#but a lot are just going through the motions

[blxxmingrose]

the ceremony hadn’t started, but as hans looked into june’s eyes, it was like they were having a ceremony of their own. there in that quiet moment shared between the two of them, they had already spoken their love, bound their souls together, and became inseparable before they could even reach the dais. 

his smile was that of assurance, with no trace of worry for what could go wrong—just that calmness within him that told him june’s presence was all he needed. “let’s go get married,” he echoed, and finally, his feet moved. 

their walk to the dais felt like a glide to the ocean, the sand beneath them shaping around each footfall, immortalizing the steps they took to get to the altar. seagulls sang with the gentle waves for their procession music, and jinx and scooter trailed behind, not quite cognizant but joining in the solemn moment. hans never let go of june’s hand—the hand that always kept him steady. the hand that he would soon adorn with their wedding band.

as they reached their destination, the flowers welcoming them with the sweet scent of life they had started for themselves, hans turned to face june with a deep inhale. “this is it,” he whispered, lifting his hand to cup june’s cheek as the first tear fell from his eyes. he chuckled, knowing he’d be the first to cry on this day, but still being surprised at how such happiness could overflow so quickly. 

he brought his hand down only so he could reach for the piece of paper he had been carrying with him everywhere, his vows scribbled in neat handwriting but with tear marks all over. he smiled at june, a gentle smile, and he took a deep breath before reading through his vows. 

they say souls wander the earth after we pass, waiting to be reborn into our new life. my darling june, i think my soul did not do a lot of wandering. i think it always knew where it wanted to be reborn and went straight for it—because it is wherever you would be born in, so that we can be together again as two pieces of the same soul.  i have always thought that there was nothing waiting for me in this life, until you came along and taught me what living was like--what truly being alive felt like. it was not going through the motions of waking up and sleeping; it was experiencing all the joys, all the pain, all the love that made our hearts grow fonder of each other. you taught me how beautiful the world could be, even if we had so little. you taught me that nightmares made appreciating good dreams possible. and you, my love, you showed me that life could always grow where there is someone to nurture it.  you always saw my decisiveness as a good thing. you always saw my daydreaming as a foundation for our reality. you always made me feel strong when i thought i was helpless. and today, i vow to continue to dream with you about the life we will have, and to turn it into reality day by day. i vow to be a strong foundation when it’s your turn to feel weak. i vow to never waver, to always turn to you, my best friend and protector, to be my guiding light. and in turn, be yours.  i vow to be with you in this life and the next, and to always fill your days with adventure, love, and support. i will always see you in every little plant we grow, in every wave that crashes to the shore, in every ray of sunshine hiding behind the clouds. you are the other half of me, and i vow to never leave your side now and forever. 

hans’ eyes were misty with tears as he finished, his hand still shaking as he returned the piece of paper in his pockets. all he could see was june, and as it always will be, he was the only one that mattered. 

june’s fingers curled more firmly around hans’s, anchoring them both as they stood at the edge of everything they had dreamed of. the beach stretched before them, golden sand warm beneath their feet, waves rolling in with a quiet rhythm that seemed to echo the steady beat of his own heart. he breathed in deeply, letting the salt air settle in his lungs, letting the reality of this moment sink in. it was happening. after everything — every step, every quiet moment of realization, every whispered confession in the dead of night — they were here.

his gaze flickered to hans, catching the way his husband’s breath hitched, the way his eyes traced over the flowers, the space that had been prepared for them, the tangible proof of the day they had built with their own hands. hans had always been meticulous in his planning, careful with every detail, but june knew that even if none of this had been here, if they were simply standing barefoot in the sand, alone under the sky, this would still be perfect. because hans was here. because they were together.

a small smile pulled at june’s lips, something soft, something that carried the weight of everything he felt but hadn’t yet spoken. he turned toward hans fully, his free hand lifting to smooth over his husband’s arm, tracing the fabric of his sleeve. “not a single flower ran away,” he echoed, amusement threading through his voice, though it was quieter now, lost beneath the emotion swelling in his chest. “and the sky’s clear, and the waves are calm, and everything’s right where it should be.”

he hesitated, then reached up, brushing his fingers along hans’s jaw, tilting his face just slightly so their eyes met, so there was nothing between them but the truth of this moment.

“it’s real,” he murmured. “you and me, standing here. just like we always planned.” his thumb traced gently over hans’s cheekbone, a touch meant to soothe, to let hans feel the same certainty june did. his fingers curled slightly where they rested. his chest ached with love, a love that was bigger than words, bigger than anything he had ever known. it was in every breath, in the warmth of hans’s skin beneath his touch, in the way their hands remained clasped, unwavering, steady.

for a moment, he just let himself look. at the man he loved, the man who had changed everything, the man he would spend the rest of his life with. then, with the slightest tilt of his head, he murmured “let’s go get married, my love.”

[saphiccarma]

You don't have to if you're not comfortable! I had a little idea of reader getting too overwhelmed and laying their head down in Agathas lap while she's reading or doing something that's been keeping her busy- and the reader just goes silent while Agatha figures out what's happening since reader is usually never like this before realizing they slipped into little space.

Just a lot of fluff and reassurance, reader mostly doing gestures and hand motions to try and say what they want without crying and getting more overwhelmed- maybe getting tucked into bed with a small stuffed animal and Agatha humming while running her fingers through their hair :)

- I'll take care of you

Relationships - Agatha Harkness x Little!Reader

Summary - After a rough day you seek solace in the only person who can give it to you.

Warnings: None really. Little!Reader and Caregiver!Agatha

A/N: this was a nice change of pace from the usual smut. I'm sorry it's short but I'm actually kinda happy with it :) I loveeeeed this request

Your skin felt as if it had been set on fire, a tingling sensation that spread through your whole body. Sniffling slightly, tears brimming your eyes, you shuffled into the living room, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a shield.

Cars outside raged - you hated living on a busy street - and the birds crowed. The wind whipped against the windows harshly, banging the shutters around and knocking trees into the wall so that they clattered loudly. The added sound of rain pounding onto the roof made you feel like it was all too much.

Nearly instantly your eyes locked onto Agatha's form, neatly sitting on the couch. She had her legs propped up on the coffee table, crossed and jeans creasing at the corners. In her hands was a book that she had been reading all day - it wasn't often Agatha had been invested in something for so long that she hardly paid attention to you, but it was happening now.

You’d been vying for her attention all day. Whining at her childishly and stomping your feet to get her attention. If anything, she ignored you more. Or you made your steps loud and dragged your feet when walking past, hoping she would finally give you a time of day. Nothing you did worked, she was too engrossed in her blanket.  

You weren't sure what it was about, and you couldn't care as you dragged your feet over to her. Hands tightening on the blanket, you stare down at her from where you stood, hoping she would look up and notice her. But she was too engrossed in her book. You needed her right now. Your brain was so foggy, overwhelmed by the day, and you just wanted to let go. Let Agatha take care of you and make you feel safe and cozy.

When her eyes stayed trained on her book and not you, you huffed childishly before plopping down on the couch next to her. After a moment you lean over and duck under her arm, placing your head in her lap. She glances at you, just briefly, with a smile on her face and settles a hand atop your head. She brushes some hair away with slender fingers before resuming her reading, still ignoring you. Tears sting the corner of your eyes as you bite your lip.

The simple touch douses you in a wave of cold water, soothing the sting of your skin. The burning buzz disperses, and you feel better now that she’s touching you in a tender way.  

Slipping your hand out of the blanket cocoon you have; you tug on the hand that rests atop your head. Agatha still doesn't move. Frustrated, you bring it around and hold it close to your chest. Then an idea strikes you, and in your quickly fading mature headspace, you lift her fingers to your mouth. You part your lips and suckle on the digits, eyes fluttering at the sensation of comfort it gives you.

It wasn’t something you did often, much like Agatha’s obsession, but you needed that right now. Agatha gives a surprised hum, glancing down at you and her eyes remain for the first time all day. You hear the book softly fall shut as she places it aside and her other hand brushes through your hair.

"Darling?" she asks softly, waiting to see if you'll respond verbally. All she gets in response is a whine and you burrow your head further into her lap, "I see," she sighs, a small smile gracing her lips. She knows now, knows you're little and don't feel like being big.

Usually you were quite verbal, almost always babbling about something with excitement. And she always eagerly listened, but your silence was a key indicator that you were in little headspace.

Her nails scratch against your scalp lightly and your lips curl around her fingers tighter, as if afraid she'll leave. "I'm not going anywhere," she murmurs, sensing your intentions. The two of you sit there for a moment, her hand running through your hair gently and you sucking on her fingers while you keep a blanket cocoon firmly wrapped around you.

Agatha checks the time, noting how it's still quite early, but she can see the way your eyes are fluttering shut and your lips loosen on her fingers slightly. Gently, so as to not upset you, Agatha removes her fingers from your mouth.

The reaction you have is instant, hands shooting out to pull her back with a low, frustrated, whine. The weight of her fingers settling back on your tongue calms you down once again.  The woman above you chuckles slightly, an amused sigh leaving her.

"I think it's time for bed," she hums, swiping hair away from your face with delicate fingertips, "C'mon."

You shake your head petulantly, quite comfy here, despite how heavy your eyes are. Laying here with her for now sounds nice, it's peaceful and you can pretend the rain isn't pouring outside. A finger gently taps your chin, turning your head to look at her. She raises an unimpressed eyebrow, but muted amusement shines in her eyes, as does affection.

"Yes." Her words are firm, and you practically melt into her, "You're sleepy and Mommy thinks it's time for bed, hm?" She doesn't give you a chance to argue, instead leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead before popping her fingers out of your mouth and slipping out from under you.

Giving her a firm, well as firm as you can when in little headspace, you whine and make grabby hands. Your lips pucker into a pout as your feet kick out. Arms outstretched, you give Agatha wide, pleading eyes, begging her to pick you up. She makes a show of rolling her eyes, but lifts you up by your armpits, situating you on her front like a child. The blanket falls off your shoulders and onto the couch silently.

The minute her hands are supporting your thighs; you wrap your arms around her. Then your face buries in her neck and you sigh. She smells like husky amber and something that is so uniquely Agatha, something you can't place. But regardless, it smells like home - it smells safe. Her strong arms have no problem carrying you to the bedroom.

"Alright, hon, let's get you into some comfy clothes yeah?" Agatha places you on the bed gently, giving a soft smile. Reluctantly, you let go of her, lips pouting once again, as you watch her wander over to the dressers. She picks out a pair of pajamas for you, holding them up for you to see.

Shaking your head, you cross your arms over your chest, not liking the pair she chose. They were scratchy and always too hot, no matter how cold it was. Agatha mutters something unintelligible before putting them back and choosing a different pair. You give her a happy nod of approval and in return you are rewarded with a soft murmur of, "Good girl."

The praise makes your heart warm, and head grow heavy as she tugs on the hem of your shirt. You lift your arms obediently, letting her replace your shirt. Pants come next, Agatha tugging them down your legs and having you step in the new pair.

"There we go," she gives you an appraising look, "All nice and cozy. Now let's get tucked into bed."

She gently guides you to lay down, but not before tugging the blanket out from under you. Agatha moves with practiced ease as she drapes it over your shoulders, tucking in the corners nice and tight, just how you like it. Then your eyes widen when you notice she's forgetting something and your hand shoots out, catching her wrist and giving it a sharp tug. For the briefest of moments Agatha looks confused, then she takes in the tears bubbling once again and it clicks.

Your plushie is snatched from the end of the bed and handed to you. You wrap your arms around it, tucking it close to your chest and giving your caretaker a watery smile. A tender kiss is placed to your forehead, her lips lingering comfortingly as she murmurs a soft, “I love you.”

Then her lips trail down, and she presses a little kiss to your nose, which crinkles a the touch, before blowing a teasing raspberry to your cheek. You giggle a little, your eyes shining with something other than tears, and squirm away.

Agatha chases after you, smothering your face in loving kisses even as you playfully struggle, pretending to push her away, “Aggie!” you laugh softly, the sound quiet but filled with joy, “That tickles.”

“Alright, alright.” A final kiss is placed to your forehead before she’s securing the blankets around you and rounding the bed to the other side.

"Comfy?" she asks, not really expecting you to respond. She slides into the bed, above the covers since they are wrapped so tightly around you, and her hand rests on your head. It only takes a second before she's carding her fingers through your hair gently, nails lightly scraping every now and then.

When it becomes clear you aren't going to sleep from that alone, Agatha starts humming a tune. You aren't sure what it is and your brain is too clouded for you to bother figuring it out. All you know is that her hands feel so nice in your hair, her voice is drifting through the room softly, and you are nice and cozy.

You hardly notice the cars outside the window, or the rain, or the wind, or the worries of the day - focused solely on the peace of the moment. Eyes fluttering shut you sigh in content, scooching to lean against Agatha's leg.

She laughs softly, a momentary pause in her humming, "Rest now," she whispers, "Mommy will be right here when you wake up."

Closing your eyes, you relish in her touch and soft humming, quickly slipping into the realm of sleep.

[gingerteafairy]

Hii, you could do some Dave doing. Where the reader has curly hair, and she has always told Dave to define their curls, so one day they try it and he likes it. So every day before she goes to school she goes to his house to do it. that has a lot, a lot of lint.

I've always imagined Dave as the silly boyfriend who is so in love that he lets himself be done by his girlfriend, so why not

hi! sure, he's definitely like this. as a curly hair girl, that's basically the dream goal. hope you like it!

𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐬 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

tags n warnings: fluff, dave lizewski x reader. word count: 1.6k masterlist

Dave considered your hair a masterpiece. It was so defined, so mesmerizing. It was impossible not to want to touch it, and he felt honored to be the only person you allowed to mess up the perfect finish just a little. But he wasn’t the only one admiring the curls, because you loved Dave’s curls too, and that was exactly why you knocked on his door an hour before school.

"Babe, what the hell are you doin' here this early?" he groaned, still half-asleep, opening the door and squinting through his glasses. He had that look of someone who was very much not a morning person.

"I came to give you a really good surprise," you said, your voice full of excitement, stepping inside and immediately getting out of the freezing cold air outside.

"Really?" he perked up, rubbing his eyes as he walked past you to close the door. He came back and wrapped you up in a hug, not letting go as you made your way into the kitchen. As you walked, he inhaled deeply, clearly appreciating the scent of your curls. "What is it?"

You set the bowl on the counter and pulled off the cloth covering it. "Voilá."

Dave leaned his head over your shoulder to peek at what you were hiding. "What is this?"

"Cinnamon rolls," you explained, slipping out of his embrace and moving around the kitchen with a confidence that made it feel like you lived there—partly because you practically did at this point. You opened cabinets, pulled out flour, and grabbed a cutting board. From your backpack, you pulled out a rolling pin and a small bowl filled with a shiny, thick liquid.

"Is that the filling?" Dave asked, clearly intrigued as he leaned over to get a better look. "Smells amazing."

"Yep, we’re gonna spread it on the dough, and you’re gonna help me," you said, smiling sweetly as you motioned for him to join you. He nodded enthusiastically, ready to dive in.

Making cinnamon rolls at the crack of dawn wasn’t exactly Dave’s idea of a perfect morning, but seeing how excited you were, he felt this weird urge to get involved in your little surprise. You’d always talked about how cool it would be to cook together on a date. But really, you couldn’t have chosen a better time?

"You’re gonna roll out the dough with this pin, spread the filling, and make little rolls," you explained, demonstrating your technique.

"Like this?" Dave asked, raising an eyebrow, his hands moving with surprising skill.

"Exactly like that!" you said with a big grin, grabbing some more dough. "You’re good at this, Dave. You’ll make a great helper for my next surprise."

"Wait, there’s more?" he groaned dramatically, raising an eyebrow as he finished shaping another roll.

"Oh yeah, and the cinnamon rolls will be your reward," you teased, noticing the dough was almost finished.

"Alright, alright," he grinned, still playing along. Minutes later, the rolls were shaped perfectly, and you placed them in the oven.

"Now, Dave, we’ve got the baking time to work on the next part of the surprise. Let’s head to the bathroom," you announced with a playful glint in your eyes, heading up the stairs. Dave followed, still a little confused.

"You’re way too mysterious," he laughed, glancing at you over his shoulder as you shot him a mischievous smile. "See? This is what I’m talkin’ about."

Once inside the bathroom, you closed the door behind you. You pulled your backpack off your shoulder, rummaged through it, and pulled out two containers, holding them up for him to see. "You're gonna shower and wash your hair with this."

"Is this part of the mystery, or are you gonna tell me what this stuff is?" Dave asked, his curiosity growing as he took off his glasses and set them down on the sink.

"You’ve always said you love my hair, so I figured I’d do yours the way I do mine," you said, raising an eyebrow, expecting him to catch on. But there was a clear look of confusion on his face followed by a shake of his head. "Come on, Dave. Please?" you pleaded, leaning in closer, and giving him your best puppy-dog eyes.

He squinted, pressing his lips together in thought. "Ugh... Fine, why not?" he finally agreed, flashing you a playful smile before pulling off his shirt and getting ready to hop in the shower. He glanced at you over his shoulder as he grabbed the waistband of his shorts. "Gonna stare at me the whole time?"

"I need to make sure you’re doing it right," you said with a straight face, although you could feel a smile creeping up.

Dave mumbled something about being embarrassed under his breath, pouting in that way that made you melt. You couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head at how adorable he was.

"Fine, but follow the instructions. Leave the mask on for five minutes, just like it says on the package," you said, giving him one last set of instructions before closing the bathroom door.

"You got it!" he called from inside, and you walked back to his bedroom to wait for him.

You prepared everything you needed: hair cream, split-end repair serum, gel, brushes, microfiber towels—everything to make his hair look perfect. You had to admit, this was so much fun, and you were excited to see the results.

