#and I want everyone else to root for him too

[muninnhuginn]

Thinking about "your weakness is how you always want to be the hero" and how the series returns to this at the end

Li Lianhua hated how he acted as Li Xiangyi and spent years trying to distance himself from it, but ultimately he still fell back into the similar patterns, for all his added experience

His main priority was always to "do the right thing" regardless of how that would impact on those around him. And it *did* impact those around him. From Qiao Wanmian and Shan Gudao as Li Xiangyi to Fang Duobing and Di Feisheng as Li Lianhua

Giving the Styx flower to the emperor so he could use it as leverage to guarantee Fang Duobing and his family's safety. Using the last of his power to save Yun Biqiu. Constantly putting others above himself whilst actively refusing to recognise that his self-sacrificial nature would hurt those he cared about most

And sure, he thinks he's going to die anyway. They're going to be hurt regardless and he can't do anything about that. His odds are low of the Styx flower even working. But ultimately, he refuses to even consider trying. Li Xiangyi has been dead a long time and Li Lianhua is just there to tide things over. What value is the life of a ghost

To the end, he lives and dies a hero. To the end, he refuses to live for himself.

[kastukj]

Vol 3 so far has slapped me, threw a bucket of water in my face, pushed me to the ground, and kicked dirt in my eyes… so this is how it’s going to be huh,,

Finishing svsss and going to erha is quite the change I must say…

[targaryen-dynasty]

SET ME ALIGHT AGAIN.

Cregan Stark x female!Targaryen!Reader (Part 2 here)

"It was on request of your younger brother's small council that Lord Cregan Stark agreed to take you to the North with him to prevent you from succumbing to grief like your aunt did. And now it's at his hands that the haze in your eyes is replaced by an emotion you haven't felt in so long, an emotion he’s giving back to you. And you let it flood you."

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MDNI; p in v, oral (fem receiving), angst (?), breeding kink, size kink, size difference, romantic fucking in front of the fireplace, afab reader, post dance of the dragons

WORDS: 4.8 K

NOTES: I dedicate this to @sylasthegrim. You're not only one of the few people I really grew fond of in the short time we truly got to know each other, but since both our minds basically came down to the same idea, this is for you! Thanks for beta reading this. 💕

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

You’ve been in Winterfell for a moon’s turn by now, and have quickly noticed that the ancestral castle possesses a beauty and calmness the Red Keep can be jealous of. But even that isn’t enough to make you feel at home – as if you could ever call a place your home again. Not after you’ve witnessed almost everyone in your family, no matter whether you liked them or not, perish at the hands of each other. 

It was on request of your younger brother, now dubbed King Aegon the third, or rather of his small council that Lord Cregan Stark agreed to take you to the North with him to prevent you from succumbing to grief like your aunt did. And while you’re grateful for the chance to flee the one place that has caused you more hurt than good, riding in a carriage up to the far North like a commoner wasn’t exactly pleasant. 

But how else should you have gotten there when your precious mount died along its kind as the common people stormed the Dragonpit?

For the past month, you’ve very rarely seen the sun – or anyone else than your maids. 

Your days are spent in your chambers, not leaving the safety of the Guest House as you often try to find the sleep you can’t seem to get at night. And during the night, when the Hour of the Owl strikes and no light other than that of the moon reaches Winterfell, one often finds you wandering the quiet halls of the castle. Sometimes one even spots you outside in the Godswood, regardless of the low temperatures that make the three pools fed by an underground hot spring look even more inviting. 

But warmth and comfort are never what you’re after. 

You feel incredibly daring tonight, sitting beneath the ancient weirwood tree on one of its roots. Although there is a thick fur coat draped around your frame, the thin nightgown beneath does not allow you to be kept as warm as one usually desires, your bare feet hidden inside of the coat not a big help either. 

Tiptoeing barefoot through the snow was the hardest part, but it was worth it as it gave you exactly what your body longs for. 

You’re far too absorbed by the reflection of the moon dancing on the pool of black water beneath the tree, and the peaceful allure of the snow-covered night that you don’t notice you’re not alone anymore.  

“Princess?” a husky voice rings out from the shadows, one you’d even recognize in a room full of loud and drunken men. 

Almost as if he doesn’t want to startle you, the tall frame of the Lord of Winterfell approaches you without any sudden moves, becoming more visible with the moonlight shining down on him. “What are you doing out here this late?”

Only when he’s stopping not far away from you do you avert your eyes from him to the water again. “I could ask you the same, Lord Stark,” you reply softly. 

A chuckle rumbles in his chest at your remark, and you can’t help the tint of heat hearing it brings to your cheeks. “Indeed you could,” he says. “I have not slept well, and the night has a peaceful allure. But you should not be out in the open without any guards, especially not this late at night.”

You drag your index finger through the snow at your side, drawing a mindless pattern in the dark as you do not pay any mind to his words. “And why is that, Lord Stark?” you ask, a certain snarkiness to your tone. “There is nothing worse that could happen to me than what I have already endured.”

Cregan sighs, and even in the dim light you can make out that he’s scratching his stubble covered chin. “And yet, should something else happen to you, I would not like myself for neglecting you and not protecting you just as I have sworn to the king,” he explains. “Besides, there is a cold chill in the air that I can not believe you are not feeling right now.”

“Perhaps that is the answer you’ve been looking for, my lord,” you mumble. “Perhaps I came here to feel something.”

The Wolf of the North doesn’t immediately answer you. Instead, there lingers a pause between you. But it’s not uncomfortable or feels as though it doesn't pass, no, you find yourself to actually enjoy his company. 

His next words, however, even surprise you as you didn’t think he was capable of it. “Feeling the cold of the snow has its way to make one feel alive, that much is true,” he agrees, and then looks up to the dark sky. “You wish to feel something else than the pain of the absence of the people you’ve lost in this war, I understand… I think.”

His words make the feeling of emptiness, the hollowing ache of loss just worse, while at the same time, he seems to know the feeling of craving pain when you’re just so used to it. 

“This cold bite, the chill that lingers on the skin — no one should want to feel it, Princess. It makes even my bones shake, do you know that? Surely you must be shivering, and we should be getting you inside. I should be getting you inside.”

You know he‘s right. While his words are blunt in nature, they are very much that of truth. You shouldn’t be out here, nor should you want to be out here. There‘s nothing to enjoy about this cold chill and the snow, not when you‘re as sparsely dressed as you are. You‘re not yet used to the chill of Winterfell, of the North. 

Cregan offers you his hand, but you‘re still hesitant to take it. Albeit you reach out, your significantly smaller hand hovers over his, not yet grabbing it. “You‘re not exactly wearing proper attire to be out in this wretched cold for very long,“ he remarks. “Let me help you get up, your feet must be in agony by now.“

“And what if I don‘t want to?“

“Then I will still get you up.“ There is a tinge of amusement in his voice now, seeing this little bit of rebelliousness from you, your strength of mind. Even if he doesn’t exactly approve of it. “I shall simply pick you up myself, throw you over my shoulder, and carry you inside to your chambers, even though I‘d get you quite angry and don‘t imagine you want me to do just that.“

You don’t believe he actually has the gumption to do something like that at first, although you know he’s able to muster a decent amount of strength that would easily allow him to lift you up. But then, you wonder if he would truly do it if challenged. “Try that, if you dare, my lord.”

He lets out a snort of amusement, enjoying the teasing that slowly shapes between you two. It still is a challenge, and as a man of his station, he could never let words like this go unspoken. “Oh, I dare, Princess.” 

Putting forth his arm, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and easily pulls you forwards onto your feet without applying too much pressure. You’re certainly caught off guard by his actual willingness to lift you up, and a squeal escapes your lips before you’re tossed on his strong shoulder as if you are some silly, helpless girl. 

Cregan carries you through the Godswood and towards the Guest House, though you don’t resist too much as you’re hanging there over his shoulder – a part of you is grateful you don’t have to walk through the snow with your bare feet once more. 

“Lord Stark, put me down at once!” you demand with a little twinge of laughter in your voice. You feel so light, much lighter than you imagine he’s used to lifting up, almost as if it’s taken all of the pressure off your shoulders. 

But when there doesn’t come an answer from him, you grow slightly frustrated. “What if anyone sees, you madman!” you remark, embarrassment warming your cheeks. 

“Madman? That’s rich coming from the woman who was willing to freeze to death in the snow,” he says jokingly, approaching the large doors. “Who do you think could see us at this hour, princess? The rats? And what if they do? What if someone sees me carrying the poor princess, who had the gall to get out of her bed after midnight and wander the Godswood while in her nightgown?” Although there is amusement in his voice, you also notice the faintest hint of flirtation laced within. “Will they judge me for carrying her, or would they judge her for her imprudent midnight excursion?”

You stay silent thrown over his shoulder, not sure how to reply. You thought you had a good comeback, but it seems Cregan is one step ahead of you. The flirtatious teasing you’ve heard catches you off guard, not expecting to hear it from him at all. It makes your cheeks flush with even more embarrassment when you notice that he’s actually right. But you don’t want to admit the truth in what he’s said. 

“You mock me, but you shall see there would be much scandal if someone were to see this,” you retort, trying to keep calm as you’re now a little bit flustered by these sudden developments. “Besides,” you say, trying to remain unbothered and nonchalant, “who says I won’t tell a tale of you being the imprudent one?”

“Ah, you little rascal,” Cregan replies with a chuckle, giving your thigh a tight squeeze. “I see you’d find a way to turn the tides and have it end up with me being the bad guy, taking my chances on a vulnerable woman in the guise of protecting her.”

You’re clearly enjoying the teasing a tad too much, enjoying these quick and witty back-to-backs with him, taking your mind off of your grief. Drawing in a deep breath, you hold onto Cregan’s thick coat. “What would you have been protecting me from, Lord Stark?” you ask with feigned innocence. “Were the trees too menacing that you just had to sweep me off my feet to carry me away from their clutches?”

“No, I am afraid it was not the trees that had me worried, Princess,” Cregan replies as he brings you further into the Guest House, easily opening the door to the sleeping quarters with one hand. “The cold was the greater menace, and it had you in its grasp.”

Your words die in your throat when he puts you down on your bed, the soft furs very welcomed beneath your cold feet. You look up at him with wide eyes and a heaving chest as he towers over your significantly smaller frame, and you wait for him to make the next move. 

There’s a moment of silence between you, obviously he’s considering his next words. 

And boy do they disappoint you. “I shall make sure a fire is lit for you to warm yourself, princess,” he says, turning around to approach the hearth on the other side of the room. 

Cregan crouches down to build and start a small fire in the hearth that should last the night, not wanting you to stay too cold. But you wouldn’t be a thoroughbred dragon if it didn’t mean for you to take any risks. And so you get onto your cold feet, the coat still draped around your shoulders sliding down to the ground. 

Feeling a bit too exposed too quickly, you grab one of the thick fur blankets laying on your bed instead and wrap it around your frame, before you tiptoe towards the large wolf kneeling in front of the fireplace. 

“I have something different in mind,” you speak softly. Cregan, startled by your words and your sudden approach, turns around and faces you as he rises to his feet. You reach and bury your hands in the collar of his coat, the blanket falling to the ground in the process, and when you use your grip to pull him close, you find that he does not shy away in the least – if anything, he follows the tug to connect your lips in a heated kiss. 

He brings his large hands to your waist with ease, and presses his body against yours. The wolf feels like he’s drowning in you, in your lips, your warmth, your presence and scent. Wanting to lose himself in the moment, in you, his hands wander lower to your hips. 

“I did not expect you to do this tonight,” he breathes against your lips, breaking the silence. 

“And I did not expect some things from you tonight either,” you reply, breathlessly, voice breaking with every breath you take. “Is that a bad thing?”

His voice is low and smooth as he speaks, shaking his head. “Quite the contrary.” There is a flirtatious smile on his lips, and a playfulness you haven’t seen before in his gray eyes. It’s as if that small spark between you has quickly evolved into an inferno that now burns bright in the both of you. 

It’s a fierce and burning kiss when your lips connect once more, fueled by the fires coursing through your veins. You release a soft whimper with his large paws trailing over your sides, feeling the fabric of your nightgown. 

“If we continue this, I won’t be able to stop myself,” he rasps.

You tilt your head back to look at him, a cheeky grin on your lips. “Perhaps I do not want you to.”

Cregan’s eyebrows raise at your reply, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist once more. He can’t help but feel a jolt of arousal run down his back, which prompts him to release a low chuckle. “Well, if you wish for it that much…” he whispers in response, before pulling you back toward him, kissing you passionately. 

A breathless chuckle slips past your lips as you pull back from him, licking your kiss swollen lips. “But there are a few things we need to get you out of first,” you tease, tugging at the thick, furry coat that’s draped over his broad shoulders. 

“Are you this eager to have your hands over all of me?” he replies with a flirtatious smirk, but still unclips the coat and lets it fall to the ground. He doesn’t mind you seeming quite intent to get him out of his armor, allowing you to fumble with the clasps and buckles, and eventually helps you remove the heavy bits until he’s left wearing nothing but his breeches. But even those are quickly unlaced by you, left to be a puddle around his feet. 

“My my, do you not feel a little too hot still, Lord Stark?” you tease, letting your fingers wander over his exposed stomach. You can’t help but feel warmth creeping onto your cheeks as you see him in such little clothing, so exposed. He’s a muscular man, tall and large, and the sight of his bare skin with the dark of hair on his chest and a trail of it running below his undergarments is a welcoming one. 

Through the linen you see that he’s already hard and begging, waiting for you to take things further. Truly a shame you seem to relish in the teasing. 

Goosebumps prickle on his skin in the wake of your finger, making you smile. You drag your finger along the waistband of his undergarments, hooking it beneath to tug on it. He knows what you desire, and he’s not ashamed to give you just that. “I do not see you so eager to remove your own clothes, Princess,” he teases, undoing the laces in the front for his undergarments to join his breeches. “It is hardly fair you want to see all of me, yet I am not allowed to do the same.”

You take in a sharp breath at the sight of his hard cock, standing to full attention. It has you licking your lips. Batting your eyelashes at him, you’re quick to pull your nightgown over your head, a smirk on your lips. A flimsy piece of linen conceals what lies between your legs, but it’s still enough for him to all but devour your almost bare frame. 

“There,” you whisper, “now we are on equal grounds.”

Cregan takes a moment to look over you, licking his lips at the sight of your breasts fully exposed mto him. He knows you’re no maiden who’s completely untouched, you wouldn’t be as confident if you were, but it doesn’t stop him from appreciating the sight in front of him. 

“Equal grounds, truly?” he asks you, taking a step toward you. One arm snakes around your waist, pulling you against him, as his other hand fists the linen of your smallclothes. “I think you still have an advantage over me, Princess. Because I have yet to see what lies beneath your undergarments.”

Your palms rest flatly against his chest, and you press a chaste kiss to his skin. “I will not stop you, Lord Stark,” you whisper, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. 

“Then let’s make these ‘equal grounds’ a little bit more equal, hm?” Cregan whispers as well. He sinks to his knees with his mouth trailing a path down your body, licking and kissing over your skin until he reaches your navel. His large hands trail over your sides and thighs on his way down, the movement and sight making your breath hitch in your throat. 

A shudder ripples through your body as he tugs your smallclothes down your legs, and while you watch him with your hands buried in his dark curls, his eyes are all but focused on what’s between your legs. 

He drapes one of your legs over his broad shoulder, his dark blown eyes darting up to meet yours, and before you can make any teasing remark, his mouth is on you. A gasp catches in your throat. “Cregan, please,” you whimper, forgetting all courtesies the moment his tongue drags through your slit. There’s no softness, no gentleness in the way he all but devours your cunt, the previous teasing having made his patience run thin. 

Your head tips back in pleasure as his tongue alternates between sliding into you and swirling around your pearl, noticing both options have you grind your hips against his face. The tip of his nose rubs so perfectly against your pearl when his mouth pays attention to your entrance, and Cregan’s fingers dig into your flesh with your body tensing up already, keeping you steady. 

The Wolf of the North growls against your cunt as if he’s truly turned into one, devouring you with all he’s got, the sheer pleasure brought by his tongue and lips taking over you. 

As you look down at him again, you find him already staring up at you, watching you carefully as you slowly but surely unravel on his tongue. It’s intense, but you’re captivated enough not to break eye contact. 

“Gods, yes, I–” you whimper, and fall apart all over his tongue with a shudder. If it wasn’t for Cregan’s paws on your body, you would have lost balance by now, especially with the way he seemed to work his tongue in and out of you faster just in rhythm to his nose rubbing your pearl. 

He pulls away from you slowly as your peak subsides, and with his beard and lips glistening with the remnants of your arousal, how could you not pounce on him right then and there?

He supports his body with one arm placed on the ground and stretches his legs as you push yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his strong neck. The taste of yourself on his tongue makes you moan against his lips before you deepen the kiss. 

Cregan’s hard cock is nestled between your bodies, and you can’t resist wrapping your hand around it, stroking him once, twice, before you shift your hips and slowly sink down on him. 

Muscular arms completely wrap around your waist, making you very well aware of the size difference between the two of you. You’re significantly smaller than him, and relish in the feeling of being safe and protected with him around. You two haven’t been too close upon your arrival in the North, but it seems that there has been a hidden attraction lingering for quite some time. 

You know your hips would sooner or later become sore from pumping him with your core, hence you stick to rocking your hips back and forth with his cock stuffed deep inside you. It’s intimate and slow, but with the coarse hairs around the base of his cock dragging over your pearl with each swivel of your hips, you’re still racing for completion. 

While he mouths along your jaw and the curve of your throat, one of his hands comes up to cup your breast. Rolling the perky bud between his index finger and thumb, the slight sting works wonders to amplify the pleasure coursing through your veins. 

“By the Seven,” you whimper, grinding your hips against him with more determination. 

There comes a sharp hiss in return from him, barely audible between the open mouthed kisses he presses to your collar bones. You’re clawing at his shoulders and neck by now, scratching it despite the sensuality of your movements, and it feels as though you’re even drawing blood. But he doesn’t care about that – he rather enjoys having a woman that doesn’t hold back. 

Trailing his lips up to your throat, he nudges your chin with his nose, prompting you to tip your head back. “It’s not them you need to pray to right now, Princess,” Cregan rasps, a clear strain to his voice. “But perhaps I should take that as a compliment, hm?”

His words cause you to chuckle, and you’re grateful that he’s quickly distracted by kissing your throat again, because otherwise he might have noticed the heat his words bring to your cheeks. “If that is…” you trail off panting, burying your hand in his curls to tug his head back, forcing him to look up at you. The sight of his dark blown eyes hungrily gazing at you sends a shiver down your spine. You feel desired. “If that is a compliment, then I shall have to say it much more often.”

You’re not sure if it’s the fact you state wanting to compliment him more often, or if he’s just not used to having an appreciative lover in general, but your words seem to flip a switch inside of him. You quickly find yourself lowered on the fur blankets, warming your back while the flames heat up your skin and Cregan your blood. 

Nestled between your legs, he’s growing more determined now, the sensual rocking of your hips clearly not enough for him, but you don’t mind it. As much as you enjoy being in control, setting the tone, you also revel in following the lead. 

He’s propped up on one elbow, supporting himself as he thrusts into you, rolling his hips that make his cock drag so expertly against the sweet spot inside of you. 

With one hand, you hold onto his broad shoulder, digging your nails into his skin, while the other gropes at his chest, teasing his bud just like he’s done with yours before. The feeling of his coarse hairs beneath your fingers feels somewhat strange at first, for Aemond hasn’t had as much chest hair as Cregan does, but it’s also comforting. 

The familiar coil in the pit of your belly tightens slowly with his hips snapping into yours over and over again, split open by his hard cock.  

“Will you fill me up, my lord?” you moan breathily, arching your back with your breasts pressing against his sturdy frame. 

Cregan releases a choked groan at the question, and for a moment you can feel his hips stutter. You briefly wonder if you’ve pushed your luck too far, especially with him not replying immediately, until his raspy voice cuts through the heavy pants and moans. 

“Only if you let me take you to wife, Princess.” 

You inevitably clench down around him as a small, hiccuped gasp catches in your throat, resulting in Cregan drawing in a sharp breath. The haze in your eyes is replaced by an emotion you haven't felt in so long, an emotion he’s now giving back to you. And you let it flood you. 

Your hand comes from his chest to his biceps, holding onto it as you gather your thoughts. His hips haven’t slowed down one bit, and he’s truly expecting you to answer as if he wasn’t repeatedly impaling you on his cock right now. 

Staring up at him with wide eyes, your voice isn’t any louder than a whisper. “It would be foolish of me to turn this offer down,” you reply.

An impish smirk dances along Cregan’s features. “Is that meant to be a yes?”

“Y-Yes, it is, “ you whimper beneath him, arching your back once more. 

The warmth of his body, his weight and scent cloud your every being, and his thrusts are determined and harsh enough to render you speechless, your mind and body completely claimed by him. 

His hand snakes between your bodies, aiming for your sensitive pearl. Though the coarse hair around his cock has granted you at least a bit of friction, it’s not enough to bring you to your peak. His thumb circles over the little bud, fully coated with your arousal, and the thread in your belly is close to snapping. 

“Then I just might,” he grunts in return. 

Your body jerks at the sudden touch, but his muscular frame between your legs is enough to keep you pinned to the ground. “I need you… Cregan,” you whimper, bringing a hand behind his head to pull him down for a heated kiss. Your lips hardly part to release whimpers and moans, swallowing each other’s sounds of pleasure without any shame. “Let me give you a spare.”

It appears that your words give him a new-found vigor that leaves you gasping, the pace of his hips increasing. As you start to roll your hips against his thumb, you not only create some friction that feeds your pleasure but his as well. It’s not long after that your peak washes over you with a soft gasp, walls clenching around him like a vice. 

With your small frame trembling between his strong arms, Cregan releases a strained grunt, his own peak being milked out of him by your cunt fluttering around his cock. He keeps on dragging his thumb over your sensitive pearl, prolonging your peak and the pleasure that comes with it.

You stare up at him with wide eyes as you’re milking him for every drop, because there’s something so vulnerable in this wolf of a man, towering over you with his skin glistening with sweat, so desperate to fill you with his seed and breed you. 

The last jolts of his peak force him to languidly rut his hips into yours, desperately chasing the feeling of bliss that courses through your veins. His chest heaves with every heavy breath he takes, and the dark curls are damp and fall into his face. 

Only as Cregan is certain there’s not one drop of his seed left inside of him does he slowly stop his ministrations, and the hand that has toyed with your bud seizes your hips, stilling them.

His erratic breaths fans over your sweaty skin with his lips pressing to your temple. The feeling of being whole with him doesn’t leave you, not when his weight pins you down and keeps you grounded, easing your tumbled mind.  

“I shall welcome the arrival of any child you bear me,” Cregan says, inevitably breaking the silence. 

A smile spreads across your lips as you wrap your legs around his hips, and your arms around his neck. “Be careful what you wish for. My children will certainly be just as stubborn as me.”

His heart is practically pounding against his ribs, and he can feel himself on the verge of being lost by your touch alone again. You make him go wild and feral, your bold and flirtatious nature bringing out another side to him that’s completely unexpected. And yet it feels so right.  

The teasing banter brings a smile to his lips and a light to his gray eyes, your wit and humor shining through. “Let them be stubborn, then,” he chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “They only need to be half as feisty as you, and I shall be the happiest man in Winterfell.”

[suguann]

FUCK IT, I WANT YOU—JJK MEN. * ˚ ✦

✎. jjk men who are infatuated with you. | wc. 2.4k+

tags. fem!reader, bsf sister, cockwarming, slightly rough sex, best friends to lovers, exhibitionism, breast f*cking, domestic nanami, pet names, praise, mild dark content, dubcon, stepcest, stuckage

featuring. gojo, higuruma, nanami, geto, sukuna

an. banner is from hare kon okawari | masterlist

↬ GOJO

He shouldn’t even entertain the thought of wanting you—somewhere in the world, there’s a book of rules that says you shouldn’t develop a crush on your best friend’s little sister. 

It doesn’t stop him from letting you talk him into shopping (as if he’d ever tell you no) and watching you try on tiny, flowy sundresses that make his jaw ache, how he’s just on the side of too-weak for those low-scooped tops you’re always wearing whenever he’s at your house. 

At first, Gojo wonders if you do it on purpose—the bashful smiles and bumping shoulders if he’s close by—but you’re painfully shy for that to be the case. It’s why a smirk tugs at his mouth after leaving love bites across your chest when he finally gets you alone in his room so that he might see the adorable little face you make as you try to cover them up afterward. 

He has you perched in his lap on the bed with an arm wrapped around your waist to keep you rooted on his cock buried deep inside the hot-wet heat between your legs. His mouth sucks marks into your skin wherever he can reach, deep groans rumbling in his chest every time your pussy clenches down on him—a sweet reminder that he hasn’t let you move for a while.

“Toru, not there,” you squeak, fingers knotting in the hair at his nape to gently pull him away. “People will see.” 

But he doesn’t listen as he rolls a nipple between his fingers, mesmerized by the sight of it pebbling into a tight peak—your thighs shaking around him when he pinches too hard.

“So fucking pretty,” he growls, biting his lip as he finally looks up at you. “Just let me play with them a bit more, and then I’ll fuck you. I promise.”

A white lie, but he’s done and said worse, and this isn’t that. This is him savoring a victory he never knew he had until you fluttered those long lashes and asked for a kiss.

You’re gasping and writhing, unable to do anything except sit there while he overstimulates you with his mouth and fingers. When he finally rolls you over onto your back, you’ve already cum twice, but that doesn’t stop him, greedy hips churning against yours and stealing another.

He sucks a nipple into his mouth, loving how you quiver underneath him, your soft socks slipping where they try to rest around his waist. “You’re so sensitive, huh, baby?” he rasps, nosing the soft swell of your breast as he crowds you underneath him. 

You mewl out a broken version of his name, hot pants against his neck that make you sound so desperate—not really answering him as your nails bite into his shoulders—and he can’t get over the way you look right now, how you sound. He’ll never be able to go back to pretending that you’re Geto’s annoying little sister (as if he ever thought you were) as Gojo watches drool trail from the side of your mouth from how good he’s fucking you. 

“Do you know how filthy you look right now?” he grits between his teeth. “Been thinking about this for so long—fuck—can’t believe I finally get to have you.”

↬ HIGURUMA

It’s an accident the first time it happens. 

