seemed to shimmer a dark dust in the blackness.

A dark fae! 

Your gaze snapped up to his face. Most beautiful face you’ve ever seen. Even with the smirk curving his lips, which would usually annoy you in any human male. 

Not a single feature of his face seemed flawed, or in disharmony. His irises were a crystalline blue, but the longer you stared into them the more it appeared that all changes in the sky were reflected in the fae’s eyes. 

“You know what curiosity did to a cat, right? And yet you’re here.” He gave an almost disappointed sigh, but amusement sparked his eyes and his smirk didn’t ease an inch. 

“A stubborn little, human tabby,” he chuckled, giving you a once over. 

It was merely a flick of gaze and for some reason you knew it was only for show, because this man had been studying you for longer. Possibly, his attention was on you the whole time you thought yourself to be unnoticed as you explored the club.  

You licked your lips nervously, but still straightened your back and titled your chin up in defiance. 

“Humans are allowed here.” You bit back. “Encouraged to come, even.”

“Humans who seek a partner, yes.” He replied. His beautiful, tempting lips were ready to say more when you interrupted-

“Who says I’m not looking for one?” You crossed your arms over your chest, attempting for fake confidence to hide the simple urge to test everything. 

“You’re looking for trouble, Tabby.” The fae tutted in a soft warning. “You’ve been after it for weeks. Every single day walking around the building and learning its details with a deep hunger that a desperate slut has for her Master’s cock.”

Fire blazed up within you, scorching your skin from the inside and melting low in your abdomen. 

You weren’t sure if it was his dirty metaphor that ignited the reaction, or the scary fact that he was aware of your investigation. Of every single time you strolled around the building and watched it. 

“Since you’re so passionate about Scaretale and I’m the owner, I thought it’s only polite that I attend to your needs personally.” 

Clear sky in his irises dimmed into dusk, with blue so dark and seductive you couldn’t look away. Or perhaps it was his words that gripped you in a vice, shocking with the innuendo, but oh so tempting with it, too. 

His curled forefinger lodged beneath your chin. Then his thumb pressed to the front of it, trapping you in a grip that only seemed gentle. 

“Why don’t you give me your name, Tabby?” He coaxed and your tongue instinctively moved to roll out the answer. 

Thankfully, the cautious part of your brain was still working and you caught the side of the spiderweb he almost launched you into. 

“Nuh-uh.” Tip of your tongue flicked out to lick your bottom lip - a move that the fae caught with growing interest. “I know your kind’s tricks. I’m not going to fall for it and just give myself away to be bound. And before you offer, I won’t accept any food, or drink, either.”

You expected irritation. Anger that his smooth act didn’t work on you, while you bet so many would fall for his charm and flirting alone. Especially, since a man like that one rarely got denied anything he wanted. Fae or human, men of power and wealth were all the same in that department. 

Instead, he smiled. There was something wicked to the way his lips curved and his eyes glinted with amusement. Even the crinkles that formed around his eyes didn’t ease the growing uneasiness deep in your gut. 

“So clever.” He hummed, slowly dragging his thumb toward your lips. 

He drew a line below the bow of your mouth first, then a warm pad touched your pouty lip and brushed along it. 

It felt as if that touch grazed your clit. 

He rubbed your bottom lip again and your thighs clenched in a foolish attempt to prevent the sensation teasing your nub. 

Your body had always been quite responsive, though the fae might have been the first man to get your pussy started just from the way he played with your mouth.

“You can call me Ransom,” he offered his name, without any tricky games. Or so you thought. “Or-” he paused, for the third time brushing his thumb along your lip- “your Master.”

His hand withdrew, leaving a warm print on your chin and a tingling sensation on your bottom lip. It took your brain a second to register his words fully. Another second for your rebellion to fire up and react.

“My Master?!” You snorted in faint rage, hating how saying those words sent a jolt down your spine.

Your tongue poked out to lick the aftertaste of his touch. But it felt like there was an actual taste following, first coating your tongue then swallowed with your saliva. A little sweet, fizzing like pop-rocks. 

Staring into Ransom’s eyes, you were focused on the touch of his thumb itself. Never expecting, or imagining the trail of sparkling black dust from his fingertips leaving traces on your lips. 

Which you licked. And swallowed. 

