#This took just about a month and a half.
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galewindstudios · 5 months ago
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3 Idiots and a Cadillac (and 2 Visitors)
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Official Fullbody Refs + Height Chart Completed!! :D
[Design Blabbing Below; Beware, it gets long haha]
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Amp, 38 Years Old, 6'8 (203.20cm)
I finally got the stylisation of his face down! I feel his old ref was sort of a weird outlier style-wise. Changed his upper piercings from industrials to just rectangular ones. Either works but the only other oc in this world with silver piercings is Tiff. Theirs are rectangles and I really wanted to make everyone feel like they all fit in the same world, per se. I'll still probably draw him with indstrials occasionally though :) I may or may not have... tailored his jeans a little. Phff nah, couldn't be me. 👁️👁️ Hopefully his sass has stayed relatively the same haha. I also finally draew the tuft of hair under his chest hair and made his nails/belt/lipstick/eyebags the same colour!
~
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Geoff, 34 Years Old, 6'4 (193.04cm)
Geoff!! I think my fat anatomy really improved. I thickened up his legs and ankles some. Also I made his skin a smidge darker because I forgot my sun-deprived skin colour was not a good representation of a mixed-skin tone. His hair is less of a gradient now and more texture-d from one colour to the other. Also finally making the red rims of his eyes official. Also!! Also!! I snazzed out his cargo shorts! More pockets!! And a weird...lanyard...suspender thingy & black earrings as an homage to Geoff's 80's punk-ass(grunge? I... I am regrettably out of touch with fashion.). His left arm is also badly burned due to his habit of letting it rest on the open window in the sun when he drives around. Too bad it's also the arm JWD loves hugging. Lastly, I made his nails this dark colour with a pink shine to it! Just really adding a lot of pink lol
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Jackwagon Daniels, 5'7 (170.18cm)
It's corpse man! I definitely leaned into his dead...ness more. I made him more skinny, like his skin is pulling at his muscles and bones, and added some wrinkles too! Also added some drippy-corpse-liquefying details like on his foot. And I made his tan more like a sight burn (owuch). His hair is slowly gets bigger with every redesign... and I'm here for it lmao. Also! Detail! I added! JWD's fingernails, at the base, are blue/purplish! It's due to his death and I did battle wanting to make his lips-area blue too... but ultimately decided his smile is super big so it would only add unneeded noise. His jeans are more worn at the knees from his car repairing gigs back in Louisiana. And lastly, and it's strange I've written so much for him when hardly anything was changed lol, his eye dots! They're now sort of green-ish at the bottoms!
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Tiffany, 29 Years Old, 5'6 (167.64cm)
Them!!! I had a lot of fun adding more accessories/colours! I added nail polish that reflects their treasured umbrella on both their fingers and toes. Also changed out their boring exercise shorts for ~Swim Trunks~!!! I think the pattern would change depending on how they feel. I also added a much needed tan and sun freckles as well! I kept their hair style the same but added darker roots. They've stayed pretty true to their original design, tbh.
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Larch, 28 Years Old, 5'5 (165.1cm)
Lastly the elusive boy who only shows up when I draw Amp! There aren't many posted comparisons of him, but just know he probably went through the most change. I fixed up his anatomy; both with how the fat on his body rests/keeping him round, and making him look short. I have a weird issue with giving short fat people I draw skinny legs, which makes zero sense now that I know what I'm doing. (Also.... stretch marks...on his flanks... my beloved.) I've yet to """""officially""""" make a map for his vitiligo and mostly just care that it's in the right spots (shoulders/neck, right side of face around eye, tits and lower rib cage, wrists, inner fingers, and belly button area)! He used to wear shorts but I revoked them for sweats because he is a fashion disaster. Socks and sandals are also his forte, and I love him for that. He drinks a lot of beer (Amp's way of trying to comfort him) so I added that and a cig as well. He sort of just idles around wherever Amp is, frowning at the ground; poor guy. He also has mirrored tunnels in his ears, and his hair got darkened and less blond! Suffice to say, I am very happy with his redesign! He feels a lot more 'him' if that makes sense!
~ Anyway! Thanks for reading if you got this far, I really appreciate the interest, if any. Here's a gold star and also a little treat as well;
*🌟🍬*
Have a lovely day, and thanks for listening to me ramble about my boys! 😌😌
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literaphobe · 5 months ago
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You Didn't Tell - Abby S.
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uncharted-constellations · 7 months ago
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Robins can be found with a variety of patterns, colors, and shapes. However trying to use their appearance as an indicator for their nature would not be advised. All Robins, in their own way, are capable of quite dangerous feats, and are not to be taken lightly.
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egophiliac · 1 year ago
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I love your take on Crowley!
I know that the early, non-Diasomnia stories aren't really your thing, but are you reading the novels at all?
I have been following some of the fan translations and the second book seems intense! Would love to hear what you think about them.
thank you! 💚💚💚 I'm not really sure why you think I don't like the earlier arcs though, I love pretty much all the characters and their storis! (I think 5 and 1 are my favorite of the past episodes, though 6 infected me with the Shroud brainrot something fierce.) I just...ESPECIALLY love diasomnia. :') but there is room in my heart for all of these dweebs! like, who among us is not just as ride-or-die for Adeuce as they are for us.
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that said, I don't really follow the other adaptations like the manga (aside from a dip-in just to see the new Yuus) or the novels, though I keep meaning to check them out! I do like seeing the differences between the different forms of media, and how certain things get adapted one way or another! but alas, time/a lack of accessibility stands in our way more often than not. :( someday...someday I will have time to consume all of the media...
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pastelhooman · 1 year ago
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[WVW Exchange Event 2023!]
"The kisses on your lash, your ears, on the nose that keeps scrunching. The kisses on your hand, on your cheeks, and the exchanging soft words waiting for the break of day."
----- ID under break -----
A total of 6 pages of comics, starting with a close up shots of vash kissing sleeping wolfwood's nose, eyes, lashes, and he furrows them a bit. an overhead shot of the two of them in a motel room, on the bed with vash leaning over wolfwood from the left, laying soft kisses on him. their legs tangled. their normal outfits are thrown haphazardly on the floor, instead donning comfortable clothes. on the outside, the very first ray of lights are yet to shine.
