#bed protector 5 x 6

[anmolsmsblog]

Cooling Mattress Protector Waterproof Queen Size Ultra Soft Noiseless Smooth Jersey Top Fitted Matressprotector Cover with Stretchy Pocket

Price: (as of – Details) Waterproof and Protect The noiseless polyurethane backing provides top protection against perspiration, bed wetting, liquids and stains. Vinyl free materials safe for childrenSoft and Breathable Bamboo viscose jersey surface, A material that is ultra soft with moisture wicking function and relatively more cooling feel than terry surface mattress protectors,which…

[gotta-winwin]

nana tour seungcheol x reader

a/n: this was a request asking for seungcheol during nana tour - it deviates slightly but i hope it'll still satisfy the itch! we love ourselves a loyal man who knows what's up.

(1)

You supposed Seungcheol not being able to follow his group mates to Italy was a blessing in disguise. Of course, you knew how disappointed he was, watching as he bid farewell to them as they boarded the bus, waving goodbye with a melancholic look on his face. 

“I’m sorry you can’t go.” You mumbled against his shoulder as you leaned against him, looping your arms around his waist, careful not to knock against the crutches on either side of him. “Italy sounds fun.”

Seungcheol had always been the sacrificing type. “It’s okay.” He assured you, pressing his lips against the top of your head as he spoke. “It means I get to spend two weeks concentrated solely on you.” 

(2)

You could tell Seungcheol was taking full advantage of his two week break, trying to do anything and everything he couldn’t with his busy schedule. Lounging on the bed as you watched him game, you couldn’t help but snap a few photos to commemorate the moment. It was rare to see Seungcheol this relaxed, with nowhere to be and nothing pressing to do. He was purely just Seungcheol, your gentle giant of a lover and protector of your heart. 

(3)

Seungcheol makes it his own personal mission to complete your checklist of places you’ve never been with your boyfriend. It doesn’t matter if the two of you will be recognized in public, he’ll rent the damn museum if he has to. The two of you spend the two weeks doing every cringey couple activity Seoul has to offer, as he tries to make up for all the times he’s had to choose work over you.

(4)

You find it hilarious when Na PD calls you instead of Seungcheol for one of his quiz games, quietly shushing the boys on the other line as you flip the camera, Seungcheol asleep with his arms draped over your stomach. He’s snoring away without a care in the world as his members laugh through the screen. You answer whatever silly question they had been given to guess, thanking Na PD for bringing the boys on their first real vacation since debut. 

(5)

You’ve always said that your boyfriend also had a boyfriend. Since you had ever known him, Seungcheol and Jeonghan had always come as a pair. One could not exist or function without the other, this being evident as you would often walk into Seungcheol facetiming his other other half. Jeonghan had also cheekily given you the job of sending him what he deemed as a ‘Cheol selfie’ per day, claiming that it wasn’t fair you get him all to yourself and that he deserves compensation. 

(6)

The night before his members were due to return to Korea, Seungcheol had pulled you aside, distracting you from your book as the two of you laid in bed, the sky outside already a dark shade of blue. 

“You know I love you, right?” He whispered, snaking his arms around your waist like second nature. 

Of course you knew. He never once gave you even a moment to forget. 

“You know I love you more than anything, right?” Seungcheol nosed against your stomach, his face pressed against the bare skin of your waist. “And that I’d quit this job in a heartbeat if you ever asked.”

He knew you’d never ask that of him though. “I started loving you knowing that your job and its odd hours came with you.” You reminded him. “I know what I signed up for.”

“These past two weeks made me realize I want more.” He mumbled. “I don’t want to never be home when we start a family.” 

Your lips curled into a smile, looping your fingers through his hair. “You’ve thought of that?”

Seungcheol nodded against you, tugging you closer. The vows you had made each other, even silently, echoed soundlessly around the two of you. 

Seungcheol would choose you over anything in the world. 

[cei1ne]

—You suffer from anemia yet your boyfriends as supportive as ever, just in his own way

დ .•*”Summary: You suffer from anemia but you don’t let it stop you from becoming a hero, yet, your boyfriend’s a stubborn mess and forced you to rest.

༺ღ༒Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x GN!Anemic!Reader

☆࿐ཽ༵Tags: High school; Relationship; UA; GN!Reader

＊*•̩̩͙Warnings: Cursing?; Anemia; Overprotective boyfriend

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Word count: 3.8k

‧͙⁺˚*･A/N: Someone requested this but it was anonymous and my tumblr was bugging lately! It just got deleted but I still had lots of fun writing this and I hope you’ll have just as much fun reading this! And I didn’t know if they meant headcanons or Scenario so I just did both!

Headcanons: Katsuki Bakugou x GN!Anemic!Reader

1. Worry Masked by Irritation: Bakugou would constantly mask his concern for your condition by pretending to be annoyed. He’d grumble about you being “too weak” but would secretly go above and beyond to ensure you’re healthy.

2. Diet Control Freak: He’d take control of your meals, researching iron-rich foods and sneaking them into your diet. If you tried to resist, he’d shove a plate at you with a snarky remark like, “Eat this before I lose it.”

3. Hyper Awareness: Bakugou would become hyper-aware of your signs of fatigue or dizziness. If you so much as swayed while standing, he’d immediately drag you to sit down.

4. Loud Protector: If anyone dared to tease or question you about your condition, he’d explode (figuratively and maybe literally). “You got something to say?! Say it to me!”

5. Gentle in Private: Though Bakugou is explosive in public, in private, he’d show softer affection. He’d tuck blankets around you, carry you to bed if you overexerted yourself, and grumble softly, “Don’t push yourself, idiot.”

6. Hates Seeing You Weak: Seeing you too tired to get up genuinely unnerves him. He’d pace, bark orders, and eventually sit by your side, silently holding your hand.

7. Acts of Service: Bakugou would do small things like fetching water, helping you stand, or taking on your chores. Of course, he’d act like it’s no big deal. “You’re lucky I’m not a total asshole, huh?”

8. Research Master: He’d secretly learn about anemia from every available resource and even consult Recovery Girl or doctors. He wouldn’t tell you about it, though; he’d just start doing things that showed he knew what he was talking about.

9. Training Adjustment: He’d modify training sessions for you, subtly encouraging you to take breaks without making you feel weak. He might even offer to spar lightly to “keep you on your toes.”

10. Blunt Reassurance: If you ever felt self-conscious about your condition, Bakugou would bluntly shut you down. “You’re not weak. You’re mine, and that’s all that matters.”

Rest is for the Weak (But Not for You)

The morning started like any other. The dorms buzzed with activity as Class 1-A prepared for the day ahead. You had been one of the first to wake, though not because you were particularly eager. A familiar heaviness sat on your chest, and your limbs felt as though they were weighed down by lead.

It was nothing new. This was your normal.

“Y/N, you doing okay?” Mina’s cheerful voice rang out as she caught sight of you rubbing your temples. “You look kinda pale.”

You gave her a small smile, brushing it off. “I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”

“You sure? I can grab you something from the cafeteria real quick if you need it!”

“Thanks, Mina, but I’m good,” you said firmly, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself.

She hesitated but eventually nodded, skipping off to join the others. As you gathered your things and headed toward the training grounds, you could feel the weight of someone’s gaze on you.

Turning your head, you locked eyes with Bakugou.

He didn’t say anything, but his narrowed eyes and furrowed brow made it clear he’d heard the exchange. You pretended not to notice and hurried to catch up with the others, hoping he wouldn’t press the issue.

_________________________________

The training session was supposed to be routine—a series of combat drills designed to test reflexes and stamina. You had been paired with Midoriya for a sparring match, something that usually wouldn’t faze you.

But today, every movement felt sluggish. Your punches lacked their usual strength, and your dodges were just a fraction too slow. Midoriya, ever the observant one, noticed almost immediately.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re feeling okay?” he asked, concern etched into his face as he blocked one of your weak punches.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, dodging to the side as he retaliated.

But the dizziness was getting worse. Your vision blurred at the edges, and the sound of your own heartbeat roared in your ears.

“Y/N—”

“Stop holding back!” you snapped, cutting him off.

Midoriya flinched but complied, though his hits were clearly pulled. You hated it—hated the pity in his eyes, the way he seemed afraid to fight you properly. You wanted to prove you could keep up, that you weren’t a liability.

And then your knees buckled.

_________________________________

“Oi! What the hell are you doing, Deku?!”

Bakugou’s voice rang out across the gym, loud enough to make everyone pause. You barely registered the sound of his boots stomping across the floor before he was standing between you and Midoriya, his crimson eyes blazing.

“I-It wasn’t his fault—” you started, but Bakugou cut you off with a sharp glare.

“Shut it, dumbass,” he growled before turning back to Midoriya. “What the hell were you thinking, letting them push themselves like that?”

Midoriya opened his mouth to respond but quickly decided against it, his expression shifting to one of resignation.

“And you,” Bakugou snarled, rounding on you. “What the hell were you thinking? You could’ve hurt yourself!”

“I’m fine!” you snapped, trying to push past him.

But Bakugou wasn’t having it. He grabbed your arm—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to stop you in your tracks.

“You’re not fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re done. Sit down before you pass out.”

_________________________________

Bakugou practically dragged you to the edge of the gym, ignoring your protests as he deposited you on a bench. The other students watched from a distance, their whispered conversations filling the air.

“Bakugou, you’re overreacting,” you muttered, crossing your arms as he crouched in front of you.

“Overreacting, my ass,” he shot back, his tone sharp. “You’re pale as shit, and you can’t even stand up straight. Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”

You glared at him, but the dizziness made it hard to keep your head up. Bakugou noticed immediately and let out an irritated sigh.

“Tch. Stay here,” he ordered before stomping off.

When he returned a few minutes later, he was carrying a water bottle and a protein bar. He shoved them at you without a word, his scowl deepening when you hesitated.

“Eat. Drink. Now,” he barked.

“Bakugou, I don’t need—”

“Don’t argue with me, dumbass!” he snapped, his voice louder than necessary. “Just do it!”

You flinched but complied, taking small sips of water and nibbling on the protein bar.

________________________________

When the session ended, Bakugou didn’t give you a choice about walking back to the dorms together. He hovered close, his sharp eyes scanning you for any signs of weakness.

“You didn’t have to walk me back,” you muttered, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment.

“Shut up. You’re lucky I didn’t carry your ass,” he shot back.

The two of you walked in silence for a while, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife. But as you reached the dorms, Bakugou’s voice softened.

“You need to take care of yourself, Y/N,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.

You glanced at him, surprised by the shift in his demeanor. “I do take care of myself.”

“Bullshit,” he muttered. “If you did, I wouldn’t have to babysit you all the damn time.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the exhaustion caught up with you, and you leaned against the wall for support.

Bakugou was at your side in an instant, his hand on your arm as he steadied you.

“See? This is exactly what I’m talking about,” he grumbled. “You’re too damn stubborn for your own good.”

_________________________________

Once inside your room, Bakugou made himself at home, pulling a chair up beside your bed as you sat down.

“You’re not staying,” you said, giving him a tired look.

“Like hell I’m not,” he retorted, crossing his arms. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t do something stupid.”

You sighed, leaning back against the pillows. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re an idiot,” he shot back, though there was no real heat behind his words.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the tension gradually fading as the weight of the day settled over you. Bakugou’s presence, as much as you hated to admit it, was comforting.

_________________________________

The silence in your dorm room was a strange thing. Bakugou wasn’t one to enjoy stillness, yet here he was, sitting in your chair like he belonged there, arms crossed as he glared at the wall. The occasional sound of his foot tapping against the floor was the only thing breaking the quiet.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” you said finally, unable to take the tension anymore.

“Too bad,” he replied curtly.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “You’re seriously overreacting. I just got a little dizzy.”

He turned his sharp gaze on you, the intensity in his crimson eyes making you freeze. “A little dizzy? You couldn’t even finish training without almost eating shit in front of everyone.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” you muttered, looking away.

“I’m not saying it to piss you off, dumbass,” he snapped, leaning forward slightly. “I’m saying it because you’re being reckless.”

You stared at him, surprised by the raw frustration in his voice. Katsuki Bakugou was never one to sugarcoat his words, but there was something different about the way he spoke to you now—like he was genuinely afraid for you.

“I just don’t want to hold anyone back,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bakugou’s expression softened for a moment, though his scowl quickly returned. “You’re not holding anyone back,” he said firmly. “You think I give a crap if you can’t keep up sometimes? You’re not weak, Y/N.”

The words caught you off guard. You’d always thought Bakugou saw weakness as unforgivable, that he’d look down on anyone who couldn’t match his relentless energy. Hearing him say otherwise left you speechless.

“Tch. Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink. “I’m just telling the truth. Now shut up and rest.”

_________________________________

Despite Bakugou’s insistence that you stay in bed, word of your condition had spread among your classmates, and it wasn’t long before a few of them came knocking.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” Mina burst into the room, her usual enthusiasm dampened by concern. She carried a small bag of snacks, which she set on your bedside table with a flourish.

“I’m fine, really,” you said, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, they’re fine,” Bakugou interjected from his seat, his voice dripping with irritation. “Now get out.”

“Bakugou, be nice!” Kirishima appeared behind Mina, giving his friend a pointed look before turning to you. “We just wanted to check on you, Y/N. You scared us a little back there.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said, guilt creeping into your tone. “I just… overdid it.”

“You think?” Bakugou muttered under his breath.

Kirishima chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, we’re glad you’re okay. Just take it easy, all right? And don’t let Bakugou boss you around too much.”

“Too late for that,” you joked, earning a glare from Bakugou.

After a few more minutes of chatting, Mina and Kirishima finally left, though not without a promise to check in on you again later. As soon as the door closed, Bakugou let out an irritated huff.

“They don’t know when to leave,” he grumbled.

“They’re just worried,” you said, leaning back against the pillows. “You don’t have to be so rude.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need a damn audience while I’m trying to take care of you,” he shot back.

You raised an eyebrow. “Trying to take care of me? Is that what this is?”

“Shut up,” he muttered, his cheeks flushing again.

_________________________________

That night, long after Bakugou had begrudgingly left your room, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling. His words from earlier echoed in your mind.

“You’re not weak, Y/N.”

It was such a simple statement, yet it meant more to you than you could explain. For as long as you could remember, you’d been battling the fear that your anemia made you a burden. You hated the idea of being someone others had to take care of.

But Bakugou didn’t see you that way.

You weren’t sure when he’d started paying such close attention to you, but his protectiveness was undeniable. It was infuriating at times, but it also warmed your heart in a way you couldn’t ignore.

_________________________________

When you woke the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the smell of food.

Groggily sitting up, you saw Bakugou standing by your desk, a tray of breakfast in his hands.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice still heavy with sleep.

“What’s it look like?” he replied, setting the tray down on your lap. “You’re eating before training today.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “You made this?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “It’s just eggs and toast. Not like I cooked a five-star meal.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you picked up your fork. “Thanks, Bakugou.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, looking away. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

As you ate, you noticed how he lingered by the door, his usual impatience replaced by something softer.

“Are you gonna watch me the whole time?” you teased.

“Maybe,” he shot back.

_________________________________

Over the next few weeks, Bakugou’s concern for you became an undeniable part of your routine. He started carrying snacks and water bottles with him during training, shoving them at you whenever he thought you looked tired. He adjusted his own training schedule to keep an eye on you, even if it meant sparring with someone else so he could watch from a distance.

And while he never outright said it, his actions spoke volumes.

One day, after a particularly exhausting training session, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the gym, your legs dangling over the side as you tried to catch your breath. Bakugou appeared beside you, handing you a cold water bottle without a word.

“Thanks,” you said, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip.

“Tch. Don’t mention it,” he muttered, sitting down next to you.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the sounds of the gym fading into the background. It was moments like this that reminded you just how much Bakugou cared, even if he’d never admit it.

“You’re not weak, you know,” he said suddenly, his voice softer than usual.

You turned to look at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone.

“Thanks, Katsuki,” you said quietly, using his first name for the first time in weeks.

He didn’t say anything, but the faint smile that tugged at his lips was enough.

[empressconjure]

Pick A Card| Their 18+ thoughts about you 🤭

Please do not engage with this post if you are not 18 or older❤️

Hi everyone!!! I hope this reading finds you well<3 If you like this reading and would like to see more please follow as I will be posting readings frequently🥰 I also plan on providing my Patreon where I will be posting more often and the readings will be a lot more specific✨ info to book a personal reading coming soon🤍 Asé

1-4 left to right

Pile 1- the lovers, queen of cups, the hermit, 6 of swords

Signs- heavy Gemini, Virgo, cancer, Pisces

This person is a lover boy/girl🥹. Their 18+ thoughts include making passionate love with you!! They want to take care of you and make sure you are fulfilled. This person is a giver so I’m definitely seeing they want to be the one giving 😉 for a lot of you this person wants to move past any conflict you may have had in this connection. I’m hearing makeup s*x. If this is not the case then I just see that whenever you and this person have a disagreement they want to get over it with s*x. This person wants to make you moan. I feel like intimacy with this person is going to be very emotional and transformative. This person is very shy so they’re not going to tell you any of this. You will have to find out on your own 😉 🤭😍

Pile 2- strength, king of cups, 9 of swords, ten of swords

Signs- air signs, Leo, Pisces

This person tries to act like they are tough but they are weak in the knees for you!! This person doesn’t like to appear emotional or anything like that so they wear this mask that makes them seem stoic or closed off when deep down they have so many thoughts and emotions. This is actually driving them crazy. This person may be a fire/ air sun and water moon. In their 18+ thoughts about you, they think about finally releasing all this pent up sexual energy they have towards you. You turn them on so much and for some reason they feel like they can’t act on it. For some of you this may be a work or school situation where this person feels like it may be inappropriate to express these feelings. For others they may be scared of ruining the friendship you have. Just know that this person thinks your a tease and you drive them nuts 😭🔥

Pile 3- 3 of swords, six of wands, the fool, 4 of cups

Signs- libra, Leo, cancer

Sorry guys but I get player energy from this person. I feel like this person may have a lot of options or they may get a lot of attention online through social media. This person feels like you are hard to get and it turns them on. In their 18+ thoughts about you, they think about you finally giving them a chance to be with you. If you ever give this person the chance to sleep with you, it will give them a huge ego boost. They may be the type to brag about getting the chance to be with you. I don’t really like this persons energy so if you are thinking about having s*x with this person, they only seem good for a Friends with benefits situation right now. 😬If you are looking for something more serious I wouldn’t waste my time with this person. You know your worth and you can definitely do better than this person and they know it too which is why it would be such a big deal if you gave them a shot. 😌

Pile 4- 5 of pentacles, 7 of pentacles, king of pentacles, the chariot

Signs- earth signs, especially Taurus, heavy cancer energy

This person would let you have your way with them!!! They have a bit of a degradation kink tbh. This person puts you on a pedestal. Awwww I feel like this person is very hard on themselves, I’m getting Virgo energy 😟 they don’t think their good enough for you. In their 18+ thoughts they think about doing whatever it takes to make sure you’re satisfied in bed. They don’t even care about their own needs!! If you are happy then they are happy. This person has BDE!! They want to be your protector and your provider. If you ever want something they will buy it. If you ever have a problem with someone this person would literally fight to protect you🥹🥹💕 this is husband/ wife energy!! This person wants something stable with you and they are willing to put in the work to make sure that happens. Please be nice to this person :( they really don’t see their own worth and they just want to make sure your happy and satisfied in bed (in general tbh) 🩷

[raguiras]

One of Deuce's old delinquent "friends" was being weird with Yuu (Allen)...

Reblogs are extremely appreciated! 👉👈

Allen suffers from major insecurities and trauma caused by people commenting on him and bullying him for his rather feminine appearance, and Deuce, who's already quite protective over casual friends, DEFINITELY ain't taking it.... That said, these two have a massive "cute mutual protectors" dynamic and Allen protects/defends Deuce equally much!

YEAHHH the third part of my Allen x Deuce ship introduction is here!! I'm brainrotting so hard—

Previous parts: part 1 // part 2

Next up is most likely the ship event post I mentioned before 👀

Below is the second part of Allen & Deuce's relationship timeline! Its first part can be found here.

SPOILER WARNING for Book 5 & Book 6!

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

BOOK 5:

Between Book 4 and 5, Allen finally had his top surgery (he's intersex & used to wear binders). Deuce not only accompanied him to the hospital, but also stayed in the next room for the entire duration of the surgery and made sure to immediately visit Allen once it was over. He sat by the blonde boy's bed, his mere presence comforting Allen and making him feel at peace. The following days, Deuce spent even more time at Ramshackle and strictly slept over every night as he wanted to be 100% attentive and take perfect care of Allen all around the clock. Needless to say, Allen constantly thanked Deuce for being there for him, and it only intensified his own feelings... Allen had never been taken care of this much before, and it was probably more than what an average friend would do for you, right...? Did this mean...? No, Deuce couldn't love him. Nobody could. That's what Allen had been taught all those years, after all. And if so many people had said it, it had to be the truth...

Unfortunately, the VDC got announced shortly after Allen's surgery, and his recovery included a strict prohibition from sports or anything exhausting. Allen, being an aspiring musician and good dancer, cursed to himself — this would've been THE opportunity to go viral — and the Heartslabyul freshman listened to him rant. That's when Deuce ultimately decided that he'd audition... he wanted to support his mom with the money and keep an eye on Epel anyway, and now, he could not only fulfill his recovering crush's dream for him by performing and hopefully promoting Allen through it, but also impress him...

Little did Deuce know that Allen didn't need to be impressed. Watching Deuce practice — yes, even when he didn't get a single step right and tripped over his own feet — was super cute and gradually attractive to Allen, not to mention that the blonde boy really liked Deuce's voice as well...

Training was hard for Deuce, but knowing that Allen was watching certainly helped... He did his absolute best and followed Kalim and Jamil's guidance as closely as possible. Couldn't mess up in front of his crush, right!?

When Deuce got selected to be a performer and Allen became the manager, both of them celebrated in joy. While neither of them mentioned it, this meant that they'd get to spend even more time together...

...and when Vil decided that everyone would stay at Ramshackle for the preparation period, these two mentally celebrated even more. Now they'd officially live together for a couple weeks...

In order to prevent shenanigans and an angry Vil, Allen searched for sugar-free alternatives of Deuce's favorite snacks as well as food tasting similar to them. However, Allen would occasionally let Deuce snack on his own secret reserves whenever the two were together in Allen's room, away from prying eyes.

Deuce had problems sticking to Vil's prescribed skincare routine, so Allen decided to help him with it. He reminded Deuce of the routine every morning and evening and also helped him apply the products.

Deuce also struggled with the set bedtime and asked Allen to remind him to go to bed early. Considering that Allen had been struggling with his own sleep schedule for some time and would often stay up until past 3 am on the worst nights, the two decided to simply share a bed on most days so they could "force" each other to sleep on time. Not only did this intensify their relationship even more and excite both of them, but it helped Allen fall asleep much sooner... Deuce's presence was soothing to him and distracted Allen just enough for him to not overthink his life prior to going to bed.

During the preparation period, Allen offered to help Deuce with his vocals, which the Heartslabyul student excitedly accepted. Not only could he improve his own singing through it, but spend even more time with Allen and listen to his beautiful singing voice a lot, too... Additionally, Allen was able to efficiently teach Deuce due to being a self-taught singer with little knowledge on technical terms and theory, resulting in extremely easy and comprehensible explanations that could actually be understood by Deuce.

