#Or feeling his chest pressed against your back as you hold onto the saddle

[harwin-breakbones-strong]

Ser Harwin Strong during the royal hunt in HOTD 'Second Of His Name'

[imonanotherlebel]

Passion - Jacaerys Velaryon

Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem Reader

Not proof - read.

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Genre : Romance, Smut

Warnings: Smut, Minors DNI, kissing, penetrative sex

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The sky was painted with hues of amber and rose as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden light over Dragonstone. The sea breeze carried the scent of salt and brine, mingling with the distant roars of dragons as they flew overhead. You stood at the edge of the castle's courtyard, your gaze fixed on the horizon, where Vermax's silhouette was visible against the fading light.

Vermax had grown considerably over the years, his once-sleek form now imposing and powerful. His scales shimmered like molten bronze in the fading light, and his wingspan cast a wide shadow over the courtyard. Once only able to carry a single rider, he was now more than large enough to comfortably saddle two, a testament to the bond he shared with his rider and the strength he had gained over time.

"Are you ready, my love?" Jacaerys's voice broke the tranquility, and you turned to see him approaching, a soft smile playing on his lips. He was already dressed in his riding leathers, the Targaryen crest emblazoned on his chest. His dark curls framed his handsome face, and the sight of him made your heart swell with affection.

"Always," you replied, smiling as you took his outstretched hand. He helped you up onto Vermax's saddle, settling you in front of him so that you were nestled against his chest. The dragon's scales were warm beneath you, and you could feel the rumble of Vermax's breathing as Jacaerys climbed up behind you.

"Soves, Vermax!" with Jace's command, Vermax spread his massive wings, lifting off from the ground with a powerful beat that sent a rush of exhilaration through you. You leaned back against Jacaerys, feeling the solid strength of his body as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as Vermax soared into the sky.

The wind whipped through your hair, the thrill of flight filling your veins as you looked out over the vast expanse of the sea. The world seemed to stretch out infinitely below you, and for a moment, it felt as though you and Jacaerys were the only two people in existence, free and untethered.

Jacaerys's breath was warm against your ear as he leaned in, his voice soft and intimate. "I've always loved seeing the world from up here, but it's even more beautiful with you snuggled close to my chest."

You smiled, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. "I feel the same way, Jace. There's nowhere I'd rather be than here, with you."

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering against your skin as Vermax banked gently to the left, beginning the descent back to Dragonstone. The island's familiar silhouette came into view, and soon enough, Vermax landed gracefully in the courtyard, the thrill of the ride still buzzing in your veins.

As you dismounted, your two young children of five and three came running out from the castle, their excited giggles filling the air. "Mama! Papa!" they called, their small feet pattering against the stone as they rushed to greet you.

Jacaerys scooped them both up into his arms, laughing as they clung to him with wide grins. "Did you enjoy watching us ride, my little dragons?" he asked, his tone teasing.

"Yes! Did Vermax fly really high?" Your son, who was the oldest, asked, his eyes wide with wonder.

"He did," you replied, ruffling his dark curls. "One day, you'll be riding him with us."

Your daughter of three clung to your leg, looking up at you with wide eyes. "Can I fly with Vermax too, Mama?"

"Of course, sweetling," you said, crouching down to press a kiss to her forehead. "But not until you're a little older. Then you can ride your own dragon, too."

"Mine own dragon is small. I want to ride Vermax!", the little boy exclaimed, his eyes twinkling. Your daughter giggled, copying her brother's enthusiasm towards your husband's dragon.

Jacaerys set the children down, watching as they scampered off to play, their laughter echoing through the courtyard. He turned to you, his expression softening as he took your hand in his. "Looks like they've got a lot to do. Shall we retire for the evening as well, my princess?" he asked, his voice low and suggestive.

Your heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes, and you nodded, your own desire mirroring his. "Lead the way, my prince."

He took your hand, leading you through the castle's corridors to your chambers. The moment the door closed behind you, the air between you shifted, crackling with a familiar intensity that had only grown stronger over the years. Jacaerys wasted no time, pulling you into a searing kiss that left you breathless, his hands roaming over your body with a possessive urgency.

You moaned into his mouth, your fingers threading through his hair as you tugged him closer, the heat between you building with every touch, every kiss. His hands found the ties of your riding leathers, and with practiced ease, he began to undress you, his movements quick but deliberate, as though he couldn't bear to be apart from you for a moment longer.

Once your clothes were discarded, Jacaerys guided you to the bed, laying you down gently before stripping off his own leathers. His eyes raked over your naked form, a dark hunger burning in their depths as he crawled over you, his body pressing down against yours with a delicious weight.

His lips found your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone, his hands mapping out every curve of your body as though he were committing you to memory all over again. The familiarity of his touch, the way he knew exactly how to make you gasp and moan, only heightened your arousal, and you arched into him, your body begging for more.

"Jace," you breathed, your voice trembling with need as you felt him pressing against your thigh, hot and hard. "Please..."

His response was a low growl against your skin as he positioned himself between your thighs, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss as he slowly pushed into you. The sensation of him filling you was both familiar and exhilarating, the perfect blend of pleasure and connection that came from years of loving each other so intimately.

You moaned into his mouth, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he began to move, his thrusts deep and slow, each one drawing out a wave of pleasure that left you trembling beneath him. The way he filled you, the way your bodies fit together so perfectly, was nothing short of bliss, and you could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core with every thrust.

Jacaerys's pace quickened, his breathing growing more ragged as he drove into you with increasing intensity, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as he took you higher and higher. The room was filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, the slapping of skin against skin, the breathless moans and gasps that escaped your lips as you chased the peak of ecstasy.

It wasn't long before you felt yourself on the edge, your body trembling with the force of your impending release. Jacaerys could feel it too, his thrusts growing more erratic as he neared his own climax, his lips pressing wet kisses to your neck, your collarbone, anywhere he could reach.

With one final, deep thrust, you were both sent over the edge, your body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your release washing over you in a flood of sensation. Jacaerys followed you over the edge, his body tensing as he spilled his seed into you, his hands clutching at your hips as he rode out the last shudders of his release.

For a moment, the world seemed to still, the only sound in the room the ragged breaths of Jacaerys and yours. Jacaerys slowly lowered himself down beside you, pulling you into his arms as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his hands stroking gently over your hair as you both caught your breath.

......................

The light started to dim through the windows as you lay entwined in Jacaerys's arms, the warmth of his body a comforting presence beside you. The evening had been one of passion and love, a reminder of the deep bond you shared as husband and wife.

Jacaerys pulled your face closer once more, fingers entangled in your hair. He started to kiss you softly, his neediness growing once more.

A soft knock on the door pulled you from your passionate moment, and Jacaerys groaned, burying his face in your neck as if to shield himself from the inevitable intrusion.

"Go away, Luke," Jacaerys called out, his voice muffled against your skin.

The door creaked open, and Lucerys peeked in, a mischievous grin on his face. "Mother says dinner is ready, and she sent me to fetch you. Or should I tell her you're otherwise occupied?"

You laughed, swatting at Jacaerys's shoulder playfully as he groaned again. "We'll be down in a moment, Luke," you said, trying to suppress your own amusement.

"Take your time," Lucerys replied with a wink before closing the door behind him, leaving you and Jacaerys alone once more.

Just as you were about to settle back into Jacaerys's embrace, the door flew open again, this time with Rhaena and Joffrey barging in, both grinning like fools. "Are you two planning to stay in bed?" Rhaena teased, crossing her arms with an exaggerated sigh.

"Seems like it," Joffrey added with a wink, making you and Jacaerys exchange amused glances.

Jacaerys sighed, rolling onto his back as he gazed up at the ceiling, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I suppose we should join the others before they send the whole castle to drag us out."

You chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to his chest before reluctantly sliding out of bed. As you began to dress, you couldn't help but steal glances at your husband, admiring the way his muscles flexed as he stretched, the marks of your passion still visible on his skin. The sight sent a thrill through you, a reminder of the love and desire you shared.

Jacaerys finally rose from the bed, pulling on his own clothes with a lazy ease that only made him more irresistible. He caught your eye and smirked, clearly aware of the effect he had on you. "Don't look at me like that, or we might never leave this room," he teased, his tone light and playful.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't suppress a smile as you finished dressing. "As tempting as that sounds, we do have responsibilities, my love."

He sighed dramatically, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away. "Very well, let's face them together."

Hand in hand, you made your way to the dining hall, where the rest of the family was already gathered. The children were seated at the table, eagerly digging into their dinner, while Rhaenyra and Daemon conversed quietly at the head of the table. Lucerys, Rhaena, Baela, and Joffrey were seated nearby, their faces lighting up as they spotted you and Jacaerys entering the room.

"There they are!" Lucerys exclaimed, a teasing grin on his face. "We were starting to think you'd decided to skip dinner altogether."

Jacaerys chuckled, squeezing your hand as you both took your seats. "Not today, Luke. We wouldn't want to miss out on Mother's famous lemon cakes."

Rhaenyra glanced over at you both, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "I trust you two had a good restful evening?"

The slight arch of her brow made you blush, but you managed to maintain your composure. "Very restful, Your Grace," you replied, trying to keep your tone light.

Daemon smirked, clearly enjoying the exchange. "Good to see the young ones are still keeping the fire alive."

Rhaenyra shot him a look, but there was amusement in her eyes as well. "Let them be, Daemon. They're allowed their moments of happiness."

As dinner continued, the atmosphere remained light and filled with laughter, the warmth of family, and the bonds that had been forged through love and loyalty. Your children chattered excitedly about their plans for the next day, while Jacaerys stole occasional glances at you, his eyes filled with an affection that made your heart swell.

After dinner, the family began to disperse, each member heading off to their chambers. As you stood to leave, Joffrey approached with a sly grin on his face. "If you two ever need a babysitter for the little ones, I'm sure Lucerys and I could be persuaded," he offered, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

You laughed, swatting his arm playfully. "I'll keep that in mind, Joffrey. But don't think I didn't notice how you conveniently avoided the last time we asked."

Lucerys joined in on the teasing. "I'm sure Vermax could help keep them entertained. He's always up for a game of 'Chase the Dragon, isn't he?"

Jacaerys rolled his eyes, but the fond smile on his lips betrayed his amusement. "Just remember, you're the one who has to explain it to Mother if anything goes wrong."

The banter continued as you made your way out of the dining hall. The day had been beautiful. Your heart swelled with happiness and appreciation for your family.

But as you and Jacaerys walked hand in hand through the corridors of Dragonstone, the warmth of his touch and the memory of the evening lingered between you, a silent promise of the passion and love that would continue to burn bright, no matter what the future held. You just knew the passion was not over for the night. The chambers tonight will be....... eventful.

.....................

[thegnomelord]

I REALLY LOVE THE STRAIGHTFOWARD WEREWOLVES SOAP. OMG. Its just really funny in my head, imagine the way soap would act so shameless around the reader, uncaring about the stare he got because thats just how they are! The werewolves race with their no-shit and unfiltered attitude, and oh if they take interest in you, prepare your heart especially if you has a weak one; because surely they'll cling their every waking moment with you, sniffing every spots of you that they can reach. Absurd yet endearing flirtiratios compliments would hurled at you, catching you off guard cause they just come out of nowhere. Baring their fangs at potential rivals, worst case scenario if its their own race, because they can and will get violent, best calmed the werewolves down before anything awful happened. Just a thing between werewolves to prove which one is the stronger and more qualified, whose more worthy of your love, in their point of view.

If you have the time can you make a short fic, it would be the highlight of my life for weeks!!

Okay yes but also because I love needy clingy pathetic Soap too much lol

CW: NSFW, gn reader, grinding, somnophillia, quick and rough.

You've noticed that Soap has started to act. . . strange.

He's started trying to feed you all types of stuff, mostly meat, seeking you out at all times of the day. You'll see him go out to the woods and come back with some large animal, and an hour later he'll be coming to you with a plate of food and a 'Kiss the cook' apron on (every time you have to bite back from drawing attention to the fact the arrows point down to his dick). "Hey, need that wonderful mouth of yer's to try this out." He says, watching with rapt attention as you try his food, taking every critique with a wagging tail.

And if you like his food, oh, there's a giant grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, ye like that?" He comes closer, the plate in your hands forcing distance between you two. "Reckon this cook should get a reward." He's already stepping around to press his chest flush with your back before he can finish his sentence, and you don't have the heart to stop him because the food is mouth watering and he's just scenting you, even if the occasional flick of his tongue against your nape makes you shiver. (You, again, try not to draw attention to a hard bulge grinding into your ass)

That's the other thing. He's gotten really clingy.

He's always been clingy with all the team members, nuzzling his cheek against Gaz, whining like a kicked puppy when pushes him away with a hand on his face, tail wagging as he scents Price. Usually he's satisfied after he's done scenting the lads in your team, happy to continue with his business.

But with you. . .

You can't even sit on the couch for five seconds before his burly body is snuggling up to you, taking his seat in your lap like he owns it, like he's a lap dog. Doesn't even excuse himself before his hands are groping your biceps as he nuzzles your neck. "Aye, yer so hoht," He purrs, full body rubbing against you. "Could use ye fer a blanket on cold nights." You don't know how to feel about that, his words causing your mind to stutter long enough for him to replace the scents lingering on you with his own.

And when someone enters to find you like this, he doesn't even throw them a glance, gripping onto you like a koala and all you can do is mouth a 'help me'. Doesn't work though, as the second he senses someone is getting near he's growling like a monster truck's engine, glaring at the poor sod with his face still stuck in your neck.

Or, if you're busy with something, he'll saddle up to you, ears perked up. "Oi, bonnie, hold som'ting fer me." He'll whine, tugging on your arm until you sigh.

"Fine, just give it here." You growl, holding out your arm, still concentrated on what you're doing.

Next thing you know you're cupping his jaw, his head resting on your hand. "Anyone ever tell ye, yer got perfect hands te grope with?" Johnny grins at you, that one snaggletooth fang pinching his lip, using your confusion to rub the scent glands in his cheeks against your palm, making sure you smell like him.

You shake out of your stupor and pull your hand back, resisting giving in when he gives you such a heartbroken whine. "No, Johnny." You growl and shoo him away, but he still manages to brush his tail against your leg.

You make the mistake to fall asleep on the communal couch after a grueling day of training recruits. When Johnny finds you, his nose immediately trying to get a whiff of your scent, he growls when he can barely get traces of it beneath the smell of dirt and sweat and way too many people when the only scent you should have on you is his. His inner wolf growls along with him, his ears pricking up straight, staring at your sleeping form.

He's more than happy to rectify your mistake.

He lays on top of you, purring happily to himself when you don't even shift. "Good mate," He hums to himself, wrapping around you like a blanket, face buried in your neck once again. His hands slide beneath your shirt, making him pant into your skin from the sensation of your muscles beneath his hands. He moves his body slowly, seeking to have as much skin contact as he can, mouth watering and angel bells ringing in his skull at how he can taste his scent replacing everyone else's on your skin.

He doesn't notice when he starts to nibble on your neck, but it's the sensible next move, what better way to keep competition away than let everyone know you're taken? Johnny's marks bloom across your throat as he sucks hickeys into your skin, his wolf and himself standing on common ground to make sure you're covered in his marks.

He pulls back his head to look at his work and groans, cock immediately hardening in his pants from you covered in his marks. His hips gain a life of their own, thighs gripping your own as he grinds down, already half drunk on your scent.

You wake up to find his hot breath fanning over your face, the sensation of something hard grinding against your leg dissipating any residual drowsiness. "Johnny, what the fuck?" You ask, voice rough from sleep, only now registering his weight on top of you.

"'m sorry bonnie," Johnny whines, burying his face into your neck to muffle his whining. "Just- hah- needed ye."

You grumble, but you can't hide the way heat burns through your veins at the sight of him, his face flushed, claws gripping you like you'll disappear, desperately humping against your leg.

"I can see that." You say, tensing your thigh to give aid him in his grinding, your eyes growing wide at the loud moan that escapes him, like he's a whore on camera.

"Oh, shite, thank ye, thank ye, thank ye-" He whines, his humping growing faster, butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the way you hadn't pushed him away, that you're accepting his advances, muttering 'mate' under his breath as he chases after his orgasm.

He cums before either one of you knows it, a dark stain forming in his pants as he bites down and groans into your neck. You grunt, but Soap's quick to release your skin and lap at the aching spots with his tongue, soothing the pain.

"'m sorry bonnie." He mumbles, cock still hard in his pants, his wolfish eyes settling on you. Shame nibbles on his stomach for cumming so fast when he can't smell a lot of arousal on you, his wolf growling at him to show you how good he can be.

You jump when his hand slides down to grip your crotch roughly, his pupils dilating at the way a small moan slips past your lips. "Lemme make it up fer ye yeah?"

[shirefantasies]

The Hobbit Characters' Favorite Body Part of Yours

Another one I did for LoTR a while back but not The Hobbit so here we go 😌 warning: slightly suggestive at times, one minor swear

Balin

Upon first asking, you might not know, may not even so much as consider your love as having a favorite. Greater thought yields memory, however, a realization. Balin has a soft spot for your forehead- loves pressing kisses there, quick bursts of reassurance when you are under stress or sick. Moments of affection for all to see, pure, loving, gentle. That would also explain his habit of playfully butting his forehead to yours or the way he keeps you connected before and after longer kisses.

Dwalin

It’s no secret how much Dwalin adores your legs- his eyes are ever upon you as you throw them over a saddle, bare them to wade, rest them atop his lap and give him a pretty smile when he strokes them. Straddling him is a quick way to catch his attention and earn a smile to boot, your dwarf’s hands going immediately to rub circles on your hips and his eyes completely caught up in you. Whispers of all kinds of affections make their way between you as Dwalin savors the moment, pressing your bodies as close as he can get them.

Thorin

An anchor can always be found simply by looking into your eyes. A fount of trust and care, one look can take Thorin miles in calm and reassurance, especially when it feels like all is against him. Your eyes speak volumes even if your expression is kept in steel, aiding Thorin in his quest to fulfil all your desires. Memorizing every change in your eyes is his greatest goal, forging a connection so strong you needn't any words to convey it. You look to his, too, glancing at him in moments of amusement, derision, desire. All of them bonding you further and further, warming his heart to know he is the first you wish to see, just as you are the first thought in the king's own mind.

Oin

Your chest. Not so much for the stereotypical reasons, but simply because of the way it literally holds your heart. Your gentle rhythm, your very source of life and the warmth Oin seeks out again and again. He secretly loves resting his head there where he can listen to it, let it lull him to sleep. If you allow it the healer’s lips will find purchase there, peppering their love over your heart and along your beautiful collarbones in appreciation of the wonderful life you are.

Gloin

His hands run over or comb through your hair about as often as they can; no matter the length of it, no matter the texture or the way you wear it you will have a guardian of your hair in Gloin. He makes no secret how proud he is of the honor he’s received to be the only one that can touch it. And alright, yes, perhaps he likes to show it off, too! If it is long enough, he braids your hair as soon as you consent to it, and he’ll bother his brother again and again for anything that helps care for it. Even the most elaborate of styles and routines will become second nature to him- soon you will not even be lifting a finger. The others say he’s spoiling you, to which he says “Damn right!”

Bifur

Your hands hold a special place in Bifur's heart; they symbolize your willingness to learn, the opening of your heart to someone so many closed off to, and who closed off to them in turn. The little gestures you made chipping away at his heart and bolstering his faith. You seek his attention, wave them to show him little wonders just as he does. They form words and phrases, sometimes even capturing thoughts you wish to share with no one but him. Even when static, they can communicate much- how tightly you hold onto his, the way they rest against his chest right above his heartbeat, trace his cheek to initiate a kiss he never thought he'd earn.

Bofur

Can’t resist your lips. They’re like the sweetest of candies, the greatest prize he gets to claim and him alone. Bofur never takes for granted his luck, practically worshipping your lips as he takes his sweet time with them. And who else does he have to thank for your gorgeous smile, the blessing of sunshine it brings to the world? His mission in life is to keep that smile sticking around as much as possible. And if it’s against his own smile, why he won’t complain in the slightest, simply surrendering to the wash of euphoria and thanking his lucky stars.