There was no dizziness, nor complete loss of limb movement, yet your whole body became pliant and hot. Fascination with the dark fae grew into devotion, eagerness to follow him. To please him. 

“See, my fiery Tabby,” Ransom’s eyes blazed inhuman blue. “I don’t need your name to own you.” 

“You tricked me!” You accused him, but couldn’t make yourself run away from him. Quite the contrary, you itched to snuggle into his arms and purr like the kitten he nicknamed you.

“I am a dark fae.” He laughed. Then he stepped even closer, your body touching his and reacting to the proximity with increasing need. His knuckles caressed your cheek, before his hand dipped lower and his fingers curled around the front of your neck. 

“Now, give me your name. As you will give me everything I ask for, anyway.” 

Your name rolled out on your tongue without any resistance. Your eyelids fluttered close when Ransom rewarded your obedience with barely whispered praise and mouth nearing yours. His lips almost touched yours, holding you on the precipice until you nearly whined. 

With a triumphant chuckle, he withdrew. Your eyes opened when he snapped his fingers. 

A heartbeat later two women appeared at your sides. Both with skin glowing from within, stunning and perfect. And almost naked. They had warm smiles and mischief sparkling in their eyes. 

“Meet Dusk and Dawn.” He introduced the two fae, then directed an order at them - “Take her to my chambers and prepare her.” 

“Prepare?!” You squeaked when the women simply hooked their arms with yours and began leading you, like a group of friends might support each other when walking after a few drinks. 

“Be a good girl, Tabby.” Ransom grinned. “Do as they say. I’ll be with you in a moment and sate some of that curiosity of yours.”

“Yes, Master.” It spilled out of your mouth, before your brain even registered what you were saying. 

Ransom laughed at your shocked expression and the embarrassment that followed. 

Dusk and Dawn lead you across the club, toward the far back where the space diverted in three ways. Left and right corridors were swarmed with darkness, but the middle one was pulsing with an unusual glow. They took you to the central one. 

A few steps down the corridor and an ornate, double winged window marked its end. Nothing was visible through it, beside the yellow-green light. As they pushed you through it, like through a dry waterfall, your feet landed on a carpet so plush and dark green, it might as well be moss. 

Wait, was it moss? 

The walls of the bedroom seemed solid, no trees suddenly sprouting from anywhere. But the dark jewel tones reminded the core of the woods. An explicitly large bed stood in the middle - a frame carved of dark wood, with a canopy weaved off gauzy fabrics and live vines and so many fairy lights. 

You squeaked when the women started tugging on your clothes. They skilfully dodged your hands when you attempted to swat them away, moving fast and light like fireflies. One of them reminded you that Ransom asked you to listen and instantly that pull to obey made you cease your fight. 

A part of you hated that automatic obedience, every rebellious streak in you fussed and stomped against it. But there was also that damn side of you, which was kinda fascinated with it.

Was whatever you tasted on your lips enough to bind you to a fae? What belonging to him would entail? How deeply your body’s reactions would attune to Ransom’s commands? 

The fae spread you on the bed, cooing at you when you sank into the soft linens with a contented sigh. Their lips were warm and gentle as they kissed your exposed skin, stirring your arousal. 

You’ve never been with a woman. There was some curiosity towards it, but never an actual attraction to study it deeper. Now two were playing with your body against your will, as if you were a kitten for their amusement. 

And for the Master’s. 

The thought of Ransom joining you in that bed made you shiver. Your gaze fitted on the slopes of the soft canopy hanging above, but you imagined his face filling your vision as he settled on top of you. Between your thighs. 

A reluctant moan bubbled on your lips when Dusk parted your legs and with a giggle chased sweet kisses up your inner thighs. 

Dawn closed her mouth around your nipple, plucking the other with her fingers. 

You felt overwhelmed. Your body roused, your pussy was tingling, but you were also embarrassed, helpless, and in the back of your head still huffed that resistance. 

“Nooo!” You whined, back arching, when Dusk’s tongue licked into your seam. 

“Yes,” came an unyielding reply. 

Your head lifted from the pillows, finding Ransom standing at the foot of the bed, watching your body being pleasured. Being prepared. For him. 