"what a face you're making pfft" - vash says as he grabs both of wolfwood's cheeks, squeezing them a bit. wolfwood mumbles, "There's something that keeps landing on my face, it tickles." he grabs the hand that is on his right cheek. "Well you're letting it happens anyways right?" Vash muses, bringing the hand up to kiss on its knuckles. "Good morning Wolfwood. It's almost dawn"
"… Isn't it way too soon?" - wolfwood asks, but keeps to himself the prayers he's sending to god because the the boy on top of him was such a sight to behold. Vash flops down onto him, leaving the hand hanging and lace his own hand into Wolfwood's hair, peppering kisses to the side of his face. "Yep" - he answers - "But you woke up on your own tho" - facetiously. He giggles, saying that it was a joke after a beat of silence. A sigh, "don't make me upside you first thing in the morning." Wolfwood closes his eyes, hand combing through golden strands. "Heh, how merciful~" "We have a meet up with Milly and Meryl today, remember?" Vash reminds him, which does raise some vague memory. wolfwood hums, the other hand reaching around vash's torso, hugging him. " So, the sooner we arrive, the less likely she'll chew through my head." - Vash adds. "riiiight. And you were SO urgent in waking me up." in wolfwood's hold, both of them slowly turn to the right, towards the edge of the bed.
Well, you were just soooo cute, I couldn't help it! didn't thinkk you'll actually wakE UAA-!"
the bed creaks under the sudden shift in weight as wolfwood tosses vash over and under him, arms firmly hugging him, one at his back and one at his head, hungrily dives down to kiss. "!! Wolf-! Wait-!" Vash yelps, leg instinctively curls around the other's man hip to hang on, trying his damnest to grip on his shirt as HE is now half airborne, barely has any contact with the bed on his upper body. However, wolfwood seems to have another idea as he keeps deepening the kiss, pointedly holding Vash close, hands spread guarding the back of his head as both of them are sliding off the soft fabric.
"THUD!" a resounding fall, possibly enough to wake the room downstairs, followed shortly by laboured breaths amist wet smacks of lips. Heaves and huffs of air exchanging between the two bodies when the need to breath made itself necessary. They press close, cradling each other, and are lost to their own world. After a while they had to part. Metal arm shifts through black locks, caressing down to his nape and they hold eye contacts there, with lidded eyes, strands of saliva thins then breaks.
Wolfwood pushes up on his arms, looking smugly down at his now disheveled partner: "Now this is how it's done, Needlenoggin." he remarks. Vash tries to wrangle his thoughts back in order, but strings of Wolfwood's name and a wonderous question keeps filling his mind, of whether he should risk it all and have fun for a bit more. Regardless, snapping out of his trance, Vash sourly asks, with a wry smile and an aching head: "But did you really need to roll off the bed?" "Wrong side, whoops" - Wolfwood anwers unseriously, laughing as he finds the situation quite amusing.
----- End of ID -----
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spinostarz · 20 days ago
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THE WELL AND THE LIGHTHOUSE PMV/ANIMATIC
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very very jean valjean centric because i love him and he deserves the world <3 im not sure if pmv or animatic would apply better to this, but either way, i hope you enjoy it!
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averlym · 4 months ago
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ghost story premiere day! check @melliotwrites for more info
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#*there's less than a day left* me: does this count as a prediction :33 sorry it's vague i just predict Vibes. stream sheep in wolf country#last several hours i can post this before it comes across as a Reading Comprehension Cringefail! due to the new update (premiere)#which is also to say i've rushed it in the last 24h after cc told me ''go for it''. i haven't digitally rendered like this since i was 15#in lieu of character designs falling into my lap from above i give you wolf & sheep & wolf & sheep. also House. also fire and water concept#brought to you by (1) general excitement i've been swept up in // (2) cc; who i messaged yesterday with a sketch on a half-wet receipt#and was an enabler of this nonsense // (3) copious usage of the procreate liquify tool and eyedropping colours from the pinterest boards#(4) '' rotatable 👍 '' from cc which means that the house in water isn't beset by reflections and vague. and this work is rotatable.#bonus points if you treat both sides as a spot the difference game.#tempted to print this out as like a6 merch. lowkey. // (4) me rendering last minute on the last possible day [art proj flashbacks] //#(5) ghost story art draft 1 i did like dec last year involving a shelf; incense sticks; peeling paint; spilled cup; the whole shebang -#if you look at the water house there's incense sticks in the window. yippee! had fun with that... it never made it out of sketch.#and then i lost the paper. alas. sorry i guess that was fated to never be. here's attempt 2.0 with months of hindsight#anyways let's talk really quick about song assocs! water imagery @idk you anymore // sheep in wolf country!! pretty obv. above#there's a house & there isn't a house. much House. idk how else to put it. // also that one timeline (not a song) saying <house burns down>#incense sticks mentioned in i breathe in you breathe out // the lighting for the field of grass comes from there's a house:#'where the grass looks like fire sick with anticipation'. also in the same song: pond mentioned 💥💥 body of water moment //#also also the house in this work is like. if you took the ghost story header & the ghost story programme houses and smushed them tgt#except i was lazy to render wood that clearly. and last note here is that the smoke was kinda insp from how clouds are done in chinese art.#ghost story musical
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morrigan-sims · 7 months ago
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Pirate Outfts
I was bored, so I started trying some different outfits on Zara... The last one might be my favorite, if only because I already used another swatch of the first one for Wolf, and I can't have them wearing the same thing... But I also love being able to see all her freckles in the 2nd one...
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non-un-topo · 1 year ago
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More clothing studies, this time from my fic Axis. I was aiming for authenticity while also trying to have each of their personalities show a little bit in their clothing choices. Two for Nicky, to show his layers.
#tog#the old guard#for reference the fic takes place in 1625 in iceland. i still don't think they're bundled enough though lol.#nicolo di genova#yusuf al kaysani#andromache of scythia#no quynh :(#these were a n i g t m a r e to crop correctly. tumblr why are you like this.#hence the cropping might look a little weird#siggy draws#i think these sketches took a month and a half lol. now i will be quiet about this fic and focus on writing something else.#what do we think about this style? the differently coloured lineart and the slight lighting? and the rough colours?#also i forgot my siggynature on ALL of these but that's ok. you know who i am sdfghf#my new obsession is clothing details i guess!! could always make it more detailed though! with lots of practice i can try.#no real director's commentary on these drawings like i usually write for my sketches asdsfgfd#just that this is mostly what they wear in the fic. add a coat for andy maybe and some mitts for joe.#and more weapons and bags and stuff#can't really see nicky's braids but he's got one big french braid and a few tiny ones on the sides of his head connecting to it.#his hair is like shoulder-blade length. it's about the symbolism!! of not making a change for a long time!! until he does cut it!!#and andy is wearing quynh's necklace under her shirt of course </3#joe rolls his pantaloons above the knee for maximum movement (horseriding) and fashion (gay)#i have a crush on the first nicky sketch like he's so cunty for no reason#well. he's possibly supposed to be having a serious conversation/argument with andy#kudos to the ref picture i used of luca just standing Like That
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s0fter-sin · 3 months ago
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley Characters: John "Soap" MacTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Alternate Universe, Non Military, Historical, Vague Time Period, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Priest Simon "Ghost" Riley, Dom Simon "Ghost" Riley, Virgin John "Soap" MacTavish, Sub John "Soap" MacTavish, Touch-Starved John "Soap" MacTavish, John "Soap" MacTavish Has Religious Trauma, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Past Torture, Internalized Homophobia, Virginity, Loss of Virginity, First Time, Hand Jobs, Sounding, Chastity Device, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Come Eating Series: Part 9 of PWP Oneshots Summary:
“No one told me what prayers to recite,“ Johnny forces out, trying to summon the well of anger that usually burns within him when he enters the church. “‘Spose they’re not used to trussin’ up somethin’ that can talk back.”