Bombur

Your cheeks, of course! Irresistibly adorable, Bombur loves to see the curve of them as you smile, any flush that might be visible, especially if you are feeling shy. Of course he loves to kiss them, holding you steady and peppering them with sweet love at any opportunity. Even before longer, more passionate kisses he will make his way along your cheeks first. Bombur wants to be the only one to wipe your beautiful face of any tears that may befall it, his touch so gentle as he comforts you, swiping his thumb over your cheek before you're in his arms completely, enveloped in each other's lovely warmth.

Dori

Dori loves your eyes; he often describes how when you first met, he could see your heart straight through them. Windows to the soul, subtle tells of emotion and love and things otherwise unseen, he loves to gaze into them as long as you let him. There is a kindness, a sympathy to them that grounds Dori, gives him faith when his has left him, brings calm. He loves also the way they darken, the burns of passion, flames of battle, or even looks of beckoning desire flaring up from deeper within. Such is part of why he so enjoys nights where you lay facing one another, tracing every shift in those very windows, the access one can gain from study.

Nori

Obsessed with your hips. Loves gripping them to pull you against his chest, especially if they have plenty of soft flesh to dig his fingers into. Sneaks up behind you to wrap his hands around them and press kisses to your neck. Having a hand wrapped protectively around your hip or reaching into your pocket are moments of clear intimacy, a way for Nori to show off that you're his and he's yours, no one else's. The feeling of your hips against his is pure bliss, so tug him in upon the beltloops of his trousers to give him a grin nothing will wipe off!

Ori

Your entire face is his favorite, the ever-changing expressions and of course your smile. He can try to capture each and every variation, but that would take an age. As long as he wishes he could have with you. Your smile is like pure sunshine to him, your every furrow and twitch a treasure trove of information he hopes to be able to read like a book to be at your side with what you need in an instant. Your face projects your heart and soul in the most encapsulating, beautiful way, and the very sight of it never fails to bring Ori a rush of emotion.

Fili

He favors your thighs, loves the sturdy form of them and the soft skin of he can dig his hands into. Revels ever in the sensation of your legs tangling with his every time you sit together and he holds you on his lap, gesture of lifting you up onto him punctuated with a squeeze or two or three. Your shared moments of leisure are nothing short of treasure, the way you face him and peer into his eyes, one arms slung around your waist and the other hand tracing patterns on your thigh, falling into your warmth and softness like a trap he never wants to escape.

Kili

Shows a lot of love to your shoulders. He has his habit of kissing all the way up to your arm, but you also notice it when he playfully comes up behind you and lifts you off your feet, burying his head between your neck and shoulders. If your hair is long, sweeping it off your shoulder to replace it with his cheek or lips is so utterly romantic in Kili's mind. Same goes for baring them, sliding your top down or playfully unbuttoning it for access. And what better way to help you relax after a strenuous day than a massage, running his hands gently over your shoulders and kneading tension from your neck and back?

Bilbo

There's just something about your nose- the shape of it, the little ways it twitches and gives away the smallest expressions. Wrinkling in displeasure often shared with Bilbo himself and bringing moments of laughter amidst everything. A look shared between you two, after all, speaks volumes and strengthens your bond all at once, bringing a smile to Bilbo's face that he has one he can read so well. In your more affectionate moments the hobbit loves to pull you close, placing a kiss upon your adorable nose before moving down to peck your lips again and again, his own curving upward in contentment at your proximity.

Lindir

Your hands. True works of art and their creators all in one. Purveyors of your passion, be they plucking instruments, spreading paint across a canvas, delicately turning pages upon discoveries… Lindir could watch them work forever. Not to mention the shivers that run down his spine when they fall upon him, the sparks when those very same hands that bring forth beauty and command passion caress his face, bringing him eagerly to your delicious lips. Much as he enjoys their actions in freedom, sometimes he desires to keep them for himself, holding their warmth in his, intertwining your beautiful fingers and kissing the back of your hand to display the very connection of your souls.

Thranduil

Your neck, oh that gorgeous expanse, is the subject of much attention by Thranduil. Trailing kisses up its entirety before claiming your lips, even letting his teeth sink in ever so slightly. The woodland king's favorite method of distracting you while you work is to sneak his way behind you, hands reaching to your waist, head tilting, lips upon your neck. You can practically feel them smirk against you at the way you automatically tilt your own head to grant him access. Thranduil wants all to see that you belong to him, not as a possession, but as a promise he works to honor in all facets; thus, he indulges his love of adorning you with the most extravagant jewels he can find, standing you against his chest as he drapes his gift over your neck. For who but the king could provide such things? Tracing his hand over the jewels, he kisses your collarbones before his lips seek their favorite home.

Bard

There is something so alluring about your back- the way it is bared only for him, the tensing and shifting of muscles beneath flesh and the wonderful soft bits he can hold onto. Unable to resist running his hands up and down your spine when he holds and kisses you, Bard gets double the pleasure feeling the shivers he sends running down your skin. Plus such an area is a much more discreet place for love bites he may leave when he holds you from behind, placing kissed along your shoulders and neck.

Beorn

Beorn admires your arms. The strength they carry, the ripple of muscle with their every motion. Beyond the practical, he appreciates also the softer moments, the times you both surrender to vulnerability, arms wrapping tenderly around each other and your head falling against him gently. Trust for so long was a rarity, and yet her he is giving it, surrendering to your arms. In pauses from work Beorn often strides over to stand at your back, his hands rubbing your shoulders and trailing down your arms as he beckons you to come rest. Your eagerness brings rare smiles to his face and the way you flex your muscles even gets a laugh out of him.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn | Reply/Ask/Message to join!

[agyraty]

Heartshot

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Arthur Morgan x Reader

Summary: Taking a ride with Arthur, you found yourself ambushed by O’Driscols, you were shot straight through the stomach..

Angst, fluff, some gore (I’m not good at writing it so)

Not my best work, hopefully you guys like it!

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Arthur rode back to camp as quickly as he could, your weak body sitting in the saddle in front of him. His eyebrows knitted together tightly, a clear testament to the turmoil churning within. He held your limp body against him tightly, staring out at the road ahead. His free arm snapped the reigns of his horse, driving it faster.

"Stay with me, keep those eyes open!" he urged, cradling your weakened form. You had been Ambushed by O'Driscolls during while on your way to town to pick up things for Dutch, a bullet had found you, tearing through your midsection.

Arthur's embrace acted as both a shield and a sanctuary, his palm pressing firmly against your belly to slow the blood that quickly pored out. "We’re Almost to camp, I promise I’ll get you help there." he spoke with hushed urgency.

“Arthur..” you whispered breathlessly. Your hands rested atop of his, pressing it farther into the puncture wound on your stomach. This was the most intense pain you have ever felt, every little movement you made had sent searing pain throughout your body. Your knuckles began to turn white due to how tightly you held his hand, You weren’t meaning to squeeze him so hard.

His horse sprinted through the dense forest, staying on the path that would soon take you to horseshoe overlook. Each hard step the horse took, rocked your body, sending waves of pain through your wound.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you darling.” He whispered gently in your ear, trying to comfort you, all the while trying to keep himself calm as well. He was freaking out, his mind running with possibilities. He was so worried that he wouldn’t make it in time.. that you’d die in his arms.

You fought with all your might to stay strong, but eventually, the weight became too much. Tiny sobs shook your body, betraying the emotions you usually kept hidden.

Arthur could see the camp come into view, a small hopeful sigh escaped his lips. He urged his horse to go faster, matching the pounding rhythm of his heart.

The blood quickly pouring from your wound stained the fabric of your long sleeve shirt. You quickly began to feel light headed by how much blood you were loosing.. not to mention the awful pain.

"Darling, stay with me. Don't close your eyes," Arthur pleaded, tightening his grasp, and pulling you farther into his chest.

He pulled his horse up the road, and into the camp. He skidded to a stop just at the hitching poles, and jumped off, pulling you off his steed, and holding you carefully in his arms.

“Somebody, help!” Arthur called, quickly caring your frail body into camp. You curled farther into him, holding the puncture wound on your stomach tightly, letting out small whimpers and grunts.

You’ve never felt pain like this before. Sure you’ve been shot plenty of times, but in places like your leg and your arm. Never once have you been shot somewhere like this, somewhere so painful, so fatal..

He quickly carried you over to his cot, several other camp members following in tail, either curious if you were okay, or there to help.

Arthur laid you down with utmost care, his arms retreating as he cleared some space around you. "Back up, give her some air!" he yelled out firmly, ensuring no one crowded too close. “Arthur, what happened?” Susan asked him as she rushed over to his tent.

"Susan, she— shes been shot," he said, panic edging his voice as he moved to fetch supplies. "Reverend, we need you. I'll explain later—just help her now!"

Susan pulled up a chair besides the cot, swiping the medical supplies out of Arthur’s hand and placing them onto the night stand besides her.

She wastes no time, her hands find the hem of your shirt, and pull it up, just below your chest so that your whole stomach was exposed.

Your breathing grows heavier, panic coursing through your veins. You knew what was about to happen, and even though you needed it to be done to survive, you were scared. Your chest heaved up and down, eyes fixated on her hands as they grew closer to the bloody hole in your abdomen.

Susan reached her tweezers inside the wound, digging around for the bullet that hadn’t yet left. Your eyes shoot wide, a pained gasp leaving your lips as you began to squirm, instinctively reaching out for Arthur seeking solace and comfort.

"Just hang in there, darling. I ain't goin' anywhere," Arthur comforted, reaching down and placing his hands on your shoulders in a steady grip, offering a sense of comfort amidst the pain and fear, but also keeping you still.

"Just stay still, don’t move.” As the others worked to remove the bullet, Arthur's gaze never left your body, his concern evident in his eyes. He stayed in his spot, trying to keep you as still as possible so they could help you.

The pain shot through you as Susan carefully pried open your wound even farther. The edges of the torn skin exposed muscle underneath, a distressing sight.

In the midst of your groans from the intense pain, Arthur's hands laid on your shoulders, squeezing you slightly, providing comfort and support.

Susan quickly found the piece of lead that was lodged into you, pulling it out and dropping it beside you. Reverend to over, gently rubbing your stomach with a wet towel, cleaning it as best as he could.

"We've got it," Arthur whispered gently, his voice filled with reassurance. You faintly heard what he said as your head began to spin, eyes growing heavy. You knew you were about to loose consciousness..

“Hey— Hey! stay awake!” He spoke quickly, one of his hands going up to your cheek in a way to keep you awake. He could see your fatigue, he knew you were falling asleep.

You felt yourself going limp, your breathing growing slower as you began to succumb to your exhaustion. “I’m so tired..” Arthur’s Heart sank as he heard the last words you managed to say before passing out.

———

You awoke with a small gasp, your eyes squinting from the bright morning light. You quickly looked around, trying to piece together what had happened, you noticed the bandages on your body, and the slight ache coursing through your stomach. Confusion filled your mind, and then it all came rushing back—the events of the previous night.

You looked to the side, and there sat Arthur, his hand in yours. He was hunched over your bed, head resting in his palm.

“Arthur..” you whispered, although your voice was rather raspy. You watched as he quickly sat up straight, his eyes wide and his lips agape slightly. “Y/n..” he whispered, hand squeezing yours tightly.

You quickly looked away, not quite to sure what to say. You felt the need to apologize, for everything. For being reckless enough to get shot, and for making him deal with you. You felt like you burdened him.

“Arthur I— I’m sorry.” You shook your head, a frown finding its way to your lips. “I didn’t mean for you to have to deal with my mistakes.. I should have been foolish enough to allow myself to be shot—“

“No, no. Don’t apologize.” He hushed you quickly, shaking his head, bring his other hand up and squeezing your hand even tighter. “It wasn’t your fault, you didn’t ask for any of this to happen.”

His voice was filled with sincerity as he continued. “And I couldn’t bear to see you loose your life. I care about you to much for that.. so taking care of you was really no trouble at all.”

The warmth in your smile didn't wane, even as you attempted to push yourself up to sit. But as you moved, a sharp pain shot through your midsection. You froze, a pained grunt escaping your lips. The discomfort a rude reminder of your injuries. Through the haze of pain, you felt a surge of affection for Arthur, your heart swelling for the man who had stayed by your side through it all.

He quickly realized your hand, scooting one of his arms under your back to help you up. “Careful there.” He warned.

You smiled gratefully at him as he helped prop you up. “I would hug you, but unfortunately I can’t lean forward.” Arthur chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Then let me make it easier for you.”

He moved forwards, and gently pulled your body into a tight embrace, carefully though so he wouldn’t hurt you. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath, breathing in your scent. He never wanted this to end. He was so worried that he was going to loose you, that he was up all night sitting here by your side.

And now that your awake, and okay, sitting in his arms, he couldn’t help but feel over joyed and happy. His grip around you tightened. “Oh Y/n.. I thought I lost you..” he whispered against your neck.

Your face flushed red, as you felt his breath against the sensitive skin of your neck. “Oh Arthur, I ain’t going down that easy.” You joked, a small airy chuckle escaping your lips, but you immediately regretted it as soon as you felt a sharp pain move throughout your belly.

“Careful now.” Arthur pulled back slightly, removing one of his arms from you and bringing it to rest on your stomach lightly as he looked down at it, not realizing just how close your faces were.

Your eyes widened a bit, his face was just inches away from yours. You could feel your heart beating faster in your chest, and by now you forgot all about your pain.

Arthur slowly brought his gaze up to meet yours, his cheeks were tinted a light pink as he realized how close he was. Not that he was complaining.

His hand slowly slipped up, and cupped your cheek, his eyes never leaving you as he did. By now your heart was beating a million miles an hour, and you could feel butterflies settle in the pit of your stomach. Oh god, how badly you just wanted to love forwards and kiss him.

It seemed your prayer had been answered. Your heart skipped a beat as Arthurs hand moved from your cheek to the back of your head, gently moving you forward, and placing his lips atop yours. You closed your eyes and wasted no time in kissing him back. It was a quick, yet passionate kiss, And you could tell he was trying to be gentle with you, considering all that had happened.

A soft whisper escaped your lips as he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that..” you confessed, feeling a mixture of emotions swirling inside you…

———————————————————

[bump1nthen1ght]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Pairing:Trans!Male!Reader x Male!Centaur

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Fluffy Smut, Established Relationship, Breeding Kink

Warnings: AFAB terms used to describe anatomy.

Word Count: 1646 words

Summary: After many nights of diligent practice, you saddle up and take your boyfriend all the way.

FiRequest: could i possibly request male centaur x trans male reader?? they’ve been dating for a while and working up to it but it’s the first time reader has managed to take his boyfriends full cock 🫢 afab terms for anatomy are fine and maybe a little breeding kink thrown in if you’re comfy with it!!

A/N: Y’all know I had to give it this title

You think tonight is going to be the night.

There’s an energy in the air as you watch Samuel cook, perched on your shared couch. He’s always been a handsome centaur; a finely cut jaw with a well-maintained beard, dark caramel eyes set behind long lashes, and silky hair that falls down in luscious curls all the way to his back, but something about tonight had every step he takes stirring something hot in your gut. The way his back stretches out his t-shirt, the way you can see the muscles of his shoulders move as he dices his onions, the way the more human torso arches and his front legs bend as he takes a mini stretch.

Your engine is revved by the time dinner is served, and you know tonight will be the night.

The two of you are locked in a sloppy makeout, dirty dishes still in the sink as you sit on the counter, legs wrapped around Samuel’s ribcage. His long piano fingers dance up your sides, playing with your pajama shirt. You grind against his navel, and he chuckles against your lips.

“Someone’s eager.”

“You’re so hot.” You say between messy kisses, feeling up his muscular lower back. “How could I not be?”

Samuel chuckles again, ignoring your whines and pulling away to kiss at your neck. His hands move from your waist to your butt, sliding under to pick you up. Your ankles cross behind him.

“Need you.” You moan, grinding onto hum like a horny teenage. “Need your cock.”

Samuel’s eyes grow dark, licking his lips as he looks you up and down.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” Your voice keens. “I think-” you suck in a breathe, knowing this a hold claim to make, “-I think I’m ready for all of it”

Samuel’s brows shoot up, taken slightly aback.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I wanna try, atleast.” You pout, fingers carding through his long tresses. “I’ve been practicing so much.”

And you have, both with and without him. You had bought appropriately sized dildo’s to masturabte with, cockwarming during long edging sessions just to make sure. Last time you had been able to take him until 4 inches were left, but you're confident in your practice.

Tonight is the night.

Samuel stares at you for a long time, probably wondering if you’re too crazed on lust to be trusted, but then he smirks.

“Ok, babe. We’ll try.” Samuel hikes you up on his chest, pulling you closer, face-to-face. “Same position as usual?”

You nod, eyes practically full of stars at the thought. Samuel smirks and gives you a peck on the lips, before carrying you to the bedroom.

Samuel is gentle as he sets you down onto the bed, pulling open your bedside drawer to grab the lube and your knee pillow. You stay close by his side, drawing your finders up and down his chest. You bite your lips as you pull up the hem of his shirt, admiring his treasure trail and solid stomach. Samuel shivers when you press a kiss right below his belly button. Your mischievous hand wanders down his lower half and across his front, slipping between his two front legs and petting at his fur. Eyes glance down as well, catching a peak of his cock coming out of its sheath. You wolf-whistle, sliding off the bed and shimmying off your shorts in one motion.

“You’re insatiable, babe. I haven’t even touched you yet.” Samuel says, voice low as his hand brushes between your thighs, just missing your aching hole. You whine, throwing back your ass and laying your torso onto the bed.

“I told you.” Your voice is salacious, lower lip bitten between your teeth, “I need your cock, badly.”

Stars shoot behind your eyelids as Samuel rubs two lubed-up fingers between your lips, middle finger circling your clit. He simpers.

“Yeah, you were made for this dick, huh?” Two fingers slide in easily, scissoring outward to stretch your walls. You just nod, knees digging into their pillow as you sink into the feeling. “Didn’t know my boyfriend was such a cock-tease.”

Samuel climbs up the bed, his two front knees resting beside your shoulders as he aims his cock up with your entrance. He leans forward to grab the bar you two installed just for this position, something to grab on to as he humps. Samuel’s hot head presses against your hole, as girthy as ever.

“Ready?” Samuel whispers from above, neck craned to look down between his legs, always double checking to make sure you're not crushed under his weight. You nod and give a singular pat to his fetlock, your signal to go ahead.

There’s always a slight burn when Samuel enters you, having a nearly 10 inch dick will always do that. But your body falls into position easily, your muscles relaxing to allow for easier entry, no pain causing you to clench up.

“F-uck.” Samuel’s voice drawls as the first inch, then the second, then fourth, then sixth feel your walls clench around him. You bite down on the blanket below you, toes curling into the floor. But you can do it, you can.

He hesitates a bit at the 7th inch, knowing that's usually your limit. But you give him another single pat to the leg, and he keeps going, extra slow.

It takes a tortuous amount if time for both of you, legs shaking from the tension and palpable desire, but then-

“Holy shit.” Samuel says, half amazed and half relieved. You wiggle your hips, and feel Samuel’s balls snug against you.

You’ve fit him to the hilt.

“Well?” You laugh, trying to act as if you're not on the edge just like he is. “What are you waiting for?”

You thrust your hips back, eyes rolling back as Samuel’s dick presses against the deepest part inside you. His breath hitches, stomach trembling above you.

“Oh, you asked for it.” Samuel growls, steadying his hooves.

Despite the sassy tone, Samuel’s first thrusts are tentative. He only pulls out an inch or too, moving at a glacial pace. It’s good for getting you accustomed, but you quickly yourself wanting more. You throw your hips back again, wining like an animal in heat.

“So desperate.” Samuel pants.

“Please, Sammy.” You give him your best puppy eyes from below. “Fuck me.”

