#and then he shows such moments of brilliance as well

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 6!

and what a week it's been... idk about you all, but i'm very much looking forward to all the 8b spec fic after seeing That One Leak...

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

a graveyard in blue | moonlightmornings/@moonlight-mornings | 12.9k | GA

After a call goes south because of limited resources and an equipment malfunction, Eddie's brave move to rescue a young girl takes a nasty turn. i love how this captures the energy and vibe of a rescue!! genuinely feels straight out of an episode <3

and i'd do it over and over again | playinginthunderstorms/@playinginthunderstorms | 4.4k | E

Buck and Eddie hook up at the end of "Confessions". oh when i tell you i savoured this one... such a wonderful fic that captures buddie's first time so so perfectly!! i love how their dynamic is written here <3

everything in between | simplyylupin | 2.1k | T

They’re quiet for a moment, mulling over the unsaid, and then Buck’s bringing his phone closer to his face, eyes squinting. “Are you naked?” the absolute codependency of these two <3 so good!!

hot ghost problems | ebjameston/@ebjameston | 40.9k | T

The ghost would prefer to go by Buck, if Eddie wouldn’t mind. this was a reread! i was reminded of the magic system here and revisited it - can confirm that magic and ghosts and all that are so very good here, and i love the diaz siblings!!

i'll tell them put me back in it (and i would do it again) | paleredheadinascifi | 4.8k| T

Eddie doesn't know how to make his listening history private. Buck doesn't know what to do with the words in front of his eyes. Chris cannot believe he has to deal with either of them. the sheer brilliance of this concept... such a lovely look at the buckley-diaz dynamics! i was smiling the whole way through <3

it's golden, like daylight | rarakiplin/@hoediaz | 8.7k | T

“Shut up,” fingers dig into his ribs, “I mean, would you want to? Be married again?” such wonderful firefam dynamics!! i read this last week, i think, and already reread it this past week as well. a new favourite for sure <3

lonely little love dog | littleghost/@ghostlandtoo | 24k | M

When the 118 is closed for reconstruction after an earthquake, Buck is a floater for different stations around the city. He tries not to let it get to him. Much. this is such a fascinating look at buck's character!! and i LOVED the mara scene <3

parabola | semperama/@semperama | 4.6k | T

“Hey, uh. By the way.” Buck’s been thinking about this, and he has to say it now, or it’ll explode out of him at a much worse time, in a much worse way. “Make sure you don’t forget to change your will again.” truly no fic captures the angst with a happy ending tag like this. also this fic is how i learned that there's a special ao3 tag for eddie's will, which sounds about right. anyway, point is, this is wonderful!!

the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love | lemonzestywrites/@lemonzestywrites | 25.7k | E

After the events of 6x13, Buck is worried he's lost his charm in bed. Eddie eagerly offers his services to prove otherwise. a reread of one of my favourite fics <3 there's something about the intersection of smut and feelings realisation and introspection in this fic that just hits so very hard, it's lovely <3

the whale fall principle | fastcardotmp3/@fastcardotmp3 | 95.5k | M

Daniel Buckley lives, but he’s still deciding what that means. Maddie is having a baby, but it isn’t her husband’s. And Evan knows his purpose. Until he doesn’t anymore. okay so definitely heed the creator chose not to use archive warnings tag here (there are specific warnings in the chapter notes) but holy shit, this fic. genuinely the best buckley sibling dynamics i have read, like, maybe ever. such a wonderful eddie and chimney and everyone, and such gorgeous writing!! if this one sounds up your alley, you're in for a treat <3

to ebb and flow | akapeterman/@akapeterman | 5.1k | GA

buck is sick, eddie is worried, and christopher is an angel. they'll be okay. i've really been vibing with sickfics lately, can you tell? this is another lovely lovely fic, such great hurt/comfort/domestic fluff!!

wait for me to come home | written_promises | 1.9k | GA

Eddie comes back home to LA from Texas to find Buck waiting for him… in his bed. Because he’s been living in Eddie’s home. and eddie's bed is exactly where buck should be<3 so soft and sweet and beautiful!!

we return to each other in waves | cozycatwriter/@leon-trans-kennedy | 3.1k | GA

“Yes I do. Of course I do. You saved Chris and looked after him the best you could during a tsunami-and you’re still recovering from an embolism from having your leg crushed on the job. The least I could do is look after you and let you stay the night. Besides, Chris would want you to stay.” post-tsunami fics my beloveds <3 it genuinely makes me so happy to see new ones pop up, and this is truly an excellent one!! i love the bed-sharing especially!

you need a friendly hand (and i need action) | AmZamReads | 13.1k | E

Eddie picks up pottery as a hobby and accidentally blows up on Instagram for "accidentally" posting thirst traps of him throwing on the wheel. Buck stumbles across the account and immediately becomes obsessed with Eddie's hands, and horny shenanigans ensues. this fic makes me wish i could make pottery. i love eddie's pottery friends!! and a lovely buddie dynamic too <3

[il-predestinato]

I'm not your mutual but I would like to hear your thoughts 😬

Just don't put on his tag so people won't see it.

I'm disappointed in his performance on the sprint shoot out as well, but in the sprint was there much more to do?

[galahadwilder]

I think the brilliance of Ricky September is not just to show that Lindy Pepper-Bean has no empathy. Ricky September’s role in “Dot and Bubble” isn’t just to die, or to show that not everyone in their society is terrible.

Ricky September is the Doctor.

He’s a handsome, flamboyant weirdo who drops out of the sky to save the female lead who is a stranger to him because he’s noticed she’s in trouble.

He’s confident, more confident than makes any sense for his situation; he’s observant, investigating and picking apart the actions of the mantraps the way the Doctor would. He knows history better than anyone around him (though for different reasons than the Doctor would). He’s clever enough to hack a computer that Lindy had just failed to even turn on—sonic screwdriver much?—and then immediately, well. What’s rule #1? The Doctor lies.

The subsequent scene of him trying to open the door? He’s completely undaunted by the unnecessarily complicated code, just fascinated, as he gets down to business. The scene is practically straight out of “42,” the one with the living star and the complicated locks, and he and the Doctor both have the same reaction to the puzzle.

Like the Doctor, Ricky disdains the vapid and self-obsessed society he is part of (though Gallifrey and Finetime are very different), and he grabs the first chance he can to find a companion and run the hell away. He uses a fake name, and his real name is such a terrible secret that its revealing has disastrous consequences.

Hell, watch the mannerisms. He and Gatwa even move their hands the same when they’re in “performance mode.”

In short, Ricky breaks every single standard set by Finetime the exact way the Doctor does, and what does Lindy do? She idolizes him. She treats him like he’s an unparalleled genius, the greatest moment of her life.

If we leave aside the murder for the moment, Ricky’s purpose isn’t just to say, “look how sociopathic Lindy and the rest of Finetime is.” Ricky is there to say, “this is how Finetime would’ve treated the Doctor if he were white.”

[scotchiegirl]

You know, I really really do enjoy how every time we learn something about Parker, we learn something about Hardison as well. Almost in response to learning something about Parker or like... like how learning about Hardison re-contextualizes what we've just learned about Parker.

Thinking about season 1 especially and The Stork Job, one of the first real vulnerable moments where Parker herself not only reaches out to the team but where she actually tells them something about herself. Tells Hardison about herself. She opens up about being an orphan, about being in foster care, and she expects him not to understand. And then he opens up about Nana and how she wasn't his grandmother but his foster mother. And it just softens Parker's story, not by downplaying it, but by giving her another angle to her rigid thinking. It is based solely on that conversation and her conscience that she does a 180 and goes back to fight for those kids.

Thinking about The Juror #6 Job too and how that went down and how Sophie may have been the one to point out that Parker had never reached out to the for help before, but Hardison was the one who got Nate to change his mind and indulge Parker. And he did it by opening up about his childhood, about being raised to be good with his words and charming and to know how to ask for things. And once again it re-contextualizes Parker. It shows what she grew up without and how hard this is for her not on a professional loner level but on a personal scared-little-girl level.

I'm sure there's more, and there's times when the opposite happens and we learn about Hardison through learning about Parker, but yeah. The brilliance of the writing to do it like that... wow.

[fatecantstopme]

Late Night Brilliance

Pairing: Rafael Barba x Reader

Summary: Barba shows up at your house unexpectedly one evening to go over a case. What began as an honest need to work through some inconsistencies, turned into a battle to maintain professionalism and composure.

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), oral (M receiving), mentions of F receiving oral, fingering, light dom/sub vibes (Rafi is totally a dom).

A/N: Spanish Translations:

Querida/Cariño/Nena: Terms of endearment (darling/sweetheart/baby)

Meirda: shit

Por favor: please

The rest will be in brackets and italics after the sentence.

You were in the middle of eating your Chinese takeout when you were disturbed by a knock at your door. You weren't expecting any company and had been taking full advantage of a quiet Friday night in.

You sighed quietly as you pulled yourself off the sofa and went to answer the door. A shiver of surprise ran down your spine as you peered through the peephole. You groaned inwardly, glancing down at your rather disheveled appearance. You'd thrown on an old baggy t-shirt and leggings when you'd gotten home from work, but one look at the man standing on the other side of your door filled you with regret.

You pushed down any feelings of dread--and butterflies--as you opened the door and greeted your visitor with a warm smile. "Rafael Barba. What brings you by at 6:30pm on a Friday?"

Your tone was light and teasing, despite the unease you felt internally. He gave you his signature half-smirk, eyes quickly scanning you from head to toe, making you feel even more self-conscious.

He was wearing a beautiful three piece navy pinstripe suit with a lovely pink tie. You had no doubt he had matching suspenders under that damn vest...you hated how good he looked even after a long day of work.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said in a tone that indicated he knew damn well he wasn't interrupting anything. "I was hoping to talk to you about the Milligan case."

"Nothing better to do on a Friday night, Counselor?"

He chuckled. "My options were to spend the evening in my office, at home alone, or come spend it with a beautiful woman. I chose the latter."

You were more than a little surprised by his words, though you did your best not to show it. The two of you were known to flirt occasionally, but neither had dared to cross the line. A relationship between the two of you was out of the question, not that he was even interested in pursuing one with you. After all, he was married to his work and you were quite far from his type...you'd seen Yelina.

"Lucky for you, I also have no life outside of my job," you teased. "Come on in and make yourself at home. I've got Chinese food if you're hungry and I just opened a bottle of Merlot."

Rafael followed you in, shedding his suit jacket and draping it across the back of a dining chair. He began to roll up the sleeves of his white button down and you felt a stirring in your abdomen. "Chinese sounds amazing, but I can't say I'm a fan of Merlot."

It took you a moment to register the words he'd spoken as you were too preoccupied with not revealing how incredibly sexy you thought he looked in that moment. "I, uh--I think I have some bourbon if you're interested."

You practically bolted to the kitchen to look in the cabinet where you kept the liquor. You desperately needed to be as far away from him as possible before your face gave away the thoughts in your head.

"Bourbon sounds good."

Your eyes scanned the cabinet, locating the half-empty bottle at the back of the shelf. "Two fingers or three?"

"Three," he answered, voice much closer than it had been moments before.

You turned around to see Rafael leaning against the door frame with his arms folded across his chest. Your eyes nearly rolled into your head at the sight and you let out an audible sound you hoped could be interpreted as surprise.

You poured the drink in silence, before handing it to him and gesturing for him to follow you to the living room. "We can eat at the table if you prefer..." you trailed off.

"Not necessary. The couch looks perfectly comfortable."

He sat down on one end of the couch and you sat on the other, as far away as you could possibly get without sitting on the arm. He raised an eyebrow at you, but didn't comment on the awkward distance you'd managed to put between you.

"So you--um--you wanted to talk about Milligan?" you asked.

"Not exactly. I wanted to talk about the victim, Shelly."

"What about her?"

"Something about her story isn't sitting right with me."

"Okay..."

"I want you to go over it with me again. Maybe give me a fresh set of eyes and a different perspective?"

"I'm not sure how much help I can be, Barba. I was in the room when she disclosed--that's not exactly a fresh set of eyes."

"Perhaps, but you are a psychologist. You see things very differently from the rest of us."

You sighed. "Alright, I'll bite. Where do you wanna start?"

As the two of you began to discuss the case and the inconsistencies in the victim's story, your discomfort started to evaporate. This is what you were passionate about--what you were best at. Everything else simply faded away and Rafael became just a colleague, not a man you were hopelessly romantically interested in.

Two hours passed, but it felt like no time at all. Your coffee table was littered with files and papers, and both you and Rafael were leaning over it, examining pieces of evidence. He was mere inches from you, but you were so absorbed in what you were doing that you hardly noticed.

"Cariño, can you pass me that witness statement?" Rafael asked.

You grabbed the paper he was referring to and handed it to him, eyes still scanning the page in front of you. The term of endearment didn't even register in your mind, nor did he seem to realize he'd even said it aloud.

After a few moments, Rafael asked you another question. "Do you have the surveillance photos from the bar?"

You pushed a few folders out of the way, digging the file with the photos out from the bottom of the stack. "What are you looking for?"

"Her outfit."

"Why?"

He didn't answer as he flipped through the photos, finally landing on the one he had been looking for. "Look at this."

He handed you the photo, which you'd seen before. "Yeah that's Shelly leaving the bar before the assault."

"Right. Notice her outfit?"

You glanced at the photo again. "Typical night out attire. Why is this important?"

He handed you the statement he'd been reading earlier. "She came directly to the precinct after her assault to disclose, right? Nowhere in her initial statement does she say she ever changed clothes."

You'd been there the night in question, had sat beside Olivia as she took Shelly's statement. "She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt," you stated.

"So why didn't she tell us she went home first?"

"She might have been worried we would judge her or blame her for the assault because she wasn't dressed like a nun."

"Yeah, I suppose that's possible."

He looked a little crestfallen, like you'd rained on his parade. He knew in his gut Shelly wasn't telling the whole story, but he couldn't prove it. He needed a single thread...just one thread to pull on. He needed to know now before the trial began and the defense unraveled the entire case.

A thought dawned on you. "No semen, no body fluids," you mumbled as you searched the coffee table for the rape kit report from the hospital.

Rafael watched you, unsure of what you were thinking.

"Ahh!" You grabbed the report and flipped through it. "There was evidence of trauma to her vagina and several bruises on her body, but there were zero traces of any DNA that wasn't hers."

"Okay, but that's not uncommon."

"Perhaps if she'd waited to report, I would agree, but I think there's an alternative reason."

He raised an eyebrow and waited for you to continue.

"She went home and showered."

Realization dawned on his face. "Didn't you or Olivia ask that question?"

"Of course we did, but I think she was scared to tell us, scared of what we'd say."

"We need to reinterview her."

You nodded.

Rafael pulled out his phone and called Olivia. He relayed what you'd discovered and asked her to reinterview Shelly the following day. Olivia agreed and thanked him for letting her know.

"You're brilliant, you know that?" he said as he hung up, vivid green eyes locked on your face.

"Minor detective work, at best," you said with a shrug. "I've been doing this long enough that I should be able to put pieces of a puzzle together. Besides, as you rightfully mentioned, it's my job to study and understand human behavior."

He smiled. "Even still, it was good work."

"You found the pieces, I just put them together."

"Take the compliment, (Y/N). You know I give them so rarely."

You laughed. "Alright, alright. Thank you, Rafael."

