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mothhball · 10 months ago

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Beneath me

Pairing || professor!Jonathan Crane x student!Reader

Warnings || 18+ SMUT, NON-CON, DUB-CON, forced breeding, fingering, p in v sex, housewife kink(?), humiliation, dumbification, misogyny, unprotected sex, age gap (professor and student, everyone’s an adult), brief dacryphilia, condescending use of petnames, jon is a prick in this but gets better towards the end (if you squint hard enough)

Summary || The professor suspects you cheated on your exam, but you’re determined to prove him wrong.

Words || 3.7k

Notes || First ever fic and it’s smut because I love suffering. English isn’t my first language, so I hope everything makes sense. Please don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with anything mentioned in the warnings

Afternoon lectures. The bane of many students’ existence, yours included. You’d been on campus since 9 am, trying to catch up on homework and study material for the most dreaded class of the day. Abnormal Psychology, presented by none other than Professor Jonathan Crane. Crane with his smart suits and piercing eyes. Crane with his condescending remarks and off-handed insults. Crane with his ridiculously handsome face and –

“Are you even listening to me?” The man in question is now standing in front of you, staring you down with narrowed eyes as his lips pull down into a frown. Yes, right. It’s 5 pm now, almost the end of the lecture and time to get your exam results back. You shake yourself out of your stupor, glancing down at the paper he left on your desk. But instead of a grade, you only see a bold red question mark which takes up almost a fourth of the entire first page. Crane clears his throat impatiently, and his mood sours more and more the longer he has to stand next to your seat.

“I said, you will meet me in my office after class. Is that understood? And I’d suggest you get your head in order until then,” he hisses, icy blue eyes filled with disdain. Your heart sinks, and you can feel the blood leaving your face as you manage to nod rather stiffly.

“Of course… Professor Crane, “ you murmur in reply, and upon hearing that, the professor quickly resumes his round around the lecture hall, handing back grades to your fellow students. As the first people pack up their things and begin to file out of the room, you slowly pack up as well. Your hands are cold from anxiety as you zip up your bag and get up from your seat. Meeting Professor Crane in his office was the last thing you wanted to do right now. The plan was to go home, grab takeout on the way and curl up in bed with a movie starring this forty-something year old actor you have the hots for. But God forbit anyone in Gotham wants to have a nice time.

Soon enough, you find yourself in Crane’s office, taking the seat in front of his desk and folding your hands in your lap to keep from fidgeting. The professor runs a hand through his hair, looking you over with a skeptical glare before he straightens his posture and gets to the point.

“I’m disappointed, shocked and quite frankly, I feel personally insulted.”

Your brows furrow, but before you can speak, he pulls out two stacks of paper, smacking them down on the desk. You quickly recognize one stack as a copy of your exam, but as you look over at the other, it feels like someone froze time for a moment. It’s someone else’s exam, but they wrote down the same answers. Not word for word, but in a way and structure that’s quite obviously plagiarized. Squinting at the name, you remember the guy sitting next to you, and anger bubbles up inside of your chest.

“He cheated off of me,” you mutter, trying to stay calm.

“Brennan said the same thing. Funny how that works, huh? And in case it went over your head, I don’t find it funny at all. But I will have to fail one of you. The question is, which one will it be?”

He takes his glasses off, gingerly setting the spectacles aside before he pinches the bridge of his nose. A little dramatic, but very much expected from him.

“Look, I’m not saying you were the one cheating off of Brennan,” He starts, sounding exhausted and absent at the same time. Like this is all beneath him. Like your future in his class has as much importance as the piece of lint he’s picking off of his sweater vest. “But there’s no real proof that he cheated off of you either. It’s a case of ‘he said, she said’. And it’s not like Brennan had much reason to cheat. He has had consistently good grades, whereas you-“

“I’ll prove it, “ you interrupt him without thinking, clenching your hands so tightly that your nails dig into the skin of your palms. Crane looks visibly taken aback, perplexed that you have the gall to intercept before he could expose your rather mediocre academic history in his class. You know you’re average. A face in the crowd; one of many names on an attendance sheet he barely pays attention to.

“I’ll prove it to you,” you repeat, swallowing dryly. Your mouth suddenly feels like you ate sand, and you really want to clear your throat, but you’ve done so thrice within the past five minutes, and you can tell it’s starting to piss him off. “Give me a chance, please. Please, Professor Crane. I know the material, I swear.”

Crane’s eyes briefly dart down to your lips, and his eyebrows furrow in thought before he nods slowly, thoughtfully. He’s making a show of it. Portraying himself as the generous teacher while you’re desperate for even the smallest chance of passing this goddamn class.

“Alright,” He sighs, and the weight seems to lift off of your shoulders. A smile begins to spread on your face, and –

“Get out a pen. And paper. You’re going to write an essay.”

Eyebrows raised in confusion, you tilt your head a little. You almost feel stupid to ask.

“What, right now?”

“Of course, right now. At home, you’d get the chance to cheat again, wouldn’t you?”

Again. He’s still convinced you were the one to cheat on your exam. His tone is bitingly condescending and he doesn’t bother to elaborate further as he gets up from his chair to head over to the almost overflowing bookshelf next to his desk. You’re still sitting there, hands in your lap until he lets out an exasperated sigh, signaling for you to get a move on. Not wanting to incur even more of his wrath, you dig through your bag to get out a pen and some loose sheets of paper.

In the meantime, Crane has chosen a book from his shelf, and he’s wordlessly flipping through the pages until he lands on a fitting topic for an essay. He snaps the book shut and returns to his desk, fixing his tie as he nods to himself.

“Alright. I want 5 pages on fear conditioning. If you truly studied for the exam, this should be a piece of cake. If you didn’t, this will be an embarrassing little lecture you’re in dire need of learning.”

Your eyes widen, and you stammer for a moment, unable to find the words while staying respectful.

“That many? But it’s already –“

“Five-thirty pm? I hope you didn’t have any plans for tonight. And you should be grateful that I don’t have plans either. I’m staying late for your sake. Because you convinced me to give you a chance. I don’t have to do this, you know? I could just fail you and go home. So, I think a little gratitude would be more than appropriate.” There’s an odd expression in his eyes. Halfway between hunger and conflict. He’s usually so composed. You must really be testing his patience.

“Thank you, Prof –“ “Thank me by getting to it already.”

You nod meekly, grabbing the pen and beginning to jot down the date and your name in the corner of the first page. While you’re focused on the introduction part of your essay, you miss the way that Crane folds his hands on the desk, gripping so hard his knuckles turn white. His icy gaze is focused on every twitch of your muscles, every swoop of your handwriting, every time you softly bite your lips in thought. If only you’d look up. You’d see the way his jaw is set and his pupils expand. You’d realize the situation you’re in. A bunny with its neck in the jaws of the wolf.

You’re about two thirds done with the first page when he wheels his chair around the desk, closer to yours. Once his arm brushes against you, you pause to lift your gaze, looking at him with equal parts confusion and curiosity.

“Uhm… professor? What are you doing?”

“Checking on your progress,” Is his curt reply, but he leans in even closer, staring down at your half-baked essay. “Eyes on the paper.”

You comply, getting back to writing after a short second of sorting your thoughts. It’s more difficult to write with him basically breathing down your neck, and your heart skips a beat when he scoots even closer. Despite this, you keep on writing. Until his hand lands on your thigh.

You tense, looking up at him. Your lips part, and you’re about to say something before he speaks first.

“Eyes. On. The. Paper. We’re going to simulate a stressful, distracting environment. Not unlike a lecture hall during an exam. If you can keep your cool, I’ll know you didn’t cheat.”

You bite your lip, hesitating.

“Or I could fail you right now, and you’ll prove me and my suspicions right.”

Back to writing it is. Your hand is a little shakier during the next few sentences while the warmth of his fingers seeps through the fabric of your skirt into your skin. But you get back into the motions, almost able to ignore him until his hand flexes and begins to wander. A shiver runs down your spine as his touch slips underneath your skirt, feeling the soft flesh on the inside of your thigh.

“That’s it. Keep writing. Try to show me how smart you are.”

Crane’s voice is a snide whisper right next to your ear. His breath sends a shiver down your spine, but you keep your focus on the essay. Well, at least some of it. Once his fingers brush over the crotch of your panties, your breath hitches as heat builds in your core. But you can’t even get a word in.

“Run your mouth and your final grade drops to an F. You’re on my time now, understood? Not a fucking word to anyone or else a failed class will be the least of your worries.”

