#but I need to get this out without too many people seeing it and murdering me

[fanfic-obsessed]

Anakin Faces Consequences

Thank you @killjoypolitics for the submission

I love all your ideas! I was wondering if you had any ideas for a fix-it where the Jedi or Clones (somehow) prevent Order 66 from happening but Anakin still falls. How do you think the Jedi/Senate/public would respond to his attempted murder of the Jedi? Or the marriage? Or the murder of the Sand People? I’m just so curious as to how you think people would handle it! Do you think Anakin would be able to admit he was wrong and try and make up for what he did?

Hmm those are some intriguing questions. Reading them did give me some immediate ideas. Let’s explore them. 

I think, for this to work, we need to shift some behind the scenes for the Clone Wars. To start with Anakin’s…let's call them his less than stellar command decisions is noticed and noted, even if no one can do anything about them (because he is technically not doing anything wrong). It damages the trust the Clones, other Jedi, and even his own Padawan have in him.  These decisions include but are not limited to: Spending Clone lives to collect R2D2 (whose memory-properly wiped of sensitive information- is backed up to the central Jedi Temple databanks and had outright stated that it had no attachment to its current body), Anakin’s focus on Padme during the Blue Shadow virus, and his reaction to the Rako Hardeen arc (he was literally the only person in Obi Wan’s life to react poorly to finding out Obi Wan went undercover and faked his death, everyone else got Opspec). 

So by the time of the Wrong Jedi arc, no one is actually trusting Anakin with any more information than they absolutely need to. He kind of doesn’t notice because he wasn’t paying that much attention in the first place.  When the Senate demands Padawan Ahsoka Tano for the temple bombing, the Council calls her in to see them, without Anakin, and ‘We know you are innocent, we know this is a trap of some kind, would you be willing to go along to spring the trap and hopefully find who is framing you’ and Ahoska, being partially trained by Obi Wan, agrees.

No one tells Anakin. At the end of the Arc, Ahsoka agrees to continue undercover (as having left the Jedi) and working with the Shadows to figure out what is going on. So Ahsoka ‘leaves’ the Jedi, Anakin none the wiser. She also starts working much more closely with the Coruscant Guard (who had been aware that she was innocent and going along with things to spring the trap). 

This brings us to where Fives finds out about the chips, reports to Rex and Anakin, then is ‘killed’ (his death was faked and he was sent to join Ahsoka).  Anakin suppresses the report because he does not believe that his friend Palpatine could do anything like that. He orders Rex to ignore the report as well, specifically not to bring it up to the Jedi Council. But he does it in a way that still implies Anakin will be bringing it up to the appropriate authorities.  Rex does not trust Anakin, particularly not with anything that would make Palpatine look bad. However if Rex did an end run and went directly to the Jedi Council, it would be very obvious. So instead Rex reached out to Ahsoka with Fives report. 

Ahsoka, now working with the Shadows, gets the report and they are able to investigate the chips.  Though they cannot remove them, for fear that the wrong person will find out too early and activate the rest, they are able to quickly find and manufacture a way to neutralize the control portion of the chips. 

This brings us up to ROTS. To Order 66 and Anakin’s fall.  Anakin leads the march on the temple, and the 501st follow along (not sure where he was going with this), until Anakin strikes down a temple guard while ordering them to open fire. Had it been almost any other Battalion with almost any other Jedi, the Fallen Jedi would have been able to kill many more before he could be stopped.  But the 501st learned some difficult lessons from Pong Krell and Anakin was not gnarly as trusted as he thought.  Anakin is stunned.

Palpatine’s Empire as announced but without the control chips to make the clones kill the Jedi, Palpatine’s Empire lasts 3 days which end with Palpatine’s death. It takes another two weeks for everything to calm down enough to bring Anakin forward to face what he had done. 

Palpatine’s former supporters, the ones that are not outed and ousted during the transformation from Republic to Empire and back, flock to Anakin as the wronged party. Their spin is that Anakin was moving to protect the legal head of the government from an insurrection in the form of the Jedi. 

It gained no traction, because even though Palpatine’s Empire lasted 3 days, it was still enough to see how many of these people would react. Frankly, there were more than a few of those supporters (beings like Tarkin) whose support of Anakin did more harm to the cause than good. 

For many of the Jedi, Anakin’s actions didn’t really rate notice. Not above the horror of the chips, both from the view of ‘all of us would have died’ and ‘the clones would have been forced to kill us’.  Throughout the war Anakin had, mostly unconsciously, been distancing himself from the Jedi. A distance which grew as they realized he could not really be trusted. 

 For most there was sadness, of course, as more of his actions from the war and just before are revealed. But it was the sadness of an old friend going down the wrong path, not the betrayal of current family trying to hurt them.   Finding out Anakin had betrayed his oaths by marrying Padme and had committed murder was just one more thing that had happened. 

The public reaction was mixed. Many bought into ‘The Hero with No Fear’ mythos and could not believe he would attack the Jedi without reason, even after he admitted that his reason was Padme not anything the Jedi had done.  The scandal of it, though, keeps it in the public eye. And it is a seemingly unending  well of scandal for Anakin, Padme, and any number of their supporters.  Not the least of which is the news that Anakin murdered the Tuskans, but Padme’s forgiving him for it was legally binding (As she was acting as a Senator) so he could never be prosecuted for the murders, even if Tatooine and the Tuskens could make an official complaint about his behavior. That Anakin then married Padme made it even worse. 

I think, for Anakin himself, if he gets to the point of falling he would not be willing to admit he had done anything wrong. He seems like the kind of person who would double down and insist that he was right for his decisions.

[sandinthemachine]

https://twitter.com/quozacchi/status/1616272200998457345?t=nPrPRPu8fmcl9Tv_2fCRuQ&s=19

I'm sure könig thinks so

and I guess simon too depending on who you ask

[joycrispy]

One thing I love about Crowley --never stated, but consistently shown-- is that he is, at heart, an engineer.

I have a few different things to say about that. Let's unpack them.

As the Unnamed Angel, we see his designs for the Pillars of Creation are millions of pages long, comprised of cramped text, footnotes, diagrams, schematics, etc. It's very...Renaissance polymath, in the way it implies a particular intersection of artist and inventor.

Also: in the naked romanticism with which he views his stars.

We already knew he made stars, but in s2 we learn that he did NOT sculpt each of them by hand. He designed a nebula ("a star factory," he says) that will form several thousand young stars and proto-planets, and all --aside from getting the 'factory' running-- without him lifting a finger. We also learn that these young stars and proto-planets stand in contrast to those made by other angels, which are going to come 'pre-aged.'

...I'm reminded of Hastur and Ligur's approach to temptations. Damning one human soul at a time, devoting singular attention to it over the course of years or decades, and how that stands in contrast to Crowley's reliance on, quote, 'knock-on effects.'

Ligur: It's not exactly...craftsmanship. Crowley: Head office don't seem to mind. They love me down there.

Hm.

I'm also reminded of the M25.

The M25 may not be as grand as a nebula (sentences you only say in GOmens fandom...), but LIKE his nebula it's an intricate, self-sustaining engine that does Crowley's work for him, many times over. Again.

That's some pretty neat characterization --and so is the indication towards Crowley's disinterest in victimizing anyone tempting individual people. It takes a considerable amount of planning and effort (and creeping about in wellies), but in accordance with his design the M25 generates a constant stream of low-grade evil on a gigantic scale.

Cumulatively gigantic, that is. Individually? Negligible.

But no other demon understands human nature well enough to parse that one million ticked-off motorists are not, in any meaningful way, actually equivalent to one dictator, or one mass-murderer, or even one little influential regressive. That's the trick of it. Crowley gets Hell's approval (which he NEEDS to survive, and to maintain the degree of freedom he's eked out for himself), and at the same time ensures that any actual ~Evil Influence~ is spread nice and thin.

It's some clever machinery. And he knows it, too:

The Unnamed Angel and Crowley are both proud of their ideas.

(musings on professional pride, Leonardo da Vinci, the crank handle, and 'the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale' under the cut)

In the 1970's Crowley gives a presentation on the M25, projector and all, to a room full of increasingly impatient demons. Maybe the presentation was work-ordered; the 'can I hear a WAHOO?' definitely wasn't.

Before the Beginning, the Unnamed Angel can barely contain his excitement about his nebula. Aziraphale manages a baffled-but-polite, "....That's nice... :)"

11 years ago, Hastur and Ligur want to 'tell the deeds of the day,' and Crowley smiles to himself because (according to the script-book) he knows he has 'the best one.'

(Naturally, his 'deed' has nothing to do with tempting anybody, and everything to do with setting up a human-powered Rube-Goldberg machine of petty annoyance. Oodles of 'Evil' generated; very little harm done.)

Hastur and Ligur don't get it, of course. That's also consistent.

Nobody ever knows what the hell he's talking about.

It didn't make it on-screen, but, in both the novel AND the script-book, Crowley was friends with Leonardo da Vinci. The quintessential Renaissance polymath. That's where he got his drawing of the Mona Lisa --they're getting very drunk together, and Crowley picks up the 'most beautiful' of the preliminary sketches. He wants to buy it. Leonardo agrees almost off-the-cuff, very casual, because they're friends, and because he has bigger fish to fry than haggling over a doodle:

He goes, "Now, explain this helicopter thingie again, will you?" Because he's an engineer, too.

(It is 1519 at the latest, in this scene. Why the FUCK would Crowley know about helicopters, and be able to explain them, comprehensively, to Leonardo da Vinci?

...Well. I choose to believe he got bored one day and worked it out. Look, if you know how to build a nebula, you can probably handle aerodynamics. And anyway, I think it's telling that this is his idea of shooting the shit. 'A drunken mind speaks a sober heart,' and all. He probably babbled about Aziraphale long enough to make poor Leo sick)

Apart from Aziraphale, Leonardo da Vinci is the only person Crowley has any keepsakes or mementos of.

Think about that, though. Aziraphale's bookshop is bursting with letters, paintings, busts, and personalized signatures memorializing all the humans he's known and befriended over 6000 years (indeed: Aziraphale has living human friends up and down Whickber Street. He's part of a community).

Crowley doesn't have any of that. It's just the stone albatross from the Church (for pining), the infamous gay sex statue (for spicy pining), the houseplants (for roleplaying his deepest trauma over and over, as one does), and this one piece of artwork, inscribed, "To my friend Anthony from your friend Leo da V."

To me, at least, that suggests a level of attachment that seems to be rare for Crowley.

...Maybe he liked having someone to talk shop with? Someone who was interested? Someone engaged enough to ask questions when they didn't immediately understand?

...Anyway.

There's also the matter of the crank handle.

This thing:

This is one of the subtler changes from the book. In the book, Crowley knows Satan is coming and, desperate, arms himself with a tire iron. It's the best he can do. He's not Aziraphale; he wasn't made to wield a flaming sword.

The show, IMO, improves on this considerably. Now he, like Aziraphale, gets to face annihilation with what he was made for in his hand. And it's not a weapon, not even an improvised one like the tire iron.

He made stars with it.

[both gifs by @fuckyeahgoodomens]

If you Google 'crank handle,' you'll get variations on this:

Crank handles have been around for centuries. Consisting of a mechanical arm that's connected to a perpendicular rotating shaft, they are designed to convert circular motion into rotary or reciprocating motion.

Which is to say they're one of the 'simple machines,' like a lever or a pulley; the bread and butter of engineering. You'll also get a list of uses for a crank handle, archaic and modern. Among them: cranking up the engine of an old-fashioned car... say, a 1933 Bentley. That's what Crowley has been using his for, lately. But he's had it since he was an angel and he's still, it seems, very capable of it's angelic applications.

Stopping time. For instance.

(This is conjecture on my part, but, I like to imagine that Crowley has the ability to stop time for the same reason I can --and should-- unplug my computer before I perform maintenance on it. Time and Space are a matched set, after all, and in his designs in particular, one feeds into the other.)

I know everyone has already said this, but: I REALLY LIKE that when he needs to channel the heights of his power, he does so not with a weapon but with a tool. Practically with a little handheld metaphor for ingenuity. One from long-lost days when he made beautiful things.

(And he loved it. Still loves it --he incorporated that metaphor into the Bentley, didn't he?)

Let Aziraphale rock up to the apocalypse with a weapon: he has his own compelling thematic reasons to do exactly that. Crowley's story is different, and fighting isn't the only way to express defiance. And if you've been condemned as a demon and assumed to be destructive by your very nature, what better way than this?

He made stars. They didn't manage to take that from him.

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale are fighters, really --they have no intention of fighting in any war. They'll annoy everyone until there's no war to fight in, for a start. But between the two, if one must be, then that one is Aziraphale. Principality of the Earth, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Wielder of the Flaming Sword... all that stuff. Even if he'd prefer not to, it's very clear that Aziraphale can rise to the occasion, if he must.

Crowley was never that kind of angel. He wasn't a Principality. He doesn't have a sword.

...And yet.

It's Crowley who protects. He's the one who paces, who stands guard, who circles Aziraphale and glares out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near.

In light of everything else I've said here, I think that's interesting.

Obviously part of it is that Aziraphale enjoys it and, you know, good for him. He's living his best life, no doubt no doubt no doubt. But what about Crowley? What's driving that behavior, really?

Have you heard the phrase, 'loved to the point of invention'? Well, what if 'the point of invention' was where you started? What if where you end up involves glaring out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near? What is that, in relation to the bright-eyed thing you used to be?

What do we name the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale?

...Thinking about how an excitable angel with three million pages of star design he wants to tell you all about...becomes a guard dog. Is all.

[povlnfour]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ CRASH LANDING (LN4)

pairing: lando norris x f!reader

summary: lando accidentally hits a stranger with his car — the internet can’t stop referring to it as a meet cute. (un)fortunately for lando, mclaren agree.

genre: comedy, fluffy

authors note: a continuation of the ending to beached! you don’t need to have read that to understand this, however it will give some insight to the mclaren matchmaker jokes <3 also in light of that, this is set a few races in the future! *oscarsgf user refers to the character in beached!

*faceclaim: keeahwah on ig (but please imagine her as you see fit!)

landonorris posted a tweet ੈ✩‧₊˚

tmz posted a tweet ੈ✩‧₊˚

landonorris posted tweets ੈ✩‧₊˚

lando’s texts with y/n ੈ✩‧₊˚

landonorris just posted ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by carlossainz55 and 203,488 others

landonorris practicing safe driving

view all comments

user you are so unserious sir

user SOOOO IS THAT THE GIRL HE HIT BC

user no clue but she’s CUTE

oscarpiastri @/fia look here

landonorris i will literally remind your girlfriend of your murder attempts when you first met

user it’s giving meet cute

user i’d read a fic on it

yourusername you literally drove off BEFORE I WAS EVEN IN THE CAR

landonorris IT WAS AN ACCIDENT I WAS DISTRACTED

user ASSUMING THIS IS HER???

user @/user CLICKING ON HER ACCOUNT IT DEFINITELY IS

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by bestfriend, landonorris and 3,907 others

yourusername monaco recap🇲🇨 successfully didn’t get hit by too many cars!

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user AS IF LANDO HIT THE HOTTEST PERSON IVE EVER SEEN

user nah this is actually a full meet cute i’m sorry this is the shit you see in romcoms

bestfriend still can’t believe you didn’t take compensation but accepted a lunch date instead

yourusername can you blame me

user @/yourusername oh girl no one can you are so real for that

friend1 wait till everyone finds out you’re only there for another 4 days

user WHAT. i can’t have them separated already😶

user parasocial relationship with lando ended y/n is my new idol now

twitter reacts ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted stories ੈ✩‧₊˚

[captions:

photo 1: lando paid for me to get my nails done !!!

photo 2: :D

photo 3: ur all romanticizing my life rn but this is my view in a fancy ass restaurant]

texts with your best friend ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris and 11,276 others

yourusername final days in heaven. i’ll miss so much about this place

👤 tagged bestfriend, landonorris

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user wait she doesn’t live in monaco?? she’s leaving??? just after i’ve gotten attached to her and lando???

bestfriend please come back to visit asap i cannot go too long without my y/n cuddles

landonorris seconded

user um lando sir,,, seconded the whole thing? cuddles included?

user this cannot be the end of the meet cute i refuse to

landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by oscarpiastri and 286,425 others

landonorris safe to say i’ve had a pretty good break between races

view all comments

user a whole post dedicated to her with THAT caption? oh yep they’re whipped

user please tell me y’all are going to stay in contact?

user my heart is shattering already

mclaren 🧡

user MCLAREN PLEASE YOU’VE DONE IT ONCE BEFORE

texts with lando ੈ✩‧₊˚

mclaren interview ੈ✩‧₊˚

[transcript:

o: safe to say you’ve had a pretty interesting break before this race

l: hey let me remind you what happened for you over winter break!

o: okay but i didn’t literally hit my girlfriend with my car!

l: oh so you finally asked her out officially?

o: stop deflecting!

l: okay okay! yeah safe to say i had a nice time. always need a bit of a change in life!

o: so how are things going now?

l: (awkwardly) well you know how it’s… yeah

o: ah i get it. quite literally been there done that got the t shirt. but hey you did say all that when i got my big moment about mclaren—

l: no no no don’t give them any ideas! they’re listening!]

mclaren just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by 203,467 people

mclaren the boys are back! don’t forget to check out the new interview on our channel where lando and oscar talk all things hopes for the second half of the season, workouts and… girls?

view all comments

user mclaren. mclaren look at me. you know what you have to do

mclaren 👀

user when oscar asked him about y/n… i wanted to cry he looked so sad are things over between them?

oscarsgf @/oscarpiastri you’re such a gossip

oscarpiastri you love me for it

oscarsgf @/oscarpiastri you know what i’m thinking?

oscarpiastri @/oscarsgf plotting?

oscarsgf @/oscarpiastri plotting!

user what on earth is going on…

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by oscarsgf and 29,481 others

yourusername lately :)

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user you are so ! gorgeous !

user i can see why lando is obsessed

user speaking of… where is our favorite brit in the likes☹️

oscarsgf pretty girl!!!

yourusername oh?!? thank u cutie!!!

user ^ oh their plotting is in progress???

mclaren you’d look good in orange👀🧡

landonorris posted a tweet ੈ✩‧₊˚

an email from mclaren ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted stories ੈ✩‧₊˚

mclaren just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by 287,456 people

mclaren it’s race day🫡

view all comments

user WHO IS THE GIRL

user IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS

user PLEASE TELL ME THATS Y/N

user LOOK AT HER STORIES ITS DEFINITELY HER

user SOMEONE WHO IS THERE KEEP US UPDATED PLEASE

user just posted a thread ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 106,544 others

yourusername i don’t know guys, do you think he’s cute?

view all comments

user OH MY GOD FINALLY

landonorris i will hit you with my car again

yourusername is that a challenge mr. norris?

landonorris @/yourusername oh you better run fast

yourusername @/landonorris well duh cause you don’t know how to do the speed limit

user i love them. i love them so much.

oscarsgf omg can we force the boys to do mclaren double dates

landonorris leave this comment section now

yourusername @/landonorris too late we’re already texting

landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername, mclaren and 300,091 others

landonorris we are successful victims of mclarens matchmaking services

view all comments

user THEYVE DONE IT AGAINNN

user new fav couple fr

oscarpiastri oh how quickly you all forget me

user @/oscarpiastri WE COULD NEVER

user clearly i need to work for mclaren to get a cute gf

oscarpiastri @/oscarsgf is the second photo giving you flashbacks as well

oscarsgf they’re stealing our thing

yourusername thank you for posting the nice park date photo of me

landonorris well in all the others you’re mid cartwheel

mclaren glad to be of service🧡 anyone else? @/patriciooward how are you doing?

landonorris i’m gonna stop you right there

———————

a/n: WELL. hello friends. i said i wasn’t gonna post a one shot for a while, then this happened. i just hope its up to standard! i’m a little rusty in my writing considering everything!

in regards to new works, gonna be working on getting my wips out soon, and maybe popping some new smaus out at the same time as they’re easy and quick-ish for me to work on considering everything going on! do forgive me if i do some random family orientated stuff — pregnancy hormones are giving me baby fever for everything (is it still baby fever if you’re having a baby?)

let me know your thoughts in the comments/reblogs/asks — i’ve missed talking to you all sm! i have anon emojis available if people wanna chat too🤍

for the first time in a very long time,,, love, giselle xx

taglist (found here): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @tsukishitm-a @moonypixel @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313 @lqvesoph @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call @skatingiswalkingincursive @peqch-pie @m0cha-bunny @woozarts @he6rtshaker @iluvvmeeee @goldenalbon @izzy-marvel @lucyysthings @lichterfee @tallrock35 @treehouse-house @iloveyou3000morgan @scopeiguess @amaranthineghost @gwginnyweasley @hetfieldd @sweetbabygirlsworld @wittywhispers @dark-night-sky-99 @namgification @casperlikej @marshmummy @geniusalpaca

tags for this post: @the-untamed-soul @itsprashimusic @purplephantomwolf @jasminesacademia

[vivwritesfics]

Padawan Learner

Mrs Vettel, ex Williams driver, current McLaren driver, can't drive while pregnant. Although she's contracted until 2026, she can't drive while she's with child. But she can't stay away from racing, and can't help but take the Williams rookie under her wing.

Sebastian Vettel x Reader, (Platonic) Logan Sargeant x Reader

Warnings: Brief description of smut

She wasn't supposed to retire at the same time as her husband. He felt as if he was at the end of his career and there was nothing more he could offer to the sport, so he retired. He'd had his glory years in Red Bull, moved to Ferrari, every racers dream, and ended things in Aston Martin, alongside his wife's old teammate.

She still had more race left in her. She'd been with Williams for years, racing alongside Valteri Bottas, Lance Stroll, George Russell, and, later, Alex Albon. But then she moved to McLaren, a team she felt would help her fight for wins.

Her husband very thoroughly celebrated the beginning of his retirement. She found herself stuffed full of cum almost every day of winter break.

It shouldn't have been a surprise when they got pregnant. But she wanted to murder Sebastian. For all of five seconds she wanted to drown him in their pool. But, after that five seconds passed, she was overjoyed, wrapping her arms around Sebastians neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

She told McLaren and they pulled Oscar Piastri in for the year. That was how he got his first drive in F1. All because Sebastian Vettel was incredibly horny, but he didn't need to know this.

She might not have been able to drive, but she still wanted to be trackside whenever she could. Her old team gave her this opportunity. She didn't hang around the McLaren garage, as she had half expected.

No, it was Williams and the new team Principle, James Vowles, who gave her somewhere to be during the season. Even in preseason testing, she was there, watching the Williams.

It was great to be in the garage with Lily again. She'd always liked Lily, thought she was great for Alex when they first met. After her move to McLaren she rarely got to see Lily, and as much as she hated sitting in the garage, it was nice to be sat in the garage with her.

Alex was a great driver. Any advice a veteran like her could have offered him, he already knew.

But then there was his teammate.

She watched Logan from his very first race weekend. She had known about the rookie for a couple of years now and had watched him succeed in Formula Two.

But now, in the Williams tractor, he was struggling. Week after week after week he was finishing outside of the points, or he wasn't finishing at all. She really felt for him.

"Hey," she said after the Hungarian Grand Prix.

Logan hadn't spoken to anybody since he got out of the car and did all that he needed to do. Clearly he was struggling. He didn't say anything, just looked up.

She stood beside him. At her stage of pregnancy she could have gotten down to the floor to sit with him, but she wouldn't have been able to get up without help. Her hand rested on her bump as she looked down at him.

"I still remember my first season in Formula One," she said as she looked at the retired car. "It was 2013 and Seb was set to win the championship. I was in my first year in Williams and I think I only finished maybe ten races," she said with a laugh.

"Wait, seriously?" Asked Logan as he looked up.

She nodded her head. "I crashed out of most, or the car fell apart on me. Most people wondered why I had a seat for the next year, but Williams saw potential in me. I know they see it in you, too."

Every time Logan didn't finish a race, every time he came dead last, she was there. Nobody could comfort her like she did. Sometimes Seb joked that they might as well adopt him, and Logan agreed. Most up and down paddock called Logan her padawan learner, which was very fitting.

Logan began being the person she spent the most time with when Sebastian wasn't there. He'd looked up to her for many years and having her support meant the world to him. He was there for her too, making sure she had somewhere to sit and something to drink whenever she needed it.

In September, a month before her due date, Sebastian begged her to stop travelling. Just in case he wanted her home with him, where he could take care of her. They still watched every race together and she made sure to send Logan a good luck text before every practice session, qualifying, and race.

When Logan got his first points, nobody celebrated more than Sebastian Vettels wife. She was so proud of him, even if those points were because of two disqualifications. She posted a picture of him and her from a previous race on Instagram like a proud mum. Funnily enough, Logan comments 'thanks mom' on the post.

Just two weeks after this, her water broke. Sebastian got her to the hospital. He stayed by her side, holding her hand through the hours of excruciating labour.

Leon Vettel didn't cry when he was born. He was so quiet, that it actually scared his mother. But the doctors and nurses assured the new parents that he was perfectly healthy.

He was their perfect little man.

She insisted on asking Logan to be Leons godfather. They had grown so close over the last few months that it seemed fitting.

Logan accepted. As soon as the Vettels could, they were taking Leon to races. Or, Sebastian took Leon to races, to watch his mother race. Of course he was wearing a Williams hat and McLaren shirt.

"Papa," Leon said at four years old after watching the Australian Grand Prix qualifying session.

"What is it, my little man?" Asked Sebastian as he sat Leon on his lap.

"I wanna be like mama and Uncle Logan," he said, and Sebastian couldn't stop himself from grinning.

[toast-on-dandelioms]

What if reader accidentally called superman "dad" while they were on a mission? Like Batman needed some help tracking down some new murder cult and thought Spider could help? But they wouldn't come unless superman wasnt there since Spider does NOT trust the batfam?

Ok so, I'mma make a scene with your idea and then say what it would happen. Just to then explain how the Batfam would react.

You were called with Clark to a mission, knowing the Batfam was there but you didn't care since you knew Clark would protect you from them.

Plus you made sure to grab two tasers this time and incorporated a new type of web fluid that could emit electricity when it hits someone.

You did create it so you didn't have to use a taser but also so you could tase anyone of the Batfam that would dare to get too close to you or even touch you during the mission.

Clark finally landed while you adjusted your mask since you took it off while you were flying to feel the air in your (long/short) hair.