His expression shifted slightly, gaze darkening as he looked at you. "I don't think you've ever called me by my first name before." Even his voice was lower, huskier.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks. "I--uh, I'm sorry."

He reached out and grabbed your hand. "Please don't apologize. I liked hearing it...very much."

Heat began to spread through your entire body, coloring more than just your cheeks. You were unsure how to respond--the unfamiliar territory both daunting and exciting.

Rafael mistook your silence for discomfort, immediately removing his hand from yours and looking incredibly uncomfortable. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

Everything in you wanted to reach out and touch him, reassure him that his words--and his touch--were welcome, but you knew that would be crossing a line you couldn't uncross.

"No worries," you mumbled.

The awkward silence stretched on for a few moments, during which time you were silently kicking yourself for making things weird.

"Well, umm, thank you for your help tonight. I-I guess I should be going," Rafael muttered lowly.

He started to get up and gather the papers strewn about the coffee table. You knew you should help him, but you didn't move--frozen in place with indecision. He couldn't see the war raging inside you, couldn't hear the thoughts screaming in your head.

After what seemed like an eternity, you finally forced out two words, "Don't go."

Rafael paused, holding a few papers in one hand and a folder in the other. "Pardon?"

You swallowed thickly, rising to your feet. "Please stay."

Surprise lit up his handsome face. "It's getting late," he said softly. "Are you sure you want me to stay?"

You nodded.

He slowly set the papers back down and came to the other side of the coffee table, positioning himself directly in front of you. He reached out, tentatively placing his warm palm against your cheek. You leaned into his hand, eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

"I need to hear you say it, querida," he murmured.

Your bright (y/e/c) eyes met his, a surge of confidence making your words clearer. "I want you to stay, Rafael."

His lips parted slightly, partially in surprise and partially in arousal. He stepped closer to you, closing the gap between you. His lips ghosted over yours before finally pressing gently against them, pulling you into a soft kiss.

You wanted nothing more than to lean into his kiss, to feel his hands on your body--you wanted to know what it was like to be worshipped by him, to make love to him.

But the rational part of your brain--the part that kept you on the straight and narrow your entire life--had managed to rear its ugly head. You couldn't drown out the voice in your head screaming at you that this was wrong--that you couldn't do this with him...he was your coworker, for god's sake.

You suddenly pulled away from him, voice coming out in a rushed whisper, "We can't."

While he was disheartened at the sound of your words, he wasn't really surprised. It wasn't forbidden--technically--but that didn't make it easy, or even right. "I won't force you, cariño."

His soft, comforting words made you want him even more. You sighed quietly and leaned your forehead against his. "We shouldn't," you whispered so softly he almost missed it.

His hands had settled on your hips and he began to rub soothing circles into your sides. "Can't or shouldn't?" he asked lowly.

Your trembling hand pressed firmly against his chest in a way that made him feel like you were pulling him closer, not pushing him away. "Please," you begged softly, neither of you sure of exactly what you were asking for.

Rafael's left hand slid lower on your hip, the tips of his long fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your bottom. His right hand pulled you closer to him, holding you flush against his body. "Tell me you don't want me--don't want this," he pleaded, voice husky with desire.

Your lips trembled against his mouth, body responding to his like it was made for him. "I can't..."

His left hand moved to grab you more fully, eliciting a soft moan of need from your lips. "Querida...tell me to stop."

"Please don't stop," you whimpered. "I need you--por favor, Rafi."

"Mierda," he growled, pulling you somehow even closer to him. His lips crashed into yours with a hunger you couldn't describe--a hunger you returned in kind.

The next several moments were a flurry of hands all but tearing at each other's clothes, desperate to feel skin to skin contact. In what had to be a record pace, the two of you found yourselves standing in nothing but underwear in the middle of your living room.

Rafael grabbed you tightly and tugged you down with him as he fell into a sitting position on the couch. You straddled his strong thighs, lips still hungrily devouring his.

He groaned lowly as your pelvis ground against his erection, the intense need for friction almost painful. His soft hands ghosted up your back, unclasping your bra with practiced ease.

You pulled away from him just long enough to send your bra flying across the room. Rafael licked his lips in anticipation before leaning forward to capture your nipple between his soft lips.

You sighed softly, fingers twining through his hair in order to hold him tightly against you. He used one hand to massage your other breast before switching to ensure both received equal treatment.

"Rafi," you whimpered as the need to feel him inside of you continued to grow.

"Si, hermosa?" he murmured.

You ground down against his erection again, silently telling him what you needed.

His hands immediately went to your hips, halting your movements. "I need you to tell me what you want, querida."

"You," you begged.

He smirked. "Puedes hacerlo mejor. Usa tus palabras." [You can do better. Use your words.]

If you were being honest with yourself, your Spanish was not nearly as good as it had been when you were younger...after all, you hadn't really spoken much Spanish since high school. Working with Nick Amaro, and now Rafael, had forced you to revisit your knowledge of the language in an attempt to brush up. Thankfully, you understood a hell of a lot more than you spoke, so you were able to piece together what he was telling you to do.

"I want you, Rafael, please."

"I'm right here, hermosa."

You glared at him, which earned you a patented smirk in response.

"Si quieres algo solo tienes que preguntar," he murmured softly. [If you want something, you just have to ask.]

You bit your lip. You weren't a shy person, but you had never been very vocal during sex in the past. Your partners didn't often ask you what you actually wanted, so you weren't even sure how to respond to him.

"I want you to touch me."

"Donde?" [Where?]

You realized he wasn't going to let you get away with not being explicit, but you couldn't quite bring yourself to say the words out loud. Instead, you grabbed his right hand and guided it between your legs, placing it firmly against your extremely damp panties. "Here."

Rafael smiled wolfishly. "Now was that so hard?" His voice was teasing, but there was a heat in his eyes that betrayed exactly how turned on he was.

He didn't give you a chance to respond as he pulled your underwear aside and slipped his fingers between your dripping folds. You gasped softly, hands gripping onto his shoulders for support.

"Is this what you needed, cariño?" His fingers gently toyed with your clit, providing some stimulation, but not exactly what you needed.

"More, Rafi, por favor," you begged.

In response, Rafael slipped two fingers inside of you, twisting his hand to form a come hither motion as he sought your sweet spot. His thumb provided the pressure against your clit that you so desperately needed and you moaned loudly as his fingers found your g-spot.

"There we go, nena. Te tengo." [I've got you.]

You clung to his shoulders as his expert fingers worked you closer and closer to the edge. You were almost surprised by the ease with which you felt your orgasm approaching--you couldn't remember the last time you'd cum from nothing more than a man's hands.

Rafael slid a third finger inside of you and began to add more pressure to his movements on your clit. The stimulation was exactly what you needed and you knew your orgasm was close. You were hesitant to tell him, but you also didn't want him to stop. "Rafi, I'm so close--please don't stop."

"I won't," he murmured, changing nothing about his current movements. "Quiero sentirte venir." [I want to feel you come.]

Your breathing was labored and your legs had begun to shake--a surefire sign of your impending orgasm. He could feel your walls squeezing his fingers and he couldn't wait to feel the sensation around his cock.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as your orgasm rushed over you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Rafael slowed his motions, but didn't stop until you began to whimper and squirm away from him.

He pulled his fingers out of you and lifted them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan of enjoyment. "Tastes so good, nena. Can't wait to taste you properly."

Your eyes widened slightly, having found the action extremely arousing. Your gaze then traveled down his body, landing on his still clothed cock. Your eyes flicked back up to his, your expression practically begging him to fuck you properly.

"Hay algo que quieras?" [Is there something you want?] he asked with a smile.

"I'd really like you to lose the boxers."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, enjoying your demanding tone more than he'd expected. "Stand up for me, querida."

You did as he asked, albeit slowly.

He lifted his hips and slowly tugged his boxers down, finally freeing his painfully hard cock. Your eyes widened slightly, gaze appreciative of his member. He was both thick and long, and the head was leaking enough precum to give you the strong urge to taste it.

Your eyes never left his cock as you tugged your own panties off, wanting to be just as deliciously naked as he was. You started to drop to your knees, but Rafael reached out and grabbed your arm.

"What are you doing, nena?"

"I wanna taste you," you answered softly.

He closed his eyes for a moment, swearing softly in Spanish under his breath. "As much as I would love to feel your pretty little mouth on my cock, I don't think I can take it."

You felt incredibly disappointed and your expression must have shown it because his gaze took on a slightly pitying look.

"Just a taste?" you pleaded.

He couldn't deny he wanted it as badly as you did--probably more so, but what really pushed him over the edge was the sound of your soft voice begging him. He didn't wanna say no to you--ever.

He released your arm with a soft sigh. "Está bien--just a taste." [Alright.]

You grinned, feeling pleased at having won. You dropped to your knees and gripped his cock in your warm hand, gently stroking him before leaning forward to lick the precum from the tip. Rafael groaned at the feeling, followed by a string of Spanish curses as you took his cock in your mouth.

The sensations you were providing him had him making more noise than you'd ever imagined. His fingers fisted into your hair and his hips jerked as you pleasured him--a feeling of pride settling into you as you listened to his moans. You felt powerful, having made the great Rafael Barba turn to putty in your hands.

His grip in your hair tightened and he pulled you off his cock much sooner than you would have liked--a groan of displeasure leaving your lips in protest.

"Get up here," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. It was the same tone he used in court when he was tearing someone apart on the stand.

You immediately did as he asked, once again straddling his thighs, but this time, you awaited further instructions. Everything about his demeanor oozed dominance and you were more than happy to slip into a submissive role for him.

He gripped his cock and slid the head between your folds, sending sharp bolts of pleasure through both of you.

"Dime que me quieres," he demanded. [Tell me you want me.]

"I want you, Rafael," you answered instantly.

He smiled at your clear willingness to obey. "Dime que me necesitas." [Tell me you need me.]

"I need you."

He leaned forward so his lips were inches from your ear. "Vas a gritar mi nombre?" [Are you gonna scream my name?]

"Si, Rafi! Please!" you begged. "Te necesito dentro de mi." [I need you inside of me.]

He rolled his hips up slightly, pushing the head of his cock into you. He held you tightly in place, not allowing you to move lower.

"More, please!" you cried, desperately trying to lower yourself onto him fully.

"Rogar por esto, nena. Dejame escucharte." [Beg for it, baby. Let me hear you.]

"Please, Rafi, please," you pleaded. "I'll do anything--please. Please just fuck me!"

His grip on your hips lessened just as he rolled his hips upwards, allowing him to plunge into you as you pressed yourself down on him. The tip of his cock brushed against your cervix, sending a jolt of pain through you, but pain quickly turned to pleasure as he began to move.

"You feel so good, querida. So tight and warm--made for me, weren't you?" Rafael murmured into your skin as he slowly rolled his hips.

You whimpered slightly, the slow pace not enough to soothe the burning ache within you.

He noticed the way you shifted, clearly seeking more friction, so he loosened his grip on you, allowing you more freedom. You gripped onto his shoulders, using them as additional leverage as you began to ride him properly.

Salacious sounds filled the room, a mixture of your bodies joining together and your shared moans and whimpers. Rafael's mouth nipped and sucked at your pulse point, your collarbone, and your lips--anything he could reach.

The position was enjoyable, but Rafael sensed you needed more--and he felt the need to take over. He pulled you in close to him, holding you tightly as he stood, flipping you onto your back on the couch.

You gasped in surprise, delighted at the change in position. Rafael immediately took charge, bending your legs towards your chest and thrusting into you hard and fast.

"I need to feel you cum, hermosa. Dime que necesitas." [Tell me what you need.]

You were a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him, and your brain was struggling to make sense of the words he was saying. It took you a moment to understand, but even then you couldn't find the words. Instead, you slipped your hand between your bodies and began to rub your clit.

Rafael pushed your hand out of the way, replacing it with his own. He'd be damned if he wasn't the one who made you fall apart. "Vendrás por mi?" [You gonna come for me?]

"Rafi!" you cried out--the only coherent thing you'd said in minutes.

Your pussy clenched down on his cock, squeezing him so tightly he nearly came on the spot. He continued to fuck you exactly as he had been, fingers still pulsing against your clit.

Moments later, you came with a loud cry of his name, wave after wave of intense pleasure crashing down on you as he rode you through the orgasm.

He removed his hand from your clit, using it instead to grip the back of the sofa, his other hand supporting his weight on the arm. He chased his own high, finding it a few seconds after you. He groaned your name as his hot seed filled you up, hips still pumping for a few moments before he collapsed on top of you.

You wrapped your arms around him as he came down, aftershocks wracking both of your bodies.

Once you'd both caught your breath, Rafael lifted his head to look at you. He smiled as he took in your fucked out appearance--evidence of your enjoyment written all over your face.

"You're so beautiful, querida," he murmured.

You blushed. "So are you."

He chuckled. "I'm not quite sure a man wants to hear that he's beautiful."

"Eres muy guapo, papi," you said with a grin.

His eyes darkened slightly. "That's much better."

He pulled himself up so he could kiss you properly. When he deepened the kiss, you found yourself heating up--the desire once again building in your core.

"How 'bout I take you to bed and properly worship you, cariño? Would you like that?"

Your eyes widened. "You don't have to..."

"I know, but I want to. I wanna taste that pretty pussy properly before I fuck you again."

You grinned a little, enjoying the twinkling in his eye as he looked at you. "Second door on the left," you stated, pointing down the hall.

"Perfecto," he murmured as he stood up. He leaned down and scooped you up in his arms, bridal style, and began to carry you towards the bedroom.

"Rafi!" you yelled in surprise, a soft giggle leaving your lips.

He tossed you onto your bed and crawled on top of you to kiss you deeply. "Now, if it pleases the court, I'd like to spend the next 15 minutes with my head between these sexy thighs."

Your cheeks blushed as you chuckled lightly. "It pleases the court very much."

He gave you one last grin before lowering himself between your legs and sending you to heaven as many times as your body would let him.

[sushiyuzu]

afterparty

warning: fluff + tension + pet names (“kitten” & “sweetie”)

summary: in return for your presence, sylus shows his affection towards you ❤️ [ x fem!reader ]

disclaimer: this fanfiction is inspired by one of sylus’s card (radiant brilliance) from the game “love and deepspace”. while i have taken elements from the original, i have rewritten it in my own style and added my own twists.

note: this story is a work of fiction and is NOT intended to represent the original game’s narrative.

word count: 2.03k

- second acc: @blushpawss

“sylus! sylus! sylus!”

the energy in the arena was intense, with the crowd roaring and chanting sylus’s name. he had just claimed victory, and the spotlight shone on him, making his silver hair glint like moonlight. his crimson eyes scanned the crowd, and then they found you—standing there with a bouquet of flowers in your hands. you had come all this way, just to support him, to be by his side, and that meant more to him than any trophy.

as he walked over to you, wiping the sweat from his brow, his gaze softened. “someone came all the way here to watch me,” he said, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “she said she didn’t want to see me lose.” his voice was low, laced with affection, as he stepped closer.

you couldn’t help but smile, your cheeks warming under his intense gaze. “well, i couldn’t just stay home knowing you had this big match. and... i knew you’d win,” you said, feeling a little shy as you handed him the bouquet. your heart raced as his fingers brushed yours, taking the flowers from your hands with a soft chuckle.

“these are beautiful. but not as beautiful as you,” he said, his voice dropping to a tender whisper. the weight of his words made your chest tighten, the flutter of excitement growing stronger inside you.