You’ve never heard him curse before. The man sitting beside you, the man with his hand under your skirt isn’t the professor you’ve known throughout the semester. No, at this point, the mask is slipping and the difference is startling. Crane pushes your skirt up with one hand and your legs apart with the other, letting out a low, appreciative hum at the sight of your wet panties.

“Fuck. You’re soaking through the lace, aren’t you? I didn’t even touch you yet… Are you always this easy? Almost adorable… Keep writing for me.”

His words make your ears burn with embarrassment, and you bite down on the inside of your cheek as you get back to your essay. It’s getting harder to think. Especially once his fingers slip underneath your panties, running between your glistening folds. Crane quickly finds your clit, rubbing circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves for a deliciously brief moment before he moves his hand further down to your entrance.

“Now you’re being grateful, hm? Is this what you were thinking about while everyone else was making an effort during my lectures? While everyone else was busy doing their work… you were getting worked up in your seat thinking about me. Thinking about me playing with your little cunt.”

The corners of his lips pull up into a self-satisfied grin as he plunges a finger inside of you, and you can’t help but let out a soft sigh of pleasure. You’re so wet that he’s not meeting any resistance from your sweet pussy, so he quickly adds a second one. The slick noises are obscene, and you duck your head in an attempt to hide your flushed face and focus on the essay, but it’s futile. You’re writing complete and utter nonsense at this point, and he knows it. Crane scoots his chair even closer, pressing up against your side as he works his fingers inside of you, caressing that spongy spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. As he looks over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of your writing, he scoffs out a laugh.

“Goodness, sweetie. That’s what your pretty little head managed to come up with so far? All this talk about wanting to prove yourself, and you deliver this? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more pathetic attempt at an essay in all my years of teaching.”

Tears well up in your eyes at the harshness of his words, and the sight of it makes Crane’s cock harden in his slacks. He licks his lips, curling his fingers inside of you with a little more urgency as he leans in to whisper into the crook of your neck.

“Let out those noises. I guarantee they’re worth more than every brainless contribution you’ve ever made in my class.”

It’s an order, not a request, and you find yourself unable to keep quiet anymore as his thumb comes up to rub your clit again. Your wetness is starting to drip down onto the seat below you while you let out a breathy moan, and you begin to doubt yourself. Maybe you really are as empty-headed as he says. To your dismay, this thought only causes the tension in your core to build up even faster.

“There we go. Close to cumming from being fingered by your professor. You’re so needy, so eager for the slightest bit of attention. A toy that needs to be played with 24/7. Aren’t you ashamed?”

You let out another moan of pleasure and humiliation, clenching around his digits as he stretches you open. When did you forget how to speak?

“Trying to play in the big leagues while you’re just a dumb little fuckpet for my enjoyment,” he hisses, before he sinks his teeth into your earlobe, causing you to squeak. It hurts. But that’s the point. You’re so close to the edge, toes curling inside of your shoes. And then suddenly, he withdraws his hand. You catch a glimpse of his glistening fingers, and you turn your head just in time to watch him lick your juices off of them. He lets out a groan, satisfied by your taste.

“Get up. Hands on the desk.”

You scramble to get up, standing on wobbly legs as you bend over Crane’s desk. The professor wastes no time, grabbing onto your sopping wet panties and ripping them off of you. The fabric shreds beneath his hands, leaving your skin stinging where it cut slightly into the soft flesh of your thighs. Your skirt is flipped up, exposing your rear to him, and he moans out another sound of appreciation. His hands come up to grab onto the meat of your ass, spreading them apart to allow him a perfect view of your dripping cunt.

“Lord knows you’re not made for higher education.”

Crane leans in, licking a stripe up between your folds, and you bite down on a knuckle to keep in the pathetic moan that hangs on your lips. Your body is desperately begging you to just let him take what he wants from you, but your mind clings onto the last shred of dignity you have. When the sound of his belt being undone tears you from your thoughts, you turn your head, looking at him from over your shoulder.

“Wait –“ You start, suddenly struck by the reality of it all.

Crane chuckles at the expression of wide-eyed apprehension on your face.

“You’re not braindead already, are you? What did you think was going to be the logical conclusion of this? Of course, I’m going to bury my dick in you. Fuck, if you were this tight around my fingers, I can’t wait to feel you squeezing my cock….”

“No, I –“

“Shh, no need to worry. Judging by your essay, you don’t have the mental capacity anyway.”

Crane roughly grabs a fistful of your hair, pushing your head down until your cheek meets the wooden surface of his desk while he hurriedly unzips his slacks. He’s painfully hard at this point, straining against the fabric of his boxers, and he lets out a relieved hiss once he’s finally freed himself. He leans over you, pressing his weight into your back and aligning himself with your tight hole before he pushes his hips forward. You’re immobilized under him, squished against the desk as he fills you with his length. Crane’s lips find your pulse, licking and nibbling at your neck as he bottoms out inside of you, shuddering from the sensation of your plush walls around his cock.

“Good girl… you’re so wet. All for me, huh? Yes… just for me.” He moans through his teeth, leaning back a little to watch as your pussy stretches around him when he begins to slowly thrust into you. You let out a soft whine in response, not quite adjusted to him yet. But if you know anything about him at this point, it’s that he doesn’t care.

“I know, sweetheart, it’s a lot. Just relax – shh, shh, that’s it. You feel so good, squeezing me like a proper toy. All obedient and sweet… you really were built for this.“

He lifts his hand, landing a smack on your ass before he pulls out all the way and pushes back in, letting out a condescending laugh at the way you shiver. You can feel how deep he reaches, hitting every spot while he stretches you out with calculated thrusts. His pace begins to speed up, and his other hand wraps around your throat to keep you close as he pounds into you. Coherent thought becomes difficult for you, and even if you did want to say something, it’s suddenly made impossible when Crane pushes two fingers into your mouth, almost making you gag.

“Needy little thing. Bent over and babbling like a whore. But you -fuuuck - you take me so well, don’t you? All tight and sopping wet for my cock to stretch you out...”

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, yanking you back by your hair to make you lift your torso up from the desk. The carefully crafted persona of a calm, reasonable Professor Dr. Jonathan Crane has completely slipped from his face now and shattered by his feet like Fine China. His hands move quickly, urgently as his rhythm begins to stutter. The fingers that are now soaked with your saliva make their way back between your legs to circle your clit while his other hand leaves your hair to tear open your blouse, sending the buttons flying everywhere.

His teeth find your neck again as he grabs at your chest, kneading your soft breasts as he marks you up. Hickeys, bruises, bite marks. He leaves them behind to claim. To own. Your climax hits you like a truck, knocking the air from your lungs as he fucks you through your orgasm, not faltering for a second. Stars fill your vision for a moment, and you’re only vaguely aware of the kisses that he’s pressing to your cheek. Your walls are clenching him tightly, causing him to curse under his breath.

Crane swallows heavily, rasping into your ear between shallow breaths.

“Tell you what… No more thinking about essays. In fact, I don’t want you to think ever again. No more exams… no more studies. As if you’d ever be someone of importance in this field to begin with. No, no… I won’t let you waste your time on a silly little Bachelor’s anymore... Fuckpets like you only need to be bred. I’m gonna be generous and fuck a child into you.”

Your eyes snap wide open, and even with your cock-drunken brain, you realize just how serious he is about this. In an attempt to get away, you begin to struggle in his grasp, but he replies by kicking your legs further apart, forcing you down against the desk again. The wooden edge digs against your thighs, keeping your hips in place for him as he plows you into the piece of furniture. Your cheek is pressed up against your unfinished essay, reminding you of your failure on all accounts as you drool onto the paper.

Your hands are clawing at the desk, trying to find purchase when his own hands find yours, linking your fingers together in a frighteningly intimate gesture. Crane continues to moan your name, pressing his face into the crook of your neck before he pushes his cock as deep as he can into your poor cunt, filling you with his hot cum. He lazily rocks his hips back and forth a few more times, trying to push in his load as far as he can before he finally stills, panting against your skin. He stays on your back for another few moments, breathing in your scent and idly squeezing your hands with his.

Once his breathing has evened out once more, he straightens up, kissing the top of your head before he pulls out. Crane watches as his seed drips out of you, a glint of amusement and possessiveness in his eyes as he pushes it back into you with two fingers. You feel completely boneless, crumpled on the desk as you try to make sense of what happened and what will happen. The silence doesn’t last long before Crane speaks up again.

