#also couldn't think of anything better so here we go

[hitomisuzuya]

Hiii! hope you're doing well❣️

In some recent fic you mentioned scara having a bit of separation anxiety and now i cant unsee it...

Id like to request a very fluffy and a little angsty fic (some nsfw is ok too ^^) where he's been away from us, and since he feels down we make a surprise visit 🥹

I hope it wasnt too confusing...

scaramouche x fem!reader. fluff. some angst. some smut.

this request🥰 i hope the level of smut is okay.

scaramouche hates being away from you like he hates sweets. he loathes it. he despises it. you are what makes the world look a little less gray to him. it makes him very anxious being away from you.

a selfish part of him feels a little resentful for a moment at how nice you are. you'd gone away to help a friend as moral support for a few days. he understood that. he likes how disgustingly caring you are, but why did you have to always go and be so nice all the time?

if you had just said no, and not been so nice then you could be here with him instead. and he wouldn't be in his incredibly foul mood.

sighing, he picks up his phone and looks at the time restlessly. it was already so late, and you no doubt would be asleep. he decided to try and mess around on his phone in an attempt to take his mind off his anxiety.

these attempts usually are to no avail. anything he did, he couldn't stop thinking about you. how much he misses you and wishes you are here with him. he couldn't even play video games because it just wasn't the same without you. you wouldn't be there next to him praising him and calling him amazing when he did well. or encouraging him when he got pissy about something in the game.

he settled on reading your text messages. it was a little comfort to him because those typed words had come from you, your fingers had done the typing and your thoughts had put the words together. however, reading them just made him miss you more.

scoffing, scaramouuche rests his head back against the wall, tossing his phone on his bed next to him. he cringes for a moment thinking it was going to bounce off the bed and on to the floor.

the absolute last thing he needs is to break his phone. then he wouldn't be able to talk to you at all.

relived to see that it hadn't clattered to the floor, he let the quiet of his room settle around him. maybe he turned on the tv and left it at a low volume he would be able to fall asleep eventually? he supposes the sooner he falls asleep, the sooner he can wake up to a good morning text message from you.

he freezes as his phone vibrates. hastily, he grabs it and almost couldn't believe what he read. it is a text from you that says: 'can you come let me in? it's kind of really cold out here🥺'

"shit!" he hissed, and practically fell getting out of bed. he scrambled downstairs and to the front door. were you really here?! life had better pray it wasn't fucking with him. that this wasn't some dream he was having. did he fall asleep without realizing it?

he unlocked and opened the door. there you were, standing there while snowflakes swirled around you. there was only one way he could be sure that this was real.

he grabs your wrist and pulls you to him. wrapping his arms around you, he kicks the front door closed and is immediately greeted with the relief that he could feel the warmth of your body on his as your body settles against him.

his arms tighten around you. you are actually here.

"i missed you," you greet, putting your arms around him. "i pulled some strings and came back early," you nuzzle your cheek on his chest. you didn't like being away from him, either.

"i knew you couldn't stay away from me," he teases, smirking as he watches the cute, flustered blush color your cheeks. as vulnerable as he feels, he is also more than a little scared you would see him as weak.

"i couldn't," you reply, smiling softly up at him. you always miss him just as much as he misses you. chuckling, put his finger under your chin and tilts your head up.

the moment that your lips met his, he knows he doesn't have to be scared of you seeing him this vulnerable. you understood him. you are patient with him. you are entirely accepting of his many quirks. you miss him. nobody ever misses him.

but he could feel it in your kiss. in the way you sweetly open your mouth for his tongue. in the way you shiver in his arms as he runs the tip of his tongue on the sensitive roof of your mouth. in the way you moan softly as he deepens the kiss, his hands wandering on your body.

scaramouche fully intended to pin you against the wall of the hallway and start taking off your clothes while he kissed you, but your hand dips down between his legs to cup his erection outside his jeans. he groans as you palm and rub his cock, feeling his back rest against the wall.

it didn't help that some of your text messages to him had been very dirty. scaramouche knew he could just jack off, but that wouldn't cut it. it would only make his cock ache more, and he would miss you even more. he needed you. so so badly.

it's been really, really rough for him.

"let me take care of you now, scara," you said, your lips hovering over his as you unbutton his jeans. he shudders as you free his cock from his confines, and wrap your hand around it. you pump your hand up and down on his pulsing cock, rnassaging your thumb on his leaking cockhead.

a loud moan sounds from scaramouche as he rests his head against the wall, rutting into your hand. it felt so fucking good on his cock that it was overwhelming for him. you brush your knuckles over the vein that bulges to the surface.

"oh fuck, i missed you. i missed you so fucking much," his moan is tinged with a soft whimper, his cock throbbing in your hand. putting a hand on the back of your head, he kisses you. tangling his fingers in your hair, his teeth bit at your lips, his tongue curling and gliding against yours.

his lips linger on yours for as long as they could before scaramouche suddenly tore his mouth from yours. he couldn't stop the string of loud moans that tore from his throat as you increase the pace of your hand.

"oh fuck," he hisses, rutting more urgently into your hand. you gently twist your hand, squeezing his cock in anyway that made him see stars. he shakes as cum spurts into your hand.

"i'm really glad you are back," he moans shakily, losing himself in the pure bliss of your hand stroking his cock through his orgasm.

"like i said, darling," you press a soft kiss on his lips, "i just couldn't stay away."

[your-turn-to-role]

if it helps at all (reblogging directly from you starry bc can't tag you) - as someone who gave up on it pretty early on bc it wasn't really my thing, i have been wanting to look up more positive opinions on the campaign recently, i've just been really busy so haven't had time to respond to anything but what's on my dash, which yeah is a lot of critique, and with what i do know there's definitely stuff i'm not a fan of, sure

but also like. the critical role cast aren't some corporation just trying to squeeze money out of this show, like a lot of the things c3 has been compared to are

while they could have, in retrospect, probably made better decisions to really pull off whatever they were going for, they're also playing the game that makes them happiest (and they're putting it all online for free it's not like they're obligated to follow the fans' ideas of what should happen)

if you enjoyed it all start to finish, you're honestly a perspective i'd like to see round tumblr more! you're seeing what the cast see in this narrative and that definitely doesn't make you wrong or stupid. if there was no value in this story whatsoever they would have stopped a long time ago

as megs said, being able to articulate an opinion well doesn't make it objective truth. god knows i can pull out a million references for any of my essays but when i write them it's always gonna be me shining light on a specific angle of the narrative that appeals to me. other people can choose to pick a different angle and still be just as right, regardless of whether or not it's something i personally would enjoy looking at. and that's even more true in a fandom like this, where every narrative is in fact 7+ narratives that we hope will weave together well, and there's a million things to focus on that haven't all been handpicked by the creators for the sake of telling a singular story

if you're seeing an angle a lot of people aren't focusing on, hell, celebrate that! i love hearing about the moments that genuinely appealed to people, it just feels like there's been fewer and fewer of them focused on bells hells the longer the story went on. but i've also been in fandoms where i truly genuinely enjoyed the ending of a particular story and thought it was well told the whole way through, and then it turned out 99% of the fandom thought the ending was rushed and it ruined the whole thing, so i definitely get how that can feel a bit crushing and like you're fighting a tidal wave

(and hell to your tags about being worried c3 will become an automatic skip in the fandom - i also really love a lot of the c1 episodes before ep24 and think there's some great character stuff there that a lot of people skip bc orion or because the briarwood arc is where it gets 'good', so im with you on that one. it sucks but it doesn't mean i can't talk about, say, trial of the take, there still are and always will be people in the fandom who've watched it, and there will be even more people who didn't watch it but are glad to find out what's in it because they couldn't find out themselves)

so yeah all to say if you ever wanted to write about c3 stuff you loved, im on your side here

if you're just sad that the fandom reaction to stuff you liked has been overwhelmingly negative, that's also fine, and doesn't make you any less a valued member of this fandom

idk I kind of feel like I'm an idiot bc I actually enjoyed cr 3 from the jump to the end but like the blogs who follow bc I feel they are definitely more articulate and insightful than me are like "the whole thing was meaningless and pointless! matt fumbled everything!" so maybe I'm wrong to have liked it all? I'm not really sure where I'm going with this sorry

I think one thing to keep in mind is that many (and in fact, I would argue, most!) people who are critiquing the story and construction have also generally enjoyed the campaign as a whole! Certainly I don't know anyone who stuck it out through the end who did not overall enjoy watching it, for various reasons; I know there are people who hate watch, which I think is an absurd and honestly really stupid waste of time, but from my experience they are normally making snide and vicious tweet-length posts rather than long considerations of what isn't working for them.

There are also a lot of levels of critique—I've greatly enjoyed a lot of moments in isolation that I simultaneously felt weakened, contradicted, or even actively undermined the structure of the story as a whole, but those moments were still really fun and interesting beats. The Arch Heart's cameo comes to mind, as does, in hindsight, some of the construction of the post-Solstice split, but there are plenty of others of higher or lower impact on the story. In the finale the Raise Dead falls into this place very strongly, so I'm going to talk about it at length for a moment, since it was an absolutely stellar moment for me personally and as such I do think it serves as very illustrative of an example where I simultaneously fucking love a moment while finding it worth significant critique. I think it also touches on the critiques you're referring to, which I would summarize overall as the idea that many of the outcomes feel influenced negatively by pulled punches on the part of the DM rather than a flaw of one player or another. (Also, I want to talk about it cuz I love it. :3) This got very long but I think that to your point, it is worth examining in this amount of depth.

First, the good: it is an absolutely phenomenal culminating point of an arc that was only really concluded in summary; I have, as noted earlier this week, written at length about how Essek is never situated as a protagonist, which is functionally fine and even good. He ends up tied very strongly to Caleb's arc, and moves in the narrative in such a way after 2x97 that allows Caleb to reach a concluding note, and strengthens that narrative. So we only really hear about the outcome of Essek's choices, his inevitable leave from the Dynasty, in the summarization of the campaign 2 epilogue. This is not inherently a problem, because he is not a protagonist. But this moment does functionally create a material representation of that denouement, which does strengthen his arc in its own right.

This moment also, hilariously, bears out my argument from this post. That the resurrection should only work with this intervention, particularly while the Nein are involved, does follow through on the Nein's general positioning within Exandria. Essek's leave happening without a fight (and, frankly, with only one attempted Counterspell) both makes for a very well-paced moment and also maintains the overall sense of story that the Nein impart when they are on screen; I'm thinking again of how their Ruidus episodes feel, much like their campaign and their post-campaign one-shots, like an intrigue action thriller series, and this fits well in that framing.

