#♡elf!reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yanderenightmare · 6 months ago

Text

♡ TW: noncon, gangbang, pillory, elf-reader, orc assailants, war between orcs and elves, racism between orcs and elves, captive reader, poor confinement conditions, starvation, piss drinking, cumflation, mindbreak, Stockholm syndrome

♡ FEM reader

The orc camp smells of blood and sweat and other obscenities you and your snooty elven nose fear naming.

They’ve stripped you and your fellow troops of all weaponry and armor—ugly bastards even took your boots! Leaving you in only silken undergarments, standing barefoot in the cold, wet mud.

It’s to make it harder to run away if you were to escape, you suspect. You can’t decide if it’s a clever tactic or simply a cruel one. Either way, it’s the least of your worries... You haven't been fed or given water since yesterday when you were all captured—paired with having been made to march for half the day barefoot, all tied up by your wrists, one behind the other, toed along like animals with mean tugs that had more than one of you falling face first in the mud—who knows how many of you will be able to continue walking when they decide it’s time to start moving again—much less run away if and when the opportunity presents itself—leaving you hopeless if someone doesn’t do something soon.

And it turns out that someone is you.

“Hey!” you yell. Bruised hands gripping the splintered wooden bars of your crudely built prison, glaring at the two brutes standing watch.

They acknowledge your shout, but neither of them gives any reason for you to believe they understood you were talking to them. Looking at you, then at each other.

“Yes, you two, guards!” you make clear.

They continue to look at you, yet don’t make a move.

You sigh exasperatingly—yet with how tired you are, it’s more a full-chested groan unbecoming of a fine elven knight, but under the circumstances, you couldn’t much care.

“I know ungodly monstrosities such as yourselves don’t require much to sustain your foul existence, but elves need food—at the very least water!”

A fellow elf grabs your shoulder gently, saying something under his breath, perhaps in an effort to make you quiet, but you nudge it off and continue your rant in spite of it.

“If you plan to keep us alive—as I would think, given your decision to cage us—I would advise you to meet us with the bare necessities!”

Both guards look away toward another orc—one sitting on a thick log at the mouth of one of the nicer, warmer-looking tents they’d pitched—perhaps the biggest one—sharpening his blade with a rock.

He doesn’t look up from his handiwork but speaks, “The elf is hungry?”

You scowl at the question. “Yes, you oaf—the elf is, in fact, hungry.”

He lifts his blade and looks it over—one side, then the other—before sinking it deep down into the mud. Tossing the rock away, he stands and whistles sharply, prompting the two guards to wander off as if to get something. Meanwhile, what seems to be the commander starts walking towards the prison.

Regret starts to fester as he approaches, and you’re reminded once again why the inferior race best you in battle time and time again despite your obvious intellectual difference. Three cabbage heads taller than you, his weight must be about four or five, maybe even six, times yours—built like a grizzly bear—plus his armor, which easily adds another.

He unlocks the prison, and you step back on instinct.

“Come. You will be fed,” he says, opening the gate wide.

You look behind you—all the other elves have scurried back into the far end of the cage, leaving you alone in your endeavor, which only feels foolish now that you’re sure he’s going to use those blood-dirty hands of his to squish your head clean off your shoulders as soon as you step out.

Even still, maybe by the adrenaline of imminent death or the lightheadedness of starvation, you dare ask, though a little cautiously now, “What’s on the menu?”

The orc snorts—perhaps at your pickiness—finding your resolve to uphold your standards funny, given you weren't in much of a situation to make demands. You could scoff, too—of course, you can't expect an orc to understand anything about standards.

He smirks, answering, “Something to keep warm."

Or perhaps he was laughing for an entirely different matter...

The guards return carrying something. You spot them behind him, trudging loudly in the slop before halting—mounting something close to the firepit.

By the time you understand what it is, it’s already too late. Your hair’s grabbed—as well as your entire skull—taken in one meaty hand, pulled out of the safety of the cage, and shoved harshly down into the wet dirt.

He locks up the gate again as you lie there. And you take your chance to try and run, crawling forward—fighting through the clay, dragging you down. Scrambling for balance, you’ve barely even made it up on your feet once he grabs you again—this time leading you towards the other two standing in wait along the torture device they’ve set up just for you.

You’re lifted to stand atop a crate, making you the right height, then bent over—with your wrist led into each their position as well as your throat, shoved down as the lunette comes down and successfully locks you in place—perfectly trapped in the pillory with no means of escape.

You pull and struggle, toiling against the wooden plates—too late for any such silly thing as regret you can only whimper in short, panicked screams and cries—but it’s no use. The hand comes back and grabs your hair, yanking it tightly, making your neck crane as he forces you to look up despite the fixed position.

He smiles down at the look on your face—watching your tears make clear streaks through the mud, lips wobbly as you begin to beg, “Please—I’m sorry, I’ll—”

“Oh, don’t worry, little elf,” he cuts you off with a coo, grabbing your jaw in his other hand. “You’ll be fed, just like promised.”

Something behind you rips your silk cloth away, baring you. You stiffen all over, breath hitching as useless fists whiten in their restraints. You want to kick, to thrash—but poor balance only results in you choking yourself—and so you’re left to stand there, helpless—bowed and nude before three orcs you’ve angered with your reckless entitlement.

“Mh, pretty elf holes…” one of the guards behind murmurs, cupping your asscheeks and spreading them to take a look, filtering grubby fingers through the crack and lips, rubbing over both holes.

You shake, trying to thwart their efforts. But a gritty pad roughs over your clit and finds purchase below it.

“Stop, stop! Don’t!” you wail, but it pries you apart anyway—wriggling inside your cunt in a brutish shove, it sheathes itself deeply in curiosity to see how much you could fit, eagerly pumping it inside knuckle-deep before pulling back out—then repeating the motion—promptly finger-fucking the tight opening with a digit the size of an average elf’s manhood.

You sob, heaving for breath. Shaking your head in shame as you start to slicken—if just to make it a little more bearable, but the wet noise of it only serves to make you wish they’d killed you instead.

“Shh, elf. Don't cry.” The commander orc in front of you keeps his hold on your hair, talking down to you as he admires your despair. “We’ll give you what you beg for…” He strokes your cheek harshly with the other hand, smearing your tears before moving on to his armored belt.

You whimper as it drops, revealing what must be your newest and truest worst nightmare.

“A warm meal in all your hungry holes.”

The two guards take turns behind you. You can’t see them, but they’ve made themselves more than known—having stretched out both your openings to accommodate their overgrown size.

They seem to like it when you cum—keeping their fat fingers on your clit and always fondling your tits, rubbing your nipples as they fuck your womb deeply until you wet them with your fluids. Your knees gave in a little while ago—their groping now the only thing keeping you upright, and the steady pounding the only thing keeping you awake.

Meanwhile, the commander has his fun with your face. Making you cuddle his heavy ballsack, dousing your face in the rank. With a dagger threatening your pretty eye, he'd coaxed your tongue out to play sooner than you’re proud of—now pliantly hanging from your mouth, licking every foul-tasting patch of his toad-like skin—feeling worse than a beggar eating scraps.

But you ought to thank him. Earlier, he’d tried forcing his length down your throat—making your jaw all but unlock to make room. His cockhead is the size of your fist—in the end, you could only suck on it, only able to satisfy him and his harsh scalp-ripping grip on your hair by prodding his dickhole with your tongue. He started petting you when you did that, making you feel all the more defeated.

His mercy tastes worse than the rancid white you’d been made to swallow. You’d wanted to bite, but the dagger he’d earlier stabbed into the wooden plate for safe-keeping keeps you sweet as you lick and suck the prominent veins running up his fat size—face glazed in sweat and spit, both his and yours.

“Poor elf-bitch…” he jeers while twirling a lock of your fine hair around his crooked finger. “Fed twig all your pretty life—of course, you’re hungry.”

He chuckles, voice hoarse and muted—almost soft, were it not for its gritty timbre. Keeping his cock resting heavy against your face, covering your eye while rubbing the base against your pouty lips.

“A mouthy whore like you needs real cock. Only happy when you’re pounded like meat.” He hums, “In your natural state, pleasing those bigger and stronger than you as a good pet should.”

He laughs louder, rumbles with it enough to shake the ground, then breaks away from you.

“Leave her cunt to me,” he says, folding his arms upon his chest, leaving his heavy cock to swing between muscle-ripped thighs as he leers at the scene. “Prissy elf pussy’s mine to breed.”

One of the guards soon takes up the vacant spot in front of you, putting his leaky tip to your lips in a sloppy kiss before pressing through to fight your throat for space—putting you in an air-tight spitroast—with your ass already being forced to play host for the other intruder, getting your drenched and swollen pussy slapped by a pair of weighty balls on each of his breath-robbing thrusts into your guts.

“A'right, boys,” the commander announces, “Let's stuff her ‘til she’s big and round. 'See if she's still hungry then.”

They both groan and dig in as far as your body allows, bordering on its limits, making you stretch to take them deeper before planting their seed—coming in fast ropes at first, then thicker waves, and finally smaller spurts aided by the shunting of their hips as they rut against you—feeding it to you without rush, one dose after the other, until their balls were all good and empty.

Then they sigh, breathing heavily, waiting for their seed to be settled and swallowed in your bowels before slowly sliding their spent cocks out—letting the overdose spill from your holes as you take a weakened breath and quake in the aftershocks, left hanging in the stand with a body full of orc cum and something else, something that's made your mind feel all funny and flirty.

Then, stomach heavy and warm, hanging with more weight than your breasts—tender and oddly tingly all over—you croon, like a cow, when the commander lifts your hips and eases inside your cunt only a short moment after—starting to pound you softly but deep enough to make your head hang and tongue drip with drool, moaning like an animal in its heat, all silly, like a mating-call, waiting for your womb to be fed with the same warmth.

He cups your buttcheeks with both his thumbs hooked within your ass, and still, he feels you tremble and cum without your clitty being touched—milking him for his spend, begging him with your tongue out in sweet mews. "Bleath, bleath, mathder~"

And although he can't see it from his position, it still makes him smile. “That’s right, dumb little elf-pet. Beg, and you will be fed.”

You clench up and throttle when he finally blows, and the warmth swarms your gushy insides in heavenly goo—leaving you feeling cozy from the inside out—cross-eyed and panting in utter ecstasy.

He also waits—waits until his cum takes root and his cock unswells for a good minute or two before pulling out with a throaty sigh. Then he rounds the pillory, a heavy step at a time, until his lousy and still steaming cock is met face to face with your sweaty flush-cheeked expression.

“Still hungry, elf-girl?” he asks, jostling the sloppy member against your equally drowsy face. “Or was it thirsty?”

He picks your chin up with a hand, holding it steady while watching your half-mast and glazed heart-eyes lazily blink up at him—grinning and humming at the sight.

“Tell me, elf-pet, which of it was it you were whining about?”

Drool spills from your mouth as you answer, speech slurred like a drunken degenerate, “Both~”

He clicks his tongue, “Spoiled.” But he doesn’t seem angry—no, rather pleased. “You’ve been well-fed for now—time to wash it down.”

He lifts his heavy slug and puts the numb tip to your lips, which eagerly parts wide for him to press inside softly, filling the drizzly cavern, cockhead resting neatly on the wet bed of your tongue.

You obediently await it with your eyes locked onto his—both moaning once it comes. Hot and salty-sweet, it pours onto your tongue and sloshes down your throat, spilling from your mouth and somehow splashing all over your face—making you shudder in warm bliss as you gulp it down as if it’s in another class from the aged wine back home.

“Drink, elf-slave. Drink and be grateful,” he instructs, and you obey, allowing the piss-stream to hit the back of your throat where you could glug it all down with minimal spill.

When it stopped, you sucked his tip and tongued the slit like before, cleaning it dry of the last drop, saying, “Thank you—thank you, master.”

Elves never cease to surprise him. Always so prissy—high and mighty creatures—and yet they fall the farthest from grace when pushed.

He had many different ideas on how to make an example of you to the others—cease any ideas they might have of uproar and rebellion. Leave you here for the ogres and trolls to come and have their sloppy seconds. Tie you up by your ankles and drag you behind the horses through all the muck. Let the rest of his troops have at you until you met with your unfortunate end.

But no. He thinks not.

“Let’s move—” he announces to the camp. “Time to take our bounty home.”

After all, for all your whining, you did have a point earlier—you elves are only good to them alive and well. Best get you to the nearest market and sell you.

The guards unfix you from the pillory and start hauling your collapsed form back to the cage.

“No, not her,” he corrects them, thinking of your pretty eyes and soft tongue and that pretty elf cunt that milked him dry like none other. “She rides with me.”

On bearback, he ties your hands around his neck and lets you sleep with your head on his chest, riding backward with your legs draped over his—still naked with your cum-belly leaking out over his saddle—making a mess he’ll have you lick clean later.

“Tell me if you get hungry again, little elf,” he sneers, though a little fondly. “I’ll feed you again.”

And you, despite groggy, with eyes closed, mumble back dumbly, “Thank you, master.”

♡ PART TWO

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Enji, AFO ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Kenjaku ♡ HxH – Uvogin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

2K notes · View notes

iamgonnagetyouback · 3 months ago

Note

I’ve read every single one of your works, and I am absolutely obsessed! The way you write and capture emotions is beyond amazing—it’s pure magic. I really hope this isn’t too much to ask 😭, but I just adore your writing so much. If you’re not comfortable with this request, though, please don’t hesitate to ignore it. Thank you so much!

Could I request a James Potter x Reader story? The plot starts with James pursuing Lily Evans, but along the way, he realizes his feelings for her were more about the excitement of the chase. In contrast, with the reader, he feels truly at ease, able to be himself without pretending or changing for anyone. I’d love for Lily’s perspective to be included—how she starts to desire James after noticing how much he’s 'matured' in his relationship with the reader, but she can only stand by and watch as James and the reader create their beautiful love story.

'CAUSE YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE.⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ㅤ ㅤㅤ●ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ J. POTTER

SUMMARY ৎ୭ james potter has always been the grand gesture type, but for the first time, he isn’t chasing—he’s just asking. and when he does, you don’t roll your eyes or turn him down. no, you match his dramatics, meeting him right where he is

WARNINGS ಇ. mutual pining, james being dramatic (as always), reader matching his energy (as you should), lily’s pov & realization, slight angst (if you squint), mostly just fluff A/N ಇ. omg stopppp you’re making me blush ‹𝟹 this is the sweetest thing ever, and i’m so honored you enjoy my writing!! ♡

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 1,836

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

James Potter had been chasing Lily Evans for years. Everyone at Hogwarts knew it—how he’d flash his most charming smile, throw an arm around her shoulder with a wink, and dramatically proclaim his undying love. It was all in good fun, of course. At least, that’s what he always told himself.

Lily, ever stubborn, had always rebuffed him. At first, she detested his arrogance. Later, she simply rolled her eyes and dismissed his advances, treating him as little more than a particularly persistent house elf. James didn't mind. The chase was half the fun, after all.

"She'll come around, you'll see," James would say after every rejection, running a hand through his already messy hair.

"Mate, she's been saying no for three years," Sirius pointed out, sprawled lazily on the Gryffindor common room couch. "At what point do you consider the possibility that she's actually not interested?"

James gasped, placing a dramatic hand on his chest. "Not interested? Padfoot, please. That’s just what she wants me to think."

Remus sighed from behind his book. "Or perhaps she genuinely means it. You ever consider not making a public spectacle every time you ask her out?"

Peter snickered. "Yeah, Prongs, maybe if you stop serenading her in the Great Hall, she'll stop running the other way."

"That was one time!" James protested. "And I thought she’d appreciate the gesture."

You, sitting cross-legged by the fire, smirked. "James, darling, even I was embarrassed for you, and I usually live for the drama."

Sirius grinned. "See? When even our dear, theatrical doll here cringes, you know you’ve gone too far."

James huffed, crossing his arms. "You lot are supposed to support me."

Remus finally set his book down, giving him a small smile. "We do support you. We just also support your dignity."

James groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Alright, fine. Maybe I’ll try… a different approach."

The boys exchanged glances, and you patted his knee sympathetically. "That’s the spirit, Prongs. Maybe next time, just… don’t propose in front of McGonagall again."

James groaned even louder as the Marauders burst into laughter.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

But somewhere along the way, the chase had stopped being fun.

It had started with you.

You, the one he never really had to chase. You, who laughed at his antics but also scolded him when he was being too reckless. You, who had a quick wit but also a kindness about you that softened his rougher edges. You, who never needed him to be anything but himself.

It hadn’t happened all at once. There was no lightning strike, no grand revelation. Just little moments that wove themselves into something undeniable.

The way you tucked a stray curl behind your ear when you were reading, tongue poking out slightly in concentration. James had watched you do it a hundred times before realizing how endearing he found it. The way you argued with Sirius about the best way to sneak into Hogsmeade, eyes alight with mischief as you held your ground against the self-proclaimed master of rule-breaking. The way you always had a spare quill when he inevitably lost his, rolling your eyes fondly as you handed it over with a teasing, "Honestly, James, do you even own quills?"

There was the way you leaned against his shoulder after a long cold day, sighing. "James Potter, you are a human furnace. Please continue existing exactly as you are."

There was the way he found himself seeking you out first—before Remus, before Sirius, before Peter, before anyone else—whenever he had good news to share. The way his jokes felt funnier when you laughed at them. The way his name sounded different coming from your lips, softer somehow, like it belonged there.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

One night, after an exhausting Quidditch practice, you had met him outside the changing rooms with a chocolate frog in hand. "For your heroic efforts," you’d said with a mock bow, pressing it into his palm. He had laughed, shoving it into his pocket, but the warmth in his chest lingered long after.

James Potter had always thought he wanted a grand, all-consuming love. He had spent years chasing something he thought would make him whole. But standing beside you, teasing and laughing and existing so effortlessly together, he realized something else.

Maybe love wasn’t supposed to be a chase.

Maybe it was supposed to feel like home.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Lily noticed the shift before James did. It crept up on her, subtle but undeniable, like the slow changing of seasons. He still ruffled his hair like a prat, still laughed too loudly with his friends, still turned every moment into a grand performance. But there was something quieter about him now, something settled in the way he carried himself. The endless pursuit that had once defined James Potter—the grand gestures, the dramatic declarations, the unrelenting chase—had stopped. And he hadn’t even noticed.

At first, she felt relief. She had spent years pushing him away, certain that his attention was something fleeting, something she didn’t want. And now, finally, he had listened.

Then she felt something else.

She caught herself watching him more often. Noticing the little things. The way his grin softened when he looked at you. The way his hand found your wrist when he pulled you toward him in the common room, like it was second nature. The way he listened when you spoke—really listened, with an intensity that made it clear you had his full attention. She had never seen that look on his face before. Not when he looked at her.

And suddenly, she found herself wondering. Had she been wrong about James Potter?

Had she spent all these years dismissing him without ever really knowing him? Had she mistaken boyish bravado for immaturity, mistaking the show for the substance beneath it?

But it didn’t matter.

Because James wasn’t looking at her anymore.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The realization hadn’t struck James like lightning, not at first. He hadn’t woken up one day and thought, Oh, I love her. No, it was something slower, quieter—woven into the fabric of every moment he spent with you.

It was the way you sat beside him in the common room, curled up with a book, the firelight casting flickering shadows across your face. The way you absently played with the hem of his sleeve when you were lost in thought. The way you saw him—not James Potter, Quidditch Captain, mischief-maker, the boy who never stopped chasing—but James. Just James.

And for the first time, he found that was all he wanted to be.

He didn’t need to impress you. He didn’t need to chase you. He could just exist with you, and it was enough.

There was a night—one that stuck with him, long after it had passed—when he had finally put words to the feeling.

You had found him on the Astronomy Tower, shoulders hunched against the cold, lost in thoughts he hadn’t even realized were weighing him down. You didn’t ask what was wrong. You just sat beside him, close enough that your knees touched, close enough that he could feel your warmth.

“You ever think about who you are without all the noise?” he murmured after a long silence.

You tilted your head. “What do you mean?”

James hesitated. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve spent so much time being—being James Potter, you know? The one who’s always got a joke, the one who’s always chasing something. But with you…” He trailed off, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “I don’t have to be anything but me.”

You blinked, taken aback, before a small smile curved your lips. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

James let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Yeah, it is.”

You nudged his shoulder gently. “For what it’s worth, I like just you.”

And that was it.

Not a grand confession. Not a dramatic moment. Just quiet understanding.

Just home.

Lily saw it all unfold. Saw James fall in love without the fanfare, without the spectacle. And for the first time, she saw him—not the boy who had chased her, but the boy who had finally stopped running.

And it wasn’t for her.

It was too late.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Then came the grand gesture.

James Potter did nothing in half measures, and asking you on a date was no exception. If anything, he seemed almost nostalgic about the whole ordeal—like he had spent so many years planning elaborate schemes for Lily that now, finally asking the right person, he wanted to do it justice.

So, naturally, it started with fireworks.

Not just any fireworks, but ones that spelled out your name across the sky in brilliant, shimmering letters, crackling above the Quidditch Pitch where half the school had gathered after dinner. Then came the enchanted banners floating midair, reading: 'WILL YOU GO ON A DATE WITH ME?' in flashing gold and red, trailing behind a very enthusiastic Sirius, who had volunteered to fly them around on his broom. A charmed choir of singing toads croaked a love song (Remus’ contribution, because, according to him, ‘there needed to be some class in this spectacle’), and Peter had somehow gotten his hands on a bouquet of flowers that smelled like sunshine.

James himself stood in the center of it all, hand on his heart, eyes locked on yours, waiting.

The crowd turned to you, hushed in anticipation. Lily, standing off to the side, watched with wide eyes, an unreadable expression on her face. There was a time when she would have scoffed at something like this, dismissed it with a roll of her eyes.