On occasion, Allen also taught the blue-haired boy basic makeup skills and sometimes even did Deuce's makeup for him. Needless to say, there were TONS of eye contact and blushing involved...

In addition to this, Allen kept helping Deuce with his gradually improving self-control and school work. Deuce, too, assisted Allen with the rest of his recovery and was super attentive.

Due to the combination of the shared dorm, their close friendship, their study sessions and the intense VDC preparation, Allen and Deuce were quite literally spending the entirety of every day together by now. While they had always been around each other a ton, this was what ultimately made them come off as inseparable.

You would've thought it would be impossible for Deuce to fall any harder, but oh boy... with every passing day, it only got worse. Deuce basically had heart eyes like a lovesick puppy at the mere mention of Allen.

While Deuce tried to hide his ginormous crush, it was impossible to deny. Everyone could see the way Deuce looked at Allen with nothing but admiration and love in his eyes, and Ace even started getting concerned due to how down bad & out-of-character Deuce appeared to be.

Whenever Allen wasn't around, Deuce would even ask Vil and Rook for advice on his appearance and compliments. He was desperate to impress and woo Allen and awkwardly admitted this to the two Pomefiore housewardens, too. Neither were surprised as they had already Deuce's crush on Allen, and they ended up actually giving the boy some advice.

When Deuce once came over to visit friends and pick up some things at Heartslabyul, Cater was blown away by the strong scent of his cologne. The fact that Deuce had suddenly bought something like that sure was surprising, especially considering that the boy was usually more of an Axe guy...

Not only that, but Deuce practiced the dance in front of his mirror extremely often, too. It had to perfect... HE had to be perfect for Allen. After all, the blonde boy was way out of his league...

Being around Deuce so much made Allen's feelings grow quickly, too. However, unlike Deuce, Allen absolutely HATED them and tried to get rid of them out of fear of being rejected and hurt again. All those years, he had been taught that nobody could ever love him and that developing a crush on him was basically impossible, so why would Deuce of all people like him back?! Allen actively denied his feelings... he couldn't risk this friendship or the possibility of having a broken heart again. He'd just wait for this phase to pass...

Grim noticed that Allen was suddenly spending even more time with Deuce and that the two also got progressively touchy. He confronted Allen with something along the lines of "Why're ya spending SO much time with him?! Do you have a crush on him or somethin'? Myahaha!". Shit, Allen thought to himself. His cat knew.

Vil knew, too. So did Rook. So did Jamil, Kalim, Ace, Epel and even the ghosts! The only ones who somehow didn't know about each other's feelings were Allen and Deuce...

Allen tried his best to deny the way he felt whenever Deuce would flash him a smile during practice performances. Deuce, on the contrary, would melt internally at every proud grin Allen gave him...

The fact that Deuce was now a better singer allowed him to approach one of Allen's favorite impulsiveness control methods with more confidence: singing and rapping out one's feelings and frustration.

Additionally, Allen admired the fact that Deuce was now trying his hand at ballet in order to overcome the last few traces of his old internalized toxic masculinity. Allen, struggling with some toxic masculinity himself and having been ashamed of his curves and rather androgynous appearance all his life, saw this as an inspiration to try his hand at more feminine fashion. He had wanted to do this for a long time, but held back out of fear of being seen as even less of a man because of it... and now here Allen was, wearing more feminine clothing for the first time and making Deuce fanboy even harder than usual.

Deuce was not the only one fanboying, though. During the entire VDC performance, Allen was cheering like a madman and couldn't keep his eyes off Deuce. So what if they had Vil, Epel and Jamil? To Allen, Deuce was the star of the show.

When Deuce finally discovered his Unique Magic, Allen was not only incredibly proud and happy for the Heartslabyul student, but was also reminded of an old character he had created as a younger teenager who had had the exact same skill as Deuce. Was this a sign...? ...nah, he must've been delusional.

BOOK 6:

During the invasion, Deuce immediately jumped in front of Allen in order to protect him, but got hit himself instead. When he got injured and passed out as a result, Allen absolutely panicked. He wasn't even really concerned about how the dorm was being damaged — only Deuce's wellbeing was on Allen's mind. Additionally, he felt overwhelming guilt that this had only happened because Deuce had protected HIM...

Instead of going to S.T.Y.X., Allen decided to stay at NRC in order to take care of Deuce. He spent most of his time in the infirmary, sitting by Deuce's bed and waiting for him to wake up. Why was he doing this?! Out of guilt only? Certainly not... Was he crazy?! Deuce was just a friend... just a friend... just a friend who he loved a lot and had undeniable feelings for. No matter how much Allen tried to fall out of love, it was impossible. Deuce had given him so much and it was the most Allen had ever been cared for...

When Deuce finally woke up, Allen immediately pulled him into a relieved, loving lung-crushing hug and didn't want to ever let go. Deuce felt as if he was about to pass out again due to the happiness caused by Allen cherishing him so much.

Deuce and Allen kept doing their usual activities — hearing each other out, helping each other, spending fun time together — while hoping for Grim and the housewardens to finally return.

Considering how often Deuce stayed at Ramshackle anyway, him and Allen decided that he could simply leave some of his belongings from the VDC preparations at the dorm. This only prompted Deuce to visit Ramshackle and sleep over even more...

Every night before going to bed, Deuce wrote about Allen into a little diary. Hell forbid Ace found it, but at least it allowed Deuce to openly express his feelings without being judged or teased. As he kept reading through the words he had written already over and over again, Deuce realized even more just how much Allen had helped him with various highly important things over the past 5-6 months of knowing each other... and that's when he decided to buy the giant Shiba plushie Allen had recently mentioned as a thank-you gift. Sure, he had already occasionally gifted Allen stuffed animals before, but maybe this huge Shiba would convey his gratitude and crush even more...

Needless to say, Allen was blown away by the gift and pretty much jumped Deuce out of joy. He had wanted this Shiba plushie for weeks now, and receiving it as a surprise gift from his crush was an indescribable feeling. However, Allen strictly viewed it as a platonic thank-you gesture and didn't (want to) get the hint. After all, why would Deuce be pining after him...?

Near the end of Book 6 [= during the time when the game's canon Yuu is still at S.T.Y.X.], Deuce suddenly received a call accusing him of highly offensive vandalism in his hometown. Both Allen and Deuce were absolutely furious at this unreasonable accusation, and it was a no-brainer for Allen to prove Deuce innocent. While Deuce broke down and complained about never being able to escape his past no matter how much he tried, Allen not only encouraged him and told him that he had become a much better person, but was also determined and already had a plan. Having excellent manipulation skills and a way with words, Allen got Crowley to give him access to all private cameras around the school to prove that Deuce had been at NRC the entire time and couldn't possibly have been the culprit. He mailed the recordings to the police station in Deuce's hometown, managing to prove that the Heartslabyul student was innocent. Allen also suspected that the person blaming the vandalism on Deuce was likely the culprit or one of their friends, encouraging the police to continue their investigation with them. Deuce, on the other hand, couldn't have been more grateful that Allen had successfully cleared his name and stood up for him like that. A week later, a call informed the two boys that one of Deuce's former friends had admitted to the crime and had tried to blame it on Deuce out of anger that he had distanced himself from them. Hearing how his old "friend" had betrayed Deuce only made him cherish his current friendships and especially the relationship he had with Allen even more...

BOOK 7:

[I haven't played Book 7 yet, so I'll either update this section later or share it in a separate post! Until then, we're assuming that they realized just how much they loved each other even more.]

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

That's everything for now! The final part of their relationship timeline (post book 7), including when they FINALLY get together, will be in my next Allen x Deuce introduction post!

However, my next overall post is likely going to be the announcement for my ship art/writing event 👀

Thank you for the support on my previous Allen x Deuce posts! It means ridiculously much to me 🥹🥹🥹

[kittykat-25]

One Of The Guys

Pairings: Hongjoong x F! Reader

Genre: idol au, Friends x Lovers, angst

Summary: You tried really hard not to be a cliché, falling love with your best friend. How unoriginal. But when your best friend is Kim Hongjoong what are you supposed to do?

Now Playing: One Of The Guys- Jessia

Word Count: 1.6k

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Epilogue

Being friends with Hongjoong had led to you meeting the rest of his members. And soon enough you were the ninth person of the friend group. While you cared about and respected all of them, Wooyoung and Mingi had taken it upon themselves to be your pillars. The two who kept you sane and standing. They quickly caught on to how you felt about their captain. The others had as well but they chose to respect your privacy, Woo and Mingi; not so much. You were grateful for the two dorks who kept you on your toes and only left your side when needed. Hongjoong loved that his members had taken you in so quickly. He knew they all adored you and would look after you when he couldn’t. Y/n had always been a comforting presence to him, he knew Hwa called you when he got too far into his head. You would show up, make him take a break and relax and then sit down and help until he felt confident in his work. You had started taking care of the kids too at some point, bringing food when they practiced late, making sure the fridge at the studio was stocked of their favorite snacks and drinks. The staff had told him of you coming by early on the way into work to drop off treats for them. You cared about everyone one around you, so he had made it his mission to be that person for you as well. A protector, a friend, a big brother of sorts. Little did he know he was breaking your heart in the process.

Saturday night you made your way up the stairs of the dorm, take out bags lining your arms. You stop at a door and give it a few swift kicks alerting the eight men inside. Yunho throws the door open, looking down at you. "Need help with that shorty?" you threw him a glare, "I can take your food and give it to Woo." Yunho reached out and took some bags leading her inside. "Y/N's here." He called into the apartment. You started unpacking food containers onto the counter when a massive hand came down onto your head, "Thanks cupcake!" Ming said while ruffling your hair. "Anything for you Princess." You smirked back and you elbowed him away from you. “Leave Y/N alone, they were nice enough to bring us food.” You heard the oldest boy call as he walked into the kitchen. “At least one of you has some manners.” You said as you handed Seonghwa his food. “Yah I offered to cook but noooo I just go bullied for suggesting it.” Wooyoung said plopping his chin down on top of your head. “Poor little baby, getting bullied?” You fake pout. Wooyoung dug his chin into your head. “Owh Woo!!” You said swatting at the menace. “Have some respect for your elders Hyung.” Jongho said as he sat down next to Yunho on the couch. “Oh because you do that so well?!” Wooyoung called back. You laughed as you grabbed the eighth container. The boys bickering getting quieter as you head down the hallway to Hongjoong’s room.

You knocked on the door, a muffled “yeah?” came through. “Joongie?” You called opened the door into a dark room. You looked over at the only light source, Hongjoong sitting in front of his laptop, his silhouette sending butterflies through your body. “You know you have to eat to stay alive right?” You said softly as you sat the container in front of him. He looked up at you “I just need to finish this clip for Eden Hyung.” Eyes focused back on the screen. “Joong, you can’t finish it if you’re unconscious from lack of food. When was the last time you ate?” He spun his chair around to face you as you sat on the edge of his bed, “I ate breakfast this morning.” You looked down at your watch, “it’s 11pm. You haven’t eaten in over twelve hours.” He turned his chair back around, “thank you for the food y/n-ie. Go eat with the others, I’ll join in a bit.” Y/n looked at the back of his head and stood up and walked to the door. Looking back at the man who had no clue that he held your heart in his hands. “Let’s not lie, we both know you aren’t leaving until you’re satisfied. Just make sure you eat please Joong.” You said quietly before shutting the door.

You made your way back into the main room, curling up in the couch beside Wooyoung. They had started a movie and everyone was hyper fixated on it. Wooyoung nudged you in the side lightly, nodding towards the kitchen. You got up and followed him out of the room. Leaning against the counter you watched him clean up the take out containers. “What happened?” He asked quietly. “What do you mean?” He stopped and looked down at you, eyes soft and full of pity. “Bubs you have the same defeated look as when your book doesn’t end the way you want. What happened?” You twisted the ends of your hair, another sign to Woo that something was wrong. Being friend with them the past 7 years he learned to pick up your anxious habits. “Nothing happened, same Joong as always.” Wooyoung nodded his head, he opened his mouth to speak when Mingi walked in. “Y/n do you think you should just tell him how you feel?” He said casually as he set his cup in the sink. “Going straight for kill aren’t you Minki?” Woo said trying to lighten the mood. “And do what? Ruin my friendship? Lose all of you? No thank you. I’m happy to sit here in misery.” You said while picking at the hem of your shirt. Mingi grabbed your hands “you wouldn’t lose us cupcake.” He said softly. “Yah y/n you can’t lose me, I’m like glitter. I never leave.” Wooyoung said. He threw his arm around your shoulder “besides who else is going to protect me from all of them.” He whispered as he lead you back into the living room.

You woke up on the couch, a blanket thrown over you and Wooyoung sprawled out on the floor beside you. You looked around taking in the guys sleeping peacefully around the room. Noticing one blonde haired man missing you pulled yourself up wrapping the blanket around you and trudged down the hall to his room. You lightly knocked before opening the door and found him asleep at his desk. Quietly walked to him, making sure the clip was saved; you gently shook his shoulder. Hoongjoongs eyes shot open, calming down when he saw your face. “Bed now don’t even try to object Kim Hongjoong.” You said before he could defend himself. He stood and walked over to his bed throwing the blankets back and climbing in.

He patted the pillow beside his and you hesitantly laid down next to him. You had shared a bed before but every time it messed with your head. “Do you work today?” He asked, his eyes scanning your face. “No Joongie, it’s Sunday.” You said, your voice barely above a whisper. He pulled your blanket up and softly patted the top of your head, “then get some rest.” You calmed yourself to where your cheeks wouldn’t glow red, glad his eyes were closed. “You need it more than I do.” He hummed quietly in answer. You laid there until his breathing evened out and you knew he was asleep before slipped silently off the bed and back into the living room. You could hear someone moving around the kitchen, cooling your features you walked in there. “Hey shorty, sleep well?” Yunho said as you make your way into the space. You nodded your head, “I’m probably going to head out soon.” You croaked, voice laced with emotions you wanted to shove down. Yunho looked at you and the direction you came from and nodded his head. “Do you need me to walk you home? Or wake up Mings to do it?” You shook your head, “I’m good but thanks Yuyu. I’ll see you all later.” You laid your blanket over Wooyoung and gathered your things, looking back down the dark hallway towards his room once more before walking to the door and letting it close behind you.

You made your way down the street to a convenience store to grab a coffee before started the walk back to your place. You heard someone calling your name and saw Wooyoung and San jogging down the street after you. “You were sleeping when I left?! Not even five minutes ago!” You said once the two men got close enough. “Yunho woke me up, he was worried about you.” Wooyoung said while catching his breath. You moved your eyes over to San, “Woo stepped on me as he was leaving.” You started laughing “of course he did. Well let’s go get you both some food and I need caffeine.” You made your way into a café and ordered. Chit chatting about plans for the day and soaking up quality time together. “I’m meeting Changbin later at a game room later if you want to join?” Wooyoung suggested as you walked down the street, “it could be fun?” You shook your head, “I’m terrible at computer games Woo.” Wooyoung gave you his best pout face “please.” You rolled your eyes, “no I have things I need to get done today.” He jutted out his lip even more “I’ll buy you lunch, please Bin is nicer to me when you’re there.” You laughed and shook your head, “fine, fine. But I want lunch and a coffee.” Wooyoung tackled you into a hug as you stopped in front of your apartment building. “Be ready around 1, I’ll come get you.” You gave a thumbs up as you walked into the building. Feeling much lighter than you did this morning.

Taglist🥰

@vampzity @sanslovesblog @sundaybossanova @skzline @edenesth @owmoiralover @scarfac3 @mingisbbokari

[flowerandblood]

The Man with the Fiery Gaze

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, smut, angst, overstimulation, uncertainty related to physical wounds, trauma ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his ‘ghosts’, a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

Part 1 - The Man with the Black Mask | Part 2 - The Man with the Empty Heart | Part 4 - The Man with the Cold Lips | Part 5 - The Man with the Deep Scar | Part 6 - The Man with the One Eye | Part 7 - The Man with the Golden Gift | Part 8 - The Man in the Black Crown | Part 8 - The Man in the Black Crown | Part 9 - The Man with the Bloody Sword | Part 10 - The Man in the Black Gloves | Part 12 - The Man with the Pearly Hair

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Her husband terrified everyone but her. His cold, mocking gaze, his lips clenched into a thin line, his pallor, his black eye patch made it seem to her that his lordships saw him as a phantom rather than a man. She found it hard to believe how much he could change as he crossed the door of his chamber, as he joined her in bed, asking in a whisper if his little wife missed her husband.

She had always missed him.

When he was not beside her she felt incomplete.

To the fury of some lords, he expected her presence at councils, consulting her often, relying on her advice. She did not interfere in the affairs of the kingdom when he did not ask her to or when he did not want to hear her opinion, having no intention of undermining his authority or challenging his opinion in front of other lords.

She wanted him to know that he could always count on her support, and only spoke to him of her doubts behind the closed doors of their chamber.

They were bound together by deep darkness, grief and death, tying them together by an invisible thread of understanding.

She had the feeling when she looked at him, when he gripped her in his hands, that he was devouring her, with every thrust of his hips taking something of her for himself − when she embraced him tightly, joining with his lips in a sudden, passionate kiss she had the feeling that he was filling her whole, that they were one person.

There was something in his coldness, in his distance, in his enviousness that attracted her, in his almost frantic, menacing gaze as he looked at her with his mouth wide open, hissing for her to beg him for his seed, which she did devotedly, making him come inside her a moment later with a loud, low groan of pleasure.

"− we are one −" He whispered when it was all over, lying on top of her, staying deep inside her, looking straight into her eyes, his large hand stroking her cheek. "− you and me − you see me as I truly am −"

She smiled at his words, feeling gratitude, peace and heat rippling across her chest − the sight of such a reaction on her face always embarrassed him and moved him in a way, so he tried to distract her with a sticky, hot kiss which he placed on her lips, her fingers then sinking into his hair, reciprocating his caress with devotion.

She was horrified by how connected she felt to him.

She was horrified by how much affection he evoked in her.

She was the only person he really confided in about his dark thoughts. He spoke to her about the lords he doubted, took advice from her on the things that kept him awake, looking at her intently, knowing that he would recognise immediately if she lied to him.

She had no intention of doing so.

She was faithful to him in body, heart and mind.

He knew that, and that was what was driving him mad, pushing him to root into her at night until she begged him to finally let them both rest.

"− I need to make sure I've filled my wife well −" He panted between desperate, sloppy thrusts of his hips, their bodies all welted up from the exertion − he sank inside her with a loud click of her juices and his spend, looking at the sight of him taking her from behind, unable to deny himself watching his fat cock stretch her insides with his every thrust.

"− fuck − so good −" He mumbled, coming again with a sigh of wonderful relief, falling on top of her at last, his sweat-wet hands finding hers and entwining with them, his cheek nestled against hers, his lips surrounding her skin with his hot, raptured breath.

"− you smell wonderful − I could do this to you all night −" He muttered, lazily pushing his half-soft manhood deeper into her with soft rocking of his hips.

"− I know, my King − but have mercy on your poor wife who won't be able to sit up tomorrow −" She whispered half dreaming; it was late and all she wished was that he would let her lie like that with him and fall asleep.

She heard him murmur, felt his pride beating at the thought of him bringing her to such a state, feeling fulfilled as a man, a lover and a husband as a result.

"− your husband is merciful − sleep −" He hummed softly, leaning down, placing a kiss on her naked shoulder, turning with her to his side so that he was no longer crushing her with his body, embracing her tightly, her hands tightening on his arms, delightfully hiding in his embrace.

Very often they both had nightmares, each seeing the same thing in them − soldiers with swords who burst into their chamber screaming, killing them in their beds.

Her husband kept two daggers under their pillows, just in case, and every night he checked with an involuntary flick of his hand that they were in place before he fell asleep.

When she woke with a scream she could feel him shuddering beside her, terrified, clasping his arms around her, a quiet, helpless quiver escaping her lips.

"− shhh − it's me − you're safe − breathe −" He whispered softly, again and again kissing her hot, soft skin, stroking her bare body with his hands until her heart slowed again and her breathing calmed.

"− I dreamt that they came for us − that they slit your throat and then raped me in front of your eyes − you were still alive and they made you watch −" She mumbled out in a trembling voice feeling a tear run down her cheek onto the pillow under her head.

She heard him swallow loudly at her words, embracing her tighter from behind, nuzzling his face into her hair, his fingers stroking her bare shoulder.

"− no one will touch you − you're mine and you're safe − your husband will protect you −" He whispered quietly and she nodded, closing her eyes, allowing herself to focus only on the warmth of his body, on the tenderness with which his hand stroked her bare flesh, trying to give her any source of comfort.

When her moon bleeding began to delay she waited a long time before going to the medic to examine her, wanting to make sure she was not wrong in her assumptions. He, however, had no doubts.

"You are carrying a child in your womb, my Queen."

She decided that she must inform her husband immediately, personally, disregarding the fact that a council of his closest advisors was currently taking place, during which he insisted that no one should disturb them.

"My Queen, you cannot walk inside now." Said one of the guards.

Over the months after their marriage, her husband's followers slowly began to trust her and no longer referred to her with such coldness, however, her husband's will was paramount to them, and they feared nothing more than his wrath.

"Open the door. I must convey a message to the King that cannot wait." She said gravely, looking at them with her hands folded in front of her.

The men looked at each other uncertainly; the one she spoke to sighed heavily and with a clack of armour walked to the door, opening it. Her king-husband fell silent in mid-sentence, looking at her angrily as she stepped inside and bowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. He looked at his guard with exasperation.

"I ordered that no one should disturb us."

"I must convey something important to you in private, my King. It is a matter of urgency." She said in a calm, confident tone, looking straight into her husband's face.

She saw him roll his eyes as he let out an impatient breath; he bited his lower lip and dismissed the men seated around the table with a gesture of his hand. They began to get up in silence, tense, leaving one by one until they were left alone.

"Speak." He said in an impatient, sharp tone, looking somewhere off to the side, tapping his pointing finger against the table top.

She approached him unhurriedly, saw him lift his gaze to her in which lurked a threat, telling her that if it turned out to be nothing important, he would lose his temper.

"I carry your inheritance in my womb, my King." She said softly, unable to hold back a shy smile, heat spreading through her heart as she saw his shocked look fall from her face to her lower abdomen where she held her hands, his lips parted in disbelief as if he had run out of words.

"… are you sure? Has you been examined by…"

"I've just been to the medic. I had suspected it for weeks, but I preferred to wait and be absolutely sure."

She heard him swallow loudly, saw his chest rise and fall in deeper breaths, his gaze fixed on her stomach. Wanting to embolden him, she gently grasped his wrist lying on the armrest of his chair and placed his hand where her womb was, stroking his skin with her thumb.

He sighed quietly, massaging her skin hidden beneath the material of her gown with his fingers, his gaze softened, the rage evaporating from him, replaced by shy disbelief.

He finally lifted his gaze to her and drew her to him − she fell into his lap, letting his wet, warm lips press against hers in a loud, sticky kiss. She sighed quietly in satisfaction and reciprocated his caress, pulling away from him, taking his cheeks in her hands.

"Does my King resent my interfering with his council?" She asked quietly, his hand from her waist involuntarily wandering to her womb again, as if he couldn't believe that at last the gods had blessed them with something they wanted so badly.