That's the straw that breaks the centaurs back, Sam pulling out halfway and slamming into you with enough force to send you a couple inches across the bed. A dumb smile spreads across your face.

It’s no more Mr. Nice Guy as Samuel starts fucking you for real, heavy balls slapping against you with each hump. Your vision goes spotty every time he hits your g-spot, mouth wide open and tongue lolled out in a pant.

“Oh my g-od.” Your voice trembles as your fucked harder than you’ve ever been fucked before, feeling not unlike a fleshlight, yanked down again and again in your boyfriends massive cock. The bed shakes under your weight.

“Take it, take it.” Samuel grunts, his knuckles turning white as they grip on the bar. “Such a good boy, taking my cock all the way to-” a thrust, “-the” and another “-hilt.” and another. Your stomach presses into the eye of the bed, mind slowly losing cohesive thought. His weeping head hits your sensitive spot at the perfect angle every damn time, and you feel jolts of electricity shoot across your nerves with every hump.

Time seems to lose all meaning, words melting into grunts and whines, breathy voices blending together with heavy balls slapping against your thighs. You think you’ve forgotten where Samuel ends and you begin, forgot what it feels like to be empty of his cock. Drool is pooling in your mouth, threatening to dribble down your jaw in an erotic display of decadence.

“Fuck, I’m close.” Samuel grunts, nails grating against the bar. “Where do you want it?”

“Inside.” A voice that must be yours begs, pleads. You can imagine Sam’s smug, sweaty face already.

“Yeah? Want me to breed you?” You nod into the sheets, a dumb smile coming across your face. “Imma fill you up until you're gushing, baby.” Samuel’s hooves presse against the hardwood as he steadies his back two legs, throwing everything into his thrust. “You’d be so cute, my little house-husband, full of my kids.”

Samuels shudders as your hole clenches around him, his dirty talk only working you closer to the edge.

“Sh-it” Samuel draws out his syllables, balls feeling tight against your ass cheeks as his hips begin to stutter. A drop of sweat falls from his chest, rolling down your arched back as his breathing picks up the pace. “Here it comes, sweetheart. All for you. Fuck!”

Your back arches and toes curl as your orgasm hits, gushing with Sam’s cum as he finishes inside of you. Streams run down in rivulets across your thighs, the squelching of skin as Sam pulls out his softening cock.

You lie limp as Sam slowly hops off the bed, his front legs still trembling. He collapses next to you not soon after, laying his upper torso on the bed as his lower one rests on the cold floor. The fur around his legs and back lay datk and slick with sweat, his face flushed.

A calloused palm brushes the side of your face, dragging you out of dream-land and back to reality.

“You did great, babe.” Sam chuckles. “Think I might grow addicted to being all the way in.”

You throw him a lazy thumbs up.

“Not a problem with me.” Your words slur, lips half-pressed against the damp sheets, no doubt an imprint of your sweaty torso on them.

He leans over and kisses your neck, his hand moving to massage your neck.

“Fuck, we forgot about the dishes.”

[365granitegirlx]

Cleanse Me with Pleasure part 2

PraiseKink!Vessel x Fem!Reader

Summary: your period works hard to kick your ass but Vessel works harder.

CW/Tags/Head’s Up: barely plot all smut, reader is on her period, female gendered pet names, sex in a bath tub, fingering, doggy, slight dubcon, overstim, praise, “mommy”, soft dom vessel

a/n: this is 1000% self indulgent

It’s been a shit day. Work sucked. Your cramps are the worst they’ve been. You feel gross. A few frustrated tears stream down your face as you scoot down in the tub. The water is so warm and the bubbles make it feel cozy but your mood is so poor it could ruin anything. But then…

“Hmm. My princess…”

There is he is. Sweet Ves. You smile weakly. “Hey babe.” He wordlessly takes his clothes off, getting ready to join you, but you protest. “Noo Ves, you don’t want to get in here with me. I’m all icky and bleeding.” But he’s already naked.

“Move up for me.” He gently nudges you to make room for him. He saddles up behind you and pulls you back to his chest. “There she is…there’s my girl.” He kisses behind your ear and gently bites your neck. “Will you let me touch you? Please?”

As your back arches he runs his hand up your stomach and to your tits. “Look at that. Look how good you look in my hands.” His breath shudders as his fingers rub and squeeze your nipples. “Do you feel how hard I am for you? You make me feel so good, princess. Let me help you.” He moves you forward a little and pats the side of the tub.

“Ves, I don’t know…I don’t feel…”

“Oh. Come now, darling. Just bend. Over. The tub.”

Your brain is working overtime. You’re in pain and grumpy but you’re also becoming insanely horny for him. You reluctantly bend over and huff. “There.”

He gives you a swift spank and huffs back. “You’re lucky I’m in a giving mood. I know you’re hurting but let me take care of you…” he says as he leans forward and teases your inner lips with his finger tips. Resting his elbow on the side of the tub and cradles his head in his palm as he teases your clit.

“Fuck…Ves….”

“What is it? Warming up to being good for me?”

You groan as he rubs a big slow circle on your clit…your hips grinding down on his hands. He watches you and bites his lip. He wants to overload your brain with pleasure and make you forget about how much it hurts. His finger slides to your entrance. “Be good for me, princess. Let feel you from the inside…” Your moan is load and throaty as he works two fingers inside you. He’s not wasting any time. You hold onto the side of the tub and lift your plush ass like a bitch in heat as he finger fucks roughly. “Look at you.” He spanks you again. “Look how good you’re being. You like being bent over like that?”

You turn to look at him…he’s gaze is intense and hazy as he licks his lips. “You look perfect. You look perfect bent over taking my fingers…” You moan rhythmically with his movements as he moves closer to you. He wraps his arm around your stomach and whispers in your ear roughly, “you’re always so fuckable. Aren’t you? Your body is perfect right now. Do you feel good?”

Your brain is breaking as his hot breath tickles your ear. You can’t catch your breath as he rubs hard against your sweet spot so quickly you feel so overstretched you don’t even know if you could cum. It’s too much when he adds a third finger without ask. “Ves….fuck Vessel please it’s too much. I can’t…”

He grabs you close and keeps pumping his fingers. He grits his teeth and whispers “you’re going to take what I say you can.” Without warning he yanks his hand from your sopping cunt. You let out a strangled moan and turn to look at him, your face flushed and eyes watering. He’s considering his coated fingers when he looks up at you with a darkened gaze. “Messy…messy…girl…” he chuckles softly and dunks his hand in the water. “It’s my turn to get messy.”

He presses you further against the side of the tub and gets behind you. His cock slaps up against your clit from behind as your whine and whimper. “Oh look at my girl…look how bad she wants to get fucked. You don’t want to think, do you? No pain? Just my cock, right? You wanna get stretched? Hm?” He bucks into you with a loud, whining groan. His hand grips your shoulder to bang you back against him. The pleasure is almost too much…it’s almost like he knows that because he starts spanking you again. “Fffuuuuck that’s my girl. That’s my fucking girl.”

“Vessel GOD please I can’t…I can’t…” you feel like you’re splitting in fucking two. His cock throbbing inside you grinds so hard against your g-spot while his hands press you harder into the tub. “Babe…Ves…puppy, please…please I can’t…fuuuuuuck”

Your head falls back, and he cups your throat without choking you. “You can. You can. You’re a fucking goddess. You’re perfect like this for me. You can take it. Let yourself feel good.”

You reach back clumsily…you need to feel your boyfriend closer. He moves to basically mount you and he groans pathetically. “Oohhh god…feel good on me…please…please use my cock…wanna make you feel good…” He’s holding you so tight and tweaking your nipples. You want to buck against him to fuck him harder but he basically has you in bear hug. One arm wraps around your chest as he whimpers into your back. Fuck he feels incredible. Needy for you to feel good on his cock. He reaches down and rubs your clit. “Cum on me…please mommyyyy.”

He’s so cute when he’s sexed up and desperate but you don’t have the brain power to respond. You cum. You’re neither ready nor trying to fight it off. You’re at Vessel’s mercy. You’re yelling his name and on the verge of tears as he fucks and talks you through your orgasm.

“Fuck…fuck you’re perfect…your pussy is fucking perfect…” somehow he’s still going. You beg him to let you jack you off but he’s insistent that he cums inside you. He grips your hips and growls into your shoulder. “Take it…take my cum, princess. Such a good fucking girl.”

“Cum for me, puppy…please…I need it…mess me up…” you moan out pathetically. He steadys himself and fucks you wven harder…growling…basically yelling…he’s a fucking animal. As he cums he keeps fucking it into your pussy. He lets himself get overstimulated on how slick and warm you are. When he pulls out, he gently pulls you toward him and kisses your forehead.

“Thank you Ves…oh my god…” you smile, feeling cum drunk and lovesick.

After a bit he tells you to drain the tub and helps you stand. He starts the showerhead so you both can clean off. “Here baby…let me clean you up.” He gently washes your inner thighs and outer lips with your ~feminine hygiene safe~ soap. “You have fun?”

You nod and chuckle a little. “Yeah…I feel a lot better. Ready for bed after this I think. Did you…heh what am I saying? You had a great time, didn’t you?”

He turns off the water and hands you your towel.

He gives you a big, sweet kiss. “Oh it was wonderful. YOU are wonderful. I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah?”

“So proud. You’re doing so well…my best girl. My only girl.”

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Brave [10 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: You see that the grass sea does truly have an end.  

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse, Fighting, Monsters, Animal Death, Violence, Mildly described gore

A/N: 👀 as always, reblogs and feedback of all kinds are appreciated and always welcome! thank you! mind the warnings ❤️

Steve wakes you before dawn. 

You’re still tired from the hard rides in the days before, only managing to stay upright on your horse through sheer force of will alone. The others are more experienced at sleeping in the saddle than you, who begins to slip out of it just as soon as your eyes drift shut. 

Riding in the middle of the pack had meant you had no responsibility other than to keep ranks, to follow the path set in front of you. But at the front, Steve had had different requirements. 

Hold your hand like this, Sweetmeat. Which way’s the wind leaning? 

Ride up ahead, Little One. Tell me what you see. 

You see the first stars on the horizon? Good. Spread your fingers like this—ah. See? That tells us how far we have left to go. 

When his hand falls upon your shoulder, you lurch in the saddle, a hand flying to the hilt of your short sword as the other grips the reins. 

“Easy, Sweetmeat.” You feel Steve’s hand close around your own, re-sheathing your partially drawn sword with a click. “Ready for battle?” He asks with a chuckle, and your cheeks burn. 

“Shouldn’t I always be?” You shoot back, before stifling a yawn. The sky is still dark above you, only just beginning to turn orange and indigo at the edges.  The shapes Steve had taught you to look for—Tirth’s Throne, Ginza the bear—are high in the sky now, directly overhead. 

“Is something wrong? We haven’t lost course, have we?” 

Steve raises an eyebrow. “No, we have not.” He seems almost… Proud. “How dutiful.” It is not the most flowery compliment to be sure, but it makes you bite your lip and look away anyway. Perhaps it is the look of admiration that makes you nervous—yes, nervous. Certainly that is what the trembling is in your belly, the reason you look for something to do with your hands. You settle on smoothing out your skirt. 

“That was your purpose in teaching me navigation, was it not?” You ask, and he laughs. 

“If you like.” His horse falls into step beside yours. Even his horse is a massive beast, larger at least by half than the mare you sit astride. 

“Then why wake me?” 

The smile that creeps across the Orc’s face makes you look away for the pounding in your chest. 

“I promised you wondrous sights, did I not?”

—

At his bidding, you had handed Carol the reins to your horse, stammering and staring at the ground you wished might open up to swallow you. You can feel the eyes of the pack on your back, Steve’s especially. Carol elbows you, the force of it making you stumble. 

“Not one but two, eh?” She grins so wide her tusks poke into the apples of her cheeks. Your whole body prickles.

“I do not know what you mean.” You loop a stray curl away behind your ear. “Take good care of my horse, will you?”

“Mm. Like my own.” 

You return to Steve, who holds out his hand, beckoning. 

“It is faster with just one,” he explains. Your hand seems tiny in his as he grips it and swings you up in front of him. Hopefully he cannot feel how hard your heart is beating, or hear how fast the blood rushes in your veins. He’s warm behind you, the bare skin of his tattooed chest pressing against you through the back of your dress, and touching you where the sleeves had been torn off for convenience. You stiffen as he lowers his head to speak directly into your ear. 

“Hold onto the saddle.” 

You do, yelping as the horse rears back before taking off. The beat of its hooves is tremendous as it races into the horizon, pounding against the earth like a great drum. Carol is a speck behind you in moments, lost in the shifting grass. You ride until you are sure the pack lies many leagues behind you now, and the sea has well and truly swallowed them. But finally Steve brings the beast to heel, slowing, and you see that there is an end to the low hills and little rivers of the zikaegina—here, at least. Countless days and nights from the village you’d known but there is at least one place where the grass sea does not truly meet the sky. 

The air smells of water and something familiar but unidentifiable, and as Steve slows, you see the grass is shorter, windswept and crusted with white. He dismounts behind you, before helping you down. You run a hand over the stiff, almost frosted grass, and then bring a finger to your lips. 

Salt.

There is a sound almost like wind through the tall grass but louder, like deep and resounding thunder. 

“What is that?” You turn to stare at Steve, wide eyed. He looks up from hobbling the horse, a small smile gracing his features as he loops the reins around the remains of a stunted tree. 

“Go and look. Mind the edge.” 

You creep forward, pushing your way through the grass until it’s almost a normal height, brushing against your knees. And the dirt—it’s looser, grittier, nothing like the hard packed red clay beneath the village, or the dark, moist soil of the grass sea. It is littered with tiny dried shells, circles and spirals and little five pointed stars, crunching beneath your feet. The grass ends in a sharp drop—a cliff. The salt-water smell is stronger than ever now, as is the wind and e sound. As you approach the edge with cautious steps, you see it—

Water. 

Deep and endless blue, like the green that stretches on forever behind you.  

Infinity meets infinity.

The waves slam against the sheer rocky cliffside, and even up here, miles above, you can feel the cool spray. You have never seen this much water at once, roiling and crashing. What swims beneath those waves, you wonder, what stares up at the sun through the shifting mirror of its surface? A curious, childish joy wells up in you at the sight of it, at this new wonder you behold with wide eyes. 

“What is this?” You shout to be heard over the cacophony of wind and waves and crumbling stone. The Orc who had been your captor is now behind you, you can feel his presence, like the world simply bends around him, held like a suspended breath. You do not know what you would call him now, as “captor” no longer seems fitting. 

“The sea.” You turn to face him, the wind whipping wildly at your hair and skirts. 

“It’s beautiful.” You turn back to watch the water, staring at place where it meets the horizon, a lifetime away. 

“Yes,” Steve says quietly. “It is.” Together, you watch as the sun rises, orange-red and shimmering from the depths. You sit in the grass, folding your legs beneath you as the glorious spectacle keeps you riveted. It isn’t the first time you’ve watched the sun rise, but now it seems incredible, beautiful instead of mundane.

“Did the sea come up here, once? Is that why there’s sand?”

“Once.” He nods. “I believe I told you of Molroch.” 

You nod. “You said he split the sea.” Steve smiles. 

“So they say.” He gestures at the grass sea, and at the sharp stone edge. In the distance, you see it curve around, stretching on for uncountable thousands of leagues before disappearing into the horizon. “And what do your people say?” 

“They say that Gods and giants dwell on the other side of the mountain.” The village sat as most settlements did in the Kingdom of Light—in the shadow of the mountains. They traveled parallel to the grass sea, hostile and uncrossable. It was forbidden anyway, a land shrouded in choking mist and marked by a chasm so deep that the bottom could never be reached. “They say Halith reached down and pulled up the mountains so the giants could never reach us again. That she went up into the sky to shine down upon us and shun them from her light.” 

You look back at the sea. “Is there anything on the other side?” 

“I don’t know, Sweetmeat.” He rises to his feet with a stretch. “Perhaps one day we shall find out. But today, we lead the pack to Tarrath.” Steve offers you his hand, and you take it. You stand, brushing sand and dry grass from your skirts as you do. 

“We’ll get there today?” You ask, wide eyed. Steve laughs. 

“Perhaps by nightfall.” You begin to make for the grass and his horse. “Wait.” He reaches for a pouch at his waist, and from it he pulls a cone shaped spiral shell, perhaps half the size of your palm. It’s pearly and iridescent, shining beautifully in the sun when you hold it up. Your cheeks heat. 

“A token.” He says, turning back toward the grass sea. “So you always remember. Hold it to your ear and listen.” He pantomimes holding it up, and you do, pressing your ear to the hole. After a moment, you hear it, a softer, quieter version of the booming crash of the water against the cliffside. You smile. 

“Thank you. It’s beautiful.” 

Steve nods. “It is.” He is not looking at the shell, though. You tuck it carefully into the little pouch at your waist. 

“To Tarrath, then?” You ask, and Steve lifts his chin, tusks gleaming as his lips curve upward. 

“To Tarrath.” 

Brave Masterlist

next chapter

[theemporium]

Hi, sweetie. I think it would be fun to read about Sunshine and Daniel moving in together and dealing with the chaos involved with that.

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

The decision to move in together was a unanimous decision.

Between the fact both of you wanted to take that step in the relationship and the fact it was insanely stupid to be paying for two places when you only used one when you weren’t abroad, it seemed like the most logical step. 

But your place didn’t feel right and neither did Daniel’s. He wanted a place that felt like yours, something you shared and were both proud of. Even if it was a little more hassle than could have been avoided, getting a new place together was the step you both wanted to take. 

Even if moving itself was an absolute bitch. 

“Baby?”

“Yeah, Sunshine?”

“Where’s the bottle opener?”

“In the box in the kitchen!”

You stared blankly at the room that was supposedly meant to be your kitchen, but it was hard to tell with a variety of boxes and bubble wrap covering the place on every possible surface.

“Which one?”

You heard his footsteps approaching where you stood, and not even moments later, he was saddled up behind you. He was breathless and a little sweaty—probably from trying to build the bedframe he was convinced he could build himself—and clad only in sweatpants. You almost forgot what you needed.

“Fuck, they dropped off more boxes,” he murmured, a crease forming between his brows. “How much shit do we own?”

“A lot, apparently,” you snorted before you glanced down at the bottle of red wine in your hand. “Fuck, I was really looking forward to this.”

Daniel raised his brows. “And what were you going to drink it from?”

You paused before you let out a groan. “I fucking hate this.”

Daniel only smiled as you leaned against him, his arms around you before your body even had a chance to fully settle against him. He leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of your head. “I am glad you’re so happy about moving in together,” he teased.

“This was your idea,” you murmured lamely.

Daniel snorted. “Yeah? Making me the big, bad guy, Sunshine?”

“You seduced me,” you sighed dramatically before you tilted your head back, your chin pressed against his chest as you looked up at him. “You’re a bad influence, Ricciardo.”

“You seem to be forgetting the best part of moving,” he mused as he watched your eyes narrow slightly in confusion.

“What?”

He leaned down, his nose brushing against yours and his breath tickling and teasing your own as he spoke. “We get to christen every room in this house, Sunshine,” he murmured as his hands slid down your body, cupping your ass and tugging you closer to him. “That’s a lot of rooms to defile.”

You pressed your lips together to try and hide your smile. “Wanna get a head start?”

“Don’t mind if we do,” he grinned before he leaned down to kiss you, his hands holding onto the back of your thighs as he held you against him.

“Do we even have a bed to fuck on?” you asked, whispered words shared between kisses.

“No,” he admitted, smiling when you leaned back to snort. “But I reckon I can fuck you dumb perfectly fine on the mattress on the floor, Sunshine, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”

.

[peachesofteal]

okayyyy so now i need an entire DD fantasy au…

peach, every piece of your writing is like freshly baked bread, and i am a starving peasant. you are my god.

dead disco is eating my brain.

- 🧟‍♀️

🧟‍♀️ Anon is referencing this. Same. I wish I had more time to write, I could totally take this and run with it. 🖤 🖤 I will feed you as much bread as I can.