But you—

You were grinning.

Dramatically clutching your chest, you gasped, staggering back like a swooning damsel in distress. "Oh, James Potter! Whatever shall I say? This is all so sudden!"

James, without missing a beat, fell to one knee. "Say yes, my darling star! For I have loved you since the dawn of time—or, well, since fourth year at least, and that’s practically the same thing!"

You pretended to think, tapping your chin. "Hmm. I don’t know, Potter. It’s an awfully big commitment."

James shot to his feet, grabbing your hands, eyes wide with mock desperation. "I shall spend every day proving myself worthy of your love! I shall carry your books! Share my sweets! Defend your honor against Slytherins and bad hair days alike!"

You sighed deeply, then beamed. "Well, in that case… Yes! A thousand times yes!"

The crowd erupted into cheers, Sirius fist-pumped midair, and Remus groaned into his hands. James, triumphant, swept you up in a spin, laughing so hard his glasses nearly fell off.

Lily watched it all unfold, and for the first time, she felt the weight of what she had lost. Not because she wanted James, not really. But because once upon a time, it had been her he was chasing.

But James Potter had finally stopped chasing.

Because he had already caught what he was looking for.

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work

#⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ivy writes ༄.°#james potter x reader #james fleamont potter #james potter fluff #james potter #fluff #james potter x you #james potter fanfiction #james potter x y/n #james potter drabble

985 notes · View notes

chansdoll · 4 months ago

Text

방찬 ─── christmas love

⋆｡ ˚༘ ♫ christmas love - stray kids

♡ pairing ៸៸ idol!chan x fem!reader genre ៸៸ fluff ៸៸ cw ៸៸ none ♡ synopsis ៸៸ you and chan have been friends for a while. this holiday, he chooses to spend it with you. [ semi - proofread ] [ 3.3k words ]

masterlist

you were incredibly nervous. it wasn’t your first time spending time alone with chris–you had been alone together plenty of times. but tonight seemed different. the way he asked you.. his demeanor was off, but not necessarily in a bad way. he seemed.. nervous. bashful.. you have always had a little crush on him since you started your job working as an intern at jyp. you started a little less than a year ago. thinking back, it was insanity. you started this internship being somewhat aware of stray kids, and now you’re spending the night at chris and jeongin’s dorm on a holiday. it started out with you being starstruck and in awe of them, now you’re best friends with the leader.

the idea came to chris when he was working a couple weeks ago. he was up late at the studio, working on songs for an upcoming album, when he just couldn’t seem to stop thinking about you. it was about 3am, which he would have thought you’d be asleep. so instead of calling you, he decided to send you a text. you were up, but you weren’t exactly doing anything productive. you were laying on your bed, watching crash landing on you on your laptop. you weren’t surprised that chris was awake, but you were surprised that he decided to text you.

you two texted until around 6am, and finally, christopher had the courage to call you and ask if you wanted to spend the holiday together. he figured since he didn’t have time to go back to australia, and you didn’t have time to go all the way back home to your family either, that the two of you might as well have a ‘friendsmas’. that part didn't exactly catch you off guard, the part that did was when he asked you if you wanted to spend the night christmas eve. you had been to the dorm a few times, even when it was him, changbin, han, and hyunjin living together, but he was always more private and reserved about his personal space. you had only actually been in his room once, and that was the first time you had gone to the dorms.

you were painfully unaware of how chris truly felt about you. you were the only female friend he allowed at the dorms–and lord knows he has plenty of them. he trusted you. you had seen him at his most vulnerable moments; from stress-induced breakdowns in the studio to his depressive episodes. on top of that, you took such good care of the rest of the members. the day he realized he had feelings for you was when he overheard you consoling jeongin when he wasn’t feeling confident in his voice. you were just so caring and genuine. it was impossible for him not to catch feelings eventually.

that’s why he needed to make this night perfect. he had everything planned out. the plan was to take you to see seouls christmas lights. since you had only been in the country for less than a year, you had just missed them when you arrived in the spring. after you two walked around, you’d go back to his place. he picked out a ton of your & his favorite snacks to munch on throughout the night. he even got matching onesies to surprise you with, yours being a reindeer onesie and his being an elf.

he was so excited and so nervous. and you didn't even know it. he didn’t even know how you felt about him either; which made everyone around you get frustrated at times, especially changbin, who was the member you were the second-closest to. you’d never say anything to him directly or initiate anything, in fear of ruining the amazing friendship you two have together. everything was perfect, why change that?

you and chris had finally gotten back to the apartment after walking down a long sidewalk in seoul, marveling at the christmas lights and goofing around. truth be told, the outing ended early because chris noticed that you hadn’t worn your gloves, which resulted in your hands turning bright pink from the chill. it was oddly cute how concerned he was about your warmth, so you didn’t complain much.

while sliding your boots off, you took in the apartment chris and jeongin shared. it looked the same as it usually did, except there was a white christmas tree in the living room decorated with black and silver ornaments. it was gorgeous, and you wanted to get a better look at it. chris hung your coat next to his before chuckling at your expression. “you like the tree?” he walked with you to the living room as you stared up at it. “it’s so pretty. did you two do this?”

“ah, just me. jeongin was busy with his friends the day i put it up. i thought the white and black fit the vibe of our place more, y’know?” he looked up at the tree as well, satisfied with how pretty it turned out. “it really does.” you smiled up at him, nudging his arm after. “so what do you have planned for us to do here?”

you stared at the onesies for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip. “you got these just for tonight?” you asked, looking up at him. he stumbled on his words. “uh, well.. yeah?” he cleared his throat after in an attempt to hide his slight embarrassment. “i thought it’d be funny to wear them while watching our favorite christmas movies and making cookies.” his ears turned a dark shade of red as he looked down at you, awaiting your approval, almost seeking it out from any part of your facial expression or body language. your lips curled into a smile as you lifted up the reindeer onesie. “where do i change?”

he let out a small sigh of relief as well as a chuckle at your acceptance, and gestured to the hallway. “you can use the bathroom. second door on your left.”

while sitting on the couch in your onesie, you heard light shuffling coming from the hallway. you perked up and there he was, waddling out in his onesie, ears dark red and a goofy, shy smile on his face. his onesie came with an elf hat, which was horribly cute on him. you couldn’t help but giggle at his appearance. “you look.. adorable.” you gestured to the onesie he was wearing. “oh, yeah? adorable hm?” he chuckled as he stood before you, hands on his hips. “stand up, lemme see yours.”

you did just that, even giving him a little twirl and a slight shake of your bum to show off the tail on the back. he let out his squeaky giggle, clutching his stomach. “ah! i forgot it has a tail.. oh my god.” he let out a string of a few more laughs before finally calming down. “it’s actually really comfy.” you laughed, running your hands on the sleeves. “it looks like it.” he stepped forward and felt your sleeve as well, the material being plush and extremely soft and warm. “oh, you didn’t put your hood on.” he stepped even closer, using both hands to pull the hood of your onesie over your head, making the limp antlers flop around as you moved. he smiled down at you as you stared up at him, admiring how attractive he was—even in a cringey elf onesie.

“i think you’ve got me beat.” he smiled even wider. “what do you mean?” you adjusted the hoodie so you could see him better. “i mean, you definitely look more adorable.” he laughed and pulled his phone out of the onesie pocket. “we should take pictures.”

a deep blush ran across your face at his words. maybe he was joking around, maybe he wasnt. your brain couldn’t help but romanticize things like this because, well.. despite the uncertancies gnawing at your mind about him and how he felt about you, you still had hope deep down. secretly wishing he was subtly flirting with you.

after a while of being lazy, catching up with chris, and warming up in front of the electric fireplace, you and chris finally decided to get up and make some christmas cookies. “nothing better than making christmas cookies at 10 p.m., right?” he chuckled, setting the ingredients you needed on the counter. “10’s nothing for you, is it?” you teased, rinsing your hands off in the sink after washing them. you couldn’t help but grin at him, noticing how comfortable he looked in the kitchen, like he belonged there.

chris grinned back and raised a brow. “nah, 10’s light work for me.” he gave you a wink as he pulled open a cabinet and grabbed the cookie cutters, giving you a quick glance as he set them on the counter. his movements were casual, but there was something in the air that made it feel like more than just a simple cookie-making session. you stepped closer, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in your chest as you peered at the ingredients he’d set out. “guess that’s a good thing,” you said. “i'm afraid your insomnia is contagious.”

chris chuckled softly, his voice low. “insomnia.. contagious.. are you hearing yourself?” he teased, tapping a spoon on the counter. he took a step closer, just enough that you could feel his presence, his warmth. “i think you're just making up an excuse to cover up the fact you're so eager to stay up with me.” you met his gaze, biting back a smile as you thought of the many times you'd tried to play it cool in front of him. “you think you know everything, huh?”

“maybe just a little,” he said, his tone playful but with a hint of something more serious behind it. he reached for the flour, brushing past you again as he leaned into the cabinet. the brush of his arm against yours was almost accidental, but the small contact made your heart beat faster. “so,” you began, trying to distract yourself from the slight tension that was building between you, “what’s the secret to making the perfect cookie?” chris looked up at you, eyes twinkling. “the secret is... not telling you,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips. “you’ll have to figure it out yourself.”

“oh, i see how it is,” you replied with a mock pout. “no hints, huh?” chris shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "oh please, you act as if you've been baking all your life." you looked up at him through your eyelashes, a sly grin on your face. he tongued his cheek and nodded, finally looking back down at his hands while they were working. "you see, what you dont know is that i actually bake as a hobby." he said sarcastically, raising his brows and masking his comedic sentence with a semi-serious tone. "oh, is that so?" you handed him the measuring cup, not wanting to be totally useless during this cookie-making endeavor. "mhm. i even bake more than lix, if you can believe that."

you choked back a laugh, pressing your lips together. his lip twitched into the tiniest grin when he heard. "what? don't believe me?"

"no." you snorted, leaning on the counter, your elbow resting on the edge. "but ill take this as a chance to judge your baking skills." he lightly tapped the measuring cup on the bowl and chuckled. he reached for the bag of brown sugar, his face dangerously close to yours once again. "i'll take that as a challenge."

you felt your breath catch in your throat as you tried to keep your cool. he began measuring out the brown sugar, but his movements were slower now, more deliberate. he was playing, testing you, you realized. the air felt thick, and even though you were focused on the cookies, it was hard not to notice how close he was, caught in some quiet game neither of you were willing to admit.

“can i ask you something?” you asked, trying to shift the conversation onto something that didn't make the tension skyrocket. he let out a soft hum, nodding his head as he glanced at you. “sure.” you watched him, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “what made you wanna spend the holiday with me? like.. just me?” your heart dropped as soon as the words left your lips. chris’s stomach whirled as well, trying to think of a way to answer. “well.. neither of us have family here for the holidays.” he began, stirring the ingredients together in the bowl, working carefully. “and, i like being around you.” he added.

your heart fluttered at his words, but you masked it with a small nod. “i like being around you too. sometimes.” you teased him, nudging his arm lightly. he breathed out a laugh, rolling his eyes. “uh huh.”

a beat of silence passed before he spoke up again. “i dunno, i guess it’s like.. being around you helps me stay calm. i noticed my stresses from work and schedules aren’t as heavy on my mind when you’re around. and.. honestly, this holiday i probably would’ve been working if you said no.” his voice was softer now, and he was avoiding your gaze. “well. how could i pass this up? watching you bake cookies in an elf onesie? i feel like i hit the lottery.”

“tch, thanks.” his voice was sarcastically monotone as he tapped the spoon on the edge of the mixing bowl.

“all jokes aside, i’m glad i can be that for you. you deserve rest as much as anyone else. no matter how much you try to tell yourself otherwise.” you nudge him, a small, fond smile on your face.

he didn’t say anything in response, he just smiled shyly, his ears never lightening from their favored shade of pink.

after indulging in one too many christmas cookies and watching a terribly long christmas movie, you were splayed out on the couch under one of chris’s plush blankets, so warm and so cozy. the ending credits rolled as you both sat there, and chris snuck a glance at you, smiling to himself at how cute you looked bundled up like a little burrito. you looked so comfortable, so sleepy.. but selfishly he didn't want the night to end so soon.

the ending credits began to roll for the movie, and he grabbed the remote and began to sing along to the song ‘all i want for christmas is you’, standing up and walking around the coffee table toward you, the burrito on his couch. your lips curled into a wide smile as you watched him approach you, singing the lyrics of the song beautifully. you sat up, and he reached his hand out to yours, waiting for you to take it. you raised a brow as you looked at him, and he raised one as well, not moving away until you finally took it. with a sigh, you took his hand and stood up, and he began to dance with you.

you felt out of place, dancing with chris in his living room, wearing a damn reindeer onesie, but the unease went away when he started twirling you around, making you squeal and his voice break from laughing at you. you couldn’t help but laugh, spinning in chris's arms as he twirled you around. his laughter was contagious, filling the room with warmth and making the silly moment feel surprisingly intimate. the twinkle in his eyes as he grinned at you made your heart race a little faster, the proximity between you both now feeling like a little more than just two friends having fun.

as he pulled you back into him after your spin, your body naturally pressed against his, and for a moment, you both just stood there, caught in the quiet rhythm of the music. his hand on your back felt like a steady anchor, and his other hand gently cupped yours as if he never wanted to let go. without thinking, you both moved closer, the space between you shrinking until it was just the two of you, swaying softly.

you swallowed, suddenly aware of how close his face was to yours. his breath was warm on your skin, his scent—something familiar and comforting—filling your senses. the laughter from earlier had faded, and in its place was a soft tension, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air. "is it weird that i don’t want this night to end?" chris whispered, his voice low and vulnerable, his thumb gently brushing over your hand. his words hit you like a soft wave, and before you could even process them, you felt the same way. the night had felt too perfect, too... easy.

you slowly lifted your eyes to meet his, your breath catching as you saw that same soft expression mirrored in his gaze. he wasn’t just looking at you like a friend anymore, not with that look in his eyes, the one that made you wonder if he was thinking the same thing you were. "yeah," you murmured, your voice quieter than you expected. "me neither."

for a second, neither of you moved. you were both standing there, your heart thundering in your chest as the music played on, filling the silence between you. you could feel the heat from his body, his hand still holding yours with a tenderness that felt like it was testing something—something that had been building all night. chris’s gaze dropped to your lips, and you knew. he wanted to kiss you. the realization made your pulse quicken. you could feel the magnetic pull between you two, and despite the uncertainty that gnawed at the edges of your mind, you couldn’t seem to pull away.

he leaned in slowly, and your breath hitched, your body tensing instinctively. but he paused, just inches from your lips, and in that moment, you saw a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “is this… okay?” he whispered, his voice barely audible above the music, the question soft but heavy with meaning.

you barely processed the words before you found yourself nodding, your own lips parting slightly as you tilted your head up toward him. “yeah,” you whispered back. “it’s okay.”

and then, finally, he closed the distance.

his lips were warm and gentle against yours, hesitant at first, like he was savoring the moment. it was soft, slow, as though he was afraid it might break if it went too fast. but when your lips moved against his, the world seemed to fade away, and all that mattered was the warmth between you, the sweetness of the kiss, and the overwhelming feeling that you were exactly where you were meant to be. chris’s hand moved from your back to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek, deepening the kiss ever so slightly. you responded without thinking, your arms wrapping around his neck as you kissed him back, the sensation of his lips sending sparks through you.

the kiss deepened, and suddenly you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so alive, so present. everything else—the christmas cookies, the movie, the silly onesie you were still wearing—melted into the background. it was just the two of you, wrapped up in a world that felt warm and right and full of possibility.

when you finally pulled away, your breaths were heavy, your faces still inches apart, your foreheads resting together as you both tried to catch your breath. a shy smile tugged at the corners of chris's lips as he looked at you, and you couldn't help but smile back, the joy and nervous energy mixing into something you hadn’t expected.

“that was…” he trailed off, his voice a little breathless.

“yeah,” you agreed, not quite sure what to say either. but in that moment, words felt unnecessary. you both already knew.

and when chris pulled you back into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head, you finally allowed yourself to relax. the night wasn’t over yet.

©chansdoll do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

474 notes · View notes

wholoveseggs · 4 months ago

Text

Stocking Stuffer

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

♡♡Merry Christmas♡♡

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!reader} Elijah spends the season giving to others, but tonight, it’s your turn to show him how much he means to you.

3.4k words - Warnings: sssmuuuttt, riding, festive roleplay, stockings (the sexy kind), praise, oral (m!receiving), blood drinking, slightly sub elijah (if you squint) && a santa hat...

@starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

@madeinmyownmind-blog @lovelyy-moonlight @blacknightrises @poppet05 @sweetieseven

@xoxo-shy @nova-j @decaffeinatedparadisepost @fandom-princess-forevermore @theotherworld97

@origshipfan @cocoabliss @eternalnoble @darth-laeka

Christmas time is always a busy time of year, especially when you have a big family. There were decorations, shopping, baking, and more decorating. Elijah had been running around for weeks making sure that his family would have the best Christmas possible.

You had spent entire days shopping with him, watching him meticulously pick out the right gifts for his family and friends. You helped him wrap the gifts, decorate the house, and hang stockings. He was endlessly giving, endlessly sweet. Yet, as much as you loved his dedication, something tugged at your heart. Watching him scurry off to take care of yet another errand, you couldn’t help but smile—but it wasn’t without noticing how tired he looked.

But there was one thing that bothered you. Elijah was taking on too much by himself. You wanted to show him how you appreciated him, how much you loved him. But every time you tried to take something off his plate, he refused. He had a certain pride, a desire to shoulder everything alone. But love meant knowing when to intervene.

And tonight, you would.

While he was out doing errands, you took some time to set up. You grabbed a santa hat that was hanging in your closet and put it on. Then, you kept looking around deep in your closet for the perfect present to wear. When you finally found what you were looking for, you grinned.

It was a pair of stockings, not the kind you hang over a fireplace. These were the type that were only for Elijah's eyes. You had purchased them for an elf costume you wore last Halloween, and they had been tucked away in the back of your closet. You had a red one and a green one, both with little pom-poms at the top. You slipped them on and looked in the mirror. There was a childlike glee in the way you giggled at your reflection. Elijah was going to love this.

You took off everything else you had been wearing. All that remained was the stockings and the very important santa hat. At first you didn't know where to sit, perhaps the chair in the corner? No, that's not quite right.

You decided on sitting on the bed, your legs crossed and waiting. Nervously anticipating Elijah's arrival, you bit your lip and tried to get comfortable.

Candles were lit, twinkle lights hung, a bottle of whiskey was ready on the nightstand, and your favorite playlist was ready to go. Even with all the romantic touches, you could feel the nervous energy bubbling under your skin. What if he was too exhausted? What if the moment fell flat?

The front door opened, and the sound of bags rustling filled the hallway. Usually, you would be rushing downstairs to help him. But this time you sat there quietly. Your heart pounded, each thud matching the rhythm of his approaching footsteps

"Y/N?" He called out. You didn't respond.

There was a loud sound of bags dropping and him rushing up the stairs. "Y/N?!" He called out, worried.

You grinned when the door flew open and Elijah ran in, his hair a mess, and his shirt half untucked. His face was full of worry and his chest heaved as he caught his breath. "Are you oka-"

Elijah froze mid-sentence when he saw you sitting on the bed. The soft, colorful lights of the room gave your skin a glow, and the candles illuminated the space. His eyes scanned your body, from the santa hat on your head to the red and green stockings on your legs, and all the bare skin in between.

"Merry Christmas." You said softly.

Elijah swallowed and took a step toward you. "Am I dreaming?"

You smiled and shook your head, slowly uncrossing your legs and leaning back onto the bed. "I want to show you how thankful I am. For everything you do. For being so good to everyone."

His lips turned up in a smirk. He started walking towards the bed and began unbuttoning his shirt. You noticed the small details. A slight tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders relaxed as he stepped closer. The weight of his responsibilities seemed to melt away with every button he undid. "Oh, I see. So, this is all just to say thank you, then?"

"No," you said softly. "It's to show how much I love you."

He tossed his shirt to the side and knelt onto the bed, crawling his way up between your legs. His hands moved up your legs slowly and stopped at the tops of the stockings. He pulled on the little pom-pom and let it go, listening to it snap against your thigh.

"I love you too." He leaned down and kissed you softly.

Your fingers dug into his biceps as he pulled you closer, your legs wrapping around his hips. His hand pressed into your lower back, holding you in place as his lips began to travel across your jaw and down to your neck. You tilted your head back, giving him better access.

"I do have a special request." You moaned as his lips grazed your neck.

"Anything." He murmured.

You ran your hand through his hair, tugging gently as his tongue ran along the side of your neck. Then you pulled the santa hat off your head and placed it on his. You pulled away to see the red hat against his dark hair and couldn't help but giggle.

"It looks cute on you." You admitted.

He gave you a mock glare, his playful side shining through, as if daring you to say it again. The contrast between his serious demeanor and the ridiculous hat made your laughter all the sweeter.

You kept your eyes locked with his as you tugged on his belt buckle, pushing it open and pulling his pants down. He pulled away and finished undressing. Standing there in just a santa hat, his broad chest rising and falling, the glow from the lights dancing across his skin.

"Dear Santa," you began, biting your bottom lip. "I've been a very good girl."

"And what is it that you want for Christmas?" He asked, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"You."

Elijah grinned, his dark eyes raking over your body, and leaned down to kiss you again. Your hands ran up his arms, across his shoulders, and down his chest.

You could feel his hands moving up and down your sides. Every so often his fingers would dig into your skin, reminding you of his strength. You arched your back as he slid his hands down and pulled your hips toward him, his touch igniting a trail of heat.

"You look so sexy in these stockings." He groaned.