"No. You have pleased me with your words, wife." He hummed softly, his voice calm and warm, the way it usually was when they lay in the night snuggled into each other, tired and raspy from exertion and fulfilment.

She leaned into him and kissed his forehead, heard him purr contentedly.

"That is all I had to share with you, my King. With your permission." She said slipping out of his arms, wanting to get up, but she felt his shoulders clench tighter around her instead of letting her go, his cock throbbing beneath her with impatience.

"We cannot, my King. Your advisors are waiting." She whispered, looking at him calmly, her lips parted slightly when she noticed his pupil dilated, his irises almost black.

He answered nothing, his hands lifting her gown higher with an eager, sharp movement, forcing her to sit on top of him again − she sighed quietly unable to hide a smile of satisfaction.

When he saw this he clamped his hand painfully tight on her hair and forced her lips to cling to his again in an aggressive, roguish kiss − she grasped his cheeks in her fingers, stroking them with her thumbs.

He murmured contentedly and, wasting no time, undid the buckles of his tunic, then reached down to untie his breeches, sliding them down just enough to release his throbbing, swollen erection.

A low, surprised moan of delight erupted from his throat as she immediately grasped his length in her hand and directed it between her thighs, lowering herself onto it with a quiet sigh of pleasure. He leaned his head back resting it on the backrest, closing his healthy eye for a moment, a quiet, throaty fuck erupted from his lips.

They both began to pant as she began to slowly rise and fall on top of him, his large hands slipped under her gown and squeezed her bare buttocks impatiently, forcing her to speed up, the thrusts of his hips stretching her tight, fleshy walls with his hard, throbbing manhood.

She stroked his cheek and entwined her fingers in his soft white hair leaning over him, placing tender kisses full of devotion, desire and passion on his lips, her mouth wet and hot, a low, wonderful moan of delight escaping from his throat, his cock twitching with pleasure inside her.

"− don't stop − don't fucking stop − your King wants to fill you −" He hissed out between thirsty, deep, loud kisses, stifling their loud panting and moans as they did so, his chair creaking loudly each time she sank down on top of him, rubbing herself with it so that the fat head of his cock teased a wonderful spot deep inside her.

"− who am I to defy my King's command − my King can come inside me as many times as he wants −" She muttered sweetly, softly, feeling a shudder run through him, a sigh escaped his from his parted lips pressed against hers − she felt him throbbing inside her like crazy, her fleshy, hot walls clenched around him and sucked him in.

"− I − yes, fuck, oh godsss −" He gasped apparently struggling to restrain himself not to come, wanting to prolong this moment, but he gave in at last with a sigh of relief, pressing his face against hers, her fingers stroking his cheeks as she felt his seed fill her.

She felt his hand from her hip rise to her face and run through her hair, sliding down her neck, a pleasant shiver passed through her. They kissed lazily a few more times, calming their breathing and he finally pulled away from her with an expression of satisfaction, holding her chin between his fingers.

"You may leave, my wife." He hummed lowly. She smiled at his words and rose, feeling strangely empty as his manhood slid out from her with a loud splat. She adjusted her gown hearing him quickly tie his breeches, reaching for the buckles of his tunic and bowed humbly, no longer looking at him.

"My King."

She turned and walked out, opening the door and stepping out into the corridor where men stood waiting for them to finish their conversation, looking at her with furrowed brows. She suspected they knew exactly what they were doing.

She could feel his spend running down her thighs.

She knew they were jealous that he had allowed her to be so close, where every one of them dreamed of being his most trusted advisor.

She figured she wouldn't give them any reason to gossip and spread the opinion that she had become a queen by sneaking into his bed.

"Rejoice, my good lords. There is an heir to the throne in my womb." She said softly with a sincere smile of satisfaction, the men looked at her in disbelief and then at her abdomen.

Some seemed very pleased by this news, others only nodded, others seemed worried.

Until she bore the King an heir they believed that he would change his mind and divorce her, taking one of some lord's daughters as his wife.

However, they each offered her congratulations before entering the chamber, which they also repeated towards the King, who only nodded at their words, looking straight at her from across the table.

A living fire burning in his eye.

If it had seemed to her until now that her husband was obsessed with her, this impression was intensified further after passing on to him the joyful news that she was expecting his heir.

That night he took her gently and tenderly, first showering her with adoringly soft, wet kisses all over her naked body only to slide then between her thighs, sinking his tongue deep inside her, allowing her to reach her peak on his face.

He spent a long hour this way, licking her, teasing and sucking her pearl, tearing out of her fulfillment after fulfillment, watching with a smirk full of satisfaction as she wriggled beneath him in despair, babbling that she could take no more, that it was too much.

It seemed to her that what she was saying was having the opposite effect, the tip of his nose ran over her leaking womanhood again making her shiver.

"− you have made your husband happy today, sweet wife − I only wish to express my gratitude −"

From now on she could bother him at any time, of course, if the need was urgent or concerned their child.

He ordered the fruits she so adored to be brought to the fortress from the farthest reaches of the kingdom, and although she told him it was an unnecessary expense, he did not listen to her, recognising that it was his duty as her husband to provide her with everything he felt she needed in her blessed condition.

In the evenings, even when he was reading he longed to be close to her, so instead of sitting in his chair by the fireplace as usual, he would sit on the chaise longue, leaning back comfortably.

She would then come to him with a thick cloth in which she enveloped herself, not wanting to get cold in her nightgown alone, and lay down beside him, hugging the top of her head to his hip. His hand immediately moved to her shoulder, which he stroked in a steady, tender motion, flipping the page of the book lying on his thighs with a loud rustle.

Her pregnancy had been a huge trial for them, her belly swollen from his child had made her suffer, her back aching unmercifully, vexed by hot, dry nights during which she squirmed and could not sleep.

Although the medic had announced that he should not take her into his bed during the course of her pregnancy, she could not imagine having to wait so many months without touching him.

He did not seem enthused by the idea either, so they met in his chamber like parted lovers.

He was gentler towards her, the thrusts of his hips softer and more tender − he didn't want to hurt her or their child, his hand clenched on her womb as he root into her from behind, panting loudly, saying that he would stop soon, that just a moment more.

One time she was so hot that she couldn't sleep and she decided to sneak out of his chamber, not wanting to wake him up again, knowing that he couldn't sleep because of her. He never complained about it, however, she knew that he had trouble concentrating, the thought of her impending labour putting him in a constant state of anxiety and worry.

He was afraid.

She breathed heavily in relief as she stepped into her chamber, stroking her abdomen, feeling her child wriggling in her womb, thinking about the fact that only a few more months and it would be over.

She lay down in her bed, which had previously been her mother's chamber, and before that, Queen Alicent's. She thought of the underground shelter beneath her, of her husband having spent several days there.

He had told her about it one night when they lay tired, the healed wound in his eye socket sometimes causing him pain and the medic then had to pull out the sapphire that was placed there to apply ointment.

It turned out that the polished stone rubbed him and created small wounds that oozed and then caused him great discomfort.

"My Queen, the King should not wear this stone in his eye socket nor his eye patch for the next few weeks. He, however, insists on only taking a break for a few days until the ointment takes effect. I beg you to speak his mind, he will listen to you." Said a man in a simple brown robe, as she understood, one of the monks who had once saved her husband's life.

She nodded and walkend into his chamber − he sat in a chair leaning to one side, his black eye patch on his head, his hand massaging his temple, his face expressing discomfort and fatigue.

He looked at her sleepily and she thought immediately that the medic had given him poppy milk, which meant that his pain was so severe that he had decided to stupefy his senses, though he always kept his mind as sharp and focused as possible.

She approached him, sighing quietly, with a face expressing genuine concern − she took his hand in hers and stroked it with her thumb, but said nothing.

She knew that the last thing he wanted from her was pity and he would have preferred them to pretend that there was no subject, however, this time the matter was too serious for her to leave it out without a word.

"I was told by the medic that in order for your wounds to heal properly, you should not wear your eye patch at night so that your skin can rest and regenerate on its own." She said in a soft whisper, stroking his hand with her fingers. She felt him tense up all over; he turned his head away in impatience, showing her that he had no intention of discussing it with her.

"We'll cover the windows with curtains if you wish." She added, wanting to convince him if he wanted so badly for her not to see him without his sapphire, that there was a way.

"No." He replied roughly, even though his head was facing her sideways his eye was looking in her direction.

She swallowed loudly at the thought that ever since they had been married he had always left a single candle lit next to their bed when they went to sleep, his proof that his days of being locked away in endless darkness were over.

"I carry your heir under my heart, the medics think I need to get enough sleep and avoid worry. How can I manage this when I see my king-husband suffering through no fault of his own and making his condition worse for me? Let us draw the curtains."

"You will not keep your word. Just as you did then." He said coldly, turning his face towards the burning fireplace.

She felt a squeeze in her throat, her heart pounding harder in her chest as she realised he was speaking about when, while he was still her guardian, she had opened her eyes before he left even though she had promised him she would not do such thing.

"You knew everything about me then and I knew nothing about you. Now you are my husband and as always I will respect your will. I swear it on our child." She said calmly and slowly, wanting him to know that her words were sincere and serious.

She saw his jaw clench as he swallowed loudly and squeezed his eye shut, she knew that a wave of pain was running through his head again. He covered his face with his hand in a gesture of surrender.

"I won't forgive you if you don't keep your word." He said lowly; she knelt beside him, laying her head on his thigh, reaching with her palm to his hand extended on the armrest of his chair.

"I will keep my word, my love. Let's go to sleep."

As promised, this time it was she who drew the curtains, one by one, making the entire chamber fall into complete darkness. Walking back to their bed she had to walk slowly with her hands stretched out in front of her, not wanting to hit anything − she hissed when she bumped her knee on the small table, she heard him rise on the bed.

"Did you hurt yourself? Come here." He said impatiently − she felt his hand grab her arm and lead her straight to the bed. She landed in his arms and kissed him, however instead of a sigh of delight she heard his muffled sound of discomfort and pain.

She reached in the dark for his eye patch and pulled it gently off his head − she could hear him breathing loudly, his hand clenched tightly on the material of her nightgown.

"You see me." He said reproachfully, pained, his voice breaking as he spoke the words in such a way that she felt a sting in her heart.

"I can't see anything, my love. I swear, it's too dark." She whispered softly and ran her fingers over his healthy cheek, a powerful shudder went through her when she felt it was wet, after a moment she felt another tear run down between them.

He was crying.

This realisation shocked her so much that for a moment she didn't know what to say, her throat squeezed so tightly it made her ache.

"− my beloved husband − please, don't despair −" She mumbled in a trembling voice, stroking his hair as if he were a small child. She felt his strong arms tighten around her and pull her closer − she snuggled her face into his neck, her hand placed on his bare chest just above his heart.

He closed her in a tight embrace, stroking her back and hands − she heard him sigh heavily, as if he was trying to get something out of himself but was unable to.

"Since you have been my wife, there has always been at least one candle lit in my chamber." He uttered without strength; she lift her hand again and stroked his cheek, hushing him, pressing her forehead against his jaw, his fingers tightening on her hair.

"I will be your light this night and every night that follows, for as long as it takes, my love." She said softly. She heard him swallow loudly, letting the air out with a heavy sigh, desperate.

"Embrace me through the night, sweet wife. Don't let me out of your arms."

_____

I'm ending this series here because we've reached what I wanted, which is an openness and vulnerability that brings them completely closer together. I didn't want to suggest to the fans what would happen next, whether a girl or a boy would be born, or maybe a tragedy would happen to them? In my mind, they have six children, exactly the number Alys predicted, but all of them are born from his queen wife. They ruled bloodily, justly and indivisibly, trusting only themselves, their relationship on the verge of obsession caused general terror, and was a source of jealousy for others.

_____

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[kylobith]

Engraved on my Heart (Éomer x femOC)

Part 5 of 7

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 6 - Epilogue

Summary: Unable to find rest, the prince and the maid meet in the halo of the moonlight. Their closeness inevitably leads them to transgress a boundary from which there is no retreat.

Ship/Pairing: Éomer x Original Female Character

Trope: Prince x Maid, Forbidden Love

Warning: You knew it was coming. It had to. It gets spicy! [NSFW] [NSFT]

(it remains fluffy though)

Word count: 10,500

Read it on AO3 here.

Night had long fallen over Rohan, its ink black mantle, dotted with molten-golden asters that sparkled far above the lands, enfolding the world. Guardian of dreams and protector of dreamers, it had plunged the realm into an undisturbed tranquillity. Predators roamed the plains, shielded by the darkness that Night provided, perpetuating the circle of life. Birds of prey spread and fluttered their wings, fending the air with innate grace, and waiting for unsuspecting rodents to capture their acute eye. Above it all, the moon hung in the sky, boasting its rich silver hues, bathing the mountaintops into its glow; the sole beacon of any soul untouched by the lull of sleep.

Winter had truly begun to take root once the sun had set. Despite having left the earth bare during the day, it now draped its surface with rime. Scintillating opal dust waltzed through the breeze, carrying the serenity of the sky to the wilds below. The blanket it wove upon the ground stifled the steps of the animals seeking shelter in the woods. Deer wandered between the trees, scouring the landscape for a place to settle for the night. Under a pine, a doe curls up around her fawn, letting her brown coat warm up her young.

At the heart of Meduseld, nestled in her bedchamber, Éorhild lay wide awake under her covers. Though her irises faced the spectacle that nature offered, they were blind to its magnificence. Rather, they drowned in brine that trickled down the bridge of her nose and met its end against her pillow. She wept in silence; exhaustion had gnawed too deep in her bones for her to tremble or wail.

Guilt. Remorse. Vile creatures whose claws tore her flesh into shreds, searing her with an agony so profound that she could do nothing but pray that it would pass. By then, she was in a state beyond hysteria. She was carving herself a grave in the ruthless soil of apathy, each shovelful burying her in a void of her heart’s own making. As the clod in her back grew higher by the second, she hoped that once it would shroud her, new life would take root from her despair and blossom into a bed of colourful lilies.

Éomer’s soul-baring confession had shattered her world into fragments too jagged to reassemble. Though she had never questioned his fondness, she never had imagined that it had ripened into love. His revelation had sent her mind spiralling, untethered for reason, her heart plummeting under the recollection of her reaction. Its thunderous rhythm had roared in her ears, drowning every fragment of coherence. Instinct had eclipsed thought, and before she had fathomed a response, she had murmured an apology and fled his quarters. Her mantle, hose, shoes, and veil lay abandoned on his chair, a silent testament to the dismay that had seized her. No other explanation had been uttered; no apology issued. Within a second, she had departed.

Another fainting spell had befallen her, though this time there had been no gallant rescuer to whisk her away on his steed. Mere seconds had passed until she regained her spirits and dragged herself to her washroom, where she poured herself a warm bath to thwart the promise of severe soreness in her muscles and ribs come morning. It had been but a fleeting solace. There she had lingered, with her head underwater to scream her lungs out until they burnt, the water absorbing her anguish without alerting another soul.

Then, she had shuffled the short distance to her bed, clad in nothing warmer than her shift, heedless to the chill that nipped at her skin. Heaving a rattling sigh, she had collapsed onto the mattress and burrowed beneath the covers. For hours she wrestled with the sheets, tossing and turning, incapable of drifting away. Her mind yearned for the oblivion of sleep yet clung stubbornly to the memory of her prince. Each time she closed her eyes, his image rose unbidden, piercing her with a pain radiating from her chest down to her fingertips, where it stung like nettles. Sleep, cruel as it was, evaded her.

And thus, she lay, alert and hollow-eyed, the tears she had hoped would bring release proving futile. They left her drained but long away from the hibernation she craved, her waking sorrow haunting her through the long hours of the night.

In truth, she was utterly spent, her body eroded by heartache and her spirit ravaged by the flames of regret. Mindless chores she could carry out in her room to compensate were unthinkable; she has no more strength to spare. Lifting a finger even felt an insurmountable task. She was an empty vessel adrift in despair. Insomnia was holding her captive in the world of night owls. She was its prisoner, vulnerable to its cruel grip. Too weak to even stand, she lay in the dark, unable to peer through the bars of this cage to glimpse a shred of hope. Escaping this madness seemed a fantasy that only fools could aspire to.

To quell the venom coursing through her veins, Éorhild turned her thoughts to Éomer’s plea, echoing in her mind like a cherished melody. How exquisite it had been! Never in her wildest dreams had she placed herself on the receiving end of such fervent passion, nor as one to whom those infamous three words would have been bestowed. Faintly, she recalled when she was a carefree girl in the Westfold who dared to dream of hearing them, yet never believed they would one day be hers.

His confession, so heartfelt, had unravelled her to her very core, wielding a mastery akin to the realm’s most gifted poets. Every syllable of it reverberated within the cell of her fragility. It was the only balm to the excruciating scorch of her emotions.

Éorhild imagined the life that Éomer had envisioned for them — one unshackled by constraints and etiquette. At its start was a wedding without allegiance to ranks or Gondorian nobility. Above their braided and flowered heads stretched a cloudless canopy of azure, ornate with a single golden disc illuminating the plains around them. In the middle of the Rohirric nature, their hands would join as they would pronounce the most poignant vows their people would ever witness. Better still, their union would be celebrated in solitude, far from the shadow of Edoras, away from prying ears and burdensome traditions. Perched atop a hill embraced by the towering mountains, their promise to each other would only reach the earth and sky. In that sacred moment, there would be no titles, no subjects, no servants, no rulers; only them and a bliss of their own making.

Together, they would raise a home whose walls and hearth would embody their shared spirit and all they could hope for. Behind closed eyelids, she could almost experience it. She could taste the sweetness of calling him ‘Husband’ in the dead of night, for no other reason than to release the same thrill in her chest that had danced there when they shared their first kiss on the hillside. Untainted by the world’s demands, they would do everything that life has deprived them of so far. They would hold each other close beyond the enclosure of their garden, they would touch lips within sight of others. Their only bond would be to each other.

Preventing her mind from painting the scene in richer detail, a sudden chill coursed down her spine, snapping her back to the cold reality of her solitary chamber. With a begrudging sigh, Éorhild pushed herself upright, grimacing from the soreness in her back. Her body, weary from prolonged inactivity, craved some motion. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and pressed her feet to the icy floor, hoping that a short midnight stroll would provide her some semblance of peace.

She retrieved a pale candle from the drawer and replaced the spent one in her holder. As she struck a match and watched the flame catch, its glow cast a sharp flicker upon her traits and kindled a heart-wrenching realisation in her mind.

Éomer must have suffered greatly, watching her flee from him in that moment of vulnerability. He had poured out his heart to her, after all; and she had not remained to listen. The thought weighed on her, and the flickering wick seemed to mock her in the stillness of the room. She anchored herself to the chest of drawers, suffocating from the lump forming in her throat.

How dared she run? How could she have deserted him when every oath she ever swore, as maid or woman, was bound to his welfare? In shadow and in daylight, she had tended to his needs with unwavering commitment. Yet, the moment that he confessed his love, she had ceased to listen. In that instant of raw honesty, she had faltered and abandoned him, her loyalty fractured by the terror of such foreign emotions.

She did not resent him for speaking his truth, not for a second, not for a million years. If anything, what invaded her then was an overwhelming sense of being cherished — something she had never known. Long had her childhood blurred into hazy memories, yet none held a fraction of the comfort that his presence provided her. Every conversation they had shared, whether by the hearth or in the corridors of Meduseld, had flown seamlessly. Not all had been easy, but never had she feared revealing her thoughts and heart to him, despite the consequences it might bring. Over the past months, whenever something amusing or thought-provoking passed through her mind, her first instinct had been to reach for Éomer, to share in the joy or laughter with him. Days grew devoid of interest; she had spent each of them thrilled at the idea of warming herself up by his side in the hall come evening. And at night, when at last she closed her eyes, it was his face, his smile, that guided her towards the land of dreams.

She loved him. The certainty struck her with the force of a galloping stallion, leaving no room for doubt. Teardrops formed puddles upon the dresser as they dripped off her cheeks, dimpled by a smile. Her hands fumbled in the dim light for a robe and clutched it around her quivering frame. With the candle holder firmly in her grasp, she yanked the door open and rushed barefoot into the shadowy hallway, her resolve now burning as brightly as the flame between her fingers.

Éorhild halted at the closed door of Éomer’s quarters, her shallow breath forming momentary clouds in the air and her pulse thrumming. Her eyes stared at this gate separating her from the man she coveted, unmoving, for what seemed an eternity. A bleak awareness crept over her — that of her impulsiveness. What had she been thinking? The silence of the Golden Hall, heavy and undisturbed, reminded her that, unlike her, most within its walls were deep in slumber.

Her courage faded and her fingers tightened their grip around the candlestick. Nevertheless, her heart urged her forward, while her brain screamed at her to retreat. When she raised her fist towards the thick wood, bracing herself to knock, a voice interrupted her momentum.

‘Whoever you are, you might as well enter,’ she heard it say, recognising it as the prince’s. There was no use in surrendering now. Éorhild squared her shoulders, drawing in a sharp breath to steady herself as her head extended towards the latch and eased the door open.

Inside, his chamber lay shrouded in obscurity, pierced only by a halo of moonlight that spilled through the window on the other side of the bed. Leaning on one forearm against the windowsill, Éomer was facing away from her. His stance was tense yet contemplative, as though the whirlwind of sorrow had rooted him there. Since her hasty departure, he had undone the plaits she had braided into his hair that morning. Their mild impressions waved his tresses, like ghosts of her touch. He wore a loose white shirt, rolled to his elbows, and tucked into a pair of silk trousers he reserved for the scarce hours of leisure he was afforded in the palace. How cold he must feel, she wondered.

Éomer cast a glance over his shoulder and the sight of Éorhild in her robe froze him mid-turn. His frown betrayed a flicker of surprise, as though he had been prepared to witness anyone in Rohan — but her — stepping across his threshold that night. His lips parted, searching for a pleasant greeting that never came. The shadows deepened the lines of his face, accentuating the vulnerability that etched there, unguarded and unfeigned. The luminescence of the moon did nothing to help the pallor that worsened his appearance.

Oh, how he must have been suffering.

‘It is you,’ he croaked, the unsteadiness in his voice suggesting that she had stolen the breath from his lungs by appearing to him.

Éorhild pressed her back to the door and held the candle aloft. His evident anguish dissuaded her from approaching, out of fear that she might twist the knife into his wounds that her actions had already inflicted.

‘Indeed, your Majesty, it is I,’ she whispered back. ‘I did not think that I would find you awake at this hour.’

‘Can I help you with anything? If it is your clothes you want, I have not moved them.’

Her gaze fell upon the pulled chair, where her forgotten belongings laying folded preserved the memory of her hasty retreat. The sight tugged at her heart — an unbearable reminder of when she both lost her composure and him. She set the candle upon the nearby chest of drawers, shedding a light on the ornate helmet he had worn into battle placed at the centre of the furniture. The biting cold seeped into her skin and she shivered, rubbing her palms against her arms for even a sliver of warmth.

‘Have you not found rest, my lord?’ she spoke again, turning to him again.

‘I am in a state where I have forgotten what sleep even is,’ he scoffed, running a hand over his face.

Silence reigned supreme once more, disrupted only by the occasional crackle of the wick. Éorhild wrestled with her thoughts, embarking on the vain quest for words that would defend this impromptu nightly visit without hurting him further. Potential phrases dissolved on her tongue before she could utter them. No justification could fully encapsulate the truth behind her presence. Besides, his evading, restless gaze suggested that it unnerved him so deeply that he could scarcely bring himself to face her.