“you’re so cheesy,” you muttered, but your smile never left your face. before you could say more, sylus reached into his pocket, pulling out something that gleamed in the light. it was his champion ring.

“you know,” he began, his eyes locked on yours, “i don’t wear this for myself. i wear it because you’re the reason i’m here. i wouldn’t have made it this far without you.” he held the ring up, his expression serious yet full of warmth. “so, tell me, kitten—what finger do you want me to put this on?”

you blinked, taken by surprise. your heart skipped a beat as you looked at the ring, then back at sylus. he was offering you more than just a ring; it was a symbol of everything you meant to him. you hesitated for a moment, then softly said, “my ring finger...”

sylus’s grin widened as he carefully took your hand in his. his touch was warm, and as he slipped the ring onto your finger, a wave of emotion washed over you. his thumb brushed over your knuckles, and you could feel the possessiveness in his gesture. it wasn’t overwhelming—it was reassuring, protective. he was claiming you in his own way, showing you that you were his, and that he was yours.

“perfect,” he said, admiring the way the ring looked on your hand. “now you’re officially mine,” he added, his voice dropping to a low rumble that sent a shiver through you.

you couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “i think it’s the other way around—you’re mine,” you teased, looking up at him. his crimson eyes flickered with amusement, but there was something deeper there too—something soft and tender that made your heart ache in the best way.

“i guess we belong to each other then,” he said, pulling you closer to him. his broad arm wrapped around your waist, his grip firm but gentle, as if he couldn’t stand the thought of you being too far from him.

the crowd had started to disperse, but in that moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, lost in your own world. sylus held his phone up, ready to take a picture. “let’s capture this moment,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. you smiled for the camera, your body leaning into his as his arm tightened around you. you felt the warmth of his chest against your back, his steady heartbeat thrumming in time with yours.

as you smiled at the camera, sylus wasn’t looking at it. instead, his eyes were fixed on you, his expression soft and filled with affection. there was something almost vulnerable in the way he gazed at you, like you were the only person in the world who could make him feel this way. before the picture snapped, sylus leaned down, closing his eyes and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“this,” he whispered against your hair, “this is all i need.” he clicked the photo, capturing not just the image but the moment—the feeling of him holding you close, the way he kissed you with such tenderness, the connection you both shared.

after the picture, he didn’t let go. instead, he buried his face in the crook of your neck for a brief moment, inhaling the scent of your hair. “you have no idea how much i love you,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. you could feel the sincerity in his words, the depth of his feelings wrapped up in every syllable.

you turned in his arms, looking up at him, and saw the way his eyes softened even more. his silver hair, now slightly tousled from the fight, framed his face perfectly. “i love you too, sylus,” you said, your voice just as soft. you placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. “and i’m so proud of you.”

his hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “you’re the only reason i ever want to win,” he said, his voice deep and full of emotion. he leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss that made the world around you fade away. when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “thank you for being here. for always being here.”

as the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, you knew that this moment—this quiet, tender moment—was something you’d hold onto forever. the picture on his phone was just a snapshot, but the memory, the love, would last a lifetime.

the afterparty had been a whirlwind of celebration. sylus was the center of attention, but no matter how many people congratulated him, his eyes never left you for long. you stayed by his side, feeling the heat of his presence even in a crowded room. as the night wore on, you couldn’t help but notice the way his touches became more lingering, his hand never straying far from the small of your back.

by the time the party started to wind down, it was already late, and sylus insisted on taking you back to his place. “it’s too late for you to go home alone,” he said, his crimson eyes dark with something more than concern. “besides, kitten... i want you with me tonight.”

you didn’t argue. you couldn’t—not when he looked at you like that, his voice sending shivers down your spine. the drive to his mansion was quiet but charged with anticipation. you could feel the tension building between you two, like a wire pulled taut, just waiting to snap.

sylus’s mansion was massive, secluded in the hills, far away from the city. the moment you stepped inside, you felt the quiet stillness of the place, but it wasn’t cold. the warmth came from him, from the way his hand lingered on your waist as he led you inside.

“make yourself at home,” he said, his voice low as he closed the door behind you. the soft click echoed through the spacious foyer. “you’ll be staying the night, after all.”

you smiled, feeling a little nervous but excited. “are you sure i’m not intruding?”

sylus chuckled, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of you. “kitten, you could never intrude. i want you here.” his hand slid to your hip, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your skirt. “besides, i promised to take care of you, didn’t i?”

his words were teasing, but there was an edge to them, something that made your heart race. “i guess i’m in your hands tonight,” you replied, trying to sound casual, but the way his eyes darkened told you that he picked up on the teasing note in your voice.

“in my hands...” sylus repeated, his voice a low rumble. “i like the sound of that.”

you felt a shiver run through you as he took your hand, gently pulling you toward the grand staircase that led to the upper floors. his grip was firm but tender, and the heat of his palm against yours sent sparks dancing along your skin.

as you climbed the stairs together, the silence between you was thick with tension. every step seemed to heighten the anticipation, the closeness of his body to yours making your pulse quicken. when you finally reached his bedroom, sylus pushed the door open and led you inside.

the room was large, the bed enormous, but your attention was on him. sylus turned to you, his eyes locking with yours as he stepped closer, crowding your space until your back was pressed against the edge of the bed.

“you know,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, “i still owe you for coming all the way to watch me fight. for cheering me on, for being there with flowers...” his hand came up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “i should thank you properly.”

before you could respond, sylus leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “unless you’re too tired...” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

your heart was racing, every inch of you aware of how close he was. “i’m not that tired,” you managed to say, your voice coming out softer than you intended. the way his lips curled into a smirk told you he liked your answer.

“good,” he said, pulling back just enough to look at you. his hands slid down to your waist, his grip firm as he lifted you effortlessly onto the bed. “because i’ve been waiting all night for this,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leaned in closer, his lips hovering over yours. “to finally have you all to myself.”

his words made your breath hitch, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours. the kiss was slow but deep, a teasing pressure that left you wanting more. sylus was in no rush, his hands sliding down your sides, tracing the curve of your hips.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his crimson eyes gleaming with heat. “you’re so beautiful, kitten. especially when you’re all mine.” his voice was low, filled with a possessiveness that made your heart race.

your fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, but sylus was in control. he leaned down, his lips brushing against your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses that made you shiver. “sylus...” you whispered, your voice breathless.

“mm?” he hummed against your skin, his hands sliding under your top, his touch warm and slow. “tell me what you want,” he teased, his lips moving against your collarbone.

you bit your lip, trying to hold back the rush of heat spreading through you. “i want you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

his smirk widened as he pulled back to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with desire. “i like the way you say that,” he murmured, his hand trailing up your side, teasing the hem of your skirt. “but i’m going to take my time with you tonight.”

he leaned down again, kissing you with more intensity this time, his hands roaming over your body with a deliberate slowness that left you breathless. the teasing, the flirting, the tension—it was all building, and sylus was enjoying every second of it.

“you’re mine,” he whispered against your lips, his voice a low growl. “and tonight, i’m going to remind you just how much you belong to me.”

[empty-vessel-of-a-person]

Reasons why Sylus and MC’s Love is Strong and Enduring

The Front Side

Their relationship may have started in a wrong foot but they gradually (specially MC) come to terms that Sylus will constantly be at her side.

In “No Way Out” and “Radiant Brilliance” Sylus, the ever elusive and strong leader of Onichynus has no problem is showing weakness with MC. This is huge considering Sylus reputation. Being vulnerable and open is not something easy for a man like Sylus, but he let MC see every side of him.

Sylus is the first LaDS men to ever directly tell MC that he loves her and proves it to her in every way possible. (Source: Razor Grip)

Sylus is a man of confidence and conviction. MC is not very fond of him at the beginning (Nor he is fond of her) but I don’t feel that they genuinely hate each other. More like irritated and frustrated. But after all of the things ended in Sylus’ branch of the story, Sylus gradually but firmly makes his way to MC’s life. He always makes sure MC is alright and got everything she needs.

The memory “Wild Gaze” and “Melodic Weave” Is probably where Sylus gets the “sugar daddy” label. He really doesn’t mind spending his fortune with MC.

The Back End

They are on the opposing end of the society. Let’s not forget MC is a Hunter and Sylus is a wanted person of her organization. But romantically involved or not, MC never spilled anything about Sylus upon her return to Linkon from the N109 Zone. From this perspective, MC might be eternally grateful that she was able to return home, but this is huge for her. Considering she is all about being a hunter that not even Zayne is able to stop her from doing dangerous missions, her keeping secrets of Sylus whereabouts ans dealings is no easy feat.

Secret Dates and Escapades Shenanigans. This is one of the best tropes Sylus and MC have. The thrill of not to be caught together adds flavor to their relationship. We can see this on both “Melodic Weave” and voice call “Keep Distance”. Yes, Sylus couldn’t care less about what happened to him but MC is clearly not comfortable in the idea of them being seen together.

Given the conclusion above, they both still makes efforts to be together. And one of my favorite moments of them was during the “Riverbank Scenery” Phone Call. Sylus have to send a”suspicious” letter just to invite her out. And the fact that he called their meeting as a “rendezvous” instead of a date adds to anonymity on it and also heartbreaking. They may not directly say it,but they cannot be seen together. Which is why towards the end of the call, Sylus almost pleadingly ask her to stay with him longer.

The Consequences. By the time the we get to the “Razor Dance” memory, it’s clear that MC already has feelings for Sylus. But they are still keeping things a secret and I feel that the deeper reason for this is MC’s situation. What will happen to her once they are found out? MC might be branded as a traitor and lock her up. I know that Sylus will do anything and literally everything to save her but the real question is, will he risk it? I know for a fact that MC will not die but if the association finds out about it, she might be facing a problem same with what Ever Group is posing. MC has a very valuable asset and there is no guarantee that the Hunters Association will not take advantage of her as well.

The Conclusion

MC do not show any signs of giving up being a hunter or ever leave Linkon. She mentioned it in all the memories under the Wander in Wonder Event. She really hopes to return to Linkon and she misses her home. In the same event in the “Grassland Romance” with Sylus she asks him if he ever consider living in Linkon so they could always meet up and he readily agrees. With this we can assume the extent of Sylus love for her. He is willing to give up everything for her and be anything for her.

But although MC is not ready or willing (Depends how you take it) to give up being a hunter or leave Linkon, we cannot ignore the danger she is putting her self in every time she meets with Sylus. MC inviting him to live in her hometown can be taken as she wants him being in a more peaceful environment to keep him safe.

Their love story ma not be easy flowing but it’s not toxic. It may need a lot of effort, but it doesn’t make it less true. Loving Sylus can be a pain but it’s still rewarding.

[gay-dorito-dust]

i need some happy viktor fluff after ep 6 :( how about set during s1 and reader helps him walk a bit without his cane or something

When Viktor pulled you aside one evening and said that he had something to show you, you naturally thought it was something to do with the hexcore project he had been working on nonstop, however you weren’t expecting to be outside on some dock as a shade of midnight blue and purples bled across the sky above you both.

It was a beautiful evening you had to admit but you were still confused as to why it was that you were there. ‘Viktor,’ the man mad a soft noise to let you know that he was listening as he looked across the dock with furrowed brows, his mind was at work and you could see it on his face that this was all premeditated, but you being here to witness this? Was that premeditated too? Were you the one he wanted to witness this discovery with him or was it last minute that he asked for your company? ‘What did you want me to see?’ You asked.

‘A Miracle.’ Viktor says as he looks at you, his amber eyes shining so beautifully that you couldn’t help but get lost in the softness of them and the brilliance they withheld that you often saw in the man standing before you. ‘And I wanted you to be the first person to see it happen.’ He adds with a small, almost awkward smile but that only made him all the more endearing in your eyes, as well as how his soft, tender voice always managed to make you feel safe and that everything was okay as long as he was here with you.

One things for sure and that’s the fact that you’d follow Viktor and worship him like an advent follwer does their god without question, just unwavering devotion, loyalty and faith. Another thing you were certain of was just how far you’d go for him just to see him happy, to see him smile as it was the most ethereal thing you would ever see from a man as unrealistically beautiful as him, it was almost frightening.

‘Did you have doubts that I wouldn’t seek you out?’ He then asks teasingly when he noticed how silent you were being, gently reaching out to touch your elbow and squeezing it.

You blinked before realising what he was asking you. ‘No! I’m just surprised you asked me to be here with you, I’m not complaining I just-‘ your sentence was cut off when you heard Viktor laugh and god did you feel the air leave your lungs upon hearing a sound so heavenly as his laugh.

‘There’s no one I’d rather have to witness this miracle with me than you my dear.’ Viktor said as he squeezed your elbow once more before pulling his hand away to handing you his cane instead. ‘Would you mind holding this for me?’ He requests and you look between him and his cane then back to him confused, but you did what was asked of you and held his cane as though it was a relic of times long past, holding it to your chest as you watched what Viktor claimed to be a miracle.

‘Please keep your eyes on me.’ Viktor said as he slowly but surely began to walk away from you, his steps was uncertain and almost hesitant, almost as though with each step he was expecting something bad to go wrong or would go wrong if he wasn’t overtly cautious of his every step but he was walking none the less. You were quick to notice that his right foot was faintly glowing purple with golden accents to go along with it, you were worried that something had happened to him, but decided to keep all your worries and concerns to yourself the moment you saw Viktor break out into a sprint.

Your breath budget in your throat when you saw him trip a little bit, feeling yourself lurch forward but let out a sigh of relief when you saw him catch himself, picking up where he left off and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. This was the miracle Viktor was talking about and you were blessed, so honoured that he had chosen you to best witness to this special moment for him, so much of that you couldn’t help but feel overly emotional and start tearing up upon hearing him yell like a man who had finally won it all after constant trial and tribulations that he had faced throughout his life.

‘This is a miracle! Viktor you are the miracle!’ You shouted as loud as you could, hoping that he could hear you as you watched him stop at the end of the dock, looking a little out of breath. Something deep within you urged you to go after him and you followed it blindly as you ran towards Viktor, cane clutched against your chest, as you moved yourself as fast as you could to be by his side once more. ‘Did you see me my dear?’ Viktor asked as he looked at you with his amber eyes full of light and life that you couldn’t hold back and brought him into your arms.

‘I watched you the entire time.’ You admitted to him, burying your head into his neck, breathing him in. ‘Did you hear me?’ You asked and Viktor smiled against your head as he whispered against your ear. ‘It was impossible not to when you’re calling me a miracle, do you’d mean it?’

You tightened your hold on him as everything you’ve ever thought of him from the moment you met him came rushing to the forefront of your mind. ‘Of course I do and so much more but I fear the words I speak won’t do any justice to how constantly amazed and in awe I am of you.’ You admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up as you felt Viktor stiffen in your arms.

‘And what do you think of me.’ Viktor says softly, almost weakly as though he was scared to find out your innermost thoughts, despite the fact that they intrigued him more so than he’d ever admit.

‘I think everything of you Viktor.’ You told him. ‘I think so much of you that you’ve consumed my every thought, so much to the point I can’t conceive a thought without your soul being tethered to it in some way.’ You finished and pulling away to look him in the eye and see the most beautiful thing you will ever see in your life.

Viktor was smiling and had a flustered look upon his face and god did he look ethereal beneath the midnight blue sky, an angel if you will and you knew you could die happily being in here with him, witnessing the miracle become even more then that.