You looked at the batfam, already annoyed when they didn't even do anything but just their presence was a source of anger and annoyance for you.

While the Batfam was also annoyed that Clark was there but he had to come or you wouldn't even consider going with them to a mission.

You didn't say anything to them, just giving them the blank stare your mask provided and just stayed next to Clark, listening to them talk about what everyone was supposed to do in the mission.

Bruce did try to make you go with him or any of his kids, making you nervous since you couldn't really refuse without any excuse. You did have one but you can't really say "I refuse to go with any of your kids (directed to Batman) because I hate all of you".

But Clark surprised you by refusing any option of you going with any on the Bats and stated that you would go with him, making you smile a little and lean a little on the kryptonian.

Which made all of the Bats jealous and angry at the kryptonian.

At the end you were supposed to go with Superman in the hideout of the cult, which you were happy about it and quickly followed the kryptonian while ignoring the glares of the Batfam that were directed towards Clark.

Well, during the mission you got separated from Superman in the fight against the cultist when they suddenly ambushed both of you, making you panic since you never fought so many people at once.

Yes you did fight small gangs but usually they were just kids and you just had to punch one and all of them backed down immediately. So fighting a large group of people that knew how to fight was a bit difficult and extremely different from what you're used to.

Plus your panic doubled when you saw Damian and Dick approaching, probably to help you but in the fight and the panic in your mind made them seem even more dangerous than the cultists trying to stab you.

So you did the only reasonable thing that your scared mind wanted. You called for Clark while fighting three cultists at the same time, tasing a few of them while fighting.

The problem? You accidentally called him dad.

Bruce Wayne: oh god how angry was he when he heard that from Dick and Damian's coms.

(He still doesn't know who you are behind the mask but already sees you as one of your kids even though you're already are)

He quickly finished fighting the leader and ran to where you were supposed to be, quickly knocking out anyone who was in his way.

He did kill a few of those in his way, but he made sure to hide the bodies and will deal with it later by burning down the hideout.

He finally arrived at the spot where you and the others were supposed to be and he saw something that made him want to grab his kryptonite batarang to hit Clark.

Why? He saw you in Clark's arms, hugging him with all your might while he flew so neither Dick and Damian could reach you.

Plus the worst thing was the sick smile Clark had in his smile, like he planned it. Like he knew you weren't ready to go in such a big mission and would probably call him in a panic.

Bruce just glared at the kryptonian and signaled him to get out with you so they could get rid of the rest of the cultists.

Basically Bruce would be a jealous bitch even though he doesn't care about you when you don't have the mask on, and would use his anger against all the cultists there since he blamed them instead of blaming himself.

Clark Kent: oh he would be so smug whenever he sees Bruce and you're not with him.

Especially since he planned it. He might not be as smart as the Batfam but he knows people and especially you.

He knew you weren't ready for such a big mission since you mostly trained with him and fought small gangs in Gotham.

He knew you would panic while fighting and knew you would call for him when you couldn't do it anymore.

The dad part was a surprise but a happy one for Clark, he became so smug when you jumped in his arms when he quickly flew to you.

He did see the glares he received from almost all the batkids and especially Batman, to which he responded with a smug smile while rubbing your back.

He left with you since you didn't want to stay and he also knew Bruce caught the leader so he didn't have any reasons to stay.

Not sure if you also wanted the Batkids but I didn't add them, just comment if you also want to have the batkids reaction and I will add it!

[the-hipster-nugget]

I think we need to talk about Scott’s third life death scene more often, specifically about the scene directly afterward with Martyn and Ren.

It’s so fucked up that Martyn chases after Scott, not hurting or actually touching him but follows him so his king can get a chance to kill him, but Martyn doesn’t touch Scott. Instead he yells after him these half baked apologies and explanations, trying to tell him “I didn’t want Jimmy to die!” That is actually insane.

As Martyn is chasing that boy he connected with at the start, the one he entered the nether with; they went through this worlds actual hell together. Now Martyn is tasked to take after Scott to not let him escape, someone he used to be close to, he chases with death in mind because his king commands it.

And Scott finally stops to face martyn, as the pathetic hand tries to tell him “we didn’t mean to kill your husband” is SO fucked up. Out of everything Martyn said, before having to watch his king murder him, he tells Scott that it was never his intention to harm Jimmy.

Upon Scott’s death, Martyn does not cheer or rejoice, he just lets out this pathetic noise of defeat after Ren murdered Scott for good. Martyn stands there feeling null and empty, while his king goes into hysterics.

Ren also, upon killing Scott, is immediately rushed with guilt and horror at himself. Starts sobbing, “how many more do I have to kill to this violence comes to an end?”

“It’s dripping into my eyes… I can’t see, I’ve been blinded by violence my hand.”

Ren sacrificed himself using Martyns hand, allowed his head to be chopped off so that he could become a red name- but even after all that, he cannot kill without guilt. Other red names like Skizz and Joel get this bloodlust and hunt like a predator. While Ren, the wolf king, kills and then he cries. He sobs and begs for Martyn to hold him. He’s a red name supposed to be thirsting for blood but it isn’t giving him that rush it should. He had Martyn take his head, and all for what? What was this all for?

He’s a red name, and the king of a red kingdom, with a red shield. He brought red winter in his wake, but he stays awake at night shivering in fear about the death of others. In his heart, Ren is too good hearted to kill without remorse. Despite it being his job, and something he sought out to do on purpose; he feels horribly guilty.

The blood dripping into his eyes blinding him is insane symbolism. Being a red name gives him this urge to kill, and it blinds the players. But doesn’t give Ren a rush of ecstasy or excitement, it scares him. Ren feels so blood thirsty that he gets dizzy, and it makes him want to cry. It makes him scared of himself, and he breaks down as yet another person died at his hand.

He begs Martyn to hold him, and all he can think about is before he had to murder another person. He never wanted to become this red king, never wanted his crown to be stained in blood. He wanted to hold Martyns hand, and enchant with him. That’s all he wanted, was a life of peace with his dear friend. Martyn was his friend, not his hand.

Ren asked for this, he prayed for red winter, but now that it arrived, he is so so cold. Ren just wanted to feel the warmth of spring.

Neither of them wanted to kill Scott. Neither of them felt satisfied watching Scott lose his final life, but they murdered him together anyway. They killed him, and then they cried about it. They hold each other in the dead of winter.

“How many more people do we have to kill before all this violence comes to an end?”

The red king just wishes red winter would finally end. He’s tired of his bloody crown weighing down his head, his weak scarred neck struggles to hold. Martyn holds his king in attempt to comfort him, but all he thinks about is how eventually, they will have to die too. Maybe if they’re lucky, they’ll die together.

[thoughts-of-bear]

The birthday gift

A Halsin x reader fanfiction | Explicit, 18+ | 7k words A/N: Okay since the Halsin brainrot has had its hold on me for ages, I started this fic on my birthday in december, not expecting to ever finish it because I have literally never finished anything I've started writing before- until now. I got inspired to write this by this post (for the birthday part, the smut part is my own horny imagination) and well, this is the final product. Since it's my first time publishing any of my writing and writing smut at all, please be kind with me XD Summary: Your companions prepare a surprise birthday party for you, Halsin sees you in your new dress, you two dancing leads to him confessing his feelings for you and a very happy ending... CW: halsin x f!reader, virgin reader, halsin eating pussy, fingering, p in v sex, breeding, rough sex i guess, halsin being the man he is, all that stuff idk what to write here really

I hope you enjoy it, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

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You and your companions had finally reached Baldur’s Gate. It’s still morning when you enter Rivington that day and the streets are busy with all kinds of people, many seemingly refugees from Elturel and farther away, here to find shelter in the city. As you continue down the road to the village in front of the city gates, you are stopped by a little red-headed girl.

“Erm. ‘Scuse me, I can’t find my mum.” She looks worn out and as if she has recently been crying.

“Where did you last see her?” you ask as you bend down to her, smiling to show you want to help.

“She went to go get some herbs - for her spots” she gestures towards her face. “She was sick. And she was supposed to come back the same day.” She pauses before adding, “That was last tenday though.”

“Let’s go find a guard. They’ll be able to help you”, you propose.

The girl shakes her head. “Guards blow like petards. They don’t help us.”

Your heart sinks at these words. It seems all these people were here because the city wouldn’t take them in. And the guards are no help either, apparently. You wonder what happened to your city, where once everyone was welcome.

Halsin sighs and shakes his head in disapproval. “This city is a poor place to be in need of help. Even the guards can’t be trusted to protect the most vulnerable.”

You silently agree and think of how you could help that girl. You decide to spare a few coins, so she can buy herself some food.

“I don’t know where your mum is, but here - take a few coins”, you offer her, not able to tell her that her mother is most likely dead. Halsin smiles at you warmly as you shoot him a quick glance, the sight making your heart skip a beat.

“Oh - erm. Thank you so much! I don’t have anything and you can’t do anything without any coin”, the little girl exclaims, bobbing on her toes and suddenly looking a little less tired. “I’ll pay you back. When I find my mum.” She turns around and bolts. “No need, it’s a gift!” you call after her but she has already vanished in the crowd.

You finally arrive at Wyrm’s Rock Crossing in the evening, after you had snuck past one of the new city guards - the so-called Steel Watch - and promised to investigate the murder of the local Ilmater priest. Another incident that seems to fuel the hate towards the refugees.

And that isn’t even all. The city is closed, even for you as a Baldurian, and to get in you’d need an Admission Pass - or wings. You sigh. You just want to get into the city, rent a room in the Elfsong and think about what to do next, now that the Absolute’s army must soon be upon the city.

It’s all too much and too little time. And you can’t just turn away from the people you met in Rivington either, they need help just as much as you need to find out how to beat the Absolute’s Chosen and get rid of the tadpoles.

When you make your way around camp that evening, checking up on your companions, Halsin notices your exhaustion, the way you slump your shoulders and how your usually impeccable stance falters. He wants to relieve you of at least a bit of the tension, so when you walk over to him, he offers you a massage. The things he wants to say to you can wait until tomorrow.

“Thank you, Halsin”, you accept, his hands turning you around and gently pushing you down to sit on your knees before him. You sigh as his broad hands knead the tension from your back and by the time he is finished, you feel like a sleepy, boneless lump of flesh, muscles completely relaxed. You thank Halsin again before you retire to your bedroll, the hopeful thought that the offer might’ve been more than Halsin’s usual kindness crossing your mind before you drift off to sleep.

The next evening, you were finally inside the city walls. You consider the new information of the day. How you got your hands on an invitation to the celebration at Wyrm’s rock fortress, your disbelief to see that it was Lord Gortash’s coronation as Arch Duke, how he made the tadpoled Duke Ravengard give up his power and how Bane’s Chosen then proposed an alliance against Orin, the shapeshifter that had already approached you in Rivington. You had agreed to kill her, but you definitely wouldn’t leave Gortash his Netherstone. But that is a problem for another day. You had managed to get a room in the Elfsong Tavern and as usual you make your way through it to hear what your companions think of all that had happened today. Most approve of your decision. Halsin is the last person you speak to and as always, he has just the right words to ease your worries. For now, at least.

“Wait-”, he grabs your arm before you can leave. “I didn’t thank you yet.” His large hand is warm and makes your skin tingle where it touches you.

“Thank me? For what?” He chuckles at your puzzled look. “For all that you did in Rivington yesterday. You have so many worries and yet you still go out of your way to help those in need. The way you made that little girl smile, or how you didn’t hesitate to investigate what happened to that Ilmater priest.” A blush creeps up your cheeks as he continues. “I’m afraid Nature’s balance can never be restored in a city like this, but seeing what you do every day without expecting anything in return gives me hope. And for that I thank you.” You smile up at him, lost for words with your heart beating fast.

“I appreciate you saying this. I wish I could to more, to help everyone, but if I can at least do a little good, it’s worth the exhaustion at the end of the day”, you eventually admit with a smile. Halsin grins. “You’re too modest. I wager you don’t even know how extraordinary you truly are.” Your cheeks blush an even deeper red at those words and only when you retire to bed for the evening does your heart resume its normal pace again. But the warm feeling Halsin’s presence gave you remained for the night.

After you had the first proper breakfast since your crash with the Nautiloid, you feel ready to explore the city and find out how to best deal with all your problems. You hadn’t particularly missed the bustle and noise of your old home, but you can’t help feeling safer now that you were in familiar surroundings again.

Gale proposed to go to Sorcerous Sundries, both to find out more about the Elderbrain’s crown and to see what the wizard there wants with your companion Nightsong. Since you don’t have an idea where to find Orin yet, you figure that this is as good as any other thing you could be doing. 

The way from Elfsong to the magic shop isn’t far and you still have some time before it opens, so you decide to stop by the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette to update yourself on any news you had missed in your absence and struggle with the Absolute.

Scanning the title page, you notice the date in the corner and your brows shoot up in surprise. Noticing this, Gale asks if you found anything important in the newspaper.

“No, it’s just that I realised today is my birthday and I've completely forgotten about it. That means we have been on the road for more than two months already”, you wonder aloud before you add, “It doesn’t feel that long.”

“Well, then we have to celebrate of course!” Gale exclaims happily. You smile at his enthusiasm but shake your head. “We have bigger problems for now. Let’s see what this Lorroakan wants with Dame Aylin and then get on with our business. Besides,” you shrug, “we didn’t celebrate birthdays in my monastery anyways so I won’t miss anything.”

“If you say so,” Gale replies and you turn your attention back towards the page you were studying before.

You had already forgotten about the conversation as you come into your chamber in the Elfsong, grateful for the few minutes alone during the bath you had taken and the respite for your tired body.

But the moment you enter the room, Karlach and Shadowheart drag you to a set dinner table, laden with the most delicious food you could imagine. There aren’t your ordinary fish heads and the mouldy bread you usually have to call supper, instead delicious smelling pork roasts, pies, glazed carrots and potatoes, deep red apples and more pile atop the table, all lovingly placed around a huge flower bouquet in the middle of it.

You are so overwhelmed by the amount of work your friends must’ve put into this, that you can only stutter a ‘thank you’ before Karlach announces, “Happy birthday soldier! Halsin, Gale and Shadowheart here told us that today is your birthday and you never had a proper party before, so we decided to prepare you a little something!” With a grin she gestures from the table to one of the unoccupied beds, where a few packages are placed.

“You brought me presents too? You really didn’t have to!” you exclaim in surprise. You are so touched that your friends -among all the trouble- still found time to prepare the presents and this party for you that you feel tears well up in your eyes.

“Darling, no need to cry,” Astarion laughs as he pushes you onto your designated chair. “This is a party and not a funeral! Go ahead and enjoy yourself, it’s your special day after all!”

With a sniff and a small chuckle at Astarion’s words you sit down properly. He is right, of course, and you all clearly enjoy having a small break from the worries you faced at the moment.

Smiling hesitantly, you grab some meat and vegetables and start to eat - it really is delicious. You revel in the laughter and conversations with your friends, your weariness from todays fight forgotten for the moment.

When all of you can’t possibly eat any more, Karlach drags you over to the bed with the presents. You can tell she is excited to see if you like the few things your companions managed to get you in the time they had for preparing, so you start unpacking.

The first present contains a book on the monastery you were raised in, with a handwritten note from Gale:

“I’m sure you already know most information this book has to offer, but I thought it might still bring you comfort and remind you of home.” You thank him with a tight hug and carefully place the book into your bag.

The next package is a bottle of the finest liquor of the Elfsong Tavern, plus a sparkler for every one of your companions which Karlach sets of immediately.

Laughing at her shenanigans, you reach for the last and biggest present. It is wrapped in red paper and decorated with a little white bow. You wonder where your companions had managed to find all those things while you carefully pull the paper open. Soon a dress falls out of the packaging and you gaze at it in awe. Your fingers trace the deep forest green fabric, intricate silver and gold patterns weaved into it.

“This is beautiful, thank you, truly!” you say earnestly. You still can’t quite believe that all this should be for you. “I thought you would like it”, smiles Shadowheart. “And I’m certain it will suit you beautifully. Go now - try it on!” she urges you.

You walk to the bathroom which still smells of the quince-scented soap you had used for your bath a few hours before. While changing, you bask in that warm feeling in your chest these moments among your friends always grant you. Whatever problems you had encountered, in your opinion they have all been worth it just for the people you found and let into your heart along the way. As cheesy as that sounds.

You regard yourself in the mirror. The dress is cut low and close-fitting, capturing your cleavage in a very flattering way. Maybe too flattering, if you think about it too much. This isn’t something you’d usually wear, but you have to admit that you like the way the dress looks on you. A bit insecure you go back into your room, where you are greeted with approving cheers and whistles from your friends.

“You look absolutely stunning”, Shadowheart admires. “I knew it would look good on you! Turn around please”, she commands. You do what you are told, with red cheeks at the compliment.

When you face Shadowheart again, you notice Halsin gazing at you with pure admiration - and something else you can’t quite place. You think you notice a golden shimmer in his eyes, but that could be a trick of the light considering all the candles in the room.

“I must admit, your neck looks very tempting in that dress but I know someone who is a lot hungrier for you than me right now”, Astarion remarks with a wicked grin and a sideward glance. You frown at him, though you can’t help your heart skipping a beat at these words. Could he possibly mean Halsin?

“Now, what would a party be without some music and dance?” Wyll interrupts your thoughts and as if these words have summoned her, the bard the party had met in the druid grove appears in the doorway.

“Alfira!” you exclaim happily and immediately rush over to hug her. “I’m so glad you got to Baldur’s Gate alright!”

Alfira grins at you. “Yes, thanks to you and your friends here. When they reached out to me today and told me it was your birthday, I just had to come! Wyll organised everything.” You nod to him in thanks. “Now, I don’t have anything to give you but just tell me what you want to hear and I will play it for you!”

“Thanks, Alfira, that’s more than enough for me”, you beam and lead her into the room towards your group. “Wyll, now is your chance to show me your dancing!” You say as you take his hand and pull him into the middle of the room, then you grab Karlach and Gale and start to move to the tune Alfira started to play. Karlach swirls you around and Wyll shows you the dance moves from court, which -to be honest- remind you a bit of the mating dances you had seen with a few bird species.

Out of breath from all the dancing and laughing, you request a slower tune from the tiefling bard. You manage to persuade Shadowheart to put away her wine for a moment and start to waltz around the room with her. She is quite the good dancer and you wonder where she had learned it, with her being raised in a Sharran temple and everything.

At the next tune, you approach Halsin. With your head light from the wine, you have finally gathered the courage to ask him for what you have secretly thought about the whole time.

Still, you can feel your heart beating in your throat. “Erm…Halsin, w-would you honour me with a dance?” you eventually manage to mumble out shyly.

“Of course, little flower. Whatever your heart desires.” That particular heart skips a beat at his intimate tone. “Although you might wish you hadn’t asked me that once you’ve seen my dancing”, he adds with a chuckle as he takes your hand.

He leads you into the room and starts to swirl you around to the melody of Alfira’s lute. He definitely isn’t as graceful as Shadowheart but certainly not as bad as he has made it sound. But even if he’d had the dancing skills of a bugbear, you wouldn’t have noticed. His large and warm hand around your waist and the smile with which he regards you sends your pulse through the ceiling. His smell of pine and honey and fresh air intoxicates you and it is hard to keep your feet from getting tangled in your dress.

When he leans down to you, you have to remind yourself to keep breathing. “Before you go and mingle again, I still have a present for you. I wasn’t sure if you would even like it”, he admits, “but I have decided to give it to you anyways.” When the tune ends, he leads you to the space in your room where his bed stands and bends down to search his pack.

You think about how long it took you to realise how attracted you are to the druid as you admire his strong back before you. Of course, you have noticed his kindness and compassion and you have always marvelled at the way he drew strength from nature. But only since you had some kind of break these last days have you begun to understand the depth of your affection for the man before you. It runs deeper than mere friendship and the echo of his hands on your back have awoken a hunger inside you that only grows stronger the more you look at Halsin. How desperately you hope that he feels the same way about you…

When he stands up to turn around, you quickly brush away the thought that has sent the heat into your cheeks again.

“You’re the only one who knows of my secret passion”, he begins jokingly, “so I thought you might accept this as my present for your special day.” He hands you a small whittled duck he has apparently made in the hours you were away from camp. You can’t help but tear up at the thought of how much effort he has put into all the details he has carved. There are even small webbed feet on the underside of the little duck.

“Thank you Halsin, this is an amazing gift!” You smile down at the little duck. “You are amazing”, you add quietly.

“With all that you have done for me, I should be the one thanking you night and day.” As you look into his eyes again you see that his gaze is now very solemn. “There was another reason for wanting to speak to you privately. I have lived a very long time. I have taken many lovers. My heart does not stir lightly. But it does now.” Your heart flutters in recognition of his words, the confession sending sparks across your skin.

“I want more than to fight at your side, or to sit around the campfire with you. I want to lay with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine.” Halsin’s gaze on you is intense, filling your chest with a burning heat that slowly spreads lower into your belly, as if the wine you have been drinking suddenly caught on fire inside of you.

Halsin continues, “I think you feel the same way - but tell me I’m wrong and the matter can rest. I do not wish to sour our friendship, but I have to know if it can be something more.”

You stare at him for a moment before you realise that he waits for your answer.

“Y-you’re not wrong, far from it”, you whisper. “I would like that very much.” You smile up at him and he takes your hand in his.

“May I kiss you?” he breathes out, relieved. You nod and he bends down to gently press his lips on yours.

His hand slides up your arm and to your back while he places his other behind your head, gently pulling you closer and deepening the kiss.

You feel his tongue prodding at your lips, demanding entrance and you happily oblige. The feeling of his soft lips on yours sends you spiralling and you can’t stifle the small moan that escapes you. Halsin sends out a silent prayer to Silvanus - if that is all it takes to make you moan, what sounds do you make when he finally gets to taste you? Groaning, his hand on your back slowly wanders lower, a silent question of permission in his eyes. You press your body against his as an answer, feeling the heat radiating off his chest … and lower.

Halsins hand grips your ass firmly, making you gasp, the other joining in and hoisting you up on his hips, turning you both around and pressing your back to the wall. You cannot stop the surprised squeak that escapes your lips at the sudden movement and Halsin presses his mouth on yours to stifle it.

The feeling of the growing bulge in his pants between your legs and the low moan Halsin utters before kissing you even more vigorously sends a shiver down your spine, pressure starting to build between your thighs.

In a desperate attempt to pull him closer, your hands grip Halsin’s hair, arms, everything you can reach. But before you can lose yourself in him, Halsin releases your lips, panting, and rests his forehead against yours.

“I would very much like to continue”, he whispers, his breathing ragged and voice hoarse with desire, “but the others will expect us back and I think you would probably like a bit more privacy.” He sighs and softly kisses your hair. “I will come to your bed when the party has ended, little flower. But don’t expect much sleep”, he adds with a wicked grin. You can only nod as he gently props you back on your feet.

With your head spinning, you get back to the others, averting your eyes from the knowing smirks of Astarion and Shadowheart noticing your ruffled hair and flushed cheeks. You ignore them, trying to engage in some more conversation and one or two dances while the thought of what awaits you won’t leave your head.

When the last of the party finally bids you goodnight, you hurry to bed, awaiting Halsin. You can’t get away from the echoes of his hands on your body, heart already racing again and warmth blooming in your belly. Even if he hadn’t promised you he’d come tonight, you would’ve been unable to sleep.

A soft rustle next to your ear startles you from your thoughts and as you turn your head, you could make out Halsin’s large figure in the dark, crouching beside your bed.

He cuts you off from what you wanted to say by placing a finger on your mouth, his other hand sliding under your back and pulling you into an upright position. With your heart beating into your throat, you take the hand Halsin offers as he gently beckons you to follow him into the corridor outside of the room the party shares, then further into a small but cosy bedroom on the next floor.

The door closes with a click and before you can say anything, Halsin sweeps you up into his arms, pressing you flat against the door and capturing your lips in a kiss that feels like it burns you from the inside.

Halsin’s fresh, earthy scent floods your senses as your tongues intertwine and your hands find their way into his hair, tugging at his braids. You whine when Halsin lets go of your lips, only to gasp as he starts nibbling and placing searing kisses on your jaw while his hands squeeze your ass firmly, bringing your bodies as close together as possible.

You moan at the growing ache between your thighs but plant your small fists against his shoulders anyway, gently pushing him away a bit. Halsin’s eyes, pupils wide and dark with desire, find yours.

“What is it my heart?” he asks, voice hoarse. “Do you want me to stop?” You see no disappointment in his gaze, only worry and your heart swells at how selfless your lover is. You avert your eyes, suddenly embarrassed to tell what troubles you.

“I- I j-just wanted t-to say that … um … well, I- I have never been with someone before”, you mumble eventually, averting your gaze as you blush furiously.

“Silvanus, preserve me”, Halsin groans out before almost dropping you and stumbling backwards, trying to steady himself on the small desk opposite the bed. With wide eyes you regard what is happening before you. Halsin drops to his knees, a deep animalistic growl coming from his lips as his eyes fill with golden light and he transforms into his huge bear form.

You gasp and nearly trip over your feet in an attempt to make room for the bear before you, but the animal fills almost the entire chamber. After finally regaining his composure, Halsin manages to change back into his elf form, with a snarl and a ragged breath coming from his lips.

“Forgive me. I- lost the run of myself.” He shakes his head in disgust at his outbreak, terrified that he has ruined this precious moment with you before it could properly begin, and slowly gets back to his feet. “Sometimes, when blood runs hot enough, it’s difficult to tame the beast. And the thought of you trusting me enough to share your first time with me … well, you saw what happened”, he smiles tentatively, slowly approaching you again with hesitation in his eyes.

“Don’t apologise”, you assure him with a shy smile. “I like it.” If possible, you blush even harder now. “Maybe for another time…?” you add, fidgeting nervously with the front of your dress.

A relieved grin spreads over Halsin’s face. “You like it..?”, he chuckles. “You are full of surprises, little flower.” As he steps forward, he bends down to gently plant a kiss on your cheek, only to proceed to bite at your earlobe which elicits a delicious moan from you.

“I’m glad you think so, but now you’ve made it even harder for me not to outright devour you”, his low voice whispers in your ear. “Nevertheless, I will be gentle. Or at least I’ll try to be.” You swallow hard, arousal sending shivers down your spine.

