#If you want to write this I encourage you to do so

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello omg I love your soft sylus writing a lot !!

May I request please a reader where she loves sylus so much that she tries to express it by words but can’t cause she is so shy and never done so and sylus encourage it and tease her

LOVE UR WRITING

You had something to say and it clear as day to Sylus that you were lost within the internal conflict raging on within your mind, weighing out the pros and cons of speaking truthfully of your heart to him. And while it was adorable to watch you squirm and struggle to articulate your thoughts into coherent sentences for the first five minutes, Sylus was soon aware that since your so hesitant in taking the first step, he’ll have to take the first step on your behalf by grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you onto his lap.

‘Somethings on your mind kitten, it’s eating away at you and I want to know what it is that’s been consuming you from the inside out.’ He says while tightening his grip on your wrist just enough to keep you from being able to pull away, but enough where he’s not bringing you to any harm. You could practically feel your heart in your throat as it righted in on itself, it didn’t help that Sylus’s crimson eyes were peering into you in a way that made it seem as though he knew but loved to watch you suffer. ‘I- I don’t-‘ you stopped before you could even say a full sentence as everything leading up to now had resurfaced in your mind.

You knew you loved Sylus, you have for a while now, but past experiences or close to the sort have made you hesitant in making the first move and into something more meaningful between the two of you. You remember times where you would wonder whether you’d be luckily enough to be blessed with having someone become interested in you, fully investing their time and energy into what you had to say, their eyes remained on you as though they couldn’t bring themselves to look at anyone else.

You wanted everything you’ve seen in movies or read in books so badly, but even if you did find someone who was interested by you, you tended to pull away before they could get close enough to see the real you and become distant because you didn’t fulfill their idea of you that was unrealistic. You couldn’t help it for after being on your own for a long while you have grown accustomed to the idea that you might be left to your own company, maybe have a cat and or a dog in the future to make up for the lack of connection. So the idea of sharing your space with anyone else has always made you feel seriously self conscious and unable to articulate your thoughts and feelings like you’d like to.

However soon Sylus came into your life and you felt the same way you did when you were still talking to the person you preciously liked. You felt jittery, scared, excited and eagerly anticipated when you’d next see Sylus again while occasionally on the look out for Mephisto. Yet once you realised what you were feeling, what you were doing, a cold sense of dread filled you and unfortunately Sylus’s actions towards you only made it even harder for you to deny what was happening between you two.

Sylus would go out of his way to hold you by the small of your back in crowded spaces, keeping you close proximity to him, lightly touch your shoulder or stand closer to you then normal and even get in your face to watch your expressions as he did some lighthearted teasing. He was in your personal space and he was everywhere you went, and since it happened so often it came to a point where you were actively seeking out the tall man with crimson eyes and snow/silvery hair without realising it. The implications scared you gravely to the point where recently you’ve tried to avoid Sylus…only for Luke and Kieran along with Mephisto to find you and inform Sylus before he greeted you in person.

Sylus took your chin in his free hand and moving your head so you were back to staring into his observant eyes rather than to your fiddling fingers. ‘Use your words kitten, after all I’ve got all the time for you to sort out what you want to say.’ He tells you as a smirk played upon his lips as he watched your eyes widened a tad and your breath hitched in your throat. Sylus then taps a finger against your lips softly, letting it linger there for a bit. ‘So speak your mind sweetheart, speak it to me and don’t be afraid of the consequences,’ he then leans forward to rest his head against yours as his eyes looked at your lips briefly before looking back into your eyes, ‘you might like what happens afterwards.’ He finishes as he caresses your jawline with his fingers.

‘Don’t.’ You tell him sternly, taking Sylus back a little. ‘Don’t say things like that if you’re just going to be giving me false promises and leave after I say it.’ You reiterated as you looked at his face as you felt a wave of embarrassment over come you as everything within you screamed to protect yourself.

‘What makes you think I won’t take what you say to me seriously? Have I given you any doubt to distrust me into thinking I would laugh at your innermost emotions?’ Sylus asked and when you didn’t respond his smirk faltered as a serious emotions overcame his face and he took a deep breath. ‘You know I would never laugh at your emotions right? What do I have to gain in knowing your feelings? For I would never use it against you, not when I know that I’d loose you and your trust for that matter.’ Sylus told you as he lets go of your wrist to hold your face between his palms instead, stroking your cheeks softly that you couldn’t help but melt into his touch.

‘I love you Sylus.’ You admitted softly but clearly enough for him to hear as his thumbs stopped caressing your cheeks. ‘I always knew I love you but didn’t want to say anything incase you’d find another person to call your muse, to call your kitten or sweetheart. Someone who can keep up with you where I can’t. I knew I couldn’t confess if I knew that this thing between us will never be anything but serious.’ You continued as you felt everything come to the surface, easing the weight upon your shoulders greatly as you could feel yourself breath properly once more.

Sylus didn’t say anything at first and it worried you, especially with the way he keeps his gaze locked on you as though nothing else mattered in this moment but you. It felt as though he could see right through you and directly into your soul and it made you feel a little exposed and vulnerable. It scared it greatly that your fears were proven right, so much that in the moment you tried to move yourself off of his lap, only for Sylus to pull you in closer to him by your face until you were touching noses and lips were ghosting over the others.

‘Sylus-‘ before you could finish your sentence, Sylus was quick to press his lips to yours as he began to weave his lips between yours with a tenderness and passion you weren’t expecting after confessing your innermost feelings. He held your face as though it was porcelain as he deeper the kiss, moving a hand to the back of your head to keep you close to him, all the while his other hand rested on your waist to pull you further into him as though you weren’t already physically close enough. It was passionate, sweet and warm as you found yourself putting your hands on his shoulders, bunching up the fabric of his expensive shirt under your grip as you melted into the kiss; wanting nothing but to forget everything else except the taste of his lips on yours.

Only for your lungs to burn, forcing you to pull away from him as you catches your breath.

Sylus smirked as he hurried his head into your neck, breathing heavily as his fingers traced your skin over your clothes lovingly while you rested your head against his shoulder, soaking in his warmth and comforting feeling you get from cuddling against his chest. ‘I told you I wouldn’t take you nor your emotions for granted kitten, why would I do that to the person I love?’ He says against your neck and you couldn’t help but smile goofily at his own confession as your heart fluttered.

You were glad that you finally got your feelings off of your chest…even if it did take a little nudge from your crimson eyed beloved to do so as you spent the rest of the evening in his arms and whispering sweet nothings to one another.

[alwaysmoncheri]

heyyy <3 I was wondering if you could write something a little softer for rafe?? it’s that kind of day😞

of course, honey! I hope this makes your day better <3 thank you for requesting

cw: implied fem!reader, soft!rafe, mentions of alcohol, tooth rotting fluff, 1k

<3

You smooth down your dress, applying more pressure to the stubborn ends that keep folding up. For an expensive dress, it was pretty cheap. Or maybe you didn’t iron it correctly. Either way, you aren’t going to let it ruin your night. Your hands shift to the straps, carefully adjusting them to ensure they sit right. And as you look at yourself in the mirror your shoulders soften and warmth fills your chest. Your hair sitting just right—yet still, so imperfectly you. Emerald green dress flowing elegantly, its silky fabric comfortably gliding over your skin, embracing your figure.

Rafe waits for you, already mingling among guests. He knows you like to take your time. More time than you need, but it’s your process and you love it—then so does he. 

Another moment passes before you slip out the door, and Rafe spots you immediately. Like he’d ever miss you. Not when you’re always exuding the kind of loveliness that lures him in. He finds it endearing, your eyes sifting through the crowd to find his. It’s like you’re nervous, though, you’re anything but. Still, you find your way back to him, even if it’s a glance through the crowd. Even if it’s a slight tug of a lip—a hint of a smile. Even if it’s for a moment. Before someone takes your arm, drawing you into a circle of people. 

You’re stunning. Rafe knows if he were to ever drop dead, now would be that moment. The drink he’d been nursing is long forgotten and his eyes don’t leave you. 

“He’s not even pretending to be subtle,” Sarah whispers, slightly leaning across the table. A smile playing at her lips. You don’t need to turn to know who she’s referring to. 

“And?” you ask, hiding your smile with a sip of your drink. Sarah tilts her head, raising her eyebrows, silently asking, “seriously?” You shrug causing her to laugh. Though, you can’t help but turn over your shoulder meeting your boyfriend’s gaze once more. A hand clasps his shoulder in greeting, and Rafe only offers a tight-lipped smile in response. You slump onto the table, forehead touching the cool glass as you let you a huff. You’re working with Rafe on his social skills. It isn’t going too well. 

Sarah, having followed your gaze, only laughs, “He looks like he’s going to die if you don’t go over there.” 

You lift your head from the table, and Sarah gives a subtle nod toward Rafe, silently urging you to go talk to him. He’s standing there, among guests—friends, looking like he could use some company—and maybe some encouragement too.

You straighten and smooth out your dress. A quick press to the fold at the hem, and after offering a quick goodbye to Sarah, you turn on your heel.

Rafe isn’t standing very far, he never is. 

“Hi,” you smile, soft and sweet. His chest hurts. He needs to sit down, he thinks, before he makes a fool of himself. 

“Hey,” he responds, his voice low and rough. He smiles back, but he’s holding his breath. Rafe knows you’ve noticed when your smile widens—he wonders how your cheeks don’t hurt. Maybe they do. He’s never asked.

Without a word, you shuffle into his chest, arms wrapping around you instinctively. Arms around your waist, and palms pressed flat against your back. You tilt your head up leaving a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. Rafe’s heart pounds, overwhelmed with love. Every time your lips touch his skin, it burns into memory. So, if you ever slip away, he’ll have one forever thing. 

A hand leaves your waist, quick to brush your hairline, and rest on your jaw. You blink slowly, waiting for him to kiss you. Then, he does. It’s sweet, unhurried, and now it’s your turn to be overwhelmed. You smile again, finding his lips mirroring yours. It’s rare from Rafe. It makes you want to kiss him again, but you can’t when you’re smiling this hard. 

Though, it doesn’t take long for Rafe to move back in—lips meeting yours. This time, leaving you dizzy. 

“You’re so beautiful.” he sounds breathless as he plants firm kisses along your jaw, “Every time I see you, it just keeps getting better.” 

“Yeah?” you ask, a playful lit in your voice, but there’s a spark of sincerity in your eyes, as if you’re searching for him to prove it. 

“Fuck, yeah.” Rafe replies with a wide grin, before kissing your neck again. He’s intoxicating—placing his lips everywhere from your jaw to your collarbone. He’s forceful enough to almost knock you off balance, but he always anticipates the moment he’ll need to steady you. It makes your heart soar.

“Okay.” you almost snort, hand touching his cheek—a silent signal to calm down. 

He leaves a soft kiss on your pulse before one arm slips from your waist—grabbing his drink, the other keeping a firm hold to keep you close to his side. 

It’s funny how much something so simple—just being near him—could make you feel like the center of the universe. Maybe that’s because you are to him. You’ve opened him up to so much love he never thought he’d be capable of. And your love is his favorite—not grand gestures or dramatic moments—it’s just this, the quiet comfort of being with him, and it’s enough. 

The two of you stand in the crowd, occasionally speaking to the people who approach. With glasses of champagne in hand, you savor the closeness and warmth of the night. 

“I didn’t see you making any new friends earlier,” you tease, tilting your head up to look at him. 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Eyes taking you in, as if he hadn’t gotten a good enough look earlier, “Too busy looking at you.” 

You laugh softly, “Trying to charm me?”

Rafe looks at you, insulted, “Trying?” he asks, straightening up, his posture shifting into something a little more smug, “Baby, I don’t have to try.”

Your mouth falls open. You stare at him for a moment before shaking your head. “I can’t wait for you to be humbled.”

The hand on your waist that was drawing small circles on the fabric of your dress stills. Your stomach flutters when he leans down, lips brushing on the shell of your ear. 

“And I can’t wait to take this off.”

You burst into laughter.

<3

masterlist . rafe cameron masterlist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

[ninuwrites]

Hi there! Are you still up to writing for Van Helsing? Because I’d love a fluff and smut story with him if you are! Like, one night you’re cuddling as you’re settling in, but the moment just feels right so one thing leads to another (No pressure, thanks in advance!)

just to be sure| GV

summary: you and gabriel have a peaceful evening (or not)

warnings: smut, p in v, oral (f!receiving), breeding kink(as always), dirty talk here and there

a/n: YIPIII!!! finally i finished this! i wanted to post this on halloween but ofc i didn’t make it😭 anyways i hope you’ll like this as much as i love vanhelsing (which is like a lot). ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE! so sorry for any mistakes! i love you so much and enjoy!💋

——————————————————-—————————

you and gabriel decided to finally settle down, in a cozy cottage, in the mountains. after years of catching monsters together and your serious injury, both of you let your hunter past and chose to take your vows and build a family rather than losing each other.

you were preparing snacks for your movie night while gabriel was taking a shower. after setting down a couple of bowls and plates on the coffee table, you sat down and waited for gabriel to finish his routine.

meanwhile you looked up a few scary movies for gabriel to choose from.

he entered the living room with his hair still wet and in his black tank top. he was holding a blanket and a pillow in each hand.

as he was sitting down you immediately cuddled to his side, grabbing and intertwined your hands.

he put a pillow down on the couch and covered both of you with a blanket.

finally he looked at you,

“hey my beautiful wife.” he murmured, squeezed your hand and gave you a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“hi.” you smiled, kissing his lips softly.

“what are we watching.” he asked, his hand caressing your cheeks.

“that’s up you tonight my handsome husband.” you giggled and showed him the movies he could choose from.

after finally setting up the movie, you laid your head on gabriels chest and played with his hands. after all in past few weeks you didn’t have time for each other so you were really looking forward to enjoying your time together.

but gabriel had other plans.

he tried to hold it together, but you looked so beautiful and you smelled so nice he just had to do something about it.

at first he was at war with himself, he knew you were excited for your movie night so he didn’t want to ruin it. but halfway through the movie all he could think about was you.

he started with drawing small circles and playing with the meet of your tight. after a while his fingers just got higher and higher until he heard your breath hitched. you put your hand on top of his and looked up at him.

he was looking into your eyes, waiting for you to give any sign that he could continue with his movements. all you did was, you grabbed his hand and put it in the center or your clothed heat.

“forgive me father for i am about to sin” he mumbled.

he put your body on top of his, you straddling him, your hands in his hair, your lips never leaving his.

you slowly slowly started to grind down on him, you could feel how hard he was under his shorts.

he kissed down your neck, leaving small bites and marks, his hands gripping your hips tighter and tighter every second. suddenly he thrusted you down on his clothed cock.

you moaned out, which encouraged gabriel to go faster, one of his hands traveling down your body to put off your soaked panties.

“what do you want baby hmm?” he asked, his teasing grin reappearing.

you hid in your face in the crook of his neck, “you.. please.” you mumbled.

gabriel rolled his eyes, grabbing you by the hair so that you would face him, “be a good girl and look at me when i’m talking to you” he said.

“please… i want you.” you repeated yourself, blush creeping up your cheeks.

“be more specific honey,” he continued his teasing, squeezing your cheeks.

“want to feel you inside me please.” you begged a little.

“that’s my good girl.” he smiled, satisfied. his hand travelled down to your cunt, teasing a bit.

“stop it, please, please i need you.” you plead.

and who was he to deny such a well behaved girl.

he slowly inserted one finger inside of you, speeding now and then, adding second finger not long after.

his fingers made you see stars, his second hand rubbing your clit oh so good. you felt your orgasm approaching when your lower belly tightened.

gabriel felt it too, so… he stopped his movements.

you whined out, looking down at him, your legs trembling. “what- what’re you doing? why-“ you didn’t have time to comprehend what was happening. suddenly you were laid on your back, gabriels head between your legs.

“you can take it baby, i know you can.” he mumbled more to himself than you.

without a warning he started ravishing your dripping cunt, the feeling in your tummy returning more intense than before.

your legs were shaking, gabriel ate you out like you were his last meal.

out of a sudden, orgasm washes over you, gabriel licking up every drop of your slick heat.

he slowly kissed his way up your body, sweet phrases leaving his mouth such as:

“did so good, my beautiful girl”

“could taste you forever, my perfect girl”

he left some bite marks here and there, his possessiveness showing up. his hands were not left behind, one of them grabbed your tit, the other was left on your hip helping to grind his hips into yours.

he was nipping at your jaw, your arms were around his neck trying to get a kiss on the lips. he was such a tease sometimes!

in return, one of your hands travelled down his body, playing with the band of his shorts, your hand slowly caressing his lower belly.

he breathed out, his hand gripping your ass harder, surely leaving marks or a bruise. you took his leaking shaft into your hand, squeezing him and jerking him a little, small whimpers leaving him which got you even wetter than before.

he desperately put off his shorts, his hard, thick and leaking cock sprung out, his red tip asking for all the attention.

you centred him to your entrance, gabriel slightly teasing your wet hole, sliding in not long after.

you could never get used to the feeling of him. he is so big, so thick, his shaft is veiny and always giving you the greatest pleasure.

he slid inside of you, your noses brushing against each other, his eyes locking into yours while he gave you some to adjust to him.

after a few moments he started to grind his hips against yours. “so- so big, always get me so f- full.” you half moaned out, knowing that gabriel likes any kind of praise from you.

“squeezing me so tight baby, feels like the first time every time with you.” gabriel whispered, finally thrusting in and out of you.

you couldn’t hold moans and whimpers even if you wanted to. he always made you feel like you were on cloud nine.

“go har- harder, please.” you pleaded, which was the soft spot for gabriel.

his thrust became wilder, animalistic even, his possessive side coming up. he wanted to claim you, all of you. he wanted everyone to know that your his girl, his little beautiful wife who he intends to keep forever and beyond.

he couldn’t get the thought of you stuffed with him and pregnant with his child. that’s what god wants too.

right?

your begs and moans just turned him on more and more, his thrusts getting more and more powerful and faster each second.

suddenly the warm feeling in your lower tummy reappeared, the feeling of your high increasing. gabriel acknowledging it too because of how hard your tight walls squeezed him.

“you want to cum my dear?”

want to soak me?”

“cmon let go baby.”

he always knew what to say to you, you were like an open book to him.