Father Simon says nothing, his footsteps echoing out on the stone; growing louder as he approaches.
“I can baa for ya if that’d make it more familiar,” he spits, some remnant of himself flaring and he strains his arms, struggling in vain against the ropes binding his wrists.
He follows the hem of his robe as he circles him; his keen eyes heavy as they study the sigils on his skin until he finally comes to a stop behind him.
He’s not even to see his death.
Johnny curses himself as only now does grief come at being denied a final look into his eyes.
Even now, you can’t help but chase sin.
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hanniewinnix · 7 months ago
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My kids and grandkids will never know how Joe and David made significant changes in my viewpoint of love. They will never know how Joe resented David because he sneaked in Old Spice in the European war theater, how it frustrated Joe that while his snarky, mean behavior is always about David and his viciously gorgeous blue eyes, he actually does want to listen to him talk about school and how he was a student at fucking Harvard before joining the paratroopers. They won't see me stare into nothing, thinking about how Joe would dream about David in the cold, winter hell in Bastogne. They will never know the terrified pants during Toccoa, the thrill of being caught during Aldbourne, the stare at the airstrip, the waves of pleasure and relief back in England after d-day, the burning jealousy when Joe looked at how Tab spinned David in Eindhoven and carding his fingers through his inky black hair, and when Joe just silently patched up David the night of the patrol. Oh no, they'll be clueless when Easy thought David died when a German squad intercepted an army jeep, taking him prisoner until David was rescued in Haguenau and Joe never leaving his side when he realized it was David that he's been carrying to safety. They won't hear about my sobs when Joe is gonna keep calling David 'Web' because David's name stirs his guts and his pulses scream with repressed affection, because come on, it's fucking DAVID. The kids will never know that Joe worked, dragged his forlorn mental health, and built his war-torn life from pieces just to propose to David with a table because he can't give David a room to write yet. And then, they'll never know why David didn't invite Joe on his wedding, and why Joe didn't notify David of a promise before he went to war, and how they both didn't realize what they lost.
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jellydragons · 2 months ago
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“GOAT LOOSE!”
If the panicked shout didn’t spur them into action, the sound of thundering hoofbeats certainly did.
It was a manner of seconds before the beast appeared; dusky blue, impressively large, and – most notably – tearing down the path from the ranch like something possessed.
“Well, shit,” Bo said, with a put upon sigh.
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weirfq1 · 4 days ago
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with all these gaston crackships/rarepairs that are coming out lately it would be so fucking funny if he had a flig with all the main characters (ambar, nina, simon... hell luna too if you want) and they all know it except matteo
#mf would feel so betrayed once he finds out#and not because he's jealous or anything - or maybe yes (they kinda have a vibe between them if you get what i mean)#mainly because his best friend didn't tell him#gaston would 100% use “you didn't ask” with a shit-eating grin while shrugging his shoulder#he would have the time of his life making fun of matteo reaction lol#and matteo would also lowkey be insecure (understandable because gaston was probably a better boyfriend for all those people [real])#[from here on i'm gonna yap but like... YAP - get ready]#type of flings/situationships/whatever i think he had:#LUNA/GASTON : [barely a fling/ a kinda relationship (?)] - them just trying it out for the hell of it#they had a lot of fun and it strengthened their friendship#they never talk about it unless they're sure that they're by themselves#gaston sometimes reminiscences about it in front of others(to make luna panic/embarass)but in such a vague enough way that they don't get i#it always comes off as them play-fighting#it either happened before he and nina got together (which is what i'm running with for this post) or they did it after she left#because they were the closest to her and were the only people that could understand what it meant to lose nina#(luna also dated her in the past by this point)#GASTON/NINA: [literally canon and one of the main ships] so i don't have to explain it i guess#GASTON/SIMON: [was a “they were all in their feelings” during those moments - kind of deal]#that scene i reposted the other day is a good way to pinpoint when they started to actually eye eachothers /put a start to what they had#it ended two or three months later - don't know who put an end to it between them#but it wasn't a problem because they both had something else they wanted to focus on more - they're extremely chill about this#GASTON/AMBAR: [kinda the same - got to know eachother when they were kids and became extremely close (even tho it took A BIT since#even if gaston came from a good family ambar was still as standoffish as now (and also a bit shy even if she wouldn't admit it)]#gaston was the one that did the first step#at that point ambar actually never stopped to think about dating in general but especially him#but the idea of losing him as a friend for something so stupid as a relationship terrified her#he reassured her that whatever happened nothing between them would've changed#which was real but also not really#they ended up breaking up a year and a half later and became a bit awkward around eachothers for a bit (mostly because of ambar)#they're still cordial with eachothers
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robinmage · 2 months ago
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im finally fucking done. free me from this prison
total time 203:06
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vaya-writes · 2 years ago
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The Wyvern's Bride - Part 3.7 (NSFW)
When Adalyn gets sacrificed to the local wyvern, she’s a little annoyed and a lot terrified. Upon meeting the wyvern, she discovers that he’s not particularly interested in eating people, and mostly wants to be left alone. In a plot to save himself from the responsibilities his family keep pushing on him, Slate names Adalyn as his human Envoy, and tasks her with finding him a wife.
6800 words. Cis female human x Cis male wyvern (slow burn, arranged marriage, eventual smut). firefly-graphics did the divider.
Masterlist - Previous
All the smutty content warnings. There is penetrative sex. There is oral. There are handjobs. There is overstimulation and a little bit of edging. There's a heap of profanity and a bunch of fluff too.
I'll include content breaks if you don't want to see the explicit stuff, but the whole thing will be suggestive. This chapter IS about Adalyn seducing Slate. But it's also a confession chapter, so there's wholesome stuff for the non smut readers too.
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Slate is steadily growing closer to his wit’s end. 
It had started with the nightgowns. The first had been a pale spring green colour. Modest in cut. Daring in meaning. The colour that wyverns tend to flush around their mates. Signifying trust. Fondness. Love. He’d never expected anyone to do that around him.  
But Adalyn can’t possibly know that. 
She’s been wearing them every night whilst lying beside him.  
Things had escalated during yesterday’s beach date. (Outing. Trip. Whatever.) He should have said something. She’d asked him what to wear, and he hadn’t said anything about the colour. It had to be his fault, really. If he’d said something, perhaps she wouldn’t have worn that sky blue delight. Had the audacity to wear such a shade in public. Blue, the colour of attraction, desire, lust.  
