#teaching library rules

[smbearce]

The LIBRARY MONSTERS are Here!!

Teaching Library rules was never more fun. Check out the new book by Jean Ransome and Stephanie Bearce

[aloyssobek]

applied for a library job at the school i've been substitute teaching at. got the rejection email today. not even a fucking interview. got me looking at actual teacher jobs now

[opisasodomite]

Watching my data mining lecture from last night (that I skipped lol) and I’m happy to say that this is an Actual Class unlike almost all of the ones I’ve taken in grad school lmao

[booksinmythorax]

Some tips from a librarian for today and the future:

Go to the library. Get a card. Borrow things. Buying books is neat, but the books the fascists want to ban are still there, on the shelf, at your local library, and if they aren't, you can request them. While book bans can happen and are happening in public libraries, the vast majority of "successful" challenges are happening in school libraries. You can still get books from your public library, and getting the books from the library tells your library they should keep them on the shelf. Borrowing anything, walking in the door, and/or attending programs all help get your library more funding. Fighting censorship in this way is effective and costs you $0.

Pay attention to local government. Read your local newspaper, or the local-est paper you can find. (You wanna know who can probably help you read your local paper for free? Your local library.) Look up your representatives in your state and local governments, not just federal. Read their biographies online. Find out what they stand for.

When something divisive is happening in your local community (a book ban, a school board ruling on bathrooms or sports, a change in curriculum), show up. No, literally. Show up to the school board meeting, the library board meeting, the county commission meeting. If you can't show up, make a phone call. If you can't make a phone call, write an email. Your voice has the most effect on the local and state level.

Now, counterintuitively, is a really good time to get to know your neighbors. Do not self isolate out of suspicion. We are stronger together. If you need suggestions for ways to get to know those neighbors, your local library probably has groups you can join, or will start them if you ask nicely and promise to show up. Hand to the gods, a once-monthly book club or gardening club or crochet circle might be your difference between total despair and feeling maybe pretty okay.

Only talk about your personal identities and experiences if you think you will be physically safe doing so. Consider limiting your social media posting. Buy a paper diary. Talk to people in person or via secure direct message if you really want to grow relationships and make an impact. Educating others is great and important. It's also most effective when you have an existing personal relationship with the person involved in the conversation with you. Consider starting new accounts without your face or name if you choose to continue using social media.

Avoid talking about others' personal identities and experiences, particularly without their consent. Your friends, family members, children, and partners are not tools you should use to win an argument. Point to the lives of writers, activists, educators, and artists who are out if you need an illustrative example in a teaching moment with someone you know. Others' religious beliefs, immigration statuses, queer identities, and pregnancy statuses are nobody's fucking business but their own, unless they choose to tell others for their own reasons.

[bitchface24-7]

THE SEDUCTIVE PROFESSOR VIKTOR PT2

synopsis: after completing “The Science Behind Magic: HXT101” with straight As your darling Professor Viktor decides to reward you. After all, you're no longer his student... So you two are no longer breaking any rules. And he can have you in Any. Way. He. Wants.

warnings: age gap (viktor’s gotta be anywhere in his 30s-40s to be a professor, reader is in their 20s (early to late I don’t really care) ), technically still a power imbalance, switch leaning dom!viktor, I tried my best to make this gender-neutral, this isn’t gonna be a full on story, just bullet points I come up with, Grammarly as my beta

genre: m/f or m/m

p.s. Please save me from this man, why is he invading my every thought and dream? He's making me realize things about myself.

PART 1

Being in higher education is a total pain in the ass.

Having Viktor as your professor made it a million times easier.

Especially since you finished his class as the top student. The look on Viktors face when the charts were released still gives you butterflies to this day.

You're officially a graduate of your STEM program! And with how amazing your grades are, and how many spectacular references you got; you were able to become Viktor’s TA. Allowing for Jayce to become the Lab Professor of “The Science Behind Magic: HXT101” (they still alternate roles. They hate being confined to one aspect of teaching.)

Especially since you're now secretly dating the most sought-after professor the academy has ever had.

You know it’s still frowned upon, a TA dating their superior, but at least it’s not as bad as a student fucking their professor. You're guilty on both counts.

You only have a scheduled class twice a week. Once on Tuesdays in the morning, and once on Thursdays in the afternoon. The rest of the week you're free to do whatever (and whomever) you please. It's mostly built this way so you can have enough time to grade almost a hundred assignments and still have time to relax.

You two have squeezed that schedule dry.

You've had sex in the classroom, in your shared office, in the library, in each others apartments.

You're fucking like rabbits.

You'll never forget when you were honestly, truly, just trying to grade some papers with Viktor in the library and all of a sudden you're getting fondled underneath the table and you're covering your mouth trying not to get caught.

You were rewarded that night with how well you behaved. You made sure you two didn't get caught. How sweet.

But there have been times when you've been bratty; desperately craving Viktor's love and attention.

And you got it, in the form of you getting your throat fucked and ass smacked with Viktors cane. He didn't stop until you had tears streaming down your face and your ass was a beautiful mixture of red, purple, and blue.

(you were too stubborn to use your safe word)

The looks of concern your students shot you as Viktor subtly yet smugly drank his sweetened coffee made your blood boil in both anger and lust.

You could barely sit or move due to the spanking, and you could barely talk due to the pounding your throat received. Making it so Viktor taught the class and you sat there pretty; and incredibly uncomfortable.

Some students shot you pointed looks but you pretended they weren't there.

But… there has been instances where YOU were the dominant one.

Where you sucked his cock under his desk, not caring if colleagues came in to chat. Even if it was the dean.

Where you rode him into the mattress, painting his pretty neck and chest with a smattering of hickies.

Where you sat on his face until your body gave out due to how skilled he is with his fingers and tongue.

You're not sure you've ever orgasmed this much before in your life, but you’re not complaining!

Aside from the mind-blowing sex… dating Viktor is like a dream come true.

He’s caring, sweet, kind, and thoughtful. He's still snarky and sassy with a dry dirty humour but… he's perfect.

And you wouldn't change a damn thing about him.

Even when you two are cuddled up in bed late at night and you're having a deep conversation, and Viktor’s insecurities peek through, you shut that shit down immediately.

You're in awe over the fact Viktor's never been in a proper relationship before.

You make a promise to yourself after learning that. You'll be Viktor's first and last relationship.

Till death do you part baby! You wonder which ring will look best on your ring finger.

(but that's a bit farther into the future. Enjoy your relationship as it is now with its sweetness and crazy freak nasty sex)

[penelopepine]

Ghost volunteers at the library every time he’s home from deployment. It gets him out of his flat, and something to focus his time on. He also enjoys how calm and quiet it is; a stark contrast to his usual work environment.

It was also the place he met you. You were the one who had given him a chance when he applied. Ghost knows most would have taken one look at him, and promptly turned him away.

You had gladly welcomed him before teaching him how the books needed to be filed and sorted. Knowing the rules calmed him; if there’s one thing he can do it’s follow rules.

The two didn’t actually speak to each other very much in the beginning. Ghost preferred to be left alone as he put the books back on the selves, and you were usually at the front desk helping people. It wasn't until he had been volunteering for a few months did you two finally have a real conversation with each other.

After that you two had slowly grown closer to one another each time Ghost came in. You started asking about his interest and every time before he left for duty again you would give him a book to take while away.

This feeling he felt with you was something he had not felt in a long time; it surprised him honestly. You brought out a piece of him that he has thought long dead and buried.

[saintsanddevils]

Moth To A Flame

Ridoc Gamlyn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ridoc takes you clubbing, while buried feelings surface in the midst of the dance floor.

Warnings: ‼️(MDNI) 18+ explicit content‼️, SMUT, porn with feelings, swearing

Author’s Note: Ridoc would totally be a club rat & this is me supporting that theory. I became a huge fan of Dain after Onyx Storm, so pls forgive the slight Dain bashing.

Word Count: 4K

Posted on AO3

Masterlist

————

Whiskey-colored eyes meet mine as the beat inflates, bouncing against the walls of the club. Red, pink, and gold lights whip around the fog-filled room, casting every silhouette in neon. It’s crowded, humid, and the music is overwhelming.

But with Ridoc’s hand slipping up my arm to my waist after pulling me through the crowd, shivers of awareness rack through me. His touch distracts me from the crushing presence of the bodies around us. He grounds me as his lopsided smile comes inches from my face before he ducks his head to my ear.

“You doing alright?”

His voice did not have to be that low and seductive. He knew what he was doing, and that would normally piss me off, but in this setting, where it felt like we were floating in an ocean of people who lowered their inhibitions and didn’t give a damn about anyone, it felt like it was just the two of us. Ridoc had a way of doing that. Making me forget my anxieties, what people thought of me, how the world was going to hell. He always brought me back to the present. Even with the slightest touch.

And currently, that touch around my waist was pulling me closer and closer to him. My breath hitches as the material of my dress rides up slightly with the grip he has on me. A girl could get drunk on the look he’s giving me. His eyes taking in every inch of me as his grin widens.

“You okay? Or are my good looks too distracting?” He winks, wiggling a brow suggestively.

Yeah, that dumb mouth of his can sure kill a mood.

I roll my eyes, but reach out to grip his bicep as someone from behind pushes me forward. I balance on tiptoes to answer him. “It’s just… loud.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Isn’t that the point?”

I shake my head. “Remind me again why I even let you drag me here?”

Ridoc gives me a devilish grin that sends butterflies through my stomach. I try to quell the feeling because if he knew the effect he had on me, I’d never hear the end of it.

“I’m teaching you how to have fun, let loose, reach your max potential.”

I snort. “My max potential?”

He shrugs. “Oh, you definitely needed to leave the library, or you would’ve ended up just like Dain.”

“What’s wrong with being like Dain?”

He rolls his eyes. “Nothing, besides becoming a downer, a rule follower, and a total tight-ass.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “He’s not that bad.”

Ridoc grips his chest with his free hand in a look of feigned shock. “Have you met him?”

I can’t hide my smile this time.

Another person pushes me; this time, I trip forward in my heels and fall into Ridoc’s broad chest. The muscles flex under my hand, making me even more aware of every single place we touch. His grip on my waist is tighter than before, pulling me to him as people dance around us with not a care in the world.

“We need a drink,” he shouts to be heard over the blaring music.

I shake my head, glancing behind us towards the entrance in the distance. “What about everyone else? Shouldn’t we wait for them?”

Ridoc grips me tighter as he leans in, his voice low in my ear. “And share you with the rest of them? I don’t think so.”

Heat rises to my cheeks as he gives me a heated look that makes his eyes sparkle mischievously in the dim lighting. He pulls me with him as he makes his way through the crowd once more. Pushing and jostling people out of the way as he holds me close to him, ensuring no one bumps into me. I try not to notice how his hands feel large against me, cursing myself for wishing he was touching my skin instead.

We reach the bar, and he quickly orders my favorite liquor, surprising me.

He catches my raised brows and winks. “And you think I don’t pay attention?”

I shake my head, hiding my blush as I turn towards the crowd while we wait. I’m all too aware of the feel of both his hands on my hips as he talks with the bartender.

Months ago, hell, even a year ago, I would never have found myself here. Especially with Ridoc. Sure, the boy charmed me daily with those roguish good looks of his and his witty banter, but as time went on and we continued remaining friends, I never knew if his flirting was real or not. Even now, I can’t tell if he’s just being Ridoc or wanting something more.

I freeze. Did I want something more? I mean… sure, he was attractive and playful, and yeah, he just naturally flirted with anyone with a pulse, but did that mean I wanted all those moments between us to mean something? I couldn’t be into him, right? He’s just being his usual friendly self with me... Right?

Slow-rising panic makes me itch to leave the crowded room and get some much-needed fresh air. His arm around my waist suddenly pulls my back against his hard chest, stopping my heart and any anxiety that was coursing through me just now.

“Stop overthinking,” his breath tickles my neck, sending goosebumps across my heated skin. “I can practically hear your thoughts, they’re that loud. Should I yell to get them to go away?”

I can’t help the nervous laugh that escapes my mouth. Being friends for so long has its benefits if he knows me that well.

A short glass with liquor enters my vision as Ridoc places it in my fingers. “This should help.”

I damn well hope it does. I slam it down my throat, letting the burn push any doubts and fears far from me.

My nerves settle as his arm braces around me, keeping me close. His lips brush my ear, making me shiver. “Better?”

I nod, not trusting my voice as his fingers play with the silk of my dress.

He hums in my ear. “Good. Now let’s dance.”

With the flick of his wrist, he spins me away from him before twirling me back into his waiting arms. A giggle lets loose as I hold on to him, my head spinning from the movement. His smile lights up the dance floor as he pulls me along behind him.

The music escalates, the crowd raising their hands to the ceiling as the beat rises and rises. The air fills with anticipation as we make our way to the middle of the crowd. Once the beat holds and drops, the crowd surges. Yells and cheers of excitement bounce around us as Ridoc turns to face me, his smile contagious as he joins them.

The music beats through my blood as I step closer to Ridoc, afraid I’ll lose him in the swell of bodies around us. His grip doesn’t falter. If anything, the people around us embolden him to pull me against him as he dances. Another laugh escapes me as he folds his arms around me, making me dance with him.

Gods, he’s gorgeous. I can’t help but admire him as he sings along, moving our hips in time to the beat. The liquor definitely helped since now my entire body is buzzing, electrified, and wanting to be set free. I let Ridoc take control and follow his lead.

His hands are all I know as he spreads them around my torso, sliding up my arms, pulling me this way and that. I smile when he slips behind me, binding our bodies together so there’s no room between us. He winds his hands around my middle to hold my ribs and keep me flush against him. I feel every dip and curve of his body as he moves us in time with the intoxicating music.

Time suspends us as we move, and it begins to make me feel bolder. Without a second thought, I find myself grinding into him, throwing my head back.

Ridoc hisses in my ear, before growling, “Don’t tempt me, Y/N.”

I smirk. Playful vengeance surges inside me. Now for a taste of his own medicine.

“What if I want to?” I rock my hips back to the beat, making him moan.

His grip on my hips stops me from doing it again, his head leaning against the back of mine as a tortured sound escapes him.

“Fuck,” he breathes heavily. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be a gentleman anymore. I’ll lose control.”

I turn my head to meet his eyes. His pupils are wide, his breathing erratic as he stares at me with open longing. I can’t help my smile as I lean back into him. His breath hitches when my lips skate across the skin of his jaw.

Maybe I’m not the only one who wants this.

“So lose control.”

His eyes flare as I grind into him once more. Hardness meets my backside before he suddenly flips me around, crushing me to him. His lips meet my neck as I wind my arms around his. Hands roam my back, lowering down, down, down to my backside. I shiver as Ridoc backs me gently against a pillar, ignoring every person dancing around us.

“Fuck, you’re so soft,” he groans into my collarbone as his tongue swipes across my skin.

Gods, that feels so good.

I moan at the sensation. Feeling emboldened by his lips, I lift my leg and wrap it around his waist, pulling him closer. Hardness grinds into my clothed core and we both moan at the same time.

I gasp out a laugh as butterflies and nerves grip me by the throat. Doubts swarm my brain suddenly before I can stop it. Clarification slams into me as I look around at the people dancing in the crowd. No one notices or cares what we’re doing. I feel Ridoc’s dark curls between my fingers and bite my lip. Ridoc is my best friend and— his hands shift my hips to better slot between my legs.

Oh shit, that’s incredible.

His sure, calloused hands find the edge of my dress, sliding along the skin of my thigh. His touch inflames me, burning away any lingering doubt. I give in. I push and pull against him, writhing as he moves his lips upwards, to my jaw. The music rattles my bones as his clothed dick hits me in a place that makes me see stars.

At my sudden gasp, Ridoc pulls back, inches from my lips. He breathes heavily as his wide eyes meet mine. This moment suspends between us, fragile and wary, as we stare. If we continue, there’s no going back. Not for me. I’ve wanted him for too long. Not just his body, but everything that makes Ridoc, Ridoc. Remembering how his eyes filled with such unrestrained longing, I pour every ounce of what I feel for him into my small smile.

His eyes capture the expression and he matches it, warmth surging through me like a drug. He leans forward, kissing my skin once more.