“cum for me.” he commanded which was hard not to follow.

your orgasm peaked while gabriel did not slow down, overstimulating your already used cunt. your nails dug into his back, scratching him which caused gabriel to let out a loud groan.

“keep doing that and i won’t pull out sweetheart.” he mumbled into your ear.

“than don’t.” you moaned out back, your head hazy from the overstimulation that still didn’t stop.

and that was all reassurance that gabriel needed.

his pace sped up, faster than before his eyes went completely black. his only concern was to breed you nice and full of his juices.

it didn’t take long for him to get over the edge. in no time he was finishing inside of you, his hips stuttering as his thick white cum painted your soft walls.

out of breath, he fell on to of you, his head resting on your chest. your hand went up to his beautiful, long, brown hair and you started to scratched his scalp.

after few minutes, when you both finally steadied your breaths, he brought his head up, his eyes scanning your face.

he gave you a slow passionate kiss, and said , “i love you my darling, i already tied a knot with you and now i want you to be the mother of my children.”

his hand went up to caress your cheek which you gladly accepted and nuzzled your head into his hand.

“gabriel, i wouldn’t want to have kids with anyone other than you. i love you my handsome husband.” you smiled.

this sentence alone got you many many kisses and many more attempts to get you pregnant.

you know, just to be sure.

[ollimus-prime]

HAIIII OLLIE !!!!1!1!!!!!!1!!!!!◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ IM LOWKEY SOOOOOO EXCITED THAT YOURE WRITING FOR TRANSFORMERS ON A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT BLOG ENTIRELY MADE FOR IT!!!!1! + you already KNOW who it is — ITS YOUR BOY 😼😼 /ref

i’ve been tweaking so hard over tfone b-127 bumblebae boy bc he’s so auuuhhh — 😭😭 got me on my knees bc my type in men is so golden retriever boyfriends, BUT SPEAKING OF GOLDEN RETRIEVER BOYFRIENDS!!

i hope you don’t mind me requesting b-127 with a fem cybertronian reader who’s just his female counterpart drabble or hcs? like it’s giving yapper x yapper and golden retriever x golden retriever, no freaking doubt both fell for eachother the moment they introduced themselves and started to yap together. OK I TALK TOO MUCH, PLS TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF OLLIE!!! DRINK UP, EAT UP, SLEEP WELL AND TAKE BREAKSSSS!! Loves ya much :)

Yapper Adoration

A/N, not important: Hope you like it, Frankie. I tried my best. Also, it's Gender Neutral, not fem. Sorry! Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: N/A(unless y'all see smth I need to add)

Words: 554

Summary: B-127 finally has someone to talk to

B-127 was first introduced to you via Elita-1. She had met you during her time in waste management, your bubbly and eager-to-please personality strikingly similar to B’s own. Elita-1, knowing she had two loud and boisterous bots that needed constant attention, stuck you together in hopes that you would both get along and stop bothering everyone else. To Elita-1’s delight and slight horror, the two of you stuck together like magnets.

B-127 finally had someone who not only was willing to listen to him, but someone who actively engaged in what he said. Not to mention you had worked similar jobs, causing a bond to form from the toil of sorting garbage and the dream of doing more. You were just as positive and rambunctious as him, causing B-127 to immediately latch onto you as his new best friend.

Not that you minded, of course. You had your fair share of bots who’ve been annoyed by your endless chatter, and finding someone who was similar to you in personality and mannerism was just as freeing to you as it was to B. Neither of you were much willing to separate after your first meeting. Despite Elita’s chiding of you both moving too fast, you had started dating the kind and energetic bot.

You’re also one of the only bots B-127’s met that didn’t immediately think he was insane. Sure, you’ve joked about his ‘friends’ that he made down in sub level 50 before, but he didn’t sense a hostility in your tone like most others seem to have. You encouraged his interests and helped him find new friends, showing support he’s never truly received before.

There’s never silence when either of you are around, both of you capable of listening to the other’s prattling just as much as you converse back and forth. Having someone willing to listen to your interests and engage with them is something neither of you really realized you needed. While you were definitely more socially aware than B was, you weren’t much better at keeping friends around.

You comfort him a lot after D-16’s departure, allowing him to express his feelings in a healthy way while dealing with his quick gain and loss of friends. He leans on your positive attitude to keep his intact as well, and he’s incredibly grateful to have you. He wants to have all of his friends back, but having you to lean on after losing one so quickly makes it easier to manage.

Neither of you ever stop bragging about landing each other, the both of you getting into basic lovers quarrels over who loves the other more. Whenever you’re seen together, you’re almost always touching in some way. Whether it’s holding hands, hugging, or leaning against each other, there’s not much that can make either of you stray far enough to not be glued to the other. It’s mostly for B’s sake, as being alone for so long really had to put a strain on his mental health. Being able to hang onto you is a good reminder you’re not only real, but that you’re not going anywhere.

He’s your best friend through and through, and feels super safe with you. He wants you to know you’re his favorite person and reminds you like, every few minutes. You’re everything he’s ever wanted.

[dollgxtz]

Hi everyone just hopping on here quickly to remind yall that if you feel like dropping His Watchful Eye for any reason please do so!! It’s a very intense story, and I know despite my warnings people will read anyways but I really do want to emphasize putting yourself and your mental health first!!!

No, it won’t upset me! Everyone has their limits, everyone has their own opinions on how the story should go! And that’s okay. If you’re simply upset with how the story is going and want to drop it I would never hold that against anyone. 🤍

The only reason I even bring this up is because of some of the DMs and asks I’ve been getting. I have gotten ppl telling me to hurt myself over this. They’re very upsetting. I’m sorry if you feel like this story is not going the way you’d like but I have been very forward on my opinions on Yandere!Sylus. I don’t hate him but I don’t expect anyone else to like him, it’s okay, that’s the beauty of fiction. Everyone interprets it their own way!

I don’t want to have to keep justifying why I wrote Sylus the way I did. No, a lot of his actions are not canon and it’s my own choice to make him that way. It’s fanfiction and dark romance. Please respect my choices as the author or stop reading 😞

Please don’t come in my DMs/asks and insult me just because you feel a certain way. In fact, I encourage you guys to write your own versions of the characters if you’d like! I’d love to read them! I’m very sensitive and don’t want to have to drop the story altogether, but I will if it’s hurting my own mental health.

This isn’t to say you can’t come to me with criticism! I love constructive criticism and feedback but insulting me is not constructive at all.

Ty for your continued support and love, stay safe!

-Umi ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

[drdemonprince]

Yo! I'm writing a class assignment on why Internet Archive is so right for breaching copyright laws and why the court is so so wrong for siding with publishers, and I wanted to talk about some authors who encourage others to pirate their work because so little of the money from book sales actually goes to the author.

Do you have any writing on this philosophy?

Thanks!!

I don't have any formally published writing on it, but you can site this message as "personal correspondence" (yes that's a thing in APA/MLA/Chicago style whatever).

I encourage people to pirate my work because I care first and foremost about the ideas within the books to reach an audience. I started writing for a general audience because I cared deeply about making information more accessible, and removing financial barriers to access is a core element of that. I also write work that targets populations that tend to be very poor -- disabled people, queer people, overworked people, and so on. It's vitally important to me that they can read the books, which means not requiring that they pay. Philosophically, I recognize that my ideas come from a long lineage of scholarship from other thinkers, including many disabled activists who always made their work available for free, and I don't deserve to profit from that thinking while others can't. I don't believe an idea can be owned, and like all forms of property, I believe intellectual property to be theft.

The act of writing is labor and I do think that deserves to be valued and compensated -- to wit, it bears mentioning that most authors do not earn any money from book sales. In order for an author to receive royalties, a book must first sell enough copies to "earn out" its advance, which may require selling anywhere from 10,000 to 100,000 copies, depending on the size of the advance payment. And 95% of books sell fewer than 5,000 copies ever. This means the vast majority of authors never see a single cent from a book sale. Even if their books do "earn out", they are only looking at about 12.5% of the profits in royalties after that point. So it's hardly a lucrative venture. There's really no reason for me to be invested in the commercial success of my books, from a labor rights perspective, and certainly not from an intellectual or scholarly one. So I always tell people, steal, steal away, with my blessing.

[sosa2imagines]

For dad Bucky, how about little Natalia scared him by announcing she has a boyfriend but the real meaning of sentence is that she made a new friend. And in the end reader clears the misunderstanding.

Thank you so much for this ask, I had lots of fun writing it.

Warning- Fluff, protective dad Bucky.

Bucky had always considered himself to be a simple man. Back in the 30s and 40s, people spoke in proper, full sentences, and communication was a straightforward affair. But now, in the world of today's generation, things seemed to be much more complex. The way people spoke, the slang they used, and even the way they expressed themselves had changed so much.

Bucky was sitting in the living room, sipping his coffee and going through some paperwork when Natalia, his six-year-old bundle of energy and mischief, bounded into the room, a wide grin on her face. She clambered onto the couch next to him and poked him in the arm, trying to get his attention.

Bucky set down his coffee and turned to look at his daughter. “What is it, kiddo?” he asked, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Guess what, Pa?” Natalia exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I have a boyfriend!”

Bucky's heart skipped a beat. He knew what those words meant, and the thought of his daughter having a boyfriend at six years old was not something he was ready to deal with. A storm of emotions roiled inside him, from shock to panic and everything in between.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky tried to keep his voice neutral. “Natalia, sweetheart,” he began, “you can't have a boyfriend at your age. You're only six.”

Natalia's face fell a little, confusion replacing the excitement she had felt just a moment before. “But why not?” she asked, her bottom lip puckering into a pout.

Bucky had to tread carefully here. He didn't want to upset his daughter, but he also didn't want her to think that having a boyfriend at such a young age was acceptable. “Well, sweetheart,” he said gently, “having a boyfriend is something that happens when you're a bit older. You need to focus on being a kid and having fun, not worrying about boys just yet.”

“But everyone in my class has boyfriends and girlfriends!” Natalia protested, her little brow furrowing in confusion.

Bucky's heart dropped even further. The thought of all those kids in her class having relationships at such a young age was even more distressing. He took another deep breath, trying to stay calm.

“Natalia,” he said, trying to keep his voice level, “even if that's true, it doesn't mean you have to have one too. You're still too young for that kind of thing. And I don't want you thinking that it's normal or okay to have a boyfriend at your age. Do you understand?”

“But my teacher is okay with it,” Natalia protested, her voice taking on a hint of defiance. “She even told us to have boyfriends and girlfriends. She said it's important to.”So-cial-ize!”

Bucky's jaw dropped open in shock. What kind of teacher was telling kids in kindergarten to have boyfriends and girlfriends? He struggled to hide his disbelief and anger.

“Natalia,” he said slowly, trying to keep his voice steady, “your teacher told you to have a boyfriend?”

“Yeah, she said it's important.” Natalia replied, completely oblivious to the storm she had unleashed in her father.

Bucky rubbed his forehead, trying to process what he was hearing. This was insane. They were six, for god's sake.

Bucky felt a headache beginning to form behind his eyes. This was shaping up to be a very long day.

He knew he had to set a firm but gentle boundary with Natalia, but the fact that her teacher was apparently not only okay with kids in kindergarten having boyfriends and girlfriends, but actually encouraging it, was making things more complicated.

As you walked through the front door and into the living room, you were expecting the familiar sounds of giggles and fun chaos that usually accompanied Natalia and Bucky together. Instead, you were greeted by an unexpected sight.

The two of them were sitting across from each other, arms crossed over their chests and identical scowls on their faces.

It seemed like a battle of wills was taking place, and neither one of them was backing down.

You stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, taking in the scene before you. Both Natalia and Bucky were still glaring at each other, their expressions identical. With a resigned sigh, you gave them a small nod and headed towards the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

As you stood in the kitchen, sipping your water, you mentally prepared yourself for the coming conversation. You knew there was going to be a lot to discuss.

You walked back into the living room, taking a seat on the couch. Natalia and Bucky got up and came to sit next to you. Natalia being small, she sometimes needed help getting up onto the couch.

“Pa, help please…” she said innocently, and in an instant, Bucky was there to help her, lifting her up onto the couch next to you. At that moment, it was hard to believe they had been glaring at each other just moments ago, it seemed like they had forgotten their argument entirely.

“Thank you, pa.”

“You are welcome, princess.”

As soon as Natalia had settled in beside you, both of them seemed to remember their argument again. The air in the room became tense once more, and their angry expressions returned.

Natalia and Bucky were both still sitting on either side of you, their arms crossed and their gazes fixed on each other. It was as if the short moment of peace had never even happened.

As you took a deep breath, ready to ask what was wrong, both Bucky and Natalia spoke at the same time.

“Our daughter has a boyfriend!”

“Pa says I can't have a boyfriend!”

You couldn't help but do a double take as you heard their simultaneous declarations. Their words had been so similar yet contradictory. It was as if they had rehearsed it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you said, holding up your hands in an attempt to stop them from talking over each other. “One thing at a time, please. Bucky, you go first.”

Bucky started to explain, his voice filled with frustration and disbelief.

“Our daughter has a boyfriend, doll,” he began. “And not only that, but everyone in her class has a boyfriend or girlfriend, can you believe it? And the worst part is, their teacher actually suggested it!”

His words hung in the air for a moment, and you couldn't believe what you were hearing.

You furrowed your brow, trying to wrap your mind around the situation. It seemed so absurd that kids in kindergarten would be having relationships encouraged by their teacher.

“What do you mean the teacher suggested it?” you asked, looking at Bucky for answers.

As Bucky was about to respond, Natalia interrupted and climbed onto your lap. “Excuse me,” she piped up, “it's my turn to speak now!”

You couldn't help but chuckle a little at her cheeky attitude, but you were still concerned about the situation.

You patted her head gently and smiled down at her. “Okay, sweetheart,” you said. “You can speak now. Go ahead.”

Natalia grinned and sat up straighter on your lap, clearly happy to have your full attention.

“Everyone in my class has a boyfriend or girlfriend,” she began, much like her father had. “And Teacher said it's important to have one! She said it helps us be more so-ci-able!”

You furrowed your brow again, focusing on the word “sociable” that Natalia had repeated.

“What do you mean by sociable, princess?” you asked her gently, trying to understand what their teacher had told them.

Natalia seemed to think for a moment, trying to find the best way to explain. “Well,” she said, “Teacher said having a boyfriend or girlfriend means we get to play and talk and spend more time together. She said it helps us be friendlier and have more fun with our friends.”

Bucky interjected, panic evident in his voice. “See?” he exclaimed.

Natalia shot a glare at him, her little face scrunched up in irritation. “Do not in-ter-rupt!” she repeated, pronouncing each syllable separately with a hint of defiance.

You couldn't help but bite back a smile at her little display of sass.

It was clear from the interaction that Bucky and Natalia were both feeling strongly about this situation. Bucky was concerned and worried about Natalia having a boyfriend at such a young age, while Natalia was determined to prove that it was perfectly normal and acceptable.

You turned your attention back to Natalia, curious about this supposed boyfriend of hers. “Sweetheart,” you said, “can you tell me a bit more about this boyfriend of yours? What's his name?”

Natalia's face lit up as you asked her about her boyfriend. “His name is Tommy,” she said, her eyes shining with excitement. “He sits next to me in class, and he shares his snack with me every day!”

As Natalia described the qualities of her “boyfriend,” you began to connect the dots in your mind. Everything she was saying pointed to a simple friendship rather than anything more serious.

With an amused smile, you asked, “Is he your friend, sweetheart? Like a friend who happens to be a boy?”

Natalia's eyes widened slightly as she seemed to consider your question. “Well,” she said thoughtfully, We are friends, and he is a boy. So he is my friend who is a boy. Boyfriend!”

You couldn't help but laugh softly as you realized the situation was just a misunderstanding. You noticed Bucky looking at you, his face a mix of confusion and frustration.

“Oh, Bucky,” you said, grinning at him. “It's not as serious as it seemed. Turns out, Natalia's 'boyfriend' is just her friend who happens to be a boy.”

Bucky's expression didn't soften right away. He frowned, still clearly concerned. “But the teacher still told them to have boyfriends and girlfriends!” he protested. “Doesn't that worry you at all?”

You put a reassuring hand on Bucky's arm, trying to ease his worries.

“Calm down, Bubba,” you said gently. “Natalia's teacher wasn't telling the kids to have romantic relationships. It's just a misunderstanding in the way Natalia explained it. I think what the teacher meant was for the kids to socialize and make friends with each other, including boys and girls.”

Bucky's expression softened slightly upon hearing your explanation. He seemed to relax a bit, the tension in his shoulders releasing.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “That makes more sense. But why use the word 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend'? That's what threw me off.”

You chuckled softly, amused at the confusion caused by Natalia's innocent misinterpretation.

“Bucky,” you said, “I think Natalia is using the terms 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend' because in her mind, they simply mean a friend. She's not aware of the romantic context adults associate with those terms. She's thinking 'I have a friend who is a girl, so she is my girl-friend.' or 'I have a friend who's a boy, so he is my boy-friend.' Does that make sense?”

Bucky nodded slowly, seeming to finally understand the situation. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh as the tension faded from his face.

“Yeah, I get it now,” he admitted. “I guess I misunderstood the situation, too. I still think the teacher should've been clearer with her choice of words, though.”

You gave a gentle smile and teased a bit, trying to lighten the mood.

“Or,” you said, “I think our little miss Natalia here needs to work on her storytelling skills a bit better. Dropping the 'I have a boyfriend' bombshell without giving you context was not the best approach.”

Natalia pouted again at your gentle chiding, her lips pursing into a small frown. “I was getting to that part,” she mumbled, crossing her arms. “I just wanted to start with the exciting part first.”

You chuckled at her defensive nature, finding her behavior endearing. “Fair enough, sweetheart,” you said, ruffling her hair affectionately. “But next time, try to give a bit more context before dropping news like that. Your Pa won't be able to handle it.”

Bucky feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart theatrically.

“Hey, I can handle news like that,” he protested, a hint of humor in his voice. “I just need a little warning beforehand, that's all.”

Natalia giggled at her father's exaggerated reaction, her earlier pout replaced by a cheeky grin.

“Don't worry, Pa,” she said, poking him in the side. “I'll give you a warning next time before I reveal any more 'bomb-shells.'”

Natalia, intrigued by the new word, looked up at you with wide eyes and asked, “What's a bomb-shell?”

