#fourth wing imagines

[soulofapatrick]

Don’t Tempt Me - Xaden Riorson x female reader

Summary: Xaden finds you burnt out on the training field 

Warnings: none 

Words: 6k (somehow)

Notes: Not my fave and not proofread

Y/N's POV

The sun hangs low over Basgiath, bleeding gold and deep crimson across the sky, its light casting jagged shadows over the towering battlements. The war college looms around me, its stone walls unyielding, its presence as foreboding as ever. The air is thick with the lingering scent of sweat and scorched leather, remnants of a day spent in brutal training.

The air is thick with the scent of fresh earth and damp stone as I sprint across the training yard, my feet pounding the ground with a rhythm that feels like a heartbeat—a constant reminder of my inadequacies. Sweat drips down my forehead, stinging my eyes, but I refuse to wipe it away. I don’t have time to care about that. I only have time to run.

Over and over, I push myself to the brink, my body screaming in protest, muscles tight with fatigue. My breaths are ragged, desperate for air that feels like it's slowly being stolen from me. But the pain doesn’t matter. It’s nothing compared to the quiet voice inside my head, the one that whispers my doubts and my fears, the one that tells me I’m not enough.

You can’t keep doing this.

It’s Virethalon’s voice. Low, firm, and impossibly calm, like he always is when he sees me teetering on the edge. His presence pulses in my mind, filling the quiet spaces with a calm I can’t find within myself.

Stop, he says again, the warning clear. You’ll burn out before you ever get the chance to fly.

But I ignore him. I have to. I can’t stop, not when the weight of everyone’s expectations hangs so heavily on my shoulders. I can’t afford to be weak. I can’t afford to be what everyone expects—a failure.

My legs scream, my body trembling with every step, but I push harder. Faster. A flip, a backflip, then a roll, twisting midair in an effort to improve my reaction time, my agility. I force my limbs to obey, despite how they beg for rest, despite how my mind is breaking under the strain.

I am not enough. I’m not strong enough to make it here.

Each fall, each misstep echoes the same message in my mind: You don’t belong.

The words are a sting in my chest, sharp and bitter, poisoning the air in front of me. The instructors don’t believe in me, not truly. They’re waiting for me to break, to fail in front of everyone. The other cadets—they’re watching too, eager to see how long I’ll last.

Stop.

Virethalon’s voice is more insistent now, rising with frustration. I know he’s watching, can feel his eyes on me, even though he’s nowhere near. You don’t need to prove anything.

I don’t stop. I can’t. If I stop now, the quiet, haunting voice of failure will take over. If I stop, I’ll feel it—the shame of not being able to meet the impossible standard everyone else expects from me.

The ground shifts beneath me as I sprint forward, my foot catching on something, my body twisting unnaturally in the air. For a split second, time seems to stretch—slow, agonising. And then, I crash.

The world flips. My body slams into the earth, my hands and knees taking the brunt of it. The impact rattles my bones, sharp and unforgiving. My breath is knocked out of me, and for a moment, I just lay there, feeling the tremor of my body as it tries to recover from the shock.

I’m not moving. I can’t move.

Gentle hands find my shoulders before I can even process what’s happening. The pressure is firm yet careful, guiding me, coaxing me into a sitting position. My body trembles from exhaustion, every muscle protesting the movement, every joint aching with the weight of my own failure. I try to steady myself, but the effort makes the world spin, and I can’t seem to get my bearings.

The cold stone beneath me is a cruel reminder of how far I’ve pushed myself. My hands shake, fingers stiff from too much strain, and I finally drop my head, trying to hide the rush of heat that floods my face.

And then, I feel him.

His presence looms over me like a shadow, suffocating and unavoidable. My heart skips a beat, and I immediately wish I could melt into the ground, anything to escape the situation. But it’s too late.

I glance up—my breath catches as I come face to face with him. Xaden Riorson. He stands before me, looking like a damn god, his tall, muscular frame casting a shadow over me. The way his wide shoulders fill out his leather jacket should be illegal. He’s built like someone who’s spent years training and fighting, his chest massive, arms heavily muscled. His dark hair is windblown and tousled, the kind of messy that only makes him look more dangerous. His tawny-brown skin is kissed by the sun, and the dark stubble along his jawline only adds to the rough, untamed look. His eyes—gold-flecked onyx—are locked on mine with an intensity that makes me feel like I’m about to be set ablaze, and I would rather do anything else than face him like this.

I rub my face with both hands, hoping to hide the blush that’s rising to my cheeks. Of all the ways for this to end—of course, it’s Xaden Riorson who catches me. And of course, he looks like that.

“What the hell are you doing?” he growls, his voice a deep rumble of anger that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “You’re an idiot.”

I blink, half-frozen, half in disbelief. The audacity. “Oh, wow. Thank you, Wing Leader,” I drawl, sarcasm practically dripping from my tongue. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

Xaden’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t bite back—at least, not yet. Instead, his eyes flicker over me, and I know he’s assessing the damage. My exhaustion. The way I’m trembling, barely able to hold myself upright. It’s the worst feeling in the world. I’m embarrassed as hell that he’s seeing me like this—weak, on the edge of crumbling.

“I told you to stop before you reached this point,” he mutters, shaking his head. There’s an edge of frustration in his tone now, and I can’t decide if I want to hit something or laugh at how he sounds like he’s scolding a child.

“Yeah, well, you know me,” I say, wiping a bead of sweat off my brow, trying to make myself sound more in control than I feel. “Can’t resist proving everyone wrong.” I let out a bitter laugh, the kind that doesn’t reach my eyes. “But, hey, thanks for showing up and saving the day. Just what every soldier needs: an overbearing Wing Leader.”

A flash of something—maybe amusement, maybe exasperation—crosses his face, but it’s gone too quickly for me to read it properly. His dark brows furrow, and he steps closer, invading my space. “You’re burning yourself out. You can’t keep going like this.”

I force myself to sit up straighter, determined not to appear as weak as I feel, but I can’t hide the tremor in my limbs. The ache in my muscles is almost unbearable now, and Virethalon’s voice echoes through my mind—Stop, or you’ll destroy yourself. But I ignore it, as I have for hours.

I grit my teeth. “I don’t need your help, okay? I don’t need anyone’s help.”

I try to push myself to my feet, but my body betrays me, buckling underneath me like a broken chair. I stumble, gasping for breath, my hand reaching out for support but finding nothing.

Xaden’s eyes flash with anger again, but his movements are faster than I can process. He’s at my side in a heartbeat, and before I can even protest, he lifts me up, cradling me against him in one smooth, powerful motion. His arms are like iron around me, and my body, still trembling with exhaustion, goes stiff against him.

“What the hell are you doing?” I gasp, still trying to regain some semblance of control. I push against his chest—unsuccessfully—my arms too weak to do anything more than flop uselessly at my sides. “Put me down, you asshole!”

Xaden doesn’t respond immediately. He doesn’t have to. His grip tightens, holding me effortlessly against him as he carries me toward the barracks. “I told you to stop, but you never listen. So now you’re paying the price.” His tone is laced with annoyance, but there’s something else beneath it—something that makes my heart twist. Maybe it’s concern, maybe it’s guilt, but I can’t focus on that. I’m too busy trying to avoid the heat that floods my face.

“You’re such a prick,” I mutter, my voice half muffled by his chest. I’m so fucking embarrassed, and I hate that I feel this way. His warmth, his scent, is all-consuming, and my skin burns at the contact. But I refuse to admit it. “I don’t need you to carry me like some helpless baby.”

“Funny,” he says, his voice low, “because you sure look like one right now.”

I can practically hear the smirk in his voice, and I want to punch him. I should punch him. But I don’t have the energy, so I settle for biting my lip, muttering curses under my breath as he carries me.

The weight of his presence presses against me, and I can feel his muscles shifting beneath me, each movement of his body reminding me of just how powerful he is. And for all my protests, for all my sarcasm, I don’t want to admit that I’m secretly grateful. Grateful that he’s here. Grateful that he doesn’t let me fall apart.

Even if it means I have to endure his endless teasing.

Xaden’s warm eyes flicker down at me, and this time, there’s something softer there. Almost like...he understands. But I’m too stubborn to let myself believe it.

Xaden doesn’t say a word as he carries me through the barracks, the warmth of his body pressing against mine as I try to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks. I’m too tired to fight it. His presence is too overwhelming, and I can feel his heartbeat steady against me. Every step he takes is calculated, strong, as though it’s second nature for him to carry someone in his arms like this. It’s as if he’s done it a hundred times—though I have to wonder just how many times I’ve crossed his mind before today.

Xaden moves with a quiet grace, his large frame effortlessly navigating the corridors of the dorm building as though he’s done this a thousand times before. He steps softly, almost soundlessly, his footsteps absorbed by the shadows that seem to cling to him like a second skin. My heart races, but it's not from exertion anymore—it's the way he's so effortlessly commanding in everything he does. The weight of his arms around me, the heat radiating from his body, and the way my mind seems to short-circuit whenever I’m near him make it hard to think straight.

We pass the first-year rooms—mine included—and I can’t help but cringe at the thought of being caught sneaking past curfew. But Xaden moves with such precision, such mastery of his surroundings, that the idea of us being caught seems laughable. No one can hear us, no one even notices us. It’s like we’re ghosts, gliding past the rooms, unseen by anyone else.

I briefly wonder how he does it—how he’s so adept at slipping through the shadows, unnoticed, silent. But then, he’s always been a mystery to me. The kind of mystery I’ve never quite been able to figure out. And maybe, in a way, I don't want to.

Finally, we reach the staircase that leads to the upper floors, and with a swift glance in either direction, Xaden steps into the shadows, carrying me effortlessly up the stairs. We move past the landing and down the hallway to the last door—the one I know leads to his room. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t pause, and with a final quiet push of the door, we’re inside.

Xaden doesn’t put me down right away. His arms remain around me, his hold firm, as if he’s unwilling to let go. As if, for a brief moment, he’s afraid to lose the connection. The closeness between us feels suffocating, overwhelming, and yet I can’t bring myself to pull away. Every inch of my body is acutely aware of his presence, the heat of his skin seeping into mine, the muscle and strength in his arms keeping me held too close. I can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against me, mirroring the frantic pulse racing through my veins.

His dark eyes meet mine, and I swear, for a second, everything else falls away. His gaze is fierce, like a storm trapped behind his irises, flickering with a raw intensity that sends a wave of heat rushing through me. I’m suddenly aware of how painfully close we are—so close that if I moved even an inch, I’d be pressed against him completely. My breath catches, and I can’t look away, trapped in the gravity of his stare, like he’s pulling me toward him without even trying. And then, as if trying to fight whatever is building between us, his eyes flicker to my lips, and I feel it—the pull—stronger than anything I’ve ever felt.

But just as quickly as the moment seems to rise, he jerks his gaze away, his jaw tightening with the effort to control himself. It’s like he’s trying to push back the part of him that’s aware—aware of the magnetic pull between us, aware of how much he’s been fighting this… whatever this is. He shakes his head slightly, as though dismissing the thought entirely, like he’s trying to shut down the desire that flares in him. But I see it in his eyes—the flicker of something primal. Something I can’t ignore.

Finally, he sets me down, but he doesn’t let go immediately. He’s still so close that I can feel his breath on my skin, a whisper of warmth against the cold, the tension stretching taut between us, like a string pulled too tight. My pulse races as I settle onto the bed, the soft covers pressing against me, but my chest feels like it’s about to burst. I try to catch my breath, but it’s like the air in the room has thickened, heavy with unsaid words and the suffocating weight of everything unsaid.

Xaden doesn’t back away. He hovers, towering over me, his presence suffusing the space around us. I can feel the heat radiating off him, his body just a breath away, and every inch of me is screaming to close the distance. But I don’t move. I’m not sure I can. His nearness makes every part of me ache, makes every nerve light up, thrumming with the raw electricity that crackles between us.

His voice cuts through the thick silence, deep and steady, but there’s something almost... softer now, something gentler that makes my heart stutter. “Stay here,” he commands, his words pressing down on me like a physical weight, making my chest tighten. The force of his tone is undeniable, but there’s an undercurrent of something else—something that makes my stomach flutter. Something dangerous and thrilling all at once. "Be a good girl. Don’t go anywhere.”

I feel those words in my bones, in the very marrow of my being. The way he says it—it’s like a promise, a command that makes my heart race faster than it should. And yet, there’s a tenderness beneath it, a strange gentleness that pulls at me, twists my insides into knots. He wants to keep me here, close. He wants to possess this moment with me, even though I can feel the struggle in him—his body yearning to cross the line, but his mind pulling him back, trying to control what’s growing between us.

His gaze holds mine, unwavering, and I swear I see something break in his eyes—something raw and unspoken. It’s as if he’s holding himself back from doing something he knows would be too much, too dangerous. But the look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know: the battle is far from over, and this tension—this charge—it’s only just beginning.

I try to swallow, but my throat is dry. Every muscle in my body is taut, every nerve alive with an electric hum. Xaden disappears into the adjoining ensuite, his heavy footsteps echoing softly across the stone floor. I can hear the gentle hiss of the water filling the tub, the steady flow of it working in rhythm with the hammering of my heart. The tension between us lingers, the silence more suffocating now than ever before, and I can’t shake the feeling of his gaze still lingering on me even as he disappears from the room.

I should feel grateful for the space—should breathe, slow my pulse—but all I can think of is him. The way he’s so effortlessly commanding, yet there’s this softness beneath it that I can't quite place. The way he had looked at me, his expression a battle between restraint and something far more intense.

My fingers twitch, almost compulsively, and I reach for my boots, needing to do something. My body is still shaking from the exertion, from the near-collapse, and now my brain feels fuzzy, the exhaustion creeping in faster than I expected. I should just wait, I know I should, but I feel... out of control. I need to regain some semblance of normalcy, something to anchor me.

I struggle to bend down, but my balance is still far off from the punishment I just put my body through. My vision swims a little, and before I can register what’s happening, my body tips forward, sending me sprawling from the edge of the bed with a yelp. The floor greets me hard, and a shock of pain shoots up my spine, but it's nothing compared to the embarrassment that floods through me in waves. My pulse spikes, and I scramble, feeling utterly ridiculous.

A sharp, almost instinctive growl of frustration rises in the air—Xaden. He’s already moving quickly, a blur of motion as he rushes back into the room, his broad form filling the doorway in an instant. His dark eyes sweep over me, a flicker of concern passing through them, but it’s quickly replaced with something harder—almost irritated.

"You really are a disaster, aren't you?" His voice is deep, but there's a teasing bite to it, even as he crosses the room toward me in strides that eat up the distance. I can’t even find it in me to be offended. I’m too busy feeling like a complete fool.

Before I can open my mouth to respond, he’s crouching in front of me, his hands reaching for my arms to steady me. The sheer strength in his touch almost knocks the wind out of me as he helps me back onto my feet, the warmth of his hands traveling through my skin and straight to my chest. He doesn’t say anything else, but the way his eyes linger on me for a moment, as though making sure I’m okay, sends something fluttering nervously in my stomach.

“Try not to break anything else, would you?” His voice is softer now, as though the weight of the moment has finally broken through that icy exterior of his. His lips curve into a smirk, but there’s no denying the genuine care beneath the sarcasm.

Xaden moves with quiet precision, his hands wrapping around my waist, gentle but firm, as he guides me toward the bed. The heat from his touch lingers on my skin, and despite everything, I can't help but shiver. His grip is unyielding, his presence surrounding me, and as I sit on the edge of the bed, he stands in front of me, towering over me. The dim light from the room casts shadows across his features, making him look even more intimidating than usual, but there’s something in his eyes that betrays the mask he’s trying so hard to maintain.

His hands rest on my knees for a moment, and his gaze flickers to mine. There’s a question there, unspoken, something almost vulnerable beneath that stoic expression. I can see the battle waging in his eyes. He doesn’t want to touch me—at least, that’s what his expression says. But his eyes… those eyes of molten gold flecked with onyx… they betray him, flashing with an intensity I can’t quite read.

And then, in a moment that feels both like an eternity and a breath, Xaden sinks to his knees in front of me. The movement is fluid, almost too graceful, and my heart skips a beat. It feels wrong to be this close, too intimate. His presence is overwhelming, and I can feel the tension in the room thickening with every inch of space he closes between us.

Xaden kneels before me, his hands gentle but firm as he removes my boots. His touch is careful, almost reverent, but the tension is unmistakable. Each movement is deliberate, like he's holding himself back from something. The weight of his gaze on me is intense—smouldering, even—and I can feel every inch of him watching, noticing, memorising.

As he pulls off the second boot, his fingers brush against my calf, sending a jolt through me. My breath catches, and I instinctively tense, but it's more from the electric charge between us than the discomfort of my body. I don’t know why it affects me like this—this man who’s never once been shy about hiding the way he feels or thinking that his touch doesn’t matter—but in this moment, it matters. It matters more than it should.

He looks up then, his gaze locking onto mine. The heat in his eyes is unmistakable, a dark storm brewing just beneath the surface. His brow furrows slightly, and for a split second, I wonder if he’s questioning something—me, himself, what we’re both doing here, like this. But then his eyes flick lower, and I can see the hesitation there, a silent question that hangs in the air between us.

His fingers hover at the waistband of my tracksuit bottoms, brushing lightly against my hips. The touch is almost too soft, as if he’s trying to gauge my reaction before crossing a line that’s already dangerously blurred. He doesn’t say a word—he doesn’t have to. The question is in his eyes, in the way his lips part ever so slightly, in the subtle tension in his jaw. It’s an unspoken request, one that I know all too well.

I can feel the pulse of uncertainty in my veins, but something about this—about him—makes me lower my defences, just a little. Without even thinking, I raise my hips slightly, just enough to give him the signal. My movement is small, almost imperceptible, but it's enough. His breath hitches, and I can see the way his eyes flicker, a momentary loss of control before he tightens his grip on his composure.

Xaden exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath all this time, and I can see it in his expression—the struggle between what he wants and what he’s trying so hard to resist. His fingers slide beneath the waistband of my tracksuit bottoms, and I feel the slightest tremor in his touch. He’s slow, deliberate, like he’s savouring the moment, but also like he’s afraid that if he moves too quickly, the entire thing might shatter.

The air between us crackles with an electric tension, and as he helps me out of the fabric, I’m left feeling exposed in a way that’s more than physical. My heartbeat is louder than anything else, pounding in my ears, and for a moment, I forget about the aches in my body, the bruises, the exhaustion. It’s as though the world has narrowed to just us. Just this. And I can’t seem to pull away from him, from the way he makes me feel, from the way his hands linger a little too long at the edge of my clothing, as if to remind me that he sees me—every part of me.