“Please,” he whines against my jaw. “Please tell me you want this. I’ll go mad if you don’t. I… I know we’re friends and I completely understand if it’s the alcohol and you’re just feeling tipsy and only want to have fun, but I’ve been waiting for this for so long.” His forehead crashes to mine gently. “So long, Y/N. You have no idea how much I don’t want to be just friends-“ my breath hitches at the confession, but he continues, his hands shaking slightly as he grips me. “But I completely get it if you don’t want to ruin what we have and-“

“Ridoc,” I stop him. My smile is practically beaming as I grip his neck. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

Like a moth to a flame, Ridoc dips his head and crashes his lips to mine. Sparks set off my nerve endings, making me jolt from the impact of the kiss. I hold him tighter to me, gripping his curls. Gods, they’re so soft.

We’re moving again, this time Ridoc shifts so he’s the one leaning against the pillar while I cling to him.

“I-I’ve thought about this,” he says between kisses. “So much,” he kisses me again. “You have no idea how much.” My teeth bite his lip and he groans. “Gods, Y/N.”

With another bite and pull of his bottom lip between my teeth, he pulls back. “That’s it, we’re leaving.”

He leans down and wraps my other leg around him, carrying me through the crowd. His grip is bruising as he pushes through bodies. Uncaring of who sees now, I continue my path from his swollen lips to his jaw, holding on for dear life as I move my lips down his neck before I stop and suck at his pulse point.

He moans just as cool air hits my heated skin. His hand slides into my hair just as I’m slammed against a wall, his body caging me deliciously. The music is much quieter now that I can see we’re alone in some sort of hallway off the main floor. I don’t care. As long as I can keep kissing him, I don’t give a shit where we are.

I continue my path to his collarbone, nipping at his skin. The hand holding me to him roams my thigh, inching higher and higher till I can feel his fingers toying with the edge of my underwear. I moan as I grind against his clothed dick once more, hoping he gets the message.

“Holy shit,” he gasps as his fingers slide beneath the material, skating across where I want him the most. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”

I moan as his long, calloused fingers toy with me before one of them slides perfectly inside me. We both groan into each other as our mouths crash together messily. His finger is joined by another, long and rough as it curls into me in just the right way, I see stars. He bites my lip, pulling and tugging as I consume him entirely. I ride his fingers as his thumb finds my clit.

“Fuck, yes, right there, Ridoc,” I whine against his lips.

He shudders. “Gods, the way you say my name.”

I smirk, sucking his bottom lip again before whispering. “Want me to scream it?”

“Fuck,” Ridoc shivers beneath me as his grip on my pussy becomes rough, demanding. “I want you to know,” his voice quivers as I writhe against his hand. “I want this to be perfect, Y/N. I want you-“

“I want you,” I grip his collar and pull him back to my mouth. “I don’t care where” I breathe between his lips. “Or how, I just want you. I always have.”

Ridoc moans against my lips. “Oh thank fuck.”

That warmth of something more pulses between us as he kisses me with abandon. His fingers working overtime to bring me higher and higher. I feel myself float as I crest the wave before I finally crash, moaning and writhing against him. Heat courses through me as sparks of light flash beneath my lids. I moan his name, causing him to press his lips roughly against me to suck the word from my mouth.

When I come down, my head swims and my body tingles from the high. I smirk at him as he pulls back, checking me as his free hand curves along my cheek.

“You okay?”

I smile softly up at him, my heart swelling with his care. “Of course I am, I’m with you.”

His smile is contagious as he kisses the tip of my nose. “Want to get out of here?”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”

——————

We crash into his room, the door swinging against the wall with a loud bang. Hands tear through hair and clothes as we collide. Once his shirt is gone, his hands find the backs of my thighs, heaving me up to wrap my arms and legs around him.

A deep voice suddenly carries from the hall. “Oh, uh, hey you left the door open-“

“Fuck off, Dain,” Ridoc growls.

I catch sight of him over Ridoc’s shoulder as he quickly slams the door closed. Laughter escapes me as I grip on to Ridoc’s bare skin.

He smirks up at me, his cockiness now on full display. “Can’t have him seeing what’s mine.”

“Oh?” I lift a brow, goading him. “And what is yours?”

His hands grip my ass as he confidently walks forward, his legs hitting the edge of the bed as his smirk turns into a wicked grin. “Care to find out?”

I don’t have any warning when he throws me onto the bed. I’m giggling as he slides over my body, bracing himself over me while his lips crash to mine. It’s consuming and burning as he devours me. I let myself dive in, feeling his calloused hands rise to the strap of my dress. With a gentle, torturously slow pull, he brings the silk down, exposing my breast to the moonlight. His hand immediately slides into place, squeezing, tugging.

The second his lips leave mine, forcing a whine from my mouth, he quickly finds my nipple and sucks, long and hard. I jolt, writhing as he continues to tease me. I grip on to his hair, pulling his curls to make him moan against my skin.

His other hand slides the other half of my dress down until I’m full exposed. His hands and lips work in tandem to pinch, squeeze, and suck as he presses me further into the bed.

“Ridoc,” I groan as he leaves a tender love bite on the bottom side of my breast. “Please.”

He looks up at me through his long lashes from his position on my chest. His tongue flicks out, teasing and tasting.

“What do you need, love? Tell me.”

I grip him closer to me before the words escape. “I need you inside me. Now.”

His grin is all sin as he bites my nipple once more. “As you wish.”

His fingers make quick work of my dress, casting it to the floor and leaving me in just my underwear. With soft laughter between us, he maneuvers my underwear off my legs. Wiggling his brows, I smile as he stuffs my panties in his back pocket.

“Stealing my underwear?” I question.

“More like a keepsake,” He winks.

Ridoc grabs my ankles and pulls me to the end of the bed, tugging until my ass is almost to the edge. He pulls my knees up over his shoulders and gives me the most cocky look I’ve ever seen from him.

“I’ve been waiting too long to do this and I’m not wasting a second,” he kneels to the hardwood floor as he unbuttons his pants. I try to catch sight of what he’s doing, but he presses me back down with a firm hand.

“Hold on to something, baby.”

Without warning, he dives into my cunt, licking and sucking like a man starved.

Gods, that mouth.

My eyes roll back at the sudden sensation, his fingers finding and pinching my clit as he rolls his tongue between my folds. I try to grip onto the sheets, but they slip from my palms. Instead, I find his head and grasp his dark curls for dear life as he groans into me.

I’m rising to my peak far too soon as he flicks my clit. I see stars before looking down at him on his knees before me. His eyes are on me, wide and hungry as they drink me in, pleasuring me with his tongue. I see his other hand that’s not on me moving back and forth below my line of sight. I furrow my brows in question until I hear him moan again with another flick of his tongue. I gasp. Is he… touching himself while he eats me out?

The thought of his hand wrapped around his cock while he fucks his tongue into me has me coming hard on his face. I writhe and tremble as shockwaves rock through me. When I finally come down from the high, he’s standing above me, my slick covering his mouth, as his hand rocks back and forth with his— My eyes widen. His dick is huge and hangs from his unbuttoned pants in his hand. I unabashedly stare as he works himself, up and down, over me. It’s incredibly hot.

“You’re not going to fit,” I whisper in shock.

Ridoc tsks as his tongue darts out, licking the slick from his lips. I don’t hold back my moan as he brings his other hand, the one that was inside of me, up and licks his fingers.

“Thanks for the ego boost,” he winks. “But I’ll fit. I’ll make sure of it.”

I would’ve rolled my eyes if he hadn’t suddenly pushed me down on the bed as he throws his pants off in the same movement. He may be all jokes and carefree smiles, but Ridoc knows what he’s doing when it comes to fucking.

He positions himself over my entrance and, without preamble, slams into me, forcing me to cry out. It takes my breath away as he grips my hips, rocking into me. The stretch is everything. I feel entirely full and overwhelmed. It’s addicting.

I rock my hips to force him to move, feeling him bury inside me as he begins to pump. In and out. In and out.

We both groan as my legs wrap around his torso, his knees hitting the bed as he scoops me up to hit me harder, deeper. I hold on to his shoulders as his lips latch onto my neck. This angle, oh gods, this angle has me throwing my head back in rapture as he fucks me.

“Told you I’d fit,” he whispers roughly.

I huff a laugh before bringing his lips to mine. I feel that rising heat once more, deep within me. The more he thrusts, deep and punishing, his deft fingers playing with my clit, I feel myself close to shattering yet again.

“I’m-“ I gasp. “I’m gonna-“

“I’ve got you, baby,” he breathes before hitting me faster. His thrusts frantic now as he chases his own pleasure.

We both come together, screaming as I feel him spill into me. My cunt squeezes him, over and over and over again, before we both fall to the bed in a pile of limbs.

Heaving breaths fill the air as we come down from what was probably the best sex of my entire life.

Ridoc’s dark eyes capture mine as he maneuvers me so I’m laying on his chest. His arms wrap securely around me as he kisses the top of my head.

“Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

My heart soars from his tenderness. I smile into his skin. “This, holding me, sleeping together, that’s what I want.”

His smile is blinding as he turns my face up to his. “Until the sun rises, you’re mine.”

I give him a soft and gentle kiss. “And after that?”

“I’m yours,” his eyes hold a severe weight as he stares down at me, his lips caressing mine. “Now and always.”

[realityrain]

𓂃⋆𓄯ྀི ̼̫ ˖ ✶ magical things to script ! ꕀ 🎹⋆࿐༄

𓉳⫰ ⨳ ⧼i am very good at crafting potions, spells aswell as alchemy and chemistry

𓉳⫰ ⨳ ⧼ “supernatural search and rescue” basically when someone gos missing hiking or in a specifically supernatural area, they send these people in to investigate and solve cases better than regular people can 

𓉳⫰ ⨳ ⧼ there are many hidden supernatural communities of extreme variety almost everywhere

𓉳⫰ ⨳ ⧼ haunted hotels where kids get lost in portals to other worlds

𓉳⫰ ⨳ ⧼ national forests made to let beings keep their land

𓉳⫰ ⨳ ⧼ i can infuse belongs with my magic to track them or sense their presence in past events

𓉳⫰ ⨳ ⧼ different neighborhoods for different beings and their needs

𓉳⫰ ⨳ ⧼ magical schools hidden in between reality fabric for all kinds of students to learn and master their craft

𓉳⫰ ⨳ ⧼ farmer communities full of secret earth benders

𓉳⫰ ⨳ ⧼ my dreams can be used to tell me useful information and travel to different places / realms

𓉳⫰ ⨳ ⧼ governments “oblivious” to the activities at night

𓉳⫰ ⨳ ⧼ simple silly “folklore” classes in schools unknowingly just teaching history

𓉳⫰ ⨳ ⧼ rules on the craft to avoid exploitation

𓉳⫰ ⨳ ⧼ most people growing old with a magical companion

𓉳⫰ ⨳ ⧼ i can feel, read and even see peoples auras / “soul” and even get visions of most important events of their lives

𓉳⫰ ⨳ ⧼ arguments over magic techniques and their origins

𓉳⫰ ⨳ ⧼ seasons where magical activities are heightened and celebrated

𓉳⫰ ⨳ ⧼ supernatural black markets ???

𓉳⫰ ⨳ ⧼ library realms with endless amounts of knowledge

𓉳⫰ ⨳ ⧼ i can sense most types of magic forms and energy

[fluffyjuly]

Fluffy July 2025 Prompts!

Happy May 1st everyone, as promised, the prompt list is here! The prompts were chosen through first a prompt jar that got a total of 23 responses that gave us 220 prompts, 118 of which were text prompts and 102 were dialogue prompts. From there 70 of each type were chosen and put in for the prompt voting form. The top 31 of each type made it onto the list, one of each for each day.

Rules:

Works can be in any medium. Fanfictions, original works, podfics, recs, whatever you please, go for it!

Prompts should be responded to in a form of fluff

You don't have to create for all the days to participate in the event

Works only need to include one of the daily prompts or an alternate

Prompts can be used after the event has ended. The AO3 collection will stay open indefinitely and as long as you tag us we will reblog. (although it might take longer than it would during the event)

No AI generated content of any kind.

(regarding completionists)

To be a completionest you must fill all 31 days before August 3rd

The completionest form should open on August 4th and be open until August 11th

(regarding reblogging)

When posting to tumblr please use the tags:

#Fluffy-July 2025 or #Fluffy July 2025

The relevant day's tag (e.g. #Fluffyjulyday1, Fluffyjulyday2...)

Nsfw (if relevant) or any possible triggers

You can also tag the blog: @fluffyjuly

Below the cut are a text version of the prompts!

MAIN PROMPTS:

Day 1 - Anniversary | “May I have this dance?”

Day 2 - Nursing Back to Health | “I thought you were asleep”

Day 3 - Scars | “I really mean it”

Day 4 - Fireworks | “Hop in! Let’s go for a ride!”

Day 5 - Stargazing | “Mind if I join you?”

Day 6 - Love Letters | “Come here and kiss me”

Day 7 - Cotton Candy | “Did you just steal my food?”

Day 8 - Flowers | “You may be an idiot, but you’re MY idiot”

Day 9 - Found Family | “I need the company”

Day 10 - Ruffling Hair | “You’re blushing” “No I’m not!”

Day 11 - Cuddling for Warmth | “You look cold”

Day 12 - Sunrises/Sunsets | “I’m proud of you”

Day 13 - Surprise Hug | “Close your eyes”

Day 14 - Falling Asleep on Shoulder | “I had a nightmare”

Day 15 - Library | “I can teach you”

Day 16 - Only One Bed | “I dare you”

Day 17 - Baking | “Can I kiss you?”

Day 18 - Nostalgia | “Are you sure you’re not a dream?”

Day 19 - Sleepy Smiles | “I’ll do your makeup”

Day 20 - Coffee | “Come back to bed”

Day 21 - Confession | “Can’t you just hold me?”

Day 22 - First Kiss | “This is going to sound weird…”

Day 23 - Carrying to Bed | “That is definitely your color”

Day 24 - Midnight Snack | “Can we get something to eat?”

Day 25 - Lazy Mornings | “Five more minutes” “You said that five minutes ago!”

Day 26 - Kisses | “Don’t say anything, just come here”

Day 27 - Interrupted Nightmare | “Do you want to come with me?”

Day 28 - Borrowed Clothing | “Look, I just woke up”

Day 29 - Falling Into Water | “Please don’t laugh”

Day 30 - Hugs | “Listen to my heartbeat”

Day 31 - Recovery | “I need a favor”

ALTERNATE PROMPTS:

Alt 1 - Firsts

Alt 2 - Fake Dating

Alt 3 - Sharing Headphones

Alt 4 - Tender

Alt 5 - Sunburn

Alt 6 - “You’re not alone”

Alt 7 - “Bet”

Alt 8 - “I would die for you” “Live for me instead”

Alt 9 - “Open your mouth”

Alt 10 - “You’re lucky I love you”

[kittenan]

The Art of Obedience

Pairing: 20 y/o curious college student!reader × 33 y/o famous anonymous kink author!Namjoon

Word Count: ~7k+

Warnings: Explicit smut, BDSM elements (tying up, spanking, fingering, blindfolding, rough sex, edging, orgasm denial, squirting), power dynamics, daddy issues, slow corruption, filthy dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, possessiveness, mild fluff, emotional vulnerability. All activities are consensual with safewords established.

The library is a labyrinth of secrets, its air thick with the musk of old books and unspoken desires. You’re on your tiptoes, stretching for a book you’ve only heard rumors about: The Art of Obedience by RM, hidden in the restricted section like a dirty little secret. Your fingers graze its worn leather spine, the title sending a shiver down your spine, when another hand—big, warm, and far too confident—brushes yours.

You gasp, startled, and the book crashes to the floor with a thud that echoes like a slap in the silent library. Your cheeks blaze as you stammer an apology, but a voice stops you—deep, velvety, laced with danger.

“Careful, sweetheart,” it purrs, amusement curling around the words like smoke.

You look up and fuck, you’re not ready. He’s towering, a wall of lean muscle in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that could snap you in half. Dark hair falls into sharper eyes, gold-framed glasses perched low, and his lips—god, his lips—curve into a smirk that screams trouble. He’s older, maybe mid-thirties, but the way he’s looking at you makes your thighs clench involuntarily.

“I—I didn’t mean to—” you start, voice barely a whisper.

He crouches, slow and deliberate, picking up the book. His fingers linger on the cover, thumb tracing the embossed RM. like it’s a lover’s skin. He placed this copy here himself, months ago, under his secret pen name—a test, a game to see who’d dare touch it. And now you, a wide-eyed college girl dripping with innocence, are reaching for his filthy words.

He straightens, eyes raking over you—slow, predatory, like he’s already fucking you in his head. “Interesting choice,” he murmurs, flipping the book open with a casual flick. The pages fall to a chapter on submission, and his smirk deepens. “What’s a sweet thing like you doing with a book like this? Researching for a boyfriend?”

