#please ignore this if you don't like the team dynamic :)

[invested-in-your-future]

I think there's a similarity to be drawn. In both cases, I am way more comfortable picking what the developers thought was the "worse" ending and ignoring its flaws than accepting something the developers didn't even consider.

The major difference, of course, is that LiS is well aware of how messed up sacrificing many for one person is. While the ending choice comes from a flawed perspective that doesn't consider the inherent homophobia within the BYG trope and the implications it brings for Bay's ending, the ending choice is also inbuilt into how the story progresses from beginning to end.

The thematic threads all tie together into those choices, and there's no real other way to handle the themes than that choice — half the fandom merely happens to disagree with the framing of one of the endings. Even then, that has less to do with the game and more to do with the writing team being literally oblivious to the issue.

I can't really say the same for Expedition 33.

It's not really about happily ever after. I am perfectly fine with there being two endings, where neither gives what is expected nor leaves everyone happy. That's not the issue here.

Thematically, to make this choice between the two endings, you have to completely ignore half the game and only focus on the Dessendre family and the subtextual dynamics of grief at play there — the choice is obvious then.

But it's because of those thematic elements of Grief that it's not enough for Maelle's ending to doom her eventually. No, there have to be weird undertones and Verso puppetry and the jumpscare bit to tell you it's the wrong ending. The game makes sure you consider all the darker implications that would make you regret this ending.

Meanwhile, Verso's ending, while meant to be ambiguous and "bittersweet", also completely ignores the price being paid, focusing solely on the Dessendre family once again. We don't see the Gestrals, Grandes, etc, vanish in terror as their lives are snuffed away by a callous god wanting to die. We don't see the haunting empty ruins of Lumiere vanish with all the lives Renoir and Verso ripped away from there. No, we get to see Maelle/Alicia grieve, and her family, who seem to be together now.

That's the focus.

(Un)surprisingly Verso doesn't get to do a creepy jumpscare face! Look at this pained, tortured soul and ignore that his catchphrase might as well be "Renoir was right to genocide an entire nation"

It's "sad" but it's "the right choice" — look, all the characters that matter are here, please ignore the two sets of mass-murder Renoir and then Verso committed to get everyone there, and that Maelle had almost two decades of her life in Canvas destroyed.

Don't think about how not even focusing on this thematically through the Act 3 goes directly against what the first two act build up to the point that half the players just assume Painted People are all fakes anyway and don't matter, thus invalidating the entire character arcs and narrative threads of two thirds of the game.

Please don't consider the agency being taken from Alicia or how the actual grief hasn't been addressed, as Renoir and Verso merely destroyed the unhealthy coping mechanism (which means Aline and Alicia would more than likely just bury themselves in other canvases instead).

Just don't think about what that means within the story that is not framed as two logical, tortured men training to reason with women in their family who are just so unreasonable, self-destructive, and emotional.

Don't consider the implications of other party members in the game being treated as nothing more than relationship bait for Verso, and how their stories ultimately amount to nothing and provide no agency to those two women either.

Don't even try to parse how toxic the Dessendres are and just bathe in this scene of unity, even though each of the family members is a toxic, selfish god with no care for consent or agency of others, all thanks to how Renoir had raised them.

Please don't consider the implication of what kinds of people would murder thousands, and instead just be happy that they are moving on, and face their grief.

The game, in order to keep itself thematically consistent, has to essentially go bat for genocide because the alternative, with the way the conflict has been set up is to portray something unhealthy and self-destructive as more ambiguous than it truly is.

And that's the issue — not that the endings are dark or bittersweet, but that the narrative itself gets compromised in Act 3 as the writers desperately try to make you not care about Lumiere and to just focus on the dynamics of the Dessendre family, the real one whom you barely have any real reason to care for in comparison to the countless Painted beings the game so masterfully humanised to this point.

I think one of the unintended consequences of Clair Obscur writing falling apart completely in Act 3 is showcasing just how effective propaganda can be and just how many people can be made to be okay with attricities by using nothing but simple narrative framing and some emotional manipulation.

It reveals how many people are willing to ignore the horrifying and grotesque atrocities and justify them just so they can feel better emotionally about their choices — ironically an opposite message than the game attempts to present.

It doesn't inspire hope for humanity for me but it does shed some light on responsibility an author has for the themes in their story and why it's important to figure out those concepts first and foremost.

Figure out your endings and thematic conclusions before you even start to outline, people. Or you'll end up like this game.

[yuyusbabygirl]

Is this not what you wanted?

pairing: yunho x fem!reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: established relationship, SMUT MINORS DNI, 18+, degradation, choking, oral (male receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex (please don't), name calling (whore, slut, all consensual), spitting, orgasm denial, technically breeding (he cums in her), hair pulling, dom/sub dynamics, mean dom!Yunho, sweet boyfriend!Yunho, spanking, aftercare

summary: you tease your boyfriend at board game night and he punishes you

It is really not fault. You were trying to be good, promise. But Yunho looks so good when he’s mad and it is so easy to rile him up in front of others.

So here you were, meeting up with the other guys and your boyfriend Yunho for board game night. What your boyfriend didn’t know yet is that you had an agenda. You wore the low cut top he had a love-hate relationship with, the tight jeans that made your ass look good and did your hair the way he likes it. But it bothers you that he was just sitting there, playing the stupid game. He had not even looked at your boobs yet. So you decide to ramp it up a bit.

You get up to get a drink, making sure to walk in front of him with your ass to his face because of course there was no space. Totally innocent. When you sit back down you put your hand on his thigh, maybe a bit too high. He shoots you a look but you just give him a sweet smile.

He’s not suspicious yet. When it is your turn to roll the dice you lean over the table, your low cut top giving the guys a good look at your cleavage. You knew, Yunho hated it when other guys looked at you too much.

You lean back after your turn is over and whisper to Yunho “I’m wearing that red lace set, by the way”.

He pursed his lips with his standard flustered expression and you knew you had him. But it wasn’t enough. You wanted him pissed.

You take your hand off his thigh and sit back against the couch. He holds his hand out for you to take it but you ignore it and sip your drink instead. Another rule break. He narrows his eyes but you know he doesn't want the others to see. He is a sweet golden retriever after all. You suppress a smile.

You all move on to the next game but you refuse his offer to play in a team with him and instead team up with Wooyoung. His fingers clench for a moment before he agrees to team up with Mingi. The game continues and you look at him over the rim of your glass. He’s watching you. Yunho shakes his head ever so slightly, telling you to knock it off.

Well, where’s the fun in that.

You continue teasing him across the room, arching your back maybe a bit too much, licking your lips after drinking, just little things. You know you’re going to pay for it later. But fuck, it’s hard to stop when he looks so good with his dark eyes, clenched jaw and his tight grip on his glass.

The last straw is when you touch Wooyoung’s thigh and laugh after he told a joke. As Yunho, cracks his neck you know you fucked up big time. Judging by the reaction your pussy had though, you won’t complain.

Before you know it, Yunho gets up and makes an excuse for why you two have to leave. The others who are oblivious to the tension between you two just wish you a good night.

Oh, you will have a good night. The next morning might be difficult.

Yunho takes your hand and drags you home, silently. Shit, he’s really pissed. He opens the door and as soon as it’s closed he pins you to it with his hand on your throat.

“You think it’s funny to piss me off? Think you’re real cute, don’t you?” he growls out and tightens his grip on your throat.

“You want to act like a whore, I’ll treat you like a whore. The only words out of your mouth better be ‘yes, sir’ and ‘sorry, sir’, you understand me?” he demands.

“Yes, sir”, you can only whisper with his tight grip on your throat.

“Strip”, he barks out and lets go of your throat.

You hurriedly take off your top and jeans, revealing your red lace set. You can’t help but blush as you see his eyes raking over your exposed skin.

“I was right. You really are a whore,” he murmurs. “Get on the bed,” he snaps at you. With hurried steps you walk to the bedroom and get on the bed. He stalks after you and when he reaches you he grabs your hips and flips you over so your ass is up in the air.

“I’ve been too lenient with you. I thought you were my good girl but here you are acting like a pathetic, needy little slut. You think I didn’t know what you were doing?” he coos at you. “You wanted to piss me off. You wanted to get punished like the whore you are,” he runs his hand over your ass.

“This one is for refusing to take my hand,” his low voice is the only warning you get before he lands a hard slap on your ass.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you squeak out.

“This one is for whispering in my ear in front of the others,” another harsh slap.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you cry out. This one was harder.

“This one is for wearing that top when you know what it does to me,” another slap, this time on your other ass cheek.

“I’m sorry, sir,” your voice breaks.

“This one is for teaming up with Wooyoung instead of me,” his voice is low and furious as he slaps your ass again in the same spot.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whisper. Your ass feels like it’s on fire.

“This one is for daring to put your hand on another man’s thigh,” he slaps your ass with more force. That one really pissed him off.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you mewl out, tears forming in your eyes. That must’ve been the last one.

“And this one is because I love the pathetic noises you make,” he laughs mockingly and slaps your ass again, his huge hand allowing him to hit both cheeks on the already sore spots. His dick hardens further at the silent scream you let out.

He rips your panties off and glides a finger between your folds. “Only whores get wet from spanking,” he growls into your ear.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whimper, needing him to touch you more.

“You’re sorry? Show me how sorry you are, my needy little slut,” he grunts before grabbing your hair and pulling you to your knees on the floor. He gazes down at you, his eyes hard and unforgiving and you know your throat is going to be sore tomorrow. Yunho quickly unbuckles his belt and you shuffle closer on your knees.

He frees his cock, not bothering to pull his pants down properly and the fact that you’re only left in your bra while he is still fully clothed is only turning you on more.

You barely have the chance to open your mouth fully before he’s thrusting his length into your throat, making you gag.

“Whores can take it all the way. Come on,” he grits through his teeth.

Your eyes are already watering and spit is running down your chin. Yunho is big and it has taken you a lot of training to be able to take him. You relax your jaw, allowing him to thrust inside your throat, down to his balls. His rough pace is making it hard not to choke but you don’t want to make him more mad so you take it, breathing through your nose. Yunho sees the tears running down your face, mascara smeared over your cheeks and the lip-gloss you had on smeared over his cock and it’s taking all his self-control to not cum on the spot.

“Fuck, that’s it. Such a whore, just for me,” he moans out and you so badly want to sneak your hand between your legs. He sees you clenching your thighs as he thrusts in and out of your mouth.

“Is my whore wet from me fucking her throat? I bet you wish I was fucking your needy cunt instead. Too bad you decided to be a fucking brat tonight. You’re not getting my cock until I’ve seen how sorry you are,” he laughs down at you and his grip on your hair gets tighter.

He spits down on your face and uses his hand to rub it into your skin. You could’ve cum from that alone.

He roughly pulls out our throat for a moment and you gasp and cough, more spit running down your chin.

“Please, sir. I’m sorry, sir,” your voice is breaking as you try to catch your breath.

“I’ll decide when you’ve had enough,” he grunts and thrusts back into your mouth.

“Shit, your mouth feels so good,” he gasps, gripping your hair tighter. He shoves his cock all the way down and holds your head with your nose against his pubic bone. You try hard not to choke but after a few seconds it becomes too much. Yunho pulls out when you’re choking and uses his hand to collect the spit running out of your mouth before wiping it on your face. Your face is a complete mess, you’re gasping and coughing and he wants nothing more than to praise you. But you’ve been bad tonight and he needs to remind you who’s in charge. He still leans down and presses a quick kiss to your swollen lips.

He uses his grip on your hair to pull you up and roughly throws you on the bed. He unhooks your bra and tosses it to the side.

“Spread your legs, my little whore,” he says in a low voice and crawls over you. He grips your throat with one hand and uses the other to push two fingers inside of you without warning. He tightens his grip on your throat when you moan, making the noise you let out even more pathetic. He pulls his fingers out and guides himself to your entrance.

“If you cum without permission, you won’t cum for a week. Is that clear, slut?” he asks, his face close to yours.

You nod eagerly. “Yes, sir”.

He pushes his cock inside, all the way to the hilt, but doesn’t give you a moment to adjust, immediately setting a hard pace. Yunho sits up, using his grip on your throat as leverage to fuck you hard and fast. The grunts and moans he lets out alone could make you cum.

“Fuck, take it, my little whore. Always so bratty but you quickly turn into a whining mess on my cock,” his voice low and feral as he chokes you. You can only moan and hold onto his arms, your eyes rolling back. He can tell you’re close already and snakes his free hand to your clit. You let out a high-pitched whine as he rubs circles on your swollen clit.

“Don’t you dare cum,” his voice is unforgiving. Right when you’re at the edge he takes his hand away and stops his thrusting. You whimper desperately.

“What are you whining about? I told you, you don’t get to cum yet,” he mocks you. Once he feels your cunt calming down he resumes his hard pace.

“Is this not what you wanted? Acting all bratty and slutty so I’d fuck you like the whore you are? Then stop whining and take it,” he growls out and tightens his grip on your throat, making you feel hazy.

He looks down where his cock disappears into your cunt and uses his free hand to push down on your stomach where his cock is bulging out. The added pressure brings tears to your eyes and you hold your orgasm back as best as you can.

You can tell he’s close as his thrusts get sloppier and harder.

“You’re gonna take my cum like a good slut,” he grunts, using his grip on your throat to pull your body down to meet his thrusts.

Fuck, cum. Cum, my good little whore,” he moans and presses down on your stomach, thrusting all the way inside and fills you up. He releases his grip on your throat and the rush of air, the pressure on your stomach and the feel of his cum inside you sends you over the edge. You dig your nails into his arm as you cum around his cock. The feel of your walls clamping down on him makes him whimper a bit.

“That’s my good girl,” he breathes out.

He collapses on top of you and breathes heavily into your ear. Your whole body tingles and you can barely feel him pressing soft kisses to your neck. You whine as he pulls out and gets up from the bed. He returns a minute later with a washcloth and some aloe vera gel. He wipes his cum from between your legs and the overstimulation makes you twitch.

“I know. But I need to clean you up,” he says softly, your soft and sweet boyfriend is back.

He turns you over and rubs aloe vera gel onto your red and sore ass cheeks. His touch is gentle and loving while he whispers how good you did.

“I love you, baby. I’m proud of you,” he murmurs gently and turns you back over onto your back. He uses a second washcloth to clean your face.

“Come on, you need to go pee,” he orders you gently. You whine a bit, not wanting to get up.

“I know but you have to. I will make you some tea in the meantime and afterwards we’re cuddling. Come on, my love,” he helps you up and you hobble to the bathroom. You do your business and when you return he’s changed into pajamas and is holding one of his shirts for you. He puts it over your head and kisses your lips softly. You both get into bed and he hands you a tea with honey in it for your throat.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Mhm, so good,” you mumble sleepily and lean your head on his chest while he puts on your favorite show. He kisses the top of your head and pulls the blanket over both of you.

“You know I love and yet hate that top, right?” he murmurs into your ear teasingly.

“I know. And it worked,” you chuckle softly and he lightly pokes your side before chuckling as well.

hope you enjoy, just a quick one that was in my head because angry yunho makes me feel thing

[takes1]

UHMMM hello, RAN HERE to request 😭😭😭 Please could I have an NSFW scenario where experienced!shortreader with a size kink devours inexperienced!lev and tries to teach him a few things. RIDING this man till he dies. Please and thank you. 😝❤️

clingy!lev crushing on reader

i cant tell you how real of a phenomenon this is. thank you for the opportunity to write thiiiis. ohh man i hope this finds the right freaks bc i am into this. absolute two-parter. titled 'the lev brainrot' in my notes.

warnings. recreational alcohol consumption. nsfw to follow. minors DNI

details. fem!reader / porn! with! plot! (this is the plot) / praise kink / size kink / clingy!lev / inexperienced!lev / experienced!reader / 'mom-friend' reader / bar setting / heavy drinking / best friend!kuroo / college au! / manager?trainer?reader / aged-up characters / 2k words / reply to be added for part two!

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines. my request box

You called him Haiba, not Lev, because you didn't want him getting the wrong impression. There were only a handful of players, all seniors along with you, that you called by first name-- he plainly held the most animosity toward them.

Of course, you weren't ignorant to his little attachment.

It took the form of him grasping at straws to find something to talk to you about, usually in rushed attempts between warm-ups. Or asking you obvious, sometimes repeat-questions about ailments he hypothetically did or did not have. Or, when the team went out for morale events, he worked like a dog to sit or stand next to you.

You once asked him: "Haiba!"

"Hm?" His attention was fully captured, his attempt to receive forgotten. The ball rolled past him on the floor and his teammate across the gym groaned, "Yes-Yes ma'am?"

That wasn't your intention, to distract him. You sighed and picked the ball up. A handful of new members called you 'ma'am' but Lev was by-far the worst offender.

"You have any sisters?"

"I do!"

He looked like he was about to tell you his entire life story, so you threw the ball back at him and urged him to keep practicing, instead.

Maybe that had something there. It could connect with how he didn't take as easily to the senior guys on the team. If he wasn't accustomed to handling dude-dynamics with brothers, it made sense that he might seek the comfort of a somewhat-familiar presence, like a sister.

Still, that idea didn't hold much weight when you considered his time playing competitively in high school. He spoke about the friends and experiences he made there with fervor and excitement. He got along with guys. He wasn't shy, he wasn't reserved, and he didn't have problems speaking up.

Your curiosity got the better of you at one of your team outings.

The local bar on the square was packed on a Friday night. The team barely got seated, but once you were all comfortable, it was a rowdy and fast kind of evening that zoomed right through decent hours. You were all buzzed already from the restaurant you walked there from-- the idea to 'keep it going' was indulgent, and probably your first mistake.

Kuroo took the seat right next to you like he had at the last spot, but laughed, capturing your attention, and stepped back down.

"Oops! Sorry, Lev! That's your spot buddy, my bad- my bad," He cackled, and brushed the seat off for him.

It was only kind of a joke. You blushed, forearms prickling up, at the looks and snickers it generated from the rest of the team.

Lev took too long to decide if he should sit there. Kuroo shimmied into the seat across from you with a smirk.

"Just- just sit down," You pulled the chair out more so his legs would fit, and lowered your voice to something nicer, "Lev, don't mind that dumbass."

You were left to smooth it all out, as usual.

The guys often joked, in his absence, and on occasion right in front of him, that he had an obvious crush on you. You didn't like to entertain it, because it made things super awkward. Somebody had to put their foot down, or else the whole team would get too unprofessional and potentially mean-natured to the new guys. You found yourself advocating for him, giving every excuse to call it something else. Lately, you were married to the sibling idea.

Lev sat down, but slow, and armed with an odd look.

All you paid notice to was how he didn't need to jump or climb up the way you did, to get into the tall, narrow chairs.

The waitress came around, already horribly busy, and you helped her by facilitating some semblance of focus amongst your friends.

You patted the table, leaning all the way over Lev, to get Yaku's attention, "Hey- hey! What do you want?"

"Oh! Uhhh- rum'n'coke, please,"

Thankfully, it spurred a string of just rum and coke orders down the length of the two tables you had corralled together. You sighed, rubbing your face, at how stupid they all got when they were together and tipsy. You got three orders of jalapeño poppers for the table and had to forbid anyone else from revising theirs, after hearing such a great idea.

You also ordered something incredibly strong and tipped her well.

Then, it took a while to relax. Kenma helped, seated on your right- you watched him play Mario Kart on his Switch and sipped on your water. But you could feel Lev's weird, fresh energy, and wished Kuroo had stayed. You had three years of goofing around with him, and now he was all the way across the table. This place was too loud to hear much of anything, so you were barred from a lot of easy-to-make conversation with old friends.

The food, the drinks, and the three pitchers of beer they ordered, couldn't come fast enough. It took about seven levels of playing for your orders to start floating around the table to their designated owners.

12 guys + 3 baskets of jalapeño poppers = 20 seconds of frenzied grabbing, followed by 2 minutes of silent seething and burned tongues for the rest of the night. You grabbed five and placed them on a napkin, to eat on slowly.

Lev was already done with a tall glass of Michelob Ultra.

"Are you kidding me?" You watched in shock and awe as he wiped the foam from his upper lip and set the empty thing down.

"What?" He laughed, "Those are spicy!"

They, almost certainly, were not spicy. His tolerance must have aired more on the 'lighter' side. That went largely ignored, though, as you watched him pour a second glass with perfect angle and precision.

His arms were long and could reach far into the center of the table, especially if he leaned forward. You subconsciously began to catch up with your own drink, eyes glued to the way his lats were visible through his shirt as he pulled his glass back in.

You squinted at the face he made when he sniffed the rim of it.

"Do you like beer? Or--,"

Lev couldn't hear you. He leaned in with an amused grin, and you caught a whiff of something that smelled good enough to make you smile a bit.

Some of his hair brushed your cheek from how close he got to listen.

"Do you like that stuff? Or are you just drinking it to look cool?"

When you pulled away, he was staring at your yummy drink held close to your mouth- then your nose, and back up to your eyes. He closed the distance again.

"You think I look cool?"

You laughed and pushed his shoulder back lightly- he laughed, too, and shrugged, "I mean- if it's working, yeah!"

Anytime you wanted to talk, you would look at Kenma, then down at his game, and eventually lean towards Lev, instead.

The way he looked at you made you all warm and fuzzy. Like he wanted to hear what you had to say soo badly. He was eager, and jumped at the opportunity to get close, to feel your voice brushing by his warm ear, a light touch on his arm, or his leg.

The night was a crash course in what kind of person he was. You learned a lot about him.

"Ohh! Oh! An older sister!" Your eyes lit up, your hypothesis confirmed at last. Lev nodded with a big grin, no idea why that made you so happy. But you didn't smile much at practice, so he didn't pry.

You pushed yourself up and slapped a hand in front of Kuroo, hard, on the table. He was grinning as you pointed a stiff finger at him.

"I told you!!"

"I'm sure you did!" He yelled back with a laugh, "What the hell are we talking about?"

As you sat back down, Kuroo caught Lev staring shamelessly at your ass. He snapped his fingers at him like he was trying to get a puppy's attention. You didn't realize that's what he was doing.

"He has an older sister!"

Kuroo rolled his eyes. This hill you were going to die on was getting excavated as you preached, so confidently, that it was your unmovable mountain. But- who was he to take away your beacon of hope? Dance on the dirt mound all night. He'd help you out of the mud in the morning, because you were his friend. And he thought your little quirks were funny enough to entertain.

Blind to the very argument against your excitement -Lev, staring hard down through your 'going out' top- you explained, "That's why! Kuro- you were dead wrong!"

Kuroo's belly-laugh was not what you were after.

"Oh- ohhh fuck! You're too cute- ahaha! You really are!"

You crossed your arms. Lev gulped down another glass, a needed endeavor, to be buzzed enough to keep talking to you. Talking, or yelling, rather, to Kuroo had already lost its novelty because he could never just let you be right, for once.

"Yooo!! Lemme get some of those!"

Yamamoto's hand was already in your reserved stack of food.

You swatted it away, hard.

"Fuck off!"

He retracted right away, faked a sob, then yowled- it was nothing in volume compared to the bustle of the noisy bar.

Lev hummed next to you. It sounded like a word, so after you were done laughing at Yamamoto, you turned your attention over and felt a fun whoosh as your vision lagged. You blinked for a long second, and set your drink down with a giggle.

That was officially enough.

"What did you say!" You asked Lev.

"What!" He yelled over the music.

You giggled and pulled on his shirt at the shoulder hem to get him to lean closer. His grin was horribly handsome, his engrossed eye contact so cute, and you found yourself unable to stop your giggles. You rested your warm forehead on his shoulder.

He smelled good. Like a pricey, foreign cologne. You were still gripping his sleeve.

Out of all the guys here, none of them were as cute as Lev right now.

That handsome smile was back on his face, "You called me Lev earlier!"

You were confused, for a moment. What? When? Why?