He started to unbutton his shirt, lazily. All the while holding your gaze and with a triumphant look drinking in all of your expressions and sounds. He watched as Dawn kissed and licked all over your breasts and belly; as your hips rocked eagerly into Dusk’s mouth when she sucked on your clit. 

“Dusk is really talented with her mouth.” Ransom complimented the other fae, who in return parted your folds with her fingers and began licking and kissing all over your dripping pussy. “You should thank her, Tabby.”

You whined, scrunching up your nose and refusing to comply. Which made Ransom chuckle at your defiance. 

He walked to the side of the bed, one knee dipping into the mattress as he leaned across to grip one of your legs. He brought it outwards and up, opening you wider. 

There were no words spoken, but perhaps they had some telepathic communication, or maybe they’ve done this dance before - because the moment Ransom had you spread wider, your pelvis slightly tipped up, Dusk’s tongue delved down. 

Toward your tight rim.

“Oh fu-!” You cried out, clenching your eyes shut at the humiliation. 

Fae’s tongue circled your tight hole, teasing it and evoking unknown sensations. Then she wiggled it in, giggling when your pussy clenched in return, dripping more of your slick. And Ransom was watching it with growing hunger; his burning gaze focused on the shiny mess between your buttocks as Dusk licked and spit onto your asshole. 

Dawn pinched your nipples playfully for the last time, then crawled across you. Without prompting, she unzipped Ransom’s pants and pushed it down his legs. Slipping off the bed, she helped him out of the clothes completely. 

Not once did she touch him, however. 

The second Ransom was completely naked, Dusk pulled away from between your legs. Her grin was wicked, her lips shiny with your wetness and she licked it with a broad swipe, winking at you playfully.

Both fae women left the bedroom, but you didn’t pay attention to where they were going. Your focus shifted completely to Ransom, who was now fully naked and moving towards you. 

Your gaze slid from his beautiful face, down his unblemished torso. Like you assumed, he wasn’t a beefy kind of man, but there was a chiseled structure of muscles speaking of speed and stealthy kind of strength.

A tattoo of intricate vines weaved all around his pelvis; leaves and branches dipping down the V cut and running down his cock, too. 

Usually you wouldn’t use the word pretty to describe a dick, but that fae’s was… 

It was long and nicely thick, a pretty flush color that gradually darkened into the same sparkling black as the tips of his fingers. 

Would his cum be as drugging as the dust from his fingers? 

Ransom knelt between your lewdly spread thighs. His gaze lingered on where you were soaked and pulsing with need. His fingers brushed your thighs, then skimmed up your belly and over your breasts. When he pinched your nipples, it was more mean than how Dawn treated you.

Still, your chest arched and you hissed in pleasure. 

One of his hands moved upwards, teasing your neck and then bracketing your face. He squeezed your cheeks and leaned closer. A strand of silky, dark blond hair fell across his forehead, adding a boyish charm to an otherwise lethally beautiful creature. 

Ransom’s breath tickled your lips, his mouth hovering so close to yours. He let your lips brush lightly. Again and again, but not pressing harder. Until you squirmed under him and pushed against his hold to finally taste that wicked mouth. Would he taste like pop-rocks the way his dust did? 

“To you I’ll taste like ambrosia, my feisty pet.” Ransom murmured, and you were unsure if he could read your mind, or if you blurted the question aloud. “I’ll taste like your last meal. Like all you ever want to have on your tongue for the rest of your life.” 

“And when I break you-” he added, his deceivingly velvety voice more alluring than scaring- “you’ll never want to experience anything else but the pleasure and humiliation coming from your Master.”

Your brain fogged. Your body shivered with growing need, becoming restless the longer he denied you that fate. 

It wasn’t all due to his magic. That curious spirit of yours was eager to find out how many sensations he could expose you to, how it would feel to belong to a dark fae. 

“Master,” you breathed out a plea. 

“Vow you belong to me.” Ransom demanded, tightening his grip.

“I belong to you. I give myself to you.” Somehow your tongue knew which words to say and the moment they bubbled out, your body filled with a certain awareness. Like an alert humming beneath your skin, attuned to the presence of the man above you.

It wasn’t just arousal anymore, or fascination. The need to be near him, to please him in any possible way, to be used, has taken root inside of you. 