Your throat tightens, heat pooling low in your belly. “N-no, I am single. I was… just curious.”

“Curious,” he repeats, stepping closer, close enough that you can smell him—clean soap, leather, and something dark, like bourbon and sin. “That’s a dangerous word, little girl. Curiosity gets you wet in places you don’t understand yet.”

You try to step back, but the bookshelf digs into your spine. Trapped. His gaze is a physical thing, heavy and hot, stripping you bare. He holds the book out, dangling it like bait. “Take it,” he says, voice low, commanding. “But if you do, you’re mine to teach. You ready to learn what this book really means?”

Your fingers tremble as you reach for it. His hand doesn’t budge, forcing you to lean into his space, your chest brushing his. Your breath hitches, and you catch the faintest twitch in his jaw, like he’s holding back from devouring you right here.

When your fingers close around the book, his brush yours again, deliberate and lingering. “Good girl,” he whispers, the words dripping with mockery and promise. “Lesson one: always listen when someone more experienced offers you help.”

“Lesson two: you don’t touch what’s mine without permission. And this—” he taps the book, “—is mine. Just like you’re about to be.”

You’re already fucked, and you haven’t even said yes out loud.

A week later, you’re in a private reading room at the back of the library, the door locked with a soft click that feels like a gunshot in your chest. Namjoon leans against the oak table, arms crossed, his presence filling the room like he owns it. The book sits between you, its leather cover gleaming under the dim light.

“Rules first,” he says, voice low and firm, like he’s already got you under his thumb. “You say ‘red’ to stop. ‘Yellow’ to slow down. Nothing means you’re good. Got it?”

You nod, mouth dry, pussy already throbbing. “Yes.”

His eyebrow arches, sharp and expectant. “Yes, sir,” you correct, voice shaking.

His lips twitch, a flicker of approval. “Good girl. Stand up.”

You do, legs wobbly, and he’s behind you in an instant, his heat pressing against your back. You feel the smooth silk of his tie slide over your wrists, cool and tight as he binds them behind you. The knot is firm, leaving you helpless, your arms pinned and your pulse hammering in your clit.

“Feel that?” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear, his breath hot and teasing. “That’s what it’s like to be mine. Completely at my mercy, but safe. You trust me, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you whisper, cunt slick with need.

He steps in front of you, fingers grazing your jaw, tilting your chin up. His eyes are molten, searching, and his thumb brushes your lower lip, pressing just enough to make you part your mouth. “So fucking innocent,” he says, voice dark. “You’re trembling already, and I haven’t even touched you.”

You whimper, and he leans in, lips hovering over yours, so close you can taste the mint on his breath. “I’m gonna make you beg for it,” he whispers, “make that pretty little pussy drip just from my words.” His fingers slide down your neck, ghosting over your collarbone, then lower, circling your nipple through your shirt. It’s hard, aching, and he pinches it lightly, making you gasp.

“Not yet,” he says, stepping back, leaving you panting, tied up, and so fucking wet you’re soaking your panties. He picks up the book, casual as hell, like he didn’t just set your body on fire. “Read the first page. Out loud.”

“W-what?” you stammer, cheeks burning.

He smirks, settling into a chair, legs spread wide, bulge obvious in his slacks. “You heard me. Read. Let’s see how good you are at following orders.”

You stumble through the words, voice shaking as you read about surrender, about giving yourself over completely. Every sentence feels like a caress, his eyes locked on you, devouring every flush, every hitch in your breath. When you finish, he stands, slow and deliberate, and unties your wrists, his fingers lingering on the faint red marks.

“Go home,” he says, voice soft but commanding. “Touch yourself daily until we meet again. Think about me. But you don’t come. Not until I say so.” - He gives his card. "Call me in case you need help."

You leave, pussy throbbing, mind spinning, already desperate for more.

You’re five minutes late to the next meeting, and Namjoon’s waiting, eyes dark and dangerous, like a predator who’s been kept waiting too long.

“Late,” he says, voice a low growl. “You know what that means.”

“I’m sorry, I—” You said. "The Bus-"

“No excuses.” He’s in your space before you can blink, towering over you, his hand tipping your chin up so you can’t look away. “You need to learn what happens when you make me wait.”

Your stomach flips, arousal pooling between your thighs. “W-what happens, sir?”

He doesn’t answer, just points to the table. “Bend over. Now.”

You obey, heart pounding, bending over the polished wood, hands braced on the table. The anticipation is electric, your body humming as he steps behind you. His hands lift your skirt, slow and deliberate, exposing your thighs, then your ass, your panties clinging to your soaked cunt. The air is cool against your skin, and you shiver, feeling utterly exposed.

“Count,” he orders, voice like velvet and steel.

His hand comes down, a sharp smack on your ass, the sting blooming hot and sweet. “One,” you gasp, voice trembling.

Another spank, harder, the heat spreading through your core. “Two.”

By five, your skin is burning, and you’re dripping, the fabric of your panties sticking to your swollen folds. He pauses, fingers grazing the edge of your underwear, so close to where you’re aching but not touching. “Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick with lust. “So fucking wet already, and I’ve barely started. You love this, don’t you?”

You whimper, too turned on to be ashamed. “Y-yes, sir.”

Another spank, and this time you moan, loud and needy, your clit throbbing. His hand lingers, fingers slipping under the fabric, brushing the slick heat of your pussy but not pushing inside. “Such a dirty little girl,” he says, teasing, his touch gone before you can beg for more. “You want it so bad, but you don’t get to have it yet.”

He pulls your skirt down, leaving you trembling, unsatisfied, your ass stinging and your cunt aching. “Same time next week,” he says, voice calm, like he didn’t just wreck you. “And don’t you dare touch yourself until then.”

You leave, a mess of need, your body screaming for release you’re not allowed to take.

You’re on time this week, heart racing as you step into the reading room. Namjoon’s waiting, a black silk blindfold dangling from his fingers, his eyes dark with intent. Your pussy clenches at the sight, already wet, already his.

“Trust me?” he asks, voice soft but heavy, like he’s asking for your soul.

“Yes, sir,” you breathe, and he ties the blindfold over your eyes, plunging you into darkness. Every sound is sharper—his footsteps, the rustle of his clothes, the hitch in his breath. He guides you to the table, lifting you so you’re perched on the edge, thighs spread.

“Spread your legs wider,” he commands, and you do, skirt riding up, panties exposed. His hands slide up your thighs, slow, torturous, until he’s peeling your underwear off, leaving you bare. The air hits your slick folds, and you bite your lip, aching for his touch.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and then his fingers are there, teasing your entrance, circling your clit with featherlight strokes. You moan, hips bucking, but he grips your thigh, holding you still. “Not yet. You beg for it first.”

“Please, sir,” you whimper, voice breaking. “Please touch me. I need your fingers inside me. I need to come.”

He chuckles, low and filthy. “That’s better.” One finger slides inside, slow and deep, stretching you, then another, curling against that spot that makes you see stars. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight circles, and you’re shaking, so close it hurts.

“Look at this greedy little cunt,” he says, voice rough. “Sucking my fingers in like it’s starving. You’re so fucking tight, baby. Gonna feel so good when I finally fuck you.”

You’re whining now, desperate, the blindfold amplifying every sensation. His fingers pump faster, wet sounds filling the room, and you’re right there, teetering on the edge. “Please, sir,” you sob. “Please let me come. I can’t—I need it.”

“Come for me,” he growls, and you do, shattering, your pussy clenching around his fingers as waves of pleasure crash through you. His fingers don’t stop, curling harder, thumb pressing relentless circles, and something builds—intense, overwhelming. You cry out as your body convulses, a gush of wetness soaking his hand, the table, your thighs. You’re squirting, the release so powerful it leaves you trembling, oversensitive, a whimpering mess.

“Fuck,” Namjoon groans, voice raw with awe. “Look at that. You’re fucking perfect, baby, squirting all over me like a good little slut.”

He pulls his fingers out, and you hear him suck them clean, moaning like he’s savoring every drop. The blindfold comes off, and his eyes are wild, pupils blown, but there’s a flicker of something softer—something that scares him.

“You’re too fucking perfect,” he says, kissing your forehead, gentle and jarring after the filth. “Rest up. We’re far from done.”

The fourth meeting is different. Namjoon’s hungrier, rougher, like he’s been holding back too long. You’re on your knees, wrists tied with his tie, his hands fisted in your hair as he guides you closer to his cock, straining against his slacks. The book’s open on the table, and you spot something—a scribbled note in the cover: Kim Namjoon as well as RM. Both handwritten signatures side by side, RM's signature same as printed inside the book.

Your breath catches. “You’re… R.M.?”

He freezes, then laughs, dark and dangerous, tugging your hair to tilt your face up. “Caught me, baby. Now you know who’s been writing the shit that gets you so wet. And you’re still gonna let me ruin you.”

You’re too shocked, too turned on to argue. He kisses you, hard and possessive, teeth clashing, tongue claiming your mouth like he owns it. Clothes rip—your shirt’s buttons scatter, his belt clanks, your skirt’s yanked down. He lifts you onto the table, spreading your thighs wide, and pauses, just looking at your dripping cunt.

“Fuck, you’re a masterpiece,” he growls, and then he’s pushing inside, thick and long, stretching you so good it’s almost too much. You cry out, nails digging into his shoulders, and he fucks you like he’s claiming you, each thrust deep and punishing.

“Mine,” he snarls, hands gripping your hips, leaving bruises. “This pussy’s mine. No one else gets to fuck you like this. Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasp, clenching around him, already close. “Only yours, sir.”

He groans, slamming harder, the table creaking. “Gonna fill you up,” he says, voice raw. “Make you mine for good.” His thumb finds your clit, rubbing fast, and you come undone, screaming his name, your pussy milking his cock as he spills inside you, hot and thick.

You’re both panting, sweaty, tangled together. He brushes your hair back, eyes soft for the first time, like he’s scared of what’s between you. “Don’t tell anyone,” he says quietly. “About the book. It’s just… a side hobby. Don't need attention.”

“I won’t,” you whisper, and he kisses you, slow and deep, like he’s sealing a promise. His cock buried deep inside you, hot and unyielding.

Weeks later, you’re back in the library, the familiar scent of old books wrapping around you like a lover’s embrace. You’re seated at a secluded table, The Art of Obedience open in your lap, every filthy page now a map of your own desires. You’ve read it cover to cover, each chapter a spark that ignites memories of Namjoon’s hands, his voice, his cock. Your thighs press together under the table, your panties already damp just thinking about him.

Across from you, Namjoon’s writing in a leather-bound notebook, his glasses low on his nose, that same predatory focus in his eyes. He’s been working on something new, he said, a chapter written just for you. The thought alone has kept you on edge all day, your body humming with anticipation, your cunt aching for what he might have in store.

He glances up, catching you staring, and his lips curve into a smirk that’s pure sin. “Done daydreaming?” he asks, voice low, teasing. He slides the notebook across the table, the pages open to a freshly inked chapter. “Read it. Out loud. Let’s see how you handle it.”

Your breath catches, heat flooding your core. You take the notebook, fingers trembling slightly, and begin to read, your voice soft but steady, though every word feels like it’s unraveling you.

The chapter is titled “Lessons in Lust” It begins with a description of a woman—clearly you, though unnamed—kneeling before a man, her wrists bound with silk, her body bare except for a thin lace garter. The man’s voice is described as a low growl, commanding her to spread her thighs wider, to show him how much she wants him. The prose is vivid, explicit, detailing the way her arousal drips down her inner thighs, the way her clit pulses with every word he speaks.

“You’re so fucking desperate for me, aren’t you?” he says in the text, and you can almost hear Namjoon’s voice in your head, feel his breath against your ear. “Look at that pretty cunt, begging for my cock. But you don’t get it yet. Not until you’re crying for it.”

He teases her, his fingers tracing her folds, collecting her slick and spreading it over her clit, but never giving her enough. He edges her, bringing her to the brink again and again, until she’s sobbing, pleading, her body shaking with need. The scene shifts—he bends her over a table, her cheek pressed to the wood, and spanks her, each strike making her wetter, her moans louder. He whispers filthy promises, telling her she’s his, that no one else will ever make her feel this way. “You’re mine to break,” he says, “mine to fuck, mine to ruin. And you love it, don’t you? You love being my dirty little girl.”

Your voice falters as you read, your pussy throbbing, soaking through your panties and onto your skirt. You shift in your seat, trying to relieve the pressure, but it’s no use—every word is a pulse straight to your clit. Namjoon’s watching you, his gaze heavy, his hand resting on his thigh, fingers twitching like he’s holding back from touching you right here.

“Keep going,” he says, voice rough, his own arousal evident in the tightness of his jaw.

You swallow, continuing, your cheeks burning.

The man finally gives in, sliding his cock into her, slow at first, letting her feel every inch. He fucks her hard, relentless, the table shaking beneath them. He pulls her hair, forcing her to arch back, and whispers in her ear, “Come for me, baby. Show me how much you need this.” She does, her body convulsing, squirting around him, soaking his cock, the table, the floor. He doesn’t stop, fucking her through it, claiming her completely.

You finish the page, voice barely a whisper, your body trembling with want. Your cunt is so wet you can feel it dripping, your thighs slick under the table. Namjoon leans forward, his eyes dark, dangerous, and so fucking pleased.

“Liked that, didn’t you?” he murmurs, standing and rounding the table. He stops behind you, his hand sliding over your shoulder, fingers brushing the nape of your neck. “You’re soaked just from reading it. I can smell how much you want me.”

You whimper, head tilting back as his fingers trail lower, dipping under your collar to graze your skin. “Please, sir,” you whisper, already desperate.

He chuckles, low and filthy, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Oh, baby, we’re gonna make that chapter real. But not here. Tonight, in my bedroom. You’re gonna show me just how much you want to be my good girl.”

He pulls back, leaving you panting, and slides the notebook into your hand. “Finish your reading,” he says, smirking. “I want you thinking about me all day, dripping for me until I’m ready to fuck you senseless.”

You nod, too overwhelmed to speak, your body alive with need. As he walks away, you open the book again, knowing every page is a promise of what’s to come—and you’re already his, completely.

A/N: "This library’s closed, but I hope Namjoon’s lessons left you soaked and begging for more of my words. Tell me your dirty thoughts in the comments. Hey @namluvili hope you like it."

Taglist: @the-djarin-clan . @btsstraykidsateez . @jeonjamiekim . @moonjinniecafe  . @minpdrecs . @bontensbabygirl . @this-most-assuredly-counts . @taolucha . @namluvili . @mytaegiheart . @@dear-mono . @lilyficrec

Important Update: Please check out this post and support on backup account.

Do Follow my backup account : @kittenan2

[beanxiv]

˗ˏˋ📓 ─── U + I = LUV .ᐟ ˎˊ˗

riddle rosehearts x gn!reader . . trying to explain trig to your infatuated partner is hard work .ᐟ 1.1k word count.

note: based on the need for a man not to mansplain to me, but to gently teach me content: suggestive, petnames [main masterlist] . [twst masterlist]

waking up in and having to navigate an entirely new world is likely— no, definitely one of the hardest things you've ever had to go through.

you would think math would give you a break when you get to said new world. but no. math is still math. twisted wonderland has no magic to make precalc easier. not that you have any magic, but still, it would be nice.

you're torn between standing up in your chair and screaming like a madman while ripping apart your worksheet, or continuing to do your homework like a normal person.

a quick glance around the library has you choosing the latter. none of these students need to see you crash out (again). you also don't need crowley breathing down your neck about anything (again).

you click your pen while staring down at the trig problem staring right back at you, unsolved. people are starting to look at you and you realize your pen clicking is bordering obnoxious. you shoot the octavinelle kid an apologetic smile and turn to your boyfriend.

his nose is buried in a practical magic textbook, jotting down notes every few moments.

“psst,” you try to get his attention. he’s focused though, and doesn't hear. you try again, “riddle. ….riddle,” you nudge his foot with yours and he finally looks up.

“yes? what's wrong?” 

you slide your worksheet toward him sheepishly, “do you understand this? i'm kinda lost.”

riddle closes his textbook— not before bookmarking it— and glances down at the worksheet, a thoughtful frown tugging at his lips. “this lesson wasn’t taught very well, was it?” he murmurs, looking up at you then back down at the paper.

“this one is simple— the wording is what must be confusing you,” he says, and he’s right. damn these word problems.