I know it’s not supposed to feel this way, not like this. But every glance, every touch, every quiet, unspoken word between us is enough to unravel the careful walls I’ve built. And yet, even as he pulls the tracksuit bottoms off, his hands gentle but insistent, there’s something else in his eyes—something that tells me he’s fighting every urge to touch me, to kiss me. But he doesn’t. He never does.

I can’t decide whether that makes it harder or easier.

And when he finishes, leaving me in nothing but my sports bra and panties, I feel more vulnerable than I’ve ever been—completely at his mercy, exposed in more ways than one. The air is thick with unspoken words, and even as I sit there, trying to catch my breath, I know this isn’t over.

Xaden lets out a frustrated sound, a low, throaty growl that resonates deep in his chest. His breath stutters as his forehead falls gently to my thigh, the weight of it anchoring me in place. The intensity of the moment is suffocating, like the world around us has slowed to a stop, leaving only the two of us, tangled in something we can’t deny. His hands are gripping the edge of the bed, his knuckles white, and I can feel the tension in his body, a tight coil of restraint and hunger.

And then, in one swift, desperate motion, he surges upward, his lips crashing against mine. There’s no warning, no hesitation. Just pure, raw need. His mouth takes mine with a fierce intensity that leaves me breathless, as though he’s been holding back for far too long and now there’s no more control. It’s like he’s been starved for this—starved for me—and he doesn’t want to let me go, not even for a second.

I kiss him back with everything I have, my hands finding the sides of his face, pulling him closer, as if I can’t get enough. Every part of me feels alive with the heat between us, my skin tingling where his fingers brush against it, my heart thudding erratically in my chest. He tastes like fire—burning hot, consuming—and I can’t help but fall into him, into the kiss, into the feeling of him. I can feel the weight of his body pressing against mine, the strength of him, but it’s not overbearing. It’s grounding, like he’s pulling me into his orbit.

His hands move quickly, urgently, as if he’s afraid the moment will slip away from him. Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, he’s lifting me effortlessly from the bed, and suddenly I’m straddling his thighs. His hands settle on my hips, holding me in place, the heat of his body radiating into mine. I can feel the way his pulse races beneath his skin, the way his chest rises and falls against mine. The kiss deepens, growing even more frantic, and I don’t know whether it’s the intensity of it or the way he’s holding me that makes everything else feel so insignificant.

He pulls me closer, his hands guiding me with a possessive, yet gentle touch, and I can feel the thrum of energy between us, something electric, something undeniable. My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging him closer, and the sound of his breathing, his heavy exhales, fills the space between us. I can hear the way he’s fighting for control, the way his muscles tighten with the effort of keeping his composure.

But I don’t want him to. I don’t want him to hold back.

I don’t want him to fight it anymore.

I can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of my sports bra, his chest pressing against mine with each movement, and I’m acutely aware of how close we are, how easy it would be to lose ourselves completely in this. And yet, even as we continue kissing, tangled in each other’s embrace, there’s a part of me that’s still unsure, still trying to catch up with everything happening around me. But when his hands slide down to my thighs, gripping them with such possessiveness, that uncertainty melts away, replaced by a heady rush of desire.

The kiss breaks, but just for a moment, both of us gasping for air. His lips hover above mine, and I can see the raw intensity in his eyes, a mixture of frustration and something else—something far more tender, even if it’s buried beneath the layers of urgency.

"Don't stop," he mutters, his voice rough and low. His hands tighten around me, pulling me against him, as if he’s trying to make sure I’m real. “Please don’t stop.”

And all I can do is nod, my chest still rising and falling with the rapid pace of my heart. I don't want to stop either.

The air between us feels thick with heat, charged with a tension that I don't want to break, even as the reality of what we’re doing begins to settle in. Xaden’s hands are still firm on my hips, his grip tightening with every shift of my body, and I can feel every muscle in his form, every bit of control he's holding onto, fighting to stay composed. He pulls me closer again, the fabric of my sports bra barely separating us, his chest brushing against mine as he presses his forehead to mine, both of us gasping for breath.

The heat from his skin, the closeness of his body, is too much to ignore. It's overwhelming in the best way. I can hear my own pulse hammering in my ears, feel the electricity between us that neither of us can escape. He looks at me, his gold-flecked eyes searching mine, his breath ragged as if he's barely holding on to the edge of whatever control he has left.

I can't stop myself from raising my hand to touch his face, my fingers trailing down the line of his jaw, tracing the hard curve of his chin, feeling the roughness of his stubble. The tenderness in my touch makes him shiver, his breath catching in his throat, and for a brief second, everything else fades. There’s no training, no curfew, no expectations—just the two of us, caught in something far more complex than either of us ever intended.

His lips brush against mine once more, a soft, tentative kiss, but it feels more intimate than the previous fiery moments. It's full of the unspoken things, the feelings we've been hiding, buried beneath layers of duty and unacknowledged desire. Xaden pulls back slowly, just enough to look at me, his eyes heavy with something unreadable.

"I—" he starts, his voice thick with emotion, but I stop him, my fingers pressing gently to his lips.

“I know," I whisper. "I know, Xaden. We don’t need to say it.”

The words hang in the air between us, unspoken yet understood. He looks at me, really looks at me, and for once, there’s no pretension, no walls between us. Just a moment of raw honesty.

But then, he pulls back just a fraction, his hands slowly loosening their grip on me, as if reluctant to let go but knowing he has to. His eyes soften, a flicker of something tender passing over his features before he runs a hand through his windblown hair, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

“You should rest,” he murmurs, though there’s a trace of something unreadable in his voice. “You’ve pushed yourself too hard tonight.”

I nod, feeling the weight of his words as the adrenaline from our moment starts to ebb away, leaving me with a sense of vulnerability, of exhaustion I hadn’t realised had been creeping up on me. My body is still sore from the training, but now, there’s an ache of a different kind, a deep, resonating need I’m not sure how to deal with.

“You’re right,” I murmur, my voice hoarse. “About that bath…”

Xaden’s hands gently guide me to my feet, his fingers lingering on my hips just a moment longer than necessary, as if making sure I’m steady before he lets go. His touch is firm but considerate, grounding me, reminding me that he’s here, present, in this moment. I almost wish he didn’t have to pull away so soon, but the space between us feels impossible to close for reasons I can’t quite name.

With a soft grunt, Xaden rises to his full height, towering over me for a moment before he reaches down and picks me up again, effortlessly moving me toward the bed. His strong arms encircle my waist, and I feel the heat radiating from his chest, the power in his body that he keeps so carefully controlled. He sets me down gently on the edge of the mattress, the softness of the sheets a stark contrast to the tension that still crackles in the air between us.

I sit there for a moment, watching him, as he turns toward the bathroom, his broad back stretching as he moves, his muscular frame rippling with every step. His windblown black hair falls just above his collar, and I can't help but stare at the way he walks—confident, purposeful, but there’s an undercurrent of something, a quiet storm inside him that’s barely contained.

The silence feels heavy, too heavy, until I finally speak up, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.

“... Maybe you could join me?”

The moment they leave my mouth, time seems to slow. Xaden freezes in his tracks, his hand hovering over the doorframe, his back to me. For a breathless second, I wonder if he didn’t hear me, if the words just got lost in the space between us. But then, the tension in his body is palpable. His shoulders tighten, his jaw clenches, and I watch as a low, almost imperceptible sound slips from his throat—a frustrated, breathy exhale that he seems to be holding back with all his strength.

He doesn’t turn around right away, but when he does, his eyes meet mine, and there's a flicker of something dangerous there. It’s not anger. It’s hunger—raw, palpable, and so intense that it sends a shiver down my spine. I can't look away, can't tear my gaze from his. The silence between us stretches, thickening, until I can almost feel the heat coming off of him.

"You really want that?" His voice is low, a little strained, like he's trying to rein himself in. There's a slight tremor in his hands, and his posture is tense, like a coil ready to snap. He’s trying to keep himself in check, and I know he’s holding back everything he wants to say, everything he wants to do. But there's something in his eyes, a flicker of vulnerability, of yearning, that betrays the composure he’s trying so hard to maintain.

I nod slowly, heart pounding in my chest as I search his face, looking for any sign of hesitation, any clue that I’ve crossed a line. But there’s none. Instead, he takes a step toward me, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he’s waiting for me to stop him, to give him some sort of excuse to turn back. But I don’t.

I don’t know what happens next, only that the space between us feels like it’s been stretched so thin that it could snap at any moment. Xaden is so close now, his presence overwhelming, and I can’t breathe, not properly. All I can do is stare at him, feel the pull, the need between us, and wonder if he can feel it too.

“Don’t tempt me,” he mutters under his breath, before stepping into the bathroom, leaving me to wonder if he’ll give in, if he’ll actually let this tension between us break.

Part Two ⇒ Giving Into Temptation

Fourth Wing Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

@xadenswhore @fanficscuziranout @daisydark @Mariahoedt @marrass @

[chaoticneutraltor]

[writinginatree]

Too Sweet

Relationship(s): Xaden Riorson/female!reader

Summary: Xaden never understood how opposites could attract — not until he meets you and realizes that he doesn't have to understand your sweetness to cherish it.

Anonymous requested: I was thinking in a xaden fic based in "too sweet" from Hozier, where he's all like wanting the reader but also thinking like she deserved more, but with a happy ending ( maybe smutty too ✋🏻

Xaden never understood that opposites were supposed to attract. On a physical level, sure. But when it comes to personality and ideology? How could anyone be with someone so wildly different from themselves that they can't possibly understand the other? Someone whose whole attitude to life is completely unlike their own? To him, it just seemed like a recipe for heartbreak. Then again, the saying only claims that opposites attract, not necessarily that they're compatible.

Since meeting you, this is something he's been thinking about a lot.

You're everything he is not; happy, bubbly, energetic, adored by just about everyone and making friends left and right. You're... sweet. There's no other way to put it. What someone like you is doing in the Riders Quadrant, Xaden doesn't know.

He tries to keep his distance at first — liking people is dangerous, and you're much too likable. Needless to say, it doesn't work. Being in the same squad, he constantly finds himself in your presence, and while he keeps to himself as much as he can, he finds it hard to outright avoid you. Almost against his will, he slowly gets to know you. He can't exactly help it, seeing as you sit next to him in almost every class, seek him out at mealtimes, asking him to come sit with the rest of your squad, offer smiles every time you pass him in the halls. You're everywhere, a persistent ray of sunshine piercing into the darkness of his life.

He doesn't understand you. Doesn't have a clue why you're so nice, or how you always manage to be so sociable, no matter what time it is or what lethal bullshit you're about to face, let alone why you seem to genuinely like him. Unlike most others, you have no prejudices against the marked ones, but even so, Xaden is not an easy person to like these days. He can't afford kindness, weakness. Not with all the lives that quite literally rest upon his back.

But no matter how curt he is, no matter how often he only gives one-word answers to your steady stream of chatter or declines your offers to study together, your friendliness never wavers. Every morning your beaming smile greets him in the gathering hall at breakfast, and as days turn into weeks, he often finds his gaze automatically scanning the room for you upon entering, hoping to catch a glimpse of that precious smile. Your presence becomes a comforting part of his routine, always there and yet never intruding. For all your persistence in trying to include him, you're never overbearing. You don't push him when he doesn't join your squad's study session, give him opportunity to join a conversation should he want to, but accept when he doesn't.

He shouldn't get too used to your presence — two of your year-mates have died already, and there's no guarantee you won't be next. Life is dangerous in the Riders Quadrant, and Xaden keeps wondering why someone so sweet would choose this life. You seem more like the type who would be a healer — or maybe even a baker or gardener, far away from the cruelty of war. And yet you thrive even in this environment. He supposes he could just ask you about it, but he doesn't want to get to know you, gods damn it.

Thinking back later, Xaden will realize that the superficial attraction he felt for you from the first starts to grow toward something more the first time your squad leader pairs him with you for a sparring session.

He has already seen you fight at Assessment, but facing you on the mat himself, he gets a much more intimate feeling of your fighting style. You're fast, full of the same energy that is in everything you do, smiling even as you struggle to dodge his punches and get past his defense. You're good. Not as good as him, but your enthusiasm makes up for that. Xaden has to admit — at least to himself — that sparring with you is actually fun. The training session seems to be over in the blink of an eye, and as you step off the mat, both of you sweaty and breathing hard, Xaden is already looking forward to the next, hoping he'll get you as his sparring partner again.

For once he allows himself to be drawn into conversation, answering your questions on how to improve your technique as you walk out of the gym side by side.

The better he gets to know you, the more he has to keep reminding himself to stay away from you, that you're too sweet for him. But, oh, it's hard; he enjoys your company so much. Garrick has caught on, too, teasing him about what he calls his crush on the sunshine girl every time he sees him talking to you. And though Xaden vehemently denies having such a silly thing as a crush, he can't even convince himself of that, let alone his best friend. Having known him as long as he does, Garrick always sees right through him.

The relief Xaden feels at Threshing when he lands and spots you already standing on the flight field in front of a Red is immense. He quickly shoves the feeling down, preferring not to think about what it implies. He does not have a crush, and the last thing he needs is for his dragon to think him a lovesick fool and change its mind about bonding him while it still can. He feels the unfamiliar presence of her in the back of his mind, her golden eyes piercing into him after he dismounts.

He feels all the other people's gazes on him, too, the disapproving stares from where leadership is seated on the dais, their disdain for him permeating the very air. He keeps his head high as he walks to the rollkeeper, refusing to so much as look at the people who'd doubtlessly been hoping he would meet his end in the woods today.

Blood keeps trickling into his eye from the cut Sgaeyl gave him. It stings, but the annoyance of it is worse than the pain. Pain is fine. But constantly having to blink away the blood blurring his vision, feeling it run down his cheek like tears — it makes his skin crawl with discomfort. He's not going to seek out the professors giving first-aid, though. Bothersome as it might be, it's just a little cut, and he can't afford to look weak.

As he walks back to Sgaeyl, his eyes automatically find you in the crowd of mingling first-years, just as they always do. You're watching him, too, but unlike everyone else whose gazes darken, you smile at the sight of him. When you notice him looking, you wave and start toward him. As you get closer, Xaden notes a split in your lip and a blood-soaked bandage around your thigh, but since you're hardly even limping, Xaden assumes that the injury can't be very bad. No, if anything, there's even more of a spring to your walk than usual, your hair bouncing with every step.

Instead of stopping in front of him when you reach him, you throw your arms around him, squeezing him tight, and suddenly, Xaden doesn't remember how to breathe. No one just hugs him out of nowhere like that. No one would even dream of hugging him at all. And yet here you are, doing just that and apparently thinking nothing of it, judging by the easy smile on your face when you let go after a couple of seconds.

"I'm glad you made it," you say. "I mean, I never doubted it, but still."

"I'm glad you made it, too," he admits, quiet enough that none of the people nearby will hear. He allows himself to return your smile, just for a moment, absentmindedly lifting his hand to wipe blood from his eye again. Your gaze immediately snags on the cut, a small crease appearing between your own brows.

"Your dragon?" you ask.

Xaden nods.

"You'd think the relics they'll give us should be enough to mark us as theirs, but apparently not. Mine stabbed me in the thigh."

"Daggertail?"

"Swordtail. Went right through and back out on the other side, but luckily she didn't cut through anything important." You shrug, the grin reappearing on your face as you tilt your head to the side, studying him. "That'll be one hell of a badass scar you're gonna have there."

Xaden bites back another smile, watching with slight confusion as you remove the kerchief you're wearing around your neck today. For a moment, Xaden catches a flash of glitter dotting the black cloth, then it's too close to see clearly as you bring the balled up fabric to his brow and dab up the blood. Your touch is much gentler than his own, and, with the cloth soaking up the blood, much more effective, too.

After a few seconds you pull back, pressing your now bloody neckerchief into his hand. "Keep it."

"Thanks," he mutters past the lump he suddenly seems to have in his throat.

He'll never get used to how kind you are. It's such a little thing, to notice how much the blood in his eye was bothering him and do something about it, and yet it means more to him than you could ever know. It'll probably take a while until the wound completely stops bleeding, but with your kerchief to wipe at it, at least it won't bleed all over his face anymore.

He pretends to listen as you start rambling about your dragon and the thrill of the short flight here, and though Xaden agrees that there's nothing that can compare to the feeling of flying, he can't focus enough to keep up with the sheer endless rush of words. It should be annoying, he thinks. The constant happy babbling, the needless touching — even now you're standing much closer than necessary, shaking his arm as you bounce on your feet while telling him about a particularly exciting part of approaching Milis. If anyone else did that, he'd shove them away to get some space, tell them to stop being so childish. But for some reason it doesn't bother him when you're the one doing it.

Spotting Garrick in the crowd, Xaden hurriedly uses the excuse to walk away toward his best friend. Turning his mind to more practical matters, he forces his thoughts away from you with great difficulty, still reeling from your unreasonable kindness.

After Threshing, something changes, and Xaden finds himself spending more and more time in your company. Maybe it's just that you and him are slowly crystalizing out to be the most powerful in your squad. Or maybe he's going down a slippery slope, no idea where it might lead but unable to stop the descent.

Too sweet, that's what you are. But then, Xaden has always liked sweet things. He remembers when he was a child, being told that all those sugary things he liked so much would hurt his teeth. With you, he feels similar to how he did then; afraid of the hurt he might be causing himself in the long run and wishing to preserve himself from it, but unable to resist the immediate temptation of sweetness. He craves it, that contrast you bring to the usual bitterness that is his life.

And it's refreshing to be around someone who isn't scared of him, even if he still doesn't understand why you aren't intimidated of him like everyone else. Despite your easygoing attitude and bubbly personality, you're far from a fool, unrelenting and self-preservative when need be.

It's an uncomfortable thought, the idea that maybe you're seeing past the stoic facade he keeps, know that he wouldn't hurt you unless you hurt him first. He's not used to people seeing him for who he is anymore, only for who he has to be. The Great Betrayer's son, the heir apparent, the revolution's leader. Traitor or hero, depending on who you ask. But with you, he can simply be Xaden. It scares him, that vulnerability you bring out in him, but he'd be lying if he claimed not to like how simple everything seems when he's with you.

The only difficulty is the secrets he is forced to keep. Luckily, you're very understanding when he says he doesn't want to talk about anything to do with his father's rebellion, and if you suspect that he's up to anything illegal, you don't show it. Some of it — like the meetings with all the marked ones in the quadrant to make sure everyone is helping each other get by — he could probably trust you with. By now, he knows you well enough to know you wouldn't immediately jump to the worst conclusions, would probably even help him sneak out. But in a way, the worst possible conclusions are uncomfortably close to the truth, and he can't risk revealing even such a comparatively harmless secret. No, the less you know, the better — for both of you.

Enjoy your company as he might, sometimes it does grate on his nerves, that seemingly endless happy energy you radiate. Like today, sitting at breakfast and tired out of his mind as he sips on his second mug of coffee when you come bouncing into the gathering hall, fresh from the gym. If he didn't know you get up before sunrise every morning to lift weights with another girl from your squad before breakfast, he'd think you came straight from your bed after a full night's sleep. Of course, even with getting up almost two hours earlier than necessary, you're most certainly still getting more sleep than he is.