Bucky chuckled at her question, finding her curiosity adorable. “It's a figure of speech, sweetheart,” he explained. “It means saying something surprising or dramatic, like saying you have a boyfriend.”

Natalia's eyes widened further as she took in the explanation. “Ohhh,” she said, nodding understandingly. “So it's like when I say, 'You'll never guess what I found in my lunch box today!' and it's a surprise?”

You chuckled at her analogy, impressed by her ability to connect concepts. “Exactly, sweetheart,” you said, patting her head. “It's like that. A bombshell is just a big surprise.”

As Natalia got down from your lap and headed over to her toys, she called back over her shoulder, her voice filled with excitement.

“Oh, and Pa, I can't wait to have a playdate with Tommy!”

Bucky's eyes widened at Natalia's mention of a 'playdate' with Tommy, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head.

With a resigned sigh, you muttered under your breath, “Here we go again...” knowing that Bucky was likely to misinterpret the innocent term 'playdate' and start overthinking again.

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[jokeroutsubs]

[📝ENG translation] 'My Parents Gave Me a Strong Sense of Identity'

An interview with Bojan Cvjetićanin.

Original article written by Teja Roglič for Ona plus, published 05.11.2024. English translation by @kurooscoffee, review by @weolucbasu, proofread by IG Gboleyn123.

Full article and Spotify link under the cut 👇

🎧 Article available in audio form on Spotify.

Last year’s craze at Stožice, summer festival performances, the Eurovision Song Contest, international success. And then everyone asks, what could be bigger, what could be better? But as the band Joker Out releases their new album, they consciously follow the motto "I want less". Singer Bojan Cvjetićanin explains why: "This is our home, this is our base. If we don’t feel good at home, we can’t feel good anywhere. We need to rediscover love in our base, that’s what we told ourselves."

With the song Bluza, you’re returning to love. Why?

We went through a lot. The songs we released after Eurovision dealt with the most acute situational changes in our lives—touring, exhaustion, questioning ourselves. Now, it’s time to have a bit of fun again. And there's probably nothing more beautiful than being in love. (smiles)

I’ve been looking into people’s stories, into the lives of those around me, seeking beauty.

What did you discover?

That I enjoy writing about love the most. When you write from a place of uncertainty, it’s nice to get those feelings out; when you write about love, you search for timeless beats within yourself, not something that’s only fleeting. I write about the ideals of love I held as a child, and in the future, I’ll see how these have either evolved or fallen apart.

It's best to write about love...

When you have a broken heart.

Your Eurovision song was more socially critical, though it might seem, at first glance, to be about joy. In it, you say: "We won’t take part in your games or your divisions." Did the song’s message reach people?

Undoubtedly. A lot has changed in a year and a half, not only personally but also in terms of our views of social issues. For the first time, we've connected with young people from abroad. It was fascinating to see how connected the fans from different countries became, encouraging each other, learning new languages—even a lot of Slovene. The desire for peace and unity is very strong at our concerts, so our messages have touched them. But of course, you can never reach everyone. (smiles)

You mention changed perspectives with regards to society. Have any ideals been shattered?

Many ideals have crumbled. In school, learning about war, it always seemed odd to me that the world could just go on at the same time, despite the ongoing disruption in the system. Now, I see that we have access to all the information, that we see and hear what’s happening, that we witness an influx of people coming from regions where this is happening, yet everything literally carries on as usual.

War has become more of a trend on TikTok or Instagram than something people feel hurt about. This makes me very sad.

A lot of ideals that have shattered relate to the life of a musician. We’ve achieved things we could only have dreamed of—not just as kids; even two years ago, what’s happening now would have seemed impossible to me. But the ideal that’s crumbled is this one: I don’t always know how to appreciate what I have.

On tour, I often slipped into negative thoughts, didn’t appreciate everything happening to us. This links to the idea that this kind of life is easy, that as a successful musician, you only have fun. This, of course, isn’t true; it’s incredibly exhausting, both mentally and physically. I could go on until tomorrow, listing everything that’s fallen apart, but fortunately, a lot of new things have also come to be.

You’re the idols of generations; do you feel pressure because of that? After all, you’re still young guys too…

No. We already lost the childlike joy of music because we had to start working so much so early and get to know so many new systems. If we also take on the responsibility of raising generations of kids, we could truly fall into a black hole.

We need to be role models, but we can’t shape our work around that. On the upcoming album, there’s a song, 'Muzika za decu' ('Music for children'), which touches on this very point. We want to convey that we’re not addressing generations who think all younger people are lazy bums who only hinder the world’s progress. We’re addressing everyone who is young enough at heart to believe in a better world, a brighter tomorrow.

Photo: Vita Orehek

More and more musicians are stopping concerts at large venues when fans are in distress or overcrowding happens. You too?

Absolutely. This summer, we constantly stopped concerts if people were packed tightly indoors or out in the sun. We handed out a lot of water from the stage, and I even paused a concert if some listener (m.) was treating another listener (f.) disrespectfully. A concert is a safe space; there’s no place there for infringing on the rights of others.

That’s an interesting topic I wanted to touch on anyway. So what is the rock ‘n’ roll world of the new generation like?

It’s a lot better. I’m glad we’re not a group of drugged-out dudes living only for today. Carpe Diem really means seize the day, but for us, that doesn’t mean picking every fruit that exists in the world. Waking up healthy and energised, wanting to go to a concert, being open to meeting new people, our fans, being creative...

That’s what it means to seize the day. Sure, sometimes we go on a trip, we do have fun too. But I’m glad that sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll aren’t our guiding principles in the band. When we watched the documentary about Mötley Crüe, we saw how they started with heroin and opiates and ended with smoothies and fruit. Well, we’re already at the fruit and smoothies stage. (laughs)

“We’re constantly building a relationship that gets deeper every day, even though it seems like it can’t get any deeper,” you told me before the Stožice concert, as I was stunned when you said you were going on holiday with the guys right after the concert. How much do you invest in relationships within the band? We know it’s sometimes challenging to nurture a relationship between two people, let alone five.

This is like a partnership with five people. Except for intimacy, all the other elements of partnership are there. We’re companions. We often live together, work together; the dynamics are demanding. I talk a lot about this with fellow musicians. Recently, I was talking to Mr. Vlado Kreslin, and we concluded that being in a band requires a touch of madness.

Even if it ends someday—nothing is guaranteed—I know I have four lifelong friends. We exist as friends even beyond the band.

Success demands hard work; you’ve told me before how sure you were of your path in the band, of your decisions, and how hard you worked to achieve what you have. And we’re back to the topic that some might say your generation isn’t hardworking, that you’re quick to say what you won’t do at the work place...

The young people I know could hardly be described as not hardworking. I’d rather say we’re diligent, and the drive to work comes from the strong pressure that you need to achieve a lot very quickly, or else you won’t make it in this world. As for them being quicker to say no... Maybe they know they can’t live that way if something doesn’t work. And to live is very costly.

Young people feel they don’t have to stick rigidly to one profession, that they can change courses, jobs, and find something that suits them. We’re far from the days when the son was a blacksmith because the father was a blacksmith, and the daughter stayed home as a housewife. But we also have to know that there’s more and more uncertainty, precarious work.

If Gen Z is the way it is, I wouldn’t attribute that to the generation itself but rather to the Boomer generation. Everything that makes life harder for us isn’t the product of our ideas and actions. But it’s also true that sometimes, you need to stop, think, and make a decision. I’d like to do something today, something different tomorrow, but that’s not realistic. When you’re bombarded by choices from all ends, you have to make decisions. If there are three shirts in a store, I’ll pick one; if there are 250, I might end up buying sneakers instead. (laughs)

You performed at a concert aimed at contributing to the best possible care, treatment, and support for women with gynaecological cancer. You probably get invited to participate in quite a few charitable events; how do you choose them? This concert likely wasn’t a hard choice, as both of your parents are doctors...

My father is a gynaecologist, my mother is a pediatrician, so naturally, when I got the invitation, I immediately thought my dad would be happy if I could perform there. Otherwise, I choose events based on two criteria: whether it’s something important and whether I’m home at that time. I've often had to turn down an event I would have really liked to participate in simply because I wasn’t here.

Life has taken you all over in recent years. What have your parents given you that has stayed with you and has been proven most useful today?

They gave me a sense of normality. I'm an ordinary person who takes everything in moderation. I didn’t become a hedonist, nor did I give in to the patterns that the environment might impose. They gave me a strong sense of who I am and what I am, unconditional self-confidence, and self-respect. And the certainty that I’m never alone in anything.

Recently, the dramaturg Nina Kuclar Stiković and I talked about how Generation Z might be the first to actively work through its traumas, though she noted that taking on such responsibility across generations is a huge task. In the end, you might even feel worse. If you only become aware of your baggage but can’t overcome it, it can feel even worse than if you had never been made aware of it at all, she said. What do you observe around you, in your own generation?

Mental health has never been as openly discussed as it is today. I know many people who go to therapy. It’s actually strange that mental health was never treated before, that this stigma existed. If you have a cold, you stay home, you also heal a broken arm. Today's generations have managed to break free from these shackles. The individual is becoming increasingly more important.

People are working through the things in their minds. And this bothers many people from generations who suppressed everything and unleashed their traumas onto others. I often think how unfortunate it is that we don’t practice everyday therapy in our surroundings. Everyone surely has someone whom they trust. We talk about all sorts of things, but we never ask each other how we are and share that honestly. Now, I do this with a few friends, and it’s really nice. I go to my friends for therapy. (smiles)

Nina also mentioned that patriarchy has wronged not only women but men too. It’s unfair that men couldn’t show emotions and always had to be strong. It always helps if you can share your feelings with someone. What do you think?

The Neanderthal perception of masculinity is passé. We can all first tell ourselves, and then tell others, how we feel and what’s going on in our heads.

This summer, you performed at festivals. Now you have a new album, and you’ll be performing at various venues again, with tickets quickly selling out. It's a carousel that never stops. You mentioned earlier that you caught yourself maybe not appreciating it anymore. What do you do now to keep that from happening?

For the tour that’s coming with the release of the new album, we consciously followed the motto, "I want less." Last year, we played in Stožice, before that in Križanke. This year, we toured Europe, and everyone was asking us what big thing we’re preparing next. But we were only talking about how nice it would be to play at Ljubljana's Cvetličarna again.

A few years ago, you told my colleague Robert Rebolj, my fellow journalist, and your fellow musician, that you’d like to have kids while still young. Yet you also say that you're in a period where several of your ideals have collapsed as you look at the world around you. Does the desire still remain?

Pass by Maribor too, go a bit to the clubs in the Balkans, and that’s it. This is our home; this is our base. If we don’t feel good at home, we can’t feel good anywhere. We told ourselves that we need to find love in our base again. I’m glad we recognise this, that we’re not just banging our heads against a brick wall. The purpose of this tour is simply to enjoy it.

When I said that, I was thinking I’d have my first child between the ages of 28 and 30. Then Robert told me that having a child young doesn’t necessarily mean that. (laughs) I see it now, too, as some of my friends already have children, and some even their second. My calendar no longer just has friends’ birthdays, but, for instance, the first birthday of a friend’s child. (laughs) Yes, I think a lot about how this world is in many ways not what I imagined it would be, but I guess it’s always been that way throughout history—things have never been ideal. I think everyone, in every era, has felt the world is going to- hmmm, well, that’s how it seems to me too. (laughs)

[notmeowse]

Solavellan ending and why I hate it

Major Veilguard endgame spoilers under the cut.

I beat the game two days ago and I haven't been able to stop thinking about that ending. I'm not going to get into the rest of the game's flaws. They've been covered at length. But all of those issues aside, the one perfect, untouchable thing I thought I had left as the game drew to a close was the Solavellan ending. After all, Trick wrote the original Solavellan romance and the incredible continuation of it in Trespasser. As lead writer, they were directly responsible for making it happen. I thought we had this in the bag.

So on one hand, my favorite Dragon Age romance finally reunited and disintegrated off into the sunset.

On the other hand, he did not choose her.

This is what ruined it for me. I know a lot of people have issues with her sacrificing her life to join him in the Fade, but that was really a secondary issue for me.

What was the point of their entire relationship if, in the end, when it REALLY counted, he was never going to choose Lavellan over tearing down the Veil? Why did it take Mythal, who he actually killed in the last game in order to take her power, to convince him? Where's the romance in that?

This literally just turned into the story of Lavellan and the elven god who did not love her enough.

Okay, yes, the gamified reason it takes Mythal to convince him is because Lavellan was tacked onto an existing avenue of dealing with Solas rather than being given her own separate option, right? At the end of the game you have the choice to either fight him, trick him, or (if the Mythal-related criteria is met) invoke the essence of Mythal contained in the statue. No Bring Out The Big Guns, Lavellan option.

In my opinion, she should have been the fourth option, only available to players that have an Inquisitor that romanced Solas and encouraged Lavellan to reunite with him mid-game. It would have required about as much effort to do this as it did to have him turn her down once again (which, I maintain defeats the entire purpose of the story being told here). That would have been the absolute easiest fix to this fucking mess.

I understand why Lavellan wasn't counted among his regrets and therefore wasn't in the Lighthouse murals (because he doesn't actually regret falling in love with her) and I acknowledge that getting real closure from Mythal is important to Solas's story, and that it did have its place in that ending scene. Whether she was a lover or a mother to him isn't really the issue here -- it's the fact that she holds sway over him where Lavellan apparently does not. Despite the fact that, again, he killed Mythal in the previous game, despite the fact that he couldn't bring himself to kill the Inquisitor for the anchor, despite the fact that Lavellan was the one single thing in the world that made him really want to walk away from his plans.

(Why wasn't the "I release you from my service" a conversation had between him and Flemythal back in Inquisition? And why is that essence of Flemythal (who now exists in Morrigan) suddenly so chill and pro-Veil? Do we not remember the reckoning that will shake the very heavens? The She was betrayed as I was betrayed, as the world was betrayed? I will see her avenged? No payoff? None? There's so much wrong and bad writing to unpack there, but this is still a Solavellan post.)

Back to him wanting to turn away from his grand plan. The fundamental difference between Mythal and Lavellan, in my opinion, is the way each of them saw him. Mythal asked him to change for her, to leave the Fade, to commit atrocities with her out of love and service. Lavellan only ever loved him as a man, never once asking him to change for her, never asking him to be anything other than himself. In the time they were together, he was able to be the person he wanted to be. It took a very specific set of circumstances and a very specific person that had to fall into place for that romance to happen, which is arguably what made her so special, and what made their time together even more so. It followed, especially with what we know now, that he would want to drop his grand plan to be with her.

In comes Veilguard, which introduced a parallel between Solas/Mythal and Solavellan. In the second memory, we discover that Mythal never once chose Solas over her duty to elvhenan (even when he begged her to lay it down and run away with him) and dragged him along with her to commit unspeakable atrocities (in her words, she broke him). Solas (at that point in the game, when we were witnessing the memories) had yet to choose Lavellan over his crusade, but quite literally loved her too much to bring her along with him. He would not let her do that to herself, he would not do to her what Mythal did to him.

Here's where I feel like I'm losing my mind, because I thought the point of that mural was to foreshadow him eventually choosing Lavellan, as he is very much not Mythal, and is very much looking for a reason to lay it down, to be proven wrong. I also thought the blurb in the Inquisitor character creation menu (who did you romance) was foreshadowing it, as well as the mid-game choice Rook can make to encourage her to reunite with him and change his heart.

So why didn't it happen? I can only assume because they didn't actually want to have any of our choices carry over, let alone the Solavellan option (which they should have realized from the start was a bad call and also fucking impossible to manage given that the game is a direct sequel to Inquisition). The fact that Lavellan is tacked onto an already existing scene rather than being given her own is evidence of this. However, even if she had to be tacked onto the Mythal scene and not given her own, a simple reordering of the events would have fixed the fucking ending. So it could have gone two (very easily manageable and not too much extra) ways:

Remove the part where he turns her down. Remove the entire thing. Morrimythal could have flown up to him before the Inquisitor even arrived on scene, we could have had our statue moment, and just when he thinks he's going to be all alone behind the Veil, Lavellan shows up, they reunite, and she goes with him. (Easiest way for Bioware to fix it imo)

Lav acts as the ace up our sleeve, a fourth option (and a second option to make him lay it down) instead of using the statue to redeem him. Mythal releases him from her service AFTER he chooses Lavellan, thereby releasing him from his guilt over her. I prefer this one. It should have been this. They could have walked away, they could have tied themselves to the Veil, either way works.

Now, I am among those that think the Veil should have come down, which would have rendered this entire thing moot, had it happened. But since Bioware is dead-set on maintaining the status quo in Thedas, it should have been this instead.

In writing this I wonder if I've been completely delusional over their relationship, but going by the reactions to this ending, it seems that what we got was not at all expected.

[tkwrites]

Can I make it up to you? - Nico Hischier x ofc

gif by kawhh

Title: Can I make it up to you? 

Part V in the It Doesn’t Matter AU

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Playlist

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Nico Hischier x Lena (ofc)

Summary: When Lena is hit on at a Devils event and Nico responds by staking his claim rather than checking in to make sure she's okay, she’s understandably pissed. Though their ensuing fight is resolved, Nico still wants to make it up to her. 

Warnings: Sexism and unwelcome advances followed by angst and then a lot of makeup sex. Smut (18+ only!): Fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), face sitting, squirting, unprotected p in v (wrap it up unless you’re in a consenting relationship!), spanking, and a bit of exhibitionism if you squint.

Word count: 8,000

Comments: Well, Nico and Lena are back. This piece is out of order (shocking for me, I know), but the missing piece will be written to fill in their story. 

I had this idea of them having makeup sex that I just couldn’t shake. Which, of course, meant they had to get into a fight first. I’m sorry for the angst and all the sexism, but it gets better, I promise. 

It's been so fun writing Nico into the feminist, romance hero of my dreams. I hope he might be yours, too. 

If you did enjoy it, please consider letting me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

Can I make it up to you? 

Part V in the It Doesn’t Matter AU

Lena walked out of the bedroom, and Nico felt his eyes widen. He just stood there, slack jawed and blinking like a fish. 

He couldn’t get over the fact that Lena was his date. His date. He got to take her out and have other people know she was with him. The feeling exploded in his stomach.

When she smiled and twirled, his tongue nearly fell out of his mouth. 