“let’s take what we know and…” he’s writing down numbers and corresponding symbols,  explaining everything to you as he does.

at some point, during the middle of the equation, you're distracted by the gentleness of it all. riddle— who you honestly couldn’t even stand when you first met him— has come such a long way from his outbursts and near-violent need for control. here sits, not a riddle rosehearts who's snapping at you for speaking in the library at a volume higher than a whisper; not a riddle rosehearts who would remind you that “rule eighty-two states that all math work shall be done under the roof of your own room!” or something— you're not sure if there are actually any rules like that, but even so!

no, here sits a riddle— just riddle, who lets you pick flowers from the garden on wednesdays, even though it violated rule two hundred twenty-eight. here sits your boyfriend who is explaining a math problem to you so softly, you’ve forgotten all about trig and calc.

“my rose?” he tilts his head to catch your eyes, snapping you into reality. “should i explain differently? you look like you're still lost…”

“oh! no, no, i got it now, i think,” you shake your head, and your whisper probably borders more of a whisper-yell, but riddle doesn’t comment on it.

“are you sure? it seems as if you were zoned out,” he gives you one of those unimpressed looks and you can't help but shrug.

“if it makes you feel better, i was still focused on you! just not… on you explaining.” you offer, and his brows pull up as if to question the reliability of his flustered partner’s words. his look makes you huff, “honest!”

“we have a test later this week, my rose,” he reminds you. “i think it’s to your benefit to understand this.” he taps his pen to the sheet of paper.

“how can i focus when you look so pretty?” you sigh, leaning forward to squish his cheeks between one hand. “being all intelligent and sweet.”

now it’s riddle’s turn to be flustered, and his face lights up with heat, blush dusting his cheeks. “i’m jus’—!” his words are slightly muffled by the way his lips are forced into a pout by your pushing his cheeks together. he grabs your wrist, not roughly, and lowers it between yourselves. “i’m simply explaining a problem to you, i don't see how..” he glances away, back down at the paper in attempt to hide the blush that’s practically making the room glow.

“how i think my boyfriend is the prettiest in the room?” you lift a brow.

he opens his mouth to retort then closes it again, which you take as a victory. you also take the chance to steal a victory kiss from his still-warm cheek. he huffs in that riddle-esque way, but doesn’t push you away. he never does.

on the contrary, he finds himself always giving in to you and your antics. half the time, he just can't deny you.

“need i remind you we’re still in the library?” he mutters, turning to reopen his own textbook since it’s clear you’re in too much of a teasing mood to get any of your own work done. leave it to riddle to attempt to mask the ever prominent blush that leaves him quite a mess, honestly. “oh, c’mon!” you whisper, “i’m complimenting you and you’re pushing me away!” you know that’s not actually the case, but you like to mess with him. riddle, though, finds your mocking to be unassuming. he says your name, in that authoritative way that sends a chill down your spine, “let me explain the content to you. then, you’ll do the page, and then i’ll indulge in your fun. although, not at the library. i’d much prefer somewhere without so many prying eyes– and a setting not as professional as this one.” you know he just means the comfort of ramshackle or heartslabyul, but the way he says it makes it seem as if theres implication in his words and that along with his tone is enough to get you to lock the fuck in. “yes sir,” you mumble, scooting your chair in closer to his. “trig, my absolute favorite! go ahead, mr. rosehearts, i’m listening.” riddle softens at that, shaking his head and yet chuckling despite himself. “are you now? good.

where was i before? ah, right. so this problem is asking for this missing angle, and to find it…” he loves you, and that must why he not only allows you to be so carefree and playful, but also himself. jeez, how far gone is he?

© beanxiv — all rights reserved. copying, reposting, translating, feeding into ai, and modifying on any platform or by any means is not allowed.

─── reblogs with tags are much appreciated 💝

[remuslupinslittleslut]

Teach us - Part one

@missakward123: can you do dom! reader poly marauders? Also loved this!! Yes I can, but I have such a hard time writing a sub!Remus, so I kinda took it in my own direction.

Part two is found here!

Reader x Remus turned into Reader x Poly!Marauders.

Masterlist.

They thought it was strange how Remus had been the first to lose his virginity out of the three of them. Both Sirius and James had girls throwing themselves after them constantly, but somehow, Remus was the first to go all the way.

You had always found them all quite attractive, but thought that Sirius and James tended to be a bit obnoxious at times. When you saw Remus studying alone in the library one day, you thought you’d go up and say hi to the tall, handsome guy. The two of you had only talked briefly before this interaction, but soon found that you enjoyed each other’s company. It didn’t take long from there for you to go on a date and soon you were a couple. 

Remus, ever the gentleman, didn’t tell his friends about your first time, he thought it was best kept private between the two of you, therefore you always tried to keep it somewhat lowkey, finding time to be perfectly alone. Though any secret could not be held for long in that dorm and one evening the cat came running and screaming out of the bag. You thought you’d get to be alone with Remus, as the other two had practice. As it turned out, however, practice was canceled and the door to the dorm was thrown open just in time for the two surprised boys to see you orgasm, quivering around Remus’ cock.

It slightly ruined the mood and you struggled to cover yourself as Sirius went on a long rampage about “The betrayal! The absolute betrayal. Our baby moons got laid and didn’t tell us. Here he is, having had sex the whole time – while keeping us in the dark.” He was pacing back and forth, only half joking about his distress before deciding to be the bigger person and be happy for his friend. “Good job Moons. First one out of all of us. Amazing.” With a chef’s kiss he left the subject of betrayal and moved on to something else.

After the embarrassing moment of coming in front of your boyfriend’s friends, it didn’t take long before the question was asked.

“Hey Moony, since you already had sex, could you teach us how to do it?”

“Yeah, Moons, I wanna be ready for when Lily lets me go all the way if you catch my drift,” James agreed, with a very unnecessary wink as everyone understood exactly what he meant.

You stared, gaping. That they would ask such a question didn’t surprise you one bit. The fact that Remus seemed to be actually thinking it over did.

“I guess,” he started, patting your thigh, “you’re gonna ask her if she’s willing to teach you.”

You, teaching his friends how to have sex? The idea was preposterous. Yet… It did make you feel a certain tingle between your legs. You still found them attractive, and the thought of being the one to take their virginities? Oh, that was just beautiful. You thought it over in your head. Remus was quite dominant, not really treating you as a submissive but he liked being a bit in control, he’d never let you have all the reigns. These two however… Looking Remus straight in the eye, you searched for any form of hesitance – you didn’t find any.

“Alright then, we’re gonna have to set some rules,” you said.

It was agreed that the day after, you’d help take your boyfriend’s best friends’ virginities. You said 24 hours to give everyone a chance to back out, and told them very specifically that they would shower, properly, “none of that locker room stuff, a real shower, clean everything.” It was best to be clear when dealing with teenage boys.

A whole 24 hours later you found yourself walking up the stairs to their dorm. You knew Remus would be there, and you knew they’d given consent. You wore your school skirt, but without panties, a t-shirt with a very flattering bra and your hair out. You had to get yourself in that dominant mood, ready to boss the boys around. Since becoming Remus’ girlfriend, you had gotten to know his friends as well. You knew James would be easier to dom, and you knew Sirius would be a little brat. Therefore, you started with James. Opening the door, you could cut the tension with a knife.

The boys were so cute and nervous, standing up and waiting for you (not Remus, of course, he was comfortably splayed out on his own bed). “Jamie,” you said. “Do you still wanna do this?” He nodded. “Okay, then take your clothes off and sit down on your bed. You,” you turned to Sirius, “are gonna have to wait your turn.”

When James was naked and seated on the edge of his bed, you took a moment to appreciate his toned body. The moment didn’t last very long though as you wanted to feel him. Climbing into his lap, thighs straddling his, you took his face and held it in your hands. He was so pretty, so soft, so pliable. “Jamie, have you ever kissed a girl?” you asked him, bringing your mouth so close to his that your lips almost touched his. “No,” he said, cheeks flushing red. Holding onto his cheeks, you brought your lips against his, softly at first, then with a little more pleasure. The warm breath from his nose on your cheek sent chills down your spine. Deciding to progress, you slightly opened your mouth, letting your tongue out to lick lightly at his lips. He moaned.

You continued kissing him, making out really, until you felt he was ready to move on. Leaning back a little, you pulled your top over your head, revealing your soft tits, perfectly framed by your bra. “Go ahead, baby, you can touch.” With your permission, warm hands pressed against your back before following the lines of your body, meeting your front and lightly squeezing your tits. You allowed him to explore freely, until he pushed his head down, paused and looked up at you, eyes asking for permission. Instead of answering him verbally, you pushed your tits against his face, letting him know he could kiss and suck all he wanted. He did manage to get your bra off all on his (you were so proud of him), and as it fell to the floor, you felt his cock twitching.

You let him play some more with your boobies before taking his hand, kissing it once and telling him “Jamie, have you ever felt a girl?” When he shook his head, you kissed the top of his head and pushed his hand down, between your bodies and toward your core. “Feel that? I’m all wet, that’s all for you baby,” you cooed, watching his facial expressions in awe – he was so fascinated. “Now, do you know where your little cock is supposed to go?” Little was a big lie. His brows furrowed in concentration as he felt around for the right hole, he did find it, and pushed a finger in. “Good boy, now put your cock in.” You raised yourself, hovering above him, hand coming down to help him push his cock into your warm hole. “Oh that’s a good boy f’me,” you moaned, loving the feeling of him filling you up.

Being so focused on James had almost made you forget about your audience, looking to the side, you met Remus’ hungry eyes. You could tell he was enjoying the show, hand rubbing against the bulge in his pants. You decided not to look at Sirius, making him wait for your attention.

Grabbing James’ shoulders, you carefully tried moving, sliding yourself along his cock, making you both moan. You tried a few different movements, going up and down, back and forth. It felt really good and you enjoyed playing around with it, and it seemed as though he was enjoying it too, his head thrown back, glasses askew and mouth slightly open. Suddenly his hands squeezed hard on your hips, making you stop your movements. “Jamie, you okay?” You asked, massaging his scalp with your fingers. “Yeah,” he reassured, “yeah, just need to… I’m gonna come…”

You giggled softly, “it’s okay if you do, but first, I wanna do one more thing.” Pulling your body away from his was hard, letting his heavy cock fall out of you was even harder, and you immediately mourned the loss. Though, you knew it would be worth it. Laying down flat on your back, you beckoned for him to join you, to climb on top of you. “You should know how to fuck a girl, Jamie,” you said, helping him find his way back into you. His athletic body was made for this, for moving himself back and forth, hips pushing against yours. He didn’t go very fast, but you knew he’d be able to when he got more used to the feeling. Hiding his face against your neck, letting the vibrations of his moans shoot right through you, his hips started making the smallest, cutest, most desperate little movements. “That’s good baby, that’s a good boy, you’re doing so well, so good, making me feel so good.” You didn’t think you’d be able to come, he was a virgin, but the little thrusts pushed the head of his cock against you in a way that just felt too good to hold back.

“Jamie, baby, I’m ‘bout to come,” you moaned, kissing his head, holding him close, “you’re so go- ah-od,” your moans grew louder as you experienced a rather mild orgasm, though, an orgasm nonetheless. Your walls spasming around him made him come as well, pretty cock filling you up with his little virgin cum.

“Wow, Jamie, you did so well, I’m so proud of you,” you told him, after he had pulled out and collapsed on top of you. His head was still buried in the crook of your neck, his breathing fast and hard. “Did you enjoy it?” You asked, to which he pulled his face away, eyes wide. “Like it? That was amazing.”

You stayed like that, letting him hold onto your body for a while, not wanting to leave him without aftercare and love. Though you knew, as soon as James moved away from you, you’d have to deal with his mischievous best friend. Before you let James continue his cuddling – with Remus – you made him promise you something. “Next time love, you’re gonna let me take your cute little cock in my mouth, okay?” To this, he nodded, excitedly.

Part two.

[hannahbarberra162]

Long Forgotten Fairytale Ch. 3 (soft Yan Shamrock x Reader)

On Ao3

The previous chapters

Note: Some gore mentioned though not described in great detail.

Also Reader would have been branded much earlier but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Also I’m going to age them to 18 in the next one, last chapter as kids I promise.

Thank you to @sordidmusings and @gouraminnow for beta'ing and giving me their comments, suggestions, and CC!

“Ah! I finally found it!” Shamrock yelled out with true excitement, jumping off the top of the library’s ladder to the tiled floor below. You were sitting on a stool, patiently awaiting his return as you watched the tiles crack under his feet as he landed. Padding over to you in his soft leather house shoes, Shamrock revealed to you the cover of the tome in his hands. You gave him a vacant smile as you looked at the book, still seated on the floor cushion.

“It is a written version of the same story you tell me at night. I believed we had a copy and I was finally able to locate it,” he stated proudly, opening the book to show some of the pictures within. Your smile faded slightly but you continued waiting for his extrapolation. Shamrock titled his head as he watched you nibble your lower lip.

“Why does the book upset you?” Shamrock asked, as you brought yourself back to a neutral facial expression.

“It does not upset-”

“Enough.” Shamrock waited a few moments in silence, allowing his presence to discomfort you. After about a minute you bit your lips again and wrung your hands. By the second, you began speaking.

“If Young Master reads the book, my services in storytelling will no longer be required,” you said in a near whisper. Shamrock softened his face as you took in a shaky breath in response to his regained composure. As he gave you an indulgent look, you relaxed slightly into the cushion. 

“Are you saying you enjoy the time spent with me at night?” Shamrock teased in a dry tone. Your face flushed deep with color as you studied the tile beneath his feet. “Read me the book and we’ll see how they compare. There’s no book that can win against your stories,” he said while sitting on the couch nearest you. He wasn’t sure why his attitude was so personal that day but he chalked it up to his excitement. After handing you the book, he laid down on the couch, his boots dirtying the fine purple silk with the mud still caked on them from the morning’s practice. You sat quietly, not speaking or reading.

“Well? Begin,” Shamrock snapped as he closed his eyes, idly jiggling a foot in the air. What was taking you so long?

“I cannot, Young Master,” you said in a hushed tone. Shamrock frowned and opened his eyes. ‘Cannot’ was not something you’d ever said to him before and not something he wanted to hear now. Further annoyed, Shamrock sat upright and swung his feet over the side of the couch. He glanced down to see you staring at the cover of the book, tracing your finger over the letters of the title. Ah. Right. 

Shamrock wanted you to recite the book to him but slaves weren’t allowed to learn how to read. He quickly thought through solutions to the problem - you were intelligent, much better than he was at mathematics if he was being honest, and you picked up skills easily. And really, why shouldn’t he do what he wanted and teach you to read? He was a Celestial Dragon - he made the rules and society followed. If you were literate, it would be much more convenient for him, which is really all he cared about.  There had been quite a few occasions when he’d wanted you to fetch him books or labeled jars and you hadn’t been able to discern which ones he meant immediately. If there was something Shamrock hated, it was being inconvenienced.

Really, it would make much more sense for you to be able to read. It would be preposterous for regular slaves to be able to read but you were in a completely different situation. You were his personal slave, his property that he could do with as he wanted. And he wanted you to read to him, so you would. He didn’t know how to teach someone to read but you’d pick it up quickly, he was sure. Perhaps you’d finally learn something from him, instead of the other way around like in mathematics lessons.

Matter settled in his mind, Shamrock lay back down on the couch and snapped his fingers so you moved closer to him. He took the book from your offering hands, cracked it open and put his finger on the first word. Clearing his throat, he began to read aloud.

“Once upon a time, in a far off land” he began, articulating each word carefully. He kept his finger on the word that he was reading, but you were studiously looking at your lap. “You’re not listening. Pay attention. You know how I feel about repeating myself,” he chided, tugging on your hair gently. You turned to watch as he started again at the beginning, his finger tracking the word he was reading. He read for half an hour before he grew weary of the book and stopped for the day. “We will pick back up tomorrow after my practice. Did you notice how they omitted all the fine details you include about the Beast’s castle? Your version is clearly superior,” Shamrock stated with a sniff, slamming the book shut between his hands.

By the end of the second week you were slowly reading to him at bedtime, your finger now trailing across the words on each page. It was a long ordeal but it didn’t bother Shamrock as much as he thought it would. He laid in his bed patiently, gently corrected you on more challenging words after allowing you several stuttering attempts in your lilting voice. 

Shamrock started keeping several books in his chambers, eventually necessitating a bookshelf. He didn’t know and didn’t care what happened to the books in his absence, though he did periodically have new books brought in once they stopped moving around on the shelves. 