Sliding into your usual seat beside him, you greet everyone with more enthusiasm than anyone should have at this time of morning. Xaden returns only the barest of nods, which is more than he's spared anyone else so far. He can already tell this is not going to be his day, and he doesn't feel like wasting energy on being sociable.

You know better than to take it personally, humming a happy little melody under your breath as you start to eat.

As much as Xaden normally enjoys the sound of your voice, the noise in the hall is already bad enough, and he doesn't need you adding to it. "Would you stop that?" he snaps, more harshly than he had intended.

You fall quiet with an apologetic smile, and Xaden immediately feels bad about losing his patience on you.

He downs the rest of his coffee, contemplating whether or not getting another mug of it would help his mood. Probably not, but it's worth a try to keep from snapping at you again. You're trying to be considerate, doubtlessly having noticed that the dark circles under his eyes are even more pronounced than usual, but it simply isn't in your nature to be quiet for long. He likes that — most of the time, at least. The silence he takes refuge in can feel suffocating at times; having you around to break it makes life decidedly more bearable.

"Maybe you'd be less tired if you tried going to bed a little earlier," you tease.

The glare he levels on you is the kind that would have a lesser person shrinking in their seat, as evident by the wary looks from your squadmates, but you're not intimidated in the least. If anything, your smile only widens.

Unbelievable.

"How do you want to know what time I go to bed?"

You shrug. "You know I have the room next to yours. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, and when I look out of the window then there's always light coming from your window."

"Stalker," he mutters, rolling his eyes when you giggle. The sound effortlessly melts away the worst of his irritation, leaving him still tired and moody, but decidedly less likely to kill anyone for testing his patience.

"I wasn't stalking you on purpose," you defend yourself, the laughter lingering in your voice, "I just like looking at the snow in the moonlight. It's always so pretty, don't you think?"

Xaden shrugs. It's been a long time since he's spared any thought to the beauty of nature. The next time he can't sleep — which is almost all the time — he'll try to enjoy the nightly view from his window too, he decides, if only so he can understand what you like about it.

"The snow would be all nice and well if we didn't have to fly in it," your squadmate inserts themself into the conversation. "Have you seen how much is coming down right now?"

You nod. "Maybe it'll let up until our turn on the flight field. Milis says if this keeps up, she and the other dragons might just refuse to show up." Quieter, only for Xaden, you add, "Let's hope they don't, then you can use the time for a nap instead."

"I don't need a nap," he grumbles back, just as quietly. Truth be told, he probably could use one, but if he were able to sleep, he wouldn't be this tired.

"You sure? I'll even sing you a lullaby if you'd like."

You wink at him, grinning in that way only you can, and Xaden knows that despite your playful manner, you're serious about helping him fall asleep if you can.

He shakes his head, smiling against his will. "You're a dork."

"And you're an insomniac."

"I'm fine."

"Whatever you say."

People's intimidation of him turns to outright fear once his signet manifests, shadows stirring wherever he goes. As usual, you're the exception. Your eyes shine with awe and something like pride as you watch him demonstrate his newfound powers to you with rapt fascination, not a trace of fear to be found.

"That's amazing!" You bring a hand to the shadow closest to you, gingerly brushing your fingers along it. Xaden feels goosebumps rise on his skin, as if it had been him you touched. "They're actually solid! How is that even possible?"

"No idea," Xaden admits. "I'm only just starting to figure out how it works."

As his signet grows stronger, your shadow is the one he's most aware of. Even when you're not in the same room — or even the same building — as him, he always knows exactly where you are and what you're doing. It's not what he should be using this power for, but the shadows seem to have a mind of their own. They're very attached to you. Or maybe he's just making that up to excuse his embarrassing lack of control. It's not like he wants to be some kind of obsessive stalker; he simply can't help the fact that you're constantly on his mind.

If you have noticed that the shadows near you always seem more alive than is natural as of late, you haven't mentioned it. Not very surprising, considering you're occupied with trying to control your own water wielding signet. Xaden has taken more than one involuntary bath since it manifested a couple weeks ago, and has learned to keep his distance from you while drinking water. When you lose control, it's always him getting drenched, as though your water is drawn to him the same way his shadows are to you. It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't the middle of fucking winter. You always try to remove the moisture from his clothes afterwards, but while you have already gotten a little better at it, even your best efforts don't get them any less than damp, so Xaden — or whoever else falls victim to your flood — is left either freezing his ass off in wet clothes, or making himself late to the next class by returning to his room to get changed.

Worst of all, Xaden can't even bring himself to be mad at you about it. He's no better; the only difference is that, so far, his shadows haven't tried to drown anyone.

He probably shouldn't be thinking about that incident as often as he does, and he definitely shouldn't be so giddy about it. It was hotter than it had any right to be, watching you almost murder someone on his account. It also made his heart flutter with a whole array of feelings he can't even begin to name. While Xaden obviously doesn't need your protection, the fact that you're willing to publicly stand up for him means a lot. The knowledge that you got so angry in defense of him, that you wielded enough water to flood a whole stairway without even meaning to because someone had been talking shit about him... Just thinking about it makes him more emotional than he'd like.

But while your signet can be wild and destructive, the water is usually gentle. It's an accurate reflection of you, he thinks, untamed and unpredictable, inherently soft but just as capable of terrible harm when provoked. When you're calm and in control, the water flows steadily along like the ever present stream of your chatter, lively and somehow soothing at the same time. Xaden enjoys watching it, how it can flow through even the smallest crack, how it glitters in the light. He enjoys watching you wield it even more, the look of concentration on your face, the beaming smile when you get it to do what you want. It's hypnotizing. A dangerous distraction he really can't afford. He loses track of everything else all too easily when he's with you. You're an undertow, irresistibly pulling him in, and Xaden would happily drown in your sweet waters.

When his lips finally meet yours for the first time, you taste as sweet as Xaden's favorite chocolate cake, and he's instantly addicted.

Afterward, he's not even sure how it happened. You'd been sitting in commons after doing homework together, enjoying a few more minutes of quiet in each other's presence before turning in for the night. You'd rested your head on his shoulder, smiling up at him as he teased you about already being tired so early in the evening, the only other sound the dripping of the melting snow outside the window. Then, before he even knew what he was doing, Xaden had leaned down and kissed you.

Lying in bed that night, he still can't believe it. Even harder to believe is the fact that you'd kissed back, smiling from ear to ear and gracing him with another peck of your lips when he'd wished you a good night and fled to his room. He still feels the ghost of your lips against his, imagines he can still taste you as he licks them.

Trying to form a coherent thought feels like swimming through an ocean of thick, cloying sweet honey. When he closes his eyes, there's only you. Your bright smile and soft eyes, the sound of your laugh, the feeling of your lips, over and over again. The tiny part of him still capable of logic is telling him he made a mistake, that he should stay the fuck away from you. Indulging the feelings for you, which he is no longer able to deny, can't lead anywhere good. He should turn back while he still can, for your sake as much as his own.

You deserve someone nicer, someone you won't be in danger for associating with, who doesn't have so much to hide. Someone who can openly worship the ground you walk on, prioritize you over everything else. Xaden wishes he could be that person, but the burden he took on after his father's death won't allow it.

He plans on telling you as much, but when he sees you in the hall the next morning, he can't bring himself to get the words out. Your face lights up at the sight of him, the awareness of the joy his presence brings you making his heart ache. Then you come skipping over and peck his cheek, first making sure nobody is watching, which has Xaden melting all over again. No, as much as he knows he should end this before it can really start, he simply can't.

You walk to breakfast in companionable silence, which Xaden is very grateful for. He's not ready to talk about whatever this is that's developing between you. You'll have to, eventually, he knows. He'll have to decide if he wants to accept that he's smitten and just see where this will go, vulnerability and problems that would come with it and all, or if he wants to try and shut you out. It's barely a choice, considering how he loathes every moment he's apart from you. He should have never allowed himself to get this close in the first place, but now it's too late.

"You shouldn't be seen with me so much," he tells you a few days later. The both of you are late for math because you'd been too busy making out in an empty corridor to hear the bells, and he can't help but worry what everyone will think when they see you walk in together, kiss-swollen lips and all. "People will say you associate with traitors."

The roll of your eyes is a stark contrast to the gentle tone of your voice when you reply. "People see us together all the time, Xaden. It's not any different just because we're more than friends now. And I don't care what they think, anyway. You're not a traitor, and anyone who thinks you are is an idiot and doesn't matter."

Xaden has to bite his lip to keep silent. If only you knew what he's been up to. Dragging you into the revolution is the last thing he wants, and yet, he can't help but imagine how much nicer it all would be with you by his side. With a sense of justice as strong as yours, you would certainly want to help if you knew the truth of what's out there. No matter. He's not going to put you into that danger, not with how uncertain everything still is.

Twice him and Garrick have managed to smuggle weapons out now, chancing upon a friendly drift by mere luck the first time. Twice is not enough to determine whether they'll get away with it in the long run. For all he knows, someone could already be suspecting them — which is exactly why you should not be seen with him. Even unaware as you are, it's not safe.

And what if you catch on? Xaden knows you know he has secrets, and adores you even more for not pushing the matter, but eventually, your curiosity is bound to get the best of you. If you find out about the weapons runs, he'll either have to tell you what leadership has been hiding — which will sound like madness when he has no way to prove it — or let you believe him to be a traitor without reason. He can't imagine either.

Unfortunately, you choose just then to say, "You know, I missed you at dinner yesterday."

Xaden acknowledges your comment with a nod but doesn't reply, unwilling to lie but unable to tell you that he'd snuck out with Garrick to deliver the weapons they'd stolen for the fliers.

"I'm not saying that because I want to stalk you or anything," you continue. It's become sort of a running joke between the two of you to call the other a stalker for such observations. "It's just that you had me worried. Maybe next time you could let me know when you're going to be busy?"

"Yeah. I can do that," Xaden says, praying you won't ask where he's been.

"Thank you." You smile, briefly halting your steps to give him another kiss, and Xaden is too lost in the sweetness of it to notice you've already reached the classroom until you open the door.

Despite his resolution to not let your relationship — or whatever it is — progress any further, he does. It's like any time he's near you, he loses all common sense.

Sgaeyl is getting annoyed with him, telling him to make up his mind. It is clear he's already made his decision, she says, so he might as well commit to it. She's right, of course, even if Xaden hates to admit it.

He doesn't want to be the selfish asshole he feels he's being by letting himself bask in your presence every chance he gets, by allowing himself to dream of a future with you by his side. It's unattainable, no matter how much he wants it, and yet there's a tiny part of him that dares to hope and refuses to settle for less. You may not have actually talked about your feelings so far, but Xaden knows you want a real, deeper relationship with him as much as he does. It could all be so perfect, if there weren't all those responsibilities Xaden has to think of, the lives depending on him. He can't drag you into that mess in good conscience; just imagining that inherent joy leaving your eyes as the truth destroys your faith in humanity makes him feel sick.

Maybe he could be with you without letting you find out? You always respect his privacy, never probe about the secrets you know he has.

But no, he can't keep you in the dark forever. He'll tell you, sooner or later. You deserve to know the truth, terrible as it is. You deserve to fight by his side, if you so choose. Whatever horrors the future holds, Xaden wants to face them together with you.

"I don't know if this is such a good idea," he admits one night, lying in your bed. One last, half-hearted attempt to make you see he's bad for you. And if you brush it off like you always do, he'll accept that you want him too, consequences be damned.

"What isn't?"

"Us."

"Why not?" you ask, voice as soft as the drizzle of rain falling outside the window.

There's more than a dozen reasons he could list, but most of them have to do with matters he can't — won't — tell you about. Someday he will, if the world keeps turning long enough, but for the time being, it's better you don't know.

"I'm not sweet like you," he mumbles instead.

You just smile, the way you always do when he's being difficult. "No, I guess not. But you're not the bad guy you want people to think you are, either."

"You can't possibly know that."

He thinks of everything you don't know, the secrets he's hiding. Would you still think the same of him if you knew the truth about him, everything he really is?

"I do, though. You're not a bad guy," you repeat with a gentleness he doesn't deserve. "You're just you. A survivor. Maybe a bit broody. But that's okay, 'cause I love you just the way you are."

Your fingers brush a few stray hairs from his forehead, and the last of Xaden's resolve crumbles. Neither of you had dared use the word love so far; hearing it now, Xaden wants you to say it over and over again.

"Good. Because you're not getting rid of me anymore."

"No?"

"No. Even if you probably should."

"Good." You smile, ignoring the second half of what he said, and brush your lips against his. "Now stop worrying so much and go to sleep."

[violetsorengail]

back to negotiations :)

[angstywaifu]

Flight Attendant: Before we take off please make sure that all small items are secured. Garrick: Do you feel safe? Violet: Fuck you.

[nomie-11]

Xaden Riorson x Reader - The Same as Seven Years Ago

masterlist!

Xaden Riorson was thirteen when he fell in love with Y/n L/n. 

She was the daughter of one of his father’s friends—one of the other great houses of Tyrrendor. And while he, Garrick, and Bodhi would run around swinging wooden swords at each other, she would sit at the piano in the great hall and play.  

Xaden sat beside her, his wooden sword clutched in his hands as though it might lend him courage. She didn’t look at him, her gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun bled into the snow-peaked mountains, a riot of orange and pink hues that reminded him of the way her laughter sounded: soft, warm, and utterly consuming. 

“You’re always watching the sunset,” he muttered, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. 

Y/n glanced at him, her head tilted slightly, an innocent smile curving her lips. “And you’re always swinging that sword around like you’re going to save the world with it.” 

His cheeks flushed, and he looked down, running a thumb over the worn wood of the hilt. “Maybe I will.” 

Her laugh was quiet, almost teasing, but there was a softness in her eyes when she spoke. “I hope you do, Xaden.” 

They sat in silence after that, the air humming with words he didn’t know how to voice. He wanted to tell her how he noticed the way her eyes lit up when she played, how her melodies stayed with him long after the notes faded. But he was thirteen, and she was Y/n—beautiful, untouchable, and always just a little out of reach. 

————————————

Xaden Riorson was seventeen when the fall of his father’s rebellion ripped Y/n L/n away from him.

The day Aretia burned, Xaden felt like the ground beneath his feet shattered. 

It started with smoke on the horizon, a dark smudge against the crisp blue of the morning sky. Xaden, Garrick, and Bodhi were sparring in the courtyard, their now metal swords clashing with the ring of metal. Y/n was still seated at the piano, her fingers coaxing a gentle melody from the keys as Navarre’s dragon riders soared overhead. She was the picture of calm amidst their chaos, her music softening the harsh clang of their practice. 

And then the bells rang. 

The sound was sharp, urgent, cutting through the air like a blade. The boys froze, their swords hanging mid-swing, and the music stopped. Xaden looked at her, his heart stuttering at the fear that flared in her eyes.  

“Go inside,” Her father barked as he stormed through the courtyard and to the open doors that kept her in Xaden’s view. The rebellion was under siege, and it didn’t take long for the realization to settle in—Aretia was burning to the ground. Tyrrendor had fallen. 

The grip on his blade tightened as he grabbed Y/n’s hand, their fingers tangling as he pulled her away from the piano, away from the growing chaos. “Stay with me,” he said, his voice more commanding than he felt. 

She squeezed his hand, her gaze steady despite the panic rising around them. “Always.” 

But the world had other plans. 

She was torn from his protective embrace as they watched the execution of their parents, and put in a foster home far away from him. 

He watched as she cried silent tears, before being dragged away to some strangers home across the continent, his grip on her hand slipping as she was dragged away from him and the burning remnants of their parent’s bodies. 

————————————————-

Xaden Riorson was twenty when he saw Y/n L/n again, and the sight of her almost stopped his heart. 

The years apart had been unkind to them both, though in different ways. Xaden had hardened, the boy who once dreamt of saving the world and creating the one he dreamed of was now tempered by grief, rage, and survival. Y/n… she had changed too, but not in the ways he’d expected. 

She was stronger, sharper, like the steel of a blade that had been reforged in fire. The soft warmth and innocence in her eyes that had once matched the sunset now glowed with determination, her posture straight and defiant in the face of the brutal challenges of Basgiath. she was a survivor—just like him. But that fire in her eyes made him hesitate. 

He didn’t know this version of her. He didn’t know if she still needed his protective hand clamped around hers. 

Standing in the shadows near the edge of the courtyard, he watched as she leaped off of the parapet, her landing poised and graceful as if she was just playing the piano in the great hall once more. He resisted the pull to approach her. His heart hammered against his ribs at the sight of her, alive and whole. He’d imagined this moment a thousand times, dreamt of what he’d say if he ever saw her again. But now that she was here, a chasm of guilt and hesitation kept him rooted in place. 

She wasn’t the girl he’d lost. And he wasn’t the boy she’d known. 

But then she turned. 

Her now sharp gaze scanned the courtrayed, cutting through the noise and chaos as though she could feel his presence. And when her eyes landed on him, everything else faded. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. 

And then she started towards him, pushing her way through the crowd, and he braced himself to be yelled at, scolded for his stupid decision to have all of the rebellion kids put in this hell of a quadrant. 

But she didn’t yell. She didn’t scold him. 

When Y/n reached him, her steps slowed, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The years hung heavily between them, filled with all the unsaid words, broken promises, and memories of what had been ripped away. Her lips parted as if she might speak, but instead, she just stared at him, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with the silence. 

“You’re alive,” she finally whispered, her voice barely audible over the clamor of the courtyard. There was no anger there, only disbelief and a brief hint of something else he couldn’t quite name. Relief? Hope?

Xaden’s throat felt tight, the weight of every regret and mistake pressing down on him. “So are you,” he murmured, his voice rough. 

Her gaze softened for just a second, and in that moment, he saw her—not the hardened survivor, not the girl forged in fire, but the Y/n he’d fallen in love with all those years ago. The girl who’d played the piano while he dreamed of saving the world with a wooden sword. 

For all the ways they’d changed, for all the scars they bore, they were still those thirteen year-olds at heart. She was still the girl who was beautiful, untouchable, and always just a little out of reach. And he? He was still the boy who would walk through flames and hurricanes to protect her, even if it meant standing in the shadows while she forged ahead. 

“Why didn’t you–” she began, but her voice faltered, and her hands clenched into fists at her sides. 

He knew what she was asking. Why didn;t you stop it? Why didn’t you save me? Why didn’t you do anything? 

“I tried,” he said, his voice low, his words a confession he’d carried for years. “I tried, Y/n. I swear I did.”

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away. Her eyes searched his, as though trying to find the boy she once knew beneath the layers of the man he’d become. And maybe she did, because her shoulders eased ever so slightly, and the sharpness in her expression softened. 