[cameronspecial]

Let Me Prove You Wrong, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Insecurities About Weight Gain

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Summary: After finding out her dress doesn't fit, Y/N starts to feel insecure and Rafe wants to get rid of those thoughts.

A/N: Insipred by this post.

Masterlist

Y/N doesn’t feel insecure often. With someone like Rafe around, it is hard to feel that way with his constant praise. One sight at the doubt of her brilliance and he would literally shut down the whole world until she realized she was the best person ever to exist. As she gets ready for a date with him, she tries zipping up the zipper of her dress, yet it won’t budge. She grows frustrated at the lack of advancement, concluding that she won’t be able to do so because she must have gained some weight. Tears start to bubble at the corner of her eyes, more so that the dress that she adores is no longer in commission for her than the actual weight. It was the dress she wore on her first date with Rafe and she knew how much he loved the dress. She didn’t realize she was taking so long to get dressed until Rafe came up to check on her. Finding his angel on the ground crying is the scariest thing to him. He has no idea what happened or if she is hurt. He rushes to her side and brings her onto his lap. He brushes her hair behind her ear with a kiss on her cheek, “What’s wrong, Angel? Are you hurt?” “No, my dress doesn’t fit anymore,” she whimpers, shoving her head into his neck. He looks at the fallen dress on the floor, “It’s okay. We can pick out another dress for you to wear tonight.” “If that one doesn’t fit, then I doubt the others are going to fit,” she argues. 

“Well, then I’ll cancel our reservations. We can order the greasiest foods I can find and watch the After movies you’ve been wanting to watch.” 

“No, I have to go on a diet. I’ve gotten fatter.” 

Rafe immediately pushes away to look her in the eyes and shakes his head. “No. No. No. Don’t say it like that, Angel. I won’t say that you gained weight or not because we won’t know unless we use a scale, which we aren’t going to do. So we don’t know if the dress doesn’t fit because it shrank or something,” he begins. “But even if you are the reason the dress doesn’t fit, then it doesn’t matter. Because you will still be the most amazing girl in the world. Do you know that it’s been proven the more you gain weight after entering the relationship, the happier you are in it? Weight fluctuation is a perfectly normal thing.” Her head moves from side to side, “If it’s normal then how come you didn’t gain weight too? Are you not happy in our relationship?” “I am ecstatic about our relationship and I can’t tell you why I haven’t gained weight, but if it would make you happy, then I would gain all the pounds in the world to show you how happy I am,” he responds, tucking her back into his side with a kiss to her forehead. She giggles a little, “No, you don’t need to gain weight for me. If you gained all the pounds in the world, I would be worried about your health. I’m just disappointed you won’t be able to give me piggyback rides anymore.” “I will never stop being able to give you piggyback rides,” he scoffs, falling back so he is lying flat on the ground.

He turns her so she is perpendicular against his chest and his hands go under her body. “What are you doing?” she questions at the sudden change of position. He pushes upward, “Let me prove you wrong, Angel.” Y/N is suddenly in the air thanks to his hand movement. His arms don’t even shake a little bit as he leaves her there for a few seconds before he brings his arms back so they are bent. He continues to bring her open and down in his reps until she ceases the point he is trying to make. “Okay. Okay. I get the point. Can you put me down now, please? I’m starting to get lightheaded,” she begs. He brings her back down so she is straddling his hips. “I will always be able to give you piggyback rides and then the moment that I am not going to be able to is when I am going to be a hundred years old with fragile little bones,” he promises, kissing her lips. 

She nods, “I believe you. Can we get something to eat now? I’m hungry.” “Of course, Let’s get some burgers. I want to see how pretty you look wearing my shirt and sweatpants and those are definitely not appropriate for the restaurant,” he informs. He shrugs off his suit jacket and goes to his dresser to get them a change of clothes. 

———

The next day, when she gets back from class, she finds about ten new dresses in her closet. They are all identical to the one she couldn’t put on yesterday, just five are sizes bigger and the others are sizes smaller. She picks up the note on the one that is a size up from her original dress. So you can always wear your favourite dress. I can easily order more if you need them because there is an infinite of these dresses out there, but only one you. I love you, Angel.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[onebadassunicorn]

His Blue-Eyed Angel

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: talk of mutilation (clipping of wings)

word count: ~ 4.4k

story tags: @bravo-delta-eccho, @tiredsleepyhead, @tele86

Chapter 1

***************

Chapter 2

Azriel POV

The Summer Court glimmered with its usual brilliance, sunlight dancing on turquoise waves that stretched endlessly toward the horizon. Azriel walked beside Rhysand as the sentinels led them to the beach just outside the opulent palace. The salt-kissed breeze tugged at his dark hair and brushed against his wings, but it did little to quell the quiet tension coiling in his chest.

He didn’t know what to expect. Rhys had only hinted that the visit was important. Tarquin had been unusually cryptic when extending the invitation, but his tone had carried an undercurrent of excitement, as if he were unveiling a closely held secret.

Tarquin was waiting for them, his skin gleaming as he greeted them with a warm smile.

“Rhysand. Azriel,” Tarquin said, inclining his head. “Welcome to the Summer Court. I’m glad you’re here. Come. There’s someone you need to meet.”

Azriel’s shadows stirred faintly, a flicker of unease coursing through him. He exchanged a glance with Rhysand, who gave a subtle nod before they followed Tarquin.

And then Azriel saw her.

She was standing on the beach near the water, the white sand glistening like crushed starlight beneath her bare feet. Her black hair cascaded in loose waves down her back, glinting faintly blue under the sunlight. She was crouched low, her attention entirely focused on a young boy beside her, no older than six, his giggles carried by the gentle breeze. Azriel stopped suddenly, completely captivated by her presence, as she raised a hand, the air shimmering around her as a shape began to form from the water pooling nearby.

A sea turtle, intricately detailed, swam gracefully through the air, droplets of water sparkling like jewels as they dripped from its form. The boy squealed in delight, clapping his hands as the turtle dipped and twirled around him. She laughed softly, the sound warm and melodious, a stark contrast to the hum of power Azriel could sense thrumming beneath her movements.

Her face alight with joy, she conjured another shape: a dolphin that leapt playfully beside the turtle. The boy chased after it, his little feet kicking up sand, and she watched him with a look so tender, so full of quiet affection, that Azriel felt something inside him shift.

She stood up, her dark hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of midnight. The soft sea breeze stirred the strands, catching the light in a way that made them glimmer faintly.

“Y/n,” Tarquin said, as he approached her, his voice warm and coaxing. “Come. It’s time.”

She turned then, and a smile graced her tanned skin, her freckles glittering across her nose and cheeks. Azriel’s breath caught. Her blue eyes, bright and piercing, met his, and something shifted inside him—a pull he couldn’t explain, a tether he hadn’t known existed. 

Mate. 

His mate. 

The bond snapped into place then, a sensation so sudden and overwhelming that he nearly staggered. His shadows, always restless, froze mid-sway before rushing toward her as if drawn to her light. He fought to maintain his ever-stoic expression.

She walked towards them as her gaze flicked to Rhysand, softening with recognition, before returning to Azriel. There was strength in her eyes, but also a quiet hesitation, as though she carried a secret too heavy to hold alone.

“Y/n is family,” Tarquin said, his tone filled with pride. “She’s been protected here, hidden, but the time has come for her to step into the world as she truly is.”

Y/n’s jaw tightened slightly, and her hands fidgeted at her sides, though she masked it well. “Tarquin—” she began, but he interrupted her gently.

“Show them,” he said, his voice kind but firm. “They need to see you.”

Azriel’s shadows stilled, sensing the gravity of the moment as he watched her carefully. She hesitated, glancing toward Tarquin, then Rhysand, before finally turning her gaze to Azriel. Something passed between them in that moment—something unspoken but electric, leaving his heart pounding in his chest.

Then, with a steady breath, Y/n closed her eyes. The air around her shimmered faintly, a ripple of magic that seemed to hum with anticipation. And as the glamour faded, Azriel’s world tilted.

Her black wings unfolded slowly, their dark, feathered expanse catching the sunlight. They were breathtaking—sleek, powerful, and unlike anything Azriel had ever seen. The feathers shimmered faintly, as though black night sky had been kissed by starlight, and when she extended them fully, they seemed to fill the space around her with an undeniable presence.

Azriel could do nothing but stare. The word angel came unbidden to his mind, the sight of her stealing the very breath from his lungs. She was stunning, otherworldly,  a being who seemed to belong to both the heavens and the earth. And in that moment, she didn’t just look like an angel. She looked like his angel, sent to claim him and cast light into the shadows that had long consumed him.

“Y/n,” Rhysand said softly, his voice filled with quiet awe as he stepped forward. “You’re extraordinary.”

Tarquin motioned toward him, “this is Rhysand. High Lord of the Night Court.”

Y/n smiled faintly and nodded her heard, and her gaze flickered to Azriel. When their eyes met again, the tether between them tightened, unspoken but undeniable, but only for Azriel.

Azriel took a step closer, his wings trembling faintly at his back. His hazel eyes were wide, his usually guarded expression uncharacteristically open. “You’re…” He paused, his voice catching as he struggled to find the words. “You’re Illyrian?”

Her cheeks flushed, a faint blush coloring her skin, but she didn’t look away. “Yes,” she said softly, her voice like the melody of a soft wave lapping against the shore.

“Y/n,” Tarquin said, gesturing toward him, “this is Azriel. Spymaster of the Night Court.”

She inclined her head, her expression unreadable. “It’s an honor,” she said softly.

Azriel swallowed hard, his shadows retreating slightly as he forced himself to reply. “The honor is mine.”

For the first time in centuries, Azriel felt vulnerable, as though she could see through the shadows that clung to him, past the walls he had carefully built. But he didn’t pull away. He didn’t want to.

Tarquin’s voice broke the moment, though it was gentle. “Now you see why she’s special. Why she needed protection.”

Azriel nodded slowly, though his gaze remained on Y/n. “I see,” he murmured, his voice steady but filled with something deeper.

They all remained still, the weight of the revelation hanging in the air as Y/n folded her dark, feathered wings back against her shoulders. Her blue eyes held steady, though Azriel noticed the slight tension in her posture, the way her hands fidgeted at her sides. She was waiting—for their reaction, for judgment, for the questions she surely knew would follow.

Rhysand, ever composed, stood silent for a long moment. His violet eyes flickered between Y/n and Tarquin, his usually impenetrable expression softening with a flicker of understanding. Azriel, standing beside Rhys, couldn’t take his eyes off her. Feathered wings—an Illyrian female with feathered wings. It was the stuff of legend, of whispers told in the shadows of war-camps, tales of a time long before any of them had been born. And yet, here she stood, living proof of those stories.

Tarquin broke the silence, his voice calm but tinged with pride as he looked to Rhysand. “She is your sister.”

The words struck like a thunderclap, shattering the stillness and sending a ripple of shock through him. Rhysand’s eyes widened, his mask of control slipping for just a fraction of a second before he schooled his features again. “What did you say?” he asked, his voice low and steady, though a thread of disbelief ran through it.

Tarquin inclined his head, his sunlit features solemn. “Your sister, Rhysand. Y/n shares your mother. You both carry her blood.”

Y/n’s gaze darted to Rhysand, her lips parting slightly. Azriel felt the tension in the air shift, a fragile balance of disbelief, curiosity, and the beginnings of something deeper.

Rhysand’s voice, quiet but firm, broke through the heavy silence. “How is that possible? If she is my sister, why has she been here?”

Tarquin straightened, his golden-brown skin glowing faintly in the sunlight. “Your mother,” he began carefully, “was not always bound to the Night Court. There was a time, long ago, when she sought refuge here, in the Summer Court. It was during that time that she and my father… shared a bond.”

Rhysand’s jaw tightened, his gaze flickering briefly to Y/n before returning to Tarquin. “She never told me.”

“She didn’t tell anyone,” Tarquin admitted. “Not even Y/n.”

Y/n spoke then, her voice soft but steady, cutting through the growing tension. “I didn’t know who my father was until Tarquin told me. All I knew was that my mother brought me here to protect me.” She paused, glancing at Rhysand. “She feared what the Illyrians would do if they knew about my wings. About me.”

Azriel’s hazel eyes darkened slightly, the mention of Illyrian prejudice sparking a quiet anger in his chest. He had seen firsthand the brutal traditions that still lingered in the war-camps, and the thought of anyone clipping those magnificent wings, of trying to diminish her strength, made his shadows writhe in agitation.

Tarquin stepped closer to Y/n, his expression softening. “Feathered wings are rare,” he said, his voice reverent. “So rare they haven’t been seen in centuries, not since the first Illyrians roamed the mountains. When your mother saw your wings, she knew she couldn’t take you back. She feared what they would do, the jealousy they might harbor, the traditions they might try to impose. So, she came to my father, and he swore to protect you.”

Rhysand’s violet eyes softened, the sharp edge of his expression giving way to something more contemplative. “And you kept her hidden all this time.”

“I did,” Tarquin said simply. “Because she is more than a rarity. She is a connection to a history we’ve all but forgotten. And she is your family, Rhysand. She deserves to be seen.”

Y/n shifted slightly, her wings rustling faintly as she looked at Rhysand. “I didn’t know what to expect,” she admitted, her voice trembling just slightly. “I didn’t know if you would want me in your life. But I… I wanted to try.”

Rhysand stared at her for a long moment, his gaze flicking over her face, her wings, the quiet strength in her eyes. Slowly, he stepped forward, his movements deliberate as he stopped just a pace away from her. “You are my sister,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “And that means you are part of this family. If you’ll have me.”

Y/n’s eyes filled with tears, and she nodded, her voice breaking as she whispered, “I would like that.”

Azriel stood silent, his chest tight as he watched the exchange. He had seen Rhysand command armies, face down High Lords, and wield unimaginable power with unflinching precision. But this—this quiet moment of vulnerability and acceptance—was something else entirely. And as Azriel’s gaze drifted back to Y/n, her wings catching the sunlight like an angel’s mantle, he couldn’t help but think that she wasn’t just a rarity. She was a gift. 

“Come,” Tarquin motioned. “Let’s move to the study where we can talk privately.”

***************

The Summer Court’s private study was quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below. Rhysand leaned against the edge of a carved desk, his violet eyes sharp and calculating as he watched Tarquin pace the room. Azriel stood in the shadows, his expression neutral, though his shadows stirred with quiet curiosity.

Tarquin finally stopped, his gaze meeting Rhysand’s, his usual easy demeanor replaced by something heavier, something almost cautious. “I owe you an explanation,” he began, his voice low but steady.

Rhysand crossed his arms, his posture relaxed but his tone laced with steel. “I’d say so. You’ve been keeping a sister I didn’t know I had hidden from me for years. Start explaining.”

Rhysand’s violet eyes were fixed on Tarquin, waiting for him to continue.

Tarquin ran a hand through his hair, gaze drifting toward the moonlit waves. He looked as though he was deciding how much truth to share and how best to shape it. At last, he cleared his throat, his voice low and steady. “Your father and mine were powerful men, Rhysand. They cared about their bloodlines and their courts. They weren’t saints, and neither were the courts they ruled.” He paused, shoulders tensing before he went on. “Before my own mother ascended to her role in Summer—she traveled through other courts, learned their ways. She spent time in Illyria, quietly, to understand the warrior culture there. And what she found disturbed her. That is where she met your mother”

Rhysand remained silent, but Azriel, standing just behind him, stiffened at the mention of Illyria. Tarquin continued, voice growing graver with each word. “Your mother—and my mother—were horrified by how Illyrian girls often had their wings clipped, their futures stolen before they ever had a chance to soar. It went against every principle they believed in. They both decided to risk their safety to help. They developed secret routes, safe houses, and allies willing to shelter those girls. It wasn’t a grand rebellion—too much attention would have doomed them all—but it was a quiet resistance, saving a few at a time. Smuggling them out under cover of darkness, guiding them to places they could heal and grow, unshackled from those awful traditions.”