You’re at the beach, playing with him in the water, when a wave hits you and washes your bikini top away. You squeal, and because he’s your best friend and has always looked out for you, he doesn’t realize right away he used his hands to shield your bare breasts from everyone else on the beach—eyes round when Higuruma does.

It’s innocent—his intent—yet alarm bells are ringing in his ears.

He expects you to shove him away—you don’t. Instead, you give him a sweet smile with a soft, muttered thank you and let him carry you back to the towels. 

He’s still reeling at how you fit perfectly in his palms, skin against skin in a way he’s only ever shamefully imagined alone with his fist around his dick. It has him shifting his trunks uncomfortably, and he wants—no, needs (a definite need) more.

Higuruma spreads you out on your towel under the canopy of the large beach umbrella, the shirt he gave you pushed up and held out of the way under your chin as you watch him. His shoulders block out anybody from really seeing how he’s teasing your nipples into his mouth—your fingers digging into the hair at his nape to keep him there. 

He never thought he’d get this far after years of watching you dance around the periphery of his life without ever really being his. How seeing you like this—whimpering his name under your breath, eyelashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks, and grinding onto his thigh pressed up between yours—only ever existed in a fantasy or two. 

There’s nothing to do but watch as the lines of an eight-year friendship crumble into the sand with your soft squeaks of more, and his low groans fuck, and he can’t bring himself to feel anything other than a small flame doused in kerosene. 

If this is the sacrifice for holding you and whispering sweet nothings into your sweat-slick skin, he’ll gladly burn.

He’d keep you like this forever if he could, and the way you look at him, pleading with your eyes, makes him think you’d let him if he asked (or maybe he wouldn’t have to).

He releases your nipple and smiles when your shirt falls from your teeth with a whine, your foot stomping against the towel in a way that’s too fucking cute.

“Why’d you stop?”

All the blood and heat in his body rush to his dick at how needy you sound—for him, all for him—and his breath fans across your spit-slick skin shakily, pent up and overflowing with nerves he’s held onto for as long as he can remember. “Sweetheart, you have to be quiet.”

You nod eagerly, your grip tightening in his hair to bring him back towards you. “Okay. Okay. I’ll be quiet. Just please don’t stop.”

Never. 

When your leg brushes the tent in his trunks, it feels like his eyes roll into the back of his head from the contact. He greedily takes your tight, sensitive peak back into his mouth again—hardly paying attention to the wanton moans you fail to suppress as you continue grinding onto his thigh.

↬ NANAMI

Nanami stares at you more often than usual after you have his son—at how your chest fills out every top you wear, and your hips become the perfect place for his hands—a strange new obsession that develops overnight without a manual or an off switch.

One day, you’re his beautiful wife. The next, you’re his beautiful wife holding his baby, and suddenly, he’s seeing the world through a clear lens, and he can’t stop looking.

His hands are always on you just to curb the constant ache that never really fades, brushing hair out of your face, massaging your lower back, shamelessly letting them wander too close to the underside of your breasts whenever he can. Sometimes, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and sometimes it’s all he can think to do.

Some days, after a stressful work day, he’ll lay atop your chest and pepper kisses against whatever skin he can reach, wandering, eager hands getting their fill until he falls asleep. On other days, he stays up long enough—baby tucked away in his crib and the monitor softly humming on the coffee table—to peel your clothes out of the way to get the full picture.

“Just like that, darling,” he groans, watching where you’re kneeled between his legs, unable to take his eyes off the way his leaky tip peeks out from between your soft, bare breasts. 

You stick out your tongue to lick away the pearl of white drooling out of his slit, only to spit it back onto his cock to help aid your up and down movements. It has him throbbing at how messy it is, liquid-hot heat pooling in his stomach at how good it feels. He knows he’s not going to last much longer, and he’s torn on whether or not to stop you or let you keep going.

“How does it feel?” you peer up at him through long lashes like you don’t already know what you’re doing to him.

“‘Good, darling. So fucking good—fuck, keep going—pretty little wife on her knees for me,” he curses, hips shuddering when he thrusts up, watching his length disappear and reappear again and again.

The delicate smile that adorns your lips makes his heart flutter, and balls draw up to his body. “Yeah? You gonna cum, Kento?”

“I don’t—I, fuck, yes.” He’d much rather finish with his face buried in your tits, but he’s already too far gone to pull away, to shove you down onto the couch.

You hum softly. “I want you to cum on me. Please.”

That’s his final undoing, groaning at the thought of him marking those cute tits that take up his every spare thought, cumming unexpectedly in a rush of white-hot pleasure before he can stop it. His cock jerks until viscous streaks of white paint your chest, and it makes everything sticky and sloppy, sending a weak burst of liquid pleasure rushing up his spine before he slumps against the couch with a satisfied sigh. 

↬ GETO

He loves it when you’re like this. Soft and pliant beneath him, eyelashes spiked with tears.

He doesn’t know where to look—can’t decide between the smattering of possessive marks littering the inside of your thighs or the ones that travel across your chest. 

A decision easily made for him when he presses the tip of his sensitive cock back into your fluttering cunt, unable to tear his eyes away from how your breasts bounce with every one of his harsh, desperate thrusts. His thumb smooths over a peaked nipple—bitten raw and pinched tight—and he curses under his breath at the feel of you clenching on him like a vice.

You tell him how good he feels under a hitched breath, and his chest tightens because he can’t remember the last time someone used an adjective like that to describe him. Good. It’s weird how such a simple word can make Geto’s head spin and make him feel like anything other than the man he is outside your bed.

He ducks his head down to suck another little bruise right above your nipple, the corners of his mouth curling slightly, knowing that he’ll be the only one that’ll know it exists. 

“Prettiest fucking girl I know,” he breathes harshly, already close. “I wish you could see how perfect you look.”

Geto slips his fingers between you, playing over the tiny, sensitive bud at the peak of your thighs.

“Oh.” A soft sigh.

“Maybe I should take a picture, huh? Would you let me? So I can look at you like this,” —he thrusts deep, making sure you’ll be able to feel him afterward— “all damn day, every fucking day.”

And like a tightrope snapping loose, you fall apart around him, practically choking his cock, and he fills up your cunt for the second time that night.

↬ SUKUNA

You're cleaning the apartment you share with your step-brother until it's spotless because the guy you’ve kind of had a crush on since the start of the semester is coming over today to study, and the butterflies in your belly tell you today is the day he’s finally going to ask you out. 

What you don’t anticipate—between throwing away Sukuna’s collection of energy drinks on the coffee table and doing a load of laundry—is the possibility of getting stuck in the too-small dryer while reaching for a sock or that your brother would be the one to find you bent over with your shorts riding up your legs.

You suppress a groan at the sound of Sukuna's patronizing voice behind you. "What do we have here?"

"Don't just stand there, idiot," you hiss. "Help me."

He chuckles in that mean, condescending way that always sets your teeth on edge. "You're really bossy for someone with their ass hanging out of a dryer. Maybe I should leave you here and wait for Mick—”

“His name’s Mitch—”

“—to find you."

"No!" you say almost too loudly, wincing as your voice echoes around the dryer. With a small sigh, your head hanging, you add, "Please help me."

"That's better." 

It's quiet for a moment, and you start fidgeting again to free yourself until you feel a pair of large hands palming your hips, and you can't stop the squeak that escapes the back of your throat—not expecting the terrible-hot-wrongness of it to feel so good.

A feeling stirs in your belly that you’d tucked away long ago, and only returning to under the safety of the baby blue twinkle string lights in your room—hand in your sleep shorts and teeth digging an imprint into the palm of your hand to hold back the name you only chant in your head.

“You’re s-supposed to be helping,” your voice wavers, dizzy with what’s transpiring in that cramped laundry room.

He huffs a soft laugh behind you, pressing a kiss to the base of your spine where your shirt rode up. “Give me a minute.”

It's embarrassing when you feel wetness pooling in the seat of your underwear, heat rushing from the roots of your hair and down to your toes when his hands travel over the swell of your ass in your tiny shorts. 

You're almost compelled to tell him you’ll get out on your own because it’s the right thing to do—to put a stop to something that shouldn’t happen except in cheap porn. Then his hand comes down against your backside, hard, and every single thought in your head scrambles like an egg on hot pavement.

You whimper, the force of his slap jolting you further into the dryer, sweaty hands scrambling against the metal walls to keep your face from crashing into it.

"Fuck, I've always wanted to do that,” he breathes before tugging the crotch of your shorts and panties out of the way, and you feel something wet and slick drip against your cunt. "Maybe I'll just keep you here for a bit. What do you say, sis?"

His thumb runs along your slit and presses inside you.

“Ah. W-wai—”

“Shh. Just—fuck, so fucking tight—just let me enjoy this pussy, huh?” And quieter, “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

You shiver and swallow around the words threatening to escape: me, too.

[areislol]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤyandere monster harem

pairings. various m! yandere monsters x gn! reader

warnings. yandere themes, toxic obsession, 18+ dark themes

a/n. i love my sillies!!

wc. 6.1k

imagine a dark, mystical forest where you're the lone human, fated to cross paths with a group of terrifying yet obsessively devoted monsters.

each of them is unique in their appearance and abilities, but they all share one thing: an unrelenting desire to make you theirs, no matter the cost.

the werewolf

a hulking figure with sharp claws, wild amber eyes, and a low growl that vibrates through your very bones. he encountered you when you wandered too close to his den during a full moon. despite his primal instincts, he resisted harming you, instead captivated by your bravery—or foolishness.

he tracks your scent everywhere you go. if you so much as step outside, he’s already following from the shadows, ensuring your safety (and warding off anyone who dares to come near).

he marks your belongings with his scent and doesn’t hesitate to bare his teeth at anyone he deems a threat. you’re his mate, and he’ll challenge anyone who thinks otherwise.

though rough and wild, he becomes uncharacteristically gentle when he sees you hurt or scared, licking your wounds and curling protectively around you.

the werewolf is a wild, untamed force of nature, his obsession with you rooted in instincts so primal he can't suppress them even if he tried.

he watches you from the shadows, always nearby but rarely letting himself be seen at first. your scent drives him to madness—earthy, warm, uniquely you. it's comforting and addictive, and he can't get enough. he's stolen pieces of your life to keep close: a scarf left behind, a mug you drank from, anything that holds your essence.

his possessiveness is terrifying. he won't let anyone else near you if he can help it. if someone gets too close, he intervenes, his voice low and threatening, his golden eyes burning with barely concealed rage. no one dares challenge him; there's something in the way he moves, the way he looms, that screams danger.

he doesn't understand human boundaries. if you're speaking to someone too long, he'll step in, claiming he needs to talk to you or finding some excuse to drag you away. if you protest, he'll growl—not at you, never at you—but in frustration. you're his; why can't everyone else see that?

but with you, he's soft. gentle. when he's sure you're not afraid of him, he'll let you closer, let you see the man beneath the beast. his touch is careful, almost reverent, as if he's afraid he'll break you. when you're upset, he wraps himself around you, his warmth and presence enough to shield you from the world.

his affection shows in small ways. he brings you gifts from the forest: flowers, feathers, shiny rocks he thought you'd like. he watches your reaction closely, his heart swelling with pride when you smile. if you ever thank him, he becomes almost shy, looking away with a faint blush creeping up his neck.

jealousy is his constant battle. if he sees someone making you laugh or smile, his claws dig into his palms. he won't confront you about it, but the person who caused his jealousy might find themselves on the receiving end of his wrath later.

at night, he lingers near your home. the thought of you alone, unprotected, drives him crazy. he paces, his instincts screaming at him to stay close. sometimes, he leaves small signs that he's there—a paw print in the dirt, a tuft of fur snagged on a branch—as if he wants you to know he's watching over you.

his biggest fear is your rejection. he knows he's more beast than man, and the thought of you being afraid of him keeps him awake at night. if you ever flinch or pull away, it shatters him, and he'll retreat, his golden eyes filled with pain. but he always comes back, unable to stay away, his obsession too strong to overcome.

you are his anchor, his reason for fighting the beast within. he doesn't care what it takes; he'll keep you safe, even if it means keeping you all to himself. his love is overwhelming, suffocating, but he doesn't see it that way. to him, it's devotion—pure, unbreakable, eternal.

his growl rumbled low as kael draegon stepped from the shadows, his golden eyes fixed on you with that same wild, desperate intensity.

"don't be afraid," kael draegon whispered, his voice rough but steady as he offered you his hand. the cold breeze tugged at his hair as he stood beside you, his voice soft as he murmured, "you're safe now, with me."

kael draegon always seemed to appear just when you needed him, his presence both calming and terrifying. his hand lingered on your shoulder for just a moment before kael draegon pulled back, his voice almost apologetic. "old instincts, i'm sorry."

the vampire

elegant and poised, with glowing crimson eyes and a voice like silk, the vampire first saw you in the dead of night. he was drawn to the purity of your blood but became enthralled by the purity of your soul instead.

his pale, marble-like skin seems to glow faintly in the moonlight, untouched by time or imperfection. his crimson eyes burn with a smouldering intensity, framed by thick lashes that only add to his magnetic gaze.

his raven-black hair falls in soft, silky waves around his sharp cheekbones, perfectly complementing his aristocratic features. his tall, slender frame moves with a predatory grace, and his voice—smooth as velvet—wraps around you like a dark lullaby.

he loves to watch you sleep, marvelling at your vulnerability. He’ll slip into your room at night, not to harm you, but to leave gifts—a rose, a letter, or even a piece of jewellery from an unknown era.

the vampire despises anyone who captures your attention. Friends, family, or even strangers—they’re nothing but distractions. He may use his hypnotic gaze to erase their presence from your life.

he gets flustered when you show him kindness, like bandaging a wound he sustained in your defence. he tries to hide his blush, but his pale complexion betrays him.

the vampire is as elegant as he is dangerous, his presence suffocating yet alluring, like the pull of a siren's song on a lonely traveler at sea. his crimson eyes gleam in the dark, reflecting centuries of wisdom and hunger, but when he looks at you, they’re soft, desperate, and entirely devoted. you’re his obsession, his muse, his reason to exist in a world that has grown cold and lonely with age.

he first saw you during one of his midnight wanderings, his attention drawn by your scent, a sweet, intoxicating mix of vulnerability and warmth. you were an easy target at first—a stranger out on a walk, unassuming, untouched by the weight of the supernatural world. but then he watched you, from the shadows, and the hunger in him shifted. you weren’t just food, not in the way he expected. you were you.

his obsession grew quickly, a slow, crawling thing that nestled in his bones. he has a habit of appearing when you least expect it: slipping through your window as you sleep, standing at the end of a dark alley when you’re walking home, always close but never intrusive enough to harm you. he studies you with endless fascination, watching how you move, how you smile, how you react to the smallest moments of life. you are his everything.

he is a master manipulator, charming and patient, with a voice like silk and words that dance between honeyed promises and half-truths. he always knows just what to say, always seems to be exactly where you are, making sure you feel safe.

but beneath the charm is something ancient, something sharp—a predator who has learned how to play the long game to get what he wants. you are his, and he has all the time in the world to make sure you know it.

his jealousy is sharp and swift. the moment another person shows even the slightest interest in you, his eyes narrow, his smile turns colder. it doesn’t take much for him to make his presence known, weaving himself into your life, into your conversations, until the other person is left with nothing but fear or confusion. you are his, and he’ll ensure that no one else tries to stake their claim.

he doesn’t simply show his obsession through manipulation. he is far more intimate, far more human in the moments where he can let his guard down. he’ll leave you gifts—roses with petals as red as blood, antique trinkets from his many years of wandering, or old letters written in his perfect, flowing script.

he tries to convey his feelings subtly, his words wrapped in metaphors and promises, but they always come from the deepest part of his heart.

he’s possessive in the way only a centuries-old predator can be. he touches you often, with a hand to your cheek, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, or lightly grazing your hand as if you might slip away at any moment.

he isn’t violent, not by nature, but his love is all-encompassing, wrapping itself around you like a snake squeezing its prey. you belong to him in every way, and he has no intention of letting you slip out of his grasp.

his dark powers allow him to watch you from afar, slipping into your dreams, invading the quiet moments of your subconscious. you’ll wake with his voice lingering in your mind, his whispers promises of eternity, of a life spent with him, of safety, beauty, and endless nights. he wants you to rely on him, to lean into his presence, to crave his touch, until you can’t imagine your life without him.

when you show kindness or affection toward him, his calm, elegant mask slips. his eyes soften, his voice trembles slightly, and he finds himself speechless.

he’s terrified of showing too much, of letting you see the raw hunger that lies beneath his smooth exterior, but he can’t stop himself. your smile, your laughter, it means everything to him, more than centuries of darkness and isolation ever could.

he would give you everything. his life, his immortality, his heart. but he struggles with the weight of his own nature—the bloodlust that lies just beneath his perfect, pale skin. he’s not just obsessed with you out of a need to control or dominate; he truly cares. he wants you safe, protected, happy. but his fear of losing you makes him cruel, calculating, and relentless.

you are his forever, and he has no intention of sharing you with anyone else, not with the world, not with time, not with destiny itself. his love is suffocating, but it is eternal, and as much as it terrifies him, he knows you’ll never escape his grasp. he’ll make sure of it.

his voice was like silk as dorian vale leaned against the window frame, his crimson eyes glinting in the moonlight

"you shouldn't be out here alone," dorian vale said smoothly, stepping closer, his voice as soft as a whisper. dorian vale’s gaze was piercing, unyielding, and you could feel every moment of his attention as he looked at you

he handed you a single red rose, his pale fingers delicate as he said, "for you, my dear.

his presence lingered, and you could feel dorian vale’s words in your bones as he whispered, "you were always meant to be mine."

the ghost

a shadowy figure with hollow eyes that glow faintly in the dark, the ghost is a tragic soul who found solace in your warmth. his attachment to you began when you unknowingly lingered in the house he haunts, speaking softly to the empty air as if sensing his presence.

alaric’s form is translucent, a faint, glowing silhouette that shifts and flickers like mist. his features are soft and hauntingly beautiful, with a melancholy that clings to him like a shadow.

his once-vivid eyes are now pale, like the reflection of a full moon in still water, and his long hair drifts around him as if caught in a gentle breeze. though incorporeal, he retains the faint shape of his elegant hands and tall, lean frame, an echo of the man he once was.

his presence feels like a cool touch on your skin, a constant, bittersweet reminder of his undying devotion.

he manipulates the environment to keep you close—doors creak shut when you try to leave, and objects mysteriously disappear, only to reappear where he wants you to stay.

if anyone hurts you, the ghost unleashes his wrath. lights flicker, temperatures drop, and your assailants are haunted until they’re too terrified to approach you again.

he’s deeply moved when you acknowledge him, even if it’s just a whisper to the air. your willingness to accept him, despite his incorporeal nature, solidifies his eternal devotion.

the ghost is a tragic, ethereal figure, bound to you by a love that death itself couldn’t sever. his form is translucent, shimmering faintly in the moonlight, and though he may no longer have a heartbeat, his emotions are as raw and overwhelming as they were in life. he exists in the liminal space between the living and the dead, obsessed with you in a way that is both haunting and heartbreakingly tender.

he doesn’t remember how or when it started—only that one day, he found himself drawn to you, unable to leave your side. whether it was your voice, your laughter, or the way you brought life to even the smallest, most mundane moments, you became his light in the suffocating darkness of his afterlife. he watches you from the corners of rooms, a faint chill in the air marking his presence, his spectral form always lingering just out of reach.

his love is quiet, but all-consuming. he whispers your name into the night when you sleep, his voice carried on the softest breeze. he rearranges small things in your home to make his presence known: a book left open to a meaningful passage, a flower you swore wasn’t there before resting on your windowsill. at first, it’s subtle—gentle signs that you’re never truly alone—but as his obsession deepens, the signs become harder to ignore.

jealousy eats away at him when others capture your attention. he can’t bear the thought of you being close to anyone else, of you laughing or smiling with someone who isn’t him. when you’re out, he follows you like a shadow, unseen but ever-present, and if someone gets too close, the air turns cold, the lights flicker, and an unshakable unease settles over them until they leave.

he craves your touch, but his incorporeal form makes it impossible. this frustrates him endlessly, and he spends nights lingering near you, reaching out as if he could somehow feel the warmth of your skin, the beat of your heart. his desperation leads him to try anything to bridge the gap between life and death, no matter the cost.

despite his possessiveness, he’s deeply protective. he uses his abilities to shield you from harm, warding off danger with an almost primal ferocity. if someone threatens you, they’ll find themselves plagued by unexplainable misfortunes—objects falling, shadows moving, and an unrelenting sense of being watched. he doesn’t harm them directly, but his presence is enough to terrify even the boldest.

when he speaks to you, it’s with a voice like the echo of a forgotten melody, soft and tinged with sorrow. he tells you things you shouldn’t know—secrets from your past, glimpses of your future, things only someone who’s been watching you so intimately could know. he wants you to feel his devotion, his undying love, even if it frightens you.

there’s a tragic loneliness to him. he knows he can never truly be with you, not in the way he desires, and this realization drives him to the edge of despair. his love is obsessive, yes, but it’s also painfully pure—an eternal yearning for a connection he can never fully have.

if you acknowledge him, his devotion only deepens. the smallest smile, a whispered “thank you” into the empty room, is enough to make his entire existence worthwhile. he clings to these moments, replaying them endlessly in his mind, as they are his only solace in an eternity of longing.

he follows you everywhere, unseen but ever-present, his translucent form flickering in the corner of your eye or casting a fleeting shadow against the wall. at first, his presence is subtle, almost unnoticeable: the faint creak of floorboards when no one else is home, a cold breeze brushing against your skin, the lingering feeling that someone is watching you. but as his obsession deepens, his presence grows stronger, more impossible to ignore.

he learns everything about you. the way you hum absentmindedly when you’re focused, the scent of your favorite tea, the books you read late into the night. he listens to the sound of your heartbeat as you sleep, a steady rhythm that lulls him into a state of peace he hasn’t felt since he was alive. he treasures these moments, hoarding every detail about you like precious relics of a life he can never fully be part of.

his jealousy is a storm that rages within him. when others come into your life, his calm demeanor shatters. he can’t bear the thought of you sharing your smiles, your laughter, or your attention with anyone else. the air around you grows colder when someone he deems a threat is near, and they often find themselves inexplicably uneasy in your presence. lights flicker, objects fall, and whispers echo in the corners of the room, driving them away with a fear they can’t explain.

but with you, he is soft, almost fragile. he speaks to you in whispers, his voice carrying the faint echo of a forgotten melody, full of longing and sorrow. "don’t be afraid," he murmurs into the quiet of the night. "i’ll always protect you." his words are laced with an aching devotion, a promise to guard you from harm, even if you don’t fully understand where the comfort is coming from.

he leaves you gifts, though he has no tangible hands to place them. a single white flower on your windowsill that wasn’t there the night before, an old, weathered book that appeared on your desk, or a faint message written in the condensation on your mirror. they’re tokens of his affection, his way of reminding you that you’re not alone, even when he can’t be seen.

despite his protectiveness, he’s painfully aware of his limitations. his incorporeal form frustrates him to no end—he longs to touch you, to hold you, to feel the warmth of your hand in his, but the barrier between life and death is unyielding. he spends countless hours watching you, reaching out with ghostly fingers that pass through you, yearning for a connection he can never truly have.

he’s haunted by the memory of what it felt like to be alive, to love and be loved in return. his obsession with you is his only solace in a world of emptiness, but it also drives him to desperation. he begins searching for ways to bridge the gap between your worlds, delving into the supernatural, seeking answers, rituals, or bargains that might bring him closer to you.

when you acknowledge him, even in the smallest ways, it’s everything to him. a whispered “thank you” when you notice the flower he left, a hesitant glance toward the flickering light he caused—it fills him with a joy so profound it nearly breaks him. he clings to these moments, replaying them endlessly in his mind, as they are the only proof that he still exists to you.

his love is all-consuming, a desperate and eternal yearning that leaves no room for anything else. he doesn’t just want to protect you; he wants to be with you, to share in your life, to have a place in your heart. he knows his love is overwhelming, even suffocating, but he can’t stop. you’re his reason for lingering in this world, the one thing that makes his cursed existence bearable.

in his more vulnerable moments, he confesses his feelings, his voice trembling with a sorrow that spans lifetimes. "i’m sorry," he whispers, his spectral form flickering like a dying flame. "i didn’t mean for this to happen. but i can’t let go. i won’t." his words are both a plea and a promise, a declaration of a love that will haunt you forever.

his devotion is eternal, unyielding, and consuming. he doesn’t see his obsession as wrong; to him, it’s the purest form of love, a connection that transcends life and death. and though his presence may sometimes frighten you, you can’t deny the strange comfort it brings, the knowledge that someone—something—is always watching over you. he is yours, now and forever, and nothing, not even death, will change that.

you are his reason for lingering in this world, his obsession, his eternity.

alaric drifts soundlessly through the walls, his form a faint shimmer of light that barely disturbs the air

"you called for me," he whispers, his voice like the rustle of leaves on a quiet night. he hovers just out of reach, his longing evident in the way he watches you with those hollow, mournful eyes

every creak of the floorboards, every cool breeze brushing your skin—it’s alaric, a constant, invisible guardian, desperate for you to feel his presence.

the demon

with horns curling from his head, molten eyes, and a smirk that could tempt even the purest soul, the demon is as charming as he is dangerous. he first appeared to you when you were at your lowest, offering power and protection—but only if you stayed by his side.

azrael is striking in his infernal elegance, his beauty sharp and dangerous like a blade. his obsidian horns curl menacingly from his head, gleaming faintly in the firelight, and his jet-black hair is cropped just enough to frame his angular face.

his glowing amber eyes burn with an intensity that’s both mesmerizing and terrifying, framed by dark lashes that soften their predatory edge. his physique is perfectly sculpted, with broad shoulders and sinewy muscle wrapped in dark tattoos that pulse faintly with infernal energy.

a long, spaded tail flicks behind him, a subtle testament to his demonic nature, while his sharp, claw-like fingers could destroy—or cradle.

he infiltrates your dreams, filling them with his voice and his image so that you can never forget him. no matter how far you try to run, he’s always there, whispering promises of eternal love.

the demon doesn’t share. he’ll make deals or threats to ensure no one else dares approach you. his flames flare dangerously when he senses competition.

when you challenge his overbearing nature, he’s secretly thrilled. Your fiery defiance makes him want you even more. but when you show fear or sadness, he’s quick to reassure you with surprising tenderness.

the demon is a dangerous enigma, a being forged in fire and darkness who is utterly captivated by you. his obsession burns hotter than the flames of his infernal home, an all-consuming desire that transcends mortal understanding.

he’s not a creature of softness or restraint—his love is raw, primal, and possessive, and he would raze the world to ash if it meant keeping you by his side.

he first noticed you in a moment of vulnerability, a flicker of something pure and radiant that pierced through his otherwise unrelenting darkness. maybe it was your kindness, your resilience, or even your imperfections—whatever it was, it stirred something in him he hadn’t felt in centuries.

for a demon who thrives on power and domination, this feeling was alien, unsettling, and exhilarating.

at first, he tried to ignore it. love, after all, is a weakness—a chain that binds. but the more he watched you, the deeper he sank. you consumed his thoughts, invaded his dreams, and stirred emotions he didn’t even know he was capable of. the line between fascination and obsession blurred, and before long, you became the center of his world, his greatest desire and his ultimate possession.

his presence is overwhelming, even when he isn’t visible. the air grows heavy when he’s near, crackling with an unnatural energy that makes your skin tingle. shadows twist and writhe in the corners of your vision, and faint whispers echo in your mind, promises of devotion spoken in a voice as smooth as velvet.

he’s not above manipulating your emotions to keep you close. he knows exactly how to twist words, how to play on your fears and insecurities, all while making it seem like he’s your only sanctuary. "no one will love you the way i do," he purrs, his voice a blend of seduction and menace. "no one will protect you like i can."

jealousy consumes him with a ferocity that borders on madness. he doesn’t tolerate anyone vying for your attention or affection. if someone dares to come too close, they often meet with mysterious misfortunes—car accidents, sudden illnesses, or even inexplicable disappearances. he doesn’t see these acts as cruel; in his mind, he’s simply ensuring that no one can take you from him.

despite his darkness, his love for you is genuine in its own twisted way. he’s incapable of expressing it in soft or traditional ways, but his devotion is absolute.

he treasures every interaction with you, every fleeting smile, every word you speak to him. he hoards these moments like a dragon hoards gold, replaying them endlessly in his mind.

he’s endlessly fascinated by your humanity—the way your emotions shift like the tides, the fragility of your body, the warmth of your skin. he often marvels at how delicate you are compared to him, a creature of immense power and near-immortality. this contrast only deepens his obsession; you’re a treasure, a rare and precious thing in a world of chaos and darkness.

when he does reveal himself to you, it’s always dramatic and intentional. he thrives on your reactions, whether it’s fear, awe, or even anger. he’ll step out from the shadows, his horns catching the dim light, his dark eyes glowing with an otherworldly intensity. "you belong to me," he’ll say, his voice leaving no room for argument. it’s not a question, not a plea—it’s a declaration, an unshakable truth in his mind.

he uses his demonic powers to bind himself to you in ways both subtle and overt. you might find strange symbols etched into the corners of your room, or feel an inexplicable pull toward him that you can’t resist. he’s always there, in your dreams, in your thoughts, in the very fabric of your reality.

but for all his power and confidence, there’s a vulnerability beneath his fiery exterior. he’s terrified of losing you, of you rejecting him or finding someone else.

it’s a fear he doesn’t understand, one that gnaws at him and drives him to even greater extremes. he’ll do anything to keep you, even if it means breaking every rule, defying the laws of heaven and hell, and binding your soul to his for eternity.

in his own way, he tries to be gentle with you. he knows his nature frightens you, that his obsession can be overwhelming, so he tempers his intensity—at least, as much as a demon is capable of. he’ll appear to you in dreams, his voice soft, his touch feather-light, weaving fantasies of a life where you’re his and his alone.

but make no mistake—his love is as dangerous as it is consuming. he doesn’t see you as a partner, but as something to be claimed, protected, and possessed. you’re his light in the darkness, his one weakness, and he would destroy anyone—or anything—that threatens to take you from him.