“Xaden,” she whispered, and the sound of his name on her lips was like arriving home. 

He took a cautious step closer, and then another, until there was barely a breath between them. “I’m still the boy who wanted to save the world,” he said, as if trying to convince himself that it was true. “And you’re still the girl who made me believe it was worth saving.” 

Her lips parted, her breath catching, and for the first time in years, the space between them didn’t feel so insurmountable. 

“We’re not those kids anymore,” she said softly, but there was no bitterness in her voice. 

“No,” he agreed, his gaze steady on hers. “We’re not. But I’m still here. And so are you.” 

For a moment, the world around them faded once more, leaving only the two of them—the boy with the wooden sword and the girl at the piano, standing on the edge of something they didn’t yet have words for. Something that had always been there, even when the world tried to tear it apart. 

-------

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

Taglist: @awkardnerd , @hannraumari , @minjix , @glaciuswduo , @wolfbc97 , @heeseungthel0ml

[danikamariewrites]

Hi I hope it’s ok if i request this you really don’t have to do it. But a Xaden riorson fluff and angst where the reader gets really hurt but they are trying to help people so she hides it from Xaden and when he finds out he’s really mad at her but he’s really just scared of losing her and hates seeing her hurt with a happy ending. I hope this is ok and there is no pressure to do this I completely understand if you don’t want to.

My Greatest Fear

Xaden Riorson x reader

Note: I haven’t written for Xaden in so long, I’ve missed him. I’m so ready for Onyx Storm and I kind of want to do something to celebrate. Should I do a countdown with fics for each FW boy for the week leading up to the books release? I hope you like this fic anon and thanks for requesting :)

Warnings: mentions of blood, injuries, and stitches

More than anything you want to sneak away from the crowded hall. To blend in with the shadows of Riorson House and limp away to your bedroom. Clutching your side you skillfully dodge riders, healers, and everyone in between.

“Y/n! Can you assist over here?” Violet calls to you, her arms full of bandages. You meet her pleading gaze, putting on a generous smile and nodding as you make your way over to her. The slash on your ribs can wait. Others with worse injuries need help.

Pulling the laces of your vest tighter with shaking hands you take the bandages from Violet to help distribute them. “Thank you,” Violet breathes out. She rushes off to take another box from Liam, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

A small sigh escapes your lips at the sight, making you wonder where your own boyfriend is. Xaden wasn’t among the injured, not that he would ever let himself be seen like that thanks to the Colonel’s words in the last Assembly meeting. But this wyvern attack has been the worst one yet. Healers are still bringing people in and you don’t want to thank the gods until you lay eyes on an unharmed Xaden.

————

After an hour you were exhausted and light headed. The more you felt the cut on your side dripping blood the tighter you pulled your vest, hoping to keep your skin together. Slumping on the ground you rest for a moment.

Taking deep breathes you try to focus on the chaos around you, tuning out the pain.

Opening your eyes you see Liam staring down at you, a worried look on his face. “Hey,” he says softly. “Xaden is back and asking for you.” Your heart picks up at the mention of your boyfriend.

“Is he ok?” Liam smiles at you. “Of course he is. He’s Xaden.”

You chuckle, “Don’t let him hear you say that. It’ll go right to his head, it’s already big enough.”

Liam holds his hand out to help you. You brush him off, using the wall to help you stand. Liam eyes you as you take a shaky breath. Pulling yourself together you do your best not to limp toward Xaden. You can feel Liam’s gaze burning on the back of your head at your slow movements.

Whipping around — as slowly as possible — you scowl at him. “Stop it. Are you coming or not?” You snarl. Liam holds his hands up in surrender, hurrying his steps to catch up with you.

Stepping into the throne room you take another steadying breath, using the wall to help keep your balance. As leaders of the rebellion mingle, discussing the wyvern and Venin, your eyes immediately find Xaden. You let out a sigh of relief at the sight of him unharmed.

Before you can make your way to him Liam waves him over.

The first thing Xaden notices is how pale you look along with the dark spot growing on the side of your uniform. He wordlessly reaches for your ribs, watching for your reaction. Your hand flys out to grasp his wrist. Your grip weak. “Don’t,” you whisper harshly.

“What’s wrong?” You shake your head. You’re struggling to breathe now. Xaden looks to Liam for answers but all his brother can do is shrug, mirroring his worry.

Your other hand grips Xaden’s bicep as hard as you can. “I can’t…I need,” Xaden holds you closer to his body. His hand gently touching your side. You hiss at the contact and try to push Xaden away. “What do you need baby?”

You don’t know what happened after that. When you blacked out all you heard was Xaden yelling for help and your vest being ripped apart.

When you came to the dizzy feeling is still with you. You try to sit up but a large hand on your shoulder stops you. “Don’t even,” the worry clear in Xaden’s voice. You stare up at him with big eyes, remaining flat on the bed.

Xaden sits on the edge of the bed with a huff. He looked like he was struggling not to scold you. “Why?” Is all he asks.

You knew what he meant. Why walk around tending to the injured when you were bleeding out. Truthfully, you knew it was bad. The Venin you went hand to hand with fought nasty.

“Colonel Gerault yelled at me last time, saying leaders shouldn’t look weak even if we feel weak. You know how he gets about image. Violet needed help and so did our other riders. I needed to know they were ok before I asked for help.”

Xaden let out a deep sigh, annoyed with your selflessness. He rolled his neck while simultaneously clenching his jaw. The tension this man holds in his whole body is astounding. “That’s not true and you know it.”

The two of you sit in silence for a while as Xaden contemplates his next words.

He gently holds your hand, running his thumb across your knuckles. “Do you know what the biggest loss in this war would be to me?” You shrug as the possibilities run through your mind knowing Xaden can hear your thoughts.

With each passing thought his frown deepens. “Not this house, not my dragon, or my father’s legacy. It’s you, sweetheart. You would be the greatest loss for me. I can replace a house and all that other shit. But there is no replacing you.”

A tear escapes down your cheek. Squeezing Xaden’s hand you give him a sad smile. “I need you.” He whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry.”

Xaden shakes his head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, baby. I just need you to get better.” You hold out your pinky for him. Your sacred tradition when making sure one sticks to their word. “Promise.”

He wraps his pinky around yours before adding, “And, you will stay in bed until that wound is fully healed.” You open your mouth to protest but Xaden gives you a look, lifting your entwined fingers. Showing that you are bound to do as he wishes while you’re hurt.

“Fine.” You agree begrudgingly. “Thank you.” He drops your finger, pressing another kiss to your head, then your lips. You grab the back of his head to deepen the kiss. Xaden moans at the feeling of your tongue swiping against his bottom lip. After a few more minutes of passionately making out Xaden pulls away.

You whine at the lack of lip contact. “You need to rest. If we do what I want to do you’re going to need new stitches.” He smirks at you. “Guess I better get to healing.”

[scorpioriesling]

Hiya! If like to order a Ridoc, Bodhi, and Liam, with a side of 10 and if it is in-stock, a 73? Cheers friend!

Good Things Come in Groups of Three

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Liam x Bodhi x Ridoc x reader

Warnings: mdni, 18+, heavy smut, p in v, oral, threesome… this is quite graphic lol

Summary: After a long day with your trainer, the last thing you need is his friend mouthing off to you -- especially when it's a topic he has no business "educating" you about. Ready to rinse off the day and finally catch a few hours of sleep, you're not expecting company; but, you come to realize maybe it's not all that unwelcome.

SR’s Note: So... this is my first time? Writing? Smut involving more than just two consenting parties? So like... please don't tear me to shreds. <3 I really, really tried, and I apologize for the wait time, I have so many WIPs and I wanted to do my best on this for you; I appreciate your patience! This uses prompts #10 and #73 from my Prompt Request Masterlist. Enjoy (:

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"Come on Y/L/N -- harder!"

Sweat runs down the back of your neck as you draw back, raising your gloved fists in defense for what felt like the hudredth time that evening. Bodhi stood before you, his left brow raised tauntingly as he motioned for you to move with a curl of his fingers.

"Do it again, but do it harder this time," he instructs, repeating the forward motion with his fingers. You huff in frustration, awareness creeping in of how late it had gotten. The moon was now hanging above the clouds, barely anyone was left in the gym... and you had Bodhi, your trainer, keeping you here late.

You lunged forward, throwing your weight into him. He stumbled, back, but you weren't strong enough to knock him off of his feet. You thrust your clenched fist out, aiming to at least leave him doubled over -- again, you were too slow. He caught your wrist, twisting your arm behind your back and shoving you to the ground. Your hipbone connected roughly with the mat, surely to leave a bruise; but that paled in comparison to your strangled breaths as the wind was completely knocked from your lungs.

"B...Bod...hi.." You writhed beneath him as he pinned you, his form pressed completely atop you to keep you from rising. A pleading cough was all you could get out before his warm breath ticked against the shell of your ear.

"Tapping out?" He rasped, the rough patches on his worn leather gloves rubbing your wrists raw. You nodded frantically, and he sighed, smacking the mat before releasing you. The air was a welcome relief as it flodded your lungs, each breath drawn in greedily as you rolled onto your back against the mat.

Bodhi leaned back on his heels, the slight shake of his head sending a soft ruffle through his dampened curls. He peered down at you with a disappointed look.

"Y/N, you know when you tap out during the real thing-"

"Bodhi, you were practically fuckin' killing me on that last one!" You squeaked, your head resting pathetically against the worn training mat. He tsks at you, cracking his knuckles and continuing to stare.

"You need to know how to hold your own. Especially against guys," he elaborates. You roll your eyes, but he continues. "Guys don't give a shit if you're small, or you're a girl, or you physically can't take them." He gives you a pointed look, and before he can say more, you hear the even more irritating sound of your fellow squadmate approaching.

"Hah, yeah, in fact," Ridoc chuckles, bending at the waist to peer over you. "Some twisted fucks try to get paired with girls on purpose, just because they know it's a different type of fight, and it's one they could win." He looks pitifully at you, the waves in his black hair falling over his forehead. You scoff, pushing onto your elbows and wincing at the pain blooming near your hip.

"You're annoying," you throw a pointed glance at your fellow first year, your eyes sliding to the trainer you were assigned by your absolutely-wonderful-and-charming wingleader next. "And so are you; running me into the ground, working me harder than anyone else here," you gesture around the gym, and laugh sarcastically as you notice it has emptied out.

"Oh! Wait. There is no one else here." You frown, and Bodhi only glowers at you.

"You'll be thanking me when it comes time for challenges and you can actually take down your opponents." He says nonchalantly, and you shake your head in disbelief.

Ridoc opens his mouth again from your right. "It's probably for the best anyway-"

"Ugh, Gods Ridoc, do you ever SHUT UP?" Your anger bubbles over, and he immediately stops talking. "I'm so tired, I'm worn out, I've been here all night sweating my ass off with him," you jerk your thumb toward his annoying upper-classman friend. "Now, I have to listen to you run your mouth, too?" You sigh frustratedly, glaring at the moon through the open window.

You push to your feet then, sending one final angry look at the two friends.

"All on a fucking school night, too!"

You turn on your heel, making way for the locker rooms. You cross your arms, feeling the smallest victory won as you approach the locker room door.

It's short lived when you hear their mocking laughter from the training room behind you.

You slam the door shut, grumbling and growling as you stomp by the grayed-out stalls. What the hell is their deal, anyway? Surely you could handle your own. Not every guy here is looking for a girl to go after, anyhow.

Approaching the mirrors, you sigh heavily, bracing your hands against the cool ceramic of the sink.

So what if you were paired with a man. You would be able to hold your own -- they were just afraid of looking weak. That had to be it.

You stared at your reflection for a moment, taking in the bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep. Your ponytail was nearly undone, so many hairs had fallen in the hours you'd been forced to train here.

Screw Bodhi for making you stay so late. You shook your head, thinking about him pinning you to the mat. He didn't care how tired you were -- he did it anyway. And Ridoc, he never knew when to stop running those full lips of his...

Screw them both, honestly.

You were pulled from your thoughts as the sound of a locker closing rang out, causing you to jump. Your heartbeat quickened; surely, no one else would be in here. The gym was empty when you walked out.

"Hello?" You called. Your feet felt frozen in place, your mind swimming with all of the possibilities. After a few moments of silence, you shrugged it off. It was late; perhaps with the lack of sleep, you were simply imagining things.

Of the four shower stalls available, you weighed your options before stepping into the one in the corner. Two were missing a shower curtain, and the other had a sign that read "Out of Order" in front of it. Not to mention the lack of a lightbulb in there; you went with the fully funtional option.

You peeled your clothes off, discarding them at the bench near the sinks before stepping in. You had just closed the curtain quietly, the room so eerily quiet when your mind began to wander. You could have sworn the locker rooms had six showers -- not four.

Again, you rolled your shoulders, chalking it up to be pure exhaustion that had you thinking these rediculous things. With a soft sigh, you reached for the shower handle.

✧･ﾟ: *

It seemed as though fifty things happened at once.

You had just let your eyes drift shut, your hand bracing the cool steel of the shower faucet as you awaited the feeling of the warm water to rain down on you.

In that same second, the curtain was abruptly shoved open, and you heard (definitely heard, not imagined) a male voice, asking, "Uhhh, what are you doing in here?"

Also, in that same second, you screamed. At the top of your lungs. Wide-eyed, shrill, screaming. Because why the fuck, was Liam Mairi, of all people, staring back at you, naked in the girl's locker room?

While he was also... naked... in the girl's locker room?

"Liam!" You screetched, reaching for the shower curtain in the same second he did. You pulled it toward yourself in an attempt to conceal what had already been exposed, but it seemed he had the same idea. It was as though tug-of-war was happening with the damned curtain, and in the end, his barely covered dick was pressed against your barely covered vagina. You braced a forearm across your chest in an attempt to hide your top half.

"Y/N, what the Hell-" he began, his cheeks reddening as he looked anywhere other than in your direction.

"Ohhh no," you roared. "What the fuck," you puncuated. "Are you doing. In the girls. Locker room!" You demanded. He let out a sarcastic laugh, his eyes drifting from the ceiling finally to meet yours.

"Are... are you serious right now?" He asked. Your eyebrows rose so high on your forehead, you thought they'd recede right into your hairline.

"Yes? It's, what, nearly midnight?" You seethe. He chuckles, his seaglass eyes roving across your face. You narrow your brows at him.

"It is midnight now, yes," he confirms. "I just got back from riding with Deigh, and since the shower in my dorm is taken..." he explains, his piercing gaze trailing over your mouth and drifting lower. "...I opted to use the ones down here. In the boys, locker room, I might add." He smirks, his pupils widening as he unashamedly takes in the cleavage you still have pressed against him.

Your cheeks burn, the embarassment of the entire situation, and now you've only gotten in worse with this compromising position you're in-

"H-hey," you say, your breaths quickening as you realize he is still quite literally oogling you. His gaze flicks up, the cool blue of his irises now darkened with lust as he's gone completely quiet. "My eyes are up here."

He chuckles, his bottom lip pulling between his teeth as his hand gently reaches around the curtain, the pads of his fingertips connecting with the curve of your exposed waist. You suck in a sharp breath, the steam from the shower providing no warmth under his icy gaze.

Sure, you could admit you had thought about your handsome squadmate in... rather unsavory positions before. Would you ever act on those? Probably not. You were only ever cordial before this, anyway -- but the way he was practically devouring you with his eyes right now had you feeling the need to rub your thighs together.

"You think she's still in here?"

Whatever trance Liam had you in was severed the moment you heard that taunting voice, your eyes widening with the realization.

"Probably, she never came back out."

You grabbed Liam by the shoulder, tugging him into the running water with you -- curtain be damned. You slid it shut, concealing yourself from the approaching males. Turning to face him, you see his face etched in concern. You pull him close to whisper.

"I think Ridoc and Bodhi are in here," you explain, and Liam's lips press into a line. You brace your hands on your hips, anxious now that they'll come looking for you, watching as you went right into the wrong locker room.

You turn your back to Liam, your flushed cheeks indication that you are aware the both of you are still fully nude together... only now, you're in the shower together. No barriers, no curtains between you two.

He steps toward you, his fingers cupping under the curve of your ass as he pulls you back to him. You hiss quietly, turning your neck to look up at him. He's already leaning over to say something, his lips trailing along the column of your neck.

"They can... still see your feet, you know."

You look down. You hadn't even considered the few inches between curtain and floor -- they'd surely know it was you. Not many other males in the Riders quadrant had pink toenails with flowers painted on them.

Liam's hands snake around your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can instantly feel his length pressed against your ass, and as his fingers continue to trail across your dewy skin, he twitches against you.

"Fuck..." he groans, low and gutteral against your throat before placing a wet kiss against your skin. You can hear Bodhi and Ridoc poking around, their voices becoming ever so closer.

"L-Liam... please," you pant, his hands travelling up to cup your breasts in his palms. He pinches your nipples hard between his fingers, causing you to bite down on your bottom lip to stifle your cry.

"Liam, please, you have to h-help me," you plead, and he chuckles lowly in your ear. You hadn't realized that you had begun moving your ass against him, his cock now pressed more firmly against your bum.

"Oh, I'll help you," he offers, his hands grabbing your hips and turning you around to face him. His lips merely ghost over yours as he speaks, staring directly down into your wide eyes.

"But you're gonna help me too." His hands slide underneath your butt, gripping the flesh as he lifts you off of your feet. He pulls you against his chest and you wrap your legs around his waist, the feel of his erection strong against your throbbing core. He backs you up until you're pressed against the stone wall, one of his hands moving underneath you as his eyes bore into yours.

"There -- now no one can see you." He grins, and you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. The muscles of his shoulders flex, and you watch as his hand moves in time beneath you; realizing he is stroking himself below your entrance. The epiphany sends another wave of heat through you, and he leans in close as his tip prods at your entrance.

"Now, be a good girl for me and keep quiet?" He smirks, and you all but nod before he slowly pushes himself inside of you, each inch stretching your aching pussy deliciously.

"Mmmm," You squeeze your eyes shut, trying your best to stifle your moans as he sheaths himself inside of you to the hilt, only pulling out a few inches before roughly shoving back in.

Your eyes fly open, your mouth wide as you stare up at him. He simply smirks at you, one hand palming your ass and the other bracing against the stone wall. He continues fucking himself into you, slowly at first, drinking in every quiet whimper you let out for him.

"So tight," he rasps, his gaze focusing on your breasts pressed against him once more. You fight to keep any noises at bay, worried that Gods forbid another person pulls back the shower curtain-

"Ohhhh! Looks like Y/N came in here on purpose, huh!" Ridoc's taunting voice bellows, a blast of cool air flooding the warm shower as he yanks open the shower curtain. Your nipples harden at the sudden temperature change, only seeming to turn Liam on more. Ridoc chuckles at the scene before him, and you watch as your trainer approaches from behind.