He wants to strangle the cousin who’d gifted it to her. Or thank them. He’s not sure yet, there are too many feelings he needs to sort out. Mostly because females only flush blue when they’re open to advances.  
Another thing Adalyn couldn’t possibly have known. Especially with that genuine smile, and that sweet look of focus whenever he’d chatter about something most people found boring. It wasn’t wanton behaviour. Even if wearing the colour beside him in public had made his brain stall several times. 
He’d barely been able to look at her. Had spoken about every fun fact under the sun to stop from spilling his guts or disgracing himself. Because there’s no way Adalyn had meant anything by the dress.  
She’d married him to save him from embarrassment. To try something new, away from the mundanity of life in Fleecehold. Not because she was attracted to him. Not because she wanted him.  
He’d decided it must be Rin, playing a trick on him. Especially as things intensified. Starting with that letter. That parcel. The only thing Adalyn had said about it was that Rin had sent her a book.  
So, he’d deduced that this is Rin’s doing: Adalyn wearing more and more of those colours. A green tunic here. A blue shawl there. The nightgowns fray at his sanity the most, gradually getting shorter or more elaborate. 
He doesn’t sleep well. Lies perfectly still in the bed next to Adalyn, entertaining thoughts that are downright obscene. Frustratingly aroused, most mornings he has to excuse himself before she wakes, to find a private spot in which he can relieve himself. He tries not to think about her when he does. Tries and fails.  
The touches are equally tantalising in their torment. She’d started small. Innocent brushes here and there. A hand on his elbow. A bump against his shoulder. Adalyn reaching up to straighten his collar, or brush hair out of his face. Always with a smile. Gentle grazes that drive him mad. 
Lunch breaks are fraught with tension. Since he’d helped her with the garden, Adalyn has incorporated handfeeding Slate into her repertoire. Offering bites of her own pastries or catching him when his hands are otherwise occupied. Today Slate emerges from her wing, filthy, to find her holding his lunch. 
“Open,” she demands. 
He does so without hesitation. Is scarce able to breathe at her proximity, at her intense stare. He feels his cheeks flush grey-green, but is unable to look away, unable to hide any of the awe or desire from his face.  
She uses her thumb to brush some crumbs from the corner of his mouth, and he damn near melts. She smirks at his reaction, and that’s when he begins to suspect that she’s complicit in the attempts on his control.  
It has to be intentional, at the point. It has to be. The colours, the touches, the ancestors damned pheromones. She’s wearing them again, he notices, not for the first time.  
It had gotten so much worse when she’d unearthed the perfume. Rin’s gift, he begrudgingly remembers. The explosion of scents and pheromones that had given him a headache when first revealed. Now skilfully applied, just faintly enough that at first he thought they might have been his imagination.  
Scents that beckoned him closer. That bade him lean forward when she walked past, or that made him hyperaware of where she was in the room. Ones that whispered hello and tried to put him at ease. Others that got under his skin with how daringly inviting they were, almost begging him to reach out and touch Adalyn.  
Today she’s wearing one of the latter. Along with a teal dress – unseasonably short. He’d be concerned for her wellbeing if he weren’t so busy sneaking glances at her woollen leggings. Or the way the dress clings to her chest. And her ass.  
Ancestors, is he really ogling her so openly? He has to shake his head clear before recentring. She has him in such a daze, that he hadn’t processed any of their conversation. Had he even said anything? Had she? He’s searching his memory when Adalyn turns away and bends to pick up the picnic basket.  
He watches the dress creep up the back of her legs, completely rapt again.  
A strained sound escapes his throat, breaking the spell and startling him out of his trance.  
She’s packing up and he has no recollection of eating. He really did sit through the visit, mute and staring. He curses himself. He’s becoming a pervert and a lecher.  
“I’ll see you at dinner,” she smiles at him, and it hurts.  
He watches her leave before looking down and realising with shame that he’s hard again. It’s probably a contributing factor to his dizziness.  
The only thing that holds him back is perhaps she doesn’t realise just how strong of an effect these things are having. If she’s trying to make him want to jump her, to pin her to the bed and fuck her for hours on end, then mission accomplished.  
But if she’s just trying to court him, to encourage him closer, to tell him it’s okay to feel things, to care about her more than they’d discussed...  
He doesn’t know. He just doesn’t know what to make of the advances.  
It comes to a head when Slate returns from work that night. Adalyn has made dinner again and is dressed in the same teal dress she’d worn at lunch, though she’s stripped out of her shoes and leggings. Her scent wraps around him – inviting and lovely – and he sits and readies himself for another painstaking meal.  
He glances up when she asks about his day, and nearly drops his fork. She’s wearing makeup. Which by itself isn’t a big deal. She’d spent the past few days experimenting and trying on different cosmetics. But tonight her lips are painted a washed out blue and there’s a pale eyeshadow to match.  
It’s ridiculous, but the colour goes right to his hemi. He stares back down at his food, a bit shellshocked, completely spacing on the question she’d asked him.  
“Sorry, I missed what you said?” 
“I said, what did you get up to today?” 
“Oh, uh, the usual. I spent some time in your wing working on the second floor. Then...” he looks again. Can’t stop himself from glancing back up at her too innocent expression, her carefully composed interest and smile.  
He loses track of his words again. “You know, just the usual.” 
Adalyn regales Slate with details of her day while he forces himself to eat. He barely tastes the food. Barely hears what she’s saying. He’s not sure if he’s more in a hurry to finish and leave the table or dreading what comes next.  
Adalyn finishes before he does, and watches him eat with a stare that’s almost predatory. For a moment Slate forgets himself. Forgets his size and his magic and his near immortality. He feels like her prey. A thrill goes through him at the thought. He squashes it down immediately. 
“I think I’ll go do some more work before bed,” Slate mutters, standing once he finishes. 
“Slate.” 
He halts at his name.  
“Please sit back down.” 
He does, face flushing; worried that he appears too eager.  
Adalyn stands and approaches him. All his nerves strain when she stops behind him and rests her hands on his shoulders. He feels like he could jump out of his skin. 
“You should take a break. Are you really going to work through the night?” 
Mute, he shakes his head, mesmerised by her tone. Her words are masked with faux sympathy.  
“Good,” she murmurs, before kneading his shoulders.  
Slate’s face turns greener when a whine escapes his throat. He covers his mouth and coughs, hoping to disguise the slip.  
Adalyn huffs her amusement before digging her fingers in, unknotting his shoulders and working her way down his back. He feels like putty beneath her touch, mouth slightly agape, entire self-control devoted to keeping any more embarrassing noises to himself.  
When she stops he could almost cry, but instead things intensify when Adalyn rounds the chair and takes a seat on his lap. 
He stares at her, eyes too wide. 
“Is this okay?” For a moment she seems hesitant. Doubt creeping into her expression. 
He nods, almost frantic in the movement. “Mhm.” 