An incomplete excuse, if you had ever heard of one, "Must've been- uhh, well, I think Kuro called you Lev, so-!"

When you let go of him, you missed the feeling. Your fingers were cold and wanted to hold something, so you picked your drink back up and finished it. Only after, when it all went to your head, did you realize you had already decided not to do that.

Kuroo startled you when he spoke at you from behind. You quickly fell back into your never-ending string of giggles at how silly it was.

"You want anything? I'm starting a tab!" He asked you over the music.

The sound of that appealed to you, but you knew better.

"I'm- whew-- Yeah," You laughed, and rubbed the top of his hand, nodding, "I'm good-I'm good! Don't give me anything."

Kuroo lingered for a few breaths, analyzing you from over your shoulder, then directed a mean squint to Lev.

"You tell her to keep up with you?"

It was a far reach and a confusing question. The pretty boy's hesitant head shake pissed him off a little more than it should have.

"Make sure she drinks water," Kuroo announced to him, within earshot, and rubbed your shoulder again with a goodbye-pat.

He stayed a few seconds longer, looking for the best route to get to the bar, then directed his attention back to Lev. His hard grip was a painful on his shoulder, purposefully squeezing him. A warning.

"You wanna stare at'er all fuckin' day, then let her get this drunk? I know what you're doing," Was a vicious, eerily quiet, mutter.

"Don't be a prick," He shoved him, just a little, when he walked past.

In reality, it was just a bit of misplaced concern. Lev turned his head, thoroughly intimidated, tracking Kuroo all the way to the bar.

"Um-,"

His nerves seemed to fall away when he looked down at your pretty smile, how you were still finding everything a bit too funny. Plus, your body was really getting to him. Maybe it was because you kept touching him.

Again, he had to lean down far to speak to you, "(Y/n)? Uh... Kuroo- he isn't your boyfriend, right?"

Regardless of sobriety, you would've laughed really hard at that. Your hands gripped around his arm; this time, unnecessarily, and enough to make his blush strong and vibrant.

"Oh my God! No!"

Lev laughed with you, lightly, with eyes still on Kuroo, far away.

"Ohh, this is gonna sound so terrible-," You laughed under your palm, debating on whether on not to keep talking, but Lev gave you this 'I wanna know so bad' look, and you just couldn't stop yourself, "But he's not my type. Not at all."

An incredible wave of confusion took over his pretty features.

"He's too smart for me- it's kind of, I dunno, like-- I wanna call the shots, do all the thinking, y'know?"

It's not that Lev identified as being dumb, but the proclamation made him hard, and simultaneously view you as more capable. He didn't know the first thing about girls, but you seemed to know enough for the both of you.

Transfixed, he nodded along, halfway-listening to you ramble, halfway-focused on flexing his arm for you.

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu my request box

taglist.

none! reply to be added

future details/sneak peak: afab!reader / riding / overstim / size kink / handjobs / multiple orgasms / top!reader / puppy love!lev / loss of virginity / begging / needy!lev / dacryphilia / + more

[reiding-writing]

Hi Red! I’m back to participate on your event

Would like to know your author’s picks for fluff!

R E D ‘ S P I C K S — FLUFF .ᐟ

there is nothing better than coming home and binge-reading fluff after a long day, prove me wrong

flirty!reader. | 1.2k | @avis-writeshq

can i request reader as being a massive flirt publicly towards spencer but when its Intimate and Private, reader is suddenly Stunned and Speechless and Blushing and spencer kinda gets the confidence to Do Stuff?

sweater weather. | 1.0k | @samuelsdean

"want to warm up?" he gestured to the hem of his sweater with a hint of concern in his eyes.

awkward!glasses!reid. | 0.8k | @ddejavvu

Please can i request an awkward!glasses reid oneshot where he's like pining over the reader?? maybe with a bit of tension?

comfort crowd. | 5.0k | @akimoons

"i don't think I could ever get sick of you." it escapes you in a whisper, and spencer tries desperately to ignore the way it strikes both fear and hope into his heart.

lovely. | 1.9k | @lighteyed

you think spencer's lovely.

11:34PM. | 1.0k | @morehotch

[ no summary available. ]

a real head scratcher. | 2.7k | @bippot

The two BAU younglings clearly feel something other than friendship towards each other. Despite how much Morgan and the rest of the team tease them, the dynamic duo progress at their own adorable speed.

acceptable greetings. | 1.5k | self rec

Spencer is an avid believer that kissing is a better greeting than shaking hands. You're not convinced at his notion of it being 'completely acceptable, and in attempting to prove him wrong, you end up proving something else.

[momentomori24]

I'll add this post as another example of how media literacy (not just in the Hazbin Hotel fandom, but in general) is a dying art nowadays. Oh no, some people in the fandom (the minority) and on the team (literally responsible for working on everything in the show including valangel) "ship" a canon problematic couple in fiction. Those disgusting, nasty PrOShiPpERs. The goddamn horror 💀

The hazbin hotel fandom will really through a temper tantrum over charlastor (you know…the harmless non proship ship) but ignore how on the animators in spindlehorse ships valangel. Like…really??? Do hazbin hotel stans (not normal fans, people who think hazbin hotel is the best thing ever created and who think viv has done no wrong) all have some form of amyloid plaques in their brain???

[ambrosialdesire]

bloodsports

[ PART ONE ] [ PART TWO ]

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: modern au!reiner x fem!reader word count: 13.6k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, explicit sexual content, unhealthy relationships, misogyny, public humiliation mentions, sorta an unbalanced power dynamic, a/b/o dynamics and themes, modern & college/university au, alpha & hockey player jock reiner (will be sorta ooc but ig you can count it as his s1-3 soldier persona), omega reader, enemies to sorta friends to enemies again to lovers (but both reiner and reader are stubborn dumdums and it's sorta one-sided), bertolt x reader implications, heavy jealousy/possessive themes, heavy self-sabotage, alcohol consumption, violence & blood warning, "fated" mates, usage of suppressants, unwarranted scenting, kinda scenting kink?, pheromone-bombing, size difference, size kink, noncon kissing, all characters are 18+ synopsis: trying to get through uni should've been easy, but presenting as an omega made you become a seemingly easy target for the many disgusting alphas that roamed the campus. no matter how much suppressants you took, you unfortunately just had to grab the attention of the most notorious one out there. the university's famed center in ice hockey, reiner braun. to you, he was nothing but a godforsaken, meatheaded annoyance. a/n: i am not one of god's strongest when comes to a/b/o or the omegaverse LMFAOO LIKE I CAN'T DENY IT, SUMN ABOUT IT MAKES ME GO ABSOLUTELY FERAL AND IDC WHAT OTHERS THINK 👺👺 anywaysss, yea it's another hatefuck reiner fic that i decided recently to make a two parter LOL i made reiner a hockey player because i kinda like hockey more (i watched one game irl with my sibling and it was hella cool even tho the team we were cheering for lost 💀 the state pride was crazy, i had no idea how irritating it was hearing the other team fans cheer 😭) but i'm really really new to the sport so forgive me if i make some mistakes about it lol (i did modify it a little so it can be more dramatic and violent lol) happy valentine's day (ik this late AFFFFF LMFAO) and hope you guys enjoy this! the second part will hopefully come not too far behind, maybe in december once i'm freed from school haha note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

"You're coming to my game, right?"

The sudden weight on the table of someone leaning upon it on the other side caused it to creak, but you didn't have to look up to know who it was. The wafting smell of warm, spiced vanilla with vague, yet noticeable earthy tones wrapped around you like a familiar heated blanket. No matter how nice it smelled, it only bubbled irritation within you. You continued writing your notes, ignoring the looming presence.

"Omega, answer and look at me." A chill ran down your spine and your head felt heavy once he spoke, the demand stern and clear. You didn't want to answer him, but your secondary gender was scratching at your brain like a persistent fly. Answer him, answer your alpha.

You stubbornly pinched your leg once to get yourself out of it before finally looking up at the man himself, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Can't. Have finals tomorrow. Also, don't ever do that shit to me or call me that."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, already knowing he wasn't going to take that as an answer. "You weren't answering me and c'mon, it's only for a few hours babe. Who wouldn't come to their alpha's big game today?"

"Me because you're not my alpha and I'm not your babe. Go find some other omega that drools over you because this one isn't going." You grumbled as you stood up, beginning to collect your stuff to get back to your dorm. He grabbed your wrist before you got your notebook, pulling you towards him, eyes were gleaming with determination.

"Come to my game and I won't bother you anymore. I promise."

You pulled your arm out of his grasp with a frown, quickly debating in your mind. Could you trust him?

On one hand, it would be nice to not get disturbed by him anymore. But on the other, that means you have to be packed in a stadium with sweaty alphas and a handful of excitable betas and omegas for an hour or two. The smell would be awful and overwhelming, false ruts and heats would get triggered easily from the adrenaline. You didn't even like ice hockey or any sport in general, too many alphas dominated the industry.

You bit back a heavy sigh, finally deciding on your answer.

"Ugh. I'm holding you to that promise then Reiner. No randomly showing up at my dorm, no waiting for me at the end of my classes, don't have your friends try and check up on me for your behalf either. Got it?" His hazel eyes lit up immediately and he nodded, his smile wide.

"You got it babe, I'll pick you up at 6."

You were about to tell him off about the pet name but he ran off, whooping in the quiet library while slamming the doors open. A few of the students' and staffs' glares went over to you, causing you to grimace before finally picking up your notebook. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

Life wasn't like this before. For a year and half, you've had an alpha cling onto your every move as if you've claimed one another. It may seem like that to him but you definitely didn't want anything to do with him. All Reiner did was bring a mix of trouble to you, a burden that you never wanted. Your secondary gender was supposed to be a hidden secret for only yourself to know — the prescribed supplements made sure of that — and you were supposed to present as a beta in order to live a peaceful university life. How painfully frustrating it was to be found out from a simple error in your day-to-day routine.

You were in a rush, you're human after all, and forgot to take them before you left your dorm. It wasn't until you entered your class when a brick of strong smells bitterly hit your nose, something that never happened before. One day and that's all it took for everyone's eyes to latch onto your frame, the horrifying hunger glimmering in the darks of their pupils.

You froze, unable to move from the doorway. The vileness of their stench rang alarms in your head, they were all sour and distasteful with every short whiff you took. It was overwhelming, heavy, and nauseating. You knew what they were all thinking, internally debating whether you should run back to your dorm or transfer.

A large arm had made its way around your shoulders, pulling you closer to their body. You panicked at first until a whiff of something sweet in the air stopped you. A spiced vanilla enveloped your senses with every breath you took and like a switch, your body immediately calmed down, unintentionally leaning closer to them to continue feeling this sweet relief.

"Hey." You tilted your head up at the person who was currently holding you by the neck and felt dread quickly fill up your stomach once more.

Reiner Braun, one of the most notorious womanizers on campus and the university's proclaimed players in ice hockey.

Reiner Braun, smelling like a freshly baked pastry, slinging his arm around you while unintentionally managing to bring you back to your senses.

Reiner Braun, whose face is suddenly way too close and you could just barely feel the brush of his lips against yours.

Your face burned up at the realization and you shoved him off you, eyes wide and mouth parted open in shock as you watched him stumble back to reality. What the fuck just happened and why the fuck did he smell so good out of everyone here? He looked like he was appalled by what he did as well but recovered faster than you did, a sly smirk growing on his face.

"Hey omega, just a head's up. The next time you come to class, don't smell like a sweet treat for us alphas alright?"

You thought you couldn't burn up even more than before, your body beginning to tremble in complete rage and mortification as the students began to howl in amusement. All of your emotions were pumping through your system all at once way too quickly and you finally ran out of the class, tears brimming on the edges of your eyes. There was no way you could handle being in there for another second. The boisterous laughter faded away in your eardrums and once you got far enough from prying eyes and ears, you collapsed to the ground and nearly sobbed your heart out.

You knew attending this university would be difficult but never in your life did you think you'd be humiliated in this way, just for one stupid little mistake. To alphas, any mistake that wasn't from their pretentious clique meant your life, your downfall, everything. It becomes a weakness to exploit and use, like a deer with a broken leg completely surrounded by a pack of starving wolves.

All you could think about over and over as you finally made it to your dorm was:

Fuck Reiner Braun.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

After that day, you made sure to take your supplements on time with an alarm. Regardless of that, you still felt skittish once you stepped foot in that damn class again. Not because of the possibility that the knowing glances of your classmates would come your way, but the fact that Reiner would not leave you alone ever since he embarrassed you.

When you finally went back to that class in the next lecture, you placed yourself all the way in the back corner than your usual spot, trying to hide yourself away until everyone forgot about the incident. It seemed that your humiliating moment had faded away quickly like a passing breeze since no one looked your way as the seats began to fill up one by one. It was not until you heard the familiar laugh of him, only then you started getting nervous.

You stared down in your notebook, trying to look as busy as possible but the shuffle of a heavy bag and a body sitting down next to you in the loudest way possible confirmed your worst suspicions.

"Good thing you saved a seat for me, that’s so nice of you omega." Reiner congratulated you in a false manner and you grimaced, turning your head towards him. He wasn't looking at you but he was smiling as he looked to the front of the room. You had to force yourself not to stare at his body, which was a mental battle in itself when his pheromones were as strong as ever.

He most likely exercised before coming here, a faint sweat stain on the chest of his white cut-off tank top confirming your thoughts. The tank top was hiding little to the imagination, loose enough to where you can see his sculpted muscles from the side but tight enough to where it accentuated his chest. He was manspreading — a common occurrence in those who were considered to be extremely prideful alphas — and wearing dark gray sweatpants.

You didn't mean to but your gaze slightly wandered a little more down, heart nearly stopped in your chest when you just barely spotted the faint outline of his half-hard cock against the fabric. He was... big and if that was him barely aroused, wow. You'd pray for those that let this son-of-a-bitch hit another time.

The usually dormant annoyance in your brain wanted to get down on her knees and suck him off till he got hard in her mouth, but you had to viciously fight her back into the deep crevices of your mind. You don't know why the urge was so strong, the meds you took usually gave you no sexual desires towards anyone. Maybe you need to up the dosage? You'd have to make a doctor's appointment soon because you don't know if you could stand this new disgusting pervert inside you.

It would be the coldest day in Hell if you ever let Reiner fuck you.

"I have a name, use it or fuck off." You turned back to your notebook and he chuckled in amusement.

"You got a bite now omega? Where was she the last time we spoke?"

"Maybe she would've been there if she wasn't on the verge of a breakdown. Fucking asshole." You muttered the last bit, starting to ignore him once the professor finally entered the class. Cracking your knuckles and opening your laptop to the latest powerpoint, you began writing down the important points of what was in the week's module. It took you nearly half of the three hour long lecture to notice that he didn't make any sound, no writing or keyboard clacking or any tapping from his phone. Your peripherals just barely caught the sight of him and your skin ran cold.

Reiner wasn't paying attention to the lecture. You started to practically feel the absolute intensity of his stare, burning two deep holes into the side of your face. The chair lightly squeaked as he suddenly moved closer to you, the audible sound of him sniffing at you came after.

What the fuck was his problem? You quickly inched yourself away from him, backing into the wall but he followed suit almost immediately. His large frame nearly engulfed yours, the sheer heat of his body radiating off as he neared you.

He sniffed once above your head, then again and again as if he was searching for something. Thank God you decided to shower this morning. The tense atmosphere between the two of you grew thicker with each passing second until his hazel eyes narrowed, the corner of his mouth twitched in faint irritation.

"...You don't smell like anything." Reiner sourly muttered before pulling away, giving back the needed space.

"Uh... yeah? I got back on track with my meds." What was up with him? Reiner had never once spoken to you before the incident, in the class and out of it. In this class in particular, you've usually seen him on his phone, napping, or quietly chatting with the nearest poor soul.

He's known to not fool around with your kind, back when you were still portraying yourself as a beta. Why would he? To them, betas were boring and basic. They weren't alpha enough to be considered to be one of them and not omega enough to fuck. His preferences were pretty out there in whispers and giggles too, so it's not like he would need a reason to talk to you unless it was to get his dick wet for the night. That seemed to be the plan in mind since he was continuously interacting with you.

"Why would you?" Reiner nonchalantly questioned, as if he wasn't the one of the reasons why you take such heavy supplements. Your eye twitched, your fingers tightening around your pen.

"Are you seriously asking me that?" You scowled, watching him shrug and lean back onto the chair.

"Yeah, why not? You're the first omega I've met with a scent that's not doused in cheaply made perfume, it's..." He stopped, thinking of the right words before finally settling on one. "Original."

You scrunched your nose, conflicted with what he just described. He is the talk of the campus, most if not all omegas would've loved to be marked by him; no wonder they try to court him with different concoctions. Then again, he could just be saying that to get into your pants. Original, ha! If he liked this so-called originality, he should find it in someone else.

"I'm not interested y'know, not after what you did last time."

After you said that, all the words seemed to die in his mouth. He became quiet for the rest of the lecture and you didn't have the courage to look back up to see his expression. The silence was a simmering awkwardness, and you could only try and listen to the professor as much as you could. His smell was now twisted with a dullness to it, almost bland and distasteful like the rest of the room. When the lesson finally ended, you started to zip your bag close and pull it through your arms, until his hand grabbed the strap and lifted it up onto his own shoulder.

"What do you think you're doing?" Panic bubbled in your chest as you tried to grab it back but he kept maneuvering out of your reach, a playful smile growing on his lips.

"Think of this as an apology to you omega. I'll walk you to your next class." Your heart dropped to your stomach, the last thing you needed was even more people staring at you, especially with the campus fuckboy in tow.

"You really don't have to and don't call me that." Reiner snorted as he walked down the stairs, you having no choice but to follow him.

"What else can I call you if you haven't told me your name yet?" He held the door open for you, readjusting the bags he was holding. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms.

"Why offer to walk me to my next class when I don't even know your name?" It was a lie, of course everyone knew him just by the simple utter of his name, but he laughed at your simple comeback, genuinely laughed. It didn't sound like it did when he poked fun of you that one day, your face starting to lightly flush warm.

"Fair enough. Name's Reiner, Reiner Braun. One of the University of Marley Warriors centers." You slightly cringed at the title, he just had to add that fact in. Oh well, might as well play along just a little.

"Y/N L/N, one of the many second year students in the University of Marley."

He laughed once more and nudged you on the back with his elbow, letting you take the lead.

"You're a funny girl Y/N."

You had to ignore the way your stomach fluttered from the way he said it, picking up your pace. Remember, you had to remember that he caused you a turmoil of anguish for a near week. All you were going to give him was this moment and that's it.

"Thanks."

Now that you think back on it, how silly it was for you to think that this was the last time he was ever going to talk to you.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

There wasn't a minute in your day where Reiner wasn't in your presence.

Nearly every day for roughly five or six months since you've started talking to one another, he'd manage to find you and socialize. He'd give you a small snack or drink too, ruffling your hair once you took it from his hand and sitting down in the seat next to you. Every day was a different topic that he asked, ranging from simple questions to a little more personal ones. You knew he was trying to pry whenever you didn’t say much about yourself so you've revealed only a few tidbits, nothing big. Sometimes he needed studying help and you didn't mind tutoring him about the subjects you were sorta knowledgeable in. He always seemed so interested and focused in whatever you say, so hey, at least he was a decent listener.

He started rejecting hang-outs with his friends and teammates, all to simply talk to you. It's crazy how often he did it, a few times occurring in front of you through phone calls. He'd only mentioned his teammates when he tried to invite you to numerous practices, implying that he wanted them to meet you. You turned him down about it for the first few times, creating excuses to not go, until you got tired of him asking and finally begrudgingly agreed.

Watching him practice made you realize one thing about him: Reiner loved to play dirty.

Of course since you were merely a new bystander of the sport, it might've been one of the core strategies of how to win in hockey. Yet the more you observed, the more you noticed how he treated everyone on the ice, friend or foe. He told you before that centers did a lot for their team and were known to be more on the offense, even when defending. You thought the role was perfect for him, considering how he started this whole "friendship" thing with you. However, the way he treated you was nothing compared to how he treated the sport.

It was like watching an illegal cage fight from the way he quickly sped towards the puck, viciously slamming into others to make way. A frightening sight indeed, maybe even more for the ones on the ice as they were the ones he barreled his shoulders into their chests and sides. You can't remember how many times you flinched watching an unfortunate player get rammed into the plastic barrier by Reiner, the heavy sound echoing throughout the stadium. Everyone on the opposing team was merely his punching bag and though they can get a few hits in, you could tell that they couldn't handle the constant confrontations. He didn't care that they were still his teammates and that this was merely a practice game. To lose is to lose and for an alpha, that could never be an option.

You never told him this, but you never liked the look in his eyes that he gets whenever he played, the darks of his pupils blowing out the once-warm hazel color with a carnal and exhilarated intensity within them.

Regardless of his violent attitude, Reiner genuinely worked well with his team, whomever was on his side at least. He especially got along with whoever jersey number 60 is — the only hint being that his last name is Hoover — and who was noticeably taller than anyone else on the team. The two were extremely compatible, making the smoothest passes that whenever you blinked, it would seem that the other had the puck in the first place.

The strangest part of it all was that he'd make you wear his jersey afterwards, that's also somewhat the reason why you stopped coming over to his practices besides the extreme harshness of the sport. It was way too intimate for him to be sharing a highly scented object to a friend but you've tried refusing, saying that you hated the stink and it was still wet with sweat. Reiner never really cared about what you said about it and pulled it over your head, the fabric hanging loosely mid-thigh. You hated how calm it made you feel and how every time he asked for it back, you'd hesitate.

Even if he did like you, you don't know why he was being overly friendly. Was it because you were an omega that he had to be nice to you? You tried not to think about it like that since you were slowly getting used to his presence, as if he became a part of your routine.

He never pushed anything sexual onto you either like you originally thought he was going to. Sure, he'd make a weird comment or joke here or there but it never really made you uncomfortable or escalated into something else. Your feelings towards him simmered down to a level of neutrality, not quite at peace from what he did but not as angry as before. Did he feel bad for his actions? He never really said an actual apology to you, but is that really why you still find him aggravating to be around with?

"You're such a study bug, don't you know how to have a little fun?" Reiner skimmed his fingers against the already-read pages, your bodies squished side-by-side, one of his arms wrapped loosely around your waist as the two of you read your textbook together. You don't know why or when but you started to not mind the physical contact with him anymore; you chalked it up to it being the winter months and you were cold as hell, he was basically the closest thing to a portable heater. Your physician upped the dosage of your meds as well and there was a noticeable difference, but it didn't seem to deter the thoughts you were having about Reiner. They probably would’ve faded away if not for his constant presence.

"I don't have time for fun, unlike you with your full-ride and sports." You muttered as you flipped the page, eyes skimming over the new paragraphs. He groaned and rested his head on top of yours, taking in a deep breath. You’ve noticed that he was more touchier with you compared to his other friends that you once watched from afar before, but you’ve gotten used to it for the past few months.

He was silent for a few pages until you could feel his fingers trail up against your scent gland, your body immediately freezing up. He shouldn’t be touching you there, a shiver going up your spine as you felt his fingertips rub light circles around it. You couldn’t stop him, not when your brain was currently being scrambled with the feeling.

"Your smell is still not there." He off-handily murmured, finally removing his hand from your neck and letting you collect your thoughts again.

You swallowed thickly, trying to clear your throat. "I think you forget that I take heavy suppressants."

"Why do you? Do you really not want to fuck anyone any time soon?" You cringed at his wording, meeting his eyes.

"Well yeah, pretty much. I want to focus on school, not constantly wonder if I'm going to suddenly go into heat around an alpha. And it's a guaranteed protection, I don't want to get accidentally marked this early in my life." You could feel his hand squeeze and knead at the meat of your hip, knowing that he was in thought.

"I don't know if our class remembers what sub-gender I am but you certainly do, you were literally in trance when you met me," You pointed out, feeling your skin prickle warm as you thought back on the memory. "And it was my mistake, I didn't mean to get off of them and do that to you. I'm pretty much protecting myself and others from doing something... irrational."