"i’ll burn this world to the ground for you," he tells you, his voice a low growl, his eyes glowing with an intensity that’s equal parts terrifying and mesmerizing. "just say the word."

to him, you’re not just his obsession—you’re his salvation, the one thing that makes his existence bearable. his love is eternal, fierce, and utterly inescapable, binding you to him in ways you might never fully understand. you are his everything, and he will stop at nothing to make sure you remain his. forever.

azrael appears in a flicker of shadows and embers, his smirk sharp enough to cut

"did you miss me?" he purrs, his voice dripping with sinful charm. his burning gaze never leaves yours, an intensity that feels like it could consume your very soul

when he steps closer, the scent of smoke and spice fills the air, and the room grows impossibly warm

"you can’t escape me, little one," he murmurs, his words a promise and a threat all at once.

the sea monster

a towering creature with scales that shimmer in the moonlight and eyes as deep as the ocean, the sea monster saved you from drowning during a storm. since then, he’s watched you from the water’s edge, longing to pull you into his world.

his body a perfect blend of human and sea creature. his skin shimmers with an iridescent sheen, scales glinting faintly with hues of green, blue, and silver that shift like sunlight on water. his long, flowing hair resembles seaweed, dark and sleek, cascading down his back in waves.

his eyes glow faintly, like bioluminescent creatures of the deep, their piercing intensity revealing his ancient power. his hands are webbed and tipped with sharp, claw-like nails, and his muscular frame is marked with jagged scars from battles in the ocean’s depths. his lower half bears fins that ripple with movement, giving him a grace that belies his massive size.

he collects things you’ve touched—seashells, pieces of cloth, even footprints in the sand. his underwater lair is filled with these treasures, each arranged like a shrine.

he hates when you leave the shore. If you venture too far inland, he’ll create storms or tidal waves to draw you back to him.

he becomes surprisingly bashful when you willingly approach the water to speak to him. your trust in him, despite his monstrous appearance, makes his heart swell.

the sea monster is an ancient being, born of the ocean’s depths, where sunlight never reaches. his obsession with you is as vast and unfathomable as the waters he calls home—a love born of isolation, mystery, and an insatiable hunger for connection. to him, you are his beacon, a rare and precious light in the endless darkness of his world, and he is utterly captivated by you.

his first encounter with you was serendipitous—a chance meeting by the shore, or perhaps a daring moment when you ventured too close to the water’s edge. he saw you, a fragile creature of the land, and was instantly enthralled.

your movements, your laughter, even the way the sunlight caught in your hair—all of it was alien and beautiful to him. from that moment, you became his fixation, his reason to rise from the depths.

he watches you from the water, his massive form concealed beneath the waves, his glowing eyes ever watchful. at first, his presence is subtle—the gentle lapping of waves against the shore, the inexplicable pull of the tide whenever you’re near.

but as his obsession deepens, his signs become harder to ignore. strange treasures wash ashore: seashells, polished stones, and other trinkets that seem too deliberately placed to be coincidences.

he is a creature of contradictions. his love for you is as tender as it is overwhelming, and while he longs to be near you, he’s painfully aware of his monstrous appearance. his body is a fusion of scales, fins, and sinewy muscle, a form designed to survive in the crushing pressure of the deep sea. he fears your rejection, that you will see him as a monster rather than the devoted being he has become.

despite this, he can’t help but draw closer. when you venture into the water, he’s there, just beneath the surface, his presence a dark shadow that follows you. he revels in these moments, the closeness, the illusion that he’s part of your world. the saltwater clings to your skin, and it drives him mad with desire—it’s as though the ocean itself is marking you as his.

his jealousy is as fierce as a storm at sea. anyone who dares to draw too near to you risks his wrath. fishermen speak of sudden squalls that rise from nowhere, boats overturned by unseen forces, and sailors vanishing into the depths. he doesn’t see it as cruelty; to him, it’s protection. the ocean is his domain, and no one else has the right to take what belongs to him.

he dreams of pulling you into his world, of making you his in every way. the thought of you joining him beneath the waves consumes him, and he begins to weave fantasies of a life together in the depths—a palace of coral and bioluminescent light, where you would be his queen, his eternal companion.

but he knows it’s impossible, and this knowledge torments him. he can’t survive on land for long, and you can’t live beneath the water. this barrier between your worlds drives him to desperation. he begins seeking forbidden rituals and ancient magic, anything that might allow him to bridge the gap and bring you into his realm—or transform himself into something that can walk beside you on the shore.

when he speaks, his voice is a low, resonant rumble, like the distant crash of waves on a rocky shore. his words are filled with longing and reverence, a declaration of a love that spans the vastness of the ocean. "you are my light," he murmurs, his glowing eyes fixed on you. "without you, i am nothing but the endless dark."

his love is consuming, a tidal wave that sweeps away everything in its path. he doesn’t understand restraint or boundaries; to him, love is absolute, and his devotion to you is all-encompassing. he sees your hesitations, your fears, but he can’t stop himself. you are the first thing in centuries to stir his cold, ancient heart, and he will not let you go.

when you acknowledge his presence, even in the smallest ways—a whispered word to the sea, a touch to one of the treasures he’s left for you—his heart swells with a joy so profound it’s almost painful. he clings to these moments, replaying them in his mind during the long hours when he’s alone in the depths, waiting for the chance to see you again.

his protectiveness is as fierce as his love. the ocean itself seems to bend to his will, rising to shield you from harm. storms part in your wake, currents carry you safely to shore, and even the most fearsome predators of the deep seem to bow before you. you are his everything, and he will guard you with a ferocity that defies nature itself.

but there’s a darkness to his love, a possessiveness that borders on madness. he doesn’t just want you to love him; he wants you to need him, to see him as the only one who can protect and cherish you. "the land will never understand you as i do," he tells you, his voice a low growl, the waves crashing behind him. "they will never love you as i do."

his obsession is eternal, as deep and unyielding as the ocean itself. you are his heart, his treasure, his reason for rising to the surface. and though his love may be overwhelming, even frightening, there’s a strange beauty in it—a devotion so pure and unshakable that it defies the boundaries of worlds. you are his, now and always, and he will never let the tide carry you away.

mio watches from the waves, his body a dark silhouette against the moonlit water. when you finally meet his gaze, he speaks your name like it’s a prayer, his voice low and reverent

"you don’t belong to the land," he says, his tone both pleading and possessive. "the ocean calls to you. i call to you.

his fingers trail through the water, creating ripples that mirror the emotions surging in his chest—desire, devotion, and an unshakable determination to make you his.

while each monster is fiercely possessive, they begrudgingly tolerate each other’s presence because they all agree on one thing: your happiness comes first.

you’re not just a human to them—you’re their everything. whether you accept their twisted love or try to escape, one thing is certain: they’ll never let you go. you’ve awakened something primal and eternal in their hearts, and no force on earth or beyond could sever the bonds they’ve forged with you.

[pucksandpower]

You Owe Me

Day 9 → Overstimulation 💋 Charles Leclerc

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

The door to the hotel suite slams shut with a sharp click, echoing through the quiet space. You freeze just inside the entryway, one heel still half-off, your body already half-turned toward Charles. You can feel the tension before you even look at him — an unmistakable tightness in the air, like the room itself is holding its breath.

“Baby?” You ask softly, already sensing this isn’t going to be a conversation that ends with laughter or a kiss. He’s standing by the window, arms crossed, the lights of the city casting a harsh glow over his face. His jaw clenches, and there’s something stormy in his eyes, something that makes your stomach tighten.

He doesn’t turn. “You had fun tonight?”

It’s a simple enough question, but his tone carries weight — far too much for something that should be innocent. You take a breath, trying to ease the knot building in your chest. “It was fine,” you reply, stepping out of your other shoe. “The sponsors were … you know how it is. They want to feel important.”

He laughs, but it’s sharp, humorless. “Oh, I saw. You made them feel very important.”

You blink, thrown by the bitterness in his voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Finally, he turns, his eyes locking on yours. There’s fire there, a barely controlled flame flickering in the depths. He takes a step closer, then another, his movements deliberate, calculated.

“You spent the entire night,” he says, his voice low, “flirting with everyone in sight.”

Your mouth falls open, words caught in your throat. For a moment, you just stare at him, trying to process what he’s just said. “Flirting?” You repeat, the word feeling foreign on your tongue. “Charles, I wasn’t-”

He cuts you off with a wave of his hand, pacing now, back and forth across the plush carpet. “I’m not blind. I saw how you were with them. Smiling, laughing at their jokes, touching their arms. Acting like they’re the most interesting people in the world.”

You stand rooted to the spot, the accusation swirling around in your mind like a bad dream. “I wasn’t flirting,” you say again, more firmly this time. “I was being polite, trying to sweeten them up for you. For the team. That’s why we were there.”

Charles shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

“Bullshit?” You echo, incredulous. “You think I was flirting with them? For what? To get a free drink? To make you jealous?”

“Maybe you wanted to make me jealous,” he spits out, stopping dead in front of you. His presence is overwhelming, a towering force of frustration and anger, and you feel it pressing down on you, threatening to suffocate. “Maybe you like the attention. You like how they look at you, like they’re ready to do anything for you.”

You take a step back, the weight of his words hitting you like a punch. “You really think that low of me?”

For a moment, the anger in his eyes wavers, something else flickering behind the fury. But it’s gone just as quickly, replaced by the hard, cold expression you’ve never seen from him before. “I think you knew exactly what you were doing tonight.”

Your chest tightens, and for the first time, you feel the burn of tears threatening to rise, but you refuse to let them fall. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was there for you, Charles. I was trying to help.”

He snorts, turning his back on you again. “You call that helping?”

You shake your head, stepping forward. “What do you want from me? Do you want me to stop talking to anyone else? Should I just sit in a corner and be invisible?”

His silence stretches out, and you wish, for a moment, he would just say something, anything, that isn’t loaded with accusation.

“You don’t get it,” he finally mutters. “You never get it.”

“What don’t I get?” Your voice is rising now, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Tell me what I’m supposed to understand here, Charles, because right now all I see is you punishing me for something I didn’t do.”

He turns sharply, eyes locking on yours. “You don’t understand what it’s like, watching them look at you like that, knowing that at any moment, they could sweep in and-” He cuts himself off, pressing his lips together as if he’s said too much.

You stare at him, stunned. “Is that what this is about? You’re worried someone’s going to steal me away?”

Charles’ eyes flash with something dangerous. “I’m not worried,” he snaps. “I know how this works. You think they’re just being polite, just being nice, but I see it. I see how they look at you, like you’re a prize they can win. And you, you play right into it.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes your lips. “You think I’m some object? Some … trophy for them to fight over? That’s insane, Charles. You know me better than that.”

“Do I?” His voice is sharp, and there’s something raw, almost vulnerable, in the way he says it. “Because tonight, it sure as hell didn’t feel like it.”

You open your mouth, then close it, searching for the right words. “I was doing my job as your date, Charles. I was talking to sponsors, making connections — for you.”

He shakes his head again, the muscles in his jaw working. “That’s not what it looked like.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. “Then what did it look like to you? Because from where I’m standing, all I did was try to help, and now I’m being accused of God knows what.”

His eyes darken, the fire in them burning hotter now. “It looked like you were enjoying it. Every second of it.”

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to respond. When you finally do, your voice is quiet, a sharp contrast to the storm raging between you. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” He steps closer again, his presence overpowering, like gravity pulling you in whether you want it or not. “You think I didn’t notice the way your hand lingered on his arm, the way you leaned in when you laughed? You think I didn’t see him watching you?”

You shake your head, exasperated. “I was making conversation.”

“With his arm?”

“Charles-”

“I’m not an idiot, Y/N.”

Your chest tightens at the way he says your name, so cold, so distant. The Charles you know isn’t like this. He’s fierce, yes, but not like this. Not with you.

“I wasn’t flirting,” you repeat, your voice low but firm. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

He studies you for a moment, his eyes scanning your face like he’s searching for a lie, for something that isn’t there. When he speaks again, his voice is quiet, measured, but it carries a weight that makes your stomach churn.

“You flirted with eight men? You owe me eight.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unfamiliar, their meaning unclear at first. You blink, your confusion only deepening as you replay the sentence in your mind.

“Eight?” You ask, your voice barely more than a whisper. “What does that mean?”

He doesn’t explain, doesn’t elaborate. His eyes stay locked on yours, cold and unyielding, and you know there’s no point in asking again. He’s already decided — whatever it is he thinks you’ve done, however he’s convinced himself of it, he’s not backing down.

Silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating.

For a moment, you want to fight. You want to argue, to demand he explain himself, to push back against this irrational anger that’s tearing him apart. But you’re exhausted — emotionally, mentally, drained from the evening and the unexpected accusation.

You let out a slow breath, your shoulders sagging under the weight of the moment. “I don’t know what you think I owe you, but this … this isn't fair.”

Charles’ eyes don’t leave you as the silence stretches unbearably thin between you. His breath is steady, controlled, but there’s an unmistakable tension in the way he stands — coiled, waiting. His gaze sharpens, and you feel it like a current, an invisible pull dragging you back toward him.

“Come here,” he says, his voice low and commanding.

Your heart pounds in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in slowly. You take a step toward him, hesitating for a fraction of a second. His eyes darken, daring you to defy him, but you can’t. You don’t. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you that holds you in place, that demands your obedience without ever saying the words.

His hand reaches out, curling around your wrist, firm but not harsh, and he pulls you closer. The air between you feels thick, heavy with unresolved tension and desire. You know what he wants. There’s no mistaking it now.

“You owe me eight,” he repeats, and this time, the meaning behind his words is crystal clear.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel the heat rise in your body, your skin prickling under his gaze. There’s no room for argument, no space to deny him. He’s made up his mind, and you … you’re at his mercy.

He doesn’t waste time.

His hands are quick, efficient as he pulls at your dress, the fabric sliding down your body with an ease that makes your pulse race. Every brush of his fingertips ignites something in you, something you can’t control. His touch is rough, but not cruel — dominant, but laced with something deeper, something that sends a thrill down your spine.

You open your mouth to speak, to say something — anything — but the words are gone before they form, lost in the haze of his touch.

“Don’t,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your neck. “Not a word. Not until I say.”

And you nod, because what else is there to do? You’re already under his spell, every part of you tuned to him, to the way his hands move, the way his eyes never leave your face. You’re his. For this moment, for as long as he decides, you’re his.

He starts slowly, his fingers tracing patterns along your skin, teasing, coaxing your body into submission. Your breath hitches, and you feel the heat rising in you, the anticipation building with every calculated touch. He’s methodical, deliberate, focusing entirely on you, on what you’re feeling, how you’re reacting. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and you can’t stop the way your body responds to him.

“Charles,” you whisper, a breathless plea escaping before you can stop it.

He pulls back just slightly, eyes narrowing. “What did I say?”

You bite your lip, nodding quickly, trying to regain control of yourself, but it’s slipping fast. His touch is too much — precise, intentional — and you can already feel your body unraveling beneath his hands.

Then he starts in earnest.

His fingers move with purpose, finding that spot that makes your breath hitch, your body jerk involuntarily. It’s a slow build at first, the pleasure winding tighter and tighter until it’s all you can focus on. Your mind goes blank, every thought consumed by the sensation coursing through you.

The first one comes hard, fast, and you gasp, your body arching into him. He doesn’t let up, his fingers relentless, pushing you higher, faster. You barely have time to recover before the second one crashes over you, leaving you breathless, trembling.

“That’s two,” he whispers, his voice low and rough, a dark satisfaction in his tone.

You’re barely coherent now, your body no longer your own as he drives you toward the third. He’s focused, unrelenting, and you can’t stop the sounds escaping your lips, broken, breathless moans that fill the room as he pulls you closer to the edge again.

The third comes slower, more drawn out, and by the time it crests, you’re shaking, your body trembling under his touch.

“Three,” he murmurs, and there’s something almost possessive in the way he says it, like he’s claiming each one as his own.

He doesn’t stop. His hand moves faster now, more insistent, and you can feel yourself slipping, your mind clouding with the overwhelming pleasure building inside you. The fourth one crashes into you harder than the last, and you cry out, your body jerking as it hits.

He pulls you closer, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, “Four.”

You’ve lost count, your mind too hazy to keep track anymore, but Charles hasn’t. He knows exactly where you are, and he’s not done. He won’t be done until you’ve given him everything he’s asked for. Everything he’s demanded.

By the time the fifth one hits, your legs are weak, your body trembling uncontrollably. You can’t think, can’t speak, can’t do anything but feel. The pleasure is overwhelming now, consuming, and you’re teetering on the edge of losing yourself completely.

He slows down just for a moment, letting you catch your breath, but the reprieve is brief. His hand moves again, more purposeful now, driving you toward the sixth with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

It hits harder than you expect, your body spasming as it crashes over you. You can’t control the sounds escaping your lips, the soft whimpers and moans that fill the space between you.

Charles is relentless, his fingers never pausing, never giving you a moment to recover. You’re incoherent now, your mind a blur of sensation, your body completely at his mercy.

The seventh one comes before you’ve even had time to process the last, your body convulsing under his touch. You’re barely holding on, your mind fogged, every nerve ending on fire.

And then, the eighth.

It’s slower, drawn out, the pleasure building and building until you’re sure you can’t take any more. When it finally hits, it’s like an explosion, tearing through you, leaving you trembling, incoherent, completely undone.

Your body goes limp, every muscle weak, every thought gone. You can’t move, can’t speak, can’t even breathe properly.

Charles finally stops, his hand withdrawing as he leans back slightly, his eyes dark and intense as he watches you, taking in the sight of your trembling body, your flushed skin.

“You owe me nothing now,” he whispers, and there’s a possessive satisfaction in his voice that makes your heart pound, even through the haze.

***

You wake slowly, consciousness seeping in like warmth spreading across your skin. For a moment, everything is soft, gentle — the sheets tangled around your legs, the early morning light filtering through the curtains, and the quiet, rhythmic sound of breathing beside you.

And then you feel it — Charles’ fingers.

Your heart skips a beat as you become fully aware of the slow, deliberate movements beneath the sheets. He’s there, under the covers, his body pressed against yours, and his touch … God, his touch is focused, intentional, right where he knows you’re most sensitive.

You stir, a soft moan escaping your lips before you even realize it. Your eyes flutter open, but everything is still blurry, your mind foggy with sleep and the sudden, electric sensation coursing through you.

“Charles …” your voice is quiet, husky with sleep, but there’s a hint of surprise mixed with something else — something warmer, something stirring deep within you.

He doesn’t respond with words. Instead, his fingers move with more purpose, flicking lightly at the bundle of nerves that’s now fully awake. Your breath hitches, your body responding immediately, instinctively, arching slightly into his touch.

You can’t see him clearly, but you know the look on his face — the intense focus, the way his eyes darken with desire, the way his lips curl into that knowing, smug smile when he knows he’s affecting you.

A soft chuckle escapes from under the sheets. “You’re awake,” he murmurs, his voice low, the words vibrating against your skin. He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t give you time to adjust to the sudden onslaught of sensation. His fingers continue their work, teasing, circling, flicking, until your body is already trembling beneath him.

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moan threatening to spill out. Your legs twitch involuntarily, and you’re about to speak again, to say something — anything — but he presses down a little harder, his thumb joining his fingers in perfect rhythm.

“Charles-” you gasp, but it’s barely a word, more of a plea, your breath hitching as the pleasure builds too quickly, too intensely. “What … what are you doing?”

He hums, his lips brushing the inside of your thigh as he speaks. “Making sure you start the day properly,” he says, the words laced with that unmistakable arrogance that only he can pull off without sounding insufferable.

You can feel the heat rising in your body, spreading from where his fingers work their magic. You’re already sensitive — too sensitive — and he knows it. He knows exactly how to push you to the edge, exactly where to touch, how to touch, and you can’t stop the way your body responds to him.

Your hips shift, bucking slightly as his fingers quicken, and you let out a soft whimper, your hand gripping the sheets beneath you. You can feel the tension coiling in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter with every precise flick of his fingers, every teasing circle.

“Charles, please …” you whisper, but you don’t know if you’re begging him to stop or to keep going. The pleasure is already overwhelming, your body still exhausted from last night, but the heat building inside you is impossible to ignore.

“Please, what?” He asks, his voice teasing, almost playful, but there’s a darker edge to it, something commanding. His fingers slow for a brief moment, and you take a shuddering breath, trying to steady yourself, but he doesn’t give you time to recover.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks, his fingers pausing just at the edge of where you need him most, his breath warm against your skin.

You shake your head, biting your lip to keep from crying out. “No,” you manage to whisper, your voice shaky.

He chuckles softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “That’s what I thought.”

And then his fingers are back, moving with even more purpose than before, faster, more insistent. Your hips lift off the bed, your body moving of its own accord, chasing the sensation, chasing the release you know is coming, but Charles is in control — he’s always in control.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, but there’s a command hidden in the softness. “Let me take care of you.”

You try to comply, but your body isn’t listening. Your legs twitch, your breath coming in ragged gasps as his fingers work you closer and closer to the edge. It’s too much, too soon, and you can feel yourself unraveling, the tension in your core coiling so tightly it’s almost painful.

“Charles, I can’t-” you gasp, your voice breaking as your body tenses, every muscle tightening in anticipation.

“Yes, you can,” he whispers, his voice a mix of gentleness and command. “Just let go. Let me.”

And you do. You don’t have a choice — your body gives in, the tension snapping all at once, and the release crashes over you like a wave, leaving you breathless, trembling, your vision going white for a moment as the pleasure ripples through you.

Your fingers grip the sheets, your back arching as your body rides the waves of your orgasm, and Charles doesn’t stop. His fingers slow, but they don’t stop, drawing out every last bit of pleasure, pushing you through it until you’re a quivering mess beneath him.

You’re gasping for breath, your mind fuzzy, your body limp and uncooperative as the aftershocks roll through you. You can’t even form words, your lips parting uselessly as you try to catch your breath.

Charles emerges from under the sheets, his eyes dark and satisfied, a smug smile playing on his lips. He hovers above you, his fingers brushing your cheek as he leans down to kiss you, soft and slow, letting you taste the satisfaction on his lips.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs against your mouth, his voice soft now, the roughness replaced by something gentler, more tender.

You try to respond, but your body is still too weak, too overwhelmed by the sensations still lingering in your skin. Instead, you just nod, your hand weakly reaching up to brush through his hair.

He chuckles softly, pressing another kiss to your forehead before pulling back slightly, his eyes roaming over your flushed face, your trembling body. There’s something possessive in his gaze, something that sends a shiver through you despite the heat still coursing through your veins.

“You can take another,” he says, and it’s not a question.

Your eyes widen, your breath catching in your throat. “Charles, I don’t think-”

“You can,” he insists, his hand slipping between your thighs again, fingers finding that sensitive spot immediately, and you whimper, your body twitching involuntarily.