Tarquin glanced at Rhysand, noting the stillness that had overtaken him. “They both saved dozens over the years. Perhaps more. No one kept count. The best rescues were those never spoken of again.”

Rhysand’s posture remained calm, but his eyes were sharp, thoughtful. He said nothing, silently urging Tarquin to go on.

Tarquin sighed, returning his gaze to the dark, rolling sea. “When your mother realized she was carrying my father’s child—Y/n—she knew that if her daughter had Illyrian wings, if anyone learned the child’s true paternity and heritage, Y/n could face the same fate. Even here, hidden in Summer, there were those who would see a half-Illyrian girl as something to tame rather than to cherish.”

He ran a hand along the stone desk. “So, she hid her own daughter’s existence as much as she could. She allowed my father, the High Lord of Summer, to take care of her because with his title, that pretense offered protection. There would be questions about the wings, of course, but my father’s word as High Lord could not be easily challenged. She trusted my father, keeping Y/n close, safe, and away from the eyes of anyone who might see the clipping of her wings as a necessity or a right.”

A silence fell, broken only by the distant cries of gulls. Finally, Tarquin turned fully to Rhysand. “She did all this long before Y/n ever knew who she was. She saved countless other girls first and, in doing so, learned how to save her own daughter. It was not a perfect life, nor a perfect solution, but it worked. By the time Y/n learned the truth—of who her mother had been, of whose blood ran in her veins—she had grown strong, whole. Untouched by the cruelty that others suffered.”

Rhysand’s jaw clenched slightly, and Azriel’s shadows swirled around him, as if absorbing every bit of this revelation. The High Lord of Night finally inclined his head. “My mother saved her, gave her freedom,” he said quietly. “She may have had to hide her, but your father kept her whole. I will not forget that.”

Tarquin nodded, relieved yet solemn. “Your mother’s legacy lives on in Y/n. She’s the child of a woman who fought for those who had no voice, who refused to let cruelty stand unchecked. And now that Y/n is here, with you, perhaps she will find her own way to honor that legacy.”

Rhysand’s expression didn’t change, but his voice was cold when he spoke. “And you thought it best to keep this from me?”

Tarquin met his gaze, unflinching. “She was just a child when I learned of everything. She didn’t even know who she truly was. I chose to protect her, to let her grow up without the weight of that knowledge hanging over her. And when she did learn the truth, she wasn’t ready to face it. I waited until she was. Until she wanted to meet you.”

Rhysand’s gaze softened, though only slightly. “And now she’s here.”

“Yes,” Tarquin said, his voice quiet. “And now she’s here. She’s your blood, Rhys. But she’s also mine. I’ll protect her, even from you, if I must.”

Rhysand nodded slowly, though the protective glint in his eyes didn’t fade. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

A tense silence settled between them before Rhysand finally inclined his head, his lips curving into a faint smile. “You’ve done well by her, Tarquin. But she’s not just yours anymore.”

“She belongs here,” Tarquin said finally, his voice quiet but firm.

Rhysand turned to him, his expression thoughtful, though his violet eyes gleamed with an unyielding resolve. “She is free to decide to come and live with her family in the Night Court,” he countered, his tone gentle but no less firm.

Tarquin’s jaw tightened as he glanced out over the water. “I’ve protected her for years, Rhys. When she didn’t know who she was, when she had no one else—”

“And for that, I’m grateful,” Rhysand interrupted, his voice sincere. “More than you know, Tarquin. But things are different now. She knows the truth. She knows who she is.”

Tarquin’s gaze snapped to him, a flicker of frustration in his seafoam eyes. “And what exactly do you think the Night Court can offer her that I haven’t already?”

Rhysand sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “A chance to connect with the part of her she’s never known. With the family she didn’t know existed until now. She’s my sister as well, Tarquin. My blood. I can’t ignore that—not now that I know.”

Tarquin’s wings shifted slightly, a telltale sign of his unease. “And what if she doesn’t want to go?”

“I won’t force her,” Rhysand said, his tone softening. “The choice will be hers. But I want her to see Velaris, to meet Feyre, Cassian, Mor, Amren… to know the life she could have with us. I want her to have every piece of herself, Tarquin, not just the part tied to this court.”

Tarquin studied him for a long moment, his lips pressed into a thin line. “And if she decides she’s better off here? With me?”

Rhysand’s expression remained calm, though a flicker of something sharp crossed his eyes. “Then I’ll respect her choice. But I won’t give her up without giving her the chance to know me—to know us.”

Tarquin looked away, his shoulders tense as he considered the High Lord of Night’s words. Finally, he exhaled, his posture softening slightly. “You care for her already.”

“She’s my sister,” Rhysand said simply, a faint smile curving his lips. “Of course I do.”

Tarquin shook his head, his expression torn. “You’d better mean that, Rhys. Because if you take her to your court and something happens to her—”

“She’ll be as safe with me as she’s been here,” Rhysand assured him, his voice steady. “You have my word.”

Another long silence stretched between them before Tarquin finally nodded, though the tension didn’t leave his face. “Fine. Talk to her. But it’ll be her decision. And if she wants to stay… you’ll leave her in peace.”

Rhysand inclined his head, his smile widening just slightly. “Agreed.”

Tarquin turned to leave, his steps heavy, but Rhysand’s voice stopped him.

“Thank you,” Rhys said, his tone laced with genuine gratitude.

Tarquin paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “Don’t thank me yet, Rhysand. Let’s see what she decides.”

And with that, the High Lord of Summer walked away. From the shadows, Azriel remained silent, his gaze flicking briefly to the closed door. Y/n was just beyond it, waiting to step into a world that had been hers all along but that she had never known. 

***************

The Summer Court’s ocean breeze carried the faint scent of salt and jasmine as Y/n stood on the veranda, her wings shifting lightly in the golden light of sunset. Rhysand had just finished extending the invitation—his words measured but laced with hope. He stood beside her, his violet eyes warm yet watchful, waiting for her answer.

Y/n glanced at Tarquin, who lingered a few paces away. His expression was carefully neutral, but the tension in his posture betrayed his unease. He had basically raised her, shielded her, been the only family she’d ever known. Leaving the Summer Court meant leaving him behind, at least for a time. 

She turned her gaze back to Rhysand, searching his face for any sign of ulterior motive, but all she found was sincerity. He wasn’t asking for himself—he was asking for her. Asking her to take a leap into the unknown, to explore the part of herself she’d only just begun to understand.

“I’ll come,” she said finally, her voice steady though her heart raced. “To see Velaris, to meet your family. To learn more about who I am.”

Rhysand’s shoulders relaxed, a small, genuine smile gracing his lips. “You’ll be welcome there, always. For as long as you choose to stay.”

Tarquin stepped forward then, his expression softening as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “If this is what you want, Y/n, then I won’t stop you. But if you ever need me, if you ever want to come back—”

“I know,” she said quietly, offering him a faint smile. “Thank you, Tarquin. For everything.”

As the conversation ended and plans began to take shape, Azriel stood in the shadows, watching her. He hadn’t spoken during the exchange, hadn’t dared to. But as Y/n’s words sank in, as the reality of her coming to the Night Court settled over him, a rush of emotions collided within him.

He should have felt relief—gratitude, even—that she would be close, that she’d be in Velaris where he could watch over her. But what he felt was far more complicated.

The bond thrummed in his chest, loud and insistent, a reminder of what she didn’t yet know. Of what she might never feel. It wasn’t just the bond that unsettled him—it was her. The way her blue eyes seemed to hold entire worlds. The gentle strength in her movements. The way she spoke, careful and deliberate, yet tinged with quiet vulnerability.

Azriel’s shadows curled tighter around him, a reflection of his inner turmoil. He was glad she was coming, but the thought of being so close to her, of seeing her every day, terrified him. What if she never felt the bond? What if she did and rejected it? What if she grew close to someone else?

He pushed the thoughts away, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. Protect her. Support her. That was all he could offer; all he would allow himself to offer.

But as Y/n turned, her wings catching the last rays of sunlight, her gaze flicked briefly toward him. Her lips curved into the faintest of smiles—a polite acknowledgment of his presence—and it was like the sun breaking through a storm.

Azriel’s breath caught, his shadows pausing in their restless dance. He inclined his head in response, his face carefully neutral, though inside he felt as though his very foundations were shifting.

She was coming to the Night Court. To his world. And for better or worse, nothing would ever be the same.

Chapter 3

[thatlittlered]

rings of power men | love languages

warning(s): i am going to cry, i need to marry (at least!) one of them

author's note: these are once again based on this post

-.-.-

Elrond

words of affirmation, physical touch, quality time, acts of service, gifts - everything

This Barbie man can and will do it all. If you ever asked him, he could not possibly pick what his favorite way of showing you affection is. He wants to write poems about your beauty, to touch your soft skin, to spend eons in your delightful company under the shining stars, to gather every lovely flower to adorn your hair and shower you in gold and gems that match your brilliance, all at the same time. He will probably manage to do it too.

Gil-galad

quality time, physical touch

Quality time spent in complete privacy is a rare gift given his position, so the High King treasures it above all, especially whilst in your company. Even in silence, he finds solace in your love and what greater proof is there of his, than his willingness to split himself in half if that is what it takes to serve both you and his kingdom? He is not a particularly touchy person, so you certainly will not find him glued to your side at all times, but once in private, he is a very passionate lover.

Celebrimbor

gifts, quality of time, gifts! so many gifts!

You will be showered with gifts of all kinds, especially in the beginning of your relationship. He does not know any other way to express himself so anything that comes to mind, he will send your way; rare fruits and teas, expensive fabrics, books, and, once he feels a bit more comfortable in showing off his skills, dozens of jewelry, weapons, trinkets. Anything that comes to mind when he thinks of you, he will happily craft with astounding care to detail and deliver it to you himself so he can see the glee on your face when you receive it. When you are properly together, you might convince him to lessen the frequency and spend the time with you instead; sipping warm tea and sitting together on the balcony. He is very agreeable to that.

Arondir

acts of service

You could ask Arondir to climb up in the skies of Arda and bring you back the moon and he will not hesitate. There is very little he would not do to ensure your happiness and those are things you would not ask of him either way. He is also very keen on anticipating your needs before you can express them. Always bringing you food and water, or packing you warm clothes. He must be thinking about you all the time, because every beautiful flower he happens upon is to be picked, every trinket that catches his eye purchased with you in mind, until your hands, and home, and heart are full.

Elendil

acts of service, physical touch, gifts

His first and foremost love language is serving you in any way imaginable. Whether it be with his sword, his ship, or his love. There is none more loyal and he proves it every day. Your wish is his command and your happiness his only concern. Once affection is established between you, he will not hesitate to be more physical with you as well; always touching you some place with his sea-worn hands in the few moments of privacy you have together. When you are kept apart, he will bring you gifts from the faraway lands he travels to and write you letters you cannot receive, but which you may read when he returns and know there was not a moment he was not thinking of you.

Valandil

words of affirmation, physical touch, quality time

He may be no poet, but it is easy enough to find the words when he is looking at you. He might share a few of his thoughts in person, but quickly becomes too embarrassed and chooses to write them down for you instead, so they might hold you company while he is sailing in the cruel seas. He writes of the sensual way the moon reflects off your skin when you make love on your favorite beach, the feeling of your hair in his fingers when it's drenched in saltwater and the way it tastes on his tongue. He simply cannot wait to do it again.

Isildur

physical touch

Please touch this boy, for that is what he becomes in your presence. A sweet boy with large brown eyes, begging to be touched at every opportunity and showered with the love you so willingly provide. When you are together, he always has to be touching you in some way, whether it be holding your hand, or laying his head in your lap, or even letting your knees graze each other when in the tavern with the others. Show him affection and he will return it thousandfold.

-.-.-

bonus:

Adar

acts of service, gifts

The Uruk-father considers you his most glorious conquest, his most precious possession. He is not eager to lose you and will therefore do anything to ensure your safety and happiness by his side. You will want for nothing, for it will all be delivered to you before you might even come to need it. What is most enticing of all he has to offer, however, is the absolute devotion and adoration that only he can show you.

[pearlywritings]

Dr Ratio nsfw alphabet

tw: female reader, protected sex, edging, body worship, semi-public sex, kinda power play, Veritas is a switch

word count: 3.3k+ words

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He is aware he can go a little harsh sometimes. So the first thing he always does is move you from whatever position you are in into the one where you face him, bringing your foreheads close and making you match your breath with his to calm down. He is usually on a quieter side, but will ask if you need anything specific, different from your usual aftercare routine. Which never goes without taking a bath. He either lets you laze in bed or brings you to the bathroom with him while filling up the tube - depending on how badly he’s exhausted you. Once in the water, he thoroughly washes you, then lets you do the same to him - and it really shows how much he loves you, otherwise he wouldn’t have trusted you with the process of cleaning his body.

After or before the sessions where he is on a more subbing side, he’d really appreciate it if you'd give him a small massage - the man is stressed, even though he doesn’t show it, knowing he will be taken care off, soothes his mind.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Is it a surprise that it is the brain? This man is literally attracted to intelligence. Close second is your lips. It’s astonishing to him how your mouth can both speak out of brilliance and spew out the stupidest nonsense there is. And it’s incredibly satisfying to shut you up with a firm kiss on your lips with his fingers holding your face in place. Or vice versa when you hook your thumbs into the chest window to grab his shirt and drag him closer to smash your lips into his because he talks too much.

On himself… I’d say the brain too. Plus I feel like his arms. He is well-built, and has strong muscular arms - he literally shows off one of them, unclothed. Not to mention the statues he summons - their poses bring attention to the arms immediately. Besides, such physical strength allows him to maneuver your body however he desires, especially when his patience runs thin and words are not enough anymore.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

As much as Veritas doesn’t like messiness, while having sex it’s very hard to avoid. He’s got accustomed to two sweaty bodies held close together (the touch-starved side of him simply won), he even stopped complaining about the sheets that have to be changed every time you end up in bed, but when it comes to cum… 

While railing you he’d prefer finishing in a condom, but with enough convenience and your endurance of him rolling his pretty eyes, he might go raw and finish on your backside/thighs. In oral he’d rather hold back once you bring him close to orgasm and finish after thoroughly fucking you, or, if you are willing, in your mouth.