Minutes later, Dave came back, a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping everywhere.

"My hair’s never been this soft, check it out," he said, pulling a lock of his hair to show you. "It’s shiny. Is there glitter in this stuff?"

"Nope, babe. Just a good treatment mask," you laughed, turning away so he could get dressed in private.

"It smells just like those cinnamon rolls you’re making," he said, pulling on the bottom half of his clothes and choosing a shirt. "You can turn around now."

You turned back around and found him sitting on the bed, looking so cute and relaxed. You sat next to him, placing all the hair tools beside him. "Why all the stuff? Don’t you just brush it?"

“No, Dave. And to be honest, I do this every time I get ready,” you laughed, starting to comb through his hair to get rid of any tangles. “My hair doesn’t just get perfect on its own, you know?”

“But it is perfect on you…” he complimented, looking up at you, his eyes locking with yours. “I’m scared I’m gonna look like a damn clown.”

“You won’t, Dave,” you giggled, grabbing a towel to dry off the excess moisture from his hair and continuing to comb. “I’ve always wanted to do this to your hair, you know? Your hair is so beautiful.”

He shook his head slightly, confused. You took some oil in your hands, rubbed it together, and spread it through the length of his hair. Then, you grabbed some cream and worked it through evenly. Finally, you picked up some gel, and Dave raised an eyebrow.

“What’s that?” he asked, his face making a disgusted cat-like expression.

“Gel.”

“I know what it is, but why do you need it?” he asked, leaning in closer to smell it.

“To make your curls last longer,” you explained, applying a little and scrunching it to enhance his curls. “Done! First part's all set.”

“First?” he asked, his voice sounding a little whiny.

You cupped his face in your hands, giving him a quick kiss on the lips before pulling away to look at him. “Just one more step and we’re done, okay?”

“That’s a low blow,” he mumbled, then laughed softly. You grabbed a towel to wipe off the cream that had dripped onto his face, then went for the blow dryer with an attachment. “Now this I have no idea what it is.”

“It’s a diffuser,” you laughed, plugging it in and adjusting the device to work on his hair. “It helps dry the curls without damaging them or making them frizzy.”

“Whoa, this is a whole new world,” he said, his voice full of enthusiasm as he soaked in every moment of this pampering session. You were close to him, giving him special attention to make sure he looked perfect.

“Finished,” you announced after a while, adding a little more split-end repair serum to loosen his curls. “Okay, you can take a look.”

You stepped back so Dave could get up and walk over to the mirror. He touched his curls, laughing lightly and admiring how they turned out. “Wow… it’s like doll hair,” he whispered, pulling at one of the curls with his hand. “It looks like yours.”

“That’s because this is how I do it,” you smiled, walking over to him. “When you do it yourself, just grab a section of your hair and roll it like a cinnamon roll.”

“So that’s why you brought me the cinnamon rolls,” he rolled his eyes, smiling at you. “You’re clever. But just one thing… don’t your arms hurt from doing all that?”

“A little, but you get used to it,” you shrugged, still admiring his curls. The timer on the oven dinged. “The rolls are ready. Let’s eat and head to school.”

“Sounds good!” Dave grinned, and you both made your way to the kitchen. Dave loved the cinnamon rolls, and as always, everything you did seemed to be perfect. You packed some of the cinnamon rolls into a bag to take to school, and Dave grinned. “If I get these rolls every time I let you do my hair, I might just go buy that infuser thing.”

“It’s diffuser,” you corrected him, laughing. “And maybe I can reward you with that.”

That ended up becoming a routine, where you would do his hair every morning before school, sometimes even doing your own hair alongside his. It was kind of a fun little ritual, especially since the day before you’d been too lazy to do yours, and you took the opportunity to spend just a little more time with your gorgeous, curly-haired boyfriend.

[b0kevi]

try. | Jamil x gn!reader

summary: y/n’s heart aches for jamil but knows they can’t be together, can jamil really love y/n the way they love him

trope: slight angst, fluff happy ending, in denial, love confession

info: “I think… I can love you.” prompt, gender neutral reader they/them pronouns, long cringe love confession

characters: Jamil Viper, Kalim mentioned

w/c: 1115

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

A part of you knew what you were getting into. You knew it wasn’t going to work out the second you sensed something, but the heart wants what it wants.

and for some reason, your heart wants jamil.

the dashing mysterious servant from scarabia.

your brain told you to stay away from him, not because he’s mischievous no, because he has enough on his plate. you doubt he has time for romance or if he even thinks about romance.

your brain told you to stay away and let him go but your heart told you otherwise.

you ended up getting closer to the vice warden and sharing chores with each other, basically spending any free time you can at scarabia to hang out with him and help him out.

every minute you spent with him, the louder the voice in your heart got. you were being greedy, selfish to wish that he would love you like you love him.

“something on your mind?” you were doing it again. getting lost in his movements, so memorized by the way he moves in the kitchen, he doesn’t even need to use his signature spell for you to be captivated by him.

“oh, it’s nothing.” you were supposed to be washing dishes as jamil prepares for dinner but as days go by your feelings grow stronger and you really thought this would be easy to hide but it’s starting to hurt a lot more than you thought.

“really? because it seems like you're somewhere else.”

Jamil already finished preparations and made his way to you before having to take the food out, he nudged your shoulder a bit to grab your attention. just with a single touch you could feel sparks running through your body.

“sorry, it’s just been a long day... you know how it is.” you finished washing the last plate and dried your hands, speaking up before he could.

“why don’t we take this food out? I'm sure everyone’s starving.” grabbing plates to hide from his glaze.

𖥸

“delicious as always jamil.” you smiled as you took a bite. after you guys fed everyone else, you two went to the kitchen for some quiet time to eat your own dinner.

Jamil chuckles softly, “it’s nothing special…”

you stare at him, how could he not see how wonderful he is. how you wish you can tell him how amazing he is, you could spend the rest of your life singing him praise just so he can see how special he really is.

𖥸

“is there… something you want to tell me y/n?” This made you jump as you handed Jamil your plate for him to wash.

“hm? what do you mean?” you played off, Jamil could tell something was bothering you, you were so quiet and distant with him today, it was unusual. He noticed it’s not just today you were distant, the last couple of weeks you’ve been quiet, still helping him but not yourself. he could use his snake charmer to figure out what was going on but he felt wrong to do that, he wanted you to tell him yourself.

Jamil sighed as he leaned against the counter, “you’ve been very distant and have been staring at me quite a lot lately… have I done something?” you can take it anymore you can feel your heart about to burst.

“Jamil… I have to tell you something.” he knew it. you motion him to sit down which he hesitantly did.

“just… hear me out okay? I know this might be a lot and you might hate me but I need to say this.” you started out, squeezing your hands and taking a deep breath before staring into Jamil’s grey eyes.

“Jamil… I love you. I've loved you for so long and I tried so hard to push these feelings away and let you do your own thing but I couldn’t. I couldn’t stand being away from you, I'm drawn to you jamil. you’re so amazing that I wish you could see that yourself. you’re such an incredible and hard working person that I can spend the rest of the days telling you how wonderful you are just so you can believe it yourself. I know you're just a servant but that doesn’t matter to me, I don't care, I love you jamil and I understand if you don’t feel the same, I know you have a lot of stuff going on which is why i didn’t want to tell you but i had to. i understand if you don’t want to see me again…” you finished your rant as you felt like you’re about to burst into tears but you held it in.

Jamil had a deep blush on his face and blank stare and he digested what you just said.

Jamil had so many thoughts running through his head, he never thought anyone would feel this way about him or if he deserved this kind of love. you were right, he did have a lot on his plate, he didn’t know if his family would allow him to have a partner or if he was ready for one, how would he provide for you? He already has to take care of kalim, could he take care of the two of you?

you took his silence and avoided gaze as his answer and turned to make your way to the door.

“w-wait-!” Jamil frantically stood up and grabbed your wrist, he looked so puzzled and flustered.

“jamil you don’t have to say anythin-“ Jamil interrupted you before anything.

“I think…I think I can love you.”

Jamil could think of the consequences or what ifs later but what he knows right now is that he feels good when he’s around you. He doesn’t feel like a servant at someone’s beck and call, he feels free and he likes being around you. If this is love then he definitely thinks he can love you.

“I know I don’t come from a lot but I can definitely love you if you give me a chance to prove it.” his hand moved to hold yours.

that’s it. your heart just exploded, you jumped at him and crushed him with a hug making you both fall to the ground.

you kissed his cheek and all around his face, “yes! i don’t care about anything else i just want you jamil!”

jamil let out a genuinely laugh as he sat up holding you tightly as if you were going to let go and change your mind. he held your face gently, looking deep into your eyes, “I promise to be there for you and show you love Hayati.”

“Me too Jamil.”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

hayati = my life

a/n: I’m not arabic and I used google to translate ^ idk i saw that prompt and immediately thought of jamil for some reason, idk how to feel about this lol have a good day/night ! take care <3

[rafesbabygirlx]

john b with like..a bitchy!bimbo!kook!reader.

readers all y2k and such a bitch. actually hates john b. all juicy couture suits and daddys money.

That’s hot 🤭

Idk if you want smut or not but I can do this pairing with out it lol I also may have gotten carried away

𝚓𝚘𝚑𝚗 𝚋 𝚡 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚢!𝚋𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘!𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍, 𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚔𝚎

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You spin around towards the bathroom door to meet eyes with a certain Pogue you’ve come to despise.

You were in the bathroom trying to take a moment to get in a line or 2. If you did it out in the party, everyone would hassle you for some and you were too selfish to give any of your stash out. People always took advantage. The high hit you pretty hard so when you went to take a swig of your drink you stupidly missed your mouth and spilt it all down your dress and track suit. You we so shocked to see him come in you completely forgot you had you jacket zipped down and open.

His eyes trail down your body and you scoff at him closing it back up. “I’m crashing your little kook party.”

“John B get the fuck out of here,” you yell at him and he rushes over clamping his palm over your mouth. You hate him but something tingles in your core at how he towers over you.

“That wasn’t a joke, I crashed I got caught and now Kelce and Rafe are looking for me.” He whispers trying not to get caught, releasing your mouth.

“Least knock first, why didn’t you just leave?” you yelled at him. He frustratingly throws his hands up telling you to be quiet again.

“God, that little pea brain of yours really forgets easily.”

You flinch at the words just a bit. You hated that people thought you were dumb. You couldn’t help the fact you were fun, out going, flirty… and maybe a little clumsy. Your face dropped and looked at him defeated.

“Don’t worry princess, daddy can just get you some silk tissues to soak up your tears.”

“I’m not stupid, Pogue. You’re an asshole for always throwing that in my face. Maybe I want you to get caught.” You cross your arms unintentionally pushing your breasts together. You catch John B’s eyes focus on them again. “And at least I’m not a pervert. Like what you see?”

He clears his throat as his eyes reach yours again. “I mean yeah.” He states it matter of factly not breaking the eye contact.

“I hate you… like a lot.” You move in closer to him, slowly unzipping your jacket again. “But if you want my help, you have to do something for me.”

“Anything. Not trying to get my ass beat tonight. What is it?”

You step up into your tippy toes, mouth meeting his ear. “Fuck me. No one will suspect it’s you in here if they me.”

You slip off you jacket leaving you in your matching pants and bra. You grab John B by the back of the neck taking him with you until you’re up against the sink. He lifts you up onto it, smashing his lips into yours. Your tongues break into each other’s mouths immediately. You only break apart for a second when you rip his shirt off of his body. Your hands roam up and down feeling every bit of muscle on him.

You hop off the sink and pull your sweatpants, next you fiddle with the button of his cargo shorts. You expect him to lift you back onto the sink. But I’m one swift motion he spins you to face the mirror.

“I want you to watch your enemy fuck you.” He says and a dangerous smirk flashes on his face.

He drops your panties to the floor releasing himself from his boxers. With his cock in his hand he runs through your folds, sticking it between your thighs. He moves back and forth creating a friction on your core making your body run hot.

“Eyes stay on me.” He demands and you nod.

Taking his cock again, he nudges your hole with his tip. He pokes you a couple of times using his knees to spread out your legs more. Once they’re spread he jams his entire length into you.

Setting a pace quickly he thrusts into you hard and deep. The only sounds in the bathroom are the soft bass from downstairs, skin slapping, the squelching noise coming from your pussy, and your moans you can’t contain. You clench your eyes tight at the pleasure.

“What’d I say?” He grabs your long hair, pulling your neck back making you open your eyes.

He keeps that position, your back is arched, one of his hand digs into your hip and the other stays tangled in your hair.

You’re getting close, a couple of people have knocked on the door already but stumbled away once they hear you moan. Until this time you hear loud banging on the door and they won’t leave.

“John B, get the fuck out here!”

Shit, it was Rafe. He probably thinks John B was just locked in here hiding from them. Your friend you will you if he found out what he was really doing.

John B goes to stop out of panic. You reach back to tell him not to stop and he listens. It’s part of your plan, your friends know how promiscuous you were, especially at parties. You calling out to him wouldn’t shock him in the slightest.

“Rafey! It-it’s me. No Pogue here, pr-promise!” You shout out and watch John B’s eye widen. You giggle at his reaction.

“Oh. You gotta cool it with these hook ups. I’m going.” Rafe warned, but it didn’t matter, it worked.

John B was turned on by how you seemingly stood up for him. This caused his to pick up his pace even more. It was a brutal beating on your pussy.

Your eyes have been locked in each others this entire time. You’re about to come and you can’t stop the noises slipping from your mouth. He was fucking you so good you didn’t think you could hate him anymore after this. You came hard around his cock and John B followed right behind you, pulling out and coming onto your back.

After he cleaned you up and you redressed you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You’ve hated him for the longest time, you still hate him, he’s still an asshole. Just an asshole who happens to be really good at fucking.

“Let’s get you outta here, Pogue.”

tags + some moots 💗

@rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @maybankslover @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @percysley @aupernatural-teenwolflover @slut4you @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @diasnohibng @slut-4-gojo @akobx @jjmaybankmylovee @slurpdew @rafesheaven @cameronsprincess @littlelamy @nemesyaaa @inthelibrarybtw @frankoceanluvr11 @writingroom21 @v3n1ce-bxtch

[namgyu-nurture]

request!!!

ok so i get if your not comfortable with writing about this but can you write a fic about where the female reader is at a bridge ready to fall and somebody sees and calls the police and jun ho is the officer to respond, that’s all i really thought of but you got to off make them fall in love because the reader is stunning 🤩

Last minute love - Hwang Jun-ho x fem!reader

Warnings: a lot of suicidal thoughts!! Self harm, depression, mentions of bullying, fluff

A/N: im sorry if this is short or didnt get the exact thing you were looking for, but I was really happy to get a junho request actually hes so fine I love that guy 💪💪 tysm for this this was so fun to write

Life was hard. You were always bullied in school. Teased, harassed, humiliated, kids thought it was funny to make you cry. You were nothing but nice. Eating lunch alone in the school bathrooms, standing alone at break. You were pushed, shoved, kicked when going anywhere, you had tried to consult a councillor but they seemed to like your bullies more, ignoring your claims since you didn’t have proof.

You never understood why kids hated you so much. You weren’t exactly ugly, you had a glimmer of self confidence, looks wise at least. Maybe the way you acted? But you barely spoke. This is what riled you up. People despised you.. and for what reason?

Even as an adult, you were unlucky. No man ever looked your way, you always seemed to come second in hiring. Being broke and lonely you hated life, you always tried in school but your grades weren’t enough, you were a failure.

So here you are. Sat on the edge of the bridge, the busy highway flooded with cars moving by, the motion was a blur. You sat contemplating. ‘I should just jump. Get it over with’ you thought to yourself. You were so drained, afraid of dying but life wasn’t much better than dying anyway.

You sat for a while, just dangling your legs, hyping yourself up enough to jump. ‘Fucking wimp.’ You thought, looking at your hands that were cowering at the thought of jumping, your heart was pounding.

Unbeknownst to you, a man who had driven by noticed this situation, not fully sure if it was going to escalate but to be safe he rang the police. Alerting them.

You sat looking down. ‘Would the fall even kill you?’ You thought. It looked like it would, but the thought of it not killing you on impact made you hesitate, what if you didn’t die, but survived, the pain from the impact making your stomach churn.

Through the midsts of white/yellowy lights from headlights on the bridge and the musky orange light from the lampposts, you saw a flicker of red and blue lights approaching.

Panicking, when the car pulled over and a police officer came out, you gained composure and stood up. Shaking slightly as the heights of the situation increased.

“Excuse me miss.” A calm voice rang out, over the noise of the passing by cars. You turned to look at him, still stood on the edge of the bridge.

He was youngish, maybe in his 30s realistically but he looked younger. He was handsome, his dark hair parted neatly, his uniform was tidy and his eyes looked into yours from the distance he was stood.

“Can you step down from there?” He called out again, his tone was calm, well spoken and polite.

“..no.” You replied quietly. “No, I won’t.. leave..go away” your voice spiking in panic.

“Miss, please step down, you’re not in trouble. I just want to have a word with you.” He said kindly. Stepping forward and offering you a hand to step down.

He felt a twinge of anger that someone like you would be here, on the edge of the bridge, an urge of protection for you, he wasn’t sure why, he thought you were gorgeous. He didn’t know you, but he’d hate to see you go.

“W-why should I? Huh?” You responded angrily, “s’ not like life’s gonna be worth living anytime soon. I should just get it over with right? No one likes me anyway. I don’t know what the fuck I did but they all hate me.” Your voice cracked in upset as you ranted. You had a smile, a clearly forced one, as if amused by what you must’ve done to be here now.