Shamrock didn’t worry about anyone finding out you could read. He’d been taking haki lessons from a fishman slave who had been bought for the sole purpose of Shamrock’s education. He’d practiced his observation haki by trying to locate you throughout the castle, finding you an excellent means of focusing on the endeavor. He had learned of a third type of haki, Conqueror’s, and based on his lineage factor he was sure he would be able to unlock it soon. But as long as he had observation haki, he’d know if anyone tried to approach you without his knowledge. Even Father.

~

Shamrock’s 15th birthday was on the horizon but he wasn’t all that excited for the day to arrive. As a child, thought of his upcoming birthday would fill him with glee as he anticipated all the presents he’d be getting and the various celebrations about the household. But this year he didn’t care to think about any of that foolishness - none of it sparked joy within him. Of course, he still wanted the fancy gifts promised to him- a new sword that had eaten a devil fruit, new longer boots, new slaves, all things that should make a 15 year old excited. And he did want those things, especially the sword. But instead of looking forward to the merriment, Shamrock found himself thinking about your looming branding.

Slaves didn’t have birthdays, but they did receive their branding as they came of age. In your case, you’d started to turn into a woman - and a pretty one at that. No one dared attempt anything in his presence, but Shamrock saw the way heads turned as you passed by, the way the male servants would shove each other in the ribs behind your back. It was grotesque and unsightly but Shamrock understood that human nature meant others would find you attractive, even though you were a slave.

You needed to be branded as all slaves were; it would likely happen around his own birthday. He couldn’t trust someone else with the task of marring your skin - he’d seen some of the ghastly burns on slaves who’d had careless servants brand them. Some were lopsided or uneven, and some slaves were branded twice if the first time was particularly illegible. And really, if you were caused injury or harm, he’d have to wait longer for your recovery and that would ruin the tournament he was participating in within the next few weeks. Really, it wouldn’t be best if the brutes in charge of branding did yours, he decided.

It soured Shamrock’s stomach to think of your soft, even skin being ruined by such an ugly marking. He didn’t mind the hoof on the other slaves but on your body it needed to be done with consideration to the flow of your form. Shamrock couldn’t imagine looking at a lopsided brand on your body for the rest of his life. And really, why should he? As his property, it was his right to ensure that your brand turned out as best it could. There was no way around it, even you as his personal slave needed to be branded, but he could ensure it wasn’t completely ghastly. No, Shamrock needed this done correctly and most importantly, once . Which meant that he needed to do it himself. 

After a few days of research and gathering supplies, Shamrock was prepared for the endeavor. One night, he sat in front of the fire with his hands steepled as he awaited your return with his night tea. Despite the fact that you entered his chambers silently, Shamrock was aware of your presence as he was always attuned to you. You approached him calmly, the tray in your hands carrying his favorite tea and nighttime snacks as well as a few others. He’d asked for more than normal, your arms straining under the weight of the plates of food, drinks, and the bucket of ice he’d asked for. You’d be needing food in the coming hours and Shamrock didn’t want to have to send for it afterwards.

“Set it over there, I do not wish for it yet,” he said, continuing to stare into the fire. You walked along obediently, setting the tray down by his bedside. Returning to his side, you sat on the cushion at his feet, readying yourself for his next command. 

“Some things in life are necessary, even for one such as myself,” Shamrock began, unsure how to broach the topic. He didn’t need to explain anything to you, you were merely a slave, but he thought the process might go more smoothly if you weren’t panicked. You weren’t prone to outward displays of emotions, it was something that had been tamed out of you long ago, but he still wished for you to know what would be coming. 

“It is time for your branding,” Shamrock stated, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward on his elbows. He kept his gaze trained on the fire in front of him as he heard no sounds from you. The eyes roved over the brand currently in the fire, the red hot metal glowing like the embers it was set in. 

“Take off your dress and lay on the rug,” he stated with no hint of emotion in his tone. Your face was ashen as your shaking fingers grasped the hem of your dress. Still, you took off your dress overhead and laid on the floor noiselessly as he’d ordered you to do. Shamrock belatedly realized he’d never seen your figure in so few clothes, but perusing your body was not on his mind at the moment. You shook in your simple undergarments as you lay on your stomach in front of the fire. 

“I will make this as efficient as possible,” he continued, gathering the supplies he’d ordered brought to his chambers. Shamrock had taken the care to have another slave bring him the items - he didn’t want to frighten you or have you dwelling on the procedure before the time for the branding arose.  

Shamrock grabbed the rubbing alcohol along with a clean cloth and debated how to proceed. He’d never touched your skin directly before, he’d always worn gloves in the few times that he’d needed to touch you. But the guide he’d read said that he needed to use clean hands on clean skin otherwise the risk of infection grew exponentially. You wouldn’t be able to reach the area that he wanted to brand with your own hands; Shamrock was going to have to disinfect your skin. 

Pouring some of the alcohol onto the cloth, Shamrock moved your brassiere strap out of the way and rubbed the cool liquid on your shoulder blade. He thought that it would be the least obtrusive place for your brand, something he wouldn’t have to see daily. You jumped at the touch of the cloth, perhaps mistaking it for the brand. Your skin prickled under his ministrations, much like his own did in the cold. It was soft under his fingertips, softer than his own. A sudden urge had Shamrock placing his hand on the lowest part of your back near your spine to calm your tremors. He idly wondered if you always felt like this, cold and prickly, or perhaps it was just the effect of the upcoming procedure.

Returning his thoughts to the matter at hand, Shamrock stood and walked over to the fireplace, clutching the handle of the poker within his steady hand. Shamrock’s heart was beating furiously as he removed the brand from the fire. He’d had a new brand made just for you - it was smaller than the one normally used so instead of the bulky thick lines used on the rest of the slaves, you’d have one with the thinnest possible outline. He’d ensured the circle was not filled in so that in the middle of the hoof there was room for a four leafed clover. It would be clear to everyone just who you belonged to - who you served body and soul. 

After removing the brand from the fire, Shamrock turned to face your nearly nude body. Your lips were pressed together and your eyes squeezed shut, your hands balled into the carpet by your head. You reminded him of a frightened rabbit Shamrock had recently caught during one of his hunts. His dogs had chased it down and were going to rend it to pieces before Shamrock stopped them with a whistled command. To destroy such a pitiful thing didn’t bring any emotions of joy or satisfaction, and you were no exception.

Shamrock turned the brand so it was oriented the correct direction, looming over you to begin the process. And yet, he hesitated . Shamrock set the brand back in the fire as you anticipated the pain, sweat glistening on your forehead. He..he…he couldn’t bear to harm you, not like this. He wanted you asleep, kept safe from the feeling of your own flesh burning under his hand. Shamrock wanted to stop this process, but the only protection he could offer is if you weren’t able to feel it at all. 

It had to be done, it had to be done, it had to be done, it had to be done , he repeated in his mind, trying to use the mantra to crowd out the panic seeping through the cracks. It felt like he could feel your heartbeat, the heartbeat of the fire, of the stones, the walls, the brand, his own, all merging into one.

He stared down at you, feeling something swelling inside himself as you squeaked in discomfort and moved your limbs sluggishly. It had to be done, it had to be done, it had to be done, it had to be done…your face contorted in pain, you crying out for him, your skin cracking peeling blistering bleeding, it had to be done, it had to be done…

A blast of red haki emanated from him - the bright red charge striking you in the chest. You immediately went limp on the carpet, though Shamrock could see your chest rising and falling. Picking up the brand, he quickly stamped it onto your left shoulder blade and marked you, the smell of your burning flesh seared into his mind. You were his.

Forever.

Shamrock hadn’t been asking you to do much for him in the past few days, instead ordering other slaves and servants to bring him what he needed as you recovered. He’d seen other slaves sent back to work immediately after their branding, their skin still boiling and blistering, but he didn’t want that for you. If the brand became infected it would take even longer for you to heal and he’d continue to suffer under the incompetence of other servants. It was barely tolerable to have to check on you throughout the day in your room as you napped or read books on your bed. 

As you were not around to bring his meals, they were left in his chambers. Shamrock would eat his fill and leave the rest on the plates once done, servants ordered not to come in for an hour after his meals. By the time they came in, the food was completely gone. If anyone noticed he was ordering double the amount of food he normally did, they didn’t say anything. 

Overall, you were healing quickly, Shamrock thought. He changed your bandage and applied salve to your back as well, but that was only because you couldn’t reach the spot yourself. He took care to carefully remove the gauze covering the oozing wound and inspect it daily, as the book recommended. Though he didn’t like that the wound was on your body, he’d done a fine job, he thought. 

Shamrock was lost in his thoughts about the red haki from the night of the branding as he passed by an open doorway. Servants were within, speaking with one another, hardly a notable occurrence. However, he heard your name being spoken in soft tones so he stopped to listen into the conversation. Derisive laughter had him reaching for his sword. 

“-seen how she’s lookin’ these days. Few more years and that’s a woman I’d take to bed. Or against a wall,” a male voice said with another grunt of laughter. Shamrock’s hand tightened on the pommel of his sword as he listened closely. 

“You better act fast, aboutta have more red haired bastards running around the place soon the way he acts with her,” another voice sneered quietly as the first laughed. 

No sooner than the laugh rang out than the first speaker’s head was on the floor, blood spurting from his now decapitated body. The head rolled towards Shamrock, the cranium crushing easily like a fall gourd under the heel of his boot. Shamrock looked the remaining servant in the eyes as he stood frozen, mouth agape. No sounds were heard except the dull thud of a now headless body slumping to the floor and the gush of brain under Shamrock’s boot as he ground the skull into the floor.

Shamrock turned his body fully toward the servant, who cowered and covered his face with his hands in an attempt to protect his own neck. “Never speak of her,” Shamrock ordered calmly, seeing no need to yell. His message heard, Shamrock turned and left, his boots tracking the blood pooling out from the dead servant. 

His heels clacked along the floor as Shamrock rolled his eyes. Great , Shamrock thought, now he’d have to change his boots before he returned to his room. You didn’t like cleaning blood off of them.

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff @rebeccawinters @sanjisleggy @nerium-lil @unwillingstars @ceramic-raven @retardhaven @srisshh @yunheadlings

[bonbonly]

just had a thought about teasing oscar and touching yourself in front of him but he absolutely LOVES IT, trying so hard to not jump in an join, but after a while he gets too desperate and decides to help you out 🙃🙃🙃

bon's thoughts (18+)

i mentioned before that college!au oscar piastri doesn't know much about sex, it's the reader guiding him and this is it girlypop!

he's studying in the library, headphones on and he's typing up an essay when he glances over to you, asking if you can proofread before he submits and he sees you with closed eyes, moaning because you've got two fingers inside you and you're pulling out to let your digits slide through your folds. and oscar's there like ok... this is... this is something he should check out, so he closes his laptop and gets under the table because he doesn't want people to see what he's about to do.

he takes your hand away from his cunt, and you open your eyes staring at him.

"i don't think you should masturbate in the library," he says and you're raising an eyebrow,

"is it against the rules?"

"probably... but i just think i should finally use all the skills you taught me," he mumbles, gathering some of your slick before gently pushing his fingers inside you. he watches your reactions for a moment, before pushing in an out, and slowly he's adding another finger and curling just right where you want him to. you're moaning out loud, grabbing onto the desk firmly and pleading for him to keep going.

you know what would be crazy, what if he adds a 4th finger, rubbing your clit hard and you're losing your mind, silently screaming as you're bucking your hips into his hands and somehow or another, his whole hand is in your cunt and he's laughing hard because this doesn't follow what you taught him but god, it was so hot? and he can't seem to understand how your cunt's just taking his entire fist like that. you're squirting around him, and his shirt's drenched and he pulls his hand out, giving it a few licks just to taste and see what you tasted like and he gives you an impressed look before beckoning you to bend down under the table so he can see your face.

you scoot back in your chair and duck below the table, raising your eyebrows as if asking him to speak up and then he's placing his whole fist in your mouth. and you're shocked because you didn't teach him this, but he's a successful student! he's been doing research on the side

[lilylovestowrite]

LESSONS IN ETIQUETTE ୨♡୧

PAIRING: (Neuvillette x AFAB!Reader x Wriothesley) SYNOPSIS:After becoming the Acting Princess of Fontaine, you've been struggling to follow the rules, but it's all okay! That's what your royal tutor Neuvillette and bodyguard Wriothesley is there to help you with! WARNINGS:(NSFW, spanking, edging, overstimulation, handcuffs, blindfolding, oral (fem. receiving), praise degradation) MDNI

Divider by @/cafekitsune

“Princess?” 

Neuvillette’s baritone voice, although raised slightly so you can hear it from the other side of the door, holds the same tender lilt to it. You feel your heart leap slightly when you leap from your red chaise lounge and bound to the door to rip it open, ignoring the judgemental stare from your bodyguard, Wriothesley. 

“Neuvillette!” You beam as his purple eyes crinkle from the smile he gives you. He plants a chaste kiss on your knuckle, and the glimmer of affection in his eyes when he peers up at you through his long lashes send you reeling. Ever since you were forced to act as a stand-in Princess for Teyvat after the real one had been receiving threats from an unknown source, you believe Neuvillette’s lessons in etiquette are keeping you together. Even if the balls are unbearably boring and the fake smiles you master in the bathroom mirror strain your face, learning to dance and hearing Neuvillette praise your gleeful smile is all worth it. 

He allows you to lead him into your large bedroom, where Wriothesley is reading and sipping on tea. You never really understood why the dark haired man is to be by your side at all times. The Royal family tell you it’s because they don’t want to see you get hurt, but you know that it’s so you stay within the confines of the palace. Many times, you’ve leaped through the bushes of the rose garden, and Wriothesley has yanked you back and marched you back to the palace. Last week, you tried to escape through the library window, allowing the curtains to shield you from his view. You made it to the marble swan fountain by the exit before Wriothesley threw you over his shoulder with one arm and brought you back. At the recollection of the memory, you pull a face at Wriothesley as you sit Neuvillette down. He looks up at you with his eyes, the hue of rainy skies, and rolls them as if he were entertaining a child. 

“Now, Princess, I don’t mean to panic you, but I have been informed of some… mishaps occuring at the last ball you were at.” Neuvillette clears his throat and a small worried expression causes you to practically wilt. He notices this and scrambles to put the smile back on your face. “N-not anything too major though, I heard you did so well in dancing, I’m very proud of you.” 

“Thank you, Neuvillette, I just never want to disappoint you.” You practically simper, and Wriothesley hides a gag behind a polite cough, which Neuvillette is tactful enough to ignore. 

“You couldn’t possibly, my darling.” A gloved hand lightly pets you on the head, and you can smell the scent of moringa flowers get stronger as he approaches you. “Though I may need to teach you something a little different.” 

“Oh?” You reply, adjusting your blouse once you see how perfectly pressed Neuvillette’s navy three piece suit is. He sits you down on the armchair opposite of Wriothesley, the plush of the plum coloured crushed velvet material dipping under your weight. 

“Yes, Princess. It seems that last night,” he circles you behind the chair, his gloved hand trailing the golden embellishments on the back of her chair, “you were… enchanted by the Prince of Khaenri’ah.”

Ah, Prince Kaeya. Prince Kaeya, who moved with the unwavering elegance of a peacock. Prince Kaeya, who in his drunken daze, twirls you around when dancing, the khol lining his eyes causing that one beautiful, cobalt blue eye to gleam with brilliance. Oh, Prince Kaeya, who charmed you off your feet for one night only. You look guiltily at Neuvillette, “I apologise, I believe I had too much to drink-”

“You could have done worse, Princess. The error is on my behalf.” He murmurs from your left, still pacing across the room. You hear the clink of china on the table, and look up to see Wriothesley listening intently, even going as far as to slip a bookmark into the book he’s reading. “You see, people in balls may seem alluring to you-”

“They want you for your power, is all.” Wriothesley remarks, and Neuvillette clears his throat.

“That could be it, or they were simply taken by your own charms.” He offers. “However, I failed to warn you about this. And these men are dangerous, Princess. They might hunt you down, no matter how close Wriothesley is. This is why I thought of a… different way of teaching you.” 

“A different way?” 

Neuvillette’s long locks of white hair dance in the slight breeze as he approaches the doors to the balcony and closes them, causing the strands of starlight to halt to a stop. He pulls his hair up with a black silk ribbon in a high ponytail. The sunlight runs through the blue hued strands as he ties the ribbon into a perfect bow. “Yes, dear. Wriothesley over here and I thought that we could attempt to build up an immunity to seduction.” You feel a slight pang of fear as Wriothesley’s expressionless face glows with excitement, his half lidded eyes flooding with light.  