“In the morning, you’ll make me breakfast, and in the evening, you’ll cream on my cock. Like a proper little housewife. And I’ll get to see your tits swell and your belly expand as our kid grows inside of you,” He muses, running his hands over your shoulders and down your back, a gesture that’s more meant to ground himself than it is meant to soothe you.

His voice is soft, yet eerily determined. A man that’s planning the future out loud. Unbeknownst to you, he’s reaching into his suit pocket behind you, pulling out a small syringe filled with a clear liquid.

“And if you get bored again and your mind starts to wander, I’ll knock you up again and again until you know your place. Face down, ass up. Beneath me.”

#jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane #batman begins #nolanverse #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane x y/n #.moth writes

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quietstormxr · 2 months ago

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No Need

Here's a Xaden x Reader that was a message request.

Slight Iron Flame Spoilers

Summary: You were Xaden's Wingleader and sent to Chakir. You discovered the venin and rebellion and want to fight, but don't want Xaden to know. You fight at Pavis and are injured.

Angst to Fluff

Hope this covers the request. I had a lot of fun writing it!

Word Count : 4.7k

Getting used to the idea that you were now considered a ‘traitor’ would definitely take some time. As you walked up to the entrance of the fortress of Riorson House in the warm August heat, you couldn’t help but take in the brutal beauty in front of you.

As you walked, you kept your steps measured, but your head held high. Your latest intercepted intelligence told you that this is where you would find the new instance of Fen Riorson’s original rebellion. Even though you no longer exchanged letters with Xaden, your heart knew you would never be able to let innocent people die for the lies Navarrian leadership would spin.

As you walked up to the fortress, someone with close cropped auburn curls came walking out of the doors. You honestly couldn’t believe they would let you get this close before taking you down, but you had just shrugged your shoulders and kept moving.

“What is your business here, rider?” The man in front of you asked in an accusatory tone, leaving no room for niceties.

Knowing there was no reason to beat around the bush, you began to explain.

“I’m here to offer my services to the rebellion. I have deserted my post at Chakir and want to join the fight against the venin.” You said with your shoulders squared, chin high, and a tone of conviction.

“What is your name, Lieutenant?” The man asked looking at the ranking on your flight jacket.

“I am Lieutenant L/N. I was a wingleader of Fourth Wing two years ago and Xaden Riorson served as a squad leader under my leadership.”

The man kept looking at you as you explained, a flash of understanding flew across his features.

“Ah, yes. Lieutenant Riorson spoke highly of you. However, I’m sure you are aware that you will need to be questioned before your intentions can be ascertained.”

You nodded your head, while he began to lead you to an open room.

As soon as you entered, you were overwhelmed by the stares directed at you. There were five other people, obviously older than you, that were looking as if they had just broken from a heated discussion.

The man that ushered you in, gestured at a chair at the other side of the table and you took a seat.

“I am Lieutenant Colonel Brennan Aisereigh. I know from Lieutenant Riorson, that you may have suspected that our operations existed. However, now that you are here, please help us get to know you by confirming how you learned of our existence, the venin, and any other current knowledge you can share.”

You gave a curt not before immediately starting to explain your reasoning for being there. You explained your close relationship with Xaden, leaving out the fact that you had been involved while you were at Basgiath. You explained how you came across the correspondence that led you to Aretia and the way you had come across the venin while on a patrol in Chakir. As soon as you were finished explaining everything you could, you were ushered out of the room and to another room.

You looked around and realized this must have been someone’s office, as there was a desk with papers and maps strewn about. You took a seat in one of the plush chairs lining the walls and got yourself ready for the long waiting game ahead as the members in the other room decided your fate.

As you sat there, you couldn’t help reminiscing over the relationship that you and Xaden shared. You remembered the stolen moments you had taken in your room as the Wingleader of Fourth Wing, the nights spent together talking and laughing while looking up at the stars, and even the fights that always seemed explosive.

You both had kept in touch when you first left Basgiath, but as distance does, it seemed that you both drifted apart. You still thought of him often and even remembered the touch of his hands on your skin. But, with all the rumors that you received at your post, you were more than aware that Xaden had moved on more than once at this point.

You took a deep breath and sighed, knowing that line of thinking wasn’t going to help you in any way. But before you finished exhaling, the door to the study opened.

“Lieutenant Colonel, have you all come to a decision?” You asked as you stood to mark the respect to the rank of the man in front of you.

“Yes, the Assembly has confirmed that you are welcome to serve with us in this rebellion, if you so choose. However, if at any time your loyalties are called into question, you will have to face a tribunal.” He says his face stern to convey the gravity of what you were taking on.

Without an ounce of hesitation, you say. “I understand completely. I am more than willing to prove myself of service to the Assembly and rebellion. However, if I may, I have one request.”

He looks as you with confusion and gives a quick nod for you to continue.

“As I’m sure you are aware, Xaden and I have history. I would like for him to be kept in the dark as to my involvement. I understand that this is his house, so I would like to find lodging somewhere else. I want to be just another name on the rolls of Lieutenants for you to command as you need.”

He looks at you with a face of slight confusion. “How do you intend on him being unaware if we use your name?”

I give a small smile and continue. “I would like to use my grandmother’s maiden name, in place of my last name. I don’t believe he will know who is on the rolls by just my first name. I also ask that if he ever returns to the rebellion full time, I am put on any other squad. I do not wish to be a distraction.” You say knowing that you may be the one that is distracted.

“Otherwise, I will report to duty and such as normal.” I finish.

He gives me a look as if trying to discern something but nods his head in agreement.

Months pass and your new routine continues to develop. You had moved into a small cottage near the fortress and were able to successfully avoid everyone in the fortress for the most part. The only people you saw regularly were Brennan, as you now knew him and Felix.

Brennan had found you were a good sounding board for him and helped with strategy when things were constantly shifting.

You didn’t mind either as it kept you extremely busy. You were constantly learning the movements of the venin, helping to research more on how their powers worked, and were even brought into negotiations with Poromiel. It was a whirlwind on how you infiltrated into the inner workings of the rebellion.

As you are packing your bag for your next assignment, you hear the roar of wind hitting the windows of your cottage. You look out the window to see the largest riot you’ve ever seen flying overhead.

You scrunch your nose in annoyance though when you see Sgaeyl is leading the whole riot.

‘Can we leave before Sgaeyl sees you?’ You ask Fenrir, not wanting to get caught up in explanations or reunions.

‘I’m ready when you are Ferocious One.’ He confirms back.

‘Let’s go. I’ll meet you to the west of town, since I assume the riot will be flying to the valley.’

You hear Fenrir huff in agreement and quickly finish your hair and grab your pack, while sprinting out the door with a cloak drawn to hide your features.

____________

Not long after getting to the outpost you’d been stationed at near the Medaro Pass, your squad gets the information of the new arrivals at Riorson House.

You also received a personal correspondence from Brennan confirming that Xaden was still unaware of your involvement and that he would take great care to make sure you were stationed apart.

You took comfort that at least you would still be able to fight this war without the distraction of Xaden in front of you.

Neither of you had called your ‘relationship’ off, but you had just stopped sending him letters. It wasn’t for lack of him trying, but as you learned of different things, you couldn’t help the way you felt slightly betrayed.

First you had found out he was betrothed while you were stationed in Chakir and then you learned of Violet Sorrengail and the saga of mated dragons. Both new realities made you sure that it wasn’t worth the fight or confrontation, so you were just going to let it lie.

It helped that the rebellion was stretched thin, so there were already so few riders available to man outposts. The days that you were home in your cottage, Brennan confirmed that Xaden was on patrols.

It felt as if you would finally be able to stay apart, but still be able to help those in need. As time progressed with the rebellion, you started becoming more reckless. You figured that there wasn’t much you had left in the world, so if you could make the ultimate sacrifice to save someone else, then why not. Fighting venin was never going to be predictable anyway.

____________________

It didn’t go to plan. Then again, since you arrived at Basgiath, did anything really? You may not be as Basgiath any longer, but that didn’t mean the unfortunate incidents didn’t follow you around.

Sometimes you wondered if the Assembly really knew anything about the movements of the venin and apparent army they had. It didn’t take more than ten minutes before the entire city was overrun.

You were only caught off guard for less than a minute, but those precious seconds cost more than you were willing to admit. One minute the sky was clear and the next you were rushing to your dragon, strapped with every dagger you owned and hoping you could help as many people as possible.