What he didn't know is that having no heat at all for months at a time had made you indescribably horny, but you've been managing it so well that you really didn't need any outside assistance at all. Him being the only alpha that hangs around you on a day-to-day basis and consistently touching you has not made the thoughts any better than they were before, but you forced those damn heinous ideas in the back of your mind every time. Bothersome they were and you tried to not let it get to you as much as possible.

Reiner nodded slowly, closing his eyes. "Well if you do get into a heat, I'm available for use."

You gasped, quickly jabbing your elbow into his side, causing him to flinch from the feeling and laugh almost aloud in the quiet library. "God, don't say that here!"

"It's true! There's a line-up of omegas that need help through their heats, I'm not the only one that's getting something out of it. They need a knot and I give it to them." You don't know why but hearing him admit that made you almost freeze and feel your stomach drop. Every time you're reminded of his reputation, something in you twists in an unpleasant way. It's strange. You have no reason to feel this way when you don't even like him in any romantic sense.

"I'd rather not hear about your many conquests, thank you very much." His eyes connected to yours and you tried not to pull away, trying not to feign anything that would give you up.

"Don't tell me... You're jealous, aren't you?" He teased as his grin grew wider and you scoffed, closing the textbook almost a little too hard.

"Please, as if! I'm not the one here insinuating into starting something." You huffed and tried to disconnect your body from his to put the book away but he didn't let you, his arm holding you around the crook of your back firmly.

"I never mark them, if that makes you feel better. No matter how much they beg me to, I don't. I'm pretty good at controlling myself."

You paused, the heavy stone in your stomach still dragging you down. He sounded honest about it and any omega that he marked would've bragged about it for years to come. Hell, you wouldn't even be as close as you were with him right now if that was the case. Yet, the admission didn't make you feel any better and you'd rather not praise him for something so bare minimum.

"...I really, really don't care Reiner. You can fuck anyone you want silly and it's none of my business. I'm not your mate and you're not mine." His eyes softened, looking at you so fondly that you almost wanted to take back every word you had just said.

"We could be."

Time stopped. The way he said it so nonchalantly made you feel absolutely breathless, like you were punched so deeply in the gut. You so desperately wanted to kiss him in that moment — say fuck it, why not be his mate for the rest of your lives — but that was nothing but the godforsaken omega in you talking. This wasn't some cheesy romcom movie, this was real life. Why in the world would he think there was a possibility that he’d be your mate? The two of you barely knew each other besides the light-hearted chats you’ve had together, he only liked your presence because like every other omega, you were easy.

No matter how long you stayed up at night thinking about him or how much you desired pressing your body against his at all times, you would not sacrifice your future for him. You were trying to be more than just your sub-gender and more than solely becoming an alpha’s eventual trophy wife. Being with him would only complicate things. There was nothing he could do or say would change your perspective.

As you stood up with your stuff, you told him as firmly as you were able to make it without your voice wavering.

"No, we couldn't."

It felt like it was you trying to convince yourself otherwise.

You’d do anything to not be the one watching his heart break right in front of your eyes, his mood changing almost immediately. He tried to look away from you but you saw the deep disappointment reflecting in his irises. The softness they once held hardened up once he realized what he was feeling, trying hard to swallow back the pain. The change of his smell washed over you in waves, a cold melancholy hitting the back of your throat while a burning anger bit at the pit of your stomach at the same time. It wasn't like him to be so distraught with a simple rejection, maybe you were the first one that didn't immediately fall for his charms.

Maybe, just maybe... it should've been you that had gotten rejected instead. Perhaps it would've made you feel less awful about it.

"Yeah, sorry. I… I don’t even know why I said that. Why would I even choose yo— No. Wait. Fuck, I—" Reiner cleared his throat quickly and stood up himself, ready to get out of the situation he put himself in. He was backpedaling, you knew he was, but it didn’t make you or him feel any better about the situation. He really was not used to rejection, huh?

"Let's... let's forget all that. There’s a party going on in Delta Kappa Theta tonight. If you want to come, come. I don’t want you to keep preventing yourself from having fun." The way he still cared about you first made you feel like you were the complete piece of shit here. No matter what though, you didn’t owe him a relationship or situationship or whatever you two have.

You partially nodded anyways, a squeak of an ‘okay’ barely escaping you as you watched him walk away. Every step that he took made you feel even less sure about what you just did, but it was for the best… right?

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

It was the first frat party you’ve ever been to and as you approached the house, you knew that it was going to be way out of your comfort zone. You wanted to go back to your safe and warm dorm, make up an excuse to go to bed early, but Reiner was right, you shouldn't be cooping yourself up for so long without any other interaction besides him. You slowly took in a deep breath, tugging at the seams of your jacket before entering the house, music blaring in your ears and bright lights hitting your eyes as soon as you opened the door.

Find Reiner, find him. Your omega begged you as you shuffled through drunk and dancing bodies, but you ignored it. Would he even want to see you after you rejected him?

Someone tapped you on the shoulder and you turned towards the person, eyes wide with shock.

"Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you," Another alpha, his clean rain-like scent faint from the amount of alcohol in the air. He was extremely tall but folded his body within himself while holding a red solo cup, and his black hair was in desperate need of a new haircut, nearly covering the tops of his eyes. The man didn't seem to present himself like an alpha, his demeanor certainly different to the ones you've met and seen before. "You smelled like my friend and the lights are way too bright so I thought you were him, so sorry again."

He looked vaguely familiar but it seemed that he recognized you first, his mouth suddenly agape. "Wait. Aren't you the girl that Reiner keeps talking about? Uh... sorry. What was your name again?"

"Y/N, nice to meet you. Reiner... mentioned me?"

He kindly smiled and nodded, holding out his hand for you to shake. "Bertolt and you have no idea. You're basically all he wants to talk about recently."

It felt like your heart skipped a beat, butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. You really had that much of an effect on him? You felt partially proud that you, a complete nobody, managed to get him head over heels for you. The other part felt horrible, you didn't mean to lead him on like that to the point where he started bringing you up to his friends. It seemed that Bertolt realized what he said was causing you to get upset, pulling you towards the kitchen.

He quickly scooped up some liquid from a punchbowl and poured it into a new cup, handing it over to you. "Here. A drink might make you feel better."

You weren't new to drinking, only having it a few times casually here and there so you took a quick sip, a smooth burn going down your throat. You coughed lightly and shook your head, hearing him chuckle. He leaned against the countertop beside you, swirling around the cup in his hand.

"Bertolt?" You hated how small you sounded, trailing your fingertips against the ridges of the plastic cup.

"Hm?" He started to take another sip out of his drink, raising it up above his head.

"I don't know if he told you this already but I rejected him this afternoon." The sound of him choking and hacking followed suit immediately after you confessed, a spew of apologies running out of your mouth as you patted his back to get it all out. He definitely didn't tell him yet.

Once he managed to finally stop clearing his throat, he wiped his mouth and turned towards you, eyes wide. "Why did you?"

You bit the inside of your cheek and took another quick sip. "I told him that I wasn't looking for a romantic relationship or sex, all I want to do is focus on is passing my classes and graduating. That's the complete and honest truth."

His friend stayed quiet for a bit until he nodded once, as if he understood your reasoning.

"That's fair, you should be able to pursue what you want to do for your life instead of tending to his needs. It's hard out there for omegas and it's great that you're doing more for yourself. I know Reiner really does actually like you, but you don't have to pursue anything with him if you don't want to. You control what you get to do."

You felt flushed from both the alcohol and his words, you've never met an alpha that shared such a considerably controversial opinion before. You quietly thanked him, watching him tilt his head up towards the ceiling, sighing softly.

"Reiner... I've known Reiner since middle school and fuck, he has his moments where he tends to be a shitty guy, even long before he presented as an alpha. He's stubborn as hell and rarely listens to us and he's occasionally a great guy to be teamed up with, but inside, I know he's just trying to figure himself out."

"What do you mean?" He flinched, beginning to sweat bullets as he nervously fidgeted next to you.

"A-ah, sorry. I don't know if I should be telling you this since you're also his friend but," His pale eyes darted side-to-side, as if he was making sure that no one was listening. "Every omega he's been with, he calls all of them 'practice' for his fated mate. Everyone knows that having a fated mate is super, super rare but since he met you, well..."

He nervously tugged at the hem of his shirt but you immediately knew what he was saying.

"No." You awkwardly started laughing, shaking your head quickly. The house immediately felt even more stuffy and overbearing, a nauseating feeling overcoming you all of a sudden. Omegas being used as practice? Were you just another practice target if the relationship didn't work out?

"N-no, he doesn't seriously think that I'm his fated mate?"

Bertolt sharply inhaled through his teeth, eyes locked to the ground. "Reiner was always hopeful he'd find his second half and you've been the only omega he speaks so positively and constantly about. He mentioned the day you guys met, how your pheromones enticed him so much that he nearly kissed you and he wanted nothing more but to have you as his mate after that. Ugh, sorry. Even saying it out loud makes me feel gross."

You felt sick, numb. Were you even friends from the start or was all of his actions just some kind of courting method? You could barely hear yourself tell Bertolt that you had to go, fumbling a goodbye and an apology to him before pushing yourself into the crowd. The sea of people felt like it was getting more impossible to navigate the more you moved in it, a tight feeling building in your chest from being overwhelmed by every little smell and sound all around you.

Get out.

Get out.

GET OUT.

When you finally managed to push through and find the front door, your blood ran cold immediately. Like a deer frozen in front of oncoming headlights, you couldn't believe what you were staring at. Every part of your body screamed in complete anguish and devastation but you couldn't move. You had no right to, but you couldn't stop your tears from rapidly falling down your cheeks.

Reiner Braun, sitting down on the couch with some stranger on his lap, tracing his hands down their back, and pulling them closer to his body.

Reiner Braun, kissing down their neck, the peaks of his canines just barely scraping against their scent gland.

Reiner Braun, basically publicly grinding himself against this willing participant of his.

His eyes opened half-lidded and in some cruel form of fate, locked onto yours. Out of everyone in the room, he managed to find yours. He pulled away from the omega, a strand of drool still connecting between them. His hand still rested comfortably on the curve of their back, his mouth uttering only one name with wide eyes.

"Y/N...?"

All you could think as you finally snapped out of it — running out of the fraternity until your lungs felt like they were being ripped to shreds — was how bad you felt for that omega. How they were only going to be reduced into something so demeaning, a dummy-run to find his perfect mate. They didn't deserve that, being wide-eyed and hopeful that because he decided to choose them for his lustful pursuits, they're finally worthy of being a candidate of his.

You sobbed aloud as you washed and scrubbed your body red once you reached your dorm, trying to erase every scent and touch he made for the past couple of months. He was nothing more but absolute filth and you fell for it like a fool, a stupid brainless omega. You thought you were better than that but no, you were just like the rest of them. Even if you were his so-called fated mate, why did he continue to seek out others? Wouldn't he have tried to abstain? Sure, you shouldn't have expected that much out of him considering that you didn't even accept his confession but for some reason, it still hurt.

Fuck Reiner Braun. You should've never forgotten that in the first place.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

Now you were here, leaving the messy history of the second year behind and now moving onto your third. Always look to the future, as they say. You took a lot of preventatives in avoiding seeing Reiner, the plan nearly as extensive as your studying.

You blocked his number once he started to keep calling over and over again ever since the party, blocking the new ones that came every so often and changing your number once you couldn't take it anymore. There was no reason for you to hear his explanation, it's his business on who he decides to fuck and you shouldn't be mad about it anymore. Part of you was afraid that if you hear him explain himself, you'd run right back to him just like every other omega he had a finger wrapped around.

You stopped frequenting areas you used to hang around in, which was unfortunate since some of those places were your favorites. You moved dorms, avoided places he frequented, and made sure he wasn't in any of your classes. Your majors were luckily too different to be in the same buildings or rooms, and with the help of Bertolt, you were always one step ahead of him.

He was the one that approached you first in one of your classes together at the start of the new semester and taught you the ways in how to avoid meeting up with him. You didn't know why his best friend wanted to help you and once asked him, getting the answer that Reiner hasn't been himself recently and he was afraid that he might do something rash if he managed to find you.

"You have so much ahead of you, I’d hate to see Reiner make you throw it away."

Bertolt made sure that he wasn't seen with you whenever the two of you hung out, and when he was with him, he made sure to steer clear of your direction with a simple text. He had to bathe immediately after just in case your scent got on him, which should be nonexistent but he was afraid that if there was just the vaguest trace on him, Reiner would hound him about it. He basically became your bodyguard whenever it was possible for him to do so, and you didn't even ask. You've never felt so grateful meeting someone like him before.

He also brought up that Reiner's been playing more rougher than usual, and snapping at others even when they're on his side of the team exercises. Even the coach was too afraid to say anything about his behavior, relying on him and a few others that were friends with him to talk to him about it.

"It sounds like he's in a pre-rut." You mentioned, handing over the pickles from your sandwich over to him. He took them with an open palm and threw them into his mouth like chips.

"I hope not, his scent smells the same so far but he rarely gets into ruts for me to really know what he smells like. Plus, he never knows how to handle them well."

"Reiner doesn't choose any of the omegas he messes around with for his ruts?" Bertolt shook his head, swallowing.

"Not at all. It's weird, he may mess around with them during their heats but he never, ever lets them in when he's going through a rut. Think it has something to do with the fated mate mentality he has, but sometimes we don't even know he was ever in one until they're over, he basically disappears for a week or so."

It’s funny in a weird way. The two of you were hiding each other from behind Reiner’s back as if the two of you were dating. Even though the two of you became close, your relationship with him was nothing romantic. Some kind of bro-code would've been broken between Reiner and Bertolt if you started dating him, and you'd be eating your own words from what you've said to Reiner. Then again, you never wanted to date him and tolerated his looming, clingy presence on most days.

Bertolt told you that he liked someone but was too afraid to make any move. She was another alpha and one of his friends, so the pairing itself had its controversies. He kept saying that his confession might ruin what they had for years and he was satisfied being in her shadow. It was sad to hear him put himself in second place for her happiness. So you tried doing a little nudge for him to go for it — 'the worst she can say is no' kind of talk — because it was better for him to say something than nothing at all and still quietly pine for her. Bertolt got too excited and rushed in with the confession after one of his practices without your knowledge, a messy bouquet of roses tightly gripped in his hand.

There was a few word texts that he sent to you after the whole ordeal:

Didn't get accepted.

Heartbroken.

Bar.

You found him standing in front of your dormitory building waiting for you, awkward looks of both omegas and betas glancing at him. As you approached him, he took a few steps towards you and almost collapsed in your arms as you held them outstretched. His tears and snot quickly dampened your jacket, his body wracking out heaves of anguish. There wasn't an alpha in the world that you've seen so vulnerable before, his fists gripping your clothes tightly as he shook in sadness.

He started telling you what had happened once he somewhat composed himself, his voice weak and crackly as the two of you walked to his chosen bar. Unfortunately, she turned him down and told him that she was actually interested in some beta from Paradis Tech named Armin. You could only imagine the bouquet dropping to the floor in dramatic fashion, tears welling up in poor Bertolt's eyes. She apologized and somewhat comforted him by saying that his confession won't change anything between their friendship. That was good, at least on her side.

You started consoling him, rubbing his back in circles as he drunkenly wept on the polished wood after downing one too many tequila shots. The speed in which he drank each one was shocking to say the least, you don't think his glass touched the table since he picked it up.

"We've known each 'ther shince we were kitss." He hiccupped, head resting in-between his arms as he tearfully stared in the distance and dangled the shot cup in his fingers.

"If I shaid sumnthin 'ears ago, would she hab 'ccepted me — or or or — shill reject me because of awer shub-genda?" You pitifully stared at his crumpled form, not knowing what to really say to make him feel better about the situation. The bartender then took his glass from Bertolt and told you to take the poor guy home, shaking his head slowly as he quietly whined about getting cut off.

"C'mon big guy, let's get you back."

The walk was quiet besides the occasional sniffle and you could tell he was trying not to fall on top of you, his feet slowly dragging on the concrete. As the designated sober friend, you were carefully observing him, a hand firmly holding the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He stopped suddenly, the sounds of his sneakers squeaking.

"Y/N."

"Hm?"

You turned your attention towards him, tilting your head to the side.

"If I wazzn'tin love wif Annie, I'd be sooooo in love 'ith—"

Bertolt then jolted to the side of an alleyway before he could finish what he was saying and started throwing up. It prompted you to quickly go by his side and hold him up, patting hard on his back to get it all out. You knew what he was going to say and you hated it. He's drunk and sad, nothing that came out of him was going to be honest.

"Don't say that Bertolt." You mumbled, lifting him back up once he finished and slinging his arm over your shoulders.

"I'm not going to be a replacement for you."

He reached over with his other hand, skin cold around the nape of your neck as he pulled your face towards his. You could smell the alcohol lingering in his breath, face cringing when you saw a bit of spittle still hanging off of his lips. He started saying something even more incoherent, his eyes beginning to close in hints of slumber.

"No, no, no. I... I swer'lve ewtoo."

You laughed softly as you shook your head in amusement, pulling him forwards. He really won't remember this at all. Bertolt finally fell silent, the occasional drunken groans slipping through if you tugged him too roughly.

Maybe in another world, if you had met Bertolt before Reiner...

You made the decision to take him to your dorm. The dormitory building was way closer than the frat house he lived in, and you'd rather not lug around his heavy body another ten blocks to get there. Never in your life you had thought you'd be sneaking in a giant of an alpha into the shared beta-omega dorms, but you wouldn't be the first to do so. It's a good thing his scent was currently dulled with alcohol or you'd be in more trouble trying to hide him. Quickly unlocking your door and taking him over to your loveseat, you watched as his body slowly relaxed into the cushions.

He was simply way too tall for the seating, his legs dangled off of the side of the couch as you adjusted him to a positioning that would prevent any risk of asphyxiation if he started throwing up again. You highly doubted that he had anything left in him, but it was good to be on the safe side. You lightly pinched his cheek, getting a change of clothes and headed towards the bathroom.

You checked on him once more before going to bed, a light snore coming out of him. Seems like he's all tuckered out and okay for now, the hangover is definitely not going to be pretty in the morning. You settled yourself into your sheets and turned the lights off, soon falling asleep.

The sound of your alarm on your phone blared in your ears, arms trying to pull out from underneath the blanket to turn it off but you didn't move an inch. Groggily opening your eyes, you saw an arm wrapped around your body, your mind not registering what was going on until you heard the soft sounds of breathing on top of your head. You turned your head slowly to the couch, the connection finally being put together when you saw his body wasn't lying there.

He started to rouse from his sleep when the alarm kept sounding off, an annoyed hiss slipping through his lip as his head lifted up from yours, reaching over himself to shut it off.

"Good morning big guy." You whispered as he settled back next to you, lightly squeezing you closer to him as if you were his pillow.

Bertolt grumbled quietly. "What time is it?"

"According to my alarm, maybe 8:05 in the morning." You tried to get up to get him water and something for his headache, but he didn't budge an inch. The two of you laid with each other, basking in the morning warmth quietly.

"Sorry for getting in bed with you, I tried finding a blanket but didn't want to wake you up."

"It's fine," You hummed quietly, turning your body towards him. "You okay though?"

He opened his mouth but closed it, falling silent as he slowly began to think. He turned on his back, staring at the white ceiling.

"Not really. Everything still hurts and I'm tempted to cry even more but... I don't know. Some part of me feels... relieved? If I never told her, I'd still be stuck in a loop worrying whether I'd ruin something between us and keep having this twist in my stomach whenever I see her with someone else. I'm glad that she found someone that she's happy with but..."

Bertolt put his forearm over his eyes, letting out a soft laugh.

"But why do I still want her?" His voice cracked, a tremble following the end of his words and once more, you wrapped your arms around his torso. You could smell his sadness, a heavy and misty petrichor filling the room in waves.

"Sometimes there's things that we desperately want to have but can't have. Irrational as it is, it's in our nature." You mumbled, your hands balling up in his sweatshirt.

"Like you with Reiner?" Your blood ran cold as he said that but you merely pushed your face into his body.

"I don't know."

In the end, Reiner managed to find you and ask you to his game. You texted Bertolt, asking how was he able to get your location after being almost MIA for months. Apparently when you and him finally snuck him out of the dormitory, it completely slipped his mind that he had to wash off like usual. When he entered the frat house, Reiner greeted him but stopped midway, quickly approaching him and grabbing his shirt collar roughly.

He demanded me to tell him where you were. I'm so sorry Y/N, I couldn't stop him and our team needs the both of us playing.

You stared at the text, almost throwing your phone in frustration. You should've said no, had firmly stood behind your decision. Yet, the second his pheromones reached your nostrils, you couldn't stop yourself from agreeing, even if you were trying to look angry at him. You've noticed it had gotten stronger than before, was it because you haven't seen him in a while? You couldn't even be mad at Bertolt, you'd be terrified out of your mind too if an alpha was demanding an answer from you like that.

It's only for a few hours, you thought as you took in a slow breath. After that, he'll finally leave you alone.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

Reiner picked you up earlier than usual. It was about 5:10 when you heard a knock at your door, causing you put down the lip gloss before you even could apply it. Shuffling over and peeking through the peephole, you saw him standing there in a suit and tie. He cleaned himself up, the stubble he once had when he found you was completely shaven away and his blond hair was slight slicked back with gel.

"You're early." You muttered as you opened the door, keeping it barely ajar. He's not even supposed to step foot in the dorm, nervousness crawling up your spine. His pheromones hit you like a train, practically everyone that was walking down the dorm hallway could smell him, heads turning in your room's direction.

"I wanted to see you." He grinned, pushing the door open even more — nearly knocking you over — and handing you a bouquet of morning glories, camellias, and forget-me-nots. As you were staring at the mostly red flowers, almost a complete eyesore with the addition of the light blue petals that peered out from within, he waltzed in your safe haven without your permission.

"Hey! Reiner, you can't just—!"

You groaned as you exasperatedly followed after him, placing the bouquet down on your desk. His form was absolutely massive compared to the entire room, his head constantly turning towards the different decor that you hung up on the walls.

"I've never seen your dorm on the inside before, it's cute. It's... you." He softly mumbled, your face turning warm. You grabbed his sleeve, trying to tug him out of your space so you can get ready, but he stopped in the middle of the room, his attention honed in towards the messed sheets of your bed.

"Reiner," You started, your eyes following to where he was looking at. Your heart nearly stopped in your chest when you smelled a burning anger occupy the space — a smoldering, cindering scent — nearly making you cover your nose from how horrible it was. You gulped, hand slipping out and down to your side in a fist. "Reiner, w-we... we didn't do anything."

He just stood there silently, still focused on your bed. He has every right to be angry, you were literally snuggling with his best friend this morning, but you didn't belong to him. Scummy as it was, you made your bed and laid on it, there was nothing he could change about it.

"I-I'm just going to get ready." You whispered, turning around to go back into the bathroom. Big mistake.

Large hands grabbed your wrist, dragging you around in a speed that you couldn't comprehend. You almost screamed as he threw you on the bed, Reiner following after you and trapping you beneath him, his leg in-between yours. Fear was pouring out of you in waves but he couldn't smell it, no one could.

It took him little time and effort for him to press his lips against yours, your eyes wide as you soon realized what he was doing. You tried moving your mouth away, a scared and little no slipping out but he caught you again, his hand gripping your chin and forcing your head to stay in place. You tried pulling at his suit, squirming and kicking your legs, anything to get this monster off of you, but he didn't budge, seemingly finding enjoyment in your weak attempts as he pressed himself deeper against your lips.

His knee nudged at your cunt, a muffled, surprised gasp coming out of you, letting him enter your mouth even more. A shiver ran up your spine as you felt his tongue run against yours, the wet muscle violating wherever he went in a meticulous fashion. You could barely breathe, the smell of him and the aftershave he had on was so intense that you could feel the tug of your omega side slipping through the cracks of your mind; not even your medication was able to stop you from feeling this way.