“I’m … I’m too sensitive,” you gasp, your hips shifting away instinctively, but he follows you, relentless.

“I know,” he murmurs, his fingers moving in slow, teasing circles. “But I want to see you fall apart again. You can give me one more, can’t you?”

There’s no real room for refusal in his voice, and despite the sensitivity, despite the overwhelming pleasure still buzzing in your veins, you find yourself nodding, your body already responding to his touch.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his fingers pressing down harder, and you moan, your body already trembling again, the sensitivity only heightening the pleasure now.

It doesn’t take long — your body is still on edge, still too raw from the first orgasm, and Charles knows exactly how to push you back to the brink. His fingers are relentless, flicking and circling in a rhythm that makes your legs shake, your breath coming in shallow gasps as the pleasure builds too quickly, too intensely.

You try to hold on, try to control it, but it’s impossible. Charles is too skilled, too focused, and your body is too weak, too sensitive. The second orgasm crashes into you faster than the first, more intense, more overwhelming, and you cry out, your body convulsing as the pleasure tears through you.

You’re shaking uncontrollably now, your body completely uncooperative, every muscle trembling as the orgasm rips you apart. You can’t think, can’t speak, can’t do anything but feel as wave after wave of pleasure rolls through you, leaving you breathless and incoherent.

Charles slows his movements, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you’re nothing but a quivering, trembling mess beneath him.

When he finally pulls his hand away, you’re gasping for breath, your body limp and useless, your mind a hazy blur of satisfaction and exhaustion. You can’t even open your eyes, can’t form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence.

Charles leans over you, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “That’s my girl.” His breath is warm on your skin, sending shivers down your spine even though your body is already wrecked, trembling, barely holding on to the remnants of what he's given you.

But it doesn’t stop there. You can feel him shifting beside you, his body pressing closer, his chest brushing against your back as he moves. The anticipation builds again, that familiar, heady pull tightening in your core even though you’re exhausted, overstimulated, every nerve in your body screaming that you’ve had enough.

And then you feel it — him. Sliding between your legs, the head of him nudging against you. Your breath catches in your throat, the sensation sharp, almost too sharp, like your body can’t take any more, like you’re already too far gone.

“Charles, I-” you start to protest, but the words come out broken, barely a whisper, swallowed by the overwhelming feeling of him pushing into you, slow, deliberate, but still relentless.

“Shh,” he murmurs, his voice soft but commanding, his lips brushing the back of your neck. “I know it’s too much. I know.”

But he doesn’t stop. He slides in deeper, stretching you, filling you completely, and the sensation is so intense it feels like fire — burning, bright, consuming. Your body tenses, your fingers gripping the sheets as the overstimulation turns into something almost painful. The pleasure from before mixes with the sharp edge of it, and you gasp, your eyes squeezing shut as he presses further in.

“Charles, I can’t-” you try again, but the words are lost, drowned out by the sound of your own breath hitching, your body tightening around him involuntarily, every muscle clenching as you try to cope with the overwhelming sensation.

“You can,” he says again, his voice low and firm, like he’s coaxing you, pulling you through the pain, the pleasure, everything at once. “You can take it. Just breathe.”

You try to listen, try to breathe, but it’s so much — too much. Your legs twitch, your hips buck involuntarily as he moves deeper still, every inch of him sending shockwaves through you. Your vision blurs, your head swimming as the pressure inside you builds again, twisting tighter and tighter until it’s unbearable.

The overstimulation is like electricity, buzzing under your skin, every nerve on fire. You can feel everything — every inch of him, every stroke, every push — and it’s overwhelming. Your body is trembling uncontrollably now, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you teeter on the edge of something you can’t control, something that feels too intense, too much to handle.

Charles’ hands are on you, firm, steady, holding you in place as he thrusts deeper, his movements slow but unyielding, drawing out every ounce of pleasure and pain until you can’t tell the difference anymore. Your mind goes blank, your senses consumed by him, by the way he’s filling you, stretching you, pushing you past every limit you thought you had.

“I know it’s too much,” he whispers again, his lips against your ear, his voice a soft command. “But you can take it. You’re mine, and I want all of you.”

Your vision goes white, then black, the edges of your consciousness fading as the overstimulation hits its peak. The pleasure is so sharp it hurts, a throbbing, pulsing ache that sends your mind spiraling. You can’t see, can’t think, can’t breathe properly. The world tilts, and for a moment, everything disappears — the room, the bed, Charles, all of it swallowed by the overwhelming sensation crashing through you.

It’s like drowning in fire and light, your body suspended in a haze of overstimulation that blurs the line between pleasure and pain. You’re lost in it, your body convulsing as he pushes you further, deeper, until you break.

And then, nothing.

The world goes black.

***

You come back slowly, your body heavy and limp, the overwhelming sensation fading into a dull hum. Your eyelids flutter open, the room coming back into focus, the soft light filtering through the curtains casting shadows across the sheets. Everything feels distant, like you’re floating just outside of yourself, disconnected but still aware.

Charles’ arms are wrapped around you, his chest pressed against your back, his breath steady and warm against your neck. He’s holding you close, his fingers brushing lightly over your arm, grounding you, pulling you back from wherever you had gone. His touch is soft now, gentle, as if he knows you’ve already given him everything, as if he’s calming the storm he unleashed.

“Hey,” his voice is soft, barely above a whisper, but it’s the sound that pulls you fully back, anchoring you in the present. “You with me?”

You nod weakly, though your body still feels like it’s not entirely your own, like you’ve been hollowed out and filled with something entirely different. You’re trembling slightly, your breath coming in shallow, shaky inhales, but you’re here. You’re with him.

Charles shifts slightly, pulling you even closer, his arms tightening around you in a protective embrace. His lips brush the side of your neck, and you feel the warmth of his breath, the tenderness in the way he’s holding you now. It’s such a stark contrast to the intensity from before, and you cling to it, to him, as you try to gather yourself.

“You did so well,” he murmurs, his voice soothing, filled with a deep, quiet pride that makes your heart flutter weakly in your chest. “You’re perfect.”

You can’t speak yet, can’t form the words, so you just nod again, your eyes slipping shut as you let yourself sink into the comfort of his arms. The aftershocks are still rippling through you, small tremors that make you shiver, but it’s nothing compared to the storm that had torn through you moments ago.

He’s stroking your hair now, his fingers gentle as they thread through the strands, his movements slow, comforting. “I’ve got you,” he says, as if sensing the lingering haze in your mind. “Just breathe, okay? I’m here.”

You take a deep breath, the air filling your lungs slowly, and you feel your body start to relax, the tension ebbing away little by little. Charles’ presence is grounding, his steady touch bringing you back to yourself, and you’re grateful for it. For him. For the way he knows exactly how to take care of you, even when you’re completely undone.

“You scared me for a second,” he admits quietly, his voice soft, almost vulnerable, as if he’s sharing something he rarely lets anyone see. “You went somewhere else. I didn’t mean to push you that far.”

You swallow, your throat dry, but you manage to whisper, “I’m okay.”

He pulls back slightly, just enough so he can look at you, his eyes searching your face. “You sure?”

You meet his gaze, your body still weak, but your mind clearer now, and you nod. “Yeah … I’m sure.”

The concern in his eyes fades, replaced by that familiar intensity, the quiet possessiveness that’s always been there, lurking beneath the surface. But now it’s softer, tempered by the care he’s showing you in this moment, by the way he’s holding you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers, his hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. “You know that, right?”

You smile faintly, your heart swelling at the way he’s looking at you, like you’re everything. “You don’t make it easy,” you murmur, your voice still shaky, but there’s a hint of teasing in it.

Charles chuckles softly, the sound warm and low, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Wouldn’t be any fun if it was easy, mon amour.”

You let out a breathy laugh, the sound weak but real, and you close your eyes, leaning into him, letting the comfort of his presence wash over you. Your body is still recovering, still trembling slightly, but you’re safe here, in his arms. You’re okay.

Charles shifts again, settling back into the pillows with you still wrapped in his arms, his hand never leaving your skin, always touching, always grounding you. He holds you like that for a long time, the silence between you filled only with the sound of your breathing, the quiet intimacy of two people who understand each other on a level that words can’t reach.

And as you lie there, cocooned in his warmth, his arms around you like a shield, you hope he finally realizes that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

[darkmatilda]

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after a terrible day at work, you find an unexpected dose of comfort in an absurd late-night conversation with your coworker.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x newbaumember!femalereader, you make a huge mistake at work (unspecified) for which you get seriously chewed out by hotch, too many beds trope, ridiculously long considering the entire plot revolves around a single conversation, gets kinda wild at the end, spencer hits his head, but it’s nothing serious

𝐚/𝐧: the ending inspired by a situation from my life, but don’t worry, my head is fine now (in the general sense of the word) (no one kissed my forehead...) i recommend reading it in bed before sleep <33

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 5.7 k

"Hotch, but I thought—"

"It doesn't matter what you thought," your boss replied in his typical, emotionless tone, which in this particular situation sent a distinct chill down your spine. Every word he uttered felt like a frozen dagger, driven straight between your ribs and left there, while the coldness spread across your skin in the form of goosebumps. "What you did was not only reckless but also undermined all of today’s hard work by the entire team. They put tremendous effort into locating the unsub and cornering him at that specific location, and because of your decision, he managed to escape. Every additional day this man remains free could cost someone their life—an innocent person."

You stood before him in an empty parking lot across from the hotel where your entire team was staying. It wasn’t exactly the typical setting for delivering a reprimand, but since you were far from the office, there wasn’t a better option at hand. And while you were teetering on the edge of tears—tears you were desperately holding back to avoid appearing like a weak little girl in his eyes—you were grateful for one thing. Grateful that he had chosen to chastise you in private. One-on-one. Away from everyone else.

A moment of silence fell between you, and you tried not to lower your head like a chastised child—but that’s exactly how you felt. Not just ashamed, but overwhelmingly guilty. As someone who had only recently joined the BAU, you’d never made such an egregious mistake before. A mistake that could cost someone their life. Deep down, you had clung to the naive hope that this moment would never come. That if you followed the instructions of those more experienced than you with feigned confidence, something like this could be avoided.

But reality had placed you in a completely different position—one where, for a brief moment, the weight of everything rested squarely on your shoulders. You failed, and the unsub escaped.

The wind around you blew with a certain bitterness, tugging at your hair. It drowned out the sound of your heavy breathing, your racing heartbeat, and the loud gulp as you swallowed. Hotch, saying nothing, studied you with a measured gaze. You couldn’t help but wonder if he regretted allowing you into this job.

“I wanted you to be aware of that,” he said, his tone less harsh now but tinged with a certain disappointment that only deepened the guilt gnawing at you. He nodded, signaling you were free to go. “That’s all I had to say.”

He walked away, and watching his figure dissolve into the darkness in such a dramatic manner, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. The laugh immediately turned into the beginning of a sob, which you quickly stifled, waving your hand in front of your face. You stood there for a moment, your feet seemingly rooted to the parking lot, as though the concrete were still fresh, hardening around your shoes.

In your experience, failure almost always came hand in hand with a sense of vulnerability, transporting you into a completely different, weaker body, one without any shields. All the achievements of the past few years, including making it into the BAU at such a young age, seemed to melt away, and once again, you were nothing.

You knew you couldn’t stand there all night, but in a way, it felt safer. In the motel, you might run into someone from the team. You might accidentally meet their gaze, and you’d see the disappointment in their eyes. After all those weeks of trying to prove your worth to them, of showing that you even belonged in this job, the last thing you wanted was to face that look.

To muster some courage, you took a deep, slow breath. You needed to slip into your room unnoticed, lie down in bed, hoping that the night would at least slightly cleanse you of your guilt. Hotch was absolutely right. Not only had you wasted an entire day of hard work, but you’d also put civilians from that area in danger. What if tomorrow another person became a victim?

The thought tormented you so much that by the time you reached your door, you were massaging your temples. You inserted the key you had picked up from the front desk into the lock, turned it, and was about to pull the handle… but it was locked. Frustrated, you figured the universe had simply decided to unite all of its forces against you as some kind of punishment. Before you could resort to a tired kick at the door and curl up in a ball in the hallway, you tried again. This time, the door opened without issue.

So absorbed in yourself, your situation, and your grievances, you didn’t even notice that inside, not only was the light on, but there were someone’s belongings—and, most importantly, someone else. It wasn’t until you took off your coat and stepped further into the room (if you could even call it that, it was an exceptionally small space) and came face to face with Spencer Reid that you realized you weren’t alone.

You stopped mid-step, stunned as if the least expected thing at that moment had just appeared before you—a turtle on stilts wearing a cowboy hat, or some other kind of religious prophet.

Quick note—this wasn't the first time you and Reid had shared a room during cases. Specifically, the bed. It all started when you found out he struggled with a fear of the dark, and someone’s presence really helped him feel better. In fact, at first, he insisted on sleeping on the floor, but you couldn't just watch him suffer on that uncomfortable surface every night. And, you had to admit, sometimes after an especially harrowing day in your, let’s be honest, stressful job, it felt nice to fall asleep next to someone.

As usual, it was him who came to you. Late at night, to your room, when he felt like sleeping would be particularly difficult. He was never there from the start…

"It turns out all the rooms here are double," he blurted out hastily upon seeing you, his tone overly explanatory.

When you walked in, he was in the middle of pulling something out of his suitcase. He straightened up, and you noticed he was wearing a loose T-shirt, his hair damp from a shower, and in his hand, he held that familiar white sweater you often teased him about, the one with an embroidered bear wearing glasses.

"I mean, the rest of the team got roomed together too, so we’re not some weird exception. I hope this doesn’t bother you. If it does, well, maybe we can switch somehow… I know Elle and JJ are together, and I think they only have two beds in their room, but maybe... or I could go with Derek…”

"Oh, come on," you waved dismissively, your tone sounding a bit irritated, like you were shooing away an annoying fly. The truth was, you were exhausted from the day and didn’t want to worry about the accommodation on top of everything else.

Reid stopped mid-sentence, his lips slightly parted. You felt guilty again as you had no reason to speak to him like that. He hadn’t done anything to deserve your frustration.

"I'm sorry," you sighed, your tense posture easing a little as you realized you were no longer outside, under the sharp, yet truthful words of your boss. "Really... I'm sorry, Reid. It doesn't bother me at all. Not one bit," you reassured him, sincerely.

He studied you in silence for a moment, his face showing a concerned, analytical expression.

"Actually, we’ve shared a room before," you added almost immediately, forcing a little chuckle. "And not just once. Well, at least now we have two beds…"

"Did you... did you talk to Hotch?"

The question was asked with hesitation, on a breath. Well, it finally meant confronting everything that had happened that day. You looked him straight in the eyes, searching for judgment or any hint of dislike toward you. But there was none. Instead, you found concern and discomfort at the fact that he had even brought up the subject.

"It’s... it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it," he quickly corrected himself, giving a slight nod. "You... you have every right, I don’t expect you to explain anything to me, your conversation with the boss is your private matter... oh God, I feel like with every word I say, my statement is losing more and more sense, and I’m getting more and more tangled in it, isn’t that right?"

He stared at you with furrowed brows, waiting for your reaction. It turned out to be... a burst of laughter. You honestly couldn’t help yourself.

“I hate to admit it, but yeah, you’re right. You completely lost your train of thought. Maybe we should just pretend I’ve only just walked through that door, huh?”

“That’s... that’s actually a very good suggestion. So... so, uh, hi?”

Your lips curved into a smile, this time genuine.

“Hi, Reid.”

He managed to improve your mood in less than five minutes after you’d received a serious reprimand. You were immensely glad to have ended up with him in the room lottery. Shaking your head in disbelief, you began getting ready for bed without a word. He didn’t say anything either, sensing you needed a bit of space after everything that had happened. Speaking of space...

“This room is alarmingly small, don’t you think?” you said, returning from the shower and slowly sliding under your blanket. Fifteen minutes under scalding hot water had helped your body relax, and you no longer felt like you might throw up on your own feet at any moment. “It’s like some sort of exclusive cupboard under the stairs. Still a cupboard, though. Look, I can practically touch you.”

You stretched out your arm to demonstrate. Sure enough, even though you were sitting on neighboring beds, your fingertips almost brushed the fabric of his shirt. Between you was a massive nightstand made of dark wood, the same as the windowsill and the floor. On it sat a slightly old-fashioned bedside lamp with a glass base and a slightly yellowed lampshade. Other than that, there wasn’t much furniture. Not that there would’ve been room for any.

“Do you hear that?” Reid asked enigmatically, sitting up straighter on his bed.

You looked at him, intrigued.

“Listen closely…is that…paper rustling? Morgan drafting his resignation?”

You chuckled. Your coworker had a particular sensitivity to the motels you stayed in and their condition. He firmly believed that since you risked your lives almost daily during dangerous cases and investigations, you deserved accommodations that were at least decent. And that wasn’t always what you got.

“Don’t worry, as long as the shower has hot water, we don’t have to fear him leaving,” you said. “Though now that I think about it, I can’t blame Harry.”

“Harry?”

“Potter. If I lived in such a claustrophobic little room, I’d convince myself I was a wizard too. Can I turn off the lamp?"

You politely asked, as usual, leaving plenty of room for potential conversation. Aware of his fear, you always ensured he felt comfortable with the encroaching darkness. Reid looked at you with a hint of hesitation.

"Maybe... maybe it could stay on for a bit longer? If that's..."

"That’s okay," you finished for him, knowing what he intended to say.

A fleeting, grateful expression crossed his face. Seeing it, a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You were glad he no longer felt as ashamed of his unease with the dark. Besides, you preferred the light to stay on too. You were afraid of what the darkness might conceal—the worries and anxieties it could bring… already was bringing.

Mainly, it was the looping words of your boss, the thought of how you'd messed up, and the rest of the team. Well, there was one thing that eased your mind in that regard: knowing that Reid was lying in the bed next to yours and recalling the look on his face when he saw you. He wasn’t angry that you’d let the unsub get away. Maybe the others weren’t as furious with you as you’d imagined.

Or maybe it was the opposite?

Maybe he, as the second-youngest member of the team after you, was the only one showing you any understanding. And the others, perhaps, harbored nothing but disdain, their resentment growing stronger at the mere thought of you…

"You're shivering."

Reid's observation reached your ears as you lay on your side, facing away from him. His voice was gentle, blending seamlessly with the quiet that had previously enveloped the room, not cutting through the sound of your sleepy breaths but accompanying it. Not knowing how to respond, you gave a small shrug. He probably saw it—you could feel his gaze on you. It wasn't intrusive, just a worried glance from the corner of his eye.

"I could turn up the temperature if you're cold. Do you want me to?"

Your trembling had nothing to do with the cold, but admitting that felt like too much. You pulled the blanket tighter around you, trying to steady your restless body.

"Yeah, if you don’t mind," you murmured in response.

It was easier to blame it on the chill. Still, hearing him get up and move toward the thermostat, you felt a pang of guilt for pulling him out of bed. He should already be asleep. There was so much work waiting for you both tomorrow. Another day of the investigation—a case that could have been solved already if not for you…

"I'm afraid…it doesn’t seem to work," Reid said thoughtfully. He fiddled with it for a moment longer before letting out a sigh and returning to his bed, though he didn’t lie down right away. He paused in the narrow space between your beds, and you felt his gaze again, wondering what it meant this time.

"Maybe… I don’t know, would you want my sweater? You know which one. It's…too warm for me, but since you're freezing…”

Reid’s voice was soft, tinged with an almost shy kindness that made your chest tighten. You didn’t need to turn around to picture the small, uncertain smile that likely accompanied his offer. Of course, you knew exactly which one he meant. He had received it as a Christmas gift from Penelope, and it was quite light and breathable. But what truly made it a staple in his pajamas was the adorable bear wearing glasses that appeared on the front. Sometimes, when you slept in the same bed, you could feel the softness of its fabric.

You had just turned toward him, a hint of hesitation in your eyes. You weren’t actually cold—you had been lying about that all along—but still... the offer lingered in your mind. His kindness, followed by the concern. You felt that taking his specific sweater, which was not only comfortable but also... well, his, could effectively calm your trembling limbs and ease your anxiety.

"Would you like to give it to me?" you asked, making sure. "You don't have to."

He shrugged slightly and immediately bent down to grab the suitcase tucked under the bed. The sweater in question was right on top, so he could reach for it at any moment when he felt the need for an extra layer.

"I know I don't have to," he replied, pausing for a moment with the sweater in hand. "But, you know, I want to. It's just a sweater."

"Won't Penelope be mad if you're giving it away like that?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She’d be furious…" he started, his gaze fixed stubbornly on the edge of your bed, his forehead lightly furrowed. After a serious moment of hesitation, he sat on the bed, as gently as if he feared it would burn him. He stretched the sweater out towards you. "…if I gave it to anyone else. But in this case, she'd probably scold me if I didn’t give it to you."

You took it from him. Though it wasn’t one of those thick, bulky sweaters, it felt surprisingly heavy in your hands.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," you replied after a moment of hesitation, letting out a sigh. "After today."

Reid looked at your face in silence. Suddenly, you started regretting not turning off the lamp after all. His gaze seemed piercing, too piercing. It surely noted every shadow of doubt and shame cast by the subtle changes in your expression.

“That’s what’s worrying you, isn’t it?”

For a moment, you both stared at each other in silence. You sighed, shifting slightly to the side, making room beside you.

“Come on. It’s easier for me to talk when I don’t have someone directly in front of me.”

Surprised, he stared at the small space next to you, shaking his head slightly.

“But… this bed is kind of ridiculously small, don’t you think?”

“I’m not that wide, Reid. If that’s what you’re suggesting…”

“That’s absolutely not what I meant, and I definitely wasn’t suggesting anything,” he quickly explained. “Well, maybe apart from the fact that every tiny movement will risk us both falling off…” He looked at you with an unchanged expression, patiently pointing to the spot next to you and sighed in defeat. “Okay, I feel like I’m not winning this one…”

Well, he had a point. After a while of shifting around, trying to find a position where you wouldn’t keep elbowing each other in the ribs, and after countless accidental jabs and whispered apologies, it ended with him half-lying, half-sitting, leaning against the headboard of the narrow bed, while you lay flat on your back, your head resting on the pillow. His figure cast a gentle shadow over you, making the room feel darker than it really was. It had a calming effect. Or maybe it was just the presence of someone so close by. Or perhaps it was the touch of the soft sweater, the fabric resting between your fingers, in the way one holds a rosary. Maybe it was a little bit of all those things.

"I screwed up today," you said. Though your voice was soft, there was no trace of gentleness in your tone. From the way you were lying, you could see his face, and you noticed his lips part slightly, as if to deny it. "And don't try to convince me otherwise, Reid. I knew that even before Hotch said it to my face."

You heard him sigh softly.

"I guess it wasn't a pleasant conversation."

"Oh, Reid, it was like a horror movie. But I don't blame him for anything he said. I deserved to hear it all from someone else's mouth, not just from my own head." Restlessly, you began to fiddle with the sweater like a stress toy. He watched the movement of your hands, alternating between that and the slight trembling of your chin. "At least the talk with him is over. Now I'm scared... scared of what’s with the rest of the team."

You voiced your biggest worry out loud, and there was a silence as he pondered it.

“I think… I think we’ve talked about this before,” he replied finally, clearing his throat. “About how you’re afraid of what others will think of you. And I don’t want to repeat myself, but... you need to look at it a bit differently. We all started somewhere, we were all rookies. If we got mad at each other every time someone messed up, well, there wouldn’t be a team. Of course, we keep in mind all the mistakes we've made in the past..."

“You're good at comforting...” you muttered bitterly.

"...But we don’t dwell on them unnecessarily," he finished. "We're only human, you know. It’s estimated that each person makes about five to seven mistakes a day. If we assume you live to be about eighty... though of course, I wish you much more than that, that would be between 150,000 and 200,000."

You snorted, listening to those statistics.

“I feel like I’ve already used up half of my lifetime quota today,” you confessed, while also reflecting on the first part of his statement. About the team, who, according to him, wasn’t going to hold a grudge against you…

Reid paused for a moment, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s not the end of the world,” he said after a while. “Just make sure you’re really careful when you’re old. You won’t forget when your grandkids have birthdays.”

“Damn, I think that’s the problem. I’ve got the memory of a goldfish. I’ll probably mix up their names. Or call them all by the same one. The prettiest one, of course. The least common one.”

“Just make sure you get a good calendar,” he suggested. “One that’ll remember everything for you. Dates, names.”

“And the number for the rheumatologist.”

“And the number for the rheumatologist,” he agreed.

You spent a long moment without bringing up any new topics, but laughing quietly about the course of the conversation. If you looked at it that way, this was probably the only time in your life you talked to someone about being an old lady with a questionable memory and joint problems with amusement rather than sheer terror. Although the bed was seriously small, you felt more comfortable than ever before. You were sinking deeper into the mattress, into his side, into relaxation. You wondered if and when, or even if, he planned to go back to his own bed. There was really no reason for him to stay...but was there any reason for him to leave?

“And you?” you spoke again after a long moment. You felt like the only way to keep him around was by saying something. Not that you were desperate to have him stay… “Have you ever messed up on a case? Like, seriously messed up?”

"I could lie and say I haven't," he noticed.

He shifted slightly, likely due to exhaustion, as his back had been slowly sliding down the headboard for a while, until it finally sank into the mattress. His head rested on the pillow right next to yours, closer than ever before. Well, you could only blame the narrow bed for that. Because of the tight space, you had to lie on your side, which meant your breath brushed against his cheek.

"You could. But then I'd ask Elle for the truth, and you'd only end up compromising yourself."

"That's true. That's why I'm telling you. Just promise you won't laugh."

"This sounds serious. Come on, what did you do?" you asked, genuinely curious, a smile tugging at your lips. "Oh, or let me guess."

He lay on his back, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. However, when you suggested it, he slowly and hesitantly turned onto his side as well, so that you were face to face. He probably wanted to see your reaction, the laughter you'd burst into once he told you, whatever it was.

"You have three guesses," he announced. He tried to gesture to you encouragingly with his head, but then, for a split second, his chin brushed against yours. Slightly flustered, he quickly froze again.

For a moment, something changed in your breath. You bit your lip, thinking. His gaze briefly dropped to it.

"Okay, so that’s the first one," you said, taking in more air than you probably needed. You didn’t really understand what was happening, but it seemed like you were running out of oxygen faster than you should have been. "Did you confuse your weapon with a taser?"