‘Fenrir, we need to draw the attention away from the civilians. Let’s cause a scene.’ You thought to your dragon, knowing that none of your fellow riders were going to approve of your plan.

You were known for being a little bit reckless with your own life, but you figured that it was always better to save the masses, even at the cost of yourself.

Your riot that was watching over the city was only you and two other Lieutenants, all of which has seen little as to actual combat. You were the only one that had previously dealt with the venin while stationed in Chakir.

Knowing that you had the most experience with these creatures, you searched the horizon with Fenrir to see how many venin you would be dealing with.

‘Ladon confirmed there are only two venin with this wyvern horde.’ Fenrir confirmed.

‘Then let’s hunt the two. Can we get the attention of the most powerful one?’ You asked back hoping to draw the one with the most power your way.

‘Let’s hunt, Ferocious One.’

You let a menacing smile cross your face as you braced yourself on Fenrir’s scales. As soon as he got you close enough to the first venin, you let your hand fly with an energy whip flying to lash out as it flew past you on a grey wyvern.

You were only slightly wrong on your calculation of what the venin would do, so you weren’t expecting when it willingly flew back to your side on Fenrir. The second of distraction was all it took for the venin to swipe a blade across your arm. You felt a searing pain lance through you, one that you had never experienced before.

But you weren’t going to let the damn thing win that easily. Before the venin could register your actions, you pulled the energy taut again and slammed the alloy dagger into its chest. The screech that it let out caused you to immediately loosen the energy tearing at its waist. As soon as it dropped, you turned your attention to the other venin.

However, you were shocked to find there were now several more than before. Although wyvern seemed to be dropping out of the sky, there were more than you and your two other squad members would be able to take down.

‘Can you spot the next most powerful one? We need to keep drawing them away from civilians.’ You thought fiercely.

‘I can, but you are hurt Ferocious One.’

‘I don’t care Fenrir. I will not let these people die.’

Fenrir gives a huff of exasperation, but you know that he will not let these people die either.

‘There is additional backup coming that Ladon has called for coming now.’

You send a wave of confirmation, so Fenrir knows that you’re aware of what he said, but you’re focused on staying on his back and trying to push past the burning in your arm. At this point, you know that if this is your end, you will go down fighting as much as you can for the continent.

As you fly forward chasing the next venin, you see the flash of blue scales that you had been dreading to see all these months. You know that there is no way Xaden doesn’t know who is on the back of the red swordtail in front of him. However, you don’t spend much time dwelling on that as you are in a collision course with another venin.

You stand again on the back of Fenrir with your good hand grasping the scales in front of the pommel and make another lasso of energy ready to tear across the next venin. You go to lash out, but you hear a screech from next to you and turn to see a patch of desecrated land, where just a moment ago was a rider and her dragon.

Turning fast, you decide to create an arrow of energy and launch it straight at the venin’s throat that just killed one of your fellow riders. You aim and it strikes true through its throat. You let out a breath as you watch as the civilians that were fleeing that area now have more time to evacuate.

‘We’ve been told to retreat.’ Fenrir relays to you.

‘Why? There are still civilians at risk!’ You snap back, aggravated that you can’t continue to hunt these heartless monsters.

‘You can take that up with your leadership when we return to Aretia.’

“Ugh!” You can’t help the yell of frustration that rips through you at the idea that you will leave innocent people behind.

On your way back to Aretia, the adrenaline and fury of the fight is starting to wane. As you get closer to Riorson House, your body feels like every nerve ending is alight with fire. The absolute agony shooting through you is making it hard for you to keep your grip on Fenrir’s seat.

‘Can you bring me back to the cottage and ask Marbh to get Brennan?’ You ask Fenrir as a particularly stinging pain comes searing through your body.

You let your grip loosen slightly and tear the sleeve of your jacket open more.

“Damnit!” You look down at your arm and see black spidering across your skin.

‘I’ve been poisoned Fenrir.’

‘I know Ferocious One. I saw. I have relayed the message to Marbh and told him to get his rider there now. We will be back in just a few minutes. Hang on.’ He says as I feel bands wrap around my legs to keep me from falling.

You silently thank your dragon as your body seems to want to dance in and out of consciousness.

The next thing you know, Fenrir is landing in front of the cottage.

“Y/N.” You hear a male voice call. You look up and see the auburn curls you were hoping for. Relief washes over you and you fall towards Brennan.

“Bren, poison.” You manage to rasp out. Your eyes flutter in and out and you could swear you see a swath of navy-blue fly above you and rope of shadows drop a figure to the ground. As you begin to finally cave to the acidity of the poison floating through your system, you think you hear a familiar male voice.

“What the fuck is going on Brennan?” The voice asks and you feel yourself getting yanked into a different pair of arms and against a hard chest.

“What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?” You can’t mistake the anger in the way the person says your name before you fully give in to the darkness.

You wake slowly blinking away the exhaustion that still seems to still be pulling you under. Your body only now feels warm, instead of the feeling of fire racing through your veins.

The two male voices that you remember are now still talking in hushed angry tones.

“Why the fuck would you let her join and hide herself?” One of the voices hissed. “Then you send her to one of the most active fucking outposts. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I did as she requested when she came here.” The other voice volleyed back. “You already know that you aren’t privy to all of the decisions of the Assembly yet, especially before you came back with an entire untrained riot.”

“I don’t give a shit. You wouldn’t have accepted her terms if it were one of your sisters.”

“She’s not your sister, so I don’t see how your decisions have any weight regarding her choices.” Gods, that had to be Brennan, at least your foggy mind thought that’s who it was.

“I don’t fucking care what you think! She’s not to be put on an active border like that again.” The other male voice roars.

You hear one of them blow out a breath before continuing in a calmer tone. “That’s not for you to decide. It’s her decision when she wakes up how she wants to proceed. She has been invaluable for the movement and has provided guidance on movements and killed more venin than anyone else. It’s her life and her decision to make.”

“Over my fucking dead body.” The other voice says back, a dark imposing tone highlighting every word.

“Look, she needs to rest, and you need to get yourself under control. I’ll stay with her tonight. You go back to the fortress and get yourself in order. And before you ask, that’s a damn order, now move out.” Brennan tells the other male.

You hear a frustrated growl rip through the air before you hear boots retreating from the cottage and slamming the door. At that, you fall back into unconsciousness as sleep takes you again.

A few days later, you slowly blink your eyes open and are greeted with the bedroom that you’ve called home over the last few months. You take a deep breath, the first that you have been able to take since the battle began.

It’s with that realization that you jolt fully awake remembering the fight and staggering from Fenrir.

‘Are you alright Fenrir?’ You ask unsure about what happened once you returned home.

‘Of course, Ferocious One. I’m glad to know that you are awake.’ He says in reply, a wave of affection surging through your bond.

You slowly sit up and place your feet on the floor, shivering at the cold that has settled in the air. However, it looks as though someone had recently been at the cottage as the remnants of a fire are still glowing in the small fireplace.

You grab a sweater from your small closet and toss it around the pajamas that someone seems to have changed you into. You walk into the small living room and find that someone has obviously been making themselves at home in your cottage. There are some food items on the counter and there’s a blanket spread across the couch that looks like someone just got up.

As you continue to shuffle to the front door, you shake your head trying to clear some of the fog that has seemed to settle in your mind. You can remember hearing voices arguing but can’t seem to remember what they were arguing about. As you go to open the door, you feel the knob turning in your fingers and your brow furrows.

The knob turns fully, and the door is opening with the full light of the sun spilling inside. You squint and blink your eyes several times before you can focus on the person in front of you.

As your eyes finally acclimate to the lighting, you look up and take a full step back when the man in front of you comes fully into focus.

Xaden.

You continue to stare back in surprise and watch as you see the same emotion reflected in his eyes.

“Gods.” He breathes out and the next thing you know, you are being crushed into an embrace.

You let out a small squeak in surprise at the gesture which causes him to immediately pull back to look down at you. You watch as his gaze roams all over your body as if looking for a place that you’re hurt.

You slowly step back out of his arms and watch as his expression turns blank.

“Wh – what – what are you doing – here?” You stammer out as your voice croaks with disuse.

“I should be asking you the same thing.” He says with a firm tone to his voice.

You scoff incredulously at the tone that the man in front of you has taken. It’s amazing how fast this man can get on your nerves, especially after you just woke up from being poisoned.

“I never asked you to come into my home.” You spit back at him. “And you can’t control my actions as a rider trying to protect the people of the continent.”