It illuminated with the power of the sun, filling you with warmth and ecstasy, when Ransom rewarded your pledge with a kiss. A sinful play of lips tasting of midsummer dreams and tongue teasing yours with promises of taboo. 

When he pulled back, you looked at him in daze and admiration. Your mouth parted wider, tongue sticking out, when Ransom dipped two of his fingers into your mouth. His other hand sneaked down your body, black-tipped fingers playing with your already pulsating pussy. 

He pushed his digits to the back of your throat, making you choke and splutter. Your eyes teared up, but you didn’t break eye contact. When Ransom added a third finger, pressing them down on your tongue and further in, you gagged. Your body spasmed, but he held you down still - fucking your face with his fingers, at the same time circling your clit with the other hand. 

He made you come just by playing with your pearl. Or maybe the strongest shockwave was from the way he forced his fingers into your throat; filling you with more of the fizzy fae dust that made you salivate and crave him more. 

“Good girl, Tabby,” he cooed as he kept his fingers on your tongue while you writhed and moaned your release. 

Your body was still buzzing with the remnants of your climax when Ransom finally withdrew his fingers. Shiny with your spit, he brought them down between your spread thighs. 

Without preamble, he thrust all three into you. 

Your back arched as you fisted the sheets. Ransom’s name was a broken cry on your lips as your pussy welcomed the intrusion. 

Like with your mouth, he set a steady, merciless rhythm. The second orgasm came quickly, not surprising you, considering how responsive your body was. It bubbled into the very tips of your fingers, making you mewl in pleasure. 

But the cloudy lull dispersed when your body registered the continued stimulation. 

Ransom kept moving his fingers. A little faster, too. He crooked them, pressing into your G-spot with each damn thrust. An embarrassingly loud squelching sound accompanied each move of his fingers.

His other hand played with your swollen clit, drawing you closer and closer to the precipice. When you whined, heels dragging against the mattress in a futile attempt of squirming away from the onslaught, Ransom’s hand changed its course. He splayed his fingers over your lower abdomen. 

And then he pressed down.

At the same time driving his fingers into that most sensitive, responsive spot. 

Your whole body jolted, bowing in half as pleasure more intense than before sizzled through your body. You screamed. 

Ransom kept going and pressing and fucking… and you kept squirting. 

Shaking and crying, you stared in disbelief at the mess between your spread thighs. Not only was his whole palm wet, but so was his forearm. A few splashes shone on his abdomen, as well. 

Your breath was ragged, your mind somewhere outside of your body, when Ransom slowed and eased you through the aftershocks. Through half-lidded eyes you watched as he brought his soaked hand to his mouth. Holding your gaze with a wicked smirk, he sucked one of his fingers clean. 

“I’ve never done that before,” you whispered shyly. 

“Oh, Tabby.” Ransom’s gaze was both parts warm and evil as he lowered his hand between your thighs again. “I’m going to do to you a lot of things you’ve never tried before.”

“N-no!” You protested when you felt where his touch aimed. 

Your fingers clenched on the sheets tighter when you felt his wet digits circle your rim. Your muscles cinched, but it only made Ransom chuckle. 

“You’re going to let me,” he teased, “because you’re more curious than scared, little pet.”

Ransom’s lips puckered in a fake sympathetic pout and he let out a mocking coo as he forced a single finger into your tightest hole. 

Your eyes were wide, your mouth opened on a distressed gasp. A tiny frown marred your forehead, as your natural curiosity probed at the new sensations he was stirring in your body. 

“There you go,” he moved his finger in and out, “taking it so good, Tabby. Such a good pet.” 

“Nghh!” You keened when he pushed a second finger in, stretching your rim wider. 

“No need to be embarrassed that you like it. You’ll come from it, I promise.” His free hand teased along your puffy folds, mercifully not touching your oversensitive clit. “You’ll come with my cock deep in your ass, pet.”

“Someday,” he mused aloud, adding his dirty words to the torment, “I’ll keep you on my cock and spread you wide, so that Dusk can feast on your sweet cunt.”

The image his words painted sent a carnal response to your core, but also provoked an irritable cord. 

“Gonna play with all of your pets, huh?” You glared; though it shifted into reflection of pleasure as fingers probed your unused channel.