So overall, it is a fantastic moment... for the Nein. The Nein are not the protagonists of this story. They exist in the world, and are such active agents that they do continue to develop and exert motion on the narrative into this campaign, and frankly, I think this would have been fine if the party given ownership of this story and campaign did not abdicate their responsibility for it with unfortunate frequency. They do not exert a strong control over their story, which is at odds with the fact that the Nein do, and are present and also involved by the nature of their ending. It completely overshadows Ashton's heroic moment, in that the culminating action beat of this sequence is Essek getting away, which kind of takes the wind out of the sails of the Hells' involvement in the gods' outcome. It doesn't negate it, certainly, but it does refocus the story from them to, for some reason, Essek. So in this sense, it occurs at the expense of the Hells.

I find that while the handwaving of using dunamantic intervention to push Raise Dead beyond its limits (if indeed the reason it didn't originally work was because Ashton's brain was essentially gone) fits fine and even well within the framework of the Nein's story, and an NPC being able to do so without a roll is fine, since NPCs are vehicles the DM uses to guide the story, this is a significant divergence from the overall mechanics of the world at large; even the Nein had to do a full ritual for the resurrection of their tiefling. Matt put those mechanics in place specifically to create narrative meaning behind resurrections, which can feel very unmotivated and like a get out of jail free card in D&D, and while it's been noted that this would've really strained the runtime beyond its existing length, prioritizing it at the cost of, for instance, more truncated end notes for the Nein and Vox would've bolstered the Hells' presence in an ending to their own story that even many of their fans felt was ultimately lacking.

Giving the resurrection full weight would've also given Ashton's sacrifice and the Hells' involvement more narrative weight; the reason the other parties are involved at all is because the Hells were truly running on fumes by that point, but any lack of involvement this created could've been alleviated by having them directly involved through pre-established ritual elements that are not contingent on them having any mechanical offerings. So this moment sits within the context of critique that I agree with: that it felt like a pulled punch that ultimately also served to decenter the Hells within their own narrative, when it could've been used with more deliberate narrative force.

At the same time, I fucking love it, and watched it four times in a row yesterday, because it is so good—and it is, as I described, narratively and thematically coherent in one sense! And I think that is one issue of the campaign: many, many great moments are excellent and coherent in a certain framework but are weaker to varying degrees when considered as one piece of a larger whole. There are so many frameworks at play in this narrative, and not enough direct intervention to manage those as frameworks rather than as a single story, but at the same time, I think those frameworks are far more apparent if you're really looking for them, and that's much more difficult, if not impossible, when you're in the midst of them and telling the story.

I also don't think this means one cannot critique this; in fact, I would say this is more an issue of being a serialized narrative than an improvised one, which is often how critique of it has been pushed back against within the fandom. I was thinking about this as I'm currently in a course on, quite literally, how to critique comics, and we discussed this week how Marjane Satrapi said in an interview after making the film adaptation of Persepolis, which was first a serialized comic, that she ended up preferring the film, and I speculated that was because with a film, one has the ability to make a more cohesive narrative purely by virtue of the fact that with a serialized form, you cannot go back and make retroactive edits when no developments come to light. This is something that long-running comics must constantly navigate (as do many long TV shows), and in extreme circumstances such as decades-old comic franchises, ends up resulting in infinite timelines and hand-waving, which becomes so ridiculous that at this point it's a meme. In that scenario, though, it is not presented as a non-contradictory story, let alone a cohesive one.

Many of the critiques of campaign 3 are operating within the idea that this is presented as one overarching narrative. (And honestly, comics and other narratives that don't utilize that presentation are also still critiqued on that merit by people who greatly enjoy the texts they're critiquing anyway.) Within that context, I feel that the framing of the Raise Dead, as well as much of what would be my critique of the other pieces I referenced (the Arch Heart's cameo and some of the party-split sections) if I was to do the same kind of rundown of those, actively undermine this presentation by introducing and forefronting too many conflicting frameworks that are not interwoven well enough to create a single, cohesive overarching narrative.

This is a very long-winded way to illustrate my point, which is that I would really encourage reading critique not as a lack of enjoyment of the campaign, let alone a suggestion that no one should've enjoyed it (and if you did, then you're not smart enough to know better), but as a way to engage with the text(s) as presented within one framework or another. I think this is sometimes obscured in online fandom spaces, where we're not engaging in critique in as formal of a sense as one would in, say, an academic setting, where the norms generally dictate the framework one is using is explicitly stated if not fully delineated within the critique, but it is, more often than not, still implicitly present within the critique.

And as a final note, I would also really urge everyone reading others' opinions on something they enjoy to resist the urge to elide their own opinions from the conversation, even if you don't feel as articulate or as well-versed in critique. Critique is a trained skill, so it is certainly something one can pick up if they are inclined, and at the same time, someone doing it does not mean they are inherently right—and in fact, with all argumentative writing, it is up to the reader to consider the argument and decide whether or not they agree with it. (You can decide that you disagree with me about the Raise Dead! Just because I wrote a thousand words on it does not inherently make my interpretation truth; it's just an interpretation. You get to say whether or not you think my interpretation makes sense based on the evidence presented.) Even here I'm using the framework of some critique that others have made, but I don't delineate in full myself. In doing do I'm not presuming that you agree, but I am presuming that you've read it and know what I'm referring to. Strictly speaking it's also not even saying that I take that critique as true; it's saying that I feel the conclusions drawn are applicable as a basis for my argument. If you wanted, you could even say that you feel that my argument is irrelevant to you because you don't feel those critiques are true! But you ultimately do have to be the one to decide any of that, which does involve a balance between a confidence in the formation of your own opinions on the text and an openness to entertaining others'.

[tchtokyo]

Gaz angst bc I feel like it (part 1???)

Kyle realized that he was the background character, the one that everyone forgot until he offered his services. It's even more crushing knowing that he was in a relationship with the others 3 members of the 141.

He realized that after a new sergeant became a permanent stay. He was everything Kyle was but better. He matched energy with Soap, handled Ghost with care and Price saw him as an equal. Those were Kyle's jobs, but when someone better comes along, he gave up. He started to hide, spend time by himself, wishing that one of them would come and ask him if everything was okay. But when Kyle wasn't offering himself to them, he was forgotten.

The true breaking point was when Alex called for their weekly talk and Kyle just broke down.

"I can't do this anymore." Between sobs, hiccups and lack of breathing, Kyle was able to say what happened, how he felt. Alex understood, tried to calm him down through the phone and suggested a solution.

"Come here, I will tell Farah, she will request you temporarily."

Alex was furious but also not surprised, because he knew Kyle was going to have a hard time fitting with 3 men that already each other on different levels. Kyle was a new addition, Kyle was a regular soldier that happened to be good what he did, Kyle didn't have anything besides his skills to standout and bond with this men, men that were excellent at what they did, men that knew intimate parts of each other from the very beginning, men that bond over past happenings. Kyle didn't had those, his only set back his fragile mind and his even fragile heart. Alex warned Kyle that he was entering a new world that did not connected with him, but Kyle accepted the challenge. And this was the result, a Kyle, someone who did his best to hide his fragile mind and heart, broken by love, because he still loved them, Kyle said he cannot not love them, he just needed to find himself.

"Farah requested you for her forces." Price said, handing him a paper for him to sign that he conceded to go "says the time is indefinite, she will send u back when she deems fit."

Maybe Kyle should had waited a minute, pretending to ponder or to ask time to think, but no, he grabbed the pen, said nothing and sign.

"Are u sure? U gonna be apart from us"

"I'm sure." Again Kyle should had seen less eager, but he couldn't.

"O-okay"

"Can i go? I have to pack" Kyle asked, again, hurriedly, really not caring anymore, now knowing that he was going to be with the two people that always put him back together.

Price blinked once and twice, stunned confused and hurt, but he stuttered out a yes and watched the sergeant leave "we will miss you." He said lastly, as Kyle was at the door.

The last words he received from his sergeant, the person he loved, hurt him in ways he couldn't think of.

"I don't think so Captain." And Kyle left. Closing the door in that soft way he always does.

Price stood up, ready to follow Kyle and ask what did he meant? What they done to evoke something like that? What can he do to fix it? But then his phone rang, and he was about to ignore it when he saw Farahs name light up.

"Yes?"

"Did Kyle sign the paper?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna send it later, I just-"

"You had your chance John, send the papers now please."

"What do you-"

"Let him come here, send the papers now, Captain."

[pe4nutastic]

Happiness

After two months away (due to at least two separate issues that required A LOT of my attention), I've felt the spark of inspiration to write a little drabble upon returning here. In the interest of keeping things short, this drabble features Giegue and a little in-between from when he got the mission he tries to complete in Mother 1, but before he actually starts it.

Happiness.  Noun.  The state of being happy.

The experience of having all the empty spaces filled with something warm, bright, and positive.

A nebulous thing that seems small yet fills every darkened corner, nook, and cranny to ever exist, even ones that had until that point, escaped the notice of its physically-embedded origin.

Something that many life-forms spend eons chasing with feverish ambition, desperation clawing away at any misgivings or loss of will that occurs in-between, and in turn propels them forward towards that ever-distant effervescent light.

A lofty notion.  A foolish endeavor.  A lie perpetuated by the chaotic and disorganized nature of life-forms not ingrained with purposes that members of the Psion species are, long before energy is expended to create one.

And as a Psion, he has direction and purpose.  He is useful.  And thus, he is fulfilled.  The emptiness which had once perpetuated his being, decades prior at the termination of the experiment, has been completely wiped away and replaced by his conviction and dedication to fulfilling his predetermined purpose in Psion society.

As such, surely that must mean that he is happy.

In his own way, as a Psion and thus lacking much in the way of emotions, he must have achieved true happiness.

Or at least… that is what he would like to believe, as he rather mechanically walks down the characteristically smooth, monochromatic, and deceptively featureless hallways of Psion infrastructure, in the moments following his latest issued mission.  

The one which had always been ‘in the cards’ since that human man… George… had escaped with classified knowledge.  The day when retribution would finally be dispensed.  The moment when his own… –the mistakes of the past would finally be rectified.  The final trial through which he would undergo to finally ascertain that he is now capable and clear-minded–emptied of all erroneous attachment and so-called ‘feelings’–enough to be fully trusted with anything and everything as a high-ranking military operative.  To prove to himself that he is okay and never needed things like ‘kindness’, ‘caring’, ‘love’, or ‘emotional support’ (and by extension others) to begin with.

Those are the telltale markings of someone that is weak and dependent.

And he is certainly not weak or dependent.  Every single bit of blood, sweat, and ‘tears’ sacrificed to becoming what he has always been meant to be, is proof of that.  All his hard work over the course of decades has been to prepare himself for the opportunity in which he could, at long last, overturn what had happened before.  Correct the hideous mistakes of the past and in doing so, put it behind him entirely.  He had always known about this mission and what it would mean when the time came to properly enact it.  It had never been a matter of ‘if’, but ‘when’ and yet… all the same, the very moment he had been given his orders during that quick meeting with the Psion superiors… something in him had frozen over completely.