The back of her dress was daringly open, held together by two thin ropes that criss crossed over her shoulder blades. A cowl of the smooth, dark fabric pooled at the small of her back. She wasn’t wearing a bra — at least not that he could see. 

Her hair was down, just brushing her shoulders in soft, beachy waves. She’d refreshed the color the night before, so it was beautifully pastel pink, bringing out the green in her eyes and setting off the color of her skin. Her makeup was just enough to make her look bright and doe eyed.

He was going to have to look at her all night and still be expected to talk to people like a sane person? Fuck. Fuck fuck, fuck.

He finally managed to croak her name, and she giggled. 

“You like it?” 

Like it? He wanted to stay home and worship her in this dress. His mind filled with visions of tracing his lips from the drape of fabric all the way up her spine. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, minding not to tell her she looked beautiful. She did, but Nina’s lectures about how to compliment women rang in his head. 

“Thank you.” 

Lena knew he would like this dress. She saw the way his eyes lingered when women on TV wore backless dresses like this. 

Even still — even knowing — an enormous blast of pride ignited inside her when he was reduced to staring at her open mouthed. She’d chosen right. 

She’d never worn anything like it before. Thankfully, Nicole had helped her pick it out and get the right bra to wear with it. The smooth, delicate fabric felt like a breath of fresh air on her skin.

Walking into the party, Nico couldn’t help feeling smug. When people turned to look at him this time, he was finally in a couple. Not only that, he was in a couple with the person he’d dreamed about coupling with since he was seventeen. He wanted everyone to know she’d chosen him. 

While he went about his schmoozing duties, Lena hung around with the other partners, talking and gossiping and sharing notes on each others outfits before their conversation finally gave way to real life. How people's kids were doing. How hard motherhood was when your partner was only there some of the time. What a weird thing it was to find yourself dating the boy you always dreamed you would. It was a bigger adjustment than she would have thought. 

When she stepped away to order a drink, staying close to the bar to watch it being made, someone stepped up close to her. She figured it was Nico. He was the only one that stood this close. The illusion shattered as masculine voice asked, “so what’s your name?” in a strong Jersey accent. 

Glancing over at him, she took stock. He was wearing a green suit that, on top of clashing against the olive undertones in his skin, was half a size too big for him. He needed a better tailor. And a better hair stylist. The garishly dark combover he was rocking was doing him no favors.

“Alaina,” she said. It wasn’t her name, but it had almost been. Her mother’s mother’s mother was named Alaina, but everyone in her life called her Lena. When it was time for her parents to name their first daughter, they decided to shorten it from the get go. She was named after great-grandma Lena after all. No need to make it complicated. 

“That’s a beautiful name.” He reached forward slightly to brush the backs of his fingers up her arm. 

She stiffened against his touch.

“I’m Reggie,” he said, confirming her suspicion that he might just be her fathers age. Lena felt her skin crawl. Why was a man his age even talking to a girl in her twenties, let alone flirting with her? 

“It’s nice to meet you, Reggie,” she said, giving him a tight smile, “but I really should be getting back…” her words trailed off when she looked over her shoulder to find the other partners had moved on to a different part of the party. 

Damn. There went her easy out. 

“You know,” Reggie said, continuing as if he hadn’t noticed her looking for someone. “My company owns a box for the season if you’d like to catch a game.” 

“I can get tickets.”

“In a box? I doubt it.”

Pursing her lips, Lena took a step back only to have him step forward to keep her from putting too much distance between them. Where was Nico when she needed him? Where was anyone? It was looking more and more like Reggie was the kind of guy who she’d either have to punch or run away from. Possibly both. She hoped she wouldn't have to resort to shouting. 

He smiled as he seemed to realize no one was coming to her aid. 

Lena gulped, feeling her heart begin to flutter in her throat. She pushed her drink aside just in case, grateful that, at least, they were in public.

Nico’s eyes found Lena again. That big guy was still looming over her at the bar. Through the open back of her dress, he could see how tightly her posture muscles were wound. 

Excusing himself from his conversation, he made his way to her. She shouldn’t have to put up with this shit, and this dude needed to know she wasn’t here alone. 

Spotting his forest green suit, Lena relaxed slightly, realizing Nico was walking toward them. She was going to be free of this douche at last. 

Instead of turning his attention on her, though, Nico addressed Reggie as he walked up to them. “Hey man,” he said, slipping his arm possessively around her, his hand cradling her hip.

Reggies eyes darted between them, wide with recognition. The shock wore off quickly though, replaced by a kind of conspiratorial grin, “I should have known a girl like this was with one of you,” he said. “Though I didn't think they took kindly to you dating such rebels.”

Nicos eyebrows raised. Lena wasn't what he would call rebellious. 

Instead of telling Reggie pink hair and a nose ring didn't make a rebel, or saying something about how he and Lena had known each other for years, or anything else, really, Nico took her completely by surprise when he said, “yeah, she’s not single.”

Her posture stiffened. She never saw this kind of cock slinging from Nico. He was usually so much kinder than that, not so concerned with being the bigger man. 

With the Captain standing right in front of him, Reggie immediately launched into a discussion about how the team was doing. 

Nico stood there and kept the conversation going, his hand still at her hip, forearm warm against her bare back. Were they in any other circumstance, she would have relished the feeling of his luxurious suit against her skin.

“Your scoring has really dropped off since the start of the season. Is something wrong you're not telling us?”

He said it with concern in his voice, but Lena knew it was a sentence crafted for maximum impact. She saw the shadow of guilt pass through Nico's eyes before he launched into a media-trained, rehearsed response about how he was trying his best, but sometimes, pucks just didn’t go in the net. 

“You’ve got some —”

Nico cut her off. Even if it meant he was being insulted, he preferred it to this asshole leering at her again. He was trying to keep this creep's eyes off her.

She let out an affronted little snort, and he tried not to smile, touched that she was still willing to go to bat for him. 

It was a solid five minutes of clipped, polite conversation before the guy finally got the hint and left. 

 Nico turned to her only to find her glaring. The triumphant smile slipped from his face. 

“Let’s go get some air,” she said, turning on her heel and walking toward the balcony, breaking his grip in the process. Her tone was icy, and Nico braced for impact as he followed her, his bottle of beer clutched in his hand. 

“What the fuck, Nico?” Lena asked quietly as soon as they were tucked into a dark alcove of the balcony, out of earshot from the other guests. 

“Wha—” 

“What the fuck was that?” 

“I came to rescue you.”

“To rescue me?” she repeated, voice incredulous. “You didn’t even acknowledge me! You hardly even looked at me! I’ve never felt like such a possession.”

“I know men like that,” he tried to explain, “I was trying to get his attention off of you,”

“And in the process, you made me feel like some kind of dumb trophy.”

“A trophy?” he repeated. 

“Yes! An ornament there to do nothing but make you look better,” she said. Her words and tone had maximum impact, smacking into him as if she’d hit him with her open palm. 

Shit. He had done that. His first instinct had been to check on her, but he’d pushed it aside, wanting to let that guy know she wasn’t here alone. He knew he shouldn't have second guessed his gut reaction. 

Goosebumps were rising on her arms in the cold night air. He slipped his jacket off and held it out to her. 

His offering was met with a fierce glare. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation here, Nico.” 

“I know, and I want to, but I can tell you're freezing,” he held the suit coat out again, “please.”

She took it from him and threw it on the ground. “Will you listen to me, now?” 

Chastened, he nodded. “I’m sorry.”

God, why did he have to have those eyes? Those earnest, puppy dog, always wanting to do better, brown eyes. 

“Nico, I needed rescuing, and instead, you came over and started dick measuring with that guy. Who, by the way, I’m pretty sure was old enough to be my father, but still hit on me.”

His jaw hardened. “He was hitting on you?”

“Yes.” Her voice took on a sarcastic tone, “what did you think he was doing? Telling me about his kids?” 

“I don’t know…”

“For some reason, men of a certain age always think that having tattoos or piercings means you’re a slut.” 

Wincing, he asked, “what did he do?” 

“Well, he touched me for one.” 

His jaw went hard, and a protective kind of anger flashed in his eyes. 

“What?” Nico was going to kill him.

“Not like totally inappropriately,” she amended angrily. “He touched my arm, but it still made my skin crawl.”

What the fuck? Hadn’t there been enough media and enough talk for men to know they couldn't touch women without their permission? Even when someone asked for a picture, Nico never put his arm around them unless they did it first or they gave permission. 

“Then he told me I should come watch a game in his company owned box,” she scoffed. “He totally ignored me when I said I had access to tickets.”

Anger flared in his chest. Not only was this dude a creep, he hadn’t even listened to her. “How can I be better?” he asked. Not only in this instance, but to be a better man.

“I wish you had checked in with me before you started engaging or telling him I’m not single. I don't belong to you.” 

“I don't think you belong to me, Lena,” he said, hurt she would even think that.

“Really? The whole ‘yeah, she's not single’ thing,” she threw her voice into a distorted imitation of his own, accent and all, “coulda fooled me.” 

“I didn't…” fuck. He had said that. “I was just trying to get him to focus on me instead. I don’t think you belong to me. You’re my girlfriend, I know that’s different.” 

The really annoying thing was that Lena knew he was telling the truth. It wasn’t an empty pronouncement. He really was sorry. And everything she knew of him told her he would learn from this and try to get better. All the same, she wondered if he really got where she was coming from.

“Do you even understand why I'm upset?” she asked, arms dropping to her sides. 

He'd royally fucked up if she was asking that. “Yes!” He schooled his voice into a less frantic tone and continued, “I understand.” 

“What do you understand?” 

“That you felt disrespected when I went straight into trying to solve the problem instead of checking to see if you were okay first.” It was something he often talked about with Nina and his mother. Women rarely wanted a solution to a problem. Most of the time, they just wanted someone to listen. And instead of doing that, he’d just barreled straight into fixing it. He knew better. He was a fucking idiot. 

“Oh.” It was a more succinct explanation than she'd been expecting. 

“I won’t ever do that again, Lena. I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out for her. 

Thankfully, she came into his arms willingly, even tucking her cold nose under his jaw. He swallowed against the sensation and slid his hands over her back. 

“Lena, you're like ice,” he chastised, trying to cover as much of her as he could. 

Now that the adrenaline of anger was ebbing away, the cold seeped in — and it seeped in fast. She stepped closer to Nico to try to absorb some of his body heat. 

“Can we get you inside?” he asked, rubbing her back. His hands were cold too, so he was sure it wasn’t doing any good, but it was better than nothing.  

“Thank you for being willing to understand,” she said, ignoring his question. 

It was such strange phrasing that Nico pulled back to look into her face. “Of course I’m willing.”

“Not all men are,” she said, tugging him back so their chests were once again flush. 

The fact that she’d had to put up with assholes who didn’t even try to understand where she was coming from ate at him. She deserved better than that. He wanted to be better than that. 

 Holding her, out in the cold, he dared to look at the pieces of himself he didn’t like to. The ones that were jealous and overly eager to prove that Lena was with him. That guy hadn’t posed any competition, and he knew it. In his heart of hearts, he knew she would never do that to him. He had no reason to get defensive of their relationship and should have checked in with her first. She should have been his top priority, not how others saw him. 

“I’m sorry, Lena,” he said, his voice quiet against her ear. “I let my pride come before how you were feeling.” 

Damn him. This was why she could never stay mad at him. “Thank you.” 

Her lips brushed against his neck when she said it, and it caused a shiver of a different kind to ripple over his skin. 

“I love you,” he said. 

She pulled back to look into those big brown eyes. “I love you, too.”

“Can I take you back inside now?” he asked. “I really don’t want you to get frostbite.”

“It’s not cold enough to get frostbite,” she said even as she broke away and bent to pick up his jacket. 

He was momentarily mesmerized by her bare back in the winter moonlight and was still staring when she held his jacket out to him. 

“I’m sorry I threw it on the ground,” she said, attempting to knock some of the dust off. It had been a childish thing to do, and she wished she could take it back. He’d just been trying to care for her, and she’d been so hellbent on making her point, she’d thrown his very sweet gesture into the dirt. 

A half smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “I deserved it.”

“It was sweet, and I’m sorry I threw it back in your face.” 

“It’s okay,” he assured, taking it from her and settling it on her shoulders. 

The silk lining was cold against her skin, and she shivered. 

“Let’s go inside,” he said, gently turning her around so he could lead her back to the party, his arm draped around her shoulders. 

Snuggling into his side, Lena took a deep breath, readying herself to face the crowd of people again. At least no one had heard them arguing. 

“Do you want to leave?” 

“You need to stay, don’t you?” 

“Well, yeah, but…” 

The warm air in the ballroom stung as it collided with the chill on her skin. “I’ll stay with you,” she said, shrugging his jacket off and handing it back to him. She didn’t want to go home alone. She’d just be sitting there waiting for him anyway. 

“Okay,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. 

“There you are!” Nicole exclaimed. “Were you two sneaking off? Naughty, naughty,” she teased, winking at Nico. “Though, I can’t really blame you with how good she looks in this dress.”

He gave her a bashful smile. 

“Come on, Lena. Kristen was just about to tell us the funniest story.” 

Allowing herself to be pulled into the party, Lena glanced back at Nico. She sent him a smile and a little wave. The last thing she saw before the crowd closed around them was his cheeky wink, as he mouthed, ‘I love you.’

An hour later, they were tucked into the back of an Uber on the way home. Lena was playing with Nico’s fingers as she recounted Kristen’s story about Eric trying and failing to make dinner while caring for their kids and dogs. 

He laughed, glad that after the night they’d had, she was still willing to share these silly stories with him. 

“We’re okay, right?” he asked, entwining his fingers with hers.

“Yeah,” she said, lifting her face so their eyes met. Her anger had faded almost completely. “Of course we’re okay.”

A sigh let go in his chest. 

“Nico,” she raised a hand to cradle his jaw, “I know you weren’t trying to hurt me or anything. I know you better than that. It just kind of struck a nerve, and I lost my temper.”

Shooting her a rueful smile, he corrected, “you had every right to be upset with me. I was an ass.” 

She laughed, “you kind of were.” 

Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to her temple and let his voice drop low, “can I make it up to you?” 

“Make it up to me?” she repeated, eyes darting to his. Was he implying what she thought he was? 

His brown eyes smoldered as he nodded.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Whatever you want,” he murmured, dipping his lips to her neck.  

Tipping her head to give him more access, she found her voice suddenly much breathier than it had been. “I think we can arrange for that.”

He pulled away only when the car pulled up to their building. 

The smug little smile on her face as they rode the elevator nearly made him start to pant. He knew what that smile meant. 

Pausing as they passed through the kitchen, Nico asked, “do you mind if I grab something to eat before?” The food at those parties was never quite enough.

She shook her head. “I’ll meet you in your room.”

Although she hadn’t slept in her own bed in weeks, she hadn’t really moved anything into his room, so it didn’t quite feel like theirs. 

A few minutes later, perched on the end of the bed, she watched him come in, admiring the way he moved in his beautiful, dark green suit. The vest hugged his torso in a way that made him look deliciously thick. That had certainly changed since they were seventeen. 

Nico stopped in front of her, swallowing the last bite of apple.

“What do you want?” he asked. God, his accent was already thick, and he hadn't even touched her. 

She leaned back and swept her hair from her face before bracing with that arm, too. “I want to watch you undress.”

Nodding, he swallowed hard. “Do you want it a certain way?”

Shaking her head, she said, “just go slow.”

He started with his tie. The slip of the silk under his shirt collar was a hypnotic whisper. 

Watching her watch him made him breathless with anticipation. It was an incredible turn on, knowing she didn’t want him to be anything but who he already was. He knew she didn’t want a performance.

“Can I hang this up?” he asked, holding up the suit coat. 

 She nodded.

He walked into the closet and came back with a hanger. He removed his vest and hung it up before covering it with the coat. 

“Your hands are so sexy,” she breathed, watching him work the buttons of his shirt, top to bottom. 

His dimple winked at her. 

Glancing up, he asked, “do you want me to get you off with them?”

“Uh hu,” she breathed. She was still reclined on the bed, but her legs were now crossed, attempting to get some friction between her thighs. Just the thought of it, of his casual offer to bring her pleasure, had desire singing through her veins, ending hot and heavy between her legs.

He worked on the buttons of his cuffs, watching her. Her face was flushed, eyes blown dark with lust. Finally, he shouldered off the button down and tossed it behind him to be added to the hamper later. 

“Undershirt first,” she said when he reached for the button of his pants. 

Not bothering to hide her need, she drank in the movement of his arms and chest as he worked the shirt over his head. She squeezed her legs a little tighter together. 

He paused for a moment then, letting her drink in the sight of him shirtless in those incredibly well tailored trousers. 

“Turn around,” she said. 

“Why?” 

“Because I want to admire your ass in those pants.”

He blushed but did as she requested, adding in a little shake.

She laughed, then let out a groan as he stilled and flexed slightly, showing off his toned back.

When he looked over his shoulder, she’d collapsed back on the bed. 

“I can’t wait.”

“Wait for what?” he asked, turning back around. 

“I can’t wait for you to touch me.” 

He took a step forward. When she didn’t stop him, he took another and another until he was standing right in front of her. Reaching down, he slid one of his hands up her smooth calf. The soft fabric of her dress bunched around his wrist as his hand slid onto her thigh. 

Lena moaned, and it shot straight to his groin. He loved that sound more than any other in the world. “This is good?” he asked. 

“Yes.” 

He tried to push the skirt up over her hips, but her hand caught his forearm, halting the movement. “Need it now,” she said, guiding his hand between her legs. 

The smile he gave her was wicked. Moving her underwear out of the way, he dipped his fingers into her sweet, wet heat. “You’re dripping.”  

Her back arched, trying to get her clit closer to his hand. “Yeah. I’ve had to look at you in that fucking suit all night.” 

It was always a pleasant surprise when she said things like this. When it became evident that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. “I’ve been half hard looking at you in this dress all night,” he admitted, finally adjusting so the heel of his hand pressed into her. 

She made a keening noise and ground against him. “Bought it just for you.” 

As her admission pulled even more blood from his brain, his entire body froze.

“Nico!” she complained. 

He snapped back to himself and started moving again, curling his fingers inside her and following the wave of her hips. 

“Oh,” she moaned, head thrown back. “Just like that.” 