In your case though, he is more gracious, fully aware that you might not have the same control over your body, just don’t be surprised when after he’s eaten you out or your juices drenched his pelvis from your orgasm, he reaches for a towel to wipe himselfs.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

You know boudoir photography, right? This man thinks bigger. Not even a huge oil painting, no. A statue. A statue that depicts an intimate moment of yours, your intertwined bodies, every curve of the body and fold on the sheets covering some parts of your body carved in marble perfectly… 

He doesn’t bring it up because it might require posing and you might not be ready for this. And because he has a tiiiny fear at the back of his head about expressing openly this side of him that’s reserved for you only. Oh, and maybe because he thinks those intertwined stone bodies of yours might look better with the wedding rings…

Big chance he’ll eventually bring it up.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

If you are his partner and came as far as having sex, it means he is very serious about your relationship and that you are his first. Veritas, most likely, didn’t even entertain the thought of getting into the relationship. But even the brightest minds may face their own miscalculations and here he is, with the best woman, whose body he’ll get to explore. Yes, at the beginning of your relationship he was lacking practice when it came to intimacy, but he is an extremely quick learner with the right theory. His natural observance and phenomenal memory made it easy for him to find and remember all of your erogenous zones (more than you were aware of) and become a master in yet another field.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He has a preference for ones where he gets to claim your lips whenever he wants. He fancies being in control, but doesn’t mind passing the reins to you. Lotus flower and missionary are usually his ways to go for slower times, perfect for closeness and staying in once finished; for the times with more tension in the air, he’d pin you to the wall, completely lifting you off the ground and drilling his dick into your warm walls or would provoke you to push him in his chair and ride that attitude out of him right there in his office.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He is serious, no doubt. More often than not, for him sex is proving a point to you, relieving the tension, getting rid of stress and these things are not to be joked about. If anything, if you were to joke in the middle of it, he’d scoff, giving you an incredulous look, but ultimately decide to shut you up with a kiss or fingers, or shove his spit-covered cock back into your mouth.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Completely clean. He prefers it all shaved off. On a rare occasion you manage to catch a glimpse of his sleeping pants hanging a bit low, revealing a patch of hair he hasn’t yet had an opportunity to get rid of, and you are assured that violet is his hair’s natural color.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

To a man of Veritas’s world perception romance and all these feelings can be explained by science. Yes, he is probably not the man who’d throw rose petals on top of some extremely fancy sheets or won’t declare his love every single thrust of his hips, but one thing is certain - when he is with you, his whole attention is only on you. His eyes are on you, his lips are on you, his hands, his chest, his everything. You are the center of his world in the moment and he expects the same treatment in return.

However, when it comes to taking baths together - either after sex or it being what started sex in the first place - he goes a little extra. There might be some candles to help you both relax, bubbles, nice oils. But also taking care of each other, taking turns with hair, body and everything. Might also read to you in that deep soothing voice of his while you laze with you head on his chest.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Like every healthy man Veritas masturbates. It doesn’t happen often and now there is you, should he need to take the edge off, yet it is the fact. There was a period when you had a hate-tolerable relationship and you managed to drive him so insane with that smart mouth of yours that he felt both repulsed and attracted. And as his hand fisted his hard, leaking cock, he couldn’t push away the fantasies of putting his irritating lovely colleague in place.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Voice kink. Surprisingly, he has it, but only for the sound of your voice specifically. Since he is with you, obviously he mainly enjoys the things you have to say. Then comes the realization that he also enjoys the way you say them. And then, when sex finally becomes a part of your relationship, he can’t help but fuck you a bit harder whenever a particularly delicious moan escapes your parted lips. Plus it sends the blood to his dick whenever you praise him, gently combing your fingers through his hair and whispering into his ear how amazing he is.

Edging. Since this man is a little shit, and sex can be a result of your prior argument, he’d be torturing you with intense stimulation until he sees the telltale signs of your nearing orgasm and stops altogether just to rile you up more. When the tables are turned he performs colossal patience, lying through his greeted teeth that no, he is not annoyed you denied him relief, after all, it’d be unnecessary mess (meanwhile you with your stupid all-knowing smirk gaze at his twitching cock with an angry red tip).

Body worship. During the slower intimate moments Veritas can’t lie to himself that he doesn’t like the way your palms slide over his shoulders and arms, kneading tense muscles. That his breath doesn’t hitch when you kiss the side of his jaw and then trail pecks down his strong neck, and then lower. That his pride doesn’t stir when you have that look in your eyes as you are gazing at his body. Though he might ask tauntingly if your brain stopped working when you stay silent for too long. Won’t blush once you start worshiping him verbally too, but satisfaction will be obvious.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Home, it’s the most comfortable and logical place. Bed, bath, sofa, table - as long as it works, it’s alright. 

But it’s not uncommon to happen in his office at the Intelligentsia Guild. Luckily for both of you, Veritas happened to be very forward-thinking and the room is pretty much soundproof and can’t be unlocked that easily. But then again, not many people would be brave enough to bother him. Sure, it’ll leave you both breathless and messy, but Dr Ratio would grumble about it afterwards, while fixing himself. Right in the moment all his thoughts channel to just one thing - you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Concentration. I’m not joking - the look of utter concentration and dedication on your face is basically the equivalent of sexy for him. Also then you argue with him. Like a whole oral battle, defending your own opinion on the matter, providing him proofs that back up your point. It just all goes to the moment where the tension is so thick and your mutual stubbornness is making it impossible to bend the scales in either direction, that it becomes dire to resolve it through physical contact.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Won’t harm you. Well, putting some strain on your muscles in one of the positions, or smacking your ass/hip are alright, but nothing that involves heavily beating or cutting you.

Also nothing filthily messy. Like watersports.

Won’t share you with anyone. Yes, no one deserves someone like you, and no, he is not potentially jealous.

And please, for the sake of Nous, don’t call him Doctor or Sir while fucking. He deals with stupid students of his and other people on a daily basis and these titles are associated with very unpleasant encounters to him. He’d rather be called by his name or whatever sappy nickname you came up with for your lover.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Doesn’t have a preference, but would appreciate it if you were the one to take care of him. Would also love it slow, with your tongue lapping at the tip of his length, lips wrapping around the girth and thumb and index finger wrapping around the base, while the fingers of your free hand play with your pussy, stretching yourself for him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on what sparked the love-making. His thrust can be powerful, precise and deep. He doesn’t need to be fast to prove his point, he can drive you insane with the same stone-like resolve. You can cling and scratch at his back all you want, you can keep moaning and whining underneath or even on top of him - he knows it’ll be his way in any case.

When you are in charge, his response is slower and more sensual, even if it’s just a rhythmic clench of his fingers on your hip. If you are riding him he rarely complains about the pace you decide to proceed with, both leisurely drag of your walls up and down his cock and quick loud smacking of skin to skin have the same finale.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He wants to say he doesn't like them, because the consequences are messy, but… they do happen. He'd blame you for causing it, but, well, if he really didn't want this to happen, he would've put his foot down. Yet he willingly accepted and succumbed to it and now has to do something with his puffy lips and messy hair before his next class starts.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

In the beginning you both experimented to find the middle ground on what your intimate life is most favorable like, he probably has something akin to a list of what kind of sexual intercourse is most efficient for the exact situation in his head.

Quickies in his office are a risk, true, but the amount of precaution taken is amazing. After all, he’d never do anything that would ruin his or your image. Even if he could care less of what those surrounding him have to say, it’s such a headache to resolve the consequences of being caught getting freaky.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He has great stamina, but usually doesn’t go beyond 1, rarely 2 rounds. Why would he exert himself? Instead of additional “exercise” you could spend this time more productively.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Skeptical about them being used on him, but if you own or use any, he wouldn’t mind. After all, sometimes your schedules might not match and you are just one horny human. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Usually it’s not on purpose, he is just an annoying man and his attitude tend to slip into the bedroom, but sometimes it is his intentions to torture you, edging and denying you further pleasure to test your limits (and patience).

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not very loud. Satisfied sighs, rushed pants and breathy moans. Hums when you do something he particularly likes. Gets louder when he is relaxed and not the one doing all the work, but it also means there will be some Dr Ratio-style teasing remarks and attempts to hold a full ass conversation. You can always just shut him up with a kiss though.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Lone water drops fall from the tips of violet locks, hitting wide shoulders, strong chest and back and running in small trails down to disappear in the plush of the white towel, hanging on chiseled hips. Veritas’s body was truly sculpted by the higher powers, because no man can be this perfect and mouth-watering in image. 

When the man clears his throat, you realize that you are staring at the abs you love so much, with his sleeping pants he asked to pass still clenched in your hands. Your eyes meet his vibrant ones, and with the way his dark eyebrow arches it’s apparent that he’s expecting an explanation, and why would you deny him one?

“You are handsome,” shrugging your shoulders, you speak the truth, finally moving into his direction again. “And I love how enticing you look after a bath.”

“Is that so?” A low hum vibrates in his throat, his expression unchanging and eyes still boring into your frame when he gets a hold on his clothes. “Or are you just horny?”

“Maybe I am, maybe I am not,” you smile, finding the twitch of his lips so funny. “It’s not like you are going to find out. You’ve just taken a bath.”

“There is no harm in taking one more,” a hand is on your waist, fingers crumpling the fabric of your chemise. “But before even assuming that this conversation might take a turn, I would rather have this question answered by you properly. So… Are you horny?”

You think it’s unnecessary to ask again, given the fact that your hard nipples poke through the thin material and thighs are clenched together, and that shiver that ran down your spine when he grabbed you… But Veritas wouldn’t be himself, if he wasn’t like this.

“I am,” you admit, putting your palms onto his pectorals, groping them softly and biting back a laugh at how quickly the slither of repulse appeared and disappeared on his face. “And what are you going to do about it?”

“Should I do anything?” Yet he takes a step back, using the hand holding pants to push the door behind him open; the other hand still laying on your waist makes you take a step too. “It’s not my fault you can’t control your urges.”

“Isn’t it though? It’s you who are making me all hot and bothered,” this time you take the first step forward and he is the one to follow until you both are in the bathroom. “Don’t you think that taking responsibility is the right thing you should do? Come on, love…” your smile turns teasing and voice acquires that taunting lilt that rarely fails to excite him. “Admit you want it too.”

Your lover remains silent, though the pants are tossed onto the vanity and the second hand joins its twin on your waist. He leans down and you catch the dearly familiar scent of his body wash and shampoo, before his head dips and your lips are claimed by his. To shut you up, of course.

Not a minute later your nightwear ends up on the vanity too, soon followed by his towel and your panties.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Around 6.2 inches when erect, quite thick with a nice vein running on the left side, curves to the left a little. Looks as good as the rest of the man.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Isn’t really high, can easily go a couple of weeks without it as long as there is at least some physical contact with you (taking baths together, sitting on the sofa together with your legs thrown over his and his palm resting on your knee, as you both are nose deep in your books/laptops, gentle pat on his elbow when you sense his annoyance, fingers touching as you sleep, etc.)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Has his own ritual of reading a little before he ultimately goes to sleep. Can stay in one position for long, so he won’t mind if you fall asleep on his shoulder or chest while he is still awake.

If cuddling, he doesn’t have a preference between a big and a small spoon, he can do both. It really depends on the mood and doesn’t happen every night.

Oh, and by the way, it really isn’t uncommon for you to fall asleep on the respective sides of the bed with just your fingers touching in the middle or not having contact at all.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Scandals, Face Offs & Disappointments, Oh my!

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Oct 2024 Week 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) ep 6 of 12 - 3 tiny girls ragging on Jack was possibly the greatest opening sequence ever. Poor Jack. He is so not single anymore - so far as everyone around him is concerned. 

Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sun iQIYI) ep 5 of 15 - Sports day continues. We get a little backstory on the respective crushes on Noh. The jealousy between Phun & Earn is way more extreme in this version. I'm not mad about it. I love a claiming. Although it is so unfair of Phun to claim Noh when they agreed not to go there, AND he’s dating someone else. The byplay with Pete’s ex was fun. I wonder if we’re supposed to suss that Noh knows he’s gay in this version? 

I'm doing a face-off style watch along of this new version versus the original 2014-2015 version. Where I decide with each new ep which one wins. I will render a final judgement at the end. Frankly, I'm warming to this show way more than I thought I would give my extreme affection for the original.

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 7 of 12 - Oh it’s so cute that he just wants to officially move in. And the necklace claiming thing was darling. Mini boyfriend era. Min being a kept baby girl was kinda fun. The family thing was too sweet. Oh noes my man has been strangled! Oh good he’s okay. Stupid breakup “for the plot” moment, they could have easily been separated by baddies, we didn’t need to go through this. 

Fourever You (Thai Thurs YT) ep 3 of 16 - I don’t care how cute he is or how longing those beautiful eyes, ghosting is a pretty big offense. Especially high school first love. I’m glad Ter is being difficult about it. Still the backstory is getting frustratingly confusing. It seems increasingly convoluted (full of girls) and I’m not sure what happened. So I’m not sure if I should be on Hill’s side or Ter’s. I’m beginning to feel manipulated and I don’t like it. I still like the show, but not as much as I did last week. I’m on a roller coaster here. 

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 11 of 12 - It remains odd, disjointed, but still modestly entertaining. Ozone using a well placed Phi for manipulation purposes made me happy. Random het wedding is random. 2 drunk horny sunshine babygurls was cute tho. 

Every You Every Me (Thai Mon Gaga) ep 2 of 10 - AKA Just one meet cute after another. Nice queer rep this time. It’s lovely, just not my style BL. 

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 10 fin - Okay so last week half the ep was eng subbed and this week only 3/4. Whatever. Please note my extreme annoyance with everything about this show will color my rating. As it should. Ready for a mini rant?

Conclusion

What to say about this damn show? It wasn’t what I wanted and I didn’t like it. I’m disappointed in myself for having expectations and in it for not living up to them. It starred August for fucks sake! How could they fuck it up so bad? I wanted it to be a Thai reinterpretation of the brilliance that was Addicted giving us the ending that we never got to have but the narrative deserved. I got a resounding nope. The side couple was messed with, rearranged, and then entirely dropped and forgotten. The main romance was weirdly obsessive without any physical payout or emotional resolution, as if this remake were the censored Chinese version. All characters acted irrationally most of the time, and from what I could tell there was no logic to the ending, which seemed to be to minors escaping to a beach, abandoning their schooling, families, and respective futures. It was a hot mess. Without being hot. 4/10 fatally flawed, do not bother

Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) ep 5 of 10 - it's bad. I don't like it.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo (Korea Thurs Gaga) eps 1-2 of 8 - High school student Do Hoe lives with his violent and brutal father who runs a Taekwondo gym in a rural area. Then cheerful Ju Young arrives who dreams of going to college for Taekwondo. Joy begins to fill Do Hoe's dark life. An unexpected incident forces them apart, they reunite over a decade years later.

Make no mistake this one is dark. And Korea can go many directions when it leans dark. So I’m not entirely sure what to expect. All the triggers: child abuse, corporal punishment, alcoholism, gambling, and a few other things. But also a fantastically awkward kiss. Oh this is VERY good. I’m enjoying it. Tumblr is officially losing its tiny mind about it. What can I say? This hellhole loves it some gritty dark angst with high romance and deep meaning. All hail the return of Queen Hwang Da Seul. 

My Damn Business (Korea Sat YT) eps 3 of 7 - He kinda is the worst boss ever. Now he’s turned into a drinking buddy whether baby likes it or not. I really feel for this kid. I do want more backstory on both of them. Why are they the way they are? All that said….. phenomenal kiss. Thanks boys. 

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 4 of ? - I do like the brothers relationship. Even though we know it’s gonna become romantic, it’s nice to see them all teasing and friendly. Meanwhile I’m getting a little exhausted by the bullying and I’m very much ready for the revenge narrative to continue.

Although I understand we have more of a spiral first, could we get on to some actual kissing soon? 

I'm shallow I just wanna see BV kiss the next boy. It's the BL world's version of Pokemon.

Our Golden Times (Hong Kong YT) 6 fin - Okay so this was the last ep! 