A cold numbness had filled the shell of his exoskeleton, cleaving his data (a constitution of ‘self’) clean from its forced physicality and in its place attached cheap strings to maneuver his body instead as he continues down the seemingly endless hallway, one mechanical and perfectly-executed step at a time.  Like clockwork, he had hesitated none in accepting the mission before turning around and leaving the minimalistic yet oddly spacious meeting room–as monochromatic and featureless as the hallways of this building–but it was all a practiced lie.  A reaction sequence so ingrained that it came automatically, even as his focus fell and an odd static-riddled silence assaulted his auditory senses in the place of whatever else (if anything at all) the Psion superiors may have said.

And as he continues to walk, inching closer and closer towards the teleportation pad serving as the exit out the otherwise impenetrable building--battered and severed from completely participating in reality by that piercing static--that sense of cold numbness and vague disorientation erodes away at his convictions like an especially unsightly disease or poison. Eroding away, bit-by-bit, until it brings him to a screeeeeeching halt just before the teleportation pad, a neat and concise circle etched in the gentle glow of white light overtop the smooth grey floors.  Stuck in place and unable to will himself, for the time-being, to do more than simply stare down the teleportation circle etched into the floor as it truly hits him, posture tensing even further in its hunched (unsightly) state and pale hands curling into especially tight fists at his sides, rat-like tail swishing uneasily overtop the cold floor in as a barely constrained something dangerously bubbles beneath the fragile surface in all its inscrutable and toxic glory.

He had always known this day would come.

He had always known that he would be the one to exterminate humanity and siphon the Earth’s remaining resources afterwards.

If he is to believe in such a frivolous thing… he would certainly regard it as his ‘destiny’.  

But it had always seemed distant.

A thing that he would not need to concern himself with for a very long time.  Something that he could neatly isolate from the rest of his mind and instead focus on literally anything else.  Something he could bury with the work he had thrown himself into once he had accepted that he had been abandoned by the ones which had introduced the irrational concept of ‘love’ to him; unable to sustain ‘love’ when his inborn defects had become especially prominent to them.  This mission had been a function of the distant future, but before he could even grasp the passage of time, it had elapsed; decades blurring into a single note, from then (a child) to now (in the adult phase of life, his second and final form).  And now it’s here.

The Earth.  Humans.  George.

Maria.

A sharp and almost indiscernible pang, tail whipping off to the side where it then remains frozen, no longer daring even a tiny 'step' out of place; something he can neither grasp or comprehend in full beyond its physical impact.

After this mission, there would be no more of that.  A complete closure on that chapter of his life to its fullest.

No more Earth.

No more humans.

No more trouble over the… selfish… actions of that self-absorbed human man.

Nothing of hers left any longer.  Any reminders of what was or could have been will effectively be extinguished in full.

No more.  Everything will be gone; wiped off the plane of existence and repurposed for a greater cause.  Never to return or be experienced again by anyone else.

Complete finality.  His life had been defined by this and now he would be properly disentangled from it all and finally be ‘normal’.

There is no reason not to want this.  To even hesitate at all.  All he had ever wanted was to be normal.  And even then, there are plenty of logical reasons why humanity cannot simply be left to their own devices.

If left to their own devices, humanity would only ever waste the stolen knowledge before eventually going on to destroy themselves, courtesy of their collectively self-serving, overly audacious and determined, and short-sighted nature.  If permitted to evolve to a sufficient degree in psionic prowess and technology, they could cause quite a bit of harm to the universe at large and in turn, effectively take others down with them.  They are doomed as a species either way.  And so, exterminating them before any of this has a chance to happen, will not only effectively spare them from the ‘suffering’ that otherwise permitting for them to continue existing would entail, but it will also put them and their planet to better use this way.

As such, if anything… exterminating them is a ‘kindness’ in a way.  A kindness to humanity itself and the universe at large.

A nod to himself, almost too enthused and desperate in its motion, sharp teeth grinding from behind the flat line of his mouth ever-so-slightly while the tight fists balled at his sides clench and unclench at regular intervals.

Yes.  It’s better this way.  Of course.  There is no reason to do anything but simply step into the teleportation circle because this is the best possible outcome to this entire mess.  The only way this particular thread in his story could ever end.  But, something stalls him nonetheless.  Keeps him frozen to the spot.  A patchworked and mismatched jigsaw of thoughts swirling from beneath his more coherent thoughts, a dangerous and unexpectedly influential undercurrent that he cannot entirely parse, disconnected as he is in his current state.  Cannot entirely parse… save for perhaps one thing that comes through and loops back to his original train of thought, with an exceptionally ugly spin to it. A twist from being a support to his conviction, pride, and duty as Psion to sowing the embittered seeds of something he had not experienced in a very long time.

His entire life post-experiment… everything he has done up to this point… everything he has done throughout his life to become the seemingly infallible and invincible military commander that he is now… does it make him happy?

A sharp pang of doubt, tipped in something foreboding and dark.

Does being a cog in Psion society make him feel truly fulfilled?  Or is it more akin to a distraction from the emptiness he had initially experienced many decades prior?

Is it enough to simply fulfill his duty to the Psion species, forever more?

Is he happy?  Could Giegue himself say that he is happy?

……….

………………………………………

Inconsequential and irrelevant.  He is a Psion.

That pang is promptly erased, forced to the back of his mind alongside anything else afflicting him, just as he had done so many times prior; the well-practiced strategy through which he had overcome his flawed beginnings. A chaotic and jumbled thing forcibly (by the ironclad strength of his renewed spurt of willpower) supplanted by pride, duty, conviction, and ultimately loyalty to the Psion species above all else.  There is no longer any room for anything but that because he is a Psion.  And ‘happiness’ is not an inherent function of Psions nor is it built into their predetermined purposes.

He forces himself to move a step forward, his mind clearing up and more properly reconnecting to concrete reality as he does so.  One foot in the teleportation circle.

He is a Psion.  And he was literally ‘born’ to serve.  To support the overarching ideologies and goals of the Psion superiors by fulfilling his function as a military cog.

Another foot is promptly set down within the teleportation circle and the rest of his body with it, posture untensing and his fists uncurling into idle positions by their respective sides.

Nothing more and nothing less.  He does not need anything else.  He does not want anything else.  He is not meant for anything else.

And that is okay. He is fine. There is nothing left inside to say otherwise because he is a Psion and Psions do not have things like 'feelings' or 'sentimentality'; only their predetermined role through which to guide themselves.

The teleportation pad’s gentle luminosity increases to a more blinding display of white, Giegue’s body slowly beginning to fade from behind its intensity.

He is a Psion.  And as a Psion, he will fulfill his mission no matter what.

He disappears in a flash, little star-like twinkles of white light hanging overlong from within the teleportation circle before too fading away into nothingness.

[unnonexistence]

jesus christ am i ever having a stressful week

[hunsa-jars]

Dread be dreading

[unproduciblesmackdown]

speaking of bsol through speaking of xmas xtrav that like i'm so augh god hand over heart falling over (just like the bloodsong b/c it's the like conclusion of being Overwhelmed By Artistic Effect that then in the ideal version you may as well die) at the thought of the finale where you have the main plot conclude as that Story w/those Themes like ah but even then, the influence, the other the musicians now, that this whole time like yeah you have to do it even if you just keep building or die or were thwarted even prior to that b/c you didn't know you wouldn't be....but that then just like in the opening song Outlaw or sort of distillation of the theme abt being someone making art Last On Land or that at other points other characters have emerged as not really their characters not really a greek chorus but elements of the story helping to Tell It, here's Everyone again for the friendship song altogether & each with an instrument & like not even able to see it but pics & imagining & the enthusiasm & the Thematic Resonance like this is when you are pursuing these pursuits together like _o__ (splayed out facedown emoji) aaauuughhh ;;mm;; bsol finale with everyone showing up playing & singing & dancing the song celebratory finale it's all the Theme when the full cast of Characters had only ever all been together for the one standoff scene at the end & yet obviously We've known them all & everyone is outlaws which is a song like i'm already going sicko mode & this is just the intro, so yknow, The Conclusion, good lord find an iconis musical finale without that place for the celebratory outpouring of enthusiasm right amidst other feelings & situations but Good Lord Here's This in a story that'll always have been all about people's depths & heights & widths & breadths & variations & tumult & all the dimensions, people will have Brought It all over the place & it's like yes leap around together playing & singing this song together which isn't The Story but is such an extension of it b/c bsol has its show within the show quality still infused all in it & if this flurry of Actors Celebrating Outpouring We Put On This Show but still within the show you are seeing as an audience in this venue wouldn't have been part of the original plan with a whole [outside the show within the show] plotline like. embraces bsol holding it so hard my becherished

[cptkitten]

Blue October - Hate Me

[writersrkive]

Don't shut up | Spencer Reid

summary: Spencer is used to people who constantly tell him to shut up, but somehow, he feels even more embarrassed and sad when he thinks you want him to stop talking after looking at the tired and confused expression you have when he's trying to help you. The thing is you hate when people do that to Spence and would spend years just listening to his voice.

genre: fluff

pairing: Early seasons!Spencer Reid x bau!reader

warnings: mentions of the team shutting Spencer down. Derek and JJ being a little mean to him when he's spreading information. Spencer being a cutie potato. Mention of a stomachache and its causes (mention of miscarriage as one of the causes, but nothing happens). Reader not being a native english speaker, but just a slight mention.

a/n: Dr. Spencer Reid is a genius.... I am not. I literally had to search for information and copy-paste here in some parts, so if there's misinformation, it's Google's fault, lmao. I wrote this yesterday when I was about to sleep, so I'm sorry if something is wrong with the writing (even though I already edited). English isn't my first language, please be kind <3.

Masterlist Spanish ver. On Wattpad (coming soon)

Spencer and you arrived early that morning. He hated being late for anything. He couldn't afford to be late if he wanted to stick as closely as possible to his assigned schedule, especially because he took public transport. On the other hand, you had no choice but to arrive early when you woke up at four in the morning thanks to a severe stomachache and couldn't go back to sleep.

That's how your conversation started. Your genius workmate was surprised to see you, first hour in the morning, when he walked in the office, even before Hotch arrived.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. You couldn't deny that the expression was too cute for your own good.

“Yeah… I think so. It's not even the stomach ache that bothers me, it's the fact that even if I was sleepy, I couldn't fall asleep again. You know? That happens to me a lot. Once I open my eyes, I can't go back to sleep. I've also been feeling mildly unwell for a week, but even though the medication is controlling it, it doesn't stop."