“You see, Princess,” Wriothesley practically snarls, “we’re going to have to show you the extent of what these desperate Dukes and Princes will go to for your affection.” He hisses into your ear, so Neuvillette can’t hear. “And I’m going to show you what happens when you make things difficult for me.”

Your face flushes and Wriothesley towers over your seated figure, his arms resting on either side of your chair. “I don’t…” You hesitate and clear your throat, your composure cracking like ice under a hammer from the dark haired man’s gaze. Seeking refuge, you look towards Neuvillette for some clarity, but instead you find your mind has gone haywire when you see him slide his gloves off with his teeth. “I don’t object to it, but why must he be here?” You nudge your chin towards Wriothesley, “He has it out for me!” You pout, knowing that Neuvillette will give you a warm smile, his pretty eyes skrunckled up cutely. He does, as you predict, but the smile is accompanied by a shake of the head which causes his ponytail to dance with it. 

“I’m sorry dear, but most of the people flirting with you do have it out for you. Whether it be for your fake status, money or beauty.” He approaches the chair you sit in, right beside Wriothesley, caging you in velvet. “We just want to make sure you aren’t so easily influenced, yes?” 

There is always something hypnotic about Neuvillette. An air of worldly knowledge interwoven with every spoken word, a charismatic voice that makes you feel as if you’re drowning in a sea of calmness. The trance he puts you in floods your train of thought and you wonder if he’s aware of the effect he has on you, the spell he has you under. When he says it like that, with so much care and tenderness, what other answer can you reply with other than “Yes”?

“Good girl, we’ll start easy, okay?” He murmurs, kissing your temple. How anyone has  ever survived this man’s charms is a mystery to you. Wriothesley on the other hand, grins down at you, fixing his glove and gripping your thigh.

“You’re gonna break tonight, Princess.” He sneers, and you feel red hot anger spurt out of you as if it were reflex. The warm, fuzzy feeling from Neuvillette boiling over. 

“I won’t. Not to the likes of you.” You tug on Neuvillette’s sleeve, “At least Monsieur Neuvillette is charming. You’re just annoying.” Comes your sharp retort, even though you both know you’ve been eyeing how perfectly his clothes accentuate his body. This causes Neuvillette to go slightly pink, the apples of his cheeks more visible due to the coy smile on his face.

“Come now, Princess, we shouldn’t play favourites.” He chuckles softly, stroking your cheek. You nuzzle into his palm and pout once more. 

“But you have faith in me, right, Neuvillette?” 

“Oh, Princess…” He pinches your cheek, but it is as light as a petal falling on your face. “I have to side with him on this one. You are going to break tonight. And that’s okay, because you can surrender to us.” Neuvillette muses, eyes glazed over with the sight of you undone and gasping already being painted in his mind. 

This is what strikes slight fear into you. You thought he would make it easy for you, maybe let Wrio bully you for a bit and then offer you dessert after a few crocodile tears. But the way that their sharp gazes pin you to the spot assures you that you are in for a ride.

“Now, angel. We are two princes vying for your attention. Keep your cool, do not show the slightest bit of interest. Not even in your body language. People will often notice what you do rather than what you say to see what pleases you, alright?” He instructs you in what is closest to a teacher's voice. You nod your head in agreement and Wriothesley snickers.  

“What a pretty little Princess we have here.” He practically spits at you, but oh-so-gently kneels and kisses the back of your hand. Neuvillette twirls a lock of hair around his finger. 

“Yes, they are, aren’t they?” You want to pay attention to the white haired man but you’re interrupted by the sharp bite on your hand from the still kneeling Wriothesley, who mischievously grins up at you. “Tell me, Your Highness, do you usually lure in people like this?” Wriothesley plays with the chain on your pants, pinging them. 

“I… Lure?” You reply, and the triumphant grin on his face urges you to collect yourself. “It is not my fault you can’t keep your hands off me.” A similar grin contorts your innocent expression as you press a heeled shoe to his chest, pressing his black shirt buttons and red tie with intricate stitching of a darker, sensual shade of vermillion, akin to the hot anger that flushes his cheeks. Neuvillette takes your ankle and removes it from Wrio’s dress shirt to press a kiss on your shin. 

“You’re right, Highness. I can’t keep my hands off you.” He muses, white hair framing his face, yet not concealing the brilliant violet gaze dripping with lust. Neuvillette’s voice is soft and gentle, yet you have to supress the urge to lean back against the chair to allow him to do whatever he wishes to you. “Nor do I want to.” Nevertheless, you keep your back straight and your gaze downcast towards them, even when Wriothesley stands up to grab your face and squish your cheeks together with one hand. It seems like the blatant act of disrespect has cracked his usually calm demeanour.

“You’re a fucking pain in the ass, my Princess.” He cooes, meeting your icy gaze and then pinning your shoulders back with both hands. “You’re touchstarved too, I’ve seen what books you hide underneath your pillow.” He looks at Neuvillette, and your eyes widen with horror. “Pure erotica.” 

You feel your face fall, and the perfect, golden act you’ve kept up to allow Neuvillette’s lilac gaze to consume you like you are the only one in the world seems like it is all for naught. Your heart pulsates in your stomach. Finally meeting Neuvillete’s flushed face, a tiny chuckle leaves his lips. “Don’t bully the poor thing, Wriothesley, we all have our quirks.” He kisses your nose, “So, Princess, what sort of things do you enjoy in those books, hmm?”

Heat builds up and you feel your composure slip as Wriothesley kisses down your neck, and Neuvillette presses a kiss to your lips. Wriothesley laughs cruelly, “I bet you enjoy being toyed with.” When you moan softly, he grips your thigh, allowing Neuvillette’s soft hands to cup your face. “This kind of reaction is unbecoming of you, Princess.” He emphasises this with a bite, causing you to yelp into Neuvillette’s passionate kiss. You feel the air hit your lips when Neuvillette descends to unzip your pants, sliding the fabric down your legs. At the same time, Wriothesley rips your dress shirt open, and you squeal at his roughness. “Stand up.” He orders. 

With whatever tatters of dignity you have left, you smirk at him. “Make me.” And within a split second, he picks you up. He raises your body like a ragdoll, ready to throw you onto the bed, but Neuvillette shakes his head and rushes to prep the pillows. Wriothesley sighs and places you on the bed, guiding one of the silk pillows under your hips, the cool fabric making you shiver. He unhooks the handcuffs from his belt loop and binds you with them, you thrash against him but Neuvillette hushes you, raking his hand through your scalp. 

“Wriothesley, you’re so rough with them.” He tuts, and the dark haired man only scoffs and pinches your cheek.

“Well, this one is a brat, and they’ve been trying to escape multiple times, haven’t you?” He nudges you, and you glare up at him. Neuvillette gasps, and you look at him guiltily. 

“Is this true, Princess?” He asks, his hand stops on your waist. You avert your gaze and nod. Neuvillette shakes his head in disappointment yet amusement glitters in his violet eyes. “You’re so good for me, but such a troublemaker for him. Is it that you’re more comfortable with Duke Wriothesley, here?” 

Wriothesley rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his dark hair. “A little too comfortable.” 

“We can’t have that, darling. Need you to be completely open with me as well. And here I thought I was the favourite.” He tuts, helping you up and laying your head against Wriothesley’s chest. His pin is nearly centimetres away from your eye, noticing this, Wriothesley takes it off and places it by the bedside table, such a kind gesture from him is unfamiliar to you. 

Nevertheless, you can’t keep your mouth shut. “You are my favourite, Neuvillette. He’s just an assho- mmph!” Wriothesley tilts your chin up uncomfortably and kisses you on the lips, your bottom lip in between his teeth as he grabs your chest. You gasp and hear Neuvillette chuckle in the background. 

“Fucking brat. You think you can get me riled up by making me upset because I’m not your favourite?” Wriothesley smirks and rolls your nipple between his fingers and jostles you in his lap. 

“You are riled up. Bet you’re jealous.” You laugh, the last of your pride melts away as you moan midway through the sentence. You look at Neuvillette, who with a tiny smile, parts your thighs. 

“I see what ails this Princess. I think an attitude adjustment is in order, no?” He muses, and Wriothesley agrees eagerly. 

“Yeah, like fuck they do.” He declares, rolling up his sleeves and holding your thighs open. “Aww, what a mess already. I think you need to surrender, Princess, it’s obvious that you’re desperate~” Neuvillette spreads you open further, and you shrink into Wriothesley from embarrassment as he inspects how much you’re leaking, inner pink walls coated in light cream sheen. 

“Not surrendering! Not yet!” You hiss, although your cuffed hands covering your mouth as Neuvillette plays with your clit. You try to shut your legs, but Wriothesley effortlessly has you spread open. 

“Fine, but if your struggle is as weak as the way you’re trying to hide yourself from us by closing your legs, then expect me to make it absolute hell for you.” You whimper meekly when Neuvillette licks up and down your clit, jolting in Wriothesley’s grip. “What’s that, Princess? Finally using that mouth to make pretty noises? Hmm?” He taunts, squeezing your thighs whilst Neuvillette groans into you, the vibrations causing you to pant. He continues the taunting all the way up to your climax, in which Neuvillette stops abruptly. He tilts your chin up and smiles when he sees your fucked-out gaze. 

“Princess, you need to surrender in order for me to finish you off.” He sits you up, and you shake your head in disdain.

“No, I… I can’t, not yet!” You mumble, and Neuvillette pets your head, kissing your forehead. 

“We’ll let you come down from your high, darling. It’s okay.” His voice is coaxing, baritone, it vibrates and you feel your heart and lower regions flutter. Hyper aware of every kiss of air on your exposed flesh, and especially aware of Neuvillette and Wriothesley. Their breaths reverberate against your ear and clit. Wriothesley’s breath is cold, yet sharp, and Neuvillette,  scorching hot, but ebbing tortuously. Oh, you could surrender, but he’s prepared this lesson for you. Sweet, caring Neuvillette, who only wants the best for you, so you will do your best just to please him. Even if it is at the expense of your own pleasure. However, a darker part of you notices the nonchalant, cocky attitude that envelops Wriothesley, and how you want to prove him wrong. Surrendering to Neuvillette’s overwhelming yet gentle pleasure would be a reward, but to damn yourself to give into Wriothesley? You may as well be a rabbit waltzing into a wolf's den. 

“No! I won’t!” And with that, Neuvillette withdraws himself from between your legs, the sensation of his silver hair gliding across your thighs when he pulls himself away makes you jolt. Neuvillette smiles softly, his light purple eyes glistening and scrunching up with adoration, the same kind looks that melts your heart whenever you please him. Except now, he licks his fingers coated in a sheen of transparent, viscous liquid. It makes you squirm and twitch, the knot in your stomach dullens, but does not unravel. Wriothesley lets out a low whistle, brows raised as he watches you whine from your denied release. 

 “Seems like your stubbornness finally has some use. But you’ll buckle now that I’m gonna do you nice and fast.” The two switch positions, with Wriothesley between your legs and Neuvillette behind you. The only difference is that your head lays in Neuvillette’s lap instead of resting against his chest. The ruffled lace sleeve of his white shirt tickles your cheek as he reaches to brush your hair from your face, smiling softly. His finger trails your nose, down to your lips, and although you want to admire his smooth hands, you close your eyes when the pads of his fingers smooth your brows. Meanwhile, Wriothesley rummages through Neuvillette’s briefcase, his gloved hands producing a device with a suction-cup top. He grins deviously, and you instinctively try to back away, but Neuvillette reaches down to kiss your lips softly, murmuring a gentle reprimand.

“It’s not polite to reject a gift, little Princess.” He whispers, and you mumble a weak apology. His hair flutters across your face as he moves to tilt your chin towards the dark haired man. His eyes, the hue of starlight, glimmer with malice, lust, and innocent glee all at once. “Ah, ah, you should apologise to that gentleman over there.” Neuvillette replies softly, taking your bound wrists in one hand and massaging your chest with the other. You feel your face burn with humiliation. Apologise? To Wriothesley? Who holds a bizarre device that he will undoubtly use to torture you? 

But one look at Neuvillette makes you gulp, the way his hands squeezes and rubs at your breasts making you keel into his touch. You have no choice but to do as he says: “I-I’m sorry, Duke Wri- ah! Wriothesley.” You moan and god, you realise how pathetic you sound because the Duke tilts his head to one side and edges near your sensitive clit with the device. 

“Oh, you will be.” He waves it near your ears, and your eyes widen in horror when you hear it vibrate. You catch on quickly, even with pleasure disgruntling your senses as if playing a piano piece with the pendulum on the wrong tempo. You feel Neuvillette chuckle as his lap trembles with a low chuckle. “This is something I first found out about in the Fortress of Meriopede. They say the Fatui sometimes use pleasure to break their prey, so I’m not sure your dainty little body can take this vibrator, Princess.” His voice drips with disdain and mockery, and you want to weep from the embarrassment. You try to free yourself but Neuvillette still has his finger looped around the chains of your cuffs. Wriothesley grabs your hips and spreads your folds, whilst Neuvillette moves to circle your nipple with his finger, and you finally twitch when the first touch of the vibrator on your clit, and you yelp. Wriothesley quickly withdraws it from you and giggles with sadistic delight, before regaining his composure and diving back in with it. This time, the tantalising pleasure of the device licking your folds with mechanical speed is constant, and you cannot stifle the moans that escape your lips. 

“Fu-fuck! Ah- Wriothesley, d-haah~ put it away! This is an- mm~ order!” You whine desperately between moans, and Neuvillette has to press your lower stomach into the bed to prevent you from escaping. Wriothesley cooes at you and narrows his pretty glacial eyes, only to squish your cheeks, lightly, but it stops you from speaking.

 “An order? From a tied up,” he increases the vibrations,“ fucked out,” once more, and you whimper, “ little mess?” With a final increase, you whine. “What gives you that jurisdiction, brat? You shouldn’t even be ordering me to clean up your messy clothes, but you still do, and you ask me to do things for you out of job requirements. I thought you preferred that, so why is it that the one time I volunteer to do what is not required of me, you protest? Hmm?” He towers over you and laughs in your face as you sob. He lets you go, but you can only whine softly. 

“Fuck you!” You weakly moan, and Wriothesley tugs on a nipple, causing you to squeal. The knot in your stomach builds once more, and you hate that with every mean name he addresses you with, it tightens. 

“Yeah? Fucking adorable. Already am, you pathetic brat. Not even at the highest setting of this toy and you’re already whining like a bitch in heat.” 

Neuvillette and you answer at the same time: “I’m n-not a b-bitch in- ah~! Heat!” Out comes your languid response. “Now, that’s no language we use for a young lady.” Neuvillette shakes his head disapprovingly, but Wriothesley rolls his eyes at him, gesturing to you. 

“What do you call this then? She’s panting.” Wriothesley spits out, and Neuvillette lightly presses on your lower stomach in what is supposed to be a comforting gesture, but makes you see stars from pleasure. 

“I call it a masterpiece. Look, she’s going on strong.” He affirms, but that is the exact moment you buckle. 

“Please, please, please turn it off! I can’t take it, I’ll cum, please! Wriothesley!” You beg, and Wriothesley crawls on top of you, his knees on each side of your hips. His glacial gaze meets yours, and you can’t look back at them. 

“Is that how you beg? You can do better. Come on, Princess. I know you can do it. In fact, here’s some incentive.” He increases the vibrations and you scream in pleasure. 

“Please! Please, Duke Wriothesley, I’m sorry, please, please stop! I can’t take it anymore, I’m so close, please!” You whine between moans, and the pressure in your lower stomach is so strong you feel your legs tremble. Feelings of desperation, humiliation and pleasure liquidise and pool at your eyes in the form of tears, which Neuvillette swipes away as they fall. Wriothesley urges you to continue, and you swallow your pride. “Please, please stop! I want to be- to be good for the both of you and not surrender- please! Please! I beg of you, Duke.” 

“Hmm, request declined.” But it’s too late. Something inside you snaps, and waves of euphoria cause you to grasp the chains that cuff your wrists together. The pleasure consumes you, your legs tremble and let out one last moan before going limp.

Wriothesley reacts first. “You stupid brat, you came without permission. You’re not allowed to do that until you surrender.” His voice goes in through one ear and out the other, because Neuvillette handles you and you find your hole being covered in a jelly like substance and stretched out once more, his violet eyes gleam with a voracity that makes him look so ethereal, he appears to be not quite human. His actions are gentle, he slowly unzips his pants and he calmly embraces you, but the veins in his arm and one side of his neck bulge with desperation. 