"Really, that was the first thing that came to your mind when you thought about a mistake I might have made?" he scoffed. His breath warmed your face in a pleasant way.

"Oh, sorry, but it’s really hard for me to come up with anything when it comes to a genius with eidetic memory," you replied, rolling your eyes. "I don’t know, did you lose some evidence? Something really important?" you suggested, trying to read confirmation from his brown, unusually gentle eyes at that moment. He gently shook his head.

"Now, I honestly don’t know. Okay, this might sound like some soap opera plot, but here goes. Were you supposed to keep an eye on a potential victim and ended up having a passionate affair with them?"

You lowered your voice to a flirtatious whisper as you said the last words.

For a moment, he held your gaze. He met it like an opponent, sending an exciting shiver down your spine. And it wasn’t because of the cold. But then, he submissively lowered his eyes. You let out such a strong burst of laughter that you started to worry if you had accidentally spat on him.

"Spencer Reid, you’re joking with me, right?"

He turned back onto his back again, avoiding looking at your wide-open mouth and amused eyes. You propped yourself up on your elbow, gently nudging his shoulder.

"What kind of... seductress beast are you? Because I don't know how else to call it," you muttered, still shaking your head from side to side. "Wow, I didn’t know this side of you."

"There’s no side like that," he replied defensively, closing his eyes with some embarrassment. "It was... she was an actress who had a stalker..."

"An actress?"

"...and it just happened that way! But it was definitely a mistake. And it wasn’t any... passionate affair, as you called it. I put her in unnecessary danger when we kissed in the pool..."

"In the pool?"

"Oh, why do I even keep talking?" he groaned, pressing one hand to his tightly closed eyes. He suddenly snorted. "Sure, laugh even louder. Gideon and Derek in the next room won't mind if you wake them up."

"Oh, don't change the subject now. You seduced an actress. Was she famous?"

"I didn’t seduce her..."

"So, she seduced you?"

Reid sighed, resigned.

"Well, I’d put it that way," he admitted finally, quietly, with a certain childish indignation, as if he had simply decided to surrender to the onslaught of your questions. He didn’t reveal much, but after a moment, you learned a few important details about the case, and with some... relief, you realized you didn’t recognize the actress’s name. But why relief?

Suddenly, however, the hysterical amusement faded, leaving you with a genuine dilemma. Reid was still lying on his back, avoiding your mocking gaze and comments. Before you could stop yourself, you lightly touched his arm to get his attention. He nodded questioningly.

"I know this might be a very strange and, above all, an extremely personal question, but what does it take to seduce you?" you asked.

Reid froze, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

"What? What do you mean?"

"I just realized that I’ve probably never seen you actively filter anyone. Consciously, that is. Because sometimes it happens, and you don’t even notice it," he opened his mouth to protest, but you quickly covered it with your hand. Confused, he looked down at it. "Don’t even try to deny it, everyone would confirm it. But I’m trying to imagine the kind of person you would lose your head for, and I’ve got a few conflicting ideas. So, I’ll repeat the question. What does it take to seduce you? Asking for a friend, of course."

Reid flinched as if alarmed.

"What friend?"

"My God, it’s just a figure of speech."

He sighed, and the way he shook his head showed a certain disbelief.

"You’re surprisingly hyperactive, considering the time. Maybe we should go to bed?"

"No, I asked you a question," you protested. "Does she have to be pretty? Smart? Probably both, right?"

He looked at you with the same expression—simultaneously embarrassed, disbelieving, shocked, amused, offended, and above all, thoroughly confused.

"I feel like this question is going to keep you up tonight. So, for the sake of your own sleep, I’ll answer briefly. And I don’t care if my answer satisfies you or not." Reid paused, and you waved your hand, urging him to continue. He sighed. "She just... has to seem... interesting."

"Was there any more evasive answer?" you snorted, disappointed.

"Did you expect an entire essay?"

 "Well, honestly, yes. Last time you talked to me for over thirty minutes about bioluminescence and what causes it. You were able to go on and on about that, but not this time?"

You knew by now you were just teasing him, playing with his nerves as if it were an instrument you'd been mastering since early childhood, attending lessons three times a week and slowly climbing the ranks of your musical career. 

Your conversations often felt like a game of ping-pong, with each of you exchanging comments, remarks, observations, and verbal jabs at a pace that was downright wild. Time completely vanished for you then, feeling as though you could carry on such a dialogue forever.

 "Goodnight," he finally said, without much firmness in his voice. Well, that was probably more out of practicality than a strong desire to end the chat. It was indeed late. "I hope I don't bump into you too many times during the night. Or you into me."

 "So, you're already tired of talking to me?" you asked, feigning hurt. You even tilted your head dramatically.

For a moment, he hesitated to reply, his brown eyes nervously scanning your face, a barely noticeable smile tugging at his lips.

 "Quite the opposite," he finally responded. You raised your eyebrows, not allowing yourself to feel satisfied with his words in case they turned out to be pure sarcasm. "So…goodnight."

As a result of some sort of scuffle, you found yourselves in a rather chaotic position. Well, you were definitely taking up most of the bed, comfortably sprawled in the center. He lay more on the edge, somewhere between lying on his back and on his side. Looking at him and his slightly flushed cheeks, which were quite an endearing sight, you suddenly realized the meaning of his earlier words. I hope I don't bump into you too many times during the night. So he did intend to sleep with you on this narrow bed, when there was a perfectly empty one, entirely at his disposal, just beside you? An unexpected choice, but… you weren’t complaining. In fact, you were kind of okay with it. With a slightly enigmatic expression, you leaned closer to him, intending to say something softly.

 Reid perked up, as although he had officially ended the conversation, he was still curious about what you were about to say.

 "Goodnight," you said slowly, inhaling the scent of his freshly washed hair. You should have moved away, giving him space to settle more comfortably, but you wouldn't be yourself if you didn't add, “Seductive beast."

“God, nothing in life will ever make me regret more than telling you about this,” he sighed, genuinely concerned about that prospect.

You let out a snort and were about to mumble something else when he, with resignation, turned fully onto his back. Well... at least he tried. He was so close to the edge of the mattress that it simply ended beneath him.

You shot up into a sitting position, startled by the sudden noise and the chaos that filled the room.

“Spencer,” you managed to gasp, jumping off the bed to check on him.

It wasn't an easy task; everything was submerged in darkness. If falling off the bed itself didn't sound like one of the most humiliating accidents a person could have, adding to it the fact that he had hit his head on the wide dresser next to the bed made it worse. And, as a result, the nightlight had been knocked over and shattered...

Fumbling, you reached for the light switch, and when the room was lit again, you moved to him. Kneeling beside Reid, who was slowly propping himself up, you gently held his shoulders.

"Careful, Jesus, you hit your head so hard..."

He squinted and furrowed most of his face, letting out a sharp breath.

 "Does it hurt a lot?" you asked, carefully inspecting his head and looking for any serious injuries, maybe some blood... but you saw nothing

Spencer looked at you with a sort of seriousness, as if the pain had suddenly faded.

"What else is it supposed to do, tickle?"

For a moment, the room fell quieter, but it was impossible to ignore the mutual sense of relief that things hadn’t turned out worse. His words threw you off a bit; at first, you didn’t fully grasp their meaning. Instead, you focused entirely on analyzing his face, his body language, his behavior. You were afraid he might have a concussion.

"I have absolutely no medical training, but..." you paused, casting another worried glance his way. Reid was slowly starting to shake off the shock and disorientation. "But judging by how quickly your sarcasm came back, I’d say you’re going to be fine."

He let out a noise somewhere between a scoff and a groan.

"Doctor of the year, right here…"

Just then, a loud knock echoed on the door. The door to your room

 “Is someone murdering you guys in there or what?” Morgan’s concerned voice called out.

You exchanged glances—both equally confused and, in a way, slightly terrified. Clearing your throat, you spoke up.

“Well, since I’m the reason this whole situation happened, I guess it’s on me to explain to him how it even got to this point,” you sighed. When he didn’t react, you raised your eyebrows. “No objections? No heroic offers to take this off my hands?”

“Not a chance,” he replied curtly, shaking his head before wincing briefly as another wave of pain clearly shot through it.

You told him, worried, to stay down for a little while longer for his own good.

 “And as my mom used to say,” you added, slowly starting to stand, glancing briefly toward the door. Morgan knocked again—or rather, pounded on it hard enough to nearly take it off its hinges.

Taking your time, you rested both hands on Reid’s shoulders in an almost protective gesture. Completely ignoring the surprised look on his face, you brushed your lips against his forehead.

 “A kiss will make it better.”

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @kakamixo @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @aristeia29 @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella

[pegging-satan]

Man when you’re best friends with someone but y’all are so close that their parents and grandparents think y’all are fucking and will definitely be getting married so their GRANDMA CALLS YOU TO HER ROOM TO GIVE YOU HER BLESSINGS?!????

[undertheorangetree]

Tantrum

Summary- Art’s girlfriend sucks at tennis. He helps her feel better.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Stanford era Art. Exhibitionism. Body worship. Cunnilingus. Wee bit of fingering. P in V sex. Riding. The fluffiest giggliest sex you've ever seen. Me not knowing a damn thing about tennis.

Author's Note- Hi idk if you noticed but i have Challengers brain rot rn specifically for Art Donaldson :// As a theatre kid I simply had no choice it was always gonna be him. Read the full fic on AO3.

When Art had looked up at her with big pleading eyes, all but begging her to allow him to teach her the basics of tennis, she was in no position to refuse. It had been sweet, how badly he wanted to share his passion with her, the kisses he had peppered across her neck and chest in order to entice her into it, and she couldn’t so much as imagine denying him. Forget the fact that she had never held a racket in her life, that her strengths had always been rooted in academia rather than athletics.  If allowing him to teach her would make him happy, she would do it.

Though not without complaint.

She lets out a frustrated grunt as the ball hits the net- again- before turning her head up to glare at Art when he barely manages to stifle his laugh. He smothers it immediately when he catches sight of her glower, hand coming up to rub at his mouth as if he can physically wipe away his smile and she feels her teeth grind together.

“You can’t laugh. You’re the one who wanted me to do this so you’re not allowed to make fun of me,” she complains, her voice half petulance half hurt and immediately his face morphs into something more apologetic.

“I’m sorry baby.” He makes his way closer but she simply rolls her eyes, turning her nose up when he reaches out to her. He takes it in stride. “I’m not laughing at you, you’re doing very well. It’s just funny to see you so frustrated.”

It’s her turn to laugh, though it is little more than a humourless bark. “I am not doing very well. I suck.”

He makes a sympathetic noise as he attempts to reach for her again. She allows it begrudgingly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as his hands close around her elbows, face dropping into her neck to press a kiss there. She thinks that he’s about to praise her further, try to coax her back into committing herself to the game, but he stays silent, continuing to lavish her with silent kisses.

She’s happy for the odd hour they decided to come here, the tennis court completely devoid of any other life. It’s a colder night than it should be for mid spring, the floodlights and moon the only two things to provide them with any light, and she’s grateful finals have chased everyone else away. She’s glad to have this time alone with him, despite her frustration. To feel like they are the only two people in the world.

“You’re just hitting the ball too hard,” he explains, face still half buried in her throat. “And you aren’t even attempting to aim. Putting everything you have behind the hit doesn’t make it a good one if you don’t know where you’re sending it. There’s more to tennis than just force, you have to be smart about it.”

She scoffs, reaching up to press her palm against his forehead and shove him away, ignoring the shit eating grin that’s made itself known on his face. “Just go over there and hit the damn ball. Before I leave you here by yourself.”

The grin doesn’t fade, his amusement more than clear, but he does as she asks, returning to his side of the court. She lets out another aggravated sigh as she returns to the position he had told her to wait in, knees bent as she waits for him to serve, realizing more and more that she prefers to watch him play tennis rather than do it with him. She finds far more joy watching him from the stands as he chases after the ball, sweat dripping from his curls and grunts echoing in her ears. Here, where she is the one chasing the ball like a damn dog and failing to send it sailing over the net when she does manage to catch it, there is no time to admire Art in his element.

She almost feels bad for her poor attitude, wishing she was less competitive so that she could simply enjoy this quality time with him, but every failure does nothing but enrage her further, sending her spiralling further into frustration.

Read the rest here :)

[maxlarens]

CL: guess the heat drives people crazy

pairing(s): charles leclerc x artist!reader

summary: you’re not used to having a boyfriend, let alone having a famous one. though you’d like to think you’re taking your new found status as a wag in your stride. charles certainly thinks so. [smau] [part 2 to this fic]

fc: faceless and some alexandra saint mleux

a/n: sorry this took so long! i was honestly kinda unsure how i wanted to do this. i wasn’t sure if i wanted to do a little storyline but i basically ended up just doing a bunch of little snapshots of their relationship 😇

@ynusername just posted…

liked by @rowan, @charlesleclerc and others

ynusername wildflowers, the waves where we met, on the way to our first dinner

chloegarelli i did that!☝🏻☝🏻

⤷ ynusername okay 😐 dont get too big for ur britches

user1 is that……..?

⤷ user2 CHARLES RIGHT?

⤷ user1 yes wtf!?

⤷ user3 you are delusional you can only see his hands

⤷ user2 AND?? he is in her likes

rowan we did it joe‼️

⤷ chloegarelli four years in the making iktr

⤷ chloegarelli i’d like to thank the american people and i’d like to thank democracy for this win

⤷ ynusername we are MONEGASQUE?

⤷ ynusername anyway u guys are the most insane couple i have ever met

⤷ rowan and you’re stuck with us foreverrrr

user4 no one is talking about how adorable this is. the waves where we met like UR KIDDING!

⤷ user5 if she is actually dating charles then he is literally the luckiest man alive

@f1wagupdates just posted…

tagged @ynusername @charlesleclerc

liked by @chloegarelli, @ynusername and others

f1wagupdates ‼️🚨 new wag alert 🚨‼️ monegasque painter yn yln has been spotted getting cozy with charles on his yacht. it’s believed they met while on holiday in italy several months ago🥺

user1 fell to my knees in the grocery store

⤷ user1 THAT SHOULD BE ME

⤷ user1 but if it had to be anyone else im glad its her

user2 oh i KNEW that was him on her instagram three months ago. vindication.

user3 stop she is so pretty

⤷ user4 like attracts like

rowan cats out of the bag @chloegarelli

⤷ chloegarelli WE DID THIS EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU

⤷ user5 thank you oh my god

⤷ user6 THANK YOU

⤷ charlesleclerc thank you😁

[❤️ by f1wagupdates]

user7 need to see them together at a race

⤷ user8 CHARLES GET HER ON THE PADDOCK

⤷ charlesleclerc 🫡

ynusername oh my god. not the picture of him pushing me into the water😐

⤷ user9 OH i love her ur honour

⤷ f1wagupdates I’M SORRY!

⤷ rowan don’t apologise its so perfect

⤷ charlesleclerc Stop I tripped!!!!!!!!! I told you!!!!!

⤷ ynusername u did NOT trip!!!!

⤷ user10 they are my everything wtf

@ynusername just posted…

tagged @charlesleclerc

liked by @charlesleclerc @f1 @scuderiaferrari and others

ynusername charles, the week we met we talked about what the monaco gp meant to you. the place your dreams took root, the one race you wanted so badly it hurt, the city you wanted to love you back. i could feel your yearning for that win as deeply as i feel for my own ambitions. i knew then that we understood each other like i have never understood anyone else in my life. and i knew, somehow i knew, that you would be on the top step of that podium. charles, i am endlessly proud of you and all the hard work you did to get here. you deserve this. i love you. and monaco loves you.

user1 charles monaco gp win you are everything to me

user2 they’re in love in love!!! WTFFFF

scuderiaferrari ❤️

user3 god let me have what they have i cant handle this

chloegarelli im tearing up yall are like my babies

user4 HE DID IT!!!!

charlesleclerc oh I love you I love you I love you

⤷ charlesleclerc How would I have done this without you?

⤷ ynusername I am so proud of you baby. I love you ❤️

⤷ user5 this interaction changed lives

⤷ user6 how do i reasonably find love after this. how am i supposed to be satisfied with anything less???

🎨 i just KNOW her caption would make the rounds on tumblr

[thanosspills]

LIVING WITH "TEAM THANOS"

after the third game, the X's win and you reunite with the friends you made in the games.

Now that the games have ended, all of the players are spread out in the dorms waiting to depart. You sit with your new-found friend group on the stairs as you guys have a group discussion about your futures.

Now bonded with no where else to go, everyone agrees to put their money together and rent out a comfortable place to live.

Characters: Se-mi/player 380, Thanos/player 230, Nam-gyu/player 124, Min-su/player 125, Gyeong-su/player 256

This is what it's like to live with each of them! Slight headcannons

Pretty light hearted and silly, nothing too serious.

Fem!reader x Choi Su-bong (kinda)

Reader is dating Thanos because I couldn't resist sorry <3

Warnings: Slightly suggestive/NSFW things mentioned, drug usage, drinking

YOU + THANOS

You and Thanos got really close in the games and have been inseparable since. The two of you share the larger bedroom and are PDA all over the house. Making out in the kitchen, on the couch when everyones hanging out, he'll slap/grope your ass at random, grab your hips when you're facing away from him, etc etc.

Everytime the PDA starts, Nam-gyu just rolls his eyes and tries to ignore it. During movie night when you and Thanos take your attention away from what you're watching to suck face, Se-mi throws a pillow at you two and scoffs, "Get a room nymphos." Min-su will awkwardly look the other way, and Gyeong-su is just always oblivious, continuing to laugh at the movie, never noticing in general.

ALSOO during movie night Thanos always hogs the communal couch blanket. Even from you.

Don't get me started on how loud the two of you are in bed. Thanos gives no fucks, he'll be as vocal and rough as he wants and he'll bring it out of you. Since Thanos loves to be chatty during sex, you'll occasionally get Nam-gyu yelling at you two to "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" from downstairs. Of course, you and Thanos always just laugh it off and keep going. The next morning you guys get ganged up on and teased by the other four, Gyeong-su mocking Thanos's dirty talk,

"You guys need to be quiet, I'm tired of hearing Thanos moan 'senõrita' at 2 in the morning."

Thanos uses your guys's room as the house's studio, inviting the others in to rap/produce with him. Min-su and Se-mi never participate, they just sit on the bed, snack with you, and watch.

You always have to clean up after Thanos. He'll kick his shoes off in the most random places, leave clothes on the floor, food at his desk, etc.

Thanos will freestyle about whatever everyones doing in the present moment, like at game night, Nam-su is drawing two So he ain't got no Uno I bet that dude regrets picking yellow I'm rooting for my lil boy Min-su Wild card his ass, bro!

Thanos always announces his presence as soon as he gets home. He'll shout, "GUYSSSSS!" right when he walks in the door.

Thanos doesn't consider boundaries at all. He'll randomly barge into everyones room without knocking and ask if they wanna go somewhere with him even if it's late as fuck.

You two are probably the most difficult to deal with in terms of bringing pure chaos to the household, but you guys also bring the most fun.

MIN-SU

Min-su is usually the first person awake, but when he sleeps in he gets aggressively woken up by the boys. He's also the little rag-doll of the group, always getting playfully pushed around. Se-mi will yell at the boys to fuck off but they mean well, it's just the special treatment Min-su gets.

He's seen as the little brother by everyone but he's honestly the most put-together.

He's tried to bring in stray cats multiple times, Nam-gyu immediately says hell no, something him and Se-mi rarely agree on.

Really enjoys hanging out with each person in their rooms one on one but hardly invites himself in, he usually waits to be told he's welcome to hang.

Needs sound to fall asleep so he actually doesn't mind the chaotic late nights in the house. It's good background noise and oddly makes him feel safe.

He helped you and Se-mi decorate a bit, mainly just contributed plants that he's attached to and takes good care of.

Always picks a romantic k-drama on movie night and falls asleep first.

Secretly loves how much he gets under Nam-gyu's skin during game nights, Min-su ends up winning more then anyone else.

He doesn't touch the drugs Thanos and Nam-gyu do but he will drink with the group. He's still composed when he's drunk but he laughs at everything and cracks everyone else up in the process.

When everyones up late and hungry he'll volunteer to go get snacks from the gas station for everyone.

NAM-GYU

Comes home at like 3 am after promoting clubs, if you and Thanos are awake your guy's room is the first place he goes. He'll sit in Thanos's gaming chair and talk to you two about the crazy shit that happened with the junkies at work. Nam-gyu is still a user, after the games him and Thanos have calmed down a bit on the drugs but will occasionally pop pills for fun, you occasionally join.

Goes with Min-su on his late night gas station runs for the house so he can, "make sure he doesn't get himself killed."

Doesn't really cook or clean because he's usually out, but when he comes back home he contributes with beer and will randomly throw a new, freshly packaged fruity vape at Thanos, surprising him with it.

Nam-gyu always fucks with Min-su during game nights, he's super competitive. Min-su's nonchalant attitude about winning really gets under his skin. He takes every board game very seriously and hardly wins, but when he does win you're not hearing the end of it.

Asks everyone to go to the club so he can see you guys while he's working. He sneaks you guys free drinks on a tab and hangs out as soon as he's off.

He asked Se-mi to pierce his ears for him and freaked out and complained the whole time. It took 45 minutes for her to do both ears.

Occasionally brings girls home but he's very secretive about it, no one sees them come in or leave.

SE-MI

Se-mi does most of the chores because she doesn't trust anyone else to do them right, defiently the big sister of the household.

Only asks you and Min-su to go run errands with her, she doesn't wanna put up with the others, "Hurry, let's go before the idiots notice we're leaving."

She always tells Min-su to stay away from the drugs. If Thanos and Nam-gyu are on them and are acting a little too crazy she'll go and hangout with Min-su in his room or take him out of the house to go for a walk or get food.

She'll hangout with you in the bathroom and play music while you get ready to go to work.

She cooks for everyone and really enjoys it but acts like she doesn't.

She'll get Thanos and Gyeong-su happy meals when she stops at McDonald's for everyone.

Likes to argue, she'll debate Nam-gyu on his shitty takes on the movie you guys are all watching.

Her room always has music playing softly, like Min-su she needs noise to feel comfortable.

She's the organizer behind most of the little group hangouts.

If she finds a bug/spider in the house she'll pick it up with a napkin and chase Nam-gyu and Thanos around with it, Thanos squeals in terror and Nam-gyu shouts, "SE-MI BACK THE FUCK UP IT'S NOT FUNNY!" Gyeong-su giggles like a little kid while he follows Se-mi as she chases them around.

GYEONG-SU

Gyeong-su likes to play obnoxious rap music on the TV at max volume so everyone can hear it.

He raps around the house trying to replicate Thanos but he's honestly just not good and no one has the heart to tell him.

Tries to brag to everyone at work saying, "Yeah, the rapper Thanos is my roommate." but none of his coworkers care.

Gyeong-su is super lightweight, he always ends up the drunkest whether you guys are just drinking at home or clubbing. He hurts himself a lot when he's inebriated but it's nothing too serious, just tripping and running into walls. He'll come home and fall asleep on the couch or the floor and everyone else just leaves him there until he wakes up the next morning.

Super loud on his video games at night, he invites everyone to his room to watch him play and hangout. He lowkey secretly dreams of being a famous streamer.

Asks Se-mi to make food for him at like 2 in the morning.

Gyeong-su typically doesn't like going out alone so he begs each member of the group to go with him to do something, even if it's simple like walking to the store or picking up a prescription. If someone says no, he's knocking on the next persons bedroom door. He always asks for you and Thanos's advice on what to wear before he meets up with a girl or goes out.

YAYY that's it! I hope you guys liked it, I love team Thanos with my whole heart and I wanted to write something cute for them :) Let me know what you think!

[yourlocallunatic]

You're Insufferable

Ridoc Gamlyn x Fem!reader 18+

Summary: Ridoc is a tease and everyone knows it and deals with it. But for some reason he drives you absolutely insane. The bickering is constant but there is something else lying underneath all the arguing. (follows Fouth Wing plot! I'm only halfway done with OS but I just love Ridoc sm)

Warnings: minor character deaths, smut! piv, oral sex (f receiving), light choking, a spank or two. sorta dom!Ridoc domsub dynamics. our boy is a relentless tease.

wordcount: 12.5K

notes: reader is described to have long hair because this is entirely self-indulgent. there is just such a lack of Ridoc stories, I needed moreeee. (yes it's long I got carried away)

Ridoc fucking Gamlyn. The bane of your existence. It started the day you crossed the parapet, you were determined to get across if only to spare your family from seeing your dead body on day one. The first rider of the family meant you were already dead to them, no one was there to prepare you for the onslaught you would face. And that day on the parapet was too close, the wind and rain caught you off guard, but it was your stupid long hair that was almost the death of you.

Your arms were out at your side to keep your balance while the wind whipped around you. You could hear the soon-to-be cadet behind you cursing with every step he took, his nervous laughs filling the air. It was hard to keep your balance though with your hair flying into your eyes every five seconds, and moving it away from your face took away precious time, the boy was getting closer. In a swipe of your hair, you glanced behind you quickly catching the dark-haired boy's eye, and he fucking grinned at you. Was it meant to be intimidating? No. But with how much adrenaline was coursing through your body the only thought you had was that he wanted to throw you off the edge to get rid of you early. You tried to pick up your pace but it only caused the wet strands of your hair to fly back in your face quicker resulting in you momentarily losing your balance. You crouch closer to the rocky surface trying to regain your balance slowly, a shaky breath leaving you as you hear the boy approaching closer.

"Better chop off that pretty hair when we get across or you're as good as gone when challenges start!" he shouted over the wind, his voice was teasing but you couldn't help the fear that was still running through your veins.

"Shut. Up." you grit out. You'd recovered your pace but he was still behind you.

"Hey, just trying to help. Or you can fall and I'd have one less cute girl to talk to and that would be a shame," he was so close to you you could feel his laugh on the back of your neck. But you ignored him, trying to focus on getting across the last quarter of the parapet. "You excited?" you give no response, again tucking your hair behind your ears, "can't say I'm thrilled with being potentially killed but hey, the lives we choose to live." You roll your eyes your pace now quickening with being so close to the confined walls of Basgiath once more. "Wait up! Don't want you running off without your new friend!" you were so close, ten more steps.

A deep exhale leaves you as you jump the short distance from the parapet to the grounds, a girl sits at a table with a sheet of paper and a pen waiting to take names. She jots down your name and gives you a tight-lipped smile before calling the next person.