He hadn’t been able to touch her like this for very long, but in the short amount of time he had, he’d been an attentive student. He seemed to remember everything she told him about what she liked. 

“Nico.” The way she said his name while they were making love was a symphony in his ears. What had he ever done in his life to deserve to be in this moment? Especially after fucking up so terribly that evening.

“What do you need?” he asked, pressing a little harder. 

Breath rushed from her mouth, “kiss me.” 

Fingers still buried inside her, he covered her body with his and captured her mouth. He swallowed every noise she made until she broke away, panting. 

“Right there,” she moaned, hips rolling. Something about the way he was touching her, fingers crooked just so, had fire licking through her veins. “Keep your fingers right there.” 

Working the spongey spot inside her, he breathlessly awaited her climax. 

“I —” The words she was going to say fell right out of her brain. They came crashing back with sudden force as Nico continued his magic. “I’m gonna come.”

“Yes. I love it when you come for me.”

Pleasure, more intense than she’d ever felt before, broke open inside her and, clutching the comforter, Lena cried out.

Nico watched her face, fascinated, as he felt her release slick his fingers .

“Fuck,” he groaned, “you’re so sexy.”

The pleasure kept coming until sensitivity turned his touch into a branding iron. Squirming away, she croaked, “too much. Too much.”

Slipping his hand from her and out from under her dress, Nico watched her chest rise and fall in sharp little gasps as he brought it to his mouth. 

“Oh my god,” she said, eyes fixed on the ceiling. 

She could practically feel Nico’s wide smile. 

“I’ve never felt anything like that.” 

“Really?” 

“What did you do?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You were doing that,” she held up her hand, crooking her fingers as if beckoning him to her. 

“Someone told me it was the best way,” he said, a blush darkening his cheeks. 

“Someone?” 

“Courtney,” he admitted. 

Courtney had been a girl he’d hooked up with on and off whenever he was in New Jersey. One of them would snap the other, and they’d meet up, usually every few weeks. When Lena had moved in, he’d stopped responding to her, and she’d eventually stopped asking. 

Lena only met her once but instantly disliked her, later telling him, “I don’t know, she’s just so obsessed with herself. She hardly even acknowledged I was there.”

It had been awkward to watch the two of them interact. Courtney, who Nico knew liked him more than he liked her, and Lena, who at the time, he thought didn’t like him the way he liked her. It had put them in an awkward triangle of disproportionate feelings. When Courtney had left to go home, she told him, “you’re so full of shit, Nico. When you two figure out what the hell is going on between you, let me know.” 

He’d been affronted at the time, hurt she would insinuate he and Lena had anything together. Now, looking back, he could understand how uncomfortable it must have been for her to be stuck between two people so in love with each other. She must have felt like he was playing games with her. She’d still spent the night in his bed when he asked her to come over three weeks later, though. 

“Hu,” Lena said, holding herself back from continuing, at least she was good for one thing. 

“Have you never…” he trailed off. 

“Never what?” 

His blush was back, “Have you never…I mean, wasn’t that your…” he had to pause, trying to remember the word, “your g-spot?” 

A series of puzzle pieces clicked into place all at once. “I wasn’t sure I had one,” she admitted, turning her head to look into his face. “I’ve never been able to find it.”

Half of his mouth curved in an amused smile. “None of your boyfriends tried?” he asked, tracing the edge of her dress, where it curved around her shoulder. He’d daydreamed of making Lena come like that for years — ever since Courtney taught him what the g-spot was and how to find it. 

“No,” she snorted. “Milo gave decent head, but none of them were as invested as you are.” 

His vision flared red for a moment before fading back to normal. Most of him was smug that he’d been the first one to find hers, but a part of him was angry she’d wasted so much time on losers who didn’t deserve her. 

Lena sighed. No wonder she’d never felt anything like that. She never had. 

“What do you want?” Nico asked, his hand slipping down her side, sliding over the slippery fabric with ease. 

“Hm?” 

“What do you want?” he repeated, “I’m making it up to you, remember?”

“I want to sit on your face,” she said, not missing a beat. 

Nico grinned. He loved getting her off with his mouth, but the prospect of getting her off with his mouth while she was above him and he could see her beautiful face? What a dream. 

“You’ll have to help me get this dress off,” she said, standing from the bed. “It’s taped.”

“Taped?” he repeated, sitting up. 

She turned her back to him, and before she could explain what she meant, he made good on his earlier promise to himself, trailing his lips from the cowl pooled at her low back up to the little ropes holding the dress on.

Lena hummed, a shiver running through her body. If he was going to have this reaction all the time, she was never covering her back again.  

“What did you need?” he asked, lips whispering over the top of her spine, just under her short hair. 

“Nicole helped me tape it,” she said, running a hand under one of the sides until it caught, “so it wouldn’t fall off, or accidentally expose something.”

His fingers followed hers, easing the tape from her skin before repeating on the other side.  

She turned around, grasping the fabric at her hips so she could lift the dress over her head. 

Nico drank in each movement, his dick twitching when the black lace of her underwear was exposed. 

She thought about hanging it up, but there was a wet spot from her orgasm that would need to be cleaned off before she could wear it again. Instead, she tossed it aside, so it draped artfully across the floor. 

He made a low noise in his throat. 

She stood before him in black pumps, a tiny pair of black lace underwear and a bra that was some kind of free-standing contraption. No straps and no band. As she went about removing it, he realized it was stuck to her skin. It must not have been that uncomfortable, though. The red marks had already mostly faded when she discarded it with the dress. 

After easing her thong off, Lena held it out to him, hooked on one finger. She’d bought it, wanting to see it tucked into his pocket by the end of the night. While she’d been getting dressed, she’d wondered if it might end up there before they left the gala, but that hadn’t worked out. Good thing, too. Everyone would have known. That dress really didn’t hide anything.

“God, you’re perfect,” he breathed, taking the underwear from her and tucking it into his pants pocket. 

Preening, she motioned for him to lay back. 

He did, scooting up to the pillows to get in a comfortable position. 

Lena waited for him to get settled before straddling him. 

Watching her crawl up his body, knowing where she was going to end up, was perhaps the hottest thing he’d ever experienced in his life.

“After this,” she said, hovering over him, just close enough that the only thing he could smell was her sweet, humid heat, “I want you to bend me over the bed and fuck me.”

“Okay.”

Like he could say no to anything she wanted while they were in this position. 

She made a satisfied humming noise and lowered to his mouth. 

He groaned, hands coming up to grasp her hips, fingers digging into the flesh to keep her on top of him. He wanted to keep her here as long as possible.

He played with her clit, then licked through her, savoring the juices that gathered on his tongue. He hummed just to see her squirm and her nipples tighten. 

When he tried to pull away, and she followed him with a whine, he couldn't help but laugh. 

“Touch yourself for me,” he urged before latching his mouth back onto her. 

Clutching the headboard with one hand for balance, she toyed with her nipple with the other. 

The sight of it made his dick jump in his pants. “Das ist es,” he murmured, purposefully not bothering to translate. She always seemed to like it when he used his native language in bed, especially if it was praise.

Her head tipped back with a groaned, “oh fuck,” as she moved to the other breast. 

The need to get her off, to make sure she had the best orgasm possible, was a palpable itch he needed to scratch. It felt like he might just die without it. Keeping his left hand at her hip for balance, he brought the other to her center. 

Feeling his fingers tease her entrance, Lena popped her hips back to facilitate him. She was rewarded with a low hum of appreciation and a wink. 

Reveling in her expression — eyes rolled back, lashes fluttering and jaw slack — Nico continued his pursuit, easing two fingers into her, determined to find her g-spot. He’d done it before, he could surely do it again. 

He knew he'd found it, not only from the slightly different, spongey texture but also from the stuttered moan of pleasure that crawled up her throat. 

Her left hand smacked back onto the headboard, grasping desperately for balance as her hips rolled atop his face.

Milking her clit with his mouth, he worked his fingers in and out and up and down until she was trembling above him, chanting, “Yes! Nico, yes!”

He hummed back, moaning as a fresh wave of her arousal slicked over his chin. If this wasn’t about him making up for being such a prat, he would beg her to turn around so he could feel her mouth at the same time.

This was a whole new feeling. The combination of Nico’s extraordinary mouth, along with his magic fingers, was the catalyst for a series of reactions Lena had never felt together before. First, there was the intense heat that shimmered over her skin, then the pleasure that zinged from her core all the way up to her brain, and through her legs, right to her toes, still tucked into her pumps. Finally, there was the swirl of emotion and sensation that took up residence in her low belly. All together, they resulted in an orgasm so intense, she didn’t even have words to describe it. 

Color and sound and heat rushing through her until they swelled to bursting, unleashing all over Nico’s face. 

Choking out a groan of surprise as Lena’s orgasm gushed over his hand and flooded his mouth, he tried to commit every detail of this night to memory. He’d never made a woman squirt before and was bound and determined to remember everything so he could recreate it. He wanted to experience this over and over again.

She practically fell off of him, and they lay there, gasping. 

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured, swiping at the liquid dripping off his neck. He had no idea if it was her release or his own sweat. He didn’t care. 

“Fuck me,” Lena breathed, her hand coming up to her forehead in disbelief. “You’re just bringing all sorts of things out of me today.” 

Nico started to giggle, and Lena couldn't help but join in. They soon found themselves rolling toward each other, overtaken with laughter. It ended up being both of their favorite memories of the night. Yes, Nico had just made her come so hard she saw stars, but this — this laughing together in the middle of it all felt so…comfortable. It was a reminder that at it’s core, their relationship hadn’t changed all that much. 

“I love you so much,” Nico laughed against her mouth. 

“I love you, too,” she said before silencing him with a kiss. 

He moaned and pulled her on top of him.

After a few more minutes of passionate kissing, chests still occasionally shaking with laughter, Lena pulled away. Grinding her core against his stomach - knowing it drove him wild - she said, “well, I think I’m plenty prepped.” 

He grinned and managed to tamp down most of his laughter. 

Helping her off of him, he watched her stand and brace her hands on the mattress before hauling himself out of the bed and shoving his pants down. When he’d pulled the hanger from the closet, he’d intended to hang them up, but the prospect of fucking her stole too much of his brain power to care anymore. So they stayed heaped on the floor as he took his place behind her, rutting his hard cock against her. 

She moaned and popped her hips back to grind on him. If she kept that up, he was going to come before he even got inside her. 

What was it she’d said? I want you to bend me over the bed and fuck me. Bringing a hand to the back of her neck, he pushed her forward until her chest pressed flush to his mussed comforter. 

Her heels were still on, and even though they pitched her legs forward at an awkward angle, forcing her to grasp for balance with her toes, she was glad she hadn’t kicked them off. She would have been too short without them, and there was something so hot about having to rely on him for her balance.

Lena moaned. She’d dreamed of this so many times. Of him coming into her room, pressing her down to the bed, or sweeping everything off her desk to bend her over the hard surface, and using those powerful legs and hips to fuck her brain into mush. When he told her, however you want me, she knew she had to take advantage. 

 Fuck, she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his life. Seeing her bent over like this, with her beautiful back and the ample curves of her ass and hips on full display, was the fulfillment of a fantasy he hadn’t even known he had. He felt like the luckiest man on the planet. 

“You like that?” he asked, sliding his erection through her wet center.

Shifting her hips back, trying to entice him inside her, she breathed, “yes.” 

He took the bate, but only teased her entrance with the thick head of his cock. 

“Nico,” she whined. 

“Hm?” he asked, enjoying this far more than he ever thought he would. 

“Fuck me.” 

Something occurred to him suddenly, “do we need a safe word?” 

She was too busy trying to get more of him inside her without falling over to respond. 

Easing back as he lifted his hand off her neck, he asked, “what’s your safe word? I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t hurt me.”

“Lena,” he admonished. 

“Fine,” she huffed, mind whirring, “cantaloupe.” She’d bought one just the day before, and it was the the first thing that popped into her mind that didn’t sound too close to something she might yell out naturally, like puck, which was the first word she’d thought of. “Now fuck me.” 

A deep groan let go in his chest, and Nico pressed her back down, hand now resting between her shoulder blades. “This is okay?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she huffed, frustration evident in her voice, “come on.” 

His only response was to trace his thumb over her skin. 

“Please,” she whined, not caring that she sounded desperate and needy. She felt desperate and needy. 

Chuckling, he gave her no warning before burring his cock in her sweet, tight center. 

Hands fisting the comforter, Lena’s back swayed like a snake as an animalistic cry flew from her mouth. 

This kind of standing doggy, which she found allowed for stronger thrusting than kneeling, had always been one of her favorite positions. It felt new with Nico, though, who was thicker than any of her previous partners. He hit spots in her she never knew she had and filled her in a way she didn’t think was possible. 

Panting, she moved with him. The solid feel of him behind and inside her made her desperate for more. “Nico,” she moaned. Whatever else she was going to say jumbled in her mouth as he withdrew to the tip before burying himself back in her warmth. 

God, she was the most amazing woman he’d ever met. Her head was turned, so he got a view of her blissful expression in profile as she moaned and panted for him. The sight of her ass bouncing off his hips had him desperate to do things he’d never imagined himself doing before. Good thing they had a safe word. She might just need to use it. 

His free hand came down on her ass with a sharp slap before he grabbed the globe of it, kneading the muscle. 

She cried out. 

“That’s good?” he asked, wanting to make sure it wasn’t a cry of pain. 

“Yes,” she moaned, “so good, Nico.” She’d never liked getting spanked before. Then again, she’d never trusted someone like she trusted Nico. She knew he wouldn’t push it too far, which had always been her hesitation with the guys who tried it before. When Nico did it, it sent so much unexpected electricity rocketing through her system, she couldn't let go of the idea of him doing it again. 

He switched hands, so his right pressed into her back, and his left was free to smack her other cheek until it was red enough to match its partner. There was something incredibly arousing about knowing she trusted him to do this. That she found it hot, too. 

Back arching with the pleasurable pain, Lena begged, “harder.” 

“You want me to spank you harder?” he asked, a little surprised. He hadn’t exactly been gentle about it. 

Her head shook, just slightly, “Fuck me. Fuck me harder, Nico.” 

Sliding his hands over her curves and onto her hips to get a good grip, he got into a more grounded stance and snapped his hips to hers. 

The fulfillment of this fantasy nearly drove Lena out of her mind.  

Her face turned slightly, so her shout was muffled by the comforter. Which was a shame, really. He wouldn’t mind his neighbors overhearing this. Especially that dick next door who checked her out every time they passed by each other in the hall. 

Unable to hold it in, he moaned, “You’re so perfect for me, Lena.” 

“Yes,” she chanted, “for you, Nico. Only for you.” 

He wanted to make her come around his cock, but her declaration had a surge of heat streaking through him, so hot that his resolve crumbled in one fell swoop.

“Fuck, gonna come,” he groaned, his rhythm turning sloppy and swift. 

“Yes,” her hips tipped, just so, making her even tighter. 

The sensations became too much, and her name burst from his mouth in a shout. 

Feeling his hot release spill into her, Lena moaned.

Joints liquified by his orgasm, Nico collapsed, his chest pressing into her sweaty back. 

It took a few moments before he could get his mouth to work right. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled into her hair. 

“For what?” she laughed.

Feeling came back into his legs, and he eased out. “Didn't last long enough for you to get off.” 

With his weight off her. Lena crawled onto the bed, desperate to give her legs a rest. Her heels clunked to the floor, one after the other.

He climbed on beside her, pulling her against him. 

“You know,” she said as she turned over so they were face to face, “just because I didn't get off that one time doesn't mean I didn't thoroughly enjoy myself.” 

“You deserve to get off whenever I do,” he argued. 

“That's really sweet, Nico,” she assured, a hand coming up to caress his cheek and push his hair from his face. She knew he had a tendency to be too hard on himself, wanting everything to be perfect every time. “But don't forget you just made me come so hard I squirted.” 

He scoffed, “like I could ever forget that.” 

“And it's not like you came without getting me off,” she assured, tracing soft patterns on his scalp. “It evens out in the end.”

He made a discontented noise but didn't argue. 

She let it drop. “Let's go clean up, yeah? If you're really worried about it, you can get me off in the shower.” 

Pulling her even closer and burying his face in her neck, he told her, “I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” she said, fingers carding through his hair. “Now, come on. I need to shower. You've made a right mess of me.” 

Laughing, he slid off the bed and lifted her into his arms. 

He deposited her onto the bathroom counter and started the shower. 

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked, concern in his eyes as he studied her face.

“With what?” 

“I didn’t hurt you?” 

She shook her head, “no. I would have told you if you did. I know you would have stopped if I told you to.” 

A relieved sigh let go in his chest. 

He lifted her off the counter and followed her into the shower. 

After soaping each other up, Nico did spend some time on his knees, getting her off not just once but several more times. He was too taken with her shaking legs and panting mouth as her hands sunk into his hair to stop at one.

“I did enough?” he asked a while later, after pajamas had been donned, and they’d crawled into bed.

“Enough what?”

“I made it up to you?” 

“Mmmhmmm…” she mumbled sleepily.

Tucking himself against her, he relished the warmth of her body pressed against his. 

“I forgave you long before I got naked, though,” she said, feeling it was important to clarify. “The awesome sex was just a bonus.” 

He chuckled softly, pressing a few soft kisses to her shoulder. 

“I love you,” she said, voice slow with fatigue. 

“I love you, too. Thank you for believing in me.” 

“You’re the best man I’ve ever known, Nico.”

Heart swelling in his chest, he pulled her a bit closer and settled in to fall asleep.  

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Playlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Further inspiration (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

❕but also Sauron x Celebrimbor + slight Celebrimbor x reader❕

-> in which you discover Annatar aiding Celebrimbor in his work with the same unconventional method he used with you, but that doesn’t mean he has discarded you

Warnings: smut, voyeurism kink, exhibitionism kink, tease and denial, handjob (Annatar x Celebrimbor, Annatar x Reader) oral (R + C receiving from A), mutual masturbation (C x R), p in v (A x R), manipulation cause you still don’t know he’s Sauron, Sauron will have more influence over the Rings if he soft doms their creators or something, I just wanted to write pure filth

Note: sequel to Inspiration. I wasn’t expecting to write something like this but the idea wouldn’t leave me alone so I experimented a little🤭

Mature content below the cut - minors DNI!!!