"It's... it's not what it looks...like-"

"Oh, I think it's exactly. What it looks like." Bodhi cocks an eyebrow, glancing to Liam who has not let up on his relentless deepstroking. "Is this exactly what it looks like?"

Liam smirks, glancing between you and the two males watching the scene before them. "Oh, it is exactly what it looks like."

You gasp, looking up at him in disbelief. "Liam! What-"

"I've heard enough." Bodhi says, raising a hand in silence. He only sighs, his eyes raking over your naked form before him. Your cheeks heat as Liam adjusts his angle, his hand gripping the back of one of your knees as he drives into you harder. You can't help the moan the escapes; the sheer force at which he's fucking you is enough to make anyone wet at the sight of it.

"Thought she deserved something -- been a pretty good girl for me, anyway," Liam praises, and Ridoc rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, well she was bein' a fuckin' brat during training today-"

You glare from your place on the wall, watching as his devilishly handsome lips tilted up in a smirk.

"Ridoc... I said... shut... up..." you pant. Bodhi leans against the stone wall, chewing on the inside of his lower lip as he watches your breasts bounce with every thrust Liam gives you. "Ah... oh.. fuck, Liam I'm-"

Liam groans against the hollow of your throat, his cock twitching inside of you before shooting thick ropes of cum deep into your pussy. The tether inside of you snaps, your warm release trickling out of you and running over the curves of your thighs. You're panting, still coming down from your high when Ridoc opens his mouth again.

"Why don't you shut me up then?" He says, his voice thick as he pushes his sweat shorts over his muscled thighs. Liam places you gently back on the ground, the aftershocks of your first orgasm finally wearing off as you saunter toward Ridoc. You shove the shower curtain aside; clearly, there was no concern for getting clean anytime soon.

Approaching the bench where your clothes lay, you push against his shoulders, watching as he yields to your touch. He lies flat on his back near the edge of the bench, his toned legs tapering off the end to where his feet plant flat on the floor.

He grins cheekily up at you, his eager hands guiding your waist as you swing your leg over his chest. He grips at your thighs, squeezing your skin as you position your leaking heat just above his awaiting mouth.

"This will do," You say, looking down at him and smirking. He groans, fingers pulling you to sit all the way down on his tongue. Immediately he gets to work, his lips exploring each and every inch of your throbbing core while his hands grip your ass, perched lightly on top of his chest.

"Ohhh... fuck," you moan, your fingers threading through his onyx locks as you begin to lightly rock your hips against his expert tongue. He licks up into you, illiciting more whines of pleasure from you as your fingers tug on his locks. He growls into your cunt, the sound sending another wave of pleasure through you that has one hand leaving his hair and playing with your nipple instead, imagining how good his mouth would feel there if this was any indication.

"Ridoc, yes, yes..." You chant, your eyes drifting toward the abandoned shower you had retreated from before. No longer is Bodhi leaned against the wall -- the space is empty, save for a few articles of clothing on the ground.

You let out a sharp gasp as your hair is suddenly yanked, forcing your chin up as dark brown eyes stare lustfully down at you. From the corner of your eye, you watch as a blonde head strides over, sitting on the bench a couple of feet away and leaning against the row of lockers.

"You don't seem so eager to get to bed now that your cunt's being eaten," Bodhi snarls, his gaze trazing over your face contorted in pleasure. You can't think of a witty a response, no comeback in mind -- especially as Ridoc moves below you, his nose prodding against your clit. You let out a breathhy gasp, your mouth hanging open and Bodhi only shakes his head at you.

"Mouth looks a little empty," he grits out, gripping your chin harshy before releasing you. He strides before you, his fingers tugging on his length before sitting in front of you on the bench. Your mouth practically waters at the sight; he's huge. He sees it too, as he scoffs at you.

"You wanna mouth off all night -- bend over and take it all then," he challenges. Ridoc's hand moves to grip his own length, moving in quick thrusts as you bend before him, lowering on your hands until his glistening tip is positioned just before your lips.

"Said you could handle a man yourself... handle me then," he looks at you darkly, and you glare at him, shoving his entire length down your throat in one thrust. You gag around him, his intimidating size measuring up. When you draw your head back, his hand threads through the mess of a ponytail you have left, roughly gripping the back of your head and forcing your mouth all the way back down on his cock.

"Fuck... so pretty, taking my dick all the way down that little throat," he groans. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, the combined sensation with Ridoc's punishing tongue nearly pushing you over the edge almost too much. When Bodhi releases you again, you stick out your tongue, and he taps his length against it.

"Fucking hot," he mutters, watching you through half-lidded eyes. You dare a glance to your right, catching sight of Liam relaxed on the nearly bench, fisting his own cock at the sight of you getting both males off at once. His head is rolled back in pleasure, his eyes closed as he drags his fingers up, and down, and up...

You don't have time to warn Ridoc before your orgasm rolls through you, your thighs shaking beside his head. You glance up, surprised to see Bodhi panting heavily as you continue sucking him at a slow, punishing pace.

"Fuck... oh fuck-"

He plunges his cock deep, shooting his cum down your throat. You gag, the size stretching your throat around him as he whimpers before you with each twitch of his cock. You focus on swallowing every last drop; though a small part of you cheers in silent victory that you have Bodhi Durran whimpering for you.

✧･ﾟ: *

You're spent. You're absolutely spent; surely, you'd been in here hours now, the three males delighting in pulling orgasm after orgasm from you, and you doing the same for them.

Nonetheless, you still find yourself happily sitting atop Ridoc's lap, bouncing on his thick length in the early hours of the morning.

"Fuck, Y/N... just like that, bounce that ass on my dick, just like that," his arms are wrapped around your waist, holding you against him as you ride him, milking every last drop out of his delicious length. It was the only time, you'd admit, you liked hearing the sound of his voice.

"Tongue," Liam commands, and you open your mouth wide, letting your tongue fall out per his request. He grins, giving your head a little pat before tapping it with his silky-smooth dick.

"Good girl," he praises, slipping into your awaititng mouth with ease. Your eyes roll back, his tip hitting the back of your throat as Ridoc's thrusts were now brushing your cervix. Your hands gripped his shoulders, and he delighted in the way your strangled groans sounded right next to his ear.

It was the sharp slap on your right butt cheek that had your walls fluttering around Ridoc though, Bodhi's fingers lightly tugging on your hair again in silent control.

"You like being fucked, is that it, hm?" He asked, landing another slap against your skin. You cried out, Liam pulling his cock from you for only a moment to hear your pleasure-filled screams.

Another slap -- this time, you felt yourself on the edge.

"Fuck!" You sobbed, your fucked out expression staring at Liam with your rounded eyes. He sucked in a breath, his hand working his cock as he slipped his thumb into your mouth.

"Taking it so well..." he mumbled, his eyes closing only for a moment before sticky spurts of cum covered you, painting your chin and neck with the evidence. He sighed in pleasure, Ridoc slowing his relentless pounding before he pulled his dick from you, his cum shooting across your boobs and painting your skin in his seed.

"Fuck... I'm so close," Bodhi groaned, his hands hauling you off of his friend and bending you over the sink. Before you had a moment to adjust, he filled you with his length, his hips snapping against your ass harshly. His fingers gripped your throat, tilting your chin to gaze at yourself in the mirror. Your mouth dropped open, watching the attractive male behind you fuck himself into you mercilessly.

"This perfect fucking cunt," he grunted, his chocolate curls swaying with each thrust. "Watch how good you take it, baby," he ground out, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. Your stomach tightened, your eyes rolling back as his dick rubbed against your sensitive spot.

"Bodhi... Bodhi, please, I'm cumming-" You squeaked, and with a few sharp thrusts, he came inside you, pulling out to watch hungrily as the white liquid dripped out of your raw cunt. You gripped the sink's edge, panting as the weight of the evening's activities took hold of you. Glancing to the shower, you sighed, chuckling at the thought.

"You still have time, if you want to actually clean up before class," Ridoc chuckles, pulling his shorts on from behind you. Liam yawns, stretching his arms wide as he glances at you through the mirror. Bodhi grabs your clothes, extending them to you. You take them with a shaky hand, chuckling softly and shaking your head. You could barely believe the direction the night had gone.

"Yeah... I think I may just skip class today."

✧･ﾟ: *

[ladybirdswritings]

LITTLE WITCH, FIC — xaden riorson x reader.

DESCRIPTION: you wake— a captive girl with untamed power and no recollection of its origins. before you is a scarred, shadowy figure, whose taunts ignite your abilities—binding your fates in a dangerous encounter. NOTES - fourth wing fic!! leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | next part

one;

“Wake her up.”

Water. Cold as ice, constricting your rigid bones like snakes coiling tighter with every stolen shiver.

A gasp tore from your throat, water spewing from your lungs as your body heaved against the jagged floor. Your eyes fluttered open, disjointed memories playing like a fragmented reel in your mind.

“Her power exceeds that of every living vernin on this planet!”

“Promise me you’ll fix this, darling.”

Promise me. Promise me. Promise me.

You blinked hard, but the image didn’t fade.

You were tied.

The rough ropes bit into your bony wrists, leaving searing, ring-like burns. Every labored movement set your nerves aflame. Your gaze darted upward, breath hitching as the world slowly came into focus.

A girl stood above you, silver-dipped hair framing a weary, glaring face. Beside her, a man with raven-black hair and a severe jaw hovered like a dark sentinel, his pale skin nearly glowing in the dim light.

And then there was him.

A scar slashed across one onyx eye, his expression cold and unreadable. Caramel skin adorned with swirling ink that climbed every visible inch of him. His presence suffocated the room, shadows pooling at his feet as if he commanded them.

You inhaled sharply.

“Do you think she speaks English?” the girl asked, her voice wary.

Your wide eyes locked onto her as you pulled against your restraints, panic rising. The three of them stepped back in weary unison.

“Be calm.” His voice—low, smooth, commanding—cooed like a bird singing a song only you could dance to. It scraped against the fragile walls of your resolve, but you clung to the shreds of your sanity.

Your eyes darted around, desperate to piece together this fractured reality. You tried to speak, tried to form an identity, but your name—your very sense of self—slipped through your fingers like quicksand.

“You have me tied,” you rasped, the words tasting foreign in your mouth.

Another synchronized step back.

“Xaden…” the silver-haired girl’s voice was cautious, her eyes glassy with an emotion you couldn’t yet name. But it was fervent, pulsing. You could sense it.

Lust. Love. Betrayal.

The man— Xaden’s jaw ticked, his gaze piercing as it lingered on you.

“We’ve already discussed this,” he said, his voice devoid of hostility but heavy with finality. “Take her, Garrick. I’ll handle the girl.”

She only bristled at his words, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. “You lost the right to give me orders when you—”

“I’m well aware, Violence.” His voice cracked with strain, the facade of calm splintering for just a moment.

The girl—Violence—swayed slightly, but her resistance faltered. With a deep, resigned exhale, Garrick gently guided her out of the room.

And then it was just you.

As the door slammed shut, Xaden’s features transformed. The fleeting agony that had marred his face dissolved into a cold mask, his expression as unreadable as the void of shadows around him.

His gaze roamed over you, scrutinizing every inch with an intensity that made your skin crawl. When he was satisfied, he dropped to one knee before you, the motion deliberate and predatory.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his voice low, as if any louder would break you. As if you were a precious thing, needing to be preserved. And though he asked you for it, you had a fleeting sense that he already knew.

He was testing you.

Your trembling hands tugged at the ropes, panic stabbing through your mind. A flash of white burned behind your eyes—a memory.

A woman with electric blonde hair and a gaze colder than ice stared down at you. You were tied, gagged, and helpless.

“Shall I strike her again, General Sorrengail?”

The memory vanished as pain lanced through your wrists, the ropes burning like scorched iron. Your teary gaze met his, desperation clawing at your chest.

“Please untie me,” you begged, voice raw and jagged.

His head tilted slightly, but he didn’t so much as twitch. “I can’t do that.”

Your breath quickened, chest heaving as your head fell back against the pole that anchored you. The room blurred, warmth suddenly flooding your cheeks.

When your eyes snapped open, he was closer. His thumb brushed away the tears streaking your face, his touch surprisingly gentle. Shadows coiled tighter around you, suffocating yet oddly soothing.

“What’s your name?” he repeated, his thumb grazing your trembling lips as if trying to still them.

“I… I don’t remember,” you whispered.

His brows knit together, his silence heavier than words. For a moment, his gaze softened, as if he saw something tethered within you he’d searched to find for a millenia.

You’re coddling her.

A voice, unfamiliar and swelled with a power you found yourself connected to— it sounded throughout the confines of your mind. And then another voice. His voice.

Trust me, Sgaeyl.

And yet his lips did not move, set in a hard line. Perhaps you had a name, and the world had simply forgotten. Who gave any attention to the sick and mad? To those who had phantom voices roaming within the confines of their skull? Suddenly, like a curtain falling, his expression hardened again. He rose to his full, imposing height, towering over you like a specter.

“Get up,” he commanded, voice sharp enough to slice you in two.

“I’m tied,” you protested, voice trembling.

His eyes narrowed. “Get up and face me, and I’ll free you from all your binds.”

Hope fluttered in your chest, fragile and fleeting. You braced yourself, using the pole for support, and pushed. Your legs buckled instantly, sending you crashing back down.

Again.

And again.

By the eighth attempt, your knees were raw, your wrists throbbing, and your patience gone.

“You’re trying to humiliate me,” you hissed, glaring up at him.

“It seems to be working,” he said with a ghost of a smirk that made your blood boil.

Something stirred deep within you, a dormant fire roaring to life. His words, his condescension—they fed it like kindling to a flame.

“Aiming to embarrass ourselves today, are we?” he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery.

The fire ignited.

“Let me go.”

Your voice was guttural, commanding, a force that reverberated through the room like a shockwave.

And time stopped. Only for a moment, but even so. Still, not a life in sight daring to breathe. Sudden, suffocating, swelling.

Then over.

Xaden dropped to one knee, his hands moving to untie your restraints as if compelled by an unseen force. His breath hitched as the ropes fell away, but the closeness of him—the warmth of his hands against your bloodied wrists—froze you in place.

He leaned in, his forehead brushing against yours, his breath mingling with your own in a dangerous dance.

“Look at that… we’ve finally found you, little witch…” he murmured, his voice a dark promise.

And somehow, you knew him then. Even free from all memory, you knew well that whoever he was— he was just beginning to unravel you.

[justallihere]

everyone wants to fuck violet in fourth wing and she either doesn’t take them seriously or just doesn’t care because she’s too busy thirsting over xaden 😭

[soulofapatrick]

Giving Into Temptations - Xaden Riorson x Female Reader

Summary: Part two of Don't Tempt Me

Warnings: Smut; P in v; cockwarming

Words: 4.6K 

Notes: I just had to make part two and it's not proofread and written after a break so sorry for any mistakes/repetition

Y/N's POV

The sound of rushing water stops, leaving only the quiet crackle of tension in the air. I hear Xaden moving in the bathroom—quick, efficient movements, the sound of his hands adjusting the faucet, testing the water. For a few long moments, I sit there, feeling the heat of my own words still lingering between us, replaying the way his body tensed, the way his breath caught when I suggested he join me. I don’t regret saying it. Not even a little. But now, with the silence stretching between us, I wonder what’s running through his mind.

Footsteps approach, heavy and deliberate, and then Xaden steps back into the room. His expression is unreadable, his golden-flecked eyes shadowed with something I can’t quite name. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches me from where he stands, as if deciding whether or not to speak. Then, with a sigh that sounds like he’s battling himself, he moves toward me, reaching out.

"Come on," he says, his voice lower than usual, raspier. "Water’s ready."

He extends his hand, waiting for me to take it. I hesitate—not because I don’t want to, but because something about this moment feels different. He’s always been imposing, always carried himself with that unwavering confidence, but right now, there's something softer in the way he looks at me. Something unguarded.

I slide my hand into his, and his fingers curl around mine, firm and warm. The contrast between his calloused palm and my own sends a shiver up my spine. He doesn't say anything about it—just helps me up, steadying me as my sore muscles protest. The ache in my body is undeniable, and I probably should have been listening to Vireth when he told me to stop, but the damage is done now.

Xaden doesn’t let go as he guides me toward the bathroom, his other hand finding my waist like he’s afraid I’ll collapse again. Maybe I will. Every step reminds me how exhausted I am, how much I’ve pushed myself beyond my limits.

The warmth from the bath curls into the air as we step inside, steam clinging to my skin. It smells faintly of the lavender oil he must have added to the water—something soothing, something that makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I don’t always have to fight so hard to prove I belong here.

I turn to look at him, expecting him to let go now that we’re here, but he doesn’t. Instead, his hands stay on me, lingering at my waist, fingers pressing slightly into the bare skin between my sports bra and the waistband of my underwear. His gaze drops to the bruises lining my ribs, his jaw tightening.

“You push yourself too damn hard,” he mutters, almost to himself, his voice a quiet accusation. His thumb ghosts over one of the deeper bruises, and I feel his restraint in the way he touches me—gentle, but simmering with frustration.

I don’t answer. What is there to say? He’s right, and we both know it. But I don’t regret it. I can’t afford to.

Xaden exhales sharply, shaking his head before finally—reluctantly—stepping back.

“Get in before the water gets cold,” he says, his tone gruff, but there’s an underlying softness there, something he doesn’t want me to hear.

I don’t move. Not yet. Instead, I tilt my head, watching him carefully. He meets my gaze, and for a moment, I swear I see the battle in his eyes—the war between every instinct telling him to leave, to put space between us, and the deep, undeniable pull that keeps him here, rooted to the spot.

My fingers find the hem of my sports bra, and I peel the damp fabric up over my ribs, my muscles protesting the movement. I know he’s still watching me—can feel the weight of his gaze like a brand against my skin—but I refuse to meet it. Instead, I focus on my breathing, slow and steady, as I pull the bra over my head and let it slip from my fingers onto the floor. The air against my bare skin is cool in contrast to the steam curling through the room, sending a ripple of heat down my spine that has nothing to do with the bath.

I take my time sliding my underwear down my legs, my fingers brushing against the bruises lining my hips, a reminder of how hard I pushed today. Of how hard I always push. I step out of them, standing completely bare under the dim bathroom light, knowing his gaze is still locked on me, burning.

Even without looking, I can picture the way his jaw must be clenched, how his fingers might be curled into fists at his sides as he fights every instinct screaming at him to move. To touch. To close the space between us.

I don’t give him the satisfaction of a glance. Instead, I turn, stepping carefully into the bath, the heat of the water licking up my calves, then my thighs, until I sink beneath its welcoming warmth with a quiet sigh. The tension in my muscles loosens almost immediately, and I let my head rest against the cool porcelain edge, closing my eyes for a brief moment.