Your eyes told a different story, the man noticed the hurt, the held back anguish. “You should step down because nothings going to resolve your problems if you die. Your mother would be heartbroken. If you want things to get better you need to resolve them.. be strong. Come on.” He spoke clearly, with a soft tone, he insisted his hand. And she looked at him. “Please.” He insisted once again.

She thought about his words and hesitantly took his hand. She stepped down, her sleeve riding up when she held his hand. Years of scars and burns littered her wrist, it shattered his heart to look at. Someone so beautiful being so.. hurt.

She noticed him looking and yanked her hand away, pulling her sleeve down. “Got a good look yeah?” She said spitefully.

“Im sorry.” He spoke, aware he was wrong for looking so long. “Would you like to talk? speak about whats on your mind?” He offered to which she shook her head.

A moment of silence passed.

“Could.. could I have a hug..?” She asked quietly, and he opened his arms. She wrapped her arms loosely around his midsection. One of his hands rested on her head, the other on her back.

“It’s going to be okay.” He said soothingly.

“Will it?” Your voice broke softly as you looked up at him.

“I’ll make sure of it.” He said softly to her making eye contact

“Promise?” She asked quietly.

“I promise.” He responded promisingly.

[sherlockholmeshound]

Saying Padme never put boundaries in her relationship is kinda silly given that she rejected Anakin and put to a stop the advances more than once (and he respected her wishes, like he should). She was the one to tell him to wait until the war ended before leaving the jedi. And she, famously, told him he was going down a path she couldn't follow.

So Padme wasn't just going with whatever Anakin did, she actually is quite stubborn and at times would go into missions he didn't agree with because of her safety. Anakin is the one that's more of a follower, and most of his attempts (we are not talking about his descend into madness and evilness here) are more of a grumpy tantrum. Trying to pull out a 'im a jedi general so you should listen' is just a desperate attempt at trying to make his opinion to seem important because Anakin's idea of importance come from someone's title/rank (he's a Jedi and a general, so his opinion should have more validity than just Anakin), and not even he sounds sure of himself with that because he does know is bullshit, and those show he's inexperienced and fairly young and awkward rather than trying to agressively make Padme comply with him because he's entitled. The Jedi don't offer great social skills, you see, they do offer a hierarchical institution where the higher your rank the more respect and important your opinion is (and this is not even touching the slavery background)

Padme doesn't feel threatened by any of that, she just talks him down of his very momentarily high-horse, calmly. Because she knows he's incredibly emotional more of a scared bull than anything else. This is not to say she's constantly dealing with him like he's a manchild, the contrary. Anakin's very special brand of mental illness needs lots of reassuring, considering 98% of the time his concerns and pissy moods come from the fear she might be hurt.

Just because Padme's assertiveness is calm and loving, doesn't mean they aren't real boundaries or that she would just let him mistreat her. And just because she's usually calm and composed doesn't mean she wouldn't sometimes argue and get into dumb couples' spats

However, I do propose that she did go through the motions with Anakin in the crazier stuff, like having semi-public sex or hidding in a damn closet or in a rented speeder or him hidding under her desk; yeah i agree with that, they were unsafely horny about that (and I still think a lot of that was initiated by her)

[thyras]

→ of great gatherings (bonus chapter)

PAIRING → mairon | sauron x female!elf!reader

WORD COUNT → 14.8k words

SERIES → of sauron & the moriquendi

WARNINGS → 18+ only MDNI - unprotected p in v, oral (female receiving), fingering, semi-public sex, tub sex, bruh this is just sex everywhere tbh

SUMMARY → your husband wishes to show you off in the grandest way possible.

AUTHORS NOTE → please don't kill me i'm running out of gif's guys, none of jack's sauron really works okay, i'm sorry. like i fucking love that moron but shit the chapters i've written of him do not align with that version of him 🤣 so as requested, cause y'all be some filthy horny animals I have two fully filled smut chapters to post for y'all, thought this was just 15k words nope apparently it was close to 30k so yeah i've split them up and i'll post them separately. so lots of eärlindë in this and we get why he calls her mori as well hehe though little tidbit, this story line was abandoned cause i was not going to have reader meet celebrimbor but his father. yeah i realized the timeline did not match up for melkor's first chaining so it was scrapped. but still hope y'all like it if the timeline is a little janky, i wrote all this like the day after i kinda knew what i wanted to write.

masterlist // series playlist // mood board

His eyes swept over you as you entered the room. You were adorned in one of your delicate gossamer gowns, every curve and contour of your form illuminated for him to admire. Your hair cascaded in loose waves, catching the golden hues of the evening sun, which framed you in a soft, ethereal halo. To Mairon, you were nothing less than a goddess—one worthy of an altar in the sky.

Your marital bliss was still so fresh, though years had passed since you first wed. Yet, he could never see that glow fading. Even now, Mairon often felt unworthy of the love and devotion you so freely gave. The sins of his past had long since faded into memory, and he had begun to move through this burgeoning city with greater ease. Feeling more than fallen Maia.

He had even ventured beyond its borders, learning from other elven craftsmen despite being a smith of Aulë—even if none knew of his true origins.

And still, in the quiet depths of night, when sleep occasionally found him, his dreams were shadowed with the lingering fear that this fragile happiness might shatter, that his secret would one day be laid bare.

A warmth touched your face as you stood beside him, neatly laying his freshly folded clothes on the wooden stool there. His hand emerged from the warm bathwater, catching your wrist before you could slip away. Water dampened the sleeve of your gown as his grip held you in place.

“Moriel,” he purred, his soft green gaze locking onto yours, searching for something only you could give. “Join me.”

You giggled, a playful smile curving your lips as you shook your head.

“I’ve already started getting ready,” you teased, flicking your eyes toward the neatly folded clothes. “And so should you.”

You moved to pull away, but in one swift motion, Mairon tugged you forward, pulling you into the bath with him.

A surprised yelp escaped your lips as you splashed into the warm water, laughter bubbling up in its wake. Your gown, now drenched, clung to your body like a second skin, leaving nothing to his imagination.

A playful smile danced on your lips as you pushed yourself back, away from Mairon's reach.

"Now look what you've done," you chuckled, trying to wring the water out of your soaked gown.

Mairon simply shrugged, his eyes locked onto your body, unbridled desire shining in their depths.

"I don't see a problem," he replied huskily, inching closer to you in the bath. "You know how much I adore seeing you wet."

Your cheeks flushed at his words, feeling heat pool low in your belly at the thought of him seeing you like this.

"Is that so?" you teased, playing coy even as his hand reached for yours and pulled you into his lap.

It was moments like these that reminded Mairon why he had chosen this life with you over all others. The way you responded to his touch with such raw abandon drove him wild with desire. 

But for now, he contented himself with kissing every inch of skin he could reach—the slope of your neck, the dip between your collarbones, and down to the valley between your breasts. You could feel his arousal pressing against your heated core, and you shifted your hips, grinding against him with a devilish grin. Mairon let out a low growl, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you even closer to him.

"Divine," Mairon growled against your skin. "Keep that up and we'll never make it to the gathering." 

You rolled your hips again teasingly. "Maybe that's my plan," you purred. "I'd rather feast on you right here."

With a groan, Mairon captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth with unrestrained hunger. You returned the kiss with equal fervor, the wet fabric of your nightgown brushing against his bare chest as you pressed yourself against him. 

His hands roamed your body, gliding over the translucent material clinging to your curves. Fingers deftly untied the laces at the front until the fabric loosened. With a tug, he peeled the wet gown off, exposing your body to his greedy gaze. 

"Beautiful," he murmured reverently, gleaming eyes drinking in every inch of your glistening skin. "My Mori, my goddess." 

His hands caressed your breasts, thumbs flicking over the sensitive peaks until you arched into his touch with a gasp. Mairon's lips trailed kisses down your throat as his fingers dipped between your thighs, finding your slick folds. You mewled and ground against his hand, chasing the delicious friction.

"Mairon, please," you breathed, head lolling back as two fingers plunged inside your heat. "I need you."

"Patience, my love," he purred, pumping his fingers slowly, savoring your silken walls clenching around him. "I want to worship you properly first."

You whined as his fingers withdrew, but it quickly turned into a moan as Mairon's hot mouth enveloped your breast once more, tongue swirling around the stiff peak. His teeth grazed your sensitive flesh, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

"Yes!" you cried out, threading your fingers through his damp coppery hair to hold him against you. 

Mairon lavished attention on your breasts, suckling and nipping until you were writhing in his lap, desperate for more. His arousal throbbed between your bodies, the velvet head brushing your stomach. You reached down to stroke him, relishing the deep groan that rumbled in his chest.

Panting, Mairon released your nipple with a soft pop, eyes dark with lust as they met yours. "I want to taste you, sweet one," he rasped.

 With a wicked grin, you rose up on your knees, granting Mairon access to your dripping core. His hands gripped your hips as he guided you to hover over his face. You had to brace yourself against the edge of the tub as Mairon's sinful mouth made contact with your sensitive flesh. 

"Oh Mairon," you gasped as his tongue parted your folds, lapping up your essence. He groaned appreciatively, the vibrations making you shudder. 

Mairon begun eating you out, tongue swirling around your pearl before delving deep inside you. Your thighs trembled on either side of his head as he brought you closer and closer to the edge with every skilled flick and thrust. He slipped two fingers inside your clenching cunt, pumping in time with his licks.

"Don't stop, my love," you panted, rocking your hips against Mairon's face as the coil in your belly wound tighter and tighter. "I'm so close..."

Mairon redoubled his efforts, fingers curling inside you to stroke that sensitive spot while he suckled on your swollen pearl. The intense pleasure crashed over you in waves and with a sob of ecstasy, you shattered. Your inner walls clamped down on his fingers as you rode out your high, Mairon's tongue lapping up every drop of your release. 

Gently, he guided you back down into the warm bathwater, cradling you against his chest. You could feel his hardness pressing insistently against your stomach and you squirmed in his lap, eager to return the favor. But Mairon's arms tightened around your waist, stilling your movements.

"Not yet, my love," he murmured in your ear. "I'm almost finished.”

Mairon's hand glided down your stomach to tease your sensitive folds once more. You shivered and arched into his touch, still swollen from your recent climax. His nimble fingers circled your pearl, coaxing soft mewls from your lips as he reignited your arousal.

"Mairon," you whimpered. "I want to please you too." 

"You already please me more than you know, sweet one," he purred, nipping at your pointed ear. "Watching you come undone is the most exquisite sight."

To emphasize his point, Mairon thrust two fingers deep inside your core, making you cry out and clench around the sudden intrusion. He pumped them slowly, thumb rubbing firm circles on your pearl. The warm water lapped at your sensitized skin as Mairon worked you back up to a fever pitch. His other hand kneaded your breast, rolling and pinching the stiff peak until you were panting and writhing against him.

"That's it, my goddess," Mairon growled, increasing the pace of his thrusting fingers. "Let me feel you fall apart for me again."

Your walls fluttered around his digits as the pressure built, every drag against that spot inside you bringing you closer to oblivion. Mairon's teeth grazed the junction of your neck and shoulder before biting down, marking you as his. The erotic mix of pain and pleasure sent you careening over the edge with a strangled moan. 

Mairon worked you through the aftershocks, fingers gentling as you came down from your high. You sagged bonelessly against his chest, utterly sated. But Mairon's own need still pulsed hard and insistent between your bodies. With a languid smile, you shifted in his arms to straddle his lap, positioning yourself above his straining arousal.

"I believe it's my turn to worship you now, husband," you purred.

Mairon's sea-foam green eyes locked onto yours, burning with unbridled desire as you reached between your bodies to grasp his thick length. He let out a low hiss as you ran your palm along his shaft, your thumb swirling around the weeping tip. You positioned him at your entrance, teasing him with slow, shallow rocks of your hips that barely took him inside.

"Mori," Mairon growled, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. "Stop tormenting me, you devilish woman.”

With a coquettish grin, you sank down slowly onto Mairon's throbbing arousal, enveloping him in your tight, wet heat. Twin moans of pleasure filled the steamy air as you seated yourself fully in his lap, relishing the delicious stretch and fullness. You paused for a moment, savoring the feeling of being one with your beloved husband.

Mairon's hands roamed your back, fingers tracing patterns on your damp skin as he gazed up at you with adoration and desire. "My beautiful wife," he breathed reverently. "I am forever yours."

"As I am yours, my love," you whispered back, capturing his lips in a deep, sensual kiss. 

Slowly, you began to rock your hips on Mairon's thick shaft. The warm water lapped at your joined bodies, heightening every sensation. Mairon groaned into the kiss, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he relished in your movements.

You set a languid pace, wanting to savor every blissful slide of his hardness inside your velvet walls. Mairon's hands glided up your sides to cup your breasts, kneading the soft mounds and teasing your nipples with flicks of his thumbs. You arched into his touch with a breathy moan, the dual stimulation sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins.

"Mori," Mairon panted against your lips. "You feel incredible. So perfect around me."

"Mairon," you whimpered, circling your hips to grind against him. "You fill me so well, my love."

Mairon's hands slid down to grip your rear, guiding your movements as you undulated in his lap. The slick slide of your bodies, the erotic sounds of water lapping against heated skin, drove you both wild with lust. You increased your pace, moving to rise and fall on his thick shaft with wanton abandon. 

Mairon's head fell back against the edge of the tub, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as you rode him harder, faster. The coil of pleasure wound tighter in your core with every thrust, every drag of his cock inside you. You clenched around him, eliciting a strangled moan from Mairon's lips.

"Yes, just like that," he panted, hips snapping up to meet your downward thrusts. "Don't stop, I'm so close..."

You could feel your own release rapidly approaching, the relentless friction sending you spiraling towards that blissful edge. One hand gripped the edge of the tub for leverage while the other tangled in Mairon's damp hair, tugging him in for a sloppy, desperate kiss. Your tongues tangled and teeth clashed as you devoured each other, pouring all your love and passion into the heated embrace.

"Mairon, I'm close," you whimpered against his lips, walls fluttering around his length. "Come with me, my love."

"Together," Mairon groaned, one hand snaking between your bodies to rub firm circles on your swollen pearl. The added stimulation was all it took to send you flying over the edge with a keening cry of ecstasy. Your inner walls clamped down on Mairon's throbbing length, milking him for all he was worth as your orgasm crashed over you in intense waves of pleasure.

Mairon followed you a heartbeat later, spilling himself deep inside you with a hoarse call of your name. His hips jerked erratically as he emptied himself in long, hot spurts, your velvet heat coaxing every last drop from his pulsing shaft. 

You collapsed against Mairon's chest, both of you trembling and panting harshly as you came down from your mutual highs. Mairon's arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close as he pressed soft kisses to your damp hair and temples. You nuzzled into his neck, savoring his warmth and the comforting scent of ash and soot that always clung to his skin.

For long moments, you simply held each other, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking and the tranquility of the warm bathwater lapping at your sated bodies. Mairon's hands roamed your back in soothing caresses, fingers tracing idle patterns on your damp skin. You sighed contentedly, utterly at peace in your husband's strong arms.

Eventually, Mairon shifted, gently lifting you off his softening length. You whimpered at the loss, feeling empty without him filling you so completely. He chuckled softly at your pout, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. 

"As much as I would love to stay here with you all night, my goddess," Mairon murmured, "we do have a gathering to get to,” Reminding you of your earlier comment to him. 

You let out a languid sigh, nodding reluctantly. "I suppose you're right, my love. Though I can think of no finer feast than the one we just shared."

Mairon grinned at that, green eyes sparkling with mirth and adoration. "I couldn't agree more, sweet one. But alas, duty calls." 

With that, he stood, rivulets of water cascading down his toned body as he stepped out of the tub. You admired the play of muscles under his skin, the way his damp hair clung to his neck and shoulders. He was a vision of masculine beauty, and he was all yours.

Mairon turned, extending a hand to help you up. You grasped it, allowing him to pull you to your feet and out of the cooling bathwater. He enfolded you in a plush towel, rubbing your skin dry with gentle, attentive strokes. You practically purred at his ministrations, relishing his care. Once he was satisfied that every inch of you was dry, Mairon wrapped the towel snugly around your body before grabbing another for himself.

You padded over to the vanity, picking up your silver-handled hairbrush. Before you could begin detangling your damp tresses, Mairon's hand covered yours. "Allow me, my love," he murmured, taking the brush and guiding you to sit on the cushioned stool.

With infinite tenderness, Mairon ran the brush through your hair, carefully working out the knots and tangles. You closed your eyes, sighing contentedly at the soothing sensation. It never failed to amaze you how hands so powerful, so skilled at crafting wonders and forging metal, could be so incredibly gentle. Mairon treated you like the most precious treasure, every touch a whispered declaration of his love and devotion.

As he brushed your hair to a glossy sheen, his fingers would occasionally ghost along the elegant point of your ear or the nape of your neck, sending delicious shivers down your spine. With practiced ease, he separated sections of your hair, deftly twisting and braiding the strands into an intricate style fit for a queen. When he was finished, he reached for the silvery hairpiece on your vanity—the same one you had worn on your wedding night—and carefully placed it among his handiwork. The white jewels and silvery metal gleamed in the flickering candlelight, a reflection of the stars.

"Beautiful," Mairon murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he admired his masterpiece in the mirror. "A vision of perfection, as always."

You smiled at his reflection, eyes glowing with love and adoration. "Only because I have you by my side, my love," you replied, turning to loop your arms around his neck. "You make me feel cherished and radiant every single day."

Mairon's eyes softened, a tender smile gracing his lips as he pulled you flush against him. "You are my everything, Moriel," he whispered ardently. "My heart, my fëa. I will spend eternity showing you just how deeply I adore you."

Your heart swelled at his heartfelt declaration, a lump forming in your throat. Even after all this time, Mairon still had the power to make you feel like a blushing maiden with his poetic words and passionate devotion. Rising onto your toes, you captured his lips in a slow, sweet kiss, pouring all your love into the gentle caress.