At this point, he already set up his desk, leaving his briefcase on his own chair to walk over to you and sit at your desk, next to the chair you were sitting in, to listen to you attentively and answer.

“The brain works with different phases of sleep: light sleep, deep sleep, and REM sleep. The cycle usually restarts every eighty to one hundred minutes, and we typically have four to six cycles each night.”

Hotch came out of the elevator and walked upstairs after both of you waved at him, and he let out a soft “good morning”. Emily arrived a few seconds later. You greeted her too, as she took place on her desk, but that didn't stop your conversation.

“So, it's completely normal that we wake up in the middle of the night because of that process, but if it is frequent, for three months or more, it may be a symptom of insomnia.”

Your view went to the floor, and your head nodded in a semi-unconscious movement, because although you knew that your sleep cycle was ruined by work, you had not come to that conclusion, maybe that was it.

“Now, the stomachache…” He said, taking one pen from your pencil case to concentrate. He usually never took other people's belongings or shared his own stuff because of the germs, but somehow, after a few years of working together, he had come to have a good amount of closeness with you to borrow some stuff from you. Months ago, it hadn't gone unnoticed by Penelope that Spencer had a box full of pens reserved for you, in case you needed one, nor the fact that he denied JJ one of them once, when the blonde girl needed something to write with quickly.

“The causes can be the most common, such as gas, indigestion, a muscle injury, or stress. Although there are also more serious causes: gastrointestinal infections, inflammatory bowel disease, irritable bowel syndrome, ectopic pregnancy or miscarriage..."

“Wow, what are you trying to do? Scare her?” Derek's voice invaded the place and Emily smirked.

“What? No, I'm just saying the possibilities…” Spencer whispered, looking down, a little worried that he might actually scared the person he cared more, besides his mom.

“It's okay.” You answer loud enough so your friends and coworkers would hear. “Thanks, Spence. I already went to the doctor, so I have none of… those.” I gave him a little smile. “But about stress…” The sentence hung in the air, so Spencer looked up and continued speaking automatically.

“Stress can cause stomach pain because the autonomic nervous system of the gastrointestinal tract reacts to the same hormones and neurotransmitters as the brain. This is because the digestive system is connected to the nervous system, and the enteric nervous system, which is located in the digestive system, is able to send and receive impulses and assimilate emotions.” He started to talk faster.

Your focus on the genius boy and his explanation was sincere, but maybe it was the fact that you didn't rest well, plus the fact that he was speaking too fast and not vocalizing all the syllables, that for a moment your brain didn't process what he was saying.

It was weird. At some point you didn't even hear words, just sounds from his mouth. That didn't happen to you for a really long time because you already had experience with the native speakers, even if english wasn't your mother language. The exhausting feeling of not being able to sleep well was definitely to blame.

While your brain was coming to that conclusion, Spencer could only see your furrowed brow, tense jaw, tilted head, and dissociated look.

“You want me to shut up, right?” That whisper was enough for you to come back to reality. His cheeks were red and his eyes looked a little sad, not to mention the way his mouth formed a line like whenever he felt awkward.

“Yes, please!” Derek answered instead, leaning back in his seat and looking up with his arms outstretched as if he'd had to deal with seven unsubs in the five minutes he'd been there, listening from his place to the information Spencer was giving you.

“Little genius boy got excited… again.” JJ said, looking at some documents in front of her, opening her eyes wide in an expression of tiredness and disinterest.

The young profiler stood up from your desk thinking about returning to his chair, a little embarrassed, but you took his pinky with yours —that way you wouldn't make him feel uncomfortable in case he wasn't in the mood for physical touch, something he refused unless it was you. Again, another special treat—. “Wait. It wasn't like that.” Hazel eyes looked at you intently, still with a bit of doubt. “I'm sorry Spencer. Yes, you got excited, but that's not something bad.”

“It isn't?” He questioned.

“No, but you started to speak fast, and the fact that there are some words that I have a hard time processing in English and I couldn't quite catch what you were saying because I didn't sleep enough, well, that distracted me. Would you mind repeating it again, slower?” This time, you were the one with warm cheeks.

“Oh. Are you sure you don't want me to shut up?” The boy was actually intrigued and a little surprised.

“Why would I want that?” The fact that your teammates often shut Spencer up when he tried to share extra information, or information that he had been asked about, was something you had noticed from the moment you started working with the team. You thought that was rude. You understood that sometimes Spencer got excited, gave information that was perhaps better saved for another time since you were investigating a case, or people could be tired and want silence, but the team either silenced him or made fun of him most of the time. Plus, there weren't many other things you liked more than hearing his voice.

The sweet, soothing tone of his words helped you sleep on the jet after a long case, or made you want to hear more about whatever he was talking about. Feeling like he was sharing with you, a mere mortal, some of the vast knowledge he had was nice.

“I'm always happy to hear whatever you need to say, even if it's about something I don't understand. And, right now, you are helping me a lot, so, please, don't shut up.” The crimson color returned to the tall boy's face, this time not because he was uncomfortable. Your kind and somewhat complicit smile made his heart race, like almost every time he was with you. Spencer knew that no matter how tired he got, he would never shut up if you wanted him to keep talking.

[judicent]

What the ever-loving fuck am I ever saying to anyone?

Because whatever the hell it is, I sure as shit don't mean it.

[nicholasgoodgirl]

that was mean- nicholas

summary: nicholas was having a bad week and gave you the silent treatment.

warning: argument, crying, happy ending

a/n: i couldn't stop thinking abt this no joke. so ofc i had to write it out

from late at night till he left early this morning for work nicholas has been either quiet rude or both.

we haven't spoken to eachother or not even silents acts of love. nothing.

he cut his alarm clock off and i tried to give him a hug before he got out the bed and he pushed me off of him "not right now" he grumbled and got out of bed

when he left for work i said 'bye' to maybe break the silence shared between us, but i got no response. it was starting to get lonely. i missed my bestfriend that was also my boyfriend

i had nobody to mess with or someone to talk to about my day.

to stop these lingering thoughts i go back to bed to maybe get my mind off of things.

--

i wake up around 8 am which was later than the time i usally woke up around, but today was sorta a lazy day.

it was gloomy not much sun was shining, it rained a little here and there. it was more of a slow day for me so the extra rest was very much needed

i text my boyfriend forgetting about the whole silent treatment ordeal.

me: how's your day going so far?? :)

and to no suprise i was left on delivered and soon left on seen. i messaged him periodically throught the day; hoping that maybe he would reply

it was almost time for dinner which normally nicholas cooks cause he's just better at it, but i didn't know when he was coming home or if he would even do it, so i look up some quick easy recipes and nothing struck my fancy but the pizza recipe. cause how hard could it really be?

i put a packet of yeast into my bowl along with some flour, water, oil, and salt. i let that sit for 30 minutes then im back to cooking again.

spreading flour onto the counter and placing the dough onto it; kneading it into a circle shape. this was harder than i thought

i look around for the marinara sauce and i put it into a different bowl and add a few light seasonings.

i paste that onto the dough, then i sprinkle some alot of cheese onto the pizza and my additional toppings bell peppers, spinach, and mushrooms.

i was so proud of myself especially sense i wasnt the cook, out of me and nicholas. i was really excited for him to try what i made but again i highly doubt he would even eat the food.

i put the pizza away into the oven completely forgetting to set a timer and put on a movie while i wait.

--

a smell of burning was the first thing that woke me up. "shit shit shit" i repeat totally freaking out remembering i left the pizza in the oven.

i get a rag and ineffectivley wave smoke out the air. when i open the oven it smelled horrible. i was coughing from all the smoke that had entered my lungs.

i take the burning pizza out and throw it into the sink, and hose it down with the water.

thats when i hear the front door open and mentally face palm. "what's that smell?" he asks "i kinda burnt a pizza that i tried to make"

"of course you did" he mutters sounding unimpressed. "and the fuck you mean 'kinda' you obviously did burn a damn pizza" he gestures to the chunk of charcoal burnt pizza

"it's not like i did it on purposes or something if thats what you think" my tone sounding a bit confronting.

"It's smells fucking horrible so open a damn window first off" he took a step closer raising his voice.

"you don't pay for shit so i don't understand why you almost had this place in flames secondly. then you also wanna blow up my phone while im working for crying out loud what do you want from me!" he yelled directly in my face

and im sure he knows by now i hate being yelled at. it's something my parents did and overall doesn't solve anything

i just take it, i didn't wanna fight so i go over to the nearest window and crack it open so the smoke clears.

my eyes watered from all the harsh words he could dish out but not the equal amount of attention "well.. you are- when i was.. ugh s'not my fault" i couldn't get a full sentence out. i felt so belittled in this moment

"im going to bed i don't have time for your stupid ass shit" those words hurt more than he thinks.

he had the most patience for me, always making time for us and now he doesnt.

"that's so mean.. you're being so mean" i wipe some tears that had fallen. i turned away from him silently crying.

the peices of my hair stuck to my tear-soaked cheeks. "wait- I'm sorry please don't cry" nicholas' voice was filled with regret.

i lazily push him away from me but he doesn't budge. his arms wrap around me bringing me into his familiar embrace. "I'm so sorry for being an asshole. I've been having a long shitty week and i know thats not an excuse so you don't even have to forgive me."

"you're everything to me. i swear i didn't mean it." he adds

the unforgettable cruel words he'd said to me earlier shoved ontop of his sweet loving words made me cry more.

i let him hold my trembling body as sobs tore through my chest, each inhale was ragged and uneven.

my hands clutched the material of his shirt "im so sorry sweetheart i never wanna make you cry" he explains in such a low voice, giving my hair strokes in attempt to calm me.

my face still burried into his neck tears now starting to dry away, and my breathing starting to even out. he carried me over to the couch and placed me in his lap

i was drained from all the crying, the tense feeling in my body beginning to melt away when i really started to feel nicholas' touch. my eyes drooped again this time staying shut for longer.

i was too tired to resist the sleep that had tooken over. and being cradled in his arms didn't help.

"I'll order pizza for the both of us alright?" he took me off of his lap and placed me on our couch. then lays one of our throw blankets ontop of me. "can we talk in the mornin'?" is the last thing i remember asking before dozing off.

a/n: can yall tell idk how to make pizza

[kingkat12]

art on art (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, oral sex (female receiving), drug mentions, nasty fluff tihi

summary: why hasn't Eric reached out after leaving rehab yet, and how long does it take for marker ink to fade?

word count: 5,272 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is part 3 of my Eric Draven fanfic draw you! thanks again for the overwhelming support of this series, and enjoy!!<333

Some broken part of me never expected to see Eric again. I knew that the previous men in my life would leave the second they got what they wanted out of me, so why should I hope for this one to be different?