"They're elf stockings."

"Sexiest fucking elf I've ever seen." He whispered before kissing down your neck again.

"I love when you swear."

Elijah chuckled against your neck, the sound vibrating against your skin, and then bit down. You yelped and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close. He sucked the spot where his teeth had just been, soothing the ache.

Then, his hand ran down your stomach and between your legs. Slowly, his fingers moved up and down. Teasing you, drawing out little whimpers. The ache inside you grew unbearable, every stroke of his fingers leaving you trembling.

You were already wet. You had been anticipating his touch for too long. But, as usual, he liked to tease you. It was his way of getting even.

But tonight wasn't about you, it was about him. So, you pulled his hand away and brought it up to your mouth. You made sure his eyes were on yours as you licked his fingers.

You were delighted when you heard his sharp intake of breath and felt his grip on your thigh tighten. You wrapped your lips around his fingers and sucked a little harder, swirling your tongue just the way you knew he enjoyed. The low groan that escaped his lips sent a shiver down your spine.

He watched as you swirled your tongue around his finger and then released him with a soft pop.

"Lay back," you whispered, your voice soft but commanding.

Elijah smirked, his eyes dark with desire, and did as you told him. While you leaned over him, there was a fleeting moment where you simply admired him. His chest rose and fell in anticipation, and his dark eyes were locked on you like you were the only thing that mattered. His vulnerability, his strength, the unwavering love in his eyes. You wanted to give him more than pleasure. You wanted him to feel adored.

You kissed his neck, nipped at his skin, your lips lingered at the hollow of his throat, savoring the slight hitch in his breath before trailing lower. Your lips brushed across his chest, leaving soft kisses in your wake, moving down to his stomach.

His fingers threaded into your hair, his other hand gripped the sheets tightly. The faint tremor in his grip told you how much he was holding back, letting you take control. You kissed his hips, and then ran your tongue along the crease where his thigh met his hip. His breathing grew heavier, and the muscles in his arms tensed.

You licked the underside of his length and looked up at him. He was watching you intently, his pupils dilated, the intensity in his gaze making your skin flush.

Your tongue ran across the tip of his cock, tasting him. Then you wrapped your lips around the tip and swirled your tongue. His hands gripped your hair, holding you there, the gentle tension making your scalp tingle.

You sucked on the tip of his cock and slowly took more of him into your mouth, your tongue flat against the underside of his length.

He let out a soft moan as you took more and more of him. Each sound he made sent a spark of heat through you, fueling your movements. When he reached the back of your throat, you hummed, enjoying the way his grip on your hair tightened and his breathing picked up.

You bobbed up and down his length, using your hand and your mouth to give him as much pleasure as possible. His hand was still wrapped in your hair, gently guiding you. His moans encouraged you to go faster. To take him deeper.

You felt his cock twitch in your mouth and his grip on your hair tighten. You knew that meant he was close, so you slowed down. You wanted to drag it out. Make him desperate.

"Fuck," he groaned, his head falling back onto the pillow, the santa hat slipping off his head.

You continued to suck his cock. Slowly. Savoring the weight of him on your tongue. Enjoying the way he tasted. Enjoying the way he clung to the sheets, his muscles tensing. You enjoyed the noises he made. Soft moans. Groans. Begging. He wasn’t just beautiful. He was utterly undone beneath you.

You knew he was trying to hold back, always the gentleman. But tonight, you didn’t want him to be the gentleman. Tonight, you wanted him to be greedy.

So you pushed his cock all the way to the back of your throat and hummed. You felt his body tense up, his hand gripping your hair. His breathing was ragged, and his hips bucked. And he finally let himself go.

His cum filled the back of your throat. You swallowed every last drop, the salty warmth making you hum with satisfaction. You licked his length, making sure to clean up any excess. You pressed one last kiss against the tip of his cock and pulled away, your lips tingling as you smiled.

His chest was heaving, his eyes closed. His features softened, completely at peace. You could tell he was enjoying the post-orgasm bliss. You smiled, feeling rather pleased with yourself. You did a damn good job.

But, the night wasn’t over yet.

You gently crawled on top of him, straddling his hips. Your hands pressed into his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat, and his eyes fluttered open.

"Mmm," he hummed, his voice low and velvety.

"May I sit on your lap, Santa?" you teased, biting your lip.

He let out a soft laugh, his chest rumbling as he nodded. Then his hands moved to your thighs, his fingers running across the lace and silk stockings. You grabbed the fallen santa hat and placed it back on his head. Then you reached down and placed his hands on your ass.

"Santa needs to fill this naughty elf’s stocking," you teased, running your hands over his chest.

He squeezed your ass, his dark eyes glittering. "Oh, I’ll fill your stocking. I’ll make sure it’s stuffed."

You giggled, leaning down to kiss him. Your breasts pressed against his chest, and you could feel his cock pressing against your stomach, his arousal already returning.

You reached between your bodies, guiding him to your entrance. The head of his cock nudged against you, slick and hot, as you slowly sank onto him. The stretch was exquisite, a perfect mix of pleasure and pressure as he filled you completely. You gasped against his lips, his breath hitching at the feeling of you enveloping him. His hands gripped your hips firmly, his fingers digging in just enough to steady you as you adjusted, your bodies perfectly aligned.

Slowly, you began to rock back and forth, letting him slide in and out. Your hands pressed against his chest for leverage, his skin warm beneath your fingers.

You were already so turned on from earlier, that it didn't take long for your body to respond. His hands ran up and down your back, encouraging you.

"That's it. Good elf," he praised.

You let out a breathless laugh, tilting your head back and letting his cock slide in and out of you. You picked up the pace, riding him harder. Your hips rolled and his hands gripped your waist.

You could feel the pressure building in the pit of your stomach. He was so deep, filling you up perfectly. His hands held you tight, and his eyes locked with yours. You took one of his hands and placed it on your throat, encouraging him to hold you there.

His hand pressed against your throat, gently squeezing. Not enough to hurt, just enough to add a new sensation. Your mouth opened, a soft gasp escaped.

He smiled at you, his eyes hooded, and his hair messy. The santa hat was barely hanging on. You felt yourself get wetter. The sight of him underneath you, the feel of his cock inside you, the pressure of his hand on your throat, it was all too much.

The orgasm tore through your body, waves of pleasure washed over you. Your nails dug into his chest as your back arched. Your eyes closed, and you cried out his name.

Elijah's hands held you in place, keeping you steady as your body shuddered. He whispered words of praise and encouragement. He told you how beautiful you were, how amazing you felt. His voice was like velvet.

When the orgasm subsided, you slumped against his chest. Your breathing was heavy, and your body was warm.

Elijah pressed a kiss against your forehead and then rolled over, placing you on the bed beneath him. The santa hat long gone.

He hooked one of your legs around his hips, feeling the stocking against his skin. You were so pretty, your cheeks flushed, your eyes sparkling, and a smile on your lips.

He took your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours, and then pressed them against the bed. Slowly, he eased himself back inside of you. Your body was sensitive and still buzzing from the orgasm. So he took his time, making sure you were enjoying yourself as much as he was.

His hips began to move. Slow, sensual, deep thrusts. His lips brushed across your neck, you could feel his fangs against your skin. But he didn't bite. Instead, he left a trail of kisses along your jugular. You knew he wanted to sink his teeth into your neck. But he wouldn't. Not until you told him it was okay.

Your eyes met, and you tilted your head back. You pressed a finger against your neck, an invitation.

"Go on," you whispered.

His eyes darkened, his teeth grazed the skin of your neck. Your breath caught in your throat as his lips moved to the spot on your neck where your pulse was the strongest.

There was a brief moment of pain. A pinch. Then, your entire body filled with euphoria. He held you like you were glass, so careful and precise.

With each sip, your body responded. Your hips rolled. Your toes curled. You let out a soft moan. His hips were still moving in a perfect rhythm, his cock hitting the sweet spot deep inside you.

Elijah's hand slid between your bodies and found your clit. He began to circle it with his fingers, applying the right amount of pressure.

You felt your muscles tense, your back arch, and another orgasm build. It was stronger this time. The pressure coiled tighter, and you let yourself fall into it completely. Your eyes rolled, and your legs trembled.

The room was filled with moans, groans, and gasps. Skin against skin. The two of you chasing bliss.

And then, everything came to a crescendo. Your entire body lit up, the pleasure so intense it bordered on overwhelming. Your vision blurred, and your ears rang. Pleasure coursed through every fiber of your being. Your body was shivering. Your nails dug into his skin, leaving marks.

He drank deeply, tasting the euphoria in your blood. His own orgasm followed soon after. He came hard, his body shuddering.

When his teeth left your neck, he ran his tongue over the wound. Closing it up and soothing the ache. Then, he kissed the spot, his lips lingering.

You laid there, breathless. Your chest heaving, the santa hat was somehow underneath you, and your stockings were a mess, torn and twisted on your thighs.

He rolled off of you, staring at the ceiling with a stupid grin on his face.

"You’ve definitely been very good this year," he said softly.

For the first time in weeks, he truly seemed at ease. The lines of stress that creased his face were replaced with a contented glow. The sight filled you with pride.

You smiled, getting off the bed and handing him the bottle of whiskey. He sat up, his chest glistening with sweat, and opened the bottle. He took a big swig, his eyes roaming over your naked body.

"What?" you teased, raising an eyebrow.

He put the bottle down and grabbed your hips, pulling you onto his lap. "I'm afraid I'll have to keep you."

You giggled, grabbing the santa hat and putting it back on his head. Then you wrapped your arms around his neck as you pressed your forehead to his. "I think I’d be okay with that."

For a moment, the two of you sat there in comfortable silence. His hands rested on your hips, thumbs idly stroking your skin as he leaned back, taking in your presence. "You’ve given me a lot of gifts over the years, but this might just be the best one yet."

"You deserve it," you said softly, running your fingers through his dark hair. "You give so much to everyone else. You deserve to have someone give back to you for a change."

His grip tightened slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours. "I don’t think you realize just how much you mean to me." His voice was low, steady, filled with an intimacy that made your chest tighten.

You kissed him gently, savoring the moment. "I love you, Elijah."

"I love you, too," he murmured against your lips.

The warmth of the room seemed to wrap around the two of you as he shifted, pulling a blanket over your shoulders. "Now, I think santa’s elf needs some rest before I keep her up all night," he teased, his signature smirk returning.

You laughed, nestling closer to him as you rested your head on his chest. The faint scent of whiskey lingered as his hand traced lazy patterns along your back.

The world outside faded. No more stress, no errands, no responsibilities. For tonight, it was just the two of you, wrapped in the glow of candlelight and the quiet hum of contentment.

"Merry Christmas, my love," he whispered.

You smiled against his skin, closing your eyes. "Merry Christmas, Elijah."

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #christmas #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine #elijah mikealson smut

553 notes · View notes

edges-of-night · 7 months ago

Note

Hello, hope this message finds you well! I would like to request (if the idea interests you of course) the fellowship responding to the reader asking “would you still love me if I was a worm/toad?”

What an inspired idea, anon haha! This one was fun to think about; hopefully it’s just as much fun to read! Enjoy ♡

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Even though you asked him out of nowhere, Aragorn considers your questions rather seriously. Sitting by a fire with you, it takes him a while to answer: “Why wouldn’t I?” It should’ve been obvious to you that a ranger – and one as kind and gentle-hearted as him! – would naturally see beauty in every creature, no matter its general reputation. To him, it’s not a question.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir would shoot you a confused smile when you asked him your question. “What? Why would you turn into a worm…?” You’d blush and explain it to him, which would make him laugh in relief. “Why worry about such nonsense?” – “What, me turning into a worm?” – “No, silly! Me not loving you!” he’d say and pull you close for a kiss ♡ (He’d probably still worry about the sudden question because he cares for you that much haha!)

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

When you ask Frodo your question, it catches him off-guard. He’d look up from his book and ask you to repeat, even though he was already listening carefully. But the question has him double-checking! Your adorable explanation makes him laugh. He’d take your hands and say, “The things you think about! If you ever manage to turn yourself into a worm, you must turn me as well, so that we may live happy lives in our worm-house underground.”

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf smokes his pipe when you ask him your question and smacks his lips as he contemplates the scenario. “A curious proposition…” For a moment, the furrow of his bushy eyebrows makes it look like he was about to scold you for your nonsense, but then he’d shoot you a playful smirk and assure you that yes, if you were to turn into a worm, he would still love you all the same.

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

You ask Gimli your question at a late-night banquet, making him pause and laugh. “I do not know if a worm would want to live in stone though! Wouldn’t you leave for grassier, muddier grounds? What would a worm want with a Dwarf?” Just like that, he has turned your question around! The ensuing nonsense conversation makes it certain: The two of you are inseparable ♡

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

Legolas is a very playful Elf and enjoys the games and riddles you two tend to play, so your question would not come entirely out of the blue for him. He would tilt his head and pout, pretending to consider it gravely. “A worm? A creature so foul and tiny and all too disagreeable?” – his face splits into a grin – “Why yes, of course!” Additionally, he’d incorporate “little worm” into his endless list of pet names for you.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Your question to Merry would probably come up during one of your philosophical conversations. But instead of stopping Merry dead in his tracks, he’d simply answer, “Yes, next question.” To him, it genuinely is not up for debate if changing your appearance would impact his feelings for you. When you dig deeper, he’d probably say something like, “I’d have to get used to it, but that’s it” and grin at you.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Let’s be honest: The question would probably come from Pippin in the first place. Maybe he had watched a worm or a toad travelling through a meadow nearby, or even overheard other Hobbits asking their partner about the dreaded scenario. He keeps wondering if he’d still be lovable as a worm but leaves no doubt should that fate befall you: This Hobbit loves you to the moon and back!

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

No contest: Sam Gamgee wins this one by a mile. When you ask him, no matter how unsurely, he’d cross his arms with a thoughtful sigh and start his answer by explaining how important worms are in the circle of nature to keep the ground and gardens alive. “And that’s just that, y’know? I don’t have to find ‘em beautiful, but I’d simply be lost without them. And if it was you, oh, y’know, there’d be no question about it. I’d tinker with a bit of wood to make you an indoor garden, so you have some dirt to crawl in even when we’re inside the house. Something I can carry around. And somethin’ to eat. Unless you don’t want to. I’d bring you the good dirt from Farmer Maggot, and some apples, too. Your favourite flowers must be there too, so that’s – hm? What’re smilin’ at me like that for? You asked the question…”

#lotr imagine #lotr headcanons #lotr x reader #fellowship x reader #aragorn x reader #boromir x reader #frodo x reader #gandalf x reader #gimli x reader #legolas x reader #merry x reader #pippin x reader #samwise x reader #* ask #* request #* humour #* fluffy

728 notes · View notes

mooishbeam · 3 months ago

Text

『♡』 Caught Under the Mistletoe

♡ featuring: nanami kento x reader

♡ synopsis: alone on christmas, you spend the night with your equally lonely coworkers. of course, your office crush nanami kento wants to party, too. he's a mystery, yet you can't help wanting to be around him. with a little help, can you beat the odds and finally confess?

♡ wc: 8.0k

♡ tags: fem! reader, jjk au, office au, misunderstood nanami, friends to lovers, corny gojo (as usual), praise, switch nanami, whiny whipped needy nanami, lots of overstim, manhand|ing, öral (f!receiving), mäting press, nanami cums quick, multiple órgasms, basically vanilla

notes: im almost a month late for my christmas fic i am sooo sorry! hope everyone had a happy holidays. did i finish this fic or did this fic finish me? who knows :P comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

“Hey, watch your step!”

Gojo barely catches your calf before you trip off the chair you’re dancing on. You fail to realize your heels are sinking into the fabric. Fortunate for him to be there—the tipsy girl isn’t doing herself any favors twirling on a spinning office chair, but liquid courage has its perks. You’re narrowly balancing a drink in your hand—plain whiskey—while Gojo attempts to keep his swishing in the short glass. His efforts must’ve looked like a game to you, because you’re giggling and patting his arm as if he were an exaggerating child.

The rest of the office is in an uproar, loose paper scattered about and documents gone unfinished. Some dancing, others chat over burgundy wine or dark liquor. There’s an awful Christmas song playing in the background, but most are too drunk to hear it. You can almost listen to jingle bells above your belligerent assistant manager addressing his qualms about the boss in a haughty manner; ivory shirt unbuttoned, gut spilling out of his too-tight pants as he raises his glass in protest for a pay raise. The two usual troublemakers you seldom speak to are having a concerning amount of fun with the copy machine and their bare rear.

You’re not without fun though, pencil skirt straining on your thighs while you jump and sing an unrelated song bouncing around in your head. If your boss were here, heaven only knows the trouble you’d be in. Luckily, he isn’t here. Every year, your boss took paid time off to spend time with family during the holidays.

The other losers with nothing to do spent their Christmas at the office.

Sometimes you spent so much time at the office you began to consider it home. And so you’d bring a little piece of home with you, holding a high spirit for the holidays. Red and green festivities kept the joy alive, regardless of the depressed groans and sighs you became accustomed to during shifts. You’re still young, still somewhat hopeful about your future career. You put your heart into decorating the department.

Well, you and Nanami, of course.

“Santa’s little helper” is what you called him, to which he adjusted his glasses and begrudgingly agreed. He agrees to most of your plans, unless they involve outrageous pranks or a possible HR violation.

When he first arrived to the building, he exuded such a quiet energy you sometimes didn’t notice him on the clock. When the lights dimmed for the day, and you strolled past his cubicle, a bright blue light casted long shadows. His silence was almost intimidating, and though most people made it a point to avoid contact with him, it felt unfair to you. You made it a point to get to know him, even if it were sometimes overwhelming or tedious—popping your head in during crunch time or offering him a snack. He eventually responded in kind. Not the kind that spoke out of obligation, but genuine respect. You haven’t learned much about him since you met him, and he won’t openly indulge, but you make attempts anyway.

You’ve been messing with him the entirety of December. More ‘elf-on-a-shelf’ like, leaving mysterious Christmas trinkets for him to find in his cubicle. A tiny Santa here, a gnome there, gag gifts hidden in his metal drawers. You still remember him opening his briefcase to find a small porcelain reindeer standing up on his folders. And let’s not forget when he sat down after a water break and instead of a whoopie cushion, a traditional Christmas song reverberated across the hallway.

You’ve both done well, spending too much time after hours putting a tree up, blossoming with multicolored ornaments and shapes in no particular theme. Garlands with waxy red berries hang from the fluorescent ceiling lights and removable winter decals are stuck on every wall, next to the inconvenient rainbow bulbs.

Nanami denied the addition of a mistletoe, to your utter dismay. He truly embodied the little helper role, tending to your every request with an accompanied sly comment or concern. Unfortunately, it didn’t subdue the increasing feelings you already have for him. Within your delusion, you’re even starting to believe he might be flirting with you—ridiculous, right?

If stone-cold Nanami were flirting with you, you’d probably die on the spot. There’s no chance though, and you’re fine with crushing from a distance. At least that’s what you’ll tell yourself to maintain a friendship.

He makes it hard, though—incredibly hard. It’s difficult right now, as he leans against a wall away from the crowd, teal button-up taut against his torso, wearing a Santa hat at your request. Nanami, who regularly keeps up with his appearance, looks somewhat disheveled from the alcohol.

You’ve finally learned something about him; he can’t handle his liquor.

He won’t show it, but while he maintains the same stoic expression, strands of hair hang over his somber eyes, and his glasses aren’t perfectly perched on his face. The buttons pull at the fabric, and he heaves heavy with his sturdy arms folded underneath the chest, bunching his spotted tie. The light makes it worse, catching on the veins peaking from his skin. You could trace every tendon corded around his forearms, thick hands swirling a shot glass. It’s smaller in comparison to his palm, and you watch his fingers trace the rim of the glass. They look delicate and manicured, but equally rough. How they’d study the curves of a body, snake around a lovers head as he pulled them close. Wrapping his fingers around-

“You’re drooling” Gojo blurts. You snap your head to him, and he laughs heartily before smacking your back. “Shhh-tt!” You wave a hand over his mouth, but the wide grin he’s sporting goes beyond your reach. He gets in close, not bothering to cover his mouth for the gossip.

“Go tell him.”

“Wha- hell no” you shake your head, stepping down from the chair nursing your dwindling drink. You refuse to hear the absurdity he’s proposing. “Why not? Perfect night, ain’t it?”

You throw back what little is left in the cup and set it on a random coworkers desk. “How so?”

“Christmas Eve. Lots can happen, y’know?” He presses his hand to the sides of your head and turns your attention back to Nanami.

“Lotsss.” You swat him—luckily Nanami was engrossed in the contents of his glass. “Fuck you” you whisper, semi joking. He laughs. “Cmon, me and the guy are cool. Let me wingman.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why would I ever let you wingman when you can’t even get a date yourself?” He clutches his chest, feigning pain, “Ouch!”

“I’m fine with us just being friends, okay?”

“Pfft, clearly not. I just caught you eye-fucking him.” You roll your eyes, shooing him off mid-conversation. Gojo may be right, but it couldn’t happen today. It wasn’t worth confessing, especially with his gift tucked away in your bag. Life would become too complicated too fast.

You’ve sobered up some from the harsh reality of your situation. Being sober sucks. However, you’ve neglected to check on Nanami since the party started, and now might be a great time. You walk in his direction, steering your eyes from Gojo’s smug expression.

Nanami catches you approaching and nods, sleeves busting against his bicep. His brown sugar eyes are half lidded, and a light glow dusts feverishly over his ears and neck. His chiseled bone structure appears gentle with a pinkish blush. You hold your breath, afraid you might divulge the thoughts searing your tongue with sin.