Reiner finally pulled away, a mix of each other's saliva connecting the two of you. Strands of his gelled back hair fell over his forehead, your once-brushed out hair tousled into a mess. Both of your breaths were uneven and heavy, his eyes low and dazed as he stared down at you. Tears were running down your face, ruining what you've already put on, your eyebrows scrunched together in absolute horror as you shared the same stare with him. He sniffed the air once, again and again as he neared your neck.

"Stop, stop, stop." You cried out as you pushed against his stubborn head, fearing that he would bite down on your scent gland.

He didn't make any move, only sniffing at you like a curious dog. He then pressed his lips against it, causing you to abruptly stiffen in horrid expectation.

There was no pain as he pulled away from you, your hand immediately shooting to your neck to feel for any welts or marks. Nothing. A simple kiss was all he did on it, and you couldn't help but feel appreciative that he didn't mark you.

"Don't you dare see Bertolt ever again, you understand?" He hissed into your ear, the threat echoing hollowly in your head. No way in hell were you going to listen to him, but the omega in you nodded slowly, his heavy body finally lifting off of you. You tried to ignore the imprint straining against his lower half, your eyes staring up at him in complete shock.

"Go get yourself ready."

Shakily getting up on your feet, you beelined towards the bathroom without a single word, nearly collapsing on the floor once you turned the lock. As you looked at your face in the mirror, dripping dark drops of mascara and eyeliner stained the apples of your cheeks. The lipstick that was once there, was now rubbed away, leaving nothing but your bare lips. Your hand trembled as you reached over for a makeup wipe, a quiver of a sigh coming out of you.

You wanted to throw up, get every bit of spit and slobber of his out of your system, but you couldn’t. He’d hear you.

Reiner brought one of his jersey's for you to wear once you came out of the bathroom with fresh casual makeup back on, and you could tell that the article was completely drenched in his scent. You sniffed at it gingerly as you held it in your hands, cringing away from the sweet vanilla smell.

"What? It's clean, I promise."

"Liar." You mumbled under your breath but pulled it over the shirt you wore, the fabric loose against your body. He took a quick minute to admire you in his clothing, placing his hand on your cheek and stroking the skin with his thumb. You could still see the red stain of your lipstick smeared on his lips, trying to fight back tears and a sneer.

"You look so fuckable right now," You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched the tip of his tongue licked across his bottom lip, the darks of his pupils reflecting an unhinged licentiousness that horrified you within every atom in your body. "Maybe tonight, when I win, I'll be getting another trophy."

"Don't forget our deal asshole," You finally spat out, ripping his hand off of your face in disgust. "I'm only going to your stupid game because of the promise you made this morning."

Reiner simply stared down at you, your nerves scrambling even worse than before. He finally scoffed, crossing his arms. "Right. Our deal."

You hated the fact that he basically was acting like he didn't just forcefully kiss you, your nails digging into the palm of your hand. "Can we go now?"

He checked his phone, huffing slightly. "Yeah. Don't worry, we're not that far to the stadium. Just a few traffic lights and we'll be there."

You felt all the color drain from your face. You thought it was close by in walking terms but now you had to be in a small space where it now completely smells like him? Might as well hold your breath the entire ride.

The short drive was quiet, some random old rock station was lowly playing on the radio, but the two of you didn't speak to each other. What would even be exchanged anymore? You didn't want to be associated with him so long as you walked on this planet. Reiner's fingers thrummed on the wheel, red spilling into the car and staining every surface within. He turned towards you as if he wanted to say something and you stared back, a chill running down your spine. No words were said, but you felt every little thing from his smell.

Ravenous, a voracious appetite for the predator in disguise. Right in front of him, a five-course meal just ripe for the picking. All he's doing now was waiting for you to back into an inescapable cliff, the perfect moment to finally strike.

"...You have to go." You whispered and he finally broke eye contact, staring at the traffic light above and accelerating.

"Yeah, right."

The silence once presumed until the two of you approached the stadium, him mentioning that he got you a seat near the rink so you could see the action up close. To be honest, you could care less about the game and who would win overall. Reiner handed you the ticket between his index and middle finger, but when you reached over to grab it, he took it back.

"Need a good luck kiss from you first. If this is the last time I'll get to see you, I want to make it last."

You didn't want to rile him up before he played or make him force his hand upon you in the car, so you planted a quick kiss on his cheek before grabbing the ticket from his hand simultaneously. "Okay. Done. Good luck or whatever."

You scrambled out of his car, making your way to the inside as soon as possible. The arena was louder than you thought once you stepped foot, the joyous chatter and screams echoing throughout the hallways. LED screens hanging from the ceiling flashed the words Marley Warriors vs Paradis Titans, showing the line-ups of each team member.

Reiner came first in the centers, his pose prideful and boasting with stats to match. The other three names that you noticed were Porco Galliard, Colt Grice, and Eren Kruger. You eventually saw Bertolt come up as one of the right wingers but no sign of his usual reserved side showed in his photo, he looked focused and tough more than anything else. One of the goalies was an older looking individual by the name of Zeke Jaeger, confident but not too boasting. Clips of their past games showed afterwards, showing their amazing teamwork and impressive previous goals, then moving on to the other team.

The main centers for the Paradis Titans were composed of four men; Eren Jaeger, Jean Kirschtein, Levi Ackerman, and Miche Zacharius. Was the Eren guy related to the other Jaeger on your university's team? They definitely didn't look alike in your opinion but it could simply be because of a crazy Punnett square. Some wingers and defensemen that you sorta paid attention to were Armin Arlelt, Hange Zoë, Floch Forster, and Connie Springer. The goalie on their team was a massive blond man named Erwin Smith, his photo exuding a powerful stance, maybe even more than your uni's goalie. You felt like Reiner's team might have some trouble facing them, their defense and attack seems pretty threatening.

You finally took a glance at your ticket, walking around trying to find the stairway for your seating. The smells of popcorn, melted cheese, and hotdogs filled your nose, but you didn't feel hungry at all, still sick to your stomach from what had happened earlier. Eventually you finally found where you were supposed to go, and if you thought it was loud in the other shell of the arena, finally stepping in the seating area and the rink was absolutely ear-breaking.

Sirens, music, screaming, loud announcers. Almost every unbearable sound was contained in the structure, you should've bought earplugs prior to this. Not to mention, every scent of maybe hundred alphas and omegas intertwined made you feel even more overwhelmed, a headache beginning to form.

It's only for a few hours, a few hours and you'll never see this place or him ever again.

Your seat was nearby Reiner's team, nearly in-between the other team as well, the other teammates chattering with each other. You've sorta recognized them, occasionally seen around campus and such. Heads and eyes of strangers from school nearby were somewhat turning towards you, even the team started to notice you walking up behind them. Your face burned up at the realization once you sat down. Shit. You had completely forgotten that you were wearing Reiner's heavily scented jersey, you might as well be showing off the mating mark that he could've made a few hours ago.

"Yo Braun's omega is here!" One of the team members called out and you almost hid your head in your hands in embarrassment. Oh God, don't say that.

"Y/N, you made it?" The most recognizable voice cleared your thoughts immediately, head perking back up with a wide smile.

"Bertolt!" You wanted to hug him but he recoiled back as if you were a stranger, his nose scrunching. Your face fell immediately, his gaze sinking down in shame when he noticed your crestfallen expression.

"Sorry, it's not you. It's... y'know. That." He nudged the bottom of the jersey with the end of his stick, a frown forming on your face.

"I know. He made me wear it." You frustratingly tugged at the fabric with one hand and he chuckled, ruffling the top of your head. You'd burn it on the spot if you could.

"I didn't make you wear anything babe, you've always liked wearing my clothes." The sound of his voice made you freeze in place, eyes wide as your head turned in the direction of where he was walking in. Bertolt followed suit, his hand retracting away from you as if you were suddenly a hot stove.

"I don't think I could follow up your end of our deal if you're not respecting my demands, omega." No. That was never part of the agreement. You just gave the okay so he'd get off your back about it. He genuinely couldn't be serious about not seeing Bertolt anymore, right?

"Don't be an asshole Reiner. She's not just an omega."

The blond scowled at his friend, shoving his helmet roughly against his chest. He pushed it off of him, staring the other down in a sneer. You've never seen Bertolt like this before, the usual rain smell he had was turning stormy and bitterly furious.

"Oh, I'm the asshole? I wasn't the one hiding my fucking mate from me for months and sleeping in her bed. Not to mention, what happened to Annie or did you get tired of another alpha that's better than you?" You internally winced for him, that was such a low blow. Bertolt looked stunned for a second, glancing over at you for a quick second, but he pushed his shoulder back roughly in return.

"Don't bring Annie into this Reiner, this is about my friend. Did you really think she'd let you — of all people in this school — mark her when you act like a conceited asshole? She's not your fated mate. You've proven that over and over again that she's going to be like the rest, you knotheaded fuck."

You gasped at the sudden insult, a vein nearly popping out of Reiner's forehead but he didn't say anything more, pushing past Bertolt and shouldering him roughly with a scowl. You didn't mean for them to start an argument with one another, the game hadn't even started and tensions were already high. The Paradis Titans team weren't hiding their amused stares, the Eren Jaeger guy whispering to the short haired, bowl-cut blond next to him; Armin, you think. The murmurs of strangers behind you made you feel sick, hearing the word knottease being tossed around, the horrid word directed towards you.

You started to apologize profusely once Bertolt turned towards you, but he simply held out a hand, patting your shoulder as you stopped.

"Don't be. Someone needed to say it to him, maybe this fight would finally clear his head."

"But the game Bertolt, I—" You started but he interrupted you once more.

"I don't give a shit about the game if you're the one being hurt. You matter more than hitting a puck around, okay?" If you weren't wearing Reiner's jersey, you'd hug him right now. He smiled and put his helmet on, leaning close to you to whisper something in your ear.

"By the way, don't listen to the jerks behind you. You're nothing like that, you're going to be something great." He backed away once the horn started, walking over to the entrance to the ice rink to join his team. Good luck, you wanted to say because if anything, he'll need it when he gets into the arena with a monster in tow.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

If you thought Reiner was bad in practice, his violent playstyle was nothing compared to when he's in an actual game. How on Earth this sport was approved to play for anyone, you had no idea. All you could hear was men yelling at each other and slamming each other to snatch the slippery little puck, fans behind you hollering just as loudly.

Both Reiner and Bertolt had seemed to forgive each other on the court, winning being the only thing on their minds. Just like in practice, they didn't have to say anything to get the point across, making passes and attempted shots whenever they had the slightest of openings. The two Galliards seemed to be more communicative with one another, defending the goalie whenever they could with short barks of commands. They were good but Eren Jaeger seemed to be the rookie ace of the Titans, managing to push through and score in the most impossible scenarios.

You could tell he was aggravating them, putting them in a corner while constantly taunting them with a one-liner or a smug smile as he scored. An angry alpha was something not to mess with and putting a whole group of them against other alphas who were mocking them for their failures? It's obviously an immediate recipe for disaster.

Intermission came around, the score against the Warriors by two. As the teams were talking to one another to plan out their next attack, you watched the Zambonis slowly smooth out the ice again. You paid no attention to them and their chatter, you wouldn't have made sense of it anyways.

"Hey," You looked around for the source of the voice and finally down, seeing bright turquoise-blue and a mess of brown hair standing below you. He smelled sharply fresh, like the first bite to a mint leaf and drinking cold water afterwards. It wasn't necessarily bad like most in the arena, just made your nose crinkle a little from the suddenness of it. "Eren Jaeger."

"Oh- um... Y/N. Aren't you supposed to be talking to your team?"

He waved his hand dismissively towards your statement, crossing his arms with a smile. "Nah, there's nothing else that's new with the planning. You, however, are the talk of the arena."

Your cheeks flushed warm, the temptation of burying yourself alive later on growing more and more, but you grimaced instead. "So what? You wanted to see if I'm what they say I am?"

Eren shook his head, taking a few steps closer towards you. "I'm not talking about the knottease comments, I'm talking about the Reiner Braun's mate comments. Is it true?"

"No! Of course not!" You exclaimed in shock, but the subtle-not-so-subtle glance downwards towards your attire seemed to make him doubt you otherwise. You tried defending yourself about it without revealing much about the twisted relationship you actually have with Reiner.

"This is just because he thinks he's claimed me and we've made a deal. I have no other choice."

"Is it now? Well then," He pointed towards himself with a thumb, his grin growing even wider. "When I win, wanna go on a date with me after this?"

How many alphas were gunning for you right now?! You knew that you took your suppressants today after Bertolt left your dorm so how come this was happening to you? The absolute balls on this man, especially since he was thinking that his team had already won. You wearily shook your head, you've had your fill of pestering alphas for the rest of your schooling life.

He looked dejected for a second but perked up immediately, the buzzer of the timer echoing throughout the arena. You thought that was that and began to turn your attention towards your college's team, but then he called out a 'head's up', tossing something in your direction. You caught it in surprise, looking in the palm of your hands and finding a keyhole shaped earring.

"Keep it! For the next time we meet!" Eren waved you goodbye and jogged over to his side of the team, high-fiving and chattering with his friends before putting a helmet on. You let a small smile slip out, he may be a little cute but there was definitely no way you were ever going to see him ever again. You safely tucked it into your pocket, finally looking towards the Warriors.

He was watching you. Of course. There was a livid look in his eyes, his brows scrunched even more in irascibility and his teeth were bared, perhaps even grinding together in this current moment. You paled at the thought of them sinking into your neck like some kind of rabid animal. Reiner was barely human anymore, you realize. Any loving gaze that he had before for you was nothing more but a dangerous hunger.

All you could hope was for the Warriors to win so he would be in a decent mood to finalize the goodbyes, and you'd pray for the Titans for the brutality that they're about to endure because of his horrid attachment to you.

The players slid into the ice once more, the deafening cheers of everyone growing louder and louder as the second half of the game was beginning to start. The referee smoothly made his way between the two masses of men, Reiner staring down coldly into the clear mask of Eren. Like a coin flip, the puck was thrown highly into the midst of them, their eyes following it as it made its way down to the icy ground.

Click.

In a snap of a finger, the sound of sticks bashed together once the puck bounced off of the surface. Like a choreographed dance, the rivals whirled with one another, swinging and twisting their bodies around in order to get ahold of the very thing that might as well be the trophy itself. The intensity of the game was now at an all time high that even you started to pay more attention to it, the hairs on your arms raising in anticipation.

The puck swung back and forth like a pinball, but the Warriors managing to catch up to a tie. It was starting to become a standstill again however, taunting chants coming out from the people in the stands, jeering at the anyone that opposed their team. Players were being switched out on both teams during timeouts but few remained on the ice, a tense aura between the three.

Reiner, Bertolt, Eren.

Bertolt took a few glances at his friend, tapping the end of his stick with his and seemingly started to exchange words with him from what you could see. Who knows what it was about; the game, the enemy team, you. He only lifted his fist up, letting the other return it in a similar gesture and that seemed to calm the black-haired male's nerves.

Reiner's eyes were lasered in on Eren for the most part, gripping the handle of his stick tightly and swiping it around on the ice as if he was practicing a shot. He was truly unrecognizable, a shell of the man that once followed you around like the world's most clingiest puppy dog. You knew he wanted to show-off, his pride was at risk to a girl that he believed he owned for months. Disgusting and typical.

Eren seemed the most lax out of all of them, leaning against the plastic border as fans behind him fawned over him. He seemed not to care about Reiner's burning glares at him, waving across the rink to seemingly you. He seemed nice, but it was obvious that he had more intentions than just wanting to befriend you.

The whistle sounded and the game began once more, the men skating themselves back to the middle. You checked how much time was left on the clock, ten minutes. Ten more excruciating minutes and you were going to be finally free.

" 'Round it now!" You could hear Reiner call out to Grice as he suddenly slammed his complete weight into enemy Jaeger, their eyes meeting as the others chased after the puck. They went after it as well once he recovered from the blow, but it looked like they started talking and you managed to spot a furious glint glazing over his hazel eyes.

He suddenly threw his stick out onto the rink, ripping off his gloves and grabbing Jaeger's shirt by the collar in frightening speed. Reiner was undeniably experienced with his punches, uppercutting him from below the mask. It toppled off of his head, falling to the ground with a crack, and Eren was stunned for a second, just for a single second. He was unable to completely process what had happened before the bigger male tackled him to the cold ground, the deafening sounds of heavy bodies slamming into the ice made the arena stand still.

The referee was too afraid to intervene but blew the whistle immediately, and hundreds of people watched the Reiner Braun brutally dig his knuckles into his face. Fresh crimson spilt down on the ice in splatters and you were forced to witness him weakly trying to stop him, protecting his face as much as possible to no avail. Bertolt immediately tried pulling him off of him, shouting at him that he needed to stop but it was like he was in a trance, almost attacking him in the process.

He finally was pulled off of Eren by the goalie of Warriors — furiously throwing his own punch into his face — and the poor boy having to be quickly removed from the rink on a stretcher. Reiner was pinned to the ground by multiple individuals and given a tranquilizer, his body soon relaxing and slumping over. They put him on a stretcher as well, his hands and legs bounded together and his mouth wrapped with a cloth rag. He was still slightly conscious, his calm and woozy stare meeting your horrified one.

The game had to continue without them but you had already left, not knowing the result. You felt too nauseous from smelling the sheer fear and panic that was coming of Eren, pungent and potent as it filled the air. But Reiner's...

All you could smell was that sickening warmth, a burning sensation in your nares. The same scent from your dorm but that's not at all what made you leave immediately. The sick fuck was happy he was beating into the defenseless guy, exhilarated that his blood was running down his skin and staining the floor, joyful. The nose doesn't lie and you wonder if everyone else caught it too.

Bertolt texted you when he visited Reiner in the hospital, but you didn't respond, busy trying to scrub the remnants of him out of your dorm while tears ran down your cheeks.

He did it for you.

[velarisdusk]

Ice Cold Jealousy

Hockey AU | Cassian x Reader

Series Masterlist -> Part 2 - Thawing Boundaries

word count: 8.3k content: [ explicit sexual content, PWP, unprotected PIV, rough sex, oral (m & f receiving), voyeuristic elements, possessiveness/jealousy, power dynamics, little bit of overstim?, hair pulling, dirty talk, humiliation?, biting, locker room sex (it's come to my attention that hockey locker rooms don't typically have lockers but just suspend your disbelief for a sec please), inappropriate touching, insinuation that Cass stares at Az's ass teehee | violence (physical altercation, reader not involved), blood mention, strong language | no beta we die like men ] summary: Despite the tension on the ice, your relationship with Cassian, the commanding captain of the Velaris Vipers, is anything but cold. His jealousy ignites when the rest of the team's flirtations become too much to ignore. In the aftermath of a disastrous game, the boundaries between playful teasing and intense passion blur, leading to a locker room encounter that challenges both your resolve and your control. author's note: WOW, okay, this is the first fic I've written for ACOTAR, and the first fic I've written in close to a decade, so excuse me if I'm a bit rusty :) I've been going through a hockey thing lately, watching random games on youtube in their entirety, so obviously that means I had to write Cass, duh. Sorry it's on the longer side; I just had lots of ideas... like only 3k of this is plot lmfao. Enjoy!

Cassian knows they’re fucked.

You can see it on his face. With two points down and precious little time left on the clock, they need a miracle. The referee skates to center ice, puck in hand. You lean forward, breath caught in your throat, as the Velaris Vipers take their positions. The air is thick with tension, the crowd’s roar fading into a dull buzz in your ears. You knew the Hewn City Hellhounds were good, but never imagined they’d pose this much of a problem. 

Cassian’s and Azriel’s eyes meet for a moment, a silent agreement passing between them. The puck drops, and its whereabouts for the seconds after are a mystery to you. After an unruly clash of hockey sticks and a mess of bodies, Cassian passes to Azriel on his left, who takes off down the ice with it. Cassian moves to mirror him on the opposite side of the ice. The Hellhounds’ defense closes in, but Cassian and Azriel move in perfect sync, the puck zipping between their sticks in a blur. They dance around the opposition, narrowly avoiding checks, their movements so fluid they don’t need to look to know where the other will be.

Just as Azriel is about to be boxed in by two defenders, a swift flick of his wrist sends the puck to Tarquin who’s come up to support them. You let out a sigh of relief, not even having seen him since he was back by the net. 

Why is he up here instead of back by the net? Eris should’ve been there; it’s his one job as a winger to support Cassian as center in making goals. You scan the rink, but don’t need to for long. He skates right up to you with an air of nonchalance, like he doesn’t need to be with the rest of his team fighting for their lives. You give him an incredulous look, about to open your mouth and shout at him when he gets to the wall, but the words catch in your throat when he blows a kiss, tracing a heart on the glass with a smirk. You gather yourself quickly, but before you can scold him his back is already turned and he skates back toward the action.

You’ve grown accustomed to the team’s teasing, knowing it’s all in good spirit. But with Eris, there’s always been an undercurrent of something more intense, more deliberate. As he skates away now, you can’t help but wonder, not for the first time, just how far he’d take things if given the chance. You’ll never admit it out loud, but the way he cuts directly in front of the opposing team’s defenseman to get him away from Tarquin is impressive with how absentminded it seems. 

Watching them, you reflect on the years you’ve spent at their games and practices. Not only have you witnessed their drastic improvement, but you’ve also grown close to the team. Perhaps too close, if the playful flirtations are any indication. 

Yeah, maybe ‘close’ was a bit…

But it wasn’t your fault. Really! A little over three years ago, Cassian invited you to their season opener, your relationship still fresh. You hadn’t known the first thing about the sport so obviously you spent hours watching videos and frantically looking up your countless questions to ensure you wouldn’t be entirely lost. Cassian had told you on the drive home that night that word had spread rather quickly through the Vipers about the hot girl in the stands. You knew. Hot, definitely, but dumb? Oblivious? No. Of course you noticed their showing off — the goalie’s glances after skilled saves, the wingers’ risky shots, the defensemen’s aggressive checks and subsequent winks, smiles, and waves from the penalty box.

You’ve often recalled their expressions when Cassian called into the locker room for them to come meet you, when they’d seen the object of their displays throwing her arms around their captain’s neck, planting a kiss on his sweaty cheek. You weren’t necessarily shy about looking at them in their various states of undress through the doorway; some shirtless, others holding a towel in front of themselves for modesty. But Cassian introducing you as his girlfriend didn’t stop their light-hearted remarks, though they were much less blatant now. For the most part. There was still the stray push of boundaries. Neither of you have ever told them to stop. Though you both enjoyed their feeble attempts, found them entertaining, there were times you noticed him get jealous, if his clenched jaw and reddening face were anything to go by.

Tarquin deftly maneuvers around an opponent with a small spin, sending ice shavings spraying, and you aren’t sure if the move is meant to distract or simply add some flourish. He looks up and winks at you with a nod. You roll your eyes with a small smile and the puck is once again in Cassian’s possession. He either doesn’t notice or simply doesn’t care. He drives forward, eyes locked on the goal. The goalie is ready, crouched and tense, but your boys have one last trick up their sleeves. 

Cassian pulls his hockey stick back and thrusts it forward with such determination that you’re sure he’s going to take the shot. But he stops just short of the puck and in an instant pushes it left and back, where Azriel is perfectly positioned. He doesn’t hesitate, slamming the puck into the net with a force that sends it rattling.

The red light flashes. Goal.

You shoot up and cheer, your shouts blending with those of the fans all around you. Previous to this, so overtaken with nerves, all you’ve been able to do is sit tight with your arms crossed, eyes darting wildly across the rink. The jovial energy doesn’t last long though. They’re still down a point, and with only a little over a minute left now, their only chance is somehow scoring and going into overtime. 