“What- what’re you going to do with me?” You try to brace your voice with strength, bravery, anything to try to hide the truth, disguise the fear that has your hands shaking in your dress.

“We’re takin ye home, Princess.” You gape at the Highlander, the one who Introduced himself as Johnny. He tightens the girth on a sweet, sorrel pony, who nickers at you softly.

“But I am home.” You gesture to the castle that lurks behind you, and Ghost scoffs.

“You belong to us, darling. And that-“ he points at the gate. “Wasn’t much a home for you, now was it?” The image of your father being hacked to pieces by the violent stroke of his sword rips across your mind, and you shudder.

“Alright. Shall we?” Johnny motions to the pony, and you blanch.

“I don’t ride.” Your stomach knots, twisting up more than you thought possible, after everything. “I don’t- I’ve always taken a carriage.” They exchange a look, some sort of silent communication passing between the two, a deep connection that somehow manages to make you feel like an intruder, even those these are the two who ransacked your land and killed your father.

“Ye’ll ride with me then.” Johnny tells you gently, bending with a palm forward.

“I-“ The protest is in vain, and you know it. There’s no one here, to come to your rescue, no one to save you. Your own home is drenched in blood.

“Up ye get.” His hand hovers in the air by your knee, encouraging you to use it as a step, you think. But no, surely not? He couldn’t… support you. With one hand. You stand on indecision, looking from him, to the horse, to the ground. “Darling.” He murmurs softly, gentle under his breath.

It’s time.” Ghost calls, hoisting himself up onto a massive, shiny black horse that stands double your height, if not more.

“Princess.” Johnny urges. “Dinnae make me force ye onto the horse.” He’s serious, and you gulp against the cold wind that whips through your bones.

Only a few hours in, and you’re in agony. Your body is soft, not conditioned for long rides or hunts, muscles soft and skin nearly silk. Every step the horse makes feels like it may knock you off balance, bones in your back screaming at you with each jostle. Johnny tries to hold you steady, keeping you close to him, pressed to his chest, but it does little to help your discomfort. He steadies you with a hand on your hip, slowly sliding around to press against your lower belly, shifting you back into the shelter of his body, his warmth.

“Ye alright?” He murmurs into your ear, tucking your cloak tighter around your shoulders. “Ye’re shivering.”

“It’s cold.” You whisper, not even sure if he can hear you. He rubs your upper arm, squeezing it to try to work blood flow back into your skin.

“Ay.” He yells to Ghost, who’s in front, and they both pull up short. The black horse moves frighteningly quick alongside you, and Ghost studies your stricken expression intently behind the mask.

“Let’s get her into town. We can stop at the Inn for the night.” He tells Johnny, who pulls you tighter into his body.

“It’s about another hour, Darling. Think ye can make it?”

“It’s not safe, camping in these woods.” Ghost supplies as an explanation gently, and you nod.

“O-okay.”

“Good girl.”

At the end of the hour, you’re on the verge of tears. It’s frigid, you’re stiff in the saddle, legs and back and everything uncooperative, thigh muscles completely raw from trying to hold your seat.

“Easy now.” Johnny coos when he slips down, trying to encourage you to swing your leg over and follow his lead. When you try, a whimper slips free between your lips, and his brows crease in concern.

“I can’t.”

“Oh, darling.” He slides an arm around your waist, pulling you down into his chest, and you stifle a pained moan, face pressing into the warmth of his cloak. “Let’s get ye inside, out of the cold.” He holds you with ease, tucking you tighter amidst the little whimpers that are still slipping from your chattering teeth.

[inkmonster21]

Hearts Across the Divide

9.) Raging Storms

Noa x Fem!Human!Reader

Series Masterlist

Alright… it gets a little steamy at the end!

~oOo~

Noa's gaze scans the woods, his eyes searching through the foliage for any sign of you. The sun is just starting to creep over the horizon, the early morning cool still lingering in the air. He's eager to see you, to begin the journey to the old remains together. Every rustle of leaves or bird call has him hoping it's you, but nothing yet.

Anaya and Soona stand behind him, their eyes darting around the edge of the woods as they wait for your appearance. The anticipation in their expressions mirrors his own, both sharing his eagerness to have you by his side once more. The minutes seem to stretch forever under the weight of their shared anticipation.

They can't help but notice the change in Noa. The way his face lights up at the slightest mention of you, the way his body relaxes when you're near. They'd never seen him like this before, this mixture of eagerness and contentment. They share secret smiles, knowing glances, as they watch their friend fall deeper in love. It's a joy to see Noa this happy, and they quietly cherish the sight of their friend in love.

Noa spots your figure in the distance, standing amidst the trees like a vision in the early morning sun. The sight of you pulls a smile to his face, wide and sincere. He can't resist the urge to go to you, and a moment later he's running to you, on all fours, closing the distance between you in swift, purposeful strides.

Noa stands to his full height and pulls you into his arms, enveloping you in a tight, comforting embrace. His head nuzzles into your hair, breathing in the scent of you, as a contented hum rumbles in his chest. "I am happy you came." He murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your ear. His hold on you is firm, almost like he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go.

As you pull away from Noa's embrace, your eyes find Soona and Anaya standing behind him, their own grins mirroring his. You greet them with a wave and a warm smile, happy to see the familiar faces. Soona and Anaya return the greeting enthusiastically, their own voices echoing with fond greetings.

Anaya steps forward, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Ready to go, Echo?" He asks, his voice filled with eagerness. You nod, still curious. You had been to the old remains a handful of times, but always alone. Having company would be nice for a change. “What are we going to?”

Noa steps in to explain, his voice steady and confident. "There's something… I want to show you." It's clear that whatever it is is important, a sense of mystery and purpose hanging in the air like a question waiting to be answered.

Soona and Anaya effortlessly mount their horses, settling into their saddles with practiced ease. Watching them, you suddenly realize that you've never ridden a horse before. The thought causes a flicker of trepidation, nervousness replacing some of your excitement.

Noa's voice murmurs in your ear, a soothing presence in the midst of your budding anxiety. "Don't be scared," he reassures you, his breath warm against your skin. The strength and confidence in his tone are reassuring, helping to ease some of the tension in your shoulders.

Noa's hands glide down your sides, coming to rest on your hips. His touch is gentle, yet firm, a grounding presence that anchors you, and stops you from being pulled too far into your own worries. His fingers press into your skin through the fabric of your clothes, a silent promise of support.

With a strength that belies his size, Noa lifts you effortlessly, settling you onto the back of the horse. You grip the saddle, your heart thudding erratically in your chest as you feel the massive animal beneath you. You feel unbalanced, the ground suddenly seeming far below.

With grace, Noa leaps up behind you, his body pressing against your back. You feel the heat of his fur even through your clothes, his presence surrounding you. There's no space between you, your bodies fitted together like puzzle pieces. You can feel the strength in his muscles as he adjusts his position, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths against your back.

You can feel the ripple and shift of his muscles with every movement he makes, the friction between your bodies sending heat spiraling through you. A moan threatens to escape your lips, but you bite it back, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. The closeness, the strength of his body against yours, is both arousing and frustratingly overwhelming.

Noa's voice murmurs in your ear, a quiet command to "move with me". His hips move forward, following the rhythm of the horse's gait, and in doing so, pressing against your backside. The motion of the horse combined with the press of Noa's body against yours is an unexpected assault on your senses. Despite knowing it's innocent, your mind seems to have other ideas, straying to less innocent thoughts as his hips grind against you.

You focus on following the command, moving your body as much as possible in time with the horse's movement. Though it should be simple enough, the feeling of Noa pressed up against you is all too distracting. Every shift of your hips, every brush of your back against his chest, sends another wave of heat through you and makes your heart beat a little faster.

The wave of feelings rocking through you are confusing, a swirl of nerves, excitement, and a strange sense of frustration. The proximity to Noa, the press of his body against yours, ignites something in you that you can't quite understand. It's an unfamiliar sensation, both exhilarating and slightly frustrating in its intensity.

You lean back against his chest, tilting your head back to look at him. His chin rests almost on your shoulder, his breath hot against your exposed skin. You take in the sight of him, the sharp line of his jaw, the intense look in his eyes, and the intimate space you share. He looks down at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lip.

In this moment, the proximity, the shared heat, the intimate position you find yourselves in, you desperately want to turn and kiss him. You want to feel his lips against yours, to lose yourself in the fire that burns between you. But he's needed to guide the horse, keeping you both balanced and on the correct path. So you stay as you are, silently cursing the fact that he's so responsible and diligent.

“It is not much further.” His words, spoken softly in your ear, are almost lost against the rush in your ears, the pounding of your heart. You feel his lips brush against your neck, a light, accidental touch that makes you shiver. You try to bite back the moan that threatens to escape, but a small, involuntary sound still slips past, leaving you feeling both embarrassed and even more turned on.

Nodding silently, you can only hope that the journey will end soon and that you'll be able to find some relief from the desperate heat coiled in your body. Every movement of the horse, every press of your body against Noa's, only adds to the torture, an aching need that you can't ignore. You can feel the desperate urge to clench your thighs together, to find some sort of relief from the overwhelming sensations. But you remain still, trying to maintain some dignity, silently praying for the ride to end.

As the horse slows its gait and the trees begin to thin, you catch glimpses of the overgrown structures lurking beyond. The ancient, decaying buildings rise from among the trees like relics from a forgotten past. The sight of them, ominous yet intriguing, sends a thrill through you, stirring a sense of curiosity about whatever secrets they may hold.

Noa dismounts from the horse, his muscular form agile and graceful. He then turns to you, his eyes never leaving yours, as he extends a hand to help you down. With a strong grip, he guides your descent, his fingers wrapping around your hand to support your weight as you slide off the horse and into his arms.

You look up at him, a soft smile playing on your lips, but there's also an undeniable heat in your core. Being in his arms, seeing his lips almost temptingly close, ignites a mixture of desire and confusion within you. It's a struggle to maintain composure, to keep the growing feelings in check.

Anaya, never one to hold back the comments, speaks up with a knowing smile, "Looks like Noa really likes… Echo." His tone is full of playful teasing, his brow arching as he looks between you and Noa. You feel the heat of a blush rise to your cheeks. To compose yourself, you step away from Noa, turning to face Soona and Anaya instead. Their knowing grins and amused expressions only make your blush deepen further.

Noa leads you through the overgrown landscape, the hulking structures looming around you like silent sentinels. He stops at the base of a massive structure, its walls crumbling and faded. He looks up at the towering climb ahead and turns to you with a questioning glance. "Ready for the climb?" he asks, his eyes studying your expression.

You gaze up at the imposing structure before you, the height and crumbling state of it daunting. Your experience in climbing trees suddenly seems quaint and insignificant before this enormous challenge. You turn to Noa, your voice laced with disbelief, "And how am I supposed to get up there?"

Noa turns to face you again, his expression resolute. "I will carry you," he replies, a look of determination in his eyes. Before you can protest, he crouches down low, presenting his broad, muscular back to you, inviting you to climb on.

With a mixture of trust and trepidation, you step forward, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. The feel of his back against your chest, solid and steady, is both reassuring and exciting at once.

Noa's voice is a comforting low rumble, “Hold on tight.” You tighten your grip on his shoulders, feeling the muscles in his back tense and flex as he grips onto the building's crumbling facade. And with ease, he begins the ascent, scaling the towering structure as if it's nothing more than a simple tree trunk.

Soona and Anaya, equally skilled and athletic, follow alongside Noa, moving up the building with practiced ease. They cling to the walls and overhangs as if they were born with the ability to climb. Their bodies move with effortless grace, each muscle working in perfect harmony as they scale the tall building with you clinging to Noa.

Floor after floor, Noa continues climbing, his body a powerful machine propelling you both relentlessly upward. Your heart is in your throat, each glance down causing a wave of vertigo to wash over you. Your fingers, desperately gripping Noa's fur, tug subconsciously as adrenaline and fear mix in your veins.

Noa lets out a low, guttural groan as your fingers grip tighter into his fur. The pain mingles with something unidentifiable, a strange mix of sensations. He has to force himself to close his eyes, to concentrate on the task at hand, though your touch ignites something primal in him.

Noa nods, his voice a strained whisper as he continues his climb. "I'm fine," he reassures you, though there's an undertone of something unspoken in his tone. His grip on the building's edges remains secure, his muscles tensing with each upward movement. Trying to focus back on the journey rather than the pleasurable ache in his core.

Noa climbs through a window, his powerful body flowing through the opening like water. He then sets you down gently, your feet landing on firm, steady ground. His eyes meet yours, full of an intensity that matches the adrenaline surging through you, a mix of effort and an unexplored feeling.

Your gaze moves to the piles of junk and debris, haphazardly pushed against one wall. There's a strange, melancholic feeling as you take in the objects, items that once belonged to people now long dead. Clothes, once vibrant and full of life, now faded and threadbare. Pots and pans, their metallic shine dulled by time and dust. Books, their pages brittle and torn, hold secrets from another era.

You head toward the stacked boxes, your eyes drawn to the small books within. Carefully, you pick up one of the fragile tomes, turning the pages with gentle fingers. The old paper is delicate, the words written on it faded yet still legible, holding the secrets of another time.

Soona and Anaya take advantage of the opportunity, immediately beginning to explore and scavenge. Anaya moves with a determined silence, her hands deftly moving through piles of debris.

Anaya, full of excitement, runs over, a wide grin on his face. "Echo, look!" he exclaims, holding up his own find. It's an old piece of fabric, its color barely discernible under its thick layer of dust.

Anaya grins, his eyes lighting up with excitement. He moves the old piece of fabric toward you and says, "Matches your eyes," a hint of mischief in his voice. As you look at the colored fabric, it is clear that it does share the same hue as your own eyes.

You continue your own exploration, your eyes searching the room for any useful items. As you move among the piles, you find some salvageable pants, a long shirt with sleeves, and a thick sweater with minimal holes. A grin spreads across your face as you pack the clothes into your bag, their worn fabric and faded colors bearing a certain rugged charm.

You nod in agreement, the thought of the upcoming winter lingering in your mind. The clothes you've found, albeit worn and faded, would certainly be helpful in providing protection from the cold. The thick sweater in particular looks sturdy and warm.

Noa sits on the ground, surrounded by a small pile of books. His face is set in a scowl as his fingers carefully turn the pages of each tome.

He looks up from the book he's holding, his expression lightening slightly at your approach. “Raka said Ceaser… could read… like you.”, holding the old tome out to you. Its pages are delicate and yellowed with age, the edges bent and frayed.

Your eyes rake over the books spread out before you. There are some old textbooks, business guides, and nonfiction tomes, but the ones that stand out the most are the fantasy novels. Their colorful, often fantastical covers a stark contrast to the more pragmatic texts.

“Will… you teach me?”

You look at Noa, his question catching you slightly off guard. "Teach you...? Teach you what?" you ask, your tone curious and puzzled.

Noa looked down, almost embarrassed. “Do you think I… could learn to read?” You realize then what he's asking, and a small smile forms on your lips. You nod gently at him, reassuring and kind. "Yes, Noa," you confirm. "It's not easy, and it takes time," you add, wanting to be truthful, "but yes."

Noa looks to the book in your hands. A romantic novel to replace the one you’d read a hundred times.

“Would you… read to me? Sometime?”

Your heart softens at Noa's request. The simple, straightforward tone in which he asked, coupled with the slight vulnerability evident in his expression, stirs something within you. "Of course, I can read to you," you respond, your voice warm and eager. "I'd be happy to."

You shake the book in your hand, “though not sure if you’d like this book.” You chuckle slightly at his comment. You explain, still holding the book gently in your hands. "Full of love and romance and... happily ever afters."

Noa smiles softly. His hand grazing over yours. “Like you and me.” His words take you by surprise, a rosy blush flushing your cheeks. You hadn't expected the conversation to take this turn, and the comparison between the story within the book and your own relationship with Noa makes your heart flutter.

"I... suppose so," you reply, your voice soft and bashful. "Though our story is far from over."

Your gaze lingers on Noa, your thoughts swirling with a mix of conflicting emotions. The fear of rejection, of having to forget him, feels like a heavy weight on your chest, threatening to crush your heart. As you look at him, his expression giving away no thoughts or feelings, the silence feels deafening.

As the day continues, you realize that you've never spent so much time outside the village before. The feeling of freedom and joy is overwhelming, as if you've been untethered and can finally spread your wings. The adrenaline and happiness coursing through you feels intoxicating, and you can't help but laugh softly to yourself, marvelling at how amazing you feel.

As the sun begins to descend, bathing the horizon in a soft, warm glow, you pause to marvel at the view before you. It's a different kind of sunset than you're used to, the backdrop of crumbling buildings and overgrown trees adding a new layer of beauty to the scene before you. You can't help but smile at the sight, feeling oddly calm and hopeful.

Noa stands beside you, his eyes fixed on the colorful sky as well. "It's beautiful," you murmur, the word falling from your lips involuntarily. His gaze is unwavering as his eyes drink you in, his expression intense yet soft. "Beautiful," he repeats, his voice quiet and laced with emotion. But his gaze doesn't waver from you, his eyes fixed on your form, as if you embodied the very definition of beauty itself.

As the sky continued to turn darker, the day giving way to twilight, you realize with a sinking feeling that you had to get back before night fully enveloped the sky. Noa gestured for Anaya and Soona to step aside, his eyes flickering towards you before he spoke. "You two, go home," he said quietly. "I have to show... Echo... something." There was a note of anticipation and excitement in his tone, a hint that he wanted to be alone with you.

Anaya smirks at Noa, sensing his eagerness. "Sure Noa," he replies, a teasing lilt to his tone. Soona, however, gives Noa a serious look, her eyes narrowed. "Behave yourself," she says with a firmness that borders on a warning. Noa's smile widens slightly as he says farewell to his friends, unable to hide the anticipation in his eyes. His demeanor remains polite, but there's an undeniable thrill in his expression at the thought of being alone with you.

Soona embraces you tightly, her forehead touching yours gently. "Goodbye, Echo," she says, her voice filled with fondness. Her smile is warm and friendly, a reminder of the friendship that has blossomed between you; an ape and echo.

You watch as Anaya and Soona mount their horses, their backs disappearing into the distance as they head back to the clan. Anaya turns to wave one last time before they disappear from sight, the night swallowing them whole.

You turn to Noa, your curiosity piqued as you ask, "Are we going back too?" Your voice is soft, filled with anticipation and a hint of curiosity. Noa looks at you, a small smile playing on his lips. Noa meets your gaze, his eyes holding your attention as he replies, "I want to show you something... then we will leave." His voice is steady, his words laced with a mixture of determination and excitement.

You follow Noa, your eyes wide with wonder as you take in the surroundings. As the two of you near the large observatory, the massive telescope stands out like a giant silver pillar in the dim light. You have never seen a telescope in person, and its sheer size and presence fill you with both awe and curiosity.

Noa walks closer to the telescope, his fingers gently brushing over the rusted surface. "This tunnel... it swallows light," he says, a soft awe in his voice. He looks into the telescope again, peering into the night sky, before turning back to you. "I see many... tiny dots," he continues, his tone filled with a mixture of wonder and fascination. "They shine." Noa rises up from his crouching position, his gaze locking with yours. He offers you his hand, a silent invitation to come closer.

Noa gently guides you to the telescope, his hand still wrapped around yours. "Look," he whispers, his voice low and filled with excitement. He positions you in front of the eyepiece of the telescope, his body close to yours, his breath warm against your cheek.

You look through the eyepiece of the telescope, your breath catching in your throat as you focus on the distant stars. The view is breathtaking, the night sky seemingly within reach, the stars sparkling brightly against the black canvas of space. You can't help but let out a small gasp at the stunning view before you. "Stars," you murmur, your voice filled with wonder and recognition. The sight of the stars, so bright and close through the telescope, is nothing short of magical.

Noa's question breaks the silence, his voice soft and curious. "What do you call them?" he asks, gesturing towards the tiny dots of light you can see through the telescope, "The ones that shine so bright?"