You are not proud of the disappointment you feel knowing Celebrimbor has returned to his work. You should be glad that he has recovered enough to carry on with forging the Rings—using the designs with which you provided him, no less—and you are happy. Truly. It’s only that part of you wishes you still had the forge room to yourself and Lord Annatar.

You had not been alone with him since he had... aided you to finish the designs, and you are driving yourself mad with thoughts of what might happen when or if you shall find yourselves in an intimate setting again. Will he be poised as ever, as though you had never known each other most intimately? Or will there be recognition between you? Connection.

Repetition.

The thought sends a pleasant shiver racing down your spine, right as you reach the forge room. You stop to breathe. Even if Annatar is inside, he is there assisting Celebrimbor with his work, and that is your purpose as well. Nothing more.

Before you can push the doors open, just as your fingers nearly reach the wood, one slides ever so slightly ajar, as if moved by the wind. Except there is no wind, and the doors are too heavy to be simply blown open, and so quietly no less. But you cease to ask yourself how such a thing has happened the moment you catch a glimpse of the sight revealed by the small opening.

From your angle, you can see Celebrimbor at his worktable, Annatar sitting beside him. There would be nothing unusual about that, if they were not sitting so much closer than you have seen them do on previous occasions. If Annatar’s arm were not wrapped around Celebrimbor’s shoulders, as if to cradle him close. And if that may yet pass for an exceedingly warm gesture of friendship, there is no mistaking the rhythmic movement of Annatar’s other hand in the area of Celebrimbor’s lap beneath the table, or the nature of the smith’s tortured groans as he struggles through the finishing touches of a Ring.

You cover your mouth to prevent an audible gasp. So, you had been right to assume you were not the only one for whom Lord Annatar performs such unconventional acts of... creative encouragement. Your first, panicked thought is that you need to leave before they sense your presence, pretend as though you never witnessed such a thing. But your legs simply refuse to move. Your eyes will not, cannot turn away from the sight. You watch, heat blooming within your belly, as Annatar’s fingers pinch and fondle the tip of the smith’s pointed ear, and Celebrimbor shudders almost violently.

“Please,” he begs, barely above a whisper, “I can bear it no longer.”

“You are capable of much greater feats than you know, my friend,” Annatar encourages, ever so trusting. But Celebrimbor shakes his head in utter defeat. His hands cease their trembling work and lower the utensils on the table as he turns to Annatar with an anguished gaze.

“I beg you,” he all but whimpers, “grant me release.”

Annatar smiles, a tinge of disappointment in his eyes, and releases Celebrimbor altogether, standing from his seat. The smith cannot help but whine, looking down at what is sure to be a most helpless state of arousal, but makes no attempt to touch himself, either. He must have understood by now, as you did before, that he is not to act without Annatar’s permission.

A trembling breath escapes you. Your hand is on your stomach, having come to rest there you know not when, and you stifle the growing urge to reach lower, between your legs, if only to ease the light throb that has begun there with a quick press of your fingers.

You shake your head, squeeze your eyes shut, and turn away to press your back to the wall by the door. It’s Lord Celebrimbor, you remind yourself. Your mentor. Your friend. If anything, you should be mortified that you have witnessed him in such a state of arousal, or envious that he is receiving the same attentions as you did from Annatar. And, to some extent, you are, but... seeing Annatar’s hands upon him only reminds you how they felt upon you, and Celebrimbor’s pleas for release remind you of the torturous stretch you had endured with Annatar keeping still inside of you, of the ache of helplessly unfulfilled pleasure and the beauty that had come from it.

Celebrimbor must have gathered his will, same as you did back then, and resumed his work, because his moans reach your ears again. You will your legs to carry you away, but all they do is take you back where you can peer through the crack in the door once more. Annatar is now hunched over Celebrimbor, mouth on his neck and hand back to stroking him beneath the table, and when the smith wavers anew in his feeble attempts to work, the cry he gives out at the loss of stimulation sends a bolt of pleasure to your clit. You press your thighs together, in vain. You cannot touch yourself in the hallway, where anyone might see you.

Just as you think you have gathered the resolve to flee to your chambers, where you may indulge in the pleasure of your own fingers without risking your dignity, Annatar says your name. It happens in an instnat—a flick of his wrist, and the door slides all the way open, leaving you exposed to their sight.

Every cell in your body freezes.

“I am glad you have joined us,” Annatar greets politely, standing to his full height at Celebrimbor’s side.  “You need not linger at the door.”

Celebrimbor, on the other hand, goes into a wide-eyed panic that matches the one no doubt written on your own face. His jaw drops, trembling, and he fumbles beneath the table to make himself decent again before he shoots to his feet.

“I-I assure you,” he stammers, awfully flushed in the face, “this is not at all what you might imagine—”

“Do not fret, Celebrimbor,” Annatar intercedes, mildly amused. “She is quite familiar with my methods.”

A small gasp leaves you as you avert your eyes, heat flooding your skin. It is one thing to catch Lord Celebrimbor in the act, quite another to admit to your own. His eyes dart between you and Annatar as he blinks, stunned at the revelation.

“Come... come inside,” he urges you. “Shut the door.”

You do so in haste, but remain standing in the doorway. You cannot tell whether Celebrimbor is more angry or ashamed. Though he hardly has the right to judge your behaviour, given that he has engaged in similarly improper acts himself, if he were to banish one of you, it will not be the emissary of the Valar.

“Is it true?” he asks, thankfully seeming more curious than scandalized. You glance at Annatar, unsure, and he gives you a small, encouraging nod of his head. It serves as a balm to your nerves.

“Lord Annatar...” you begin, willing your voice to be steady as you look at Celebrimbor. “He helped me to finish the designs, my lord.”

Celebrimbor’s brows shoot up. His mouth opens, then closes. Then he scrambles to pick up the sketches by which he had been guided as he worked—your sketches—from the table, and holds them up to you.

“You made these, while...?”

“Indeed,” Annatar says, the sole word imbued with such pride and admiration, your knees weaken.

“But they are excellent! Flawless!” Celebrimbor protests, his tone raised in disbelief. “It cannot be that... Under such torment...?”

It is plain to see, from the distress in his eyes, that he truly does not understand how such a thing might be possible. This must be the first time Annatar has tried this with him, catching him as off guard as you had been, and he has yet to learn how to accept the gift as you did. A gift which is too precious, you realize, to be kept only to yourself, especially with the fate of all Middle-Earth at stake. Sympathy for Celebrimbor fills your heart, and you meet his questioning look with a slight nod. Once again, your gaze briefly meets Annatar’s, and something in his eyes along with your own inner realization gives you the boldness to go on and confess, “It helps, Lord Celebrimbor. If you allow it. And... it does not go unrewarded.”

Celebrimbor releases a stunned huff, and puts the paper back on the table with a small thud of his fingers against the wood.

“She is right,” Annatar speaks when Celebrimbor seems at a loss for words. “But then again...” His brow knits, and he ponders something. “No two creative minds are alike,” he muses. “And yours, Celebrimbor, I’m afraid is in a rather fragile state. Perhaps a less... direct approach would suit you better.”

Celebrimbor eyes him warily, but his interest is visibly piqued, your words having eased his reluctance to believe such a method might prove fruitful. Slowly, he returns to his seat.

“And... what might that be?” he asks, cautiously.

Annatar gives him a rather cryptic smile before he turns his gaze to yours, extending a hand towards you in invitation.

“Would you come here?” he beckons.

For a moment, you hesitate, glancing to Celebrimbor to find him as puzzled as you, then looking back at Annatar in silent question. He gives no answer, only waits patiently. Waits for your trust, as you have given it before.

And as before, you give it. Holding his gaze, you go to him, and place your hand in his. Your skin tingles pleasantly as he takes it in his gentle hold, reminding you how you had longed to feel his touch again. He pulls you close to him and wraps his other arm around your waist with elegance, almost as if preparing for a waltz. You are transfixed by his eyes as he speaks in that wise voice of his, close enough that his breath touches your lips.

“There are more ways to open one’s mind to their most natural instincts than touch itself,” he says. “Sometimes, one needs only to be reminded... shown... how fulfilling it is to cease denying oneself.”

The last words are spoken just as he presses his lips to yours, and you sigh into the gentle kiss. His mouth’s caresses are so languid, so patient as you follow their lead. He takes his sweet time tracing your lips with his tongue, then sliding it against your own, allowing them to intertwine and dance together at leisure, savouring each and every sensation. But that is not all he means to do, you realize as a sudden intake of breath reaches your ears, one which belongs to neither you nor Annatar. This sensuous display is meant for Celebrimbor—who is still sitting right at your side, though the haze of desire had all but erased that knowledge from your mind.

When Annatar removes his lips from yours with a softly wet sound, you cannot help but glance a bit self-consciously to the smith. His eyes are clouded with an emotion you have never seen in them in all your years working together—yearning of the purely carnal sort. Though he flushes at being caught eyeing you so, the look he sends Annatar holds a glint of ruefulness.

“You can hardly expect my eyes to not stray from my work,” he warns, “whilst you engage in such... titillating behaviour a mere glance away.”

“And yet,” Annatar says, looking at him but leaning into you, “I expect you to not only finish your work,” you give a soft gasp as he presses his lips to your neck, “but to craft your greatest creations yet.”

“I do not think—”

The protest dies in Celebrimbor’s throat as Annatar engulfs you in his arms and swiftly lifts you onto the table, close enough to Celebrimbor that you could reach out with your leg and rest a foot in his lap if you so wished. You make no move to do anything but remain right where Annatar jas placed you, your breath quickening as he reaches to your ankles and begins to draw the skirts of your dress slowly up, up, over your knees, until they are gathered gracelessly around your waist and all that covers your modesty is your undergarments.

You can’t help but squirm lightly, adjusting to the most unusual exposure. It’s already more than you had ever imagined Celebrimbor would see of you, and now Annatar is running the palm of his hands gently along your thighs, coaxing you to part them and reveal the damp fabric between your legs. His piercing gaze won’t let you look away. He holds such power over you, willingly given yet ruinous in its might.

And he is no less in control as he lowers himself to his knees before you, in the space between your legs. The realization of what he means to do, and in what circumstances, punches a small mewl from your chest. But perhaps you should know better than to think you can anticipate his actions by now. You must only take what you are given, and at the moment he gives you feather-light caresses of your legs, from your ankles to the sensitive skin at the back of your knees, whilst his lips begin a trail of kisses upon the inside of your thighs. A few on the left, a few on the right. Langourous, attentive, drawing ever upward.

If you were aching before, you now crave him with devastating force. You want to moan, but some deeply rooted instinct within you still tries to clip the sounds in your throat, sharply aware of your audience. Unbidden, your eyes drift to Celebrimbor. His are glued to the spot where Annatar’s lips meet the soft flesh of your thigh, his lips slightly parted in silent desire, and his fingers digging into his own thigh as he no doubt withholds from seeking his own relief. You shudder with a sudden burst of bashfulness... but also the thrill of it. Of behaving yourself in such a scandalous manner, leaving all thoughts of propriety aside and wearing your pleasure on display.

Lifting his head from your leg, barely a few inches from where you need him most, Annatar gives Celebrimbor an encouraging look. “Go on, then,” he instructs, much like he had done when coaxing you into resuming your drawing whilst impaled on his length. Celebrimbor’s throat bobs with what looks to be a painful swallow, but he does as he is asked and picks the object of his labour back up.

Satisfied, Annatar aims a wolfish smile at you, then works to free you of the only fabric covering your wetness. Once he has pulled it down your legs and tucked it safely within his own robes, leaving you quivering in anticipation as the cool air meets your soaked center, he parts your legs once more and looks up at you.

“Would you be so kind,” he says, caressing your thighs, “as to share with Lord Celebrimbor exactly what transpired between us upon our past encounter? From beginning to end. In as much detail as your sensibility allows.”

He says it with as much ease as he would request that you bring Lord Celebrimbor some tea. You’d scoff at the absurdity, at the word ‘sensibility’, if not for his thumb, which begins to massage your clit with small, slow circles as he awaits your compliance. You are helpless to do anything but whimper as you nod, and will yourself to speak through stifled sounds of pleasure as your swollen bud sings beneath his touch.

“Lord Annatar... he touched me,” you begin, egged on by his approving gaze. You can hardly make the story sound as coherent or vivid as it felt at the time, but you do your best to at least remember the sequence of events. “First, he massaged my shoulders. Then, he traced his fingers along my cheek and... my hair... and then he... touched the tip of my ear. Tugged at it with his fingers. I-I was surprised, but... I let him, because it felt... so good.”

The word melts into a moan, for Annatar has replaced his finger with his lips, pressing them gently to your clit before giving it a firm lick. All inhibitions set aside, you lay your hand on Annatar’s head and hook your fingers into the bow at the back of it, marvelling at the softness of his tresses. He raises his eyes to yours as he continues to kiss you between your legs, and by the Valar, he is the most divine sight you have ever laid eyes upon.

“What then?” Celebrimbor asks, nearly as breathless as you feel. When you glance at him, his eyes are painstakingly glued to his work, obeying Annatar’s command. The Lord of Gifts gives your thigh a soft pinch, silently instructing you to do the same.

“Then, he kissed my neck,” you go on, in between mewls and little gasps of pleasure as Annatar makes a meal of your most intimate flesh. “And touched my breasts. He kneaded them and... pinched my nipples through my dress.” Almost absent-mindedly, your own hand which isn’t in Annatar’s hair does the very same now, overwhelmed by the combined elation his mouth offers at present and the memory you are recounting out loud. “Then... his hand went lower and... touched my— between my legs.” You avoid the word, and immediately find it laughable. Annatar’s face is buried in your cunt right now, so close to Celebrimbor that he can no doubt hear the wet sounds of his tongue lapping at your folds—why on Middle-Earth would you shy away from something as harmless as a mere word now?

As if to further emphasize that point, Annatar’s kisses turn more vigorous, and he slips a long finger past your entrance, adding to the squelch. You gasp and tighten your grip on his hair, writhing on the table.

“Then, he stopped,” you go on, and your voice might as well be one continuous, obscene whine. “Told me to stand, and sat in my chair instead. And then... I sat in his lap... with my back to him... with him inside of me.” You mewl as he slips in a second finger, and begins to curl them into your sweetest spots with ravaging precision. “And it felt so good... and I wanted to move so badly... but he said I was to finish the designs first... and I trusted him... so I obeyed. When I had him in me... I could finally let go and just... create.”

He groans into your cunt, and you quake with the overwhelming sensations. It’s too much, how he sucks your clit into the heat of his mouth, how his fingers put relentless and heavenly pressure to the parts within you where it most wrecks you to feel it. Your already breathy voice grows in pitch, littered with desperate mewls as you pant and writhe your way to your peak.

“Once I finished, he lifted me from the chair... and into his arms... and he took me against a wall... hard and deep... until, finally... finally... My lord!”

You grip his hair mercilessly as you clench around his fingers, lost to an onslaught of pleasure that leaves you gasping and panting without shame. Annatar laps at your folds all the way through it, until your hips begin to twitch with too much sensation to bear.

“Until, finally,” Annatar continues, calm and composed as he rises to his feet, “she found her well-earned release.” He cups your cheek, admiring your pleasure-dazed expression with a blend of pride and hunger as you lean into his touch. “And looked as splendid as her creations whilst she clenched around my cock.”

He kisses you, and you moan as you taste yourself on his tongue. You feel so light and so wonderfully tired, all you want is to fall into his arms, rest your head upon his shoulder and close your eyes. So you do, breaking away from his lips to melt into his embrace, where he welcomes you with utmost tenderness.

“She does,” Celebrimbor agrees. You open your eyes to find his gaze has strayed toward you after all, and is filled with a soft kind of awe. “You do. Together.”

Annatar coaxes you to part from him with care, and a pleased smile graces his lips as he looks down at Celebrimbor’s hand.

“As does the fruit of your labours.”

You notice then, too—Celebrimbor now holds a finished, most exquisite Ring.

“I suppose I have begun to understand what you meant by... surrendering,” he admits, contemplating the precious jewel before he sets it carefully into one of the nine ring holders on the table. He knits his brow, somewhat nervous as he turns to Annatar. “Am I to finish all the rest before...?”

“That would be rather cruel, would it not?” Annatar says indulgently. “To craft none rings is more time-consuming than to draw them, after all. Stand, Celebrimbor.”

Hope sparks in the smith’s eyes as he obeys. Annatar rearranges your dress, allowing it to fall over your legs once more, and leaves a tender caress on your cheek before he turns to Celebrimbor.

You are not sure what you’re meant to do, but you don’t feel strong enough to stand yet either way. It’s almost as though you’re peering through the crack in the door again as, without further teasing, Annatar parts Celebrimbor’s robes and unfastens his trousers, releasing the hard and swollen flesh beneath to the air as well as your sight. It’s strange to think you and the Lord of Eregion have now officially seen each other’s private parts not only bared, but also evident with arousal. Celebrimbor is already weeping at the tip as Annatar wraps his elegant fingers around his cock and gives it a tug.

“Oh, my friend,” he coos, cupping Celebrimbor’s cheek. The smith whines softly, leaning into his touch. “How you must be aching.”

Celebrimbor nods, beyond words as Annatar begins to stroke his cock. The Lord of Gifts claims his mouth, and the smith clings to his shoulders desperately. You remember how it felt, to have gone so long without release and finally have the promise of it within reach. Arousal stirs anew within you, as though it had not been thunderously relieved barely a minute before.

At the same time, however, you are beginning to feel quite out of place as the kiss unfolding before your eyes grows deeper, more intense, Annatar’s tongue dominating Celebrimbor’s. His movements are still teasingly slow, despite the promise that he would finally relieve Celebrimbor’s suffering, and the more self-conscious part of your mind is beginning to wonder whether you are not hindering Annatar’s plans, somehow.

“Should I...?” you say, hesitating to interrupt. “Would you prefer if I left you to...?”

“No, please,” Celebrimbor blurts out, breaking the kiss and flushing as he meets your eyes. Remembering himself and to whom he must submit, he turns to Annatar, and somewhat bashfully asks, “Would it be all right if she stayed?”

Annatar nods, pleased by his deference. “If that is her wish.”

They both look to you then, awaiting your response—Celebrimbor with hope, Annatar with patience, and perhaps a tinge of expectation. You nod, a welcome one for all three of you. Now that you have become a part of this creative process, you wish to see it through to the end, whenever Annatar deems that may be.