“How’s my little helper doing?” you ask, leaning against the wall beside him. Your bodies ghosts against each other, never fully touching, always in two separate worlds. You don’t expect his gaze to follow you, and you’re slightly surprised when you turn to him and he’s staring.

“Pretty good,” his voice permeates like fine bourbon, deep and intoxicating to your hazy ears. He speaks in his usual rigid manner despite the drink. You could listen to him talk forever—embarrassingly so, as you got written up for talking frequently in his cubicle. “All thanks to Santa.”

“I’m glad. Did he get you everything you wanted for Christmas?” you smile.

“Yea. She did.” She. You brush it off—a slip of the tongue. It’s hard to trust what a tipsy person says, anyway. You press your nails to the corners of your mouth and pull upwards.

“Then be happy!”

“I am” he responds. Blunt. You sigh dramatically.

“Hmph. But you never smile.” He watches you close, and your nerves cause you to fiddle with the paneled pattern on the glass. So much for wanting his attention.

“Would you like me to?” There’s no humor in his tone. Did you want him to smile? Of course. But you desire the genuine satisfaction of a pure, unfiltered smile. It means nothing if you have to force it out of him.

You turn your head from him with a pointed nose. “Nope. I want it to be genuine when you do.”

Facing him again, you accept the challenge, “I’ll get you to smile!”

There’s a subtle perk in his brow, and faint creases form at the corners of his drooping lids.

“Oh yeah?” he drawls, an octave lower. It spurs a feeling within you that crumples your resolve too fast. Breath catching in your throat, the air is suddenly stuffier than before. You grip the glass for dear life, attempting to compose yourself, but you can’t when he’s staring at you like you’re the only person in existence. You watch the way his eyes flick across your face; your eyes, then your nose, down to the curve of your lips, moving quicker as they travel down. You swallow thick, unable to avert your gaze, unable to stop the heavy rise and fall of your chest. You must be imagining it. Or maybe Gojo’s right, what’s the harm in-

“(Y/N)! Get over here and drink with us!” your assistant manager yells from another section.

It breaks you out of your trance, and you turn on your heels towards the sound, just enough to hide the blush pooling over your cheeks. “Comin’!”

•••

The night has simmered into occasional chatter, with most of your coworkers leaving to go barhopping or get a head start on their hangover. The stragglers—a few employees, you, Gojo, and Nanami—packing up to leave.

You’re throwing your coat over your shoulders, running to your cubicle to hopefully catch the last bus. Before you can grab your briefcase, a flicker of something shiny draws your eye. You pull your drawer open; a miniature snow globe with two fluffy penguins inside wearing festive hats and scarves, flippers stretched as they gather snow. You shake it up and watch the artificial flakes spin in the liquid. A smile unconsciously beams on your face, even more when you notice a yellow note tucked on the underside. You peel off the tape and unfold the post-it note.

“Your turn

-Nanami”

A bland note from a serious man. Even so, your heart feels full to the brink of bursting. You reread the note over and over. You wish you could’ve witnessed big, intimidating Nanami buying the minature from a toy store. Unintentional poker face pointing at tiny penguins. The image sends you into hysterics. Once you’ve had enough of gushing over the same two words, you tuck it in your wallet, a place you won’t forget, and gently put the gift in a safe compartment in your bag.

You can already hear Gojo from the elevator; he gets loud when he’s drunk, and unfortunately he’s a lightweight.

“Cmon, you’re taking too long!” he drones, holding the elevator.

“Okay, okay!” You shuffle inside. You’re a bit sad that Nanami left before you could say goodbye, but you still have the opportunity to give him his present on the next shift. Gojo leans on handrail, button up popped to his stomach.

“So, no one’s gonna make a move, huh?” He pity’s you in his smug, know-it-all attitude, “it’s so embarrassing watching you two.”

You have half the mind to refrain from reminding him about when he broke down midday in front of Geto’s house, begging him to take him back. He gets emotional about it. “It’s not as easy as just saying ‘hey, I’ve liked you since I’ve met you. Please don’t think I’m weird’.”

“Whatever. Guess this must be the life of people with no game. I feel sorry for you, y’know?” You scoff. If anyone has game, it isn’t Gojo.

“I don’t see you getting laid tonight.”

“Spoke too soon, sweetheart. I’m fucking a pretty girl after this. And you’re going home,” he peers under his glasses, “dickless.”

“You’re such a little-“ The elevator dings, opening into the company lobby. Some people are mingling by the sofa. Nanami’s at the front door, putting his beige trench coat on with his briefcase at his side.

You’re about to step out when Gojo intercepts you, walking ahead first.

“Na-Na-Mi!”

“Satoru.” you angry-whisper, trying to grab him. But he dodges your attack effortlessly and glances behind, mouthing ‘shut up’.

Nanami turns to Gojo, not exactly peeved but surely not happy to see him. They’re two opposites, and you could tell that Gojo quickly got on his nerves. “Hello.”

Gojo puts an arm around him, and you watch him visibly clam up. “So formal! The boss isn’t here, you can speak normally.”

“This is how I speak. Also, happy holidays.”

“Mhm, mhm. By the way, my friend (Y/N) here wants to-“

“Also wish you a happy holiday!” you chime in, speaking through your teeth. More like screaming, as you try to grab the attention of Gojo’s massive ego, to no avail.

“Riiight. Anyway, Nanami-“

“Shouldn’t we all start heading home?” you add, itching to run from the situation. You zip your coat, but Gojo won’t let you go that easily.

“We should! In fact, Nanami, (Y/N) doesn’t have anyone to walk her home. She lives far, and you know how dangerous it is for a woman to walk alone at night.”

You feel your eye twitch. You might actually kill him tonight.

“I’ve got a date tonight so I can’t do it. And I know you have nothing to do so-“ Nanami side-eyes him, then turns to you. For a second, his gaze seems to soften. You smile, mostly as a silent apology for Gojo’s rambling.

“Would you like me to walk with you?” he asks kindly.

“…If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all” he’s quick to retort.

“Great! No time to waste then!” Gojo proclaims. He brings his other arm around you, guiding both of you out the sliding doors and into the cold darkness dotted by frosted streetlamps. He steps back from the throuple and brings Nanami close, practically smushing you together by the arm.

“See ya!” he waves.

Nanami surveys the path, giving you ample opportunity to glare at Gojo. He never cared, dopey grin on his face as he mimics a sexual act with his hands. Then he walks in the other direction, leaving you to deal with the situation he created. The bus is long gone.

“Are you ready?” Nanami says, directing you to the inside of the sidewalk.

“Yea, let’s go.”

Snowfall cascades in blooming white sparkles amongst the icy sky. It drapes the parked cars in sheets of powder, and the tips of your shoes in frost. The solid breeze through your pantyhose creeps into your bare legs. Cold, but not uncomfortable. You luckily brought earmuffs, but Nanami isn’t as fortunate. Checkered scarf draped around his coat, you can’t tell if his ears are red because of the chill or tipsy after effects. He looks at you, unaware of the red patch on his nose.

“Sorry about Gojo” he says.

“Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”

“If you’re too cold, I can call you a taxi, instead.”

“No worries, I’m fine. Are you cold, Rudolph?” you snicker.

He unconsciously touches his nose with pinkish fingers. “Is my nose red?”

You stop in your tracks, “Come, I can fix it for you.”

Nanami obeys and kneels down to your height, eyes fixed to the concrete gradually collecting more snow. Flakes dance around you, towering amongst his hair and sinking in the woolen scarf. You gently bring your hands around the fabric and loop once around his neck. Your knuckles graze his winded jaw in the process—soft and cool, a bit of stubble you barely noticed. You tuck the fringed end pieces into the loop, close to his nose where hot breaths warm your hand. The back shimmies over his head in a balaclava style to hopefully shield him from the icy onslaught.

“Done. You should get warmer now.” He stands straight with a soft mien. Nanami always shared an easy stare. Yet the same easygoing stare now causes your face to burgeon unimaginable colors.

“Thank you.” The ghost of a smile sweeps his lips, so quick you can’t decide if it’s a fluke or not.

You continue treading through the snow, hands stuffed in coat pockets, legs stiffly shuffling together to preserve any heat. It’s quiet for some time—you’re afraid you’ll overstep. In-depth conversations weren’t often had, and you’re unsure of how to proceed without being pushy.

“Is work getting easier for you?”

“Yes. The workload is manageable and I’m making good progress with reports this month. I can get ahead of next month’s fiscal documentation.” Refined and straightforward. A natural born salaryman.

“You’re always talking about work” you glance at him, “I’m curious, what are your hobbies?”

When he doesn’t speak, you immediately go into damage control. “You don’t have to answer if it’s too personal.”

“I bake…” he mutters, a discovery that persists in the space. Nanami is the last person you’d expect to enjoy baking. You half expected him to reply with something mundane like filing taxes. It warms your heart to imagine him in an apron pressing cookie dough through gingerbread molds. He had that endearing quality about him.

“Really? What’s your favorite thing to make?”

“Double chocolate chip cookies.”

Your mouth gapes, “Wait…remember when I stole those cookies from you on your break? You made those?” You recall the confectionary treat and the way it melted in your mouth. You practically stalked his lunchbox for days hoping he’d bring more.

“Yes.”

“Oh my god, they were so good!” you chirp, “why didn’t you say you made them?”

“…I’m not too confident in my abilities yet.”

“They were amazing, you should be proud” you say, gazing up at him. You’re suddenly hyper aware of the lack of space between you two—arms brushing, shoulder leaning on him a bit. You’ll tell yourself it’s because of the cold. Just this once.

“If you enjoy them so much, I’ll bring some next time.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

He gives you a faint nudge, calling your attention. He doesn’t seem bothered by the extra weight on his body. “And what do you like to do outside of work?”

“I read a lot. I write occasionally.”

“Any specific genre?”

“No, not really. I’ll read anything if it interests me.”

“I’d like to see what you write sometime. You have a creative spirit.”

You recognize it clear as day. The upturned curve of his dry lips, wrinkled eyes sweet and gentle in the dim amber lighting of a street lamp. Freckled by the reflection of steady snow, they appear sparkling as they bore into you.

“Thanks” is all you manage to choke out.

“I didn’t know you walk this way.”

“‘Cause you’re always doing overtime”, you hesitate before you add, “you should give yourself a break once in a while. Take care of your health more.”

“It’s nothing to worry about.” But I’m worried. It’s meant to be reassurance, but reassurance can only go so far when there’s noticeable eye bags. You step in front of him, spinning to make eye contact.

“Before we split, don’t go. I want to give you a present.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Of course I do! We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Nanami sighs a laugh. “Yes, we are.” He holds the sides of your earmuffs, pressing them tight to your head. Almost as if he’s ensuring you don’t get too cold. “I feel bad now. I haven’t gotten you anything.”

“That’s okay. Walking with me is enough.”

“Then could I walk you all the way home?”

The answer leaves your mouth before you can think, “Sure!”

You pause, deliberating on your urge to extend the invitation. Nanami regards you closely, watching the minute muscles in your lips twitch as your words come to fruition. You avert your eyes. If only he knew the effect it had on you.

“It’s p-pretty cold out here. Maybe if you want, you could come inside. Just to like, get warm, y’know?”

Something flashes in Nanami’s gaze. Brief like other times, yet this one feels darker—full of incomplete emotions you’re not ready to decipher yet. He’s generous with smiles tonight.

“If you’ll have me.”

Back at your apartment, you’re fishing for the key in your never-ending purse. You’re somewhat thankful for its disappearance since it gives you time to compose yourself. You’re hoping the state of your home is acceptable to his standard. You hook the key ring under your pinky and pull it out.

The door, embellished with a Christmas pinecone wreath, creaks open into the narrow entryway.

“Please come in.” He obliges, following after you as you drop your bag on the cluttered hall tree. You’re too distracted tucking your shoes properly in the rack, aligning them meticulously where it doesn’t count. Then you notice his footsteps came to a halt.

Unlucky for you, you forgot about the shiny object you’ve had dangling at your entryway since December arrived. It slips your mind sometimes when it’s so out of reach, inches above you. But for Nanami’s height, it draws his attention instantly.

A pine and cedar mistletoe sprouting red berries hangs from the ceiling by a red ribbon. Meant to be a joke for Shoko when you smother her in excessive love. Meant to complete the other holiday decorations littering your apartment.

What it wasn’t meant for, was the impulsive invitation to your crush. You stare at it, to which your eyes wander to Nanami, also staring at it. He’s lingering, then he looks at you, amused grin tugging at his lips.

“Uh, ignore that!” you stammer, a nervous tick in your tone.

“Were you expecting someone?” He’s already removing his hat and scarf.

“No, it’s just a silly joke between me and Shoko.” He watches you intently. You have to get used to the laidback version of Nanami, for the sake of avoiding a heart attack.

“I can take your coat!” you divert, but he dodges your grasp. “No need. You’ve had a long day.” He places it on one of the pegs.

“Well, make yourself comfortable. Do you want anything to drink?”

“I’m fine for now, thanks.”

You quickly scuffle to the kitchen. A tall glass of water to subdue your pounding heart. It’s the fault of your own body, psyching you up to believe that for a second, Nanami might be reciprocating your interest. In a way, conversing with him was easier when you had no expectations, no indication of “like” on his end. You aren’t even sure what like means from his perspective.

When you leave the kitchen, he’s sitting on the couch, legs spread with an arm resting on the back of it. He shifts in his seat, beige slacks taut on the fat of his thighs. You run to grab the cyan felt gift box from your bag and return to the living room.

Plopping down, it’s pretty cramped for the span of two people. It's not this crowded when Shoko comes over, but what did you expect when Nanami’s wingspan is twice the size of yours. With your back on the armrest, your knees are inches from his.

You hold out the box towards him. “Here you go, I hope you like it.”

He grabs it, feeling the material. Then he glances at your giddy face before opening it. It displays a polished gold chronograph watch with brown leather trim. The ivory velvet interior contrasts against the gold-toned dials, and he marvels it with shock.

“This was expensive” he says, examining the sub dials like fragile glass. It definitely was, and you did a few overtimes for it, but you won’t tell him that. “I hope you didn’t go through any trouble to get this.”

“You deserve it. You do a lot for everyone. And you’ve tolerated my nonsense all month.”

“Thank you isn’t enough for something like this. I’ll do what I can to repay you.”

You splay your palm. “Aht aht, don’t even think about repaying me.”

“I’m covering your lunch for the rest of the year” he states, matter-of-fact. You don't correct your touching knees.

“I won’t let you.” A chuckle escapes through his nose, features softening along the edges of his chiseled cheeks.

“Then how about those cookies?”

“…I’ll take that” you beam, “and, I want to be your test subject for any desserts you make in the future.”

“Whatever you want.” He slides the watch out of the display and gives it to you. “Would you like to put it on?”

You unlatch the gold buckle and align the brown straps on his wrist. Fine blonde hair covers his forearm and you couldn’t fit your hand around his wrist if you tried, but you manage with two. “It fits perfect.”

“How’d you figure out my wrist size?”

“Remember when I asked for your help with a friend’s surprise gift?”

“Ah, so that was a lie?” he grins.

“Just a little one.”

“Lying's bad for company morale.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re not at work right now, huh?”

“Mhm.” Nanami reaches for his tie, drawing it loose with a finger. “Very good.”

You slide your shoes off, perching your foot on the other one before sliding that one off, as well. There’s a numbing pressure eating at your heels. You rub the balls of your ankles, persistent aches from the nonstop dancing you’ll sooner feel tomorrow.

“Does it hurt?”

“I should’ve taken my shoes off when I danced” you sigh.

He pats his thigh. “Let me help.”

You blink. Once. Twice. Does he want me to...? You don’t have the heart to question it. Not when it’s working in your favor.

“If...that’s okay.” You’re startled a bit when he immediately scoops your leg and hikes it over his thigh in a single motion. You stare at his solid, vein-woven hands encompassing the surface of your ankle.

“By the way, I don’t ‘tolerate’ you. I had fun when we were decorating.”

“Oh, really? It didn’t seem like it, haha.” You’re nervous laughing. Between the small confession and the affectionate thumb swaying back and forth, you’re flustered beyond belief.

“I look forward to our conversations. I’ve never thought of you as a bother.”

You’re sure he’s talking at this point. You know he is. Yet, the series of firm, delicate touches along your ankle dull your ears to everything besides the sound of rough pads moving rhythmically along nylon.

“…Do you give massages often?” Nanami doesn’t look at you, transfixed on catering to your calf. He’s passed your point of soreness, traversing up your leg for the massage. His kneading sends your skin aflame. It’s a fervent intensity that starts at your trembling voice and ends in an embarrassing mess between your thighs. You can’t bear to meet his face. A pinkish tint to his knuckles, brushing the back of your thighs and scaling higher.

“No. I’m practicing for you” he says, breathy and caught in a sharp wind. That’s when you notice his wrinkled collar, buttonholes straining from his tight breathing, and a burning glow poured over his ears and neck. His touches grow impatient, out of sync as if he’s trying to dig under the material to palm raw skin. “I’ll owe you more in the future.”

The watch reflects bright in the headlights of your Christmas tree. Like you’ve laid claim to him. He’s wearing you on his arm.

“You look great.” He pauses, finally turning to gaze at you. His glasses are off center, and his eyes—blooming and almost black—crave a certain unsatiable hunger, gnawing at his stomach with a feast just out of reach. He wouldn’t dare eat without permission.

“It looks great…on you.”

“You look great too” he whispers through a clenched jaw. Your breaths mingle in the space, thoughts going unsaid while somehow tainting the air with insistent need. You can't stand it. Can’t stand the way your thighs clench, searching to stave off desire.

Nanami parts his chapped lips, then closes them. He swallows nothing, Adam’s apple bobbing. Restless.

Every little action he performs elicits a sense of longing once buried in an unattainable sector of your heart.

“Hah…please don’t look at me like that” he says, tense and on the verge of begging.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me.” It leaves his mouth. Another confession, syrupy and coated in a deep desire, pulsing in the very core of you. He relieves a shaky breath, a ticked jaw struggling to relax.

“I do.”

Nanami’s restless demeanor shifts fast, and the air he’d been saving escapes him entirely. He smoothly tucks his grip under your knees and pulls you close. You settle on his lap, chest to chest, hovering over him. Noses ghosting, threatening to concede. Boiling heat coils in waves in your gut, and your heart skips across your ribcage. He’s equally flustered, if not more. You feel the heavy bulge prodding your tights, enough to earn a muffled sigh.

“You’re giving me false hope.”

“I want you.” He places a hand behind your neck, another trailing up your curves.

“Say it again” he mouths into you. They’re soft, languid with your own. You caress his face, enduring the way he tests your lips, nudging just to pull back.

“I want-”

Before you can finish your sentence, he crashes onto you. The well-mannered Nanami you knew stalks your tender lips with unbridled yearning. Chasing your mouth as if you’d vanish if he released. His lips turn slick from a succession of sloppy, uncoordinated kisses and you’re nearly suffocating. He doesn’t falter, though, choosing to devour your moans, your body, anything relating to the idea of you. He attempts to be gentle with the pace of a lover—but judging by the way he hurriedly hunts your mouth when you part for air, he’s missing the mark.

His hands snake over your waist to the fat of your ass. Fondling through your clothes, you feel the true nature of his grip as pillowy indents fill the space between his fingers. You’ve found purchase in his golden locks, carding through his hair to pull him impossibly close. You’re light-headed, drunk off the pressure of his kiss, his touch refusing to leave your body. The only thing separating your embrace are the tiny moans and whimpers that follow them. Your body betrays you, clenching around nothing like a virgin having her first kiss.

You’re both huffing once you break. Nanami licks his lips, savoring the taste, a crude groan beneath it.

“You give me mixed signals” you pant.

“Then allow me to make it clearer.” He throws his glasses to the side, skittering somewhere on the floor.

Nanami dives back into your mouth, gliding his whiskey-singed tongue against yours. Unrefined, messily exploring your mouth in a manner of wet smacks. The sound goes straight to your sticky underwear, and you’re shifting uncomfortably in his grasp, to which he holds you sturdy on his lap.

“Don’t go” he whimpers, drawing a fleeting breath. Blown-wide pupils bore into you, “I need you.” He licks a stripe up your tongue, allowing a trace of drool to slip amid you as he smothers you in French kisses. His mouth is hot, laden with a dizzying mix of alcohol and zeal, yet he cups your cheek lovingly. You’re slinking under his shirt, fumbling with the fasteners until they pop. Your one-minded focus ignores the buttons scurrying across the rug to enamor his ample pecs, flushed and plump in tandem with his husky build.

You’re alternating against each other’s tongues, neither one of you willing to depart. Gorged on the whimpers you evoke as you cradle his plump chest.

“Darling, please” he whines.

He guides your ass along his aching bulge, stealing a satisfied moan from the depths of your mouths. You’d mistake it for a thermal water bottle if it didn’t twitch. Back and forth on his slacks, the seam bumps your clit each time you roll your hips, smearing the dribbling mess from your pantyhose. He leaves you to oscillate on the tensing fabric, pursuing a semblance of relief, jolts of frisson enveloping you.

You withdraw from him to occupy the space on his neck. Splotching rough, spit-soaked kisses in blurs of red to match his tumid lips. He has a pretty, desperate voice, cracking when you suck on his pulse point. “Uhn, just like that—god.” He lets his head fall a little further, steering you in cycles. “Want more of you.”

When he pulls you up, an evident gloopy trail follows the score of your tights, and you shy away from the scene. He kneads your plush thighs as he spreads them apart, pecks dotted on your cheeks. “Don’t be shy. You’re gorgeous.”

Nanami supports your lower back while picking the buttons from your blouse. Or at least he’s trying to—his desperate limbs can’t latch on properly, and he inevitably snaps it down the middle. You discard it and he’s instantly on your breasts, licking and biting as he reaches for the bra clasp. You take it off yourself in fear of him breaking that too.