You straighten up, meeting Noa's gaze as you respond, "Stars," your voice soft and filled with wonder. It's such a simple word, but it feels like the most appropriate description for the tiny lights that dance across the night sky. You point to the brightest star in the sky, your eyes fixed on its steady light. "That one," you say, "Father used it to navigate when he traveled. He says if we ever get lost, just follow that star. It will always lead us home."

Your father was a wise and intelligent ape, even before you came into his life. With a long lineage of warriors behind him, he was a firm and stern patriarch, but also deeply caring in his own way.

As you think of your father, a pang of worry shoots through you. You wonder what he would think of Noa, and the connection that has grown between you.

Your gaze turns to Noa, your voice soft and hopeful. "I'd like you to meet him," you say, a small smile playing on your lips. The idea of introducing Noa to your father is both exciting and nerve-wracking, the possibility of his disapproval and anger hanging in the air like a dark cloud.

Deep down, Noa knew that this moment would come eventually. As much as he dreaded it, he also anticipated it with a mixture of fear and hope. Would your father approve of him? Would he consider Noa a suitable match for his daughter? The thought of your father's possible disapproval sent a shiver down Noa's spine.

Noa clenched his fists at his side, a silent determination passing over his face. If he wanted to make you his mate, he knew that having your father's blessing was non-negotiable. The thought of facing your father and securing his approval filled Noa with a mix of trepidation and resolve.

Noa's mind raced with thoughts as he contemplated the upcoming meeting with your father. He knew that as Clan Leader to Clan Leader, it should be a relatively smooth conversation. But something in his gut told him that convincing your father to accept him as your mate would be far from easy.

The sudden clap of thunder pierces the night air, the loud booms echoing through the sky. Noa jumps at the sound, his heart rate quickening slightly as the unexpected thunder interrupts the quiet moment. As the thunder rumbles again, Noa instinctively draws you closer to him, his protective instincts kicking in. He looks up at the sky, seeing the dark clouds gathering in the distance, and knows that a storm is approaching. "We need to go," he repeats, his voice firm and urgent.

The storm withheld its fury until the final legs of the journey back to the waterfall, as if waiting to strike for maximum effect. The rain poured down in a relentless onslaught, rendering visibility impossible. Noa swore aloud as the rain lashed against the two of you, soaking you to the bone in mere moments.

Another streak of lightning illuminated the sky, its bright flash causing his horse to jump in fear, nearly bucking both of you off. Noa gripped the reigns tightly, trying to soothe the trembling animal. "Easy, easy," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the rain and wind.

Despite the waterfall being in sight, Noa's horse refused to go any further, its eyes wide and nostrils flared with fear. Every time Noa tried to coax the horse forward, it would dance backwards, its hooves slipping on the wet ground. "Come on... just a little bit further," Noa muttered through gritted teeth, frustrated yet understanding of the animal's terror.

Noa looked at the path leading to your village, his expression unreadable. He knew that allowing you to travel back alone in this storm was out of the question, yet he was equally cautious about endangering you further. In the end, Noa made his choice. "You won't make it back to the village in this," he said, his voice a low growl. "We have to shelter here for the night."

You quickly duck into the cave behind the waterfall, grateful for the makeshift shelter from the rain. You watch as Noa expertly calms his mount, the animal shaking off the excess water and finding a spot to rest. Noa soon appears in the opening to the cave, his fur clinging to his frame from the rain.

Noa stood just outside the cave, watching you as you built a small fire. His gaze lingered on you, taking in the sight of your dress clinging to your frame, the water still dripping from your hair and body. Noa slowly inches closer, closing the distance between you. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to his chest, his body heat emanating from his strong frame. As he holds you against him, you can feel the steady thump of his heart against your back, a steady rhythm that provides comfort and reassurance.

You lean back against Noa, letting out a weary sigh as you relax into his arms. The storm continues to rage outside, the rain and wind howling angrily, but inside the safety of the cave, you feel protected, cocooned in Noa's warm embrace.

Despite the raging storm outside, you feel a deep sense of peace and safety in Noa's embrace. The fire crackles and pops next to you, casting a warm glow that envelops the cave in a warm, cozy light. You realize that you and Noa are completely isolated here, alone and safe from the outside world, at least for the moment.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, a hint of irony in your tone as you speak.

"This certainly isn't how I imagined our first night together," you admit, a touch of amusement in your voice. "I always thought it would be in a quiet setting, after all the ceremonies and traditions were over. A moment of peace and acceptance."

You pause, taking in your current situation, trapped in the cave with Noa in secret, the storm raging outside, the fire crackling beside you. The intimacy of the situation is not lost on you. This unplanned, unconventional setting brings a certain thrill and excitement. Your body is pressed against Noa's, his strong arms encircle you, holding you close. The fire casts dancing shadows on the cave walls, the storm outside a constant reminder of the world just beyond your secluded sanctuary.

Noa's voice is soft and deep as he murmurs against your damp hair, the words sending shivers down your spine.

"I imagine you... only you... It doesn't matter where," he repeats, his voice a low growl filled with quiet longing.

You feel a wave of desire wash over you as you listen to Noa's words. Everything within you tightens, and a desperate need to be close to him, to become one with him, takes hold. With a soft sigh, you press yourself back against Noa, molding your body to his. He feels your surrender to him, your body pressing against his, and his response is immediate. He tightens his arms around you, a low growl of appreciation leaving his lips. His breath is warm against your skin, his lips brushing against the sensitive area of your neck.

Noa is keenly aware of the boundaries that he's crossing, but the desire and primal need he feels for you are too strong to deny. His lips continue their exploration of your neck, while his hands slowly move from around your waist to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

Despite his knowledge in other areas, Noa is a complete novice when it comes to your body. His mind is filled with conflicting thoughts and sensations, a mixture of want and uncertainty. The desire to learn every inch of you is overwhelming, but he also worries about making a mistake, about crossing a line that he can not undo.

Noa's senses are hyper-alert, your every reaction feeding the flames of his desire. As you tilt your head back, giving him greater access to your neck, he lets out a low growl. He takes the implicit invitation, his lips and tongue trailing kisses and gentle nips along your exposed skin.

Noa's lips travel lower, exploring the exposed skin of your chest. His kisses are gentle yet fervent, as if he's trying to commit every inch of you to memory. His hands still grip your hips tightly, holding you firmly against him.

You slowly turn yourself to face him, your body now kneeling between his legs. The change in position brings your faces even closer together, the firelight casting a soft glow over your features. Noa's gaze meets yours, filled with desire and a hint of trepidation.

Noa's eyes roam your body, taking in every curve and contour as they travel from your face, down your neck, and finally landing on your chest. His gaze is intense, his eyes darkened with lust as he looks at the way your nipples press against the cold, wet fabric.

You bring one shaky hand up to the strap, mimicking the movement from practice. Allowing it to slide off your shoulder. Your eyes watching Noa’s for reaction. Wanting to soak up every moment with him.

He watches you with a mixture of fascination and trepidation, his breath catching slightly in anticipation. The sight of the strap sliding off your shoulder is tantalizing, the promise of more to come sending a shiver down his spine. His eyes never leave your face, taking in every detail of your expression as you tease him with the slow reveal.

Noa's eyes widen slightly as you lower your second strap, the movement slow and deliberate. The fabric of your dress hangs onto your body by a thread, the slightest touch and it would fall away completely, leaving you bare before him. Noa's lips part slightly, his breaths coming faster, but he waits, watching you, giving you the control to continue at your own pace.

Your love for Noa is clear in the way you look at him, the tenderness and intensity in your eyes. The moment feels perfect, no distractions or interruptions. Just the two of you, together in this secluded cave, sheltered from the storm outside.

Noa watches intently as the fabric slowly reveals more and more of your body. His eyes drink in the sight of your bare chest, stopping at your ribs just above the dip of your waist. He can feel his breath quicken and his body tighten with desire. He restrains himself, letting you set the pace, but his hands twitch with the desire to touch, to explore the newly exposed skin.

You wordlessly nod to Noa, allowing him his desires of exploration. Noa doesn't need to be told twice. At your silent invitation, he reaches out, his hands finally coming to rest on your bare skin. His touch is gentle yet firm, his palms gliding over your ribs and waist, mapping out each contour and curve of your body. He takes his time, his calloused fingers tracing the lines of your flesh, committing every inch to memory.

As his gaze finally falls to your breast, Noa's breath hitches in his throat. There's a moment of hesitation, a moment where he seems almost in awe. Then his hand moves, the calloused palm of his hand coming to rest over the sensitive flesh, the heat of his touch sending a small shiver down your spine.

Noa's touch ignites a roaring fire deep inside you, a fire that's been burning hot ever since you first met. Your arms encircle his neck, pulling him closer, as you let out a soft moan of pleasure. Noa's ministrations continue, his hands becoming bolder, more confident in their exploration. He leans forward, his lips trailing kisses down your neck, his breath hot against your skin as both his hands come to toy with your breasts.

Your confidence grows as you crawl closer to Noa, your body now straddling him. The new position brings your lips tantalizingly close, and you can't resist the urge to capture his mouth with yours. The taste of him is intoxicating, a combination of wildness and desire that feeds your own need. One of his hands find your hip, holding you steady, as he hungrily returns the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that matches your own. The other hand continues his journey tracing your chest.

Noa's mind becomes hazy, consumed by the intense wave of lust that washes over him. His hands start roaming all over your body, unable to stay still, desperate to feel more of you. His lips leave yours, finding their way to your neck and shoulder, showering your skin with kisses and gentle bites.

He needs more. He needs all of you. His body is coiled tight, the need for release growing with each passing moment.

“Noa.” You moan tugging at the fur at his neck.

Despite the overwhelming desire that threatens to consume him, Noa manages to pull himself together. His heart is racing, his body aching for you, but he cannot let his primal instincts take over. He wants you, that's for sure, but he also knows the importance of doing this right. Of respecting you, in all aspects.

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of lust and restraint, his voice hoarse as he tries to maintain composure.

"I have to stop..." he says, the words both a reminder to himself and a warning to you.

You shake your head, “no you don’t.”

Your defiant response catches Noa off guard. He can't help but feel a thrill of excitement run through him, his body already reacting to your words. But he tries to remain firm.

"I do," he says, his tone betraying the fact that he's fighting a losing battle against his own desires. "We can not... not yet."

Noa sighs and takes your face in his hands, his touch gentle and caressing. His lips meet yours in a soft, tender kiss, a stark contrast to the intensity that still burns within him. It's a gesture of love and affection, his way of holding onto his self-control. Despite the fire raging inside him, he takes his time with this kiss, his tongue gently caressing yours, before pulling back.

Noa's eyes are still filled with a mixture of desire and need, but he forces himself to look away from your exposed chest, allowing the fabric of your dress to cover you once more. He sighs, trying to regain control of his ragged breathing, his hands still holding you close.

He murmurs, his voice low, “I shouldn't have let it get that far… Not yet."

He can sense your frustration and desire, the same feelings coursing through his own body. He lets out a heavy sigh as well, his voice a soft whisper as he speaks. "I need to do this right... for you... for us. I will not rush or mess this up."

You and Noa spend the rest of the night cuddled together in the cave. The fire continues to crackle, casting a cozy glow over the small space. Noa's arms encompass you completely, his body pressed against yours with a comforting warmth. The storm outside continues to rage, but you both remain tucked away in the safety and solitude of the cave, simply enjoying each other's company.

[aonungsmate]

Map of Stars

Aged up!Neteyam x Mate!Reader  [Word count: 1.6k]

Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT, Back praise, unnecessary words bc y/n is smitten fr, body worship, implied smut, size kink if you squint, overstimulation [This goes without saying, minors dni]

You like holding onto Neteyam whether on his shoulders, around his waist, his toned arms, but most especially his back.  You loved how his lean back presses against you, tight muscles flexing every now and then, never failing to jostle the fluttering feeling in your stomach. Neteyam however, was oblivious to your growing affinity towards his back.  He’s the sharpest warrior there is.  He knows when a sturmbeest would appear at a certain hotspot.  He knows where the fresh fruits are.  But  this?  This,  he does not know. Not that he would care. If anything, he'd be more than flattered, that even the simplest things on him you would find endearing.  He certainly notices your behavior around him when those feelings resurface though.  He loves how your ears would suddenly turn downwards, slowly turning leaning more into the purple spectrum, indicating that you were flustered.  Your tail would suddenly start swishing a bit faster, its end becoming more and more noticeable as it moves unconsciously.  

So, when Neteyam saw you doing it once when he was helping his brother remove the saddles from the ikran, he was set on finding out which particular part of him makes you all putty in his presence.  First, he tried pinning it on his arms.  He has trained for years, effortlessly making it a routine to do various hand exercises to improve his aim, practicing weaving with his sisters, and lifting supplies for the clan, making his biceps more toned, making it one of the first things the women in the clan would coo at. He has tried  showing off to you countless times, purposely shooting better at practice when you were around, making sure that you were seeing his taut muscles as he pulled his arm backwards to aim.  At dinnertime, he would reach from behind you, making his forearm slightly graze your shoulder.  To no avail, you would only smile at him endearingly, face slightly reddening from the contact, but it’s definitely not the reaction he was trying to find.  

Neteyam loves everything  about you.  But he was just a man.  He wants to see you melt before him, baring your everything at him.  He longs to witness you offer yourself as his and his only.  

Neteyam never considered himself as a selfish person.  Growing up he has only known to give and sacrifice for his siblings, dedicating his whole being to please his parents, the people around him, always aiming to prove himself as the future olo’eyktan.  But as his pupils rapidly enlarged at the sight of you squirming beneath him, your three fingered hands raking along his back, your eyes hooded with overwhelming arousal, all he can think of is to take take take.  

“Neteyam–!  Slow down–ah!” you pleaded, eyes slowly rolling back at the feeling of his muscles flex beneath your fingertips.  You didn’t even realize you were crying until your mate swiped a stray tear on your cheek, dipping towards you to rub his nose against your left cheek, his hand stroking your queue, making you arch your back, meeting his chest halfway.  As if to add fuel to fire, he tugged at his queue, forming tsaheylu between you, burying you in massive waves of emotion.  Love.  Desire.  Lust.  Fondness.  Worship.  Ardor.  Everything came to you in a roller, making you quiver at the feeling, chanting out his name so loud some might mistake it for a ritual,  a sacrament of lascivious want for your mate’s back.  

You were too swamped with pleasure your hands have fallen on the mats, gripping at nothing as Neteyam thrusted at you faster and faster, never getting tired of maneuvering his hips forward and backwards, pulling back until only his tip was inside of you, then moving oh so deep back into you, giving you endless jolts of pleasure.  You rolled your hips upwards to try and match his pace, only proving to you that you can’t catch up to his tempo as he outruns you by digging his member brisker into you.  He groans at your ear, slipping from his  positioned palms, almost failing to stop himself from falling flat into you, his elbows acting as cushion from his unexpected collapse from too much delectation.  From the new angle, he catches your lower lip between his teeth, playfully biting it then smashes his lips against yours, deepening it with a delve of his tongue on yours.  He moans as you reciprocate by licking against his tongue, decelerating his thrusts to match how slowly he detaches mouth from yours, a string of saliva appearing from between you.  

It was endlessly torturous as it was tremendously pleasing to you, that he would go  from slow to fast then rapid to sluggish, continuously building the impending knot in your stomach.  “Oh my Eywa–!  Neteyam-” you exclaim as he once again consumes you by plunging into you harder rhythmically.  He grabs your hand, guiding it on his back as he rammed into you.  You whine in realization as he makes you scour through his rear muscles, feeling them twitch at your hand’s mercy, experimentally pressing through the plush of them with Neteyam muttering a curse as he impossibly quickened his pace.  You were seeing stars when he gave you three of his hardest thrusts, your arms pulling him closer to  you, making him nestle against the dip of your collar.  You sob against his shoulder as you feel yourself let go, your slick covering the entirety of his member.  

“Hahh–”  He breathes, his warmth seeping through, filling you with his seed, never stopping his languid thrusts, his eyes almost went black when he sees himself inside you, his shaft plunging inside you lazily, a dent on your stomach visible.  You pull his head into you, kissing him with wild abandon.  This takes you back to  your first night as mates.  You were on his back, being carried by him to the tree of  souls  after you hurt your ankle out of sheer excitement when the day he would choose you has come.  Your courting was well known in the village.  The people knew that the two of you have loved each other for a long long time.  

That night was also the reason why you have come to love the way his back would dip into a perfect semi-arch that leads to the most alluring tail you have ever seen.   The way his back pressed into your chest, firm muscles shifting every now  and then, it was so so attractive.  So when your beloved pulled out from you, you could not help but pull him closer to you, only you shifted him onto his stomach, your eyes seemingly forming into hearts as they lay gaze on his freckled back, the bluest stripes adorning it.  Your eyes droop into a mesmerized look, thinking just how beautiful Neteyam is.  You could be presented with every eligible man in the whole world but not one of them would hold a candle to your Neteyam.  

Neteyam shifted his neck slightly to see what you were up to, chest slightly heaving at the exhaustion starting to seep through.  He was about to ask what was  wrong when his eyes  widened in realization.  You were practically melting his back into a  puddle with how lovingly your amber eyes were stuck onto him.  

“I see,” he chuckles, voice slightly raspy.  He folds his arms beneath his head, acting as a pillow to make himself comfortable, knowing how much time you will spend giving his back attention.  Yawne does that very well, in his opinion.  You gently put open mouthed kisses on his back, a beautiful map of stars that you have come to love, giving each bioluminescent freckle attention, doing your best to remember which spots struck the most reaction.  Neteyam jutted his hips onto the flooring after you suckled on a certain area of his back just a few  centimeters away from his tail.  Eywa, he exclaimed.  You started working your way up, licking him from the dip of his spine, moaning obscenely as you did it, your hips rocking against his tail, its incessant flickering creating a friction against your womanhood.  

A  familiar buildup has Neteyam breathe a sigh, groaning as he feels your wetness against his back, your nose nuzzling against his braids.  You kneaded the knots on his back, eyes rolling back at the feel of his muscles rippling against your palms, tearing a loud moan from you as your mind blanked out for almost a minute with how unexpected your release came.  Neteyam gasped your name as he himself let go of the tightening in him, releasing a sputter of his semen against the ground, his right hand shakily reaching behind him almost tangling with the connected queues, and finally came in contact with your sex as he massaged through the bundle of nerves, helping you through your  release.  You squirted against his back, making your breath hitch when you felt his left hand rub your bottom against him, stroking it in a circular motion.

“Neteyam, I love you–!”  You scream, continuing to whimper his name, "Neteyam, Neteyam Neteyam—Haah.." your voice fades as you run out of breath from overstimulation, tickling his ears as you did so. 

As soon  as he felt your heartbeat slow down, he shifted onto his back to guide you into a cuddling position.  Deciding how close he needed you, he lifted you up to put you quite literally on him, an appreciative sigh coming from you.  You pressed a kiss on his cheek, then went back to nuzzle against his neck, mumbling an i love you, so so much my mate.  It was not too long until your soft snores reached his ears.  He chuckles at the sight, his arms wounding around your waist, his tail protectively wrapping itself around your thigh, with yours unconsciously doing the same to him.  He smirked at his new discovery, the cogs inside him starting to run through ideas where he can exploit this to tease you, perhaps score another passionate night with you, as the two of you go beyond your experiences, showering each other with love and intense desire.

[1800-fight-me]

Thunderstorms & Heartache Part Two

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

You can find part one here!

Rating: E (Explicit) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: angst (with a happy ending of course - wink wink), oral sex (f receiving), and PiV sex

Word count: About 3.8k

Synopsis: After a tumultuous reunion with Aemond, will one lie be all it takes to push you apart for good?

Author’s note: Here's part two! Sorry it took me literally a million years - I hope y'all enjoy! P.S. Comments will make my entire day and earn you a kiss on the forehead!

I am no longer using a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

Aemond Masterlist

Recap from Part One:

“I must tell you that I was not completely honest with you before,” he said, his voice low and vulnerable. 

“About what?” you asked carefully. 