You scan the rink. The three forwards take their positions: Eris, red hair peeking from his helmet, grips his stick tightly at right wing; Azriel, ever the shadow to Cassian’s light, settles into place with calm readiness; and Cassian, commanding center ice with unmatched presence. Rhysand and Tarquin hover near the blue line, mirroring each other’s poised intensity on defense. If you were closer that way, you might be able to see their eyes darting across the ice, calculating every possible move. Helion stands sentinel before the net, gaze piercing and unwavering. Each a powerhouse, but none more commanding than Cassian at center ice.

His presence is commanding and magnetic. The weight of the game seems to rest on his broad shoulders, yet he bears it with a fierce determination you find both exhilarating and reassuring. His dark hair clings to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his eyes are locked on the opposition with a predator’s focus. You love this about him — the way he can command the rink with just a glance, the way his intensity electrifies the very air around him. 

Off the rink, he’s just as intense in a different way: reliable, attentive, deeply devoted. The moments you share away from the chaos — quiet dinners, late-night talks, and his arms holding you close as you get drunk off of each other’s wandering hands and lips for hours — are a stark contrast to the warrior before you now. It’s this duality, this balance of strength and tenderness, that never ceases to intrigue you. 

As the clock ticked down these last few plays, you could see the resolve settling in his eyes. He isn’t just playing for the team; he’s playing for you, for the life you’re building together. 

Another loud cheer from the crowd pulls you back in, and you notice the Hellhounds have taken back possession of the puck and are rapidly approaching Helion at the goal. Rhysand intercepts a pass and carries it around the back of the goal to shoot the puck forward along the side of the rink. Where Eris is supposed to receive it, the Hellhounds’ center intercepts and, guarded by a winger on either side, plows back down the ice towards the Vipers’ goal. Their wingers do a decent job of clearing a path for him. He takes the shot, and Helion miraculously changes the trajectory of the puck with a paddle save that has the audience roaring and up on their feet again. Tarquin tries to take back possession but isn’t there quickly enough. The Hellhounds still have it and go for the shot again, this time bouncing the puck off the crossbar and away from the goal. 

40 seconds left. 

Cassian and Rhysand guard against their opponents while Azriel and Tarquin skillfully maneuver the puck down the ice, right between people’s skates at times. Tarquin is incredibly nimble and light on his feet for a defenseman, conducting several moves that force gasps from your lips, worried something would go wrong. He makes a pass to Eris right as he gets shoved into the wall by the Hellhounds’ defense. 

26 seconds.

The redhead moves with a sort of confidence that seemingly makes the other team recoil momentarily. He commands the attention of every spectator, not only because he has possession but also because of his back-to-back evasions and fakeouts. 

18 seconds. 

Eris approaches the goal, all six opponents converging. Cassian skates up to the left, perfectly positioned for a play they’ve practiced countless times. A simple, effective strategy — Eris just needs to pass to Cassian for the shot. Cassian catches Eris’ eye, giving him a nod. He’s open. 

But Eris shakes his head. 

He backtracks, attempting to outmaneuver the defense. You glance at Cassian, seeing fury building in his eyes. Tarquin and Azriel are open too, but Eris isn’t looking that way. Rhysand and Helion wear expressions of anger tinged with resigned frustration.

6 seconds left. Eris circles behind the goal, clearly aiming to nudge the puck in around the post. You can already tell it won’t work — too many opponents, and Eris’ eyes are locked on you instead of the play. He slides the puck around the post and… straight into the goalie’s leg pads. 

2 seconds. Cassian and Azriel make a desperate rush, but it’s futile. You sit with a sigh, putting your head in your hands. The buzzer blares. Game over. Hewn City Hellhounds win, 5 - 4. 

You distantly hear the cries and shouts from the other side of the arena celebrating their team’s win, mingled in are the groans of frustration and defeat from around you. What the fuck was he thinking? They’d had the perfect opportunity. You look up just in time to see your boyfriend shove Eris into the wall a few feet down from where you sit, the glass letting you see just how his face smashes against it with the impact. The spectators around you cheer Cassian on, as they, too, are frustrated at the person who cost them the possibility of overtime.

Immediately after impact, Cassian skates back a few feet, throws his helmet and gloves off, and raises his fists. Eris mirrors the action after throwing down his stick. Cassian’s is discarded way back near the goal. There’s no going in circles to see who moves first; Cassian is on him, landing blow after blow to his face and head. His own face goes red with anger as he shouts what you assume to be chastising, scolding words at the other. You can’t hear anything above the crowd around you spurring him on. Across the ice, the rest of the team just watches, arms crossed and chests heaving. 

Eris finally gathers himself, landing a left hook to Cassian’s jaw. He takes the opportunity to pull him down a bit by the hair and uses his other hand to keep punching. The refs are finally on their way to break it up, but both of their blood has already spilled onto the glass and ice. You strain to catch their words, curiosity flaring as Eris’ eyes flick to you, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk. Whatever he said next had Cassian lunging forward with another barrage of punches. 

As the refs finally near them, you decide you've seen enough and navigate your way out of the stands to the locker room entrance just as you always have at the end of their matches. 

You’ve never seen him get like this. Sure, you’ve seen him get into a fight every now and then, after which he’d pout at you from the penalty box (if he wasn’t still too overcome with anger). But this? In-fighting? Never. He’s usually the one splitting the guys up. And though he gets into disagreement after disagreement with Eris, it’s never turned into this. You’re not even sure why it escalated so quickly — they’ve been doing really well this season and the playoffs are still months away. This was by no means a high-stakes game for them. 

Just as you cross your arms over your chest and lean against the wall across from the locker room door, you hear the familiar cacophony that comes with lost games. You prefer it to the times they come back silent — the times the car ride home goes by without a word exchanged. Those are few and far in between, though. 

The din of angry voices and clattering equipment grows louder as the team approaches. You straighten up, eyes fixed on the corridor’s entrance. When Cassian emerges, leading the group, your heart sinks. His jaw is clenched, gaze locked straight ahead with an intensity that makes you hesitate. 

Still, you take a few steps towards him. “Cass,” you start, your voice barely audible above the commotion.

He doesn’t even blink. Cassian strides past you, the heat of his anger almost palpable as he disappears into the locker room. The door slams shut behind him, leaving you staring at its blank surface. 

You're still processing when you feel a light touch at your waist. Azriel slides past you with a sympathetic nod. Helion follows, his hand ghosting across your lower back as he squeezes through. If you weren’t caught so off guard you may have leaned into their touch. Rhysand, ever the gentleman even in defeat, murmurs a quiet “Rough night, darling” as he moves around you.

“Think Cassian would mind if you played nurse?” Eris drawls, gesturing to his bruised face. He gives what would be a stunning smile if not for the blood staining his teeth. His eyes flicker to the locker room door, then back to you. “I promise I’d be a much more… grateful patient.” He lingers only a moment longer, and you’re sure he’d jump at the chance in a heartbeat if you gave the word, before sauntering into the locker room with a self-assured smirk.

You lean against the wall, arms crossed. The muffled sounds of frustration and anger seep through the locker room door, punctuated by the occasional crash of equipment being thrown. You check your phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media to distract yourself. Already, clips of the fight are circulating, fans dissecting every move, every punch. You decide to just put your phone back in your pocket. 

The shouting inside gradually dies down, replaced by the sound of running water. Showers. You find yourself straining to hear any indication of Cassian’s mood, wondering if the shower is doing anything to cool his temper. 

The corridor gradually empties as staff and other team personnel file out. You shift your weight from one foot to another, replying to texts to pass the time. The showers shut off one by one. You hear locker doors opening and closing, the murmur of subdued conversations. The guys eventually trickle out, hair still damp. They offer you tight smiles or brief nods as they pass, their usual post-game chatter noticeably absent. The weight of the loss and the fight hangs heavy in the air; even Eris walks past you without so much as a smirk.

“(Y/N).”

You feel your heart drop to your stomach at his tone — it’s commanding, and the raspiness from all the shouting in his already deep voice sends a conflicting shiver through you. It does nothing to calm your nerves, but ignites a different kind of tension altogether. You take a step off the wall as you respond.

“Yeah…?”

“Get in here.”

This better be fucking good, you think, but find yourself swallowing hard anyway. You push the door and step in, and if your breath wasn’t already stuck in your throat, you might have choked on it at the sight.

Cassian sits on one of the benches, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. His elbows rest on his knees, hands hanging loose between them, and his damp hair partially obscures his face as he stares down at his calloused fingers.

You take a few tentative steps, stopping a few paces before the bench. The door finally shuts behind you, the loud click echoing in the otherwise silent room. Neither of you speak for long enough that you feel like you should say something, but when you open your mouth-

“Sit. And listen to me very carefully.”

His voice is low and measured, but the underlying tension is palpable. You lower yourself onto the bench across from him, heart pounding. His eyes lock onto you, dark and intense. He stands, closing the distance between you in two long strides. His towel now hangs dangerously low on his hips as he looms over you, still sitting on the bench.

“That game,” he growls, “was a disaster.”

You can feel the heat radiating from his skin, still flushed from the shower, as he leans down, placing his hands on either side of you on the bench. You have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. His face is inches from yours, breath warm on your cheek.

“Eris blew it,” he continues, voice low and rough. “But y’know what? It wasn’t just him. The whole team was off today.” He leans in closer, his breath ghosting your ear. "And I think I know why."

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes. His gaze roams over your face, over your surprise laden eyes, lingering on your lips before snapping back up.

"I saw the way they kept looking at you," he murmurs so quietly you can hardly hear him. "Tarquin missing easy passes, Azriel fumbling checks he'd usually nail." His free hand comes up to brush a strand of hair from your face, the touch feather-light and sending shivers down your spine. "Even Helion let in shots he'd normally block without breaking a sweat.” You can feel the tension coiling in Cassian's body, see the muscle in his jaw working as he clenches it. 

"It's getting to be too much," he says, the hand that brushed your hair back now on your chin, tilting your face up to his. "The guys can't focus when you're here." His thumb brushes across your lower lip, and you can’t help but part your mouth open a bit at the touch. "Maybe I need to stop bringing you to these things. If you're going to keep distracting the team like this..."

His gaze intensifies, dark eyes boring into yours. He’s so close you can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips as he speaks.

"We can't have that, can we, baby?"

The notion is absurd. Stop going to his games? Your brows furrow as you look at him incredulously. “That’s hardly my fault-”

“Didn’t I tell you to sit and listen!?” He shouts suddenly, his grip on your chin tightening. Your eyes shoot wide open, but not in surprise.

In understanding. 

He’d never really talk to you like this, you both knew that. This was one of his games. And, oh, how you so loved playing them. 

You keep the smirk from tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Funny, I thought you liked it when all eyes were on me.”

“I like it when they look. I don’t like it when they forget their place.”

Your breath catches, a mix of anticipation and desire. You can see the fire in his eyes, the barely contained jealousy and possessiveness. You lean in slightly, testing the boundaries. “And what exactly is their place, Cassian?” you ask, your voice low and teasing. “More importantly, what’s mine?”

His eyes narrow at your challenge, a dangerous smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He releases your chin, only to trail his fingers down your neck, coming to rest at your collarbone. The light touch leaves goosebumps in its wake. “Their place?” His eyes harden slightly. “To play hockey. Nothing more. I bring them some eye candy out of the kindness of my heart, and how do they repay me? By letting themselves get distracted and costing us games.” A sharp exhale.

“Your place?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that you feel more than hear. Without warning, his hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. The sudden grip is firm but not painful. Cassian steps over the bench in one fluid motion, his hold on you guiding you to turn with him. You instinctively follow his lead, twisting on the bench to face him and rising as he pulls you close. His movements are firm as he turns you both and directs you backward, until you feel the cool press of metal against your shoulders. With a gentle but insistent pressure, he keeps you pinned there, pushing his hips against your own. His eyes lock onto yours as he leans in, closing the distance between your lips.

The kiss is nothing romantic. It’s pure lust, disguised as frustration, as consequation. Where his words were clearly deliberate, his actions feign abandon. You match his intensity, your lips moving against his with equal fervor, your body arching into his touch. The grip on your hair remained, his other hand sliding slowly from your hip to your waist, then up again to your chest. He was like a starved man, grabbing onto whatever flesh he could get his hands on. The hand you didn’t have snaked around the back of his neck desperately explored every valley of his bare torso, products of his years playing the sport. 

The sounds of heavy breaths and locking lips fill the room, grunts following not long after. Cassian lets out an especially depraved groan, rolling his head back, when you slide your hand down to squeeze him through the precariously wrapped towel. But when you move to pull it off, his own hand swats yours away.

“With what you did tonight, you think that’s allowed? You think you decide how this goes?” His words hang in the air, heavy with implication. You pause, processing his question, the sudden shift.

“What I did tonight?” you manage, your voice slightly breathless. “I didn’t do anything.”

Cassian’s laugh is low and humorless. “Didn’t do anything? Sweetheart… don’t play innocent.” His fingers tighten in your hair, making you suck in a sharp breath through your teeth. “Every cheer, every jump, every little gasp… You put on quite the show, didn’t you?” He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the way your eyes stuck to Eris. Tell me, did you like it when he blew you that kiss?” 

Yes.

His gaze continues to burn into yours, a mix of jealousy and desire, as if he could somehow read the response in your eyes. “You’ve got the whole team wrapped around your finger and you know it.”

You steel yourself, meeting his gaze with an intense one of your own. “And so what if I do?” you challenge, voice steadier now. “I’m not responsible for how your team reacts to me. If they can’t keep their eyes on the game, maybe that’s on them.”

You lean in slightly, mimicking his earlier movement. “Or maybe it’s on you, Captain. Shouldn’t you be able to keep your team focused?” Something dangerous flashes through his eyes.

“You’re pushing boundaries you don’t fully understand.”

“Or maybe I understand them better than you think.” Your voice is steady despite the thrumming of your pulse.

“Understand this, then.” Your stomach flips. His eyes narrow, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Stirring up my team? That’s a direct shot at me, at my authority.”

You scoff, feigning incredulity. “Authority? If you had any authority, do you think they’d look at me the way they do, touch me the way they do?” A pause. “Did you think it ended with the showboating? No, baby, they put their hands on me so often I’m starting to forget what yours feel like.”

Of course he knew, noticed it early on and said nothing after discovering that neither of you truly minded. 

“Helion seems to enjoy putting his hand on my lower back when he moves around me for a chance to ‘slip’ and cop a feel,” you continue. “Ever notice how Rhys almost always greets me with a hug? Squeezes me? Oh! And the way-”

“Enough.” Cassian’s voice cuts through your words like a blade, low and sharp. The hand that doesn’t still have a fistful of your hair in it shoots out to grasp the junction of your neck and shoulder, his calloused fingers feel like they’re searing into you. “You think I don’t see it all? See how they undress you with their eyes? How their fingers itch to trace every curve they imagine beneath your clothes?”

You feel a slight downward pressure, pushing on your shoulder, pulling on your hair. “But here’s what you’re missing, sweetheart. They might play at ownership, but at the end of the day, who do they answer to?”

He pulls back slightly, to really take in the sight of you. “Who do you answer to when the game’s over and the lights go down?”

The question hangs in the air between you. You can feel the heat radiating off his body. Cassian’s gaze intensifies, his grip on your hair and shoulder tightening. “Because make no mistake,” he continues, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, and the downward force he’s inflicting on you growing steadily. “This little game you’re playing? It ends when I say it does.”

The pressure on your shoulder increases, his intent clear. You resist for a moment longer, but the fire in his eyes, the set of his jaw… His command is clear. Though you have half a mind to resist, a thrill runs through you, making your heart beat faster and your breath hitch slightly. The sheer possessiveness in his gaze is enough to make your knees weak. 

Slowly, inexorably, he guides you downward, your body responding almost involuntarily to the authoritative tone and the heat of his voice. You look up at him from your new position, the sight of him towering over you sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes hold yours captive as he looms above you. You’re aware of how your breathing quickens with anticipation, how Cassian’s throat bobs as he watches you. He’s still holding your hair, and you can tell he’s enjoying the submission he’s coaxed from you, his gaze a mix of satisfaction and barely restrained desire.

That grip tightens a fraction as he leans into you, his other hand coming up to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing a path along your lower lip, but different from before. Where his last touch there had been gentle and barely there, this one is firm and deliberate.

Cassian’s voice, when he finally speaks, is low and rough. “Open,” he commands, the single word laden with authority and promise.

You shudder as his command rolls over you, your body responding without conscious thought. Your lips part slightly in response to his order. His gaze is fixed intently on your face. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his gaze unwavering. His thumb traces along the curve of your lower lip with deliberate slowness, a firmness matching that of his eyes. For a heartbeat, he applies the gentlest pressure, slipping it into your mouth for a moment, his eyes locked on yours. “Now be a good girl and stay just like that for me.”

You hold yourself still, holding his gaze as you keep your mouth open, your tongue instinctively darting out to moisten your lower lip when he pulls his hand away. He finally releases your hair and it’s an effort to contain your sigh of relief. You hear more than see the towel fall from his hips to the floor. The same fingers that gripped your face moments ago now wrap around his girth, absently stroking the already-hard length of it. His pupils are dilated at the sight of you obediently holding yourself still, your mouth open, and he can barely restrain the hunger that’s been building in him.

Cassian’s large hand cradles your jaw, drawing you even closer. His presence is overwhelming, and as he aligns himself with your mouth, there’s no warning before he thrusts in. Initially, his movements are slow, almost deceivingly gentle, but you realize too late it’s quite the opposite. Halfway in, you manage, but as he pushes to the hilt, he does so painfully slowly. You try to relax, your throat attempting to accommodate him. The slow withdrawal is worse, your breath ragged as you inhale through your nose.

He pulls out slowly, leaving you gasping for air. He looks down at you with a mix of confusion and pity. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Struggling already. I thought you could handle more.”

You meet his gaze, eyes watering but defiant. You want to tell him that you can, that he knows you can, but when you make to speak, the corner of his mouth twitches in a smirk, and he pushes back in, a little faster this time. “Is this what you wanted, baby? To be on your knees, taking me like this?”

He thrusts deeper, making you choke slightly. Cassian groans, a low rumble of a sound that reverberates through you. “That’s why you acted out, distracted my guys, huh? You just wanted me to give you a little attention.” He picks up the pace, each thrust more forceful yet. “Bet you think about this all the time,” he growls. “When you’re watching us play, you’re not watching the game, are you? No… You’re staring at Azriel’s tight, perfect ass, aren’t you? I see the way you watch him.” You can only moan in response. Cassian’s fingers slip into your hair on either side, holding your head back against the lockers, his movements becoming relentless. 

“And don’t think I haven’t noticed the way your eyes go to Helion between plays, when he takes his helmet off. You love how big he is, how powerful. You get off on watching him, don’t you?” The tension between you both is palpable, but his eyes are fixated on you, a storm of emotions swirling within them. “I see you staring whenever any of them are in the penalty box. You’re not thinking about the game then, are you? Bet you wish you were in there with them. You’re probably thinking about Tarquin’s pretty blue eyes, you want him to pin you with that look, don’t you? Or Rhys’s hands, wanting them all over you. And Eris,” he spits out the name, pairs it with a particularly rough thrust of his hips. “You eat up the way he flexes his arms when he flirts with you, I know you do.” The locker room fills with the sounds of your shared breaths, the slap of skin against skin, and the harsh whisper of his voice.

Each name, each accusation, sends a wave of shame through you. You want to deny it all, but Cassian’s relentless pace and your restrained position make it impossible. The truth is, you do think about those things — more often than you’d ever admit. The thoughts swirl in your mind, but they never take away from the attention you give Cassian. You’re most often fixated on him during games, your eyes unabashedly stuck on the way his body moves. The powerful stride of his legs, the way his strong hands grip the stick, the intense focus in his eyes. Your mind almost always lands on thoughts of his sweat-slicked skin, the hard lines of his body beneath the uniform. Your desire for him gets overwhelming, which is why the current activity is typically the one of choice after these games. 

This was the first time you hadn’t waited until home though.

He continues, his movements relentless. “You know what Eris told me out there, baby? Who am I kidding, of course you don’t, you were too busy entertaining the rest of the guys, isn’t that right?” You try to respond, but choke on his length, his brutal pace bruising the back of your throat. “Isn’t that right? Answer me (Y/N),” he growls, keeping your head firmly pressed against the lockers.

You try to answer, but all you can manage is an unintelligible garble, gagging as you attempt to speak. If there weren’t already tears in your eyes from the physical strain, there certainly would be after hearing his cold, short laugh.

“Can’t even own up to it,” Cassian tsks. “He told me that you,” he punctuates the ‘you’ with a particularly deep thrust, “have been running around telling them all how badly you want them. That you give them fuck-me eyes when I’m not around. Is that true, baby? Have you been going behind my back? Want them to pass you around and take turns with you?” At each question he pulls almost all the way out, slamming back in soon after. You manage a quick shake of your head before his grip tightens on it again. You can only look up at him with your tear-brimmed, pleading eyes. “No, I didn’t think so,” he murmurs, a thumb grazing soothingly across your cheek. You may have taken comfort in it if you didn’t know any better.

“I knew you wouldn’t say those things,” he says calmly, but suddenly pulls himself out and leans over you, forcing your head up to look at him. “But you think them, don’t you?” 

You’re still trying to gasp in air as you fight to respond. “No,” but you don’t sound convincing. Not when your voice is so hoarse. “No, I promise, I never said those things — never thought them either.” You’re coughing, trying to regain your composure, and you’re grateful he gives you a moment.

“Take off your pants,” he orders suddenly, the command sending a jolt of anticipation through you. You stand slowly, and your hands tremble slightly as you obey, slipping out of your pants and kicking them aside. His eyes rake over your body, lingering on the sight of his jersey hanging loosely on you, the contrast between the oversized shirt and your bare legs making his pupils dilate with desire. “Keep it on,” he adds when you reach for it. Cassian leans forward, now eye-level with you.

 “Come on,” he breathes out, a hand snakes under the jersey and onto your bare hip, those calloused fingers squeezing. “You can’t honestly tell me you don’t think about them. How their hands would feel if they were running up your thighs, grabbing your hips, pulling you close.” His actions mirror his words deliciously, and his words pour over you in a dangerous whisper, the heat of his breath against your ear sending a shiver down your spine.  “About how it would feel to have their hands squeezing and groping you wherever they wanted. How about if instead of stealing little touches here and there, they grew some fucking balls, grabbed you by the hips,” his fingers dig in firmly, and you catch him tilt his chin to his shoulder, a glimpse of his true nature shining through the silent signal to grab on, “and lifted you up like this?”

You barely have a moment to grab on when, with a swift, powerful motion, Cassian lifts you up, pressing you against the lockers. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and your arms around his neck as he holds you there, his body pinning yours and his hands holding you up by your ass. The cold metal of the lockers contrasts with the heat from both of your bodies. You try to arch away from it, but only manage to push yourself flush against him, feeling the undeniable hardness of him pressing against your core, a reminder of how desperately you both want this. The sensation sends a jolt of electricity through you, making you gasp and tighten your grip around his neck.

You want to deny it, to insist that your thoughts are innocent, but the intensity of his gaze tells you he wouldn’t believe you. You swallow hard, the taste of him still lingering on your tongue, as you shake your head once more, more for your own reassurance than his. 

“It’s not like that…” you plead, trying to catch your breath, eyes wide with a mix of defiance and vulnerability. “I—” Your voice falters, the words stuck in your throat. “You don’t understand.”

Cassian’s eyes narrow, his grip tightening ever so slightly. You knew there would be bruises later. “Enlighten me,” he growls.

You take a breath. “When I watch you out there, all I can think about is how much I want you,” you confess. “The way you move, the way you lead and command everything… It drives me crazy. They’re just petty distractions. You’re the one I can’t resist. The one I crave,” you assure him, moving the stray hair from his eyes. “You’re the one I want, Cassian. Only you, you know that.”