His kisses linger on the swell, even when he talks through it. “You don’t know how long”, he gradually raises your skirt to your waist, “I’ve been waiting to touch you like this.”

Nanami takes a nipple in his mouth, circling it recklessly. He indulges in the parts he’s desired for months, indecent with the tug of his teeth on your bud. A lewd stare, misted and still greedy for seconds. And it’s overwhelming; the constant pounding in your cunt, slobber coating your mound with him groping the other. It’s like he has multiple ravenous hands surrounding you, dancing over every crevice he can manage. Consuming you.

And when the soft moans begin to leave you again, it’s driving him crazy. He picks you up and flips you to lay on the couch. He doesn’t back off for long, only to shimmy his shirt off and rend the belt from its loops. You forget to remove your own clothes, too busy gawking at the remaining attire—a loose tie, sock suspenders, and black briefs drenched in milky precome. He drops to his knees in a heartbeat, sharing a warm smile. Nanami really is adorable, and you’re facing a whirlwind of emotions from the contrast of his brimming underwear, and the hold that manhandles your legs on either side of his shoulders.

His brows furrow, agitated with the nylon clinging to what he's lusting after. He grabs the front of them and easily tears it into elastic shreds. He doesn’t apologize this time. You aren’t bothered by it—if anything, it removes some of the pressure from your throbbing muscles. He promptly soothes it, wrapping around your inner thighs to feed his hands into the rips.

“You’re so soft” he moans against the surface just as he paws it. A sigh and he’s immersing his face in the groove of your pussy, smudging open-mouthed kisses over your sensitive clit. The unfiltered contact sends a thrum through your body, though clamping your legs proves futile.

“Ah, be patient” you joke, playing with his hair. He doesn’t spare a glance, webbed mess coating his lips, a thread from him to you.

“Can I eat you? Please?” It comes off more like a formality than an actual question as he nuzzles into you, breathing in with a guttural groan. He slides the soaked cotton halfway, full range to admire your dribbling slit. You can tell he strives to pamper it slow, but Nanami doesn't possess the strength to tease or be composed.

He treats your pussy as if it’s a separate entity from you, indulging and dragging his tongue in long, flat stripes. Nanami eats you for his own enjoyment, eager like a man starved. Slurping and swilling in loud, gratifying squelches. Low mmf’s vibrate against your arousal, but it’s hard to hear when you’re anchored to his face and he refuses to let go. A desperate tongue drinking your heady scent, oblivious to the honeyed fluids sluicing down his chin. He repeats small, calculated licks and continues to treat your squishy flesh like a pliable stress ball.

“Fuck, it’s s'good—so, so good.” You learned something new about Nanami today: he can curse.

Nanami embeds his fingerprints in your skin. Toying with the taste of you, stopping to swirl the relentless appendage around your swollen clit. The tip of his nose does part of the job for him. Your utmost efforts rely on the yank of his scalp, knot after knot collecting in a burning surge through your quivering abdomen. Cries croak in your throat, unable to emerge while he’s having a personal, filthy make-out session with your pussy. He fits perfect sandwiched between your juicy folds and he’ll make sure you know it.

“’M so close” you moan. That’s something he does hear, because he instantly holds tighter, all attention directed to the trembling bundle of nerves. Pleasure builds quick, and when your legs start to shake, he takes that as a sign to delve deeper, sucking aggressively through the shudder. Your body caves and you’re reduced to ecstasy, rutting against his mouth with no control. He gladly accepts in kind. “Nanami.” You’re calling for him, and he hums inside, satisfied as he laps at the spasms.

He comes up for well-deserved air, sweat sheen from his matted hair to the blonde tufts sitting below his bellybutton. Dopey, glossy grin on his face, he shirks out of the tights and places a kiss on the lips he missed so much. You taste yourself on his tongue. Then you feel a finger glide against your syrupy entrance.

“Nanami, wait.” He peppers kisses down your torso where he returns to his knees.

“I have to make sure you can take me, baby.” Another grazes, soaking in your essence with a few languid drags. One dips inside, quickly finding a home in your gooey walls. Tiny aftershocks mimic the slow drawl of a curling finger and you’re keening.

“Mm, too much.”

“I’m sorry.” He pumps a tolerable, sopping stretch. Adding a finger, “Be a good girl, okay?”

You’re clinging to him, sucking him in hopes for more. Your pussy greedily eats it up despite the overstimulated smolder, a melting thump thump that contracts around him. He’s twisting his fingers in a c-shape, looking for little hints that he’s in the right direction, and you’re giving him everything he needs.

His tender, loving stare settles on you. Lapping at your clit and pumping your g-spot while you succumb to the hazy pressure thawing your head. You’re melting in a frenzy of cries, simultaneously reeling and pleading for him. Nanami’s determined; imbibing the juices gushing from your vulva and tailing the frenetic buck of your hips.

“Uh, oh shit, right there” you moan, and he speeds up.

“Yeah? Right here?” You’re nodding nonsensically, whine peaking. Your back arches and he moves to your breast. “Let it out, darling. I got you. Come on my fingers baby.”

The second he latches onto the nub you’re rendered silent, mouth shaped in an ‘O’ as you come hard around his fingers. He slows, milking your orgasm for all it has, careless of your shaking legs and tears gathering on your lashes. He pecks the corner of your eye, and you’re too caught up in your own sobs to see him lick his lips.

“Such a good girl for me.” You’re showered in kisses and he rubs circles on your waist. You blink back the tears, meeting tongue and teeth in a carnal exchange. But you’re craving more, him and nothing else. You palm his erection and he groans. You can see the painful print of his entire cock through his briefs, angry tip peeking out ever-so-slightly.

“Take it off” you whisper. You watch his eyes flicker, a moment of hesitation—you won’t let him. “Stand up.”

Nanami obeys your command and quickly stands. You hook under his waistband and yank them off. His thick cock stands at attention, nearly smacking you across the face. It’s a bashful red to base, glazed fat head dribbling precome down his heavy balls. He looks like he’ll unravel at any second. You bring a digit to his balls and it twitches. Dragging it up the veiny shaft, gathering his salty mess to spread it over your held out tongue. He stifles a faint shudder.

“Baby, let me put the condom on.” At least you didn’t have to worry about bringing your own. You wrap your hand around his head, enough tension to be sure he doesn’t find comfort. You rub a thumb over it and his breaths yield shallow.

“Hm? Why?” you ask, batting your eyelashes as you deliver a small lick. He hitches.

“D-don’t.”

“You don’t wanna feel my mouth?” He bites his lip, probably thinking about your pretty face gagging with a mouthful of him. You know the real reason why he won’t, and it’s rather cute that he’d save his release.

“I-I do. God, I really do. But I-”

“But what...?” You swirl it once, and he can’t even handle that.

“C-condom” he whimpers, almost pleading. “Condom...what?”

“Condom please. Please.”

“Go get it.” He makes sheepish haste to his coat, returning with a gold wrapper. He’s about to rip it but you stop him.

“Give it to me.” You tear it open with your teeth and position it over the head. Rolling it over, pursuing it with tantalizing, soft kisses. You feel him pulsing against your lips until you’ve secured the condom at the base. He swallows dry and his stomach recoils on nothing. You enjoy his needier display.

“C’mere sweetheart” you tempt, luring his body to loom over you. He pushes your legs back and spreads you wide. “I’ll take it slow.”

His brows crumble, jaw wedged, angled at your pussy. It’s already soaking him and he hasn’t put it in yet. You do your best to make him ease up, a hand placed over his. But as it dips into you, Nanami’s chewing his lip, going haggard before it ever started. He stops completely, an effort to compose himself even when he’s growing stiff and melty at merely the tip.

“Just g-give me a second” he stammers, and you stay still while he slides the first inch into your creamy, chubby cunt. Stretching and clenching around him in a sappy sluice, he has to pause again, quivering in place. “Fuck-“

Nanami moves a few inches and his hearts beating out of his chest. Foggy, sensual weight sticks to the edges of his brain and coils in his leaden sack.

“I-I don’t know if…” A mouthwatering, snug fit, pulling him deeper. He’s grinding the rest in, but every time he gets a little further his throat bobs and he tenses. You’re molding to his length, encapsulating him in squelching fire, and he’s never felt anything like it in his life. Once he’s flush with you, he sighs, beating a fraction of the battle.

He starts at an agonizing pace. It’s not doing him any favors—now he has to suffer through every sloppy drag, walls committing his veins to memory in a tight, addictive grip. He caresses your face.

“I’m sorry. Bear w-with me” he whines, and you hold your hand over his. You’re not doing it intentionally, but watching him fall apart is truly a sight to behold—strands glued to his forehead, pussy-whipped fawn eyes lost in your warmth. You guide his fingers to your mouth and deliberately suck on them. Cruel of you, but it’s worth it for his wobbly whimpers, his delirious, thrumming cock. You know he won’t last.

“No- Haaah, I can’t yet.” His hips lurch, and he holds back yet again. You lock your ankles around his back, giving him no room to fight it. He’s buried deep. “It’s okay, Ken. You can come.”

Ken. Nanami loses it on the spot, coming instantly in a string of curses and delicate moans.

“Shit- oh my god. Baby- oh, haa-ah-“ he cries, but his other thoughts spill out of him in soupy babbles. His movements stutter and you still milk him dry. He’s throwing his head back shaking and you gently massage his waist until he comes down. It takes some time.

“You okay?” You feel him half-flaccid inside, and he’s panting on the shell of your ear.

“I’m sorry” You brush the hair from his face.

“Don’t be sorry about anything.” You kiss his forehead when suddenly your legs are being forced back.

“Wanna keep going” he says, a hint of drool at the corner of his mouth.

“Take a breather first.” He’s stuck in the irrational corners of his thoughts—every waking idea engulfed in the thought of you. He’s mumbling to himself, beginning to swing his discordant hips again. His voice cracks, body pushed past overexertion.

“Call me Ken” he whimpers, sticky squelches meeting your bodies in a tangled, milky net.

“Ken” you whisper, a flirtatious tint in your tone. He’s entranced by you. You’re touching foreheads, and he shamelessly mewls like a slut in your ear through every gooey plap.

“How long have you liked me?”

“Since we’ve m-met” he drones, finding a sopping rhythm. “I was scared. I thought- ah- you might not like me.”

“So, you’ve been waiting for this?”

“F-fuck, yeah. Ah- feels so good. Even better than my dreams” he prattles.

You cup his face. “You dream of me?”

“Uh-huh. Makin’ a mess of this pretty pussy. It’s so much better. So, so fucking good.”

“Hold on.” He leans on the couch, legs bent on either side of you as he positions you like a pretzel.

“Need it” he moans, slathered in your cuddly embrace. He’s hardening again, quick, and already skirting an addictive torture.

He pulls out and drives his sack flush. It knocks the wind out of you, and you claw his back as he fucks with reckless abandon.

Slurring a plethora of unhinged ‘more’s, he pistons inside, base to head, ass rippling against his savage thrusts. Every vast, violent stroke sends an intoxicating burn to your sweltering cervix. A while film bubbles at his sack where he’s pummeling, jaw slack and doe-eyed.

Your toes curl, hypersensitive nerves teased and flipped, ruined by his adamant cockhead kissing your g-spot. You’re stretched past your limits, fluttering helplessly around him. His corrupted smile curves against your neck bursting with need.

“Taking me so well, darling. I might come. C-can-hah-can I baby? Can I come for you?” He’s impossibly fast, funneling whines and nasty slaps. The rabid force bangs the couch against the wall and you’re at his mercy.

“Mhm, g-go ahead Ken.” Waves of white-hot pleasure fizzle and spark on your skin, and you’re putty with the weight of him bouncing you.

“Thank you, t-thank you-you’re so good t-to me.” He’s ragged, plummeting to the hilt. Your spasms sap him as he trembles, succumbing to your own orgasm. He grapples heavy, mean strokes, sticky laces bonding his tightening balls. Then he sobs, quaking until he comes.

He doesn’t pull out. You’re both quiet for a while. On a descent, simply delighting in the comfortable silence. You join in another smooch.

“(Y/N).”

“Hm?”

“Merry Christmas.” You glance at the time; way past midnight. He meets your gaze. After everything you did, you’re worried over one question.

“Can we get to know each other?”

He smiles, a kiss to your neck.

“I would love to.”

#jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #nanami x reader #kento nanami #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen au #this fic finished me tbh #i havent wrote smut in so long #srry if its scuffed lol

359 notes · View notes

lxdymoon0357 · 13 days ago

Note

Hello, I saw your post about a yandere Benjamin Lemberk with an elf. It occurred to me if he could be the same yandere Benjamin Lemberk x reader with the appearance of Florentia Lombardi and a personality between Helaena and Gael Targaryen is autistic with ADHD and sensitive please

(Warnings: reader is mentioned to have a mix of ginger hair with a mix of reader's original colour and heterochromia with one green-coloured eye and one has your eye colour ||Florentia Lombardi! reader.

PLEASE forgive me for not getting things right..I'm a pretty neurotypical person and I have no idea what I'm doing. Tried to make it from whatever information I got from google. 2nd Warnings: non acceptance of mental illness, ableism, murder, mutilation, everything bad except SA and cannibalism, we don't do that. Keep in mind, I don't condone this and you're very much valid, Benji here is just an asshole, too much of a douche, sorry.. Again, sorry for any inaccuracies or anything, I got everything off of google)

Yandere!Benjamin Lemberk HCs

◈ The moment Benjamin fell out of Claudia's circle, his eyes were left onto you. An eccentric, soft-spoken, hyperactive, restless little elf. Of-course in no way was he going to let you go. You're just the cutest thing ever!!♡

◈ He does find it a bit irritating how you hyperfixate on certain things, especially bugs and other things, can't you see he's doing things and going out of his way for you? He doesn't care if your autism or ADHD is the cause of it, stop being selfish!

◈ But depending on how much you behave regarding him, he finds you soft-spoken behavior appealing though he would have preferred you being a bit more like Claudia; bright and out-spoken.

◈ but your soft spoken and cryptic language speaking and non society conforming behavior, hyperattentive traits, stimming and all of it bothers people, so he's somewhat okay with it as long as people don't get too close, he doesn't want to kill as many people. Too much work in his eyes, but as long as it's for you, he'll do whatever you want!~

◈ He'll always be beside you if he can't keep you locked away forever, help you with societal cues and everything and kp your hyperactivities are bay, but not really, he doesn't really care if you end up annoying people away. I mean, it's only working in his favor.

◈ Always listens to you talk about your bug collection or new hyper-interest in whatever you have, the weird way of systemization and your intense routine you seem intent on following. God, you're so hot when you blabber about stupid things no one seems to care about to intensely!~

◈ But he does feel like you're going half-insane when you start speaking in cryptic language, your eyes may be pretty..but he can only sit so much before he feels like you're cursing him with your cryptic language, please.

◈ But you're not just some timid girl, your firmness and you do put him in his place, despite your soft-spoken, reclusive and sensitive, eccentric traits. You do have firmness and manners of authority in yourself. He does stop being so shitty to you and behaves better regarding your mental health.

◈ His jealousy issues are off the charts, keeps you locked up everyday..but in a way he lets you hyperfixate on all interests and burn out all hyperattentivity, impulsivity and keeps you so occupied your lack of attention on certain things and time blindness doesn't really matter.

◈ Lets you use his fingers for stimming or his clothes, he gets jealous of everything and anything.His clothes are very fancy, but sometimes too over-stimulating with heavy perfumes, rough textures and evn the way it can sometimes snatch on your own clothes with it's jewels and all..So there's that.

◈ But speaking of his clothes, you may get easily overstimulated by his clothes and sometimes even his presence, the fucker is very much in himself a asmr video of type. You may even end up maybe crying and he has to control the urge to really just burn his clothes right then and there so you would stop crying. He may be the biggest, ableist and even deny you your mental health..but the moment your mental health does affect you, he'll be dying to get it fixed. He may be an asshole, but he's only your asshole.

◈ But in a way, he also uses your mental health against you. Using anything that overstimulates you for keeping you chained down, though it doesn't work like magic..but you're more subservient when he does use anything that you get overstimulated by; heavy perfumes, weird textures, nothing to stim with, tight closed rooms, even if keeping your own hair down overstimulates you, he'll force you to not put it up in hairstyles, till you can behave atleast.

◈ One time he got into this dilemma with you where he came home to you with your autism and adhd battling against each other. Apparently you were trying to 'arrange' numbers (because everything you do is universally correct), but very time you did come around, your attention never stayed and you moved on. So you removed all distractions and started to again 'arrange' numbers correctly. But again, attention never stayed so you only sat there with nothing, you wouldn't move and wer adamant.

◈ He had never thought in his life that one day, he'd have to sit down with love of his life and the bane of existence to 'arrange' numbers by their 'correct' order because you wouldn't move otherwise and literally. It took seven hours because you two kept getting distracted by your conversations to 'arrange' around a hundred numbers from 0-100. He hopes you don't get the idea of 'arranging' numbers again for 0-1000 or something because their feeligns hurt they wer left out or something.

◈ But leaving that..If anyone, other than him at-least, dares to comment on your mental health in a way you don't like like babying you or refusing to acknowledge it's something you struggle with or literally ANYTHING he does, but it's someone else. He has a whole procedure; first he'll kidnap them, torture them to get apologies so loud, you can hear it from your own room in his manor and then once he's satisfied, he'll kill the person off..but not before mutilating and really using them as a dart board or disfiguring their faces to the point of non recognition of their corpse.

◈ Yeah, it's a lot being with him with mental illness and soft spoken and eccentricness. Him as a yandere is even worse than him with Claudia, which is already borderline yandere.

190 notes · View notes

sorcerous-caress · 2 years ago

Note

Shadowheart with an elf reader whos prolly gonna outlive her (Well unless she gets a milf/dilf/gilf) :( Atleast we'll be able to see her in her milf years - Shadowheart anon

This can go two ways depending on elf!reader views on being an elf.

Corellon is the elf god, right? He really spoils his kids with all the fey gifts and even made the cycle of rebirth for them. Each and every single full elf is guaranteed to get reborn.

Drows don't count bc they belong to Lolth, aka his ex-wife. She hated him so much actually that he is the reason males are akin to slaves in drow culture.

So most elves end up really arrogant because they believe being elf is superior. They are eternal in some way. And they are raised on those beliefs.

If elf!reader also agrees, then they might try to get Shadowheart to become a full elf.

If you suck up to Corellon enough and become a follower of his church, he will get you reborn as an elf in your next lifetime and eternally join the cycle of rebirth.

After the whole shar fiasco, Shadowheart is a cleric without a god. So there's no better chance than now to introduce her to this banging brand new religion.

Also, this is the reason why elves are shamed by their elf peers when they marry or give kids to non elves. They were supposed to help complete the cycle of rebirth and not go and breed with the lesser races.

They're kicked out of the elf sanctuaries where they raise their children and told to go join the outside world society instead.

Bg3 surprisingly doesn't bring any of that up at all. Bg2 and bg1 did have race limitations in romance. For example, Viconia, a drow, would romance most races except full elves. I'm glad they got rid of the limitations, honestly, but at the same time, they completely ignored all the consequences that should've come so eh you win some and lose some.

Seeing Shadowheart die earlier would be the least of elf!reader concerns. They will essentially lose their entire being, family, friends and even their god's favour for Shadowheart.

#♡shadowheart anon #♡shart #♡elf culture #♡elf!reader

14 notes · View notes

faeriichaii · 1 year ago

Note

Heyyy, I hope you are doing alright!

I wanted to request a kinda mean but later soft Thranduil x Shy Fem!Reader smut ♡ in which the Reader loves to read and sneaks into a forbidden part of the library and gets caught by Thranduil ;) ♡

Bookworm ~ Thranduil x Fem!Shy!Elf!Reader

A/N: Omg never did I ever expect to see a Thranduil request (even more shocking that it is a smut request🤭) But sure, I can do that for you <33 (Ngl I was very scared about writing this cause Thranduil is like such a hard character for me to write but I obv still appreciate it when I get him requested <33)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: Smut (MDNI), unprotected sex, bj ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 3k ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes <33 ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Hiril vuin ~ My Lady ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Meleth Nin ~ My Love ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Agórel vae ~ You did well ࿐ྂ

Summary: Legolas let the secret of a restricted area in the library slip, which makes you of course very curious. So after deciding to enter the forbidden part, you get caught by none other than the elven king himself.

Enjoying the serene chirping of the birds, you turned the page of your book. You sat under a tree in the beautiful garden of Mirkwood. The book in your hand only had a few pages left and you just had to know how the story of the princess goes. Does she get her happy end or does the prince of hearts decide to take her down? You don’t know yet, however you are very keen to find it out. A soft gasp left your lips, as your book was taken out of your hands. “Isn’t this one of the books in the restricted area?” Legolas asked, as he turned the book around to quickly skim over the summary. His finger was still placed between the pages, in order to not make you lose the spot you have last read. He once did it by accident and he still hasn’t really recovered from the hell that you let loose upon him.

“Restricted area? I never saw a restricted area.” You said, as you stood up from your place on the ground and snatched the book out of Legolas’ grasp. “I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it.” The prince began to walk away from you, however you couldn’t just let him go after he dropped this very important secret. “Wait Legolas! You can’t just walk away now. Where is this restricted area?” A sigh left his lips as you stood beside him and looked up at him with your big eyes. “My father would kill you if he spots you in there (Y/N). It really isn’t even worth it. The only person who walks in there is him and I sometimes join him, and let me tell you, the books are mostly on history about middle earth and nothing special.” He tried to reason with you, but you were insisting on finding this so-called restricted section.