"As I adore you, Mairon," you breathed.

Mairon returned the kiss with equal tenderness, his arms tightening around your waist. These quiet, intimate moments with you were his greatest treasure, filling him with a deep sense of peace and contentment he had never known before you entered his life.

Reluctantly, you broke the kiss, gazing up at Mairon with a warm smile. "As much as I would love to stay in your arms all night, my darling, we really should finish getting ready." You said, repeating his earlier words.

Mairon let out a dramatic sigh, a playful pout forming on his sensual lips. "If we must," he conceded. "Though I plan to hold you in my arms and shower you with kisses the moment we return from the gathering."

You giggled, pressing a quick peck to his pouting mouth. "I shall hold you to that promise, husband."

With that, you gently disentangled yourself from his embrace and watched as he walked back into the washroom, where his neatly folded robes awaited him. You smiled softly, content with everything that had transpired before moving to retrieve the gown hanging on the door of your wardrobe.

It was a soft, velvety blue gown adorned with sparkling diamonds, stitched into the fabric in delicate, star-like patterns. The craftsmanship was so exquisite, it seemed almost as if Vairë herself had woven it from the very threads of the night sky. It felt too grand, too regal for a woman like you to wear—meant instead for a queen.

Yet Mairon had brought it back from his visit to Gondolin, wrapped in an opulent box, his eyes alight with anticipation as he presented it to you. The moment you unfolded the gown, your heart had stuttered in your chest. It was breathtaking, and though you had deemed it unnecessary—believing you had no occasion grand enough to wear such a masterpiece—Mairon had been insistent. He had urged you to try it on, and to your amazement, it fit as though it had been tailored for you alone.

And then, when you turned to face him, you saw the look in his eyes—pure, unguarded adoration.

"You truly are a goddess, my love," he had whispered.

His words had made you flush with warmth, for you had never felt as such. But beneath his gaze, beneath his touch, you felt as though you were Varda herself.

"Do you need help?" Mairon’s voice pulled you back to the present.

You turned to find him watching you, a soft smile gracing his lips. He had already donned his elegant crimson robes, the intricate embroidery catching the candlelight like embers in a fire. He looked every inch the regal lord, his copper hair cascading over his shoulders in molten waves. Your breath caught at the sight of him—still, after all these years, you could scarcely believe this magnificent being had chosen you as his wife for all eternity.

"Yes, please," you admitted, holding up the sumptuous gown. "I don't think I can manage these tiny pearl buttons on my own."

Mairon crossed the room, his eyes gleaming with warmth and affection. "It would be my pleasure, my love," he murmured, taking the gown from your hands and holding it open for you to step into.

You let the towel slip to the floor and slipped your arms through the delicate sleeves of the gown. The luxurious fabric whispered against your skin as Mairon eased it over your shoulders, helping you shimmy it up your body. His fingertips traced feather-light paths along your sides and back as he worked, igniting small sparks of pleasure in their wake. You shivered at the sensation, though you could not tell whether it was from the cool touch of the fabric or the searing warmth of his hands.

With deft fingers, Mairon began fastening the three tiny pearl buttons that ran up the small of your back. Each brush of his knuckles against your spine sent tingles racing through you. He worked slowly, almost reverently, savoring the intimate moment before a single finger trailed up your back, tracing the exposed skin where the gown remained open.

"You take my breath away, Mori," Mairon murmured, his warm breath fanning across your neck as he secured the final button at the nape of your neck, fastening the delicate shoulders of your gown in place. His fingertips lingered for a moment before tracing down the elegant curve of your back. "This gown suits you perfectly, as if it were woven for you alone."

You turned in his arms, gazing up at him with shining eyes. "Only because you chose it for me, my darling," you replied softly, reaching up to caress his chiseled cheek. "Your impeccable taste and eye for beauty never cease to amaze me."

Mairon leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment as he savored your gentle caress. "It is easy to choose beautiful things when I have perfection incarnate as my muse and inspiration," he purred, turning his head to press a tender kiss to your palm.

A delicate blush stained your cheeks at his heartfelt praise. Even after all this time, Mairon's poetic declarations of love and adoration still made your heart flutter like a hummingbird’s wings. You doubted you would ever grow accustomed to being so cherished and revered.

Mairon's hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing across your flushed cheek. "My blushing bride," he teased gently, soft green eyes twinkling with mirth and affection. "Even after all this time, I can still make you blush with my words alone."

You playfully swatted his chest, an adoring smile tugging at your lips. “That silvery tongue of yours is going to get you trouble," you chided. "Keep your honeyed words for the gathering. We’re going to be late if we tarry much longer."

Mairon heaved an exaggerated sigh, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. "As my lady commands," he acquiesced, though the wicked glint in his eye told you he was not quite finished with his amorous attentions.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "But once we return, I fully intend to worship every inch of you until you are trembling and breathless with pleasure. Until the only word your lips remember is my name."

A shiver raced down your spine at his husky promise, heat pooling low in your belly. Your fingers tightened slightly where they rested on his chest, and for a fleeting moment, the thought of skipping the gathering altogether crossed your mind. But Mairon had grown to enjoy these grand affairs, or it was seeing you all made up and in your finery that drove him towards it. But in your heart you knew he would rather spend the night tangled in your embrace.

"I look forward to it, my love," you breathed, letting your lips brush fleetingly against his.

With a final heated look, Mairon stepped back and offered you his arm. "Shall we?"

You placed your hand in the crook of his elbow, a radiant smile blooming across your lips. "Lead the way, my dear husband."

Arm in arm, the two of you departed your home, stepping out into the moonlit streets of Laureandor.

Once at the gathering, you moved to envelop Eärlindë as she approached, her expression bright with delight. She returned your warm embrace, her laughter like the chime of silver bells.

"Tintilmë, you look absolutely stunning!" she exclaimed, holding you at arm’s length to admire your resplendent gown. "That color suits you beautifully."

You beamed at her praise, giving a little twirl to show off the shimmering fabric. "Thank you, my dear friend. It was a gift from Mairon."

Eärlindë’s eyes sparkled with mirth as she cast a glance toward your husband, who was engaged in conversation with a group of Noldorin lords. "He certainly has exquisite taste—in both fashion and wives," she teased, nudging you playfully.

You laughed, linking your arm with hers as the two of you began to weave your way through the gathering. The space had been transformed into something truly magical—golden lanterns hung from the trees, casting a warm, celestial glow over the revelers. The air was thick with the scent of exotic dishes and the sweet aroma of delicate confections. Soft music drifted through the night, mingling with the gentle hum of conversation and bursts of joyous laughter.

"It’s like something out of a dream," you sighed, your eyes drinking in the twinkling lights and elegantly dressed guests.

Eärlindë nodded, a smile gracing her lips. "The Noldor lords certainly elicit a grand response when their delegation arrives. Mother always goes overboard, seemingly feeling the need to prove herself or something." she commented as you looked around at all the elves present.

Many were from court, a court you never attended but knew. Whereas the taller ones you knew were high elves. Their opulent gowns, finery, and jewels all of Valinor. A place nether you or Eärlindë had seen.

Nor did you ever want to.

As you moved through the crowd, stopping occasionally to exchange greetings with familiar faces, you found yourself marveling at the unexpected path your life had taken.

From awakening in the woods of Cuiviénen, drinking from the sweet waters, migrating west with kin, traveling among the other Moriquendi and relishing in the beauty of Arda herself.

Never in your wildest imaginings did you expect to one day stand amongst the nobility of elves that were far younger than you, let alone knew of Beleriand’s true beauty.

Eventually, you and Eärlindë made your way to one of the long tables laden with delicacies, both savory and sweet. Crystal goblets filled with rich, fragrant wine gleamed invitingly under the lantern light. You each took a glass, moving to stand at the edge of the gathering where the view of the glowing garden stretched before you like an enchanted realm.

As you sipped your wine, movement from the corner of your eye caught your attention. A small cluster of elven ladies had gathered nearby, whispering and casting furtive glances in your direction. A few of them even had the audacity to point at your gown, their expressions laced with thinly veiled envy.

You felt a flicker of unease. Was the gown too ostentatious? Perhaps you should have chosen something simpler. But then you recalled the way Mairon had looked at you, as if you had woven the very stars into existence. His words echoed in your mind—"You truly are a goddess, my love."

Squaring your shoulders, you met the envious stares of the high elven ladies with a serene smile, refusing to let their pettiness diminish your joy.

Eärlindë, who had noticed the change in your posture, followed your gaze. When she spotted the gaggle of gossiping women, her brows furrowed in irritation. "Pay them no mind, Tintilmë," she murmured, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze. "They are merely bitter that your radiance outshines them all. Let them choke on their own jealousy."

You couldn’t help but chuckle at Eärlindë’s blunt words, grateful for her unwavering support. "You’re right, of course," you replied, taking another sip of your wine.

Your eyes wandered across the garden, searching for Mairon. It did not take long to find him. His crimson robes a striking contrast against the more subdued hues of the gathering. The coppery sheen of his hair caught the lantern light like molten fire, making him stand out effortlessly.

He was deep in conversation with a tall elven lord, whose finely embroidered outer robe bore a smith’s insignia—a fellow craftsman, no doubt. You could only imagine the topic at hand, likely some intricate discussion of metalwork or a trade of forging secrets.

As if sensing your gaze, Mairon glanced up, his sea-green eyes meeting yours instantly. A slow, knowing smile curved his lips, his expression filled with open adoration. With the barest tilt of his head, he beckoned you forward.

You turned to Eärlindë with an apologetic smile. "If you’ll excuse me, my dear, I believe my husband requires my attention."

Eärlindë followed your gaze, her smile turning knowing as she saw Mairon’s besotted expression. "Of course, mellon. Go to him. I’ll be just fine on my own."

With a grateful nod, you made your way through the gathering, your skirts swishing around your ankles as you moved with effortless grace. The envious stares of the high elven ladies burned into your back, but you paid them no heed. There was only one pair of eyes you cared for, and they were already fixed on you with unwavering devotion.

As you approached Mairon, the elven lord beside him turned his gaze upon you. He was taller which was typical of High Elves, with dark hair bound neatly at the nape of his neck, his strong features marked with a regal air. When he inclined his head in greeting, it was not the casual acknowledgment one would offer an acquaintance—it was a bow of deference, as if he expected you to be of higher station than you truly were.

And then recognition struck.

Curufin.

Your breath hitched slightly as you lowered into a respectful curtsy. You had heard of him before—one of Fëanor’s sons, a master smith in his own right. More importantly, he was a name you knew through Eärlindë’s brother, who had fought beside him in the early years of the war.

Rising gracefully, you met his gaze with composed politeness. "My Lord Curufin," you greeted, your voice steady despite the unexpectedness of his presence.

His dark eyes flickered with something unreadable before he inclined his head once more. "My lady," he greeted, his tone measured yet not unkind.

Mairon’s hand found the small of your back, his touch grounding you as always. “This is my wife, Tintilmë,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying the warmth of pride—but also a subtle edge of possession.

Curufin turned fully to you, taking your outstretched hand with practiced elegance. He brought it to his lips, pressing a chaste yet deliberate kiss to the delicate skin atop your knuckles. His lips lingered just a heartbeat too long for your husband's comfort. The shift was almost imperceptible, but you felt it—the tightening of Mairon’s grip against the small of your back, his fingers bunching the fine fabric of your gown ever so slightly.

"A pleasure, my lady," Curufin said as he released your hand and straightened to his full height. His gaze gleamed with something unreadable, a hint of amusement dancing in their depths. "It is not every day one has the privilege of meeting a maiden truly blessed by Varda herself."

Your face warmed at the unexpected compliment, but before you could formulate a response, you felt the slow rise and fall of Mairon's chest behind you. A glance upward confirmed your suspicion—his jaw was set, his expression composed, but the steel beneath his impassive exterior was unmistakable.

Possessiveness radiated from him like the smoldering heat of a forge, restrained but simmering beneath the surface. You knew that look well. While others might have mistaken his silence for indifference, you could see the warning in the slight clench of his jaw and the unyielding grip on your gown.

Curufin, it seemed, had noticed as well. A ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, as though he relished in pushing just enough to test the edges of Mairon’s restraint.

You cleared your throat delicately, hoping to diffuse the tension that crackled between the two smiths like a forge at full heat. "You are too kind, my lord," you replied graciously, offering Curufin a measured smile. "But I assure you, I am no more blessed than any other elf here tonight."

Curufin’s eyes glittered with intrigue, the corner of his mouth curving in something that was not quite a smirk. "Modesty becomes you, my lady. But surely you must know that your radiance outshines all others present." His gaze flickered briefly to Mairon before returning to you, keen and calculating. "A true jewel of Beleriand."

Before you could formulate a response, Mairon’s arm slipped fully around your waist, pulling you flush against his side in a blatant display of possession. His fingers pressed firmly into the fabric of your gown, a silent declaration of claim. "My wife's beauty is indeed unparalleled," he agreed, his voice a low, velvety purr that sent a shiver down your spine. "As is her grace and kindness. I am truly the most fortunate of elves to call her mine."

A warm flush crept up your neck at Mairon’s ardent words, his unwavering devotion sending a rush of heat through you. No matter how many times he declared his love, his admiration, it never failed to set your heart aflutter. Leaning into his embrace, you placed your hand over his where it rested on your hip, entwining your fingers in a silent reassurance that you belonged to no one but him.

Curufin inclined his head in acknowledgment, though the gleam in his eyes remained, assessing and appraising. "Indeed, you are a fortunate elf, Mairon," he mused, his tone almost too casual. "To have found such a rare treasure and claimed her as your own." A flicker of something unreadable passed through his gaze, his lips curving just slightly. "One can only hope you fully... appreciate her value."

The barely veiled insinuation made your stomach tighten, and you felt Mairon’s fingers flex against your hip, betraying the slow burn of anger beneath his controlled exterior. "I can assure you, Lord Curufin," he replied evenly, each syllable measured and precise, "that I cherish my wife above all else in this world. Her worth to me is beyond measure."

The unspoken warning in his tone was unmistakable—sharp as a honed dagger, a threat woven into civility. For a long moment, neither smith spoke, their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills. The air between them thrummed with the kind of tension that spoke of grudges unspoken and rivalries long since settled in steel and fire.

You glanced between them anxiously, your heart pounding. Though a small, primal part of you found the intensity of their regard thrilling, you knew better than to let this continue unchecked. The last thing you wished was for your presence to sow discord at what should have been a joyous gathering.

It was Curufin who broke the standoff, though the smirk that ghosted across his lips suggested he had achieved precisely what he intended. He inclined his head in a gesture that was both deferential and mocking. "Of that, I have no doubt," he drawled smoothly, his voice as rich and polished as the finest tempered steel. "Your devotion to your fair wife is admirable, Mairon. A lesser elf might find himself... distracted by such beauty." His eyes glinted, his meaning unmistakable.

Mairon’s grip tightened ever so slightly, his body rigid against yours. "Then it is fortunate that I am no lesser elf," he countered coolly, his words edged with steel.

Curufin’s smirk widened, a knowing gleam in his gaze as though Mairon had walked straight into his carefully laid verbal snare. But rather than press the point further, he merely dipped his head, feigning politeness. He had done what he came to do—test the edges of Mairon's restraint, and perhaps remind him that there were others who took notice of what he held most dear.

Satisfied, he straightened, offering a bow more formal than truly necessary. "I will take my leave," he said smoothly, his voice carrying just a whisper of amusement. "It was a pleasure speaking with you again, my lord." He turned to you then, his eyes settling on yours with an inscrutable look. "And an honor to meet you, my lady. For it is rare to meet a true child of Ilúvatar.”

With that, he gave a deeper, more measured bow and moved past you both, disappearing into the throng of guests.

Only when he was out of sight did you feel the full force of the tension leave Mairon’s frame. His fingers still rested against your hip, but they no longer pressed possessively—rather, they traced slow, absentminded circles against the fabric of your gown. You turned to him, catching the flicker of something dangerous in his eyes, something simmering just beneath the surface.

You exhaled softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Mairon," you murmured, coaxing him to meet your gaze.

His eyes softened, the glacial edge thawing ever so slightly. "He seeks to provoke," he muttered, his voice a thread of controlled ire. "And I do not take kindly to games where you are the prize."

You smiled gently, reaching up to trace your fingers along his jaw, easing away the tightness there. "I am no one's prize," you whispered. "I am yours. Always."

The heat in his gaze darkened, possessive in a way that sent a thrill through your veins. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your fingers. "Yes," he murmured, his voice a promise. "Mine."

The intensity of Mairon's gaze, the fervent promise in that single word, sent a shiver of desire down your spine. In that moment, you wanted nothing more than to melt into his embrace, propriety be damned. But you were still very much in public, surrounded by curious eyes and wagging tongues. The last thing you needed was to provide more fodder for the envious whispers of the elite.

Even if it would give Eärlindë something to gossip about.

Reluctantly, you stepped back, placing a more respectable distance between your bodies while still keeping your hand entwined with Mairon’s. "Later, my love," you murmured, a coy smile playing at the corners of your lips. "When we are alone, I will show you just how thoroughly I am yours."

Mairon's eyes darkened with barely restrained hunger, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he visibly struggled to rein in his desire. "I will hold you to that promise, sweet one," he purred, his voice a dark caress that sent heat pooling low in your belly. "And I intend to worship every inch of you until there is no doubt in your mind or body to whom you belong."

A delicious shiver raced down your spine at his fervent declaration. Oh, how you ached to drag him away from the festivities and lose yourself in his embrace. But duty and propriety demanded your presence a while longer. With a soft sigh, you gave his hand a final squeeze before reluctantly releasing it.

"I look forward to it, husband," you murmured, your voice husky with promise. “Though perhaps we should mingle separately for a while longer," you suggested, hoping a bit of distance might help.