“I beg to differ. If I don’t want you on the front lines, you won’t be. Just watch me.” He snarks back viciously.

“Ugh.” You say as you turn away from the infuriating man in front of you. “I either fight with the rebellion or I fight alone. Your choice. I made my decision regarding the side of the war I am on, and you can’t change that.”

“Oh, I won’t.” He says lowly while stalking towards you. “But I can guarantee you won’t be going back to Draithus or anywhere near there.”

You look back at him incredulously. You can’t honestly believe this man would punish you for simply joining the rebellion without telling him.

“And why not?” You snap back with your blood now boiling in your veins.

“Because I can’t fucking lose you!” He roars at you, his chest heaving along with his panting breaths.

You whirl your head to face him with shock written all over your face. Your entire body has gone instantly still trying to process the words that just came out of his mouth.

“Wha – What – What do you mean?” You stammer in a whisper.

You watch as he prowls towards you before grabbing your face in both of his hands.

“I came for you. I went to fucking Chakir looking for you and no one knew where you were. I’ve spent months wondering if you were dead because I didn’t know what happened to you.” He rushes out with hands still attached to your face.

“Then when we came back here and I didn’t see you on the rolls of current active riders, I thought I lost you. I had people all over Navarre searching for you. I constantly asked Sgaeyl if she had seen Fenrir.” He huffs out a humorless laugh.

“Then we are called to help defend Pavis and what is the first thing I see, but your energy whipping a venin down to Fenrir and you kill it. But the damn thing sliced you before you landed the killing blow. I watched your face scrunch in pain before you put your mask back on and flew with Fenrir. I didn’t even know if you saw Sgaeyl on that field.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course I saw Sgaeyl, she’s beautiful and hard to miss. Especially with you as her rider.”

“Then I flew back towards Riorson House after, and you weren’t in the group that came back. Again, I thought I lost you before I found fucking Brennan holding your almost lifeless body in front of this cottage.” He continues to explain as he gestures around the small cottage with one hand.

His fingers had at some point started stroking your cheeks in a soothing motion, although you were unsure if he was trying to soothe you or himself.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were here? Why did you stop writing?” He asks quietly. His tone of voice has now turned quiet almost as if he speaks too loudly the dream he is in would disappear.

You turn your eyes down breaking his gaze, knowing that you don’t want to have this conversation.

“Talk to me. Please.” He says pleadingly.

You look back at him with resignation in your eyes. “While at Chakir I found out about your betrothal and then about General Sorrengail’s daughter. I figured that you’d moved on. I didn’t feel like there was any reason to update you on my whereabouts any longer.” You sigh. “I didn’t want to bring in any additional complications for you.”

You look into his eyes and see regret and sadness. “My whole life I’ve never thought I’d have a choice on who I could be with.” He pauses before continuing. “I may have been betrothed and now tethered to Violet Sorrengail, but there’s only one person that I really want.”

You feel as one of his arms wraps around your back and the other hand rises to your neck and tilts your head back.

“I couldn’t breathe when I saw you limp in Brennan’s arms. I nearly ripped his throat out for touching you like that and knowingly putting you in danger.” He whispers. “I haven’t felt whole since you left Basgiath. And I’ve only been looking for you.”

You can’t help the way you feel like you’re falling into the onyx depths of the eyes of the man cradling you close.

“Please don’t shut me out. I’ve been here the last four days hoping against hope that you would wake up. I need you.” He continues.

“I won’t stifle you. I never could.” He says with a sad smile crossing his face. “But I want you to be with me. I don’t want to hide this anymore and I want you to fight with me.”

You continue searching those onyx depths and see nothing but sincerity and truthfulness. A small smile breaks across your face.

“I’ll fight with you.” You say as his arms tighten around you. “But you may have to catch up. I’ve been counseling the Assembly in strategy for the last few months.”

A smile breaks across his face. “So, I’ve heard. From what I can tell, the Assembly is very impressed with you.”

“Well, I didn’t make wingleader just because of my pretty face.” You sass back playfully.

“That may be true. However, your beautiful face just makes all that wonderous talent even more deadly.” He says moving his face closer to yours, before turning serious again.

“Will you be mine? No games, no hiding. Please.” He asks pleadingly.

You smile back at him before rising and kissing his lips lightly. For a moment he doesn’t respond, but once he realizes, he’s tightening his hand on the back of your neck and bringing you closer. His lips crash harder into yours, which causes yours to part slightly. He takes advantage of it and licks your bottom lip before claiming your entire mouth. You continue to share heated kisses before you are both panting and gasping for breath, resting your foreheads together.

“You’re going to need to up your game if you’re going to surpass your girl with the Assembly, Riorson.” You tease him.

He smiles brightly before replying. “No need. I’m more than fine backing up my girl and standing by her side.”

#fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing x reader #xaden riorson #xaden riorson x reader #xaden fanfic #xaden x oc #xaden x reader #fourth wing xaden #xaden and sgaeyl #brennan sorrengail #the empyrean #the empyrean fanfic #fourth wing fic #fourth wing

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neg-im · 2 years ago

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Tell me this isn't something that Black Star would do (for any of his friends)

The Woman In The Garden BONES ✧ S01 E13

#bonestv #booth x brennan #crossover #Soul Eater x Bones #Black Star as Booth would be amazing

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little-diable · 1 year ago

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Twin Flame - Dean Winchester (smut)

Inspired by the song "Twin Flame" by Brennan Story. I love love love this fic, and I hope y'all will love it too. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Months ago Dean had broken the reader's heart, a desperate try to protect her. But he no longer manages to stay away, needing to find his way back to her.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, slight breeding kink, makeup sex, some heartbreak in the beginning, a very very happy end

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.8k words)

Well this road don't get no shorter, I would've drove the whole thing for you, my tank down to a quarter, and it'll be gone soon

„What is up with you lately, Dean?” Sam’s voice filled Baby, worried eyes watching his brother. No reply left Dean as he kept driving on, caught in his memories like a fly trapped in the web of a spider set to kill. He was stuck, without a way out, and yet, deep down inside he prayed that he’d never be able to leave those memories behind.

Whenever he got a moment to let his thoughts wander, he had to think of her, the one who still holds his heart in her hands, even after all these months. Being with her had been something he had never experienced before, a new sensation he longed for like a man dying of thirst dreaming of any water he could drink. Loving her had been everything Dean wasn’t, it had been sweet, easy, it had been too good to be true.

Whenever he was lying awake at night, eyes staring at the dirty ceiling of the motel rooms he and Sam found shelter in, he imagined her laying next to him, head resting on his chest, listening to his calmly beating heart. Dean still felt her weight on him, if he closed his eyes he could feel her right there with him, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear, words that had been etched into his mind.

“Dean?” Sam tried again, worried eyes flickering back to the dark road ahead, knowing that it would take them at least a couple more hours to make their way to the bunker. “Hey man, c’mon, talk to me, I can tell something is going on.”

“It’s nothing, Sammy.” His voice told Sam everything he needed to know, exposing the hurt, the sadness flushing through Dean’s system. Dean’s green eyes were hazy, no longer filled with that special glint spurring him on whenever they were on a hunt, it felt as if he was no longer in the car with Sam, just a body without a soul tied to it.

“Is it about her? Dean, you should just call her, reach out, it’s never too late.” A sharp inhale of cold air was forced into Dean’s lungs, teeth grazing his lower lip to stop his angry words from rolling off his tongue. He couldn’t reach out, couldn’t call the one whose heart he had broken, leaving her behind without looking back once, choosing the life with his brother over her, a hunter just like him and his brother – a woman Dean wanted to protect from being hurt because of him.

The cold words he had spoken to her were still ringing in his ears, how he had pushed her away, nothing but a stupid spiel Dean stuck to, in order to save her from a life filled with uneasy times, with hunts that would leave their marks on her. Dean Winchester would do everything to keep her safe, even if it meant breaking (y/n)’s heart, and his own.

And my drink been feelin' lighter, 'cause I'm a lover not a fighter, and I seen that you caught fire, when you put me out

“Sammy, wake up, we’re home.” Dean’s rough voice filled the dark night, hand shaking his brother’s shoulder. It took Sam a moment to wake, hands rubbing his tired eyes. Slowly did the younger Winchester brother undo his seatbelt, halting his movements as he noticed that Dean wasn't moving.

“What’s wrong?” Worry dripped from the tip of Sam’s tongue, watching his brother’s gaze flicker between the steering wheel and the phone Dean kept clinging to.