I should feel self-conscious. Exposed. But I don’t. Not really. Not when his silence is thick with something else entirely—something raw, barely restrained, and entirely too tempting.

And still, I don’t look at him.

The silence stretches between us, thick with something unspoken, something charged. My body hums with awareness, my skin prickling under the heat of both the bath and his relentless gaze. I keep my eyes closed for a beat longer than necessary, as if that will somehow lessen the intensity of the moment. It doesn’t. It only makes the tension coil tighter, thick and suffocating.

Then, finally, he speaks.

“Are you trying to fucking kill me?”

His voice is low, breathy, like the words have been torn from him against his will, and the sheer frustration laced in them is enough to make my eyes snap open.

I turn my head slowly, and—gods help me—he looks wrecked.

Xaden stands rigid, his broad shoulders stiff, every muscle wound so tight it’s a miracle he hasn’t shattered under the strain. His fists are clenched at his sides, veins pressing against the golden-toned skin of his forearms like he’s holding himself back with every ounce of control he possesses. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, and his lips—his lips—are slightly parted, like he’s just realised how parched he is and that I’m the only thing that could possibly quench him.

But it’s his eyes that do me in.

Those gold-flecked onyx irises burn, searing a path over every inch of exposed skin, dark and predatory, his pupils blown wide with something dangerously close to hunger.

And then, as my gaze drops lower, I see just how much I’ve affected him.

The evidence is straining against his jeans, a prominent, undeniably enticing outline pressing against the dark fabric. My mouth goes dry. Heat pools low in my stomach, winding tightly through my limbs, and suddenly, the bath feels entirely too small, the room too hot, the air too thick to breathe.

I should say something. Should break the moment, laugh it off, defuse the impossible tension crackling between us before it ignites into something I know we won’t be able to stop.

But I don’t.

Instead, I drag my gaze back up to his, meeting his with deliberate slowness, letting him see every thought running rampant through my mind.

I raise a single brow, the ghost of a smirk playing at my lips, and that’s all it takes.

Something snaps.

Xaden curses under his breath, something low and guttural, and then he’s moving. Fast.

His hands fly to the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head in one fluid motion. The fabric barely clears his arms before he’s tossing it to the side, forgotten. My breath catches at the sight of him—of the solid planes of muscle, the ink that stretches across his arms and chest, the way his skin is already flushed like he’s been fighting this battle for far too long.

His fingers go to the buttons of his jeans, fumbling in his haste, jaw clenching as he struggles with the damn things like they’re his mortal enemy.

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to suppress the laugh bubbling in my throat as he growls in frustration, finally forcing them open. But when he shoves the denim down his hips, he nearly trips over his own damn feet, his balance thrown as he kicks his shoes off at the same time.

A very undignified thud echoes through the bathroom as one shoe hits the wall.

And then—fuck.

Xaden looks up at me, half-dressed, breathless, and so fucking wrecked, and the sheer heat in his gaze burns through whatever amusement I had, replacing it with something molten.

His chest rises and falls rapidly, tension still coiling through his muscles, but there’s something else in his expression now. Something that makes my own breath stutter.

Like he’s already mine. Like he’s made peace with the fact that he’s about to break every rule he’s set for himself.

Xaden is back on his feet in seconds, the last shreds of his restraint gone. He practically rips his boxers down those thick, muscular thighs, the motion so desperate, so reckless, that the waistband almost gives out under the force.

And then—gods help me—my gaze drops.

My breath catches. My pulse stumbles.

I don’t mean to look. I don’t. But gravity itself seems to drag my gaze downward, past the hard ridges of his stomach, the sharp lines of his hip bones, to—

Oh.

Oh.

A sharp inhale gets caught in my throat, my fingers clutching the porcelain edge of the bath like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality. A slow, involuntary heat creeps up my neck, settling deep in my stomach as I try—try—to force my gaze back up. But it’s impossible.

Because fuck.

He’s big. Thick, heavy, fully erect, standing proud against his stomach. And the worst part? The moment my eyes betray me, lingering too long, a sound escapes me—a tiny, almost imperceptible hitch of breath. But it’s enough.

Xaden hears it.

I feel the shift in the air before I even meet his gaze again.

When I do, it’s devastating.

His eyes are burning, dark as molten gold, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling with a barely restrained tension that vibrates through every inch of his body. His lips part like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t. He just stands there, watching me watch him, taking in every single reaction, every single thing I’m failing to hide.

And then—fuck him—his mouth curves. Just slightly. Just enough to make my pulse stumble.

He knows.

He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. Exactly how wrecked I am.

And from that slow, wicked smirk pulling at his lips?

He’s savouring every fucking second of it.

Xaden steps forward, closing the small, agonising distance between us, and fuck. It’s right there.

My breath shudders as the heat of him seeps into the steam-heavy air, his presence overwhelming in a way that makes my pulse trip over itself. He’s so close now, towering over me, muscles taut with restraint, water-darkened strands of black hair falling across his forehead. But it’s not his face I’m struggling to focus on.

No.

It’s him. Right there. In front of my face.

And gods help me, I want to do something.

My fingers twitch against the porcelain edge of the bath, an ache settling deep in my core that has nothing to do with my exhaustion and everything to do with the way every primal, desperate part of me is screaming to reach out—to wrap my hands around him, my mouth—fuck—I don’t even care how.

As if sensing the exact second I start to spiral, Xaden exhales sharply through his nose, his fingers pressing against my shoulder. “Don’t,” he warns, voice low, tight, wrecked.

I drag my eyes up, catching the way his jaw flexes, how the veins in his forearms strain like he’s barely holding himself together.

And then, just to make absolutely sure I understand, his hand finds the curve of my neck, thumb grazing the hinge of my jaw as he leans in close enough that his breath is a ghost against my lips.

“Be a good girl and behave,” he murmurs.

Fucking bastard.

A slow, deliberate heat spreads from where his hand lingers, all the way down my spine, settling low in my stomach. My breath is shaky, uneven, but I force myself to hold his gaze, to not react—to not give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much those words affect me.

I fail. Miserably.

His smirk deepens, smug and knowing, before he nudges me forward in the water, shifting me just enough to slide in behind me.

The moment he sinks into the bath, a low groan escapes him, the sound vibrating through the space between us, sinking into my skin. Strong, calloused hands find my waist under the water, guiding me back until my spine meets the solid wall of his chest and my ass meets something very different. 

And fuck.

The heat of him, the sheer size of him, makes my entire body lock up. Every muscle goes rigid as I try to convince myself this is fine, that I can handle this without combusting on the spot.

But then his lips brush my ear.

“Relax.” His voice is pure sin, rough with restraint. “I’ve got you.”

I don’t think relaxing is an option anymore.

Not when I can feel him, hot and hard against me, pressed so intimately that my breath catches in my throat. Not when his hands, large and calloused, find my waist beneath the water, his thumbs brushing slow, burning circles into my skin.

A shiver ripples through me, and I know he feels it because his grip tightens, fingers flexing like he’s fighting every instinct to pull me closer.

“Xaden—” My voice is barely a whisper, but before I can even process what I’m trying to say, his hands begin to move.

Slow. Deliberate.

He traces the curve of my sides, trailing the bruises with a careful touch, his palms mapping every ridge, every muscle, like he’s memorising me.

Like he wants to.

And it should be soothing—it would be soothing—if it weren’t for the fact that every shift of his hands sends a fresh wave of awareness through me, heat pooling low in my stomach, turning my bones to liquid.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my breath uneven. “This isn’t fair,” I manage, trying to ignore the way my entire body reacts to his touch.

Xaden hums, the sound deep, amused, dangerous. His breath is warm against the side of my neck as he leans in, his lips barely ghosting over my skin.

“Life’s not fair, violence,” he murmurs, his voice like smoke and embers, like temptation itself. His fingers tighten at my waist, pressing me just a fraction more against him, until there’s no mistaking exactly what I’m doing to him.

A quiet, wrecked sound escapes me before I can swallow it down.

And gods.

I don’t think I want to relax anymore.

Xaden’s hands remain steady on my waist, but there’s a subtle shift in his touch. His fingers begin to move, a slow, deliberate exploration of the skin beneath his hands. The warmth of his touch sends ripples of heat over me, and it’s as though I can feel every inch of his fingers against me, the way they trail over my skin, brushing lightly against my ribs before descending lower.

His touch is careful at first, like he’s testing, sensing the boundaries I haven’t yet laid out. The water between us becomes a barrier of heat and tension, and I can feel him getting closer, his breath mingling with mine, quiet and measured.

Then, with deliberate patience, his fingers shift down to my legs, gliding along the smooth skin of my thighs. My pulse quickens, and I struggle to keep my breathing steady, not knowing whether to lean into the touch or brace myself against it.

When his hand nudges my legs apart ever so slightly, it’s a gentle but insistent movement, a tease that has my heart pounding in my chest. It’s almost as if he’s savouring the slow build-up, the way he’s tracing every line of my body with his fingertips—each touch purposeful, each stroke drawing out more of the tension that I can’t escape. 

Suddenly he’s lifting me a bit, one strong arm around my waist against. A soft sound of surprise leaving my lips when I feel the tip brushing against my soaking entrance, a soft question on his lips. I’m nodding before I realise it, gripping the arm around my waist and completely forgetting that this isn’t me. I don’t fuck for fun but Xaden sends every rule of mine out the window, especially when he’s slowly and carefully sinking me down until he’s fully sheafed inside me. 

My head falls back onto Xaden’s shoulders he hands go back to exploring my body but all I can focus on is the delicious stretch of him, the tip feeling like it’s pressing against my cervix. No-one has stretched me this much and it’s almost too much to handle and Xaden can tell, the way the rough pads of his fingers run over where we’re connected. His lips brushing my neck, biting down and littering my skin with hickeys that I am in no way going to be able to cover up tomorrow. 

I’m opening my mouth to speak but he silences me by circling my clit, a smirk pressing into my jaw as he continues to roll lazy circles over my clit, my walls fluttering around his girth filling me up. I can already tell I’m not going to last long with the mixture of stimulation and I’m gripping Xaden’s arm that is paying attention to that bundle of nerves as my thighs clench together. He’s moving his lips from my jaw to my ear, murmuring, “Come for me baby.”

Those words plus one more tight circle on my clit has my aching back arching, drawing Xaden even deeper than I thought possible and my walls are clamping down around him, feeling hi twitch inside me as waves of bliss roll over me. I can feel Xaden rocking his hips up ever so slightly and before I know what’s happening he’s sinking his teeth into my shoulder and his dick is throbbing, filling me up with rope after rope until I feel it dripping down into the water and he’s letting out a low groan of pleasure. 

His breath is ragged against my ear, each inhale a sharp, uneven sound that mirrors the frantic rhythm of my own. His body is still pressed tightly against mine, and I can feel the heat of him seeping through the water, the warmth of his chest against my back as his arms tighten around me.

"Fuck..." he breathes, his voice strained, rough with the effort to regain control. It's low, almost a growl, but the vulnerability in it—how breathless he sounds—has my heart hammering in my chest. The intimacy of the moment makes my head spin, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck, needing the coolness of his skin to steady myself.

Every part of me feels alive, humming with the aftershocks of what we've shared. My lungs are still struggling to keep up, my chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. I close my eyes, trying to slow the frantic pace of my breathing, but with Xaden so close, the air feels thick, charged with a quiet tension that doesn't seem to want to fade.

His lips brush against my neck, a soft, breathless kiss that sends a shiver racing down my spine, and his hand, still resting on my hip, flexes slightly. "Take it slow," he murmurs, his voice low and raw, like he's trying to soothe me, but I know it’s just as much for himself.

I want to say something, to break the silence, but every word feels heavy, every sound trapped somewhere deep in my chest, caught between us like the air we share. His presence, the heat of him, the way he's holding me so close—it’s all too much, too overwhelming in the best way possible.

And as I try to regain my breath, the world outside seems to disappear, leaving only the two of us, tangled in the aftermath.

The warm water, the steady rhythm of Xaden’s breathing, and the weight of his body against mine have me feeling utterly relaxed, more than I’ve ever felt before. My muscles, still sore from training, are languid and loose, and I can feel myself beginning to drift, the world around me fading into a haze of warmth and comfort.

I try to fight it, to stay awake, but my eyelids are heavy, and the rhythmic pulse of the water, the sound of Xaden’s heartbeat, and his steady presence make it hard to keep my thoughts straight. Everything in me is exhausted—physically, emotionally. I feel his chest rise and fall with each breath, and it’s like a lullaby, pulling me deeper into sleep.

The gentle pressure of his hand on my hip only makes it worse, a soothing presence that makes me feel safe and cherished, like I could stay here forever. I let out a soft sigh, nestling further into him, too tired to do anything but let myself be held.

But then, I feel him shift, his hand nudging me gently as the cold begins to settle in, and I realise the water has started to cool. A part of me knows I should get up, but my body protests every movement, too spent to function properly. The weariness pulls at me, a fog I can’t shake.

"Come on," his voice is soft but insistent, the edge of concern threading through the words. "We need to get out before we both freeze."

I barely manage to lift my head from his chest, my eyes half-lidded as I try to push myself up, but the effort is too much. My body feels like lead, and the warmth of the bath is so comforting, I can’t seem to summon the energy to do anything but slump back into him with a soft groan of frustration.

I hear him curse softly under his breath, and before I can protest, his arms shift around me. In one smooth motion, he’s standing, lifting me with ease. I’m held against him, wrapped in his strong arms, and I’m so out of it, so weak from everything we’ve just shared, that I don’t even think to object. I rest my head against his chest again, too tired to fight it, and just let him carry me.

He moves with surprising grace, effortlessly holding me as though I weigh nothing at all. His body is warm, and I can feel the solid strength of him beneath me as he carries me out of the bath, stepping carefully through the bathroom and towards the bed. The movement causes a slight shiver to roll through me, but I barely register it, too lost in the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

The cold air that hits my skin as he pulls me from the bath is a shock, but it’s quickly replaced with the warmth of his hands as he gently helps me sit up. His touch is careful, almost reverent, as he grabs a towel and begins drying me off, his hands moving slowly over my skin, taking extra care around the sore muscles from training. The friction of the towel feels comforting against my damp skin, like he’s erasing the tension that’s settled in my body.

Every pass of the towel makes me feel lighter, his movements deliberate, yet tender. He’s so close, I can feel his breath against my skin, and I can’t help but be hyper-aware of every little sensation, every brush of his fingers. He finishes drying my legs and feet, then wraps the towel around my shoulders, pulling me into a standing position for just a moment. The dizziness that tries to creep up on me from being so relaxed is immediately washed away by the firm grip of his hands, steady and sure.

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at me for a moment, his gaze steady and warm, before picking out one of his oversized shirts from the pile of clothes he keeps by the door. It’s big enough to drown me, but he’s surprisingly gentle as he slides it over my head, the fabric billowing over my frame like a soft cloud. When the shirt falls to my knees, he gives a satisfied nod, his hand lingering on my arm for just a second before he guides me back to the bed.

I’m so exhausted, every inch of my body heavy with fatigue, that I barely manage to crawl into the bed, curling under the thick covers as Xaden moves to the side. But I can’t stop watching him, my eyes half-lidded as he dries himself off with a towel, the water dripping down his chest in rivulets. His muscles flex as he works, and I feel my breath catch in my throat as I take in every inch of him—his broad shoulders, the tautness of his abdomen, the way his hands move over his body with practiced ease.

He doesn’t seem to care about modesty, or maybe he simply doesn’t need to, because before I know it, he’s slipping into the bed behind me, his bare skin pressing against mine. I feel the heat of him, his presence a constant, undeniable force against my back. He doesn’t bother to pull on any clothes, his bare chest brushing against me as he settles in, his arm wrapping around me, pulling me close.

I let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding, my body sinking into the warmth of him as I try to adjust to the feeling of being so close, so tangled in his presence. His heartbeat, steady and calm, thumps against my back as he presses his lips to my shoulder, a small, contented sound leaving him. It makes me shiver, not with cold, but with something else—something deeper, something I can’t quite define.

Xaden’s arm tightens around me, but his touch remains gentle, his warmth seeping into my skin as I finally relax into him, the exhaustion of the day and our shared moments taking its toll. I let myself breathe deeply, every inhale filling me with the scent of him—musky, warm, a hint of something like cedar and saltwater.

I close my eyes, but not before I catch one last glimpse of him, the outline of his face in the dim light, his expression soft but still holding that intensity I can’t shake. It’s enough to send a flutter through my chest, the lingering tension in my body finally dissipating as I let sleep claim me. His body behind me is a steady, reassuring presence, and in his arms, I feel like I’ve found a place I never want to leave.

Fourth Wing Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

@xadenswhore @fanficscuziranout @daisydark @Mariahoedt @marrass @universallyrascaldreamercookie

[lure-of-writing]

Priority

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: none

Summary: Bodhi is in love with you. Hopelessly in love. Unfortunately for him he can't say anything about it.

If you asked Bodhi when he first met you two things were certain. One, he would tilt his head to the side and raise an eyebrow in question. Two, he would give a small shrug of his shoulder before saying “Uh I don’t know?”. His statement always sounded more like a question. In his defence why would he know the answer to that question. There is no point in time where Bodhi can pinpoint the moment you entered his life. Unfortunately or fortunately depending on who you asked, you have always been there. Always a constant in his life and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Oh come on Bo don’t be like this.” You tilt your head slightly, your lashes batting so strongly he swears that there is a draft in here. Bodhi doesn’t budge, he keeps his arms crossed over his chest with a slight twitch in his clenched jaw. “You know I didn’t mean it right?” The teasing in your voice softens, just a little, just enough to know you really didn’t mean anything by your comment.  “As cool as Xaden is, I could never replace you with him.” You pause for a moment before adding “His ego is too big for me.” Bodhi glances down at where you were sitting on the ground next to the chair he was sitting in. Bodhi wanted to say something sarcastic right back at you, but he couldn’t, the jealousy burning in his throat wouldn’t allow him to. Even if he could say anything he wouldn’t be able to; the way you were looking up at him, like you needed him to know you were only joking. Like what he thought truly mattered to you, it rendered him speechless. 

 Your friends- Liam, Garrick, Xaden and himself were spread out in Xadens room talking about nothing and everything all at once. Garrick being the instigator he is just had to ask you who you would pick to be stranded with and of course you being you said his cousin. He knew you were just trying to mess with him. To get under his skin. And it worked, of course it did. Bodhi would never admit it to anybody but he felt like he was always walking in Xadens shadow. Always second best, never good enough to be picked first. Your lighthearted teasing didn't make him feel any better, not when the jealousy hit harder than it ever had before. 