She sags in relief before looping her arms around his neck. It puts her face a little too close to his, and he swallows; the only movement he’ll allow. 
She crinkles her nose. “Your clothes are wet.” 
He waits, desperate to see what she does next.  
“Would you... like help taking them off?” 
He goes stiff at her words. In every sense of the word. Thankfully she ignores his erections, using her finger to trace a pattern on his chest instead.  
He’s clenching his jaw so tightly that it hurts. His hands dig into the armrests. He’s worried his claws will materialise and splinter the wood. He has to reply, he remembers, or he won’t get to see what happens next. 
“If you want.”  
She raises her brows. “I’m not asking what I want, I’m asking what you want.” 
By the fucking Ancestors. 
Unbidden, his hands go to her, trembling as he cradles her jaw. The other drifts into her hair. He gets even harder when she relaxes into his touch, turning pliant under his grip. He tries not to sound so choked, so raspy, but he can’t hide his desperation when he replies. “I want to kiss you.” 
She lifts her chin in silent permission, eyelids drooping and jaw going slack. But it’s not enough for Slate. He presses his forehead against hers. “Please, I need to hear you ask.” 
He’s breathless when she shifts, bringing her leg around so that she’s straddling him. He can feel much more of her now. Seated like this, it’d be impossible for Adalyn to miss the bulge in his pants. Shame darkens his cheeks.  
Then she grinds her hips against his.  
The movement is so minute, he’s not sure if he imagined it.  
Her hands tighten around his neck. She brings her lips to his ear. Speaks so clearly, there’d be no mistaking her words. “Kiss me, Slate.” 
Every doubt, hang-up, and hesitation empties from his mind. His shame slips away and it’s almost blissful the way he’s able to turn, touching his lips to hers without overanalysing his actions. 
He realises he’s holding his breath. Pulls back to let it out in a whoosh, before leaning in and kissing her again. He’s too occupied with her touch to fret about the gall of his actions, and he’s moves instinctively, trailing soft kisses along her jaw and neck. He wants to commit every sound she makes to memory; every hitch of her breath, every pant and subdued gasp. He wants to worship every inch of skin he can reach; enjoy every shiver and sound he can wring from her. 
Adalyn is the next to pause for air. Slate doesn’t let up though – having been given permission to kiss his wife, he intends to make the most of the experience. He lavishes kisses down her throat, across her shoulder, savouring her warmth. He lets his teeth scrape against her skin and nearly trembles with excitement when she flinches, before tilting her head back to give him better access. 
“What else do you want?” She murmurs. 
“You.” 
She huffs a laugh. “I’m tired of guessing. Elaborate.” 
He makes himself pull away. Feasts his eyes on her. Her lipstick has smeared. The colour might drive him insane if he looks any longer. 
He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, trying to organise his thoughts. He doesn’t get the chance. Adalyn picks up where he’d left off, leaning in to suck a line of kisses down his throat. He lets out a shaky breath and his grip on her tightens. 
Adalyn pauses. “Is this still okay?” 
“Yes. Fuck, yes. Please, don’t stop.” 
Emboldened by his plea, Adalyn grinds against him – there's no way he’s imagining it this time - her kisses becoming fiercer, their embrace more passionate. She nearly growls when her access is blocked by his collar. “I want to see more of you.” 
--- NSFW Content Ahead ---
Slate doesn’t check himself, removing his shirt faster than he’d done before. Pieces finally click in his brain, and the next step of the evening presents itself to him. He stands, hands going under Adalyn’s ass, and carrying her to the bed. She isn’t fazed by the relocation, doesn’t even stop rubbing against him. She just wraps her legs around his waist before dragging his lips to hers again.  
He kicks off his boots on the way there. Starts unlacing his pants. They make it to the bed and he sits, letting Adalyn straddle him and push him against the mattress.  
“Much better,” she says before trailing her lips down his chest. She takes her time, and Slate practically melts at the attention. Wonders if Adalyn had been as eager to get her hands on him as he’d been her. Probably, he notes as she kisses and sucks nearly every inch of him. She’s exploratory in her path. Her cheek grazes his ribs when she kisses the indent of his scar. She runs her hand along his side, over the ridges and valleys of his muscles. When she turns her attention to one of his nipples he jolts. 
He’s so focused on her mouth that he nearly misses her hand creeping down past his waistband. He lets out a shuddering breath when she rubs against his erections. His thoughts fizzle out when she fists her hand around one of his cocks and pumps it.  
“Is this alright?” She murmurs against him. 
He drags his pants down in answer, giving her better access. She squeezes and Slate can’t help but moan. It takes everything he has to not buck into her hand. 
Adalyn doesn’t bother restraining herself, grinding against Slate’s thigh. When she stops mouthing at his chest he grasps her by the hair again, prompting her upwards to his face. She doesn’t need further instruction, and goes back to kissing him, mindless and messy.   
Slate is close to coming. All she’s done is rub his cock and sit on his lap, and he’s nearly finished. He’s not sure if he should be embarrassed or elated. Is still caught up in surprise at the turn the night had taken. 
Adalyn pulls back to catch her breath. She looks almost smug, watching him writhe and twitch under her touch. She brushes his hair back before placing her free hand on his cheek. “You look good like this.” 
It takes a monumental effort to pull her into focus. He’s so hazy with need and so close to coming that tears prick his eyes. Adalyn is a blur of colour. The smear of her makeup, the marks blossoming on her throat, the flush in her cheeks – it's intoxicating. Another sound escapes him. 
Her face softens at the noise. “You okay?” 
“Adalyn...” He’s breathless. It’s an effort to speak. “If you keep- I want- I'm-” 
“Use your words, dearest,” she leans down in a slow, deliberate movement. Presses her lips to the skin beneath his jaw. Then sucks.  
He can’t use his words. Instead, he sees white as pleasure shoots through him, intense and unrelenting. His hips leave the bed. His breath catches in his throat. His eyes flutter closed. He doesn’t notice Adalyn’s praise as he comes – quite possibly harder than he’d ever done in his life. 
Awareness drifts back to him as he comes down from his high. It doesn’t take long for him to reorient himself, but when he does the room is spinning. His brain feels like mush. Adalyn is still straddling his thigh, her hand splayed against his chest for balance. He wonders if she can feel how hard his heart is beating. She still grips one of his cocks, looking at the mess he’d made with an unreadable expression.  
His tongue feels like lead, and he tries to string the right words together. “I’m sorry, I...” 
He cuts off when she gives his spent cock an experimental squeeze. His hips jerk and he wheezes.  
She huffs and smiles, watching him as she raises her hand to her mouth and licks her fingers clean. 
His untouched cock throbs. What few thoughts had formed in his head quickly disperse. 
“Why are you sorry? It’s not like I did this on accident,” she chides. 