With tentative and measured steps, she drew nearer, albeit keeping a safe distance from him to spare his fretfulness. Her eyes, however, held fast to him; it traced the contours of his face, captured the sorrowful depth of his blood-shot eyes.

‘I apologise for running away earlier,’ she blurted out. ‘When you confessed your love to me, I was overtaken by a terror so consuming that I lost the ability to think clearly. My judgement was clouded, my instincts warped, and it drove me away from you, against my will.’

Éomer’s glimmering eyes met hers at last, cautious and uncertain. He merely nodded and stood back against the windowsill. The pale aura of the moon, caressing his skin, illuminated the unshed tears in his eyes. Their sight, unbearable to her, threatened to break her; still she stood firm, drawing strength from the depths of her adoration.

‘Was it me you were afraid of?’

His question sliced her heart with a sharpness akin to Gúthwinë’s blade. Her breath caught and she dropped her hands at her sides.

‘Why would you ever think that I feared you?’

‘You spoke of terror,’ he pressed on, swiftly catching a tear with the ball of his hand before it would fall and observing the landscape again. ‘Was it fear of me? Fear that I would coerce you into my bed?’

Determined to face and confront him on the matter, Éorhild bypassed the footboard of the bed and climbed the short steps leading to the alcove where the window frame would preside their exchange. At her approach, Éomer recoiled yet made no move to elude her. This time, his eyes remained fixed on her figure as she took place across from him.

‘I never feared this eventuality in the first place,’ she intoned. ‘You were not at the root of my dread, and for allowing you to believe otherwise, I owe you my deepest apologies.’

‘Speak to me, then,’ he pleaded in a sob, his voice cracking. ‘Why did you flee?’

Though her heart ached to enfold him in her arms and never let go, she held herself back. No gently gestures, no words of reassurance, could come ahead of the explanation she owed him — explanations she was resolved to provide. It was the least she could offer, and she would not have him bear her withdrawal any longer.

‘When Master Guthláf revealed to me the laws that endorse lords commanding their maids’ bodies, I grasped how brittle my agency was in the eyes of Rohirric lawmakers and nobles,’ she began. ‘The realisation that my autonomy could be stripped from me so easily, no matter what I say, made me understand Lady Éowyn’s rage on a more profound level. For so long, I must admit, I envied her in secret — a part of me I now repudiate. I could not fathom why she, of all people, could consider herself marginalised simply for her sex.’

Her fingers clasped the sleeves of her robe. The shame caused by her mistakes, which she had mulled over for hours, stirred uneasily in her stomach more strongly with every passing thought.

‘I knew, of course, that even among servants, women and men receive different treatments. Even our very oath belittles us. Male servants may bed whomever they fancy within their rank, they may take wives and have children, and still be welcome to contribute to the palace’s upkeep. But should a maid take a lover, she risks banishment. Théodil has paid the price for it.’

A tremor seized her lower lip, drawing the prince’s attention, which had not wavered from her since she had begun to speak. She was unravelling herself before him with as much honesty as he had displayed during their fiery conversation earlier. So, he listened with patience, his senses attuned to her words. In that instant, there was nothing else he desired more than to hear her, to understand her and that turmoil, whose ravages she had concealed to protect him. Or perhaps because she had yet to perceive the extent of its devastation herself.

‘At first, I thought her foolish for so openly risking her livelihood for that guard,’ she confessed in a strangled sob. ‘But now… now I wonder — what did Théodil truly do wrong? She is hardly different from her male peers, after all. She, too, has desires and the capacity for love. Why, then, should she be punished for even a simple kiss?’

Her barriers fell and she wept openly, although she paid the tears drenching her face no heed. Still, she took a moment to gather herself.

‘What I mean to say is that I had always believed my agency over my body to be the one thing truly mine, not for others to control. To learn that I had been misled for sixteen years unsettled me in ways I scarcely knew how to express.’

‘If I may speak candidly, without causing you offense, I care for you far too deeply to risk your safety. Forcing you into anything had never brushed my thoughts, not even a little. My love for you never entailed the corruption of your consent.’

‘I know.’

Éorhild dried her cheeks with a smile that held little mirth, and he, too, echoed it with a brief chuckle. They contemplated each other, the curve of their lips betraying a tenderness, kept at bay ever since she graced his room, blossoming anew. Sorrow had lifted from Éomer’s stern traits, and the glint in his eye was no longer solely that of brine.

‘You look ethereal tonight, Éorhild,’ the prince murmured as he admired the drapes of the white robe around her silhouette. ‘You are more beautiful to me than the Elves.’

‘Do not jest, my lord!’ she chortled, covering her mouth with her hand, hoping that its presence would help dissimulate the hues rising to her cheeks.

‘I never jest!’

The tension ebbed, surrendering to the chimes of their laughter. Their shoulders loosened, and the burden they had each borne lifted higher by the second. The camaraderie that had once defined their evenings — spent by the fire, drink in hand, exchanging words straying between the mundane and the profound — returned, thawing the imperceptible frost that had solidified following their abrupt parting.

Éorhild, finally drawing a steady breath that appeased her frayed nerves now that he knew and understood her dread, acknowledged the collar of his shirt. Between the parted hems, his collarbones and chest offered her a tantalising view. They were not unfamiliar to her; she had seen and grazed them in the bath that morning, yet there was something undeniably alluring about their partial occultation. The contrast of skin and linen sent her heart hammering and provoked a slow-burning ache deep within — delicious but somewhat outrageous.

Trailing along the folds of the fabric where shirt burrowed into waistline only further aggravated the adrenaline rush inside her abdomen. Underneath the garments, there was this body she knew was robust and chiselled, but its waist possessed a narrowness that required her to sink her nails into her palms to refrain from tracing them with her fingertips.

‘You cut a striking figure yourself, your Majesty,’ she complimented him in return.

‘Oh? Thank you. I, um…’

Éomer smoothed out a crease between his dark eyebrows with his knuckle, rubbing quite harshly at his skin as though to steel his mind away from such enticing distractions. Whether he noticed her lingering glances, the subtle tilt of her voice, or the unintentional flirtation woven into her compliment, she could not tell. However, his restraint was palpable, a silent battle against the temptation to yield to such frivolities. In all earnest, it was only fitting; too much remained unspoken between them, too many truths still hung in the air, awaiting acknowledgement.

‘I wanted to let you know that… should you decide to decline the position after such an eventful first day, I would understand,’ his low voice resonated with sincerity inside the alcove. ‘Truly, I would. I would not hold it against you, even for a second.’

He hesitated, his gaze faltering. Obviously, the prospect did not please him in the slightest. Even she could tell that he was setting aside his wishes to value her decision above them.

‘It was a hardship I thrust upon you without forewarning, and I should have handled it differently. Know that you already have my deepest gratitude for even considering it and giving it a chance. I cannot, in all good conscience, ask you for more.’

Another heartfelt expression of the tumult in his spirit, she told herself. One that she had provoked. The muscles in his jaw clenched and, when his lips parted again, his voice carried the raw edge of regret and a tinge of frustration.

‘I am sorry, Éorhild. Truly. I should have discussed it with you, shared my thoughts and concerns, before bringing it to my uncle’s attention. But I was so consumed by the need to keep you close that I let my impulsivity take control. I should have known better. I apolo—'

‘Éomer,’ she interjected with a gentle tone, ‘I have no intention of leaving your service. It was — and it remains — my choice to stay. You must understand, I am not here out of duty alone. Whatever trials have emerged with my assuming this role, they have not deterred me. If anything, they have confirmed that my place is here — with you.’

Shuffling out of the shadow, her bare feet brushing against the cold stone without a sound, she came forward, meeting him halfway. Éomer’s breath hitched, sensing a delightful tension that united them at that second. The moon’s silvery glare, speckled with delicate golden tints, kissed the skin of her neck. It descended towards the lowered hem of her shift, through which he could distinguish a single mole above her left breast. His broad frame, ordinarily adopting a confident poise, shifted and found refuge against the cold wood covering the wall.

But she paid that no mind.

‘Do not shoulder the guilt of offering me this role,’ she continued, plunging her dark irises into his. ‘I am here because I choose to be. Not because you compelled me, nor because I found myself cornered. But should I ever change my mind, I promise that you will be the first to know.’

No response met her attempt at comforting him. Calm reigned as he stood petrified against the wall with flaring nostrils as his chest heaved with laboured breaths. The dim light caught a damp sheen on his forehead, and though his posture remained unchanged, the storm within him remained too evident. Éorhild lingered, her heart fracturing at his reticence to reply yet holding out hope that her presence would coax him out of this stupor. And she waited.

But the seconds dragged on, and he had not made any effort to speak. Admitting defeat, she exhaled in resignation and curtseyed.

‘I will take my leave, my lord,’ she said in forced reverence. ‘I wish you good night; I shall see you in the morn.’

Thought she turned towards the door, each step she took to leave his side was reluctant. Some part of her still hoped that he would call her back. She had not even confessed her feelings in return; perhaps that was just as well.

When her toes grazed the floor at the foot of the steps, she halted. Tears prickled her eyes, and she bit her lower lip, wondering whether to induce further conversation. Deciding in favour of it, she spun to face him again.

‘You know, I would not have been happy in that vision of us you evoked.’

Éomer’s gaze flickered to hers.

‘Is that so?’ he enquired in bewildered confusion, his curiosity undeniably piqued. ‘Then, my perception of our relationship must have been terribly misconstrued.’

Éorhild clasped her hands together to eclipse their trembling.

‘It was an appealing fantasy, without a doubt,’ she continued. ‘But I believe that you have misinterpreted what would constitute a fulfilling life from my point of view. How could I have found bliss if my husband spent his time roaming Middle-earth in search of superficial ways to please me? How could I have been satisfied with constant loneliness in a house where all has been shaped to my taste, without bearing traces of you?’

His chest tightened as he pondered what he had neglected to consider. She was right. He had been distracting by the promise of what he could offer her if they could love freely — riches, comfort, beauty — that he had omitted the one element that was truly worth offering: himself.

‘You thought of all the things I might want,’ she choked up, ‘but you never once realised that all I wanted was you. Not just your love, but your presence. Your time, your hands, your heart. In poverty or in abundance, all I would have wanted was to be with you.’

She retraced her steps and came to stand before him, close enough to feel the warmth emanating from his skin.

‘I do not seek a life without labour, but one in which we would both contribute to establish a home to thrive in. One that needs not correspond to outside standards, but one that is imperfect in all the ways that matter most. We would have built these walls together, without caring whether they are too slanted — we would laugh it off and make it work. But at the end of the day, my only home would have been you.’

A life forged with their bare hands, steered by decisions they would have negotiated and agreed upon… It sounded like the sweetest melody to his ears. The thought of a hypothetical shared future filled him with a sense of peace. He had spent so many years under pressure of external forces and standards — Gondor’s, Rohan’s, his uncle’s, his own. There was a shift inside him. In this moment, the dark clouds had parted and a sun in the shape of Éorhild illuminated his world.

To build this life together, without pretence or outward approval, seemed the only objective worth pursuing. Her vision, so simple yet fruitful, surpassed anything he had ever dared to dream for himself. Genuine companionship, shared labour and tender displays — nothing expected of a king.

To hell with the crown.

Just as he was on the verge of sharing his newfound clarity, a series of soft sobs halted him. She was weeping once more, and the sight tore at his soul.

‘I would have gladly chosen a life in which I would be your bride,’ she hiccupped. ‘In time, when we would have been ready, I would have borne you children. Even though I doubt that I would ever be a good mother.’

‘What in the world makes you question it?’

‘Selfishly enough, I would have struggled with the idea of sharing you. Having desired you for so long and finally earned the privilege to be yours, I could not bear it.’

Muttering an apology, she began to turn — but before she could make another escape, his hand lightly grazed her wrist, breaking her impetus. His fingertips caressed the palm of her hand, and his eyes bore into hers, incredulous yet hopeful.

‘Do you feel the same as I do, then?’ his voice quivered, caught between excitement and dread. ‘Or am I once again misreading your desires?’

She let out a scoff, her tears mingling with a bitter laugh as she returned his stare.

‘Of course I do, Éomer. It is you. It has always been you.’

She swallowed the lump in her throat, summoning every fragile ounce of courage the speak the truth she had silenced for far too long. These three words had longed to flow off her lips and waft through to him. It was the confession she should have offered him earlier that day, when the moment was still opportune. Perhaps then, she would have woven poetry into her proclamation, crafting it with the same methods as the many bards that had enlivened Meduseld throughout the years with tales of passion and longing. Her voice would have risen, ever so sweet to his ear, capturing the fullness of her steadfastness in verses worthy of him.

But her life was not one of great halls and song. Thus, she settled for a simple but sincere declaration.

‘And I love you.’

Uncontainable joy invaded his roaring heart. Thousands of jubilant exclamations clamoured within his mind, each vying for release. Emotion surged through him, constricting his throat and misting his eyes, leaving him on the brink of tears that would attest of his relief and elation.

Sensing that she would not be trespassing any boundary, Éorhild pressed herself against his chest and her arms found their way around his neck, drawing him into an embrace that they had both itched to indulge themselves to.

‘Ig léofie ðe,’ she repeated in their native tongue.

Éomer’s palms cradled her jaw and his thumb traced her rosy lower lip.

‘Ond ðe ealswan léofie ig,’ he cried, ‘o Éorhild, seo dyreste ond seo sweteste in blæd min.’

Weaving through his untamed mane, her fingers and drew his head closer with utmost tenderness as her eyelids fluttered shut. With a desperate fervour, he clung to her, encircling her waist with one arm, afraid that she might vanish once more. His lips captured hers in a kiss that alleviated the burden of long-suppressed yearning, poignant yet firm. It was the melding of two spirits who had been circling one another, incomplete and hollow, until this very moment.

Her mouth was supple beneath his, their heat igniting a bonfire within his chest whose flames licking the inside of his veins, chasing away all shadows of doubts and remorse. Time came to a standstill, the world beyond them melted away as he deepened the kiss. It was an unspoken promise of unwavering devotion and a future that would be theirs to hold. Each brush of their tongues spoke of the battles they had fought alone in the dark, and the unyielding faith that they would face the rest together.

Love had finally found its voice, and it was the prince and his maid who heard it sing.

Two nights prior, under the canopy of stars on the windswept hillside, they had resigned to the bittersweet comfort of a single night for them to etch in their memory — a fleeting hour to hold onto into the solitude that would follow. Yet here they stood, hearts that had once braced for parting now trembling with the yearning for another.

Their lips separated, the faintest whisper of warmth lingering upon them, and their foreheads rested together. The lovers shared tender smiles, their breaths mingling in the narrow space between them. Fingers found their way to each other’s faces, brushing against familiar contours in adoration. A featherlight touch, yet charged with powerful emotion, as though they sought to memorise each wrinkle and curve. Shimmering more brightly than ever, their eyes locked in an unbroken gaze, devouring one another with a hunger that words could never aspire to satisfy.

In the silence, their smiles curled, testifying of the elation that enfolded them both beneath its celestial cloak. Its pull proved irresistible, and they kissed once more. Deeper, slower, imbued with sweet indulgence, as though compensating for all the hours wasted from forbidding themselves to love. This intimacy was their sanctuary, where they needed not conceal their affection.

Heat blazed between the pair, each caress fanning their craving into a wildfire that reddened their cheeks. Their kiss grew careless and urgent, their ragged breaths grazing their prickling skins. Éorhild trailed along the curves of Éomer’s shoulders, her fingertips tangling in his unbound hair. His hands roamed her back, halting every so often to pinch her waist or cup the back of her skull.

Soft, breathy moans escaped them like sweet nothings whispered in the night. Éorhild’s belly coiled with molten flames far more potent than the ones that had overtaken her that morning by the bathtub and left her clutching the wall. This was no fleeting spark but a raging conflagration induced by the unrestrained connection they were sharing.

Both knew that this night — their night — was no longer one fated to be a mere pleasant memory but one they were bound to weave. One that was about to change them indefinitely.

Sensing the unravelling of her moderation as her torso shoved Éomer against the wooden panel, Éorhild emitted a sharp gasp that cut through the haze of their fiery endearment. Realisation struck her like a bolt of lightning, and her eyes, widened in terror, mirrored the chaos within. Staggering backwards, she tore herself away from him, the intensity with which she had touched him leaving her ruffled.

Her back collided with the opposite wall, the cold surface grounding her even as her chest heaved with panicked breaths. She raised a trembling hand to her lips, as though to keep the phantom of their kiss onto them. Across the distance that now separated them, Éomer’s stare burnt with surprise and yearning, but he made no move to close the gap. Instead, he simply watched, clasping his knees together and breathing in tandem with her, as though tethered to her every gasp.

‘D-Did I aggrieve you, beloved?’ he stuttered, flattening his hands against the wall as if it was the only way to keep them to himself.

‘N-No, I…’

She twisted a strand of her hair and averted her gaze. Hues adorning her delicate features oscillated between warm and cold tones, attesting of the dilemma that was tearing her apart. Lord Guthláf’s words crept into her mind again.

No amount of earthly pleasure shared with the prince is worth your death.

‘How… are you feeling?’

Contorting his traits into a wince, Éomer’s attention flitted between his thighs, her figure, and the despair in her eyes. A sneer of embarrassment fleeted from his throat.

‘Flustered, I will not lie,’ he laughed, the sound warm but laden with tension and self-consciousness. ‘I thought I had mastered myself, but I find that I am not as composed as I had hoped.’

Though self-deprecating, the smile he bestowed upon her was genuine. Leaning further against the wall, his head tapped against the wood in a soft thud, while his hand burrowed into one of his pockets, an unconscious attempt at distracting himself from the disrespectful thoughts invading his mind.

‘But I do not forget the danger that acting upon my impulses would entail, Éorhild. Rest assured.’

‘Tell me what you are thinking about.’

‘You would not want to hear any of it,’ he responded, his voice quavering as her questions only served to aggravate his state.

‘But what if I do?’

Bashful but bold, her challenge caught him off guard. There she stood, her fists clenched against her thighs in a posture both defensive and daring, urging him to speak the words he withheld from her. In that instant, she transcended her image of a meek and obedient servant. She was a woman asserting her desires, laying her heart bare, releasing hundreds of questions to know whether the man she cherished felt the same yearning deep within him.

‘You would think me depraved,’ he insisted, reluctant to answer her plea.

‘Éomer, please.’

His nostrils flared and, in a wary abdication, he caved in. Despite his acquiescence, a subtle defensiveness crept into his voice, betraying the inner battle he was fighting and failed to spare her from.

‘You truly want to know what I am thinking?’ he hissed. ‘I long to disrobe you and lay you down on my bed. I wish to explore every part of you, to trace your skin by candlelight, hearing your sighs with every kiss I give you like they are prayers lost in the night. All I want is to make you feel revered, though I may not know the way.’

A deep inhale filled his lungs upon the realisation that he had uttered his most intimate desires in a single breath. He shielded his mouth with a shivering hand, ashamed of the impropriety he had displayed in her presence. But she wanted to know, and he had delivered. Now, all he anticipated was her flight — his revelations had this tendency of drive her away. Would she return, this time?

Éorhild straightened her posture, lifting her chin with determination, and spoke.

‘Give me the order.’

Slackening his jaw, Éomer stared at her in stunned silence, his brain hassling to process the gravity of her demand. He tilted his head, attempting to clarify whether he had heard her properly or whether his discomposure had warped her meaning. But when she refused to stand down, it was clear as day — she wanted him to dictate her.

‘Éorhild, you cannot be serious,’ he said, repulsed by the prospect. ‘You are no hound to obey my bidding. You are a woman — strong, precious, radiant, and astoundingly intelligent — and I love you, beyond reason or restraint. Do not ask this of me; I could never forgive myself if I did it.’

The distance separating them dwindled to nothing as she approached to rest a hand on his forearm, demanding his patient attention. There was no surrender to be found in her eyes — no trace of sorrow, nor hesitation. Without the shadow of a doubt, she empathised with his torment as she observed it tearing through him as he grappled still with her request.

Éomer had always held her in the highest regard, admittedly more than she thought she deserved, valued her autonomy and integrity as if they were sacred and as he had so vehemently asserted earlier. That he would deny her, was no surprise. It was as much a testament to his respect for her as it was to the principles he upheld.

And yet, this situation demanded more.

Her expression softened into a compassionate display.

‘This is not about undermining what you hold dear or asking you to betray yourself,’ she explained with such calmness that it unsettled him. ‘It is about what lies between us, what we both feel and cannot deny. I am not demanding you to abandon your conscience for my sake, but to consider that this — us — requires us to make a choice together, no matter how unconventional it may seem.’

Her hand trailed upward, gliding over the sinew of his arm and the breadth of his shoulder, finding its path along the ridge of his clavicle. It lingered there for a few seconds, savouring the warmth beneath the unfastened collar of his garment, before it continued its ascent. At last, it ended its course against his cheek and the pad of her thumb gave a stroke over the plane of his face, light as a feather.

It cupped him there, steadying him even as he faltered under the weight of his concern. She swept away the faint sheen of perspiration that clung to his skin. To him, her gesture held more meaning than words ever could. It was a delicate blend of reassurance and intimacy, one that their laws prohibited — it was already a risk she took for him. In the quiet of that moment, her touch spoke what her lips needed not say — I am here. I am yours. It is us against all odds.

His broad palm rose to meet hers, enveloping it with an affection that belied its strength. He held it there, grateful for her existence.

‘Far be with from me to compel you to act against your will, but I must speak plainly. We have little choice but to navigate this treacherous power play if we wish to remain together — even in secrecy — and to consummate our bond.’

‘I despise this eventuality,’ he sighed.

‘Consider what lies before us. If you command me, it grants us a measure of protection, a shield should our union ever come to light. It would ensure my survival and safeguard your crown, however dreadful you may find the prospect of becoming king. If you refuse…’

She hesitated for a breath, her voice softening yet losing none of its courage.

‘If you refuse, we face a bitter fork in our road: either we surrender to our impulses and I forfeit my life, or we deny ourselves entirely until the day you take Lothíriel for a wife and share with her the night we meant for ourselves.’

‘You do not understand, sunnan scima min. I cannot bring myself to strip you of your agency by uttering such crude words. To command you, especially in this matter, would be to forsake all that I admire in you.’

Éomer placed a kiss upon her brow.

‘Never will I wield my rank as a leash upon you,’ he declared. ‘No one deserves such a fate — least of all you.’

‘Oh, love of mine, you would not do such a thing,’ she responded, peppering kisses along his jawline, causing him to blush. ‘It would be a mere façade, our armour against scrutiny. We would not need to craft falsehoods should the nature of our bond be called into question. Besides, did you not once tell me not to give words more weight than they deserved?’

He exhaled in amusement and disbelief, his eyes rolling in feigned exasperation while his arms encircled her waist.

‘I cannot believe you are using my words against me,’ he jested, delighted by her audacity.

Melodious and gracious, her laughter brushed over him like a comforting breeze on a suffocating summer’s day, disarming the tension that gripped him. Before he could phrase another pleasantry, she burrowed against his chest, and he could do nothing but wind his arms around her. Her fingers threaded through his hair, grazing his scalp in gentle motions, as she rocked him in a slow, rhythmic slay.

‘I want you to give me that order,’ she whispered into his ear. ‘For this and what would follow, you have my full and educated consent.’