Halsin’s arms wrap around your waist again as he kisses your jaw, your forehead and nose, until eventually his lips find yours again, his tongue ravaging you like a man starving. His hands, this time directly shoving under your dress, firmly grip your thighs. He ruts against you, growling, his now rock-hard cock pressing against the confinements of his clothing.

His fingers trail higher up, kneading your ass, then stroking the soft skin of your back before slowly wandering even higher. His touch sends jolts through your body and you can feel the heat between your legs, already nearly too much to bear.

His eyes hold an unspoken question and when you nod, Halsin lifts your dress off and brings his mouth down on one of your breasts, the hand that’s not on your back now gently kneading the other, massaging the hardened nipple between his fingers. You mewl at the sensation, impossibly more pressure building between your thighs. Halsin gently bites down at your breast, only to run his tongue over it afterwards to soothe the mark he made. You moan and arch your back, desperately trying to press closer against Halsin’s still overly clothed erection, wanting to feel everything of him.

He growls and his mouth begins to place kisses down your front, between your breasts, on the soft flesh of your belly until he is on his knees before you, his warm breath fanning over you and flooding you with heat.

“More?” he asks, his pupils blown wide with lust, as his thumbs brush the soft skin between your legs. “Please”, you whine, knees almost too weak to stand and your underwear already embarrassingly soaked.

Halsin wastes no time, pressing kisses on the insides of your thighs, his one hand holding you in place and his other slowly -too slowly- sliding your panties down your legs. The sight of you bare and dripping with need before him almost makes him lose control again, makes him want to take you, devour you, fuck you, mark you and then fill you to the brim with his cum but with a groan he wills himself to calm down and be gentle with you. He won’t hurt you. He won’t.

He exhales deeply, lifting one of your legs up and slowly swiping his tongue through your wet folds, which earns him a choked gasp. His nose nudges your clit as his tongue starts stroking, slowly at first, then faster and with more pressure. You can’t help the way each expert swipe of his tongue makes your hips buck into his mouth as countless moans and sighs fall out of your mouth. Halsin growls in response, the vibrations around your sensitive bud making your legs shake. You can barely keep up and the coil in your belly is tightening ever faster with Halsin’s mouth sucking your clit and his tongue inside you.

“You are sweeter than honey, my heart”, he groans as his tongue presses flat against you. “Let me taste you as you come undone on my tongue.” With your mind clouded with lust, all you can do is moan out Halsin’s name and press yourself further against your lover’s mouth.

With a wicked grin, Halsin inserts a second finger into your quivering hole, pushing inside over and over again, holding you firmly in place as you try to writhe away from the intense pleasure. His fingers coil upwards in response, hitting a spot inside you that makes you see stars.

He understands anyway, now slowly dragging a thick finger through your dripping folds until he stops, teasingly pressing against your entrance. You whine, begging him to fill you, to do anything to release the overwhelming pressure between your thighs. When he finally thrusts into you, you can’t stifle the cry of pleasure that escapes your mouth. With Halsin’s finger now working your cunt open, his mouth continues its ministrations, licking and sucking your clit, soaking your legs with your slick.

“Please Halsin…”, you beg, toes curling and legs shaking, “I’m close- I- Oh!“

Moaning into your cunt, Halsin picks up his pace, his fingers pumping in and out of you as his tongue swipes over your clit again and again, bringing you closer to your end.

One more thrust with his fingers and a soft nip of his teeth against the sensitive bud between your legs is all it needs to send you spiralling over the edge. “Ha- Halsin!” you cry out, hips jerking violently and fingers digging into his shoulders as your orgasm hits you with the force of a lightning bolt. He moans at the sensations of your walls contracting around his fingers, the urge to take you and feel you squeeze his cock with your needy cunt almost overwhelming him.

You whine when he pulls his fingers out and stands up, bringing you in for a passionate kiss as you still struggle to regain your breath. Tasting yourself on Halsin’s tongue pulls a small moan from you and an embarrassed heat creeps up your back at the thought of how aroused you already are again.

With a smile, Halsin pulls away. “You are amazing, little flower”, he whispers breathlessly as he picks you up and gently places you on the bed, admiring your flushed body.

If Halsin’s tongue hadn’t just turned your mind to goo, you might have been able to return that compliment, but alas-

“May I go further?” Halsin asks and when you nod he swiftly discards of his clothes, you licking your lips at the sight of the elf naked before you. Your eyes take in his form, from his muscled arms down to the soft curve of his belly and- oh gods. Your eyes widen. You didn’t think he would be that big and the thought of him filling you makes you gulp down a mixture of fear and arousal.

Attentive as always, Halsin notices your insecurity and bends down to press gentle kisses against your ear. “We don’t have to do this, my heart…”, he whispers while he rubs soothing circles into your hips. He looks at you, his expression earnest. You bite your lip, thinking for a moment before answering. “N-no, I want this”, you assure him, your voice still weak but pleading now. The way you look so sweet with your little fangs on your lips makes Halsin feral and he kisses you again, desperate and more passionate this time. He groans into the kiss as he gently spreads your legs for him, lining up his tip with your dripping slit and sliding through your soft folds before stopping just at your entrance. The sensation of his hard length so close to entering you is enough to make your head fall back, eyes squeezed shut. “If it’s getting too much, tell me and I will stop immediately”, he whispers soothingly. “Now relax for me, little flower.”

All thoughts leave your head as Halsin slides in, agonizingly slow. The stretch would be painful if your lover hadn’t prepared you so thoroughly beforehand, but now you only feel pure bliss. Raising your head, you can see that he isn’t even halfway in but gods, you feel so full already that you can’t stifle the choked gasp that escapes your throat.

“You’re doing so well, my heart. Just a little bit more- mngh-!“ Halsin’s growl sends jolts through your spine as he finally bottoms out. You can see just how much effort it takes him to hold back by the way his jaw tenses and his chest is heaving.

“By Silvanus, you’re so tight-!“ A shiver crawls down his back, carrying a wave of soft golden light with it, as Halsin’s eyes light up with his magic for a moment. The thought of how you are able to bring your lover to the precipice of losing control is extremely flattering and you feel yourself clenching around Halsin’s cock, making him grunt in response. Finally somewhat accustoming to his size, you arch your back into the mattress below you. The new angle makes you moan in pleasure as you grip the sheets for support.

“Are you still feeling good, little flower?”, Halsin asks as he slides a hand from your hip under your back to support you. You can only form one thought. “More- please Halsin!” you whine desperately. You don’t have to ask twice, with a low growl he slides out - just to knock the breath out of you with his first, hard thrust. He sets a steady pace, one that leaves you moaning and gasping out his name. Halsin takes your small hands into his, pressing them into the bed beside you to pin you down, pushing into you deep and slow while he places bites and kisses on your throat and chest that will surely leave marks come morning.

Gods, Halsin thought. The sight of your small body sprawled beneath him, split apart by his thick cock while he fucks into you relentlessly is driving him insane. He is growling with every thrust now and each one of them makes you cry out in pleasure. It doesn’t take long until he has you on the precipice of release again, your cunt fluttering around Halsin’s length.

“H- halsin- please! I’m so close!” you can only beg, not sure if you can take much more, your body feeling like it might explode. “Come for me, my heart”, Halsin demands in a gravelly voice before pressing a thumb to your clit, rubbing and massaging until his name leaves your lips in a hoarse cry as your orgasm hits you with full force. Your hips jerk upwards, walls clenching around Halsin as you notice the tears from the overwhelming pleasure streaming down your face. He continues to pound into you, prolonging your release and muttering praises for you under his breath.

Through the fog in your mind you wonder how Halsin still has the energy to keep going, his pace unwavering while you are completely spent, gladly accepting whatever your lover has to give you as long as you’re not required to move.

“I know it’s a lot right now but I need you to cum for me one more time, my heart”, Halsin huffs with a strained voice, pushing inside you once more and grabbing a fistful of your hair to keep you in place. The new position lets him slide even deeper than before and you can’t help the strangled cry that leaves you when Halsin starts pounding into you again, hitting a spot that makes your eyes roll back with blinding pleasure.

So, you do not see it coming when Halsin suddenly pulls out of you, the unexpected emptiness making you whine in displeasure, only for him to flip you over and press your chest into the soft bedding while he gently raises your hips.

“’s too much- please-!” you sob, your poor overstimulated clit still trying to recover from the last orgasm. But Halsin doesn’t relent and you can feel sharp pricks on your hips where his hand grips you, fingers partially wild-shaped into claws and his head thrown back in ecstasy. Seeing just how feral you drive him makes your hole clench around his shaft, the squeeze causing his hips to stutter as a grunt leaves his lips. “Silvanus preserve me”, Halsin pants as he fucks into you even faster, “if you keep squeezing me like that I will not be able to stop myself from claiming you completely, from making you mine and filling you up with my seed.”

You whimper at the image of Halsin pumping his cum into you, fucking it deep into your womb until he is sure that it has taken hold. You cannot pretend you haven’t thought about it before, the idea usually sending an embarrassed heat into your cheeks, but now - gods, now you needed it.

Completely breathless you moan, “Halsin I- ah-! please-! Fill me with your cubs!” These words were the last needed for Halsin to lose himself completely in you, driving himself into you with punishing strokes that cause you to arch yourself into him while moans and whispered curses fall from both your lips. The coil in your stomach is so tight again and when Halsin takes the hand from your hip to softly press on your lower belly you see stars. Your walls clench around Halsin’s cock and you feel him twitch inside you, a sign that he too is close to release. All it takes to send you over the edge is his finger pressed against your clit, your body shaking violently beneath him, toes curling, while waves of ecstasy course through you and you cry out his name.

With a last snap of his hips and a low moan, Halsin comes as well, twitching cock releasing hot spurts of cum inside your still fluttering walls. He continues to pump into you until the aftershocks of your shared orgasm have subsided, before he slowly pulls out. You collapse onto the mattress, exhaustion settling over your overstimulated body.

Halsin gets onto the bed with you, gently gathering you up in his arms and placing your head against his broad chest. “You’ve done so well for me, little flower”, he whispers into your ear, placing soft kisses on your face before he looks your body up and down. One of his hands comes up to stroke a strand of hair away from your damp forehead and to gently lift your chin in order to look you in the eyes. You note worry in his gaze, his brows furrowed in remorse when he plants a feather light kiss on your lips.

“I’ve hurt you”, he states. “I’m so sorry, my heart. I shouldn’t have lost control like that.”

You smile up at him and cuddle deeper into his arms before you shake your head. “Don’t apologise. I loved every second of it. There is no birthday present in this world that can ever match this”, you confess with a shy grin. “Although I have to admit I’m a little sore. You sure did your best to make sure I’m unable to walk tomorrow.”

Halsin chuckles. “I can help with that”, he answers with a sly smile, his free hand sliding down your body to stroke through your soft folds, muttering an incantation under his breath. As the familiar glow of the healing spell engulfs his fingers, you feel a rush of warmth where he touches you. A moan escapes your lips before you could stop it, eliciting a mischievous smirk from your lover as you hide your face against his chest in embarrassment.

“I’d be happy to go again, my love, but I think you need some rest first. Besides, we still have an Elderbrain to kill, so we’ll need our strength tomorrow.” You nod at that, the tiredness in your bones leaving you unable to object, even if you had wanted to. But you know he is right, so when Halsin wraps a blanket around you to carry you to the bathroom, you just relax into his chest, the sound of his steady breathing soothing you.

When the bathtub is filled with warm water, you are already half asleep, barely registering that Halsin is gently cleaning you up, rinsing the sweat from your hair and body and rubbing salve over the bite marks and the bruises on your hips once you are dry again.

You can hear the soft snores and deep breathing from your companions when Halsin brings you back into the room you share, all of them already fast asleep. Absentmindedly you wonder how long you and Halsin have been away, but the thought is gone as soon as Halsin places you on your bed.

“Goodnight, my little flower. Sleep well.” He gives you a kiss and turns to leave. You manage to grab his hand before he does, stopping him in his tracks.

“Stay with me tonight?” you mumble sleepily. Halsin smiles, warmth and adoration filling his chest as he carefully climbs next to you, the bedframe creaking slightly with his additional weight, and wraps his arms around your smaller figure. The thought of how your companions might react in the morning seeing you two in one bed briefly crosses your mind, but Halsin’s steady breathing and the soft pulse of his heart against your back soon drown out anything else as you drift to sleep in his warm embrace.

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: anon request - "Hi can u do one like should've stayed home but with Sam please and can u make it so they end up fighting about leaving and not wanting to leave and so the car ride home is silent leaving Colby feeling awkward until they get home then they make up after a little bit more arguing please please pleas thank u."

Warning: This one shot will get dark at parts and contain the reader being targeted by the spirits and some actions include; being touched, pushed, choked, scratched, spoken to, and other things some readers might find a bit creepy. There will also be mentions of murder and such at the place of exploration and other bad things some readers may be triggered by and there will be a short SMUT scene at the end.

I also kinda changed around the ending a little bit, hope you don't mind!

Word count: 8.1K

"What's up guys. It's Sam and Colby."

You stand off to the side, watching as they do their intro, "Today." Sam presses his hands together and leans in, "We are at the Agatha Asylum, or better known as the worst place to be sent if you were already having a bad day."

"It's said that people who had, or thought to have had any kind of mental illness were sent here for-" Colby puts air quotes, "-help.. and they were punished by being chained to walls, stuck in cages, beaten, and most even faced death."

"We are here today to see if we can get some answers as to why the person in charge, John Agatha, would do something like this." Sam glances over at you, "We also have with us a very special guest, y/n."

You walk over, standing in between Sam and Colby and hold your hand up, "I don't know why I'm here. I hate asylums."

"You volunteered to handcuff yourself to the wall, remember?" Colby jokes and looks at you. You raise your eyebrows, "The fuck I did."

"Anyway." Sam tries not to laugh, "We are currently waiting on the owner of this asylum to get here so we can get a tour and get a feel for what we will be dealing with.." Sam looks over at the road, "I think that's them now."

A car pulls up and parks, stepping out is a man and women.

"Are you Mark and Cindy?" Colby asks walking over and the man nods, "Yes, are you Sam and Colby?" Sam holds his hand up, "I'm Sam, this is my girlfriend y/n and that's Colby."

You all say hello and they jump right into it, "So.." Cindy starts out, "This is Agatha Asylum." She motions towards the building behind the fence, "This is to keep anyone out, since we're trying to get it ready to present to the public, we have it blocked off so people don't get in without us knowing. Or we try to at least."

"Have people gotten in?" Colby asks and Mark nod, "Oh yeah. We eventually set up security cameras around the perimeter. The day we noticed a broken window and spray paint lids, actually."

"What kind of things happened here exactly?" Sam asks handing the camera to Colby.

Cindy blows air, "Oh gosh, anything from restraining the patients inhumanly to keeping them locked in cages that were maybe, if they were lucky, a little bigger than themselves."

You raise your eyebrows, "What the hell?"

Mark nods, "most of the women who came in were attacked by the staff if you know what I mean so I'm sure the women are angry. I mean, hell I would be too if I was stuck here."

"Have you guys had any thing happen to you?" Colby asks, "Like personally or maybe to someone you know that has come here."

Mark nods, "Yeah, I've had my tools messed with, moved. Cindy has been pushed down the steps, and one of my guys who are working with me on getting this ready, was pushed from his ladder."

"Pushed off a lad- oh shit." Sam shakes his head, "Is there anything we need to know before going in there? Like maybe who to try and get in contact with or what not to ask?"

"John Agatha. He's the one who ran this place. Many people have tried to contact him but they never got any real answers as to why." Cindy says, "Just make your intentions known, I know some of the spirits in there can get pretty mean, so just keep reminding them that you mean no harm."

"Has anyone stayed a full night here?" You ask and they laugh, "No."

"No?" Colby asks raising his eyebrows, "Looks like we have a challenge on our hands, guys." He looks over at you and Sam and Sam shakes his head, "I'm already shitting my pants, dude."

"You all will by the time it gets dark. It's a pretty active place during the day, don't get me wrong, but not only me, but from other groups that came through as well, said it's gets worse at night." Mark sighs, "So. Who's ready for the tour?"

"You guys have fun, I'm going home." Colby pretends to walk away before turning back around, "No, let's go before I really do change my mind."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"So this hallway leads you to where most of the women were held.." Cindy points to the right and then to the left, "Men were held that way."

"Is there any specific areas as to where the most activity happens?" Sam asks laying his hand on your back as he steps around you, "Where were the cages kept exactly?"

"This whole place, honestly. You're bound to get activity anywhere in here and there were at least two cages per room."

"Per room?" You raise your eyebrows, "How many were kept in a room at one time?"

"Two but some held up to four, depending on many were here and came in and what not." Mark says looking around. He stares down the hallway and Sam turns the camera, "Did you see something?"

"A shadow moved across then end of that hallway there." He points, "No taller than you." He motions to Colby and Colby shrugs, "Sorry. I'm just that fast."

He starts pretending to Sonic run in place. You laugh and shake your head, "You can't be serious at all can you?" He shakes his head, "Not when I'm scared shitless, no."

Mark and Cindy laugh and start walking down the hall way. They explain each room briefly, basically what it was used for until you finally reach an old wooden door that's laying on the floor.

"This is where they kept, what they called, the worst of the worst." Mark lifts the door, revealing a steep staircase, "Watch your step as you come down."

"This is a really odd basement entrance." Sam says handing the camera to Colby, "What the hell."

Mark and Cindy go down first, followed by Sam then you. He helps you down, coaching you through the steps until you reach the bottom.

"What you're not going to help me?" Colby asks looking over his shoulder at Sam. All of you start baby talking to Colby coaching him down the steps and he stands there with his lips pressed together, "Should have never said anything."

Sam takes the camera, making sure Colby is good before turning around, "What is up with freaking jail cells in the basements of these places?"

"Literally." You mumble as you wrap your arms around yourself, "It's so cold down here. Did they have any sort of heat at the time of this place being open?"

Mark shakes his head, "They had a fireplace over there but as you can see it got filled from the outside in so who knows when that happened."

There's a loud thud from upstairs and you jump, "the fuck?"

Colby points, "That sounded like the door lifted up and dropped back down." Sam nods, "Yeah yeah yeah."

"Very well could have been. Doors opening on their own is very common around here." Cindy says, "Especially the third floor, that's where lots of the killings happened."

"Why the third floor?" Colby asks, "Why not down here?"

"The patients ended up dying all over the place, but if they were ordered to be put out by John, they would drag them up the stairs, kill them then dump their bodies out of the back window, into what was said to be a big wagon and then taken about half a mile away and they would just burn them and then just cover the hole with dirt."

"That answers my question about what they do with the bodies." Sam cringes, "I can't even imagine that."

"The hauntings and activity started a year or two after the patients first started to die. So if you can, try to contact.. oh shit. Was was his name?" Cindy looks at Mark and he shakes his head, "Oh, you mean Warren Summers?"

She nods, "Yes! He was reported to be the first to die, they ruled his death an accident but we all know it wasn't."

"Well definitely try to contact him, find out some answers." Colby nods and mark motions, "Alright, I need to get out of here, this spot makes me feel sick."

"Whoa really?" Sam looks at Colby, "Do you feel okay?" Colby nods and Sam looks at you, "Do you feel alright?"

You nod your head, "I mean, I feel like there's pressure on my chest, but it's not like, oh my god I can't breathe, kinda pressure."

"Let's get out of here and we'll just start in the main lobby." Sam says as he walks you over to the stairs. You go up first, followed by Sam and he turns around, "Come on, Colby." His voice is high pitched, "You can do it!"

Colby glares up at him from mid stairs and shakes his head as he laughs, "Thanks buddy. I needed that."

Mark and Cindy make their way up and she points to you, "Are you sure they're the ones not together?"

You sigh and shrug, "Sometimes I feel like I'm in a competition." You laugh and look over at Colby who does the, I'm watching you, motion.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Alright, guys. We have the REM pod here, and we're going to start out easy tonight by starting in the lobby." Sam walks over to the desk, setting the pod down, "It was said that there was a receptionist here who just so happened to be John's wife, Mabel, so she had to known everything you'd think."

"Didn't mark say that she disappeared randomly one day and no one really looked for her?" You ask looking at Sam, and he nods, "Yeah yeah yeah, maybe she didn't know what was going on and when she started to find out he silenced her?"

"John Agatha was a very wealthy man at the time of his death, so it very well could be or he offed her because she knew he had money?" Colby shrugs, "I mean, there's really only one way to find out."

Colby leans forward, switching on the pod and testing it a few times before stepping back, "Ladies first." He smirks towards you and you roll your eyes playfully, "Okay. Hello, my name is y/n. I mean no harm, I'm just here to ask you a few questions if that's okay."

The pod lights up and you straight up slightly, "If it's okay that I ask, can you touch that little light for me again?"

It lights up and you look between Sam and Colby, "Okay." You look back, "Thank you. Am I speaking to the wife of John Agatha? Mabel. If so touch that light for me again."

A few seconds go by before the light goes off, "Thank you, Mabel."

Sam hands the camera to Colby, "Hello, Mabel, I'm Sam. I come with peace and the possibility of finding out what happened here. I'd like to ask you something too if that's okay."

The pod lights up and Sam takes a deep breath, "Did your husband.. end your life?"

Right after the pod lights up, it stops and there's a loud crash from slightly far away.

You all jump, yelling out cuss words. You lean around Sam the look down the hallway, "What the hell was that?"

"It sounded like something big fell, like you know those big metal carts the food trays are served on? It sounded like one of those and everything in it just falling out." Colby moves forward, "Should we go check it out?"

The rem pod lights up three times in a row and you all look back at it before looking at each other.

"My name is Colby, I mean no harm to you or anyone else here. Was that a warning? Should we not go look?" Colby asks and it lights up one time quickly, "Make that go off for me if that was a yes."

Instantly turns on.

"Fuck, okay." Colby turns to Sam, "What do we do?"

Sam shakes his head, "If we're being told not to go there, we shouldn't."

"That hasn't stopped us before." Colby chuckles slightly, "Y/n."

You're zoned out on the dark hallway where the sound came from, you know that Colby has the camera on you, but you can't acknowledge it.

You feel Sam's hand on you, pulling you back as your body is trying to go forward, "Hey, hey. Y/n. Look at me." Sam steps in front of you, breaking your stare and you shake your head slightly.

He looks up at Colby and back to you, "What just happened? Talk to me." Sam lays his hands on your cheeks and keeps your head straight, "Hey."

"I felt something calling me towards where the sound came from." You lay your hand on Sam's bicep, "It was weird."

"What the fuck." Sam whispers as he looks back up at Colby and he shrugs, "Okay, we'll just go to the left wing, give whatever that is, time to do whatever it needs to do."

Sam pulls you with him, as you still felt drawn.

"So something just took over y/n pretty much." Colby explains, "Y/n, what happened?" He points the camera on you and you laugh slightly, "Um, I don't really know.. like you know how when you're so tired you just zone out?"

They nod and you sigh, "It was like that, but I swear there was a figure standing there, watching us and I was just having some sort of stare down with him."

"You started walking towards it, then. Like what happened with that?" Colby follows up, "Like did it say anything?"

You shake your head, "I knew you had the camera on me, and I knew Sam was pulling me back, but no. Nothing was said, it just stood there watching us and I just felt like I needed to go there."

"John Agatha?" Sam whispers, "Could it- do you think it was him?" You shrug, "Maybe? I don't know, it was the same figure Mark saw I think.. he was really no taller than Colby."

"It had to be, maybe he's trying to tell us to get out or maybe.. with a sliver of luck, he wants to explain himself." Colby shakes his head, "I don't know, let's just avoid that area until we cover this side."

Colby grabs the pod, switching it off as he turns back towards you and Sam, "Are you okay like do you feel alright?"

You nod, even though you feel like you could puke, "Yeah, yeah I'm good."

Sam rubs your arm, "You sure?"

You nod again, "Yes, Sam. I'm sure."

He could tell something was off, but he trusted you. He knew you'd stop if you really couldn't handle it.

"Where to next?" You ask as you take his hand into yours. Sam squeezes your hand and points, "I figured we could go into the day room, that's where Paul Yellow allegedly killed his roommate."

"These two men specifically had beef with each other.." Colby starts out as he hands the camera to Sam who lets go of your hand to take it, "..it was said that they would always be stealing from each other and would always be trying to get one another in trouble, but no one would admit to it, so the staff basically let them handle it themselves and that's when Paul came into the day room with a hammer that he somehow found, and bludgeoned Frank to death."

"Yeah in front of everyone but the staff were basically the only, " sam turns the camera around to him, putting at quotes, "Sane ones here, so they covered it up basically by saying that Frank fell and that was that."

"Wasn't Paul taken by the staff and tortured?" You ask as you look over at Sam. He nods, "Pretty much, yes."

As Sam and Colby explain what you guys were going to do next, you walked over to the window, looking out into the old courtyard.

"Come over here."

You turn around, walking over to Sam, "What?" He looks at you confused, "What?" You look between him and Colby, "Didn't you just tell me to come over here?"

Sam looks up at Colby and back down to you, "No I was getting the EMF ready."

You motion towards the window, "I swear to god, you said, come over here, when I was standing at the window."

Colby's eyes go wide, "He didn't say that." He shakes his head, "Oh fuck."

"So if you didn't sa-"

The sound of, what you think, is a metal trash can sliding across the floor makes you stop talking. It's quick, but you all hear it.

"Something just got drug or pushed across the floor." Sam whispers, "Fuck, fuck, okay. Let's get this thing going.." he turns on the EMF and you all step back.

"I'm y/n. I come in peace, I just want to ask a few questions. Paul Yellow, did you tell me to come over here?" You bite down on your cheek, waiting for the device to give you an answer.

"Were you over by the window with me?" You ask and it lights up green, "was it Paul?"

It lights up red.

"Are we talking to Frank?" Colby asks and it lights up green, "Did Paul kill you?"

Lights up red.

"Was it someone else?" Sam asks trying to keep the camera still and he looks over at you when it lights up green.

"Who else co-" you stop, "Was it one of the staff, Frank?"

Instant green.

"One of the staff did it then blamed Paul?" Colby looks shocked and he jumps slightly as it lights up green, "Holy shit, dude."

"I wonder if they've had anyone figure this out." Sam asks and he turns around, "Did you hear that?" You lean around to look, listening for the sound. Sam looks back, "It sounded like someone was walking and dragging their hand along the wall."

The sound Sam explained happened again and you look up at him, "That?" Sam nods, "Exactly that."