“I do know who my brother intends to betroth you to,” he replied. 

You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion, wordlessly asking him to explain, even as you extricated yourself from his grasp and crossed your arms. 

He pressed his lips together. 

“You are to marry me,” he said finally. 

“What?” you gasped. 

Part Two:

You already yelled at him and called him a liar. There was nothing else to say. 

You felt empty, numb. When the anger was released you weren’t sure what else was there. 

He hadn’t defended himself when you raged at him like you expected him too. 

Aemond took the verbal lashing with guilt and understanding in his eyes, and it took the wind and the anger out of you. 

He helped you settle into Vhagar’s saddle in silence. 

You rode in that same heavy silence, and soon the sky overhead broke and rain poured. 

The raging storm matched your mood so you could not bring yourself to complain. 

Besides, the rain hid and washed away your quiet tears at his betrayal. Of course he lied to you about something as important as your future and your duty. 

You thought he knew how much fear revolved around your future, so for him to keep such vital information from you was gutting. 

Though if you were truly honest with yourself, a future with Aemond inspired significantly less dread than your former betrothed. And it was nothing compared to the ice cold terror you felt when you had no idea who you would be wed to. You knew the kind of man that Aemond is, and you cared for him deeply. Even still, you were hurt. 

You could sense that he wanted to talk and attempted to get himself to say something several times, but your sullen quiet kept him from trying to start a conversation. 

Hours passed and soon you could see that you were near King’s Landing. 

“We shall be there within the hour,” he said as he leaned close enough to your ear in order for you to hear him that you could feel his breath caress your skin. 

You felt a spark of anger at yourself that your body reacted so strongly to him as you shivered.

Your back was fully pressed into his chest and there was a part of you, and not a small part, that wished to forget what happened between the two of you and relax into his body and allow him to fully embrace you. 

You nodded curtly but said nothing else. 

The rain did not let up and neither did your mood. 

As Vhagar landed on the outskirts of the city, you allowed Aemond to once again grasp hold of your waist and help you off the massive dragon. 

It was unfortunate that anger did nothing to dispel desire, though you supposed that was the story of your life. 

He said your name softly as your feet reached the ground and you were pressed against him. 

“What?” you asked, your voice broken. 

He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off. 

“Aemond, what is there to say? I am exhausted and filthy. Can we not just allow this wretched trip to end without another fight?” 

He pursed his lips and nodded. 

He helped you onto the back of yet another horse after he had done the same. 

He reminded you that while you rode through the city it was important to still be as discreet as possible, so you both pulled up the hoods of your cloaks. 

You sat behind him and tentatively wrapped your arms around his trim waist. 

You gave into the desire for comfort and pressed yourself against him fully and buried your face in his back as the horse began a light trot. 

He placed his hand over yours and ran his thumb back over your skin and you relaxed immediately. 

You knew it wasn’t fair to seek his comfort when you had been so angry with him, but you could not choose your feelings for him.  

Besides, you were covered in mud and remnants of blood, traumatized, and tired beyond belief. 

You actually began to doze off, glad for your tight grip on Aemond that prevented you from falling, and were nearly startled when Aemond pulled the horse to a stop. 

There were hands on you that helped you off the horse, as you realized it was a king’s guard and not Aemond, you stiffened and pulled back. 

Aemond chuckled at your befuddled expression and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. 

Queen Alicent was suddenly there and she looked at you and Aemond in concern, placing a hand on both your faces. 

“Are you alright?” she asked somewhat breathlessly as if she had raced across the Red Keep to greet her son. 

“Still in one piece,” Aemond replied. 

She sighed in relief and ordered you to be escorted to your new chambers. 

With one last look back at Aemond, you allowed a king’s guard to guide you then complied when the maids within undressed and bathed you. 

You tumbled into the large four poster bed, slid between satin sheets, and allowed sleep to pull you under. 

_______________

Your hands were covered in blood. You stared at them in horror, recognizing the hands before you as your own but also not comprehending that fact, as you turned them palm up. 

Blood pooled in your palms and dripped down onto the grass before you. You looked up and saw that you were in a meadow filled with flowers of the most violent bright red. Your breathing quickened as panic threatened to consume you. 

You turned around, hoping to escape the horror, but stopped short when you saw an enormous mirror with intricate gold details that decorated the frame. 

In the mirror you saw yourself, hands still coated in now drying blood, but to your terror, there was a large dragon behind you. 

A dragon with blood coating its teeth and maw as it snarled. You trembled where you stood, unable to do anything but stare into the mirror. 

The dragon had snow white scales, piercing eyes of sapphire blue, and sharp claws that were dark with the coppery color of dried blood. 

You were petrified, and yet…. 

The dragon cocked his head in a motion that felt all too familiar. You turned around slowly and made full eye contact with the dragon who slowly laid his head down at your feet, showing you complete loyalty. 

A sudden feeling of comfort and safety filled you. 

Your name was being called, though it sounded far away. You began blinking rapidly and soon your location changed. 

You were dreaming, you realized as you blinked your eyes open to find yourself in the bed you had tumbled into the night prior. 

And for the first time in days, the person that woke you was not Aemond. 

There was a pang of something that felt dangerously close to disappointment at the realization that the person that woke you was a lady’s maid. 

“My lady, it is nearly midday and the prince is here and has requested you meet him for lunch,” the kind woman said. 

You nodded and began to rise, even as your heart skipped a beat. 

After dressing and being fussed over enough, you stepped out of your chambers and smiled as you saw him. 

He breathed out a sigh of relief as he smiled at you warm enough to melt your heart. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked with concern.  You took the half step forward and hugged him tightly, and after a moment of surprise, he hugged you back. 

He chuckled softly. “I came here to beg your forgiveness, I did not expect to obtain it so easily.” 

You laughed, the sound thick with unshed tears. 

“I am sorry that I was not honest with you,” he said as you pulled back and stared up at him. 

“I would be more willing to let you completely off the hook if you explained yourself,” you said with a smirk. 

He smirked right back at you and said, “I would be happy to, my lady, would you allow me to escort you to lunch while I do so?” 

You nodded and took his offered arm. 

You walked through the halls of the Red Keep and into the beautiful gardens full of blooming flowers of purple and white. 

“I thought you understood me. That you understood…”

“Understood?” 

“The amount of fear and dread that I have felt about my future, my duty.” you said as you looked down at the ground. 

“You did not always feel that way though,” he said, clearly thinking back to your shared childhood. 

You felt a stray tear fall down your cheek. 

“I was certainly more carefree when we were young. And also…also I had deluded myself into thinking I would be wed to you, before we fell apart that is, and a future with you did not seem so scary,” you confessed. 

“It is unfortunate that we had such a deep misunderstanding and became so angry with one another, for that was my wish as well,” he said. 

“Childish dreams I suppose,” you said and he chuckled. 

“Not anymore. I was certain due to your disdain towards me that the news that we were to be betrothed would not be well received. I found myself acting cowardly by not telling you,” Aemond said gently. 

You sighed softly. 

“I have to be honest with you,” you said, nerves making your voice breathy and high. 

“Yes?” 

“I have never once hated you. In fact I am almost certain I have loved you for my entire life,” you said. 

And under the willow tree with a picnic set up beneath it, Aemond pulled you to a stop. 

He cupped your cheek and led you to look up and meet his gaze. 

“How fortunate it is that we feel the same way,” he purred. 

You grinned, even as you rolled your eyes at him, and pulled him in for a life shattering kiss. As much as you liked to pretend, you were clearly not immune to his charms. 

He consumed you and you melted into him, became one with him as his lips moved against yours and your tongues tangled. 

He gripped your waist as you plunged a hand in his silken white hair that you have so long admired. He backed you up enough that your back hit the trunk of the tree. You groaned. 

He was moments away from using the tree behind you as leverage to lift and hold you up, when a cleared throat interrupted your passionate embrace. 

“So I take it you are on board with this marriage?” Aegon drawled. 

You pulled back from Aemond and glared at your king. He smirked in traditional Targaryen smugness that made your blood boil. 

You pointed a finger at him and Aemond pulled you back against his chest before you could lunge at Aegon the way you would when you were all children. 

“You are an absolute imbecile-” 

“Careful, my beloved, he is your king. Even if that was the worst kidnapping you’ve ever been a part of,” Aemond said and his joke managed to cut through your anger. 

You huffed a reluctant laugh even as Aegon smirked. 

“The wedding will be this afternoon,” Aegon ordered as he turned away. 

You looked back at Aemond, your eyes huge and he held up his hands. 

“This is news to me as well,” he said. 

You sighed and rested your head on his chest. 

“You better pray this dumbass plan of your brother’s concoction works,” you mumbled. 

He rubbed his hand up and down your spine in reassurance. 

“Whatever the outcome, my love, we will be together,” he said. 

You grinned and he kissed you once more. 

_______________

The ceremony was small and quick. 

All that mattered were your vows, that he was yours and you were his. 

He kissed you with such emotion that your heart threatened to burst. 

There was an intimate family feast scheduled for directly after, but Aemond led you away, claiming he needed only a moment of your time before you met up with the others. 

“Aemond!” you said with a giggle as he pulled you into his chambers and shut the door behind you. 

“Hush, wife, I have a gift for you,” he said as he planted a firm kiss on your lips. 

A shiver went down your spine as you smiled against his lips. 

You kissed him more fervently and he pulled back with a signature smirk and chuckle that used to enrage you, but now filled you with a different kind of warmth. 

“I was not using innuendo, my beloved, I truly do have a gift for you,” he said as he extricated himself from your grasp and guided you towards his desk with a hand on your lower back. 

You giggled as you followed him. 

He presented you with a small box. You looked up at him with lust filled eyes, tempted to toss the box to the side and throw yourself at him and allow yourself to be consumed by your dragon’s flames. 

“Open it,” he ordered. 

You opened it at the promise you saw in his eye to fulfill your desires. 

You gasped at the necklace with a delicate silver chain and beautiful sapphire that winked at you in the firelight. You looked back at your new husband, and saw that the gem on your necklace was an exact match to the one that graced his wounded eye. 

“You once told me that sapphires are your favorite,” he said. 

Your laugh was choked up by a sob at his obvious thoughtfulness and love for you. He was not lying that he has loved and cared for you for the entirety of your lives. 

You thought about your young heartbroken friend who loved you despite the hurt and chose a sapphire to replace his lost eye with some hope that you would approve. 

“Will you put it on for me?” you ask shyly as you wipe away the tears. 

He smiles, a genuine breathtaking smile. You laugh and cry at the same time again. 

Aemond took the necklace from you, then placed his hands on your waist and turned you around gently so you faced away from him. Your breath caught as he grazed his fingers across your collarbone then brushed against your neck. 

You shivered. 

You waited patiently as he clasped the chain around your neck. You’d never felt lighter, in fact, you felt like you were floating- high up in the air on dragonback. 

He turned you back around and continued to adjust the necklace around your throat, a gleam in his eye as you smiled prettily at him- proudly displaying his claim on you. 

His lips crashed against yours and you willingly, gleefully succumbed to the storm of him. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, held him tighter. The feeling of his strong warm body against yours had you melting. 

As his tongue grazed yours, you tangled your fingers in his hair. 

He kissed you thoroughly and completely as he claimed your mouth. You whimpered with desire and it only spurred him on more. 

He gripped your waist tighter as he guided you to walk backwards until your legs bumped into the bed. 

He led you to sit on the edge of the bed and you whined as he pulled his lips away from yours. He smirked cockily and then surprised you when he didn’t kiss you again, he didn’t guide you to lay back or crawl on top of you, no- he kneeled in front of you. 

He slowly removed your shoes and stockings before he ran his hands up your now bare legs, pushing your skirt up, up, up until his hands rested on your thighs. 

He placed your ankles on his shoulders and you took a shuddering breath. 

He ran his nose against your calf as his hands inched higher up your thighs. 

He groaned with desire. 

“You’re mine, aren’t you, gorgeous?” he purred. 

You nodded your head and but your lip as you watched him, and a second heartbeat throbbed in your core. 

“Say it,” he ordered, his voice soft as his nose grazed up to the middle of your thigh. Your breath caught as he pushed your skirt up high enough that your panties were exposed to him. 

“I’m yours,” you breathed out. 

“Mhm,” he hummed as he pressed soft opened mouth kisses to the sensitive skin of the inside of your thighs. 

His lips moved higher and higher as did his hands until he gripped your hips and his face was level with your core. 

His eye flickered to the wet patch in your panties and he hummed his approval. 

The sight of him between your legs was the most erotic thing you’d ever seen and your breaths came fast and quick. 

He buried his nose in your still clothed pussy, took in a deep breath, and groaned with desire as he exhaled. 

You whimpered. 

His gaze met yours and he smiled at the sight of you shuddering with desire for him. 

The anticipation was more than you could take. 

“Please, Aemond,” you whined. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” he teased and hooked a finger in your panties and pulled them slowly down and off before he dropped them on the floor. 

He moaned as he took in your glistening pussy, wet just for him. 

Before you could finish whining the word please again, his mouth was on you. 

He licked a long stripe up your core and groaned once more. 

“Nectar of the gods,” he murmured before he devoured you. 

He licked and licked and licked you and made you feel a way you’d never felt before. 

You moaned wantonly as he sucked at the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs and you gave you a pleasure unlike any before. 

He slipped a finger inside you and you squeaked at the intrusion, but soon moaned as he crooked his finger and rubbed against a spot you’d never found yourself. 

You felt something build inside you as he continued to move his tongue on your clit in a perfect rhythmic action. 

He slipped another finger inside you, stretching you a bit, but you couldn’t be bothered as your release became impending. 

“Aemond,” you whimpered and he groaned into your pussy. 

“Give it to me, my love,” he ordered. 

Your release shattered through you with a moan loud enough to echo through his chambers. You couldn’t bring yourself to care or be embarrassed. Not when your new husband looked beyond pleased with you. 

“You are utter perfection,” he breathed out as he stared at you, his mouth slightly open and his pupil dilated with desire. 

He stood from his kneeling position before you and your eyes fell to the obvious evidence of his arousal. Your mouth watered. 

He kissed you deeply before pulling back once again. 

He quickly and efficiently removed his clothes and then yours. 

Your breath quickened once again as you took in the glorious sight of Aemond completely bare before you. You’d dreamed of this many times, but nothing could have prepared you for when he laid you down and slotted himself between your legs. 

As your eyes met his, all of the nerves fell away. You were ready for him and felt completely secure in his arms as he kissed you gently, sweetly, in preparation for what was to come. 

“I love you,” you said as his lips trailed down your neck. 

“You, my beloved, are the love of my life,” he imprinted onto your skin as he trailed his lips down to your breasts. 

He licked and sucked at the peaks of your breasts and you moaned as you tangled your fingers into his hair and urged him on. 

You somehow became even wetter and your slick coated his cock as he slid it through your folds. 

“I need you,” you breathed out and he grunted in agreement. 

He leaned up and kissed your lips once more before he slotted himself against your entrance and slowly began to push inside you. 

You gasped at the intrusion and he murmured sweet words and pressed soft kisses to any of your skin that he can reach. 

He pressed in and in and in. There was some discomfort but he had readied you thoroughly so there was not the pain you had anticipated. 

Once he was seated fully inside you, you wrapped your legs around his waist and kissed him. 

His lips moved against yours with such gentleness that despite the fact that you’d loved him nearly all your life, you somehow fell in love with him even more. 

He pulled back with a hand on the side of your face, a question in his expression, and as you nodded he began to move inside you. 

He pulled nearly all the way out of you before he slid back in. 

You moaned breathlessly and he moaned along with you. 

So slow, his pace was nearly excruciatingly slow as he pulled out and pressed back deep deep inside you and reached a place that had never been reached before. 

Over and over again until your patience was lost. 

“Faster,” you urged and with a groan that showed how frayed his self control was, he complied. 

And you learned how truly full of fire the blood of the dragon was. 

Aemond pulled out before snapping his hips back in against yours. The pace quick and the thrusts deep. 

He gave you a pleasure unlike any you had ever experienced before. You felt so full, a feeling you had never thought you would be so desirable. 

You felt complete as your husband filled you and you clenched around him. 

You pulled his face down to kiss him messily and his thrusts became frantic. 

He twirled his tongue with yours and you gripped his back and held him as close to you as was possible. 

The wet sounds of your coupling filled the room and only increased your desire for him. 

His pleasure was your pleasure as he held you tight and moaned your name into your mouth as he came and filled you with his seed. 

He kissed you once more, twice more, three times before he pulled out of you and rolled to lie next to you on the bed, giving you both time and space to catch your breath. 

You turned to look at him and trailed your fingers down his cheek, then across his chiseled chest and stomach. 

“When can we try that again?” you asked, still a bit breathlessly. 

He chuckled and took your hand in his. He pressed a kiss to your palm. 

“Whenever you want, my gorgeous wife, but at least give me a few moments to recollect myself,” he replied with a smile. 

Later, you strode into your own wedding feast arm in arm with your new husband, more than fashionably late, a smile on your lips and the sapphire necklace around your throat glittering in the light the same as Aemond’s matching eye. 

You were unafraid of your father’s reaction, certain you were of his impending arrival once he received the news. 

The truth is, you’d never felt more secure. Your heart healed, your future one of promise and love rather than fear and hurt, and the love of your life by your side to weather life’s storms with. 

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

If you're taking dialogue prompts then I would suggest Geraskier 20 and/or 45 and/or 92. ❤

20. “You are so unbelievably strong. So, so strong.”

45. “You lied to me.”

92. “My heart is beating… that’s cool.”

“You are so unbelievably strong,” Jaskier says from his spot thrown over Geralt’s shoulder, sounding a bit hysterical. “So, so strong. Do I weigh anything to you?”

With his hand that isn’t holding Jaskier in place, Geralt casts Aard to blast two guards rushing at them backwards. “Is now really the time for this, bard?”

“I think it’s always a good time to ogle handsome men who come to my rescue so valiantly.”

Geralt snorts and leaps off the scaffold onto Roach’s waiting back, dumping Jaskier across the saddle in front of him like a sack of potatoes. Roach doesn’t wait for his signal before she bolts, sending onlookers scattering as she gallops through the crowd. “I told you, bard, next time you ended up on the gallows for sticking your cock somewhere it shouldn’t, I was letting you die.”

“You lied to me.” Jaskier sounds far more smug than a man in his position should.

Geralt can’t argue with that. “The duke’s betrothed? Really?”

“She was quite pretty and she liked my music.”

“Is that all it takes?”

“Well, I am a sucker for a pretty face.” Jaskier cranes his neck to bat his eyelashes at Geralt.

“You’re a dipshit is what you are.” An arrow whistles by his head and Geralt twists around in the saddle to cast Igni at their pursuers.

“It won’t happen again?”

“Now who’s lying?” Geralt urges Roach to run faster. He doesn’t pull her to a stop until they’re well out of town and the sounds of shouting have faded behind them. Only then does he leap down from her back to untie Jaskier’s ankles and wrists.

“Ugh.” Jaskier slides off of Roach’s saddle. Geralt catches him around the waist to stop him from falling. “You finally let me ride Roach and you treat me like a sack of potatoes?”

“You alright?” Geralt pats him down to look for injuries.

“Well, my heart’s still beating.” Jaskier presses his hand to his chest. “That’s nice. Besides some bruises and scrapes, I’m fine. I’d say of all my imprisonments, that one was probably in my top ten. Maybe even my top five, since it ended with me being thrown over a handsome man’s shoulder.”

Geralt closes his eyes. He doesn’t know why he still keeps this peacock around. He especially doesn’t know why the thought of losing this peacock to a hangman’s noose scared him worse than anything has in a long time. “Just don’t let this happen again.”

“I’ll do my best, but I can make no promises.”

“Here’s a promise,” Geralt says. “Next time your fool decisions get you sentenced to death, I’m leaving you.”

“Sure you will.” Jaskier throws his arms around Geralt’s neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for saving me, O Dashing White Wolf.”

Geralt can feel Jaskier’s heart beating against his chest. It almost makes up for the fact that he smells like a man who spent a week in a prison cell. “Any time, Jaskier.”