You look at Neuvillette desperately, “W-wait, I just came, I’m still sensitive.” 

He looks at you, still sensitive and fucked out from your orgasm, and caresses your cheek. “Although Wriothesley was slightly out of line, your disobedience requires discipline, dear.  But I’ll never be rough with you. You know what words to say if you want this to stop, Princess.” He whispers, slowly easing you onto his length. It causes you to whine and jolt, warmth blooming in your core once more, but you rest your cuffed hands on Neuvillette’s chest, the silk of his white dress shirt clenched in your fists.

“Shh, it’s okay, darling. But you have to take it, it’s a punishment after all.” He whispers in your ear, smoothing his hand through your hair before lifting you by the waist and slamming you back down. You let out a pathetic squeal, and feel Wriothesley snake his cold arms around your neck from behind. One hand holds your chin up, forcing you to look at Neuvillette.

Pink dusts his cheeks, and his high ponytail has blue strands escaping from it, framing his blushing face. He pauses bouncing you on his lap to roll up his sleeves, giving you a kiss on your forehead before picking up the pace: “There you go, Princess- ah~! You’re doing so, fuck- so well.”

His moans are higher than his baritone drawl, but they maintain the smooth lilt his speech usually has. They mix with your louder moans and pants. This dishevelled version of the usually put-together Neuvillette makes the experience seem so much more intimate, so even if you can barely think straight with the pleasure, you hold onto him for dear life. 

Wriothesley, however, had never planned to give you a moment of peace ever since Neuvillette asked him of this favour, and he lands a sharp spank on your ass. “Enjoying this a bit too much, Princess? Should have expected that from you. I know why you squirm when I lift you up to take you back to the castle after you try and escape.” Neuvillette, hearing this, angles his hips to curve his tip more upwards, and it ends up hitting you in just the right place. He continues, his own moans growing louder and breathier. Your pleasure becomes too much once more, and you cannot muster the energy to talk back to Wriothesley, who continues his assault on your behind. “Fucking look at him. What do you say to the Iudex for making you feel so good?”

You’re too busy catching your breath, but it catches in your throat when he spanks you again. “This mouth talks back all the time but the one time I ask you to use it, you don’t?” His voice is severe, and you feel him chuckle from behind. 

“Th-thank you, Monsieur N-ah~! Neuvillette!” It comes out broken and quieter than you anticipate, but Neuvillette feels himself lose control, tears building in his eyes, matching the drizzle that darkens the sky outside of your window. 

You whine at Wriothesley’s relentless spanks and tremble once more as another orgasm builds up, and Neuvillette feels you contract around him, the orgasmic waves of yours causing him to throw his head back. “Ah~ You’re close too dear, right? I’m- haah~ sorry, darling, but I can’t- can’t give you what you want.” He whines with almost the same amount of desperation as you, but pulls out, his own orgasm takes hold and he finishes on your stomach, leaving you high and dry. You whine desperately, but Neuvillette hushes you. The two of you take a second to catch your breaths, and he leans his forehead against yours. “Well done, Princess.” 

“But you’re not done yet, Princess. One last chance to surrender?” Wriothesley guides your cuffed arms around Neuvillette’s neck, allowing you to grasp onto the back of his silk shirt that now hangs off one shoulder, exposing the flesh underneath. His breathing is still rugged and deep, but somehow, the rise and fall of his chest makes you feel safe, so when he guides your head to lay against him, you don’t protest. But at the same time, you do not surrender. You shake your head, resisting the chance to finish. If you could take Neuvillette, you could take Wriothesley. That’s what you think, but as Wriothesley slides into you from behind after propping you on your knees and face resting against Neuvillette, who is slumped against the headboard, you realise how wrong you are.

Neuvillette was going easy on you on purpose, but Wriothesley graces you with punishing thrusts that leave you reeling so hard your moans become silent and only whimpers escape your throat. He finds your sweet spot and hits it at a fast pace, perhaps not going in all the way as Neuvillette did, but his speed much higher. His hips stutter, but his rhythm is consistent otherwise. Although the sensitivity from the previous orgasm has died down, this pleasure is hard to comprehend, so when Neuvillette finds the vibrator under the covers and you hear it vibrate, you begin to squirm once more. 

“No, no, no. You’re fucking taking this, Princess. You needed to be shut up, this was inevitable, so why not enjoy it, hmm? Why not let yourself become a pathetic little mess and maybe we can let you feel even better than you do now?” 

“I’m- I’m not surrendering!” You choke out, and Neuvillette rubs the vibrator across your nipples, dipping downwards to your clit, causing you to break out into goosebumps and quivers. 

“You’re not, dear? That’s great to hear, you’re doing such a good job, I’m so proud of you.” Neuvillette praises, and you cringe when you feel yourself flutter around Wriothesley, practically hearing shit eating grin. 

“Aww, Iudex, they like it when you praise them. Just felt them tighten.” He grunts, holding you up by the hips and thrusting into you rapidly. 

“Do you, now?” Neuvillette teases, kissing the crown of your forehead when you sob in humiliation and pleasure. “Then, darling, you’re doing so well, but you would do better to surrender, hmm?” He whispers, slowly palming at your chest. “Just let us make you feel good, you’re going to be our Princess from now on, okay?” 

“N-no! I won’t g-give- ah~! Give up!” You whine, and Wriothesley feels his own orgasm building. You can tell by the way he slows down and the way his groans become deeper. He hugs you close to him and kisses you down your spine as he gets closer, and you try and buck your hips to chase your own orgasm but he holds you so tight, you cannot move. 

“Well- fucking done, brat.” Wriothesley moans into your ear as you feel liquid stain your behind. He pulls out just before finishing and sighs in relief. Neuvillette takes your cuffed arms and ducks under them to allow himself to remove his arms around your neck and walks towards his briefcase. He takes out a blindfold and what seems to be a collar, and you feel your heart sink into your stomach, where it pulsates from adrenaline and want. You can’t want more, they’re breaking your defences down and you’ve already forfeited most of your pride when begging Wriothesley, but when Neuvillette praises you for enduring thus far, how can you refuse? Might as well enjoy the pleasure the two give you. Especially now that your blacked out vision enhances the sensation of Neuvillette’s tip tapping against your lips. Wriothesley runs his hand down your back, kissing and licking the flesh hungrily. The pleasure of the vibrator remains on your clit, and you beg and plead, but the two continue to toy with you and your senses, this lesson in etiquette seemingly never ending…

…Neuvillette and Wriothesley have you bent over the bed, with Neuvillette eating you out and Wriothesley sucking your clit, and it snaps. You really can’t take anymore of the edging. The blindfold increases your sensitivity by tenfold and you grip the sheets. “I- I surrender! Please let me cum, please!” You beg, and once you look back, you’re met with the vibrant, violet gaze of your royal tutor, and the jeer of your bodyguard. You feel yourself being flipped over for the nth time, and the two ravage you. Neuvillette, with his feather light touches, and Wriothesley, who targets the spots that make you keel in pleasure. 

Truly, you didn’t think the lesson was over yet, did you..? 

[illshakeyouallnightlong-dean]

Take Me To The Sun (Rewritten)

I know everything. The things beyond weapons drops across the border. And yet I stay quiet. Until I can't. Being a marked one, being a friend of Xaden Riorson doesn't mean I am granted unfiltered access to information of what goes on beyond Navarre's walls. But it should when lives are lost and rules change. My compassion doesn't make me weak. My dragon chose me. I am meant for more.

A/N: This fic is updated on my AO3 as well. Here. Happy Reading! Gonna try to update once or twice a week but as you know, life happens so we'll see! xoxo K

The quadrant is in chaos. 

Finding out who is alive, who we all lost - it’s a mess. The only thing I can focus on, however, is the fact that they aren’t back. 

He isn’t back. 

I wish I could comfort you, flare. Rathnait whispers to me in the library of my mind. For a brief moment, guilt consumes me. Gripping my throat with the threat of tears and a scream. A failure of a rider -  not able to even give her a reprieve from the onslaught of my emotions. That she must feel it all with me down our bad. 

A low growl as she narrows those golden eyes of her’s at me. Talons tick nervously on the flight field, vigilant over my every move and breath. All I can do is stare at my dragon vacantly. Streaks of dark copper highlighted her grace, her beauty - running down the length of her neck and down each of her legs. Rathnait was a sight to behold, and I was only grateful to be considered worthy to be hers. Her scarlet colored scales glistened in the setting sun, as if mirroring the sun itself in all its bright glory. Her swordtail flicked in the air back and forth, as if it were involuntary. We must not get ahead of ourselves, you would feel it if something happened to him. Don’t you dare assume what I can and can’t handle. Shutting me out only hurts you in the end.

My shaky hands outstretch, desperation to run them against the warmth of her scales. Her nose to my chest, needing to feel the steadiness of her breath on my clammy self. She nudges me gently, trying all she can to ground my spiraling thoughts. 

How could this be happening? How did it come to this? All that will be left is bitter words and unspoken longing for a man who didn’t choose me.

~

“Xaden is already bending the rules with bringing Violet along, I can’t ask him to risk your well being as well,” Garrick murmurs in my ear as we watch the tense showdown between Dain and Xaden. Ignoring the sting in my chest is a feat itself, having to wrinkle my nose to rid myself of  the tears that threaten to fall.

“You're not even gonna try, after everything? You just expect me to watch you go? You’ve been keeping secrets, Garrick. This seems like part of one of them.” Stepping away from his hold, the warmth long gone from the two of us. My desire to punch him, to yell at him at the very least - gods why doesn’t he ever choose me? 

Rathnait glowers at both Garrick and Chradh, his brown scorpion tail - the irritation evident in her golden gaze. Unrelenting. Every tone, every unsaid word she analyzes and catalogues. Watching me get hurt right before her very eyes, and not in a physical way is something she doesn’t stand for. Teeth as sharp as steel snap towards Chradh, the brown dragon pulls away in shock towards the obvious display of aggression. Garrick’s jaw shuts and clenches at the show the dragons are putting on, his ever composed features faltering at the anguish I knew he could see in my eyes, could hear in my voice. 

Just say the word, flare. I’ll teach him to treat you with more care. Rathnait snarls at Chradh as he tries to nudge her affectionately. I don’t want to put her in an uncomfortable position, to push away her growing care for Chradh. You let me worry about that. Chradh knows you are the one I chose, the one I will always look out for.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish we had time to talk more, but right now I would rather know you’re safe with the rest of your squad. Your anger towards me is worth it if I am guaranteed your survival,” I watch as he makes sure his flight gloves are secure, flexing them before flickering those earth toned eyes towards me. My heart cracks a little bit more - all I want to do is scream. To shove him and get him to see that this is hurting me, is crushing me. How much more can I let slide? How much more can I take?

“And what about you? What if you don’t come back?” The very thought is enough to have my knees lock and heart stutter. 

Xaden and Violet make their way towards their dragons. Squads have begun to launch to their respective posts. Dain and I are being waited upon by Second Squad. 

“I’ve survived too much to lose now. I’ll be back and we can talk - I’ll tell you everything,” Garrick promises, stepping forward to plant a soft kiss on my temple. Clutching his flight jacket, I can’t help it as tears fall down my cheeks. 

“It seems like you might lose me though.”

 Turning around to follow my squad leader, ignoring the curses from Garrick, ignoring the way in which my squad watches me with grimaces and pity. All for fucking War Games, all for nothing. Being co-section leader means nothing to me, Dain can be in charge for all I care. Steps that feel like bricks on my feet, it’s all the energy I can muster towards the group, needing the familiar, needing their constant. Ridoc opens his arms, bringing me in for a brief tight embrace. Sawyer offers a wavering smile.

“Are you gonna be ok?” Rhiannon softly asks, wiping my wet cheeks with her hands. A shaky smile graces my lips, hands busy with making sure my own flight jacket and gloves are secure. It takes everything in me to not watch Garrick and Chradh take to the sky, having to believe that he’ll be ok, it’s all that I can allow myself to think of. 

Xaden didn’t even glance my way, Imogen or Bodhi - no one. As if the rest of the marked one’s had decided together who should and shouldn’t go. Guess I made the cut. My own relic curved over my fingers and wrist - briefly burning as if answering to my very thoughts. 

“Let’s go get this over with.” Quickly scaling up Rathnait, she chuffs at me, making sure I’m secure in my seat. Let’s go flying, Ray. Take me towards the sun. Sending my devotion to her down our bond. She launches quickly, wings flaring gloriously. The rest of the squad is quick to follow. 

I’ll always make sure you’re near it, flare. The light will never die in you, not even from this pain. 

At least she always chooses me. 

~

It’s been 10 days. 10 days of agony. 

I’m the only third year left. 

Expected to carry on my co-section leader responsibilities as if the absence of Garrick is a minor inconvenience. The early sun rises with a flourish of pinks, reds and oranges and all I can do is relish in this fleeting moment of peace. 

No one seems to care or notice that they aren’t back yet. My only anchor, my only comfort is from that of my dragon. Spending many hours against the curve of her back, staring up at the sky in hopes of seeing or hearing familiar dragons, of hearings wings. When I’m not near her, our bond is wide open. The familiar fire red tether in my mind ablaze with every thought and emotion that runs through us. A warmth of what I could only describe as security floods down the bond. 

We can’t worry about things that haven’t been confirmed yet, flare. She knows my true questions, the things that I can’t bring myself to ask or think about. You must think about today, where we will go. 

Graduation day. 

Today would be the day we’ve been waiting for since entering this school, assignments to outposts were being given, and by this evening I would be gone, my journey at Basgaith over. Turning away from the river, I make my trek towards the flight field. The few third years left of this school congregate, awaiting as Colonel Aetos and Commandant Pancheck begin the assignments. 

“Congrats on graduating, Section Leader. It is a shame that Wingleader Riorson and Section Leader Tavis aren’t here to accompany you.” Colonel Aetos nearly sneers at the mention of Xaden. The obvious disdain is unsettling as he rifles through different papers. “Ah yes, your assignment. Due to your signet and the savagery of your red swordtail - you’re being assigned to the eastern wing…specifically, Samara.” The grin directed at me is maniacal, a joke I’m not privy too, a dare. Rathnait snarls in my mind, unbridled rage igniting the very blood in my veins - but all I can do is take the papers from his hand, saluting in acknowledgement and walking away.

Where are you, Ray?  Hands tremble, the crinkling of paper beneath slender hands is all I can focus on as I sprint towards my room. Can’t be out in the open, can’t let them see, can’t let anyone see what will surely be my own falling apart. My own demise. 

You will not fall apart. An outpost is just a different place, as if you haven’t endured years of people hating the very ground you stand on. As if you haven’t been bonded to me. 

I make it to the middle of an empty hall that leads towards our sleeping quarters, knowing in a matter of moments the rest of the cadets will be awake to get into formation. Pressing the heels of my hand into my eyes, I can’t help but rest my back against the cool stone behind me. My own body feeling as if it had everything sucked out of me, the very air I breath feels strained.  

Samara is the front line. Trying to get the ever rising beat of my heart under control, I must not panic. I am a rider. I am Rathnait’s rider.

Are you afraid, flare? I shudder at her question, not wanting to admit the fear, the panic. But I know that she can feel everything, hear all that I think. 

They aren’t here. He isn’t here. A whimper escapes my lips, the reality of it all just crashing down like rubble. I will be going to Samara, there is no avoiding it, there is no changing it. While I had spent years trying to survive Basgaith, I would be sent to one of the most active posts in the region. 

“Section Leader? Ar-are you ok?” Dain Aetos stands before me, hands out as if approaching a scared animal. “We need to get to formation.”

I don't hate the kid, knowing that following the straight and narrow path is the life that is meant for some people over others. However, that doesn’t mean I want him to see me having a mental breakdown. Giving him a small nod, I manage to get myself to stand before fully looking at the Squad Leader. 

Something’s wrong. My own senses are beginning to go haywire. My signet. Only Xaden and Garrick knew. Command and Basgaith are under a different impression as to what it is. None of the other marked ones knew either. The manipulation and detection of emotions however was a daily venture, there was no turning it off, there was only controlling it and living with it and right now Dain Aetos was a mess. 

“I would ask you the same thing, what’s wrong?” Dusting off my flight leathers. I don’t miss the way he flinches at my question, his hesitancy. “Do I have to give an order to know?” Glowering at him - I am still a section leader. 