"Something is following us." Colby says quietly, "It has to be."

The EMF lights up green and you all look at each other, "Is it John Agatha?" You glance back at the EMF, "All you need to do is-"

It lights up green and you sigh, "Thank you." A thump against the wall makes you jump, "I don't think he likes being told what to do." You joke which makes Colby laugh, Sam just shakes his head.

"You good, bro?" Colby pushes his arm and looks at him. Sam smiles slightly, "Yeah, no I'm good."

You find yourself being pulled into that stare again, this time it's in the corner of the day room, but nothing is there.

"Colby. Colby." Sam says as he grabs you by the waist. You try to pull away from him, but he wraps his arm around you, "Y/n. Snap out of it, come on."

You lean back into him, "There's something over there."

"You aren't going over there alone." He fights back as he switches his flash light on, revealing just the ripped wallpaper, "See. Nothing."

"There was." You turn around, "he was watching us."

"Who? John?" Colby asks and the EMF lights up green, "Maybe we should try the-" the loud crashing sound makes him stop talking instantly.

"You don't think people got in here do you?" Sam tightens his grip on your waist, "We tweeted about coming here.. so like.."

"They have cameras all around the perimeter they said, and I'm sure they would have told us if they saw something." Sam says as he pulls his phone out, "Let me call Mark, see if he can tell me if there was anything outside."

As Sam calls mark, you close your eyes, resting your head back on his shoulder. Colby walks up, squeezing your arm, "You still with us?"

You open your eyes, nodding, "Yeah I just got really dizzy."

Sam looks down at you and puts the phone on speaker, "There was nothing outside?"

"Not since you went back inside." Mark says on the other end of the phone, "If you do decide to leave just make sure you lock the gate and we can get the key tomorrow."

"Alright, yeah. We'll let you know." Sam says and they end the call, "So it's just us in here." He looks down at you, "Are you okay?"

You nod and stand up, "Yeah, I'm good."

"You're not dizzy anymore?" He brushes hair from your face and you shake your head, "No I'm good."

"I'm thinking we move from here and we go to the third floor." Colby walks over and Sam stops you from following him, "We can leave if this is too much."

"Sam. I'm fine. I promise."

"I don't like the way you just zone out and try to walk away. That's not like you, that isn't you." His eyes scan over your face and you weren't sure if it was the place effecting you, but you just wanted to keep going, "Something is drawing us to that hallway."

"What do you mean?" Sam shakes his head, "Y/n, I don't want you out of my sight, this place is too big and too dark for you to just go off away from us."

"Then put me on a leash or something, because I'm not done here."

You've never spoken to Sam like that. Ever. So when you said it, you were both surprised, "I'm.. sorry, I don't know where that came from."

"My point exactly." Sam chews on his lip, trying to tell himself over and over again that this place is a lot more powerful than they thought.

"What's going on? You guys okay?"

"Yes." You say the same time Sam says, "No."

Colby looks between the two of you then back to Sam. Sam sighs, "This place obviously has a hold over you, y/n. So everything is not okay."

"What-" Colby starts but you cut him off, looking directly at Sam, "Sam. This is what we do. you can't expect me to just back out every time something hap-"

Sam cuts you off, "Yours being pulled by what we can only assume is a dark entity. How do you expect me to act? Just let you walk off into the sunset with it? No. No thanks."

"Guys, come on.. just take a deep breath. There's absolutely no need to argue." Colby tries to settle the situation but it only seemed to fire up the ghosts because it sounds like a table is lifted then dropped back down.

Sam instantly grabs you, pulling you to him, "You're staying close."

You don't put up any more of a fight, knowing that Sam would drag you out himself if he had to, "Fine."

You knew he was right. As soon as you seen the figure in the hallway, something switched and it was like you needed to follow it.

And you didn't know why.

"Why don't we just go there?" Colby says as you guys leave the day room, "Where the sound happened. If it gets bad we can just leave, we always have that option."

You knew Colby wanted to stay, too, but he was also worried about Sam because he was worried about you, "What do you want to do, Sam?"

Sam thinks for a moment before sighing, "If you zone out one more time and try to walk away from us, we're leaving."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

The investigation went on to be better than you guys thought. Nothing happened to you. Nothing happened to them, you thought that maybe your small argument with Sam helped, but you'd soon come to find out that was not true at all.

"So as you guys could see, there hasn't really been much activity going on, probably for the last hour or two." Colby says and motions towards the spirit box, "We brought this to the third floor, hoping to see if we can figure out what exactly happened to some of the patients."

Sam sets the camera down on the one table, angling it towards you guys and the box, "Okay, we'll sit this right here and.." Sam stands up and turns around, "Did you touch me?"

You shake your head, "We've been over here."

"My whole body like shifted and it felt like someone's hand on my side." He lays his hand right where he felt it, "like right here exactly." Colby walks over and Sam demonstrates on him what he felt.

"fucking hell that's creepy." Colby shakes his head, "You know when we were walking up the stairs, it felt like someone else was behind us."

"I thought I heard someone whistle or whisper, I don't know.. it was like a quiet high pitched sound, but I couldn't make out if it was a word or not." You look around, "This floor honestly makes me nervous, and those creepy steps didn't help."

"Those stairs the whole way up I just kept thinking about how people were actually getting dragged up and sown." Sam shakes his head, "let's just.. get this thing going."

Sam was off, and you picked up on it quickly. It was almost like what took over you, took over Sam.

"Sam?" You step towards him, "Sam... Colby.. colby."

He stares at the floor and Colby walks up to him, "Sam, dude. Hey."

You shake him slightly and he looks back up, "Let's get this thing going."

You look at Colby and back to Sam, "You already said that." He looks at you confused, "Huh?" He laughs nervously, "No I didn't."

Colby nods, "You did, man. You zoned out after, looking at the floor."

Sam looks at you, "Did it come after me now?"

You shrug, "I was thinking that, because isn't that what I did?" You look at Colby and he nods, "yes but the only thing is he didn't try to walk off."

Sam switches the box on, "What do you want with us?"

"... I want ... to know.."

"You want to know what?" Colby asks loudly, "did you take over y/n and Sam?"

"... Miss.. it ..."

"You miss what?" You ask, "Do you miss being alive?"

" ... alive ..."

"You are not welcome to touch us. You cannot control us." Sam says, "What do you want us to see?"

"... the... truth .. in here .."

"Were you murdered here?" Colby asks and it sounds like something bouncing down the steps, "Was that you making that noise?"

"... must get ... out..."

"Are you telling us to get out? Or do you want to get out?" Sam presses his fingers to his lips, "Can you tell us who we're talking to?"

"... he's in.. here .."

"Who? Who is in here?" You ask staring at the box, "Can you tell us who is here with us?"

" ... John .. murder .."

"John and murder?" Colby looks at you guys, "Did John murder you? Were you murdered by John Agatha?"

"... liar .. he lies ..."

"Did John lie about your death?" You ask and step closer to Sam, "What did he do to you?"

"... tried to run.."

"Did you try and escape? Did he punish you for that?" Colby asks and jumps next to you when the door to the one room slams shut, "Who is here with us? Reveal your name to us."

"... John .. is mad..."

"Is he mad that we're here trying to find out what he did?" You ask and Sam looks at you, "I think we should stop."

You felt the need to keep going, "Can he come in here with us?"

"Y/n." Colby looks at you then to Sam, jumping as heavy footsteps come down the hallway, "Sam's right." Colby reaches to switch off the spirit box, but you stop him, "Just wait."

Sam nods at him, chewing on his lip as the footsteps start again.

"John Agatha. If you're here, tell us why you killed those people." You glance towards the door, only to snap your head back to the box,

"... they needed to die ..."

"No they didn't. They were sick." You argue and Sam pulls you back, "That's enough." You push away from him, "Sam. We're getting answers."

"No, you're arguing with something that we're unsure of. You don't know the power of this thing. " Sam runs a hand through his hair, "I think we're done. I don't like this-"

"Colby do you want to leave?" You look at Colby and he holds his hands up, "I think I'm with Sam on this one."

You roll your eyes, "Of course you do."

"Y/n. What the hell has gotten into you?" Sam looks at you shocked, "You have never acted this way during one of these and that's why we're done." He grabs your wrist, holding onto you, "We are done here."

"... no .."

Sam shakes his head and turns off the box, "I'm not doing this. We can talk about this at home."

You turn around, finding Colby no where in the room, "Colby?" You call out, "Sam. Colby is gone." Sam's heart starts to race, "Fuck, yo Colby?"

No answer.

"Fuck. Fuck. Come on." He hands you the camera, and turns on his flashlight, yelling for Colby as you make your way to the stairs.

"Careful, careful." Sam makes sure you make it down okay before stopping at the bottom, "You don't think he went to the basement did you?"

"Or where the sound came from? That's where I was feeling drawn to." You look around, sighing, "Fuck. Fuck. Colby?!"

You hear a loud thump come from where the first crash happened, "We have to." You look at Sam and he nods, "Yeah, yeah. I know." He interlocks his fingers with yours and pulls you with him.

You both yell out for Colby, looking for any kind of sign, "Colby? Come on this isn't funny." Your voice kinda breaks as your fear builds up faster and faster.

"Colby. Come on man, we're leaving." Sam yells out and you stop when you see a metal cart laying on its side, old trays spilling out from the door that is open.

"He was right, that's what that sound was earlier when we started." Sam shines the flashlight on it and looks up, "Colby?"

"Wait." You stop Sam, "Isn't John's office over here?"

His eyes go wide, "Fuck, yeah it is." He turns towards the walkway, "Colby!?"

You perk up, "Wait. I think.." you whisper, "Yell out to him again."

"Colby?!"

"This way." You pull Sam down the hall, half preparing yourself for when Colby jumps out and scares you both, or at least you're hoping that's what he's doing.

"Colby? Please." You beg, hoping you can find him.

"If we just left when I said.."

You stop, cutting Sam off, "No. we aren't playing the blame game because right now our friend is lost and we have no idea where he is."

"Where who is?" Colby walks up, and you Sam let out a scream.

"Where the fuck did you go?" Sam yells, "You just up and left us dude. Why?"

"You guys were arguing and I thought I heard someone in the hallway, so I came out to see and then I was halfway down the steps. I thought I saw people, like teenagers run to the left and my first instinct was to just go." Colby explains, "I don't know dude. Really, I was running and then I was like wait, I'll get lost so I turned around and now we're here."

"You could have been hurt, Colby." You push his shoulder and he just shrugs.

"Sorry man." Sam lays a hand on his shoulder, "last I knew you were right behind us."

He nods, "it's fucking crazy. This place is a maze, and I don't mean physically either."

"Let's just.. go get the stuff and head out to the car." Sam sighs, pointing the camera to Colby, "We found him. He says there were people here but we aren't sure about anything, and I mean that about this whole entire place."

"I don't even know how to describe it other than what y/n said. Like that tired feeling and then I wasn't where I remember I was." Colby explains and you nod, "Yeah like you can tell what you're doing but you aren't focused on what you're doing."

"Alright well I think that's it for-" Sam stops talking and looks behind him, "There was just.. three knocks." He whips around looking at you guys when it happens again, "that.. that.."

"What the hell is that?" Colby whispers and you're pushed towards the way the office is, "Do not touch me. Do not touch any of us." You hold your hand up, "Fuck."

"Y/n. We need to go." Colby steps towards you and you shake your head, "we can't leave."

"We aren't arguing again, y/n." Sam walks towards you and when he goes to grab your hand, he's pushed back.

Colby snaps his head towards the hall, "Someone just said don't touch her." He looks at Sam, "I swear to god dude. A clear as day whisper like right behind me."

You feel something grab your hair and lift it off of your shoulder. You jump and brush a hand over, "Something just played with my hair."

"We're leaving."

As you go to collect the equipment, that's when things take a turn for the weird.

"So, maybe Colby was right. We heard things..." Sam says as he tries to control his breathing, "We aren't sure what it was exactly, right now we're just ducked down behind this desk thing."

"That's what I heard earlier, but you'd think if it was actual people they'd make a lot more noise than just footsteps, right?" Colby whispers leaning in towards you and Sam. Sam's grips on your hand tightens as the foot steps grow closer.

They stop abruptly and Colby stands up, "There's no one here." Sam pulls your arm, "Let's just make a run for it."

You guys book into the door, breathing heavy as Colby closes it with a slam. Sam pulls you away from the building, "you okay?"

You nod, "Yeah, yeah are you?" He nods and pulls you into him, hugging you tightly.

"That was fucking crazy." Colby says walking around you guys, "I've never experienced anything like that. Like we were affected in a way we can't really explain in depth."

"This doesn't feel finished, though." You pull away from Sam and he stares at you, "What?"

You look between him and Colby, "Exactly what I said."

And you meant that. You wanted to come back here, get more answers about this asylum. You knew more happened here than what people have said.

"You're going to really stand here, and tell me that you want to go back in there." Sam scoffs, "Even after what you had happen? What I had happen? Christ, y/n, Colby went missing for god knows how long."

He puts his hands on his head and spins around slowly, trying to comprehend as to why you'd want to.

"Because there's more in there, more stuff that people don't know and I want to be the one to find out exactly what it is." You point to the building and drop your hand, "If you don't want to then I'll come back myself."

"The fuck you will." Sam shakes his head, "Y/n. You could have been the one lost. You could have been the one lost in there, alone.. and I don't-" his voice cracks and he clears his throat, "You're not coming back here and I mean that."

"Why don't we -"

"Stay out of this, Colby." You and Sam say looking over at him.

He holds his hands up and walks over to the car while you and Sam still argue.

"You didn't know what you were doing, y/n. Okay? You could have easily got lost." Sam looks at you and you shrug, "But I didn't."

He stares at you a few moments before shaking his head, "The only reason you want to come back here is because whatever is on the other side of that door is making you want to come back."

You clench your jaw, knowing that he's right but since you're fighting, you don't want to let him win easy.

"That place changed you." Sam says lowly, "We have never, ever fought like this, we've never fought at all. Doesn't that mean anything?"

"Never said it didn't, Sam." You mumble as you walk towards the car, getting into the back. You glance over, seeing Sam bend down slightly before kicking the rocks on the ground and walking over to get in the passenger seat of the car.

"Home?" Colby asks starting the car.

You and Sam both mumble a low, "Mhm." Colby takes a deep breath and starts to drive out of the gate, "I have to lock up. Don't kill each other." He gets out, jogging up to shut the gate.

Sam glances back at you and you look at him. He sighs, "I'm still mad, but I love you."

You try not to smile, "I love you."

Colby gets back into the car, "Did you guys makeup yet?" You both refuse to answer and he laughs sarcastically to himself, "Oh this is going to be such a wonderful quiet ride home."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"We have like half an hour left, do you want to stop somewhere and get something to eat?" Colby looks at Sam and he nods, "Yeah, that works." He looks back at you, "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah." You say lowly with a slight nod.

"Are we finally speaking to each other?" Colby acts surprised, "Wow. It's about time."

You roll your eyes and Sam scoffs, "I'm mad, that doesn't mean I don't care about her still."

You smile slightly, looking away from him so he doesn't see it. You get out of the car and go to walk in but Colby stops you, "We weren't us back there. Don't hold it over his head."

"Tell that to him." You mumble and he nods, "I plan to, trust me. I just got to you first." You laugh as you walk in to the store and Colby walks up to Sam, telling him the same thing he told you.

As you're standing there, looking at the snacks, you feel hands slides around your waist and pull you back, "You know.."

"What do I know?" You ask as your nails gently graze over his hands, "Even though you pissed me off.." his voice goes quiet, "The way you argued with the ghost was such a turn on."

You smirk and turn around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck, "Is that your way of saying you're sorry?" He bites his bottom lip as he looks at you, "I'll say it when we get home."

He winks at you and leans in to kiss you. You slide your fingers in his hair, humming against his lips slightly.

Colby walks up, "Now that's what I like to see."

You and Sam pull away and look at him. He has a big cheesy smirk on his face and you can't help but laugh, "What would we do without him?"

Colby buts in, "Oh i don't know, probably give each other the silent treatment until days from now."

Sam chuckles and sighs, "That wasn't any of us back there." You look up at him, "Yeah.. that was bad."

Colby nods, "I've never seen you act the way you did, y/n. Honestly it was kinda badass. Arguing with a potential demon."

Sam nods, looking down at you. You look up at him, "I learned from the best."

You grab your snacks and head out to the car, getting into the back as they get up front, "So now that this is no longer a quiet ride home, and I am no longer feeling awkward, can we please talk about what happened?"

"Mhm. Yeah sure." Sam mumbles as he stares down at his phone. Colby looks over at him before he starts driving, "What are you doing?"

You phone vibrates and you see a message from Sam, "Colby don't look at his phone. I beg you."

"Why can be so-" he reads over the message that was sent from Sam's phone, you've had me low key turned on this entire night, when we get home I'm going to show you just how sorry I am.

"Well, okay." Colby sits forward, "That awkward part is back."

You laugh, replying to Sam, just how are you going to do that?

Colby clears his throat, "Can we.." he laughs, "Can you stop sexting each other for one second so we can do the outro please?"

You sigh, resting your phone down on the seat next to you, "anything for princess Colby." He lays his hand under his chin, "As it should be."

You and Sam both laugh and he gets the camera rolling, "We are currently on our way home. Tonight was.." Sam sighs and looks at Colby, "I don't even know how to explain it."

"A big mess." You laugh and Colby sighs, "It was definitely something like that. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that we were .. taken over basically."

"Yeah, yeah no. That part was absolutely fucked up. I luckily didn't have it happen like y/n or Colby did, but it was still a surreal feeling to have people telling you that you zoned out with absolutely no recollection of it at all." Sam points his thumb back to you, "And then you got Mrs I like to argue with ghosts back here, but that's a story we'll post on our other channel, maybe, who knows, but we are done for tonight, like I said, it was a whirlwind of events and we are so excited for you guys to see what we experienced tonight at the Agatha Asylum."

"Drop a like if Mrs I like to argue with ghosts should be made into a sweatshirt." Colby gives a thumbs up and Sam yells, "Ayyyy yes. Y/n." He points the camera to you, "How would you like to have your own collection."

"That would be pretty sick." You smile and nod, "I actually like that a lot."

Sam points the camera to himself, "Well have to work on it. See you guys in the next one."

Sam cuts the camera off, "Mrs I like to argue with ghosts." He laughs and looks back at you, "I'm getting you a hoodie that says that."

You smile and nod, "I'll wear it everyday."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Have fun. I'll be down here editing away from all the noise." Colby says as he grabs his laptop off the counter.

Without any hesitation, Sam grabs your hand and up the stairs you go, laughing with him as you try to keep up.

You run into the room you share, falling on the bed with him on top of you, "You drive me insane, but always in the best way." His lips press to yours as his hand pulls your head close to him.

You drag his sweatshirt up his back, telling him you want it off. He leans up, slipping it off in one perfect motion and you pull him back down to kiss you.

He grinds himself against you, "I'm sorry for yelling at you." You moan slightly, shaking your head, "We weren't us." You cup his face, "This is us."

He smiles and kisses you again. You quickly grow into a heated make out, clawing the rest of each other clothes off and slipping under the blankets.

"If I ever yell at you like that again, just sacrifice me to the demons, babe." He chuckles slightly, brushing hair from your face before sliding his hand down to pull you closer.

"I'd be coming with you. We're inseparable." You nudge your nose against his and he nods, "Damn right we are."

He rolls on top of you, rubbing the head of his cock against your pussy, "You were so.." he lets out a low moan as he slips his cock into you, "..fucking hot back there.."

He pushes his hips to meet yours, "You always amaze me."

You run your hand through his hair, biting down on your lip as he starts to thrust, "Fuck.." you whimper and look up at him, "I'd do anything to protect you."

"I'd die for you." He stares at you for a few seconds, still thrusting deep and slow, "I mean that wholeheartedly. You mean the most to me and I'd do anything to keep you safe."

You smile and lay a hand on his cheek, "I love you."

He kisses your lips, whispering a low, "I love you."

He leans up a little bit, "Now roll over so I can punish you for yelling at me." He winks and gives you a cocky smirk before pulling out. You smirk as your stomach does an excited flip.

You roll over onto your stomach and Sam's body is immediately on yours, his cock back in to where it was before, "I wanted to shut you up in anyway I could."

You moan as he thrusts slow, "Why didn't you?"

"Would have had to cut a lot of the footage out." Sam says lowly in your ear, "Plus I don't really want Colby seeing how pretty you look while you're gagging on my dick."

Your eyes roll back as he pushes all the way in, "Because you my love, are fucking gorgeous."

You grip the sheets, moaning as his hand slides around to your throat, squeezing as he whispers, "Or how pretty you look while I'm in between those legs.."

"S-Sam." You squeeze his cock with your walls, "Fuck, I-I'm so close."

"Go ahead, baby." Sam groans lowly, "Fuck, I'm not going to last much longer either." He hooks his thumb over your bottom jaw and you immediately suck.

He moans lowly, pounding into you, "That's my girl."

You moan around his thumb, trying to move your hips but you can't go anywhere. Your moans are growing louder as you reach your point, squeezing him as you claw at the sheets.

"Come on, baby." He pleads, "Cum for me."

You whimper and moan his name over and over again, letting your head fall back as you cum, "Fuck fuck fuck."

Sam suddenly pulls out, his cum spilling on your back, "Fuck, babe." you let your head fall forward, resting on the bed as your breathing is heavy.

"You okay?" Sam asks getting up to get you a towel. You look back at him, "Oh yeah. I'm so much better."

He smiles and shakes his head, "You know, I wonder how much of us arguing was actually caught on camera."

"Probably all of it, Sam. And if I'm being honest, it'll probably turn me on again." You roll over once he wipes you off and smirk up at him.

"You too, huh?" He smiles as he bites his bottom lip as you nod, "Uh huh. Very much." He pulls you up so you're standing in front of him, "I really don't want to yell at you again, but if it's something that'll get you going then.." he leans in, kissing you, "then we might just have to work something out."

You suddenly hear Colby yelling, "Oh shit. No fucking way!"

You quickly throw on clothes and run down, "What? What? What!?" Sam asks going over, you hand still in his, "Bro what the fuck is that?"

"That my friend is what was controlling us tonight." Colby turns the laptop towards you and Sam and you gasp, "That's exactly what I saw."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[moonit3]

I can order a yandere cute (kawaii), who maybe because of his cute and innocent appearance managed to get close to his beloved, but maybe this boy is not only cute and has a very disturbing past...

i love this concept, a cute person who is actually a freaking person behind the curtains. that’s why i love my readers, always giving me the best ideas to write.

ꕥ CUTE BOY ꕥ

➽ context warnings: yandere! male, gn! reader, sfw but there is some nsfw lines down there, a small age gap (like two-four years, but both reader and yandere are legal age!), manipulation, murder off scene.

➽ word count: 998 (sorry for that, guys!)

➽ synopsis: perhaps you would see him with another eyes if he was the same age as your.

➽ yandere! cute boy x gn! reader

➽ a/n: another few weeks later and i am here with another work of mine, today i present to you all my new creation that i am proud to be the mother of it. this work is a little too short for my own likes, but i feared that if i wrote more i could easily ruin it…so please, bear with me today’s writing.

➽ walking around the streets without paying attention led you to meet someone completely different from most people you met before. clothes so bright that might your hurt at first glance full of cute patterns on it, hairclips all over his dyed hair and of course, his personality being way too soft for a world like this, but with a little extra spicy that can’t be compared to anyone else.

➽ micah is his name, a sweet boy that isn’t so tall compared to most guys that you’ve encountered. yet, is the one who catch your attention the most with his odd smile, unfamiliar style and unique sense of humor. you consider yourself lucky to have met someone like him and even luckier to have someone by your side after moving to a new city.

➽ you might have know him for a couple of weeks, but it’s feel like he been around your whole life by the way he acts with you. many people even mistakenly you two as a couple by how affectionate he is in public, always holding hands and kissing your cheek as a way to greet you, so you don’t blame them for thing the wrong way when explaining that micah is just too friendly with you. but no one seems to believe you, always telling you that there is no shame in being touchy with him in public or hide the relationship.

➽ well, they aren’t wrong about micah being so much cling with you in the public eyes. sometimes, you ask yourself the last time you went out without him or for how long he can go without touching you (almost a minute, you recall). your best friend being like this doesn’t make you uncomfortable, by the completely opposite, you are kind into it. after all, everyone needs some physical affection and you are in no place to deny it.

➽ as more time goes on, you only got closer to micah while your other friends began distancing themselves away from you. why would they do that? the sense that you’ve done something wrong quickly makes you anxious, overthinking and even forgetting things that you were supposed to do. it’s hurt to see so many people leave you, abandon you. but hey, at least micah is by your side with no intention to leave.

➽ “let’s go out, [name]!” he brings you to the mall whatever he feels like, buying expensive outfits that match his style and making you pose with him to post at his social media. mostly of the comments compliment how the two looks so perfect together, some even saying that micah is a lucky guy to have you in his life. “look, look, [name]! they think we are a couple! isn’t that cute? maybe we do fit to be together like that.”

➽ “don’t be silly.” always patting his head makes him melt under your touch only if you could do that on other parts of his body, and he couldn’t be more grateful to be receiving those head pats too. “aren’t you a little to young for me? i know that you enjoy hugging me a lot and even kissing my cheek whatever you want, but you have to remember that i am older than you.”

➽ “hahaha, i know that.” can’t you see that his smile is no bigger as it was? your eyes does look at him, seeing that he isn’t playful like before, so you hold one of his hand and smile at him. “but you will stay by my side, right? like forever without anyone else trying to separate us.”

➽ “i promise, micah.” his pink dyed hair has become a messy by the time you stopped patting him, making him slightly better to the rest of the hanging out. even with your words promising to stay with him forever, the boy can’t help but want more than your friendship.

➽ he wants to be your boyfriend, then fiancé and then husband! the plans for the wedding are already written down at his journal and the ideas for your dress/suit to match his outfit can’t be ruined by your mindset of him being ‘too young’. he is already twenty-one! just because he still on his second year of college, doesn’t mean that he isn’t mature enough to marry the love of his life!

➽ that’s why he promise himself to study hard to graduate with the best grades from his fashion design class, so he can get a degree and a good paying job at his area. maybe you will see him with other eyes when he becomes a fully grown man who can afford to pay rent without struggling and to make the best matching outfits to both of you when he gets himself a studio and able to buy the most comfortable materials ever made.