Bodhi said nothing as you stared up at him. He stared down at you as you looked up at him, a frown was starting to replace your teasing smile. He hated that look, despised it really. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was seeing you sad. “Are you really going to give me that look?” he muttered, and you didn’t miss the annoyance painting his voice. But the moment he finally looked at you again you knew he truly didn’t mean it. With your eyes locked onto his nothing else in the room existed besides you. God he could never be mad at you, not when you look at him like that. 

 The glare he sent Garrick wasn’t missed by you but you couldn’t help yourself when you leaned your body to rest fully against his leg. Placing your head against his thigh. Bodhi would never reject your touch, not when it was so familiar. He craved the feeling of your body against his, more often then he would care to admit.  With Bodhi ignoring you, Liam picked up the conversation, you were trying to listen but all of your attention was on Bodhi. Truly you felt bad about hurting his feelings. While he would never admit that you did, you could see it in the way his jaw set, hands flexing against his arms and his eyes flickering away from yours to hide his hurt. Bodhi could feel the guilt coming off of you in waves. Without even thinking about it he gently brushes his fingers through your hair. He may be talking to Garrick but you knew his attention was on you. This was his way of letting you know that he accepted your apology. The words “i’m sorry” never tumbled out of your lips but the way you leaned further into him and periodically glanced up at him in worry was an apology to him. Words weren’t needed, they never have been, at least not between the two of you. 

“Bo?” The light nudge against his legs pulls his eyes away from Garrick and back to you. “Yeah?” His response was equally as quiet as yours was. His voice felt thick with an emotion he refused to acknowledge. He didn’t stop his ministrations. Instead he found that spot behind your ear and rubbed gentle circles on it before resting his hand on the base of your neck. His fingers still tangled in your hair. “Ya’ know I would never replace you right?” The guilt mixed with an undercurrent of pleading broke his heart.  “I know sweetheart.” His whispered words sound a little rough even to him. But he meant what he said. Gently he squeezes the back of your neck in an unspoken promise. He wasn’t going anywhere, no matter what you were to follow. 

“You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.” His words were an afterthought but he meant them. Bodhi bent forward slightly to reach eye level with you. His other hand that wasn’t tangled in your hair cupped your cheek softly turning your face to look at him. The limited space between you forces a sharp inhale of air into your lungs. Bodhi didn’t miss your near silent gasp or the way your eyes flickered over his face before looking at his lips and then back to his eyes. “Sweetheart I’m gonna need you to stop worrying in that pretty little head of yours, ok?” His voice was quiet but you felt them as if they had been screamed at you. That nickname he gave you never failed to make your heart skip a beat. He watched as you took in a shaky breath before lightly nodding your head. “Ok.” Glancing between your eyes he waited until he saw the guilt slip away and he swore love replaced it.

He needed to pull away, put some space between the two of you before he did something he would regret. Leaning forward just a bit more he angled your head up just slightly so he could place a kiss against your hairline. His lips lingered for a moment before pulling away. His eyes found yours again and you saw the small smirk forming on his lips. Maybe he should have kissed you on the lips he thinks to himself, especially with the way a flush of red makes its way to your cheeks. He wonders what would happen if he kissed you.  After a light tap against your cheek he removes his hand and sits back in his chair, refocused on the conversation you hadn’t been aware of. His hand never leaves your hair though. With Bodhi’s focus back on whatever conversation was happening you lay your head back down onto his leg. The gentle kiss you place against his leg is enough for his brain to short circuit. The glide of his hand in your hair stops mid stroke. Bodhi feels his breath hitch in his throat while he was frozen for a second. Without thinking he hand tightens its hold on your hair before releasing once more. 

Bodhi has never been more grateful to not have your eyes on him. The way his jaw tightens. The way his chest rises and falls just a little bit quicker than it should for sitting in a chair. He had to close his eyes for a moment to collect himself. Bodhi knew he was protective of you, maybe even a little obsessed with you but god damn if he wasn’t in love with you. Bodhi's heart sang from the feeling of your lips against his body. And he hates to admit it but for a second he thought about what your lips would feel like against his leg without pants blocking your way. After taking the moment to collect himself he clears his throat pulling your attention back to him. 

The way you bat your eyes at him in anticipation causes him to clear his throat yet again. “I know you were joking but just don’t do that again ok baby?” He chuckles softly at the way your eyes widen and cheeks flush even brighter while casting your eyes downward in hopes to hide the shock you are feeling. There is nothing Bodhi loves more than seeing that shy bashful smile grace your lips all because of him.

“Where the hell is she?” Cuirs talons curled into the wet stone as Bodhi's voice rang out across the flight field. The grey clouds unleashed gallons of freezing droplets of rain upon every rider. Constricting leathers tightened with their newfound water weight. Across the blurred Bodhi could make out the red and brown dragon that was a part of your group but the emerald green scorpion tail dragon he was so used to seeing was nowhere to be found. Everyone from the training exercise had returned. Everyone but you. Time seemed to slow to a screeching halt as Bodhi took in the field before him. Short quick breaths pounded against his ribcage. Panic raised with bail in the back of his throat. “No..no” A panicked gasp of air cut off his train of thoughts. He was the only person who hadn’t dismounted. “Xaden! Garrick!” Bodhi could hear the raw desperation in his voice, he knew that other riders had heard it too, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when everyone had returned but you. He would follow you to the end of the world without you ever having to ask him. It was no surprise to his two closest friends that he was willing to bring the wrath of the professors upon himself by defying orders and heading back out. He would do anything to find you. And if he found you- no he wouldn’t let himself think about that. 

The terror gripping his voice propelled his friends back to their own dragons. Both men had done a quick scan of the field and knew what was wrong. They would have known without even having to look. Bodhi never lost control of himself no matter what. Unless it involved you, then all bets were off. Bodhi couldn’t control his protective instincts even when he tried. So he stopped trying. 

Just as Garrick and Xaden were about to remount the powerful distinct sound of dragon wings could be heard approaching from a distance. Only one thing could be possible. You were returning with Aella. Once again time seemed to slow down. Minutes felt like hours. Every second that passed felt like a lifetime. The fall of rain seemed to double within seconds blurring his vision even more than it already was. Howling wind whipped the rain in all directions forcing other riders to lower their heads or raise their arms to at least protect their faces. Bodhi did neither. He wouldn’t not when the sound of wind being beaten into submission by powerful and strong wings could be heard from mere miles away. You were coming. He could feel it in his bones. It had to be you- there was no other possibility for Bodhi. Finally there was a shadow of a dragon and the vice grip his ribs had on his lungs loosened allowing him to take a deeper breath just by a fraction. Green. He saw green. It was a muted green but it was green nonetheless. 

Dark grey heavy clouds limited his visibility but he knew what he saw. Rain was being pelted down towards the earth with the force of Aellas wings. Bodhi was a part of those that were in Aellas path but he could not care less. Not if that meant you were safe. He would stand under the frozen dagger feeling rain for his whole life if that meant you were safe. Gracefully Aella landed in the middle of the flight field where most of the other dragons had previously occupied it. He was moving before he even knew he was. He was on Cuir one moment and the next he was sliding down his own green dragon without an ounce of grace. “Y’n!” The waiver in his voice didn’t stop, no, it traveled throughout his whole body. The waiver transformed into different things. Trembling hands, burning eyes from unshed tears and lungs that were on fire from how quickly he was running towards you. 

Something was wrong. If anyone possed elegance and grace even in the world of dragon riding it was you. The clumsy tumble down Aellas leg combined with the way you landed with a thud forcing you to roll onto your shoulder to prevent yourself from breaking a bone was anything but normal for you. Sharp painful breaths pumped his legs faster. He had to be faster. He couldn’t get to you soon enough. After what couldn’t have been more than two minutes Bodhi was finally in front of your bent over body. You were tipped over at the hips facing the ground. Both of your elbows rested upon your legs while you cradled your head in your heads. Something was wrong. Without thinking Bodhi unraveled your body forcefully crashing your body into his chest. “Thank god you are ok. I thought…. I thought you were.” Bodhi couldn't bring himself to say the words, not when his eyes burned and his lungs ached and he couldn’t stop the way his hands were shaking. “Are you ok?” He pulled your body away from his slightly to scan your body for injuries. Subconsciously his hands moved to cup your cheeks. “What's wrong baby? I need to know so I can help. But you gotta tell be baby.” Whispered words tumbled from his lips causing your eyes to meet his. Wordlessly you gripped his hands and pulled them away from his face. Silently he watched as you unzipped your flight jacket and pulled the side of your shirt up exposing a large bleeding gash decorating your skin.

“Who did this to you?” It wasn’t a question. It was a demand. Nobody touched you. Nobody dug their dragger along your skin and didn’t pay for it. Bodhi was going to kill whoever did this to you. That was a promise. Bodhi was unable to pull his eyes away from your side as he spoke. “Sweetheart we need to get you to the healers, ok?” Your silence forced his eyes back towards yours. Water was pooling on your waterline and your lips where shaking in pain. Tenderly he pulled you back into his chest. One of his hands found purchase in your sopping wet hair while the other rested upon your neck. “It’s ok I’ve got you baby. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything like this happen to you again I promise.” 

Bodhi hadn’t moved from the chair in his room. He couldn’t bring himself to, not when you were laying in his bed. Sleep had pulled you away from him. Not that he could blame you of course. He would never blame you. “Bo?” Your quiet voice pulled his attention away from his plot for revenge and onto you. “Yeah sweet girl?” He matched his voice to yours not wanting to destroy the peaceful environment that your presence had created. Outside his window it was pitch black but inside of his room warm flickers of light bounced around the room casting you in a beautiful light. Granted you were always beautiful in his eyes but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t enjoy what was before him. Wordlessly you watched as he made his way over to his bed. He perched himself on the edge of the bed right by your hip.  Your watchful eyes traced his movement until you couldn’t. His hands where once again in your hair. Carefully he moved his hand down until it rested on your neck. He couldn’t help himself from touching your cheek. Lightly his thumb ran back and forth against your cheek.

“Will you lay with me?” His room was not warm by any means but suddenly it felt like a hundred degrees warmer and he felt the blood rise to his face. He was sure that there was a flush to his face. He had laid in bed with you a thousand of times before so he wasn’t sure why he was suddenly nervous. Deep down he knew why. Some part of your relationship with him had changed and he wasn’t sure what that meant. He wasn’t sure if he had to prepare to mourn all the ways he wished he could of had you. Swallowing the lump in his throat he glances out the window and follows the path of a raindrop along the window until he couldn’t follow it anymore. Turning back to your he finds your sharp eyes already resting upon him. Forcefully he cleared his throat once more before answering. “Of course, you never have to ask me that.” His voice wasn’t a whisper but it wasn’t normal speaking volume either.

Gently he pulls back the blanket helping you scooch over in the bed making more space for him before he climbed in. With a wince you pull yourself up and pat the pillow behind your head. Expectantly you look at him. A laugh falls from his lips “You could of just said you wanted to use my arm as a pillow you know that right?” The shake of his head does nothing to move his smile. “Why would I do that? You should know this by now.” Your words floated into the space above him. “You’re right I should know better.” This time it's a huff of air that leaves you instead. Bodhi missed the sound of your laugh but he knew it would be too painful for you to laugh at the moment so he enjoyed what he had. “Obviously I’m always right.” Your words were cut off with a wince. Bodhi went to push himself up so he could help you move but you shook your head and placed your palm on his chest. 

Following your silent command he lays back down to his previous position, A soft grunt and a heavy sigh of relief later you were pressed against his side. One of your legs crossed against his chest and the other rested against his leg. Your head rested on his chest right above his heart. He waited until you were comfortable to move. Softly he moves to rest one hand below the cut on your side while the other finds its way to your bare leg. Absentmindedly his thumb begins to rub patterns along your leg. A few minutes of silence had passed before your voice filled the room. “Bo?” Slowly he opens his eyes to find yours are already looking at him. “Yeah?’ His eyes traced over your face while you fought to find the right words. He always knew you were stunning but here in his room with the gentle light dancing upon your face, your beauty took his breath away. “What happened out there Bodhi? The use of his first name caught his attention before the rest of your words did. You only used his first name when you were serious. “Huh?” 

 The words tumbled out of his lips before he could even stop them. Internally he cringes at his answer. “What happened out there with you? I’ve never seen you like that before. You were so- so panicked. You never panic.” Bodhi knew in this moment that it was now or never. He had been so close to telling you out on the flight field but he couldn’t not when you desperately needed to be seen by the healers. Bodhi sucked in a deep breath in hopes of calming his nerves. It did not. “I panicked because it was you. You hadn’t come back. Everyone was back but you and just the thought alone of something having happened to you worried me sick. But then you finally showed up, right as I was about to go searching you for and at first all I felt was relief. Until I watched you dismount from Aella and then the fear took over all over again. I could tell something was wrong but I didn’t know what it was and all I could think about was something finally taking you from me. And I… I can’t stand that thought. It makes me sick.” Bodhi's words came to a stop but still you said nothing. You could tell that there was more he wanted to say, more he needed to say, but he needed the space to find the right words. Without realizing it you had begun to rub soothing circles on bodhi's chest. Bodhi felt the warmth of your hand against his chest. The gentle comforting touch of your hand upon him was more than he could ask for. 

“I am so in love with you. I have been for years. I could never bring myself to tell you. I worried about what it would do to our relationship but after seeing you like that. I can’t hold it in anymore.” Bodhi's hand encased yours pulling it to rest on his cheek but he didn’t remove his hand. If this is the last time he gets to have you like this he was going to take every  moment presented to him. “I love you. And I understand if you don't feel the same. But I can;t keep it in anymore. I am so incredibly in love with you.” A beat of silence passed while your eyes bounce between his lips and eyes. Finally after what felt like forever a laugh rang out into the once silent room. Out of all the reactions Bodhi was expecting this was definitely not one of them. His raised eyebrow did all the talking for him. 

“Oh Bo.” A sigh mixed with a breathless laugh tumbled from your lips. “We are such idiots. I am in love with you too. I have been since I met you but I never said anything because I was worried about it not working out.” A laugh of disbelief rumbled in his chest. He removed his hand from your wrist to rub his eyes for a long moment before laughing again. He pulled his hand down his face before placing it back on your thigh. “I can’t believe this. I have been on the verge of losing my mind for a year and a half because I was worried just for this to happen.” Bodhi shakes his head in disbelief once more. Even though he wished he had known this information earlier he didn’t mind. Not if it meant what he hoped it did. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Giggling, you lightly shook your head. Even though the movement was gentle it was enough to push a few hairs into your face. Without thinking he pulled his hand away from your leg and brought it out from the blanket to push your hair behind your ear. God he could never get used to the sight in front of him. 

A bashful smile painted your face along with a deep blush. “I was way too nervous to tell you first.” Your answer pulled a laugh from the two of you. After a few seconds both of your laughter had died down leaving silence to fill its space instead. “So I should have grown a pair and done it first a long time ago is what you're saying.” The slight shrug of your shoulders didn’t match the coy smile you were sporting. “You said it not me.” Once again you shrugged not before laughing again. This time it was against the pec of his chest. “So I should always make the first move, is what I’m hearing?” Quickly you glanced up to find his eyes already upon you. Shifting you move to hide more of your face in his chest but he doesn’t let you get far. “I mean if that's how you feel that it then sure.” Bodhi knew when you got shy you tried to hide from prying eyes but fortunately for him he wasn’t subject to the same rules as everybody else. Softly his hand finds its rightful place against your cheek and neck. The gentle guide of his hands pulls your face up to his. You watch as his eyes drop to your lips before coming back up. “Well if that's the case then you won’t have any problem with this.” Bodhi lifted himself while bringing your face closer to his. With one last look at your eyes wide in surprise he closes his own eyes when he felt the softness of your lips against his own. Slowly your lips found a rhythm against Bodhis and he swore there was no better feeling in the world than this. 

Finally when both of you ran out of air did you pull away from each other. Bodhi was watching you when your eyelids finally peeled apart from each other. “I think you should do that again just so I can make sure there is no problem.” The laugh that tumbled out of Bodhi was loud and full of joy. He could feel the smirk on his face but he made no move to stop it. Not when you were looking at him like that. Right before your lips met his .That laugh that he loved graced the room once again. He would hate to cut off the laugh that he loves so much but the feel of your lips against his takes priority.

[writinginatree]

Cared For

Relationship(s): Bodhi Durran & Xaden Riorson & Riorson!reader

Summary: Xaden takes care of you and Bodhi after RSC.

Warnings: Mentions of torture, injuries, nonsexual nudity (showering together), reader has heart problems

You stumble from the interrogation chamber with the rest of your squad, blinking into the late afternoon sunlight as the professor who just finally released you drones on and on. You should be listening, in case he's talking about something important, like having to do this shit again or something, but you can't focus on the words, mindlessly clinging to Bodhi, whose arm is linked with yours so you can help each other stay on your feet.

Well, okay — if you're being honest, it's mostly Bodhi helping you. He's worse for wear too, but still faring decidedly better than you.

You're not sure why it is that they went especially hard on you — because your father had been the Great Betrayer, because they recognized you as the weakest link of your squad, or because you refused to show any pain and they were determined to change that. In the end, it doesn't matter. You didn't break. You survived. That's what you have to focus on. Another one of the stupid trials this cursed place puts you through that you've overcome. One step closer to eventually making it out of here alive.

Finally the professor is done talking and allows you to leave.

The walk back into the quadrant proper passes in a blur, one stumbling step after the other as Bodhi pulls you along. Since he's well aware of your aversion to healers, and since neither of you is that badly hurt, he doesn't bother to suggest going to the infirmary and takes you straight to the dormitories. Your room is closer to the stairs than his, so that's where you go, slumping onto the bed side by side, too exhausted to lift a finger, though you know you need to get cleaned up, or at the very least remove your boots. In a moment, you tell yourself. As soon as the room stops spinning, you'll get up and do it.

Minutes later, a knock sounds on the door, startling your poor, tired heart into doubling the pace of its beating.

"I think Cuir asked Sgaeyl to send us Xaden," Bodhi soothingly murmurs, sitting up and unlocking the door with lesser magic.

Sure enough it's your brother who enters the room a second later, grimacing at the state he finds the both of you in. "Shit, are you guys okay?"

"Yeah," you and Bodhi mutter, "Sure."

Admittedly, that's a bit of an exaggeration. But okay is a flexible term, and you suppose things could be worse. You know the question was just reflex anyway, and Xaden is perfectly aware that no one is ever truly okay after just getting out of an RSC torture session.

He comes over to the bed, crouching down beside it. You feel shadows stirr underneath and all around you — no doubt Xaden 'subtly' taking inventory of your injuries. You've lost track of what hurts where about an hour into the exercise, your whole body one big ache, but you're pretty sure most of the damage is superficial. It's your heart giving you the most trouble, thanks to having missed this morning's dose of your medication, and simple dehydration.

"Are you feeling strong enough to shower?" Xaden asks.