Taking a deep breath, he stands tall despite the sorrow in his eyes, “Xaden and the rest of the squad he took with him are being declared dead at formation.” I startle myself at the immediate sob that escapes my lips. My body has accepted what my mind cannot. “Leadership has been looking and there is no sign of them.” Feeling the agony of his own loss, it feels as if a tidal wave has pulled me under. The roaring from Rathnait in my brain feels as if it will explode any second. Dain’s grief, his regret all barrel into me with no filter, no shield. Rathnait’s confusion and rage down the bond. My own sorrow, my own heartbreak. There is no stopping it. There just is feeling it. Unaware of the stream of tears that roll down my face, the taste of salt jolts me out of the shock, the horror. 

“Round up everyone, squad leader. I’ll be at formation in a moment.” My voice doesn’t feel like my own, the assignment papers feeling like large weights in my hand. He turns away to head towards the Quadrant, “Dain,” I call out, sounding like a garbled mess. “Thank you for telling me.” His own eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nods. 

My flare. I hear her call out, though to reach out seems like so much energy, all I can do is let her in with no barriers, allowing her to be there in the comfort of my mind. I’m coming, flare. 

Standing at the bottom of the stone dias. Everyone in formation, I don’t bother to look around. There is no one here to look for anymore. There is no Wingleader, there is no co-section leader - there is just me alone at the front. 

We don’t even have our leader. What hope is there for the revolution? Rathnait has no answer for me. 

To look at my squad is the last thing I am able to do, not being able to endure their unsaid questions. Answers? I had none. Being known for being put together, not a hair out of place, no rumpled leathers, no dirt unless necessary was once a pride and pleasure I reveled in. I’m sure the current state of me was a shock. Strands of hair fell in front of my face, eyes dry and cheeks raw from the tears. 

Captain Fitzgibbons overlooks formation, reading off the death roll. “Violet Sorrengail.” A moment of silence as all eyes look to the stoic face of General Sorrengail. “Garrick Tavis.” My heart feels as if it bleeds on the very floor I'm standing on, flinching harshly at the reading of his name. “And Xaden Riorson.” Captain Fitzgibbon’s voice rings out echoing around the quadrant. 

“Well this is awkward,” a voice calls out. Gasps are heard around the quadrant, even command seems unsettled by what’s happening. My knees seem to be locked in place, unable to turn around and see what is going on. My breaths turn into small gasps of air - no no no it can’t be, I’m dreaming. Dain said. I need to wake up. Heavy footsteps approach behind me, and two individuals take up position on either side of me. A calloused hand brushes against my own. 

~

Angry steps make their way towards the leaders seated at the dias. Xaden Riorson commands the very space, as if he were part of leadership. Violet Sorrengail makes her stand next to me, and the presence of the person on the right of me is one I can’t pay attention to - no matter how badly I want to turn and look, no matter how badly I want to cry. Colonel Aetos is furious, cheeks flushed and furrowed brows do no favors as General Sorrengail questions everything that has been happening since the start of War Games. All directed towards the fumbling Colonel and Xaden.

“I was directed to take a squad beyond the wards to Athebyne and form the headquarters for Fourth Wing’s War Games, and I did so. We stopped to rest our riot at the nearest lake past the wards, and we were attacked by gryphons.” Xaden states, fists at his side as he looks at both General Sorrengail and Colonel Aetos. “It was a surprise attack, and they caught Deigh and Fuil unaware.” He pivots slightly, telling the wing the rest of what we don’t know. “They were dead before they ever had a chance.” My Wingleader looks at my briefly for the first time in what seems like years, for a moment there is a crack in his ever perfect expression. 

I must have blinked, I must’ve staggered. My knees crash against the hard floor for a moment before arms reach themselves around my waist to hoist me up. We lost Liam? We lost Soleil? Unable to hear anything other than the rushing of my own blood through my very veins, the beat of my heart as if it were to come out of my chest. Violet flits her hands around my face, her mouth moving but for the life of me I don’t know what she’s saying. 

Liam was so good. Too good. And just like that he is gone? 

“And we almost lost Sorrengail.” 

Violet’s eyes widen as she takes in the horror in my eyes. My friends were in trouble and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there. Tears blur my vision, and all I can do is breathe through the rattling in my chest. 

I will never forgive you. Pushing the thought towards Xaden. Watching as his spine stiffens, for a brief moment the hurt is detectable in those onyx depths, but in a blink it vanishes. 

“Breathe,” a warm voice whispers against my ear, “ Or you’ll pass out.” The emotions of everyone in the quadrant are too much. However, Garrick Tavis’ were always those of beacons to me - I was nothing more than a boat lost at sea in this very moment. And yet how do I differentiate between him and me and our emotions when all this time I thought he was dead? I thought he was never to come back? How do I ever look at him the same way after leaving me behind? “Let go of me,” shrugging myself out of his hold, I get back into proper formation. Violet watches warily, unsure of what to do. “Go help our Wingleader, Cadet Sorrengail.” Anguish flickers from her emotional tether, being dismissed was something she didn’t think I would ever do to her. To treat her as a lesser. However, in this very moment, the very reality I have endured through seems pointless. There is no belonging to the marked one’s or to a cause or to the protection of Violet and Xaden. There is nothing but the chasm in my chest at every word being revealed, at every tether holding loss and grief. And the worst part of it all is that in a matter of less than 12 hours none of this will matter, Basgiath won’t matter - I will be long gone, a new post, a new death sentence. Like always, being forced to move on. 

Making myself numb is a simple yet effective aspect of my second signet. The dying of emotions is a strange and vacant liminal space in my mind. Gone are the bright hues within the library. The dimming of my own tether to Rathnait. The rest of questioning -  I don’t bother with the insistent touching from Garrick as he tries to get my attention. I don’t bother with the few glances from Xaden, and unfortunately I can’t be open to the bond between Rathnait and I - my cruel humanity unable to withstand her words at this moment despite her numerous attempts of ramming against my shields. I know it isn’t her fault, this hurt and sense of loss that I feel - but I’d rather be alone. 

With dismissal from command, Xaden and Violet get back into formation. There are words exchanged between them and Dain, but again why does any of it matter anymore? As Captain Fitzgibbons calls out the additional names to the amended death roll, there are no tears shed, there is only silence, deathly still silence. Commandant Panchek takes the stand and addresses what is left of the riders remaining. “Beyond military commendations, there are no words of praise for rider. Our reward for a job well done is living to see the next duty station, the next rank. In keep with our traditions and standards, those of you who have completed your third year will now be commissioned as lieutenants in the army of Navarre. Step forward when your name is called to receive your orders. You have until morning to depart for your new duty stations.” 

The orders I received earlier feel like lead against my breast pocket. I had received mine earlier as a taunt, a warning since command had already believed that my Wingleader and his squad were dead. My duty station was punishment for whatever it was that Xaden and Garrick had been involved in, what they are still involved in. 

“Garrick Tavis!” My heart feels like it lodges itself in my throat, as if it were to splatter all over the floor as I look at him, fully look at him for the first time in days as he strides towards the commandant. A new scar lines from his jaw to his temple, deep and red - fresh. His wide strong frame grabs the paper and lets out a breath as he reads the duty station he is assigned to before looking at me as he makes his way back to formation. For the first time, I note an emotion that is rare from him, from someone I have come to know as unwavering. 

He’s scared. Garrick Tavis is afraid. 

~

A resounding cheer goes up in the courtyard as we are dismissed from formation. Everyone has their new orders and I watch as Ridoc, Sawyer, Nadine and Violet gather each other into a hug. Liam should be here with them too, I can’t help but think. Soleil should be graduating with us. Violet tries to catch my gaze but I am not one for appeasing our lightening wielder tonight. A tall figure blocks my vision of the squad, and I know who it is without having to truly look up and see.

“Wingleader,” I nod, staring blankly across his shoulder. “What can I help you with?” 

Xaden raises his hands as if to grip my shoulder, or Malek forbid, pull me into a hug. He must second guess himself though as he falters and his hand hangs limply at his side. “We need to talk, the three of us. And I’m no longer your Wingleader, we’re equals. We made it, flare.” 

Whipping my gaze at him, lips pulled in a snarl. “Don’t. I was never your equal, I was someone who helped you all get away with whatever bullshit it is you’re doing. I was the scapegoat. I was the distraction.” With each word, rage bellows in my belly. My shields must be faltering between Rathnait and I, because I feel like decking him, hurting him. I don’t bother lowering my volume, all sense of decorum out the window as cadets make their way across the quadrant. “I’m not even your friend.” 

Xaden flinches at that. 

“That’s not fair, sweetheart,” A raspy deep voice comes from behind me, calloused hands attempt to grab my own. Ripping them out of his grasp, I can’t help but ram my elbow into his side, the sound of wheezing only slightly satisfying. Xaden attempts to help him but the glare I pin at him leaves him immobilized . 

“What is not fair, sweetheart, is being left behind. Is not being there to help. Is not being trusted after everything I’ve told you out of faith!” Whirling around to face him, Garrick struggles to fully stand upright after my jab. “And now it doesn’t even matter. Excuse me, I have to go pack.” 

Hurt. Regret. All that I can feel from the two shocked idiots. 

****

Shutting me out isn’t the answer, flare. Rathnait snarls in my mind. There is nothing my dragon hates more than to be purposely shutout from me. If I can’t reach your during moments of distress, how can I help you?

Sometimes I don’t want help, Ray. Sometimes I just have to feel it. Folding the rest of my clothes and putting away what few belongings I do have, I’m able to rest for a moment on the bed. The wooden figurine of Rathnait sits on the window, all I can do is watch it. 

Liam was so sweet. Eager to please, eager to excel - and training him was something that I actually found fun. He was the little brother I never had. Someone who could bring me back down from the emotional highs, someone who made me laugh when all Xaden and Garrick wanted to do was be serious. When he made the figurine of my dragon, Rathnait herself chuffed in amusement at how endearing she found Liam. He was just so filled with light that this hellhole had to swallow it up and take it away. It wasn’t fair. 

A knock echoes throughout the empty room. Already knowing what is to come, I steel myself for the inevitable emotional onslaught. Adjusting my new officer flight leathers, I wave my finger to open the door, staying close to the window. 

Both Garrick and Xaden are dressed in their new flight leathers as well. A pack and sleeping pad hitched over their shoulders. Remorse written all over their faces I don’t even have to use my signet for that. 

“Is it ok if we talk in here?” Xaden asks. Yelling from the graduated cadets echo throughout the halls, celebration in all forms was everywhere tonight. Glancing away from their hesitant stares, the sound barrier shimmers slightly overhead as Xaden shuts the door. With a heavy, burdened sight, he slides against the door and sits on the floor, legs outstretched. It’s the least put together I’ve seen from him. Garrick sits on the bed, glancing at the wooden figurine with a wavering smile before glancing at me. I don’t make a move to sit by him, my arms cross as I lean against the window bay. No one says a word. The friendship the three of us had, seems like it teeters on the edge of the cliff. Well it seems like I’m the one starting this.

“I thought you were all dead. That all I had left was the memory of disagreeing with Garrick before War Games and watching my Wingleader not spare me a second glance as he makes his squad when I was meant to be a section leader as well.” Bland words escape me, trying to say something other than the yelling that I want to dish out to them. “And knowing I didn’t even get to see Liam before he -“ I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’ve never asked, Xaden. I’ve never demanded Garrick tell me when I could easily hold it against him as someone he supposedly cared a lot about-“

“Care.” Garrick interrupts. Leaving no room for argument. “I care a lot about you, sweetheart. More than that. Don’t blame Xaden when I am just as much a part of this as he is. Be mad at me too.” His hazel eyes blaze with a fight I know he’s aching for. To yank the deadened words from my lips with something fiery, something that feels like more. Garrick doesn’t know what he’s asking for.

“You don’t think I’m mad at you too? Tavis, I am furious. I am heartbroken. I was resigned to a life without you, and now?” Gasping for air, I pound my chest for some sort of relief from the tightness I feel. Garrick is quick to try and help me but I raise my hand, ordering him wordlessly to stay put. 

“There are a lot of things I regret,” Xaden rasps, “You helped me, confided in me - and I didn’t do the same thing to you.” 

“I was ready to fight alongside the two of you if you had told me to. I would meet Malek with honor. I may not be like you or Imogen or Bodhi - that everything I feel is so much and bleeds with every word I say or person I interact with - “

“No, flare that’s no-“

“You act like I’m not even a marked one. That I am not a part of what you all are planning. I’m kept in the shadows so that command never suspects you all. You asked me to help train Violet. You asked me to be a constant, to be unwavering. For what? To be forgotten?” With each question, my shouts echo throughout my bedroom. Neither of them are able to meet my eyes. “I would die for Aretia.” The whisper in to the space between us hits their mark. The full realization of what I know - the understanding, make it’s way across their expressions, their emotions. Xaden rakes his fingers through his hair, clutching it almost painfully. Garrick staggers slightly, holding himself up by clutching the bed post. “And now? It’s too late. I have my duty station. Basgaith is done. My journey here is done.” 

I brush my signet along their emotional tethers, unable to break the habit of comforting them ever so slightly. Understanding that the two of them lost their brother, lost people that were a part of them. Garrick lets out a shaky laugh as he feels the familiar sensation of soothingness. 

“H-How did you know about that?” Garrick questions, eyes finally roaming over me in disbelief. 

“Did you not think I would know every time you would lie to me? That the drops you were making were all that you were doing? I don’t know anything else but the restoration of home, of our home? How could you not think I would defend that with every ounce of my life for you?” 

“It was never because I didn’t trust you.” Xaden looks at me with a resolve I don’t understand. He gets up slowly, standing tall. “If anything it was because I didn’t want to chance losing someone else we all cared about to. We lost Liam and Soleil too easily. I lost them. I’m the one who is responsible for you all.” 

Truth. Feeling his honesty. Feeling his belief. 

“Flare, if were to lose someone like you, too? You’re glue, you’re binding. You’re a bridge. The same way that Violet is.  You bring Navarre and Tyrrendor together with your compassion. With your grace and spirit. When others look at you, they don’t see a marked one. They see more.” A knuckle taps against his flight leather pants in agitation. "I took a chance and made a mistake and I’ll never be able to earn that trust back. But look into my tether and now that I’m so fucking sorry. That I fucked up.” Xaden pleads, “And selfishly I was looking out for my brother, knowing that if he lost you? There was nothing in this world that would bring him back.” His voice cracks as he looks over at Garrick, a hand on his broad shoulders. “I’d rather you be alive and hate me, whereas dead and I lose the two of you in the process.” 

A shudder makes it’s way past my lips, tears trailing down my cheeks. I felt exhausted, I felt confused and scared and so many other things and all because we we’re so fucking human it seemed like despite my signet, despite my bond with a dragon - I was still so susceptible to human experiences and emotions. 

“I’m being assigned to Samara,” I tell them, not being able to dance around that any longer. Both of them look at me with wide bloodshot eyes. 

“Say that again?” Garrick demands, making his way towards me. 

“Samara is my new duty station?” Confused as to their reactions. “I was assigned my station before the official formation. It’s a death sentence, one they thought they could give me since they thought you were dead and I was a loose end towards command.” 

Garrick and Xaden smile, both blinding and perfect. Garrick for the first time in what seems like ages, swoops me into his arms, clutching me tightly as he cradles the nape of my neck. He shakes in my hold, as if whatever energy he feels is suddenly constrained in his body. 

“We’ve been assigned there as well, we didn’t get to chose our station. I guess they forgot that they had put you there too,” Xaden laughs, watching the disbelief as I realize what this means. 

“You’re gonna be with me?” I whimper towards Garrick, burrowing my face into the crook of his neck feeling the tidal wave of emotions of all three of us. 

“Never leaving you, sweetheart.” He laughs again, rubbing his hands along my back, clutching my hair, doing anything he can to just touch me. It’s been ages since we’ve been near each other like this. I can feel Rathnait chuff in the back of my mind, her also understanding that she gets Chradh with her as well. 

“We get a second chance,” Xaden grins, although I know he means it more towards himself. 

“If by second chance you mean I get to be in, full in. Than yes,” I demand, untangling myself from Garrick, to look at both of them. Garrick clutches his hand in mine tightly. 

“You’re in, flare. However much you want to be involved in. Garrick and I will tell you everything, and from there -“ He nervously wavers, “From there you can fully decide what it is you want to do. There is no one else I’d rather station and fight alongside with than with you two. The three of us entered Basgiath together, we leave together.” 

Opening my arms, he rolls his eyes playfully - ever the grump. Garrick and I pull Xaden into our embrace, clutching each other tightly with relief. We weren't gonna go through death alone, we weren’t gonna suffer alone. Samara was meant to be our death sentence but maybe, just maybe - it wouldn’t be so bad.