“Sheath your claws, Tabby.” Ransom laughed. He reached for your face with his free hand and trailed a finger from the tip of your nose, across your lips and down to your neck. “No need for jealousy. Dusk and Dawn are a part of my family’s court. They love mischief and all things debauched, but they’re not my pets. Nor my lovers.”

He curled his fingers around your throat, demanding undisturbed eye contact. 

“I let them touch you, because it pleases me when you suffer pleasure. When that silly, human propriety and reason fight your body’s eager responsiveness.”

He hovered above you, face so close to yours that his unruly strand of hair nearly tickled your forehead.

“If I wish so, they’ll play with you for my entertainment again,” Ransom’s tone lowered, turning a honey-sweet, but thick and sticky, clogging threat. “And you won’t fuss about it, because you want to please your Master.”

“Yes, Master.” Again, it flowed out of your lips so easily. 

“Now kiss me and thank me for stretching your ass.” 

Your lips pressed against his eagerly, as if you were starved for his taste. Your tongue poked out playfully, coaxing Ransom’s response. But what you earned in return was your own strained moan as he scissored his fingers inside of you. 

“T-thank you for stretching my ass, Master,” you whimpered, though you honestly weren’t yet sold on the weird sensation. Or rather your brain wasn’t yet accepting it, because your pussy was weeping happy tears again, even though she wasn’t the one directly stimulated. 

With wide eyes you observed as Ransom slowly withdrew his fingers, only to position the head of his cock right against that barely-opened hole. 

You thought he’d torment you a bit with anal play, but then take your cunt. It appeared that the dark fae had other ideas. Unpredictable ones, which made you flush with dread and humiliation anew. 

Ransom placed his hands on your thighs, keeping them spread wide apart. His hungry gaze was watching, nearly mesmerized, the way your tight, dirty hole struggled against his big cock. 

He felt your whole body tense then yield with a broken moan as he pushed the tip inside. 

Your rim opened, forced to swallow his cock. Your pussy was puffy and glistening, your clit engorged and tempting to torment it more. He noticed the way your other hole clenched in despair as he fucked into the one below. 

He knew your cunt yearned to be fucked so good; fussy that he was neglecting it for the other hole, the one so many humans were squirmy and embarrassed about. 

Oh, Ransom had every intention of fucking and filling your sweet pussy, but he wanted to play first. To torment you and your needy cunt, drawing your pleasure so high you would crawl and beg. 

Besides, taking the virginity of your ass and seeing you fall apart from having something so dirty done to you, was a pleasure most exquisite. 

You made the most delicious sounds - whimpers and mewls of crumbling resistance mixing with moans of a sweet, needy slut. 

When he bottomed out in your ass, your pussy gushed with more of your wetness. 

“What a naughty, messy pet,” he cooed cruelly. “Enjoying having her ass plowed. You gonna cum for me, Tabby? Gonna cum with my cock deep in your ass?”

You did. Crying out as your body tightened, squeezing his dick like a vice. Tears stung beneath your eyelids as he laughed and continued fucking into your sore bottom, yet pleasure still rippled as if his mockery was also a sweet caress. 

You came again when Ransom groaned his release, filled you with hot cum and landed a slap on your exposed clit. 

Rush of blood pounded in your head, muffling some of the dirty words Ransom was weaving like poetry. You stared at him with eyes glassy, admiring the raw, dark beauty of him. While he was watching your rim gaping slightly, his cum dribbling out. 

Minutes, or perhaps hours later, your consciousness drifted back from the hazy cloudy space Ransom pushed you into. You were curled in bed, the sheets magically clean of any mess your bodies produced. It was warm and safe; a thin, soft sheet draped over your naked body. 

You turned onto your back, yawning as you looked around. The canopy was drawn shut: gauzy curtains providing intimacy, fairy lights woven into the fabric glowing so beautifully. 

Behind it, you could make out a shadow of a silhouette moving around the bedroom. Judging by the size and shape, you suspected it was Ransom. You were proved right when he parted the curtains a moment later.

“Dusk and Dawn will come to wash you.” Though spoken rather softly, it was a declaration that wouldn’t welcome any disobedience. 

In your body, an eagerness to follow ignited, but your mind scowled at the prospect of being touched by strange women again. Washed and played with like a toy to be then presented to Ransom. 