“I have something to do, I’ll be gone for a few days.” Silence filled Baby, a silence so loud, Dean started to shuffle around in his seat, waiting for his brother to speak up or to start moving, already annoyed with the time they kept wasting just now. Dean was feeling antsy, nervousness filled his system, a sensation so unfamiliar he couldn’t help but curse it.

“Dean,” Sam whispered his brother’s name, hand finding his shoulder. “Get her back, stop worrying about dragging her down with you, she’s stronger than the both of us combined, she’ll do just fine being around us.”

Dean couldn’t reply, throat too tight, mouth too dry to produce any sounds, unsure what to say to the brother of his that looked at him with so much hope swimming in his pupils. Sam didn’t know much about the night where Dean had left her, he didn’t know of the words he had spoken, hurtful words that have left their scars on his and her soul, it’d be a miracle if she’d take Dean back. But he couldn’t breathe without her near, couldn’t live on without her by his side.

……

“Absolutely not.” (Y/n)’s eyes met Dean’s desperate ones, body turned from him as she tried to close her door, without any luck, wood caught by the boot he had pushed past her entrance. A string of curses left her, jaw ticking in anger as her eyes found their way back to his, reading the pleading swimming in his pupils before she slowly took a step back, inviting him back in.

Dean followed her through the all too familiar four walls he had once started to call his new home, the house they should grow old in, the house they should raise their children in, nothing but mere dreams that have evaporated into nothing but a hazy dream both could no longer recreate.

“I always knew you’d step low, but turning up here is ruthless, even for you, Dean Winchester.” (Y/n) had her arms wrapped around herself, eyes not daring to leave his once. Slowly he sank down on her couch, right next to her, not giving (y/n) a chance to move away. Without thinking he reached for her hand, moving faster than she had anticipated, catching her fingers before she could move them away as if he was a flame she burnt herself on.

“I wasn’t planning on coming here, hell, I wasn’t planning on ever setting my foot back in this house.” His whispers were torn between sounds reminding one of cries for help and a voice so quiet one could have problems understanding what he was saying. An angry huff left (y/n), glassy eyes focusing on the calloused fingertips stroking the back of her hand, pushing an all too familiar sensation through her body. She was trembling, begging for whoever was listening to relieve her from the pain she had never been able to let go of, and yet she had tried to keep on moving, without looking back once.

“You broke my heart, you left me without an explanation, just your awful words. One day you were here, and the next you were suddenly gone. It took me a while to give my life a new meaning, to adjust to hunting on my own, but I managed just fine for the past months, Dean. Why do you have to return the second I’m finally okay on my own?” Her tears started rolling down her cheeks, dripping from her chin like a once dry waterfall regaining its impressive strength. With his other hand finding her jaw, Dean started drying her tears, heart clenching in his chest as he was once again reminded of the pain he had pushed her through.

“I know, and I’m so sorry for being so fucking selfish, but I can’t stay away. Every second without you by my side is pure torture, you’re the only thing I can think of, no matter when or where I am. I’m sorry sweetheart, I really am. All I ever wanted to do was keep you safe, after watching you getting hurt because of me, because I couldn’t step back from a hunt we should have called backup for, I knew i had to get away from you. I can’t be the reason you get into any more danger. But as much as I hate myself for saying it, I can’t live without you, not any longer.” A heavy sigh left (y/n) as she looked at Dean, focusing on the pain filling his green pupils, on the lifeless expression tugging on his features. He was no longer the Dean she had once been with, no, he had changed, their breakup had left its marks on him, as much as it had left its marks on her. And yet she still longed for him, after all the sleepless nights she had cursed him for.

“I need time to think this through, you have hurt me so much, Dean, so much. But I still love you, a lot. You can sleep on the sofa and we can talk in the morning.” Slowly Dean let go of her, pulling his hands away to give (y/n) enough space to rise to her feet. With one last glance thrown his way, she disappeared down the hallway, letting the door to her bedroom fall shut with a soft thud.

And as Dean sat on the sofa he had once put together with (y/n), he couldn’t help but give into the tears welling up in his eyes.

And I'd set fire onto, these boots running from the hard truth, that you don't need me the same way I need you

……

Dean woke with a groan leaving him, back aching from the uncomfortable position he had been sleeping in. It took him a few seconds to remember the past hours, how he had turned up at (y/n)’s place, how he had cried into his hands as she had parted from him. His green eyes shot open, finding a pair of all too familiar eyes already staring at him. (Y/n) was sitting on the edge of the sofa, wearing the same shirt she had worn hours ago. Only now did Dean realise that the shirt had once belonged to him, pushing a very welcomed heat through his aching body.

“I made some coffee.” Her soft voice left his heart skipping beats, needing to cherish these moments should she ask him to leave in the upcoming minutes. Slowly did Dean sit up, stretching his neck and arms before he murmured a “Thank you, sweetheart”, taking the cup of warm coffee (y/n) pushed into his direction.

“I didn’t catch any sleep, but I got enough time to think.” Dean braced himself for the words she was about to speak, teeth grazing his lower lip. His heart was racing way too fast for the early hour, and yet Dean didn’t manage to calm his system, palms growing sweatier with every second. He struggled to look into the eyes he’d see whenever he closed his at night, desperate to feel her close, pupils that were once so familiar, so loved, pupils that felt like nothing but a fever dream now. “I love you too much to push you away, but it’ll take me some time to trust you again, Dean. You have to accept that we’ll both get hurt on hunts, with or without Sammy. And you’ll accept that I’ll join you on all hunts I want to join, you won’t get a say about my decisions. Are we clear?”

He looked at her for a few more moments before his hand found the back of her neck, pulling (y/n) in for a bruising kiss. With a gasp leaving (y/n) she moved closer, arms finding their way around his neck, allowing Dean to pull her into his lap. The kiss was fuelled by their longing for one another, hearts begging them to never part ways again, unable to endure another wave of heartbreak.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back, whatever you need. I love you so much, sweetheart, I don’t want to live another day without you by my side.” Dean murmured his words against her lips, pulling her in for another kiss as his hands disappeared underneath the comfortable shirt of his she was wearing. Her breath hitched in her chest as Dean shuffled them around, pressing (y/n) against the sofa with him nestling between her thighs. Moans clawed through the two as Dean began to roll his hips, rubbing his hardening bulge against her damp panties.

“Been dreaming about you touching me, as much as I hated myself for it, I couldn’t help but miss you, your lips, your fingers.” A soft, throaty laugh rumbled through Dean as he pushed her shirt up to expose her chest to his hungry eyes, lips finding her hardening nipples almost instantly, leaving his marks on every inch of her warm flesh.

“Fuck, no matter what I tried, my mind always wandered back to you. I imagined the words you’d moan, how you’d wrap your fingers around my cock. Can’t believe I’m getting another chance to love you.” No longer could she reply to his words, (y/n) had almost forgotten the loving words his mouth and mind were able to create in moments like this one, set on making her feel the love his heart pumped through his system. “I need to be inside of you, it’s been too fucking long. Do you have a condom?”

“No, but I’m clean, I didn’t sleep with anybody but you.” She was almost scared to ask Dean if he had touched another woman, struggling to form the question that now rang through her mind, leaving her breathless. Dean pushed another kiss against her lips before he shuffled out of his clothes, exposing his twitching cock to her wandering eyes.

“Good, you’re mine to touch only, forever mine. I didn’t touch anybody else, just the thought of it made me sick, no matter how much alcohol I needed to try and forget about us.” With her hand finding its way back to his neck, and with her legs slowly wrapping themselves around his hips, (y/n) chased his slightly swollen lips.

The sound of their moans leaving them in unison was drowned by their kiss, Dean moved slow at first, needing to hold back before he’d cum right there and then, no longer used to feeling her tightness wrapped around his cock. Both clung to one another as he fucked her into the sofa, with one hand placed on the arm rest and the other on her waist, leaving marks with his fingertips digging into her skin. (Y/n) arched her front against his, trembling legs not daring to loosen their hold on his waist, wondering if she was only stuck in a dream, or if Dean was truly fucking her, reminding her that she was his.

And no matter how hard I try, I'll never learn to say goodbye, you say it's okay to cry, baby that river done ran dry

“God, how I missed feeling you, feels so perfect, so fucking perfect.” With his forehead pressed against hers, Dean added more speed to his thrusts, growing rougher as her walls fluttered around him, tensing every now and then. Dean had lost count on the amount of times he had dreamt of feeling her again, of loving her just like he had always promised he would.