Summary

This was an odd disjointed little piece, but the most BL BL we’ve ever seen out of Hong Kong. The optics are good and it’s enjoyable for what it is, which is a circumspect, badly subbed, and slightly odd yet earnest reunion romance. I liked it more for what it could be, and for what it represented, than for what it actually was, but I still liked it.

7/10 recommended with reservations

I would like to nominate Our Golden Times @bengiyo as a candidate for the next "Girl you tried." Because it really did try hard to be the best little BL it could be under the circumstances.

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) ep 11 of 12 - I do like all the couples, and in classic Taiwan style we’re ending ultra sappy (when they don’t fuck it up, and I don’t think this one will). Mei is the secret power behind the throne - as we all knew - love this for her, and us. 

Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 5 of 10 eps - I'm falling beind because my subber is, but sort-of trying to keep up. I don’t know. Just Japan messing with us, I guess.

Eccentric Romance (Korea Weds Viki) eps 3-4 of 12 - It’s oddly erotic with all the gym stuff but also awkward and weird with the jelly plus suspicion. (Hi GeonU, another Thai/Korea BL for you? Is it a thing for you now? Could you recruit Jimin to the cause? I mean you go him into a reality competition. BL is right there. Waiting. Pretty please with a shirtless hottie on top?) Anygay, I keep thinking that this show would actually be better if the Thai character were just a Korean character and this was just a regular KBL. Although, it probably still wouldn’t be very good.

It's airing but...

The Hidden Moon (Sat WeTV) 10 eps - This is a supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger). A man is hired to write an article about an old mansion in Chiang Mai being converted into a café. He sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, falls in love with one of them. Was substantially recast. I loved IFYLITA except the ending so I think I'll let this one run it's course you can tell me if it's work tracking down... if they managed to land it. I have my doubts.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Still Coming:

10/21 Love in the Big City (Korea Mon Viki) ep 1 of - Okay, this is both a movie (already out) and a series. Neither one is likely BL and I can't imagine it will end happily. Here's your synopsis:

Cynical fun loving student Young pinballs from home, to class, to on night stands. He and Jaehee, his female besie and roommate, frequent nearby bars where they push away their worries about life, love, and money with soju and hookups.

Apparently this is causing a homophobic ruckus in SK right now. As is wont to happen when one puts a really big name in the gay lead and your country is, well, pretty damn homophobic. Brokeback mukbang anyone? (Oh yes I am aware I'm a turd, but I'm too old for this crap. I guess that makes me a coprolite.)

10/23 See Your Love (Taiwan Weds Gaga Viki et al) 10 eps? - Zi Xiong, a third-generation heir, attempting to flee from taking over their family business, meets and falls in love with Shao Peng, who works as a hearing-impaired nurse. From the same production house as Kiseki Dear To Me in partnership with Shinehouse Theatre, funded by Taiwan’s BIGART + Japan's Rakuten (Viki). Show includes Lin Chia Yo (Be Loved in House: I Do). Director Chiang Ping Chen’s childhood experiences with his deaf uncle have inspired the drama.

10/27 Perfect 10 Liners (Thai Sun YouTube?) 24 eps! - New directing yet another university BL with engineers + their mentees. Based on a Jittirain novel. with a massive cast and massive run time. We will be watching this until APRIL of 2025!

ForceBook playing the same old characters = enemies to lovers tsunder/sunshine jock/nerd thing.

PerthChimonSanta are doing the cohabitation cool guy/dork trope.

JuniorMark are doing popular sunshine meets lonely sad boy (the only interesting pair IMHO).

Not sure if these will be interwoven (We Are style) or shorter stand alone runs-within-the-run of 8 eps each (Y-Destiny style).

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

You just kissed his brains out, what do you think? (Eh, we all know the aniyo is coming. This uke is made of tsudere and 아니요 ) (Damn Business)

I know, it's not a good show, but just LOOK at his face.

And the uke drunken shenanigans was brilliant. Loved it. (Battle Writers)

I did LOVE the twist on Golf. (Love Sick 2024)

Joke coming for our hearts just like...... it's TOO MUCH. War is SO DAMN GOOD. (J&J)

Calling out the trope HDS?

Gah. So awkward.

(Both from LFTCOT)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many at-ings.

[acapelladitty]

`♡° kinktober 2024! ---

☆ kink: boot humping

☆ pairing: arkham riddler/female reader

☆ summary: After breaking his rules, Edward makes the decision to punish you with something new.

kinktober '24 ☆ main masterlist ☆ ao3

His back reclining hard against the padded chair which often housed him as he surveyed the countless monitors which hung across his main workstation, Edward barely spared a glance down at your desperate eyes as he maintained his focus on his cameras.

“I can feel you looking at me, my dear. If you hadn’t made the fools choice to touch that which belonged to me then maybe I would be more than happy to take time away from my important work to give you what you need.”

Memories of that morning flash through your mind. You had woken up horny as hell and, without thinking, had immediately delved your hand between your legs to work out some of that tension. It hadn’t taken long to get you to the edge, your approaching release making your breath come in short pants as your legs tensed, but the sensation of Edward’s hand locking around your wrist and pulling it away – just as you reached your peak – had resulted in a cruel ruin which had your hips humping at the bare air as he used his body to keep you from any further pleasure.

His disappointment had been clear and the weight of the shame, of letting him down with your own greediness, had made you compliant when he suggested an appropriate punishment for such a disrespectful choice. You only had yourself to blame, verbally signing away your right to come as part of the lifestyle you had chosen to share with Edward – the loss of control giving you both something which fulfilled a need.

“So,” Edward continued as he refused to look down at your submissive positioning, “rather than the pleasures which I could be giving you, I will graciously allow you to keep stewing in your own idiocy as you hump yourself against my boot like the empty-headed harlot you are.”

And it was the truth.

A hard truth which makes your fingers claw around the back of his oil-stained pants as you maintain a steady balance on the rug which he had carelessly thrown down at his feet to allow you to kneel on.

Legs spread almost painfully wide as your heels touched your bare ass, this position was the only way to allow your cunt to spread across the tip of his thick leather boots. Boots which has chosen specially for this task as the top of the boot was edged with a slight ridge – the leather hard and unforgiving against your much softer skin.

His boot was already soaked, drenched in your arousal as you struggle to push yourself beyond anything more than a hard tease; every frantic hump of your groin only just allowing your clit to graze the smooth expanse of his boot with a maddening almost-pressure that was determined to drive you insane or force your body to collapse from exhaustion – whichever won out first.

Edward, as always, had a lot to say about your predicament.

“Was it worth it, dear? Burying those naughty fingers in that needy hole instead of waiting for permission? Are you so pathetic that you can’t help yourself? Turning that brain of yours to mush just for a little stolen pleasure is very disappointing.”

Whimpering, you roll your cunt across his boot and clench around nothing as your hole remains unfilled and aching for more.

“Maybe I treat you too well? A bitch in heat who touches my cunt without permission may be in need of further discipline. A belt perhaps? Something to keep those brainless fingers from the temptation?” Edward hummed out his considerations, absent-mindedly tilting his foot un slightly to give you better purchase against it – the action too innocent to be a mistake as he continues to talk you through his thought process.

“Yes, a belt. And then you would be responsible for earning your way out of it by showing me just how well you can take instruction. Any rare moments of brilliance from that empty, cock-hungry brain could earn you a hard edge – maybe even a ruin if I’m feeling generous enough.”

You wrap your arm around his leg, pulling your upper body flush against his pants as you bury your moan in the fabric of his knee – his casual discussion of stripping you of all pleasures making your cunt drip. Everything burns. From the heat of your skin and the clothing which clings to your upper half, to the ache in your cunt as the continuous rub is beginning to make the skin feel raw and puffy.

You gasp as his hand wraps around your hair, tugging your attention high as your dulled gaze settles on his lined features – his eyes piercing as his goggles push back his hair from his forehead. A smudge of oil stains the corner of his lip and you imagine yourself licking it off while sitting in his lap, his cock buried deep within your cunt as he fuc-

“Ouch!” You cry as he once again tugs at your hair, no doubt working out where your thoughts were drifting and you focus on keeping your cunt grinding against his boot as he continues to degrade you.

“Maybe I should add something nasty to my boot to help that addled brain focus on its simple task? Perhaps some hot sauce or toothpaste, something to really see you squirm and feel sorry for touching what’s mine.”

“Sir, please, no! Not that,” you babble out as your hips move even faster in a show of doing your absolute best. Your cunt, already so sensitive and on edge, couldn’t handle the added stimulation – especially when the hellish burn only served to hurt and take away some of the pleasure. “I’ll be good- I’ll be a good girl for you.”

“Hmm,” considering the words, Edward rubs at his chin with two fingers, “well, in that case, to thank me for being so lenient and willing you waste my time to teach you to be better, I think I’ll bury my cock in that talented throat and have you show your appreciation for such mercy.”

Mouth instantly dry at the thought of getting to suck him off, your enthusiasm nods earns you a slight chuckle of approval as his grime-ridden hands slowly shift to start unzipping his fly.

[rynwritesreid]

Mind Games~Spencer Reid

Chapter one~Genius 2.O

Chapter summary: You have just graduated from the FBI’s academy and a new member of the BAU’s team. Throughout your time at the academy you had heard so many great stories about the legendary Dr Reid and couldn’t wait to work along side him. However, Dr Reid is not your biggest fan and doesn’t know how to cope with someone being smarter than him.

Chapter warnings: Mention of a case (no details though) Fem! Reader. Angst. Spencer is mean in this and hates reader (though that will change in chapter four).

A/N: This series was requested, and it’s probably going to be the only time I do a requested series “A series where reader works at bau and she's as smart if not smarter then Reid and somehow you pick they end up in a relationship with dom Spencer”. I hope everyone enjoys it, and yes there will be smut in the near future ;).

~mind games masterlist~

~Join the taglist for mind games~

While you were in the academy, you heard all the stories about the genius who worked in BAU called Dr Spencer Reid. He is a man of such high intelligence, with three PH. Ds, an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory, one who was well known to show of how smart he is and one who did not easily back down. He is the stuff if legends.

 

You, well you, are also the stuff of legends. You didn’t believe in telling people your IQ score, because you didn’t think it really mattered, but it was high, higher than Spencer’s. You had a photographic memory, which many people often compared to Spencer’s one, but you would have to tell them the difference between an eidetic memory and a photographic memory.

 

You watched all your peers around you talk about what division of the FBI they were applying for, many were going for counterterrorism and financial crimes, but you had your eyes on the BAU. You knew all about how it was a close nit family, how Hotch and Rossi were like fathers to the entire group. You wanted nothing more than to be a part of that team, that family.

 

And so, with a determination fuelled by your own exceptional intellect and a burning desire to join the ranks of the BAU, you set out on a path that would lead you down a road less travelled. While your peers were focusing on their chosen divisions, you dedicated every waking moment to studying the minds of criminals, honing your profiling skills, and pushing the limits of your own mental faculties.

 

Your name was everywhere with in bureau, you were being called the newest genius, one who was going to make a name for herself, and one who was going to take the FBI by storm.

 

Unit Chief Agent Hotchner had heard whispers of your brilliance echoing through the halls of the FBI. He had seen your name pop up on his colleagues' reports, accompanied by glowing praise and commendations. Curiosity piqued, he decided to dig a little deeper, intrigued by the prospect of a new prodigy joining their ranks.

 

Hotchner delved into your background, poring over your academic achievements and accolades. He was astounded by the breadth of your knowledge and the depth of your understanding in various fields. Your impressive IQ score and photographic memory only added to his intrigue. It became clear to him that you possessed a unique blend of intellect and intuition that would be an invaluable asset to the BAU.

 

He knew he had to have you in the BAU, he knew that you, Reid, and Garcia would be an unstoppable force. So, when he saw your application to join his team, he knew you were going to get the job.

 

So, when you got the call, telling you your application had been successful, you couldn’t quite believe that you had landed your dream job.

 *

It was your first day, Hotch was showing you around, who’s desk belong to who, where your desk was. It felt surreal, being in this building, been employed by the FBI, knowing you were going to be working alongside Dr Spencer Reid. 

As Hotch led you through the bustling bullpen, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling within you. The stories you had heard about Dr. Spencer Reid made him almost mythical in your mind, and now you were about to meet him in person.

Finally, Hotch stopped in front of a neatly organized desk and gestured for you to take a seat. "This will be your workspace," he said, his voice steady and commanding. "Make yourself at home."

You settled into the chair, taking a moment to soak in the atmosphere of the room. Each member of the team had their own unique personality reflected in their workspace. Penelope Garcia's desk was adorned with colourful trinkets and gadgets, her vibrant energy apparent even in her absence. 

Spencer’s desk though, it was almost bare, there were a few files and books, but nothing fun, nothing that showed what his personality was like. You couldn't help but be intrigued by the stark contrast between Spencer's desk and the others. It seemed to reflect his focused and analytical nature, an embodiment of his dedication to the work they did at the BAU. As you settled into your chair, your eyes wandered over the shelves filled with books on various subjects - psychology, criminology, philosophy. Each book seemed well-loved and well-worn, evidence of Spencer's insatiable thirst for knowledge.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice that someone had entered the bullpen until Hotch's voice broke through the silence. "Spencer, I'd like you to meet our newest addition," he said, gesturing toward you. 

You stood up, you almost felt star struck, but Spencer didn’t seem to care. He glanced at you with his piercing gaze, his eyes scanning your face as if studying every detail. There was an intensity in his expression that sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but feel a mixture of apprehension and fascination in his presence.

"Hello," you managed to say, your voice filled with a nervous tremor. "It's an honour to meet you, Dr. Reid."

Spencer nodded, a slight tilt of the head that conveyed acknowledgement rather than warmth. "Likewise," he replied curtly, his attention already shifting back to the stack of files in his hands.

You couldn't help but feel a slight pang of disappointment at Spencer's aloofness. You had built up this image in your mind of the legendary Dr. Reid, someone who would be eager to share knowledge and engage in stimulating conversations. But here he was, seemingly indifferent to your presence.

Everyone else seemed to love you though, Derek had made a few flirtatious comments, Emily, JJ, and Garcia had invited you to go grab some drinks with them, Hotch and Rossi had told you good coping mechanisms, but Spencer seemed to be annoyed any time you spoke, or laughed, or really did anything. Everyone told you that’s just how he is when he doesn’t know you, but it still hurt.

You were determined to prove yourself to Spencer, to earn his respect and break through the cold exterior he seemed to present. You knew that gaining his trust and acceptance would not come easily, but you were ready to put in the effort.

*

Though the days turned into weeks and then into months, Spencer's demeanour towards you remained unchanged. He continued to keep his distance, always engrossed in his work, rarely acknowledging your presence unless absolutely necessary. It hurt, but you refused to let it deter you from your goal.

You poured yourself into each case, determined to prove your worth to the team. You spent countless hours analysing crime scenes, studying victimology, and delving deep into the minds of the perpetrators. Your keen intuition and sharp analytical skills began catching the attention of your colleagues.

You thought this might change Spencer’s mind about you, but it seemed to make him hate you. JJ had told that Spencer was used to being the smartest, everyone praising him, but you seemed to be smarter than him and that wasn’t something he was used too. But you couldn’t and you wouldn’t change who you are just to make someone feel better about themselves. 

But the tension between you and Spencer continued to simmer beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment. It was as if there was an unspoken competition, an invisible battle of intellects that neither of you were willing to back down from.