I had been out of rehab for exactly two weeks now, and I knew this meant that Eric was out as well. He had my address, he had my number, and he weirdly enough also had my email address... yet I hadn't heard anything from him. Not a single thing. I wasn't quite sure why my heart was breaking at the realization I had been thrown away again-- I should be used to this.

In actuality, I knew exactly why my hopes were up.

The last time I saw Eric, had been right before I was about to leave rehab. We were standing in my room, the guards no longer watching me as I was technically excused and only there to get my stuff. I was packing everything into a big cardboard box, unable to meet Eric's green eyes as he sat on my bed-- he just looked so damn sad, I couldn't bring myself to watch. 

At the same time, I couldn't believe that he was upset about me leaving; no one had ever cared for me like that before. "Why do you look like that?" I eventually asked, stuffing his drawings into a book so that they wouldn't get ruined during the move. 

"Like what?"

"Like I'm about to shoot a puppy,"

Eric snorted, a slight smile finally forming across his lips. "Just thinking about how shit these next days are going to be without you here,"

I dared to gaze at him, watching his chest rise and fall in a long sigh. Even while doing the simplest act of sitting, Eric looked downright gorgeous. His dark hair had grown even longer during the time we had known each other, which allowed slight curls to form along his forehead. Draped in pink, tattoos peeking up from the collar of his jumper, green eyes soft with feelings-- the sight was almost enough to make my breath hitch.

"Oh, you won't notice I'm gone," I mumbled, trying to lighten the mood at the same time as I tried to be discreet about shoving my underwear down into the box. "Time will fly by, don't you worry."

Eric shifted, moving closer to the edge of the bed. He stopped me from picking up the next batch of my stuff, leading my hands into his as his rounded eyes sunk into mine. "You're saying that as though I won't miss you,"

I held my breath, unsure what to say. 

Eric noticed my hesitance, squeezing my hands; "I will miss you. Do you understand that?"

Oh, I most certainly did not understand that. Not at all. But it didn't stop my heart from swelling, beating harder than it probably ever had before. It also didn't get any better when Eric led me between his legs, letting go of my hands so that he could put his against my waist. He looked up at me through his thick, long lashes, clearly trying to make me understand the longing lingering in his body. "Will you miss me?"

There was no question in my mind that I would. I'd miss him every second of every day, as I already did. However, I wasn't sure whether it was smart to tell him this, or whether that would make him lose interest like my previous flings. But weirdly enough, something told me I could trust this guy-- or was that just his pretty face doing the talking? "I will," I said, taking his face into my hands, brushing my thumbs over his cheeks in a newfound sense of affection.

Eric's previously glossy look suddenly became a hopeful one-- he pulled me even closer, my hands going up into his hair as he buried his face against the crook of my neck. 

There was something so sincere about him, that I couldn't help but smile. Even now, as I remembered it. Was I stupid to imagine that it had all been real? That he hadn't acted like he would miss me just out of pity?

This was definitely my insecurity talking. I needed to get it all out of my head-- which is exactly why I ended up going out tonight, my friends by my side as we made our way into our usual spot at the club downtown. Being back in the darkness of this place, music blasting through my ears, brought a lot of memories back; specifically the dark ones. 

However, I wasn't drinking. I wasn't taking anything, and I wasn't planning on doing so. In the back of my mind, I kept imagining a scenario where Eric would finally reach out and find me relapsed... and that was certainly not ideal. Then he'd definitely not want to be with me.

Maybe I just needed to forget about him?

And so I began trying-- it didn't take long before I sat down next to some guy trying to tell me about his life story. I had never been this disinterested in my life, allowing him to put his arm around me as I stared up at the light-show on display across the roof, lost in thought.

I wondered where Eric was. What he was doing, who he was with, where he was. Whether he thought about me at all. It quickly hit me that being sober at a club took away all the fun, and with alcohol floating around right before my eyes, I wondered whether I should bother staying sober or not. I didn't exactly have anyone to stay clean for, as I thought I would. 

And just as I was about to ask the guy next to me whether I could have the tiniest sip of his beer, I spotted a familiar tall frame across the room. I blinked several times, straightening up in my seat as though I was a woman possessed. I was sure it was him-- I immediately knew the second I saw the tattooed poem on his back peeking through the top of his shirt.

As though I had heard a gunshot, I got up from the couch, my whole body tingling with unexpected excitement. This was an adrenaline surge unlike anything drugs could give me, and it only grew stronger as Eric seemed to be leaving. 

Panicked, I sped up into a light jog despite being in heels, making my way through the crowd on the dancefloor. It didn't take long before I caught up to him, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt.

Eric had a bewildered look about him as he frantically searched who it could be that had held him back from leaving. When his big, green eyes finally landed on me, they widened as he broke out into a look of relief. "There you are!" he exclaimed, his large hands grabbing my shoulders. "I've been looking for you all over!--"

I was sure I would've started crying if I hadn't reached for the collar of his shirt, tugging him down to my level to press my lips against his in the neediest kiss I had probably ever shared. I flung my arms around his neck as he pulled me closer, both of us letting out relieved sighs at our reunion. 

I wanted to stay like this forever, swimming in the bliss of being reunited with the man who had haunted my every waking thought. However, I couldn't let myself revel in the joy before I got the answer to my question; "You never called!" I said, my hands now at the sides of his face. "You never fucking called!"

Eric hummed, connecting our foreheads as he closed his eyes. "I did... just from a different number. You never answered, so I had to track you down all the way here,"

My thumbs stroked over his cheeks, my anger simmering down into a slow ache. The thought of Eric calling without getting a response made me feel worse than bad. "How?" was all I was able to say, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose.

Eric blushed a little before pulling away, and I was unsure whether the reason for my sudden dizziness was the loud music or his smile. God, he was gorgeous. "Our dealers are cousins," he said, wrapping his arms around my waist as we swayed on the dance floor. "And your guy told me I could find you here."

"I see," The loving look in Eric's eyes nearly made me melt— it was clear that he had missed me as well. But my questions kept coming to me; "Why did you get a different number? Is everything alright?"

With that, Eric's smile faltered just a little. His grip around my waist tightened as he brought one hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear in a loving gesture. "I... suppose there's a lot I have to tell you, now that I've come all this way,"

I could sense that this was serious— I had seen enough of those guilty eyes for one lifetime. "I see," I repeated, pulling him in for another kiss, reveling in the feeling of tasting him again. There was nothing I had missed more about rehab than this. "Let's talk it out somewhere else, then?"

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

It wasn't every day that I brought back men from the club— my policy was no men at my place at all, just in case I encountered a serial killer in disguise. But this thing with Eric was different; he could've moved in for all I cared. He could also proceed to burn it all down, rip me apart with his bare hands, and I'd let him.

However, the difference between Eric and the other men in my life was that I knew, deep down in my heart, that he would never hurt me; which is why I let him into my apartment.

I watched as Eric took a look around, his hands tucked into his front pockets as he whistled; "Quite the place,"

Shrugging, I made my way towards him as he towered over everything in my living room. "Sure is,"

Eric turned to me, a raised brow on display. "You're telling me you're loaded?"

I felt a bit embarrassed— I knew that once Eric found out the truth, he'd think of me just as all the other ones did. The spoiled girl who had nothing else to do but turn to drugs to get a high out of life. I couldn't help but grow nervous, unsure how to explain the truth to him; "Well... It's my parents' money,"

Eric nodded to himself, stepping towards me. "Are they around much? I didn't see them visiting you in rehab,"

The truth stung. "They don't want to look their biggest disappointment in the eye," I mumbled, my gaze falling to my feet. "But they make sure I'm still alive, I suppose. So it's not that bad."

There was a silence before I suddenly felt Eric's long, slender fingers beneath my chin, tilting me up so that I could meet his gaze. I wasn't sure what I was expecting to see, but it certainly wasn't this; compassion. "Their loss," he said, the emerald green of his eyes engulfing my being with unexpected kindness. "At least you got a great apartment out of it."

I let out a warm laugh, now keening against the palm of his hand as he placed it to my cheek. "I've missed you,"

As Eric smiled down at me, it was obvious that his heart fluttered at the sight of me. I had never thought someone would ever look at me like that. "I've missed you too," he breathed. "Thought about you during every waking moment of every day. You have no idea how glad I am that I found you."

I could barely believe this was real— didn't stuff like this only happen in movies? "If only I had known you called," I mumbled, placing my hand on top of his. "Being without you was just hell... What happened?"

Eric inhaled a sharp breath, an unintelligible emotion swimming in his eyes. "I want to be honest with you, but... I'm afraid you'll run,"

In a flash of desperation, I placed his hand against my heart. "I have nowhere else to run but to you,"

Eric's green eyes rounded out, his lips parting in confusion— was I maybe not the only one stunned by the confessions of complete and utter love tonight? "I— Fuck," 

With that, Eric's strong hands gripped my waist, pulling me towards him as our lips came together in a hungry kiss. The sheer force of it, along with the element of surprise, nearly had me stumbling a few steps back. But Eric only followed; I nearly moaned out as I felt his tongue against mine, my hands flying up into his dark locks and pulling him closer. I had missed him more than I had ever missed anything in the world, including drugs— all my swarming feelings of never-dying love had me pushing away all my needs for an answer from him regarding his phone, and I let my back hit the surface of the couch as Eric hovered above me.

"Missed you," he breathed in between kisses, a slight growl to his voice. Something told me Eric was trying to melt himself into me to make sure we would never be apart again— it only made my need for him stronger. I clung to him, my legs wrapping around his tall figure as I attempted to pull him even closer than he already was. 

Fuck, his lips were so soft. Deadly soft. The way Eric was nipping at my lower lip, occasionally sinking his teeth into it to draw out a whimper, was making a familiar knot form in my lower abdomen. I barely registered that my dress was gone before I watched him discard his shirt somewhere on the floor— now that we finally had time, I let my fingers run over his tattoos, smiling into the next kiss as I realized we would finally have that messy morning I was promised. I couldn't wait to lie in his arms, tracing every piece of art on his skin, taking it all in— this was heaven. Everything about finally being alone with Eric was heaven. 

"Missed you too," I eventually managed to moan out, feeling him grow hard against the apex of my thighs. "I don't ever want to be without you again." My breath hitched as Eric left wet kisses down jaw, neck, breasts, and stomach, knowing exactly where he was heading. I drew my hand towards my mouth, gently biting down to suppress a rather girly squeal. 

"You'll never be," Eric purred against my skin, sinking his teeth gently into my thigh to evoke a sound. "If you think we're ever going to be apart from now on, I need you to scour that pretty little brain of yours once more."

It was impossible not to smile, and I squirmed against the couch before Eric's big, strong hands grabbed my hips, holding me in place as he pressed a kiss against my clothed sex. However, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was doing this to avoid telling me what had happened in the moments we had been apart. Despite wanting to give in to the pleasure, let him tease me and keep me on the edge through the night, my mind wouldn't let me.