Mairon exhaled slowly, as though grounding himself, before offering a slight nod. A flicker of reluctance passed through his soft green eyes at the loss of your touch, but he understood. Much as you both longed to remain by each other’s side, it would be wise to circulate separately, lest your mutual distraction become too apparent to the ever-watchful nobles.

"Save a dance for me later," you whispered, your tone sweet with anticipation. "I will be counting the moments until I am back in your arms."

Mairon’s gaze softened, his sculpted lips curving into a tender smile. "For you, my heart, I would wait an eternity." He lifted your hand to his mouth, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles that sent tingles racing up your arm. "But I will be counting the moments all the same."

With one final heated look that promised delights yet to come, Mairon released your hand and stepped back, allowing you to glide into the glittering throng of revelers. Though your body instantly mourned the loss of his closeness, you knew the anticipation would only make your reunion all the sweeter.

You moved through the crowd with practiced ease, your luminous gown drawing admiring glances and murmured compliments as you passed. Outwardly, you were the picture of serene grace, exchanging polite smiles and nods with nobles and dignitaries alike. But beneath that carefully composed facade, your mind still reeled from the tense exchange between Mairon and Lord Curufin.

The Noldor smith had always been a master of barbed words, and tonight had been no exception. His thinly veiled insinuations—about you, about Mairon, about the nature of your marriage—had clearly struck a nerve. Your husband, usually so impervious to provocation, had barely concealed the simmering fury beneath his polished veneer. You could still recall the way his fingers had tightened around yours, how his voice had taken on that dangerous, silken edge that only appeared when he was at the precipice of temper.

A part of you should have been unsettled. And yet, a dark thrill curled in your belly, knowing that you had the power to stir such intensity in him. That your love—your mere presence—could fracture the iron control of a man who prided himself on his unshakable composure. A shiver of anticipation danced down your spine as you imagined how he would stake that claim in private, how he would worship you with all the fervor of a disciple before an altar, possessive and unrelenting.

Lost in your musings, you nearly failed to notice Eärlindë appear at your elbow, her expression alight with mischief. In her hands, she carried two new crystal goblets, their contents catching the glow of the lanterns in warm amber hues. She extended one to you with a knowing smile, her keen eyes flickering over your dreamy, distracted expression.

"I know that look," she teased gently.

You accepted the proffered goblet with a grateful smile, taking a sip of the chilled, honey-sweet wine. "Am I truly so transparent?" you asked ruefully, feeling a telltale warmth creeping into your cheeks.

Eärlindë laughed, a melodic sound that turned a few curious heads. "Only to one who knows you as well as I do," she assured you, her smile laced with sisterly affection. "Let me guess—your devastatingly handsome husband has just promised to ravish you senseless the moment he gets you alone."

The wine nearly caught in your throat as a fierce blush bloomed across your cheeks. You gave her an exasperated look, but the amusement in her eyes only deepened.

"Not in so many words," you admitted, lowering your voice to ensure it wouldn’t carry to prying ears. "But Lord Curufin seems to have gotten under his skin with a few ill-advised remarks regarding my… allure." You shook your head, torn between flattery and exasperation at the memory of the Noldor lord’s casual provocations. "I fear my poor husband may be driven to distraction with the need to stake his claim.”

Eärlindë’s brows arched, intrigue sparking in her gaze. "My, my, the infamous Curufin taking notice of our sweet Tintilmë? You do aim high, my friend." She chuckled, taking a dainty sip of her own wine as her eyes scanned the room, no doubt searching for the elf lord in question.

"Believe me, his attentions are entirely unwarranted," you said hastily, as if that alone would deter her interest. But this was Eärlindë—once she caught the scent of gossip, she would not easily be dissuaded.

She hummed, clearly unconvinced, and her lips curled into a sly grin. "Oh, I don’t doubt that. But that won’t stop me from enjoying the scandal of it all." Her voice dropped conspiratorially. "Tell me, did Mairon look ready to strike him down where he stood? Or was he simply seething in that quiet, terrifying way of his?"

You gave her a pointed look, but despite your best efforts, a small, traitorous smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"Perhaps a bit of both," you confessed.

Eärlindë grinned triumphantly. "Delicious. Do you think Mairon would let me watch when he exacts his vengeance? No doubt it will be something terribly dramatic."

You sighed, though you couldn’t quite suppress the amusement bubbling beneath your breath. "You are incorrigible."

"And you love me for it," Eärlindë said breezily, though a knowing gleam sparked in her eyes. She tilted her head, studying you with mild amusement before arching a delicate brow. "So, the renowned smith of Himlad has decided to test our Mairon's mettle, has he? I can't say I'm entirely surprised."

You frowned, swirling the wine in your goblet. "What do you mean?"

Your friend leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping just enough to ensure your conversation remained private. "Curufin is known for his sharp tongue and his taste for mind games. He enjoys pushing boundaries, needling just enough to see how far he can prod before someone snaps. Especially those he considers potential rivals."

"Rivals?" you echoed, puzzled. "Surely he doesn't see Mairon as a threat. Their crafts are distinct, and Mairon has never shown an interest in playing politics."

Eärlindë chuckled softly, her lips curving in that way that made you feel slightly naïve despite your own wisdom. "Oh, my sweet, oblivious Tintilmë. For all your years, you can still be so blind sometimes." She took a sip of her wine before continuing. "This isn’t about craftsmanship or politics—it’s about pride." Her gaze flickered across the room, seeking Curufin among the revelers. "Curufin is used to being the most sought-after presence in any gathering. He commands attention simply by being who he is. But tonight, all eyes are on you and Mairon. You outshine everyone, and he can't stand being eclipsed, even for a moment."

You blinked, absorbing her words. "So, he’s trying to unsettle Mairon out of… jealousy? Petty rivalry?"

Eärlindë inclined her head slightly, though her expression turned more contemplative. "Jealousy, perhaps, but not just that. He’s also testing Mairon, taking the measure of his mind and spirit, trying to see what lies beneath that flawless composure."

A flicker of unease curled in your gut. "To what end? What could he possibly hope to gain by provoking my husband?"

"Knowledge, leverage, or simply the satisfaction of cracking a particularly well-guarded puzzle," she mused, swirling the wine in her goblet. "Curufin’s motives are rarely straightforward. But one thing is certain—he wouldn’t bother engaging Mairon at all if he didn’t see him as an equal. In a twisted way, this may be Curufin’s version of a compliment."

You let out a soft huff, shaking your head. "I can think of far more pleasant ways to pay a compliment," you muttered before taking a fortifying sip of wine. "Ways that don’t involve trying to drive a wedge between newlyweds."

Eärlindë smirked, reaching out to squeeze your arm reassuringly. "Pay him no mind, mellon. Mairon adores you far too much to let Curufin’s petty machinations sway him." Her eyes glimmered with playful mischief as she added, "If anything, I suspect this little display has only inflamed your husband’s desire to worship you properly once you’re alone."

Heat crept up your neck at her words, your body already thrumming with anticipation for Mairon’s ardent attentions. You let out a soft laugh, shaking off the wicked images forming in your mind. "You are incorrigible," you said, though your grateful squeeze of her hand betrayed your fondness.

"Honestly, what would you do without my wisdom and encouragement?"

"Get into even more trouble, no doubt," you teased back, matching her grin. "Someone has to keep me grounded amidst all this opulence and intrigue."

"Exactly," she said with a wink. "Now, let’s at least pretend we’re enjoying the party before someone starts whispering that your dear husband has already whisked you away."

You chuckled, but even as you kept up the appearance of polite engagement, your gaze inevitably strayed across the glittering throng. Your eyes found Mairon with an unerring pull, as if drawn by some invisible thread. He stood among a cluster of lords, speaking with his usual elegance, yet there was a tautness to his posture, a barely concealed impatience beneath his mask of control.

And then, as if sensing your gaze, he turned.

His sea-green eyes locked onto yours, and even across the crowded courtyard, you could see the fire smoldering in their depths. A silent promise. A vow unspoken yet utterly clear. Your breath hitched, anticipation coiling within you.

Mairon inclined his head almost imperceptibly, an acknowledgment of the charged energy crackling between you. The corners of his sensual lips curled into the barest hint of a smirk—a warning, a tease, a promise of what was to come.

Then, with a smooth farewell to his companions, he excused himself. His long strides ate up the distance between you, his presence commanding even in so casual a movement. Within moments, he was standing before you and Eärlindë, his gaze flickering briefly to your friend before settling back on you, dark with intent.

"May I steal my wife for a dance?" he inquired smoothly, offering you his hand.

Eärlindë, sipping from her glass, gave you a sidelong glance and wiggled her brows in barely concealed amusement.

A fresh wave of heat flooded your cheeks as you placed your hand in his, your fingers curling instinctively around his own. He helped you step gracefully down from where you had been standing, his touch sending sparks racing up your arm.

You handed your goblet to Eärlindë, who accepted it with an exaggerated air of suffering. "Have fun," she said with a teasing lilt. "And do try not to scandalize anyone—at least not too much."

Mairon’s smirk deepened as he led you onto the dance floor, the music swelling around you in soft, lilting strains. His arm slid around your waist as he pulled you close, his touch both possessive and reverent. You exhaled, tilting your head to meet his gaze, and in that moment, nothing else in the grand, glittering courtyard existed but the two of you.

As he led you through the steps of the dance, his emerald eyes bored into yours, dark with unspoken promise. "You are a vision, my love," he murmured, his voice a low caress that sent shivers racing down your spine. "A goddess made flesh. I can scarcely keep my hands off you."

You melted into his embrace, your body molding perfectly to his as you moved together in the age-old rhythm. "Then don't," you breathed.

Your words sent a jolt of desire straight to Mairon's core. His grip on your waist tightened as he spun you gracefully across the dance floor, the two of you moving as one. Every brush of his body against yours stoked the flames of your mutual longing, until you felt you might combust from the sheer intensity of his gaze.

"Careful what you wish for, sweet one," Mairon growled, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "Keep testing my restraint, and I may just ravish you right here, propriety be damned."

You shivered, your blood heating at his promise. Rising slowly, you met his burning gaze through your lashes. "And what's stopping you, husband?" you asked, your voice husky. "I seem to recall you promising to worship me until I remember naught but your name.”

Mairon's eyes flashed, his grip on your waist tightening to an almost bruising pressure. "Mori," he growled, his voice rough with barely restrained desire. "You tempt me beyond reason."

In a move almost too swift to follow, he spun you off the dance floor and into a darkened side garden, hidden from prying eyes. His powerful body caged you against a cool stone pillar, his lips claiming yours in a searing kiss that stole the breath from your lungs.

You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his silken hair as you returned his kiss with equal fervor. Mairon's hands roved over your body, mapping every curve and hollow as if he would commit them to memory. When his nimble fingers found the buttons of your gown, you tore your mouth from his with a gasp.

"Mairon," you panted. "What if..." 

Despite your halfhearted protest, your body arched into his touch, craving more. Mairon's lips curved into a wicked smirk against your throat as he continued his sensual assault. 

"No one will find us, sweet one," he purred, his fingers deftly undoing the top button of your gown to expose your heaving chest as the velvet shoulders slipped downward. "I'll be quick. I just need a taste..."

You shuddered as his hot mouth descended to your chest, tongue swirling around a taut nipple. A breathy moan escaped your lips and your fingers tightened in his hair, holding him to you. Mairon growled his approval, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh.

He released your peaked bud with a soft pop before trailing open-mouthed kisses across the swell of your breasts. "I need you, Mori," Mairon growled against your heated skin. "I need to claim you, mark you, make you scream my name until there's no doubt who you belong to."

"Yes," you gasped, arching wantonly into his touch. "I'm yours, Mairon, only yours. Take me, please..."

With a groan of satisfaction, Mairon sealed his lips over yours in a deep, plundering kiss. His fingers bunched in the skirts of your gown, hitching the flowing fabric up your thighs. You whimpered into his mouth as his hand found your heated center, cupping you possessively. The heat of his hand against the growing wetness there, sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

"So wet for me already,” He chuckled darkly. With deft fingers, he sank two digits deep into your aching core. A keening moan tore from your throat as he began to pump them slowly, his thumb circling your sensitive pearl. Mairon swallowed your cries with his lips, mindful of the need for discretion even in his passion-fueled haze.

"That's it, sweet one," he rasped against your mouth. "Let me feel you, all of you. I want to drown in your essence, be consumed by your fire.”

Incoherent pleas and praises fell from your lips as Mairon worked you higher, his clever fingers unraveling you with ruthless precision. The wet sounds of his digits thrusting into your slick cunt filled the air, mingling with your breathy moans and the distant strains of music from the gathering. The delicious scandal of it all—your husband fingering you to ecstasy in a darkened garden while a hundred nobles drank and danced mere yards away—only heightened your pleasure, edging you closer to that elusive peak.

"Mairon, please," you whimpered, writhing against him as the coil in your core wound tighter and tighter. "I need... I need..."

"I know, sweet one," Mairon growled, nipping at your kiss-swollen lips as a third finger joined the first two, stretching you exquisitely.

You gasped at the addition, your inner walls clenching greedily around Mairon's plundering digits. The building pressure in your core was almost unbearable now, your entire being focused on the exquisite sensations radiating from where Mairon played your body like a finely tuned instrument.

"That's it, my love," he purred against your ear. "Sing for me. Let me hear those sweet sounds of your pleasure."

His fingers curled inside you, stroking that sweet spot that made stars burst behind your tightly closed eyelids. Your thighs trembled, barely able to support you as Mairon drove you closer and closer to the edge of bliss.

"Mairon!" you keened, your nails digging into his shoulders as you teetered on the precipice. "I'm going to...I can't..."

"Yes, you can," Mairon growled, his fingers pumping harder, faster, his thumb grinding mercilessly against your throbbing pearl. "Come for me, Mori. Let go, sweet one. Shatter for me."

His dark, sensual command sent you over the edge. With a choked cry, you flew apart, your release crashing over you in shuddering waves of ecstasy. Your inner walls clenched almost painfully around Mairon's fingers as they gentled you through the aftershocks, drawing out your pleasure until you were limp and quivering in his arms.

Mairon's soft green eyes burned into yours as he slowly, deliberately sucked your essence from his fingers, savoring your taste like the finest wine. The sight of his sensual mouth wrapped around those same digits that had just brought you to such dizzying heights sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through your still trembling body. 

"Exquisite," he purred, releasing his fingers with a final lick. "I could feast on your sweet taste for eternity and never be sated."

You whimpered softly, reaching for him with needy hands. "Mairon, please," you breathed, hardly recognizing your own voice, wrecked as it was with desire. "I need you inside me. I ache to be filled by you, claimed by you."

A low growl rumbled in Mairon's chest, his eyes flashing with possessive heat. "And I ache to fill you, to claim every inch of your luscious body as mine," he rasped, his voice rough with desire. "But I fear if I take you here and now, I will not be able to control myself. I want to worship you properly, my goddess. I want to lay you out on our bed and spend hours driving you mad with pleasure until you forget your own name."

You shivered at his dark promise, your body already thrumming with renewed anticipation. "Then take me home, husband," you purred, sliding your hands down his chest to brush teasingly over the straining evidence of his arousal. "Take me to our bed and make me yours in every way. I need your touch like I need air to breathe."

Mairon captured your wandering hands, bringing them to his lips to press fervent kisses to your fingers. "As my lady commands,"

With a final searing kiss that stole your breath, Mairon set your skirts to rights, helped you button your dress back up, and took your hand, leading you swiftly out of the darkened side garden. The music and chatter of the feast reached your ears once more as you emerged onto the main path, a reminder of the outside world that had briefly ceased to exist while you were wrapped in Mairon's passionate embrace.

You both made your way to the edge of the gathering, trying to slip away as unobtrusively as possible. But before you could make your escape, a familiar voice called out your name.

"Tintilmë! Leaving so soon?"

You turned to see Eärlindë approaching, her eyes twinkling with mirth as she took in your flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. Beside you, Mairon stiffened imperceptibly, though he maintained his polite smile as your friend drew near.

"I'm afraid so, Eärlindë," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the thrum of desire still coursing through your veins. "Mairon and I have some...matters to attend to at home."

Eärlindë's smile turned knowing, her gaze flicking between you and your husband with barely concealed amusement. "I'm sure you do," she teased, her melodic voice laced with innuendo. "Far be it from me to keep you from your...marital duties."

You felt heat creep up your neck at her playful insinuation, even as a thrill raced down your spine at the thought of what those "duties" entailed. Beside you, Mairon shifted subtly, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. You knew he was impatient to whisk you away and make good on his heated promises, but he maintained his composure for your friend's sake.

"Indeed," he replied smoothly, his rich voice betraying none of the hunger simmering beneath the surface. "My wife and I have much to...discuss in private. I'm sure you understand."

Eärlindë's eyes danced with barely suppressed laughter, but she nodded graciously. "Of course, my lord. I would not dream of keeping you from such important matters." She turned to you, pulling you in for a quick embrace. "You must tell me all about your 'discussions' later, mellon," she whispered in your ear, her voice trembling with mirth.

You swatted her arm playfully as you pulled away, fighting back a grin. "You are incorrigible, Eärlindë." 

Your friend merely winked, her smile full of mischief. "And you love me for it. Now go, enjoy your 'marital duties' with that delicious husband of yours." She made a shooing motion with her hands. "I expect a full report tomorrow!"

Shaking your head with a laugh, you allowed Mairon to lead you away, his strides purposeful as he guided you towards the path leading to home. The moment you were out of sight of the revelers, he pulled you flush against him, his arm snaking possessively around your waist.