Fuck, he wants more. He needs it. But Adalyn is still dressed. Still composed, looking down at him with a bright-eyed expression he’s entirely unfamiliar with. Five centuries worth of matriarchal and societal conditioning are the final tethers keeping him from responding. From grabbing Adalyn ravaging her. Playing out every dirty little thought he’s had, every fantasy, every impulse.  
He has to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s wanted before he can act. That he’s wanted.  
“Do you-” he starts, looking up with searching eyes, “Do you feel like this too?” 
She relaxes on top of him. Her lips twist into a wry smile. “Well, I didn’t come.” 
Need unfurls inside of him, sudden and desperate. To see Adalyn come undone the way he had. To make her gasp and moan and beg for him. To make her feel the way he constantly does around her; needy, depraved, dying for her to take the initiative.  
Before he knows it, he’s swapping places with her. Kissing down the length of her body. Slipping off the bed to kneel on the floor. Murmured pleas stream from him, too fast for him to process each one, “-let me help, let me make it better-” he grips her by the knees and pulls her towards him. “Please, fucking please, I want you so badly, I need to taste you, need to touch-” He parts her thighs. Wetness strings between them. She’s not wearing underwear. The observation knocks the breath from him. 
He kisses her inner thigh. His unspent cock aches, painfully stiff. He grinds against the end of the bed, yearning for friction. “Ask me to touch you. Give me permission. Fuck, Adalyn, tell me what I need to do to make you want me.” 
A hand closes around one of his horns, tugging. His whole scalp lights with pleasure at the sensation, and he shivers, staring up at Adalyn. Having her exert control over him like this is intoxicating. 
Despite her actions, she doesn’t look like she’s in control. Her hair is mussed, her face pink, and she bites down on her lip viciously. Still, she tightens her grip on him. 
“I already want you. I’ve wanted you for weeks. So stop teasing and just-” she cuts off. She lets out a groan, “Gods, are you really going to make me say it?” She pulls her dress up and stares pleadingly. “Use your mouth.” 
Her words are the final fraying on his restraint. Lust rolls in and he pulls her to the edge of the bed. Too eager to temper his actions, he thrusts his face between her folds, tonguing up and down and before he finds her clit and sucks. 
He should have stroked her first. Fondled her breasts or used his fingers. But there’s no room in him for sympathy and he continues his rough treatment, enthralled by the way she squirms beneath him. Her legs shake and jerk, and a stream of high-pitched noises escape her throat. He holds her steadfast, draping her knees over his shoulders and nuzzling closer. 
“-slower, please-” he hears despite the clenching of her thighs around his ears. 
Part of him flickers with remorse. He’d attacked her without any preamble or warmup, lapping up her juices like a wyvern starved. The rest of him is unmoved. Thrilled to hear Adalyn beg. Delighted at being told what to do. And merciless. Having waited long enough for Adalyn to give him an order, he intends to follow this one to the letter, even if she grows to regret the request.  
“You want me to slow down?” He hums as his imagination runs free. She’d been teasing him all day. Two could play that game. 
She whimpers and nods her assent.  
He moves back, giving her some space and lathering kisses on her thighs once more. Despite his sadistic intent, he nearly loses himself worshiping her legs. He sucks and nips at the soft flesh of her inner thighs, watching marks bloom and darken with unshakable focus.  
She goes limp with the treatment. Her moans drop in pitch, her breathing evens out. They both relax, drawn into a new rhythm; less manic, less starved. Softer; more intimate. Her spasms grow further apart, and she seems content to lie there under him. Until she’s not.  
There’s a gentle tug on his horn, and he blinks up at her. She looks wrecked. Her eyes are watery, and her makeup is smudged. He wonders if he’s taking things too far. 
“Please, Slate. Not there.” 
He holds fast to his plan, trusting Adalyn to tell him to stop if it gets too much. He kisses her other thigh. “Here then?” 
She shakes her head. 
He holds back a smirk. Kisses her knee. “Here?” 
Adalyn lets out a whine. Bucks her hips. “Stop teasing.” 
“You told me to slow down.” He nips at her skin before dragging his nose upwards, perfectly content to draw things out. “Unless you want me to go fast again?” 
She doesn’t say anything. Drops her head and lets out a frustrated whine. 
“Tell me where, Adalyn.” He doesn’t hide his smile this time. 
“You know where.” She sounds petulant.  
Warmth spreads through him, but he continues to play dumb, and shrugs. Echoes her earlier words. “Elaborate. I’m tired of guessing.” He scrapes her with his teeth again. “Plus, I like hearing you tell me what to do.” 
Tears drip from her eyes. Slate pulls back, startled. He’s about to apologise, certain he’s pushed too far when she grabs him by both horns. Guides his face to her pussy. 
“Here.” 
His mind goes blank at the action, his thoughts skittering away. Until he’s only aware of her grip and the delectable warmth before him. He takes his time with kitten licks and soft kisses. Teasing forgotten, he treats her with awe, with gentleness. His wife spreading her legs for him is such a privilege, he can’t help but savour every taste.   
Despite his abandoned plan, Adalyn still feels Slate’s exploratory pace. He winds her up until she’s groaning and bucking once more. Impatient, she uses her grip on Slate’s horns to grind against his face.  
Slate drops further at the sensation. With his eyes shut tight and Adalyn’s thighs pressed hard around his head, it’s too easy for him to lose himself. He works without thought, drawn into her taste, her sounds. Her grip on him sends goosebumps down his neck and he hums, happy to relish the sensation, letting Adalyn pull him wherever she likes. 
Trancelike, he moves with increasing fervour, flicking his tongue against her clit before moving down to tease her entrance. Over and over until he’s sucking hard at her pearl just to enjoy the way she shudders against him. He doesn’t notice the growing tension in her limbs, or the change in her volume. Doesn’t notice the signs of the orgasm creeping up on her until she’s gripping his horns with every ounce of her strength and gasping out his name.  
It draws him out of his daze. Rekindles his lust. Slate decides then and there that he needs to hear Adalyn say it again. That he’ll do whatever it takes to keep her like this – moaning and incoherent. Appetite barely whetted, he keeps working, sucking harder on her clit and teasing her entrance with a finger. She’s so slick, slipping inside is effortless. She whines and tries to jerk back, but Slate is resolute, intent on pushing Adalyn as far as she can go. He adds another finger. 
She’s a mess beneath him. Still shaking, riding out the aftershocks of her orgasm. Unable to come down with the way Slate keeps going. She wants to relax, wants to relish the intrusion, but is too heightened to do so. She’s barely aware of the sounds leaving her, the whimpers and groans.  
Every time she untenses, Slate moves his fingers, prompting her to clamp down. Again and again, until she stops trying to pull from his grasp. Starts opening for his touches again. Though she can’t yet stop her cries or hold still. Tears brim her eyes. It’s almost as if she doesn’t know what she wants. 