When you opened your mouth to protest against being touched and aroused by the fae again, Ransom cut you with a glare.

“They will wash and dress you, and you will let them. Then meet me on the main floor.” 

“Yes, Master.” Your reply may have been obedient, but you still scrunched up your nose in discontent. 

Judging by Ransom’s broad grin, he found your pout amusing. The glint in his blue eyes reminded of a lightning ripping through the night sky. It also suggested more humiliating torment coming your way. 

[pia-nor481]

She…what? Chapter One

Lando norris x reader (hints at Daniel ricciardo x reader

1.7k words | Series Masterlist

"Pardon?" Lando exasperated, looking towards his friend. They were sat in his hotel room, even now, no longer teammates, they made a point to go out together, or at least see each other every week. "I'm serious." Daniel replied, unsure as to why his friend reacted in such a way. "I'm not doubting you, I'm having issue comprehending what you've said." Lando spoke quietly, taking a sip of his drink. "She gives the best blow jobs." Daniel stated simply, looking at Lando's raised eyebrow. "Good for you man, but why are you telling me this?" He stood up quickly, to retrieve another drink, and hide his slightly red face. "Come on, I know you've not been laid for a while, plus I think you'd quite like her." Lando was at a loss for words, he walked back towards the bed as slow as possible, it wasn't strange for them to talk about their most recent hook up, but it was never like this. "I'm sorry, you're asking me to fuck some girl you're seeing?" Daniel's immediate response was to roll his eyes, not understanding Lando's struggle. "No, well I'm not seeing her per say. It's a little agreement of sorts."

"So she's a hooker?" Lando said, sounding slightly disappointed, not that he wouldn't be up for it, he was just expecting something different. "No, god no. She's a girl I've been sleeping with? yes. Do I pay for it? No. But it's not a relationship either. It's kind of hard to explain." Lando was sipping his drink throughout Daniel's small speech, he gained a small amount of clarity.

So here Lando was, currently hungover, after a night in a club post race, it was four in the afternoon and he was panicking slightly. Daniel had given him a room number and said that he'd understand everything when he was through the door, but it took a while for him to knock. Realistically, what was he supposed to say? His whole body was filled with a mix of emotions that made it hard to function, he was nervous, shy, and slightly embarrassed. He'd never spoken to anyone with in this context before, so to say he was struggling would be an understatement. The shuffling behind the door got louder and louder until he was met with a beautiful woman. "Hello?" Lando was stunned, she was truly enticing, especially when she spoke. "And who are you?" She said with a warm and sweet tone, a light smile adorning her face. "Lando." He struggled to get his words out, he could see why Daniel would not stop speaking about her. "You're Daniel's friend?" She turned away from him, walking further into the hotel room. It was only now Lando was able to see her fully; She adorned a silk robe, one that framed her so well. She poured him a glass of wine that he took, but chose not to drink. "Yes, I am."

"So, Lando, What did he tell you?" She emphasised his name, making eye contact with him, sipping her drink slowly. "To be honest not much." He looked almost bashful as the words left his mouth. "What would you like to know?" she practically whispered, moving closer, then placing her hand on his knee. She pursed her lips slightly as she began to run her hand further up his leg, making it harder for Lando to think. "What this really is, or what it will be." In all honesty, he didn't know how to act, or what to say. "Whatever you want, well, with in reason....Just not tonight." She jumped up rather quickly, swaying her hips as she walked to the other side of the room, pouring another drink. "Why?" Desperation laced his voice, eyes wide. "There is a lot of things we must sort first, and that will take quite some time." While her back was turned, Lando took this as an opportunity to look around the room. Claiming it was vast would be an understatement. Filled with the hotel's finest furniture with the lights set to a dim, sensual level would be the best way to describe it. But, this coupled with just the sight on her, was slowly turning Lando on. "What do we need to sort out?" His patience was wearing thin, but he was yearning for her already. She paused for a moment, but Lando was too focused on the mirror on the ceiling. "I have to learn about what you like, and you about my limits... You will also have to sign an NDA, no matter your decision." He was surprised with her proposition. 