His expression softens, as do his fingers on your skin, his intense gaze seeming to melt as he absorbs your words. He leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with your own. “Maybe you’re right,” he murmurs, his voice tender, almost vulnerable. “Maybe I’ve been too harsh.” A hand rubs your side soothingly under the jersey, making its way up to massage your breast.

You smile softly, but just as you begin to feel a sense of relief, his grip on you tightens again, a bit painful on your breast. There’s a familiar, dangerous glint in his eyes. “But then again,” he whispers, “I can’t just ignore the way you look at them, baby. I can’t let that go with a few sweet words from those pretty lips of yours,” he catches your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling softly before releasing it. “You like their attention, being desired by them. Just admit it.”

You hesitate, your mind torn between denial and the undeniable truth. Unable to look him in the eyes, you nod slowly. Your voice is barely a whisper when you speak. “I do…”

“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, voice low and pensive. He presses you harder against the lockers, his hands roaming over you slowly, almost absently. “Enjoy it all you want, but don’t you dare let them think they have a chance. You know who I mean.”

Your heart races as you nod, whispering, “Eris.” It was obvious. 

Cassian frowns. “It wasn’t a question,” he snaps. “I let you play these pathetic little games of yours, but don’t think for a second that it’s an invitation to have another man’s name on your lips while I’m inside you.”

With a sharp, forceful movement, he thrusts into you, the suddenness making you cry out, the sound bouncing through the tiled room. “Do you understand?” he demands, and you nod again, vigorously this time, a soft whimper escaping your lips at the fullness. 

Without another word, he finally captures your mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss, his tongue gliding over yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless. His hands slide down to your thighs, and he begins to move against you. There was nothing soft or caring about it, the motions unyielding and powerful. His hands grip you tightly as he fucks you into the cold metal of the lockers, his thrusts hard and deep. 

“Is this what you wanted?” His voice is harsh and taunting. “To be fucked like this, right here where anyone could walk in? You think about this every time you see them, don’t you?” That’s when you remember that you are, in fact, in a place where anyone could find you like this. A blush rises to your cheeks at the realization, and you can tell he gets off on your embarrassment when he fails to suppress a smirk. You try grounding yourself by grabbing him wherever you can, hands out of his hair and grasping at his shoulders, nails digging in. “I know you like teasing them,” he continues, voice little more than a rumble. “Making them think they have a chance. They’ll never have you like this, (Y/N).”

His pace quickens, and he speaks into your neck. “Tarquin mentioned how you blush every time he catches you staring. What do you think about when you look at him, hm?” But you’re a mess, so lost in pleasure you can hardly process he’s asked you a question until he bites down on the crook of your neck. He doesn’t wait for your response, however, before he continues. “And Helion said you can’t keep your eyes off his arms. Is that what you want? You want his arms wrapped around you?” He changes his rhythm suddenly, now pulling out all the way to the tip before ramming back in. 

“Do you understand how fucking embarrassing it is,” he starts, voice cold, barely heard over your screams and moans, “to have my team—my friends—telling me how they catch you practically drooling at them, that you’d take them over me if you got the chance?” You shake your head adamantly at that. 

“No, Cass, you know that isn’t true!” You try to keep your voice even, to be taken seriously, but the lewd sounds in the air of him pounding your soaked, dripping cunt don’t do anything to help. It’s hard to continue when he leans down and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue dancing across the sensitive skin. “No one could fuck me as good as you do,” you breathe out, and you hope the moans cutting through your words are indication enough of it. “You’re the only one I want, the only one who makes me feel like this,” you manage to say between gasps. “They mean nothing compared to you.”

He appears to consider your words and you think he might be convinced, but nothing changes. Other than, perhaps, the smirk on his lips. “You know what Azriel told me while he was leaving? He asked if I needed any help with you in here. Can you believe that, baby?” His thrusts grow even more intense. “He had the nerve to ask me if he could join in…” A scoff. “As if I’d let him touch you. As if I’d share you with anyone else.”

“Don’t want anyone else,” you murmur, eyes going unfocused from the overwhelming sensation of it all, but he speaks over you, seemingly not having heard you. Nevermind the thought that they all likely knew what would transpire in this room after they left. You hoped it was only Azriel, with how observant he was.

“I can’t blame him though, can’t really blame any of them. It’s not their fault you’re such a sneaky fucking tease. It’s a wonder they don’t feel entitled to you yet…”

His words sting, but they also go straight to your cunt, and you feel yourself clench around him. His possessiveness, his dominance — it’s intoxicating. You try to respond, but your breath is practically forced out of your lungs with a loud moan as his pace quickens again. 

“Look at you,” he continues, his voice dripping with anger and desire. “Barely able to form a sentence. Does it turn you on, knowing they all want you? Knowing that I’m the only one who gets to have you like this?”

You manage a shaky nod, and quip back. “I know it turns you on, how much you keep mentioning them.” It catches him off guard, your short moment of lucidity. For a brief second, he stills, eyes widening in surprise before narrowing again, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh, you think you’re fucking clever,” he murmurs. “I know what you’re doing,” his nails dig into your skin as he thrusts into you, making you cry out, “and it won’t work.”

He shifts slightly, angling his hips to hit a spot inside you that makes you gasp in pleasure, hands scrambling for purchase on him, on the lockers, on yourself. The sound echoes through the locker room, mingling with the existing ones. 

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, I’m all yours, Cassian. Only yours, please!”

He groans, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his tone softening for just a moment before he resumes his relentless pace. “Again. Louder.”

“I’m yours!” you cry out desperately. “Only yours!” You find yourself wondering if there’s anyone left in the building, if they can hear you. You subsequently decide you don’t care. His eyes flicker down to the jersey number stretched across your chest, and a satisfied smirk forms across his lips. “Look at you, wearing my number,” his eyes are full of pride. 

You nod, lips parting with a moan. “Wanted to show everyone who I’m here for. I belong to you, Cassian.”

“Damn right, you do,” he mutters, his movements becoming more desperate than forceful. You know your boyfriend well enough to know he’s getting close. Each thrust, combined with that knowledge, sends waves of pleasure through your body. “I want to hear you, baby,” he demands, his voice strained with need. 

“Cassian!” you scream, your voice hoarse, broken by moans and cries. “Cassian, please!” 

His breath puffs against your neck as he groans your name in return. The sound of your combined moans and skin against skin echoes off the walls. And with a particularly powerful thrust, he empties himself into you, your cries mingling when he doesn’t stop. 

“That’s it, baby,” you whisper to him, running your hands through his hair soothingly, coaxing him through his orgasm. He shudders against you, his grip on you gradually loosening. For a moment, he rests his forehead against yours, panting heavily, his breath ragged. As the adrenaline rush fades, Cassian’s breathing slows, the intensity in his eyes softening. Slowly, he pulls out, leaving you feeling achingly empty.

But before you can protest, he lowers you to the ground, drops to his knees, and pulls one of your legs over his shoulder to rest your foot on the bench behind him. His hands slide down your thighs, feeling the mix of your arousal and his seed. “You didn’t think I’d leave you like this, did you?” he murmurs, voice filled with a renewed hunger. His mouth descends on you without warning, his tongue gliding over your sensitive flesh, tasting both of you. The sudden jolt of pleasure makes you gasp, your hands flying to his hair as he works you. 

Cassian looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire as he devours you. “You taste so fucking good,” he says against you, the vibrations against your clit drawing a moan from you. His tongue works with relentless precision, each flick and swirl drawing out gasps and moans from you. His hands grip your thighs firmly, keeping you steady as he devours you. You can feel the roughness of his calloused fingers digging into your skin.

You clutch at his hair, your fingers tangling in the damp strands as you pull him closer. You rut your hips against his face, seeking more pressure, more friction. Every movement of his tongue sends shivers up your spine, your body responding to him with a need that borders on desperation. He knows exactly how to push you, bringing you close before pulling back, leaving you teetering on the brink of insanity. 

His eyes lock onto yours, filled with a fierce determination. “I want to hear you,” he murmurs against your sensitive flesh, his breath hot and tantalizing. “Say my name.”

“Cassian,” you moan, your voice trembling with the intensity of your need. “Please, don’t stop.”

He smirks, lips curving against you as he doubles his efforts. His tongue plunges deeper, his hands squeezing your thighs tighter as he pulls you even closer. You can feel the building pressure, the coil of pleasure tightening inside you, ready to snap. 

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Good fucking girl… Come for me.”

With those words and a final flick of his tongue, you shatter, your orgasm crashing over you. Your body convulses, your cries echoing off the tiled walls as you ride out the waves of pleasure. Cassian doesn’t stop, his tongue continuing to lap at you, drawing out every last bit of your release until you’re a trembling, boneless mess in his arms.

Finally, he pulls back, his lips glistening with a mix of your juices and his satisfaction. You feel his warmth spilling out of you, trickling down your thighs as he rises to his feet. His eyes blaze with a dark, possessive fire as he takes in your thoroughly spent form. There’s no need for words; the look in his eyes tells you everything you need to know.

Remember this, his look seems to say. Remember what happened here. 

You meet his gaze, your own eyes still hazy with the aftermath of your climax. There’s no need for further declarations or reassurances; the intensity of what just transpired speaks for itself.

[nereidprinc3ss]

omg i'm obsessed with the idea of spencer and a university student and i looooved the one you wrote with reader struggling with finals (i relate so much </3) i'm not sure if you write requests or not (if not, then i'm sorry and please ignore this hahaha) but i would love to see more of their dynamic? maybe spencer for once arrives earlier from a case and goes to pick up reader from university as a surprise? i don't really know but i would love to see more 💗 thank you and i hope you have a good day!

AHHHH omg you have NO IDEA how excited I was to open my inbox and see a request!! i am absolutely obsessed w spencer x uni student too

i kind of took this and ran w it so its a little angsty and random LOLOL but here is (drumroll)

spencer picking up reader after you fail an exam (sorry lol) and you are NOT in a good mood but he loves you so its fine

Tears, partly from the bitter wind and partly from shame, blur your phone screen as you exit the lecture hall. Another missed call from Spencer. It’s the third one today—you've been ignoring them in an attempt to remain focused on the final that you just bombed. Part of you now wants to keep ignoring them out of sheer embarrassment. How can you admit to your super-genius boyfriend that you are a bona fide academic failure? Still, you don’t want him wondering about you while he should be working. Your numb fingers fumble with the phone as you try to call him back without running into anybody on your walk back to student housing. 

It doesn’t reach the second ring before he’s picking up. 

“Hey,” he sighs. “I was starting to worry.” 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been busy,” you exhale, cutting through some trees as you approach your building. “What’s up? How’s the case?” 

“Well... that’s actually what I’ve been calling about. We wrapped up this morning.” 

“What? But last night you said it would be at least three more days.” 

“Rare instance of me being wrong, I guess.” 

“So when are you flying back?” you ask, not wanting to get your hopes up. You know sometimes his team stays behind to help with processing a case. He doesn’t reply for a moment. “Spencer?” 

“I’m... thirteen minutes away from your school. Twelve.” 

Your brain short-circuits as you process his words, the cold metal of the door handle biting into your fingers as you stop dead in your tracks.��

“You--are you driving here right now?” 

“Yes,” he begins, sounding embarrassed, “I kept calling because I wanted to ask first, but I know you had your last final this morning and you were going to come over when I got back anyway so I thought you might want to come stay with me for a few extra days. You can say no, obviously—” 

Some of the icy despair melts in your chest. 

“Of course, I want to.” 

“Good,” he exhales a laugh. “It would have been awkward if you said no. Can you have a bag packed by the time I get there?” 

You’re speedwalking through the lobby now, hitting the up button for the elevator more times than is necessarily effective. 

“Drive faster.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

By the time you blindly shove enough clothing in a bag, text your roommate to let her know you’ll be gone for the rest of the week, and make it back outside, Spencer’s familiar vintage car is already pulling up to the curb. He doesn’t even bother cutting the engine—just puts it in park and gets out, rounding the vehicle as you close the distance between one another. His smile is brilliant, and though you don’t feel particularly deserving of it, it’s for you. 

“Hi,” you breathe shakily as he loops his arms around your waist. 

“Hi, pretty,” he says, already leaning down to kiss you. It’s soft and sweet over too quickly, but then he’s gently pulling you into him. You drop your bag and bury your face in his jacket, trying to right yourself before you go into an emotional tailspin. 

As usual, he smells like lavender, clove, resinous amber. It makes your head spin. Right away you feel yourself relaxing; feel your guard slipping, like it always does when he’s around. 

“I missed you.” The words are quiet to begin with, muffled further by the fabric of his coat, but you know he’ll hear you. 

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “Everything okay?” 

Why are you always surprised when a man who works for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI accurately analyzes your behavior? 

“Just tired. Can we go home?” You pull back enough to look up at him, meeting his fond—and just a little concerned—gaze, averting your eyes before he has time to discern your... omission of truth. 

“Yeah, angel. Of course we can.” 

He opens the passenger side door for you, making sure you’re settled before tossing your bag in the back seat and circling around the back of the car. 

“Is that coffee?” You say as soon as he slides into the driver’s seat. His eyes dart down to the tumbler in the center cupholder as he buckles. 

“It’s from the jet. You won’t like it.” 

Despite his warning you reach over to grab it, taking a small sip as he puts the car into gear and pulls out of the parking lot. You make a sour face. Spencer glances over. 

“I told you it was bad.” 

You yawn, putting it back in the cupholder. “It was worth a shot.” 

Jazz music plays quietly from the speakers and the heat is blasting, but you’re too busy mentally rehashing question 37 to find it relaxing. 

“You didn’t get enough sleep last night,” he states. Not a question. Outside, the brick buildings of your campus roll by. You wonder if all the students rushing about on the sidewalks and side streets failed any of their finals.  

“Couldn’t,” you mumble flatly, picking at your nails.  

There’s a moment’s pause, and you’re imagining all the things you could have done differently. You’ve never failed a final before. If you’d just studied a little bit harder—if you’d stayed in instead of going out last weekend, if you weren’t so— 

“I’m going to ask you something, and I don’t think you’re going to like it,” Spencer says. 

“Mhm,” you hum, too afraid to speak because your eyes are already stinging again. Honestly, you’re surprised you made it this far without him getting the truth out of you. He offers his hand across the console as you slink down in your seat, and you take it, allowing him to run his thumb over yours in soothing lines. 

“How do you think your final went?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, the bare branches of the trees outside blurring as you stare unseeingly. 

“Not good. Like, I definitely failed, not good. I'm an idiot.” 

“You absolutely are not an idiot.” 

“You didn’t see me taking the test, Spencer. I literally just sat there staring at it for ten minutes before I even answered one question. It was pathetic.” 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” 

The question takes you by surprise. Your frown deepens. 

“What? I don’t—that’s not—" 

“Just answer the question. Did you sleep at all last night?” 

“Yes!” 

“Don't lie to me.” 

“Fuck you! I slept for like two hours and had coffee this morning!”  

He squeezes your hand. 

“That’s why you failed.” 

The first tear traces its path down your cheek, composure overwhelmed by the confrontation. 

“I hate when you use your stupid interrogation tactics on me,” you say, voice wobbling. And then the crying begins in earnest. 

“I know, baby.” 

His hand moves to rub your back when you let go to cover your face. Torrential evidence of your frustration and utter exhaustion well over, slipping through your fingers despite your best efforts to stop them from coming at all. Having an emotional breakdown in the passenger seat of his car is far from how you’d wanted to greet Spencer’s surprise arrival, but you’re too worn out to mask your emotions—especially when he is so adept at drawing them to the surface. 

A moment passes like that before you take a shuddering breath, raising your head slightly and wiping your cheeks with your sleeves in vain. 

“I should have been able to do it. I just—it was like I was reading the questions and I knew that I should know the answers, but I couldn’t remember anything.” 

“You’re exhausted. Sleep deprivation has an immediate, devastating effect on cognitive functioning levels. My recall and processing speed start to fail when I’m tired, too. It has nothing to do with how smart you are.” 

It makes sense—but it doesn’t make you feel much better. You wanted to ace this exam. Of course, Spencer wouldn’t understand because school was as easy as breathing for him. He barely had to try to get three doctorates. It’s possible, you suppose, that dating a genius has put an academic chip on your shoulder—maybe you’ve set impossibly high standards for yourself.  

After a few minutes the crying finally ebbs, if only because you’re running into supply and demand problems with your tear ducts. You rub your weepy eyes on your shoulder, leaning against the cold window and watching DC go by. 

“You know, the final isn’t as important as you think it is. You’ll still pass the class.” 

“It’s symbolic,” you mumble, breath fogging up the glass. Spencer hums, still rubbing your back. 

“I know. I know it matters to you, but I don’t want you to think one bad grade is a reflection of who you are. Do you understand why it doesn’t make sense to measure something as abstract as intelligence by a metric as one dimensional as a standardized test?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

You shift in your seat, wiping your face with your sleeve and prompting Spencer to take your other hand once more. 

“Can your FBI friend hack the university database and give me an A?” you ask after a moment, sniffling. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Pretty please?” 

“Nope.” 

“It’s like you don’t even love me,” you mutter, angling yourself away from him.  

He pulls your hand toward him and presses a kiss to the back of it. 

“I love you so much that I don’t want you to get expelled for academic dishonesty.” 

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll probably just drop out.” 

You both know you’re just being overdramatic, but Spencer has a tendency to be sweet even when you don’t deserve it. 

“I’ll love you no matter what you do.” 

You blush, unable to come up with a sufficient reply. His eyes slide to you briefly and he smirks, clearly enjoying his ability to fluster you, and by extension, get you to shut up. 

“Eyes on the road, genius,” you grumble. But for the first time today you’re fighting a smile instead of tears. 

[lsunstreakerl]

okay 60+ votes in like an hour is good enough for me! have 1.6k of vampire smut. no plot. don't go looking, it's not there. GP pov!

pairings: GP/max

relevant heads up: they're vampires. blood kink, blood play, daddy kink, max shaming, power dynamic if you squint.

Gianpiero blinks awake as his covers move, a cold body wiggling right up next to him. He groans, hand flopping around until he can get his palm clasped across the back of Max's neck— not that it does any good.

He can feel tiny pinpricks in his skin as Max nibbles at his collarbone, pressing closer to him.

"Max. You're supposed to be in Monaco."

Max whines, unlatching from his neck.

"GP, I'm hungry, I didn't want to go upstairs and feed off of Daniel again. It makes me feel bad."

Gianpiero pulls him away from his skin by the back of his neck, gripping the skin in a firm scruff.

"Because he's happy, Max. Obviously he's not going to taste good. That doesn't explain why you felt the need to fly all the way over here,"

He shakes Max roughly, watching his head flop around even as his eyes stay locked with Gianpiero's, wide and wanting.

"Break into my house,"

Another harsh shake.

"And latch onto me like it's your first day dead."

Max frowns.

"You used to let me do that all the time."

"Yes, when you were a baby. It's been sixty years, you need to learn some patience."

Max blinks up at him from under his lashes, blue eyes wide as he swings a leg to straddle Gianpiero's thigh.

"But daddy—"

Gianpiero groans, head falling back as he catches the edge of Max's wicked grin.

"Don't 'daddy' me, you know better. I thought letting you use the sim for virtual tournaments was giving you enough?"

Max grinds down onto his leg, cold fingers skating up his side under his shirt.

"It was, and now it's not, and I'm hungry."

Gianpiero sighs, gripping Max's hips to hold him in place, glaring. Normally he'd have a cute little flush in his cheeks, but he's run through his blood supply faster than he was supposed to, again.

Gianpiero had been assigned Max because they were similar, in the sense that they both got additional nourishment from broken dreams. Gianpiero has easily sated that urge by working in a Formula 1 team, because someone is always losing. It's delicious.

Max is younger, irresponsible and still full of life, despite his status as undead. He'd been excited to be a racer instead, claiming that the broken dreams tasted sweeter when he was responsible for them.

It works well during the season, but...

It's times like now, in the middle of the offseason, that Gianpiero is reminded why Max still needs supervision.

"Christ, you're high maintenance."

He shoves Max back into the bed, determined to ignore the way he blinks up at him, lips parted as he arches his back.

"Come on, just a little, please, I'll be so good, I'll even let Checo get some points this year."

Gianpiero gathers his wrists above his head, forcing his eyes away from his splayed thighs, pale skin on display.

"Like you let Alex? Right, I'll believe it when I see it."

Max pouts up at him, pointed fangs peeking out over the curve of his bottom lip.

"That wasn't my fault, it was his fault, you can't get mad about it."

Gianpiero rolls his eyes, free hand skimming across Max's chest, tweaking at a nipple under his shirt, listening to his small gasp as he squirms.

"Because nothing is ever your fault, is it? Perfect little golden boy who does no wrong?"

There's a sharp gleam in Max's eyes when he grins up at him, predatory and hungry.

"I'm so good, daddy. I'm destroying them every time, I'm feeding us both, I do such a good job, tell me I'm good daddy, please—"

Gianpiero cuts him off, pinching one of his fangs between his index finger and thumb, watching Max's tongue dart out at lick at his fingers.

"You're gluttonous is what you are. You can't ration, you gorge during the season, and then you get all thirsty and desperate over break. Why should I help you, hmm? Don't you think I've done enough for you?"

Max licks at the pad of his thumb, hips canting up underneath him. He can't respond, not with Gianpiero's fingers in his mouth, but he pushes his hips up into Gianpiero, squirming where he's pinned at his wrists.

Gianpiero sighs, shaking Max's head with his tooth.

"You're pathetic, lad. Stay here."

Max nods, wide eyed as Gianpiero slides out of bed, padding into the kitchen. He has a blood bag in the fridge somewhere— and despite his attitude, he always keeps O+ stocked for Max.

He hears a quiet gasp from his room again, rolling his eyes as he makes his way back to the bedroom, blood bag in hand.

Max has two fingers pushed inside himself, arching off the bed as his lashes flutter shut. He's long limbed, body stuck in time forever, all pale skin and corded muscle, legs spread wide on the bed.

"Max."

Gianpiero hears the edge to his voice, setting the blood bag on the bedside table.

Max's eyes blink back open, pupils blown. He knows what he looks like, stretched out with his fingers inside of him. He knows what it does to Gianpiero.

There's a smug curl in his lips, because he's getting exactly what he wants. Gianpiero is giving in again.

"Get your fingers out, you little brat. It's supposed to be a punishment, since you can't remember to behave."

He pulls them out, blue eyes tracking the way Gianpiero shivers at the sound.

"Hands on the headboard."

Max is still smug as his fingers curl into the headboard, sharp nails fitting perfectly into the dents that he'd left behind years ago. Gianpiero sheds his boxers, one hand stroking himself to hardness as he grabs the blood bag with the other.

There's lube in the drawer, just enough for him to slick up his own cock, although he doesn't spare any time for Max— and Max knows the rules, so he won't feel bad either. His little brat was perfectly aware of what he was doing.

Max's eyes are trained on the blood bag as Gianpiero hitches one leg up, thumb tracing at his rim before he slides in.

He's tight, a sensation that Gianpiero knows he should be used to by now, but never gets any less addictive, and the broken moan that rips out of him at the first snap of his hips is music to his ears.

"Daddy—"

Gianpiero snags the blood bag, hooking one nail into the corner as he rolls his hips, pushing deeper into Max. His face is twisted in discomfort, but he bucks up to meet his thrusts, tiny gasps falling from his lips.

"You can beg prettier than that, I've heard it."

Max pouts again, squirming as Gianpiero fucks into him, tightening impossibly further around him.

"Please, I'll be so good, I'll ration it, I'll suck your cock, whatever you want— daddy please give it to me, need it so bad—"

Gianpiero rips at the corner, pressing it into Max's mouth, past his perfect gleaming fangs. Max likes to be messy with it, moaning loudly as it flows into his mouth, rivulets of crimson spilling over his lips. Gianpiero leans down, licking at the mess as he snaps his hips in again, Max's ankles hooked behind his back.