"Divine," he growled against your ear, nipping at the sensitive lobe. "Teasing me with Eärlindë, knowing full well how desperate I am to have you." His hand slid lower, palming your ass through the thin velvet of your gown. "You enjoy testing my restraint, don't you, little temptress?"

You shivered, arching into his touch with a breathy sigh. "Can you blame me? Seeing you struggle to maintain your composure, knowing that I'm the reason for it...it's intoxicating."

Mairon's answering growl vibrated against your throat as he peppered your sensitive skin with hot, open-mouthed kisses. "Wicked woman. You'll pay for your teasing." He nipped at your racing pulse. "Once I get you home, I'm going to strip you bare and worship every inch of your body until you're mindless with pleasure."

You swallowed thickly, fighting against the desire to simply let Mairon take you right there on the moonlit path. "Then hurry, husband," you breathed. "Before I combust from wanting you."

Mairon's eyes glittered with dark promise as he scooped you into his arms, your surprised yelp quickly turning into delighted laughter as he carried you swiftly down the path towards home. Your heart raced with giddy anticipation, every nerve ending alight with desire for your passionate mate.

In what seemed like mere moments, you had crossed the threshold into your candlelit chambers. Mairon set you on your feet only long enough to secure the door before he was on you again, his mouth claiming yours in a searing kiss that left you weak in the knees.

"I thought I would go mad with jealousy tonight," he growled between kisses as he walked you backwards towards the bed, his nimble fingers already working on the buttons of your gown. "Seeing the way Curufin looked at you, the way his eyes devoured you like a wolf eyeing a lamb..." 

His teeth grazed your throat, making you gasp. "I wanted to throw you over my shoulder and carry you away from all those lustful stares, to remind everyone that you are mine and mine alone."

"Yours," you agreed breathlessly, shrugging out of your gown and letting the velvet fabric pool at your feet. "Only ever yours, Mairon."

A possessive growl rumbled through his chest as he drank in the sight of you standing before him in nothing but the silvery chain and wedding band he had placed upon you all those years ago. "My perfect goddess," he rasped, green eyes burning with reverent hunger. "Let me worship you as you deserve.”

With reverent hands, Mairon lifted you onto the bed, laying you out on the silken sheets like a priceless offering. His eyes raked over your naked form, drinking in every dip and curve illuminated by the flickering candlelight. You had never felt more desired, more cherished than you did under the heat of his adoring gaze.

"Magnificent," he breathed, long fingers trailing feather-light paths along your quivering skin. "An exquisite masterpiece shaped by Eru himself."

You keened softly, arching into his worshipful touch. "Mairon, please..."

He smiled, slow and sensual, as he divested himself of his own finery with deliberate grace. Each movement was a revelation, baring his sculpted physique to your hungry eyes inch by torturous inch until he stood before you in all his magnificent glory.

Mairon joined you on the bed, his powerful body covering yours as he claimed your lips in a deep, worshipful kiss. You melted beneath him, your fingers threading through his silken hair to hold him close. His tongue delved into the honeyed recesses of your mouth, mapping every curve and hollow.

"My Mori," he breathed against your lips. “My sweet wife,”

You moaned softly, your body already alight with need. "Show me," you pleaded, rolling your hips against his straining length. "Show me how much you adore me, husband."

Mairon's eyes flashed, a predatory smile curving his lips. He began a slow, sensual descent down your body, lips, teeth, and tongue painting fiery paths across your skin. He lingered at your breasts, lavishing attention on the soft mounds until you were arching off the bed with breathy cries, your fingers tangled almost painfully in his hair. His clever mouth suckled and nipped at the tender peaks, sending jolts of electric pleasure straight to your core.

"Mairon, yes.." you whimpered as he bit down on a sensitive nipple, the exquisite sting only heightening your arousal. 

He soothed the love bite with his tongue before continuing his worshipful journey down your quivering body. His hands mapped every inch of your heated flesh, tracing reverent patterns on your stomach, your thighs, the sensitive crease of your hips. He settled between your thighs like a supplicant before an altar, emerald eyes burning with reverent hunger as he took in your glistening folds.

"Moriel," he growled, hot breath fanning across your aching core. "I could feast on you for all eternity."

You shuddered, hips rolling pleadingly. "Then feast, my love. I am yours to devour.”

Mairon needed no further encouragement. With a groan of satisfaction, he buried his face between your thighs, his sinful mouth descending on your weeping center like a man starved. The first swipe of his tongue through your slick folds tore a keening cry from your lips, your back bowing off the bed at the exquisite sensation.

"Yes!" you gasped, one hand fisting in his silken hair while the other clawed at the sheets. "Just like that, my love..."

He growled his approval against your heated flesh, the vibrations only adding to the all-consuming pleasure building in your core. His lips closed around your throbbing pearl, suckling hard as two fingers plunged deep into your dripping core. The dual sensations sent you hurtling towards the edge with breathtaking speed.

Mairon's fingers pumped steadily as his tongue swirled and flicked against your sensitive bud, wringing gasps and moans from your lips with every masterful caress. He was relentless in his sensual onslaught, determined to shatter you again and again until you were boneless beneath him.

"Mairon, I-I'm close," you panted, feeling the tell-tale flutter of your inner walls. "Don't stop, please..."

He redoubled his efforts, fingers curling inside you to stroke the spot that made your toes curl and your vision blur. His lips and tongue worked in tandem, lashing your aching pearl until the coil in your belly snapped and you flew apart with a ragged scream of his name. 

Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you as Mairon gentled you through the aftershocks, his fingers and tongue slowing their relentless rhythm to soft, soothing caresses. You quivered and gasped beneath him, boneless and sated in the aftermath of your shattering release. 

Slowly, almost reverently, Mairon kissed his way back up your body, pausing to lave tender attention on the marks of passion he had left in his wake. When he finally reached your lips, he claimed them in a deep, sensual kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You moaned softly into his mouth, the intimate flavor igniting a fresh spark of desire in your veins.

"My goddess," Mairon breathed against your lips. "My perfect wife. I will never tire of worshipping you."

You smiled up at him, your heart full to bursting with love and desire for this magnificent being who had claimed you as his own. Reaching up, you traced the chiseled lines of his face with worshipful fingers, marveling at the raw beauty of him. 

"As I will never tire of being worshipped by you, husband," you murmured.

Mairon's eyes softened, a tender smile gracing his sculpted lips as he turned his head to press a fervent kiss to your palm. "Eternity will never be long enough to show you the depths of my love," he vowed, voice low and intense with emotion. "But I intend to spend every moment trying."

Mairon's lips claimed yours in a searing kiss, the intensity of his love and desire pouring into the passionate embrace. You surrendered to his ardent ministrations, your arms winding around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. The hard planes of his body aligned perfectly with your soft curves, two puzzle pieces fitting together in sublime harmony.

When the need for air finally forced you apart, Mairon rested his forehead against yours, his eyes boring into your own with breathtaking intensity. "My beautiful wife," he murmured, his voice low and rough with emotion. "I ache to be one with you, to join our bodies and souls as only husband and wife can."

You shivered at his words, your core clenching with desperate need. "Then take me, my love," you breathed, rolling your hips invitingly against his straining arousal. "Claim me,”

Mairon's eyes flashed with primal hunger at your wanton invitation. "With pleasure, my love," he growled, aligning himself at your entrance. 

With a powerful thrust of his hips, he sheathed himself fully inside your welcoming heat. Twin moans of ecstasy filled the air as you were finally joined as one, your bodies fitting together like lock and key. The delicious stretch and fullness drew a ragged gasp from your lips, your inner walls fluttering around his thick length.

"Mairon, yes..." you breathed, wrapping your legs around his trim waist to pull him impossibly deeper. "You feel incredible, my love."

He groaned, dropping his head to the crook of your neck as he savored the blissful sensation of your silken walls gripping him like a velvet glove. "No sweeter heaven than being buried inside you.”

Mairon began to move, his hips rolling in a slow, sensual rhythm that sent sparks of pleasure racing through your veins. Each deliberate thrust brushed against that spot deep within you, stoking the embers of your desire into a raging inferno. Your nails raked down the sculpted planes of his back, urging him on with breathy moans and pleas for more.

"Yes, Mairon," you gasped as he drove into you with increasing fervor, the wet slide of your joined bodies filling the room. "Harder, my love. I need to feel every inch of you."

With a guttural groan, Mairon complied, hips snapping against yours in a relentless rhythm, each powerful thrust driving you higher and higher towards that elusive peak. His lips and teeth mapped fiery paths across your throat and chest, worshipping every inch of your heated flesh. When his sinful mouth closed around a taut nipple, you cried out sharply, your back arching into his powerful thrusts.

"Mairon!" you keened, your fingers tangling almost painfully in his hair as he suckled and nipped at the sensitive bud. "Don't stop, my love, please..."

He growled his approval against your breast, the vibrations sending delicious shivers racing down your spine. His hand slid between your sweat-slicked bodies, nimble fingers finding your aching pearl. He circled the throbbing nub in tight, deliberate strokes, wringing desperate moans and pleas from your lips as he drove you towards the precipice with ruthless precision. The coil in your core wound tighter and tighter, your inner walls clenching greedily around his pistoning length. You could feel your release building like a tidal wave, cresting higher and higher with each masterful thrust and stroke.

"I'm so close!" you sobbed, your body beginning to tremble with the force of your impending climax. "Please, my love, I need..."

"I know, sweet one," Mairon rasped, his own voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. He wanted to feel you shatter around him first, to watch you come undone in ecstasy before emptying himself deep inside your fluttering sheath. "Let go for me, Mori. Come all over my cock."

His filthy words and the relentless stimulation were the end. With a keening cry, you shattered in his arms, your climax crashing over you in shuddering waves of pure ecstasy. Your inner walls clamped down on his throbbing length, milking him with pulsing intensity as you rode out the dizzying pleasure.

Mairon groaned long and low, the exquisite feel of you fluttering around him sending him careening over the edge. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, spilling his hot seed deep inside your still quivering cunt. Your name fell from his lips like a reverent prayer as he lost himself to the bliss of his own release, his hips moving in shallow, erratic thrusts as he emptied every last drop into your welcoming womb.

Utterly sated, you clung to Mairon as the aftershocks of your mutual pleasure rippled through your joined bodies. He collapsed against you, his weight a warm, comforting presence as you both struggled to catch your breath. For long moments, you simply held each other, basking in the afterglow and the profound sense of connection it always brought.

Mairon was the first to stir, lifting his head from the crook of your neck to gaze down at you with adoring eyes. He brushed a few sweat-dampened locks from your brow, his touch infinitely tender. "My beautiful wife," he murmured, voice husky with emotion. “I could never tire of this.”

You smiled up at him, your heart full to bursting with love and contentment. "Nor could I, my darling husband," you whispered, tracing the chiseled lines of his face with worshipful fingers. "You are my everything, Mairon.”

Mairon's eyes softened, a tender smile gracing his sensual lips. "As you are mine, Mori," he breathed, turning his head to press a fervent kiss to your palm. "I am forever changed, forever blessed, to have you as my wife and eternal mate."

He shifted then, gently withdrawing from your warmth and rolling to his side, pulling you with him so that you were nestled against his chest. His arms encircled you, strong and protective, as though he could shield you from all the sorrows of the world. You nestled deeper into Mairon's embrace, relishing the comforting heat of his skin against yours. His fingers trailed idle patterns along your spine, soothing you like a lullaby. A contented sigh escaped your lips, your eyelids growing heavy in the hazy aftermath of your lovemaking.

"Sleep, my love," Mairon murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your hair. "I will guard your dreams and hold you close until morning’s light."

"Mmm, I like the sound of that," you mumbled, already halfway to slumber. The steady, rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek was more potent than any sleeping draught. "Promise you'll still be here when I wake?"

Mairon's arms tightened around you, a silent vow. "Always, sweet one. There is nowhere in all of Arda I would rather be."

With that whispered promise, you let your eyes drift closed, secure and cherished in the circle of Mairon's arms. Sleep claimed you swiftly, your dreams filled with visions of eternal love and endless devotion. No matter what trials or challenges life might bring, you knew with unwavering certainty that Mairon would always be by your side—his love a steadfast anchor against the ever-changing tides of fate.

As you slept, Mairon watched over you, his green eyes soft with adoration and reverence. He marveled at the delicate beauty of your features in repose—the way your lashes fanned out against your cheeks, the gentle curve of your lips that he had kissed countless times. Even in slumber, you took his breath away, a vision of perfection that he still could scarcely believe was his to treasure.

Yet as he held you, his thoughts wandered back to the events of the evening—the simmering tension with Curufin, the way his possessive instincts had surged at the Noldor lord’s veiled provocations. Though Mairon knew beyond any doubt that your heart belonged to him alone, the mere thought of another coveting you, even in fleeting admiration, had stirred something primal within him. A need—not of mere possession, but of affirmation, to ensure that every fiber of your being knew, as surely as he did, that you were his and his alone.

He exhaled softly, brushing a reverent fingertip along your cheek, marveling at the silken softness of your skin. How had he been so blessed to earn the love and devotion of a maiden so radiant, so pure of heart? There were still moments when the shadows of his past whispered doubts in the recesses of his mind, when the weight of who he had once been threatened to taint the light he had found in you.

But then, he would look into your eyes—those luminous pools of unwavering adoration—and all fear would be banished. You had that power over him. You were his guiding star, his beacon of hope, casting light into the darkest corners of his fëa. With you beside him, Mairon felt capable of anything—renewed, redeemed, made whole by the sheer force of your love.

He silently vowed to spend every day proving himself worthy of the precious gift of your heart.

As the first rays of dawn painted the horizon in hues of rose and gold, Mairon pressed a final, reverent kiss to your brow before allowing himself to surrender to a light slumber. Even in sleep, his arms never loosened their protective embrace, as if holding onto you anchored him to the serenity he had found in your love.

Your soft breaths and the gentle rhythm of your heartbeat wove a lullaby more potent than any spell, and for the first time in his long, tumultuous existence, Mairon knew peace—a peace born not of conquest, nor of dominion, but of love. True and unbreakable.

Morning came all too soon, the warm caress of sunlight stirring you gently from your contented dreams. Your eyes fluttered open, blinking against the golden rays that filtered through the gossamer curtains. A sleepy smile curved your lips as you became aware of the strong arms still wrapped around you, holding you close against a firm, warm chest. Mairon's chest. Your husband, your love.

Careful not to wake him, you shifted slightly in his embrace, turning to face him. He looked so peaceful in slumber, the usual intensity of his features softened by the vulnerability of repose. Your heart swelled with adoration as you drank in the breathtaking sight of him—the high, sculpted cheekbones, the sensual curve of his lips, the fiery silk of his hair splayed across the pillow. Even in rest, he was a vision of masculine beauty, a work of art given life.

Unable to resist, you reached out to trace the lines of his face with a feather-light touch. Your fingertips ghosted over his brow, down the aristocratic slope of his nose, across the chiseled planes of his cheeks. You marveled at the smoothness of his skin, the way it warmed beneath your reverent caress. He was perfection incarnate.

Mairon stirred at your tender touch, his sea-foam eyes blinking open to meet your adoring gaze. A slow, sleepy smile curved his lips as he pulled you closer, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "Good morning," he murmured, his voice husky from slumber. "What a vision you are to wake up to."

You giggled softly, threading your fingers through his sleep-tousled hair. "I could say the same, my love. Watching you sleep is one of my greatest joys." 

Mairon hummed contentedly, pressing languid kisses along your throat. "Is that so? And here I thought your greatest joy was screaming my name in ecstasy as I worship your exquisite body."

A shiver raced down your spine at his words, desire already stirring in your veins. "Mmm, that is a very close second," you purred, arching into his sensual kisses. "Perhaps you'd care to remind me just how exquisite that worship can be?"

Mairon's eyes darkened with hunger, a wicked smile curving his lips against your skin. "It would be my utmost pleasure, sweet one."

In a flash, he had rolled you beneath him, his powerful body covering yours deliciously. Your breath hitched as you felt his hardening length press against your thigh, evidence of his own stirring desire. Mairon claimed your lips in a deep, sensual kiss, his tongue delving past your parted lips to stroke and caress. You melted into the passionate embrace, your arms winding around his neck to pull him impossibly closer.

Mairon's hands roamed your body as he kissed you deeply, tracing every curve and dip he had long since committed to memory. Each caress ignited sparks of pleasure that raced through your veins, stoking your desire. You arched into his touch, silently begging for more, and he was all too happy to oblige.

His lips blazed a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your throat, pausing to nip and suck at your racing pulse. You gasped and writhed beneath him, your fingers tangling in his silken hair as he continued his sensual assault. When his clever mouth closed around a rosy peak, you cried out sharply, your back bowing off the bed.

"Mairon, yes!" you keened as he suckled and teased the sensitive bud, sending jolts of electric pleasure. His clever tongue swirled around the hardened peak, drawing breathy moans from your parted lips. Mairon lavished attention on your breasts, reveling in every gasp and whimper he coaxed from you. His hands mapped your quivering body with worshipful reverence.

Unable to resist any longer, you tugged impatiently at his hair, urging him back up to claim your lips once more. Mairon obliged with a low chuckle, sealing his mouth over yours in a deep, plundering kiss. As your tongues tangled sensually, you hooked a leg around his hip, using the leverage to grind your aching core against his hardness. You both groaned at the delicious friction, the kiss turning fevered and urgent.

Breaking away with a gasp, Mairon rested his forehead against yours, emerald eyes smoldering with barely restrained hunger. "I need you, Mori," he rasped, his voice rough with desire. "I ache to be one with you,”

"Yes, Mairon," you breathed, your body singing with the same desperate need. "Take me, my love."

With a low growl of satisfaction, Mairon reached between your bodies, aligning himself at your entrance. In one powerful thrust, he sheathed himself fully inside your slick heat, drawing twin moans of ecstasy from you both. Your inner walls fluttered around his thick length, relishing the delicious stretch and fullness that only he could provide.