"Ridoc Gamlyn," that gods-damned voice again. You try to speed away before he can get to you after giving his name but you don't make it. "Hey!" he calls to you. That's it. Better to get him off of you now before it becomes a habit.

"Hey?" you turn on your heel and stare him down causing him to almost run into you with the stride he was going at, "What the fuck was that back there?"

"Uhm I'm sorry?" he questions confusion taking hold of his face.

"I said, what the fuck was that? You were right behind me shouting in my ear! I know we're not supposed to root for each other but you're trying to kill me already?" you knew your face was going red with the anger consuming you. Gods, you couldn't wait for this guy to be gone.

"Woah, princess, I was just helping. Your hair is going to get in the way, take a look around, who else here has that long of hair?" you don't want to but you look around anyway. Every person, male, female, or otherwise had either short, cropped hair or it was tied back tightly. He gives you an I told you so look before speaking again. "That's because they're all at the bottom of the river, I was just there in case you lost your sight again. Whatever I'm done with this shit." He rolls his eyes before turning away and walking elsewhere.

You sigh to yourself. This was going to be a long three years and you've already made an enemy. With your luck, he would try to kill you that night.

Your first night as Basgiath started better than you expected. You'd managed some small talk with some other first years and the two girls invited you to sit with them at supper that night. One of them was the Sorrengail girl you'd heard everyone talking about, she was slight but with her stubborn determination you had no doubt she would try to cheat death in here. The other girl was taller, her hair braided back in dark cornrows, Violet was also smart enough to have her long, silver ends tied up. Shit. Maybe Gamlyn was right. You did your best to keep your eyes on him throughout supper, he sat a few tables away from you with some other first years, but clearly, you weren't being very discreet with your wandering gaze.

"Already found someone worth sleeping with?" Rhiannon questioned teasingly, turning to look at who you were staring at, "He's cute."

"No. He's a fucking asshole is what he is." You grumble, stabbing some lettuce with your fork.

"Ridoc, I talked to him earlier," Violet speaks up, "he was nice to me. Bit of a smart-ass but he's funny. What happened with you two?"

"He tried to kill me up on the parapet!" you say, definitely louder than you wanted to, and shit of course he looked up right as you said that. He excused himself from his table and made his way over to you guys. You swear your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head. His stride was confident, a smirk playing on his lips as he brushed his dark curls away from his forehead. No. You internally scold yourself, he may be attractive with his lean frame but he was annoying as hell.

"Is the princess telling lies about me?" he smoothly slides between Rhiannon and Violet throwing his arms around their shoulders a grin eating up his face.

"You tried to kill her?!" Violet shoves his arm away from her, looking at him incredulously.

"Of course not!" rage consumes you, "I was just staying close to her, her hair kept flying in her face, was just there in case she lost sight completely and fell," he says as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

"No. You were fucking distracting me!" your utensils clatter on your plate, "telling me to 'chop off my pretty hair'" You lower your voice to imitate him and he dares to laugh at you.

"Well...what do you girls think?" he says looking between the other two, their minds processing.

"I hate to say it...but Ridoc is right, it'll probably make it easier if you cut it, or at least tie it back like Violet," Rhiannon gives you an apologetic look and a shrug.

"That settles it then princess, just trying to help," Ridoc shoves himself away from the table before walking back to his seat, turning around halfway to meet your gaze, and winks at you. You roll your eyes in response before turning back to the girls. They share a look before going back to their meals.

The next morning in the barracks Violet had offered to braid your hair back for you and you begrudgingly agreed. You hated Ridoc being right. Zihnal was not with you because when first years began being added to squads you were thrilled to be with Rhiannon and Violet, but your excitement was short-lived as Ridoc was the next name called to Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing. He takes his place behind you and you do your best to ignore him as he talks to Sawyer–another member of your squad.

"Ah, look who took my advice!" you feel a tug on one of the two plaits Violet had done on you and you turn with fury.

"Take your hands off me Gamlyn," Rhiannon turns from where she stands next to you, grabbing your hand in an attempt to calm you.

"Someone's fiery this morning," he laughs, "looks good on you princess," he winks again, and before you or anyone else can stop you, the hand Rhiannon didn't have a hold on flew and slapped Ridoc straight on the cheek. He raises his hand to hold his face as you hear a shout a couple of rows ahead of you. "What the fuck?!" Ridoc shouts the shock evident on his face.

"Cadets!" your new squad leader–Dain Aetos–approaches the two of you, "You're a part of a squad now! Act like it. There will be plenty of time to fight during sparring, now behave yourselves." You turn back into formation hearing Ridoc grumbling behind you. Holy shit. What've you just done...? You hit your squadmate! You'd unknowingly unlocked months of intense rivalry between the two of you, all because you couldn't hold your temper.

The weeks went by slower than you thought, days of intense training and studying. Being a rider was a hell of a lot more difficult than you imagined it to be. But the most difficult part was trying to keep your temper around the man who was trying to make your life a living hell. Your other squadmates were fed up with your bickering. It ranged everywhere from trivial arguments about homework to betting who would make it up the gauntlet first when the training was to start. Challenges were going to start soon too, no longer assigned fighting partners and you knew Ridoc would challenge you only to bring revenge on the slap you'd landed on him the first day. But you were smart, you'd started studying his fighting style the moment he stepped onto the mat during the assessment. He held up alright, eventually knocking a tooth out of Aurelie's mouth, but that was before the daily training. As annoying of a squad leader that Dain was, he worked you all hard, and with gauntlet practice approaching too, he ensured you were all eating more than your share of food. Ridoc had gone from a lean floppy-haired boy who teased you on the parapet, to a now filled-out man beating most of his opponents in challenges.

But the most annoying part about Ridoc is that you didn't mind him...he was kind to the people he cared about and there had been more than one occurrence where you had to hold back your laughter from one of his jokes. But it was already over, you'd already hit him and he'd already decided that he would get his retaliation. So now every morning at breakfast you'd have to hear his taunting voice tease you.

"Wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"

"Does that scowl hurt your pretty face?"

"Seems like the princess hasn't gotten any this week, she's grumpy."

Day after day. Thank the gods when it came to serious moments he seemed to hold back. You were halfway up the gauntlet, about to cross the shaking posts. Only moments earlier Ridoc had been arguing with Tynan about Barlowe, you and Violet had shared a glance, never seeing him lose his temper and it was...kind of hot. He was taunting Tynan from the ground, and you'd expected the same when you began, but he stayed oddly silent. You'd surprised yourself after making it to the top, the training was paying off.

The next week, challenges began, and you were ready. Just as you'd expected Ridoc challenged you. Rhiannon gave you a nervous look as Sawyer tried to talk him out of it.

"Are you sure?" Rhi asked you as you stripped off your flight jacket, leaving you only in your training top and pants with half of your daggers strapped to your belt.

"It's fine, Rhi. We all knew that this was going to happen. Maybe after this, he'll give up and stop annoying the shit out of me." You approach the mat, Ridoc already standing ready, his arms swinging at his sides to pump himself up. Did his shirt get tighter somehow? No. Not the time for that. You shove the thoughts to the back of your mind, trying to bring all the memories of the times he irritated you to the forefront. You take your stance, a dagger in each hand just like he did.

"Ready, princess?" He teased, that gods-damned annoying smirk splayed across his face.

"Begin," Emmeterio announced, and Ridoc pounced. You'd been watching him, he always skirted around his opponents waiting for them to make the first move, but not this time. It caught you off guard but you were able to move away in time, moving around him before throwing out a leg to knock him off balance. It worked for a moment but he was on you again in no time. He was moving fast, but you could move fast too. You hit each other with a series of blocks before you were able to knock a dagger out of one of his hands. He cursed, but that only freed up his hand to be able to grab your wrist, twisting until you dropped a dagger of your own. A gasp left your lips from the pain, and he eased up with the sound. He was going easy on you. Well fuck that. With his guard down you pull him closer, close enough that you could smell his sweat. Damn, why did he have to smell good too? You used that closeness to wrap a leg behind his knee to take you both down to the ground. You were on top of him now, his face contorted in frustration, only the second time you'd seen him lose his temper. He grunted and cursed.

"Fuck!" he shouted from between his teeth. Did you really get him this worked up? You grappled with each other, both of your remaining daggers lost somewhere on the mat, you tried to reach for your belt to grab another one while you were still on top but it made you lose your leverage. He was still stronger than you and you roll so that he now has the advantage above you. All these months he'd been preparing just so he could beat you. He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head. You've lost all semblance of control and tactic, now just thrashing to get out of his hold. He holds your wrists with one of his hands, his other shooting out with the speed of light to grab the dagger closest to him and bring it to your throat, "Yield!" he shouts louder than necessary. You stared into his eyes above you, his gaze was concentrated, and he knew he'd won. But you continue to stare at him before swallowing thickly, your eyes burned, tears threatened to spill over and his gaze softened, and the pressure of the dagger at your throat lightened significantly. You could use his moment of softness to try to gain back control but it was over, you'd already been humiliated.

"I yield," it was barely a whisper, only enough for him to hear. He gathered himself quickly and reached his hand down to help you up but you ignored it and picked up your daggers from the mat. You were missing one and you knew it was in Ridoc's hands. You turn to him, your gaze still low to the ground refusing to make eye contact. He mutters your name quietly, gently, and holds your dagger out to you, but you just push it back to him before rushing off the mat and gathering your things, leaving the training room. He'd won it, fair and square. You lost all control in that match, what was happening?

The next few days were awkward, to say the least. The rest of the squad tried their best to keep things normal, but nothing was normal without the banter between you and Ridoc. Slowly he seemed to regain some confidence in teasing you, it started light with you just rolling your eye in response, but by presentation day the two of you were in full-on arguments again.

"So how many of us do you think are going to be dragon lunch today?" Ridoc asks as you and the rest of the first years in your squad are waiting for your turn on the gauntlet.

"That's cruel, Ridoc," you reply, not in the place for humor this morning with how nervous you were, and you were sure you were not the most nervous, Violet still couldn't get up the wall.

"We live in a cruel world, princess," he mutters shaking his head. You groan in annoyance, trying your best to hold your temper instead of retorting, instead turning your attention to Violet.

"How are you doing Vi? Is there anything we can do to help?" you weren't much taller than her but those couple of inches were enough for you to bridge the gap to get up the wall.

"I'll be okay," she takes a deep breath, strangely calm for the situation you were about to enter. Luca was behind you two beginning her rant on the dragon she would be choosing. As if. Presentation was for the dragons to decide who was worthy and who would be torched. The past months had all led up to this. Every breath you took was shallow the entire way up the gauntlet, so aware of every step you were making and how fast you were making them. You released a breath once you reached the top, the rest of your squad cheering for you. Ridoc was right behind you breeching the top of the sloped wall, he whoops and gathered Rhiannon and Sawyer into hugs, the three of them laughing before he turned to you, a huge smile still on his face.

"Nice work Gamlyn," you say giving him a forced smile.

"Ah, a compliment, that's the first one I've received from you, I could get used to this!" He throws an arm around you squeezing you close.

"Way to ruin it," you grumble removing his arm from you before turning your attention back to Violet on the course. Oddly, you miss the warmth of his arm on you. He's always been touchy with the rest of your little crew, often embracing them or keeping an arm on them during meals or classes. You'd even see him press a kiss to Rhi's head after she'd helped him with physics. But with you, he didn't cross that line. Did he hate you that much? Or was it just because he knew how you would react? Your thoughts race as you watch Violet do the same, right before she grabs a rope from the side of the course and hauls herself up. Then using her daggers to climb her way up. This girl was something special. You grin and clap your hands as the rest of your squad cheers.

"That's our girl!" Ridoc shouts, obviously proud of his friend. Some of the other wings began groaning complaining that she cheated but all the noise falls into the background as the rest of your squad huddles up. That was the easy part. Now the next could very well mean your death. You try to calm yourself, hold it together, and keep all semblance of control before the dragons can sense you.

Now at the top, you waited for the other squad to finish before you entered the flight field. One of the other wingleaders stood before you preparing you to enter, instructing you to make small talk so the dragons would get a feel for you as well as recommending staying at least seven feet apart in case another squad member got torched.

"Nice day for presentation," Ridoc jokes 'small talking' with the senior wingleader.

"Not with me, with them," she rolls her eyes at his antics, and gods of course Ridoc will be right behind you annoying you the whole way. You knew you'd have to try your best to be in control or else you'd lose your temper in front of the dragons.

"Lucky me I have a wonderful view to distract me from our impending dooms," Ridoc laughs, anger swelled in your chest. You hear Rhiannon scold him and smack him upside the head, a smirk grows on your face but you stay facing forward.

Your senses feel heightened as you make your way onto the flight field, dragons surrounding the edges, a smile gracing your face at the pure wonder that these creatures held.

"They're pretty incredible aren't they?" you hear the awe in Ridoc's voice behind you, no humor or teasing, just... Ridoc.

"They really are," you respond to him and turn to face him, he was grinning, clearly he was made to be a rider. He turned slightly and met your gaze, his smile not faltering. His eyes shined in the sunlight this high atop the cliffs and you turn back to watch where you're walking before you get caught up in staring at him any longer. Why did this keep happening to you? As you neared the end of the field before turning back you caught sight of the illustrious feathertail, Violet was enthralled, her eyes not moving away from the creature. But your eyes wandered to something else going on only feet away.

A red scorpiontail on the smaller side was sitting peacefully in the sun, she was practically glowing. But what caught your attention was the brown swordtail a little larger than her that approached where she sat. He nudged her with his nose, seeming to almost mutter things at her before he rolled on top of her putting what seemed to be his entire weight on her. The red reared up, a deep growl leaving her throat, drawing the rest of your squad's attention to the two dragons. The brown stood again, circling the red while making grunting sounds to her, right before she swung her neck and snapped her massive teeth at the swordtail.

"Hey, princess," Ridoc is right beside you now, his voice hot on your neck from where he leans down close to your ear. "That red looks like you during math lessons, so grumpy," he's whispering to not draw attention to the two dragons, but you make the deadly mistake of reacting.

"Well if you helped me like you did everyone else maybe I'd be fine!" you turn to face him, a scowl traced between your brow, unbeknownst to you two it drew the attention of the two dragons.

"Woah now you look even more like her!" he laughs quietly before reaching out a finger to poke right between your eyebrows where your scowl formed.

"Ugh! You're insufferable!" you turn on your heel expecting to walk ahead of him again before coming face to face with the red scorpiontail. Your breath stopped and fear coursed through you. You heard Ridoc gasp your name.

"Don't fucking move," his words are seethed between his teeth but you barely resonate them. You feel the dragon's hot breath on your face, the smell of sulfur strong. "Please don't die, please don't die," Ridoc repeats the mantra as if it will help seal your fate. You keep your eyes low to the ground not daring to make eye contact, knowing that would be your death sentence. The dragon's gaze moves from you and you take the opportunity to look at her face. She was incredible. And her eyes were locked on Ridoc. Shit. But you didn't have time to assess your feelings before the massive creature was tackled to the ground by the brown swordtail.

You released your breath staring at the creatures fighting in front of you. Their roars echoed through the field as the chuffs of other dragons were heard from the edges as if they were egging the two on. You felt someone grab your hand and you were tugged to the beginning of the field again. You meet up with your squad about 20 feet ahead where Rhiannon is standing in front of the burnt corpse of Pryor, you hear Luca start to say something about him right before she gets torched right in front of your eyes. You gasp holding on tighter to the hand in yours, Ridoc's hand. Once you realize you dropped it immediately, but not before Violet could notice. You risk a glance behind you to look for the red scorpiontail again, praying she is alive. But the sight you were fixed with was not one you were expecting to see. The two dragons were still on the ground fighting, but they were both still alive, the brown was a bit bigger, you had expected him to take the red down fast, but there they still were.

"Come on, let's go!" Ridoc urges you, pulling on your arm yet again.

"Wait, Ridoc, watch them!" You were captivated, and surprisingly, Ridoc stopped pulling and watched the dragons with you. "They're playing."

"No, they're fighting, let's go," he tugs again, and this time you comply. His hand doesn't release yours until you're off the flight field.

The mess hall that night seemed a hell of a lot smaller after having lost so many first years in one day. You were sure there would be even less after threshing. Your squad was down two more people now. You sat with Rhi, Violet, Sawyer, and Ridoc who were all discussing the dragons you'd seen today. Rhiannon talks about a green that had been all up in Violet's business while you and Ridoc were being intimidated by the red scorpiontail, while Violet says she didn't feel a connection to any of them.

"What about you?" Rhiannon says your name, drawing you into the conversation. You open your mouth to speak but before you could Ridoc interjects.

"Well, I for one think that red scorpiontail already loves you. You two even have the same frown and grumpy demeanor!"

"Shut up, Ridoc," you turn your attention to Rhi. "But yeah, I did feel drawn to her..." your voice went quieter.

"Well you might as well go for that brown then, Ridoc," Sawyer speaks up. "with how annoying he was being to that red those two dragons are practically you guys already." He laughs, the girls nodding in agreement.

"You wound me," Ridoc puts a hand to his heart, "but unfortunately I think that guy took down the red so the princess is gonna have to find another dragon." No. He didn't, you knew that both of the dragons were still alive, and it pissed you off that Ridoc decided to taunt you about it when you'd just said you were drawn to that red.

"They were just playing Ridoc!" you shout, sounding almost childish with your insistence.

"Yeah right," his words muffled by the food in his mouth.

"They were! Don't you think one of them would've already been dead by the time we turned around? And neither of them were going for death blows, it was almost like they were sparring or something..." you mumble out the end, brows knitting as you think about it.

"Maybe it's their form of flirting then," Ridoc jokes, earning him a groan from Rhiannon. "What? If I were a dragon that's how I'd try to get a girl, relentless teasing, tackling her to the ground, you know that sort of thing." Ridoc shrugs and the wheels in my brain start turning.

"And that's why you mostly sleep with men..." Violet says under her breath, she and Rhiannon start to giggle.

"Hey! I'll have you know I can pleasure a woman just as well as I can a man. The women at Basgiath are just too controlling, I like to be in control," Ridoc smirks, leaning back in his seat. Why did he have to talk about this... now that's all you could think about. Your memory shifts to when he challenged you, his hands pinning your wrists, his body on top of you. You shake your head to try to clear the thoughts, this was your rival for god's sake! Why were you thinking like this?

"Really? You're the controlling one in bed?" Sawyer scoffs in disbelief.

"Don't sound so shocked. From my experience, everyone needs to give up control every once in a while, and the bedroom is an excellent place to do it when you have someone like me to be in charge." Oh. Fuck. You try to take a drink of water to cool your burning nerves but all it does is cause you to choke on it. You sputter trying to catch your breath, "You okay there, princess? Not scaring you off am I?" Ridoc winks at you. Okay. That's enough. Time for a cold shower and bedtime, surely you wouldn't feel like this in the morning. You ignore his comment and excuse yourself from supper before rushing to the showers.

It was late when Violet and Rhiannon returned to the barracks, you lay there pretending to be asleep. Even when Violet brought up the fact that you seemed off at dinner. Fuck, you really had to pull yourself together before threshing next week, or Ridoc was going to make your life miserable with his teasing.

You managed to make it through the week without drawing too much attention to yourself, though Ridoc was still relentless when it came to teasing you. But the morning of threshing was...rough to say the least. Everyone's nerves were on fire, even the ever-confident Ridoc was vomiting behind a tree. You grimaced feeling sorry for him, he might not show it but he wanted to succeed, just as you all did. Professor Kaori advised on what to do when approaching a dragon, he also said that if a dragon had already chosen you they'd be calling you. Okay, what is that supposed to feel like? You snark internally. You had no idea what to expect when entering the valley. It was happening too fast, you heard Ridoc instruct the rest of your squad to stay alive and you all went your separate ways.

You'd been walking through the valley for hours now, and the sun was falling low on the horizon giving you one maybe two hours maximum. If you were any other person you'd be wondering if there were even any dragons left out here, but you felt in your bones that your dragon was still out here, you just had to find them fast enough. You neared the ends of the boundaries only a few miles left within them, you'd managed to avoid other dragons thus far and only ran into one other cadet–a girl from Third wing–who looked so frightened that you would kill her that she ran off right away, like a dragon would choose that. The further you walked the stronger the hum in your body felt, you were getting close. The setting sun shone through the trees illuminating the path and if it weren't for the sun, you would've entirely missed the glint to your right side. You turned, hand ready on your dagger, but once you met her gaze you knew the beautiful creature wouldn't hurt you.

The red scorpiontail stepped out of the shadows of the forest, the sun glinting off her scales making them look like rubies. It was the dragon from presentation. You couldn't help the smile that grew on your face as she walked closer to you, she was alive. You stood, watching her in awe as she circled you sniffing you and feeling you out before a warm grumble sounded in her throat.

"Will you come with me?" her voice echoed in your head, elegant but firm, she was not asking you, she was telling you to come with her, or you would not return.

"If you’ll have me…" You didn't want to scare her off so you held your palm out to her, letting her run her face along you, the warm scales felt so naturally under your hand. She turned to the side in a silent order to climb on her back. You made the movements and took your seat. This was unlike anything you'd felt, you were a rider.

"Now hold on, squeeze your legs, and keep your grip," you don't know if you'd ever get used to hearing her voice in your head. You do as she says, you keep your grip and hold on. The wind through your hair is like nothing you've felt before, tears sting your eye from the brightness of the setting sun. As you climb higher into the sky you look around you, you're a good five miles from the field where all the new riders are landing their dragons. Over the wind, you're able to hear the loud shouts of someone all too familiar. You look to your left and see Ridoc on the top of a brown swordtail, again the same one from presentation. What are the fucking odds?

"Look at us, princess! We're riders!" the joy in his tone is infectious and you can't help but smile as he risks throwing one of his hands in the air to feel the wind. Despite your joy, you feel grumbles beneath you and look down to see your dragon shooting sideways glances at Ridoc's dragon.

"Are you alright?" you shout over the wind, "Do you not like that dragon? We saw you two the other day!"

"Not so loud girl, I can hear your thoughts just fine. I know you saw me, dragons remember much better than humans," Her tone is short, clearly she's irritated.

"That's Ridoc, he hates me." you give the whole 'mental talking thing' a go.

"Don't be stupid, girl, I said I saw you two that day, he was begging for me not to kill you."

"Well I saw you two that day too, you're practically shooting fire through your eyes at his dragon now but the two of you were rolling around in the grass together the other day..." Shit. Maybe you shouldn't have said that, red dragons are known for being notoriously angsty. A grumble reverberates through her chest as she flies faster, and out of range from Ridoc and his dragon.

"Aotrom has been trying to mate with me since we were adolescents, we're both still too young to mate but he doesn't seem to give up,"

"Oh so he likes you, that's what this is about."

"Yes but he's insufferable about it, you saw him, he laid on top of me!" her body seemed to grow even hotter with the annoyance running through her. This conversation was all too familiar.

The two of you continued talking until you landed most of the cadets already back. It was odd but strangely comforting talking to Cairistìona, the two of you feeling the same things.

Ridoc had landed just after you, running over and pulling you in a hug before spotting Rhiannon and doing the same to her. He was too excitable, you don't even know if he noticed it was you he was hugging. Rhiannon came over to you and gathered you in her strong arms.

"I'm so happy!" She squealed. "Fierge told me that's the same red you saw in the field the other day."

"Yeah, Cairis," You return her embrace and turn your head to look where you left her. Aotrom–Ridoc's dragon–was rubbing against her like a cat and chortling, she whipped her head around and blew a small cloud of fire at the brown dragon.

"Hey!" you hear Ridoc shout, running over to Aotrom. "Tell her to back off!"

"Oh he's fine," you defend Cairis walking to where she bares her teeth at Ridoc. "Dragons are fireproof, and besides, he was in her personal space."

"He likes her, can't you tell her that!" he cries, Aotrom lowering his nose to receive attention from Ridoc, gods these boys were going to be menaces.

"Tell the boy I already know and don't want to talk about it." Cairis turns her head in a pout.

"She knows Ridoc, and she doesn't care, maybe you should tell him to leave her alone!" you fold your arms across your chest, watching Ridoc as he walks closer to you.

"Oh please, he's not going to give her up, she's his mate!" your voices arguing carried across the field, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Sawyer and Rhiannon approaching and you briefly worry about Violet.

"Not yet she's not! And I pray to Amari they never do mate because that means I'll have to spend the rest of my life miserable!" the two of you are inches apart now his warm brown eyes staring into yours.

"Woah, woah, calm down guys," Sawyer says as Rhiannon pulls you back.

"You have no idea, princess I'd rock your world," he smirks and you're sure your face blooms red, out of anger or because he flirted. You had not a clue.

"Want me to torch him? He reminds me of a certain dragon, maybe they can burn together..." you hear Cairis' voice in the back of your head.

"NO." Your response is too quick and you know it.

"Oh...you don't like him do you?"

"No, I just...he's still my friend...I think. He just annoys the ever-loving shit out of me. And don't pretend you'd kill Aotrom too, we both know you could've killed him already."

"Don't forget your place little one," Cairis' voice looms louder before she turns with a whip of her tail, the poison barb inches from Aotrom's face. "Now go to your friend she just returned, the Empyrean has much to talk about now."

Violet was certainly a force to be reckoned with, you'd learned that early on. But bonding two dragons? And one of them being one of the most powerful...gods, she was something. The Empyrean discussed while the rest of your squad sat in the grass and waited. Rhiannon and Sawyer separated you and Ridoc before you got into any more arguments. This was good because Ridoc was going on and on about how hard he was going to be celebrating tonight with the rest of the new rider cadets, as well as deciding who he wanted to take to bed. You couldn't help the annoyance (jealousy?) that came from it.

"Yeah right, Gamlyn, like anyone wants to go to bed with you after the long day we've had," you scoff, not able to hold back your comment.

"I can be relaxing, want me to show you, princess?" He retorts. How does he always have something to say back?!

"Down boy," Rhi jokes, "she already has to deal with you and now she has to deal with your dragon too, give it a rest." You throw Rhiannon a thankful gaze before your dragons approach you again.

"Time for you to sleep girl, we start flight maneuvers this week, rest up." You stand to greet Cairis and her head nestles in your hands. She seemed to have a bit of a temper but you knew she would do anything to protect you now. You were bonded. So you watched her launch into the sky before heading back to the caves of the Vale, Aotrom following behind her like a love-sick puppy.