In the moment Eric threw my underwear to the floor, now kissing up my thighs and leaving me breathless, I propped myself up on my elbows; "Hold on," I breathed, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair in hopes of getting his attention. "Eric, wait--"

As he looked up at me through his brows, eyes wide with confusion as he paused for me, I didn't know whether I could go through with it. This moment was so damn precious, something I had been longing for ever since the moment I saw him; so why couldn't it wait? With a sigh, I laid back down. 

"You okay?" Eric asked, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle against my hipbone. "Wanna stop?"

That was definitely not it-- I let in a lazy breath, my eyelids drooping over my eyes as my body shivered at the feeling of his hot breath against my cunt. Everything about this situation was making my brain shut down. "No... I don't want to stop," My hands reached for his, and Eric let out a hum, his free hand now ghosting over my sex. "Just wondering whether you drew it or not."

"Drew what?"

"What we did in that stairwell,"

Eric's eyes sparkled with amusement as he laughed, placing a wet kiss against the inside of my thigh. "You bet I did,"

"Will you show me?"

He hummed against my skin; "Later... I'm a little busy here, as you see," Eric hooked his arms around my legs, dragging me closer to him as I yelped. I could only laugh, the realization that I had finally gotten all I had ever wanted hitting me just as I felt the warm trickle of spit running down my cunt-- my hips bucked up in surprise, my breath escaping me. I was about to prop myself up on my elbows for a second time, hoping to get a look at what the fuck he was doing, but as he ran his tongue up between my folds with a ridiculously soft touch, I could only whimper.

The memory of Eric saying he would take his time with me when we were out of rehab suddenly dawned on me-- I was in for the long run.

It didn't take long before he had me writhing beneath him, a whimpering, panting mess. With every swirl of his tongue around my clit, every time he sucked in my aching bud between his plush lips, I held back the urge to buck my hips up against him. It got increasingly hard to keep still, especially when Eric pulled away to simply breathe down on my sex, knowing exactly where he had me. 

"Fuck," I cried, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair-- I did my best not to tighten my grip, fighting the urge to use his dark locks as handles. 

I could feel Eric smiling against me, leaning down to press a soft kiss against my clit; my breath immediately hitched, bucking up against his mouth in an attempt to beg for more. His fingers dug themselves into my thighs, driving my legs further apart as he made space for his broad shoulders. I whined at the loss of friction when he tilted his head to look up at me, and a shiver ran up my spine at the look of his face, slicked with my arousal. 

A mischievous smile spread across Eric's plush, glistening lips; "Someone's impatient,"

I could feel my cheeks redden with embarrassment, lolling my head back down against the couch-- looking at him only made it worse. "Can you blame me? You're doing this on purpose," 

Eric hummed, one hand leaving my thigh to lazily rub soft circles around my clit, using my slick as a lubricant. It only made me squirm, letting out a shaky moan as my back arched slightly off the couch. Even worse, was that I started to feel a small tremble appearing in my hands. "Can't handle a little teasing?" he said, biting his lip as he watched me attempt to suppress my noises. "You keep saying you've waited for me... What happened to your patience?"

I held back the urge to simply kick him-- but that thought immediately slipped out of my mind the second Eric flattened his tongue against me, licking a stripe all the way up to my swollen clit. It was impossible to suppress the hitch of my breath, and the tug I gave his hair in response was purely instinctual. It surprised me further to hear him enjoy it; I decided to keep that observation stored for later.

I had a feeling Eric knew my mind was buzzing, that he wouldn't be able to toy with me much longer. There might've been a few giveaways that I was at my wit's end-- all of which left me feeling like an even bigger mess than I already was beneath him. "I- I can't," I whined, my words leaving me as Eric sucked me in once more. "Wait, please!--"

He hummed against me, now pressing his lips against the crease of my thigh as a chuckle built in his throat. "Fine, fine," he said, playfully sinking his teeth into my skin, his green eyes watching my every move. "I suppose I'm dragging this out... I don't know why I'm feeling nervous."

Nervous? Eric didn't look very nervous to me. "It's just me, though?" I tried, attempting to catch my breath as I laid my hand on top of his. My next words came out shakier than anticipated, especially now that he was kissing his way back up my body; "You don't need to be nervous."

Eric hummed, his large, tattooed hands kneading my chest, kissing along the hem of my bra. "It's just... When you left rehab," he started, his lips pressing along my collarbones. "I realized it took me days to recover after a dream with you in it."

The rush of joy surging through my veins reminded me of a hit of amphetamine-- it was all-taking, consuming, and I wanted nothing more than to press him so closely that we'd melt together. "Eric--"

"I've drawn you over and over," he breathed, kissing up my neck with a toe-curling softness. "In every way possible. Imagined the way you'd look at me after waking up in the morning, how it would feel to kiss your pretty little face good night..." Eric's lips hovered above mine, our shared breaths hot and shaky against one another as he continued; "I want you to burn into me like warm glass, mold into one. It sounds insane, but... how else can I ensure we stay together?"

My eyes were wide, finding his, as my hands reached up to cup his face. Like this, I finally had the time to admire the tattoo above his right brow, the deep scar on his cheek, and the tattoo above it. I stroked my thumb over the ink, holding back from connecting our lips just yet; "If you think I'm ever leaving you, I need you to scour that pretty little brain of yours" I breathed, watching his pupils dilate as I bit back a smug smile. "Do I need to remind you that I'm all yours?" My fingers now ghosted over his lips, still wet with my slick, as an idea suddenly hit me. "Actually..."

Eric watched in confusion as I shifted beneath him, now reaching for the table right by the couch. There, I had left a marker which I had previously used to write a birthday card, and I took it into my hand before laying back down, looking up at the puzzled look on his face. "I'm not able to physically melt into you, but..." 

Eric's green eyes widened further, watching as I popped the cap and drew a tiny little heart on the peak of his shoulder.

I met his gaze, beaming up at him; "I can leave my mark,"

The most unexpected thing happened-- The sight of Eric welling up in tears was not something I had counted on when I let my impulses take the lead. For a second, I got genuinely worried I had overstepped all boundaries until he pinned my hand above my head and pressed a needy, passionate kiss against my lips.

I couldn't control the moan that escaped me, my hips bucking up against his, feeling his hard length grind down and brush up against my clit as our chests came together, pulling each other in as close as possible. The need I felt for Eric was undescribable, ravaging through my being-- I had never wanted anyone as bad as this. 

Mind dulled by anticipation and pleasure, I barely registered that he had managed to pry the marker from my fingers and pull it into his hand. Eric disconnected the kiss, pressing his wet lips against my cheek before propping himself up on his knees, scanning his canvas. "I'm definitely dreaming now," he whispered, mostly to himself, hovering above me as he drove the marker tip to the point where my ribs met on my chest. 

I could only smile, watching my favourite artist at work with admiration blossoming in my chest. Knowing I would be decorated with his work made me even more hot and bothered; I did my best to get a look at what he was drawing without disrupting his process. 

Eric drew a line down my chest, a few leaves scattered along it-- it dawned on me that he was drawing a rose. A beautiful, big rose, with that same scratchy style that I recognized from his previous creations. I watched him dart his tongue out, keeping it between his lips, focused; I couldn't help but find it endearing.

"Art on art," he breathed, pulling away to drink in the sight of what he had drawn on my body. Eric's green eyes found mine, his shy smile returning to his plush, glistening lips. "You're beautiful. You're so beautiful."

"So are you," I held back the urge to cry happy tears, my hands reaching out for him. "I love it, Eric. I'm scared of needles, so I won't be able to get this tattooed... Meaning you'll have to draw it over and over. Would you do that for me?"

Eric let out a choked laugh, eyes glossing over as he put the cap back on the marker, discarding it somewhere before returning to his place above me. "I'd do anything for you,"

I hadn't smiled so brightly in what felt like years. Like this, at this moment, I was sure this was it. He was it. 

Before I knew it, we were completely lost in the fiery kiss that ensued-- Eric's tongue against mine, hands lost around my waist as my fingers hooked into his dark locks, our chests heaving at one another. I was so gone, so dizzyingly aroused, that when I felt his thick cock pushing past my sopping entrance, I could only gasp. 

Eric let out a grunt, both of us moaning into the kiss at the immediate relief-- I could barely believe that this was real, that we were back as one. In a sense, this was the melting together that we had both craved so badly. 

My nails dug into his back, leaving crescent marks in their wake as I let him push further into me. Eric buried his face in the crook of my neck, letting out a breathy groan against my skin when he finally moved. His cock stroked my walls the same way it had that one evening in the stairwell, the exact feeling I had chased as I buried my fingers deep inside of me every night since-- I had forgotten how the real deal had felt. How mind-numbingly good it felt to have Eric in me.

I whimpered as I felt his cock throb upwards, immediately hitting my sweet spot, and I wrapped my legs around him, wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever. Knowing I bared his mark on my chest, knowing he had dreamed of this as well, only strengthened the electricity running all the way up to the tips of my fingers. I didn't know how I was supposed to last long at all, especially when I heard Eric moan out my name-- I shivered, pressing my lips against the heart I had drawn on his shoulder. 

I noticed a blush creep up his cheeks before he connected our lips once more, but it was hard to kiss properly when we were both in a heavy daze of pleasure-- we ended up mostly breathing against one another, Eric's green eyes watching as I let out a string of moans with every stroke of his cock. 

"You're everything," Eric rambled, nipping at my lower lip to suppress another grunt. "You're everything, you're-- Fuck!--" His hands dug into my hips, fucking me properly into the couch as he deepened his thrusts. 

My heart fluttered in my marked chest as I realized we were both looking down to watch our union-- the sight of Eric's cock pumping in and out of me, the wet sounds of our love filling the room, was almost enough to bring me over the edge. I also caught a glimpse of the petals drawn over my body, realizing I was admiring both the art and his body against mine. 

My back arched off the couch as Eric shifted, angling his thrusts upwards-- now, he was dead on pumping his cock against my sweet spot, which had me mewling out against his lips. "Eric, I-- I'm not gonna last, a-ah!--"

With glossy eyes, I watched a smirk spread across Eric's lips; "Let go if you need to," he cooed, his dark hair now kissing his forehead as he let out a laboured grunt. "We'll go again, baby-- hah, don't worry."

That was all I needed-- my heart fluttered, realizing we had all the time in the world to fuck all through the night. 

Forever, if we wanted to.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

This was nice. Stupidly nice. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this moment.

The softness of his fingers running up my bare shoulder, the kindness with which he bathed me-- I didn't even know this existed before now. I looked up at Eric, my head nuzzled against his broad, tattooed chest as we lay in post-coital bliss. I reached out to trace the heart I had marked him with, and I wondered what else I could draw on his beautiful body.