“Good,” Annatar smiles. “There are eight more Rings to be crafted, after all.”

The implication thrills you to the core. Only the first of the Nine is finished, and it had mostly been completed by the time you had joined Annatar and Celebrimbor in the forge. How many more sensuous games will the emissary of the Valar invent until all the Rings are finished? In how many ways will he have you unravel, mind and body? The creamy sensation between your legs grows ever more persistent as you realize Annatar is unlikely to let it recede any time soon.

Under your gaze, Annatar returns his attentions to Celebrimbor’s neck, nipping and sucking at his skin in rhythm with his still-languid strokes. Celebrimbor says your name, practically moans it, and he wears a deep frown as he looks at you, half from pleasure and half from guilt.

“I do not wish for you to think that...” he falters when Annatar’s teeth find his ear, “in all our time together, I was harbouring improper thoughts towards you...”

“It’s quite all right, my lord,” you reassure him, watching as Annatar’s thumb gathers the bead of arousal blooming at his tip before you give him a fond smile. “There were many things I did not understand about myself and the act of creation, until Lord Annatar helped me to discover them. There is no shame in sharing in such knowledge. I do not think so,” you add, a bit more quietly. If one of the other smiths were to go against Celebrimbor’s wishes for some reason and come inside the forge now, surely they would scorn the three of you for engaging in such apparent depravity together. But you are equally sure that Annatar would help them understand the importance of your endeavours, just as he had you and Celebrimbor.

Annatar pulls away from Celebrimbor’s neck, caressing his cheek as he wears an adoring smile with which he then graces you as well as he speaks. “It brings me such joy,” he says, “to see the greatest of Elven smiths working in such harmony. Learning from one another.”

“We learned from you, my friend,” Celebrimbor is quick to return the praise. “We have you to thank for everything.”

“Let us say that we should thank one another,” Annatar insists. And as if in his own gratitude, he kneels before Celebrimbor, though he does so in that same manner he did with you before, without losing an ounce of the authority he commands. If anything, having his gaze meet yours from below has a way of making you feel as though you are standing on a precipice, dangerously close to toppling into the abyss, and he is all that keeps you upright still. Celebrimbor certainly seems to share that sentiment, his fingers brushing Annatar’s smooth cheek with deep reverence, as if he barely dares to touch such beauty.

Annatar begins with small kisses peppered to Celebrimbor’s cock, tongue darting out ever so teasingly to flick against the straining length and sensitive tip. The pleading sound that escapes the smith’s throat combined with the sight has you crossing your legs where you are still sitting on the table, to better press your thighs together.

“Oh, by the Valar,” Celebrimbor rasps out as his length is all at once engulfed in Annatar’s mouth, not a trace of discomfort on his face as the smith’s cock sinks deep into his throat.

“Lord Annatar,” you breathe out, unable to contain yourself any longer, “may I touch myself?”

You expect—hope—to be given a hum of approval, the rumble of which in Annatar’s throat will surely prevent Celebrimbor from begrudging you this small interruption. But Annatar releases the smith’s cock abruptly, pulling a strained groan from him.

“You shall take your pleasure when I see fit,” he replies before returning to his task. His voice is soft, yet the command in it is clear. It only serves to highten your arousal. And really, you should not interfere with Celebrimbor’s long-awaited pleasure again, but you fear the wooden table might begin to splinter within your white-knuckled grip unless you do something.

“May I touch you, then?” you entreat.

This time, when Annatar frees his mouth, a mischievous smile is tugging at its corners. “So long as you do not interfere with my task,” he says, looking up at the trembling smith before him. “Our dear Celebrimbor might be quite upset if you do.”

Celebrimbor caresses Annatar’s hair, giving a slight shake of his head. “I shall gladly take whatever I am given.”

You, on the other hand, waste no time to take that which you have asked for and were generously granted. You leave your seat to go and kneel behind Annatar, humming with delight as your fingers caress the soft strands of his beautiful, long hair. You brush it to the side to reveal his neck, and begin to leave your own kisses there, laving the skin between his jaw and shoulder with affection as he bobs his head while sucking Celebrimbor.

How ironic that he should warn you about interfering with his task, for a change. But even now, you seem to be the one in more difficulty as you reach around his waist, seeking to gain access to the part of him you have been missing inside you for every second since your last joining had ended. It’s an awkward position, with him kneeling and you trying to work through the layers of his clothing from behind, and however you try, you cannot seem to figure out how to even part his robe enough to reach the fastening of the trousers beneath.

He groans impatiently, and you soon find out why—when, in a few swift movements and shuffles of fabric, he frees himself from their confines and takes your hand to wrap it around his cock. He is hard and eager, practically pulsing with need within your grip, and you are reminded that to offer you these gifts requires his own sacrifice, his own desire going unfulfilled.

His hands return to Celebrimbor whilst yours remains on his cock, and you marvel at the heat and firmness of him in your grip as you begin to stroke it. He is leaking generously at the tip, and you smear the wetness along his length as you hasten your pace, and you moan as though the ridges of him are catching on your inner walls instead of the palm of your hand as your cunt aches helplessly.

But you focus solely on him. Your lips travel up the curve of his neck, trying to adjust to the movements of his head as you lick a stripe up his ear, and catch the pointed tip between your teeth as you had been longing to for so long. He groans, a low, hoarse sound that must scrape against Celebrimbor’s cock oh so wonderfully. Or torturously, if the smith’s broken whimper is any indication. With Annatar, it tends to be a blend of both.

It isn’t a coincidence, you think, but rather Annatar’s perfectly controlled timing, when they both find their end at once. It’s plain to see, from the way Celebrimbor bucks forward with a sob of relief, that he is spilling inside Annatar’s mouth, who keeps it firmly closed around him, receiving every drop—whilst Annatar’s own hips give a tense jerk and he throbs in your hand, some of his spend landing on Celebrimbor’s pant leg and some dribbling down your fingers.

It’s nearly enough to have you coming yourself. Alas, you clench around the emptiness within you, gently stroking Annatar until he pulls away from both of you. Releasing Celebrimbor’s spent cock and removing your hand from his own length, he rises from the ground, poised as ever, leaving the smith stumbling back into his seat and you panting on your knees. It isn’t long, though, before Annatar’s hand is held out within the line of your sight, and you raise your eyes to find him looking down at you like a blessing sent to be your salvation—which he, in fact, is.

“Come, now,” he urges tenderly. “The floor is hardly the place for an Elf of your talents. And generosity.”

Touched by his compliments as always, you place your hand in his and let him pull you to your unsteady feet. Though he praises your generosity, the result of it hardly shows—his cock still appears to be as furiously rigid as ever, and you frown slightly as it catches your gaze.

“Have I not satisfied you well enough, my lord?” you ask, barely a whisper. He lifts your chin, having your gaze meet his.

“You have satisfied me wonderfully,” he reassures you. “However, I shall not be truly finished until I will it so. And we still have long hours of toil ahead of us. Do we not, Celebrimbor?”

The smith gives a small chuckle. He had tucked himself away, and is now leaning on the table, resting his chin on his fist as he looks at you and Annatar with a hazy gaze.

“I am afraid I do not possess your prowess, my godly friend. It shall be a little while before I am able to endure such wonderful torment again.”

“How fortunate, then,” Annatar says, “that our dear friend is willing to share in your burden.”

You think you would share in any burden he might ask you to, so long as he kisses you all through it the same as he does now. His tongue plunges past your lips, and your eyebrows raise slightly as you realize both that the musky taste you feel is Celebrimbor’s spend, and that he must have felt your taste as well when Annatar had kissed him after feasting on you.

You are tempted to reach for Annatar’s length again as you feel its inviting weight on your belly, but then his arms surround you and you are being swept in his embrace effortlessly. You wrap yourself around him as he carries you back to the chair right beside Celebrimbor’s, sitting down with you astride him. He makes quick work of lifting your dress to expose you to him once more. Nothing would have made you happier. The moment you are able to, you cant your hips so that your moist folds caress his cock, moaning softly as your clit catches on the tip of him.

Annatar murmurs your name, gaze trained on your mouth as he traces your slightly parted lips with his thumb, “So needy,” he muses. “You neglected to mention, when you told our little story, how you came undone with barely a few grazes of my fingers, right before I took you fully.” He leans into your ear, “Should we see if we can achieve that once more?”

He grips your hips, preventing you from seeking friction much like he did the last time you had been seated in his lap. But at least then, you were achingly full instead of empty.

“Please,” you whimper, pulling away so he may see the plea within your eyes as well. “I’ve missed you inside me. So much.”

Annatar regards you tenderly, as though genuinely touched by your sentiment.

“Very well, then,” he says, running his knuckles down your cheek. “When I next bring you to the height of your pleasure, it shall be whilst we are most intimately joined.”

Your eyelids flutter shut in relief, and you turn your head to press a kiss to the palm of his hand.

“Whether that is to be now, however…”

You open your eyes to find a now familiar glint of mischief in his.

“Celebrimbor.” He turns his gaze to the smith, who seems quite surprised to be addressed in the midst of your exchange. “If you were to choose,” Annatar begins, voice honeyed with promise, “would you like me to keep you full while you work... or to hear me fill her?”

Your heart all but stills in your chest. It was one thing to put yourself at Annatar’s mercy, but for him to have Cemebrimbor decide your fate is a turn you had not expected. Perhaps it is only the illusion of control which he offers, a choice he asks Celebrimbor to make only for him to do the opposite instead. Either way, it’s a new flavour of the same addictive torment you have known at his hands, and your heartbeat practically echoes between your legs as you await Celebrimbor’s answer.

For his part, the smith seems at an utter loss. He meets Annatar’s expectant gaze, then your pleading one. “Both,” he confesses in the end. “Only... might you see to her first? I am quite sated for the moment, and she…” His eyes drop to your glistening folds. “Oh my dearest, look how wet you are.”

He forgets himself for a moment, resting his hand on your thigh. It’s nice and warm upon your already heated skin, but tenses when Celebrimbor notices Annatar eyeing it with a slightly raised eyebrow. Realizing he had failed to ask for permission, the smith bows his head in apology and begins to retreat.

Annatar, however, lays a hand upon his, keeping it pressed to your skin. He must have deemed, in the end, that the touch was tentative enough to count as a plea for more rather than a claim to it. He meets your gaze with a searching look and, finding nothing but the heat of anticipation there, he slides Celebrimbor’s hand further up your thigh, guiding it to the aching flesh between your legs.

A breath escapes Celebrimbor as he feels you intimately. Annatar ensures the tips of the smith’s fingers find your bundle of nerves, and guides them into circling it with torturous slowness before leaving him to carry on with the touch on his own. Your eyes fall shut, relishing the stimulation even as it worsens the emptiness you feel within.

“Wet indeed, is she not?” Annatar murmurs. Celebrimbor nods, unable to look away from the sight of your flesh beneath his fingers. You’ve never had two pairs of eyes trained on your exposed sex, drinking it in at the same time, and the rush brought by that fact alone pulls a whimper from you. Celebrimbor’s pace increases slightly as your hips chase his touch, but Annatar puts a tempering hand to his. “Not too much,” he instructs. “Not yet.”

Looking down, the sight you find is most frustrating. Annatar’s cock is so close, lying rigid and eager right before your core, yet your cunt weeps helplessly under much too tame a touch. You feel like you might cry if you don’t get to come soon, but you remind yourself to breathe and leave yourself to Annatar’s care, knowing his ways will leave you more fulfilled in the end than what you think you need in the heat of passion.

To your partial relief, Annatar takes himself in hand, teasing the tip of his cock at your entrance, below Celebrimbor’s fingers. He leans closer, as though he means to kiss your cheek, but before his lips touch your skin, he gives Celebrimbor a meaningful look, tapping a suggestive finger to the side of your neck closest to him. Here.

Celebrimbor’s eyes brighten with understanding and eagerness. They both lean in, and then there are two sets of lips, two tongues, wet and warm and soft on the sensitive skin between your neck and both shoulders at once. All whilst Celebrimbor caresses your clit, and Annatar soaks his cockhead through your folds, and you moan as you tremble under their combined attentions.

Then, all at once and at long last, Annatar tightens his hold around your waist, and pulls you onto him. You gasp and mewl, your hand flying to grip Celebrimbor’s sleeve as you are finally filled to the brim. Celebrimbor pulls away from your neck to look down, a shuddering breath escaping him at the sight of Annatar’s flesh engulfed by yours. His fingers falter on your clit.

“Tell me,” Annatar murmurs in your ear, “is our friend still ‘quite sated’?”

You lock eyes with Celebrimbor, then lower them to his crotch. He opens his legs slightly as you reach out to return his intimate touch, and groans as you feel the renewed hardness between them.

“He is hard, my lord,” you reply, breathless, as Annatar retreats from you enough to watch you fondle Celebrimbor through his clothes for himself. You would like to relieve him, and you wish to begin riding the cock within you more than anything, but you know better than to do either before Annatar has allowed it. Your brow knits in apology as you remove your hand from Celebrimbor. He catches it in his, though he doesn’t return it to where he aches most.

“Please,” he breathes out, gaze shifting between you and Annatar. “Would you...? Could she...? If only for a while?”

Annatar smiles, wickedly. “We’ll see later if she feels inclined to return your generosity. For now, Celebrimbor,” he gently removes the smith’s hand from where it was still working slowly between your legs, “I believe the skills of your fingers are needed elsewhere.”

Celebrimbor deflates somewhat, releasing your hand. But he is no longer a stranger to this game, nor does he question Annatar’s judgment. “Yes,” he agrees, shifting in his chair to face the table. “Yes, of course.”

“Excellent,” Annatar praises, his voice coated in the sweetest honey. “As for you…” He takes hold of your chin, turning your head so you meet his gaze. “You may take your pleasure. Once. Then, you shall lend your talents to the making of the Rings, along with our friend. Under my instruction,” he adds with the kind of gentle firmness only he can manage. You nod at once.

“Yes, Lord Annatar,” you promise breathlessly, already beginning to fuck yourself onto him. “Oh, thank you.”

He takes on a most humble expression, though you are too busy seeking the right angle at which to ride his cock to notice his carefully crafted façade. “The pleasure is entirely mine.”

It truly is—for your pleasure, as well as Celebrimbor’s, belongs to him. The smith performs his craft with a faint smile as he listens to your pretty moans, his mind no longer muddled by the toils of the past weeks, both of you trusting blindly in your beloved emissary. And your sweet surrender to his will shall bleed into the Rings through the fingertips with which you bring them into being, and bind them to their Lord all the more closely.

He claims your mouth, your moans melting on his tongue as his cock throbs in pleasure with each eager roll of your hips—and creation has never tested sweeter, indeed.

[fireboltposts]

When SKZ finds your well-organized Korean notes

A/N : This idea randomly popped up in my head when I was learning my Spanish. Picture credit to the owner. Also this is the first time I've tried writing for all the members together.

• Where each member suddenly stumbles upon your neat and well-organized notes for learning Korean. They knew you were studying but didn't realise you went so far as to maintaining an old diary of 2013 for writing down random notes, swear words, grammar rules, slangs, idioms, vocabulary, tests where you had graded yourself with a red pen with marks like 16/20 or 19/25 and your signature like a school teacher and even some phrases learnt from the boys.

• Chris

He found your Korean diary on a random Tuesday evening while he was searching for his laptop charger. He wondered what on earth were you doing with a 2013 diary when he had gifted you the latest one on New Year's Day. Not one to read someone's diary, but his interest was piqued because of a SKZ bookmark hanging out of the diary. He opens it curiously, flipping through the pages that contained grammar rules, self-graded tests with your signature (which he can't help but giggle at), and even an entire section labelled "what Channie taught me", containing phrases and words he had previously taught you, that he himself had forgotten, which little notes on the side in pencil on how to pronounce stating that "Channie says it like this". He smiles to himself, feeling a surge of warmth as he realizes you're working so hard to understand and connect with him and the group on a deeper level. He chuckles at the part where you had stated that he says a word in a certain tone and he's a little surprised to see how observant you were to how he spoke Korean that you had noticed such little things even he didn't know. He is moved by your dedication and effort. It meant so much to him that you wanted to understand him better and also the rest of the boys.

• Minho

Minho's looking around your room when his eyes fall on a notebook open on your bed, with pages full of neat handwriting. Intrigued, he walks over and begins to look through them, noting how well-organized and thoughtful each section is. The color-coding in different color ink, the little drawings, and the way you’ve broken down each concept and it’s clear you’ve put a lot of effort into learning. He spots a few phrases he's used like "Don't be silly" written in Hangul. He feels a strange pride in knowing that you had gone through so much trouble of noting down things he has said and how observant you were to the other members' words and he feels a soft warmth on his chest. When you notice him looking, he gives you an approving nod. "Your notes are impressive," he says, with a faint smile. "You’re serious about learning, huh? I respect that." He’s not overly sentimental, but there’s a hint of admiration in his tone. "Just make sure you don’t learn any bad habits from the guys. I'll teach you the proper way to speak," he adds with a teasing glint in his eyes and you roll your eyes with a smile on your lips.

• Changbin

Changbin flips your notes open curiously and starts reading. The first thing he notices is how neatly you've written grammar concepts and phrases with example sentences using names from the K industry like "Changbin ate an apple", "Joshua cannot swim", "Jaejoong, go to the market !". As he goes through, he can’t help but feel a sense of admiration for your dedication. You’ve put in so much work, and it’s clear that you’re genuinely interested in understanding the language. He chuckles when he sees a section labeled "Cute Phrases learnt from Binnie," where you’ve written down a few things he’s said, noting them with little hearts and stars. When you return, he grins at you, holding up the notebook. "These are really impressive," he says, giving you an encouraging smile. "You’ve put in a lot of effort. If you keep it up, you’ll be fluent in no time!". There’s a hint of pride in his voice as he looks at you, feeling touched that you care so much about connecting with him and the rest of the group in their language.