“Legolas, we have been friends for more than just centuries, you do know me and you certainly know that I know the layout of the library better than anybody else. So how come I have never seen the restricted area?” Legolas stopped walking, which made you also stop in your tracks. “There is a mechanism to it. You have to pull a lever in order to open the restricted area and enter it. But (Y/N)…” He turned towards you and grabbed your shoulders tightly. “You really can’t enter. If my father finds out, that you have been in the restricted area, then he will certainly send you far away or set an even worse punishment upon you.” His worried eyes locked onto your own. You gave him a reassuring smile, before shaking his hands off from your shoulders. “Don’t worry, I will not go in there. I promise.” What the prince didn’t saw, were your crossed fingers, that were hidden away in the pages of the book you now desperately wanted to return to the library.

After you said your goodbyes to Legolas, you decided to take a detour to the library. Just to put away the book you still held onto tightly. No other reason. Opening the big wooden doors, you walked towards the designated shelf and put away the book. Turning around, you scanned the whole room for any kind of lever. You walked towards the few golden candle holders, that were attached to the wall. Letting your fingers graze over the cold metal, you carefully tried to pull it, however it didn’t budge. A sigh left your lips as you continued to stroll around the library. You have been walking around for quite some time, until you noticed a little shelf that is tucked into the corner of the room. Examining it, you decided to try and search through the books, if they possibly could be the lever, you have been searching for.

Your eyes focused on a dark green book. The golden edges almost seemed to glow, as you let your fingers trail over the intricate design. Gently pulling on the book out of the shelf, you heard a click. The shelf started to move to your right, opening a small staircase to you. A smile spread across your lips, as you decide to walk down the few steps. Your eyes widened at the few shelves, that lined the stone walls of the small room. Each of the shelves were filled with various books and scrolls, some even in a language you can’t read. ‘How to Brew the Perfect Concoction’ or ‘Middle Earth: Past, Present and Future’ were only a few of the titles you have read on the spines. You took out a dark blue book, dusted it off and read the title. ‘The Golden Egg: A Guide for Dragons’. You didn’t even know that there was a book, explaining how to care for dragons. Putting it back on the shelf, you continued to stroll around the room. Time flew by quickly, as you read various pages of different books, and scrolls, until you found one you really wanted to take back upstairs. Tucking it in your small bag, you walk back up the stairs, pulled the lever that was attached to the wall and walked out. It only took you a few steps until you realized that the king himself was browsing through a shelf that was a little too close to the opening of the restricted area. His eyebrow raised, as he spotted you walk out of the direction of the small shelf. A blush dusted your cheeks, as you quickly did a curtsy and muttered a ‘My King’ in greeting. He mustered you from head to toe, until he noticed the small book that was peeking out from your bag.

You were ready to quickly exit the library, until Thranduil began to talk. “You did not perhaps take a book from a shelf you are not supposed to touch?” He asked, almost daring you to lie to him. The blush on your cheeks intensified, as you looked up at him. “I don’t think I understand, my king. I just took this book from a shelf that I have inspected earlier.” His eyes moved from your own, towards your bag again. “Well, I do hope so. If you would ever enter places, you are not meant to be in, than you will leave me with no choice but to set a punishment upon you.” He spoke, authority dripping with each word. A shudder spread through your body, as your mind registered his words. “Of course, my king. I would never do such a thing.” You smiled softly at him, before politely curtsying and leaving him be in the library. After walking through the big wooden doors, you let out a deep breath you didn’t even knew you were holding. Hopefully the book will be worth the trouble.

A few days passed and you devoured each and every single word, that was written on the pages. Hence you were once again standing in the middle of the restricted area, searching for another book to pass your time. You were at the furthest corner of the room, intensely reading a scroll, that you have found, until you heard the sound of the shelf moving. How come the shelf is moving? Your eyes widened, as the sound of footsteps walking down the stairs echoed throughout the room. Quickly shoving the scroll back into the shelf, you hid behind the burgundy armchair, that was tucked in a neat corner of the room. Holding your breath, you watched as Legolas entered the room together with his father.

“Why are we down here father?” The prince asked, as he let his fingertips glide over some of the dusty books. “We need to search for a scroll. It should be wrapped with a red ribbon around it.” A shudder went down your spine, as you spotted the red ribbon you have removed earlier from the scroll on the ground. In the exact same moment, Legolas picked it up from the floor and wrapped it around the scroll you carelessly shoved into the shelf. “I think I have found it.” He said and presented the item to his father. The king raised an eyebrow at the unravelled scroll. “Did you start reading it already?” “No, not yet.” Legolas answered, wrapping the ribbon around the paper and walking towards the stairs, in order to leave the room. He tilted his head, as he noticed that his father didn’t follow him. “Do you need something else?” “Yes, but you can already start reading the scroll if you want.” Thranduil said, his eyes still carefully scanning the room. Your head was ducked, in order to not get spotted by his hawk-like gaze.

The fading footsteps of Legolas leaving the room made you feel a little bit more relieved. However, you still felt Thranduils looming presence in the small space. “There is no need to continue hiding Hiril vuin.” His voice still seemed a little too far away for him to have spotted you. “You think I didn’t know you took the book from this very room?” Steps slowly started to approach your hiding location, making you duck even further behind the armchair. “I was the one who sorted through the books and scrolls and decided if they would be fit for this restricted area of the library. You weren’t even supposed to know of its existence. So how exactly did you find this room?” His feet stopped in front of the burgundy armchair. “And how dare you lie to me and still hide away like a little mouse.” A shameful blush dusted your cheeks, as you slowly stood up from your position on the floor. “My king, I can explain-“ He waved his hand, signalling you to stop talking. His eyes were filled with rage, as he deeply looked into your own ones. “You lied and now expect me to listen to your pathetic excuse?” You swallowed thickly, looking down at your feet. “You leave me with no other choice but to banish you.” “Banish me?” Your head whipped up, eyes wide and lips parted. Your heart beat faster and faster, as the punishment of your actions settled into your brain.

“Please my king, don’t banish me! I will do any other punishment that you are willing to put me through, but I am begging you, don’t banish me from Mirkwood.” Hands clasped in front of you, you fell down on your knees in front of him. Tears were lining your vision as slight panic settled into your body. You can’t get banished. You have family and friends in Mirkwood and where else are you supposed to go? The king raised an eyebrow, as you kneeled in front of him, pleading him for mercy. “You are willing to do anything?” You quickly nodded at his question. Hope filled your mind and soul as you stood up from the ground. Thranduil took a step closer to you. His right hand wiped a tear away, that escaped your eyes. Heat spread through your body at the realization of your close proximity.

“Show me how much you want my forgiveness.” He whispered, his fingers holding onto your chin. A shaky breath left your lips, as you let your eyes trail down to his own. The magnetic pull towards him was almost unbearable. The urge to just put your lips over his own and entangling your hands in his hair driving you crazy. You looked back up into his eyes, that were glistening over with unspoken want. Grasping his shirt, you quickly pulled him down, encasing his lips with your own. His hands held onto your waist, pulling you closer. You let your hands slowly trail from his chest to his neck, as you opened your mouth, letting your tongue entangle with his in a passionate kiss.

Thranduil separated from you. Your cheeks were bright red, as you took a few breaths to relax from the heated kiss. “Can’t you take more than a mere kiss Hiril vuin?” His head tilted to the side, as mockery dripped from every word he muttered. A huff left your lips. “I can take more than you think.” And with that you pulled him down once more, kissing him even more feverously than before. His grasp on you tightened, as he approached the armchair. Parting from you, he sat down on the plush furniture. His legs were slightly spread, as his arms leaned on the armrests. Your eyes trailed his form, until they stopped at the slight tent, that seemed to grow in his pants.

“Let’s see how well you listen to my orders now. Take off your clothes.” Your hands went to your shoulders. Fingers grazing over the fabric, you took your time pulling the sleeves off of your body. Your dress gently slid down your body, as it pooled on the ground. Eyes still focused on the king who sat in the armchair, you hooked your fingers into your panties. Pulling them down, you stepped out of the pile of clothes and began to approach Thranduil.

His eyes trailed over your body, leaving a hot trail as they go. Your walls clenched around nothing, as you inspected him. “What do you wish me to do next my king?” A chuckle left his lips. His fingers motioning you over. “I want you to prove your statement. You said you can take more than I think, so I want to see how much you can really take.” Thranduil unbuttoned his pants, lifted his hips from the chair and discarded the garment on the ground. His cock was long and thick. A soft gasp left your lips. You moved down on your knees in front of him, your mouth mere inches away from his tip. “My king, will you allow me to take a taste?” Innocence laced your voice, as you looked at him through your lashes. He nodded at your suggestion.

At the approval, you wrapped your hand around his base. Your mouth encased his red tip, gently sucking on it. A shuddered breath came from Thranduil, as he held onto the back of your head with one hand, making you moan softly at his touch. You took more of him into your mouth, gagging slightly at the process. Your tongue stroked the vein of his cock as you slowly started to bop your head up and down, hand covering the part of him that didn’t fit into your mouth. Groans could be heard from the elven king, as his piercing eyes stared at how well you took him with your mouth. Your walls clenched around nothing and you could feel your wetness almost drip onto the floor. Craving to be touched, you let your free hand wander to your clit. “Don’t you dare touch yourself.” Retreating your hand from yourself, you let out a sad whine. Thranduils hand pulled on your hair gently. You let his cock go with a ‘plop’ and tilted your head to the side, awaiting your new order. “Sit down.” He said, patting his thighs.

Standing up from the ground, you placed your legs on each side of his. Cold air hit your dripping core, making you gasp. Thranduils hands grasped your hips tightly as the tip of his cock grazed your swollen clit. A whine escaped your lips at the intimate touch. “I want you to ride me. Work for it and earn your orgasm.” His lips brushed against your ear. You took his cock into your hands and aligned it with your entrance. Slowly you sank down, the feeling of the stretch making you part your lips in a silent cry. A groan from Thranduils lips bounced off the walls. You tightly held onto his shoulders, as you let yourself settle down and embrace his sheer size inside you completely. He was longer and thicker than you expected. After a few seconds of letting your pussy adjust to his size, you started to slowly move up and down. The elven kings hand trailed up your body, to grasp your boobs and twirl your nipples between his fingers.

Moaning at the feeling of his cock hitting your cervix and completely filling you up, you connected your lips to his. The wet squelching sound of your pussy filled the small restricted area of the library. A familiar warmth spread through your lower region. Thranduil detached himself from your lips and leaned towards your ear. “Are you really already close? Is my cock so satisfying to you?” He gently bit into your elven ear, making you gasp out loudly. Your walls squeezed him tightly, welcoming him even deeper into your core. The king let his hand travel down your body, his fingertips gently leaving a trail. He drew circles on your swollen clit, making you arch your back.

The knot tightened, as your walls clenched on his dick. “Don’t cum yet. You have to wait. After all, it is still a punishment.” A whine left your lips at his words, only wishing to let the orgasm wash over you. “Please.” You begged him, as he even start to move his hips upwards, matching your rhythm. “What do you want Hiril vuin? Use your words.” “Please Thranduil, let me cum.” The sound of his name leaving your lips makes his dick twitch inside you. His hand grabbed your chin and pulled you in for another quick kiss. The heat that travels through your body is unbearable, as you try to hold back your orgasm. “You can cum Meleth Nin.” And with that, the knot unravelled and you came, squeezing his dick inside you. His big hands moved towards your hips, shoving you up and down on his dick at a relentless pace. Whining at the overstimulation, you buried your head in his neck. After a few more thrusts, you felt his cock twitch, as he filled you up with his seed.

He continued to move inside you for a few more times, before pulling out. His cum mixed with your own slowly started to trickle out of your core. “Agórel vae Meleth Nin.” Thranduil held your warm face in his hand, thumb drawing circles onto your cheek. He gave you a gentle kiss on the lips. “Do you still wish to banish me my king?” You asked him, arms wrapped around his neck. “I think you proved that you definitely deserve my forgiveness Hiril vuin.”

1K notes · View notes

dark-and-kawaii · 7 months ago

Note

Just absolutely feral over Zevlor knotting his partner. Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

We love that old man when he knots ♡ ♡ ♡ *high fives in horny*

⊹₊⟡⋆ Pairing: Zevlor x F!Tav/Reader

⊹₊⟡⋆ Content: NSFW - Knotting - Stretched - Breeding - So Full Of Cum Your Tummy Hurts - He Loves You~

He had warned you, told you how he feared your body couldn’t handle the full extent of his cock… Zevlor was so concerned, even asked if you were sure this was what you wanted… And all you did was look at him with those tender loving eyes of yours, kissing his cheek and nodded. You loved him, wanted to show him that you could give yourself to him entirely, let him do as he wished, and in turn he could give you his entire being.

But this… This was…

You had no words to describe it.

The heat in your cheeks was nothing compared to the searing, aching throb radiating from the very core of your being, the pressure that pushed you to your absolute limits.

A screamed tore past your lips as his fat knot stretched and pulled on your abused walls. Tears welled up in your eyes and rolled down your cheeks as pain ripped through your entire cunt. And you moaned deliriously, despite the pain and scream, you still moaned for him. Not wanting him to stop, not wanting him to slow down or ease up in the least. You didn’t want Zevlor to feel like a monster, didn’t want him to feel like you had regretted any of this.

But by the gods did it hurt…

You had never felt so full, and you knew after tonight your body would be ruined- never could another fill you like he… Zevlor claimed you whether he realized it or not, he marked your insides to where no other could compare, and that knowledge left you so happy.

It was a struggle just to breathe. Each breath was a sharp gasp, each exhale a broken whimper. You were a mess of tears, drool, sweat, and slick… “Z-Zevlor- I-I-I can't- can't-can't-Nngh-! Can't live-without this- without y-you! Ahn- N-Need you-need you-need you- Need y-you-need y-y-you- Need you-! A-A-Ah-ah-ah-AHHHHhhhhn-!!”

“T-Tav I-I-“ His voice was so strained, so rough as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His arms holding you tight, squeezing you desperately as his hips thrust into you in short, shallow strokes. His knot tugging at your entrance, the head of his cock kissing your womb each time making your pussy gush all at once.

His breath was hot on your skin, his growls and moans so primal and raw, his hands so needy to feel and hold every part of you to him. His tail wrapped around one of your thighs, holding you open as the last inch of him pushed past your abused ring and settled snugly within you.

Your fingers raked down his back, gripping him tightly… His balls tingled, drawing up tightly against his body. His muscles tensed as he pushed forward, trying to get as deep as he possibly could inside you, as if his life depended upon it.

And that was when you felt the sudden surge, the sudden pulsing of his cock, and the thick, burning hot cum that shot deep inside you, right up into your cervix, giving himself the best possible opportunity to produce a child with you…

His orgasm was so much longer than a human's or elf’s… Wave after wave of his cum rushed forth, filling you up until your tummy started to cramp, started to bulge slightly with the sheer amount he had emptied inside you, filling your womb completely with his seed.

He had given you a taste of what it meant to truly love and be loved. You would always cherish this memory, even if the both of you parted ways tomorrow, you would always hold this moment close to your heart, always remember the night he gave you his everything, and how he held you so tenderly in his arms afterwards, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, nuzzling and kissing you so softly.

#bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #tav #zevlor #zevlor bg3 #bg3 zevlor #bg3 smut #monster smut #monster fucker

343 notes · View notes

yanderenightmare · 6 months ago

Text

♡ TW: noncon, gangbang, elf-reader, orc captors, racism between orcs and elves, captive reader, enslavement, piss drinking, mindbreak, mentioned toe-sucking and rimming, navigating cultural differences

♡ FEM reader

♡ P1: THE PILLORY

The orc bandits sold your fellow elves off like slaves, but the commander ended up saving you for himself.

You’d been out of it throughout the ordeal. Already with the feeling of being numb, dumb, and tingly from the top of your crown down to the tips of your toes, you’d soon been overcome with fever as if taken by sickness—or withdrawal. Kept warm in the lap of your captor, you could barely keep your eyes open and must have passed out again—all to the sound of your troop's despair as they were bid on individually and dragged off by different buyers, all adorned collars and chains.

When you woke up again, whatever had you so enthralled and pliant was gone, leaving you feeling much like those times you’d woken from drinking more than your limit—along with a sore ache spanning your entire body, leaving you bedridden.

Lying there, on a massive fur pelt in a fire-heated tent with a pair of shackles upon your ankles, you decide against your former poor judgment of making demands—this time, staying still and deadly silent, causing no fuss and voicing no complaint in petrified fear of the heavyweight resting at your back, breathing soundly like a beast in hibernation.

You still don’t understand what happened—still don’t understand what got into you—why did you act that way? It was as if you’d completely lost your mind—hijacked by something unholy and depraved—something vile. You’d been possessed—you must have been! To be bred by those monsters, swallow their semen—drink their piss. Thinking about it, the shock of it all cancels out the disgust. How could you have done all that? Sure, you were forced, but you could swear… somewhere halfway through, you started to enjoy it.

“Why so quiet, elf-pet?”

He must have felt the shift in your breathing. Beasts of war sleep with one eye open, after all. Still, you don’t answer—you don’t move a muscle. Stiff and lifeless, you remain, even as his hand—the one dwarfing your hip—slides south.

"Afraid to wake me?"

You just swallow thickly with a whimper as his thick orc finger, weathered by labor and battle, pets your naked sex, rubbing your clit before splitting the lips and playing with the poorly treated hole beneath it.

“Where’d all that fight go, hm?” he rumbles at your stillness, amused by it as he prods your entrance and pulls your bottom against his bulge. “Don’t tell me I fucked it all gone…”

All you do is quake and tremor, even as his digit breaks through and starts prepping you—slipping in and out slowly, drawing slick as if your cunt was already trained to do so.

His pleased hum rumbles at your back, wreaking your bones—making you feel fickle like a sprout.

“Elves make such good pets once you tame them,” he states, chuckling. “You love cock and cum so much it makes you dumb—a single taste of it and even the priggish of elves like you turn into filthy little whores hungry for more.”

You feel him fatten behind you—clenching your thighs as it swells up against your rear.

His arm, the one beneath your head you’d been resting on like a pillow, coils around your neck and pulls you back snugly against him.

“Don’t worry, elf-pet—” he grins, teeth by your ear in heated words, “I’ll keep feeding you good and full.”

And that's how it goes. Anytime you sober up, he fucks you silly—well and truly silly—silly in the way it makes you indiscriminately slurp his cum off the ground and suck his toes and lick his ass and squeal with joy as he swarms your womb with piss, “Ah feels so nice and warm inside—I love being master’s piss-bucket! Thank you!”

It’s been that way for months now.

He’s taken to calling you Putty because of how dumb and malleable you’ve become, eager to do anything he says, just to please. It disgusted you in the beginning, but you’ve since learned to accept the weakness of your nature—if only for the sake of survival and your own sanity.

There’s no point in beating yourself up about it—not in this godforsaken part of the world where everyone seems out to do it for you.

You’d known orcs were soulless creatures, but truly, nothing could have prepared you for their level of depravity. If you could, you’d stay hidden inside the tent and never expose yourself to the horrors outside—already sated with those you have to endure within its thin drapes. But unfortunately, your master enjoys bringing you with him wherever he goes.

Many orcs do, you’ve come to understand. They like parading their slaves, mostly fae-folk like you, around—all dressed skimpily, all with collars—nymphs and fairies often with their wings clipped and elves with their heads shaved in shame.

Today, you’re out walking the market—you, with your leash on, and him, with his fist tugging it close behind him.

He’s looking at weapons and armor for the most part and the odd toy or article for you. He likes keeping you pretty, in jewelry and sheer silks that let everyone admire what he has warming his bed.

Since becoming his slave, he’s taken you to get plenty of piercings and markings. You can’t read their scripture, but he’s told you what he’s marked on your pretty skin several times. His name, of which you’re not allowed to speak, paired with his title as your direct master, as well as his guild’s seal, stating their ownership of you—all in three intricate patterns down your right arm. So, even if you ever do get home, you’ll never be able to wash him off. Another train of patterns on your left arm shows your status as a slave and your worth if anyone but your master were to damage or kill you accidentally.

For all their cruelty—you’re surprised by their level of organization. Though you don’t agree with it, you can at least admit that what they have is some variation of civilization—as supremacist as it is. But then again, elves are much the same—always thinking themselves better than everything, even other groups of fae.

It’s funny, but in a way, you’re almost convinced this is divine justice—the gods punishing you for your false sense of superiority by forcing you to live your life in suffering as an orc’s slave.

It’s a trial—your last chance at redemption before death. Fulfill it, and heaven will be waiting for you with open arms. Yes, that must be it.

The crowd becomes thicker near the end of the market street. It seems there’s an ongoing roadside show that many are keen on watching. You hear the jeers and hollers, the oos and ahs, and coming out empty-handed from the market trip, it seems the commotion is enough to pique your master’s interest enough to make him battle his way through to the front with you in toe just behind him—paying no mind to how members of the crowd paw at you.

One is even so brazen to spit on your chest. But it comes as no shock—nor does your master’s indifference. In orc culture, all orcs are masters and can do what they want to any and all slaves with respect to their direct master. In fact, it’s not uncommon to see masters chain their slaves up like mutts in the street—free for all to have a go.

Actually, you can bet that’s what gathered this flock.

And sure enough, you’re spot on.

Three fellow fae are on display up on the stage, naked and drenched in cum and sweat and other fluids—all made fully dumb by it.

You’ve theorized why over the months of being subjected to it and could only come up with one sound theory to explain it. Orc fluids must contain strong aphrodisiac properties, maybe even other substances that make their victims so agreeable—a type of natural incentive, possibly to make breeding more plausible and easy for a race so ugly.

Yes, that must be it. It’s the only thing that could make any sense of the heart-eyes and love-cries you witness on all your otherwise dignified fellow fae.