However, I knew I had to ask the question he hadn't been willing to answer yet. I had to look past how heavy his beautiful lashes looked in his drowsy state, and how badly I wanted to reach out and trace the upward slope of his nose, to ask what needed to be asked. "Eric?"

He hummed, glancing down at me. 

It was incredibly hard to take my eyes off his kiss-swollen lips. "You never told me,"

"Told you what?"

It felt as though we'd had this conversation about three times now; "You didn't tell me why you changed your number. Or why you waited to reach out. Or, better yet, why you didn't just show up here... I even gave you my address," I couldn't stop the imminent pout appearing across my lips-- I had forgotten how upset I was about this. "I waited for you. I nearly drove myself crazy thinking I'd imagined it all."

Sighing, Eric's gaze diverted to the ceiling. "I'm sorry. I will tell you everything. Just... could I have one more day?"

"What?" Something told me that his secret was a lot more damning than I initially thought-- why was he so reluctant to tell me? Did he think it would change how I felt?

"One more day," he echoed, his tattoed hand mindlessly traveling up into my hair as his eyes glossed over.  "Just give me one more day..."

I didn't know what to say, at a loss for words. Instead, I popped the cap to the marker in my hand, realizing I wouldn't be the one to deny him his one wish. Eric closed his eyes with a sigh of relief as he felt the tip of the marker against his skin once more; time was a gift I was willing to give him.

I was willing to give him absolutely anything he'd ever want-- I just hoped it wouldn't be the death of me.

(a/n: PART 1 and PART 2 linked here<33 thank you for reading!!)

[crssvjb]

Secrets Revealed - Charles Leclerc

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Sumarry: After a painful breakup, you discover you are pregnant, but keep the secret out of fear and hurt.

The morning started like any other: a ray of sunlight streaming through the window, the distant sound of traffic and the soft rustle of leaves in the wind. But the pregnancy test in her hands changed everything.

Two lines.

You felt your heart race. It wasn't possible. He read the leaflet again, checked the test three more times, but the result did not change. You were pregnant with Charles.

She sat on the bathroom floor, her back against the cold wall. His mind went back to the last moment they had together, weeks ago.

—"You think you're always right!" — You shouted, your voice cracking under the weight of emotions.

Charles ran a hand through his hair, irritated. — "And you think everything has to be your way! I can't deal with this right now."

— "Can't handle this? Maybe you can't handle me, Charles."

The silence that followed was the most painful you had ever experienced. He looked away, hesitating. When he spoke again, his voice was a little cold:

— "Maybe we were never right for each other."

You swallowed hard, the words burning like acid. Without saying anything else, he picked up his things and left, leaving behind not only his home, but also everything they had built together.

The sound of your cell phone vibrating brought you back to the present. You looked at the screen and saw messages from friends. There was a party that night and everyone was excited to go together.

But how could you face Charles now? He would probably be there. And you... you didn't know if you would have the courage to face him with the secret you carried.

The party was in full swing when Charles arrived. Dressed casually, he greeted his friends but seemed a little distracted. Since the breakup, he had tried to convince himself that the separation was better for both of them, but a part of him knew that he had messed up.

- "Hey, Charles." — Pierre caught his attention, holding out a drink. — "How are things with Y/N?"

Charles frowned, uncomfortable with the message of his name. — "I think this is over, Pierre."

Pierre looked a little surprised. — "It's over? But... what about the baby?"

The glass in Charles' hand almost fell. — "What baby?"

Pierre widened his eyes, clearly realizing his mistake. — "Ah, shit... I thought you knew. Sorry, Charles. I wasn't supposed to... forget it."

Charles didn't wait for explanations. Dropping his drink on the first surface he found, he hurriedly left the party, ignoring Pierre's calls.

— "Pierre, you big mouth." — Kika said, slapping her boyfriend's arm.

The knock on the door was unexpected. You opened it and saw Charles panting, his eyes shining with a mix of surprise and nervousness.

— "Why didn't you tell me?" — He asked, almost whispering.

— "Charles, I..."

— "You're pregnant, aren't you?" — He interrupted, his eyes searching yours urgently.

You hesitated, but you knew you couldn't deny it. - "I am."

Charles took a deep breath, clearly trying to process. — "Why didn't you tell me? I had a right to know."

— "And I had the right to be afraid." — You replied with a trembling voice. — "After what you said, how could I trust you again? How could I believe you would stay by my side?"

He looked devastated. — "I was an idiot. I got angry and said things I shouldn't have. But I never wanted to hurt you. And now... now I know that I only made everything worse."

You looked away, tears streaming down your face. — "I don't know if I can forgive so quickly, Charles. I'm hurt and I need time."

He took a step forward, hesitant but determined. — "I understand. And I'll wait as long as it takes. But know that I'm here. For you. For the baby. For us."

His words were sincere, but you knew it wouldn't be easy. The road to rebuilding trust was long. But maybe there was a chance for you. Over time.

⎊𝙘𝙧𝙨𝙨𝙫𝙟𝙗 - ²⁰²⁵

[dropsnectar]

Courting a Queen: Bee Hybrid × Reader Part Two

Hey! So a lot of you wanted the Bee smut, so, here it is! I'm still new to writing smut so please be kind. Also, in @bunnis-monsters universe of Bee Hybrids, its mentioned that they have different types of Honey that have different properties and effects, so I wanted to play with that a little. Also just a reminder that I headcannon that the queen scouting drones are a bit more intelligent than other bee hybrids,, as this works better to lure in a queen! Hope you enjoy!

Everything had happened so quickly, you didn't know quite what to do or think. 

You'd just been talking and having fun with a few Bee Hybrids, now suddenly suddenly you were in their hive, they were calling you Queen, and it was getting really hard to talk your way out of this when you had so many tongues on your skin--

“Y-You guys I can't become your… oh God um… there's no way I can become a queen!” You tried your best to gently pull yourself out of their grasp, but the little nibbles Haven was doing on your ear were way too distracting. Elias answered you.

“We know you'd be great. Please dont be mean to yourself.” He pouted at you with big eyes as he worked on pulling down your black leggings. He carefully lifted your thighs as he did so and you noticed that his skin, while smooth and soft, also had a sort of firmness to it that human skin didn't. It made your core burn. 

“Are we doing something wrong? Please tell us my Queen, we only want to make you feel good.” Another hand was slowly exploring up your shirt. You looked over at Ray, the black haired hybrid who was staring at you with the biggest, mooniest eyes, like he was a dog begging for a treat. He trailed his hands up and down your belly, his hands were more beelike than the others, and the foreigners of it gave you goosebumps. 

Stop it! You can't become Queen! You'd never leave this place!

“I can't do this.” You finally managed, pulling away from Haven and Ray's grasp.

“I have a home. And a job and…”

And not much else. Your parents weren't the kindest, and you only ever saw your friends once every two months. If they remembered you that was.

Elias gently took one of your hands in his. “This can be your home! We would feed you and do whatever you want! You'll never be lonely again. Please. We've been so long without a Queen and…” His antennas drooped. So Did Haven and Rays, their exuberant wings going quiet.

“ We will die soon. Without a Queen our hive will grow weak, and other hives will fight us for our home territory.” Ray leaned his head gently on my shoulder, a whine escaping his chest.

Haven started to tear up. At least, he seemed to cry. “ We need you. We will never stop loving you, and you would never want for anything, please let us keep you.”

Your heart grew heavy. You didn't know much about bees, but you were aware that Queens were super important for the health of the hive. You had only known them for a day, but you couldn't bear the thought of them dying. They were so incredibly sweet after all.

Maybe I could try it for a little bit. I mean, being a Queen couldn't be so bad. You reasoned. And if it becomes too much, I could maybe help them find a new one. Or run away in the night, maybe.

“I'll… give it a try.” 

The three of them were in the air at once, pulling on your limbs and jumping up and down. Haven got up and did what seemed like a little happy dance, Elias joining in. While Ray continues to hold onto you and nuzzle you in large excited motions. You watched the two dancing and clapped happily. They buzzed loudly, seeming pleased with your smile and sudden lifted mood. They could feel your affection for them in the air and it bode well.

At that time, the bee-man that Elias had pulled aside earlier knocked on the door, before buzzing in with a cup of something sweet. Well, the whole place smelled sweet, but you noticed steam coming up from the cup. You tilted your head in confusion.

“He added some warm water to help you get it down easier! Your human after all, so thick things may be hard to drink, right?” Elias smiled and handed you the warm little cup. It smelled… well. Like honey. But their was a little heat to it. Maybe cinnamon? Nutmeg?

“Its super special, just for you!” Haven volunteered, as he settled back down to his place on your back left. He busied himself with rubbing your shoulder, then kissing the back of your head sweetly. 

All of this attention was making your cheeks rosy. To busy yourself you took an experimental sip of the warm honey. It went easily from your tongue down your throat. Expecting the taste of normal honey, you were surprised by the variety of notes. Still sweet, it indeed had a hefty… spice to it? Like it had been salted and mixed with a little chilli pepper. The heat of it spread from your throat, through your head and your body, making you shiver.

It was a feeling similar to hot chocolate on a long day out in the snow. Delighted, you slurped it down greedily. Ray laughed and the other two hybrids seemed very pleased. They watched you drink the whole cup, pride and their ever present excitement alight on every feature. 

You gave the cup back to Elias and smiled dreamily. You finally felt relaxed enough and tried to lie back on the couch, instead ending up in Ray and Havens arms. 

“That was really good.” You almost whispered. You were still warm from drink, and a haziness had softly draped itself over your brain. Soft. Warm. 

 Probably tired from a long day, you thought with a giggle. What a silly day it had been. What a silly situation.

Elias set the cup down on a table towards the door and floated toward you, a hungry look in his eye. Ray had decided to lap at your jaw now, making you shiver, again marveling at the strange texture his tongue had. Almost like a cat but smoother? Somehow? It felt good. 

The room was filled with pleasant buzzing and purring, as several pairs of hands started working your skin. Haven was now exploring the inside of your shirt, pulling excitedly at your bra. He felt around for a little bit, trying to find the latch. You noticed, through a big mirror by the door that his tongue was sticking out the whole time. You giggled. So cute.

A sudden nip to your inner thigh made you jolt. Elias had made his place between your thighs again and had started licking and nipping to getting your attention. He pouted at you until you gave him full eye contact.

“I'll get to breed you first, since I found you.” Elias said in the most innocent tone you almost didn't comprehend it. Until he was licking at your clothed cunt with his long black tongue. You whined a bit, in surprise and pleasure. It felt good. 