"NDA?" Lando needed her to elucidate, why would she need him to sign such a thing, and not just the other way around. "You are not the only one with things to lose." She stopped speaking again, and walked into another room, leaving Lando to his thoughts; He had no right to ask about her personal life at this moment in time, however, that didn't stop his curiosity. What did she have to lose? How did she get into this situation? All those questions would go unanswered for a long while. He began to hear her footsteps once again, this time there was a paper in her grasp. "I'll give you a while to read through it." Lando had never read something so fast in all of his life, and so, was quick to reach for a pen. He was feeling warm, but not as dizzy as before, he was certain in is sobriety.  "So....Where do we start?" the driver had never asked so many questions in one day, but he just couldn't help it. He tried not to asked closed questions as he wanted o hear her seraphic voice. "Tell me about what you like, Lando, I promise I wont judge." She winked as she sat beside him again, keeping her body closer than before. He knew what she was asking but he just could not form a coherent response. His brain became foggy, but she waited for a while, trying to coerce him into relaxing slightly. "Let's start simple, do you have any kinks that you have? Or would like to try? It can only be a few for now." She tried not to overwhelm him, knowing this can be quite the stressful situation. With how personal this is, she knew that no matter how confident or extroverted the person was, it would still be very hard. His nerves were overt, so she began to run her hand over his arm and shoulder, waiting for a response. "Um...I like blindfolds...and...mirrors." He was hesitant, but as soon as he saw the smile on her face, his shoulders lowered slightly. "Well, isn't that convenient." 

Lando pulled her closer, practically forcing her into his lap, not that she wasn't pleased with the gesture; happy with his confidence back, she let him speak. "Anything I need to know about you?" His hands slowly danced up her back, trailing along her vertebrae. "A few things, I don't have many hard NOs. But you'll get to find out about that at a later date. I will say, I use the traffic light system. I'm guessing you're familiar with it?" His hands travel back down, groping her ass. "Yeah...Woah, you are responsive." He could feel her shifting in his lap more frequently now. "So, hows this supposed to work?" Lando began to move his hips slightly meeting hers. "I call you, or you call me, and if I'm not busy, you will have my room number, and we go from there." Lando smiled ear to ear, squeezing her thighs slightly rough, testing the waters. "If you're not busy?" He said in jest. "Yes Lando, I'm in very high demand." She laughed lightly, grinding harder. "Oh, so I'm one of the lucky few?" Lando's lips met her neck rather quickly, he began kissing and sucking lightly. "Exactly....Knew I'd like you." He laughed into her skin, waiting for another statement, but it never came. 

She pulled away from him, and he was once again dumbfounded. Lando licked his lips as his eyes raked over her body, he was so excited. But doesn't like to be teased. "Oh come on Sweetheart. Don't do this to me." He stood up, walking towards her, but she just backed away, walking towards the actual bedroom. "Oh Lando, I can't give you everything now, then nothing will be bring you back." She giggled, eyeing him up, she was excited to play with him. But it would be better if she made him wait. "Such a tease, I'll be punishing you for that." He threatened her with an opposing tone. Lando reached for his phone resting on the table as she spoke. "I look forward to it." She said in a sultry tone, backing away from his view. Lando walked towards the hotel door, feeling his phone buzz in his hand. 

"Considering how long you've been, I'd say you liked her" -Daniel 

Lando chuckled, choosing to leave his friend on read, the walk to his hotel room was short, it was only now that he noticed how close her and Daniel's rooms were. Lando continued to ponder until he was met with the number 303. He knocked lightly, knowing his friend was waiting. "So... What happened?" Daniel said, ushering him into the hotel room. Lando was hesitant to say, he was unaware of what happened with them, and didn't want to either say something he's not supposed to, or upset Daniel in anyway. It was a sensitive topic, and although he signed the non-disclosure agreement stating that he could discuss this with Daniel, it all felt a little strange. "We discussed a few things, and she had me sign an NDA. But other than that, not much." Daniel smirked, looking back towards Lando, offering him another drink. "That's good, you were gone for quite some time, so I'm guessing you liked her." Lando nodded, looking away for a brief moment, "Yeah, we uh...made out a little bit." He didn't know how to feel, so many emotions were running through his body, it was making it hard to focus, his hands were shaking slightly, and his eyes unfocused. Lando felt almost intoxicated with her. "Just wait until you're in her mouth." 

Chapter Two