One of them is folded between two orcs, desperately sucking on one of their tongues with her eyes closed in bliss, taking both their cocks in both her holes. It’s hard feeling sorry for her when she looks so happy, but you know the situation yourself—it’s like your mind’s been replaced by a fluffy cloud, and all you can think to wish for is to be taken higher.

Another girl is on her knees, ass up and head down—with a heavy foot placed on top of her cheek, squishing her pretty face against the wooden stage—tongue out and eyes crossed as he fucks her sloppy cunt with his whole entire fist. The poor girl is so mindbroken she just giggles with a smile, thighs shivering in delight as she squirts out a puddle beneath her.

The last girl is placed on her back on a beam—ankles suspended in the air, tied tightly to two poles—arms tied together under the bench. She’s also got two of them having their fun with her—one in each end in a spitroast.

You’ve been in her position once—shared like a piece of meat—stuffed overfull with no freedom to spare. You wonder if she’d spoken out of place, too.

The orc by her head tugs his cock in his fist, standing over her head, letting her lick the sweat off his balls before dropping his length on her chest, bunching her tits and fucking through them with a groan, letting his balls swing and drag over her pretty face. But it’s not long before he steps back and puts his shaft to her lips, holding her throat in a light grip as she sweetly teases his dickhole with the tip of her tongue. When he gives her a firmer squeeze, she obediently widens her mouth, gaping to receive the head.

The girl holds it in her mouth like you do for your master, trying your best to suck but only ever managing to drool around it like a roasted pig with an apple between its teeth. Oh, but then something impossible happens.

You swear it’s like watching a circus act—you look on in horror and awe—unable to grasp it as more of the orc’s meaty member disappears down the girl’s swallow—one girthy inch at a time. You watch her throat swell, eyes wide in disbelief as her pipe blows out to accommodate the size, letting it sink inside all the way through down to the hilt.

The audience whistle and shout at her performance—all impressed as the two orcs fuck her on time with each other—out, then all the way in. And honestly, you’re one of them. Blinking at the display, you can barely trust your eyes—the two cocks must be kissing each other's tips inside her.

“What good whores,” your master mumbles at your side, swinging you against his chest with a grip on your jaw, making you face the scene.

“You see that, Putty,” he gruffs and points at the one you’d already been watching, wide-eyed and drop-jawed. “One day soon, you’re gonna be just like that.”

You dont know why, but watching the filthy scene makes your gut gurgle. How can you be hungry at a time like this?

“A perfect throat-sleeve for me. So deep, I can finally touch your guts from both ends and fill your belly just how you like.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Enji, AFO ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Kenjaku ♡ HxH – Uvogin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

2K notes · View notes

xnalux · 4 months ago

Note

I’d love love love pt3 of streamergfvi! You write her so well <3

streamer!vi hcs christmas special

part 1 part 2

warnings: nsfw 18+, fem!reader

pictures are from pinterest and they're not mine

author’s note: I had to rewrite it twice because my shitty computer was acting up so i'm not fully happy about how it turned out but i really hope you like it. merry christmas pretties ♡

streamergfvi: who didn't really care about christmas decorations but found herself following around an hyper excited and bouncy powder,arms full to the brim with boxes, each one threatening to spill over with the glittery treasures it contained

She found herself trying to balance her weight as powder sat on her shoulders in front of the christmas tree hanging the decorations to it.

''pow the tree is gonna fall over if you add another one''

vi groaned wrinkling her nose as she tried to get one of powder's braid out of her face.

''shut up you grinch''

powder just huffed focused on the task of putting the little elf on top of the tree, the younger sibling stretching out trying to reach the highest part of the fir making vi almost lose balance stumbling a little to the side

''stop moving so much!''

''well if you weren't so short...''

''you are shorter than me''

the two bickered as vander stared at them leaning agaist the kitchen's door frame, arms crossed and a fond smile on his face.

streamergfvi: who is incredibly competitive about snowball fights. her and powder have a little feud. their backyard, a canvas of white, is a battleground of strategically placed forts made of snow and colorful winter gear scattered about like the aftermath of a whimsical blizzard.

Their rivalry is legendary, a spectacle that has been the highlight of winter for the past few years. The neighborhood kids gather around the fence, their breaths forming clouds of anticipation as they whisper about the impending clash of the snow titans.

This year, you've decided to join in the fun, throwing your hat into the ring with Powder. You've been watching their snowball battles from the sidelines, sipping on hot cocoa and offering moral support, but the time has come to immerse yourself in the frosty fray.

The moment the fight begins, it's clear that Vi isn't going to go down without a fight. She charges towards you and Powder, her snowball arsenal at the ready. As she hurls the first volley, you both dodge and retaliate, sending your own icy projectiles flying in her direction. The snow crunches under your boots as you run and duck, the cold sting of the snowflakes on your skin only adding to the thrill.

"Hey, pretty''

vi calls out, her voice a mix of teasing and challenge as she aims another perfectly-formed snowball at you.

"You think you can beat me with those little snow pebbles?"

"Oh, this year you are going down, shortie!"

Powder shouts back, her laughter ringing out like a bell in the crisp winter air.

But vi isn't one to be outdone. She takes advantage of your momentary distraction, and before you know it, she's sneaking up on you from behind.

"Gotcha!"

she exclaims as she tackles you to the ground, the impact sending up a cloud of powdery snow that surrounds you both.

You're laughing too hard to protest as she straddles you, her eyes sparkling with joy.

"Surrender, darling,"

she says, her breath warm on your cold cheek as she holds a snowball over your head.

"You know I'm the king of snowfights"

"Never!"

you reply, trying to push her off, your laughter turning into a playful growl. You wiggle and squirm, trying to break free from her firm grip, but she's too strong.

Powder, noticing your plight, hurls a snowball at Vi, which hits her square in the back.

"Cheap shot!" Vi yells, releasing you to retaliate.

This gives you the perfect opportunity to escape her grasp. You jump to your feet, a snowball in hand, and throw it back at her. It hits her right on the forehead, leaving a perfect white imprint.

"Oh, it's on now!"

she says, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She wipes the snow away, her grin unyielding. It ends up with you straddling her lap asking her to ''beg for mercy'' as powder fill her jacket with snow.

streamergfvi who never lose the change to push her hand in the back pocket of your pants even when you are out in public. And when you playfully glare at her she just

"What?" she give your ass a little squeeze feigning innocence.

"It's cold out here!"

"Well, if my pocket is such a warm sanctuary, I might just have to charge rent,"

you tease, giving her a sideways smirk. She rolls her eyes dramatically, but the smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth betrays her feigned annoyance.

"Rent, huh?"

she says, her voice a low purr as she leans closer, her breath ghosting against your cheek.

"What's the going rate for such prime real estate?"

"Oh, I don't know," you muse, playing along.

"Maybe a kiss for every squeeze?"

Her eyes widen for a moment, as if surprised by my boldness, before she laughs heartily, her whole body shaking with the sound.

"Is that a deal, then?"

The crowd bustles around you, a mix of laughter, chatter, and distant car horns.

"Only if you promise to keep your hands to yourself in public,"

you say, though your voice is laden with affection.

Her hand retreats from your pocket, but only to slide around your waist, pulling you closer.

"You drive a hard bargain," she murmurs, her voice dropping to a whisper that only I can hear. "but it's worth it for that ass."

your laughter rings out again, a sound that never fails to make vi smile. She presses her cheek against your shoulder, her arms tightening around me.

"I'll be good," she promises, her breath warm against your neck.

"For now."

streamergfvi: who hates christmas songs but always ends up humming them whenever she gets lost in thoughts. When the two of you are alone, you can't help but laugh at the sight of her mouthing the lyrics. It's like watching a grumpy cat wearing a Santa hat. And when she catches you watching, she'll blush, a little embarrassed.

So, you lean in and whisper,

"You secretly love it,"

and she rolls her eyes

''shut up''

streamergfvi: who never lose the chance whenever the first notes of "All I Want for Christmas is You" waft through the air from some distant holiday playlist and you two are together, to mouths the words "All I want for Christmas is you,", a smug grin on her face as she points at you

streamergfvi: who is addicted to hot chocolate, it gets to the point it's almost concerning, the moment the first snowflake graces the ground, she's in full-on hot cocoa mode. She has collection of mugs that would put Santa's workshop to shame. marshmallows of every shape and size, whipped cream in canisters, and an assortment of chocolate chips that could fill a stocking.

But what she love even more is drinking it with you (she secretly adds more whipped cream to your mug just to make it more difficult for you to drink it without getting some on yourself)

You took a sip, trying to be dainty about it, but the whipped cream was just too tempting. It clung to your upper lip, a sweet little mustache that vi found absolutely adorable. She couldn't help but let out a soft giggle as she set her own mug down and leaned in. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and her warm breath brushed against your skin as she tenderly licked the whipped cream from your nose. Her smirk widened into a grin, and you felt your cheeks flush.

You decided to play along, you leaned in closer, your sweet breath mingling as you looked at her battling your eyelishes

''thank you baby''

you whispered and you knew you've got her where you wanted by the way her breath hitched and her eyes gazed hungrily at your shiny lips. you let her almost close the gap but as soon as her lips brushed against yours, you pushed your finger, that you previously used to scoop some whipped cream, against her cheek pulling yourself back

"Two can play at this game,"

you whispered, a mischievous glint in your gaze.

gently, you traced the line of the whipped cream from her cheek to the corner of her mouth, painting a sweet path that you couldn't wait to follow. Her eyes still locked on yours, as you slowly briought your finger closer to your own mouth. With an exaggerated show of temptation, you sucked the whipped cream off, savoring the taste as it lingered on your tongue.

"Mmm, you taste so sweet''

her eyes flashed with need and you suddendly found yourself pulled onto her lap as she kissed you passionately

''i'm gonna cover you in whipped cream and lick you clean''

she whispered in your ear

streamergfvi: who let you convince her to wear matching christmas hairband for her christmas stream special.

You were casually lounging on her bed, your fingers dancing across the screen of your phone, searching for some holiday inspiration to sprinkle onto vi's upcoming Christmas stream special when a pop up advertisement caught your eye, a picture of candy cane-themed hairbands.

you looked at vi seated across from you, her back against the bed's headstand while she edited a video for her youtube channel on her lapton perched over her lap, you couldn't help but giggle imagining how she would look wearing it.

vi tore her gaze from the screen of her laptop and arched an eyebrow at you, a small smile curling her lips

''what's so funny?''

she asked as you pulled yourself up to sit on your knees in front of her and held the phone up in front of her. She let her eyes roam over the screen before a smirk formed on her face.

''Yes''

she said without even thinking about it

''yes?'' you asked surprised

''yes you would look incredibly cute in one of this, you want me to buy you one?''

you rolled your eyes

''I want us to wear it, for your christmas stream special''

Vi couldn't help but chuckle at the suggestion, a playful glint in her eyes as she took in the image of the candy cane hairbands.

She leaned forward, setting aside her laptop, and reached for the phone to get a closer look. "You want us to match?" she teased, her voice filled with amusement.

"Come on," you said with a grin

''what about my reputation? the chat is gonna give me hell about it''

you just pouted knowing full well she couldn't resist you ready to hit her with your secret convincing weapon

''please violet? please please please'

you looked at her battling your eyelishes and pushing yourself closer to her

''not fair'' she mumbles trying not to look at you as a blush painted her cheeks.

and that's how she found herself in front of the camera, a pair of candy cane-themed hairbands on her head and a scowl on her face as she read the chat. You giggling seated on her lap.

@/Ekk0: man bat your eyes three times if you are in danger

@/piltiespinerc: vi looks like an evil elf

@/sevikunt: she is also as short as an elf

streamergfvi: who runs as hot as a radiator and streams in a pair of grinch boxer and fuzzy socks set you gifted her and her hoodie. whenever you sleep together during winter it's like a battlefield because she pushes the blankets away in her sleep and you always need to pull them back up.

As the night wears on, the dance of the blankets continues. You, the recipient of her warmth, are engaged in a silent tug-of-war as she unconsciously kicks them off, leaving you exposed to the cold. Your limbs, accustomed to the warm sanctuary provided by the blanket fortress, scurry to pull the covers back up. The fabric whispers and shifts as you both adjust, trying to find a balance between your thermal preferences.

With a sleepy groan that is both endearing and exasperated, she rolls over, her eyes fluttering open just enough to reveal a sliver of hazy awareness. In one swift movement, she abandons the battle of the blankets, opting instead to use her own body as a human comforter. Her form, now a warm, heavy weight, settles over yours like a contented cat. Her head finds its place in the crook of your neck, her breath a gentle warmth against your skin.

Her words, muffled by the pillow and the weight of sleep, are a declaration of warmth and affection.

"Fuck the blankets,"

she murmurs,

"I can warm you up just fine."

And with that, she wraps her limbs around you, effectively trapping your body in a cocoon of love and heat. The battlefield of blankets is forgotten as you both sink into the warm embrace she offers, the chilly winter night outside now just a distant memory. The room feels smaller, but the bed feels infinitely cozier with her sprawled over you, her heartbeat a steady rhythm against your chest.

streamergfvi: who can't keep her hands to herself when you surprise her opening the door of your apartment in a elf costume. Vi mentioned to you once that she thought you would look really fucking cute in an elf costume and today you decided to surprise her. As the door to your apartment swings open vi's eyes widen in surprise and pure, unadulterated lust as she takes in the sight of you. Her gaze lingers on the curve of your hips, the swell of your breasts peeking out from the tight green fabric, and the playful jingle of the bells adorning your hat and shoes.

"Look what Santa left me,"

she murmurs, the corner of her mouth quirking up in a knowing smile.

Before you can even answer, she's already closing the distance between you, her hands finding their way to your hips as she pulls you in for a passionate kiss. Your heart races as you feel her strong arms around you, the warmth of her body pressing against your own. The kiss deepens, her tongue exploring your mouth as if it's a place she's missed dearly. You melt into her embrace, letting out a content sigh.

Breaking the kiss, she looks into your eyes, a playful glint in her own.

"I think someone's been a very naughty elf," she whispers, her voice thick with desire.

Without another word, she scoops you up and carries you into the kitchen, setting you effortlessly onto the cool kitchen counter. The suddenness of it all makes your heart race and your breath hitch in your throat. Your legs instinctively part to allow her closer, and she takes full advantage, stepping between them. Her eyes never leave yours as she leans in, the heat of her breath ghosting over your skin. Her voice is a low, seductive growl,

Her hands are everywhere, tracing the lines of your body with a familiarity that sends shivers down your spine. She runs her thumbs along the hem of your costume, pushing it up slightly to reveal more of your bare thighs. You can't help but whimper at the sensation, your body already responding to her touch.

Her mouth is a searing brand as it trails down your neck, leaving a path of kisses and nips that make you arch into her.

You lean back, supporting yourself on your elbows as she works her way down, her mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You can feel her hot breath against your skin, and it makes you squirm with anticipation.

''fuck violet please''

you moan throwing your head back

Her mouth finds its way to the apex of your thighs, and she kisses you through the thin barrier of your costume, making you squirm with need. The sound of the fabric tearing is music to your ears as she decides she's had enough of the foreplay and dives in, her tongue meeting your skin with a hunger that matches your own.

You grip the counter's edge, your knuckles turning white as she works her magic. The world around you fades away, replaced by the feel of her tongue swirling around your clit, her fingers pressing inside you, and the sweet, sweet friction that builds with each movement.

Your hips buck against her mouth, and she chuckles against your skin, sending vibrations through your core that make you shiver.

You're lost in a haze of pleasure, unable to form coherent thoughts beyond the desperate need for more.

Her rhythm is relentless, each stroke and suck bringing you closer to the edge. You're panting now, your hips rocking against her face as you chase that elusive peak. And when you finally reach it, it's like a starburst of sensation, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. She doesn't stop, though, continuing to kiss and lick until you're a boneless, quivering mess, your legs wrapped around her neck, holding her in place.

she smiles as soon you free her from the hand that had been gripping her hair, your legs relaxing allowing her to push her head back.

''I didn't know we were going for a naughty North Pole theme tonight."

streamergfvi: who asked you to celebrate christmas eve with her, vander and powder knowing you haven't talked to your homophobic family in years and would have probably spent christmas in your apartment alone.

After the icredibly delicious dinner vander cooked, for the first time in your life you felt like you finally belonged as you watched vi and powder wrestle over the remote cotrol of the tv while they bickered about the movie to watch.

''powder we are watching gremlins''

powder tried to reach the remote as vi stretched her arm in the air to prevent her from taking it.

''I'm not watching that stupid movie again''

violet smirked watching powder struggle

''why is that? you think you'll get scared and snuck in my bed in the middle of the night like when you were five''

powder jumped glaring at vi offended

''shut up that was one time''

as you watched them bicker some more you felt the tears fill up the corners of your eyes. ''maybe christmas isn't so bad'' you thought to yourself offering a small content smile to vi when she glanced at you.

streamergfvi: After you watched ''Home Alone'' (yes you teamed up with powder against vi) you and vi went to vi's room to exchange presents.

Her eyes sparkled with excitement as you fumbled in your bag, your hands slightly trembling. You had been carrying around the little blue box for what felt like an eternity, the weight of it feeling heavier than any burden you had ever known. Inside was a set of shiny silver keys, attached to a keychain that had a tiny, delicate heart.

Finally, with a deep breath, you pulled out the box and placed it in her hand.

"Merry Christmas, Violet"

you said, trying to keep my voice steady, your heart thudding in your chest like a drum at a parade. She looked at you, a hint of curiosity playing at the corners of her mouth, her eyes searching myours for a clue of what could possibly be hidden within the wrapping.

Vi gently tore open the paper, her movements deliberate, savoring the moment. The box revealed itself, and she lifted the lid with a soft gasp. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of the keys, her thumb tracing the heart-shaped charm.

"What's this?"

she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of surprise and hope.

"It's… it's a spare set of my apartment keys,"

You began, the words tumbling out of my mouth faster than you could control.

"I want you to have them because… because I want you to move in with me. I know it's a big step, but I can't imagine my life without you in it, and oh god i had this speech prepared but i don't know i just I love you and i guess a want to wake up to you every morning and fall asleep together every night...''

The room seemed to hold its breath as she looked at the keys, then back at you.

The silence stretched out, feeling like a tightrope walk over a canyon. And then, she broke into the most radiant smile, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"Holy shit, really?"

she asked, and you couldn't help but let out a giggle.

"Really,"

you affirmed, taking her hand in yours.

"I want to come home to you every night, to wake up to your messy hair and the smell of burnt toast in the morning. I want to share our lives, our space, and our future."

Vi looked at you, her gaze unwavering, and then she threw her arms around me, the keys dangling from her hand as you hugged tightly.

"fuck yes,"

she murmured into your neck.

"I'd love to move in with you."

you spent the rest of the night cuddling in her bed, hands interlocked as you talked about your future together, a pair of silver matching rings she gifted you glinting in the dim light of her room. And as the snow continued to fall outside, painting the world in a fresh coat of white, you knew that with Vi by my side, this was going to be the best Christmas yet.

#vi arcane #arcane spoilers #arcane au #arcane #arcane s2 spoilers #arcane violet #arcane vi #arcane vi x reader #arcane vi and jinx #vi x reader #vi x you #arcane vi x you #wlw #sapphic #lesian

386 notes · View notes

dracowars · 6 months ago

Text

knight in shining armour | elrond

pairing: elrond x elf!reader

word count: 5,5k

summary: where elrond and y/n have to make fatal decisions in war

a/n: i'm having so much fun with writing in this universe i haven't had in a long time (with writing in general) and i think that's beautiful <3 season 2 elrond really did it for me, so i hope you enjoy this flangsty fic. don't forget to reblog and give feedback, it means the world to me ♡

warnings: angst, violence, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, miscommunication (kind of), elrond kisses galadriel

universe: the rings of power

You hold your breath once you step into the dimly lit tent, teeming with orcs and their smells. Carefully, you place one foot in front of the other, never taking your eyes off the enemy who is currently watching three elves enter its territory. Amidst all these orcs and darkness, you couldn't stand out less in your polished white armour.

You follow Vorohil who is walking directly behind Elrond, and quickly spot the Father of the Orcs sitting on a makeshift chair that almost resembles a throne. Your gaze doesn't linger on him for long, however, because something or someone else catches your eye. Galadriel is standing right behind him, tied up and leaning against a post. Her eyes widen when your gaze meets and everything in her face screams for you to not be here, to turn around and leave again immediately. But you are here to help her, to free her from the clutches of the enemy, from the claws of evil. And you won't leave without her.

One of the orcs tells Elrond to sit opposite Adar, and he does as he is told with so much confidence you hardly recognize the sweet, curious boy behind the mask. Vorohil positions himself to his left, you stand on his right, ready to step in at any time should something go amiss.

You are more than aware of your situation: right in the mouth of the enemy whose teeth could pierce your flesh any moment, with absolutely no escape. Should this turn out to be a trap and part of Adar's plan, you have stepped right into it. Yet, Elrond insisted on not bringing a weapon of his own. You, on the other hand, have hidden daggers all around your body that you could pull out in the blink of an eye if the situation arises.

Even though all eyes are on Elrond, you still feel uncomfortable. You have never been this close to orcs before without fighting them at the same time.

"The ring you carry. Show it to me", Adar opens the conversation, and you inevitably flinch. Of course he shows interest in the ring. Like all of Middle-earth, it may seem.

"A foolish act if I had brought it here", Elrond answers in a firm voice and appears calm and collected, stoic almost, one arm draped over the armrest.

Adar's expression tells you that he is less than satisfied with this answer. What he doesn't know, however, is that the ring is closer to him than he thinks possible.

Its metal presses cold against the skin between your collarbones, your heart thumping loudly at the mention of it and your mind drifts back to the moment when it was handed to you.