It's intoxicating, watching the life return back to him— the flush building in his face, spreading up to his ears and down his chest, the slow increase of body heat between them.

Max desperately sucks at the remains in the bag, blood smeared down his chin and dripping down his neck, twisting his hips to meet Gianpiero's thrusts. He's dutifully kept his hands curled around the headboard, nails digging into the wood.

Gianpiero runs his fingers across the mess on his face, wrapping them around his cock as he leans in and kisses him, slick with spit and the copper tang of blood.

Max whines into his mouth as Gianpiero jerks him off, frantically bucking into his hand. He's trembling, muscles locking up, and he knows he's close, just needs a little more.

Gianpiero licks across the roof of his mouth, muffling his moaning as he fucks in hard, pressing Max into the mattress, fingers around his cock in a slippery ring as he thumbs at the head of it.

Max wails into his mouth as he comes, and Gianpiero can hear the familiar sound of wood splintering. He doesn't stop, keeping his harsh pace even as Max starts to squirm again, licking across his smaller fangs before pressing his own against Max's throat.

Their fangs get longer with age— Max has young fangs still, cute when they poke over his lip. Gianpiero's are longer, leaving faint indents in Max's skin. Max shudders, mouth falling open as tears build at his lashes.

"Daddy please—"

His voice is high and whiny, and he's so tight even after his orgasm, blue eyes watery where he's watching Gianpiero, cheeks flushed with fresh blood.

Gianpiero sinks his teeth into his neck when he comes, hips pressed flushed to Max's ass as he wails, legs kicking out, head tossed back into the pillows.

He's thrashing, pinned by Gianpiero's weight and hands, by his own obedience keeping his fingers curled tight in the headboard, even as the tears start to fall.

Gianpiero drinks in a large mouthful, pushing a thumb against the pinpricks of blood when he detaches, curling over Max's body to press their lips together.

He lets the blood spill from his mouth to Max's, grinning at the way Max desperately kisses him, frantically trying to catch every drop.

He leans back, satisfied with his work. Max is debauched underneath him, lashes clumped with tears, cum splattered across his stomach, dripping from between his legs. His knuckles are white around the headboard, muscles in his arms straining.

Gianpiero shakes his head, tutting softly.

"You're a mess, Max. Not sure how I could ever clear you to be on your own yet, not when you can't even feed neatly."

Wide blue eyes blink up at him.

"But I'm good, daddy?"

Gianpiero leans down, thumb brushing over Max's pouting bottom lip, licking at a stray drop of blood.

"You're perfect, baby."

[reidsaurora]

hil! so im a little nervous to send this in and confused how exactly to request but im gonna try anyway

the summer celebration and the banner is so cute! could i please request for you to write a "Malibu Dream House - domestic!au" with Reid and fem!reader? Spencer and reader are expecting (unless you're uncomfy with pregnancy, then they can just be a couple that's moving) and relocating, buying a home together. and the team comes over for a house warming party during well obviously the summer! just like cute fluffy dynamics between everyone. Rossi is protecting the bbq like it’s his baby and ofc Ms. Penelope Garcia is excited at the possibilities of the couple’s future

i hope this isn’t too boring a request, and of course no pressure to write this, i just hope you’re having a good day and hope summer treats you well 🩵

hi, lovey! sorry this took so long! as usual, i don't have an excuse alshalsjsksh 💀 hope u enjoy though!

"With A Little Help From Our Friends" ~ S. Reid

Summary: When Reader is feeling apprehensive about the end of her pregnancy, Spencer reminds her that really all you need is a little help from your friends.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Pregnant!Reader

Word Count: 1,846

Content Warning: pregnancy stuff, a little sexual humor at the end, food talk, small mention of a gun (this is CM after all), lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: it definitely didn't take me three different attempts to write something without scrapping it...

Originally Written: 07/23/2024 through 07/27/2024

Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold (love u my editor 4 life)

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Summer Celebration can be found here!

Malibu Dream House - domestic!au

Crashing Waves - angst requests -> Sun Kissed - fluff requests

To say the last couple months had been busy would've been an understatement.

Sure, when you and Spencer first saw that little blue plus sign, you went into full-blown parent mode. It started with some baby clothes, then some bottles, then the crib… But, entering the last trimester of your pregnancy, that's when things started to get real.

In the process of getting ready, you'd acquired enough things for a potential army of babies, making Spencer's apartment—originally intended for one resident—feel even tinier than the baby you were soon to birth. So what was Spencer's genius solution? Move into a new house, because he simply couldn't get rid of his baby's things before she'd even arrived.

And that was how you found yourselves heavily pregnant and moving into your new three-bedroom Cape Cod in the quiet town of Cabin John, Maryland. Perhaps you should've found somewhere that wouldn't require waiting until your eighth month of pregnancy to move in, but with its charming blue-and-white exterior and flower boxes on nearly every window, it was hard to say no to the place.

The last week had been spent moving everything in, not much thanks to you but thanks to your friends/colleagues of the BAU. Pretty much everyone had been in and out of your home over the week, but Spencer still insisted that the two of you should throw a housewarming party, and who were you to say no to that cute smile and big brown eyes? You only hoped your daughter wouldn't inherit them, or else you might just take that two letter word out of your vocabulary altogether.

Now you were here, in the kitchen supply aisle of the grocery store, contemplating what paper plates to use for the party.

“I really don't think anyone's going to care about the design, love,” Spencer attempted to reassure you. “Just so long as they aren't flimsy.”

Your pregnancy brain was basically ignoring him at this point though. “What if I buy the wrong ones and they think they're ugly?”

Spencer pouted, though he placed a supportive hand on your back. “How long have you known my colleagues? And how many times has someone said something mean about something so miniscule?”

“There was that one time Rossi said he didn't like that flower arrangement I put on the coffee table.”

“In his defense, he said they were the same colors that his second wife had at their wedding,” he explained, then chuckled. “He was probably just having some PTSD.”

Eventually, after a few more minutes of contemplation, you decided on the basic white ones, Spencer reassuring you all the while that they were perfect. Then, it was onto cutlery, which was just another thing for your brain to pick apart. You knew it was silly, truly, but you just couldn't get yourself out of your own head about even the most miniscule things.

On top of that, it seemed as though your husband hadn't missed your shift in behavior. Sometimes it sucked that he read people for a living.

“Honey,” he started, his tone sounding oddly like the word he'd just said, “are you sure this is about paper plates and plastic forks?”

Normally, you'd be able to put up a fight with your brain, push down the thoughts and explain later in the comfort of your home. But pregnant you was much different than regular you, and it only took that one question to have you tearing up.

You leaned into his shoulder, hoping to suppress the sounds of your cries. “What if I make all the wrong choices and the baby hates me?”

His lips met the crown of your head for a gentle kiss, followed by a soft sigh. “I promise she'll love you. You're going to be the most wonderful mother any little girl could ask for.”

“But what if I buy her the wrong diapers and she yells at me?”

Spencer gave you that signature pout, and a small swarm of butterflies set off in your belly. “I doubt she'll be that picky over them, but if she is, we just buy her new ones and make it better.”

You couldn't help but snicker through your tears. “I feel like that's awful advice, but I think I get what you mean.”

“C'mere,” he mumbled, pulling you in as closely as possible. Your bump had made it hard for hugs to happen, but that definitely didn't stop your husband from trying. “You're going to make a mistake or two. It's in our nature. I will most likely make a lot more than one or two mistakes-”

“Not true. You're gonna be the best dad in history.”

“And you will be the best mom in history. It's going to be a learning curve for all three of us. But, when they say ‘it takes a village,’ at least we know we have our village. JJ will be there to help with all your new mom questions and Hotch will be there to help me build her first treehouse. Kate will be there when she starts playing with makeup and we start to feel old.”

You giggled into his shoulder, earning you a small smile. “Penny will be there just to spoil her.”

“Emily will be there just to teach her how to flip someone off,” he snickered, the sound vibrating against your skin. Then, he was pulling you up for a long but sweet kiss, the taste of his morning coffee taking over your senses. “We've got this. You've got this.”

And instantly, you were feeling better. You knew Spencer knew magic, but sometimes you swore he was a wizard with the way he could change things just by saying one thing.

—

The second you pulled into the driveway, your heart sank to your stomach.

“Spence, why is the gate open?” You only hoped he had a reasonable explanation.

Unfortunately, his answer was not at all what you were hoping to hear. “I'm not sure. I don't think I left it open.”

Abandoning your party supplies in the car, the two of you headed toward the gate, Spencer insisting you and the baby stay behind him. As an FBI agent, he knew never to go anywhere without a gun, so luckily he at least had some way to protect you and himself if it came to that.

With one hand, he pushed open the cracked gate, the other lingering near his firearm just in case. The two of you quietly and slowly made your way into the backyard. Your heart was beating so hard against your chest, it felt like it would jump right out of your ribcage. Spencer managed to remain his normal, calm self, but you couldn't say the same.

And then, just as you rounded the corner: “SURPRISE!”

Both you and Spencer nearly jumped out of your skin at the screams, though you both quickly realized what was going on.

Pink and white balloon arrangements, one table filled to the brim with gifts and another covered with various snack trays and drinks. If it wasn't clear this was a baby shower, the sea of people in pink outfits would've been the giveaway.

Penelope was first to greet you, her pink sundress bouncing as she practically ran to meet you. “You don't understand how hard it was to keep this from you,” she said, sounding like she was on the verge of tears.

Your arms flew around her neck, and hers wrapped around what they could of your stomach. “What is all this?” Now you were on the verge of tears with her.

“Papa Rossi wanted to throw you guys a shower and of course we had to surprise you.”

You let go of Penelope and turned to Rossi, wearing his normal attire, except for his normal white button-down had been replaced with a pink one. “Dave, you old softie!”

His arms wrapped around your neck for a small hug, and he left a peck to each of your cheeks. “I love you, kid, but don't call me old.”

You laughed as he let go, and immediately he walked over to the grill, like that was where he belonged. Then, you and Spencer were off to make the rounds.

Spencer wore the biggest smile you'd ever seen, aside from the one he had when you'd first shown him the pregnancy test. Even though you'd been with Spencer for nearly a decade, you still felt butterflies and goosebumps when he smiled, when he laughed, when he called you ‘love’.

“He's gonna be the best,” Penelope said, her eyes following yours.

You smiled before turning back to her. “Yeah, he really will.”

Just then, Luke and Spencer headed your way, Spencer moving to stand behind you. Immediately, you leaned into him, and he took your belly in his hands, relieving some of the pressure there. “Why were you staring?” he teased in your ear.

“I just think you're pretty,” you giggled, the sound like music to your husband's ears.

Luke snickered at the interaction, though he tossed an arm around his girl, giving Penny a quick kiss on the head. “By the way, you guys should have babies more often. This woman has been cooking enough to feed an army. She left like ten casseroles in the fridge for you guys.”

“Penelope,” Spencer gave her a soft look of something close to disapproval, though you knew he didn't mean it. “You didn't have to do that.”

“You and Mama are gonna need something to eat, and I know you guys are not going to feel like cooking after being up with a newborn all night.”

And it was time for another hug, the tears from earlier actually falling this time. You weren't sure what it was about pregnancy, but you'd realized it had made you awfully touchy. But you didn't care, especially today, when you were in the arms of some of your best friends.

“Hey, Penny,” Luke said as he watched the encounter, a tone of slyness to his words. “Maybe we should hop on the train next. Then you'll have a reason to make that breakfast casserole more often.”

She pulled away from the hug before turning to her boyfriend with probably the most serious look you'd ever seen her wear. “Luke Santiago Alvez, if you bring your man-juices anywhere near me, I will rip off your thingy and then feed it to you.”

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped your lips. Then, you turned to Spencer, who was just confused. “Did she just call it a thingy?”

“Did she just say man-juices?” His sentence elicited giggles from all four of you.

It was then that “With A Little Help From My Friends” by The Beatles started to play on the speaker, no doubt having been taken over by Hotch. But as the song played, you couldn't help but notice the sea of people all here for your baby. Sure, you were terrified. But you knew you'd get through it: with just a bit of help from your friends.

-> taglist: @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @nomajdetective @kbakery @leigh70 @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @lunar-affection @givemeth @lavhoes @rhyanishere @cat-lockwood @danielle143 @marsmallow433 @handsupforamiracle @topguncultleader @mente-sindescanso @reverieofmgg @spencer-reids-adventures @ah-blossom @encyclo-reid-ia @reidselle @thevisionthedream @dungeons-are-too-cold @mmmeademaaa @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @annahalstead5021 @cwritesforfun @soapiebear @maelartasch @buckyyyismahhlife @cynbx @hellooitsrose @lover-of-books-and-tea @juismissing @captainchris-pike @therealrazortai

[87kelce]

—devil in my lap and a cross on my neck

summary: it doesn't take much for travis to get you going. especially after he's been riled up during a game.

warnings: smut (18+ only, no minors), slight angst, teasing, fingering, minor arguments, semi-rough sex, missionary, doggystyle, slight dom/sub dynamics, mentions of breeding kink, minor use of daddy kink, slight choking kink, aftercare

word count: 3017

notes: title taken from the song ordinary life by the weeknd. again, likes and reblogs are very much appreciated 🫶

The past couple of games have been nothing short of amazing for the team, they're on a 3 game win streak and looking to go for another. However, they're currently trailing by 9 points at half time and you can tell the players are getting nervous for the next half, especially your boyfriend. Travis isn't his usual self, he dropped an important catch in the first quarter and he's been worked up over it ever since.

You're sitting in his box with a few of his friends and everyone keeps making sure you're okay, knowing how worried you are about Travis' performance. The players come back out for the third quarter and they seem to be a bit more pumped up this time around. You're still antsy about Travis and you're focusing too much on his first half performance to notice he gets a touchdown, the whole box erupting around you. You shake your head and look up to the screen, watching the replay and celebrating with everyone in the box.

Even after the touchdown, the rest of the game just gets even more stressful, the Chiefs trying hard to fight back points. You're watching Travis like a hawk and you notice he's being agitated by one of the opposition players for most of the third quarter. He ignores it all, but it completely throws him off his game, dropping another important catch. He's so wound up and frustrated and you just wish the game was over already so you can comfort him and take him home to rest up.

The Chiefs fight back a few points in the fourth quarter but ultimately it's not enough for a win and you slump down in your seat when the game's over, staring up at the scoreboard. You catch Travis walking off the field, helmet in hand and not even bothering to high five the fans overlooking the tunnel.

You gave him time to get ready before going down to find him, hoping that upon seeing you, he'd be in a better mood. You waited a few moments, wondering where he was and then a hand was on your shoulder, before he interlocked your fingers together.

"C'mon.. let's go home."

He was blunt, almost pulling you out the stadium to the parking lot and into his car. You debated on whether or not to ask him how he was, but then you knew the response you'd get. So you just sat in silence for a brief moment, before his hand was on your thigh, fingers toying with the hem of your black pleated skirt. He hadn't taken his focus off the road when you looked over at him, but his left hand was gripping the steering wheel, knuckles almost turning white.

"Trav.."

"Don't say anything."

His hand on your thigh started squeezing at your skin, fingers dangerously close to your core. Your hands flew straight to his wrist, holding on tightly as he ran one finger underneath your panties, dragging it across your folds. You leant forward, face leaning into his forearm as he pulled his finger back, before tugging at your underwear. You got the hint and lifted your hips slightly, letting him pull them off and down your legs to pool at your ankles.

You glanced out the window and recognised the surroundings, knowing you were only a few minutes away from his house. All you could do was silently beg him to keep going, your hips bucking up into his hand.

"Easy, easy.. be patient."

You just whined into his arm, sliding down the seat slightly to grind against his hand.

"I said, be patient."

"Please.."

He didn't even respond, turning the car onto his street, before pulling up into his driveway. You started to get out the car, removing your seatbelt but Travis' hand squeezed your thigh, silently telling you to stay still. He then proceeded to get out, walk round the back of the car before opening your door. He wiggled his fingers at you, indicating for you to swing your legs round, before he reached down to grab your panties, stuffing them into his trouser pocket. Standing back, he let you get out the car before he shut the door and let you walk up to the front door, him following closely behind. He handed you the key and you opened the door, walking into the living room and sitting down on the couch.

"Baby.. just sit down and relax, please."

He just ignored you, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a water from the fridge. You watched him take a few sips before putting it down on the counter.

"Talk to me, please.."

"Dropped two fuckin' catches today.."

"I saw.. but there's nothing you can do about it now.."

"Yeah, no shit. I'm still fuckin' pissed off though.."

Your eyes darted to his hand gripping the edge of the kitchen counter, watching his knuckles turn white as he tightened his grip. He dropped his head and clenched his jaw, before he brought his hand up to his face, dragging it down and shaking his head.

"So what was that in the car then?"

"Needed some stress relief."

You just rolled your eyes, crossing your arms and facing away from him on the couch. Now he was even more pissed and you could tell. You heard him sigh deeply before he spoke lowly and authoritatively.

"I'll give you five minutes to get upstairs and get into bed.. and I want everything off except the skirt."

You turned round to face him and he didn't even look at you, his head still facing the ground.

"You heard me."

You should be mad at him. Mad at him for being a dick after the game and barely acknowledging you, mad at him for touching you up in the car and leaving you high and dry, mad at him for starting an argument over something he did. But your legs wobbled as you walked towards the stairs and headed up, into the bedroom, stripping off and leaving the skirt on. You lay down on your front, lifting your legs in the air and spreading them out slightly when you heard his footsteps on the stairs.

Travis waited a few minutes downstairs before following after you, heading upstairs into his bedroom. When he saw you, he stepped towards the bed slowly, hands running up your thighs to your skirt, lifting it up slightly. Travis pushed at your legs, silently telling you to flip over onto your back. When you did as he said, you saw his hands grab at your ankles, pulling you closer to him at the edge of the bed. He then brought your legs up beside his waist, holding the backs of your knees and propping you up.

"This all for me?"

You just nodded, hands reaching down for the hem of your skirt and lifting it up. His eyes darted down and then back up at you.

"I've had a pretty bad day.. you think this pretty pussy can handle it?"

One of his hands made its way to between your legs, his thumb rubbing over your folds and sensitive area, making you arch your back slightly. You turned your head to the side, trying to hide it into the mattress, but then you felt his other hand drop from your leg to cup your chin, turning you back to face him.

"I asked you a question, baby."

"Yes.."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I can handle—"

"Try again, baby."

"Yes, this pretty pussy can handle it."

"Good girl."

You watched as Travis put one knee on the edge of the bed, moving back slightly to let him kneel down on the mattress properly. He adjusted your legs to drape over his thighs, his hands bunching your skirt up around your waist before dragging them down your thighs, squeezing at your skin. He slightly tilted his head, eyes raking over your whole body.

"Do you promise to be a good girl?"

"Mmhm.. I promise."

"A good girl for who, baby.."

"For Daddy.."

"That's right, baby.."

Travis leaned down, his mouth pressing soft kisses to your cheek, then down to your jaw and then your neck. Your hands grabbed at his shirt, balling the material into your fists as you felt him kiss down your body. He stretched his legs back out onto the floor at the end of the bed, kneeling down and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, his eyes flicking up at you from between your legs. Without breaking eye contact, he turned his head slightly to press a soft kiss to the inside of your left thigh, then turned his head the other way to kiss the inside of your right thigh.

You dropped your head back onto the mattress, one of your hands gripping the sheets and the other hand moving to your skirt, grabbing it and holding it against your stomach. Then you felt Travis' hands on the backs of your thighs, spreading them out slightly before his tongue was diving in between your folds, causing you to whimper and whine out, tears slightly forming in your eyes. He dropped one hand from your thigh, letting your leg drape over his shoulder while his hand moved up to palm at your breast, squeezing and kneading at your soft skin. His mouth wasn't letting up however, his tongue continuing to lick through your folds, his lips sucking at your sensitive nub. You were already worked up slightly from his hand toying with you in the car ride home, so it wasn't long before you dug your heel into his back, indicating to him you were getting close.

"S'okay baby.. this is the first of many tonight.."

You sighed out and arched your back, before dropping it slowly back to the mattress, letting your orgasm wash over you while Travis continued to eat you out. He did, however, slow down his movements, working you through it as gently as he could. As he pulled his head away from between your legs, he brought his hand back down to between your legs.

"Look at you makin' such a mess for Daddy."

You could only whine, his fingers playing around with your folds, spreading them open and running his fingers through them. He was still kneeling at the end of the bed, your ankle now resting on his shoulder as he watched you relax on the bed. Travis tapped the inside of your thigh and when you looked down at him, he nodded upwards, silently telling you to move back up the bed. You did as he asked, letting him kneel back up on the bed, your thighs once again resting over his thighs. His hand moved back down to between your legs, the backs of his fingers running through your folds, distracting you as he pulled down the waistband of his shorts. With his free hand, he pulled out his cock, stroking it a few times, before pulling his hand away from your core and bringing the tip of his cock to push through your folds.

"You ready, baby?"

"Please.."

"Please what?"

"Please.. Daddy.."

Travis took the hand that wasn't around his cock, and placed it beside your shoulder on the bed, his other hand pushing himself inside you. Your back instinctively arched off the bed again and he placed his hand on your stomach, gently pushing you back down.

"Easy, baby.. relax.."

You sighed out, feeling his head drop down to your shoulder, his lips on your skin, kissing softly across your collarbone area. His movements were slightly slow at first, just letting you adjust to his size like he does every time you're in bed together, but also letting you feel everything. It was always overwhelming in a good way, his cock inside you to the hilt, his lips leaving hot open-mouthed kisses to your neck and his body on top of you, engulfing you as he ground his hips against your core.

Then all of a sudden, Travis pulled out, tugging at your leg for you to flip over onto your stomach. You obliged and felt him kneel up behind you, one of his hands grabbing at your waist to hold you up while the other pushed his cock back inside you. His pace was getting slightly faster now, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing around the room. You knew it was what he needed after the game today, and you were more than willing to let him take his frustrations out on you. Your hands were gripping onto the bedsheets, whining muffled by the pillow for a short second before you felt his hand creep up round your throat, pulling you up and against his chest. Your head fell back against Travis' shoulder, while his hand was holding onto your neck, not too loosely but also not too tight.

"Tell me how it feels, baby.."

"Good.. feels so.. uhh.. good.."

The new angle was driving you crazy, his cock hitting you just right inside and you were almost going limp against him, the only thing holding you steady was his hand on your hip and the other on your neck. He pulled your hips right back against him, his other hand letting go of your neck to push you back down onto the mattress. Travis lifted one of his legs up, placing his foot down on the mattress beside your leg, his hips now pushing down against you. He started up a rougher pace, pulling out all the way before slamming his hips against you, but then slowed down when he filled you up, grinding his hips against you. He took one hand from your waist and bunched up the skirt material into his fist, his other hand moving to spread out across your back, holding you in place almost.

"You hear those sounds, baby? Y'hear how wet you are?"

"M'close.. please.."

"Let go baby.. I got you.."

He pulled out to the tip once again, before slowly pushing himself back inside you, hearing you sigh as your second orgasm washed over you. Travis leaned down, kissing your shoulder and whispering sweet nothings in your ear to relax you, his hand rubbing at your back gently.

"You got another one for me, baby? Think you can come again for me?"

All you could do was whimper, feeling him flip you over onto your back, legs flopping over his thighs and his cock dropping out of you. Your hands reached up for him, grabbing his t-shirt and pulling him down, your lips connecting with his. One of your hands moved up to hold his cheek while the other cradled the back of his head, scratching at his buzzed hair. You felt Travis run the tip of his cock through your folds and you just nodded while kissing him, letting him push back inside you. Your eyes squeezed shut, hips absentmindedly grinding against him while he rocked his hips back and forth slowly. You pulled away from him, dropping your head into the crook of his neck as he rested his forehead on your shoulders. He took one of his hands that was on your hips, to move between your legs, thumb rubbing at your core, trying to pull a third orgasm out of you as quickly as he could.