Éomer measured the solemnity of her statement for a moment more, his brow furrowing in contemplation. Then, with a heavy sigh, he extricated himself from her embrace. He looked into her eyes, searching for a hint of apprehension, some inkling of qualm, but he found none. He perceived nothing but the depth of her desire for his whole person, and he would have been lying if he had said that it did not stir him.

‘Are you absolutely certain?’

‘I am.’

‘Then, at least, allow me to make things proper,’ he pleaded, the words almost reverent, as though their sole purpose was to right a hypothetical wrong, to give their union the form it had always lacked.

With an expression both earnest and vulnerable, and as the moonlight caressed the side of his face, he lowered himself to one knee in near veneration. Her breath caught in her throat as he picked up her hand and pressed it to his lips. There was a shift in the air, unexpected yet delightful, that emulated the eternal fealty they bore to each other. Uncertainty swirled inside her soul as she tried to decipher his intentions, speculating about the ceremony fastened to his gesture.

‘Éorhild, words fail me to demonstrate how absolute my infatuation is. There is no day worth rising for without you by my side. You have transformed me in greater ways than one, and thus I shall forever lament the time I lost before I saw you, before I truly learnt what it was to be treasured. You are, without question, the most wondrous being to have come into existence and graced this wretched world.’

‘Is such a formality necessary?’ she giggled behind her hand. ‘This hardly warrants a proposal.’

‘Let me finish,’ he insisted, a radiant smile tugging at his lips. ‘And so, at this late hour, I kneel before you not as a prince, but as a man whose every thought you occupy. Since our laws forbid me from presenting you with a ring or seeing you in a wedding gown, I wish to offer you my spirit and my heart through the gift of my flesh, and it is yours to use as you see fit. For when at last you enjoy me, the shape of your hands will forever be carved into my skin, so even when the time comes for me to marry, I will always carry you with me. So, Éorhild, I beg — no, I bid you — to bed me.’

She nodded with trepidation, and they fell into each other’s arms, their lips meeting into a fervent kiss. It struck her then, with startling clarity, how meticulous his phrasing had been — a crafted formulation to bestow her with the illusion of dominion, when reality lay far from it. And she loved him even more in that instant, with the ardour of the lords in the ballads of minstrels who worship the ladies they covet.

No sooner had she perceived the faint taste of wine upon his tongue than Éomer swept her off her feet. However much effort he had granted this motion, his lips remained sealed to hers, as though the very act of breathing without her might undo him. With a knightly grace, he carried her over to the rumpled bed, as though partaking in a solemn rite to translate relics to a sacred altar. Lowering her with tender care onto the bed, he held his breath when her golden hair, tousled and waved, fanned out across the pillow like a celestial crown, its lustre shining brighter even than the surviving candle’s flame.

Inclining over her, he found himself spellbound by her features. He traced the curve of her face, committing every detail to memory. He carved the crescent moon shape of her jaw into his consciousness, dotted each of the small moles he numbered eight onto the canvas, sculpted the aquiline curvature of her nose into marble, blended pigments to achieve the amber reflection in her irises and the fair hue of her skin, so accommodated to indoors settings.

At her waist, he found the belt that cinched her gown, the haphazard bow undoing with the gentle pull of his fingers and stirring the garment underneath. The rustle of the fabric unfastening reached his ears, as intimate as a shared breath. The loosened folds revealed her chemise, like a cloak of modesty, with its unadorned and humble weave coarse under his hand. He hesitated, his gaze searching hers for permission, and she granted it wholeheartedly, guiding him by the wrist to her frame. By parting the hems of her robe in a bolder brush against her collarbones, he was unveiling a treasure he deemed himself unworthy to behold.

Reaching her out to him, she drew him to her heart, forcing him to kneel on the mattress, and her mouth greeted his in a grand welcome. His lips withdrew to wander along her jawline, peppering pecks against her tingling skin, descending upon her exposed throat. Air flowed and ebbed from Éorhild’s lungs in succinct expirations, evoking to him the waves washing upon the lofty cliffs of Dol Amroth, which he had admired for hours during his diplomatic visit there, finding solace in the unfamiliarity of the landscape and isolation from Imrahil’s court.

Beneath him, Éorhild was overcome with conflicting sensations. The kisses laid upon her neck stirred a shiver that coursed down her sides, spreading like a cold tide meeting the warmth of the shore and crackling away across her chest like seafoam chasing the sand. Each instance triggered cool thrills, yet she felt as though she was melting — an ice sculpture surrendering to the embrace of the sun, fading drop by drop into its irresistible grip.

In return, she wove a hand through his tresses. As his chaste, titillating strokes deepened into firm, open-mouthed kisses, each stoking the embers of her desire and amplifying her sensitivity, she gave a careful tug at their root, muffling a whimper in the crook of his shoulder.

Without thinking, her fingers found his shirt and bunched the fabric between them, yanking it upward and over his head. He complied without protest, assisting her in shedding the constricting garment. Straightening, he balled the shirt in his grasp and hurled it over his shoulder. It fended the air with considerable force and sailed dangerously close to the open flame of the candle, the anticipation of a catastrophe hitching their breaths. A faint metallic thud echoed as the shirt landed and sprawled atop his helm upon the dresser, and they laughed, relieved to have avoided a mishap.

Sparks illuminated her eyes at the sight of his bare torso, as numerous as the celestial bodies he had seen immortalised in Lady Galadriel’s irises. Yet, in the eyes of his beloved, even the legendary splendour of the Trees of Valinor paled before the radiance she brought to his world.

When her fresh palms lay upon the burning expanse of his chest, he yielded to gravity and passion, collapsing onto her with an urgency that bordered on obsession. His head nestled beneath her chin and questing flickers of his tongue chasing the ridge of her clavicle. The gasps he had drawn from her before magnified into strangled moans, ever so rewarding.

‘I want to devour you,’ he groaned against her dampened skin. ‘All of you.’

‘Do proceed, min heortan frean…’

Éomer cradled her chin in his hand, his thumb caressing the groove between her lower lip and her chin. His smile, candid and unguarded, spoke volumes — a quiet declaration of love that required no utterance.

‘May I disrobe you, leofre healsmægeth?’

‘I feared I might never hear you request it.’

She slipped from beneath him with an unhurried grace and rose. Standing before him, she was a vision caught between shadow and light, her form etched in soft luminescence dancing upon her shift. Her wrists moved with purpose, finding the ribbon at her collar, and with a deft motion, she loosened the tie. The neckline dipped to reveal the robust slope of her shoulders. A mere flick made her garment abandon her frame, cascading along the curves of her body before pooling into a heap at her ankles.

To him, she was a masterpiece, sculpted by the hands of the Valar themselves, and Éomer was undone. As he admired her, he forgot to draw breath, and his eyes widened as if the shores of Aman laid bare before him while the songs of the Eldar arose around him. Éorhild was the divine made flesh — there was nothing he could imagine would equal or surpass the vision of her figure in the moonlight, unclad specifically for his enjoyment.

He was unworthy of it all. He was but a flawed mortal, graced by the presence of this entity that, he felt, required of him to kneel. And he would have gladly obeyed, if not for his compulsion to explore her further.

He joined her side, caressing the defined muscles of her arms, chiselled by years of incessant scrubbing, carrying, lifting, swinging and rattling. With her eyes following his every movement, she seemed achingly vulnerable, and her lack of elocution led him to believe that she awaited some sort of approval from him — any sign that proved that her offering of her body had been seen, accepted, and valued.

As though words would have cheapened the reverence he experienced, he stared in sheer awe. But when she averted her eyes, as if doubt was corrupting her confidence, he tilted her chin towards him with a curled finger.

‘You are more exquisite than every treasure ever unearthed, more radiant than the stars that adorn our skies. Béma be damned, you steal the very air from my lungs,’ he murmured. ‘And now, more than ever, I desire you, in a way beyond all reason.’

‘May I undress you?’ she enquired, fragile with longing.

‘You may do as you wish with me. But this — this I long to give you.’

Swelling his chest with determination, Éomer unlaced the ties of his trousers. They slid from his legs, bunching at his ankles until he lifted his feet to ease the fabric off. He discarded it onto the floor and undid his braies with measured gestures, watching for any shift in her expression. When he finally stood before her, exposed in spirit and body, there was no sign of discomfort on her traits — only a flustered blush.

‘Are you still willing?’ he whispered, daring not to even hold her hand.

‘I am. Are you?’

‘What a question.’

Amidst a torrent of kisses, their naked bodies clasped together and came to rest upon the sheets once more. Torrid streaks formed sigils imprinted on their skin, igniting a hunger neither could quench. Exhalations mingled, swirled around their flushed face as their murmured voices, hoarse and tremulous, rose in a hymn to lust that only they could understand and sing.

Éorhild shivered under his hands, two tepid ripples amidst her body now subjected to the crisp wintry air. His mouth journeyed across the contours of her form, mapping every rise and hollow in almost piety. Meanwhile, his fingers traced the gentle curve of her breast, their path inflaming a crescendo of pleasure that unfurled within her core, lifting the banners ever higher upon her hills.

Breaching through the last vestiges of their sheepishness, Éomer descended, nestling his face into the sanctuary between her silken thighs. His nose grazed the curls crowning her mound, and with a devotion deeper than prayers could ever convey, he venerated her in the hushed language of sensuality. At first, in spite of his fervent desire to please, his tongue shifted with tentative hesitance, somewhat inept at procuring her what he believed she deserved. Her gaze drifted to the timbered ceiling above, as though seeking answers among the beams and shadows, striving to decipher the dim sensations prickling her.

‘Guide me, beloved,’ he pleaded, his breath hot against her exposed flesh. ‘Show me how to ravish you.’

‘I know not how,’ she admitted, her tone laced with the unfortunate tint of shame. ‘I have never sought such things before.’

He lifted his head in surprise, while his feet found purchase against the footboard of his bed behind him.

‘Not even behind closed doors?’

‘Éomer,’ she laughed, ‘I have lived nearly my whole life sharing a room with other girls, and even my bath was never a time for solitude. Besides, my days often exhausted me too much to allow such matters to cross my mind.’

‘Then, I suppose we should figure out a way — together,’ he teased with a proud grin before dipping his head back onto her.

He ventured onward in his exploration, each motion of his lips a studious reimagining of his previous attempts, drawing a map of her most receptive areas. The warmth of his breath swept over her, and he noted with great satisfaction how it ignited her pleasure anew. Finding a resting place upon her soft stomach, his hand unwittingly tugged at her skin. Her body responded instinctively — an abrupt jolt, accompanied by a sharp squeal that expressed her surprise and delight.

‘There!’ she gasped. ‘Right… there! Just… gentle…’

There it was indeed — his new treasure.

Her sighed pleas and muttered instructions guided him through the unknown, and in them he found his purpose; in her ecstasy, he found his incentive. Relentless yet mellow, he pursued her rising fervour, his focus unbroken as he listened to her cries of mounting elation. White-knuckled, her fingers gripped the sheets, her back arching into a bow of exquisite tension. Her free hand found the crown of his hair and grabbed a fistful, which she released when she realised the abruptness of her gesture. But he maintained it there, discovering an unsuspected taste for this rough display. At once, her world dissolved as a frigid wave crashed over her senses, dragging her into a rapture that evoked the sensations of simultaneous soaring and drowning.

Her knees enclosed his head in an instinctive embrace, a cry tearing from the very depths of her being. Slowly, the storm subsided, and with a long, deflating sigh, her body sank back onto the mattress. All else faded but the racing cadence of her heart, drumming a rhythm into her ears.

Éomer placed a tender kiss on her golden curls and crawled back to meet her, admiring her undone state. In his eyes, she had never looked more sumptuous —her damp, parted lips, her crimson face, and the wild tangles in her hair formed a vision of beauty that left him breathless.

Éorhild’s eyes fluttered open, drawn to his presence hovering above her. A playful smile dug dimples into her cheeks as she reached up to brush her thumbs against his beard to dry it, while a light laugh rose in her throat.

‘You look ridiculous.’

‘I do not mind it one bit,’ he chuckled in response, his eyes softening at her sight.

Oh, how he loved her.

‘What prompted you to do such a thing?’

‘Tavern songs,’ he recounted with a shrug. ‘Soldiers exchanging bawdy tales while setting up camp. You should remember to thank them for their service when you encounter them next.’

They erupted in laughter, and he sought refuge in the curve of as he breathed in her natural fragrance that clung to her skin. She encircled him with her arms around him and pressed her lips to his temple.

‘I do not know what to do to delight you in return.’

‘Do not trouble yourself over it, my love,’ he intoned, combing a loose strand of her hair away from her forehead. ‘There will be nigh on countless nights for us to uncover such wonders together. For now, I wish to… I wish to give myself to you. If you are still willing, that is.’

She stayed quiet, her stare fixed on some distant point ahead. This was the moment that her body had implored — yet now the leap seemed impossibly high, the weight of it all pressing down on her chest. A storm of doubts and fears whirled with fierce violence, threatening to pull her away from the present.

But before the tempest could carry her away, the caress of his palm against her jaw grounded her. His hazel eyes, beacons in the blur, silenced the chaos.

‘Are you afraid?’

‘Never have I lain with a man,’ she confessed, though she knew the admission was nothing new to him. Her voice remained steady, but there was palpable vulnerability in it. ‘I know not what to do.’

‘I have lain with no man or woman. I have kissed other ladies, I will admit, but it has never gone this far. I know not if it eases your mind, but I, too, am untried. What I do know is to be gentle, and that is all I shall be. I promise you. And should you wish to stop, say the word, my sweet, and I will pull away without question or disappointment.’

‘Will you not consider this opportunity wasted on me?’

Éomer cradled her face between his palms, brushing his lips across it, until his gentle exploration came to rest at the tip of her nose.

‘There could be no more meaningful opportunity than this, lufestran. None more loving,’ he said, leaning his forehead against hers. ‘Tales of old tell of first unions as a moment when a piece of the lover’s soul is captured, a gift to carry for a lifetime. Now, I may not be a poet, nor one for grand gestures, but my mother filled my bairnhood with enough ballads to make me believe in such things. And truth be told, I would be beyond honoured to carry a piece of you with me, onto the throne and unto my grave, and for you to hold my heart in return.’

Éorhild’s thoughts turned to the future, to the inevitable day when they would part, and the prospect tightened around her heart like a vice. As she beheld him in enamoured contemplation, a smile broke through, warm and steady.

If the old stories held any truth, then the only one to hold a fragment of her essence would be Éomer. There was no question. She knew it, and deep inside her bones, she had known it for a long time.

‘Then claim it.’

Tag list: @emmanuellececchi @konartiste @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras

If you wish to be tagged (or no longer tagged), don't hesitate to let me know!

[kurokawaia]

❛ Your Mine ❜ - Chapter 5

Yandere!Lan Wangji X Fem!Reader

| YANDERE + DARK CONTENT | this meaning, if you don't like this content, then just scroll away

WC; 3.9k + | !MDNI! | TW/CW : x fem reader, yandere x fem reader, yandere themes, another kidnapping lmao, lan wangji steals you agn, prone bone, overstimulation, cervix fucking, no protection, oral -> female receiving, missionary, praise, handjob, slight? begging, slight bondage with his head band thingy + more

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝒞𝐻𝒜𝒫𝒯𝐸𝑅 𝒮𝒰𝑀𝑀𝒜𝑅𝒴 :: This results in Wangji kidnapping her and hiding her secretly, visiting her to only have sex. He loves her of course, but he spends time with her, not only to have sex, but to be near her. This is the softest Lan Wangji will ever be towards you. You tried to run away from him, only because you felt suffocated hiding, Jiang Cheng tried to help but failed. The second attempt you made by yourself and that soft love you were getting changed, it was only rough, dominating sex. But he accidentally confesses and you did to, which changed the mood, it wasn't rough, but just intense.

part 4 | part 5 | Part 6

Days blended into weeks, and weeks possibly months.

He loved you, or so he said, but it wasn't the love you had ever envisioned. Lan Wangji was transformed from protector to captor, possessed by a deep obsession, unable to bear the thought of letting you out of his sight. You sat on the bed and waited, knowing that he would be there soon, as he had always been. The footsteps echoed through the hidden corridor, and your heart jumped into your chest. You couldn't tell whether it was out of fear or anticipation. 

Perhaps both. The door creaked open, and Lan Wangji stepped inside, his gaze finding you right away. 

His presence overwhelmed you, as it usually did. It was the only time he ever allowed himself to be vulnerable when he came to see you. He crossed the room silently, sitting beside you on the bed. His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You flinched slightly, but he didn't seem to notice perhaps he chose not to. "I missed you," he whispered, his tone all but gentle. 

His fingers traced along the outline of your cheek, his touch suddenly so delicate for a man who had grown so perilous in his obsession. You said nothing. What was there to say? You were his prisoner, tucked deep and far from the world, from your family, from Jiang Cheng-who once tried and failed to save you. That memory haunted you; that moment you tried to run, Jiang Cheng found you and tried to spirit you away from Gusu. But Lan Wangji had found you even before you managed to reach the borders of the Lan Clan's territory. The rage in his eyes had been terrifying, and the punishment that followed... 

Your body shuddered under him, causing your grip on his hands to weaken. Your hips were secured, and then his power hoisted you onto your knees as a bicep encircled your neck, lifting your head.

Your head was lifted from the futon with as you weakly propped yourself up on your elbows, the grip was not firm.

You arched your back heavily, able at last to sink further into his embrace. Lan Wangji leaned over, drawing you near to him and initiating a messy, moist kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth, letting out grunts as he absorbed your sounds of pleasure. Lan Wangji moaned in satisfaction, praising you for taking him so deeply as he intensified the pressure on your back. He observed as your ass pressed against his lower stomach, gazing at your cunt with dark irises.

You shuddered at the thought. 

Jiang Cheng hadn't dared to try again. Lan Wangji's hand had tightened on yours, pulling you out of your thoughts. "You are mine," he whispered. "I cannot let you go. Tears pricked at your eyes, and you blinked them away. "I cannot continue to live like this," you said out loud. "You have taken everything in my life from me: my family, my freedom... I cannot breathe here." "You are safe here," he said simply, as if that was all that mattered. "I cannot lose you. "But you are losing me," you replied, voice quivering. "I feel like I'm being suffocated. You are not protecting me, Wangji-you are holding me hostage."

He pulled you closer into his arms, which folded around you, meant to be comforting, just suffocating. "I do this because I love you," he whispered softly against your ear, his warm breath dancing along your skin. "I love you more than you can possibly understand."

It's been three rounds already, in the same position, and your poor body getting folded into that position. Your back and knees were beginning to ache, but you loved how his dick trusted so perfectly up into your cunt, you see stars every time you gush around his cock.

Lan wangji lowers down to your trembling body, tingles were getting sent all throughout your body from the kiss, he was being so rough yet deep. The breath was stolen from your lungs every time he moaned into your moan, and you had the same effect on him.

"You're doing so good for me," he hums against your skin, inhaling your naturally sweet scent. "You're going to take me, sweetheart, going to take everything I give you."

You sob. "Don't think I can anymore."

He presses his lips to yours, his tongue entangling with your own and you both moan into each other's mouths. Lan wangji drags his length out, a breathless sigh emitting from your mouth into his own, relief crossing your features, thinking that the two of you were done.

But then, all of a sudden your head was thrown back in overstimulation, and a moan strung from your mouth as his cock slides right back into your cum filled walls.

You swallowed hard, your heart heavy with the weight of his words. "This isn't love," you whispered. "Love doesn't feel like this." His grip on you tightened slightly, his fingers pressing into your skin. "You are wrong," he said. "You will understand one day. Until then, I will protect you. He kissed you then, his lips possessive, claiming you in a manner that denied all avenues of escape. You were trapped in this kiss, in his arms, in this small chamber that had become your prison.

Tingles were getting sent all throughout your body from the kiss, he was being so gentle yet deep. The breath was stolen from your lungs every time he moaned into your moan, and you had the same effect on him, he was restraining himself from pouncing on to you.

The heartbeat in your pussy was so heavy, so prominent as Lan Wangji deepens the kiss per second, you were afraid that if his t high were to take place against your cunt, he would feel how needy you are, how much you need him to pleasure you.

Why do you love him?

And he did exactly what you were hoping for him to not do, and that was to shift his legs, which now, one of them was placed in between your own, pressed against your throbbing heat. A hopeless moan falls past your lips and Lan Wangji smirks into the kiss.

"I can feel you," he groans agasint your mouth.

In response, you drag one of your hands down his chest, slowly, feeling every ridge of his chest and abs, of course, Lan Wangji moans heavily into your mouth. He loved how you touched his body despite the scars that were littered over his pale skin.

Your hand dragged across his happy trail, and you could feel his abs flexing agasint your arm before you teased the tip of his erect cock, a moan emitting loudly from him.

Pulling his lips from yours before diving into your neck, kissing and sucking your flesh while you slowly pumped his cock, smearing the precum around his tip before moving your hand down his length once more.

His kisses moved lower, and lower until he was no longer in reach of your hand to his dick and you huffed in disappointment. However, your disappointment vanished when your eyes widened in pleasure when he pried your thighs open wider and gave sucks to your inner thighs before kissing closer to your cunt.

A kiss to your clit was all that was needed for your hands to entangle with Lan Wangji's hair. " Lan Wangji!" you moan, thighs immediately tightening around his head, your legs over his shoulders.

A moan vibrates from Lan Wangji's mouth, straight into your clit and a whine emits from your lips. "P-Please," you beg quietly. "M-More."

"Mmmmm," he hums against your clit as he moved his mouth from your entrance, the vibrations causing you to gasp out in pleasure.

Arching your back, your cunt only pressed further into Lan Wangji's face, you just wanted to have your release, you body was aching, aching so much. You could see stars every time he curls his fingers into your sweet spot.

"Wangji," you whine subtly, you want him inside you so badly.

"I know," Lan Wangji speaks against your folds, nose bumping against your clit, "Gotta make sure you're all prepped for me, you haven't had me in a while."

"M'know... but please, wanna...." you quietly trail off, embarrassed to say any more.

Lan Wangji licks a long strip up your cunt, fingers slowly pumping in and out your silky walls. "What, baby? what do you want?" he hums, teasing you, knowing how shy you are and how embarrassed you get.

Every stripe of his tongue on your clit made your body shudder, so much so that you felt as if you were doing to pass out. "Cum, I wanna so bad," you whimper, tears filling your lash line. "Need you... i-in me."

"Alright," Lan Wangji replies. "Got to give my wife what she needs."

"Please," you say, your whimpers getting louder when he speeds up the pace of his fingers and tongue.

"Wangji," you moan out. "Feels so good."

Once more, Lan Wangji's nose brushes up against your delicate clit, and your grip on his hair tightened. A satisfied sigh seeps through him into your folds as a mewl from your full lips. As he sucked your clit between his lips and flicked your sensitive bud with his tongue, Lan Wangji was eagerly moving his head in motion to get a full dive into your cunt.

His tongue climbs up from your wet hole to your clit while you let out a moan. Your thighs tighten around his head as a result of his advances, and as you grind down on his face, a moan echoes through your clit.

Your lips were filled with chants of his name, and he relished every moment of it. Lan Wangji's two fingers inside your cunt began to move once more, you eyes widened, your back further arched into his face, thighs clenching tighter around your head.

"Wangji, f-feels s' good," you moan, tears spilling past your lash line, he was making you feel so good.