His prior plan to tease Adalyn until she begged comes back to him. He could keep going, turning her into an oversensitive mess. But looking at her, he doesn’t think he has the restraint. Watching her twitch and loll her head just reminds him of how much he wants to experience her pleasure for himself. To sink inside of her and feel her tremors directly around his cock. 
Slate rests his cheek against her thigh and pauses to catch his breath. He uses the moment to check in. “How you doing, Ad?” 
She tries pressing her legs together, succeeding only in pulling Slate’s face closer. A spent little noise escapes her.  
He can’t help but smile. “Sensitive?” 
She nods. 
He runs his free hand up the outside of her thigh, soothing. “Do you want me to stop?” 
She covers her face. Flinches when Slate curls his fingers inside of her. But doesn’t pull back.  
“I asked you a question.” He takes mercy and eases up. Lets her think unimpeded. Even if he wants to keep distracting her. 
A moment passes and she shakes her head. Her voice is barely a whisper, but Slate still hears her reply.  
“More.” 
He plants a soft kiss onto her thigh. He’s desperate for the next step, still achingly stiff and untouched. But if she wants more, who is he to refuse?  
He kisses his way back to her core, spreading her legs and ready to taste her again when he’s accosted by the swat of her hand. 
“Slate,” she cries and indecency of the sound makes his mouth water. “Please,” she wraps her hand around his horn once more and tugs. “I need the rest of you.” 
He doesn’t have the discipline to hold back. To feel anything but relief at her words. It’s all he can do to crawl up the bed, breathless, until he hovers over her face, caging her in with his forearms. He still needs to see her ask. 
“Say that again.” 
Her nose crinkles and she balls her fists against his chest. Her voice is small. “I need you...” 
Her embarrassment endears him. Arouses him. He can’t help but lower himself, settling between her legs. He strokes her thighs. Creeps his fingers closer to her dripping folds. She pants at the touch, spreading her legs eagerly. The sight threatens to unravel him, but he can still draw this out. Just a bit more. 
“You’re going to have to be specific, sweetheart.” 
Her hazy eyes clear long enough for her to blink up at him, pleading through dampened lashes. “I need you to fuck me.” 
Ancestors. When she looks at him like that, when she says something so crass – he's not going to be able to hold out much longer. His legs tremble as he rubs his cock against her folds. Carefully. Tauntingly.  
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” 
She whimpers. Hits his chest. “I said, fuck me.” 
“Ask nicely?” She could give him hell for it later. Right now, nothing beats the glee he feels hearing Adalyn beg. 
“Please,” she whines and tears escape down her cheeks. She wraps her legs around his waist and grinds against him. “Please stop teasing, please just fuck me, please Slate, please.” 
He can’t hold back anymore. Not when she’s lined up so perfectly or begging so prettily. He can’t stop himself from leaning down to brush his lips against her cheek. He tastes her tears before moving his lips to hers, gently at first. Heat grows inside him until he’s kissing her with abandon, fervid and hungry. When he pulls back he’s breathless, but no less eager. 
“I’d be delighted.” 
The last of his patience fleeing him, Slate thrusts inside.  
Her legs wrap tighter around him. They’re both silent but for their heavy breathing. The pause probably only lasts a moment, but it stretches on for Slate, enthralled by Adalyn panting in his ear, the tremble in her muscles, the absolute euphoria of having one of his cocks inside her.  
She moves first, grabbing the hem of her dress and pulling. She lifts her hips to ease the dress up, the motion sending pleasure curling in his gut. Still, he takes Adalyn by the wrist. 
“Leave it on.” 
Adalyn leans back to look into his eyes again, even as her cheeks grow redder. There’s a question in the air, and as he stares at Adalyn, some of the mania, some of the subservience leaves her. She looks pleased. “You want me to leave it on?” 
He nods, suddenly abashed by the request. By the ease at which Adalyn can take control of the situation.  
Her smile widens and she pulls him down into a heated kiss. “Don’t rip it. I like seeing what it does to you.” 
He groans against her neck, heart pounding when Adalyn rolls her hips against him. “You’re a fiend, Adalyn.” He starts fucking her, resisting the urge to sink his teeth into her shoulder while he does. 
She meets his thrusts, thighs trembling with the effort. She takes his hands, coaxing him to squeeze her ass, to touch her waist. “Your fiend.” 
His hemi throbs at the words and he lets out a near growl. The curve of her hips, the warmth of her skin. She’s so soft beneath him. “Yeah?” 
“Mmhm.” 
Slate sits back, pulling Adalyn onto his lap as he goes. She doesn’t need to move much, legs already locked around him. Splayed open above him, with her dress ruffled and her hair loose, Slate doesn’t know where to look. He can’t see a single part of her he doesn’t desire.  
She takes his hands again. Glides them up her stomach, pushing the fabric up as she goes, until her breasts are peaking out. He doesn’t need further instruction, and begins to fondle her, awed. He leans in to suck and nip at her flesh. She jerks in his lap, arching and gasping at the attention, and Slate groans as she clenches around him.  
“All yours, Slate.” 
His hips jerk. “Fuck.” He starts bouncing Adalyn on his lap, eliciting a stream of her gasps. She closes her eyes. Bites down on her lip. He reaches between them to press against her clit, delighting in the way she starts to squirm. “If you keep talking like that I’ll end up fucking you all night.” 
She laughs, but cuts off in a moan. It takes her a moment to reply. “Why wouldn’t I want my husband to fuck me all night? I happen to like him a lot.”  
Her teasing, sultry tone is undermined by her breathlessness, but it still does things to him. He stops palming her breast and grabs her by the hips. Overrides her easy pace on top of him in favour of a rougher fucking. Bucks up against her momentum and weight, driving himself deeper with each thrust, until he’s nearly slamming her down onto his cock. 
There’s still a part of him wondering if he’s taking it too far. Worried he might hurt Adalyn. The bed shakes beneath them, and the sound of their fucking echoes in the stone room. But Adalyn seems to enjoy the treatment. Her mouth is agape, her back arches, her nails scrabble to find purchase on his back. 
There’s no more room for rational thought, watching her like this – feeling her like this. The only thought he’s capable of having is the realisation that he needs more. He fucks her harder, faster, chasing that need for more. More of Adalyn. More of her sounds. More of that hot, wet texture gripping him so tightly. Until she’s convulsing on top of him, clasping a hand over her mouth, strained gasps escaping her. 
He grabs her wrist, unthinking. “I want to hear you.”  
Slate doesn’t give her a chance to respond. Keeps bucking, even as she trembles, limbs wracked with tension. Her moans peak, then stop entirely for a moment as she flexes. The spasms around his cock, the additional slick – feeling her come on top of him is his own undoing.  
The last of his thoughts turn to static. Every muscle in his core tightens. Then he’s slack jawed, head thrown back as he comes inside of Adalyn, hips faltering and coming to a stop once she’s taken every drop. 
“Fuck,” he says. His muscles turn to jelly. When Adalyn stops twitching around him she too goes slack, collapsing against his chest.  