As you ground your hips against him, you could hear him grunt against your neck. He was close but you could tell he wanted you to come before he did—but he wasn't lasting long. He moved the hand on your hip to place his palm on the bedsheets beside your head.

"M'gonna come.. fuck.."

"Don't.. mmph.. don't pull out.."

You heard him groan against your neck, and then the bedsheets underneath you went slightly taut, his hand gripping tightly.

"Yeah? Want me to fuck a baby into you?"

"Yeah.."

"Wanna be filled up?"

"Please.."

"Alright baby.. alright.."

Travis placed soft kisses to your neck, his hips pushing against you, before he grunted against your skin. You could feel his cock pulsate and spill his load inside you, the warm liquid filling you up. His breathing got heavier as he pulled away from you, only now removing his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He pulled back, standing at the foot of the bed, pulling you close and bending your legs back slightly, watching as his load dripped from your core. He wiped you up clean with his t-shirt before throwing it in the laundry basket. You lay on the bed and watched him remove his shorts, also throwing them in the laundry basket before grabbing a spare pair from the closet. He grabbed a t-shirt for himself, before grabbing another one for you and coming back to the bed. He took your hand, sitting you up and helping you into the t-shirt, before he put the other one on himself. You moved back up the bed and let him walk round, getting into his side, but sliding up against you.

"Sorry for being a dick earlier.."

"Hey, it's okay.. I know you were just frustrated from the game.."

"Doesn't make it okay for me to take it out on you though.."

"Well.. I kinda liked it.."

Travis just laughed, pulling you in closer to him and wrapping his arm around your stomach. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of your neck, closing his eyes. You just instantly relaxed into his touch, letting his hand roam over your stomach, pressing gently and squeezing at your hips, massaging your skin. His lips kissed at your neck again, more softly this time, making your eyes flutter closed.

"G'night baby.. I love you.."

"Love you too.."

He pressed one last kiss to the back of your neck, before he rested his head on his pillow, eyes closing once again as he drifted off to sleep. His light snoring made you smile as you drifted off to sleep yourself, feeling completely safe with his arm around your stomach and his warm body pressed against your back.

[indras-curse]

Pt. 2 of this.

They get dispatched to deliver a very important package from one Lord to another.

Kakashi has been a little shit for a while now, conveniently releasing his scent whenever Obito is about to land what should have been his winning hit while sparring, getting Obito to pay for his sweet cravings and one time even tricking him into carrying his share of equipment by feigning a tired whine.

Obito is at his limit of embarrassment, he almost flings himself off a cliff to break a leg and skip the mission.

Minato sensei is way too observant and catches him just in time. He has apparently spoken with Kakashi and is not going to allow him to take advantage of Obito, and he won't let Obito let himself be taken advantage of, even if his Alpha screams to please the Omega.

Kakashi is very tame he teases Obito the same amount as always but keeps it away from their dynamics and he conceals his scent as well as he had always done before.

Obito is not entirely sure he is happy with this arrangement.

He misses Kakashi's scent, even if it clouds his mind and makes him embarrassingly pliant. He would just like to make a dumb joke and have Kakashi show a poker face but smell his scent sweeten in amusement.

But the mission goes well.

At least until they are already on their way to Konoha.

They get ambushed, which is stupid because they are no longer carrying any important package or document. Perhaps they gather they must know some important information and want to torture it out of them.

Obito is overwhelmed.

But then, a man launches at Kakashi and lands a hit.

Obito would like to say that he quickly but masterfully came up with a plan that worked perfectly for everyone and managed to escape without any problems.

Truth is that Obito only knows what happened because Rin and Minato tell him what they saw when they finally made their way to them.

Every single enemy was either knocked out or dead and Kakashi was laying down on the grass with a feral Obito on top of him, nose pressed to his neck and growling at anything that moved. He had a broken arm and Kakashi was bleeding from his shoulder, his inability to care for the wound making Obito think there was still danger and made him unable to be coaxed out from his feral state.

Minato sensei had to knock him the fuck out.

He woke up in a hospital, mortified to hell and back.

For the next couple of weeks, Obito masterfully avoided Kakashi, he wasn't even going to lie to himself, he was full on purposefully avoiding the younger man.

Kakashi just had to be standing at his door one morning and bulldozing his way in, pushing Obito back into his own house and barricading the door with his body.

"You've been avoiding me" Kakashi states the obvious.

"Well, yeah. So what?" Obito says petulantly.

"How did you think you were going to manage? We are in the same team, dumbass"

"Shut up, I would have figured it out"

"Stop avoiding me" Kakashi demanded.

"Don't tell me what to do. You don't even like me, just enjoy the ride and let me ignore you"

"I do like you" Kakashi frowned, Obito thinks he can see a pout underneath his mask. "So if you are avoiding me because you like me and you think I don't, stop being stupid"

"I don't like you!" Obito shot back way too quickly to be credible. "You're a prick, you're my rival!"

Kakashi raised an eyebrow and started to release his scent. Obito cursed under his breath, how was he so good at doing that at will?

"Not fair, you know I'm sensitive" Obito covered his nose and mouth with the sleeve of his jacket but it did little to conceal the scent.

"I know" Kakashi stepped forward, closing the distance between them. "You're also stubborn and I am not about to back down" Kakashi was leaning in for a hug and stopped before making contact. "Is this okay?"

"If you are playing with me, Minato sensei will demote you" Obito threatened, wary but opening his arms, defeated. He never really stood a chance.

"Oh, I know. But I am not playing, this is not a trick. I am stating a fact and I want to show you"

They hug for hours and hours. Obito lost within Kakashi's scent and releasing his own, putting them both on even ground, Kakashi going slightly mindless from the unfiltered emotions he can gather from Obito's scent.

They are drunk on each other and their instincts are finally their saving grace for once because Kakashi's stomach growls and Obito immediately separates from him, tugging him to take him out for a bite, instincts screaming to care, provide, feed.

The clear air from the outside helps clean Obito's head. He feels embarrassed but feeling better than ever, now that he knows Kakashi actually likes him too.

[lilcocoluv]

SHE OWNS IT!

ft luigi mangione x f1!reader

i never feared death or dyin’ i only feared never tryin’  i am whatever i am only God can judge me now We Own It, 2 Chainz & Wiz Khalifa

authors note!: f1 has started, yippy! yes, i’m a ferrari fan—and yes, i am heartbroken and actively trying to ignore what happened for the season opener. also, i'm new to headcanons so this is longer than normal, please bear with me. 

content warnings!: unrealistic progression of falling in love, he speaks italian, inaccuracies of italian speaking, perhaps even racing (?) becuz author can't keep up with fia, female driver (sue me), platonic relations with the grid, underlying beef with some drivers, a vv tiny amount of smut, ferrari is actually smart (?), 2024 grid setup (expect carlos is in williams) *i don’t think any of that matters but still*

status!: i am open to requests but please be patient with me. i am a student currently going through midterms with chronic writing blocks and procrastination (and i have a life!) 

18+ only. don't like? block and do not interact with me. your media consumption is not my responsibility. i did not use the main tag for luigi so it is your problem if you're somehow reading this with dismay.

─────────˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ˖─────────

THE BEGINNING: the meeting.

you two met during a race week–the home of two religions; the catholic church and Ferrari. the ironic home, rooted and nurtured by the loyalty engraved into the hearts of the italians and international fans alike. where legends are born and come to die.

he came only because of his friends and for the sake of living life to the fullest–plus he was Italian after all so attending the f1race in the home of ferrari only seemed right.

it’s the cliche trope: bumping into each other. you were preparing for the race after qualifying, earning yourself p3 to the proud hearts of ferrari fans (only heightened after charles got himself p2), and he was looking for some homeland shaved. 

he flirts while trying his best to act like he doesn't know you and how incredibly important you are to women everywhere but he does break

"you're a fan, no?" you ask with a smirk at his eyes widening as he tries to force out reply

he goes with the smooth and hopefully charming comeback, relying on his heritage, "è una cosa che viene dall'essere italiani"

he ends up with a photo of you together and your number in his phone and vise versa

that day in the Grand Prix, you finished second following Charles in 1st; shortly after the podium filled with some tears and a whole lot of smiling and cheering along with singing the anthem with pride engulfing you—your phone binged repeatedly of “congratulations!” and “so proud of you” yet only one caught your eye: from luigi sending his praise and an invitation to late night celebrations with shaved ice and some drinks

let’s just say charles and the ferrari team were a bit disappointed when you let them know you couldn’t come to the afterparty but would join them the next day at the factory

INTO THE RELATIONSHIP: the dynamic, one year and half later.

you two are weirdly compatible; he lives for traveling so he most often than not is coming with you to every race–and loves the summer/winter break; and you always enjoy slow days where peace and silence is the only thing you know and he embodies just that

you kept the relationship underwraps for awhile—five months to be exact

though, he understood and respected your boundaries, he still wanted to yell on the top of mountains that; “i am in love and am so proud of my girl!” but he would journal it instead. 

hard launch the relationship during the season opener with him, proudly by your side, and hands intertwined

it took awhile for him to get used to the fans suddenly asking him for a photo or at least saying a “hi”/”hope you're well” but he surprisedly set boundaries well through a instagram story:

“hello to all the new people! thank you for the warm welcome as well. just wanted to set some boundaries: i’m a people person but not always up for photos. i still appreciate you guys being so kind and i will take photos with you when i am, what some say, mentally prepared.”

also the fans, especially the italian fans, love the fact he's italian-american, they're so proud that one of their own managed to bag a driver of their second religion

speaking of social media, he is a lot more active on instagram—not everyday and not more than thirty minutes—but suddenly it is more than just his face and the travels, it’d start being you and the races

story highlights! gosh two highlights: one for views on the road, and the other for you (he’s so proud and obsessed with you its not even funny)

he gets along with the other wags really well! they’re welcoming and even offer some advice from their perspective especially the ones who were new to the fame that comes with being the girlfriend/now boyfriend of a driver

the camera and commentators couldn't get enough of him during the first race he publicly attended, causing a very flustered yet charming reaction of a small nod and grin: “and this…this is the boyfriend of last name—funny enough i actually saw him on my way here and he’s a great fellow.” 

oh he loves hearing the technical side of things, like he is up in all the teams businesses especially the ones who help create the car—the workings of the wings, the engine, importance of tire choices and preparation, etc.

often caught on the camera almost leaning over the rope barriers to see closer to the stats of your laps versus the ideal stats, it’s so funny and cute; the fans adore it and the team does too to be honest

sometimes some of the guys from the team will actually talk to him about it, even letting him hold an old version of your wheel and explains what each button, switch and numbers mean which he appreciates since he feels like he gets to know the racing side of you more intimately

it gets to a point where your fans start comparing him to nicole scherzinger: the way he cheers for you in the garage, the stressed expression as you overtake or lead, the small pout as he focuses to how he rushes to parc ferme, arms open to you, how he looks up at the podium with a big smile and a small prinkle of tears

on this, pda in parc ferme and on the paddock is entirely up to you considering he naturally comfortable with what you want (both of you understand nothing ever too intimate): the occasion deep kiss that leaves you breathless despite the speed as his hands cradle your face, on the cheek or forehead, always hand holding

small note: his friends definitely take pics of their tv and send it to him with the message of: “youre so whipped” — “tell her congrats” — “never would’ve imagined you as a wag but hell yeah man”

another thing! since he is so into your race, trust he will be irritated, or pissed if ferrari fucks up the strategy like the camera pans to him to see the reaction of a radio after a bad call of you saying, “we should’ve pitted earlier…what do you mean i’m p12?”: hes furrowing, even a petty eye roll once he realizes they just threw away a chance of two cars in the points

if you two ever arrive earlier or stay a day or two more in the country, he’d take care of planning the activities so you can focus on either the race or relax knowing very well how the stress can catch up with you and begin to strain your mind despite the privilege to live the life you do

CLOSING THOUGHTS: a f1 driver with a travel loving, computer science boyfriend!

he is literally always there for you; he loves being the person you come to after a race, to one you search for amongst the crowd, the one who can drive you home or to the hotel and take care of you and your aching body

"do you want a massage or a hot bath? do you need some painkillers? some water?"

or the one to worship it with kisses leading to the area where he makes you scream his name out as if he were the driver and he just won, the one to help you ride out another type of ecstasy and holds you while you shake and whimper

his voice comforting you, sending shivers down your spine as you wiggled out of pleasure: "sei così forte" - "eri così bella lassù" - "vincere non è mai stato così bello"

he'd always be willing to do whatever to make sure you felt good, healthy and relax between races; offering a safe and comfortable space for you to confide and melt away, stepping out of the strong and all powerful woman you had to be in the harsh cameras where weakness almost seemed forbidden

it is all new to him, almost a foreign land where he needed to relearn how to stay true to himself and at the same time, navigate you; a new landscape, a new language, a new way of being but it is all worth it

"i don't mind it, i mean, it's new and very...unexpected, but as long as you will have me, i'll do anything to keep you. madness and all."

you two make it work in hopes of racing together to the finish line where instead of a podium, its an altar

─────────˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ˖─────────

final notes!: i hope you all enjoyed this. i really liked writing this and would love to write more on this trope, so if you want some more, let me know! please leave a like, comment, or reblog. in the meantime, please stay healthy and look out for yourself. keep posting about luigi. keep being vocal. keep the spotlight on the corrupt justice system that fails the innocent. donate when you can as well. safe safe, friends. 🫶

before i sign off, here the important links to frequently visit for updates on the case and offer financial support:

legal defense of luigi mangione and more information

donate to his legal team

vanni, signing off!

[bisexualvampirefanatic]

Hi I'm back for now until I forget the app exists again!! As of late I've been obsessing over ratiomei, avenpaz, and castordei. Very different ships with their own tragedies and their own struggles. I feel as if the hsr fandom doesn't appreciate them enough or just completely ignores them and how interesting their dynamic is.

Ratiomei are genuinely some of the greatest foils I've ever seen and I feel as if people don't acknowledge them enough. I feel as if people try to make both of the characters something they're not. "Ruan Mei can't feel love." She doesn't understand it and that's completely understandable. Love is so complex and figuring out how you love someone and how you actually do is so hard at times or maybe I'm just weird. Ratio isn't some heartless uncaring teacher. If anything he seems like a dick because he cares. He genuinely has so much care for others and has a deeper sense of understanding others and their emotions. He understands his own very well. Ruan Mei will do what it takes to get her answer and she understands the risks that come along with it. Ratio however cannot stand the idea of putting others at risk for answers. "They wouldn't work then because of their morals." Ruan Mei always has a backup plan and knew the trailblazer could handle the bug. She didn't just set it loose. Again she struggles with understanding love and we can see her start understanding that with her creations towards the end. She struggles understanding their emotions and she slowly learns that they have feelings too. Ratio could help her with that. He could help her understand how to recognize others emotions. They're rather endearing.

Avenpaz has so many angst opportunities and people ignore that. "You entrusted him with your cornerstone something as valuable as life." Clearly Topaz has a deep trust in him and whether or not that trust is misplaced is up for debate amongst yourself. They truly care about and value each other. I could go on about how many mistranslations that they have and how it has messed up how English players enjoy the game. I know wiki isn't the most relatable but they do tease each other and Topaz joining teams with Aventurine says if I remember correctly, "It's nice to work with people who care about each other." Aventurine and his struggling with seeing himself worth anything and yet Topaz caring about him as if it's as easy as breathing. They're so doomed.

Castordei is genuinely so interesting because of the characters themselves. Please no spoilers for 3.1 in the comments I've been extremely unmotivated to play but I'll do the quest eventually. Castorice struggles with her existence and her trial and yet Mydei is the only person who might understand her struggle in his own way. Imagine just being able to end lives with a simple touch and having someone who cannot die and has probably had attempts on his life by others. She probably craves being held by another human but due to her ability she cannot but then there's Mydei and flipping everything she's known. Imagine being so lonely and being touch starved and meeting someone you couldn't kill. I feel like Mydei could just feel understood with her and he could talk about everything he's witnessed. She's a good listener and she's just so welcoming even though if you get too close you could die. It's a bit more fluffy especially when you head canon that Mydei builds up an immune system to it. He can get closer than others can because he's not going to die. It'll probably just be like falling asleep.

Holy yap anyways I promise I'll at least try to be more active and if you've made it this far thank you for listening to my insanity. Bye bye!!

[lady-phasma]

As my followers know, I'm not a team person (other than Team Princess Shireen Baratheon). I don't generalize about any part of any fandom.

I'm sharing this because I love Nettles and this post makes some great points (even if couched in team-speak). I love having a dialogue about HotD and all of it's wonderful aspects and many of its huge flaws.

Not having Nettles in the series would be a huge mistake. I have just been happily hoping for her until they disappoint me. (I probably will be disappointed). She is a fascinating character and could be translated to series in so many wonderful ways. I'm not naïve enough to think this will happen but until it doesn't I will live in my delusional world, optimistic that she will be brought to life in a way that honors her badassery.

Just came from Team Black discourse and jezz,that people oozed racism from their skin. Dumbnyra stans proclaim Addam is the most important dragonseed so of course he would appear first and Nettles is ""Uninteresting and boring."/"she’s way overhyped and people often talk about her like she’s some YA protagonist rather than a side character in asoiaf"(their words)

Pardon me, even GRRM said he wanted to explore Nettles's story. Also have they seen how freaking lame is Missy Anne which basically did nothing on the war, her dragon sucks and was the only ruler kicked out from the throne by the smallfolk.

No offense to Addam, but they hype him up like that cause even though queen crazy tried to kill/maim him, that man stayed loyal to her and died for her.

He is literally the only dragonseed that stayed loyal to her. His sole purpose is to be loyal to her and sacrifice his life for her which is why this is the only official artwork/picture we have of him:

The Loyal inscription looks like it is encased in a heart. Cough, he does what they wish Daemon did, cough.

In the end, his sacrifice is ultimately meaningless because the queen he died to protect ends up dying too.

The boy who dies and has no legacy(Alyn is the one who carries on the Velaryon name), is not nor will ever be more important than Nettles, but of course, he is going to get all the kudos instead of the girl who she tried to murder in her sleep because she couldn't stand that her husband fell in love with a Black girl(just like her weirdo stans).

They can say what they like though cause if Nettles was truly irrelevant/uninteresting she would’ve died, they would treat her like they do Mysaria, and yeah GRRM wouldn't have said this.

Now I won't dunk on them for liking Missy Anne. She has qualities, but there are plenty of people who love secondary characters(which is what Nettles is) more than the major players(see the Hunger Games, Harry Potter, and Star Wars fandoms to name a few).

Case in point, you have people who made up a whole backstory about General Hux from Star Wars (who is just a secondary character) with him being abused by his father and having some cat named Millicent. People were creating more content for him than they were Finn who was a main character(which I won't get into, but the Star Wars fandom is a fucking mess for the same reasons as the HOTD fandom).

So people liking/hyping up Nettles for being a bastard orphan girl who claims a wild dragon, has a prince willing to die for her, and survives the Dance(all canonical things mind you) doesn’t even top the turning secondary/minor characters into YA protagonists list and Nettles barely has any fans to begin with.

One can count the people who consistently post about her and/or who genuinely care about her character on about two hands and some change. These people are spazzing out over a fandom that consists of like 20 people (which makes this all the more hilarious). I wish she was more hyped than she was cause she's an awesome character, but she isn't that popular at all.

I cannot repeat this enough, they only shit on Nettles cause she isn't there to serve as Missy Anne’s mammy. That’s the only time they like Black women or Black characters and don’t mind us being included.

We have to serve them to be deemed worthy of inclusion(hence why they welcome a racebent Addam), but Nettles has her own story arc complete with surviving the Dance(she’s the only one who fought in the war that still had her dragon) and become a fire witch/goddess.

If that's being uninteresting, well then, she’s a very uninteresting character.

[burreauxsss]

leaked

background: y/n y/ln one of the most recent up-and-coming wmba players ends up going to a party with her best friend. after blacking out mentally, the next morning she wakes up next to the lamelo ball. will they take it further or will they just ignore each other?

synopsis: y/n and melo get leaked on that same video they filmed, exposing everything.

notes: this is in an AU (alternative universe), so if you don't f with those, then scroll! mostly smau this chapter. timeframe is set to after allstars week.

warnings: none, hard launch.

📍 chicago il

You returned home in the morning from North Carolina. You missed Lamelo badly, not because you actually loved him, you missed him in bed too. As you pack for your trip to LSU to watch one of their games you see your friend brittany blowing up your phone.

tmz

❤️ 609,124 💬 29,158

Liked by: theshaderoom duexmoi ESPN and others

tmz: WMBA star y/n y/ln and NBA star Lamelo Ball recently leaked in a tape that is not PG for viewers. What could this mean for their careers?

username_1: welll.. we know now that they're definitely together...

username_2: please ana prolly leaked it

username_3: nba and wmba commissioner having a field day rn

username_4: media stunt oms.

username_5: that was definitely melos tatted hand in that vid.

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hornets

❤️ 116,288 💬 1,230

Liked by: lamelo.ball milesbridges nba and others

hornets: practice flicks

username_7: we all know that was melo...

username_8: oh to be y/n so badly

username_9: @/yn.yln dont suck the talent out of him please.

username_10: melo living the life to be getting the most brain shattering head bro.

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y/n.y/ln posted a story

caption: 🌹

lamelo.ball posted a story 🎵 - mama by rob49, glorilla, skilla baby

caption: this all mine??

y/n.y/ln

❤️ 3m 💬 230,120

Liked by: lsuwbb flaujae britdabrat lamelo.ball and others

y/n.y/ln: nobody know, i fw him on the low

theshaderoom: hold up ms ball!

britdabrat: give us a warning atleast gah damn y/n.y/ln: HELLO? you told me to post it!

username_11: well we knew it..

username_12: that leak needed to happen or they wouldve still been gatekeeping.

username_13: melo im here too

username_14: y/n can you fight y/n.y/ln: yes pookie, i can.

username_15: d1 babies going crazy

lamelo.ball: minee 🕺💕🛸 y/n.y/ln: all yours 💕

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chisky

❤️ 284,279 💬 230,120

Liked by: wmba nba and others

chisky: dynamic duo.

username_16: okay!!

username_17: enemy turned friends duo

username_18: ate up and left no crumbs.

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wmba

❤️ 1m 💬 42,074

Liked by: nba chisky lamelo.ball and others

wmba: draft lottery, sponsored by statefarm.

username_19: shes so bad bro

username_20: hey lamelos girlll

username_21: im y/n, im a millionaire who gets it everytime i go to charlotte to see my man whos in the nba and constantly gets injured. shut up

username_22: chicago chose her for a reason and it wasnt for her being the best player...

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y/n.y/ln posted a story

@/lafrance @/lamelo.ball unreleased?!

lamelo.ball 🎵- i need a doctor by nba youngboy

❤️ 700,625 💬 21,384

Liked by: y/n.y/ln hornets nba lafrance and others

lamelo.ball: IM HIM 💕🕺🛸

y/n.y/ln: thats my mannn

username_23: anas story??

username_24: yo go check anas story its actually crazy..

username_25: melo the team is trying to tank for cooper flagg buddy, get with the program.

lafrance: 1 of 1

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anamontana posted a story

flaujae posted a story

y/n.y/ln

❤️ 482,427 💬 21,384

Liked by: chisky lsuwbb lamelo.ball flaujae britdabrat and others

y/n.y/ln: making moves.

username_26: y/n hate so forced i swear.

username_27: melo let me have her!

lamelo.ball: damn ma 🧐 brittdabrat: alright get tf out the comments hornball y/n.y/ln: britt you always ruining stuff i swear.

username_28: ma?? melo i thought we were together

lsuwbb: bayou barbie?!

lafrance: ms 1 of 1.

username_29: britt cannot be fr rn

username_30: hornballs in the comments istg.

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