His finger pressed up against that soft spot inside your walls.

"Taking it so well, you're so good f'me," Lan Wangji moans against you, refusing to rut his hips into the futon, this was your pleasure, not his own, for now.

A moan arouses from you and your hips grind themselves onto his face. He let you for once have some sort of control over the situation, and he decided that if you came quicker he'll let you do it more often. "That's it," he praised.

You cry his name through broken letters, and he moves more quickly and needily, and the one hold he had on your leg tightens. Your fingers encircled his locks to prevent him from moving and force him to breathe more deeply into your folds as your tummy coil tightened.

The grunts just served to tip you over the brink, and when he pressed his tongue firmly against your clit, you let out a low-pitched scream. Your stomach coil parted, drenching his face in your cum.

With your soaked pussy flowing out from your swollen folds, he carefully withdrew his fingers. You softly mewl in overstimulation and plant a kiss on your clit before lifting his head from your thighs.

And just like that, he holds the base of his cock, angling his tip towards your entrance. He continues to push further into you making your eyebrows furrow together in pain but the pleasure is still overwhelming your senses making tears prick at your eyes.

"Oh, you feel so good," Lan Wangji moan into your neck. "You're so perfect."

"You feel so good," you moan. The feeling of pure ecstasy of him fully entered you.

you feel his dick scraping across your plush walls in all the right places as he slowly exited your cunt, but not fully. Our moans and whimpers get swallowed by each other. you feel his thrusts speed up and you moan in response, your walls clenching around him causing the grip Lan Wangji held on your thigh and waist to tighten.

The coil in your stomach getting tighter and your moans slightly became higher. Lan Wangji continued to groan into your neck after he pulled away from the heated kiss.

"You make- me feel so goo- d," you say moaning throughout your sentence, "Feels so good-"

"I'm close-," He groans.

"Me too," you choke out.

you felt the coil in your stomach snap as your back arched painfully into Lan Wangji's bare chest causing Lan Wangji to groan and his arms to wrap tightly around you. After a few more pumps Lan Wangji came, filling your cunt with cum, letting a few more rolls of his hips into you to help ride out both our highs before he pulled out slowly, making sure not to hurt you.

His forehead leaning against yours. "I love you," he whispered. "And I will never let you go." You closed your eyes, allowing tears to slip down your cheeks. There was no escaping him. Lan Wangji's love had turned into an all-consuming darkness, a darkness that had swallowed you whole. He came to see you often, sat for hours in your company, sometimes just sitting in silence, at other times kissing and touching you, holding you close, as if at any moment you would disappear. 

And every time you thought about running again, about trying to find your way back to Jiang Cheng, back to your family, you remembered Lan Wangji's eyes the last time you had tried to run. You remembered the way he had so promptly caught you, the way he'd firmly dragged you back to Gusu, whispering dark promises that you would never run from him again. You were his. Completely. And no matter how suffocating his love became, you could not see a way out. "I want to breathe," you whispered one night, the sound barely audible as you shook in the circle of his arms. "You are breathing," Lan Wangji replied calmly, his hand stroking your hair with languid ease. But you weren't. Not really. 

You were drowning, and there was no escaping it, no matter how much you love him.

You needed to get away. You waited for the dead of night, knowing it was the only time you'd have.

Your heartbeat in your chest, your quaking hands eased the hidden door open, and you crept through the halls.  But you weren't fast enough. You'd barely cleared the outer courtyard when you felt his presence. You spun on your heel and you saw him. He had you caught. Again. "Where do you think you're going?"  "I-" Your voice stuttered, taking a step backward.

 You knew you could never run from him. Saying nothing more, he leaned over you and clamped your wrist. He didn't have to hurt you, as he knew just too well you would listen either way. "You promised me you wouldn't run," he told you in a calm voice. "I-I won't be able to live like this, Wangji," you stammered, already feeling your eyes prick with tears. "I can't-" He cut you off before you could finish, his lips slamming onto yours which took your breath away as his hold on you tightened, pinning you to the wall. His hands roamed your body, not in that tender manner he had previously used, but with an urgency. You tried pulling away, but he was too strong, his need too overpowering. He was claiming you-in his possessiveness that swallowed you whole. And then, his lips whispered against the shell of your ear, and you heard words he almost never said.

"I love you," he whispered. "I love you more than anything.". "I love you, too," you whispered, the words escaped before you could stop them from spilling out. He could almost fall apart right there and then, you say those words so genuinely. 

You felt the change in the way his touch softened and became purposed. His hands roam your body, but this time not to claim or control, but to feel you, connect to you. You kissed him back, your body arcing into his, your hands tangling in his hair as you drew him closer. The intensity of the kiss grew, but it wasn't rough anymore. It was just... passionate. Raw. He'd been whispering your name between kisses. "I don't want to lose you. I don't. I love you so much." You clung to him, tears escaping down your cheeks. But this time, you didn't try getting away. You didn't push him away. 

Because for the very first time, you truly felt you were with him. He'd pulled you close, his body pressed to yours in that instant, and you realized you'd stopped fighting. You'd stopped fighting the pull of his love no matter how suffocating or overwhelming it had been. Because you loved him too.

You were his. And he was yours.

Back in the room, you both bare and exposed. 

You felt the weight of Lan Wangji's bare body press against your back and you let out a soft huff at the sudden feeling. His mass was pressing me hard to the mattress. His hands trailing down your waist. His big hands moved to grip the backs of your small ones, rendering your ability to squirm out of Lan Wangji's hold.

His abs were flush against your back, hands gripping the backs of your own, pressing them into the bed before wrapping his forehead band around your hands, keeping you in place. Lan Wangji's breath tickled your ear and you wiggled your head at the warm sensation, your core getting wetter, your body trying to squirm away from the imposing hold that he had on you.

Lan Wangji's hands moved slowly, changing his grip so that one of his hands held both of you over your head, being cautious not to get your hair entangled within the movement. A content sigh leaves your mouth when Lan Wangji raises his body ever so slightly, trailing his free hand down the expanse of your smooth back before his fingers meet your slick entrance.

"Don't even think that you need prep," he mutters against your ear before taking a nibble at the collagen, you let out a gasp at the sudden action. Lan Wangji let out a breathy laugh at your reaction.

Then you felt a heavy, throbbing tip press against your clit and you moaned from the small touch. You tried to squirm away from the pleasurable cause but couldn't as Lan Wangji knew your body more than you did yourself, he knew you were gonna try to run from his body due to the pleasure. So, he pressed his weight against you once more.

You held your breath when Lan Wangji sank his throbbing cock into your spongey walls, his length getting squeezed by every ridge within your soaked cunt. A moan left both of your mouths as Lan Wangji's length nudged the deepest spot within you.

"Look how you take me in," Lan Wangji grunts. "Such a good little slut." You sigh in pleasure at the degradative praise, he knew that you loved to be worshipped in an abasement way, you savoured his words struck him so deeply. In a way he never wanted to call you anything else.

But he didn't move, he wanted to relish in on how you desired to cause friction, desired to move against his touch, but couldn't. Lan Wangji's cock, prodded so deep in your gummy walls that you whimpered in pleasure, but that didn't stop him from not moving. He was still snug inside.

Hot and heavy kisses trail down from your ear down to the dip of your neck to shoulder and a breathless sigh escaped your parted lips before Lan Wangji rolled his hips into yours. A moan slips out of your mouth, his thick length scraping all the sensitive parts of your warm insides.

Lan Wangji's knees spread your legs apart so that any advances from you ensured that they would be shut down, so that you remained situated below him, your pretty body that paled in comparison to his big frame. As he expected, you couldn't move from his trapping embrace.

His movements became faster, his cock thrusting into the depths of my needy hole as strained moans and whines left your throat. Lan Wangji was panting in your ear and an occasional deep groan slipped past his lips, the sounds which made your cunt flutter tightly around his length.

Lan Wangji was filling you up to the hilt, his throbbing pink tip hitting that soft, gummy spot in my cunt that caused me to scream out in fulfilment. Your body tried to arch away from the pleasure, not being able to take the strong rolls of Lan Wangji's hips, but as you arched your back away, his thrusts only aimed deeper, harder into your G spot. 

Repetitive moans left your mouth while he pounded into your tight heat. You suddenly had the instinctive urge to press yourself into his length, but you couldn't, his weight was too heavy for you to move against him, and you were utterly hopeless as his thrusts became faster.

"Please, I wanna come," you cry out mewling. 

Your body trembled beneath him and the hold he had on your hands loosened. Your hips were getting held, then, the strength he possessed lifted you onto your knees before a bicep wrapped around your throat, lifting your head. It wasn't a tight grip but the power lifted your head from the futon while you shakily rested your weight on your elbows.

Your back arched heavily, finally being able to sink more into him. Lan Wangji hunched over you, pulling you closer to him and connected your mouth in a sloppy, wet kiss, forcing his tongue inside your mouth, grunting into you while he swallowed your moans. "Good girl, taking me so deep," Lan Wangji groaned, pulling away from your mouth and pushing this arch into your back deeper.

He watched your ass ripping again his lower abdomen, watching your cunt with purple iris'. Observing how your walks sucked him in, leaving a creamy white rind of arousal around the base of his cock. "Making you feel so good, aren't I?" Lan Wangji groaned his head tilted forward, sweat beading on his forehead as we watched your fall apart and tremble from his dick, broken moans slipping past your plump lips.

A satisfied smirk came onto Lan Wangji's face as he watched those tears that welled in your fluffy lash line spill down your smooth cheeks. "Such a good little- slut," Lan Wangji groans. "Pussy taking me in so deep."

"'Wanna come, please," you beg, wanting to feel the release, desperate as the tears stream down your flushed cheeks. "Want it so bad."

You clench around his length as he increases his pace, instantly accommodating to the speed but your moans escalate. "Such a good girl," He leaned down and mumbled in my ear chased with a deep moan that stirred my insides clenching around his length. "C'mon, how much you want it?" Lan Wangji rasps in your ear.

"Want it so bad!" you whimper, unable to comprehend any thoughts that swelled into your head. "Please, please, please!"

"Go ahead," he growled and you spasmed around his length as your high washed over you, your legs shaking as his weight pressed down even more than it was. His thrusts didn't slow causing me to whimper in overstimulation, but Lan Wangji helped it, his hips continuing to rut into mine, helping me ride out my orgasm as he chased his own.

With a groan, his lips planted against mine once again as his hips slammed into mine, hard, his cum spilling inside me causing me to moan into his kiss. Lan Wangji slipped his softening length out, and pulled away from the kiss as you slumped to the futon, his eyes chained to the white splotches of silky come that spilled from your gaping cunt

"I'll clean you up," he continued, picking your limp and tired body up.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

[anmolsmsblog]

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[amnignsity]

Why not?...

Lee Minho x Male reader.

Reader is kinda childish when it comes to Minho in a way. >Minho calls reader BunBun while Reader calls Minho minmin.<

You and Minho have been friends since the beginning of kindergarten, always together and never apart.

Hand holding one another and sticking up for each other neither of you guys could ever be separated.

"Look minmin! it's a caterpillar!" You uttered being 5 years old as you point at a caterpillar, 6 year old Minho looks at it before looking at you with a disgusted expression.

"It has too many arms, bunbun..." Minho uttered as I quickly lifted you up moving you behind him while you jsut pouted crossing your arms.

"But it's so cute~" You whined while minho just pulled you away from it like was gonna harm you. Minho rolled his eyes as he huffed having alot of attitude despite being a kid.

"It's poisonous." Minho uttered as he makes you sit down the sand play area - grabbing a sandcastle making equipment, a shovel, bucket, etc...

You could barely remember it - he was your little protector since childhood and while you two grow up.

You couldn't help but notice how everything slowly shifted to place.

"But minmin...you said we could today..." 12 year old you pouted as you sat at the edge of his bed, running your hands through your hair while minho focused on his project.

"I said there MIGHT be a chance we could.." 13 years old Minho said as he grabs the hot glue gun and does his work. You crossed your arms as you pouted.

"Fine then I'll go a-" "No you won't" Minho interrupted you briefly as he sighed, looking at you with his stern gaze that others would be intimidated off but not you.

Never you..

You held your breath as you looked at him with an angry pouty look trying to be angry but the look minho gave you was too cute...cute?...nah funny.

"Pft-.. you look like a gargoyle..." You laughed while minho grumbled a hint of red against his cheeks as he looked at you, briefly frowning before a soften gaze was placed for a bit.

You're voice is like music to his ears...

"But she said she loves me, minmin!" 16 year old you uttered in pure distress as you whimpered sobbing mess as you desperately gripped on his shirt while 17 year old minho softly caresses your back.

"I know..." Minho muttered as you both hid behind a wall away from the horrid scenery of your girlfriend kissing another man.

Minho looked at the ways the bouquet of flowers you bought was now on the ground a mess and thrown easily.

How badly wanted to destroy her life then and there...

Maybe not the best way to act upon or think of when angry but she betrayed and hurted someone who loved her.

Specially someone like his best friend who he cares for alot...

You both laid upon the soft grass, having a picnic as you gaze upon the stars—they shined so brightly against the dark purple-ish blue sky and how the moon was lightning up the way.

"Aren't the stars beautiful tonight, minmin?..." You spoke calmly as you sighed—Minho hums in response as he continued to glance your way.

Look into your eyes as they reflect the stars in the night, laying beside one another as your hands were grazing against each other.

"They are...they look so beautiful..." Minho muttered, you chuckled a bit as it was slightly rare for Minho to speak in such a sweet and soft tone. Mostly quiet and a hint of sass but still...

Minho couldn't help but feel the way his heart slightly flutter at the sound of your voice, the butterflies swirling around his stomach, his ears red and his lips into a small smile.

Looking at the way your side profile looks, he thinks you look beautiful even if you find yourself being insecure about it—the way your lashes flutter with each and every blink, your cheeks puffing up with every smile you make.

You were seventeen now and minho was eighteen...

He was gonna be going away for college very soon—but he'd stop a year just to wait for you...

You sighed softly as you slowly closed your eyes and just feel the wind and coldness of it pass through your bodies—slowly feeling another warmth as minho's hand gently covered yours.

"BunBun...You're shivering, you're cold too..." Minho mumbled as he slowly gets a blanket beside him but he still didn't let go of your hand—you slightly opened your eyes as you look up at him.

His face card was always insane to you, he was adorable but also fierce. He was handsome but also hot?...you couldn't help but admire how his brows were furrowed and how how much he prioritizes you above anyone else.

"I am...minmin...can we stay like this forever?.." You asked as you slowly intertwined both your hands together—sharing your warmth as minho's eyes soften and slowly pulled you into a hug.

You found yourself nuzzled against his neck as you both cuddled underneath the stars, the silence were peaceful and so comforting towards you both.

"Of course, BunBun...Remember always together in forever?.." Minho muttered the same words you spoke when you were little—earning a soft chuckle from your lips as you sighed and repeated.

"Always together in forever..."

You slowly closed your eyes as your breathing steadied—Minho was awake still, holding your sleeping figure as he gently tightens his hold. His chin over your head as he sighed.

Feeling a tear slid down his cheek whilst he thinks about everything...about you..

"You know minmin...If you were a girl...I'd date you..." You uttered being sick and in bed whilst he fed you your soup—hearing your words as he froze a bit.

Minho chuckled nervously as he sweatdrops a bit, gulping the lump forming in his throat as he repeats your words inside his head before slowly parting his lips and speaking as well.

"Why not now too?..." Minho muttered cheekily trying to hide the fact that he was nervous and flustered at the thought—looking down at you, gently moving the little pieces of hair stuck against your forehead.

You were warm, very hot infact due to the fever—slightly sweating as you gaze upon him, you could barely think or register your words. The warm your body was making made you hazy.

"Because you're a boy...and everyone knows boys can't like boys..."

You uttered softly—Minho froze at your words as he felt suddenly sick to his stomach at the way it dropped, eyes brimming with tears as his breath slightly stopped. Looking down at you who looked so innocent while saying those hurtful words...

Minho shuddered as he sniffled quietly remembering that moment...oh how cruel was this world to him. Holding you tightly as he tried to stop himself from crying, maybe trying to comfort himself too knowing the fact he couldn't have you.

Maybe in another life...he can have you...

ᯓᡣ𐭩Mxlist°

Author's note: I'M KINDA BACK Y'ALL, ANYWAYS FOR MY MALE READERS IF THERE ARE ANY. HERE Y'ALL GOOOO!!

[amiharana]

and even more revalink hcs from this post part 6

previous hc part 5 x i'm too lazy to tag the other ones, just go through this one 😭 i haven't done one of these in a bit so i'm doing this for funsies 😹

who's the primary protector of the two?

hard to say, since they're both warriors with protective instincts, and link had to have learned some survival skills & instincts in botw

neither of them ever rest really, constantly on their guard because they're not letting anyone get the slip on them

i imagine that maybe they bicker over who gets to protect the other, always insisting that they'll be the one to save the other 😹

who sleeps in and who is the early bird?

i think we should know by now where i stand on this 😹

i am the self-proclaimed #1 sleepy link x coddler revali enthusiast. you know damn well i am tucking that blond twunk into a soft comfy bed (the bed being revali)

who is the least patient?

hard to pin down as a generalization, because it's circumstantial between the two of them imo

like we all know link would stare into a campfire all night just to be able to hunt the best game at the exact crack of dawn

but revali is very thoughtful and methodical to me. i just reviewed his diary and the cb memory, and it's clear that his dedication to the craft warrants a lot of strategy, perseverance, and patience. he can be incredibly patient for the things that matter most to him

(i also really like the idea that revali would be very patient with fledglings 🥺 gordon ramsey type beat)

that being said, both revali and link will have a breakdown trying to assemble a single chair from ikea. they insist that the furniture is cursed but zelda assembles it in less than five minutes

which of the two listens to old music and which one is more into the newer stuff?

to me, revali seems like he would enjoy classical music, and classic pop & rock in general. anything before the 2000's, revali can get into

projecting a portion of my own music taste onto revali, he fucks with songs like 'stitches and burns' by fra lippo lippi, 'i melt with you' by modern english, and 'true' by spandau ballet. i will not be taking any criticism at this time 🙏

meanwhile link's playlist is jumping from 'good lookin'' dixon dallas to 'planet of the bass' to 'ETA' newjeans. and he finds all of it unironically genius

who's the first one to quit a new hobby because they're not great at it on the first try?

my instinct was to say revali, but the thing is, revali holds a great insecurity in wanting to be the best, and it's difficult to do that when you're dating Mr. Link Master-At-Everything-He-Tries over here

so if he's not automatically good at it but link is, you better bet your entire ass that revali is learning that shit out of spite to be better or at least just as good at it as link is

bitches can't even have like a couple hobby, everything turns into a competition if it's revali and link ✋😭

who holds a grudge the longest?

revali of course

a while ago, i made a post about how i hc'd revali to be a capricorn sun virgo rising, and i kinda still stand by that. he'll take anything to be a personal slight against him, will block you on everything, and talk shit about you to anyone. petty ahh mf

link just doesn't seem like the type to hold grudges, he's kinda goldfish brain. he'll forget he was even mad at you 15 minutes later

who secretly knows all the lyrics to the other's favorite songs but refuses to expose themselves?

revali actually 🥺

link soaks up melodies and lyrics like a sponge, so he has no problem picking any one of revali's playlists and knowing every single song on there, he will sing his heart out to each song on that damned playlist

revali is a bit of a music snob and isn't always the biggest fan of link's taste in music (as per #4 in this list LOL)

but he tries really hard to memorize link's favorites even if he fucking hates the song, which results in revali practicing korean just to be able to sing fucking 'gangnam style' psy with link 😭

who's more likely to cry about a plant dying?

link hands down. this guy gets overly attached to inanimate objects fr

bro is the type to bump into the corner of a table and be like "oops, sorry mr. table, didn't mean to hit you"

zelda once sent link a bouquet of flowers she had grown herself, and link put them in a nice little vase, made sure they got sunlight and water every day, and gave each flower names

when one of the flowers started wilting, link was about to have a whole breakdown

revali comes home to link trying to perform surgery on a flower, like why it got a whole iv drip bag now???

which of the two is the most outspoken? which of the two is quick to speak and which one is quick to listen?

these were actually two separate questions but i decided to mix them, bc i think it's pretty clear who's who

revali is more outspoken and quick to speak, he's confidently opinionated and will mansplain to you unfortunately. he's not afraid to tell you what he thinks, because he thinks he's always right. very much the type to tell you he's just being brutally honest as an excuse to a dick skjdhfkdj

link is soft-spoken, reserved, and a listener, he'll let you take the lead on the conversation or listen you out completely before saying anything.

as such, revali is the one berating the cashier for putting pickles on link's burger when he said he didn't want any 😹

and honestly? link just likes hearing revali's voice, so he's content with letting revali talk his head off as long as they get to cuddle or hold hands.

[spinningwebsandtales]

The Shape Of You Pt. 6

Michael Myers X FemReader

Rating: M

Warnings: Assault, intentions of murder, punching, mentions of nudity, suggestive themes, steam ahead, some fluff, and a kitchen knife

Word Count: 7.1k

Pt. 1 here Pt. 2 here Pt. 3 here Pt. 4 here Pt. 5 here

Taglist: @the-marshals-wife @msghostface @izumima @cavern-creature @101killer @scooby-the-soviet-soldier​

(A/N:) Thank you all so very much for your patience! We’re getting further along in this and where I want to be! I want to make this at least 10 chapters long but we’ll see what happens. know where I want to go and I have a basic outline and where I want it to end but I’m just going with the flow and doing whatever comes to mind. So we’ll see what happens. I am having too much fun exploring Michael and Reader’s relationship. So I’m just taking my time and let my mind work out different things to write about. So without further ado here is part 6! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Sunlight peeked through the windows, casting it’s pinkish orange rays across the bed and onto the two occupants under the blankets. Michael had been up for a little while, knowing that he had some time before your alarm clock went off. Those two days without you had felt like an eternity and he just wanted to hold you and see you at your most vulnerable. He didn’t want to give you back to the every day life you lived. He wanted to make up for lost time as he laid and watched you, a silent protector that would do anything for you. Your cheek pressed against the pillow, soft snores coming from your lips. He had held you all night making sure he could feel your presence through the night and to keep you from tossing and turning too much. He stared at your parted lips, the pink still deep and he noticed they still seemed a little swollen from his ministrations. He’d lost count of every kiss and every touch that had passed between you both.

 While you slept he wished to kiss you more, but he couldn’t bring himself to wake you. If it was the weekend it would be a different story, but you missed two days of work because of him. You wouldn’t want to miss a third just because he wanted you to stay in bed with him forever. The days would pass by quickly until you got to stay home from work. He suddenly became giddy at the thought of you being home, like you hadn’t had the weekends off before. You stirred, groaning a little when s stray sunlight ray made it’s way from the foot of the bed into your eyes. Michael covered you with more blankets trying to block it where you could continue to sleep peacefully. He wanted more time before you had to get up, cause as soon as the cursed alarm clock made it’s shrill call you would be up and getting ready. You’d leave him to shower and make breakfast and your morning coffee. You would dress, kiss him goodbye, and be on your way.