“Yeah,” she agrees.  
--- NSFW Content Ends ---
He closes his eyes against the spinning of the room. Catches his breath. His muscles burn with a pleasant exertion. Strength is already starting to return to his body. The only downside to his quick recovery are the thoughts spooling back into his head; invasive and demeaning. 
Did he really just fuck Adalyn? 
He opens his eyes, and blinks down at her, bewildered. Hair sticks to her nape. Her heart is still pounding, but she’s boneless, the slight drag of her fingers against his arm the only indication of her consciousness.  
Yes. That had just happened. She’d climbed into his lap and asked him what he wanted. And then he’d carried her to the bed. 
She’d literally seduced him. 
Right? 
He curses his doubt. He should be ecstatic. Basking in afterglow. Giddy at Adalyn’s proximity. Not analysing whether or not his wife had actually wanted to have sex with him.  
He glares at the ceiling. He knows he’s being ridiculous. He knows it, he knows it, he knows it. It’s something he’ll have to unlearn. To talk to Adalyn about. Because if she does want him the same way he wants her, and he’s being cautiously obtuse – he winces at the thought. 
“Did you say you’ve wanted me for weeks?” It’s honestly a miracle he remembers the words. The rest of their encounter had been intense enough that all the foreplay, the banter, had burnt into afterthoughts.  
She stirs, opening her eyes to look up at him. Then smiles, her cheeks flushing before she hides her face against his chest. Her words are muffled. “It sounds familiar.” 
“Did you mean it?”  
He feels her swallow. She shifts so that she’s no longer straddling him, instead curling up against his side. “Yes.” 
He stares. Tries to reply, but words just catch in his throat. 
She wants him? (Wanted him. Still wants him?) Does she mean physically? Romantically? He has to know. Has to ask. If only he could formulate a proper sentence.  
Seconds stretch into minutes. Worried he’ll lose his chance, his nerve, he blurts: “Do you like me?” 
She pauses in stroking his collarbone. Looks up at him again, another wry smile at her lips. “You’re asking now?” 
He flushes. “Well, I know you wanted to- that you wanted me. But I mean... Do you want to court me?” 
The smile drops as she presses her lips together. Her face goes red as she stares up at him. She probably doesn’t realise Slate can see so much detail in the dark. 
Finally, she lowers her stare. Her voice is small. “I’ve been trying to court you for weeks.” 
He’s shocked into silence. Barely manages a weak, “What?” 
“I thought bringing you lunch every day and trying to spend so much time with you might clue you in.” 
His eyes widen further. 
“But humans do things differently. We’re a lot more reserved with physical touch and professions of emotion until we’re sure there’s returned feelings. And it’s usually done in equal parts by both men and women. I felt bad approaching you because I didn’t know how you felt about it.” 
He splutters. A small part of him starts spiralling. “You-” 
“I think I would have driven myself insane if Rin hadn’t sent me a book last week. It’s a treatise on wyvern physiology, though there was some etiquette stuff in there too. But even trying some of the stuff it mentioned, I was worried I might go too far.” 
He’s still incredulous. “You like me. Romantically?” 
She hides her face in the pillow. There’s a muffled noise of affirmation. It’s cute. 
It doesn’t tamper his bewilderment. “Why?” 
She turns her face, enough to be audible. “Well, you’re handsome. And interesting. And kind. And easy to be around. And every now and then you do something that’s really attractive. Liking you was mostly... just a crush. That snowballed into something bigger.” 
Amusement breaches his shock, and he relaxes. “You think I’m attractive?” 
Her face turns redder. “Yes. When you... lift things. Or when your clothes get wet.” 
He can’t help but laugh. Wraps his arm around her shoulders and draws her close again.  
“Do you...” she hesitates. Looks nearly as bothered as he’s felt these past few days. 
He scans her face, wondering what could possibly be wrong. Finally, it hits him. 
“Oh!” 
She deflates at his exclamation. He nearly panics at the posture. Rushes to reply. 
“Adalyn, I adore you.” 
Her brow crinkles. “But I’m... I’m just...” 
He takes her by the jaw. Runs his thumb over her cheek. “You’re thoughtful. You take me seriously. You listen to me. You respect me.” 
She calms enough to frown. “That’s a low bar.” 
Slate presses his forehead to hers. “You make me feel welcome. It’s... you have no idea how much I appreciate you.” 
She untenses when he leans in and touches his lips to her own. She melts into the kiss and his mind goes delightfully fuzzy. It’s sweet, and soft, and he loses track of time. His head spins when they pause. Close enough to share breath.  
He flushes as he contemplates his next words. “Can I... Can you tell me more about how humans make advances? Maybe not right now, but...” 
She smiles, and it’s sweet enough to wind him. “Of course.” 
He stares for a moment. Touches his forehead to hers again, inhaling deeply. Sweat and time have dulled her perfume, but it still lingers in the back of his mind, ambrosial and rich. Euphoria trickles into him, steadily enough that he leans down to kiss her again. Slowly, with a gradual increase in hunger. Until his hand is curling in her hair again, and he’s nearly on top of Adalyn – the heat between them rekindled. 
She breaks away, her eyes crinkling as she grins. “Are you still hard?” 
His lips twitch. “That’s the other one.” 
“Didn’t I get that one off before...?” 
He huffs. “I told you what’d happen if you kept running your mouth.” 
She laughs before stretching up to kiss him again. The intensity returns, Adalyn definitely encouraging it with the way she clings to him, her hands coasting along his back, her breasts pressing against his chest. Until she pulls away, and shuffles back. 
Slate doesn’t have time to be disappointed, because Adalyn rolls onto her stomach and lifts her ass. She gives an enticing wiggle, rubbing against him. “I could take more. But you’re changing the sheets afterwards. 
Something in his chest begins to soar. He could probably tear up from happiness, from affection. Especially if he thinks too long about her smile, or how easily she’s able to proposition him.  
He sets aside the feelings for later.  
Then pins Adalyn to the mattress, ready to start again.  
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eilinelsghost · 2 months ago
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Part 19: Now the World Runs On Swiftly
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Rating: G Relationships: Finrod/Bëor, Finrod & Thingol, Finrod & Galadriel, Finrod & Lúthien Characters: Finrod, Bëor, Edrahil, Gildor, Mablung, Thingol, Melian, Galadriel, Lúthien, Original characters Word Count: 8,621
This could not be explained by confusion. Time too must have bent in the shadows to set him so far afield and without their notice. Even distracted as they were by the ivy and the nightingales’ melody, surely he could not have strayed so far without—the nightingales sing in time with the queen’s spirit. Truth rushed over him and he leapt from the saddle with a cry. “Balan! Stand, move no further!”
Finrod attempts to bring Balan to Menegroth as emissary of the Edain, the Girdle does not approve, and Finrod has words with Thingol on the matter.
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