➽ he can already imagine the large house he will buy for you. a big one at the countryside of the country so no one will disturb his peaceful and lovely spouse (you, of course!), maybe he will give/adopt a child with you like he always dreamed of. but that only will happen if he works hard, so micah has a long way to go. for now, he will stay close with you as a friend only.

➽ in meanwhile, he will act behind the scenes when someone might try to steal you away from him. those idiot who think that have a chance with are all disposable and you won’t never need anyone else in your life other than him (and probably a future pet to keep you company), so micah waste no time in making sure those people won’t be found and of course. he always makes a good job in hiding the remains of those people into the deepest parts of the woods, after all, he can’t do any mistakes or else he won’t be there for you in the future, [name].

@moonit3 writings

[unbidden-yidden]

I have gotten so many messages from folks who see what's happening to Jews right now, how literally any statement from us that isn't straight up "death to Israel!" "tear it down!" "river to the sea!" etc. - no matter how tempered in other ways or critical of the Israeli government it is - anything even mildly supportive of the terrorism victims/their families in their grief and/or Israelis deserving to live is getting dog piled to an absurd degree. And yes, that primarily targets Jews (because we're the ones primarily speaking on it) but it definitely is also hitting anyone not Jewish who says this as well. Immediately, overnight, the left has made any position that respects everyone's human rights and allows Jews room to grieve our murdered and missing family and friends without telling us they deserved to die in terrible ways completely radioactive. Like literally even the most milquetoaste statement attracts numerous hysterical commentators. And because it's so toxic, people are afraid to speak up.

And I've now heard from a lot of gentiles that they had no idea how deep the rot of leftist antisemitism went, how they've been seeing this unfold with horror, and are afraid to speak up.

Here's what I'll say: those messages give me a lot of strength, because they help me remember that I'm not insane, that this is horrendous, and we are seeing in real time exactly who would have helped the Gestapo find us if they were sufficiently convinced that this is "decolonization." That yes, the backlash really *is* that bad. I hear that affirmation and I appreciate it, and I understand your fear, because it was mine too. I myself strongly considered at the beginning not saying anything about this until I could do so without being harassed. (I decided against that because I am physically incapable of shutting up when it pertains to my people, but I understand the sentiment.)

Here's the thing: this is never going to end - those people who take seriously the question "are Jews people?" are going to be the vocal minority unless and until we all speak out. Jews are 2% of the US population and 0.2% of the world's population - there are literally more self-identified Nazis in America than there are Jews. I would honestly be surprised if there weren't more horseshoe theory leftists in the world than Jews also.

That being the case, we really do need our allies to speak up with us. I think if we all spoke up at once, it might be enough to break the silence-taken-as-agreement and shame everyone but the avowed antisemites (rather than the thoughtless and opportunistic ones) back into keeping their antisemitism under wraps. Which does have the effect of bringing the mob under control. Jews have faced a ton of mob violence in the form of pogroms throughout our history and backlash to Jewish victimhood. (Tl;dr - "How dare you make me consider how I might have benefited from or been complicit in hurting Jews? This is actually the fault of the Jews." is a disturbingly common thought process.) (You may also be wondering what I mean by "opportunistic;" I can explain in another post if people are interested.)

I know it's scary. I am well aware that you might lose friends from this. I personally decided that if those "friends" valued Jewish lives so little, they were never my friends to begin with, but it's different for non-Jews. They may genuinely be your friends. I'm not demanding you do this for me or my community, but I am asking you to consider what your line is for your friends. And if you are able to talk to them, to ask them what makes this group different from all other groups in terms of deserving compassion and human rights, it may just help us to quiet the mob.

And, if nothing else, just privately reminding those of us who are speaking about it that we are grounded in reality and compassion helps combat the mass gaslighting going on.

[dandylovesturtles]

listen ok I know shit is dire in CAS land (by @somerandomdudelmao) but I had this stupid idea and it's a slow day at work and I type fast so here you go I didn't proofread this at all

I'm sorry I made it silly

Massive spoilers if you haven't read the new CAS update

...

"I can fix it," is a much easier thing to say than to do. Casey's thinking that as he takes long, quick strides through the lair, turning the problem over in his head as fast as he can. He hopes Uncle Tello can't hear the parts of his thoughts that are in a panic, but based on their conversation before he probably can.

Uncle Tello doesn't say anything about it, and Casey kind of wishes he would, just for the reassurance that he's still there.

He's so absorbed in his thoughts he doesn't notice Donnie (the younger Donnie, the physical Donnie) standing in front of him until it's too late and he's already collided with his back. Coffee spills everywhere, though thankfully it only splashes his plastron where he can't get burned.

Younger Donnie whirls, something distinctly murderous in his eye that feels so weird and wrong directed at Casey. It cools only slightly when Donnie processes it wasn't one of his brothers bumping into him, and somehow that feels just as weird, that Donnie has to readjust his feelings to accommodate the unfamiliarity. (He's not family, not to this Donnie.)

"Is something chasing you?" Donnie snaps.

"Uh... no-"

"Is there a fire?"

"No, but-"

"Do you need glasses?"

"I don't... think so?"

"Then watch where you're going!"

He spins on his heel and marches off, toward the kitchen to get more coffee, Casey assumes. For a moment he's left too off kilter and dumbfounded to remember what he was doing.

Then Uncle Tello's voice in his head startles him out of it. What just happened?

Oh, uh... I ran into the other version of you.

Ran into?

Literally. I spilled his coffee.

Ah, and he didn't take it well.

And Casey knows he shouldn't stop for this. Casey knows they may be on limited time and he has to fix this and Uncle Tello shouldn't have to listen to his whining about things that don't matter.

But he's been holding in so many feelings for so long and even if it's just in his head, hearing his uncle's (dad's) voice makes it rush out of him before he can stop it.

I don't think he likes me very much. I touched his shell the other day and he snapped at me. I got mad at him when he touched your tech and that made him mad, too. I don't know how to talk to him.

He doesn't really know how to talk to any of them, is the thing. It used to be the easiest thing in the world, and now it's a wall he hasn't yet learned how to scale.

He can feel his thoughts spiraling against his will. He doesn't have time for this, but the grief and the lack of sleep and the lack of easy affection are all mixing together with the weirdness of it all into a dangerous Molotov cocktail of emotions and he's not sure what will light the fuse.

Casey Jr, says Uncle Tello's voice.

Uncle Tello?

Do you want to see something really funny?

Casey can't help but make a strangled noise at the back of his throat, one that isn't a laugh but isn't a cry either. Something funny?

Yeah. Trust me, it'll be hilarious. Go to my lab.

Casey hesitates. He doesn't let me in there without him...

I feel confident I outrank him. Wait, how old is he?

Sixteen.

Ahhh, that explains it. I know I'm an absolute delight now, but at that age I could be a real pill.

It startles an actual laugh out of Casey. Without arguing further, he rushes to Donnie's lab, quick before he can finish brewing his coffee.

How do I get in?

Is this the subway?

Yeah.

Okay, there's a manual override for the voice lock hidden in one of the wall panels, should be... three to the left, middle of the door. Give that a good knock. Shave and a haircut~

Casey does as directed, and the panel slides back, revealing a flat, glossy keypad.

What's the access code? he asks, feeling like they're on some secret mission now. Maybe it doesn't fall into what people in this time consider normal, but to Casey this is standard stuff. He falls into the rhythm of it like a well loved song.

Oh one one four twenty one twenty seven, says Uncle Tello.

Casey punches it in and the door slides open. He slips inside and hits the button to close and lock the door behind him. Donnie still hasn't returned; the mission is proceeding as planned.

Wasn't that the code for one of the weapons lockers in the old- at base?

Yes, it was. Poor security protocol to reuse codes, I know, but I'm partial to that one.

What is it?

Atomic Lass's birth date. Uncle Tello pauses, then adds, Has he shown you any of the old Atomic Lass episodes of Jupiter Jim?

Uh, no...

Ah, continuing to fail my already low expectations, Teen Tello. Never mind, we'll worry about that later on.

Later on. Right, they shouldn't be doing this, they should be trying to fix Uncle Tello, they should be-

To my computer, Casey Jr! I can't type so you'll have to do it for me.

Uncle Tello's voice pulls him out of his reverie, and he hurries to do as he's told.

Uncle Tello walks him through passwords and then through navigating the OS. It's old and out of date compared to what they had in the future (Donatello's custom OS, better than the hacks at Apple and Microsoft, or so he said), but when Casey had called it old and out of date Donnie had gotten mad about that, too.

Ada Lovelace, this is old, says Uncle Tello's voice now, and incredibly Casey laughs again.

But they find what he's looking for and then input a series of commands into the command line. Casey isn't familiar with all of them, but if he had to guess, they just sent a video from late 2019 to every device in the lair.

Alright, mission accomplished, time to retreat, says Uncle Tello's voice, and he hurries out of the lab, just in time to hear a ping from the phone in his pocket.

He pulls it out and watches the video. It's Donnie, only slightly younger than the teen Casey now lives with, adjusting the camera before grinning and posing in front of it. He's in his lab, though a different one than the one here in the subway. He looks cocky.

He moves further back from the camera so his entire body is framed in its lens, then steps onto a skateboard. He glides in a circle for a moment, then jumps to try and do some kind of trick. Casey doesn't know the name of it, but what he does know is that Donnie's feet get caught in his board, and he ends up tumbling to the floor, crashing in an undignified heap, arms splayed out and face smooshed against the concrete.

It shouldn't be funny.

(It's pretty funny.)

It seems the others echo this sentiment, because suddenly Casey can hear laughter erupting from elsewhere in the lair.

"OMIGOSH! Barry, you gotta watch this!"

"HAHAHAHA BRO ATE SHIT!"

"Hah... Don't worry Donnie, I'm sure you'll get it next ti-hahahahaha!"

There's the sound of scurrying feet, and then Donnie slides into the hall, glaring at Casey who forgot he should be moving away from the crime scene.

"YOU!" he screeches.

Casey freezes. What is he supposed to say? What excuse does he have? The you in my head told me to do it? Yeah right.

Casey does the only sensible thing and turns to run.

Casey Jr?

Uncle Tello!?

What's happening now?

The other you is after me!

Oh. Well. Better run fast.

Casey turns on the speed, sprinting down the corridor and toward the only exit he knows, Donnie hot on his trail.

Why is every younger version of you so scary!?

Oh please, there's no way that scrawny, barely pubescent mess is scary. Have you ever heard his voice crack?

...Well, yeah...

See? Hilarious. And we didn't even have to pull up my browser history.

Okay, but none of this helped us fix anything.

Ah well. One problem at a time.

[kittykattropicanna]

would you please be able to go into more detail about your prison penpal!simon? why is reader doing it, how did they choose simon (if they had a choice at all), the sorts of letters they exchange? and if they’re any sort of smutty bits for them too? your mechanic au has me absolutely feral beyond words so seeing this made me so excited.

Omg you’re my first asked AHHHHHH I want to scream thank you so much!!!!! 

Absolutely I can go into detail about PrisonPenPal!Simon :3  I can't get out of my mind how deprived he is argh!!! >:( all this time alone, and now that you're here writing him pretty little letters, he can't imagine life without you :3

TW: mentions of murder, jail, corruption kink, breading kink, masterbation (Reader & Simon), public masterbation (kinda), smut, not sub!simon but he does cum in his pants, ahhh you're both just so obsessed with each other :3

PrisonPenPal!Simon masterlist

Regular masterlist

I’ll give you a little back story to why Si actually ended up in jail…

I feel like he retied, left SAS and tried to integrate back into civilian life but failed miserably. He started going out to bars and drinking pretty heavily. The alcohol made him angry, he never was outwardly violent, but everyone could tell he was just a very dark, tortured guy that sat in the back of the bar every night and drank himself stupid. It was like an unwritten rule that nobody bothered him. His a massive guy who’s ex military, if you had half a brain you would leave him alone. 

One night he was leaving the pub and this stupid, stupid 18 year old kid thought it would be funny to try square up to him and impress his friends. 

It didn’t matter how many times they told him to quit it and leave Simon alone, he still trudged up to him with his head held high and chest puffed.  

This kid came up behind Si and punched him in that back of the head. It wasn’t a good punch by any means but it was more then enough to drive Simons drunk brain into utter rage. 

He turned around and punched this kid straight in the head. He went down like a stack of bricks, head making direct impact with the concrete floor, killing him instantly. 

The kid was only 18, he had so much life left to live…..

Of course Si felt absolutely disgusted in himself, he couldn’t believe what he had done. Killed a poor kid who made a stupid decision and ultimately ended his life as well. 

He handed himself over the the police without hesitation. He went quietly and respectfully, cooperated with the police throughout the whole trial, never redirecting blame onto the kid or made it harder then it needed to be. 

He pled guilty for involuntary manslaughter and assault. Gaz, Johnny and Price all pitched in to get him the best defence lawyer humanly possible……ultimately, it worked. Even though the general public was outraged at his light sentence. 

Simons lawyer claimed the punch was in self defence. Someone attacking him from behind also trigged his PTSD resulting in Simon not being able to control his actions in that moment. 

These defences along with him serving in the military for 15+ years and cooperating with the authorities got him 8 years in prison, his sentence was quickly reduced to 4 because of his good behaviour. 

It wasn’t an ideal situation by any means, but it was the best case scenario with the cards he was dealt. 

But lets fast forward to the present….. How did you decide to actually start writing to an inmate? How did you even find out about it?

I have this really cute idea that maybe you were walking through the shopping centre and there was one of those pop up markets that sit in the middle of everything, you know, with the really annoying people that flag you down and you have to awkwardly not make eye contact and walk past them while they’re try and sell you stuff?

Yeah, one of them. This specific stand kinda caught your eye though, It was called “Write An Inmate”

You talked to the guy at the stand about what exactly “Write An Inmate” was and he explained that he was part of the program when he was locked up, how much it helps inmates get through their sentence, helps connect them to the outside world and genuinely just keeps them hopeful. 

First off you were a little hesitant…..speaking to someone who’s in jail because they broke the law sounded a little scary…. 

But hell, its a start of a new year and taking some time out of your day every once in a while to write a short letter to help keep someones hopes up is the least you can do. 

Besides! One of your childhood best friends big brothers went to jail and he wasn’t a bad guy! One of your new years resolutions was to spread more kindness and this is just a perfect way to do so!

Once you got home, you look up the website on the brochure that was given to you and quickly start scrolling through inmates.

They all had profiles with information about them. You couldn’t see what they were in for, but you could see other information like their name, age, date they signed up for the program, time served/time until they get out, amount of letters they have received, a short description of who they are/what they like and a few photos showcasing what they look like. 

You scrolled through a few but they all seemed to have gotten hundreds of letters, you wanted to write someone who wasn’t getting flooded every week with letters, maybe send a letter to someone who could use a pick me up. 

Clicking on the last page you scrolled to the very bottom and click on the last inmate before it even had time to load. 

Once the page opened the name “Simon Riley” appeared on your screen

After looking through his profile a wave of sadness rolled over you 

Name: Simon Riley, most people call me Ghost  Age: 36 Joined: December 26th, 2021 Letters Received: 0 Time served: 3 and a half years  Sentence ends: Year and a half  Description: ex military. I like dogs, big ones not small ones, the outdoors, playing cards and motorcycles. The first thing I want to do when I get out is to eat a steak. 

Attached was three photos. I won’t even lie, they’re definitely dad selfies from different angles HAHAHA they’re such grainy photos too, like they’ve been taken on a 10 year old android. 

Two of the selfies are him with a black balaclava on and the last one was of his face without anything covering it, but again it so grainy you can’t really make his facial features out. 

Simon had joined the program two years ago and hadn't received one letter. You felt horrible, he joined the day after Christmas probably hoping to receive something, anything, but not one person took the time to write him….. 

So obviously Simon was going to be your prisoner pen pal, how could he not be…..

I think the letters start off pretty innocently tbh, you don’t start writing to Simon with the intention of starting any sort of sexual or romantic relationship, it truly is out of the goodness of you’re heart, you sweet girl :(

Simon had totally forgotten about the program honestly, imagine his shock when the prison guard threw him a letter. 

When he frowned and asked who its from the guard just shrugged and said “write an inmate program” and walked off completely unfazed. 

But again, starts out super innocent, things like “I saw that you like big dogs, what’s your favourite breed?” and “what’s your favourite card game? I know how to play blackjack but I’m not very good haha”

I’d like to think you don’t even disclose your gender or name at the start. Keeping everything under lock and key. 

Simon also answers back with pure intentions at first, he has an inkling you may be a women because the hand writing is wayyy to pretty and delicate to come from a man. 

But again! He doesn’t get his hopes up, it could be an old granny for all he knows, but he can’t shake the idea that maybeeeee it could be someone a little more his type, ya know ;)

After a couple weeks of writing letters back and forth you feel like you’re getting to know him a little better. He asks you to call him Simon, not Ghost and he starts writing the cheesiest dad jokes at the bottom of every letter. 

“Two fish are in a tank, one turns to the other and asks “do you know how to drive this thing?” a little army humour for ya’ :)”

His so charming in such a rough and rugged sort of way you know? It sounds silly to say, I mean, you’ve never met him! But the way his handwriting is complete chicken scratch and how he adds little “:)” “:(“ and “>:)” makes you giggle! 

You end up telling him your name and how old you are, I mean, its only fair! You know his name! You definitely didn’t tell him because you wanted to get his mind racing, get him thinking about all the different possibilities, make him fantasize…

Its fair to say you have a little crush on him :( ahhhh its so humiliating! A city girl like you, good job, successful family and a bright future laying in bed every night fucking your pussy with a brand new dildo you bought just so you could imagine Simon, a felon, fucking your little cunt :( 

When Simon sent his letter that week asking for a photo of you, your little crush just got bigger :(

“Its only fair don’t ya’ think? You know what I look like, why don’t ya’ return the favour sweetpea ;)” 

And of course you did!! He asked so politely! 

Putting on your pushup bra, doing your makeup and styling your hair all for him:(((

You get so frustrated because you don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard for him, argh! Its all so embarrassing!! Your such a needy girl >:(

You make sure to push up your tits, your bra helping them spill out over your cute little shirt and giving him a good view of your gorgeous body. 

After an hour of taking photos you finally get the shot you were looking for 

Eyes sparkling, cute little smile on your lips, light hitting your face just right, lacy bra slightly peaking out the top of your shirt just enough that it looks like an accident, beautiful tits sitting right in frame so he can get a good look and the slight curve of your waist visible. 

Its perfect, it look so effortless…..in your eyes at least

When Si received your letter, his cock got hard the second he saw your picture :((((

Since his been locked up he hasn’t been able to jerk off properly >:( 

His balls are so heavy as is, and now he has a photo of you 

He could basically cum in his pants at the thought of holding your waist as you ride him. Using his big callused hands to fuck your pretty pussy onto his aching cock >>:((((((

You’re so put together! nice clothes, from the look of the background, nice apartment, clean bedroom. Just the thought of him corrupting you, fucking his baby into you, making you move into a shitty little apartment while he works and you look after his chubby baby makes his dick start to twitch :3

Before he can stop himself, he cums all in his pants :(

He hasn’t cum properly in years! yet a simple photo of you did it for him in seconds!!! You’re such a nasty minx, you know exactly what you’re doing you dirty girl >>:(

That night he lays under the covers, his cell mate fast asleep on the other side of the room as he slowly pumps his cock to the photo of you.

Eyes closed and head thrown back against the thin pillow, he bites his lip so he doesn’t make any noise. 

You see, playboy magazines get passed around all the time, they’re not hard to find if you know the right people, but it just doesn’t do it for Si!!

Of course they’re beautiful women, there’s no doubt about it, but everything so photoshopped :(

Si likes his women natural. No skin smoothing filters or enhancements from photoshop, he likes his women real 

His so deprived that he cums in record time, his hot load shooting all over your face, the once clean photo now sticky and stained….

He wished he had it in him to be embarrassed, but he just can’t! God, he needs to hear your voice, your picture just isn’t enough anymore….

In his next letter he asks if he could use his monthly call to speak to you……Johnnys just gonna have to wait, they can talk football another time >:(

Aghhhh, PrisonPenPal!Simon is so fucking cocky it hurtssss, PrisonPenPal!Simon is open for requests so feel free to send them throughhhhh, add to the AU, ask me expand on certain topics, whatever floats your boat >:)

!Disclaimer! - Above is NSFW content - MDNI - If you follow my blog without your age in your bio, you will be blocked - If you are under the age of 18, you are not welcome here, otherwise, enjoy :)

Cat divider sourced by @positively-mine from Pinterest - Pink line divider by @eloquentreverie - MDNI divider by @cafekitsune

Basic blog housekeeping -  fic requests guidelines, boundaries and my rules for minors

[yandere-daze]

Thank you everyone for the big support on the RE2 Leon post! I was honestly blown away by all the nice comments I got 🥺💕

And now I'm back for more ^^

Hope you enjoy!

gn reader

tw yandere, obsession, over-protectiveness, possessiveness, heavily implied murder, implied stalking, kidnapping, jealousy

General Yandere! RE4 Leon headcanons

Above all else, Yandere! RE4 Leon is very protective of you, the dearest person in his life. To a very unhealthy degree.

He has always been protective but a lot has changed since his first day as a rookie. Leon has seen a lot, he knows how truly horrifying and cruel the world can be. He knows what dangers lurk in the shadows, just waiting for an opportunity to strike and snatch away his beloved.

He doesn't want you to go through what he has. He wants you to be safe at all costs. He simply can't risk losing you, you're everything to him. You're what keeps him grounded, the one beacon of light in the darkness that threatens to consume him every day.

His many missions have broken him, Leon is not the same person he used to be and that too reflects in subtle changes in his yandere behaviour.

He remains very protective, insanely so, but it´s not quite in the same way as RE2 Leon was. He has become pretty jaded and that also translates to him being more merciless when it comes to shooting down anyone that could be perceived as a threat.

There´s no more slight hesitation before going through with killing someone and pulling the trigger, no deliberation, he won´t leave even a sliver of a chance of something hurting you and that extends to zombies, cultists, or rude strangers alike.

He still likes showing off in front of you, proving to you how capable and reliable he is, but he would rather avoid having you witness him getting rid of the latter ones.

He´s sure you won´t object to him getting rid of horrifying eldritch horrors but he fears your naivete won´t allow you to see the other dangers lurking right around the corner. People everywhere that are secretly out to hurt you. People that have bad intentions. People that try to get between the two of you.

He certainly won´t forgive that friend of yours that told you how "scary" Leon´s glare was whenever he looked at someone that wasn´t you. And isn´t it weird that he´s somehow always there whenever you´re in trouble? And they could have sworn they saw him standing outside your window back when you had your sleepover at your house...

Of course Leon couldn´t let this continue any longer. What if you started listening to them and tried to keep your distance? Leon couldn´t bear that. How is he supposed to make sure you´re safe if you won´t let him?

He knows he needs to do something about this so-called friend of yours. Maybe at first he will start "small" and simply start incriminating them for crimes they didn´t commit. It´s truly scary how little you know about your friends, right? Who would have thought that they would turn out to be a criminal?

Leon hopes that will be enough to make them stay away but if they´re particularly persistent... Well, he knows just how to deal with obstacles that are in his way. His position as a special agent gives him plenty of opportunities to make that person simply disappear from all records after mysteriously vanishing.

But don´t worry, Leon will be right by your side, holding you tight and mourning the loss of your friend right with you. It´s really so terrible what happened to them but at least you have him! And he won´t ever leave you.

Now of course, if you yourself were acting difficult, continuously getting yourself into danger, ignoring all of his advice ( don´t leave your house without him. always keep him updated on what you´re currently doing. never go on a date with a stranger..) or avoiding him in any way, Leon would feel forced to take some drastic measures to ensure that you´ll always remain safe and his alone.

While RE2 Leon would not have gone so far as to kidnap you, RE4 Leon absolutely would. It would not be his first choice but in this case, he feels like there is no other way. He would rather keep you locked up for the rest of your life than lose you. He just cannot bear ever having to live without you, now that he has found you.

You´re the only good thing in his life and he´ll be damned if he´ll let anything happen to you.

Of course he understands why you´re mad at him afterwards and it breaks his heart to see you upset with him, but he´ll suffer through it all in the hopes that you´ll one day understand why he had to do what he did.

He´s sure you will come around to him one day and then you´ll finally live the happy life he you both always wanted. In the meantime, he´ll treat you with gentle care ( well, as gentle as Leon can be. His displays of affection are still pretty awkward and stilted even though he tries very hard) and makes sure all your needs are met.

He´ll also let you get away with many things like screaming at him, ignoring him or backing away from his touch, as long as you don´t try to escape him. You may hate him at the moment, but at least nothing can get in here and hurt you while he´s constantly monitoring you.

Leon hopes that one day you´ll be able to move on from this and become a normal couple, but he doesn´t really mind having you all to himself with no prying eyes right now. He´s very possessive too and he´d just hate having to get rid of another stranger that looked at you a second too long for his tastes.

[starfinss]

ᴏꜰ ᴛᴇᴀᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴇᴅᴅʟɪɴɢ ᴍᴇʟᴜꜱɪɴᴇꜱ — ᴡʀɪᴏᴛʜᴇꜱʟᴇʏ

𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮: Genshin Impact

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Wriothesley + Reader

𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: NSFW 

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 12,925

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: After beginning work as a doctor at the Fortress of Meropide, Siegwinne decides you and the Duke are a good match, and will do anything in her power to get you to together, even if she has to take drastic measures.

Or, alternatively, Siegwinne adds a little something extra to the Duke's tea. Chaos ensues.

As soon as the suture needle so much as touched the man sitting before you, he was already flinching away.

“That hurts!” He cried, “please, doctor, be gentle with me.”

It was almost laughable, really. Monsieur Phillip was a hardened criminal, or so you’d been told. He was a career criminal, you remembered the Duke remarking, and he’d been sentenced to serve time in the Fortress of Meropide for a myriad of things, such as assault, and even attempted murder, but here he was, a hulking mass of a man, whimpering in pain at the slightest prick of a needle. 

“Hush,” you said, tutting gently, “the quicker I start, the quicker it’s over. Now hold still.”

He flinched back again, eyeing the needle like it was out to get him. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Please try and relax. I can assure you, I did go to medical school.”