 He didn’t enjoy the thought of you being in the same building as Ian either. It wasn’t just being alone that made him antsy but the thought of some man putting their hands on you, especially in a violent manner, made his jaw clench. You mumbled a little at the tightening pressure of Michael’s grip. He eased up stroking your cheek to soothe you back into deep slumber. As soon as you nuzzled deeper into the pillow the alarm decided it was time to wake you. You jolted awake almost falling from the bed, if it wasn’t for Michael there to catch you. Days without sleep had taken it’s toll on your body that you weren’t expecting your alarm clock just yet. Michael watched you, waiting for you to get your bearings before letting you go. You shut the alarm off knocking it off in your frustration before nestling against his warm chest. He had shed his shirt in the middle of the night and you found yourself wordlessly tracing the scars on his skin. He stiffened at your touch, unsure of what to do while you explored. He knew you fidgeted while thinking hard about something, but you had yet to be so bold, besides last night, as touching his bare skin so boldly.

“I don’t want to leave,” you muttered still absentmindedly moving your finger down his pectoral.

Michael wrapped you up, squeezing you tighter against him. “I don’t want you to go either.”

 He kissed the top of your head, just basking in the glow that you radiate naturally. You sighed trying to mentally gear yourself for work, but laying beside Michael was making the task harder. You squirmed trying to get away, which only made the man hold onto you tighter. You huffed, laughing that he had such a tight hold on you that no amount of wiggling or fussing was making him loosen his grip. Until you poked him in the side. A very un-Michael like yelp flew from his lips and he quickly let you go. You looked at him for a few seconds processing what had just happened before a wicked grin quickly took over. For the first time in his life Michael felt fear as you rushed over kneeling at his side before attacking his sides. Michael wheezed, alarmed that you had found his ticklish weakness that even he had no knowledge of until this moment. He hadn’t had such a instance since he was really little, but now as you viciously attacked him he was hoping you were just as ticklish as him if not more, as you were no longer safe from him. War had been brought upon you and he was more than willing to deliver his quick vengeance. Tears streamed from both eyes until you relented placing a comforting hand on his heaving chest. He glared playfully as he tried to regain some air in his lungs.

  “I didn’t know you were ticklish Michael,” you purred thinking about striking again before you thought better as you were sure Michael wasn’t going to take your attack without retaliating more.

He still glared up at you until he too had a devious smirk pull at his lips. You tried scrambling off before he could grab you, but his reflexes proved to be too quick even with your frenzied attempt at escape. You were quickly rolled over, his larger form straddling you pressing you deeper into the plush mattress. Michael pinned your wrists down above your head with his hands, his forehead pressing to yours. You looked straight into his eyes begging for some form of mercy, but finding none. He kissed your nose keeping one hand down to steady himself while the other found it’s place upon your waist. He lifted up balancing is weight on both knees, still pinning you down before placing his second hand on your waist. You wiggled trying to break free, as your face reddened at the intimate scene before you. The view of Michael above you, curly hair brushing his cheeks, a shadow of stubble dotting his chin, dark hooded eye with the sightless one always icy but still seeing in it’s own way, and his muscular stature. Your whole body heated suddenly forgetting that you were at his mercy. 

He stared intensely back trying not to think about his position above you too hard as he would lose his nerve if he thought too hard. You started to speak when Michael finally started tickling. His fingers pressing a little too harshly into your sides until he realized he was being too rough. He softened the pressure causing the effect to be much more potent. You squealed sharply pushing at his hands while your laughter filled the room. Michael smiled as he enjoyed his revenge but to hear your musical laughter had him melting. He tickled faster wanting to hear you laugh more. Tears streamed down your cheeks at the unrelenting tickles.

“Okay I give up,” you panted between giggles. “I’m s-sorry!”

Michael chuckled and finally let up his onslaught but still refusing to budge. He kept you pinned beneath him, leaning down to kiss your tear streaked cheeks. Your face flush from laughing and chest heaving trying to regain breath in your lungs. Michael licked his lips savoring the salt as he nuzzled your hair. He didn’t want to let you up, that just meant you were going to get ready to leave for the day and he wanted, no needed more time with you. He wanted to stay in bed all day with you, exploring this new sense of companionship with you, to see what other noises you could make and what other tastes he could explore. You held him tighter not wanting to leave either but you couldn’t afford to lose your job. You stroked his curls kissing his cheek back, while Michael drowned in your comforting scent.

“Michael?”

He grunted in reply starting to kiss your neck. He really knew how to make it hard for you to leave him. Cuddly Michael made you want to stay in bed forever and just lavish him with all the attention.

“I have to get up and get ready for work. I’ve already missed two days with a lame excuse and it’s going to take me longer to get caught up the more I’m away.” You paused stroking his ear. “Plus somebody had to get a little nippy last night and it takes me longer with my makeup when I have to cover more surface area.”

This time Michael didn’t even vocalize himself, just being content with nipping at your neck again causing you to squeal. You slapped him teasingly, like punishing an unruly puppy.

“Stop it,” you laughed only provoking him further. Michael only nipped and kissed more on your neck, moving upwards until he came to your jaw. He lavished his attention there for a moment before moving up to your mouth. With held breath you watched him a little longer trying to decide if you wanted him to continue or stop and let you up. You couldn’t decide as his lips descended upon yours, devouring your taste like a starved man he moaned into your mouth. Your taste intoxicating him leading him further to the edge of the cliff as he pressed in you. His lower half pinning you down, causing your blush to deepen into a darker crimson than before. You didn’t have to be a mind reader to know what Michael was feeling as you were feeling the same as him. You gasped for air between kisses, trying to go further but the ticking clock with it’s incessant reminder telling you that you needed to get up and get ready. Several kisses later and Michael released you, sitting back against the headboard of the bed with a smirk on his lips.

“Yeah yeah,” you snorted hurrying up from the bed. “I’m going to be late because of you and you’re not even ashamed.”

Michael shook his head, fighting the urge to pull you back into him and keep you there at his side forever. But before he could act upon his wants you dashed from the room with your work clothes in tow. Michael watched you leave the room, an ache taking over at your retreating back. He sat there for a moment to regain his senses before you left for the day. You didn’t have time to shower now, but you weren’t too bad from taking an impromptu bath so you just used a little dry shampoo on your hair and extra deodorant just in case. Your clothes were clean as you did do laundry a few days ago, so your skirt was freshly pressed and instead of your usual button up blouse you decided on a turtleneck sweater. It was easier to hide your marks that way with less makeup and you could get away with it since the weather was still cold enough to warrant a coat. Nobody would question your fashion sense and that helped ease the worry of anybody finding out. While he had scared you and left you terrified for days you couldn’t help but feel a little responsible for Michael’s actions. You sighed at yourself in the mirror, still looking a little exhausted and your lips swelling up again from the make out session. You touched the pink skin softly, still feeling the tingle of Michael’s lips and hands exploring you with fervent devotion. Brushing your teeth, placing your hair up in a messy ponytail, and makeup to hide everything you needed to that wouldn’t be covered by your sweater. You grabbed a little extra cash to buy your lunch today and with one last quick kiss from Michael you finally were able to leave and go to the last place you wanted to be today.

The radio couldn’t soothe you on the way to work as the longing pull of turning around grew stronger the further you got from your house. Michael had become like a siren song that was beginning to get harder to ignore. He hounded your every thought and action whenever you were away from him, it made you wonder if the same happened to him when you left. But it was becoming a problem for you when it came to concentrating as you almost ran the red light halfway to work. Your tires screeched and brakes squalling in protest at the sudden motion of you stomping on the brakes. Your forehead met the steering wheel as you tried to gain back your senses, you couldn’t risk getting in an accident and Michael would blame himself if he knew you were hurt, cause all you could think about was his kisses and him in general. The light turned green but you checked traffic before going forward as you didn’t want to make any more mistakes.

 You grew warm in your sweater, hoping that nobody would question you or discover your secret. You had never been a good liar and now you found yourself lying daily. It helped that you quit lying to yourself and Michael about your feelings for him, but it didn’t make it any easier when it came to fibbing to your friends at the office. Your anxiety didn’t calm down one bit when the building of your destination came into view. You could have sworn your heart was thumping so hard and loud that you could see it and hear it audibly. You had to calm yourself, you had called in sick and you needed to give the sense that you were better. You couldn’t just tell everyone your boyfriend choked you out and you had lived in terror those two days, locking in your bedroom for said two days. You moaned, playing with the sweater’s collar in panic. Today was going to be difficult to deal with, but you just had to survive a few more days and it wouldn’t take long. Then it’d be the weekend and you wouldn’t have to leave Michael for a little bit. Two days of peace in your house, with not lying to anyone and living your life like you wanted. Nothing to hide from anybody and lots of Michael loving. This time you sighed in bliss at the thought while pulling into a parking place. You breathed deeply giving yourself a moment to regain your senses before giving a few extra touches with your makeup and readjusting your sweater for extra protection. You breathed deeply once again steeling yourself for another work day and whatever the day could bring.

Once you stepped through the front door Julie greeted you immediately before anyone else could, she was clearly concerned about you calling in not once but twice in a row. It wasn’t like you to skip many days at work since you needed the money and didn’t like to get too far behind on your paperwork. You hated taking days off, mostly because of the paperwork that piled up while you were gone, but you were a little thankful that you would have the extra work to do. It would keep your mind from wondering off to different Michael things and people would get the hint that you just wanted to catch up on stuff you missed and that normally made them leave you alone. Except for Julie, she wanted to make sure you were okay. She looked over you trying to make sure that you were fine and you laughed at her concerned expression while she searched you from head to toe.

“I’m alright now,” you stepped away worried she would look a little too closely.

“You’re wearing more makeup than usual (Y/N),” she stated stepping forward a little more. You once again put some distance between you both while trying not the tug nervously at your sleeve.

“I’m still a little pale from being sick and I didn’t want to worry anyone,” you replied giving a smile that you were sure wasn’t very convincing. And you got your answer in the form of a raised eyebrow. You were floundering and it was making you even more nervous.

“Well considered me extremely worried,” Julie crossed her arms. “Since when have you worn sweaters to work too?”

“I’m still fighting off a little bit of the cold and it’s chilly. Can’t a girl have a change of taste in fashion while she’s ill,” you laughed weakly. Julie still didn’t seem to be convinced but she finally sighed and shook her head.

“You’ll tell me if anything is wrong right,” she looked more worried by the second. Now you could understand the grilling session. Julie had been there right by your side when she heard after what happened with Ian. She felt guilty for not being there to help you when you needed her most. Now your heart was breaking cause you couldn’t share some problems with her as you couldn’t tell anyone. Now it was your turn to feel guilty as you continued to lie, though necessary, it didn’t make things any easier.

You nodded finally stepping towards her and wrapping your best friend in a hug, “Of course. I really wasn’t feeling good those two days but I’m getting better.”

You felt a little better cause that wasn’t an entire lie, though you weren’t physically sick with a cold you were having some problems those two days. But you knew the one thing that would make her happier than anything.

“Want to eat lunch later,” you asked. “I couldn’t make mine cause I was running late.”

Julie immediately lit up at the thought, “Yes! This running late of yours is becoming a habit I’ve noticed.”

You laughed, “Yeah my bed had a tight grip on me and wouldn’t let me go. My blankets were extra clingy this morning.”

“I know the feeling,” she elbowed you. “Mine gets kind of clingy too.” You both laughed going to your offices to begin the day, promising to meet up at lunch time.

The clacking of keys always seemed to calm you, especially when you had so much on your mind. Whenever your mind begins to wonder to Michael you start typing faster the loud sound penetrating your mind and causing you to focus more on your task. You had to be prepared for any conversations that could pop up between you and Julie and being distracted wasn’t helping you at all. Relationships always started out rough and continued to have rocky moments where you both had to work through things, but being unable to tell anyone who you were seeing was making things worse. It wasn’t like you could ask for advice from anyone and be specific with details. You would most likely end up in a padded cell just like Michael and that was the last thing you wanted for either of you. Hopefully later on you wouldn’t have to worry so much about dancing around the subject and talking would become easier as you grew accustomed of skirting details. You sighed in frustration still smashing away at the keyboard when you heard someone step through your office door. You normally keep it open letting your fellow employees know that you were always open to discussing work with them or help with any problems they were having. But you mistakenly didn’t look up to see who had come into your office, assuming that it was Julie despite it not being close to lunch time just yet.

“I thought we agreed to meet up at lunch time,” you asked pushing your chair around. You smiled but it wavered as soon as you spotted the person in your office doorway. Ian was the last person you were expecting and he smirked seeing your expression fall.

“I wasn’t aware that you and I had lunch plans,” he stated enjoying his little game. Your stomach beginning to churn at his menacing countenance.

“Sorry,” you spoke but prepared to do anything you needed to do to keep from him hurting you again, “I thought you were somebody else.”

“Obviously,” he scoffed before stepping forward towards you.

“Is there something I can help you with,” you stayed defensive.

 You never had trust in Ian as he chased everything that wore a skirt around the office, but that day in the parking lot had dissolved any minuscule sized trust you had in him. Michael would be furious to know that Ian was in your office right now, blocking your only exit and just you two alone. Despite having the ultimate protector in your home, you couldn’t pull your trump card or let Ian know that you had one. It would hurt more than help you in this moment as he was looking for anything to use to hurt you. His pride was hurt and he was still licking his wounds, Ian would do anything to hurt you worse than you had done to him, never-mind the fact that he was the one to bring his punishment on himself for being out of line that day. Normally you would take care of it yourself, but you were getting tired of going in circles with him as Ian could not take the word ‘no’ graciously and leave things be. You were friendly with everyone around the office and before his overstepping bounds you would have liked to be friends with him. Maybe you could have came to understand what makes Ian tick and help him through his hang-ups, be a friend who could understand how to help him grow and become the best person he could be. But that was completely a fantasy, nobody could help him as he dug himself further in his grave and refused to accept any help on getting out. Too lost in thought you didn’t hear him speaking and you almost didn’t ask him to repeat as you wanted to just nod your head, but that would be too dangerous not knowing what he was up to. You couldn’t agree to anything without knowing context when it came to Ian even before the incident.

“Sorry Ian I missed that,” you kept your voice steady though your gaze wavered. Ian saw his chance and stalked forward again, coming closer into your personal space. Placing both hands on either side of you and your office chair, he pinned you against your desk. His eyes so unlike Michael's as they searched you violently with cruel intentions. While Michael only had one seeing eye both were warm and filled with tenderness that you could be happy to drown forever in their depths. Ian’s was the exact opposite, cold and calculating in both eyes as they searched for any way to sabotage you. They raked over your form and you shivered, hurriedly looking away as your fists tightened. You wanted to hit him so bad but you couldn’t afford to get yourself in trouble, so you sat there preparing for anything only to let Ian dig his grave a little deeper.

“Tell me why a woman who never missed work beforehand, suddenly can’t come in for two days cause she’s sick,” he asked ruthlessly. “And she never took to wearing turtleneck sweaters until now?”

He leaned in closer bringing his face alongside yours and you trembled at his breath brushing against your cheek. Ian was all animalistic intentions, looking for his next meal and stripping away one’s humanity. While Michael was tender and compassionate in his pursuit of you. Michael gave you pleasurable shivers whenever he leaned closer or touched you, Ian only brought apprehensive shivers at the unpleasantness of his disturbing actions. Ian gave off possessive vibes to you and why he felt that way towards you, you would never know as you never gave him any excuse to feel such a way towards you. You glared back trying to shove him off but he held firmly, smirking darkly as you were unable to push him away.

“I’m allowed to get sick and take time off. And I’m allowed to change my mind in what I wear as long as it is appropriate for work,” you snarled trying your best to push down the fear choking you.

A raised eyebrow was your only answer as Ian only seemed to loom closer. He raised a hand causing you to flinch involuntarily, before he licked his thumb and rubbed it across your jawline. You suppressed a shiver, not wanting him to think you enjoyed his touch but he only smeared your makeup away that hid Michael’s marks. While terrified at Ian just uncovering your half secret, cause Julie already knew you were seeing someone she just didn’t pry as she respected your private life. Something Ian didn’t understand, nor would ever understand. But fortunately, he only uncovered the marks that Michael had sucked into your skin, instead of the ones circling from your neck.

“Who is he,” Ian snarled.

“It’s none of your business,” you whispered, rage welling up in your throat making it hard to speak. You knew that eventually everyone would find out that you were in fact dating someone, but you wanted to keep that peace as long as you could to yourself. Just staying in bliss with Michael as long as you could, but once again Ian was ruining everything for you.

“I think it’s plenty of my business,” Ian whispered back before leaving to close your door. Your heart sunk and you shot up out of the chair sprinting for your exit only for him to grab you. Slinging you around and pinning you to the wall he pressed himself into you. “I had claim on you first.”

Ian nibbled at your jaw and neck, just where Michael had done the same last night and this morning. You found yourself growing nauseas at his touch, struggling with all your might to get away.

“I should be the one marking you not whatever loser you finally found. I was going to be the one for you, not him. Does he even know what you like? Does he take care of all your needs?”

Your temper flared in rage and you finally freed one of your wrists and punched Ian across the jaw. He reeled back dazed from your blow and you took the chance, escaping out in the hallway. You fixed your clothing, running straight towards the one place that you could get something done.

Julie caught you on your way, her expression filled with concern as you never noticed the tears streaking down your face until she said something. She grabbed you before you could get too far away hugging you tightly trying to comfort you, but it only made you panic a little more, as Ian holding you against your will was too fresh. She helped you calm down some so you could explain what just happened and then it was her turn to become livid. Everyone was now standing out in the hallway trying to see all the commotion and it embarrassed you. It wasn’t a secret about Ian chasing after you and basically every girl in the office, but to go this far and you had to be the victim. Before Julie could storm off you asked her quietly if she would walk with you to the head office to finally get some help or you were going to quit. Once was enough, you couldn’t help but be disgusted after the second time. 

Michael was not going to be happy at all once you finally got home. You were able to calm him down the first time, you weren’t quite sure that you were going to be able to the second time. Not that you could blame him, you wouldn’t want anyone to hurt him in this way. It wasn’t right and your stomach turned while your mind played the moments over and over again. Julie clung to you tightly, basically shouldering all your weight as you couldn’t hardly stand. Your legs felt like jello and you were afraid you were going to vomit all over the carpet. She breathed words of encouragement, promising to never leave your side as long as you needed her. Standing before the boss of the company you finally broke. Sobs keeping you from speaking clearly but he certainly got the gist of the situation. Julie also helped explaining what you said through your broken words as you sobbed. Ian’s time finally came and he was fired, since you worked harder it didn’t matter he had a little seniority over you. You didn’t bring any attention to yourself through actions or words. Nor did you dress inappropriately for him to make such advances towards you. But now that he had gotten physical once more and kept you from escaping, that was the last straw. 

Julie helped you back to your office, despite not wanting to go back to horrible memories you followed along. You couldn’t let him ruin something that you did enjoy. Your job was everything other than money. You had many friends and it was a good environment. You couldn’t hold grudges on the company for Ian’s toxic behavior. Julie refused to leave as she stood watch at your doorway with a couple other male employees who had their fill of Ian as well. They hadn’t had the opportunity to put him in his place so this was their chance to show that he was in the wrong and a person just couldn’t do whatever they wanted to anyone no matter the situation. Ian packed his things and stomped from the building, glaring at you when he passed your office by. You wiped your eyes meeting his glare in defiance. He wouldn’t ruin your life, you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. But once he was finally gone you sagged in relief, the two men going back to their own work areas, but not before letting you know that they were there for you no matter what. Your heart was full of all the love and support and Julie refused to leave no matter how many times you told her you were fine.

Lunch was ate in silence in your office and the rest of the work day went by with no more incidents. Several workers helped walk you out to your car just to make sure you got there safely. If he was willing to imprison you in the office building, nobody put it past Ian to set up an ambush on you. You didn’t relax until your house came into view. You didn’t know what you were going to do about Michael, but you just needed him right now. You needed the safety he brought into your life and you were more than ready for any cuddles he was going to give. You were running a little late and you were sure that he was going to be worried and that proved correct when you opened the door. Before you could get it shut Michael was dragging you into an embrace, lifting you from the floor. He breathed in deeply, glad that you were home and safe. Your body language was what set him off as you didn’t melt into him and you seemed more tired than usual. He didn’t know what work all entailed but most days when you came home, you were bouncing off the walls happy to see him again. The last time you had been this way was the day Ian attacked you. Michael instantly saw red, gazing over you worriedly. He had stopped a few weeks ago checking you over for any injuries but now that habit was back tenfold.

“What happened,” his voice went cold and his grip tightened at the sight of tears in your eyes.

“If I tell you,” you hiccupped, “will you promise to stay here with me and not go out? I can’t take them taking you away from me. I need you Michael.”

He glared at the door, ready to do whatever necessary, but when you gripped his arms tighter, rogue tears slipping free, he couldn’t deny you what you needed or asked for. He sighed trying to calm himself back down before nodding.

“Ian attacked me again,” you started and Michael exploded. He released you, stomping towards the kitchen, you knew exactly what he was seeking. You raced right behind him holding onto his arm and digging your heels into the linoleum floor, but you might as well have been trying to anchor a barge.

“Michael please don’t!”

He was silent, sliding a kitchen knife from the drawer where you kept all your utensils and cooking knives. His eyes could see nothing but the goal in his head, Ian had to be disposed of. It was the worst case scenario him hurting you once but twice was inexcusable. You were his one, his only reason to continue in life. Without you he was nothing and if he didn’t protect his everything he couldn’t exist any longer as this new Michael who had more to live for than haunting Haddonfield.

“Michael!” You jumped and tackled him, clinging to him tightly like an octopus but still being careful of the knife. “He got fired! He’s gone! Michael please!”

You were beginning to grow desperate as he still refused to listen to reason, he reached for the doorknob and your panic levels shot through the roof. Grabbing his chin you forced his head around you claimed his mouth, kissing him roughly to try and jar him back into the real world. Your tears mixed with your desperation coated his tongue and it brought him back to reality. He dropped the knife to the floor, releasing the doorknob he encircled your body that still clung to him like he was your last lifeline.

“Please,” you whimpered. “Please don’t leave me. He’s not worth me losing you.”

His heart shattered and he thought about the other man who dared touch you again. His taint upon your skin jolted a deeper part in Michael that he had never experienced before, until this moment. He carried you down the hall attacking your neck and jaw. Nipping, licking, and sucking at your soft skin deepening his marks while you clung tightly sobbing and shivering from the awful memories about today. He placed you back onto your bed, shutting the door like he was trying to shut you from the world. He wanted you to forget everything and just focus on him and yourself. The next hour was a blur to you and you fell asleep against Michael as his comfort and scent surrounded you. When you woke back up he was still awake stroking your cheek and brushing the sweat sticky hair from your face. Your stomach rumbled, but you didn’t much feel like cooking. Michael chuckled at the sound before kissing your forehead. He got up to go to the kitchen where he heated you up some leftovers and brought them back with water. You ate silently, swallowing thickly as the food sat like a rock in your stomach. Michael stroked your back soothingly, not saying anything, just being a comforting presence you needed desperately. When you finished he took the plate back, but he didn’t come back until he started running you a bath. You got deja vu all over again but this time when he carried you into the bathroom he cradled you gently, like a fragile piece of glass. When he placed you down he turned to leave but you grabbed his arm.

“Please don’t leave me,” you whispered. Michael nodded deciding to sit on the floor around the door so he wouldn’t bother you too much. But when you didn’t release him he looked back in confusion. You tugged at his shirt, helping him from it did Michael finally understand.