Mairon stilled for a moment, savoring the blissful sensation of being buried deep inside your welcoming body. His eyes locked onto yours, burning with an intensity that stole your breath. "My perfect goddess," he murmured reverently, his fingers caressing your face with aching tenderness. "I will never tire of being one with you in every way."

"Nor will I, my love," you breathed, canting your hips to take him even deeper. 

Slowly, reverently, he began to move, his hips rolling in a sensual rhythm that sent waves of pleasure coursing through you.

You clung to his broad shoulders, meeting each deliberate thrust with a roll of your own hips. The slick slide of your joined bodies, the delicious drag of his thick length against your fluttering walls, drew breathy moans and gasps from your parted lips. Mairon drank in every sweet sound of your pleasure, his gaze never leaving your face as he made love to you with exquisite tenderness.

Your legs wound around Mairon's trim waist as he rocked into you, pulling him impossibly deeper. Each languid thrust brushed against that spot within you, stoking your desire. You could feel the coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter in your core, your inner walls beginning to flutter around his hardness.

"Mairon," you gasped, your fingers digging into the flexing muscles of his back.

He groaned against your throat, his rhythm growing more urgent, more purposeful. "I feel you, love," he rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. "Your perfect body grips me so tightly, as if it never wants to let me go.”

You keened at his words, your head tossing against the pillow as Mairon's thrusts grew faster, harder, driving you closer and closer to that elusive peak. "Never, my love," you panted breathlessly. "I never want to let you go. I'm yours, Mairon, always..."

"Yes, Mori," he growled possessively, angling his hips to grind against that sensitive spot deep inside you with each purposeful thrust. "Mine, forever and always. No one else will ever touch you, worship you, like I do."

His hand slipped between your sweat-slicked bodies, fingers finding your aching pearl. He circled the throbbing nub in tight, deliberate strokes, the added stimulation wrenching sharp cries of ecstasy from your lips. The coil in your core wound impossibly tighter, your body trembling on the precipice of rapture. Mairon's thrusts grew more urgent, more demanding, each flex of his hips driving you higher and higher. His fingers worked your sensitive pearl mercilessly, determined to shatter you completely.

"Mairon…" you sobbed, your nails raking down his sweat-slicked back. "I can't...I'm going to..."

"Yes, Mori," he commanded, his voice a dark, sensual growl. "Come for me, my goddess, I have you."

With a keening cry, you shattered beneath him, your climax crashing over you in shuddering waves of ecstasy. Your inner walls clamped down on his throbbing length, milking him with rhythmic pulses as you rode out the pleasure. Mairon groaned long and low, the exquisite sensation of your fluttering heat too much to resist. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, spilling his essence deep inside you as his own release overtook him.

Mairon's hips moved in shallow, erratic thrusts as he emptied himself completely, your name tumbling from his lips like a reverent prayer. You clung to him, your bodies trembling in the aftermath of your mutual bliss, hearts pounding in perfect synchronicity.

As your shared breathing slowed, Mairon carefully withdrew from your slick heat, a contented sigh escaping his luscious lips. Emerald eyes bored into yours, Mairon's expression one of profound love and adoration.

"Mori," he murmured hoarsely, ducking his head to press kisses along your collarbone. "My divine wife, words will never encompass how much I truly love you."

You threaded your fingers through his damp coppery locks, guiding him back up to meet your gaze. "Then show me, my darling," you whispered against his lips. "Every day, for the rest of our lives, show me the depths of your love. As I will show you mine."

Mairon's eyes softened, a tender smile curving his sensual mouth. "For all of eternity, my heart," he vowed, sealing his promise with a sweet, lingering kiss. 

You melted into his embrace, relishing the comforting weight of his body covering yours. These moments of tranquility, tangled in the sheets with your beloved husband, were more precious to you than all the gems in Arda. Here, in the sanctuary of your marriage bed, the outside world faded away until nothing existed but the two of you, bound by unrequited love and fiery passion.

[mydreamyspace]

Logan X Fem! Reader - I'm Gonna Take Care Of You

Characters : Logan, Reader

Summary : There's a fight and you get hurt, Logan comforts you.

Tags/Warnings : a little bit of violence ? Hurt/comfort

Word count : 811

Masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

"This time i get to choose, please"

"Alright doll, what do you want to watch tonight ?"

You browse through the dvd's on the shelf next to the tv. Logan, sipping on his beer on the sofa.

"How about this one ?" You show him the movie you picked

"Anything you want, just get the dvd ready so you can come back in my arms"

You smile and do as he says. You sit next to him and he wraps his arms around you. Your head on his chest, you can feel his fingers playing with your hair.

Logan lowers the volume of the tv. At this time of the night, everybody in the school is asleep. Except for a few teachers.

As the movie plays, you're both eating snacks, Logan still taking sips of his beer.

His finger gently tracing up and down your arm, giving you goosebumps. It's a quiet and relaxing night, just how you love it.

A sound suddenly makes you two jump out of the sofa. Logan, focusing in the sound, realise that it's actually footsteps. A lot of footsteps. Someone broke into the school.

He puts his arm out in front of you, ordering you to stay back, but you follow him quietly. You tiptoe around the room, looking for the intruders but you don't see anybody.

The footsteps are getting closer, so close you can hear them.

"Logan what's going on ?" Storm and Scott just entered the room

"Someone's here" he uses his senses to try and find their exact location.

"This room, they're coming from this room" he whispered.

Logan, Storm and Scott are all in front of you. You try to stay as close to them as possible.

"Hands on your head" Someone from behind you shouted.

"i won't say it again" he points his gun at you, four other armed men come in the room and point guns at Logan, Storm and Scott.

"You don't want to do this" Storm tried to get closer to you, so does Logan.

You can feel Logan's hand on your arm, trying to pull you closer to him. You feel as the whole thing is happening in slow motion. Like you can't think at all. Your breath is heavy.

As the fight finally breaks, the room is filled with chaos. Blood spilled on the walls as Logan uses his claws against them. A gunshot is heard, making everyone in the room stop fighting.

One of the men moved behind you and shot you.

"NO" Logan shouted, he takes you in his arms before you fall on the floor. Storm and Scott still fighting the other men. Your eyes are closed but you're still conscious, still hearing what's happening.

Storm grabs your arm, asking Logan to let you go as she promises to take you to the infirmary. She takes you into her arms and you can hear Logan's rage. You know how he is when he is like this, and you know he will fight like an animal. Killing every last one of them in the most violent way possible.

As the sounds of the fight are getting further and your body weaker you can feel yourself go. Your last thought being Logan's arms around you on the sofa.

*************

The sounds of the machine, a bright light on the ceiling. It's all you hear and see as you slowly wake up, your body still weak. you try to get up but you feel a hand on your shoulder, stopping you.

"Hey, you're awake" Jean is checking your heartrate and your wound, making sure you're okay.

"Don't get up yet, your body is still recovering. Good news is the bullet just grazed you so there's not too much damage you're gonna be okay"

"Where's.."

"Logan ?, just outside, Storm is talking to him"

You hear the door of the infirmary open. Logan taking your hand.

"She's gonna be okay, i just need you to make sure she rests"

"Sure, thank you" Logan smiles at you, relieved that you're okay. You still see some blood on his arm.

He takes you in his arm goes up in your bedroom. He gently puts you in the bed, putting the blanket over you. He sits on a chair next to you and takes your hand in his.

The warmth of his smile makes you feel so comforted and loved.

He places a gentle kiss on your forhead

"I'm gonna take care of you, i promise, i'm so sorry"

"It's not your fault Logan"

"I'm gonna make sure you're okay and stick with you forever, i'm gonna be with you so much you're gonna get sick of me"

You laugh even though you wound is hurting

"get sick of you ? not a chance"

He plays with your hair as you slowly fall asleep in the bed, feeling his reassuring presence next to you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[colorfulwastelandvoid]

Mel & the Disposable Black Girlfriend Trope

This is my last rant for the foreseeable future.

There has been this common critique of the show and its writer that Mel became a disposable black girlfriend trope. It’s just not true. Are you upset at how Jayce and Mel relationship went, that’s fine but that doesn’t mean she was disposable. I get why yall are saying it too. It’s the fandom. Certain shippers do treat her like one and it’s just as insulting and racist as if it was the showrunners. You can not let literal bigots shape how you see the show. I’m asking yall to go back and watch the show don’t engage with fandom and see how much attention the show through Jayce puts into Mel. She is quite literally League of Legends new Hot Girl. She has a motion comic, featured in a book and will be thee major player in the new show riot puts out. They are heavily investing in her. I love MelJay (obviously look at my page) but her and Jayce are more than the ship. Jayce puts a lot of his time and love into Mel. He constantly reaffirms her and her idealism and strengths. He did not discard her nor did he choose Vik over her. He had to save the world and he knew he was going to die. Look at their color choices. Once cohesive and similar they are now sitting on the opposite ends. Jayce with his dark colors symbolizes not only his impending demise but the ending of his story. Mel on the other hand is wearing white a color of rebirth/ new beginnings she is about to start a new journey in Noxus. I think as a fandom we’ve let bigots and bad faith arguments cloud our judgement. It’s a shame to given how much care the show put into Mel. To keep myself from rambling I’ll just end it here.

Ps I get it, I really do. I also entertain the idea of Mel being the disposable black girlfriend trope. It usually only came after I was overwhelmed by a Mel anti or a literal bigot once I separated them from how the show is actually written and it’s supposed to be engaged with I stop seeing that.

PSs if you just don’t like how they did her character that is also fine. I’m not judging that aspect of critique either

[sickskz]

hello! i was curious as to what your skz member emeto headcanons are??

Oh my god, this woke up something in me mrhsbshden thank you for this!!!!

As I started writing, new ideas just kept coming - so this is a little all over the place 😂 I’m posting it now but I’m definitely going to have to come back and edit/add more 🤭 some of this is so random too- but I just feel it fits!

SKZ emeto/sick hcs:

Bang Chan:

- Definietly tries to go through it alone.

- His tummy is sOOO loud, gurgles and squeaks all over the place.

- Obviously, spicy food fucks him up. It’s even worse coming back up.

- “Oh, I’m- HRRRUGGHH- I’m fine 😊”

- Sometimes a quiet puker and sometimes a loud puker, it really depends.

- He groans, sighs and whimpers a lot when he’s really nauseated.

- Good at pretending he isn’t sick (confirmed by the members)

- However, if he’s got a really crampy stomach, his facial expressions may give him away..

- He also sweats a lot when he’s nauseous.

- Often gets reflux into his nose and it only makes him feel more sick. Plus, It burrnsss.

- Doesn’t want the others to worry, but he greatly appreciates their concern and accepts their coddling gratefully. He thinks they’re sweet.

Lee Know:

- Sucks at warning someone before he pukes…

- Gets cranky and quiet when he’s unwell and nauseous.

- Stares off a lot, but he already does that in general- so it’s hard to tell the difference.

- Has indeed worked himself to the point of puking from exertion before.

- This dude can walk, albeit pale, totally nonchalantly to the side of the road and ‘casually’ throw up like crazy before returning back to pretend like nothing happened. + might just hit them with a thumbs up to show he’s okay while the others look on, absolutely mortified by his indifference.

Changbin:

- Where tf his gag reflex at?

- Doesn’t throw up easily, which is both a blessing and a curse. Sometimes the nausea has him drenched in sweat and writhing in pain, but his body just won’t let it happen :(

- Might sit on the bathroom floor for the longest of times, blanket around him shoulders as he breathes shakily through the nausea.

- Definitely doesn’t mind having some company once in a while, it’s nice to have a lap to rest his head on.

- pretty pouty and sulky when he’s in pain.

- Has been so nauseous and desperate before that one of the members had to ‘help him out’ by pushing on his stomach or gagging him to help him get relief.

- Surprisingly not as loud a puker as you would’ve assumed. Generally louder at all times when he’s not puking.

- When he finally pukes it’s more the “Hhrup—“ followed by powerful waves of vomit gushing out of him, not giving him a break until he’s finished, left coughing and panting.

Hyunjin:

- You can, as with a lot of other things, usually tell how he’s feeling by his facial expressions long before he says anything.

- “I’m literally dying over here and you’re going to get boba? Just tell me you hate me and leave me to suffer”

- Sensitive gag reflex. 10x worse when he’s actually sick.

- Sensitive stomach too. Tends to disagree with new foods.

- Gets really emotional when he’s sick, lips wobbling and eyes glistening with tears.

- Loud puker, deep, heart-wrenching heaves that makes anyone cringe in sympathy.

- Dry heaves a lot even though he’s all empty, usually struggling to calm his body down. Someone rubbing his back and muttering some sweet words usually helps.

- Prefers having a bucket or something while being comfortable in bed or on the couch, rather than throwing up in the toilet. The toilet feels dirty and the floor is too hard on his poor aching body.

- Soaked in sweat, literally lays in a pool of it. It’s like he’s melting away.

- Gets motion sick and tends to forget his medication (so the others usually makes sure he gets them).

Han:

- Hates being alone when he’s sick. Can’t stand it.

- Clutches onto whatever he can for dear life, the toilet rim, another person, his clothes, anything.

- Struggles to catch his breath in between gags, which only makes him dizzy and even sicker.

- Seeks out any comfort he can get, leaning against someone, loves when they rub his back, brush his hair back, etc.

- Whiny </3 Complains a lot about feeling sick until the nausea actually reaches the ‘I’m gonna puke’ phase. Then, he goes quiet- a telltale sign of what’s about to go down..

- Covers his mouth with a shaky hand while the other clutches his stomach, staggering on his feet as he hurries to the bathroom.

- Throws up a lot, often many times after one another when he’s sick. May as well just camp out in the bathroom until it passes.

- Gets really bad stomach pain and cramps.

- Curls up into a ball of pity, all pouty and pale to the point of actually looking green.

- Holds his stomach a lot, hugging onto himself and rubbing his sour belly 24/7. Not opposed to letting someone else give him a tummy rub either.

- Give him cuddles, please. Any kind +++

- Often finds himself wanting sweets to comfort himself, but it comes right back up again and then he sulks about it.

- Also tends to get an upset stomach from stress and anxiety, but it’s only made him throw up a couple of times.

Felix:

- Is one of the members who actually seeks out one of the others and tell them if he’s feeling sick rather than stay quiet

- Really quiet and weak after throwing up, sluggishly clinging onto whoever he can reach

- Generally pretty clingy when he feels sick, he needs so have someone close to cuddle up against for comfort

- Harsher heaves makes his back hurt :(

- Often ties his hair back if he’s nauseous, prepared for what’s to come

- Also tends to get very emotional, sentimental even, especially if he has a fever. The smallest of things tip him over and it’s heartbreaking

- Crying makes him nauseous again though, so it’s a vicious cycle

- Coughs and splutters more than he heaves and gag, it that makes sense? Tends to choke too

- Low rumbly burps and belches

- Nauseous hiccups <3

- Super shaky, his legs are literally jelly. Might need a piggyback ride to his room or smth

- Passes out fairly easily from dehydration and fevers, much to his (and the others’) dismay…

- gets sympathy sick, especially if he’s already a little queasy already. So it’s a mess when many of them are sick at once :’)

Seungmin:

- He’s so stubborn..

- He’s barely holding it together but if someone asks ‘are you okay?’, he’ll be all ‘yeah, are YOU okay?’ Unless he’s already too nauseous to bother. Then he’ll just wave off any concern.

- He gets very ‘spacey’ and fidgety when he’s nauseous. Stares off into the distance, hands fiddling with the edge of his shirt or whatever it may be to try and ground himself.

- Sighs a lot when he’s nauseous, stifling a lot of silent chesty burps.

- When he first pukes, he has a very ‘let’s get it over with’ mindset, not really having space for any dramatics.

- Isn’t that loud when he pukes, but tends to choke and coughs quite a bit.

- Similarly to LK, he too is often bad at giving someone a warning before he gets sick. It can go from 0 to 100 reeeal quick.

- “*siiiiiigh* so….. I think I might be sick..” after having thrown up consistently for half an hour.

- Also holds his stomach a lot, often laying on his left side to get comfortable.

- He has a puppyM hot water bottle to his rescue and curls up with it on the couch or in his bed. Oversized hoodies are a must too.

- I feel like he has a tendency to get migraines that makes him nauseous as well..

Jeongin (I.N) :

- His body gets very tense when he’s nauseous.

- Also very quiet and withdrawn, tends to just ‘disappear’ and hide away if he can.

- Despite his maknae status he definitely doesn’t admit to feeling sick until he practically has to.

- Doesn’t want to be touched and needs some space at first. If he seeks out physical comfort on his own, he really isn’t feeling well..

- Does appreciate gestures like offering a cold towel, bringing him a glass of water, etc.

- A lot of nauseous burps, but he finds it embarrassing and tries to stifle them.

- Falls asleep a lot, anywhere and anytime.

- Often gets very dizzy and weak after puking so he does need someone to lean on.

- Not sure why but he usually has an emotional support pillow when he’s sick. Just a normal pillow usually. Always hugs it to his chest, sleeps with it, brings it with him to the bathroom for comfort, etc. it’s just something he tends to do, a habit of sorts.

- He was very very sick with the flu or something once (high fevers and vomiting) and threw up in his sleep- which almost had him choking hadn’t his members been around. Chan was absolutely traumatised after that and would not let Jeongin sleep ‘unattended’ for 1-2 months afterwards..

+++ I love the idea of both Chan and Felix starting to speak English when they’re really sick, especially when a fever is making them woozy or delirious. Or just finding comfort in someone speaking English to them <3

[cailynwrites]

HP recs for a coffee shop

I love angst, non-HEA, dead dove, and slow burn as much as the next girl, but sometimes you just want something light that you can read while you drink your coffee, whether or not you're in public. In no particular order, here are a few comfy tea, coffee, and coffee shop-centric fics that I've collected over the years, with podfic versions where available.