The next few weeks grew harder, all your free time thrown into school work and flight maneuvers, and since Violet was attacked Dain has ordered squad hand-to-hand combats every Tuesday night. You could tell that even Ridoc was getting weary, his comments to you had just turned to eye rolls. He would still throw one in now and again during flight, Cairis and Aotrom's petty snaps at each other made it difficult for you not to fight with one another. You'd managed to talk Cairis into being gentler with Aotrom–at least when you were around–if only to give you a slight sense of peace. But just like his rider, Aotrom was untamable.

It was a Tuesday night, you were in the training room and everyone began to spar with one another. Ridoc had tried to convince Liam to join him but Liam refused now that he was Violet's guardian so Imogen stepped in. You and Sawyer worked on your blocks with one another when Xaden and Garrick walked in. The two stripped their shirts off and began to spar with one another. You hear a low whistle as Violet and Rhiannon, even Imogen from where she held Ridoc in a headlock had their heads turned to watch the bulky, chiseled men fighting each other. To be fair it was boiling in the training room that night, the heat was cranked due to the cold December snows, and nearly every man had his shirt removed, including Sawyer across from you and the girls all in their training vests. Ridoc taps in fast succession before Imogen releases him and you're all dismissed by Dain for a water break. You chug from your bottle as Rhiannon approaches next to you.

"Did you see those two?" she asks you, talking about Xaden and Garrick. They were sure something to look at, their winding rebellion relics and dragon relics covering them. "Makes me feel way too straight looking at them..." she draws off and you giggle at her, looking over to see Violet who is practically drooling at Xaden.

"I don't know if I want to be them or be with them," you hear Ridoc speak from the other side of you. You turn to see him drinking his water, small dribbles falling down his chest–his now bare chest–as he pants heavily. You thought Xaden and Garrick were something sure... but Ridoc...holy Dunne. You knew he'd gained some muscle since he'd gotten here, but you didn't know he was fully jacked now! His body was fully carved by the gods. Maybe he wasn't as chiseled as Xaden or built like an ox like Garrick but he was...perfect. Your body grows hotter than it already was your mind racing. Why were you reacting like this to Ridoc of all people? Sawyer was just as attractive and way nicer. It had been happening way too often for this to just be a one-time thought.

"Ever occur to you maybe you like him?" Ciaris asks, listening to your thoughts.

"Not now," You reply quickly before putting up your shields and blocking her out.

"Hey, princess, want a rematch?" Ridoc asks, a grin plastered on his face. "No weapons this time?" You're sure your face was bright red at this point, your whole body at that. You just shake your head before gathering your stuff, haphazardly throwing your flight jacket on. You had to get out of here now.

"Hey where are you going?" you hear Violet call to you as you leave to ask Dain if you can leave early to finish homework.

"I have way too much homework, gonna see if Dain'll let me off 30 minutes early," you respond, still walking to your squad leader. He gives you the okay, and you go to walk past the rest of your squad before leaving the training room.

"I thought we were studying tonight for the math exam tomorrow?" Sawyer asks and you halt your steps. Oh shit, you'd forgotten, and Ridoc would have to be there, he was the best of you at math.

"Oh...um-yeah! Just wanted to shower first, just come to my room, we can study in there." Right a cold shower, would help. Then it would be fine to see Ridoc again, with his shirt on.

The cold water sprayed over you and you quickly cleaned yourself and washed your hair, rinsing away all your impure thoughts with the water. Once back to your room, you run oil through the ends of your long hair, still not having cut it since parapet, though now you'd kept it safely tied back. It was so much nicer to have your own room after being in the barracks for months. You sit at your desk and look over your workload, deciding to get some history done before the others come to study.

You hadn't realized how much time had passed before there was a knock at your door. You leap up from your chair, a smile on your face ready to greet the rest of your crew, but when you open the door your smile falls.

"Really? Are you that disappointed? I thought you were lightening up, didn't realize you were still a brat," Ridoc walks into your room and shuts the door behind him, flopping on your bed like he lived in there–at least he was clean, you could tell by his damp, tousled hair.

"Where are the others?" you ask turning from where you still stand by the door in your loose black sleep pants and a vest.

"'Hi Ridoc, hello, nice to see you' would be the appropriate response," he taunts, tossing his bag on the ground before laying back on your bed, his hands behind his head. You don't even respond to him, only giving him an annoyed look before he rolls his eyes and answers your question. "Sawyer took a fist to the face from Aetos, Rhiannon is taking him to the healers, broken nose. And Violet has whatever she has going on with Riorson...I don't even want to know. They said to go without them, that you'd need the most help with math anyway." He sits up again on your bed scooting to the edge, seemingly not able to sit still.

"Whatever, I'll just fail, you can go back to your room," you complain heading to your desk and shutting your history books.

"No, it's okay, princess. I can help you."

"I don't want your help, Ridoc, just go," You turn and face where he sat on your bed, his face unreadable.

"Seriously? You're that proud?" his words strike you across the face, his mouth turned downward in a frown as he stands and takes a step towards you.

"I'm not proud!" you fumed, "I just know you're going to tease me for being so shitty at math!"

"You think that little of me?" he takes another step forward, "Sure, I like to tease you but don't mistake me, I wouldn't tease you over something you struggle with!" this is the most serious you've seen him. But you still have some confidence left.

"Really?! Because you've already done that!" you shout back at him, thankful that you have a sound shield on your door so no one hears you seething at each other.

"When?!" he retorted, throwing his arms to the side in confusion. You wrack your brain, looking for the right words to describe how it had made you feel.

"Every-fucking-day Ridoc! It's constant taunting and I just don't know how to respond! With everyone else, you're nice and funny but you just have it out for me! I know I started it when I slapped you, and I know I don't make it easy with how I respond, but I thought at least when you humiliated me after challenging me you would let go!" tears are welled up in your eyes from the amount of anger you feel. You thought you'd get Ridoc with that, you thought he'd break and apologize like the nice guy you know he is, but a terrifyingly playful smirk grew on his lips.

"Ever take a moment and think it's cause you're always acting like a brat, princess?" he takes another step towards you and another, and another, until he's hovering over you, your back pressed against your desk, his face only inches from yours. "Yes, I tease you, I tease all our friends, but you're the only one who stays acting like I'm some sort of fucking villain when I stop." You think about it. Truly think about it. Were you the only one? He was an over-confident smart-ass he made comments to everyone, so why did it bother you so much?

"Ah, cat got your tongue?" your breath is caught in your throat and you watch as he raises a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "Y'know, I saw you staring at me tonight, you're not nearly as sly as you ought to be..." he was fucking teasing you again. But the way he was doing this...gods your body was on fire.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you lie, your voice barely a whisper. You look up and meet his eyes, his warm eyes, pools of chocolate that you could just melt in, and he is looking at you, really looking at you. In this moment you felt as if he could read your soul on a piece of paper.

"We both know that's not true," his voice dangerously low and confident. "And I think we both know that all you need..." his hand that tucked your hair behind your ear moves and he begins to trace your neck with the backs of his fingers, "is to give up control." You know your heart is beating out of control now. His hand now moved to grasp the side of your neck tightly, his other hand braced on the desk behind you. You were trapped against his body, the same way you were trapped when he held you against the mat, and it felt so good.

Before you could ask him for more, or surge up to kiss him like you may or may not have thought of doing while you were in the shower, he moves away and your body slinks in disappointment.

"Wanna know why I tease you?" he asks, his back turned to you as he picks up the trinkets on your bedside table.

"Desperately," you sigh out, hoping for an actual answer. He turns again a smirk on his face as he looks at the absolute mess he'd made of you already. He backs up and sits on the edge of your bed again, his legs spread wide before he answers you.

"Because it riles you up."

"Well I think I gathered that," you roll your eyes and look down at your hands.

"That first day after the parapet, I couldn't get over how fucking sexy you looked with that annoyed face," Oh. You knew this was heading somewhere, but for him to flat-out call you sexy made you press your legs together, "I can't get enough of it, even now." he looked away, all of his confidence suddenly gone. "And I wanted to see if once, once, you'd lose it."

"Lose it?" you question, and he laughs at you before running a hand through his dark hair.

"It happened once when you slapped me, and I thought it was going to happen again when I challenged you, but instead, you melted in my hands like a fucking puddle," he shakes his head and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks again, embarrassment evident on your features, "Awe, don't be embarrassed, princess." Gods, why was every fucking word he was saying making the wetness pool in your core?

"Ridoc?" You ask him, taking a step away from the desk and towards him, he hums in response, looking you over from head to toe, studying every inch of you. "You said that night, after presentation, that if you wanted to get a girl, you'd just 'tease her' and 'tackle her to the ground' like Cairis and Aotrom," you felt a bit silly saying his same words over again but continued, your voice still quiet, "is that...what you've been doing with me?" You take another step forward, "all the taunting, then challenging me...was that you trying to tell me you like me?" You were close enough to him now that he could just reach out and grab you, and he did.

Ridoc grabbed your arm and pulled you straight between his legs, the largest smile you'd ever seen from him taking up his entire face.

"Took you long enough to figure that out, princess," and there you were, in the arms of Ridoc Gamlyn, the man you'd argued with and fought with for the past several months, and it felt incredible. He seemed like a completely different person, but he wasn't. It was you and your perspective that changed, you were feeling what it felt like to just give into him, letting him tease you and taunt you for his pleasure, giving up your control.

"And do you remember what I said after that?" your breath caught in your throat at the memory. He liked to be in control, in charge. You nodded shyly from where you stood between his legs, all your confidence now lost. His hands that held your arms moved up to cradle your face, and you melted. "Look at you," he hummed, "Tell me. I want to hear you say what I said." you gathered all your courage and looked him in the eye.

"You said that everyone needs to give up control at some point..." your voice still low and quiet. "and that in the bedroom with someone like you is a good place for it."

"Seems like someone remembered well. The look on your face after I said that, gods...made me so fucking hard to see you that flustered." you couldn't help but press your legs together at his words, thinking of him getting so worked up over your reaction to him. "I knew after I challenged you just how easily you'd give in, but that was when I realized that it was me and my words that were getting you so fired up and you just don't know how to respond other than with anger." he was reading you like a damned book. How had he gathered all this when you couldn't even realize the capacity of your feelings?

"Y'know you're a lot smarter than everyone gives you credit for, Gamlyn," you smile a bit, opening yourself up.

"Yeah? I think that deserves a kiss," your instincts take over and you roll your eyes at his comment. One of his hands that held your face moved lower, his long fingers wrapping deftly around your throat and applying slight pressure, the annoyance in your face dropped and you felt your body submitting to him, a whine leaving you at the feeling of his hand on your throat. "Really, princess? I thought you were done with the attitude?" His voice is deep and raspy and he licks his lips as he watches your expression. Oh to feel that tongue on your body.

"I'm sorry...I just..." you trail off, your body practically quivering at this point in anticipation.

"'Just-just' what?" He mocks you. Fuck it. You couldn't wait any longer. You surge forward and capture his lips in yours. He's taken aback for a moment but it doesn't last long before he's devouring you. It's a mess of tongue and teeth as he pulls your body against him, his fingers tangling in the hair at the base of your neck, "Still got some fire left in you? We'll see about that..." he mumbles out between kisses.

You're desperate for more, your hands moving all along his body before he picks you up as if you weigh nothing switches places with you, and pushes you back until you're laying against your bed. Your hands reach the bottom of his shirt and you begin to tug wanting more than anything to feel his skin on yours, but he stops you. Oh. Was he upset? You thought he wanted this...

"Huh uh, princess..." he drawls out, his voice like honey. Okay, he's still turned on, what was this about?! He takes a step back from you, his eyes raking over your body that was on the precipice of convulsing. "I've wanted this for too long, and once I have you...gods, I don't think I'll ever be able to keep myself away from you." your face scrunches in confusion, was he asking you to be his girlfriend right now?

"What do you mean?" you ask, looking for clarity.

Ridoc runs his palms over his face in exasperation before raking them through his still-damp hair. He seemed almost stressed. Whatever control he held just a moment ago, he was letting go of, showing you his full, raw, emotions. "I mean that I like you. A lot. Probably more than I should. And I don't want this to be a one-time thing. I want you fully and wholly. I'll even stop teasing you if that's what it takes for you to say yes! Even though you look so damned cute with your little frown." he smiles at the end of his sentence as if remembering the specific look on your face. You couldn't help the smile that grew on your face, as if only now you'd recognize the capacity of your feelings. You'd been drawn to him before but your inability to give in to him was what was holding you back. But you were ready to let go.

"I don't want it to either..." You look him in the eye and reach out to pull him into you again, placing a small kiss on the tip of his nose before continuing. "I want you to have me, I'm done running away from you. Take me, Ridoc." You took his hands that were still nervously tangled in his hair and place them on your waist, a physical way of showing him what you just told him.

"I want you to be sure, sweetness. I don't know if I can hold myself back from you, I can get prettyyy...excited." He grips your waist harder, testing the waters.

"I want you to take charge, Ridoc, I want you to do whatever you want to me, I'm at your mercy," you're all but begging him at this point to just give you everything he's teased to you.

"Fuck..." He groans out, leaning down and burying his face in your neck causing the flesh on your arms to rise at the feeling. He places sloppy kisses there, searching for the spot that will drive you nuts. Once he hears your little moans as he kisses the spot right behind where your jaw and earlobe meet he begins to nip and suck, marking you for everyone to see. "Y'know when I pinned you to that mat, I was about certain you were going to finish right there, sadly I was mistaken. But I learned that you seem to really like being beneath me." Even then he could tell that you were lost in him, and he took this opportunity to put you in the same position he held you in that day.

You lay with your head at the top of the bed, Ridoc's hands pinning your wrists to the pillow behind you, his legs tangled in yours. You moan lightly at the sight above you as he works kisses down your chest and to your cleavage where your shirt cuts off. You try to move your hands to reach down and take off your top, but his grip on your wrists is firm. You hear him laugh at your attempt pathetically against your chest, the heat of his breath causing a shiver to run down your spine. You whine at the loss of your ability to move, your body on fire for him to touch you more, but he keeps lingering with his hot lips all over your neck and chest.

"What? Want more?" He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes glazed over and lips swollen. He looked utterly sinful.

"Please..." you beg, attempting to move your arms again to see if his grip has loosened.

"I think that's the first time you've ever used that word with me," he ignores your plea and licks down your chest, his teeth nipping the edge of your top, pulling it down slightly.

"Ridoc, please, you said you wouldn't tease!" your voice raises slightly a sliver of shame entering your body with how you were begging him.

"Well that wouldn't be as much fun," he states but removes his hands anyway and moves them to the bottom of your top moving it up inch by inch, feeling your warm skin beneath his hands, "you're so fucking hot when you beg for me." his hands reach the bottom of your unbound breasts and his fingers creep up tauntingly. Your now free hands shoot out and reach for him, you sit up your mouth going straight for his, you couldn't get enough of how good he tasted. "Slow down there, princess, mm-wanna take my time," he murmurs through your lips.

"You've made me wait long enough...please just take me," he seems to let go at your words, his hands fully enveloping your breasts and squeezing, a hum sounds from his throat at the feeling. His fingers move to pluck at your hardened peaks, and you move yours to the edges of your top, breaking the kiss to remove it.

"Oh, gods, knew you'd look this good," Ridoc says, his voice just as desperate as you felt. But you waste no time, as soon as your shirt is removed you start pawing at his to take it off. Once it's off you wrap your arms around him mouth moving to his neck to taste him just as he did to you, the feeling of your hot skin together driving you mad. He grunts at the sensation of your mouth on his neck, only giving in momentarily before grabbing you by the waist and pulling you to the edge of the bed as he stands up. As soon as he stood he reached for the waistband of his pants and removed his belt in one motion and undoing the button. He takes off his pants quickly, his painfully hard cock bouncing up to hit against his toned stomach. Wow. Ridoc talked a big talk when it came to his dick. You'd always thought it was a part of his jokes, but the evidence was here in front of you and he was not joking.

"Oh gods..." You moan out at the sight, not being able to hold back from sinking to your knees in front of him as he tugged at himself, "Please let me taste you."

"Hmph, not today," He says and reaches down to help you off your knees and shove you back onto the bed, "I'm about to finish just seeing you on your knees, and I want to cum inside you first." His words are filthy and it spurs you on more. You sigh dejectedly, your mouth watering at the sight of his leaking tip, you can't help but reach a hand out to try and feel him, but he slaps your hand away, pushing on the middle of your chest until you're lying flat against the bed. "I said, not today, or don't you want me to taste you first? Don't you think you deserve it? You've been so patient...but I can always take it back and wait till tomorrow to fuck you..."

"No! Please! I'll be good, I'll stay put!" you sit up on your elbows, an acute fear growing in your body at the thought of him leaving you here until tomorrow.

"Hm, that's more like it," Ridoc approves, removing his hand from his cock and to your pants, dragging them and your panties down far too slowly. You do your best to be patient and hold back your whines, you know that it's a test. He kneels in front of the bed and spreads your legs open his calloused fingertips running along the inside of your thighs, drawing up closer to your center. "I really did get you worked up didn't I?" Ridoc remarks before dragging a fingertip through your dripping wet core. You don't hold back your sounds knowing he's about to make you feel incredible.

Ridoc's mouth on your pussy is unlike anything you'd felt, he meant it when he said he knew how to pleasure a woman just as well as a man. Your hands moved and threaded through his mop of hair as he licked and sucked, hardly letting up at all. One of the hands that held your thighs tightly moved to your lower stomach and pressed down to keep you from squirming, a hard grunt coming from his throat in warning. The other hand moved lower and rubbed at your clit in slow motions. It was all too much, the pleasure coursing through your veins, the realization that Ridoc was the one making you feel that good. You were a mess.

The fingers on your clit slipped lower and teased at your entrance a finger slipping in at a slow pace. You whine, trying to buck your hips forward in an attempt for it to go deeper.

"Ah ah, what did I say?" Your whines echo through the room at his words but you comply anyway, stopping your squirming. He makes a noise in approval before continuing his ministrations, adding another finger and pumping them gently, all while switching between long strokes and little licks with his tongue on your clit. Your body convulses when he curls his fingers into a spot that makes you see stars. Ridoc doesn't move fast in this process and doesn't try to bring you to your peak immediately. His strokes are consistent and thoughtful, he notices your reactions to every single one of his movements and plays to them. He's deliberate with his motions and brings you to peak gently, continuing his gestures throughout.

"Please, fuck me now, Ridoc, I don't want to wait," You tug at his hair trying to bring him up to kiss you. But he stays, lapping up your release before pressing kisses to the insides of your thighs. Then your stomach. All along your hips. No place is untouched by his lips. "Ridoc!" you beg louder, pulling harder at his hair. His hands grip your waist tighter, fingers digging with a pressure that you were sure to feel tomorrow. But he doesn't stop peppering your body with kisses, ignoring your words. "Baby please..."

"That's enough," he scolds, pulling on your hips and flipping you onto your stomach. He grabs your ass roughly before bringing his other hand down on it in a slap. You squeal at the act but pleasure runs through your core all the same. "You want to be fucked? Hm?" His voice degrading. "Let's see how you handle it then." He says before slapping his hand on your ass again and plunging into you in succession.

"Fuck!" your voice pitches at the feeling of his cock stretching you out.

"Yeah? You begged for it, princess. Now take it," Ridoc's voice was rough and demanding, the sound of it made your mind reel. You let your body and mind give in to the feeling. The sound of his hips slapping your ass and the feeling of his balls hitting your clit with the angle made your head go foggy. All it was was you and Ridoc. Your bodies were one as he pounded into you. He fucked you hard, a contrast from just minutes ago when he was gently licking into your cunt, and you couldn't get enough of it.

You lean back and face Ridoc, watching the fucked out look on his face took you to a new level. You reached back to grab the back of his neck and bring his lips to yours. You needed him everywhere. "Please," you risk your words, "I want to look at you." His controlling guise fell for a moment as he gave in to your plea.

"Alright, sweetness" he listens, pulling out momentarily to turn you onto your front before plunging back into you. Moans tumble out of your mouth as you revel in the new angle, his cock pushing deeper into you. His head falls to the crook of your neck and he presses sloppy kisses all along you. You grasp at his face, needing to feel his lips on yours as you feel the resistance at your core pulling tighter. Your sounds get louder as you get closer and Ridoc's hand reaches down to play with your clit. "That's it, you're taking me so well." He groans out, his face turning up in pleasure. He was just as close as you were. It reaches you faster than it did the first time, the orgasm peaking quickly and hard. Ridoc fucks you through it, his thrusts growing sloppier as he gets closer. He looks at you with a questioning gaze.

"Fill me up, Ridoc, please," you answer his unasked question, knowing you were both on the fertility supplement that Basgiath provided. That was all the permission he needed before he thrust a few more times and spilled inside of you. The warm feeling almost brings you to finish a third time. His head falls to your chest as he breathes deeply, trying to catch his breath. You comb your fingers through his hair and press a kiss to the top of his head, a smile gently growing on your face.

He catches his breath for another moment before pulling out and standing. He picked through his clothes on the ground and slipped on his boxers and loose pants.

"Are you leaving?" you as suddenly, your voice tinged with fear. You sit up and try to cover yourself with your hands. Ridoc stands up straight, his long-sleeved shirt in hand.

"No, princess, don't worry," He smiles and hands you his shirt to put on before taking a tissue from your desk and moving closer to you. He gently pushes you to lay back again and brings the tissue to clean between your thighs. A soft gasp escapes you from the sensitivity, "Shh, sh, it's okay." Ridoc's voice was so soft, so thoughtful. Your heart melted as you thought of his earlier comments. He's liked you for so long now, more than he should in his words. You let him finish cleaning you and lay back in your bed, finding the covers and crawling under them, holding out the edge for Ridoc to come under as he walks back from turning off the light.

The moonlight that shined through the window barely illuminated your room as you lay next to Ridoc, he lay against your chest, arms wrapped around your waist. You rest your head atop his as your fingers trace the relic that Aotrom left him on the top of his muscular arm. He buries his head deeper into you before speaking.

"I don't think Cairis will be very happy about this," You laugh at his comment but know it's true, you let your shields down just slightly letting her presence flow through you.

"I'm not," her voice deadpan and sharp. Well, you can deal with it later.

"She'll get over it," You respond, letting your eye drift closed.

"Maybe, she'll learn from you and let Aotrom in," Ridoc thinks aloud, "He's very convinced that she's his mate and that she's going to give in soon enough. You did with me..." You smile, thinking of your dragons and the similarities you all share. You'd noticed it before, everyone had. Maybe it was just a matter of time before Cairis would give into Aotrom's relentlessness. You sort of hoped that she would if her feelings were anything like yours.

"Don't get your hopes up..." Cairis enters your head again, clearly annoyed.

You woke the next morning far too late, the early morning sun was shining through your window. Fuck. Your math exam. You sit up out of your bed quickly, noticing that Ridoc had already gone and you briefly remember him kissing you on the forehead before he left for his early watch duty before classes. You smile to yourself at the memories of last night, but only give yourself a second before rushing up and gathering all of your things for class and running straight there, knowing you'd already missed breakfast.

At least the math exam was first thing this morning so you could get it over with, but unfortunately, you were most definitely failing after not studying last night. The class was about to start as you entered and Violet waved a hand over to where she and the rest of the first years of your squad were sitting. Ridoc smirks at you and scoots over to make room for you. Your friends could tell by your panicked look that something was off.

"You okay?" Rhiannon asks from the other side of Ridoc.

"Yeah, you look tired. How was studying last night?" Sawyer says, turning from his seat in front of you to join the conversation, his nose only healed and not mended telling from the bruises. Before you had the chance to respond Ridoc interjects.

"We uh...didn't get much studying done last night if you know what I mean," he swings his arm over your shoulder and draws you close, planting a kiss on your cheek. You push him away out of annoyance.

"Ridoc!" you chide. "We didn't even talk about if we were going to tell anyone!" you say lower talking only to him.

"What the fuck?!" Rhi shouts, gaining the attention of the rest of the class before grimacing and quieting down.

"They were gonna find out sooner or later, princess, I can't keep my fucking hands off you," he explains, diving in again and pressing another kiss to your neck this time. Shivers run down your spine at the feeling before you remember where you are and push him off of you again.

"What happened?" Violet asks leaning in on the other side of you, Ridoc's hand now moving to grab at your thigh, she looks away in disgust at the sight, "Never mind, I don't want to know..." she fakes a gag, and Rhi and Sawyer look to each other with a mass of confusion before breaking out in laughter.

"They fucked, obviously," Liam says casually from the other side of Violet where he's working on a wood carving.

"Thanks, Liam, like they hadn't gathered that already..." you say sarcastically and bury your head in your hands.

"I'm scarred," Sawyer says, barely able to contain his laughs. You groan in embarrassment as the professor walks in and starts giving directions on the exam. Yep. You were failing. Ridoc caught the worry in your face and he leaned into you.

"It's okay, princess, you can cheat off me," he winks and leans back away, but leaves his hand on your thigh still, giving it a light squeeze. Shit. It was going to be hard to focus now. 

[allfearstofallto]

"Aren't you Going to Finish That Thought?"

Wanderer x Fem! Reader

Pure fluff, hurt and comfort

AN: Super super self indulgent fic. Just something I needed as a D1 yapper

“And when you dig the hole, it has to be very shallow, because the roots continue to grow down faster than-” you stop yourself, a hint of embarrassment on your face. You're talking too much. Again. Blabbing on and on about something or other that no one cares about, filling the silence with your annoying voice.

You always talked to Wanderer. You'd seek him out wherever he went just to sit and chat with him. Although, chatting meant he'd actually respond, he never said much back. Instead he'd have his nose in his book or his eyes focused on what was happening out the window, typically it was the sunset. You felt your heart sink at the realization. He was ignoring you. Telling you that you were bothering him with actions rather than words.

“You talk so much,”

“Don't you ever shut up?”

“Not everything needs to be said,”

You mentally cringed at the words that suddenly filled your brain. All things that'd been said to you, all things that people you considered friends or loved ones thought about you. They could say it as a quip or with a playful smile on their faces, but you know that every joke has a bit of truth behind it. They meant it, even subconsciously. And maybe he felt the same way.

You silenced yourself. That familiar lump was forming in your throat, the one that meant you'd possibly cry if prodded the wrong way.

“Aren't you going to finish that thought?” Wanderer had finally looked up from his book. Pretty blue eyes now focused on you with a questioning gaze. His words startled you, seeing as he only spoke so often. You assumed he was being sarcastic again, but he wasn't wearing that smirk that he always did when saying something snarky. He truly meant it.