• Hyunjin

Hyunjin finds your notes when you’re both sitting on the couch. He’s flipping through some things on the table when he spots them, open to a section on descriptive words. At first, he’s just curious, but as he goes through them, he realizes how detailed your notes are. You’ve even added pronunciation tips in English and marked down specific tones you’d heard him use, adding little side notes in pencil like, "Try to sound softer, like Hyunjin." Seeing his own influence in your notes makes his heart race. He’s touched to know you’re paying so much attention to the language, even noting his speaking style. There’s something endearing about how you’re working so hard to speak Korean well, not just to understand him but to match his expressions too. "Wow, you’re really serious about this, huh?" he murmurs, glancing over at you with a soft smile. He leans in closer, resting his chin on his hand as he flips through more pages, admiring your hard work. "If you ever want a study buddy, I’d be happy to help. Maybe I could teach you some new words too… you know, personal ones that only we would know or swear words, whichever you want", he winks, enjoying the thought of having something special shared between the two of you.

• Han

Han stumbles upon your notes one day while you’re hanging out. He flips through them casually, but the more he reads, the more impressed he becomes. Your notes are detailed, organized, and incredibly thorough. You’ve written down vocabulary, grammar rules, and even broken down complex sentences into parts. He’s particularly amused when he sees a section labeled "Funny Phrases" with things he’s said, complete with little notes like, "Han said this when he was being silly." He feels a warmth in his chest, touched that you’ve been paying attention to his quirks and speech patterns. When he looks up at you, there’s a playful glint in his eye. "I didn’t know you were working this hard!" he exclaims. "Your notes are so good; I think I’d actually want to borrow them myself!". Han’s admiration is genuine, and he’s a little flustered by how much he enjoys seeing your dedication. "Anytime you want to practice with me, let me know," he offers, giving you a shy smile. "We could make it fun, you know, with little games and stuff and next time I'll take a test and put my signature on there and an A+ and a smiley if you get it all correct", he said with a wink.

• Felix

When Felix flips through the pages and finds your neat handwriting in Hangul , he's charmed by how much dedication you've put into it, especially when he saw you noted expressions and idioms he used labelled as "Sunshine Lixie's expressions", complete with little stars. His heart flutters at the sight. "Your notes are amazing!" he says, his eyes lighting up. "It’s so cool that you’re learning, and it’s adorable how you even have a section just for my phrases." He pats your shoulder proudly, feeling touched and a bit shy. "I could help you practice anytime you want," he adds, his voice softening, secretly hoping to spend more time with you.

• Seungmin

Seungmin finds your notes by accident when he’s helping you clean up after a study session. He notices them lying open on the table and can’t resist taking a look. As he reads through the pages, he’s impressed by your organization and the level of detail. You’ve made vocabulary lists, highlighted grammar points, and even written down little notes to help you remember certain words. He brings it up later, saying, "Your notes are really impressive. You’re actually doing a great job, and if you keep at it, I think you’ll become fluent in no time." He looks at you thoughtfully, adding, "If you ever need help with pronunciation or understanding something or maybe adding some more to the "Seungmin's Tips" list, I’d be happy to help."

• Jeongin

When the maknae finds your neat diary that you've kept for learning Korean, he is a little surprised but also very impressed at you progress as the self graded "test scores" went higher and as he also remembers some difficult words meant for upper Intermediate learners you'd used a week ago while talking to him. He chuckles when he sees his own "Innie’s Words" section, where you’ve noted down phrases he’s said. Later, he brings it up with a smile, saying, "Your notes are really detailed. It’s so cool that you’re putting in so much effort to learn our language." There’s a sense of pride in his voice as he looks at you, genuinely impressed by your dedication. "If you ever need help, I’m here. I could even teach you some more slang, if you’re up for it Y/N ! And next time, I hope to see you score full marks on your little self tests".

A/N : Do like, comment, reblog and follow if you liked it. You can find the rest of my masterlist here.

[originalaccountname]

Waaait, pls help me, so does Asagiri mean in his recent interview that he didn’t want skk but producer made him?? Or he simply just misses kunikida and wants him back in action? Or both? I’ve seen different translations and am sooo confused, would be kind of sad if he isn’t actually invested in them but was pressured instead

The way I read this was:

- Kunikida and Dazai were designed to be partners

- Chuuya was designed to be Dazai's past partner, but became so popular that Asagiri ended up having to use him more

- An accidental consequence of that was that Asagiri gets asked to write Chuuya (and Dazai) more, which ended up being at the expense of making Dazai team up with Kunikida as planned

- From these same consequences, Asagiri misses Kunikida and wishes to write him more, especially interacting with Dazai (to which I say, then stop killing him PLEASE)

- Asagiri has no plan to play with the skk ~secret feelings~ in canon, and for canon what we see is what we will get: a scarily powerful duo who throw insults at each other (because they don't like each other). Glimpses of fear or remorse like Lovecraft's battle and Meursault jailbreak are probably as much complicated feelings as we're gonna get.

- The "but, actually..." of their feelings for each other is the fans' responsibility. Derivative works (fanfic, fanart, headcanons, etc.) were explicitely encouraged for such cases

- A lack of interest in playing with the metaphorical "will they/won't they" of skk does not mean a lack of interest in the characters. Asagiri still loves Chuuya and wrote an enormous light novel about him. Asagiri still loves Dazai and all his ~mysteriousness~ and thinks that in different circumstances Dazai could be the main character. But Asagiri yearns for more Kunikida action.

- if anyone tries to use this in ship discourse tell them to sit down because the author doesn't decide what is allowed to be shipped and Asagiri literally encouraged fans, not for the first time, to play with 'what ifs'. WHAT are they talking about.

- Asagiri if you're reading this: malicious compliance. Write Chuuya and Dazai as everyone wants you to, but slap Kunikida in there too. Force the three of them to interact. If you play your cards right you can watch the Kunikida popularity skyrocket by association and then be free to do whatever you want.

[rqgender]

Good morning everyone!

Today is a very important day, and I'm asking that all Americans of voting age do their duty and go out and vote.

It's a very scary day for a lot of people, and I need all of you to go out and do your civic duty.

I'm not going to say who to vote for, but I will say if you vote for Trump to fuck off this page! This is no place for anyone who thinks he's in the right.

LGBTQ+ rights are at risk today, and we need to do what we can to make sure that everyone who is part of that community is safe and protected.

Also health has been shit and I've had to toss out a bunch of poems in my poetry book and write new ones so I've had to put this page on the backburner, but I did want to come back for today and encourage you to go help make sure Trump doesn't get back in office.

Take care of yourselves, everyone.

-emrys

[leezlelatch]

I love your writing and style. It's been a hard week and it's made me happy after discovering it. Just wondering if you, if you had the time, could write a slightly smutty drabble. I love your take on protective doll baby Copia. He's perfect.

With the last few months I'd love to read a ficlette where he discovers the reader almost in tears after being torn down by people, told that she's worthless, and now doubting herself because of the complete lack of self esteem which is even worse after this. Copia goes into DarkCopia mode while loving her like the badass he is. He doesn't like it when people hurt his gal. And he makes sure she knows how much worth he sees in her.

Truly though, even if you don't have time...your stuff has made me happy. <3

Hello, my friend. I'm so sorry this week has been hard. I hope it has improved, and I am so happy that my writing has made a difference! Here is a little something for you from me, and Copia. <3

Copia x Reader - hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive, a little smutty, protective Copia, suggestively Dark!Copia.

The old key slipping into the lock rouses you from your light doze, and your eyes feel heavy as you turn over, watching as Copia steps into his quarters, his gaze lowered as he shifts his takeout bag from one hand to the other, depositing the key back into his pocket. He raises his head, and you make eye contact. Two things happen in that moment that makes the hair raise on your arms, and your heart warm with affection at the same time. Copia takes in the sight of you, curled up like a burrito in his blanket, your nose tucked into the fabric, eyes red. He knows it’s because you’re trying to find comfort in his scent. He knows you, in and out. His expression freezes in a ghastly stare, his eyes narrowed, lips set in a deep frown which accentuates the wrinkles around his mouth. His brows are pulled down, and he appears paler than he usually does. In short, he looks ready to hurt someone. 

But then it falls away. Cold fury melting into concern, and he drops his bag at the door, uncaring as the takeout boxes tumble and rest on their sides in his haste to reach you. Gloved hands pull you from the blankets, settling you across his lap, his arms cradling you. His face grows very close to yours, searching your eyes with a certain desperation. Copia is another person when it comes to you. The endearing, funny Papa is gone and replaced by someone who is calculating, smart, one step ahead. The real him. The one he hides, the clergy unaware that the puppet is actually the puppet master. You’re precious to him, and there is nothing this man would not do to keep you happy and safe.

“Baby,” he says very softly, his accent curling around the endearment. “Tell Papa what happened, eh?” His thumb rubs beneath your eye. “What are the tears for?”

“I had a hard day,” you respond, your voice a little hoarse. His brow furrows, and one of his hands slides its way down your body, feeling, prodding gently, as if he were checking for some external injury. “I’m okay, Copia.”

“Okay is not finding il mio amore all wrapped up and crying.” He works at removing a glove, slipping each finger out of the leather. He flexes his hand once it’s removed, and it makes you smile, even if just a little. Copia said to you before that he was used to it, but you know the constricting leather became a little much after a long day. 

“Somebody said something to me today,” you murmur, taking his hand and holding it to your face. His fingers cradle your jaw, the warmth of his skin encouraging you to speak. “And I feel like I just…can’t do right. That I’m not right. I can’t even face myself in the mirror because I’m afraid of what I’ll see.” You pause, gathering your thoughts. “I’m afraid to see that they’re right.”

Copia sucks in a shaky breath when you finish, and you can already see his mind working. “My love, I don’t want you going after anyone,” you say, reaching to grasp his chin, squeezing it gently. “I’m not telling you this to make you angry.”

He stares down at you, and then he nods slowly. Copia shifts back onto the bed so his back is against the wall and he adjusts his hold on you, looking thoughtful as his fingers pick up a soothing rhythm against your cheek. “There are a few things I need to be correcting, amore. And I need you to be good for your Papa, and listen. I will never allow a single soul in this building or elsewhere to hurt you. That goes for all our Siblings, but you are not just a Sibling, sì? You are my amore. Also,” he clicks his tongue. “The peoples are wrong. They will learn that they are wrong. And you, vita mia, also need to be corrected.”

You’re listening intently, your eyes trained on his features, adoring how expressive his features are when he speaks, but his last words make you pause. “I have to be corrected?” That was the last thing you expected to hear. 

“Yes,” Copia says, drawing out the word, his expression set. You’re bewildered when he doesn’t elaborate, letting out a sound of surprise as he firmly guides you up and out of the bed. 

“Copia, no-,” you begin to protest as he approaches the full length mirror near his dresser, your hand tightly wrapped in his grip. Copia pins you with a look that shuts your mouth, and he takes you by the shoulders, setting you directly in the reflection of the mirror. 

“We shall start here,” he says, his fingers tapping beneath your chin. “You will watch, and listen.” Copia circles you like a vulture, his hands clasped behind his back. “When you smile, I want to smile too.” His voice has lowered, tender and affectionate. “I am not so proud of my teeth, but I would smile ear to ear just to match your joy. That is healing for me, amore. You do that.”

Fingers brush your cheek. “You blush at the sight of me. At the sight of me. So beautiful and sweet, and I am sure that I have seen the depths of paradise. And the way your eyes light up when you’re excited, oh…,” he laughs softly to himself, his voice almost a coo. “Do you realize how lucky I am to know your eyes? To watch your brow furrow or rise. To see emotion pass over your face. To read the story of your life through every blemish and line.”

Your breath is stolen from your lungs, and you’re already crying. Copia’s hands shake as they grasp your hips, standing now close behind you, his voice a gentle whisper in your ear. His breath makes you shiver, and you feel his hips shift against your backside. “You’re biased,” you whisper, and he laughs.

“I am very proud of this, amore. It is a gift to be biased,” he murmurs, his eyes catching yours in the mirror. “It is a gift to have you.” His hands slip beneath your shirt, grasping and kneading at soft skin. You make a breathless noise, leaning back against him, and Copia almost purrs. “Hmm, you are liking your Papa’s touches?”

They slip higher, fingers grazing your nipples, and he pauses there. You whimper, caught between your emotions and your arousal, and Copia knows how to play you like the finest instrument. When to touch, and when to pause, letting it all wash over you, giving you the time you need to feel safe in his arms. “Your body,” he says, pressing his hips firmly into the curve of your ass. “Ignites a fire inside of me, you know? I am incomplete when I am not joined with you.” He’s almost growling now, a rough edge to his voice. 

You’re spun around in his arms and he captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue thoroughly plundering your mouth and rendering you incapable of any thought. Copia has a talent at making you forget, and suddenly the cruel words from today have all but vanished from your mind. “I love you,” he hisses, nipping at your bottom lip. His hand grasps your chin, raising your eyes to his, and his tone softens. “I love you.”

He kisses you softly now, his lips curling into a smile. “You are worth everything. You don’t need to look into the mirror, amore, just look into my eyes. I see you. I see the glory in you. And you will always have a home with me. You are safe with me.”

Another tear falls down your cheek and he kisses it away. “I love you, too,” you whisper, leaning your forehead against his. Your hand slips beneath the waistband of his trousers, and he gasps, arching into your touch.

“Do not think,” he murmurs, his voice a little strained as he pushes you toward the bed. “That this does not mean they will be…removed. Papa protects what is his.”

[httpsdana]

heyy! i feel bad for putting in a request hopefully ur not busy. just wanted to say i love ur fics sm and hope u are having a great day.

so today im like not feeling myself and upset and wanted to know if u could make a cubarsi fic with fluff.

so i have a science project and im the only one working and we have so much to do and my friends are stressing me. my parents are helping but yk when it’s too much.

so anything with Pau x reader with Pau comforting her would be amazing tysmm! 💕🫶🏽

Heartfelt Equations~Pau Cubarsi

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

I saw the request and knew I should write it quickly. hope u feel better anon, i know u're gonna nail the project 🫶🏻

request from here

master list -> part 2

players/drivers I write for

y/n is staring at her laptop screen, eyes glazed over, feeling like she's drowning in numbers, notes, and complicated diagrams.

The clock on the wall ticks loudly, reminding her of the deadline creeping closer, and she can feel the stress building like a storm inside you.

Her group of friends was supposed to be helping, but one by one, they’d left her to handle everything alone. Her family offered what help they could, but it was clear that science projects weren’t their strong suit. She was in this alone, and it was overwhelming.

Suddenly, she heard a familiar knock at the door, followed by the gentle creak as it opens. Before she can even turn around, a pair of warm arms wrap around her shoulders from behind.

“Hey, mi pequeña científica,” Pau’s soft voice fills the room, his chin resting on top of her head. (my little scientist)

“You look like you’re about two seconds away from throwing this laptop out the window.” he joked, sensing her overwhelmed situation.

y/n let out a sigh, leaning back into his embrace. “Two seconds? I think I’m already there,” she muttered, closing her eyes to keep the frustration at bay. “This project is impossible, and none of my friends have helped at all. I’m just… I don’t even know where to start anymore.”

Pau gently spins her chair to face him, his hands resting on her shoulders as he looks down at her with a soft smile. “Let me see this mess, then. I’m here now, and I’m not leaving until we get this done together, okay?”

She looked at him, a flicker of hope sparking in her chest.

“You mean it? You don’t have to—” she started

“Of course I mean it,” he interrupts, pulling her up from the chair and guiding her to the kitchen table where all her papers are scattered. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let my amazing, hardworking girl drown in science notes?”

y/n let out a laugh at his words, feeling some of the tension slip away. “Alright, you asked for it. Welcome to the chaos,” she said gesturing to the mess of papers, half-finished calculations, and diagrams that don’t even make sense to her anymore.

Pau grins, sitting beside hee and picking up a stray page. “Wow, you really went all out here. Let’s see, we’ve got… a million equations and some pretty impressive doodles on the side of this page.” He points to a little sketch she'd absentmindedly drawn of a sun with sunglasses.

she blushed, reaching to snatch the paper from him, but he holds it out of reach, laughing. “No way! I’m keeping this as evidence of your creative genius. But seriously,” he says, his expression softening, “you’re incredible for even attempting this all on your own. Now, let’s break it down together, alright?”

With a deep breath, she nods and explains the project to him, pointing out all the sections that still need to be done. Pau listens carefully, nodding along, and as soon as she's finished explaining, he grabs a pencil and a fresh piece of paper.

“Alright, my love. You take care of the data, and I’ll start on the graphs. Let’s tackle this step by step.” he said, giving her an encouraging smile.

They both dive into the work, and it’s like a weight has been lifted. Pau’s presence grounds her, his little jokes making her smile as he meticulously draws out her graphs and even colors them in with highlighters he found in her pencil case. Every now and then, he looks up at her with a grin.

“You know, you’re gonna owe me a big thank-you kiss for all this coloring,” he teases, holding up a bright yellow bar he’s highlighted.

“Oh, trust me,” she laughs, “I’ll give you all the kisses you want after this.”

“Deal,” he says, his eyes twinkling as he reaches over and plants a quick kiss on her forehead.

Hours pass, and the project finally starts coming together. With one last click, y/n saves the final document, and an overwhelming sense of relief washes over her. She slumps back in her chair, exhaling deeply.

“It’s… it’s done,” she whispers, almost in disbelief.

Pau immediately pulls her into his arms, lifting her off the chair and twirling her around. “I told you we’d finish it. Look at you, mi genio. You did it” (my genius)

Giggling, she wraps her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he spins her. When he finally sets her down, they're both breathless and laughing. Pau cups her face, brushing his thumbs gently over her cheeks.

“You know, I’m really proud of you. You didn’t give up, even when it got tough,” he says softly, his gaze filled with admiration. “You’re amazing.”

A blush rises to her cheeks as she smiles up at him. “Thank you, Pau. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Of course you could have,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to her nose. “But I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Now…” He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “How about we celebrate?”

y/n snuggled into his embrace, feeling the last remnants of stress melt away. “What kind of celebration did you have in mind?”

“Hmm,” he says, pretending to think, “how about ice cream? The biggest sundae we can find?”

She laughs gently, looking up at him with a grin. “You know the way to my heart.”

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss her softly. “I know, hermosa. And for the record,” he murmurs, brushing his lips across hers, “I love you. Stress and all.”

Her heart fluttered as she reaches up, winding her arms around his neck. “I love you too, my little science assistant.”

He laughs, pulling her in for another kiss, deeper and slower this time. The world feels calm and steady, and in his arms, everything feels perfectly, wonderfully right.