'You shall have it', Elrond tells you, wearing that gentle smile on his lips that always adorns his features when he's around you, that makes your heart beat faster every single time. He places Nenya in your palm and when the light reflects in its beauty, you gasp. This small ring, inconspicuous at first glance but incredibly beautiful, contains a power you can't and don't even want to imagine.

'No, Elrond. I can't', you whisper, afraid that your voice might break. He now clasps your hand with both of his and gently closes your fingers around the piece of jewelry.

'My love. I wouldn't trust anyone else to keep it safe', he tells you with so much confidence and affection in his voice that you can't help but believe his words. The way he stands in front of you, his brown locks falling into his face, his eyes clear and bright, and holds your hand tightly leaves no room for further discussion. He trusts you with this power and you won't fail him.

'You can consider yourself a ring bearer now', he smiles, gently guiding your fist to his mouth to place a light kiss on top of it, his other hand cupping your cheek while doing so. His eyes linger on your lips for a second too long, but before you can say anything, he is summoned to the High King.

"It was Celebrimbor himself who welcomed Sauron in. You cannot save him. You can save Galadriel", Adars voice brings you back to the present. The circumstances you find yourself in make it hard to believe his words. He won't let Galadriel go willingly and Elrond will never give him the ring voluntarily. Since it is in your possession, you don't plan on handing it over either. No matter how much more danger that puts you in.

"It is an earnest offer. I suggest you take it", Adar continues, staring solely at Elrond from across the table, and stands up from his seat. "And leave Sauron to me."

The mention of this name sends a shiver down your spine. A name that describes pure evil. It is obvious from the way Adar says his name that he feels as much hatred towards him as the elves and all other inhabitants of Middle-earth. It makes you a little suspicious, after all, Adar was once a loyal servant of Sauron.

Once more, your gaze slides over to Galadriel when Adar walks around the table. One of the orcs holds his sharp weapon against her throat, a sign to not even think of making a wrong move. It is known that Galadriel was deceived by Sauron, or Halbrand as she used to call him, which is why her face reacts to his name, too.

She whispers something and you try to read her lips, but you don't get a chance when Adar suddenly stands right in front of you, blocking your view. Although he is still talking to Elrond, his full attention is now solely on you.

"You must know you cannot defeat me in battle. I will outmaneuver you, my forces outfight yours, and you will fall", Adar spits out, searching your face for any signs of fear, but you hold your ground and present him with your best death stare in return. But inside of you, it looks much different. Chaos rages within your mind and veins, your heart is beating so fast that it's pounding in your ears and Nenya is pressing painfully against your skin. You send a prayer to the Valar that Adar won't suspect anything, that he can't see behind the mask you've put on. Because you don't know how much longer you can keep it up, especially not under his relentless gaze.

Adar takes another step towards you and you can now feel his breath on your skin. Since he knows that you cannot resist him at the moment, he uses this to his advantage. His eyes search your face, but you cannot say what exactly they are looking for. Whatever it is, he doesn't find it.

"You will fall and all your little elves with you", he says in a calm voice, but his words are filled with hatred. At this, Elrond suddenly raises from his seat as well and positions his body between the two of you, enabling you to finally breathe again, your heartbeat slowing with relief.

"Not before you have painted the sands of the Glanduin black with the blood of your kin", Elrond tells him, briefly looking over to the orc whose blade is still at Galadriel's throat. His hand behind his back indicates that you should remain calm. Some of the orcs around you growl.

"My children have endured cruelties your bravest couldn't bear to hear spoken aloud."

"Are you prepared to spend their lives so freely, Adar?", Elrond confronts him, his words sounding accusatory. "Are they?"

Peaking over Elrond's shoulders, you see a clear shift in Adar's face, in his eyes. Apparently Elrond has struck a nerve with his words, the orcs becoming more and more restless as well.

"The ring for Galadriel's life. What is it to be?", Adar once again presents him with the tough decision, to choose, to pick one and let the other down. Before answering, Elrond closely walks past Adar, drawing his attention away from you and what it is he desires most. From your position, you only see Elrond adjusting his cloak before he casts another glance at Galadriel. Their eye contact lasts almost a moment too long before he then returns his attention to her captor.

"Ask me on the field, when the neck with a blade against it is yours", Elrond tells him, his deep voice making it sound like a threat. The orcs around you begin to seethe and snarl again and all of a sudden you are very aware of the dagger strapped to your shin, hidden beneath the leather of your boots.

"Very well. I will meet you there", Adar replies, his voice carrying a tinge of amusement after he gave him a once-over. And for a moment you think he actually agrees, that this decision can be made without shedding any blood, no matter red or black. That is until he finishes his sentence.

"With her head on a pike."

You want to step in, to say something, anything to help get Galadriel and the ring out of here, but you don't even know what. And you don't want to risk putting Elrond in danger by acting rashly. That is why silence ensues for a moment while Adar and Elrond just stare each other down challengingly, neither of them backing down or even thinking about giving in.

"If that is to be the way of things, I should like to bid her farewell", Elrond finally answers him, causing a gasp to escape your lips as you unintentionally take a step forward. But Vorohil stops you by putting his arm out in front of you, preventing you from doing something you might regret later.

You can't believe what you're hearing, what just left Elrond's mouth. Galadriel, on the other hand, seems just about pleased with this decision, because it means that no one will be harmed because of her. At least no one who is currently present in this tent.

To your surprise, Adar grants him this favour and lets him talk to Galadriel one last time. All eyes are on them, but you can't hear what they say to each other; their voices too quiet. You watch in disbelief, however, as Elrond softly touches her face and suddenly leans in to her, connecting their lips in a gentle kiss.

All of a sudden, you find it difficult to breathe. You distinctly feel your heart breaking in two. The tent feels too small, too cramped, and tears well up in your eyes. No longer able to bear the sight, you lower your gaze, clenching your hands into fists at your sides. Although no one should be looking in your direction at this moment, it does not go unnoticed by Adar. He notices the pain in your eyes and in your entire life you have never felt so at the mercy of the enemy as you do right now.

You thought there was something between you and Elrond, a mutual, deep understanding that connected you. When by his side, you felt safe and loved. Until now you thought he returned that feeling and that there could be something more between the two of you, one day.

Apparently you were wrong.

It may have only been a few seconds, but for you it feels like several agonizing minutes before Elrond and Galadriel separate again. As soon as Elrond turns away from her, your eyes meet and a sharp pain ripples through your body, as if someone had stabbed you directly in the chest. Elrond's eyes are sad, suffering almost, and he looks at you with so much pity that you wish to disappear into thin air.

Elrond blinks a few times before making his way straight out of the tent.

"Vorohil. Y/N", he calls out your names, a silent command to follow him. Your gaze meets Adar's again who is watching you with his head tilted as you leave the tent together. You entered it as one, as a unit, but you leave it shattered.

You follow them out, the sun blinding you, but due to the tears you are still trying to hold back you couldn't see much from the beginning anyway. The orcs swarming around you aren't at all helping with the chaos that are your emotions.

You fall behind the two men. As if you were in a tunnel, you hear Vorohil bombarding Elrond with all sorts of questions in the distance. Questions whose answers are no longer important to you.

When they stop in front of you, you almost crash into them, too busy with all the thoughts swirling around in your head.

Was it all just a lie, a plot? Was he just using you to protect the ring? To have someone to sacrifice?

Your common sense tells you that this simply cannot be true, that Elrond has not been leading you astray and that what you feel for him is reciprocated inside of his heart. But your broken heart painfully beats in your chest and tells you something completely different.

You watch as Elrond mounts his horse and gives Vorohil an order, but the words do not reach your ears. You only see him in front of you, a knight in shining white armour, the sight of whom used to give you so much joy, made your heart beat faster and your cheeks blush. In the tent, you were willing to take a blade for him until the very end, but everything is different now.

Elrond's gaze wanders from Vorohil to you and all the sadness from before has disappeared from his face, replaced by a neutral expression. The expression of a warrior on his way into battle.

"Meantime, I will ensure that Eregion's walls hold for one more night", you finally register his words as he looks straight at you. Without another word, he puts on his helmet and rides away. An unspoken order hangs in the air and you swing yourself onto your own horse. After all, he is still your commander, whom you will always follow into battle, come what may.

════════════

Your legs are shaking, your hands sticky, covered in blood and mud. Your movements are shaped by exhaustion. Nevertheless, your blade sinks into the flesh of another orc who falls to the ground with a gurgling sound. With all your strength, you pull out your sword and stumble back a few steps, your gaze wandering over the battlefield in front of you.

Corpses over corpses scatter the ground. Some brave warriors are still fighting against the few remaining orcs, but there is no way out. You have lost, Eregion has fallen. You are shocked to realize that you have lost so many elves today, friends and strangers alike.

This realization hits you with so much force out of nowhere and you collapse to the ground, onto your knees, and let out a scream filled with pain and sorrow and all of your remaining strength. You fought, side by side, and in the end it was all for nothing. The forces of Adar have taken you by surprise and no one was prepared for the chaos that would ensue. Now you find yourself in the mud, surrounded by the dead, the last sounds of battle wafting towards you, and you feel utterly and completely alone.

You lost sight of Elrond since the troll's attack and Arondir is nowhere to be found either. Just thinking of Elrond gives your wounded heart another stab that cannot be compared to any wound inflicted in battle. Ever.

A tear finally finds its way down your cheek, but you are quick to wipe it away with your dirty hand. You can't show weakness, not even now when you feel incredibly overwhelmed. You don't even know if Elrond is still alive, and you scold yourself for still worrying about the man who took your feelings for granted.

But of course you do, you love him.

You don't know if it's the ring still around your neck or your instinct, but something tells you to look toward the fallen walls of Eregion, to get one last look at the once beautiful city. And there you see him.

Elrond.

Kneeling.

In front of Adar.

Without hesitating for even a split second, you gather all your strength and stand up. You approach them quickly and watch as Elrond attacks Adar with his dagger, but Adar parries his attack by violently grabbing his arm. With a whimper, Elrond drops his weapon. You stand still as Adar's hand closes around Elrond's throat and lifts him above the ground, choking him. The sounds that escape from Elrond's mouth will haunt you in your dreams.

"Where is it?!", Adar shouts at him, losing his composure. Elrond's hands claw at his, trying to somehow prie them away, but to no avail. The battle has left Elrond weakened. Adar, on the other hand, seems to have gained more strength from it. At that moment, Elrond spots you, and even though you only look at each other for a second, Adar immediately notices Elrond's shift of attention. He turns his head in your direction, and if you didn't know better, you'd think surprise flashes across his face. Apparently he didn't expect to ever see you again.

"Let him go", you command, your voice trembling and your sword pointing at him.

"Or what?", Adar asks spitefully, raising an eyebrow. Not knowing how to answer, you look at Elrond again.

"G-Go", he chokes out.

You look at him in shock and immediately shake your head. You would never leave him behind. Adar follows this encounter with interest and with a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth when something dawns on him. The next moment, he pushes Elrond to the ground forcefully who desperately gasps for air.

You want to rush to his side immediately, but Adar draws his own sword and pushes the tip directly against Elrond's throat who is still gasping for air and hasn't even managed to sit up.

You freeze when you see blood.

"So that's how it is, I understand", Adar murmurs loudly, seemingly amused by something. Then, he reaches out his open hand towards you, catching you by surprise.

"The ring. Or he's dead."

Your eyes inevitably widen, but you no longer have the strength to put on a mask and hide your true emotions. And in doing so, you put everyone in danger.

"D-Don't listen t-to him", Elrond stutters, his eyes full of terror when he meets your gaze. He is not afraid of dying. He is afraid that the ring will fall into the wrong hands.

You gave him your promise. When you accepted the ring, you simultaneously promised that you would protect it with your life. And you still stand by that.

But right now, this is not about your life.

"Hurry or your sweet commander will soon find it extremely difficult to breathe", Adar threatens and presses his blade even harder into Elrond's skin, making him whimper in pain.

He can't speak anymore because of the life-threatening weapon at his throat, but his tear-filled eyes scream at you not to give in. But how could you not?

You move your lips and form the words 'I'm sorry', but no sound wants to escape your throat, your vocal cords failing terribly.

Lowering your sword dejectedly, you feel for the silver chain around your neck and eventually pull it over your head. Nenya dangles at the end, catching the sunlight that slowly but surely breaks through the clouds. Your hand trembles as you place the ring in Adar's palm, feeling like a failure.

Not just to yourself, but to your entire kind. And above all, to Elrond.

As soon as Adar has the ring in his possession, he removes his sword from Elrond and lets you approach him. You immediately fall to your knees beside him. Elrond gasps for air and coughs repeatedly, his head thrown back in defeat. You support his head with one of your hands, helping him to sit up.

"Forgive me", you sob quietly, but get no answer from him. He watches silently as you are surrounded by orcs who were just waiting to take you as prisoners.

And the whole time you can only think of one thing: You betrayed them all.

════════════

You were about to set out to help her on your commander's orders. But it was already too late. You only saw a white figure falling down the cliffs. Now you're running through the dense forest, searching the ground, looking for a body. Every inch of your own body hurts, the cuts across your face throbbing painfully, but you have to keep going, keep walking just a bit longer, because she could be lying behind the next tree and you would never forgive yourself if you didn't find her.

Taking a break and catching your breath for a second, you lean against a tree, the battle taking a heavy toll on your body and strength. Suddenly you fleetingly notice a white shimmer to your right and run straight towards it, your ribs hurting. You breathe a sigh of relief and, at the same time, shock when you see Galadriel's motionless body on the ground, her arms stretched out at unnatural angles.

Without wasting any time, you rush to her, lifting her head so that you can gently place it on your lap. Loudly, you call out to the others that you have found her.

Her face is covered in soot and blood, her eyes closed. As you look at her like this, you once again realize how truly beautiful she is, even on the treshold to death. Your thoughts make your heart ache deeply, because how could Elrond not take a liking to her?

"They will be here soon", you whisper encouragingly, although you are not even sure she can hear you and your voice sounds anything but heartening. Your gaze lands on a large wound on her shoulder, the source of black streaks that are running across her armour. Carefully, you lift her armour with shaking hands and recoil in shock, as if you burned yourself, when you see a dark mark carved into her skin.

You don't get the chance to think about it any further, however, when Arondir and the High King finally arrive at your side. You let Gil-galad help Galadriel and take a few steps back, giving them enough space. As you do so, a light catches your eye, coming from under a branch. The relief you feel deep inside when you spot Nenya is overwhelming.

The High King tries healing Galadriel with the help of his ring. In Quenya, he orders her to step back into the light and leave the darkness behind her and her soul. With tears in your eyes, you watch as Galadriel takes heaving breaths, her eyes blinking violently, but she doesn't come back. Every passing second, she leaves the light a little more.

When you hear footsteps, running quickly at first and then slowing down abruptly, you don't have to turn around to know that it is Elrond.

"We're losing her", Arondir says and looks around helplessly. You see as much pain in his eyes as is reflected in yours and Elrond’s.

When you look over at Elrond at last, your heart stops beating for a moment. You thought you had already seen him at his lowest, where things couldn't have gotten any worse, completely devastated, but the way he is looking at Galadriel right now convinces you otherwise. The sadness that adorns his battle-torn but still beautiful features brings even more tears to your eyes.

His heart seems broken, crying for Galadriel.

"The darkness is too powerful. I cannot save her", the High King utters in defeat.

Even though it is only for one short moment, you hesitate. You hesitate to give the ring to Elrond, afraid of what might happen then, that your heart will crumble into even more fragile pieces.

"You can", you hear your own voice from afar and give Elrond the ring that you lost earlier. Elrond's eyes suddenly become clearer, brighter as he takes it, feeling it in his palm. But his eyes tell you that he is afraid, too. Afraid that he may not be able to save her. He fears he might lose her.

Gathering all your remaining strength, you force an encouraging smile onto your face, nodding and indicating that he should go to her. Elrond doesn't return your smile, he still looks at you with so much suffering in his eyes, but his facial features are more at ease now as he nods back at you. His way of thanking you.

"We can", he states, to convince himself once again before he puts on the ring.

════════════

You stare at your own reflection, which looks up at you from the quiet water of the river. You dip your fingertips into the water, the waves that result distorting your face. The wounds that covered your face have been cleaned and treated, only slight cuts still visible. There is nothing to do but rest and reflect while everyone waits for Galadriel to awaken.

You are not startled when you suddenly see another reflection, a face above your own, for you have heard him coming.

"Galadriel has awakend", Elrond lets you know and elicits nothing more than a nod from you. "She is up and well."

"I'm glad", you reply and see his brow frowning, his eyes growing sadder in the reflection of his face in the water. Which surprises you in all honesty, because he should be filled with happiness right now. You may have lost the rings for men and many of your elven friends have fallen, but in the end you are alive and safe. Galadriel is safe.

In fact, you admit that you feel relief that she seems to be doing well, but it somehow still hurts just thinking about the kiss they shared.

"May I.. May I have a moment of your time?", Elrond asks you now, after a few seconds of silence, filled only by the chirping of birds and the rustling of the trees around you. This place is truly a sanctuary.

His voice sounds so fragile that you can't help but raise up and turn to him, folding your hands in front of your lower body.

"I bestowed the ring upon you as a token of my faith in you", Elrond explains and you notice from the small wrinkles on his forehead that he is having difficulty finding the right words.

Meanwhile, you just want to leave. You can't listen to him express his disappointment about your actions. After everything that has happened, you're just not strong enough anymore. Your heart is not strong enough.

"I entrusted you with it because I didn't trust myself", he continues, looking into your eyes, but you avert them and focus on the grass on the ground. "Because I knew that, if the situation occurred, I would have acted the same way you did."

A look of surprise crosses your face as you lift your gaze and meet his glistening eyes.

"If the roles had been reversed, I would have given up the ring, too. For your life", Elrond states, his eyes solely focused on yours. "Because when it concerns you, I'm simply too weak. You are my weakness. By giving Nenya to you I thought I could prevent myself from losing it. Instead, I placed the burden upon you."

Your heart beats loudly in your ears, not quite understanding what he is saying.

"But Galadriel-"

"What you saw.. It was a distraction. Galadriel is merely a good friend, whom I love differently", Elrond explains and his voice tells you how sorry he is. "I gave her the pin off my shoulder piece to give her a chance to escape. I couldn't guarantee that it would work, but I took the risk. And I was willing to hurt you by doing so."

He carefully reaches for your hand and you let him take it, continuing to stare at him with glassy eyes as he speaks, your throat dry.

"I am deeply sorry for any pain my actions have inflicted upon you", he apologizes sincerely and lowers his head in regret, some of his brown curls falling into his face. "I couldn't even look at you after that because I could see exactly how badly I had hurt you."

"E-Elrond..", you get out, but you don't even know how to continue or what to say to him. Your emotions are all over the place because you have wanted to hear these words from him for so long, but on the other hand you feel sad because he suffered as well. And if there is one thing you hate more than anything else, it is seeing those you love hurt.

"Another weakness on my part was not telling you about my true feelings earlier. It was unfair since you have always given me nothing but sincerity and affection. My love, I hope you can forgive me and overlook my weaknesses", he says, his voice getting quieter and more humble towards the end, his hand squeezing yours tightly as if you could run away at any moment. What he doesn't know, however, is that with every word he is mending your heart a little bit more.

"I remain hopeful that you will return my love, despite what happened."

He stands before you, probably barely able to stand after days of constant fighting, and pours his heart out to you. He is still in his armour, his face scarred by battle. And you can't help but admire him for it.

Because what he is doing right now is braver than anything he has ever done before.

Without saying a word, you finally pull him towards you and wrap your arms around his neck tightly, his armour pressing against your chest. At first, Elrond didn't expect such a reaction, which is why it takes him a moment until his muscles relax, the burden falling from his shoulders, and his arms sneak around your waist.

"Sometimes I really hate you, Elrond Peredhel", you say against his neck before pulling away from him, hitting his chest plate once to get your point across. Laughing, he takes a step back and protects himself with his arms in front of his chest. You laugh too, but only for a moment until Elrond's smile disappears again as he looks at you.

"Your beauty is truly captivating", he smiles softly and slowly steps closer so that your bodies almost touch. His hand reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your pointed ear as he looks back and forth between your eyes, his fingertip gently running over your skin from your ear to your chin. His touch leaves a trail of warmth. A smile twitches at the corner of your mouth and your gaze wanders to his lips.

The world stands still for a moment, all the events of the last few hours forgotten, banished from your thoughts to enjoy this one moment.

When Elrond's lips gently connect with yours, your patched up heart feels like it's about to jump out of your chest. Elrond's hand on your chin pulls you even closer to him, but he does it in such a gentle way that your cheeks turn red. One of your hands searches for support on his armor because your knees feel like they are about to give in. But you know that Elrond would be there to catch you. Your knight in shining armour.

You never want to stop kissing him. How many times have you dreamed of this moment, imagined what it would be like. All your expectations are being exceeded right now.

When Elrond pulls away from you so you can both catch your breath, he leans his forehead against yours gently. You immediately miss the feeling of his lips on yours.

"My love", Elrond whispers against your skin, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. His cheeks took on a shade of red after the kiss and you are certain that his heart is beating against his armour just as fast as yours. Gently, you cup his heated cheek and run your finger over his skin, being careful not to touch any of his wounds. Then you can't stand it any longer, pull him even closer to you and kiss him again, which elicits a surprised gasp from him. Both of you smile into the kiss as he leans in even more.

If it were up to you, this moment would last forever - just you and Elrond and your love for each other. But you know that this is just wishful thinking, that you have tasks to complete, duties to fulfill. After this moment, the world will continue spinning, wars and battles will be fought, history will be written, but now you know that whatever happens, Elrond is by your side. For eternity.

384 notes · View notes