Bodhi nods, but you hesitate. Getting up the stairs without fainting had been challenge enough, so you roll over to turn a pleading look on your cousin. "Can we go together?"

When Bodhi nods, you nod too, and Xaden helps you to your feet.

"Alright," he says, "you two get cleaned up, and I'll be back with some food and a first-aid kit."

The showers are blessedly empty, and you let yourself plop down on the floor, the cold tiles digging into your bare knees as Bodhi turns on the water, a less than lukewarm spray raining down on you. Cold as you feel, you would have preferred your water steaming hot, but you know that would only make your already too low blood pressure worse, so you don't complain.

Bodhi sits down behind you, takes a handful of soap and gently massages it into your scalp, careful to avoid pulling all the tangles that have formed in your hair from the rough treatment you'd been given.

"You don't have to," you half-heartedly mutter.

In truth, you're not entirely sure you can muster the energy to do it yourself, and with the way you're finally starting to relax under his touch, Bodhi rightfully ignores the protest and continues to help you wash.

By the time you dry off and pull on fresh clothes, you're shivering with cold, but your head is a little clearer, and you don't feel like you'll pass out any second anymore, either.

Xaden is already waiting in your room when you return to it, the soft glow of mage lights illuminating the space since dusk has fallen while you were in the shower. He has brought not only the promised food and first-aid supplies, but also Garrick.

Taking a seat on your bed, you don't bother reminding him that it's illegal for more than three of you to be together; he's doubtlessly well aware of the trouble you'd be in if you're caught, and simply doesn't care because he can tell how much you need the company right now.

You shudder to think that he and Garrick had to go through the same experience last year without anyone to comfort them. Thinking back, you try to remember if you'd noticed any injuries on them around this time of year, but you can't recall. Even if you had noticed, Xaden would have brushed you off with some excuse to stop you from worrying.

The thought makes you frown. You have no doubt they'd been as hard on Xaden as they were on you — probably even harder. It's not fair that he'd had to get through that on his own, that he always has to go through everything alone because he thinks that's what being the one with all the responsibility means. Ever since the apostasy, since he took on that responsibility for all your lives, he never lets himself be weak in front of anyone — even you. Of course you're grateful for everything he's done, is still doing, his care and protection, but you wish he would let himself be taken care of, too, when he needs it.

His hand on your shoulder snaps you out of these thoughts, and you blink up at him, wondering when you closed your eyes. The plain worry on his face makes your eyes swim with tears, and you tell yourself to pull it together — to no avail.

"They did that to you too last year," you mumble, not quite a question. "You should have let us be there for you."

"First-years aren't allowed to know about RSC," Xaden reminds you, hand on your chin to angle your head sideways so he can get a better look at a scrape on your jaw.

You know that's not the reason he kept it from you, at least not the only one, but you let it go, knowing he just wants your best.

Treating your wounds doesn't take long. Mostly it's bruises — a lot of them, swollen and hot to the touch, decorating you in various shades of red, purple, and blue. There isn't much Xaden and Garrick can do about those, though they diligently smear them with some stinky salve that's supposed to soothe the worst of the ache.

To you it just feels cold and nothing more, but you don't complain. Not about the useless stinky ointment, nor about the burn of disinfectant in your open scrapes and cuts. You're simply too exhausted to do anything but force yourself to stay sitting upright, letting Xaden do whatever he wants. He knows better what you need right now than you do, anyway. You're limp in his hands, letting him turn you this way and that to get at all your wounds, his shadows supporting you when needed.

He pays extra attention to your wrists, the skin there rubbed raw from your fruitless attempts to slip free of the chains they'd put on you in the interrogation chamber. Even through the fog of exhaustion hanging over your mind, you don't miss the sorrow that passes over your brother's face as he takes in the harm you did to yourself. He is uncharacteristically gentle as he bandages your wrists, even going so far as to press a little kiss on top of each, the way your dad used to do when you were little. You tear up again at the action, have to bite your trembling bottom lip to keep from crying.

Done with your wounds, Xaden helps you get comfortable sitting against the wall with a pillow at your back, a soft blanket over your lap and tucked in around your waist. Bodhi already sits next to you much the same way; the comforting warmth of his shoulder against yours helps you ground yourself in the present.

Xaden puts a bowl of soup into your hands, ordering you to eat. It's not quite hot anymore, having stood on the desk while Xaden and Garrick patched you guys up, but still warm enough, and you consider it a bonus that you can't burn your mouth on it anymore.

When you're done, Garrick takes the empty bowls and leaves, but Xaden remains.

"I guess we'd better get you two to sleep," he says. "You've had a long day."

"Can Bodhi sleep here tonight?"

"Does Bodhi want to sleep here?" Xaden counters, looking to your cousin for answer.

To your relief, he agrees. You're not sure you could stand being alone right now, with the memory of today's torture still so fresh in your mind and the lingering dizziness you can't seem to shake.

"Okay," Xaden nods. "Then he can."

After tucking the both of you into bed, Xaden turns to leave. Before you can think better of it, you reach for his hand, silently pleading with him to stay a little longer. He sinks back to the floor beside the bed, brushing a hand over your face in an attempt to get you to close your eyes.

"Sleep. I'm here."

Bodhi moves closer — at this point he's practically lying on top of you — and butts his head against Xaden's hand with a little whine. Your brother gets the hint, and starts to pet Bodhi's hair, his other hand still gripped tight in yours. He doesn't need to have his hands free to make you close your eyes again — a soft layer of shadows descends on your face like a blanket, leaving you in complete darkness. It should be unsettling, but somehow, it isn't. Encased in the safety of your brother's shadow, you can finally keep your eyes shut and actually try to fall asleep.

Which is easier said then done, despite your exhaustion. While your body is fully ready to shut down, your mind won't stop racing. Bodhi is having the same problem, if the way you feel him fidget is any indication.

Xaden starts softly humming, and after a moment, you recognize the melody as an old Tyrrish lullaby. It had been your favorite one as a child, but after all these years, you'd almost forgotten it. Now the words come back to you like magic, even if Xaden doesn't sing them.

Trying to remember the song text and sing along in your mind gives you something to focus on other than the day's events; your racing thoughts can finally settle down. Slowly the tension leaves your body and your breathing evens out as sleep descents over you.

But just as you finally drift into that calm drowsy state, your heart skips a beat and you jolt wide awake again.

Xaden is quick to soothe you. The shadow over your face disappears, replaced by others that gently hold you so you don't startle Bodhi by sitting up. Xaden gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, more shadows caressing your face as he murmurs, "Shh, you're okay."

You slowly relax again, nuzzling your face into Bodhi's shoulder and mirroring his slow, deep breathing. Xaden starts to hum the lullaby again.

He stays until he is sure both of you are fast asleep, then he gently removes your hand from his, placing it in Bodhi's instead, and slips into the hall.

[angstywaifu]

Xaden: We should get married Violet: We've been dating for less than a month Xaden: And I think I've shown incredible restraint waiting this long

[nomie-11]

Liam Mairi x Reader - The Artist and his Muse

masterlist!

Never once did Liam have the desire to learn how to draw, or learn how to paint, but as he whittled her dragon into another blank piece of wood, he was beginning to understand. He had no clue how to carve a mini figurine of her and her beautiful face, so he would need to learn how to draw. 

The idea had struck him like a bolt of Violet’s lightning—a restless itch that wouldn’t fade no matter how many times he told himself it was impossible or unreasonable. He was Liam Mairi, a warrior, soldier, protector, he had no business picking up a pencil to sketch her delicate lines or smoothing the curves of her figure with tender care. It was already somewhat unreasonable that he spent nearly all of his free time carving small figures of dragons. But when he glances at her, Y/n, laughing softly as her dragon swished his tail protectively behind her, he realized no battlefield could ever compare to the challenging art of capturing her essence. 

The unfinished wooden carving sat in his hands, its shape rough and unrefined, and he really couldn’t even tell that it was supposed to be a human, let alone Y/n. It wasn’t enough. The wood was too rigid to hold her warmth, her fire, her unmistakable spirit. He needed to bring her to life on paper before he could even think about turning that vision into something real. 

So that evening, after drills, Liam approached Violet. 

“I really, really need your help,” He pleaded as they walked towards the dining hall. “I need you to ask Jesinia to get me a book on how to draw from the archives. Please Violet.”

She snorted, suppressing a giggle as they grabbed their trays of food and sat down at their normal table. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” she replied lightly, waving to Rhiannon and Y/n, who sat talking animatedly over something. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow during archive duty before breakfast.” 

“Thank you so much,” He sighed, taking his seat next to Violet and across from Y/n. “You’re a lifesaver.” 

“Why is Violet a lifesaver?” Y/n asked, tilting her head curiously. 

“No reason!” He replied, just a touch too quickly, hiding his red ears behind his hands in a way too obvious manner. 

—————————————-

Over the next week, Liam carried the drawing book everywhere he went, his new codex of sorts, tucked between his journals and Xaden’s training regimens. The first sketches were more than rough, messy lines that bore no real resemblance to Y/n or anything remotely human. He tore out the worst of them in frustration, crumpling the paper into tight balls that littered the floor of his quarters. But he persisted, staying up late in the quiet glow of candlelight, pencil in hand, practicing strokes, shading, and proportions as if his life depended on it. 

It was her smile that always tripped him up. How could something so effortless on her part feel so impossible to replicate? When she smiled, it was never just her lips; it was the way her eyes crinkled at the corners, the way her nose scrunched slightly when she laughed, the warmth it brought to her entire face. He could picture it so vividly in his mind that it hurt to see the flat, lifeless doodles staring back at him. 

Still, he refused to give up. He filled the pages of the makeshift sketchbook Xaden had scrapped up for him, painstakingly sketching her in every moment of silence they had. The way she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear while reading; the intensity in her gaze when she strategized during training; the rare softness of her expression when her large blue dragon nudged her shoulder, her hand resting gently on his scales. 

He began stealing glances whenever he could, noting the curve of her jawline or the way the sunlight caught the strands in her hair, a mesmerizing mix of highlights he couldn’t quite replicate. 

“Are you drawing her again?” Violet teased one afternoon, leaning over his shoulder as they sat by the edge of the sparring grounds, Y/n and Rhiannon going at each other just in front of them. He quickly closed the sketchbook, shooting her a warning glare. 

“Shut up,” he mumbled, his ears turning a bright crimson. 

“She’s going to figure it out eventually, you know,” Violet grinned, nudging him playfully. “You’re not exactly subtle.” 

Liam groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I just… I can’t get it right. She’s—she’s so—”

”Complicated?” Violet offered with a smirk. 

“Perfect,” he corrected softly, almost too low for Violet to hear. 

Later that week, as they gathered in the common area to relax after a long day, Y/n sat down beside him, close enough that her shoulder brushed his. Liam’s heart hammered against his ribs, and he clutched the sketchbook tighter, praying she wouldn’t notice it. 

“What’s that?” She asked, her tone curious, eyes flicking to the edge of the leather cover sticking out from under his arm. 

“Nothing!” He replied quickly. A little too quickly. 

Her eyebrows rose, a playful grin tugging at her lips. “Oh, it’s definitely something. Let me see.” 

Before he could react, she reached over, snatching the sketchbook from his hands with an ease that came from years of training together. 

“Y/n, wait!” Liam practically lunged after her, but it was too late. She flipped the book open, her eyes scanning the page in silence. 

At first, she didn’t speak, her expression unreadable. She turned page after page—her laughing, her dragon mid-flight, her leaning against a tree in a rare quiet moment. Some sketches were crude, others more refined, and some heartbreakingly detailed, especially the ones of her smiling. 

“You… you drew all these?” she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“I—uh—yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, feeling like his heart might give out. “I know they’re not great, but—” 

“Are you kidding?” she interrupted, looking up at him with wide eyes, “These are… Liam, they’re beautiful.”

“You think so?” he asked, his voice hesitant, vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. 

She nodded, her gaze softening as she held the sketchbook closer to her chest. “But… Why me?” 

The question hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. 

Liam swallowed hard, his hands fidgeting in his lap as his ears turned a bright red. “Because… because you’re everything, Y/n. You’re fierce and kind and smart… and gods, you're just you. And I guess I wanted to try and hold onto that somehow. To show you what I see.” 

Her cheeks flushed, and for a moment, the ever-confident Y/n seemed at a loss for words. “Liam, I… I don’t even know what to say.” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he added quickly, his voice shaky. “Just… don’t laugh, okay?” 

“Laugh?” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. “Why would I laugh? No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.” 

He couldn’t quite meet her eyes, the vulnerability in his chest almost too much to bear. The air between them felt charged, her fingers still clutching the sketchbook close to her heart as if tethering him in place. His mind screamed at him to say more, to do something, but for once, the fearless Liam Mairi felt fear clamp down hard, rooting him in place. He wanted so badly to close the gap between them, to taste the words that lingered on her lips, but he couldn’t move. 

And then she did. 

Her hand reached out, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, and before he could process what was happening, she tugged him down, her lips meeting his in a rush of warmth and fire. It was soft at first, tentative, like testing the waters, but when he didn’t pull away, she leaned in deeper, her other hand dropping the sketchbook to the floor as it rested on the curve of his jaw. 

Liam’s breath hitched, his heart pounding against his ribs like a war drum as he surrendered to her touch, kissing her back harder than before. His hands hovered for a moment before settling gently on her waist, like he was afraid she might slip away if he held on too tightly. 

When they finally pulled apart, her face was flushed, and her eyes sparkled with something he couldn’t quite name. 

“Well,” she said, a teasing smile curling her lips. “That’s one way to say thank you.” 

Liam let out a breathless laugh, his hand lifting to rub the back of his neck. “I—uh—yeah, I guess it is.” 

She grinned, leaning in close, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And for the record, I think you captured me perfectly, Liam.” 

And with that, she kissed him again, and this time, he didn’t hesitate to kiss her back.

-------

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

Taglist: @awkardnerd , @hannraumari , @minjix , @glaciuswduo , @wolfbc97 , @heeseungthel0ml , @acourtofsmutandstarlight , @kylaisra

[danikamariewrites]

fourth wing rec:

training mats w xaddy daddy but instead of waddling off, he does us

(aka what shoulda happened the first time)

On The Mat (SMUT)

Xaden x reader

A/n: you’re so right for this omg

Warnings: fingering, p in v, biting

Watching as everyone trailed out of the training room you grew agitated. Swinging and dodging Xaden you glare at him. “Don’t let that control you.” He grunted throwing another left hook as he sensed your anger. Dodging his massive fist you throw yourself across the mat with a back handspring.

Landing in a crouch you look up at him and snarl. Unsheathing two of your daggers you aim them both for Xaden’s shoulders. The Wing Leader rolls to the right avoiding the blades. “How much longer?” You yell. “How ever long it takes for you to get it right.”

Rolling your eyes you both pop back up in ready stances, circling each other. You fumble with your hidden dagger at your back. Taking your eyes off of Xaden for a moment he saw his opportunity and pounced. You let out a grunt as Xaden pinned you to the ground.

You struggled to get free but your arm was pinned behind your back. Xaden quickly grabbed your hips, flipping you and straddling your ass. He held your arm to your back, slipping the dagger out from its hidden sheath with his other hand. You struggled against him panting as you failed to escape his iron clad grip.

Xaden leaned down next to your ear. His breath tickling your skin. “I guess we aren’t leaving just yet.” He whispers seductively. That deep voice bringing heat to your face. The need for him growing between your thighs. Letting out a sarcastic laugh you fall limp against the training mat.

“We don’t have to leave. But we’re done with this exercise.” You tease, grinding your leather clad ass against his cock. Xaden’s sharp breath makes you smirk knowing you’ve won. “Sure you can get this right?” Lust evident in his voice.

“Oh, Riorson. This is one exercise I won’t fail.” Xaden flips you onto your back, gathering your wrists in his hand to pin above your head. His lips immediately go to your neck, kissing and biting aggressively. You tilt your head to the side giving him more access. Moaning his name you try to move your arms to touch him. Over the sound of his lips and moans you hear the lock on the door click. You’re sure it’s thanks to his shadows. Always using them to conceal you in stolen moments or locking doors when he’s too caught up in your activities.

Making eye contact he bites the zipper of your vest, pulling until your breasts are exposed. He bites and sucks at the supple untouched flesh. Marking you as his. He brings his hands to your breasts, groping them and letting out a possesive moan as his hands trail down to the waist band of your pants.

Wasting no time Xaden ripped open the laces. Teasingly dragging his fingers across your pelvic bone. Leaving a trail of goosebumps on your flesh. Gods, it feels like he hasn’t touched you in years when it’s only been days since you’ve last had him. Clearly Xaden was just as eager to have you. Again, wasting no time he brings his fingers to your heat.

A whimper fell from your lips as Xaden spread your wetness around your folds. “Fuck, sweetheart.” Xaden breathed, pushing two of his thick fingers in your hole. Bucking your hips you clutched at his shoulders. He began working you open. Making you desperate for him.

You dropped your head against the mat as you came close to the edge. Your hips moved to meet the thrust of his fingers. “Please,” you beg, “please, Xaden. I’m s-so close.” You pant. Just as he started grazing that sweet spot Xaden ripped his fingers from your core. A whine escapes your lips.

“One second, sweetheart. Then you’ll have what you want.” You watched as Xaden pulled at the ties on his own pants. The outline of his hardened cock prominent against his leather pants. After freeing himself Xaden pulls your pants and boots off. Showing your impatience you grab his cock, running your thumb across his slit.

Teasing him at your entrance a growl sounds from deep in Xaden’s chest. He bats your hand away which immediately finds home in his thick dark hair. Xaden rubs himself against your entrance before sinking in. His hips fitting snug against yours as he waits for you to adjust to his size. “Move. Gods please move Xa.” You plead with him again. Xaden presses his lips against yours in a heated kiss as he begins to move. Swallowing each of your moans with his thrusts.

“Fuck, Xaden please. Right there, yes!” You scream against his lips. Xaden’s thrusts get deeper and faster. You dig your nails into his shoulders as he brings his thumb to your clit. Rubbing tantalizing circles. “I’m close, sweetheart. I need you to come with me, can you do that?” You nod letting out a small, uh-huh.

He presses down on your clit making your leg shake around his waist. “I-I,” you stutter. Xaden shushes you, knowing what you’re about to say. “I can feel you squeezing me, baby. I know, me too.” With a few more thrusts you let out a moan, coming undone around Xaden’s cock.

His head drops into the crook of your neck as he relishes in the feel of your walls fluttering around his cock. Squeezing around him a rare whimper left Xaden’s lips as he came.

Neither of you moved. Just laying on the mat, chests heaving as you held each other. “Fuck,” you breathe out. Yanking on Xaden’s hair you find that smirk on his lips that told you there was more. “You still didn’t get your move from earlier. This was your reward for trying.” He hovered over your lips, only slightly grazing them. “You still need to be punished, sweetheart.”