The Barista, the Burglar, and the Sofa by orphan_account, podfic by @xinasvoice Rating: E Pairing: Remus x Sirius Summary:

This is the story of twenty-three year old Remus Lupin, an overworked graduate student and underpaid barista, who comes home one day to find an exceptionally attractive man has broken into his flat. Given the neighborhood he lives in, that isn’t a huge surprise. He is surprised, though, when the burglar comes back with a sofa. Alternatively, this is the story of how Sirius Black tries to seduce a man by slowly furnishing his flat.

Bottoms Up, Tops Down by @hypnagogue, podfic by Straynyx Rating: T Pairing: Harry x Tom Summary:

They are now in their 5th year, and Tom is about to put the 5th step of his plan in motion. Sex, of all things, will not stump him.

Coffee by @writcraft, podfic by fire_juggler Rating: E Pairing: Draco x Harry Summary:

Sometimes it’s just a story about two wizards and a Muggle coffee shop.

Coffee Cup by keyflight790, podfic by smirkingcat Rating: G Pairing: Draco x Harry Summary:

Harry grabs a cup and makes a fool of himself.

Deadheading the Odd Dahlia by @peachpety, with art by beyondtheclose, podfic by me Rating: E Pairing: Draco x Harry Summary:

Harry is content to spend his days at Draco’s flower stall at the farmers market, burying his true feelings in artisanal coffee and rose bouquets. When forced to find new lodgings, he accepts Draco’s offer to live in a cottage at Malfoy Manor, and his long-hidden crush blossoms out of control. Turns out, proximity makes the heart grow fonder.

Déjà Brew by the_interuniversal_geometer, podfic by Rindle (Queen of Blanket Permission) Rating: G Pairing: Draco x Harry Summary:

Harry has returned to the same coffee shop for the fourth say in a row, but why? And what does Draco, who works at the coffee shop, have to do with it?

Impress Upon You by @senlinyu, art by miamoriartyart, podfic by me and another by @ellamcsmellbella Rating: T Pairing: Draco x Hermione Summary:

Hermione had been in her office, up to her ears redrafting Britain’s new trade agreement with Denmark, when Malfoy came swanning in wanting to ‘consult’ with her. She’d let him in, assuming that he was there about the trade deal, given that their departments had been working together on it for over a year. That he was there to be useful. He was not. If—he’d casually framed the hypothetical, as he seated himself uninvited into an armchair and conjured an elaborate tea service—if someone wanted to try doing something Muggle, how would they go about it?

Moldova's Magical Tea by @aibidil, podfic by me Rating: E Pairing: Draco x Harry Summary:

Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and—to everyone’s surprise—Draco Malfoy are opening a magical tea shop to revive wizarding tea culture and, hopefully, to bring the community together after the war. Harry, who is unemployed and trying to find his way in post-war society, wants to help his friends with their new business—but that means spending a lot of time around Malfoy. Featuring Muggle music from summer 2001, trips to the Muggle cinema, herbology and magical herbal infusions, and Draco trying to convince Harry that, while he’s still a snarky git, he’s no longer a bigot.

The Notion of Attention by @the-starryknight, podfic by @semperfiona Rating: T Pairing: Draco x Harry Summary:

In the moments before Harry woke, Draco drifted through the little flat, puzzling over the little artifacts of Harry in every corner. Here are a few of the things that Draco learned: Harry lived alone. Harry was a good cook. He liked expensive coffee from that bodega on Horizont Alley and kept his flat perfectly clean. And he might be exclusively seeing Draco.

'tis the damn season (Pansy's Version) by @the-francakes, podfic by me Rating: T Pairing: Pansy x Ron Summary:

“Have I mentioned I hate Christmas?” Pansy ventured, eyeing the magical coffee machine and surrounding holiday decor with skepticism. “No one hates Christmas,” Ron scoffed, though his grin never left his face. “You hate the crazies or the capitalism or the earworms, but no one hates Christmas itself.” “I do,” Pansy shot at him. He snorted a laugh. “Okay, Pansy, whatever you say.” He said it very unconvincingly, and if his lopsided smile said anything, he definitely did not believe her. Pansy fumed, tucking her hair behind her ear, and tried to not focus on how he called her by her name or how much she liked it.

Tournesol by @meandminniemcg, podfic by me Rating: T Pairing: Draco x Harry Summary:

Harry hates vacations, they give too much chance to think of his losses. But sometimes vacations are a time to be lucky in finding the right coffeeshop...

[vampireinprada]

UNDER YOUR STARLIGHT ─⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, kissing, too many metaphors

wc: 755

a/n: i’ve written and rewritten this so many times, idek if i like it anymore 😩

“i’ll ride in the night, on the back of your bike / put my hands, my hand to the sky

so fast we could fly, let’s leave it behind / so alive, i ain’t scared anymore”

— [5:13 P.M.] rafe ♡︎: see you ‘round 7 ——

you squealed in pure excitement as you read the text. late night rides always revived and healed something within you. how could it not when the universe it built was so pretty?

the cooling breeze would trickle in through the lowered windows of Rafe’s pickup truck, floating in the background of vibrant stories of days past and exhilarating karaoke to the radio stations. your hands firmly intertwined and never leaving.

there, the outside world couldn’t contain you—it didn’t even exist. it was only ever you two, and nothing could ever change that. if anything, the experience could only get better by the minute.

you readied yourself for another night on the North Carolina roads with a simple outfit and light makeup, your overjoy shining brighter than the highlighter dusted on your cheekbones. another night of cemented memories you could never replace.

— [7:03 P.M.] rafe ♡︎: outside ——

not wanting to waste a second longer, you locked the door to your apartment and headed down to meet Rafe. the sweet autumn brisk fluttered by as you held your folded leather jacket in your arms.

to your surprise, your boyfriend wasn’t standing outside of his pickup like usual. instead, it was his bike.

“where’s your truck?” you questioned with a furrowed brow, puzzled yet curious at the decision to include a new vehicle in your escapades.

“I didn’t bring it,” Rafe explained, timidly twisting his signet ring. “thought a bike ride would be a lot nicer tonight, ya know.”

“hm, I suppose it could be. you haven’t been wrong yet,” you admitted as you walked closer to him, the distance becoming too much after a while.

in swift motion, Rafe grabbed the overbearing chunk of leather from your delicate hands and set it down on his bike, giving him the opportunity to pull you impossibly close.

his rough, callused hands found purchase on your waist, lingering on the cotton lining of your baby tee, just enough for a memory. you peered into his cerulean eyes, desire glimmering into the moonlight.

his hands traveled down to your hips, resting softly on the coarse denim. your soft breaths developed into a shallow, staccato rhythm, highlighting your desire and desperation.

his eyes flickered down to your lips, plump and slightly colored with lip oil, pathetically pleading for permission to which you obliged.

he leaned his head down to capture your soft lips, plush as a cloud, tenderly exploring the depths of your mouth. your hands slid around his waist before finding more comfort at the nape of his growing buzzcut.

any worries or troubles either of you carried melted in the present collision of your love, gentle caresses and soft fragrances entangling in the median.

each of you being exactly what the other needed to feel calm, safe, and loved, a perfect initiation before jetting off for another night in your perfect universe.

“mm, let’s go,” Rafe murmured against your lips. you chuckled in response while you both prepared yourselves for the ride.

you carefully slid on your jacket, he revved up the bike, fumes permeating the air around you. Rafe strapped the thick, black helmets onto his head then yours, ensuring it snuggled your skulls firmly.

“you good?” he asked, glancing back at you.

“mhm,” you nodded. with your arms encircling Rafe’s waist, you two were on your merry way, onto a new adventure.

—ੈ✩‧₊˚——

there was something much more intimate about this ride. you were feeling every possible sensation all at one time. every groove and turn, the acceleration, the adrenaline. the wind whipping furiously against your hair and body.

the woodsy cologne wafting from Rafe to your nose, the tinge of honey lingering like a resonance. his accessible warmth radiated the space and made you feel cozy inside. his thumping heartbeat played an unforgettable melody, detailing the story of a lifetime in a cadence unfounded.

it was all so stimulating, and you loved it! you enjoyed it. you could feel so much more of the Earth on the vehicle.

you elevated your hands to the sky, long-stretched and unrestrained, relishing in the current moment. freedom washed over you like rain. you were safe, you were comfortable, and most importantly, you were loved.

“oh, I could get used to this,” you blissfully thought to yourself, soaking in the joy and gratitude teeming from your heart over to your face. you leaned your front onto Rafe’s back, sporting a beatific smile as you both faded into the autumn night.

let’s ride, fast light, tonight

[maxdibert]

Hi Max (is that your name? Idk what to call you 😅), did you ever think about Severus’s daily routine—being a miserable, depressing teacher, surrounded by loud kids every day? How did he cope? Did he have any hobbies to pass the time? What did he even do all day when he wasn’t grading essays, teaching, or brewing potions? Or was that all he did? Probably read books… or perhaps he socialized with the portraits and ghosts.. I always imagined the idea of him doing nothing but the same routine every day to be really sad and depressing. But I suppose he was so numb to that lifestyle that he just got used to it.

But like.. what made him happy? I can’t imagine living a life doing a job I hate, with no friends to share my small joys with. Was he just a shell of a man? Maybe he really was depressed. How did he not kill himself? Did he only keep going out of sheer spite and his promise to protect Harry and fight against Voldemort?

Or maybe he did have some kind of social life..in pubs, in the Muggle world… idk, I have a hard time understanding how he stayed alive for so many years. I would’ve ended it, tbh. My life is my family and my hobbies, but mostly my family. I can’t imagine what life does to a person who doesn’t even have one person they can laugh with. How did that affect him?

Maybe he was at least friendly with Minerva and Poppy? And Dumbledore, sometimes and perhaps he corresponded with Lucius. But who else? 😅 He didn’t seem super close with any of them in the books, so I guess we can only argue they were on friendly terms at best. I'd love to know your thoughts. 😊

Heyyy! Actually, my name isn't Max, but you can call me that since it's the nickname I have here, so it's all good hahaha.

Well, let's see, this is something I've thought a lot about lately in terms of character development, and I think I would divide it into two parts: Severus before Harry entered Hogwarts, before Voldemort returned, and everything that followed, and Severus after he’s already caught up in a spiral of anxiety and work overload, plus being a double agent.

I think during his first years at Hogwarts, he was probably in a crazy depression, and not only because of feeling guilty for Lily’s death, but also because he was just a 21-year-old kid when he started teaching, because he was teaching at the same place where he’d been bullied, because half the people he usually interacted with were dead and the other half were in Azkaban, and because I think it must’ve been pretty hard for him to adapt to a life he really didn’t want and one he had to get used to. So, in his early twenties, I picture him as kind of a zombie, after that terrible shock, the end of the war, all the emotional damage, just a few years where he was simply going through the motions, getting used to teaching, everything was new, so that’s what his daily life was based on. I've always imagined him having a pretty good relationship with the Malfoys, I think especially when he was younger, he’d visit them now and then, maybe on weekends... But he’d spend the holidays at Spinner’s End, and in the summer, he’d lock himself in his childhood home and not leave, because being stuck there was always a kind of self-imposed punishment: Hogwarts was a prison, his childhood home another, and if he hadn’t earned his way out of one, he didn’t deserve to leave the other.

I think his reputation as a nasty teacher was forged over the years, as he gained more confidence in front of the classes, he became stricter, more demanding, and didn’t tolerate nonsense. This was probably around 25 or so. I see that phase as one of accepting grief and loss, gaining more self-assurance at work, also starting to gain more trust from Dumbledore, and beginning a rivalry with Minerva, whom I always see him resenting a bit for letting certain things happen, but at the same time, respecting her as a colleague. I picture him very focused on his work, even obsessively so, to avoid thinking about other things. He would assign as much homework as possible so he could keep his mind busy correcting it, or simply practicing potions when his sessions were over. I imagine him sleeping terribly, deciding to do extra rounds at night not because he was interested in catching students in the act, but because he couldn’t sleep well, also because it gave him an excuse to leave the castle and smoke a cigarette since everything was just so damn anxiety-inducing. I never saw him as someone extremely sociable with other teachers because most of them were already teaching when he was a student at Hogwarts and didn’t lift a finger to make his life any less miserable, but I do see him being quite polite with most of them, though never opening up personally or anything like that, always with a shield up. I think he preferred staying reading, working, or studying potions rather than going to social gatherings with them or anything like that. I don’t see him being comfortable hanging out with them or having a drink. But I do picture him being comfortable going to Muggle pubs when he spent his summers at Spinner’s End. Shitty pubs with shitty people who were already drunk from early morning, where no one knew him, and he didn’t have to explain anything to anyone, in a world where there hadn’t been a war, no one had died, and he hadn’t been part of any shady organization. I imagine him going to those kinds of grim places when he wasn’t at Hogwarts and his house felt too suffocating, having a couple of beers. I picture him having occasional, short-lived encounters with Muggles, nothing serious, just a one-night thing to let off steam because he was in his twenties and felt alone, surrounded only by kids and old people, and that was just a damn depression. I imagine him visiting the Malfoys from time to time, as Draco was getting older, and I imagine Narcissa insisting that he needed to find a good pureblood girl, as she had always done since he was barely a teenager. I picture Lucius telling him that he didn’t understand what the hell he was doing under Dumbledore’s leadership in the first years, but seeing it as a good opportunity as Draco was approaching 11. I don’t imagine him having much of a social life. I think he talked a lot with Dumbledore, had many conversations with him, and saw him as the father figure he never had. I also think he had a genuine friendship with the Malfoys, and that created a very strong conflict and cognitive dissonance for him, but he couldn’t avoid it because they had always treated him well. But I think, within what was possible, he had free time, could do his own things, have his moments, his casual encounters, read his books, peaceful stuff.

And then came Harry.

Honestly, I think life after Harry at Hogwarts became pure anxiety for Severus. Because it wasn’t just managing Potions classes for seven damn years, being Head of House, doing night patrols, but also having to follow the kid around every corner to make sure he didn’t end up headless. Because Harry wasn’t just a responsibility, and he wasn’t an easy kid, but a kid who loved getting into trouble, so Severus had to babysit him both inside and outside of his work hours. And the fact that Harry came to Hogwarts only indicated that Voldemort’s return was getting closer, and when he returned, Severus completely lost his life. I mean, once he became a double agent, his life revolved around pretending on both sides, having cover stories on both sides, risking his neck, being constantly between Voldemort and Dumbledore, having to follow the plan, protect Harry, teach, work for the Order, put up with the Death Eaters, Lucius in Azkaban, Draco being doomed to kill Dumbledore, and a lot of other things. So, I basically picture him abandoning any hobbies he had, losing around 15 kilos, and just going on because, in the end, he was a kid from the streets who’d been raised to survive, and he had survival mode on 24/7, with anxiety through the roof, and that was basically it.

And then, after Dumbledore’s death, I picture him super depressed, super alone, with everything collapsing around him because the people he fought for hated him, and the people who didn’t hate him were the ones he had to betray, and I can’t imagine what that must have been like emotionally, but it probably involved a lot of wine and going back to smoking after having quit for years, because who the hell doesn’t start smoking again in a situation like that? And more anxiety, more depression, and the desire to do absolutely nothing but having to keep going, no matter what.

[johnfkennedaddy]

I'm glad you asked! It’s every character.

Kevin’s is the most obvious— his own heartbreak led to cynicism that has reduced wedding culture, and therefor any effort of his job, as exclusively transactional. Which is why the reveal of article is particularly cruel to Jane, who is hyper aware of this attitude and is herself self conscious of her contrasting deep faith in a fairytale love.

Tess clearly had a different relationship to their mom than Jane, given her willingness to alter her wedding dress. Having lost her mom Tess puts a lot of the angst she would probably reserve for her to her older sister. She competes with Jane because she doesn't think she can truly push her away. But because of this she's also terrified of a sudden loss leaving her so anxious to attach to someone she's willing to not only cruelly decieve them but betray vital truths about herself to maintain a relationship with them.

Jane’s ability to look at her life and call herself satisfied has largely been ruled by the faith she developed in love stories— that she would get her happy ending. That means she knows the emotional beats in every love story perfectly and knew exactly how to pull off ruining the rehearsal dinner and ending the relationship. The love that she had for both Tess and George that prevented her from saying anything to begin with, to protect them, should have amounted to wanting to pull them aside privately to tell George he's been deceived, but she in her sense of justice and pursuit of a happy ending drives her to option of nuclear humiliation for two people she does genuinely love.

George’s values depicted in the movie (environmentalism, veganism, humanitarianism) and gentle natures shows us he's extremely conscious of his own ability to do harm that's why for him the cruelty turns inward. He's even, perhaps, a little self isolationing. because why else would a guy like that even be single? he's not unintelligent and knows a lot about his own values and how they are articulated among those who share them— he would know Tess wasn't quite on message. But as shown when George kisses Jane at the end, he too believes in a fairy tale and wants a magic happy ever after and is willing to find it with someone just going through the motions— a cruelty to himself

And that's what you missed on 27 Dresses (2008)

no because I do think that 27 dresses is a movie about the cruelty to which loneliness will drive you but I think the social network is a romantic comedy

[thenotoriousscuttlecliff]

Starting to think many don't really know what a filler episode is if they think all of these are filler. A filler episode isn't just a one-off story, but normally something that just feels like it is utterly forgettable and disposable and mainly there to fill out the schedule because the writers didn't have any better ideas. Episodes like Move Along Home, The Storyteller, Second Sight, The Muse, Let He Who Is Without Sin, Resurrection, Profit and Lace, etc. The type of episodes many will just skip on a rewatch.