Despite the strained relationship, the BAU team continued to function like a well-oiled machine. Cases were solved, perpetrators were apprehended, and lives were saved. But there was always that lingering tension between you and Spencer, like an unresolved chord in an otherwise harmonious symphony.

One particularly gruelling case tested the limits of everyone's mental and emotional resilience. The team had been chasing a prolific serial killer who seemed to always be one step ahead. Sleepless nights and relentless hours of research had taken a toll on everyone, yourself included.

You were at your breaking point, not knowing why you couldn’t solve this case, and Spencer’s attitude problem with you was the cherry on top of the cake. You knew you had to say something to him, because you knew you couldn’t carry on like this.

Taking a deep breath, you approached Spencer's desk after everyone else had left for the night. His eyes were glued to the computer screen, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere. This was your chance to address the tension that had been building between you.

"Spencer," you began, your voice firm but gentle. "We need to talk."

He glanced up at you, his expression guarded but curious. "What about?" he asked, his tone tinged with a hint of scepticism.

“You have an issue with me, and I know you are used to being the smartest person in any room you walk in to, everyone looking up to you as a God. But maybe you should get use to someone been on the same level as you”. 

Spencer's eyebrows furrowed, a mix of surprise and irritation crossing his features. "I don't have an issue with you," he retorted, his voice laced with defensiveness.

You took a step closer, determined to make him see the truth. "You do, Spencer. Ever since I joined the team, you've treated me like an annoyance, like I'm intruding on your territory. But I'm not here to compete with you or undermine your intelligence. I'm here to work together, to bring justice to those who deserve it."

“God, you think you’re better than everyone else don’t you, Y/N. You’re not, you act like everyone should worship the ground you walk on. I bet you were top of your class in the academy, got straight A’s all throughout your school life, but that doesn’t matter now. You are not as clever as you think you are.”

Spencer's words cut deep, slicing through the tension between you with a sharpness that left you momentarily speechless.

“That’s what you think about me? You think I believe I am better than everyone, but I don’t. But I know you do, your outbursts are common knowledge Spencer, or that fact you love to rub it everyone’s faces that you have a doctorate.” You basically shouted this at him.

Spencer's steely gaze locked onto yours, his face a mask of disbelief mixed with anger. "You don't know anything about me," he snapped, his voice dripping with venom.

You felt tears starting to form in your eyes, you knew you couldn’t be around him any longer tonight. Turning on your heel, you made a swift exit from the bullpen, unable to bear the weight of the confrontation any longer. The familiar corridors of the BAU headquarters blurred as tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. You couldn't help but feel a sense of defeat, the weight of Spencer's words heavy on your shoulders.

As you found solace in a quiet corner of the building, your tears streamed down your face, mingling with the frustration, and hurt that consumed you. The confrontation with Spencer had left you feeling vulnerable and doubting your place on the team. It was hard to fathom how someone you once idolized could turn out to be so cold and dismissive.

There was a small part of you that wished you had never applied for this job, or you had been rejected. You didn’t want to quit, you wanted to prove Spencer wrong, but you knew you couldn’t do that with the state you are in. But this wasn’t over, and you would do everything you could to solve this case, and make Spencer like you, or at least be kinder to you.

~Taglist~

@bitchassbecky691 @iluvreid @drspencerreidsthings @amatheuni@i-heart-mgg @Liidiaaag@wyntersstuff@brilliantreid @donttrustlove@btsiguess-kpop @bellesmith628 @lunaticgurly @Oureternalbond@somethingsmart123

[radiantvader]

Pairing : Anakin Skywalker x Jedi Master!Fem Reader

Warnings : 18+ (MINORS DNI) !! | Slight Enemies to Lovers | Dirty Talk | Unprotected Sex (wrap it before you tap it babes) | Degradation Kink | Slight Choking | Dom!Anakin | Sub!Reader | Let me know if I missed something :)

Word Count : 2.3k

Summary : In which you and Anakin are on a mission to sneak onto General Grievous' ship and capture him. Your constant banter and teasing throughout the mission frustrates Anakin, and in the end, he finds a way to let out all of his pent-up anger and frustration.

The starfighter hummed with anticipation as you and Anakin soared through the vastness of space, lightspeed blurring the stars into streaks of light, en route to General Grievous' ominous flagship. Inside the cockpit, the hum of the engines was accompanied by the low murmur of Anakin and Obi Wan discussing details about the mission. Anakin shot you a sideways glance, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.  

“So, Master" he began, the title dripping with irony, eyes fixed on the star maps. "Any brilliant ideas on how we're going to sneak onto Grievous' ship?" you smirked while leaning back, studying the holographic blueprints you had received. "Well, Master Skywalker, it seems we have a spy to thank for these detailed plans. You see that hanger over there?" Anakin scowled at the use of the title 'Master' but kept his mouth shut, trying to avoid conflict. You reactivated the holographic blueprints and showed them to him, a smirk etched onto your face. He nodded, eyes burning with impatience and anger. 

"That hanger is our way in. This is General Grievous we're talking about, so we already know that every square inch of this ship is going to be on lock. 20 droids guarding every access point are signal rotated. So once they're on the move, we only have 35 seconds until the next round of 20 droids replace them, we need to be quick. The eyes and ears are in a security room in the west hall, there are 97 motion-sensitive 8K cameras with an overlapping field of vision so there are no natural blind spots. They are always watching, always listening, blasters ready to fire. Getting through the corridors and reaching the command center is going to be easy. Now, here's where things get a little tricky, the doors to the command center have been improved, they're military-grade biometric portals made of a foot and a half of solid titanium. So we can't blow them up, we'll need to use the heat of our lightsabers to melt a hole big enough for us to go through, which might take time considering the thickness of the doors. So while I do that, I need you to cover me from the droids. Once we get into the command center, General Grievous will already be alerted to our presence and will probably have called for backup. So, the moment we enter the command center, we need to drop a smoke bomb, use the force to sense the droids, take 'em down, and then capture Grievous before the smoke clears." You explained the plan and relished Anakin's perplexed face. 

"What? Not used to having a good plan? It must be an honor to be in the company of a highly intelligent Jedi with a higher rank. Perhaps some of my brilliance will rub off on you." Anakin's perplexed face dropped and his scowl deepened, his annoyance palpable. "Brilliance, huh? We'll see about that." You smirked as Anakin sassily rolled his eyes.

As you approached Grievous' ship, you used the Force to mask your presence from the patrolling droid fighters. Anakin expertly piloted the starfighter, dodging and weaving through the asteroid field that surrounded Grievous' vessel and you couldn't help but admit that despite his impulsiveness, he was a formidable pilot. "Nice flying, Skywalker" you complimented, a hint of genuine admiration in your voice. "Save the praising for after we're inside" Anakin quipped. You rolled your eyes, about to retort, but quickly shut your mouth as you approached the hangar bay. Your starfighter hovered in front of the hanger; you were waiting for the perfect moment to go in. The moment the battle droids were switching posts, you and Anakin slipped into Grievous' hangar undetected. And as the ship's bay doors closed behind your starfighter, you both breathed a momentary sigh of relief. 

Stepping out of the starfighter, you and Anakin moved through the dimly lit corridors of Grievous' ship, lightsabers ignited and senses heightened. The air was heavy with tension as you encountered patrols of battle droids. You deflected oncoming blaster shots, not hesitating to take jabs at Anakin. "Careful Skywalker, wouldn't want you tripping over your own bravado." you quipped, voice laced with sarcasm. He shot you an irritated look, "I've handled tougher situations than this." Anakin muttered, deflecting blaster bolts effortlessly. "Of course you have, Chosen One" you snorted, swiftly dispatching a pair of droids with calculated strikes. His jaw clenched, but you caught a glimpse of a smirk he couldn't suppress. Your banter echoed through the metal corridors as you navigated through the labyrinthine ship. The occasional sparks of your lightsabers illuminated the path, creating an otherworldly dance of light and shadow.

As you both neared the command center, the droid resistance intensified. Waves of battle droids surged forward, blasters firing in unison. You and Anakin moved with synchronized precision, your contrasting styles weaving together seamlessly. But when you both reached the command center doors, you quickly got to work. You thrust your lightsaber into the titanium doors and hummed, pleased when the lightsaber melted through the titanium quicker than expected. You drew a decently sized circle with your lightsaber and with a powerful kick, a large circular piece of the titanium doors fell onto the floor, the command center coming into your view. Grievous, who was alerted to your presence, awaited both you and Anakin with his spinning lightsabers, surprisingly with no reinforcements. 

The battle with Grievous unfolded like a chaotic dance, Anakin's acrobatic moves clashed with Grievous' relentless onslaught. Meanwhile, you circled around Grievous, strategically analyzing his patterns, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. "Now!" Anakin shouted, distracting Grievous for a split second. Seizing the opportunity, you lunged forward, lightsaber slashing through the air and delivering a powerful strike that sent Grievous reeling. With a few swift moves, Anakin cut off Grievous' mechanic arms and legs. 

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Returning to the Jedi Temple, you both faced the Council. Yoda and Obi-Wan listened intently as you recounted the details of the mission. Yoda's wise eyes bore into yours, assessing not just your words but the unspoken dynamics between you and Anakin. "Hmm, impressive, your teamwork is," Yoda noted, a twinkle in his eyes. "Learn from each other, you must." he continued, and Obi Wan, ever the diplomatic voice, added "Your cooperation has proven fruitful. May the Force continue to guide you both." When the debriefing concluded, you and Anakin made your way back to your quarters in contemplative silence. However, the tension lingered. You leaned against a wall in the secluded hallway and crossed your arms, a teasing smirk etched onto your face.

"Hey Skywalker, do you ever wonder what it's like to be a true master?" He clenched his jaw, balling up his fists, knuckles turning white. "I've got enough on my plate without you constantly annoying me, shut the fuck up for once." He jeered at you, but you just stepped closer, voice dropping to a teasing whisper "Perhaps you're just afraid you'll never measure up."  

Anakin snapped. In an instant, he had you pressed against the wall, his eyes ablaze with fury and frustration. "Enough! I don't care about official titles, I will not allow you to talk to me like that. Learn your fucking place." He seethed, his hand wrapping around your throat painfully. Yet in the charged atmosphere of your conflict, a different kind of energy simmered, a potent blend of unresolved tension and the unspoken truth. And in an inexplicable twist of fate, your shared animosity acted as an irresistible force, leading to a momentary pause that culminated in an unexpected collision of your lips—a fierce, passionate kiss born from a volatile mix of anger and desire, leaving you breathless and conflicted. Like opposing magnets pulled by an invisible force, your bodies surged together.  

The kiss deepened and your breathing became ragged. As the hallway filled with your gasps and fervent whispers, you felt your resistance crumbling completely as Anakin's lips claimed yours with a hunger that mirrored your untamed passions. It was as if the world around you had vanished, leaving only the two of you entangled in the most primal of embraces. "You make me feel things I shouldn't..." you whispered, voice rough and hoarse. Anakin only responded by deepening the kiss, his lips and tongue exploring yours with a zealous intensity that left you breathless. Your bodies continued to strain against one another, their tempo growing more desperate with each passing second. Your breathing grew shallow, the only sounds in the empty hallway were the soft moans of pleasure and the frantic rustle of your clothing. Anakin, driven by an insatiable desire, reached out and grabbed your hips, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. As you continued to kiss passionately, Anakin unbuckled your belt and hurriedly undressed you, the sound of your lightsaber hitting the ground filled the hallway as Anakin tossed your attire aside with a harsh motion, his eyes never leaving yours. He was certain you could feel his heart beating rapidly. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt the cool air against your skin, the sensation heightening your desire for him, nipples hardening. You reached for the fastenings of Anakin's pants, your fingers deftly unbuckling and unzipping him with ease. His erection sprang free, standing rigid and throbbing before you. He groaned into your mouth, his own hands now exploring the areas of your body that his fingers had only briefly touched. He reached between your legs, his fingers brushing against the wetness that had begun to seep through your underwear.  

"Fuck" he whispered, his voice a hoarse growl, as he felt the evidence of your own arousal. You let out a soft moan as Anakin’s lips brushed against your neck, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. He grasped your underwear, sliding it down your legs, his gaze never leaving yours. As the fabric slipped away, exposing your wetness to the cool air, you felt a shiver of anticipation ripple through your body. Anakin's hands traced the curve of your hips, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs as he guided himself towards you. He felt your warmth, your wetness, and the knowledge that you were about to be one with each other sent a surge of desire coursing through him. With a deep, shuddering breath, Anakin positioned himself at the entrance to your core.  

He looked into your eyes, his own mirroring the raw intensity of your passion. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself, but right as he was about to slide in, he stopped, "Beg for it." You looked up at him with wide eyes, "What?" you asked perplexed. "I said beg for it." He smirked, toying with you. "C'mon Anakin, please... I need you..." you muttered, embarrassment seeping through your bones. "Oh come on, you and I both know that you can do better than that." He smiled mockingly, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance. Tears prickled the edges of your eyes as you looked up at him desperately, considering throwing your pride away for a moment. "Anakin please, I'm begging you. I need you so badly... It hurts..." your face flushed in embarrassment and Anakin let out a pleased hum, grinning wickedly. Then, with one swift, powerful thrust, he drove himself into you.  

You gasped, your eyes widening in amazement and pleasure as you felt the fullness of his size fill you, the stretch sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. "'s too big..." you whimpered when Anakin started thrusting, both pain and pleasure coursing through your veins, "Take it like a good girl and stop whining" Anakin grunted, his thrusts growing steadily more frenzied as the passion of the moment consumed you both. Your bodies moved in a symphony of ecstasy, each thrust a testament to your shared hunger and unspoken longing. Anakin thrust into you with vigor, your fingers dug into his back, the press of his hips against your clit causing you to moan softly with each stroke. Your own arousal grew, your inner walls tightening around him with every thrust, your body eager to take him deeper, to draw him in.  

His tip delightfully hit your cervix, causing you to throw your head back as a moan of pure ecstasy was ripped from your throat. Your hands travelled upwards and grabbed Anakin’s hair, tugging harshly, eliciting a groan from him. “Fucking slut.” He growled lowly while his movements sped up. Anakin gripped onto your hips, roughly pulling you closer to him with each thrust. “Look at you, not so talkative now, are you?” Anakin jeered with a coarse voice, but the only response he got back was a soft mewl. “Aw, did I fuck you dumb already?” He mocked you, enjoying the way your eyes rolled back into your head.  

Anakin's pace was relentless, he had a bruising grip on your hips, thrusting fast, deep, and hard into you. You could feel the pressure build in your lower belly and your walls clenched around Anakin. As his own climax approached, Anakin’s thrusts got sloppier, sweat dripping from his hair and forehead. But as he reached down to fiddle with your overly-sensitive clit, you broke. You clenched around him, letting out a sputtering moan as you came. The feeling of you squeezing around him, soaking him, was enough to send Anakin over the edge.

Heavy and ragged breaths came out of your mouths as Anakin slowly dropped you down from his arms and helped you get dressed. The silence that ensued wasn't awkward, it was tense. Both of you knowing how this could change everything. 

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A/N : Guys please don't expect my writing to be perfect, I'm not a professional writer, and It'll take time for me to learn and progress. Also btw the plan in the beginning was inspired by that one scene in the movie 'Red Notice'. It's a great film, you guys should definitely watch it! Anyway, I hope you guys liked this, if I made any mistakes or if you have any tips, please don't hesitate to let me know! <3