Before he could say anything else, you made the first stitch, carefully, but quickly enough so as not to cause him too much pain. Even with the numbing gel you’d applied, it seemed that the patient’s pain threshold was quite low. It usually removed enough sensation that any leftover pain would be no more than a pinch, but even with that, you could see tears beading at his lash line.

A hardened criminal, indeed.

You finished the sutures quickly before bandaging the injured shoulder and giving Phillip some care instructions.

“And,” you said, “no more getting into altercations about work times, okay?”

Phillip sighed, casting his eyes away from you.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You smiled, kindly. “That’s doctor to you.”

It wasn’t wholly unexpected. Men tended to have lower pain tolerances than women did. You’d given stitches to many people before, and when it came to whining, the men tended to be the most common offenders. 

After Phillip left, you checked up on a woman who was resting in one of the infirmary beds, and after taking her temperature and walking away with your clipboard, you nearly tripped over Siegwinne, who had somehow snuck into your path without you noticing.

“Archons,” you exclaimed, a hand flying over your heart, “I need to put a bell on you.”

Siegwinne ignored your remark. “May I see the patient’s chart?”

You handed it to her. “The patient shows signs of improvement. Her fever has broken, and her delirium has started to clear up. She should make a full recovery.”

Siegwinne hummed meaningfully. “Very good. I was worried about that one. I am glad to hear she is healing well.”

You nodded, then turned, starting towards your desk, but before you could make it, Siegwinne called your name, making you pause.

“Yes?”

Her expression remained impassive, eyes curious, unsuspecting, and she tucked the clipboard under her arm as she closed the distance between you.

“Have you seen the Duke today?”

There it was. You didn’t know what you’d been expecting aside from this. Ever since Siegwinne had caught onto the fact that you’d developed a crush on the Duke, she’d tried to do everything in her power to set you up with him. In the beginning, that was all it was. A crush. It was a crush in the same way one would develop an infatuation with a colleague or schoolmate, based on their appearance or the limited positive interactions they had with them. It was no secret that Wriothesley was an attractive man. He was tall, and handsome, anyone with eyes could see that. You’d heard the whispers among female inmates and guards alike. You were not unique in feeling some form of attraction to him. 

But to Siegwinne, your silly crush was an opportunity. 

“You’re a good woman,” she told you, “and His Grace is always stressed. I fear for his health. I think you would be the right person to keep him company. You are a good match. Your influence and affection would do him much good.”

Siegwinne came to you with this a few months after you’d started work at the Fortress, completely out of nowhere, stunning you to silence. You had no idea how she’d caught on to your feelings, and when you expressed as much, she went into a rambling tangent about human behavior, something about the dilation of pupils, and how she’d been taking notes, and that was when you cut her off.

“Absolutely not.”

But nevertheless, she persisted. 

Siegweinne’s matchmaking attempts rarely ended conclusively, since she tended to see things as a logical cause and effect, and did not at all fit the way any normal human would attempt to court another. They mostly involved putting you and Wriothesley into situations that forced you to speak or interact with one another, with little to no regard to how much said situations were an inconvenience to you. Her first attempt, as such, embarrassingly enough, involved telling the Duke you’d had some kind of accident with an inmate, and when he came to the infirmary to check in, finding you unharmed and working at your desk, all that ensued was a lot of confusion. You wondered why he’d come all that way to see you, and he was surprised to find you not laying on one of the infirmary beds.

But, what her attempts did do, was make the way you felt about Wriothesley, which was no more than a passing fancy at first, grow into something more. 

And despite your best efforts, that only made Siegwinne latch on even harder. 

“Hello?” Siegwinne said, shaking you from your thoughts, “I believe it is polite to answer a question when asked one, or have human customs changed?”

You brushed off her unintentional rudeness, instead answering what she’d asked you.

“No,” you said, “I have not seen His Grace today. He’s a busy man, Siegwinne. You know that.”

“Well, you should go see him.”

You sighed, leaning down to take your clipboard from under her arm, then crossing to your desk.

“I don’t have a reason to go see him,” you said, sitting down, “and like I said, His Grace is a busy man.”

She didn’t push after that, simply going back to work as you did yours, and you tried to put it out of your mind. You and Wriothesley were friends, you’d say. Even though you usually found yourselves meeting in less than normal circumstances, you were still fond of him. You enjoyed his frank, matter-of-fact personality, and dry sense of humor, and he seemed to enjoy your company as well. Your relationship was as casual as it could be between you and a man who was technically your boss, and friendly enough that you had conversations outside of work related matters. You’d never let Siegwinne know this, but her repeated and clumsy attempts at setting you up were not without some benefits. 

That was fine, you supposed. You’d bonded over Siegwinne and her antics, and built a friendship over a shared love of tea, as well as an author you both enjoyed, among other common interests. But that was it. As much as Siegwinne, and, begrudgingly, you, would like to say otherwise, you and The Duke were only friends. 

And, it seemed, as you settled into that fact quite comfortably, Siegwinne only grew more brazen in her attempts at Melusine style matchmaking. 

Her latest attempt involved trying to shut you in a locked room with The Duke, which failed when Wriothesley produced the master key in order to open the door. It happened a little over a week ago, which made you nervous, because Siegwinne didn’t like letting too much time pass between her less than gentle shoves. You were almost completely certain that Wriothesley knew what was happening, he’d have to be stupid not to, though he hadn’t said anything about it. This was probably to spare you from any further embarrassment, which you appreciated. 

The situation was hopeless. You knew that well. But Siegwinne didn’t, and that was beginning to become a problem. You didn’t know why you’d let her get away with this for the handful of months that you had, but maybe, deep down, you hoped that something would actually come from all her meddling. 

And apart from that, you had a certain degree of professionalism to uphold. Wriothesley was your boss, and you were both his employee and his doctor. As much as you found yourself wishing otherwise, pursuing your feelings, even if that was an option, just wasn’t ethical. 

But still, you could dream, you supposed. Dreaming was harmless. 

“I need you to run an errand for me.”

You turned in your chair, raising an eyebrow at Siegwinne, who was staring over at you innocently, a thermos in her hands. You looked at it, then back at her, puzzled.

“Siegwinne, I’m not in the mood.”

She frowned. “To do your job? How unbecoming. I’m simply asking you to deliver this tea to the Duke. His Grace is suffering from a headache. I delivered some to him this morning, but the problem still persists.”

You glanced at the thermos again. “Tea? What’s in it?”

She immediately became defensive, and for a moment, you almost felt guilty for doubting her. 

“Medicine!” She cried, “what do you take me for? I’ve brewed a painkiller into the tea. It should help with His Grace’s headache. If you don’t trust me, you can take a sip yourself.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why can’t you do it?”

Her brows pinched together in annoyance, and maybe a little indignance. “I have to go see a patient, thank you. A young man is complaining of nausea, and finds it hard to stand because of it, so I am going to see him in his cell. Now, will you bring His Grace the tea, or not?”

You sighed. In your own mind, your hesitance was completely justified. Siegwinne had tried to trick you into being alone with Wriothesley many times before this, but then again, if the Duke was actually feeling unwell, and you refused to bring him medicine, what kind of doctor would you be? 

And so, you relented. With another sigh, you stood, snatching the thermos from Siegwinne’s outstretched hand. 

“Fine,” you said, “I’ll be back as soon as I drop it off.”

If Siegwinne was disappointed by this, she hid it well. She simply nodded, then crossed over to her desk to busy herself with her medical bag. You glanced over a few more things at your own desk before scooping up the thermos and leaving the infirmary after calling a quick few words of parting to Siegwinne, who only nodded. 

You shivered a little as you left the infirmary. Siegwinne tended to keep it warmer there, with a space heater sitting in the corner to combat the cold dampness of the rest of the Fortress of Meropide. It was better for the patients, she said, if they had somewhere nice and warm to rest and recover. You were fairly certain she also said something about humans and their preference for warmth, but that wasn’t important at present. 

The clang of your boots against the metal floors rang out as you walked, head held high, thermos in your grip. The air smelled of iron and brine, a scent you’d grown used to in the time you’d been working in the Fortress. Artificial light cast everything in a sort of ominous hue, and the low strength of it left everything in partial shadow. It used to make you nervous, not knowing what hid behind them, using them like masks. Now you knew that whatever was waiting for you was something you could handle.

You glanced down at the thermos in your hands. It was warm, likely just brewed. There was no way Siegwinne would have you serve the Duke cold tea. The thermos was plain; unassuming. It was slate gray, probably stainless steel. You turned it over in your hands, studying it. It was just tea. You had no reason to think it was anything other than that. But with Siegwinne, you’d learned to expect the unexpected.

Absently, you stepped into the elevator to take you down to the administrative floor. The car jerked, and with a mechanical clank, began to move. You turned the thermos over in your hands again. It’s just tea. For the Duke. Your poor, ailing boss. You twisted your mouth. It was fine. There was no way Siegwinne would ever do anything to actually harm Wriothesley. You tapped your nails against the surface of the thermos, almost jumping from your skin when the elevator came to an abrupt stop as it reached its destination, jostling you where you stood and ejecting you from your tangled thoughts. 

You sighed as you left the elevator, tucking the thermos into your arms and against your chest. Everything was fine. If Siegwinne took anything seriously, it was health. You’d caught her staring intently at you on many occasions, and when you asked her about it, she told you she was making sure you were healthy, in a very matter-of-fact tone, like it was obvious. She may be odd, but she wasn’t going to try and harm anyone. 

As you reached the doors to the Duke’s office, you reached into the pocket of your skirt, digging out the key to the lock. Because of the Fortress’s status as a prison, it was only natural that important areas such as the office of the warden would remain locked. The only way to get in was if you had a key or if you were invited by Wriothesley himself. There was also the off chance that the Duke left the doors unlocked, but that was uncommon. Regardless, before you put the key in the lock, you raised your hand, knocking on the door with a great clang. 

“Your Grace?” you called, though it was unlikely he heard you through the thick steel, “I’ll be coming in now. I have some tea for you.”

And with that, you pushed the key into place, twisting. With a grunt of effort, you pushed the doors open.

It was as you were opening the door that you heard him, calling to you. It was muffled under the mechanical clank of the doors, making you only vaguely aware of his call of your name, and you hurried to close the door to answer him. The lock clicked as you did, signifying that the mechanism had reset to its previous locked state. 

You expected Wriothesley to call out to you again after your lack of response, or even possibly to come see you. It was unlikely that Siegwinne would send you on an errand without previously announcing your arrival. But instead, you were met with silence. You gripped the thermos more tightly, hesitating.

“Your Grace?”

You heard something else then. A soft intake of breath, only able to be heard because of the complete lack of noise, save for the quiet hum of machinery from beyond the doors. Then, you could hear him clearing his throat. 

“Yes,” you heard Wriothsley say, from up the stairs, “up here.”

You sighed, relieved, as you made your way up the curving staircase and into the main office.

And as for things you expected to see, this was not among them.

Wriothesley was sitting at his desk, but he looked more than a little disheveled. His coat had been discarded, draped over the back of his chair, and his tie was undone, hanging loose around his neck. His waistcoat was also unbuttoned, as were the top two buttons of the dress shirt he wore underneath the garment. His gloves had also been removed, laying out on his desk beside an empty teacup. His hair was tousled, more than usual, and his face…

You furrowed your brows, suddenly concerned. His face was flushed, a deep pink settled in the apples of his cheeks, very evident against his usually pale skin. Breath, feather soft, expelled itself through parted lips, almost too quickly, as he looked over at you, brows pinching together, as if pained or troubled before the expression calmed. Wriothesley straightened, clearing his throat again, and he was hurriedly fixing his clothing, deft fingers doing up the buttons of his shirt, smoothing back over his hair. 

His eyes fell to the thermos in your hands, lingering, before sliding up to your face. 

You stared at him, your concern growing more by the second, and after a beat, you crossed to the desk, setting the thermos down.

“Your Grace,” you said, “I’ve brought you painkillers for your headache, but you look… May I examine you? You do not look like you’re feeling well.”

“Examine me,” he repeated, then took a slow breath, squeezing his eyes shut before shaking his head, as if clearing away a fog. He swallowed, raking a hand through his hair, and it was then that you spotted sweat beading on his forehead. 

“Yes,” you said, gently, already in doctor mode, “please, let me help.”

He cleared his throat, for what was probably the third time, and you narrowed your eyes. You were rapidly beginning to get suspicious in addition to concerned. There was something he wasn’t telling you. Absently, you found yourself mentally scolding yourself for neglecting to bring your medical bag.

“I’m fine,” he said, though he certainly didn’t look fine, “please, don’t trouble yourself. You’ve come all this way for me, so would you at least sit with me for a cup of tea?”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift. It was fine, though, you supposed. Staying around wasn’t a terrible idea. It would give you a chance to more closely study the Duke’s behavior, and try and figure out what the problem might be. And so, you stepped to the table off to the side, picking a clean tea cup from the collection displayed there. 

“I don’t need any, really,” you said as you leaned over to take the thermos from the desk, “Siegwinne made this for you, for your head. I am happy to sit and talk with you, though, if you want me to.”

Wriothesley smiled easily. “If you like, I can brew you a cup from my personal collection of teas. What do you like?”

You flushed, feeling special, and you turned to busy yourself with arranging his cup of tea to hide the pink in your cheeks. 

“You already know my preferences, Your Grace,” you said, over your shoulder, “just a cup of earl gray is fine.”

You heard shuffling, then the sound of a drawer being pulled open, and you knew the Duke was rifling through the collection of teas he kept stored in his desk. Shifting your focus, you removed the small travel cup attached to the top of the thermos, then unscrewed the lid. Immediately, you were hit with the scent of the tea. It was unexpectedly sweet, and sort of floral. It certainly wasn’t the Duke’s usual style, that was for sure. You took another lungful of it, and could make out notes of various medicinal herbs, including rosemary and feverfew, both known to help with headaches. You could also smell a hint of lavender. But there was still that floral, sort of rosy scent, undercut by the bitter, citrus aroma of the feverfew. It smelled a bit like rainbow roses; of petrichor and morning dew and sweet fresh petals. It certainly had herbs in it, some of which were known to help with what the Duke needed, but the combination of them that you were able to discern was puzzling to say the least.

You put it out of your mind, chalking up the roses to being there to help with the bitterness of the feverfew. With a sigh, you poured the steaming liquid into the teacup. It was sort of a deep rouge color, bordering on purple. A nice color, you decided, and not entirely unexpected with what was contained in the tea. You placed the cup on a saucer, then carried it, alongside the still half filled thermos over to the desk, setting them before the Duke. In exchange, he handed you the tea bag you’d requested, which you accepted gladly. 

After you’d filled a cup with boiling water, which the Duke always seemed to have on hand in any nearby kettle, ready for a quick cup. You added the tea bag, as well as a few spoonfuls of sugar, then took your seat on the couch by the tea table. 

Wriothesley’s face twisted as he took the first sip from his cup, seemingly troubled. 

“It’s very sweet.”

You tilted your head. “Is it not to your liking? I’ll be sure to tell Siegwinne to tweak the recipe.”

Wriothesley waved a dismissive hand. “No,” he said, “I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s not my usual style, but I don’t dislike it.”

You nodded meaningfully, blowing over your tea once more. 

“How are things over in the infirmary?” He asked, and you sat up straighter, engaged. 

“Fine. The usual. I had a man who was scared of needles just before I came over,” you said, “I’d barely touched him before he was telling me to stop.”

Wriothesley laughed, amused. He took another swallow of tea.

 “Oh, really?” He said, “Monsieur Phillip, I suspect? That man always gets into brawls, but is terrified of medical treatment. And he never wins those brawls. The gardes always have to pull the other guy off of him.”

You hid your smile behind your teacup. “I know,” you said, “Siegwinne is always scolding him when he comes in for being reckless.”

Wriothesley rested his head on a closed fist, thoughtful, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Maybe a few rounds in the Pankration Ring would do him some good,” he said, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t go putting any ideas in his head,” you said, “he might become a permanent resident of the infirmary if he starts entering into any matches.”

Wriothesley made a face, pale blue eyes moving to rest somewhere in the depths of his teacup. “Maybe he’d pick up a few things about proper combat, though.”

It was your turn to laugh. “Maybe, but at the cost of his health.”

You enjoyed this. It was hardly the first time you’d been invited to stay for tea, in addition to being personally invited to tea a handful of times before. Wriothesley’s presence was pleasant and inviting, despite his intimidating stature and appearance. His height dwarfed many other people, and you’d seen few as tall as he was, save for the Iudex, who was far more slim than the Duke was. Where Monsieur Neuvillette was tall and lithe, Wriothesley was broad and powerfully built. His sheer size alone, made only more prominent by the bulky coat he wore around his shoulders, was enough to intimidate anyone.

But despite that, he was an amicable and good-humored man, earnest and straightforward. He made you feel at ease, and your growing affection for him settled low and warm in the spot behind your heart. 

His face was getting more pink, you noticed, with a start. You took another sip of tea, watching him closely. His brow furrowed, just briefly, and he was fiddling with the bands of leather around his throat, as if they were suddenly too tight. He shifted in his seat, seemingly uncomfortable.

“Your Grace?” You said, and he seemed to snap out of whatever had overtaken him, regarding you with raised eyebrows and an expectant expression.

“Sorry,” he said, “what were you saying?”

You studied him, eyes narrowed, and he laughed, a little awkwardly.

“You’re doing that thing Siegwinne does,” he said, “the thing she does with her eyes. I don’t know how you replicated it so perfectly. There’s nothing wrong, I promise. It’s just suddenly kind of hot in here. Do you feel that?”

You shook your head. In fact, to you, the room was cold. Just as cold as the rest of the Fortress, save for the infirmary. It was the reason for the thermal lining in the pale blue overcoat of your uniform, the color that marked you as medical staff, as well as the reason for the thicker uniform fabric worn by the majority of the other general staff. 

“No,” you said, and Wriothesley looked puzzled. 

“Oh,” he muttered, puzzled, “I was warm earlier, but I’m starting to get… hot now. I don’t suppose that’s normal?”

You cracked a smile at that. “No, I don’t think so.”

A spell of silence passed before your mind snapped back to what he’d just said.

“You were feeling overly warm earlier? When did that start?”

Wriothesley furrowed his brows, considering your question before answering. He took another sip from his cup, then poured more of the contents of the thermos into it.

“This morning,” he said, “I can’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but it was maybe shortly after I had a cup of tea.”

You snorted, amused. “You realize how little that narrows it down, don’t you? You drink more tea than anyone I know, Your Grace. I need a measure of time, not cups of tea.”

He chuckled at that. “I apologize. I believe it was after Siegwinne delivered the tea she made for my head. Which is feeling much better, by the way. I think what I’ve been drinking while we’ve been chatting has helped kick the rest of it. I’m almost finished with the thermos.”

Suddenly, you made the connection. 

Almost robotically, and with learned efficiency, you went over the contents that you’d smelled in the tea, along with their uses. Feverfew, maybe some lavender, and rosemary. All of those had various uses, though they all had one thing in common, which was pain relief. Finally, there was the rainbow rose. The petals and buds were used for medicinal purposes, and could be used as such, similarly to common red roses, for anything ranging from headaches to a sore throat. 

Something was missing. Something was wrong. The scent itself had been off.

“The tea,” you said, “from before. Was it sweet?” 

Wriothesley nodded, taking another gulp, and finally, pouring the last of the contents of the thermos into the cup. “This brew is sweeter, though.”

You stood, then reached for his teacup, bringing it to your nose and inhaling. You caught the same things as before, but as you mulled them over, something else clicked. 

Siegwinne wouldn’t. Would she?

“It’s really hot,” Wriothesley said, and you could see the sweat beaded at his hairline, sticking the hair at his temples to his skin, cresting down his cheekbone. 

You reached out, and when the back of your hand made contact with his burning forehead, he flinched, making a soft sound in surprise and alarm.

“Why is your skin so much colder than mine?”

Your skin wasn’t cold. In fact, your body was at an average temperature, kept warm by the layers of clothing you were wearing. By your own assessment, your hands were probably relatively warm. You frowned, reaching into your pocket and withdrawing your penlight, circling the desk to situate yourself closer to the Duke.

The way he was looking at you when you drew closer was strange. Almost hungry. Famished, ice blue hues swept over your form, and you watched as his hands, previously resting on the desk, folded in front of him, over his lap. 

You moved closer, leaning halfway over to him, hand making contact with his face to tilt it towards you. He flinched at your touch, breath shuddering, and you studied his eyes closely before muttering a warning and shining your light into his face, instructing him to follow the light with his gaze.

“This isn’t… necessary,” he protested, weakly, and you ignored him. His pupils were blown wide, dark pits in the center of the sky blue of his irises. 

“Mydriasis,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him as you switched off your light and pocketed it. 

Your hand dropped from his face to just under where his jaw met his throat. You pushed aside the leather straps, just enough to access his pulse point, pressing two fingers to the spot. His heart was racing, quick and erratic, and you felt him shudder, breath heavy, his jaw setting tightly as your hands drifted across his skin, probing and searching. His skin was burning with heat, feverishly so, and coupled with the elevated heart rate, the blown pupils, and the way he seemed to flinch whenever you made contact with his skin directly, you could only make one conclusion.

“So,” you said, backing up to stand up straight, “this started after you had the first brew Siegwinne dropped off, yes?”

Wriothesley nodded. “It did.”

His voice. It had dropped several octaves in the time you’d been examining him, and you cursed the effect it had on you, coursing hot through your bloodstream. It felt so deeply unprofessional for a doctor to even think of her patient in the way the brief thoughts that fluttered through your mind suggested you do.

“Is it worse after this second batch?” You forced yourself to say.

He huffed a laugh. “You could say that.”

And it was then when you noticed, from where you were standing, that Wriothesley’s belt was undone. Rosy hues colored your cheeks as you yanked your gaze away.

“You need to tell me all of your symptoms,” you said, “spare no detail.”

Panic briefly flashed across his face as he crossed and uncrossed his legs.

“Hot,” he said, “I feel far too warm. Do I have a fever?”

You narrowed your eyes. He was purposely hiding the truth, but nonetheless, you answered.

“Yes,” you said, “but I believe it’s because your body is overheated and not because you're fighting an infection. I just said not to leave anything out, Your Grace, please tell me everything. As your doctor, I–”

“I’m… Archons, I don’t want to say it,” he paused, searching, almost frantically for something else to focus on. “What was in that tea?”

You swallowed, leaning back to rest against the desk. 

“Herbs,” you said, “rosemary, feverfew, and lavender. All meant to help with pain and headaches. But I could also smell rainbow roses.”

Wriothesley brightened. “Yes, I thought that was what I tasted. It brings such a unique flavor to the table, don’t you agree?”

You fought a smile, endeared by him, but now was hardly the time. You needed to figure out what was wrong with him, not to discuss tea. 

“Yes,” you said, “but it was strange. Too sweet. It only gets to that level when the powdered roots of a Sumeru rose are included alongside the powdered roots of a rainbow rose, in which case the combination can make–”

Oh. Oh. 

As you were talking, it clicked into place. The scent, which you’d thought was much too sweet before, suddenly made sense. Sumeru rose must have been the final ingredient. It was flavorless when consumed, but smelled quite sweet. When combined with rainbow roses, the scent of the two grew overpoweringly saccharine. Unless diluted, it would almost resemble a syrup. If the rainbow rose petals were boiled alongside the powdered roots of the Sumeru rose, it could become a powerful medicine able to soothe a bad cough. But if the roots of both plants were powdered, the results were…

You cursed yourself for being so stupid. Of course, Siegwinne would see nothing wrong with this. Medicine was medicine, regardless of what the outcome of its ingestion spelled, so long as it got the desired result. To her, the suggestion of something unbecoming would be taken with great offense. 

“‘Can make?’” Wriothesley supplied, and were already imagining the ways in which you were going to rip Siegwinne a new one.

“I need your symptoms. Now. I am a doctor, Your Grace, I promise I will be as non judgemental as possible, just please–”

“Damn it,” he interjected, face hidden in his hands, “I’m aroused.”

Anything you’d just been about to say left your mind, swept away by dread, because you knew what was happening.

Siegwinne was evil. You could already picture her expectant, innocent face, asking just how her little ‘experiment’ had gone, and it filled you with boiling rage. 

Though, there was also the fact that she could simply be misinformed. Melusines had different reactions to some medicines than humans did, and it was equally possible that she simply thought that, if dosed with the tea, the Duke’s feelings for you, if he had any, would just be made more prominent. For her sake, you hoped it was the latter. 

“Aroused,” you parroted, trying hard to stay professional and failing miserably, because this was unethical on so many levels, “tell me more about that.”

He made a strangled, startled sound. “You want to know more?” 

You wanted to melt into the floor. “I need to know how strong the dose you’ve been given is.”

“Dose?!” He said, “of what?”

You refused to look at him. “When mixed together, the powdered roots of a Sumeru rose and a rainbow rose create a powerful aphrodisiac. I believe the first dose you received was a weaker version, and this one is much stronger.”

Silence followed as Wriothesley took in the information, then cleared his throat.

“Do you have an antidote?”

You raised your head to look at him properly. He looked almost haggard, the flush from his face creeping down his neck. 

“There… kind of isn’t one.”

Wriothesley made a sound of frustration in the back of his throat, hands raising to card through his hand, and it was then that you noticed it. Now that his hands were no longer hiding it, you could see it, there, outlined against the dark fabric of his slacks. 

He was hard. 

A wave of suffocating, shameful arousal washed over you, and you forced yourself to look away, to ignore it.

You could only begin to imagine how he was feeling. The way you were feeling was nothing compared to him, his condition undoubtedly much more intense than your own physical reaction in response to his arousal, and you could feel his eyes on you as you scrambled to find a solution. 

“What am I going to do then?” He asked, “it’s getting… I’m sorry, It’s getting rather unbearable. I tried everything. It’s impossible to ignore, and I know I can’t use my hands.”

You spared him a glance. “Why?”

“Because,” he said, “I was already trying that. It wasn’t enough.”

Oh. The unbuckled belt. His disheveled state when you’d walked in. He’d already been dealing with the effects of the first dose, or at least attempting to. The call of your name, as you were entering the office. The silence before he summoned you up to the second floor.

Fuck. He’d been thinking of you. 

That had to be one of the hottest things you’d ever heard, professionalism be damned. Arousal rolled over you like a breaking wave, making you bite into your lower lip.

You knew what needed to happen. You knew the effects of this particular drug would take, and you knew that the only way to relieve his symptoms was either to very painfully wait it out or to… find relief. In this case, that entailed another person. 