He doesn’t miss Jaskier’s triumphant little smile.

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome

[empresskaze]

⛈️🍎 and 💞 for cecil and ambrose maybe?

It t-stormed today and made me remember I have this!

⛈️ thunderstorm

🍎 picnic

💞 cuddles

~~~~

The shade beneath the willow shielded the sun when the puffy clouds over head did not. Ambrose leaned against Cecil's chest, sat between the taller man's out stretched legs; Cecil's back against the mightly tree. A blanket under both gave a bit of comfort from the grass; the basket of food packed by Cecil's father's kitchen staff lay around them. The lunch had been delicious and now the two men comfortably now enjoyed each others company.

Trying to keep his eyes on the book he read a loud, Cecil's concerned gaze kept creeping to the clouds overhead or, more accurately, to the ones seemingly inching closer from the distance.

"Hart?" Ambrose's tone gave the realization Cecil was no longer paying attention to what he'd been reading.

"Apologies, belle." Cecil whispered, as Ambrose shifted closer to him as the wind picked up. "We should ride back, I fear the weather is changing, you're still..."

"Hart, please. A bit longer." Ambrose said, though not able to hide the shiver that quickly crept down his spine. "As soon as we return either, Clifford or your father will steal you away from me." Ambrose turned his pale face to up towards Cecil's. "You said we'd have time together here."

A sigh escaped the third born son of Edmund Percival Livingston Lockhart, "We have, today's ride in the county and picnic has greatly improved my spirits." His long fingers stroked Ambrose's jawline. "However, there is a chill in the air, and those clouds lie low. The last thing you need is to be caught in a sudden storm.

Ambrose straightened, pulling himself closer to Cecil, hoping more of his body heat would warm him. "I understand, I do, but you always put work before me. I want time to ourselves Hart, I want..." He turned, raising his fist to cough into.

Immediately, Cecil removed his jacket, throwing it around Ambrose's shoulders, hoping it would help against the growing chill. "You are still recovering, belle. Dr Fairchild lectured you on..."

"Not now, Cecil, I beg you." Ambrose pinched the bridge of nose, his voice slightly more strained.

Before either could speak again, a low rumble of thunder loomed. The clouds Cecil had been worried about were now nearly overhead, dark and angry looking, ready to expell their rain onto the pair. Ambrose, if possible, turned paler.

"We must hurry." Cecil said, standing, then helped Ambrose up. Quickly, they packed up their basket; the wind whipped around them, blowing the blanket around as they gathered everything. Cecil worried, seeing Ambrose struggle against the cold, his wheezing more prominent now. Just as he'd secured basket straps to the horses, lightning lit up the sky while thunder boomed, Ambrose ducked back under the tree, hands pressure firmly against his ears, a pained expression of fear across his face.

"Come." Cecil called holding his hand out to the frightened man, "You'll be safe, I promise." His lips pressed against Ambrose's ear. Right as Ambrose mounted, fat drops of rain began falling, Cecil cursed under his breath and sent the horse with their belongings back to the stable.

Another crash of thunder, rain now pelting the two men as Cecil climbed up strattling the horse so Ambrose could remain in the saddle. It wouldn’t be a comfortable ride but he didn’t care, taking the reigns and commanding The Kings' Favor to run.

Ambrose kept his head down as they raced, through the meadow, in a poor effort to keep the rain from stinging his face. His wet hair blew around making it hard to see anything. He could feel Cecil behind him, one hand on the reign, the other placed across Ambrose's chest.

Every thunder clap sent waves of terror through him, the words Cecil had spoken locked in his head. Even at breaking speed, the ride back felt much longer to Ambrose, who shivered violently. Finally, he felt the horse slow. Looking up, he saw the front entrance of grand estate; a small group of servants stood under the veranda awaiting their arrival. It was then that Ambrose noticed a fallen tree near the edge of the driveway end.

Immediately pulling back, stopping the horse, Cecil hopped down, grabbing Ambrose off the saddle. A male servant wrapped a blanket Ambrose, as female approached Cecil but he shook his head, "Take Mr Beaumont in, put him near a fire, run a hot bath, and fetch dry clothes." He yelled over the rain while handing off the horse to a stable boy, then headed back down the driveway with another member of staff.

"Cecil!" Ambrose hoarse voice called he was ushered away, "Cecil!" But he was inside. "What about Master Lockhart?" He asked the girl escorting him down the hall.

"He'll be attended to don't worry, sir. I'm sure he wants to make nothing was damaged when the tree fell." She replied, opening a door which lead to a room Amrbose hadn't been in before but had a roaring fire. Ambrose sat, keeping the blanket wrapped tightly around him.

"Tea sir?" The girl asked as another entered with dry clothes, setting them down on the table. "Also do you need assistance dressing?"

"No, I shall managed." Ambrose coughed, "Tea is appreciated."

When he was alone, Ambrose changed into his simple cotton shirt and pants. His own jacket along with Cecil's he'd been wearing, fully soaked, so he hung them both by the fire. The chill from his wet hair didn't help even with the fire.

Ambrose's breath hitched, and he muffled a sneeze into the blanket. "Gods." He muttered into it.

A knock sounded, "Mr Beaumont, your bath is ready."

"Right, right, coming." Ambrose sighed, rising from the chair, wondering why he'd even bothered putting on clothes, then remembered how soaked his others were.

The bath helped, Ambrose relaxed until the water began to cool which caused unwanted shivers. He could still hear the thunder outside even muted within the thick walls of the estate. He worried about Cecil who still hadn't returned.

Back in his own room with a warm fire and tea, he sat looking at the window at the dull grey sky and pouring rain. He pulled the blanket closer around, trying to ignore how tickly the back of his throat felt. The door opened, Ambrose whipped around to see Cecil, hair slicked back yet still glistening wet, wearing a fresh black shirt and pants, enter.

"Hart!" Amrbose jumped up running over to the other man who took him in his arms. "Oh my you feel chilled!" He said looking up at Cecil.

"As do you Ambrosia." Cecil whispered leading them back over to the fire. "Was the bath drawn for you?"

"Yes, it was and it was lovely." Ambrose sniffled, trying not to rub his increasing inching nose. "Where have you been? I've been worried." He asked as they sat together on the bed, Cecil pulling at the blanket so Ambrose would be covered.

"A tree blocked the main road; we had to clear it. Clifford and I, along with staff, finally managed." Cecil replied, settling in next to Ambrose.

Another boom of thunder caused Ambrose to jump but Cecil firmly held him close. "I hope the storm passes soon, I know how it induces stress." Cecil said softly resting his head against Ambrose's shoulder.

"I-I'm fine." Ambrose stuttered wishing he sounded more confident. What grown man was still afraid of storms?

He coughed, feeling Cecil's hold tighten. "I believe tomorrow I'll be staying in bed." Ambrose sighed heavily.

He waited for Cecil to reply but then noticed the soft rhythmic breathing coming from him. A smile formed across his face. "Perhaps we may both...stay in bed..." Ambrose said quickly as his own breath hitched, stifling a sneeze into his elbow. "That would make this cold forming, much easier to..." Another sneeze, Ambrose pulled out a handkerchief to blow his nose, "deal with."

~~~~

Clifford is the eldest brother.

[pedrito-friskito]

the warrior and the witch - part three

summary: pero comes home, and you both get more than you bargained for.

warnings: magic, canon-typical violence, maybe a bit of not-canon-typical violence, blood, descriptions of assault (a forced kiss only), NO SMUT HERE (who is she we don’t know), but some angst and some yearning and even a bit of fluff

a/n: oh my GOD. full disclosure: this is not exactly the way I envisioned the ending when I came up with this idea, but I kind of love it. maybe a little OOC for Pero (based on the movie) but pretty in-line with the world I’ve created for him and his witch here. and honestly…I don’t think I’m done with these two. gotta focus on the rest of my autumn adventures, but there will definitely be more of the warrior and the witch at some point!

PART ONE | PART TWO 🍂kay’s autumn adventures🍂

Your mouth tastes of copper. Wet and thick, coating your teeth and tongue. Not the best sign.

It’s blood, obviously, and your head feels heavy, a weight on your shoulders like you’ve never felt before. Slowly, you blink your eyes open, sucking down a breath that rattles your lungs. Your hands are bound in front of you, your legs parted around the saddle of a horse you do not recognize.

And pressed behind you, an unfamiliar body.

Unfamiliar until it speaks.

“Ah, welcome back, witch.” Farrell sneers the words in your ear, his chest pressed to your back, a heavy arm wrapped around your waist while the other holds the horse’s reins. The tone in his voice sends a chill down your spine, revulsion pooling in your gut as his hot breath blows on your ear. “I wondered how long it would take you to wake.”

You slip slightly in the saddle, your torso pitching sideways, and you close your eyes as you wait to fall, but Farrell doesn’t allow it. His grip on you goes tighter, pulling you nearer to his sweaty form.

“Where d’you think you’re going, huh?”

You turn your head as much as the pain will allow, spiking along your cheeks and jaw as you try to even out your breathing. Your chest wheezes with the effort, and the memories come sweeping back into your mind.

The cottage, ransacked. The holding circle etched into your bedroom floor. Farrell’s drunk grin and the axe on his shoulder. He’d hit you over and over again, until your legs gave out and you sank to the floor. Then he’d bound your hands, the rope chafing harshly against your skin, making you feel weaker in an instant. How was that possible? What had he done?

Gods above, what had he found out?

With you bound, he’d carried you from the cottage, dumped you in the garden, and headed back inside. You could only watch as the walls started to shake, as the sound of an axe hitting home over and over again reached your ears. You could only lie there, blood on your lips and rage in your gut as the flames started to rise, pouring through the broken windows, licking over the thatched roof, burning away any trace of your life. Of Pero’s life.

Pero’s voice echoed in your head. Our life.

Gone. Turned to ash.

Farrell made you watch, lain in the dirt, his foot on your back to keep you pressed to the earth. You tried to summon your magic, tried to bring some kind of help to the surface, but it escaped you. There was something in the rope binding you, something else that had been added to that holding circle, something that was keeping your magic far beyond your reach.

The rage turned to terror. Lena and Tomas would wonder where you’d gone to, and as Farrell loaded you onto the saddle, turned the mare towards the forest behind the cottage as the smoke billowed high, as the roof started to collapse under the weight of the heat and the frailty of the flames, you knew there was little chance they would find you. That anyone would.

Now, you blink your eyes hard, trying to wash away the strange feeling of sleep and the heaviness of your pain. You’re still in the forest, no path before you or behind you, the trees on either side a broad expanse that blurs together when you watch for too long. Behind you, Farrell pants in your ear, the feeling of him pressed against you making your whole body want to recoil, but the pain keeping you in place. It hurts to move, aches to even attempt to speak.

But then Farrell keeps talking, and your heart sinks.

“There are lots of others like you out in the world, you know? I’m sure you do, clever little bitch that you are. I’m sure you’ve got friends in all corners of the world, awful women like you that would help you at the drop of a hat. What do they call it? A coven?”

My coven is long gone, you want to say, but you stay silent. My sisters are all long dead, killed by the likes of you. I fled to keep myself safe, found that cottage a safe haven for the likes of me. And then I found him. But he’s gone now. I’m gone now.

Does Pero still live? Lena’s words echo in your mind: he will come back to you. You wish you believed it. You wish you knew he still lived. Your spell of protection had been near perfect, the strongest you’d ever cast on the ring you bore to him before he left. It would keep him safe, but the doubt still lingered.

Farrell just keeps talking.

“You have been a plague on our village. With your sinful face and your ungodly temptation. You never should have stayed, witch. You should have left long ago. And I cannot bear it any longer. I cannot live with the temptation that you offer. Not when I cannot have you for myself.”

Bile rises in the back of your throat. Oh. So that’s the source, the reason for his blind hatred. It doesn’t answer for the rest of the people in the village who have treated you similarly, but you don’t doubt that Farrell has had his hand in it, preaching your awfulness to anyone who would listen, rallying anyone he could to join the cause.

Not that it matters anymore.

You continue deeper into the forest, and after another hour or so, Farrell halts the horse and wrenches you down from the saddle. “You wait here,” he tells you, and a strange sort of shock ripples down your legs. Once again, you cannot move.

You look down at your binds. Squinting down at the ropes, you see more runes, like the holding circle, some familiar and others not. You try your damndest to move your feet, throwing your body in the opposite direction you’ve travelled, but you don’t move an inch.

The realization settles over you. Obedience. You’d heard rumours, long ago. Witches who had defected against their covens, revolted against their own kind. They worked to find ways to enslave, to keep magic under someone’s control, but not the witch themselves. It seems they have been successful. How Farrell managed to find the information, you’re still not sure, but none of it really matters, in the grand scheme.

All that matters is that you get away, that you try to make your way back, that you find Pero.

You realize: Pero may come back, but what will he find? Your home, burned to the ground; you, nothing but a mark in the earth and trail of blood deep into the woods. You turn your head and spit into the earth, the saliva and blood in your mouth too much.

Wait.

Blood.

Your cloak is still draped around you, and Farrell had clearly not been clever enough to check your pockets. One of Pero’s knives lays at the bottom of one, and, carefully as you can, trying to make it look as though you’re not moving at all, you reach for it.

It’s sharp as anything, a result of Tomas’s handiwork, and all it takes is a slight press of your thumb against the blade to slice your skin. You wince, the pain harsh, worse to bear without your magic to ebb it.

Farrell reappears, and you school your face into nothingness, holding your hands in front of you, your injured thumb tucked inside your knuckles. You can feel the blood pooling in your palm, and you press your lips together, trying to hide the pain as best as you can.

He fastens a length of rope to your wrists, just below the binds. “You’ll walk the rest of the way,” he commands, that strange feeling moving through you once more. “If you fall, I will drag you.”

You stare at his large back as he mounts the mare, flicking the reins and ushering the horse forward, deeper into the night. The howl of a wolf makes your ears prick, and you wait until he’s focused on the path ahead, not glancing back at you. Slowly, you veer your steps sideways, your knees aching with every step, until you’re closer to the tree line. Once a trunk is within reach, you splay your hand wide, leaving a bloody handprint on the trunk. A path, a trail of breadcrumbs, something to lead the way to wherever it is your captor is taking you.

Now, all you can do is hope that someone finds it. 

+

The path down the mountain had been treacherous. He’d buried William as best he could, working through the only slightly ebbed pain in his body, muttering a few words as a fond farewell to his friend. His own horse had been taken by the mercenaries that had attacked, but he found William’s further down the mountain, the smaller beast spooked and starving. He’d calmed the horse as best he could, finding a nearby stream for them to drink from, for Pero to clean the blood from his body, to try and figure his path back home.

He still had his swords, but little else. There was a village, once he’d passed through on the way to meet William, and when he stops there for supplies, he realizes his money pouch is gone. Desperate, he sells one of his swords to the smithy in town, uses the money to buy a new cloak and some food, fix the bridle on the horse.

And that’s when he finds it.

The shop is filled with people, and in the corner, he hears two men talking lowly. It’s hard to make out their voices, but he catches a few words.

Witch. Problem. Dark magic. Solution. Obedience.

“You have a witch problem?” Pero asks, his voice loud, catching the men’s attention. Both their heads lift, and one of them has a sickening smile on his face.

“Not anymore, lad,” he answers, crossing his arms over his chest. “Took care of the bitch just last week. The king’s been sending folks all over with solutions for the problem. Ways to bind them, make them obedient, keep them at bay. It’s a miracle, really.”

Pero’s vision goes red. “You don’t say.”

The man just nods, smug as anything. “Yep! Poor bloke was in here just last week from a village a few days’ ride from here. Said he had a problem to take care of and his village hadn’t gotten anything yet, so I let him have what we had left. I hope it worked.”

“What was the man’s name?” Pero asks, trying desperately to keep his voice as calm as possible. His hand flexes for his sword, but he resists.

The man narrows his eyes at him. “Why d’you ask?”

That’s it.

“Tell me his name!” Pero shouts, and his sword makes a satisfying noise as he unsheathes it, tossing it in the air and catching it by the handle, holding the point directly at the man’s throat. “Now.”

“Farrell!” the man cries, his face going bright red, eyes bulging out of his face. Pero presses harder. “He said his name was Farrell! Big bloke, liked his ale, said he needed help! I was just tryna be a good neighbour!”

Content with the answer, Pero storms from the shop, moving faster than his aching body wants, but he doesn’t care. He has to get back. Now. He swings himself into the saddle, the horse nickering at him as he flicks the reins, a loud hyah! echoing through the village as the horse surges forward.

He’s made it halfway back to your village when he spies the black ball of fur, and it’s the only thing that stops him, distracting him from the path ahead.

“Soot?” he calls, his voice soft as anything. He pulls tight on the horse’s reins, urging the animal to a halt, and slides from the saddle. The cat looks more than worse for wear, his little paws raw, a chunk missing from his ear, blood on his maw. “Gods, what happened to you?” he asks, breathing a sigh when the cat lets him scoops his little body up. Carefully, he gets back into the saddle, and the cat makes a home in Pero’s shirt, burrowing against his warmth. This is not a good sign. If Soot is all the way out here, then…

Where are you? What happened to you?

He travels through the night, half-expecting the horse to give him a hard time, but the beast seems to sense the urgency, kicking up dust as he powers on, making better time than Pero had on his journey to William. The stretch that should take three days is done in a day and a half, Pero barely stopping, save to feed himself and the horse, trying to tend to Soot as best he can, catching a fish in a nearby pond for the cat to eat.

It’s nearly nightfall by the time he makes his way into your village. The square is full of people, despite the late hour, and Lena spots him before he sees her, shouting his name across the fountain.

“Pero!”

He pushes his way through the crowds, the horse’s head bouncing as he goes, nudging people’s shoulders until they move out of the way. “Lena.”

“Gods, where have you been?” she asks, and he slides from the saddle, careful not to jostle the cat in his shirt. As soon as he’s close enough, the woman throws her arms around him, squeezing him tight, making Soot yelp against his chest. “Oh.”

“He met me halfway,” Pero explains, and the cat perks up when he spots Lena, a spark of energy making him climb up onto Pero’s shoulders. “I heard something, in another village. They’re hunting witches, and Farrell—”

“She’s gone,” Lena bursts out, and Pero’s heart sinks into his toes. “We’ve been looking for her for days now. The cottage was burned down, but there was no trace of a body. She has to be alive somewhere, but I…” Your friend trails off, shaking her head. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Where is Farrell?” Pero asks, his voice gravelly. Finding Soot was one thing, but hearing it firsthand is another entirely. “Lena, where is he?!”

“I don’t know!” she shouts, tears falling down her cheeks. “We’ve been trying to find her, I just—”

Tomas appears out of nowhere, pushing through the crowd, and grabs Pero’s shoulder. “Come inside the shop,” he says, eyes darting around the square. “Now.”

Pulling the horse behind him, Pero obeys. Soot leaps off his shoulder and into the horse’s saddle, and Lena takes the beast to the stable behind the smithy while Tomas leads Pero inside. The shop is dark, the hearth the only source of light that Pero can see.

On the table lies a brilliant sword, perfectly shined, and he can tell just by looking at it, incredibly sharp. He’d traded his straight blade back in the other village, favouring his curved sword, but this would make a fine replacement.

“Take it,” Tomas says, stepping around the table, reaching into a cabinet and procuring a bow and a sheath of arrows. “It’s yours.”

“What?” Pero asks, incredulous. “What are you…?”

Tomas slings the sheath around his shoulder, the bow following suit. “We’re going to find her.”

Pero nearly stumbles back. He’s stricken, for a moment, the man before him a mirror image of the good friend he’d lost, the friend who had given him his life, therefore giving him you. And now, Tomas, a new friend, a wary friend by any stretch, helping him get it all back.

“You have children, Tomas,” Pero tries to reason, reaching for the sword, removing his empty sheath to replace it with the new one. “I cannot ask you to—”

“What kind of father would I be if I didn’t set the right example?” the man replies, and Pero can only grin back.