“Same, fuck, don’t ever leave me again, Dean.” (Y/n) choked on his name, hand disappearing between their bodies to circle her sensitive bundle of nerves. Both knew that they wouldn’t be able to hold back for much longer, it felt as if they hadn’t been able to let go for months, unable to touch themselves without thinking of one another. But both had tried to make themselves cum for weeks on end, unable to do so, since their minds painted pictures too painful, pictures they could now finally leave behind.

“Where do you want me to cum, sweetheart? Fuck, I won’t be able to hold on for much longer.” Another moan left (y/n) as Dean’s lips found her jaw, kissing their way down her neck. It took her a moment to reply, choking on her breaths, unable to think clear with her thoughts growing hazy.

“Inside of me, please, Dean, fill me up.” She felt his cock twitching inside of her, forcing her to add more pressure on her clit, crying his name as she came. Dean followed her down the edge, eyes rolling back into his head as he came with a “Fuck” leaving him.

Both were heavily breathing, not daring to part with their bodies still joined, just like their jumping hearts. (Y/n) murmured his name as she combed a hand through his hair, eyes finding his, “I love you Dean, no matter what will happen between us, I belong to you, as much as you belong to me.”

#Dean Winchester smut #Dean Winchester imagine #Dean Winchester x reader #supernatural smut

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callsign-rogueone · 10 months ago

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allies - b.s.

cadet!Brennan Sorrengail x cadet!reader (part of my Brennan and Duchess series!) ✉: Would you mind telling us how they got each others attention in Basgiath? What made them fall for each other in the first place? words: 801 🏷: no book spoilers and no triggers! just bb bren and duchess meeting in year one at gauntlet training + a little happy moment from threshing day (and some info that will be relevant later in their story hehe). italics are spoken in Tyrrish!

Your foot slips out from underneath you, and there’s no recovering from it -- you’re falling. You manage to grab onto the nearest rope, the rough fibers burning your skin as they slide through your hands. Your descent slows, but you still hit the ground hard enough to wind you. You lie flat on your back for a moment as you attempt to catch your breath, just grateful to be alive.

A familiar face enters your vision; a boy in your wing whose name you can’t remember. He’s cute, his hair falling over his forehead in soft waves as he leans down, light brown eyes watching you with concern. “Are you okay?”

You blink at him, stunned at the sound of the words you’ve only ever heard from your parents. How hard had you hit your head? “You speak the old language.”

He nods in confirmation that you’re not losing your grip on reality. “My father taught me. The ancient languages are a passion of his.” His pronunciation could use some work, but he’s got the vocabulary down.

He extends an ink-stained hand, and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet.

“How did you know I was Tyrrish? That I spoke the language?”

He blushes, suddenly shy. “I saw you use it to write your notes for Battle Brief. And your hair. I’ve only seen braids like that on portraits of the old queens in history books. It’s beautiful.”

Your cheeks warm at the compliment -- Tyrrish doesn’t have the same parts of speech or grammatical structure as Navarrian, so his use of it, likely referring to your intricate hairstyle, could have very well been him calling you beautiful in your entirety.

“Thank you,…” you hesitate, trying to remember his name — he keeps to himself, and he’s never been a threat to you, so you had never learned it.

“Brennan,” he offers. A good name. Strong.

You smile at him. “Nice to meet you, Brennan.”

The crisp accent you say his name in stirs something in his chest.

For a moment, everyone else ceases to exist. You’re the only people out here, the only two who can understand this conversation, who are aware of the magnetism between you.

You still can’t look away, both of you locked in place as you commit every detail of the other to memory; the small scar on his chin, the way his eyelashes move as he blinks at you, the light wash of freckles across his nose… the pattern of your braids, the impeccable neatness of the stitches holding your patches to your uniform, the soft curiosity in your eyes…

Something tells you to trust this boy with the soft voice who knows your language and recognized your traditions, who is looking at you like you'd hung the stars in the sky.

“Allies?” you ask.

“Allies,” he agrees.

------------------------------------------------

You whistle across the flight field, and Brennan’s head snaps toward the sound, every muscle in his body relaxing as he spots you.

There’s a massive black dragon behind you, the largest of the group you’d seen at Presentation, the one that had taken interest in you from the start of the term. She stands with the same regal posture as you as she surveys her surroundings, appraising the rest of the freshly bonded cadets and their dragons.

You’re grinning from ear to ear, unable to contain your joy. You want nothing more than to run to Brennan and embrace him, but you keep your feet planted to the ground until you’re told to line up to have your names recorded by the scribe.

“Banriondorcha,” you state to the group of officers. A few pairs of eyebrows raise, including the General’s, but they quickly replace the concern on their faces with flat disinterest.

Professor Kaori is the first to speak, the only one who smiles at you. “I was wondering when she’d finally decide to bond. She has chosen well. I look forward to seeing your signet manifest, cadet. I have no doubt that it will be strong.”

“Thank you.”

Brennan had been ahead of you in the line; he’s already returned to his orange daggertail. They look right together, the afternoon sun bringing out the red in Brennan’s hair to compliment the dragon’s scales.

You stop ten yards away from them and lower your head in deference, not daring to speak to him directly, but it’s clear what you’re saying: you come in peace.

He steps back, allowing you to move toward Brennan.

You’re both freezing, having been wholly unprepared for the chill of the air at 3,000 feet above ground, but there’s warmth between you as you embrace, laughing in relief.

“We did it,” you breathe.

He leans down, resting his forehead against yours, a soft smile on his face. “We did.”

#Brennan and Duchess #brennan sorrengail #brennan sorrengail x reader #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing #reader insert #imagine #mine

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fiapartridge · 1 year ago

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catching fire au | the underdog

jack hughes x hockey!player

summary: training camp

warning(s): cursing, jack's an asshole!!

a/n: send in some asks for the au <3 i kinda hate this, but hey im done w/ college apps and am ready to write woo

taglist (send in an ask or dm me if u wanna be on the taglist for this au!): @hockeyboysarehot

THERE’S A REASON no one takes a chance on the underdog. “She’s not fast enough, she’s not strong enough, she’ll get hurt.” But they don’t know Riley Dell. No one knew Riley Dell; of her capabilities, her strengths, her weaknesses.

But this year, she was going to make a name of herself—no matter what, or who, stood in her way.

SECT. I: TRAINING CAMP.

Media day was a living hell. The interviews consisted of the same tasteless questions: “How do you feel being the first female player in the NHL?” and “How are you going to measure up to the physicality of the other players in the league?” While everyone else was getting questions about their actual gameplay; how they’ll navigate their weaknesses and hone in on their strengths, Riley was getting compared to every single player imaginable.

And the pictures and videos weren’t any better. The photographers suggested that she layed off on the gloves and stick and instead held makeup—fucking makeup. Why the the fuck would she be holding a mascara wand on the ice? The entire day felt pointless. Not a single person took her seriously, and if she called them out, they would accuse her of complaining. She already got the “privilege” of being drafted, and now she wants to complain? Doesn’t look too great.

The day after, everyone hit the ice for actual training. Finally, a time where she could prove that she deserved to be there; that she earned her spot; that Riley Dell was a force to be reckoned with.

The training camp roster was split into three groups: A, B, and C. Throughout the weekend, the groups were to scrimmage, playing each team once. Group A was the one to keep your eye on. The goaltenders consisted of Tyler Brennan and Vitek Vanecek; defenseman being Brendan Smith, Colin Miller, Luke Hughes, Cal Foote, Michael Vukojevic, Kevin Bahl, and Joe Gambardella; and forwards being Tyce Thompson, Michael McLeod, Curtis Lazar, Max Willman, Jesper Bratt, Tyler Toffoli, Flip Engras, Tomas Nosek, Jack Hughes, and Riley Dell.

“Lindy fucking hates us,” Jack groaned upon seeing Riley tying her laces on the bench as groups A and B skated around the practice facility, getting ready to battle in their first scrimmage of the training camp. “That’s why he gave us Riley, right? To get back at us for not winning in the playoffs.”

Luke skated around his older brother, watching as Jack eyes Riley. “I don’t know why you hate her so much. She hasn’t even stepped foot on the ice yet, Jacky.”

“It’s more than the ice, Luke,” Jack turned to the younger boy, annoyance laced in his voice. “Once she joins the team, the entire dynamic will be off. What will happen to the locker room, Luke, or what will happen when we celebrate our wins? Is she gonna come to the bars with us? It’s stupid, Luke.”