“You need to have sexual intercourse,” you said, “or you can wait it out.”

Wriothesley cleared his throat. “Wait it out,” he said, “right, I can do that. How long will that take?”

You twisted your hands together. “It… depends. You were likely given a pretty strong dose, even for someone your size. By my estimate, it would probably take several hours for it to work its way out of your system.”

He chuckled dryly, humorlessly. “Great.”

You cleared your throat. “Do you have someone I could… call? A girlfriend?”

He snorted, as if amused by the idea. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

That would make sense, you supposed, if he was calling out your name, and not the name of another woman. 

“We both know what Siegwinne is doing,” Wriothesley said, “not just with this, but for the past few months. I can’t pretend I’m not fond of you, and neither of us can pretend there isn’t something between us.”

It was like the ground dropped out from under you at the sheer brazenness of his admission. You stared at him, thunderstruck. 

“You… what?” 

A cavalcade of thoughts crashed together as you rapidly attempted to process what he meant by that, but he barely gave you any time before he started speaking again.

“Look,” he said, “if you don’t feel the same, I can accept that. I’ll wait it out, and we can pretend this never even happened. But if you do, are you even… slightly interested in um… helping me? Because honestly, I feel like I’m about to explode.”

Heat coiled low in your stomach, threatening to overtake you as the lovely rasp of his voice made any of your logical thoughts close to meaningless. This was so vastly unprofessional. He was your boss, and you were his doctor. But something dangerously close to want was settling neatly over that space you usually reserved, that you looked to for reassurance about your professional standing with the Duke, to tell you that your feelings for him, ever growing, were improper. 

And when you turned, watching his face, the way his hungry gaze traced your body through your uniform, something in you snapped, and you threw caution to the wind.

Head lowered, face flushed, you swallowed your rationality and any remaining hesitance you had left. 

“I suppose,” you said, “I could use my hands.”

Wriothesley’s body jolted in anticipation, and his eyes betrayed his hesitance, darkened to steel blue with lust as he nodded once, then once more.

“Hands,” he repeated, “yes, hands are good. Whatever you feel comfortable with.”

You found it touching that he was at least trying to take your comfort into account, even when he was drowning in desire, and you took a slow step forward as he shifted, pulling his chair out enough to allow you room to situate yourself on the floor in front of him. As you took another step, he took his coat from the back of his chair and laid it at his feet, another gesture you appreciated. 

Once you reached him, you knelt down between his thighs, and he watched you with burning eyes, flinching when your palms smoothed over his clothed thighs, jaw tightening. Medical curiosity echoed briefly in the back of your mind, taking note of just how sensitive the drug had made him to the simplest of touches, how he shivered as your nails grazed against the insides of his strong thighs. 

Fuck, he was radiating heat. So much so that it was beginning to affect you, and you shifted back on your knees to remove the overcoat layer of your uniform, leaving you in the blouse and underskirt beneath it. Wriothesley’s eyes followed your motions with rapt attention, and when you moved forward again, settling, you felt him jolt when your palm met his leg once again.

This close up, you could see it, just how much he was straining against his trousers, his erection pressed against his zipper, and hesitantly, you cupped it in your hand.

The Duke gasped at your touch, fingers twitching where he’d curled them around the armrests of his chair, then tightening in a white-knuckled grip as you ever-so-gently squeezed. He twitched against your palm, and you removed his belt entirely, dropping it to the floor with a clatter before you were unfastening his button and zipper.

You palmed him through the fabric of his underwear, and you could already feel how big he was just from that. A sort of eagerness threaded its way into the burn of your arousal as you pushed away any remaining layers, pulling him free.

Fuck. He was so thick, and when you slowly wrapped your hand around him, your fingers just barely met. He was long, too, though you supposed it made sense for a man of his size. He was flushed red, painfully hard, and when you squeezed, you felt him twitch once more, his body tightening like a coiled spring. His hands tightened their grip on the armrests, flexing, and you felt his hips shift forward, unconsciously. 

The first stroke made his head roll back, the sound he let out one of relief, just from that simple touch alone. It made you squirm in place, the sound of his voice and the stricken hitch of his breath causing the desperation of his arousal to bleed into your own building need. Precum was beaded at his tip, and you almost wanted to lean forward to lap it up, especially as more leaked out in response to the way you were stroking him in slow, even movements. 

Heavy breath expelled through clenched teeth, followed by a low, low groan as your thumb found his tip, rubbing in slow circles, and it was then that you leaned forward, giving into temptation as your tongue pressed to the underside of the head of his cock in a slow lick.

“Oh,” he gasped, “oh, you don’t have to– oh, fuck.”

He cut himself off as you lapped at his slit, groaning through his teeth. He was already completely lost to pleasure as you pumped the base of him, and when you took him into your mouth, sucking on the tip, you heard him curse, a sound drawn out with a low, decadent groan. 

“You said your hands– oh!”

Arousal was settling low and smoldering hot in the pit of your stomach, pooling between your thighs, and you whined as he whispered your name. You released him from your mouth, hands moving to rest on his thighs, and you dragged your tongue up and along the underside of his dick, gathering up any precum that had dribbled down. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his slacks, lips grazing the side of his shaft, and he repeated your name, louder, voice twisted with an urgency that made your blood sing.

It was embarrassing, just how quick you’d gotten like this, punch drunk on the reactions he gave you, the way his body reacted to your touch. It filled you with an addicting sort of power, one that threatened to overtake you if you weren’t careful. But right then, all you wanted was to add fuel to the ever growing fire. And, with the way he was breathing, rough and ragged and broken, you doubted he’d be opposed to that. 

Your tongue flicked out, against the fold of skin just below his tip, and he tensed, crying out helplessly. When you finally took him in your mouth, fully, his head fell back against his chair, a feral groan tearing itself from his throat as your tongue pressed firm against him. Your hand moved from his leg to encircle the base of him again, squeezing and stroking in tandem with the slow bob of your head, and making the Duke gasp at the sensations. 

When you sucked, just a little, Wriothesley babbled a string of curses, hips twitching up towards your mouth, and when you ducked down, bobbing your head, one of his hands flew from the armrest to the back of your head. You thought he’d push, or maybe take control, but all he did was lace his fingers into your hair, unmoving. His body shuddered under the roll of your tongue, under the press of your free hand to his stomach, creeping under the layers of clothing covering him, his skin fever hot against your own.

You took him deeper, and he twitched, hips jumping as you hollowed out your cheeks, drawing back before surging forward once again. You relaxed your jaw further as his hips bucked, and he muttered an apology, breathless and feverish. His head pitched back as you rubbed your thumb against his base, and he twitched again, sharply. When you looked up at him, through your lashes, he was gazing down at you with hooded, burning eyes. There was desperation in his cool blue hues, a wordless plea for anything, everything you could give him.

And with everything you had, you delivered. 

You dropped your jaw, swallowing as much of him as you can, drinking in the sound of his breath shuddering, tapering off into a low moan. You sped up, gradually, and the sounds he made were so madly erotic that you found yourself aching to reach between your thighs and take care of your own growing need, but you could hardly focus on anything apart from taking him as deep as possible without choking. The sheer girth of him was enough to make your jaw sore, and when you moved forward again, he hit the back of your throat, making tears catch in your lashes. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, drawing the word out with the sound, long and low and you kneened around him, making him curse and buck. 

The hand not tangled in your hair raised to his face, balling tight, and he bit down on his fist, stifling his uncontrolled cries of ecstasy, eyes squeezing shut, brows pinching in concentration. He was trembling beneath your touches, twitching against your tongue, and when you moved back to suck on the tip, slow and indolent, the noise that left his mouth was nothing short of pornographic. 

“Yeah,” he seethed, voice breathy, needy, “fuck, yeah, don’t stop.”

Not a chance in hell you were doing that. You clamped your thighs together, squeezing around nothing, and you knew you were soaked, evident in the way your panties were sticking to your skin, your thighs tacky with sweat and the soak of your own arousal. Your hand curled into a fist where it rested on his stomach, then flattening once more and flexing, searching for anything to anchor yourself. When you took him into your mouth once more, fully, he bucked his hips, groaning with no regard for volume. He was close, teetering on that edge, evident from the way his grip on your hair grew tighter, the way you could feel the muscles in his stomach tensing, and when you took him deep and sucked, he moaned, long and low, the sound almost forced from his fraying lungs. The sensitivity had to be maddening, you decided, and you’d use that to your full advantage. 

Slowly, you pulled back, lapping at the leaking tip, hand working tirelessly at the base of him, and you barely had any warning before he tipped over the edge, back arching, breath all but leaving him. You shifted back in surprise, reflexively, and cum painted itself across your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, the seam of your lips. You closed your eyes in an attempt to keep anything from getting into them before you were hurrying to take him in your mouth, sealing your lips around him. His hand was fisting in your hair, and the sound he made, a low, breathless groan, was one of sheer, debauched relief. 

You sucked, and he let out an obscene moan as you swallowed down his cum, hips jerking, the hand previously fisted between his teeth flattening against the desk, palm slamming down, just once, and you heard the rasp of wood under fingernails as he moved to grip the edge. 

You slowed, working him through the intensity of his orgasm, as he twitched and throbbed under your touch, the sheer volume of cum surprising you. It leaked from your mouth, down your chin, and you did your best to swallow as much of it as you could. He slumped, boneless, against his chair, and when you moved to clean him with your tongue, you got to listen to the delightful sound of him gasping from oversensitivity.

“Fuck,” you heard him say, dazed and utterly breathless, “fuck.”

Slowly, you drew back, and his eyes followed you, breath hitching and gaze darkening as he took in your appearance. The sight of you, knelt before him, covered in his cum, was enough to make him groan aloud, cheeks flaring pink.

“Archons,” he said, “that has to be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You let out a short, breathless chuckle.

“Do you have a rag or something?”

He nodded, once, and you stood on shaking legs before leaning sideways against the desk, and he pulled you closer, gently wiping your face clean with a tissue before depositing it in the trash situated under his desk. 

“How do you feel?” You asked, and he huffed what may have been a laugh, nearly disbelieving.

“That was… Incredible. But I’m still, um…”

You crooked an eyebrow, watching him, expectantly.

He looked almost guilty. “I’m still hard.”

Oh. Oh. 

You weren’t completely surprised. You didn’t know if a blowjob alone would be enough to work the drug from his system, and clearly, it wasn’t. Not that you minded. Your own arousal was a steady pulse below your skin, working like a second heartbeat. Desire coursed through you, and you pressed your thighs together once more. You wanted it. You already knew that. You wanted him. 

“Alright,” you said, and what was left of any phantom of resolve, or the shreds of your until recently professional relationship with him all but vaporized, “sit back.”

“You don’t have to,” he started, the protest as fragile as glass, but you cut him off.

“I want to. I’ve… wanted this– you– for a while. So please, Your Grace– Wriothesley. I want it all. If you’ll have me.”

That was all it took. With a low, shuddering breath, a signal of his rapidly fraying restraint, he was yanking you forward and into his lap, his fingers working the buttons of your blouse open, hurriedly shucking it down your shoulders once undone. He made quick work of the ties fastening your skirt to your body, and you briefly shuffled off of him to drop it to the floor, along with your stockings, before resituating yourself on his lap. 

“If I’ll have you?” He rumbled, the low, rough ombre of his voice sending prongs of lightning down your spine, and he yanked you closer, mouth dragging along the curve of your jaw.

“How could I possibly refuse?”

And then, for the first time, he was kissing you. 

His lips were burning hot against yours, and your fingers found his hair, threading into messy locks, nails dragging against his scalp. He huffed a sigh into your lips as he nudged his tongue between them, tilting his head to slot his mouth more firmly against yours, and when his tongue dragged against yours, you moaned, low and soft, into his mouth. He kissed you slow and deep, almost a juxtaposition to the way he was feverishly running his hands, large and calloused, down your body, and when his fingers grazed over the patch of nerves just where your lowest rib met the curve of your waist, you shuddered in his hold. 

You could taste the tea he’d been drinking on his tongue, cloyingly sweet, and it was almost too much when mixed with the heady, spiced smell of his cologne. Everything about him was overwhelming you in the best way possible, rendering you pliable and soft in his hands. Fuck, Wriothesley needed his own warning label. It was almost funny, really, just how riled up you were when he was the one who had been drugged with an aphrodisiac. 

His teeth caught your lower lip as he drew back, tugging, before he was diving back in, hands planted firmly on your hips, and you let out a stuttering gasp as he pulled you forward, his bare cock pressing against your stomach. 

The way he shuddered at the contact was enough to make your head spin with arousal, and when you shifted forward once more, just to see what he’d do, the grip on your hips grew to nearly bruising. 

“You have no idea,” he husked, low and rough, the very threads of his sanity slipping from between his fingers, “how hard you’re making it to hold back.”

His words shot straight between your thighs, and you rolled your hips again, loving the way he stiffened. You felt his palm, dragging slowly up your body, then finally moving to cup your breast through the fabric of your bra, squeezing. You arched your chest into his touch, his name whisper soft on your lips. 

He unfastened your bra after some fumbling, his coordination clearly beginning to become impacted by the drug. Once the garment was discarded, he barely gave you time to breathe, and you gasped when his head dipped down, mouth dragging across the valley of your breasts, skating along the side of one before his lips found one of your nipples, drawing it into the heat of his mouth.

He groaned at the taste of you, indulgent, as he laved his tongue over your flesh, hands sliding up to grip your waist, holding you in place, allowing him to explore the newly exposed skin with his mouth as much as he pleased. He was strong, his grip like iron, but it didn’t prevent you from slowly rocking your hips, rubbing your clothed cunt against his bare cock, and the way he groaned into your skin was a sound of delirious pleasure. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, almost disbelieving, “fuck, I’m a lucky man.”

His tender words made your heartbeat quicken, and you squeezed him closer, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. Your hands slid down his chest, fingers catching on the buttons of his shirt, and you quickly unfastened them, pushing the cloth away to smooth your palms over his bare skin. Gently, you pushed him back against the chair you were both situated in to look at him, and the sight before you was almost too much.

You already knew he was muscular, that much was obvious by just looking at him. But beneath his clothing, among thickly corded muscle was a patchwork of scarred flesh. You’d known about some scars; three of them crept up over the collar of his shirt, partially hidden by the straps he wore around his throat. There was also a collection of them on his arms, and of course, the one under his right eye. The ones that were hidden wove their way across his chest like a roadmap, some of them faint, and others more prominent, pale threads across his already pale skin. You laid your palm against him, tracing the one closest, and he shuddered, leaning into your touch, eyes fluttering closed. Your fingers skimmed down his chest, to his trim waist, and when your thumb caught in the deep v at his waist, he let out a soft grunt. 

One of his hands moved from your waist to your hip, squeezing the plush flesh, then migrated to the apex of your thighs, and when his middle finger rubbed you through the sodden fabric of your panties, a high, breathy whine tore itself from your throat. He pressed harder, and your back arched, eyes falling half-lidded when he circled your clit through the fabric.

Then, without warning, he was pushing the cloth aside, and the feel of his calloused finger dragging across your entrance was enough to make you jerk in his hold.

He dipped his head, forehead making contact with your shoulder, and it took you a moment to realize he was watching himself, observing the sight of his hand between your legs. When your hips twitched, he used his opposite hand to hold you steady, effectively forcing you to stay in place as he did what he pleased with your body. 

“Please,” you whispered, and that was all it took for him to tire of his teasing, sinking his finger inside you with a slow, indulgent movement.

You gasped, the sound bleeding into a moan when his finger curled inside of you, and he pushed you down, forcing you to take him to the knuckle. You whispered his name as he curled his finger again, and when he added a second finger, you squeezed your eyes shut. He groaned at the sound it made when he thrust his fingers into you, the lewd, embarrassing schlick of you around him, and you had to take a moment for your jumbled thoughts to catch up with you. His fingers were so much thicker than your own, not to mention longer, and he was hitting spots you didn’t even know existed. He thrust again, and you cried out, hips twitching, causing him to tighten his grip. 

The curl of his fingers hit a spot inside of you that made you see stars, and when he felt the way it made you tighten around him, he began to abuse it with everything he had. 

“Oh, Gods,” he groaned, “you’re so wet.”

You could do no more than gasp as his palm ground against your clit, and he held you there, forcing you to take it as he pressed in slow, maddening twists of his wrist before replacing his palm with his thumb.

It was arousing how easily he could manhandle you, and you had absolutely no desire to fight against him as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. You were getting close, embarrassingly quickly, and you could do nothing to stop yourself from hurtling towards that end, walls throbbing and contracting around his fingers.

One of your hands shot between you, encircling his thick wrist, and you weren’t sure what the purpose of that was, either to push him deeper or simply to find purchase, but you did know that your desperation made his dick twitch where it was pressed between you, forcing him to stifle a groan.

You convulsed in his hold, hips jerking in his iron grip, his name on your lips, and with a final press of his thumb against your clit, you came hard around his fingers, biting down into his shoulder, and he worked you through it with slow thrusts that made stars and celestial bodies dance across your closed eyelids. You called his name, urgent and drawn out, yet high and needy, and he replied with a groan of his own, his free hand flying from where he was holding you in place to wrap around his own cock, palming it, thumbing the head, forcing a moan from between his teeth.

You slumped heavily against him as you fell from your high, and when he withdrew his fingers, you let out a shuddering breath, the sensitivity sending your thoughts into nonsense. Your head was spinning, thoughts in a daze, and all you could feel was him as he panted for breath. 

Seconds of silence, only interrupted by heavy breathing, passed before you rose on unsteady legs to discard your panties before you were settling over him once more, and he watched with hazy eyes as you shifted forward, pressing your bare cunt against the underside of his shaft in a slow grind. His mouth fell open in a silent cry, brows pinching upwards, the sensitivity clearly unbearable. Suffocating, maddening lust worked its way through your bloodstream like a toxin, and you knew he needed more, from the way his hips rutted up in halfway thrusts as you rubbed against him.

“Fuck,” he choked, head falling back as the tip of his cock caught against you, “I wanna–”

You rocked forward, and his entire body jolted, tearing a groan from deep in his chest.

“What do you want?” You asked, breathless, and he lifted his head to look at you, the fog of desire in his eyes downright sinful.

He yanked you close, trapping his cock between your bodies, and into a frenzied kiss, his restraint all but gone as he unabashedly moaned at the feel of your skin. 

“I want,” he husked, mouth pressing open kisses against your jaw, and he stopped, breath hot against your ear, “to be inside you.”

Your breath left you in a rush, and you drew him into a deep kiss, one he returned with vigor, hands smoothing down your body to grab at your hips, pressing you forward and against him once more, and when you pulled back, his eyes were wild with desperation and maddening lust. 

“I don’t have protection,” he said, and you shook your head, dismissing him.

“I’m on birth control,” you said. Siegwinne made the tonic you took, something she supplied even to female inmates to help with lightening periods. But right now, it would be used for its intended purpose. Wriothesley nodded as he took this information in, seemingly relaxing a little.

“Please,” he mumbled, and you blinked, surprised to hear him beg for anything, but you were hardly going to deny him, “I’m going insane. I need you.”

You took a shuddering breath as you shifted up, using one hand to brace yourself as you took his cock in your hand, pressing him against you. You both cried out in unison at the feeling, even the slightest whisper of much needed friction enough to make you feel lightheaded, and you felt his hands grasp your hips, urging you downwards.

You sank down, slowly, and even the tip of him was a stretch, a dull ache blossoming as you pressed closer. Both hands landed on his shoulders, breath heavy, and he groaned lowly at the sensation.

“Slow,” he said, fighting for control, “c’mon, you can take me. Relax, deep breaths.”

You nodded, once, as you did as he instructed. Your knees shuffled as you pressed yourself down, met with more resistance, and forcing you to stop, gasping for air. He was only halfway in and you already felt full, stretched to accommodate him. It was unfamiliar and new, and you weren’t used to this, but his grip was tightening, and with a deep breath, you thrust down, taking the rest of him in one quick motion. 

The sting of the stretch danced across your frayed nerves like a livewire, and you grit your teeth, head slumping forward as Wriothesley let out a long, low groan, both of his hands rushing to your hips, squeezing, keeping you in place. 

A string of curses left his lips as his head fell back, and you could feel him throb inside of you, so deep you could hardly believe it, stuffed full to the brim. 

“Just– oh, or you could just take it all. Fuck,” he quieted, breathing heavily, before speaking again, “are you– did that hurt you? Are you okay?”

The pain wasn’t horrible, and you hesitated to even call it pain. It was just an ache, dull and unpleasant, but you’d been wet enough that taking him hadn’t caused you any actual damage. You sat still as you adjusted, the aching burn of the stretch rapidly fading into something maddening, replaced by a desperate need. 

“I’m fine,” you said, voice strained, “I’m okay.”

He nodded, once, before drawing you close, linking your mouth to his in a kiss far more gentle than you’d expected. You felt him throb, and when you squeezed, you got the pleasure of hearing him groan your name.

“You’re so tight. Please, please– yeah–”

His head fell back as you rocked your hips, lifting yourself up, only to sink back down, and when you repeated the action, he groaned helplessly, a string of almost nonsensical praises spilling past his lips, only serving to make you want to wreck him even further. 

Sheer, uncontained relief was tangled inextricably with every sound he made, his hands squeezing your hips as you took him again, and again, and again, and oh fuck, you felt like you were being split open, impaling yourself repeatedly on his fat cock. The burn from before turned into pure ecstasy, the stretch of him inside of you intoxicating, and you buried your face into the crook of his neck as you moaned out his name. He wasn’t even bothering to stay quiet, not that it mattered, nobody could hear from outside the heavy office doors, which was an advantage right then. 

You keened as his hips rose to meet you, the base of his dick rubbing against your clit. You sank down, taking him fully, ejecting any rational or sensical thought from your head, grinding in deep, easy circles, and you could feel blunt nails digging into your hips as he held you in place, totally drunk on pleasure. 

His grip eased as you slid back up before taking him again, and he was kissing you frantically, one of his hands flattening against your breast, rolling the nipple under the rough pad of his thumb, making you whimper into his mouth.

“Faster,” he hissed, pulling back to meet your eyes, “faster, ride me faster.”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, using them as leverage to move yourself faster, arching your back as the new speed made you see stars, and you whined, burning pleasure shooting through you at the grind of his cock against your clit.

“Good girl,” he groaned, dizzy with pleasure, “yeah, just like that.”

You could feel yourself getting close again, and you groaned his name as you swiveled your hips. Your thighs were beginning to burn with the exertion, even with just the short time you’d been moving at this pace, and when he felt you shudder, his hands found your waist, helping you along.

“That’s it, gorgeous,” Wriothesley panted, “that’s it, fuck me just like that.”

He was moving you with his own hands, easily, and you tried your best to move along with him, swiveling your hips whenever he bottomed out, and his head fell back in rapture, gasping for air. 

Your orgasm was approaching fast, and you were helpless to its pull as you sped up, chasing after it frantically, the sound that filtered through your clenched teeth one of desperation. You felt like you were losing yourself, and when you sank your teeth into the soft flesh of his throat, an unrestrained groan fell past his lips, his hips bucking up with enough force to make you see stars. When his thumb pressed against your clit, you tipped over the edge hard, stilling as you clung to him, sobbing his name into the curve of his shoulder.

You tightened to a vice grip around him, throbbing as your climax crashed over you, and you heard him growl at the sensation, hips bucking, still working his cock up into your messy cunt. Before you could even start to come down from your high, you were moving, and the frigid steel of the floor met your back, rapidly heating from contact with your skin. One of his hands gripped at your leg, tucking beneath your knee and holding it up, and then he was driving forwards, hips slapping against yours as he filled you once more.

He paused, shaken by the intensity of the sensation, before his head pitched forward, breath heavy, and he was thrusting again with a renewed vigor, nails digging into your flesh. 

His name was the only thing on your tongue as he fucked you, so good it made you feel like your head was emptying itself out. His mouth found yours as he leaned forward, supporting his weight on his forearm, laid beside your head, giving him more freedom to do what he pleased with his hips. The base of his dick was rubbing against your clit once again, and you whined, squirming beneath him, but he wasn’t letting up.

“Wriothesley,” you gasped, head fuzzy, completely cock drunk as he broke the kiss to mouth at your neck, “deeper.”

He groaned, low and indulgent, and when his hips snapped forward, filling you completely, your back arched against his chest.

“Deeper?” he repeated, the baritone timbre of his voice lowered to an uneven bass, “you want it deeper? That what you want, gorgeous?”

“Please,” you sobbed, “please, give it to me.”

A low, rough chuckle was the only warning you got before he was thrusting forward, hips flush against yours, and he repeated the action, again, and again, and again, making you bite your lip to keep from wailing at the intensity of it all.

“Oh, fuck,” you heard him gasp, stricken, indulgent, “fuck, yeah, that’s it.”

It felt so good you could hardly think, and when you babbled his name, lust drunk and fucked dumb, he pressed soft kisses along the column of your throat, almost like a reward, a thank you for letting him do this to you. 

His pace was growing sloppy, but he showed no signs of letting up, and in the back of your mind, you figured was probably just going to keep on going, even if he came. It was rapidly beginning to become far too much for you, and you moaned, high and breathy, when he rammed himself all the way in, grinding his hips before pulling out less than a quarter of the way, then thrusting back in. He was so deep, and you writhed under him, fingernails scraping against the floor before you were clinging to him. He was moaning, low and breathless, the way he was moving causing you to helplessly spasm around him, forcing you violently over the edge when the base of him rubbed just right against your aching clit. 

You could feel tears, beading at your lashline as the sensitivity became maddening, but he wasn’t letting up, even as you arched and bucked and wailed beneath him, the intensity of your climax rendering you incoherent. He knew exactly what he was doing, just how to push every button he needed to, and you were halfway between deliriously begging for more or sobbing at the sensitivity. 

A string of curses left his lips as he came, gushing hot and thick inside of you, but he wasn’t even pausing, even as his groans tapered into breathy moans from the way he was overstimulating himself. You could feel him, throbbing, pulsing inside of you as he filled you, uncaring of the way his cum  dripped out of you. The sound of it, combined with the slap of skin against skin, was unbelievably lewd, but you hardly had the wherewithal to even think, let alone be any kind of embarrassed. If anything, it only drove you higher. 

“Fuck,” Wrothesley cursed, low and broken, “I need it again, please, again– fuck!”