You leaned back against Michael’s firm bare chest while playing with your fingers under the water. He awkwardly had his hands on the side of the tub while his elbows cocked out to keep from touching you. He sat stiffly not knowing what to do or where he was allowed to touch. When you looked back seeing him with his arms tucked like a chicken you burst out laughing. You lifted your head kissing him under the chin, before taking his hands and guiding them gently to your stomach. He eased up as soon as he felt your skin and relaxed with a sigh. You giggled taking an interest in his fingers that were so rough and scarred but so tender. 

You had been embarrassed at first with how forward you were being with him and you didn’t mean to make him feel uncomfortable but you needed this. You needed his calm silence and unyielding body. Michael could decide what he wanted and it was hard to change his mind when made up. So for once you were going to make known what you wanted and you wouldn’t veer from that path. And that path was taking a bath with the man you adore. The water was warm as was Michael’s body, the heat loosened your joints and you nestled back against him. Michael brought a hand underneath your chin to bring your face around to where he could reach. Your eyes were hooded with fatigue and something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

The weight of your head in his head let him know that you were relaxed and it was because of him. His heart grew in pride but he had a motive for interrupting your peace and quiet. He took your lips, kissing you lazily but heatedly. He took his time, enjoying the feel and the slow way that you returned his kisses. He took his time exploring you more causing you to slip further in the water as he tried getting closer. He loomed over you the water sloshing out a little into the floor, but you couldn’t find yourself caring as you lost yourself in everything that made up Michael Myers. He touched and kissed and explored until the water cooled off, despite the heat between you. He lifted you from the water carrying you back to the bed not worried about towels or clothing. You were too exhausted to worry about such things so he tucked you in beside him. You fell asleep immediately leaving him to watch you for a bit before he too fell asleep.

Michael woke up to your side of the bed vacant and his first thought was something bad. Panic set in quickly as he shoved the blankets off, grabbing whatever pants that laid on your bedroom floor, and set out to find you. You were in the kitchen cooking breakfast and preparing your lunch all dressed up for work. He sighed in relief but was worried about you going back so soon. He couldn’t help but feel a little selfish and wanted to keep you around for the day a little longer. He could try to talk you out of going but you could be stubborn when you really wanted to be. Plus you wanted to finish the week out so you could enjoy your weekend with him.

“Good morning,” you spoke trying to convey joy at the new day, though your eyes were tired and your body language spoke of telltale exhaustion.

“Can’t you just stay home,” Michael asked walking towards you. He stood behind you wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. You sagged back against him letting him hold your weight up so you could just enjoy his comforting presence. You blinked back tears, of course you wanted to stay home but you couldn’t bring yourself to stay. You shook your head and took a deep breath so you wouldn’t break down again.

“I feel like if I don’t go I’m letting him win.”

Michael’s respect for you shot through the roof as he watched you bravely face the day, not giving Ian the satisfaction of ruining your workplace. You couldn’t just stay at home all the time with Michael, though it would make you very happy. But you enjoyed work too and all the nice people you got to work with. So despite everything that happened you couldn’t let the fog that Ian left behind linger. You would face every day happy that you were loved and that people genuinely like you. But what mattered to you most was the man holding you tightly, so understanding and loving that you could cry from joy alone. 

Life had been so lonely before him and you didn’t have much going in life. Home was cold and work had become mundane. But as soon as he stepped in with Michael here you felt like you had found your purpose. It was funny that how other peoples’ bringer of terror and fear had become your saving grace. He saved you and you had a pretty good feeling that you saved him as well. Michael kissed you softly, showing that he understood and how proud of you he is. His heart ached though as he watched you step out the door, into the world that he would not be accepted into or be able to protect you from. The safe haven of your home was a different kind of prison but he didn’t hate it. He got to be with you and watch you grow in front of his eyes and he got to grow at the same time.

 He had never understood how others could find that one person and stick with them, he didn’t understand relationships in general and now that he had one he could see the appeal and understand why people sought out companionship. You were a dream come true, the light in his storm and he didn’t want to lose you to anything. Though he knew he couldn’t be out there with you, he vowed to be here for you through anything. It didn’t matter what it was, he wanted to be that listening ear and soothing solace that you could come home to every day. Now he just had to wait for you to come home and that was the hardest part. But for you he would do anything and everything no matter the cost, as long as he had you the price was never too high.

[lunanime345]

Class 1a x abused child reader final part ( part 6 )

Hiiiii!!! I'm so sorry I didn't post other parts but I was doing this final part!!! Hope you enjoy!!! other parts:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Y/n POV

A week had passed since I was in the hospital and Deku kept make visits so I don't feel lonely. Sometime, katchan came too, but he didn't seem happy to saw me. He always keep silence near me. Did he hate me? I'll ask the next time I saw him!

Oh, talking about katchan, he's there! Oh, this time brocoli boy is not with him.

"Hi katchan!"

"tsk. Hi."

He sat beside my bed and said to me:

"The teacher make me skip class to come take you. You can live the hospital and you will follow me at UA. It's not that I wanted to come take you, don't give the wrong idea..."

I was so sad that he didn't wanted to see me...

"It's not that I don't want ether..."

A big smile went on my face.

When we entered in the school, someone bumped into me and I fell back on the floor. The guy started to yell at me, as I was searching for katchan around but he wasn't there. I saw his hand coming near me. I shut my eyes, ready to get hit, but the impact never came. Slowly, I opened them to saw someone with purple hair in front of me protecting my body by holding agressivelly the hand of the guy. When he stopped hoding it, the guy ran away quikly.

"Hey, are you ok?"

I shut my eyes again, afraid to get hurt by him too.

"Calm down, I am not gonna hurt you."

"I promise."

I get my head up at him to saw a face that was familiar. He kinda looked like Mr. Aizawa.

"Is it ok if I pick you up?"

I nodded, he picked me up and start walking in the alway. There was a lot of people and it was too loud for me. I think he noticed that, because he puted my head on his chest and put his other hand on my ear, while holding me with his other arm.

Then I saw katchan in the mass of people. "katchan, I am here!!!"

"Oi, shitty kid, don't give troubles"

I said bye bye to the purple aizawa and followed katchan. I entered in a a big class, as people stoped what they were doing to stare at me. I was scared so I hided behind my protector. All the class came ask me questions like: what's you quirk? What's your favorite color? And others.

I some guy caught my attention. His hair was half white half red and he had a burn on his face. I walked beside him and said:

"Hi, you're very pretty!"

The class said "ohhhh"

He seemed calm and rassuring so I gave him a little hug. He picked me and made me sat on his lap and I was so happy that he like me! The class seemed jalous that I came saw him insted of them.

Lunch time

The name of the half half is Todoroki. I like him a lot!!! They are so kind compared to my dad! At lunch, a girl named Uraraka asked me about my parents. I was thinking that if they are my friends mayby I can tell them?

" My mommy is dead and, and my da-dad-daddy hit me when I-I ask about her so I don't know how she-she died."

All the class were shocked as I start shaking.

Todoroki hugged me gently. My body stoped shaking and I was so tired by all these emotions that I fell asleep.

Todoroki POV

This girl is just like me. Mr Aizawa talked to us about this kid having a sad past, but I didn't imagine it was that bad. I now how to get over a sad past so I will ask the teacher if I can watch over her.

All class POV

We will help her have a happy life.

[the-doctor-and-the-asshole]

1. His pain is *chef's kiss*

2. He's a protector/defender type character

3. He keeps angsting over the same thing for three godammed seasons

4. The next avengers movie

5. Me and the Devil by Soap& Skin

6. We both are eternally guilty

7. They make sure to talk about his disability respectfully (from what I've seen)

8. They keep shipping him with his toxic ex

9. Absolutely, would be the best roommate

10. Would love to, such a kind and caring person as well as protective of the people he's close to

11. Hell no, he never has partners for long, and if they stay, their mostly bed-buddies (in cannon)

12. I like to think he's bisexual

13. Devils horns

14. Law school aesthetic

15. And they were roommates (iykyk ig)

16. His toxic futhermuckin' ex, like why even

17. Him x (one of the main enemies of S2)

18. His best friend of many, many years

19. Him and his cop friend have a very interesting relationship

20. And they were roommates (same guy)

21. N/A

22. Good: ocx(the guy) romance

Bad: poorly written oc. This is just supposed to be reader/writer insert x (this guy) smut

23. When he's with his besties

24. Wife in the married dead couple from beetlejuce

25. Then: huh, a ton of people are obsessed over the quality of this show and that guy cool lookin'

Now: He's my little meow meow

26. Q: Who would you like this character to team up with

A: Moon knight/Mr Knight/ Dr strange

Guess who, I'd be interested in who you think this is

CHARACTER ASK GAME!!! 💫

Send a character + one or more of these question IN THE INBOX. Don't reply on the post!

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

9. Could you be roommates with this character?

10. Could you be best friends with this character?

11. Would you date this character?

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

13. What's an emoji, an emoticon and/or any symbol that reminds you of this character or you think the character would use a lot?

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

15. What's your favorite ship for this character? (Doesn't matter if it's canon or not.)

16. What's your least favorite ship for this character?

17. What's a ship for this character you don't hate but it's not your favorite that you're fine with?

18. How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire?

19. How about a relationship they have in canon that you don't like?

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to ths character? Something you don't like?

23. Favorite picture of this character?

24. What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

26. FREEBIE QUESTION!!

[flowerandblood]

The Man with the Empty Heart

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: angst, violence, mention of the murder and suicide attempt, trauma, mourning, manipulation ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his 'ghosts', a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

Part 1 - The Man with the Black Mask | Part 3 - The Man with the Lost Soul | Part 4 - The Man with the Cold Lips | Part 5 - The Man with the Deep Scar | Part 6 - The Man with the One Eye | Part 7 - The Man with the Golden Gift | Part 8 - The Man in the Black Crown | Part 9 - The Man with the Bloody Sword | Part 10 - The Man in the Black Gloves | Part 11 - The Man in the Death Cloak | Part 12 - The Man with the Pearly Hair | Part 13 - The Man with the Fiery Gaze

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

That night she slept for only an hour, but experienced no rest during that time, tormented by nightmares. In her dream, a group of men rushed into her chamber, two of them holding her tightly as the third cut her throat − she choked, unable to catch her breath, her red blood gushing onto her nightgown and bedding.

When she finally opened her eyes she rose quickly to sit up, panting and shivering, all welted up, catching herself quickly by the throat, letting the air out of her lungs, feeling that there was no wound on it.

She sat at the table barely conscious when her morning meal was brought in, not even noticing that Vhagar was suddenly at her side, towering over her with his hands folded behind him.

"I hope you slept well, Princess." He said low, and she looked at him resentfully, knowing full well that he was mocking her. She turned her head away, reaching for a bread, not saying a word to him.

She thought he was a man who derived satisfaction from dominating and watching someone else's suffering.

He was perfectly suited to the job his father had assigned him, and he was certainly bored in her company, but he couldn't express it any other way.

He left her chamber as she ordered her servants to help her get dressed, looking at her reflection in the mirror with indifferent eyes, knowing what day it was and what she should do.

She visited her once every three days − the medics believed that more frequent visits would take her out of balance and increase her hysterical attacks.

When she stepped out into the corridor, walking ahead, she didn't look at him, but she knew he had moved immediately behind her − she felt his presence with all her being, his aura hung over her like a black storm cloud.

They made their way to a part of the fortress where servants and other court residents were not allowed to venture − two guards stood in front of the entrance leading to the stairs to the tower, but they did not stop her when she started to climb up, intense sunlight shone through the little windows.

The door to the small chamber was opened for her − she heard Vhagar stand still, having no intention of going inside. She stopped in mid-step, looking at him with furrowed brows.

"I want you to accompany me." She said in a disapproving voice, recognising that if he was going to tease and torment her with his behaviour, she would do the same.

He walked in behind her reluctantly and closed the door; her mother looked at her as if she didn't recognise her for a moment, and then smiled broadly, sleepily, bruises under her eyes − she was pale, her face unhealthily thin.

She seemed to weigh as much as a feather.

"My beloved child." She said softly, weakly, embracing her, and she reciprocated her grip, closing her eyelids, feeling a tightness in her throat at the thought that her father had locked her in a tower like some kind of animal.

It seemed to her that for her mother, Vhagar was indeed a ghost, for she sat with her on her bed holding her hand and looked only at her, as if she did not notice his presence at all.

"Why didn't Loras come with you? I can't even remember my little son's face anymore." She muttered in pain, and she lowered her gaze, not knowing how to explain to her that her father had decided that the future heir to the throne might be harmed by being with a mother who, in his understanding, had lost her sanity.

She swallowed loudly and tried to smile.

"He has more and more responsibilities as the future king, but he still speaks of you and has ordered to give you his warmest greetings and wishes for a quick recovery." She mumbled out with difficulty − her mother looked at her uncertainly, wrinkling her brow in disbelief.

"I am perfectly well." She spoke quieter and quieter, as if fading away in front of her − she squeezed her hand tighter not knowing how to reassure her, feeling the burning under her eyelids.

"I know, mother. I know." She said and smiled warmly, with concern − her mother smiled back at her too and only after a moment did her gaze escape to the side, her lips parted slightly in disbelief.

She turned over her shoulder wanting to see who she was looking at and swallowed loudly, stroking her skin with her thumb.

"It's Vhagar, mother. My guardian. He protects me and accompanies me everywhere." She said heavily, pretending she felt no terror looking at him, but she heard no reply, her mother looking at him with wide eyes, as if she had indeed seen a ghost.

"The gods are gracious." She said in a trembling voice, and she shook her head, not understanding what she was talking about.

"What?" She asked quietly, wanting her to repeat herself, to expand on the thought, but she was still looking at him, her dry lower lip trembling.

"You came for me like a death? Have you come to relieve my suffering at last?" She asked starting to shudder all over − she put her hands on her shoulders, stroking her reassuringly, thinking with horror that seeing his clothes and mask she imagined that he was indeed the personification of death.

"Mother, he is a guardian, he will not hurt you. He will protect us." She said soothingly to her, and she nodded quickly, as if to reassure her that she did indeed believe her words.

"Don't take her away. Have mercy on her and my son, they didn't know." She mumbled and she embraced her, stroking her hair.

"Mother, stop, please. Please." She mumbled out clenching her eyelids, feeling tear after tear run down her skin − only holding her in her arms did she find to her horror that all that was left of her was skin and bone.

"You need to rest, mother. You need to eat and rest. I'll bring you couple new books next time, all right?" She choked out wearily, and her mother nodded, saying no more.

When they got out of there she walked ahead for a while, feeling everything swirling around her, thinking only of the fact that it had all happened gradually, that at first her despair at what her father had done, at the extent of this massacre, seemed to everyone a natural reaction to what had happened.

However, then her mother began to hear strange noises, to speak of a secret passage through which ghosts passed, of hearing a child crying inside her chamber.

She stopped, gripping a pillar with her hand, seeing darkness in front of her eyes for a moment, breathing loudly, feeling the weight of it all crush her more and more.

She felt his gaze on her, his presence, his silence.

"Kill me." She said quietly, but she was sure he heard it, not a living soul around them.

Silence.

"Please, kill me." She whispered again, pressing her forehead against the cold stone pillar, closing her eyes, waiting for the sound of his footsteps, for the dagger to cut her throat.

Nothing happened.

She opened her eyes, as if suddenly regaining consciousness, and let out a loud breath, moving ahead again, his footsteps behind her echoing around them.

She spent the rest of the day in the library, trying to read but unable to concentrate, looking out of the window at the people walking around the castle courtyard, guards, merchants and servants speaking amongst themselves.

That same evening, as she sat alone in her chamber, sitting by the fireplace, gazing into the flames, Vhagar came in and walked up to her, keeping an appropriate distance.

"The King wishes to dine with you, Princess. Alone."

She lifted her gaze to him, sensing that there was something definitive in his words, and furrowed her brow, feeling uneasy.

Alone?

Why?

She swallowed loudly and nodded, getting up to leave − she heard him move behind her but he did not enter with her into the chamber where the King was staying, allowing the door to close behind her with a loud clatter.

She walked closer to the table behind which her father was sitting − he was eating without waiting for her and nodded for her to sit opposite him. She obeyed his command but did not put anything on her plate, looking at him expectantly.

"What's the matter, Father?"

"I heard you visited your mother again." He said indifferently, sipping the piece of bread he had just chewed with wine from his golden, ruby-decorated chalice.

She pressed her lips together feeling an unpleasant discomfort in her stomach and a cold sweat on her back at the thought of Vhagar telling him what had happened.

"Yes." She replied coolly, lifting her gaze to him, trying to calm her breathing, her heart pounding like mad. Her father murmured under his breath, reaching for a grape, which he tossed into his mouth with a light movement and bite through it with a loud crunch.

"I have moved her to another chamber. She has a bad effect on you, reminding you constantly of these... unpleasant events." He said lowly reaching for another grape − she felt a twinge in her lower abdomen as if she was about to vomit, her lips parted in disbelief.

"What? Where?" She asked unable to hide the tremor in her voice in which lurked growing terror and panic, her father lifting his gaze to her.

"Her fate is no longer your concern." He said in a firm, impatient voice.

She got up quickly and ran out of his chamber with a loud slam of the door, moving swiftly ahead down the dark corridor, choking on her own tears, unable to catch her breath, seeing that there was no one in the passage where the guards still stood in the morning.

She ran quickly up the stairs hearing loud footsteps behind her, stumbling and almost falling, bursting into her mother's chamber, which was now completely empty.

She clutched her stomach, leaning against the cold wall with her hand, and she sobbed loudly, slipping slowly down. She approached her bed and laid her head on the sheets where she and her had been sitting just a few hours ago.

She heard him stop in front of the door, heard his accelerated breathing, knew he was staring at her. She looked at him with hatred, rising slowly and grabbed the candlestick that stood on the table in her hand, swinging, wanting to smite him.

"You fucking bastard!" She growled in fury as she wrestled with him, his black-gloved hands squeezed her firmly by her wrists, easily blocking any of her movements.

"− tell me where she is − please −" She muttered pleadingly, feeling her rage turn to desperation, the candlestick fell from her hand with a loud thud of steel against the stone floor, his bright eye staring at her mercilessly.

"− please − please, Vhagar, I don't want her to be alone −" She mumbled in pain, tightening her fingers on his long leather coat, staring into his cold, emotionless mask, hearing only his quiet breathing.

"It's too late."

She looked at him in disbelief, shaking her head, struggling to catch her breath.

"− what do you mean? −" She asked in a trembling voice, hearing only the loud pounding of her heart.

"She didn't suffer."

She clenched her fingers on his shoulders so tightly that she felt as if they would pierce through the material of his coat into his flesh, an unnaturally high-pitched whine of despair erupted from her throat, she pressed her forehead against his chest.

"− gods, what have you done? −" She mumbled in horror, looking up at him, breathing with difficulty, everything around her was spinning. "− Vhagar, what have you done to her? −"

"It was your father's order."

His grip on her wrist eased; he didn't move from his position or push her away − he simply stood like a statue, waiting for her to calm down. She felt her body begin to spill into his hands, numb and soft, that she was losing consciousness, his arms caught her tightly before she fell to the stone floor.

When she woke up all around her was complete darkness. She thought with relief that it was just a dream, like the nightmares she experienced in the morning. When she looked around she noticed that she was back in her chamber, in her bed.

She turned her head sideways and froze, noticing a seated figure in a black mask on one of the chairs beside her bed − he was sitting with his legs crossed, looking straight at her, his left hand resting on the table top, his finger tapping it gently without making a sound.

She felt a tear of helplessness run down her face onto the pillow under her head, her lips parted at the realisation that it was all true.

Why had he stayed?

Was her father afraid she would commit suicide?

"You were supposed to protect her." She said in a trembling, weak, quiet voice full of remorse. He was silent for a long moment.

"I did."

She furrowed her eyebrows at his words, feeling her lower lip begin to tremble. She swallowed hard with a shake of her head.

"I showed her mercy. Your father the King wanted me to make it look like she took her own life. I gave her poison, after which she just fell asleep, although he suggested hanging. He thought it would look more...natural."

She stared at him for a moment and then closed her eyes, pressing her lips together, twisting onto her side and curling up like a small child, huddling into the furs that lay beside her, feeling her whole body twitching.

Your father the King wanted me to make it look like she took her own life.

He suggested hanging.

He thought it would look more natural.

"When will it be made official?" She asked in a trembling voice, and he hummed under his breath, turning his face to the side.

"Tomorrow morning the King will convene a gathering and announce the sorrowful news." He said indifferently. She swallowed loudly and closed her eyes.

"Do you still have that poison?"

She heard him move restlessly in his seat, felt him hesitate for a second.

"…yes."

She opened her eyelids, extending her trembling hand towards him.

"Have mercy on me too." She said in a pleading, tender voice.

He stared at her for a long moment, and then stood up slowly with a loud creak of wood, walking over to her, pulling a small vial of clear liquid from his pocket.

He handed it to her and she rose to sit down, feeling her whole body quiver, her breath hitched, her heart pounding like mad.

She wanted silence to finally resound in her mind.

She wanted her heart to stop aching.

She wanted to stop being afraid.

She looked at him with huge eyes, swallowing loudly.

"Is it going to be painful?" She asked in a trembling voice − he stood looking at her, she could see his iris shining in the moonlight that fell outside the window.

"No. You'll just fall asleep." He explained softly, his voice surprisingly calm. She nodded, feeling relieved at the thought and unscrewed the cork, looking at the liquid contents inside and lifted it quickly to her lips, pouring its contents down her throat.

She looked up at him, horrified at what she had done, thinking about how a part of her wanted to take it back, how she didn't want to die, but that it was too late.

It was already decided and nothing could be done.

She laid her head on her pillow feeling the tears of helplessness run down her cheeks − she looked at him pleadingly, her lips trembling.

"Will you stay with me?" She asked quietly, placing her hands on her stomach, not wanting to be alone now, not wanting to walk away inside an empty, dark room.

"Yes."

She closed her eyes, feeling with pain that her head began to hum, her eyelids growing heavier and heavier, slowly beginning to lose consciousness until she fell into a deep, pleasant sleep.

She shuddered as she felt someone force her mouth open and pour something forcefully down her throat − she began to cough loudly, her body went into convulsions, her stomach clenched tightly. She felt someone lift her up to sit and hold her as she began to vomit, heard his voice near her ear.

"Come on, you have to get it out of your body. Yes, there we go." She heard his low whisper as she vomited again into the bowl he held in front of her. She was panting loudly drenched in tears, her whole body shivering as if in a fever, her stomach clenched so tightly she felt like screaming in pain.

"One more time. Very good. Just like that." He hummed and helped her lie on her side so that she didn't choke. She was breathing unevenly, trembling, felt his hand take her hair from her face and was only able to think that he pulled off his gloves.

She wasn't sure when she'd fallen asleep again, waking only to vomit again, each time he sat in the same place, his hand on her back.

She had the feeling that it was all just a figment of her imagination.

That it wasn't really happening.

In the morning she had the feeling that what she felt was the opposite of a painless death − her body welted from the fever, all sweaty, her heart had slowed down, everything around her seemed hazy to her.

She heard someone rise from a chair, heard someone's slow footsteps, his figure stood above her like a great, tall black smudge.

"Why?" She asked quietly, struggling to keep her eyelids from closing.

A long silence answered her before she heard his low, deep voice.

"I changed my mind."

_____

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