Haven must have figured out your bra because suddenly you felt fingers on your chest now. They moved around haphazardly, watching your face for a reaction. When one found your nipple you bit your lip and pried your gaze away from Elias for an instant. Havens face lit up in a smile.

“ Can I take this off, my Queen?” He asked in his delicate textured voice. You nodded and lifted your arms for them. A sudden jolt pulled your gaze back down to Elias, who was pouting at you. He had pulled your underwear aside and had started licking fervently between your lips. Those big, adoring eyes did as much to you as his tongue and you moaned out.

You were suddenly ablaze now, your core dripping and needy. It was sudden, and your hazy mind tried to work out how they'd got you gushing so fast. They were obviously new at this, reaching around trying to find your best spots, but you needed more. 

“T-take them off, please.” You begged Elias quietly, as your breath was quite ragged. Elias complied happily. You opened your legs wider for him, and he was able to push your lips apart farther so he could get a look at you. Enchanted, he took a finger and drew circles around you, noting when and where you would flinch, and jerk your hips. After experimenting a bit more he decided to suck on your most sensitive place: Your clit.

You howled out as he sucked and licked you, the texture of his tongue so different from anything you'd felt before. 

Haven and Ray were buzzing so loudly as the licked you, groping your sweet tummy, and sucking where they could. Ray had decided on sucking and when you sang for him, he started trilling with glee. Seeing this, Haven did the same. Their hands continued to roam.

The sucking of your tits and the attention on your clit were getting you close. The pressure in your stomach was mounting, and when Elias had decided to move two of his delicate fingers into your entrance you came hard around him, full body quaking. Drool pooled down your face as you gasped, stars filling your vision. 

“ Such a good Queen, coming for us so well.” Praised Ray, before he went back to assaulting your nipple with his tongue. Haven giggled and buzzed in agreement.

When you came down from your high, you were surprised to find yourself still wanting, wriggling, your skin so sensitive and desperate for more touch that you bucked yourself back into Elias’ face. The confusion persisted and you were about to ask a question when Elias answered.

“Don't worry, Our Love, we made sure you'd feel good enough to take all of us. Our honey truly is special. You won't feel any pain, we promise!”

The honey'd been… an aphrodisiac?

Something about that should have bothered you but all you could think about was having something inside you. Of wanting more of their touch, more more more-

You chocked as Haven started rubbing your clit, the sweet pressure bringing you some relief. Elias was taking his human clothing off now, revealing his lower half. His cock was long. Long, but super pretty and pink. You licked your lips as he lined it up with your wet entrance. His big, clear eyes stared at you with such devotion it bordered on worship, before he plunged himself within your needy walls.

You cried out, and it was like a wave of pleasure crashed through the room, as everyone sighed. He started slow, working himself further and further inside you as he went. The stretch and rhythm felt so good, you tried to work in time with him. His length was slick and warm and being so close to him only made your affection grow. You couldn't help it.

Ray and Haven were moaning in your ear. They were still sucking your tits, but were humping whatever bit of you they could, desperate and needy.

You wanted to help them but each stroke Elias was working in you felt so good your mind couldn't think properly. You stayed like that for a while, Elias hitting your best spots, sending you closer and closer to your limit, before he seemed to come, hard, a guttural sound leaving his throat. 

But instead of feeling hot, wet cum, you felt something push against your walls. A ridge was forming inside of you, pushing up through his member. The stretch was delicious and you keened as another traced its way up your walls. A sudden soft wetness, and a heaviness was felt at the innermost part of you. You'd never felt anything like it before and your walls twitched around it. An egg.

Your mind raced back to an earlier comment. You'd completely forgotten about the eggs. But your mind was so gone all you could do was whine at the tightness, as another was laid in you, and you came again, another wave of pleasure racking your mind and body. 

It went on like this, him laying one after the other, bringing you closer and closer to the edge again. You could tell Elias was getting utterly spent, his rocking movements slowing, the erratic flaps of his wings getting more labored. Drool continued to pool out of his mouth. His heavy meaningful gaze was now glassy and tired. You wanted to hold him. 

When the last egg was laid within you, Ray took his place in a flash. As Elias took his spot on your right, lazily sucking on your collarbone, Ray pushed himself in fully in one go. His dick was thicker, and not as long as Elias’, but it felt amazing around the eggs. 

“My turn. You'll take my clutch so well, I know it.” He reassured, rubbing his thumb like limbs on your hips as he slowly rutted into you. He was whispering praises about your beauty and how well you were doing the whole time. The stretch of his dick felt so good as he fucked the eggs further into you, adding his own. He was quicker than Elias to lay though. His eggs were much bigger, making you sputter a bit as you took them. It seemed that Bee-men came continuously as they laid their spawn, because he was a glassy eyed, babbling mess the whole time he pushed more into you. 

Haven took the longest time to lay, despite fucking you the fastest and hardest of the three. He giggled, so happy and pussydrunk the whole time. 

“My Queen, it feels so good. Am I making you feel good?”

“So good,” you confirmed through shaggy breaths.  “So good. My good boy.” You could feel a shock throughout the room and Haven smiled so big through his sweaty curls, that you couldn't help but return it. His hips rocked into you faster now, though he was still careful of your eggs.

The other two pouted, making crying vibrating sounds. “My good boys.” You corrected. “Doing so well.” you were so close to cumming again it was hard to think, but you reached both hands up to caress them both. Consoled, they clung to you even tighter, as if that was possible, whispering praises back. You were such a good queen, taking so many eggs. So good and sweet. 

Their words brought you over the edge at the same time Haven let out a loud trilling sound. He collapsed forward onto your lap, licking at your now extended belly. You both shook, riding out your high.

The room smelled of sweat, and their saccharine aroma. You realized you'd become a bit addicted to the scent, nuzzling closer into the soft fur of your new family. 

You lay there for a time, letting your bee-men fuss over you. They wiped the sweat from your body and cooed at your stomach, at how adorable you were being so full, and taking so many eggs. 

“Our lovely Queen. Did so well for you first mating.” Elias had glowed with pride for you, then  nuzzled into your neck in that way of his. “The rest of the hive is just going to love you. But for now, rest.” He petted soft loving strokes down your forehead. The motion was soothing, and you closed your eyes, letting sleep consume you.

Before you completely lost consciousness, you heard a worried Haven whisper, “I hope she makes us her attendants. It'd be such a shame to only see her when its our turn to mate.” You felt some nodding onto your shoulder and buzzing of agreement. You'd have to remember to ask them about it when you awoke.

Hey guys! Was this too long? Would love some constructive feedback about what you'd like to see more of! Thank you for reading!

Masterlist

[clemencetaught]

round and round ( @jeoseungsaja did not ask for one but is getting one for this verse anyways <3 )

“Would you be able to feed Sun for the next few days?” Speaking of which, where did she run off to? He swore she was on the desk a few minutes ago…it’s only Hyuk, after all. She should be used to him by now, Patrick would assume. That and...well there isn't anyone else whom he could trust her with. He averts his eyes- maybe if he says softly enough, he won’t have to admit to Hyuk that the Capitol is calling him back in even though the games this year ended only last week.

“I should…I should be back by the end of the week, but if there isn’t any more food in the bag, just unlock the window so she can get in at night. You wouldn’t have to change anything about your day for her either.”

[divinedelusional]

how rafe would treat his gf on her period

rafe cameron x fem reader

word count: 796

warnings: menstruation, mentions of toxic relationship and period sex

a/n: yeah this is how rafe treats his girl on her period but also how he would be like in a relationship throughout the seasons? i got carried away, sorry not sorry

s1 rafe: sooo i feel like fratboy!rafe genuinely doesn't give a fuck, i don't even know if he would be capable of being in a relationship. i see him being involved with a girl but only for sex and he would only know she's on her period bc she would just text him that they can't meet today bc of it and he'd be like "uh huh cool" and would go jerk off

s2 rafe: here i think situation would be slightly different. i think our psycho bby could acc develop feelings for a girl, it would mostly be just sex but he could start falling for someone. so i think he'd fight a battle in his mind if he should come over to the girl's house and be there for her on her period or to completely neglect her. it's just he doesn't have a clue what to do and tbh he's occupied with other shit, he uses sex with her to forget. i think it's very similar to s1 rafe but with guilt and feelings creeping in (and obvious denial for this emotions)

s3 rafe: so okay we all know the shift from curtain bangs psycho rafey to buzz cut man of the house rafe who looked like he's getting his shit together. of course that means he's different when it comes to relationships. he still deals with a lot, but he finds you. and he kinda sees you as this light. a small light who he has to be very careful with so it won't go out. he is attentive to you. treats you right, but with some sort of distance and you don't blame him. he doesn't spend every day with you, he didn't even ask you to be his girlfriend yet, didn't make it official but he will and somehow you know it. when you're on your period you become quiet. you don't text him, but he finds out as he had a feeling that he should drop by your house. he finds you on your couch with a heating bag and cookies. you told him you weren't feeling well and he ordered you hot soup and made a quick run to pharmacy for some medicine. he still was clueless and thought you caught a cold. "rafe im not sick im just on my period" "oh" it's not like he avoids you, no. he visits you everday for the next four days but doesn't stay for long, always excusing himself with some meeting or business. you know he means the best for you but wish that he's going to be able to let you in soon. you're really patient with him, but start having doubts.

s4 rafe: is now fully committed to you. you talked to him how you really felt about this relationship. that you really cared and wanted to give him as much time as he needed, but also you couldn't waste it anymore waiting for him. and rafe realized that nobody else would have such patience for him. he was thinking about you a lot and he admitted to himself that you were the one. he made your relationship official and two months later you were living together. he was spoiling you, really. taking you on dates, buying you gifts and most importantly giving you his time. getting to know you, observing your daily habits, remembering stuff you said. your likes and dislikes. no wonder he became pussy whipped. and started to feel like he knows you better than yourself.

that's why when it's that time of the month you don't have to say anything. rafe knows. just by the way you whine when you wake up, he knows if you'd be able to get out of bed and get on with your day or you'd want to stay in bed cuddling, because he's your personal heater, makes back pain go away. gives you massages. cuddles with you all morning untill your stomach start to signal that it's time for some food. oh and he doesn't care about his schedule. he could clear it off, cancel the meetings, but he doesn't bother. his girl is the most important, his business associates don't even deserve a phone call on a day his girl is in pain. also he's not opposed to period sex at. all. orgasm is a great way to reduce cramps, so if that works for you and you want him to help you, he is the happiest to do so. if you're not comfortable with having sex these days he totally understands. wouldn't even thought of forcing you to do something, on your period or not. when he discovered that he has so much love in him, his only interest is to give it to you♡

dividers by: @bernardsbendystraws

tagging: @sugaraanddiesel @cherrylipglossss hope they'll enjoy it and @cameronsprincess bc maybe it will put a smile on her face♡