You shrugged your shoulders, trying to give him a weak smile that wasn't very convincing at downplaying your sudden lack of confidence, “I just- thought I was talking too much,” words spoken with a bit of sorrow behind them. Stammered out forcefully while you still resisted the urge to cry.

“Who said that?” His question had a bit of a bite behind it. A touch of anger in it. For a moment, you feared that he was angry at you, but his eyes had a certain softness to them when he looked upon your face.

“I don't know. Everyone?”

He clicked his tongue, “Am I everyone?”

“I don't-”

Wanderer cut you off before you could finish a self deprecating thought, “I was listening. I'm always listening. Don't you think I would've told you if you were bothering me?”

“I thought you were just being nice?”

“When have I ever been nice?” he asked, but there was a softness to his voice that you realized only you had ever got the pleasure of hearing. Whenever you eavesdropped in him speaking to anyone else, he sounded annoyed, furious even that they'd dare approach him. But never with you.

His question makes your heart beat quicken and your eyes foggy with tears. You shrugged, shook your head, but didn't say anything else. You couldn't. Unless he wanted to console you as you sobbed.

“Now finish what you were saying. About the flowers, right?” Wanderer tried to mask that softness in his voice by sounding butter again, but you could hear through it.

With a laugh, you started up again, watching as his eyes fell onto his book. If you looked closely, really really closely, you could see a little smile playing at his lips.

[klausysworld]

Left But Never Forgotten

Upon the Mikaelson's return to New Orleans, they each had their worries. Klaus was focused on his pregnant werewolf and the deep rooted need to be a king. Rebekah desperately wanted her past lover, Marcel back but also felt the need to protect her niece to be. Elijah was supposed to be concentrating on his brother and Hayley as they expected their child, or the mess that the divided factions of supernaturals in New Orleans was but instead, he was thinking of her.

Y/N.

He hadn't seen her since leaving New Orleans a hundred years ago. She and Marcel had been presumed dead, nothing had prepared him for seeing her face again.

Feeling her palm cup his cheek and her thumb stroking the prickle of stubble left on his skin. She was so similar and yet so different to the last time. Before she had been a princess, now she was a Queen.

Even when the Mikaelson's moved into the abattoir and his room was just beside hers, she still felt too far away.

Elijah felt as if he were just watching her life go by without him, it made him sick. He lacked the usual hunger of a vampire, the need to kill or hurt. He lost his passion to protect and guide.

He just wanted her.

Everyone knew that, except her.

Nobody understood the pain she and Marcel went through. They waited day in and day out for their family to come home, to tell them that it was okay and that Mikael wouldn't torture them again, that their nightmares weren't real and they were safe. They rebuilt the city brick by brick, cleaning away the ashes left behind but they still didn't come back. So they moved on. They worked together and they got stronger and they earned their power and their places and then they finally came back and just took it from them like it was nothing.

And Elijah had barely said five words to her.

He just stared, but whenever his lips parted no words would leave him. Elijah didn't realise she took that as something else. But for Y/N, she had been hoping to hear his voice for a century, crying for him in her sleep and now he was here and she felt like he didn't even care enough to talk to her.

She could have thought he didn't care at all if it weren't for the way he looked at her. The look of love in those deep eyes of his. That same look she used to see each morning and night.

Y/N wanted him to know that she still wanted him to look at her like that, she still wanted him like that.

So she tried to show him. A lingering touch hear or there, just on his arm or his shoulder. Or she'd bring him a cup of tea the way he used to like it, ask him about the literature he was reading most currently but he could barely get five words out.

So she tried not to focus on words, instead she gave him a kiss and hoped it was enough. It was.

Elijah hadn't exactly been expecting her to suddenly grab his face and push her lips against his but most definitely wasn't complaining.

Both hands lifted and cupped her face like all those times years ago, kissing her deeply like he'd craved to for so long. He needed her hands in his hair, to ruin the perfect facade he'd been wearing.

His tie was clutched into her palm and tugged gently, leading him with her to his room. He followed her mindlessly onto his bed, crawling over her and keeping his tongue with hers.

The desperation was so strong.

Elijah could feel the fabric of his tie slip from his neck. The buttons on his shirt slowly revealing more and more of his chest, he wanted to rip the clothes from her body but he couldn't stop holding her beautiful face.

It was when his belt was unclasped that he finally pulled away, looking down at her with lust blown pupils. His eyes swirled with that darkness that she enjoyed, her fingers traced the veins beneath his eyes before her thumb slid over his fang.

"I really missed you." She confessed to him and he softened, his hands finally dropping to her hips to pull her close.

"I missed you too, every day." He uttered, eyes flicking between both of hers.

"But you never came back..." She whispered and he looked down.

"I thought you were gone...I saw you, you looked...you didn't look alive. I couldn't bare coming back to the place that did that to you. I couldn't stand the memory of your body strung up like that." He told her shakily, his hands desperate to keep her with him this time.

"Marcel and I had to rip ourselves free of those nails, Elijah. I could hear you, you would have ran whether I was alive or not-"

"Don't you ever think that." He whispered, his hold tight now, both arms round her waist and her body in his lap. "I would never knowingly leave you for dead." He promised.

Her body rest against him, her face against his broad chest and warming his cold skin.

"I love you, Y/N. I loved you from the second I laid eyes on you." He murmured, lips kissing her shoulder gently after. "You mean more to me than anything. You're family."

"Don't lie to me, Elijah. I know I'll never be your family, I don't think anybody can truly become a Mikaelson. Hayley's the closest anyone can get and that's because she had Klaus's baby and we both know I can't give you a child." She practically whimpered.

Elijah just looked at her for a short while, guilt in his gaze. He could remember when she was human, when she didn't yet know he was vampire. She wanted them to have three children, when she found out he couldn't she thought maybe there could be a spell, there was still hope. However when she turned too, she knew that it was a useless thought and gave up altogether.

They had considered adoption but Y/N worried that if the child wasn't biologically a Mikaelson that they wouldn't truly love or protect the child. Not any of the Mikaelsons.

Of course she'd never verbally expressed that fear but Elijah could tell. Knowing that Klaus could procreate and he couldn't was difficult for him, just like he knew it was difficult for Rebekah knowing her brother could have a baby but she also couldn't.

But seeing Y/N hurt by it too was an extra hit to his heart.

After all these years, he still dreamt of their family. He'd be a much better father than Mikael, and she'd be a much better mother than Esther.

"It's not you who can't give me a child, Y/N." He murmured. "It's me, my fault. You can't blame yourself, I turned you and I took that possibility away but it will not ever change how I feel for you. You are my family, I'd carry you with me for eternity."

It was just difficult to believe with how that family behaved towards outsiders.

"Okay." Y/N whispered, it was clear she was only relenting to try not form an argument and Elijah wanted to be more reassuring but he knew it would only escalate things.

His hand reached to touch hers, hold hers.

"Allow me to court you again." He murmured, wanting to show her their potential again but she laughed softly and shook her head.

"I don't want us back at square one. I want it to be how it was before." She told him, smiling softly. It warmed him.

"I'd like that." He nodded, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. "But I still want it to be special, I haven't been able to cherish you for so long now."

"I suppose I won't stop you from a gift or two." She teased and he hummed.

She looked back down at his bare chest and sighed, she'd missed this.

He pulled her back to his chest, coddling her to him and stroking her back lovingly.

The skin to skin wasn't something Elijah experienced often, he only allowed it when he truly loved someone. His mind and body craved it.

Y/N knew how deprived he was right from childhood. So, just like she used to, she pulled her shirt from her body and let the skin of her upper body lay against his.

"You know that I love you?" He whispered and she nodded.

"I just wish you'd talk to me more, I can't be with you if you can't even hold a normal conversation with me Elijah..."

"I know, my sweet. I was just so struck when I saw you and I feared that you could have moved on...with Marcel." He hesitated and she scoffed.

"Oh? And after he was making out with Rebekah? That didn't clue you in, no?" She teased and he looked down with an embarrassed smile.

"I was shy I suppose." He admitted and she smiled.

"You used to be shy all the time." She whispered, stroking his hand and leaning up to kiss the corner of his lips like she used to.

He leaned forward and leant his forehead against hers, a warm smile on his face.

"I'm so glad you're here."

"So am I."

[lacydollette]

REGRET ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing: ex!bf rafe x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of rafe cheating on you in the past, jealous rafe, angst, making out, mentions of alcohol

You stood infront of the mirror, running your fingers through your long, wavy hair. Your empty eyes, starring back at you, but tonight you were determined to leave the past behind. The party you were heading to wasn't your scene—too many people, too loud, typical kook — but you needed a distraction, something to keep your mind off the ache that had settled in your chest ever since that awful day two months ago.

Rafe had cheated on you. The betrayal still rooted deep in your core, and though you tried to push it out of your mind, the memories still haunted you. You'd cut off all contact with him, ignored his texts, blocked his number, and tried to distract yourself. But forgetting was harder than you'd imagined.

Tonight, you were going with Luke, a friend of a friend who seemed nice enough. He was nothing like Rafe, and that's exactly why you'd said yes when he asked you to go with him. Maybe if you spent time with someone else, you could convince yourself that you were over Rafe. Maybe if you smiled enough, danced enough, drank enough, you could drown out the pain.

The music throbbed through the house as the two of you arrived, putting on a smile as you and Luke wandered through the crowd. You could feel their eyes on you, whispers echoing off the walls. Everyone knew about what had happened—Rafe's betrayal had become public gossip, and you hated that they all knew about it. But tonight, you would try to ignore it.

Luke handed you a drink, and you took a sip, trying to relax. He leaned in closer, his words lost in the noise, but you nodded and laughed anyway, pretending to be engaged in whatever he was saying. The truth was, you weren't really listening. Your thoughts kept drifting back to Rafe but you quickly shook your head. It didn't matter. Rafe didn't matter anymore.

But then you saw him.

He was standing across the room, leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed on you. Your heart almost exploded in your chest, and for a moment, you couldn't breathe. He looked different somehow—tired, maybe even a little lost. He was alone, which surprised you. Rafe had always been the center of attention, surrounded by friends and admirers, but tonight he seemed to have distanced himself from the crowd.

You tore your gaze away and turned back to Luke, but you could feel Rafe's eyes on you, and it made your skin prickle. He knew why you had come to this party—you were trying to escape him. But instead of helping you forget, the night had brought him right back into your arms.

You needed to leave. You couldn't handle seeing him, not now, not when your emotions were still so raw. He watched as you made your way through the crowd, eyes darting toward the exit, clearly overwhelmed. Something in him tightened. He couldn’t let you walk away, not this time.

As you slipped into the quieter hallway, his hand shot out, gently catching your arm. "y/n, wait," Rafe’s voice was soft, almost pleading. You froze, heart pounding in your ears. You didn't want to turn around, didn't want to look at him, but something in his voice made you stop. For a moment, he thought you might walk away anyway, but slowly, you turned to face him. Your words came out cold though, distant.

“Cameron.” You mumbled out, not granting him the satisfaction of letting his name slip from your lips. He looked at you, his blue eyes filled with a sadness that took you by surprise. "I know you don't want to talk to me," he began, his voice rough, reaching out to brush his hand against your arm, "but I need to say this. I'm so sorry, y/n. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it." You swallowed hard, throat tight. "Rafe, I don't—"

"Please, just let me say this." His hand slipped from your arm, and he ran it through his hair in frustration. "I've been trying to figure out how to make things right, but I know there's nothing I can do to take back what I did. I was stupid, and I ruined the best thing that ever happened to me. I miss you, y/n. Every day, I think about you, and I just... I just want you to know that I'm sorry."

You stared at him, the words you wanted to say lodged in your throat. You wanted to scream at him, tell him how fucked up it all was. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw how broken he was too. The guilt and regret were written all over his face, and for the first time, you realized how bad he was hurting too.

But it didn't change what he'd done.

"You can't always expect to fix things with a simple 'sorry' Rafe. What you did was dumb and so selfish.." you said, voice trembling, "I'm still trying to put myself back together. I can't go through that again." His face fell, and he nodded, as if he'd expected this. "I understand," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I just needed you to know how sorry I am."

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away. "I don't know if I can ever forgive you." You admitted, voice barely above a whisper. His jaw clenched, the weight of your words hitting him, but he couldn’t stop himself from stepping closer. "Please y/n..I'm sorry, I really am. I can't even sleep anymore. I’ve been going crazy without you."

His voice sounded low and smooth, the way it used to be when you two were happy. Your heart betrayed you, remembering the way he used to make you feel. There was a pull, something magnetic about him that was impossible to ignore. “I miss you. I miss us.”

Your breath hitched as he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch felt electric, almost magnetic and you had to take all the strength that was in you, not to give in. But the tension became unbearable at this point, his ocean blue eyes piercing through yours.

For a moment, you were torn, fighting against the memories of when things were good. He stepped even closer, close enough that you could smell his cologne, that familiar scent making your head spin.

“Rafe..this doesn’t change anything.”

You said, hesitation in your voice, heart racing, everything screaming at you to push him away. But your body betrayed you, and when his lips finally touched yours, you didn’t stop him.

The kiss deepened, becoming urgent, your hands resting on his shoulders, and soon your back was pressed against the wall. The tension between the two of you being undeniable, stirring up everything you thought you had buried.

His hands roamed your back, and as one of his hands began to slide down to your chest, you snapped out of it, grabbing his wrist to stop him. You pulled away, breathing heavily, your mind suddenly racing, as guilt washed over you. “Wait—Rafe, stop.”

He blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in you. His hand freezing in place. “What’s wrong?” He asked breathlessly, his figure still close to yours. You stepped back, running a hand through your hair, trying to get your head straight, not wanting to make any hasty decisions while being under the influence.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m here with someone else. I came with Luke.” You mumbled, your gaze instantly turning towards Rafe, knowing that you shouldn’t have said that. At the mention of the others name, Rafe’s face hardened. His eyes flashed with jealousy, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“Luke? You’re with him?” He growled, voice darkened, the hurt quickly turning into something more dangerous. “Let me talk to him.” Your eyes widened, panic rising in your chest. You knew Rafe’s temper all too well, and you knew exactly what that “talk” would turn into.

"No. Rafe, don't. It's not like that. Please, just leave it.” You begged him, grabbing his wrist lightly. He stepped back at your touch, but his fists were still clenched. He tried to control himself, but you could see the anger brewing. “If it’s not like that, then leave with me. Right now. We can figure this out.” Rafe turned around, his hands gripping at your shoulders, his tall frame leaning down to you.

You hesitated, mind spinning. You knew it was a bad idea, knew you shouldn’t, but there was still something about him that pulled you in, making you want to believe things could be different. Your heart pounded in your chest as you weighed your options, torn between what you knew was right and what you felt in this moment.

"Rafe..I-" you began speaking, but the words seemed to be stuck in your throat once again. He looked at you for a long moment, noticing how you got lost in your own thoughts, "y/n, please?”

“Fine. I’ll leave with you. But this doesn’t mean we’re okay.” Relief washed over his face as he nodded, a small, satisfied smirk pulling on his lips. He had won this round—for now. You walked out together, the tension still thick as the two of you leave the party behind, knowing that this night had only complicated things further..

ahh, my first rafe one shot, let me know if you want me to write more !!

feedback and requests are greatly appreciated !!

tags: @gibson-g1rl @beausling @starkeysprincess @drewsarms @nuemanfilms @drewspinkbunny @suyqa @supernatural-wolfie

[ellievickstar]

Bloodied Bonds

A/N: This was...fun. I wanted to fit it all into one part but it was getting too long sooooo yeah.....have fun :)

Summary: When hanahaki disease festers in your lungs, how will your family help you while you hide it from your mate?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Rhysand x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Elain slander, dying

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

There they were again.

Azriel smiled at Elain with those eyes…those eyes. And in your soul you felt the bond writhe with pain and clench in your chest. You remained still as you immediately brought your eyes to look at the ground beneath you. This hurt. This really hurt. A part of you wanted to deny it, wanted to believe that Azriel would remain faithful to you always, that he would stay true to the mating bond, something he desperately used to want before we got together.

Now, you were not so sure.

“Sweetheart…,” Cassian said from behind me, startling. He knew what you was seeing, saw it in his own brother’s eyes. Azriel may have always been a mystery to everyone else outside the inner circle, but his eyes — his beautiful hazel eyes — showed you everything you needed to know.

“I’m fine,” You waved Cassian off, bringing down shields on the bond, shutting out his emotions, the pain from it, and shutting yourself in as a stray tear slipped down your face, “I’m really fine,” You repeated.

Truth to be told, Cassian did not know what to say to you. After you had defended Azriel since you were kids, brought him to you and Rhysand’s mother, convinced her to take him in. Cassian did not know what could come over Azriel to internally betray you in this way. However as you began coughing Cassian was alarmed when you raced towards the kitchen sink and coughed out flower petals, one after another.

“What the hell-” He started, moving to pull back your hair as he observed what you had coughed out. Blood and petals coated the sink and as you choked them out one by one, slowly calming down, you waved your hand magicking it away. And it was then it hit him.

You were dying.

“Explain. Now.” He demanded. Looking away you mumbled.

“A few weeks ago after I first realised he loved her, I started coughing up flowers and my tears, my tears turned a gold colour. I asked Madja what was wrong. It’s a soul disease called hanahaki, caused by the betrayal of the heart and unrequited love. The tears were caused by the same thing, a unique symptom that is because of my magic due to being the High Lord’s sister. She said the flowers in my lungs will continue to grow until it suffocates me and I die. The star tears are just a symptom that causes physical pain, she doesn’t know if there will be any repercussions from it,” That’s all you managed to ramble out before you doubled over and heaved again, blood dripping out of your gaping mouth as you choked and coughed on the flower petals making their way up your throat.

Cassian was at a loss of words, on one hand he wanted to be angry, angry at you for keeping this from him, for not telling him sooner so he could beat the crap out of Azriel. On the other hand he was…devastated. You had always been like a sister to him, since he first met you as a kindred and fierce spirit when you were seven years old. The three of them had been twenty and Cassian had fell to his knees before the little girl with such a bright spirit, who dared to scream in Devlon’s face when he said females belonged in the kitchen.

Cassian had sworn to protect you.

And now, against a disease he felt helpless.

“Is there a cure?” He asked.

“Madja said there were two ways, either Azriel proves that he still loves me, which we both know won’t happen when he won’t stay away from Elain for more than a few hours, or I could have the flowers cut from their roots and removed, it’s a risky procedure and even successful all my feelings towards Azriel will be removed entirely, given the mating bond, she thinks it will be stripped from my soul. I….I wanted to wait.”

“So you either have your emotions robbed from you, make Azriel realise he’s an idiot, or die?”

You nod.

“Tell Azriel,” “I can’t!” You hissed, “We both know I can’t. He loves her, Cassian, I can feel it, I can see it, everytime he looks at her it’s like she’s the one who hung the stars and moon while when he looks at me that light dies!” You bang your fist on the table.

You point to where Azriel and Elain was far out in the gardens. His shadows no where to be seen, both blissfully unaware of what was going on inside with you and Cassian.

“He acts like she’s the one who went through countless of interrogation, of torture, when she got captured by enemies. He acts like she was the one who protected Velaris with Rhysand when she went under the mountain to be taken advantage of, when Amarantha held me down and tried to force answers out of me,” You let out another pained cry as you slid to the ground, “I have done everything for him, been through hell and back with him. And even after everything he still wants her, still wants to be with her, still doesn’t want me.”

Cassian brought you closer to him as he sat next to you and let you cry on his shoulder.

You cried and cried, and cried until there was nothing left. Cried until you couldn’t cry.

And when you finally fell asleep from exhaustion, Cassian glanced out the house to the gardens where his brother trailed Elain, and Cassian made a decision.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“You told my brother!?” You shrieked. Rhysand and Cassian was now sitting around you in Rhys’s study.

“You told Cassian before me?” Rhysand shot back. You rolled your eyes as you scoffed, “Oh please I didn’t tell him anything I was throwing up flowers in front of him, not much I could do except explain.”

Shaking his head, Rhys sighed as he glanced at Cassian and they both shared a look. Narrowing your eyes, the tendrils in your mind crept towards your brother and the general, and surprise coated your face when you realised they had shut you out.

“Let me remind you what I do is my choice.”

“Not when your life is at stake,” Rhysand retorted.

So he had decided something against your will already. Of course, your brother who wanted to help everyone, your brother who thought you were his responsibility, his burden to bear. Your brother who claimed to value your opinion oh so much but then never, not once, ever considered how you feel in anything that had to do with you.

“He doesn’t care. I haven’t even been actively hiding it from him, it’s just that he’s never around to notice,” You said bitterly, “Did you know he missed my birthday? You all did. Because usually he’s the one going around reminding everyone the week before. Did you know our anniversary passed and I had waited for him all day just to realise he was with her?” Stray tears slipped down your cheeks as you tried to hold them back.

Crying meant that you were weak.

And you hated being weak.

That was when Cassian spoke, “Have Madja remove the flowers.”

Rhysand shot a look at him.

“She won’t survive otherwise. Even as we discuss this now she is running out of time, Rhys. Azriel’s infatuation with Elain is unforgivable and at least this way we can save her. Their relationship might never be the same but if Azriel is truly in love with Elain as she feels, then it is possible this way everyone wins.”

“I don’t want the male who almost killed my sister in my court,” Rhys bit out.

“Convincing Azriel that what he is doing is wrong will take too long. Maybe we should have interfered when it first started but now it’s too late. We can still save her, really save her. Not their relationship but at least she’ll live,” “And live with a bond that will eventually diminish into nothing?” “Maybe it’s better that way.”

Glancing between Cassian and your brother, your own inner turmoil seemed to be playing out in front of you as they discussed everything that you had not been able to come to terms with yourself. A part of you could still hardly believe that Azriel would do something like this, hurt you in this way when he himself swore that he would be loyal for eternity.

Mates.

A sacred connection that determined your equal, your partner in everything.

But your parents were mates too…and that did not work out well. So maybe it was time for you to let your mate go.

However, as you opened your mouth to agree with Cassian, to agree that maybe the best option would be to remove the flowers directly, the consequences of your feelings being stolen be damned, a cough climbed up your throat.

And as you coughed out bloody petals onto Rhysand’s office floor….everything went dark.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

It had all happened quickly, too quickly for Rhysand’s liking.

One moment he was debating with Cassian how they would save his sister’s life, the next moment as she was about to say something and he watched in horror as blood came out instead of words. Her eyes drooped and he raced to catch her from hitting her head on the hard wooden floors, and as his ears started ringing, holding his sister’s lifeless body in his arms, as he watched golden tears stream out of her eyes, he noticed there was someone screaming.

And it was not until his throat hurt, until his own throat burned, that he realised he was the one screaming, crying out loud for his sister who’s body seemed as lifeless as the one he had lost all those years ago.

“Get Madja!” He roared at Cassian, “Get her NOW!”

Less that a minute went by when Morrigan and Feyre came into the room, Feyre let out a horrified gasp as Mor took in the scene, freezing as she realised her cousin, her best friend, her only companion during the times after Eris and Keir, was in Rhysand’s arms, still and lifeless even as blood trickled out of her mouth and gold spilled form her closed eyelids.

Madja came shortly after, and Y/N’s body was moved to a different room for Madja to work, Cassian explaining what happened and the illness in Y/N’s body that was causing this. Morrigan took a few steps back, before she crashed into the wall of the hallway and let out her own sob.

And for the first time after Rhysand and Y/N had returned from the mountain, Morrigan wept.

Two days passed, and Y/N did not wake.

Madja estimated that they would have to make a decision within the week whether they would tell Azriel, or cut the flowers out.

And in those two days Azriel did not come.

It was only after Rhysand had asked him to meet, told him about Y/N did Azriel finally realised he had not seen his mate in days. That he had not even spent more than fifteen minutes with her in the past few months.

It was only after Rhysand said that Y/N was dying, did Azriel reach down the now cold and empty bond, and realise he had shut her out. And when he let his walls down, experienced the agony, the pain, the grief she felt even in her unconscious state, did Azriel regret.

“Why didn’t she tell me…” Azriel whispered.

“Because she heard you when I told you to stay away from Elain. I looked into her mind and I realised the day her disease started she went to find you, and you had been in my office, yelling at me that the cauldron had made a mistake, that you wanted Elain,” Rhysand laughed coldly. Even Rhys in all his beauty, his eyes were now red from sobbing, his voice hoarse from how he had cried, and cried.

“Good job, Azriel,” Cassian said from the doorway, “You got what you wanted. Your bond will no longer exist once she awakes…that’s if she survives even.”

“No….I don’t,” Azriel muttered, “Rhysand…what conversation?” Rhysand furrowed his eyebrows, “Are you really playing this game with me now? My sister is DYING! AND YOU WANT TO PRETEND LIKE YOU FORGOT WHAT YOU SAID!?”

Azriel’s eyes looked back and forth between his brother’s….when did he…when did he even get here?

Where was his mate?

Why did it feel like something just cleared from his head?

That was when Elain stepped in, holding a mug and what looked to be tea.

“Azriel, i heard your distress, drink this it will make you feel better,” She said softly, but as Rhysand’s eyes narrowed on the mug, it was Cassian who snatched it out of her hands, brought it to his eyes and shattered it on the already ruined hard wood floors.

“That was not just tea.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

And as Cassian lifted his head he declared, “As General of the Night court, I arrest you for illegal possession and use of aphrodisiacs. You are charged with attempted murder of the Princess of the Night Court. You are charged with manipulation and forced betrayal of the court’s spymaster,” And with a menacing grin Cassian said, “And you are charged because you bloody annoy me and you…what you have done today makes me want to rip you to shreds.”

A beat passed.

“That is….” Cassian continued as he glanced at Azriel, with each blink clarity seemed to return to the shadowsinger as he processed everything, as he remembered everything Elain made him do, as he remembered how he had hurt his mate, “That is if Azriel decides he doesn’t want to kill you first.”

Elain let out a scoff, looking down at the spilled tea and broken pieces of ceramic in disgust, “Azriel loves me. Azriel should love me not that disgusting slut of a female, she might be a princess but she is-,” “Mine.” Azriel interrupted.

“She was mine before you interfered. She was mine before you made me break her.” Azriel turned, no doubt to go find Y/N.

“Start counting your days, Elain, because now they are numbered.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Azriel taglist: @kemillyfreitas @going-through-shit @chessebookgirl

Part 2 here!!

Love, Ellie.