He shifted back, grabbing at your legs and pressing them down beside you, and you thanked the Archons you were flexible as he continued, leaning forward once he had you in the position he liked and taking your body with abandon. He was hardly bothering to hold back his strength as he hammered into you, and your head fell back against the floor with a soft thud, eyes rolling back. 

You’d never felt like this before in your life. Your legs were growing sore, and your back was going to be stiff from the way he was fucking you into the floor, but you didn’t care, not as you got to listen to the way he was saying your name like a prayer, how he was caressing and kissing your body like it was sacred. Exhaustion was a heavy weight against the blurred edges of your mind, and all you could do was lay there and take it as he chased after what he so desperately needed.

It didn’t take long for him to grow close again, and he whispered your name as his end quickly approached. You yanked him into a kiss, which he returned with a groan of ecstasy, and then, with a final, deep, shuddering thrust, he was cumming. The force of it made his entire body tremble, and the sound he made was one of satiated, relieved bliss as he emptied himself out inside of you, the heat of him almost suffocating, burning you from the inside out.

His hips jerked with unconscious movements and spasms as he drifted down from the staggering height of his climax, his breath heavy, and he slumped, weakened, his face pressing into the crook of your neck. His mouth pressed lazy kisses against your skin, and you lifted a hand to run it through his hair as he finally, finally began to grow soft inside of you.

The two of you lay there, still joined, for what felt like hours, bathing in each other’s warmth and the afterglow of it all. His breath fanned across your skin, feather soft as he lifted his head to join your lips together, before he slowly pulled out, rolling off of you, dazed. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked, voice hoarse, and you arched your back, flexing your body. You winced at the soreness. You were undoubtedly going to have bruises from how hard he had been gripping you. 

“I’m fine,” you said, “are you–”

He snorted. 

“Yeah,” he said, “that uh… that did the trick.”

You laughed, a little breathlessly. You didn’t know how you’d be able to stand after that, genuinely. Your legs felt like jelly, and a deep, all consuming exhaustion was settling over your senses.

“You think it’s gone?” You asked, “the drug, I mean.”

He looked at you sidelong. “I don’t feel uncontrollably horny anymore, so I’d say so.”

Wriothesley sat up, flexing his shoulders. He tucked himself back into his pants, and then he was gathering you into his arms, rising to his feet.

“What are you doing?” You asked, and he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Taking you to the bath,” he said, “I have a bathtub, in my living quarters.”

You relaxed, settling into his arms. “Oh.”

His living quarters were attached to the office, through a door you’d somehow never noticed before. You were far too tired to take in any of the details of it, instead opting to close your eyes and rest your head on the nearest comfortable spot on Wriothesley’s chest, which he didn’t seem to mind at all. 

He set you in the tub, and after the water was run, you were surprised to see him climbing in along with you. It wasn’t unwelcome, and seeing him completely bare was hardly a bad thing, and you were pleasantly happy when he began to gently wash you, and once he was finished, he tugged you back, settling you against his chest.

The bathroom was silent, save for the musical sound of running water, and you allowed yourself to close your eyes, settling into the comfortable atmosphere. 

“I meant what I said, you know,” Wriothesley said, and you opened your eyes to look up at him.

“What?” You asked.

“About being fond of you,” he said, “you’re… an amazing woman. I want–”

You leaned up, kissing him, and effectively giving him an answer to his thoughts. He sighed into the kiss, content, one large hand rising to cup your face, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone.

“I guess Siegwinne succeeded,” you said, and Wriothesley smiled, amused.

“I guess she did.”

You stayed in the bath much longer than you expected, until the water became cold, and once that happened, Wriothesley whisked you off to the bed, tucking you under the covers after supplying you with one of his shirts to wear. You smiled when he joined you, now dressed in a pair of sweats, chest left bare, and curled up beside you, tucking you close to his chest. 

Sleep came quickly after the lights were switched off, the exhaustion from before spreading over you like wildfire. 

And, when he thought you were asleep, you felt him, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head, his body relaxing against yours.

BONUS:

You were agonizingly sore. Your stiff muscles had stiff muscles, and while Wriothesley was sheepish, and apologetic, and promised he’d treat you to dinner to make it up (which you would be taking him up on), it made walking back to the infirmary the next morning a little difficult. 

What was even worse was the look on Siegwinne’s face when you entered, ruby red eyes knowing as she watched you approach.

“How’s the duke?” She asked, and you handed her the accursed thermos without saying anything.

“Fine,” you said, slumping down into your chair with a sigh. 

She smiled. “Good. Are you seeing him again tonight?”

You turned, brows furrowed. “How did you know about that?”

She shrugged, unbothered. “Someone saw you leaving his office this morning. I suppose what I put in the tea worked a little too well.”

You stared at her. “Siegwinne, you put an aphrodisiac in his tea.”

She paused, concerned. “No I didn’t. I put a supplement to further enhance his desire for you. If we’re being frank, it’s closer to a love potion. Just to get rid of any inhibitions. It’s medicine. But it isn’t meant to cause anything like–”

You rolled back your sore shoulders. “Yeah, well, it did.”

Her face went pale, but she briefly covered it up. “I… suppose I miscalculated.”

You laughed, then. Really laughed. It startled Siegwinne, who stared at you with growing concern.

“It’s fine,” you said, “whatever, Siegwinne. At least you don’t have to keep going with trying to set us up. Focus your energy on making ‘love potions’ that aren’t aphrodisiacs in humans, okay?”

She flushed, quiet, then nodded, once, her eyes taking on a determined look. You were beginning to regret saying anything. 

With a smile, and a good natured nod, she put her hands on her hips, ever the dutiful nurse.

“I’ll get right on that.”

Fin.

[akoyaxs]

˚༄ Tìyora Pt 1

༊ Aonung x Fem!Sully!Reader ༊ Enemies to Lovers ༊ 4.4k words Warnings: competitive violence, bet, kuru pulling, p in v, reader hates Aonung THIS WILL BE A SERIES!!!! *Note that reader is practically Neytiri's twin, like mother like daughter. I chose this photo bc when writing I like picturing an OC or different face in my mind, and this one looks different enough from Neytiri's other scenes, but similar enough that reader has all the good Sully genes*

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It’s not like you’d never felt annoyance before. You had, of course. You couldn’t have survived your entire life with Lo’ak as your brother without having felt annoyed, trying to clean up his messed. You wouldn’t have survived your entire life without being annoyed by being berated by Neteyam for cleaning up your messes.

But now, you’re pissed the fuck off. It’s not just that you’d been held hostage by a stupid group of avatars, or that now you’d needed to leave your clan and fly a million miles to seek uturu in the fucking ocean, but it was the people.

Tsireya was a sweetie, Tonowari admired your bravery, and Ronal found your determination endearing (though she kept it to herself). But Aonung was a whole other story.

You could count on your five-fingered hand how many times you’d gone a minute in his presence without wanting to punch his smug stupid face. You could count with no fingers. Because you hadn’t gone a minute without wanting to punch him.

And now here you are, face to face with the fucking skxawng once again. There’d been several interactions like this. When Aonung and his ugly ass skxawng friends were teasing Kiri, you had been the first to throw fists, and the last to be dragged off. When Lo’ak had been left stranded by said skxawng and accomplices, you had come so close to murdering the next Olo’eyktan, several warriors had to drag you off.

You had grown quite the reputation in the week you’d lived in the reef. Furious, violent, unapproachable, dangerous, attentive. And of course, an excellent fighter. The thing was, the Metkayina had yet to see you fight, given that the instances you smacked the shit out of their precious little prince had been out of the public eye.

Which is probably why they’re now watching with bated breath and eyes wide as the moon as you circle the stupid skxawng around the Metkayina training grounds. It was Tonowari’s idea for you to start training with the warriors of your new clan. As he delicately put, it was a good way for you to let everything out without inflicting any damage for non-training reasons.

Across from you, Aonung shifts slightly, tilting his head cockily and gripping the spear in his hand more tightly. He looks determined; it wouldn’t be a great look if he lost to you in front of the whole clan, after being beat up by you twice.

You’re determined too, you guess. Not to prove yourself, no, it doesn’t make any difference to you what all these Metkayina think of you, not when you could fight them even easier than Aonung. But you want, just once more, to beat him.

You’re not completely sure why but beating him gives you this crazy thrill of pleasure. It probably has something to do with his annoyance and squirminess and coldness and sullenness. He’s embarrassed when you beat him, and it’s perfectly clear to you that Aonung isn’t someone who gets embarrassed easily.

You glance across at the watching Metkayina quickly. Tonowari and Ronal are watching expectantly, little smiles on their faces. Tsireya and Rotxo look slightly worried (bless their sweet little souls), but your siblings are watching with broad, confident grins on their faces. Lo’ak looks especially ready to watch you beat up Aonung again.

He makes the first move, the moment you glance at the onlookers. It was an anticipatable offence, and you step quickly aside, ducking under his swing. You move around behind him and kick his leg, bending it and sending him to his knees.

“You look so pretty on your knees,” you grin teasingly. “You should stay down.”

Aonung’s eyes narrow somewhat, obviously not taking kindly to your little taunts. It’s evident to everyone watching that this is just a little game for you, and you’re taking the opportunity to have some fun with their prince. Aonung seems more determined, and he growls and jolts forward.

He stabs his spear towards you, which you parry, slashing and spiralling, ducking and stabbing. Eventually, he tosses you to the side and your spear goes skittering away. You feel the audience sit up slightly, not expecting this to happen.

Aonung approaches slowly, a cocky little smile on his fishlips. You roll your eyes at his overconfidence, before ducking under the next stab so you’re pressed between his body and his spear, before ripping it from his grip and tossing it out of the circle.

He hisses with annoyance and makes to shove you away, but you’re already ducking under his legs and flipping him over your back. Groans come from the crowd as Aonung slams into the floor, but you hear a delighted whoop from Lo’ak, followed by Kiri stifling a laugh and Neteyam shushing them both.

Aonung clambers to his feet and you crouch a little lower. His eyes are blazing now, looking absolutely furious. A shiver of anticipation runs through you as he tilts his head, eyes narrowing to icy slits. Finally.

“Going to actually fight now?” you ask, smiling tantalisingly, tauntingly. You weren’t really expecting an actual fight, any real competition, but this is even better than the fun little tussle you’d anticipated. With the way he’s looking at you, you just know he’s ready. He’s furious and humiliated and he’s dangerous.

You trail the circle, eyes fixed on one another. You wait, unhurried and unworried, so he gives in and makes the first move again. This time he goes for your legs, and you leap over him, pushing his shoulders down so he stumbles and you roll to the ground and spring up again.

You exchange punches and kicks, and he doesn't hold back. He tackles you to the ground and jabs his elbow at your gut. He’s strong, very strong, and there’s a moment where you realise you forgot to factor in just how stupidly, ridiculously tall and muscular the infuriating skxawng is. You jab him back with your elbow, and he grunts before pinning you down with one arm, his other hand closing around your throat.

The warriors, your friends and your family are watching with bated breath as you struggle under him for a moment, eyes flicking in wide fascination between your twisting form trapped underneath his. You can feel the pressure of their gazes, and the thought that they think he might actually win is more than you can bear.

“Kinky,” you manage to whisper, throat starting to ache under his grip. His face twists for a moment, which you don’t pause to read before you move your knee up to smack him in the groin. You roll over him, legs wrapping around his neck and squeezing his head between his thighs.

“You’re one to talk,” he grunts, trying to shove your legs apart. You tighten your legs together around him, and he gasps.

“Go on,” you breathe, looking down at Aonung, between your legs, face filled with frustration, hands scrabbling at your thighs. He doesn’t say anything. Everyone’s watching expectantly, and you reach down to tug his head back further by his kuru, neck trapped between your legs.

The moment your fingers close around his kuru, he hisses. You glare at each other for a moment, his eyes blazing with frustration, your own eyes a clear message: give up.

“Fine,” he hisses, trying to twist away from you.

“Louder,” you snap, tugging his kuru harder, and he growls.

“I give up!” he explodes.

For a moment, you just stay like that, the crowd watching silently as you stare down at his irate face. And then, with movements that even to yourself feel like they’re in slow motion, you let go of his kuru and open your legs, Aonung toppling onto the floor between them.

Then Ronal is standing up, Tonowari is smiling, and Lo’ak is cheering. The crowd follow, smiling and applauding and grinning at one another. Amidst it all, Aonung has clambered to his feet, ears pinned back against his face and face bitter.

“I hope this has settled things between the two of you,” Tonowari says, as everyone starts to finally fuck off out of the training grounds and back to the village, chattering excitedly and shooting glances back towards you all.

He looks between the pair of you expectantly. You’re both slightly flushed from the fight. Aonung still looks ashamed and frustrated, tail flicking agitatedly behind him, absentmindedly and violently drawing in the sand with his toes. You just avoid eye contact, and Tonowari sighs.

He signs to his son, who scowls and signs back. They continue in this way for a minute, exchanging what is clearly a heated debate in the unspoken language you have yet to learn properly, while you stand on the side and wonder absentmindedly if you’ve been dismissed.  Just as you’re about to try and slip away, Tonowari clears his throat and you freeze.

“The two of you will train together,” he says in a voice that makes it clear it isn’t up for debate. Aonung tries anyway, clearly protesting in their signed language, and you wait with a frown on your face. “It is decided. I’ll leave you too to sort out your… differences.”

Aonung glares after his father, and you fold your arms. Finally, he turns towards you, eyes blazing with irritation. You glare at each other in silence for a few moments.

“What’s your problem with me?” Aonung says bluntly, finally breaking the tense quiet.

“What’s my problem?” you hiss, brows raising in disbelief, eyes narrowing conversely.

“Yes,” he scoffs. “That’s what I just said, isn’t it? Are you deaf, as well as a freak-”

“Are you serious right now,” you cut him off, swallowing hotly before your fist accidentally slips and he ends up with a broken nose. “Are you really doing this again, after I just rocked your skxawng ass in front of your whole clan?”

Aonung scoffs again, eyes narrowing as well, and you take a step in, not in the least intimidated he’s a good foot taller. Or by the way he straightens to glare back from his full height, waiting impatiently for you to speak your mind. You’re quite impressed with yourself that you’re only now about to insult him; it’s been a good minute long since you last did.

“Fine,” you concede. “You’re entitled. You’re rude. You don’t give a single fuck for anybody but yourself. You are the most close-minded person I ever met, and I’ve been held at gunpoint by artificially revived humans. You are so egotistical you clearly think the world revolves around you. You except us to sit back while you taunt and ridicule us, you picked on my siblings for the hell of it then had the nerve to act surprised when I fought you over it. You think you deserve everything you deserve everything because you have it, but I promise you this; you are so much less important than you believe.”

Aonung blinks slightly. You don’t step back, and when he exhales shakily and his rage flares up again, you stand your fucking ground as he steps in as well.

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that?” he growls, glaring down at you.

“And what are you, then?” you snap. “Entitled prince of the clan. Who gets whatever he likes. Who can’t handle me calling him out on what he actually is.”

Aonung hisses, and you suddenly find yourself inches away from him. It takes you a moment to realise he’s dragged you there by your kuru, neck tilted dangerously back so you can still make eye contact with him when this close given your stupid fucking height difference.

He’s breathing heavily, eyes blazing. You’re breathing heavily too, eyes wide as you stare back at him. It’s less of a glare now, you’re just waiting to see what he’s going to do. When he realises you aren’t fighting back for once, not pulling away from him, his pupils widen to large black slits, eyes still narrowed and blazing.

And you stay like that. Neither of you move. Neither of you dare too. Neither of you can guess what the other will do. You half expect him to toss you away, or maybe cuss you out. He’s one hundred percent sure you’re seconds away from cursing him out and certain violence.

“What are you doing?” you whisper. It doesn’t come out as you meant it, nowhere near as warning, as fierce, as dangerous. Because this is. It is dangerous.

Dangerous to be this close. Dangerous for you to be thinking what you’re suddenly thinking. Dangerous of him to be holding you this close.

With a small shiver, you realise he’s still holding your kuru in his fisted hand, your body so close to his that when you breathe, your chests nearly brush. You try not to swallow; there’s no way you’re going to let him see how dry your throat suddenly is.

His eyes are roving over your face, which he still holds facing up towards him with his grip on your kuru, tilted so far to keep him in your sight that your throat is tight, and your heart is pounding slightly. Because of the pressure on your throat, because you can’t breathe. Obviously.

Your question hangs in the air. Silent. Aonung doesn’t answer. You can feel his breath fanning across your neck. It’s hot and heavy and you try your best not to make another sound, to make sure he can’t feel how hot and heavy your breath is suddenly feeling.

It never struck you how sensitive a kuru is, but when he pulls you closer by another inch, you feel your whole body tense. Your pupils blow wide and to your horror, you moan. It’s soft, breathy, and you pray to Eywa it was soundless, that it was just some horrific, mortifying figment of your imagination summoned by the oddness of your situation. Even more shamefully, there’s an undeniable twist in your heart, and a certain wetness in your loincloth at the tug of your sensitive kuru.

But then Aonung squeezes his eyes shut, breathing deeply. With his eyes closed, you quickly let your eyes dart over him. You’ve never seen him this tense, not when fighting him, not when shouting at him, not even when you had to wait for Lo’ak to be found when left at Three Brothers Rock.

Every muscle in his neck is tensed, jaw clenching tightly, throat bobbing and chest moving with each strained breath. With another surge of your heart, your eyes drop to the rippling muscles of his arms and shoulder. His veins are evident in those smooth teal arms as he grips your kuru. Then he’s looking at you, eyes opening and instantly falling into your own. They’re dark, not just by his pupils blown wide as the fucking moon, but something deeper, darker, hungrier that has your heart clenching.

You breathe like that for a moment, eyes wide and gazing at each other, hearts hammering and breath heavy, before he wrenches his gaze from yours and quickly lets go of your kuru. And then, your heart stops hammering and your annoyance is rushing back and you forget that strange, infuriating rush from before.

“What was that?” you growl, pulling your kuru back and scowling at him.

Aonung just swallows, still avoiding your gaze and shifting slightly, and you look down. Immediately, your gaze darts up to his slightly flushed face, which looks mortified and frustrated now.

“You fucking hypocrite,” you breathe, eyes wide. “Taunting us, teasing us, when you are hard just by hearing me moan.” Aonung flushes deeper, and you scoff.

“Do you get like this when Kiri shouts at you?” you ask derisively. “Or even when Neteyam gets mad? Or is it just me that has this effect on you?”

Aonung’s glower is answer enough, and your eyes widen further, mouth parting in shock.

“Shut it,” he hisses, shifting again in an attempt to hide himself, and you laugh.

“Are you serious?” you deride. “What happened to me being a repulsive hideous freak? Or do you secretly like that- getting shouted at by a foreigner? Do you like it when I’m mean to you, Aonung?”

“I said shut it freak,” Aonung growls, though you don’t at all miss the way the tent in his tewng seems to grow as you trail closer.

“What do you want then?” you ask, raising your brows. “Surely it��s not above the prince to ask for help, if he really isn’t an entitled brat.”

“As if you would be any use,” Aonung snarls. “As if a freak like you could make me cum.”

“Oh?” you say with narrowed eyes, stepping closer. Aonung blinks, stepping back. He’s reluctant to stay so close to you, you realise. Which is fair, given that last time you were inches apart was what made him hard in the first place. “Do you want me to moan again for you, that seems to do the job well enough.”

You shoot a pointed look at his still growing bulge, and he pauses.

“I have my doubts though,” you say tiredly, trying to hide your amusement. “I don’t think a fishlipped brat like you would be able to make me moan anyway.”

“Is that a challenge?” Aonung says.

“Was it?” you raise your brows. “I feel like I’ve already put in some effort, at least I’ve done something for you.”

“One final challenge,” Aonung says through gritted teeth. “Settle this once for all.”

You consider it. You, of course, had already proved yourself over and over again, proved yourself superior to this skxawng. But on the other hand, your tewng was still wet, and you have this massive, horny ass man in front of you, clearly desperate for anything, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“Alright then,” you concede. “Because I’m not losing. I’m going to prove myself, you’re going to be eating your words, and then all will be good.”

“I do not understand eating your words,” Aonung says bluntly. “Is it some demon-”

His words are choked off when you reach out and press your palm into his bulge. A minute later, tewngs are disgarded, you find yourself pressed against the sand and he’s all over your body.

“You don’t need to,” you say quickly, when his fingers swipe along your slit. “I’m wet enough.” Aonung looks like he’s about to make some snarky comment, and you growl. “You’re going slower than my grandmother. I hope you’re-”

Suddenly you're lifted up and you're on your knees right there on the sand. You can feel Aonung's breath hot and heavy as he nips at your neck, folded over your much smaller, arched body and sliding your tewngs away with quick hands.

You feel yourself being stretched open, small stings of pain shooting through you as you drop your forehead to the sand. You sink your teeth into your lip, determined not to make any noise. This is different to before, bent completely over with your face pillowed against the ground.

“Alright princess,” he says snarkily, pausing for a moment, buried deep inside you. His voice sounds shaky.

“Thought you’d be bigger,” you lie, scrunching your face up as you try to adjust to his size. Aonung just lets out a deep, amused laugh, before pulling out to the tip and pressing down on your back to arch you further down.

When he starts to move, it completely knocks your breath out, so you're left gasping for air you never manage to catch as he thrusts again. His grip on your waist is bordering on strangling, yet you find yourself unconsciously following him, pulling yourself back to meet each one of your thrusts with a choked moan.

His sudden roughness and hunger and desire is startling. So this is what it's like when he's unrestrained, hot and animalistic, rutting fast and hard, pushing you into a further arch while his sharp teeth nip at the back of your neck and shoulders.

Eywa, if he’d worked this hard, this determinedly, this fiercely whenever you fought, maybe you’d actually have respect for him.

It's starting to get too much, the coil in your stomach growing too close too soon, and your moans are starting to border on lewd whines and whimpers as you sink your teeth into the flesh of your arms. You're clutching the ground for dear damn life, arms attempting to pillow your face as your whole body rocks forward with each rough, almost ruthless thrust.

Pearls of blood are collecting from where your fangs are sunk into your smooth skin, but you ignore it, much rathering the pain than Aonung having the satisfaction of knowing how long you’d be without it. Aonung too, is tense behind you. You can sense the effort he goes to keeping quiet.

It’s a fucking game, pretending neither is impressed by the other, when he’s punching every breath out of you with deep thrusts, and each clench of your walls around him is about to drive him insane. You’re both close, and you both know it, given the way he’s twitching inside you, and you’re fluttering around him.

“Go on then,” you groan through gritted teeth. “I promise, I’ll be gracious about my win.”

“You wish,” he huffs, but you can feel him twitch inside of you. Each rock of his hips knocks every breath, every thought out of you until your heart is pounding in rhythm with each increasingly rough, deep, animalistic thrust of his cock rutting between your legs.

You just bury your face deeper into your arms, hoping that they'll be enough to hide the moans knocked out of you with each of his deep thrusts. He has you pinned firmly beneath him, yet it feels snug and comforting despite the pain of his grip. It feels like he's fucking everything into you, even his scent, so each thrust is enveloping you in his warm, tropical smell.

And with a surge of panic, you feel that familiar heat to growing again, and by the way Aonung is hissing and groaning and burying his face in your neck, you can tell he’s close too. With a final chance to finish this, you’re suddenly rolling over and pushing him back against the sand.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting to see from Aonung; you had no idea what he looked like when you were ass up with your face half buried in the sand. But you certainly weren’t expecting those blue eyes dark and wide and hungry, his lips to be parted in a silent gasp.

His hands fall straight to your hips, slowly rocking you on him. You stare the whole time. With narrowed eyes and shallowed breaths, it’s all a challenge. And you’re determined to win.

“Go on,” you hiss, attempting to grin down at Aonung despite your flushed face and hair spilling anywhere. He looks like he’s about to protest, and you know you have one move left to pull. You finally unsink your teeth from your lips and let it all out. The moment your moan rents the air, Aonung tenses below you. And when your head tips back and your back arches, you both know he’s a goner.

It never occurred to you, just how gentle he’d been, until he’s completely let go, allowed the crushing desire to overcome him. He's half thrusting up into you, half picking up and slamming down your body onto him. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think you could hear him moaning your name.

You yelp as he speeds up now, brutal and animalistic as the last tenterhooks of his final restraint snaps and he buries himself deep inside you. And finally, you can’t hold it any longer, flopping forward against his chest and doing your best to ride out your high.

“Holy shit,” you pant, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to breathe properly. Aonung doesn’t reply, and when you look up, you find him inches away, staring blankly at you. You quickly scramble off him, snatching up your tewng and covering yourself up. You try your best to ignore the come dripping between your legs, or the flush on your face. “I won.”

Aonung’s face stills, back to his regular, blank stare, though you weren’t sure what you were even reading in it before.

“Yeah whatever,” he grumbles. “Still a freak.”

“A freak who had you fucking moaning my name,” you mutter under your breath, making sure you’re all covered up again. “And you are still an entitled, bratty, fishlipped sore loser.”

“Fuck off,” he grunts, smacking you hard with his tail, and you straighten up, glaring at him. He just glares straight back, both of your chests heaving as you still fight for breath, eyes narrowed and tails flicking agitatedly.

Finally, you just huff and turn, storming back along the beach away from the training grounds and Aonung, and back to the village and the marui you share with your family. You ignore their delight at your win in the fight; they have no idea what happened after, and you fully intend to keep it that way.

For some reason, you don’t feel as satisfied by your other win as you thought. It had been gratifying to watch as Aonung just completely lost control, and maybe you even enjoyed watching him lose his temper and toss and pull you around like you weighed nothing. You scowl and slump onto your sleeping mat.

Stupid skxawng, not admitting you won, when you both knew he was practically whimpering your name. The trouble was how difficult it had been for you not to do the same, moan out his name. And then there was the other trouble. That it had been nothing like you’d ever experienced, being stretched far further than ever before, him reaching places you didn’t even think were possible.

It was harder than anything. Harder than your iknimaya, harder than escaping Quaritch even. It was almost physically impossible, not to just collapse against him, not to moan your pleasure for Eywa to hear. And certainly not for Aonung to hear. If he knew how shaky you feel, how sore your legs are and how faint your head is, the stupid skxawng would never let you hear the end of it.

So you just slump back against your sleeping mat, trying not to think about how you have to train with him the next morning.

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