“It’s one girl, Jack. The locker room will be fine, and what’s wrong with her coming to the bars? If anything’s stupid, it’s you, man,” Luke scoffed. “Now come on, being an asshole isn’t gonna win us this game,” Luke said, skating towards the rest of the team.

Once Riley’s laces were tired, she jetted off towards the ice, landing in front of their star player. “Hi, I’m Riley. You must be Jack,” she smiled softly, hand out for him to shake, but when he never stuck out his, she retracted it quickly. “So, I heard you had a career-high last season. Sounds like a dream.”

“Yeah,” Jack grumbled, skating beside her.

“Um,” Riley bit her cheek, thinking up things to say. Jack wasn’t much of a conversationalist, she thought. “Are you more of a toe-to-heel guy or heel-to-toe?”

Tired of hearing her voice, Jack spun around, stopping Riley in her tracks. “I don’t care that you got drafted to this team. Fitzgerald, and Lindy, and everyone else in this organization are going to realize they made a mistake and send you back to wherever you came from.” Venom pricked his tongue as the words smacked Riley one by one. Even the team didn’t like her. Driving his shoulder into hers, Jack watched her face turn from shock to complete anger. “Hope you didn’t unpack your bags, rookie.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Riley stood there, unmoveable. She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction, prove everything he assumed about her. She wasn’t going to let him win. Closing her eyes, she breathed in, out, and thought about every way she could make Jack Hughes’ life a living hell. Dramatic, but who knew there were real devils on this team?

“Nice job out there, Dell,” Nico smiled at Riley, nudging her shoulder as they bounded into the locker room. “Don’t worry about Hughesy, he’s a softie once you get to know him.”

“If he ever gives me the chance to know him,” Riley sighed.

The game was a total train-wreck. I mean, their team won, but Riley was practically fighting for her life out there. Every single time she made it on the ice, Jack smashed her into the boards, or stole the puck from her, or never gave her the puck at all. His hate was evident and the entire team, not just team A but the entire Devils organization, could see it. How were they supposed to play an entire season together, when they could barely play one scrimmage?

“Don’t let that asshole win, Ri,” Luke stumbled into the conversation, placing his gear down by hers. Luke’s been playing with Riley for the past two years at the University of Michigan, and while they lost against Quinnipiac at the Frozen Four semifinals and Luke immediately left for the Devils after, their bond never deterred. Coming to the Devils felt like coming home (if home consisted of an egotistical jerk and a sexist media team).

Shaking her head, Riley held her practice jersey in her hands. “Promise me, that’ll be the last thing I do.”

#catching fire au #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader

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auraisereigh · 2 months ago

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"Watching the stars"

Chapter two

Brennan Sorrengail x Riorson reader Blurb: Now that Brennan and Star are hidden away from the world they find comfort in each other for the loss and grief theyre both feeling, all the while theyre supposed to survive in the wild. wc: 3.1k ☆ SPOILERS FOR THE EMPYREAN SERIES. Grief and loss, Survival. Let me know if i missed something. Uses pronouns: she/her. i use Star as a nickname as y/n sounds weird, and i'm awful with names.

Star's masterlist main masterlist

The next morning I wake up from a pitiful attempt to sleep.

Kind of hard with a dragon breathing down your neck.

It's still early, the sun barely up but after a week hiding in this cave and hunting in a selected area it looks and sounds like most people left Aretia. With other words I can start hunting in a larger area, after all it's difficult to keep a dragon satisfied.

Brennan is still asleep but Marbh is awake so he can give the message to him. I take my bow, arrows and my bag and leave.

If I'm quiet enough I should be able to get a good stack of food for us and the orange dragon that now lives in a cave way too small for it's ego. Most animals should still be out and not hiding, especially since it seems most people left. Animals will notice the silence and appear more.

☆

And animals guaranteed, enough for the three of us. I collected all the food by a tree closer to the cave so I don't have to keep dragging it all back in one go from a farther distance. I look in the direction of the cave, judging by the sun it should be around midday. Slowly one by one I put the animals in the huge bag I took with me, the one my dad packed for me In case something would go wrong... I stare at the bag, the memory still fresh in my mind.

"A survival bag?" I ask my dad, a small smile on my face as I raise my brows at him. "For what? You wanna do another camp trip? Friendly reminder that last time didn't go exactly as we planned." My voice holds amusement. But he looks... dead serious.

"I made it for you in case something goes wrong." My face falls. What is he talking about? "I... I don't understand. What could go wrong? I know we've had a few... things go wrong, but our army is in place. We're prepared." The way he looks at me says he hasn't been completely honest, which makes sense as Xaden and all the other children are gone, moved to a safe place that no one knows about.

"We might have put the army in place but that does not mean we will win when they attack. I'm not risking you getting captured. I have a proposal for you-"

I snap out of my trance, boot steps that crunch leaves and branches making me stand in high alert. It's not Brennan, it can't be. I pull an arrow and lay it on my bow, but I don't aim just yet. From where I'm standing no one can see me through the high bushes by the tree. So whoever is on the other side won't see me. More crunches of leaves. More than one person. I crouch down near the bushes when I hear them talking.

"I don't care how long it takes, I want you to find her." A deep, gruff voice says. "This place is ash. If she was still alive she would've burned when we burned her home." Another one responds, he sounds more on the frightened side. "She's his daughter, his heir and first in line, I want her to watch it happen." The first person bites out again. "Find her." Then all boot steps sound farther and farther away. I lower my bow, trying my best not to make a sound.

They're looking for me. Who? lies beyond me but someone is looking for me.

☆

I'm back by the cave when the sun slowly starts to fall.

Brennan is awake and sitting up against a rock, aside from small conversations we don't talk that much. I suppose he is also going through his own grief.

I drop the bag, making Brennan flinch. He must have been deep in thought. He looks up at me, his messy auburn curls sticking out everywhere. I know he's hungry but I know he won't voice it.

I get to work quietly. Unpacking, skinning and roasting the animals.

Good thing about having a dragon in here. Unlimited fire. And I don't have to put in a single effort except ask.

It's almost a routine now, I hunt, come back, unpack and make the animals ready, Marbh roasts them, we share and at the end of the night I put the fire out and we sleep.

☆

Two nights later Brennan and I sit quietly, eating, while Marbh enjoys some bigger meat I found. Your welcome.

"He always talked about you." Brennan's quiet, rough voice breaks through the fog in my mind. I look at him, my face not showing a single emotion of what I'm feeling.

"Naolin. He always talked about you." He is quiet for a moment and then continues. "Every time he received your letters, or when he wrote one for you. He would always talk about you. Memories, things that reminded him of you. When we sat outside watching the stars..."

A part of my heart cracks, I had kept Naolin from my Thoughts, not wanting to mourn now, I had to stay alive, I can't do both.

I don't respond. I continue eating quietly, not wanting to let my thoughts wander to too painful things.

☆

Over the following days Brennan and I find ourselves talking more, simple topics nothing too deep that could possibly open healing wounds. I managed to get him out of the cave yesterday to get some fresh air. We walked to a lake with a giant carrot following us. We sat down, enjoying the quiet sounds of the water.

With a dragon breathing down on me, cozy.

We're nearing two weeks here, we're both tired but it's too risky going to the open mountains near Riorson house, who knows what's waiting for us there.

☆

I didn't go hunting today, there was no need as I managed to get enough for a few days. It was an opportunity to actually get some sleep that I couldn't deny.

Somewhere in the evening I feel two hands shaking me slowly. I open my eyes, easily recognizing Brennan's face. He looks slightly panicked and before he can say something I hear an extra pair of Boot steps. I immediately take my bow that had been laying right next to me, an arrow close by as I aim at the figure. Was it the person who had been looking for me days prior?

I hold my aim, my eyes adjusting to the light. The figure doesn't move, it holds its hands up in, surrender? Peace?

My eyes finally adjust to the light. My eyes widen slightly as I take him in. My bow lowers and my hands shake slightly.

"Felix?"

☆

taglist: @honethatty12

I currently have five chapters finished for them and I'm also working on a playlist for them. <3

#brennan sorrengail #brennan sorrengail x reader #fourth wing #the empyrean #xaden riorson #xaden riorson x reader #onyx storm #mira sorrengail #violet sorrengail #bodhi durran #garrick tavis #liam mairi #naolin #iron flame #brennan x star

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