They meet Lena around the back of the shop, Pero’s horse still saddled and Tomas’s freshly so. Soot leaps onto his shoulder again as Pero mounts, and he glances back to see Lena grabbing Tomas’s face, pulling him into a deep kiss before she presses his forehead to hers. “Save her,” she says, “and come home.”

Tomas simply nods before getting into his own saddle, nodding at Pero. “Let’s go.”

His horse keeps his speed even after the brief stop, and Tomas’s keeps pace. It’s a quick ride to where the cottage once lay, and Pero nearly topples from the saddle when he sees the burned remains. He tosses his reins to Tomas, sprinting for the smouldering pile. It’s all burned wood and shattered glass and books turned to ash. He can’t stop himself from picking through it, trying to find anything that might still be intact, remembering Lena’s words that they hadn’t found a body, but praying to the Gods all the same that he doesn’t find you among the rubble.

He doesn’t, but he does find something else. A long silver chain, a ring similar to the one hanging around his own neck strung on it. The memory surfaces; you’d worn it whenever you left the cottage, carrying it with you into the village for protection. He’d never asked about it, never put it together when you gave him his own, just accepted it for what it was. Accepted you for what you were.

What you are.

Soot leaps from his shoulder when he rounds the back of where the cottage once stood, his head cocked to the side, tail sticking straight up. “What is it?” Pero calls, as if the creature will answer. The cat walks forward, pawing through the grass until he reaches the edge of the forest, then he pauses, looks over his shoulder, and meows loudly at Pero. Not English, but he takes the meaning all the same.

In there.

They leave the horses in the pasture beside the cottage. The gate is still intact, and Pero is surprised to see your mare still walking the green. She’s wary of the other horses, sniffing at Pero’s new horse carefully, but neighs lowly at Pero, leaning into his palm when he pets her nose.

“I know, girl,” he murmurs, “I’m going to find her.”

The moon is the only source of light as they step into the forest. Tomas wonders if they should light a torch, but Pero refuses. “It might be a trap,” he says, and his new friend nods. “We need to be careful.”

Soot leads the way, the tiny black silhouette of him disappearing every once in a while when the moon cannot break through the trees. It feels like hours, every bone in Pero’s body aching in protest, but he does not care. He has to find you, he doesn’t care what it costs. Any pain is bearable, losing you is not.

Then he sees it.

The bark of a tree, scraped away to show the solid wood beneath, and there, dried and dark, but there all the same, is a handprint. Soot paws at the tree, and Pero sniffs at the mark. “Blood,” he tells Tomas, his brow pulling down. “It’s blood.”

Soot disappears deeper into the forest, and they find him again at another tree, another handprint pressed into the bark. Then another, and another, all bearing the same park, the same hand.

“A trail,” Tomas murmurs. “She left a trail.”

It has to be you. At first, Pero is doubtful, only half-convinced by the black cat leading him deep into the forest, but as they continue down the unseen path, that thing that has taken up residence in his chest since the witch first spoke of you, doubled when he first laid eyes on you, blinks awake, stretching across his ribs, pushing him forward. Find her, find her, find her, it chants, and Pero’s hands curl into fists as he steps.

The moon hangs high overhead, the light pouring through the trees, spotting their path witch patches of white, and Pero just keeps going. following the feeling in his chest. Tomas trails slightly behind, and Soot leads the way still, his tail pointed straight up, ears twitching as he goes.

Finally — finally — they come upon something other than trees. But it does not help Pero’s unease, not by a long shot.

Beyond the last of the trees lies a clearing. Moonlight pours over the entire space, the grass stained grey with the power of it. A tent stands in one corner of the clearing, a small fire built before it. An unfamiliar horse is tied to a tree near the tent, the beast folded up on the grass, asleep. On the other side of the clearing, a large metal stake driven into the earth, and hanging off the stake…

You. Your hands bound before you, your face bruised and your lips covered in blood, your dress hanging off of you in tatters, revealing more broken skin beneath. Just as it had in the other village, Pero’s vision goes red, and he moves to surge forward, but Tomas stops him, grabbing his shoulder.

“Not yet,” he whispers harshly, pulling Pero back. “We don’t know what sort of weapons he’s got with him.”

Pero nods, but he cannot tear his eyes from you. His chest aches, begging him to move forward, that thing encircling his heart trying it’s damndest to push him forward. He wants to run to you, to cut your binds away and carry you away from this place, far from it all, until he finds a place where he knows you’re safe, knows no harm will befall you.

He never should have left.

The guilt eats at him instantly, roiling around in his stomach and forming a heavy weight, but he tries to cast the feeling aside. Now is not the time.

They lay in wait for a while, waiting to see if Farrell will step out of the tent. He can see the flicker of light from within, casting shadows on the canvas walls. Pero’s hands itch to reach for his swords, but Tomas is right. They do not know what sort of threat Farrell stands to be, not yet. And from the looks of you, whatever the man in the other village supplied Farrell with has worked. You look weak, and not just from your injuries, it’s deeper than that. The glow that had always surrounded you is gone. Your magic, Pero realizes. Whatever Farrell’s done, it’s cut you off from it, left you powerless.

It only makes his rage more palpable.

Soot, unfortunately, does not have the same amount of patience that humans do, and after giving Pero what he can only describe as a hard look, the cat leaps through the tree line, sauntering across the grass towards the stake you’re tied to.

Pero curses under his breath as the cat closes the distance between you and him. As soon as he reaches you, Pero sees you perk up, your eyes widening as the cat climbs up the stake, pawing and gnawing at the ropes that keep you bound. “No,” he sees your lips form, trying to bat the cat away with your tied hands. “Soot, no!”

There’s a rustling from the tent, and Farrell finally steps out of his shelter. As broad and stupid-looking as Pero remembers, the man lumbers across the clearing, an angry look on his face when he spots the cat on the stake. You cry out when he swings at the animal, but Soot is faster, ducking the large fist heading for him and sinking his teeth into Farrell’s arm.

“Stupid cat!” Farrell yells, and grabs Soot with his other hand, launching the cat into the forest on the other side of the clearing. You yelp again, and Farrell grabs you by the collar, dragging you to your feet. “What did you do?” he spits, getting in your face, his nose inches from yours. “I told you, I’m taking my time with you, bitch. You don’t want me to build that pyre tonight, do you? Do you?”

Pero turns to Tomas, his chest heaving, and puts a hand on the man’s arm. “Tomas, go home.”

“What?” he asks, incredulous. “I cannot just lea—”

“You need to go back to the village,” Pero says, his voice shockingly even, “and you need to tell them what you saw. Only one man will walk away from this fight, and if it’s him, you need to tell the village what he’s done, why we fought.”

Tomas opens his mouth to protest further, but Pero lifts his hand.

“I have lost one good friend already,” Pero continues. “I do not wish to lose another.”

Tomas’s jaw goes hard, muscle ticking in his cheek, but then he puts a hand on Pero’s shoulder. “I will tell them what I saw.”

“Thank you.”

Pero watches until the shadow of Tomas disappears into the blur of the forest.

“Please,” Pero hears you sob, your voice so broken he has to bite back his anger. “Just let me go. I’ll leave the village, like you asked. I’ll do anything, Farrell, please, just—”

“Anything, huh?” the man repeats, and his hand moves from the collar of your dress to your chin, gripping your face tightly, lifting you higher and higher until your feet are no longer on the ground, your bound hands gripping the stake as he lifts you.

Farrell pulls your face to his, and Pero can bear it no longer. He bursts through the tree line, drawing both swords at once, moonlight glinting off his blades. He roars the other man’s name. “Let. Her. Go.”

Farrell stumbles back in surprise, your blood on his lips, and your face cracks in shock, fresh tears pouring down your cheeks. “Pero, go!” you shout, but he’s too focused on your captor.

“Now, why on earth would I wanna do that?” Farrell asks, giving Pero an unkind grin as he wipes your blood from his mouth. “I’ve got your little bitch right where I want her.”

“Let her go,” Pero repeats, slower, “or I cut you down where you stand.”

The man starts to laugh. “You think you’re tough, don’t you? Big scary warrior, big shiny swords. I still have the scars, from the first night we met. You were truly terrifying back then, I’ll admit. Barely scraped away with my life, after what you did. But I lived.” He takes a little bow, and Pero growls. “Pity neither of you will walk away from this. It’s a shame, really.”

“You’re a monster,” Pero spits, taking a step forward, tightening his grip on his swords.

“Me?” Farrell shakes his head. “Oh no, the only monster here is this—” he grabs you by the collar again, shakes you against the metal stake, “—unholy creature. She’s tricked you too, hasn’t she? Lured you into her bed and kept you captive. If you’d stayed away, I bet you would have lived a long life, warrior. Or maybe you’d die in the street like any other poor swordsman.”

It’s a taunt, the man poking at any part of Pero he can, trying to find a way beneath his skin. It’s not going to work. He’s here for one thing, and one thing only.

You.

“Let her go,” Pero says a third time, taking another step, “and maybe I’ll let you live.”

He laughs again. “You keep saying that, but you see, I have another trick up my sleeve, warrior.” He turns to you, pulls a knife from his belt. Pero lurches forward, but Farrell doesn’t hurt you. He cuts the rope binding you to the stake and shoves the knife between your still-bound hands. Holding you by the collar, he drags you towards Pero, who readies his swords, waiting for an opening, searching for a moment where he can cut the man down without harming you, but it never comes.

Farrell hauls you close to him, putting his mouth by your ear. His voice is barely above a whisper, but Pero hears it all the same, sees the ripple that travels through your body at the command, the way your face pinches in pain and tears roll down your cheeks, creating tracks in the blood on your face.

“Kill him.”

It’s a cruel trick. A cruel joke. Pero’s swords clatter to the ground as Farrell shoves you towards him. You’re gripping the knife with both hands, the blade pointed up, but your fingers are trying to turn it downward. As Pero catches you, the tip of the blade drags against his collar, just glancing off his skin.

“Do it!” Farrell shouts, and you let out a sob as your body shakes.

“It’s okay,” Pero murmurs, his anger abated now that he can touch you, can feel your body in his grasp. “I am here, mi amor. You’re safe now. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you sob, squeezing your eyes shut as your hands try to point the blade at his chest. You wrench your hands down, yanking the blade towards your own ribs, and Pero grabs your wrists. “I have to do what he says,” you cry, your shoulders shaking with the force of the command, the strength of your will. “It’s not fair.”

“I know, amor,” Pero says, his voice soft, pulling your head into his, pressing your temple to his cheek. “I know. It’s okay. I’m here. I will not leave you, never again. It’s okay.”

He says the words over and over, turning his head to kiss your cheeks, your lips, your nose, your forehead. Anywhere he can reach, while you wrestle with your own body, trying to defy the order. But you’re weak without your magic, weaker still from the injuries Farrell has given you. It’s not enough.

“It’s okay,” Pero tells you, brushing the hair back from your face as he leans in to kiss your lips. “I love you.”

Your bottom lip quivers as you stare at him, those eyes he’s come to love so much so big, filled with tears.

“Kill him!” Farrell roars, and Pero kisses you again.

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, and your hands surge forward, the blade sinking in deep in his gut. “I love you.”

All Pero can hear is your sobs, the gut-wrenching sound making his chest ache as the pain floods him. But he found you. You’re alive. This isn’t how he wanted things to end. But he found you.

You wrench the blade out of him, dropping the handle as Pero sinks to the grass, blood pouring from his wound. Dimly, he hears Farrell’s laughter, the unkind noise growing quieter and quieter as you lean over him.

“I’m sorry,” you say, repeating the words over and over. “I’m so sorry. I love you. I love you. I’m sorry.”

You’re too caught up in your tears and apologies to notice him grab the hilt of the knife.

+

You can barely see through your tears, the wetness on your face making everything feel blurry. Everything hurts, and you can’t hold back the sobs as you curl yourself over Pero’s body, feeling the blood pouring out of him soaking into what remains of your clothes, dampening the grass below. Your entire being shakes with sadness, pushing your face against his collar, sobbing against his skin.

Behind you, Farrell just keeps laughing. Anger rattles through you, the beast in your chest screaming in pain. He did this. He did this he did this he did this.

“C’mere, bitch,” he calls, and you look over your shoulder to see him beckoning to you. But no sharp shock of obedience zips through you. You feel nothing, save for the ache in your chest. Your fingers flex, curling into the fabric of Pero’s cloak. You’re frozen in place, confused, and then you look down.

Pero’s eyes are closed, the blood that had been oozing from his wound slowed, and in his hand lies the bloody dagger.

The binds that had kept you Farrell’s hostage, kept you bound to his commands, lay in your lap, cut away from your wrists, sliced through with the very blade he’d forced you to use on your love, your soulmate, your Pero.

“Did you hear me?” Farrell shouts, and this time, when you flex your hands wide, you feel the welcoming warmth of magic shooting through your limbs. “I said come here. I’m not finished with you yet.”

Your hand closes around the hilt of Pero’s sword as you stand, dragging it out of his grasp and pulling yourself to your feet. Farrell just stares at you, his brow pinching in confusion.

“Wha—” he starts, and stumbles back a step, but you flash a hand out, keeping him frozen in place, as he had done to you in the woods, as he had when he made you watch your house burn to the ground, watch your every possession turned to ash.

You scream as you drive the blade into him, striking true, slicing through flesh and muscle as you pierce his heart. His eyes go wide as you push hard, sinking him to his knees, your scream echoing through the clearing, shouting until your throat is raw and your eyes blur with fresh tears.

“B-bitch,” he chokes out, blood bubbling out of his mouth, and you just shake your head, wrenching the sword back, watching as your captor falls to the ground, what remains of his life pouring out of him, until his eyes go dark.

The sword clatters to the grass as you spin on your heel, sprinting back to where Pero still lays. His chest is eerily still, and you reach beneath his shirt, praying that the ring you gave him still hangs around his neck.

Instead of one, you find two, your own chain also looped over his head, both rings nestled against his sternum.

All you can do is wait.

You curl up on the ground against him, tucking yourself against his still-warm body. Your palm is pressed flat to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your hand. It never slows, never falters, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. Your magic worked. You kept him safe, kept him alive.

And he came back to you.

You don’t know when, but Soot makes his way back to you, a furry warmth at your back as you curl against Pero, the three of you falling asleep on the grass, the moon watching above, the terror and rage of your ordeal slipping away to become a memory, nothing more.

When you wake, the moon has taken leave, the sun in its place, and Pero is holding you close. You’re both a mess, covered in blood and bruises, but you can’t bring yourself to care, feeling the familiar weight of his hands on your hips, pulling your body onto his, offering you his warmth. You dig your hands into his shoulders, trying your best not to hurt him, avoiding injuries best you can. The gash you’d left in his stomach is closed over, the skin around it bruised, but you know in a few days, it’ll only be a scar. A memory.

“You came back,” you murmur against his collar, feeling him shift beneath you.

“I swore to you, did I not?” he replies, lifting his jaw and kissing your forehead. “William died.”

Your hands clench on his shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“I should have died on that mountaintop,” he says softly, and new tears prick at your eyes, “but my witch kept me safe.”

You nod, and summoning some strength, lift your head to look down at him. Your thumb reaches up to ride the familiar ridge of his scar. “Our home is gone.”

Pero shakes his head, leaning into your touch. “Nonsense, amor. Our home is wherever we go. My home is you.”

For the first time in days, your lips stretch into a smile. “And my home is you.”

You lean down to kiss him properly, the kind of reunion kiss you’d been dreaming about since the day he left. It tastes of iron and salt, your blood and his, tears and dirt and magic. Both your bodies ache like nothing you’ve ever felt before, but you don’t mind it. It’s a reminder, that you lived. Both of you.

Pero groans beneath you when you lean up, your knees either side of his waist.  “Gods, how I’ve missed the feel of you on top of me.”

You bite out a laugh, reaching a hand down, pulling both the rings out of his shirt. “You found my ring.”

“In the ash,” he tells you, hands finding your waist again as you loop both chain and cord over his head, both rings resting in the middle of your palm. “I wanted to give it back to you.”

You nod, and Pero just watches as you untie the cord, unclasp the chain, pulling both rings off.

“Lena told me something,” you says softly, reaching for his hand, holding it between yours. “What they call love like ours where she comes from.”

He smiles. “What do they call it, amor?”

“Twin souls,” you reply, taking the larger of the rings, holding it over his fourth finger. “I carry a piece of you with me, and you carry a piece of me with you.”

Pero nods. “I do.”

“Witches don’t get married,” you say, staring at the ring, at his hand. “Not in the traditional sense. No churches.”

“That is understandable,” he replies, and pushes his hand up, so the ring slides down his knuckles. “Warriors do not marry either.” He takes your other hand, pulls the ring from your palm, reaches for your left hand. “We do not usually survive to return to our wives, leaving them widowed too early in life. It was never something I thought of. Until I found you.”

“We’re supposed to make vows,” you murmur, breath hitching as he puts the ring on your finger.

“We are not traditional, are we?” he quips, and you laugh.

Pero pulls you down to him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, the weight of the ring on his fingers pressing into your skin. “I love you, amor, this day, until my last.”

“This day, until my last,” you repeat. “I love you.”

He kisses you long and hard, breathing life back into you with his love and affection. Slowly, you both get to your feet, Pero draping his cloak around your nearly bare form, the pair of you looking around the clearing at the mess Farrell left behind. Pero keeps his arm around your shoulders, presses a kiss to the side of your head.

This day, until your last.

+

The body is burned. The tent is torn down, any evidence of your captivity removed from the clearing. Pero is meticulous, refusing to let you lay hands on any of it, urging you to stay at the tree line, Soot in your arms and his cloak still around your shoulders.

Once he’s satisfied, he rouses Farrell’s horse, lifting you into the saddle before taking a seat behind you. For a moment, the memory flickers, your captor pressed against you, but then Pero reaches around you for the reins, his arms loose around you, letting you lean back against his chest, and the memory is gone. You fall in and out of sleep as the horse travels through the forest, Pero warm and familiar against you.

You rouse fully when you reach the field where your cottage once stood. Pero murmurs softly in your ear, kissing the curve of your neck until your eyes open. You’re surprised to see Lena and Tomas standing at the road, your horses saddled and standing behind them.

“You’re alive!” Lena cries as Pero steers the horse close, helping you slip down from the saddle. Your friend hugs you close as soon as you’re within reach. “Oh, thank the Gods.”

You hug her back tightly. “I am.”

“What is all this?” Pero asks, gesturing to the horses, putting an arm around you when Lena releases you.

“Soldiers arrived in the village today,” Tomas answers, a hard expression on his face. “Direction from the king, to help with the witch problem.”

“Witch problem?” you repeat, balking. Then the realization settles over you. “Farrell.”

Pero tightens his grip on you. “I met a man in another village, on my way back. He was the one who supplied Farrell with the means to capture you.”

Your swallow hard, heart racing in your chest. You turn to Pero. “I cannot stay here.”

“We cannot stay here,” he amends, kissing your temple. Then he turns back to Tomas and Lena, extending a hand to Tomas. “Thank you, my friend.”

Tomas just nods, shaking Pero’s hand.

“Oh, I don’t want you to go,” Lena cries, her eyes wet, and she hugs you close again. “Write to us, will you? Once you’re safe. Let us know you’re okay.”

“We will,” you agree, hugging her back. “Kiss the children for me, will you?”

She just nods.

Pero hands Tomas the reins of Farrell’s horse, takes his and yours from his friend. He helps you into your horse’s saddle, Soot making a home in your lap, and starts walking down the road, both horses trailing behind him. Your hand finds its way onto his shoulder, squeezing lightly.

You think about looking back, to the place where your home once stood, to the friends you’ve made, to where your live once was. Your chest aches with melancholy, but once it’s all disappeared from view, once Pero swings himself into his own saddle, leans across to plant a kiss on your lips, both of you nudging your horses into a gallop, the feeling eases.

“Are you worried, amor?” Pero asks.

“No,” you answer, your words honest, a hopeful smile pulling at your lips. “As long as I have you.”

—————

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