#curved wall earth tones

[celebrerparis]

Southwestern Wine Cellar Phoenix a sizable image of a southwest wine cellar with display racks

[dollfacefantasy]

kinktober day 20 - size kink jason todd x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, size kink, tummy bulge

"That's it, baby. Take it all. Oh, look at you go. Being so brave for me."

On the surface the words are soothing, but the tone of Jason's voice fills each syllable with condescension. Not in a bad way. The sickly sweet lilt strikes the perfect chord that has you wetter than any body of water on this earth.

Your hips rise and fall in measure rolls, your cunt embracing his thick cock with every motion. You have to take it slow. Otherwise, you feel like you'll tear yourself in half.

"Jay…" you whimper, lip wobbling and eyes gleaming with the need for him to coddle you, "You're so…"

A sharp whine from your throat cuts off your own words. Your head tilts back and then hangs forward. His tip brushes your sweet spot every time you sink down on him. It makes it nearly impossible to remain coherent. You'd never met somebody who could make you malfunction like this.

"I'm so what?" he coos, prompting you to finish your statement. He already knew the words on the tip of your tongue, but he still wanted to hear them spoken into the drafty air of your apartment.

"You're so big," you choke out.

Another moan falls from your lips before you grit your teeth. Your face scrunches up in tandem with your walls clenching around his length. Vaguely, you hear him chuckle. He then pulls you close and cradles you against his chest.

"And you like that, don't you?" he whispers.

He slumps further down on the couch. His feet press hard against the smooth wooden floor beneath the two of you. The muscles in his thighs flex as he begins to pump his hips up and down. You whine and clutch at his meaty bicep, melting against his warm skin and letting him do all the work right now.

You nearly forget he asked a question at all until he continues speaking.

"I know you do, doll. You like that when you're with me, you're helpless. Don't have to think. Don't have to move. Don't have to do anything but let me use this sweet, little pussy till I'm satisfied," he says.

Your toes curl, your thighs clamping around his own. The pressure doesn't stop him from moving though, not in the slightest. You inhale sharply before nodding against his neck. Of course, you like this. You love it.

You could never get enough of Jason's body. You'd study it forever if he let you. Your pupils felt magnetized whenever they had the chance to drift along his chiseled torso or mentally map the pathways of his scars. Adoration wasn't a strong enough word for how you felt in regards to his figure. Obsession seemed more appropriate.

Fortunately for you, Jason behaved much the same about your body.

In the mornings when he thought sleep still had a strong hold on you, he'd run his fingers over every curve he could find. He'd knead the swell of your ass and press tender kisses between your shoulder blades. As you'd start to wake, he'd wrap his hands around your waist and nearly pop a boner right then and there from how large they looked in comparison.

His favorite thing in the world after a long grueling patrol fast became coming home to you. Not even thirty minutes with your delicate body washed away all the stress caused by hard and rough people he dealt with beyond these walls. Some nights he'd prop your dainty legs over his broad shoulders and dive into your slippery cunt. Other nights he'd get right down to it, shoving his fat cock inside you and watching your belly bulge with the intrusion.

Tonight hadn't been either of those. He'd been home for a change. But having you curled up to his side and pressed against him while he read a book got him worked up pretty fast. It wasn't his fault the two of you just seemed to fit so naturally together.

"My good girl. Soft and sweet all for me," he praises as he continues fucking up into you. His heavy balls lightly slap against your ass with each thrust.

Your nails dig into his shoulder as the repetitive strokes start to build on one another. Small, whimpered expletives drip from your lips like a leaky faucet. He knows you're getting there. All he has to do is ramp up his efforts a little.

His hands lock around your waist like they do on hazy mornings. Just like then, he's obsessed with the way your skin dimples beneath his digits now. He boosts you back and starts bouncing you up and down in addition to his thrusts.

Your eyes roll back at the sensation and you take your bottom lip between your teeth. You don't have to do anything in this position still. He's strong enough to hold you upright all by himself. The only thing you had to do was like he said - stay still and let yourself be used.

"Can never get enough of you, baby, fuck," he grunts. His head falls back against the sagging cushion as he keeps working himself into you over and over. He glances back up at you slightly. "Is it feeling good?"

"Mhm," you whine, "So fuckin' good. So deep. All the way inside."

Your head bobbles around with the way he jerks you up and down on his lap. He smirks at your words and the airy way you say them.

"I know. I can see it," he responds, eyes flitting down to that faint and familiar bump. Evidence of his place inside you.

You only whimper in response. He drops you back down against his chest so one of his hands can slot against your center and rub your clit in fast, tight circles. The flickering feeling draws even more noises of pleasure from you.

The edge sneaks up on the both of you fast. You fall over it first. Your body spasms and seizes between his hands, but his strong grip is enough to keep you in place. For him, it explodes in a muted burst of ecstasy before burning into a brighter one. He wraps his arms around your smaller frame and keeps you flush against his sweaty skin as he fucks his load deep inside.

The both of you stay there while you come down. His chest puffs up and down with deep breaths. Even with all his exertion, his hand rubs soothing stripes along the column of your spine. You lie against him completely motionless, limp against the muscles of his chest. A little pleasure doll all for him to play with.

[diejager]

Sweetie i know it's been a long time but i really need more Brahms! König🥵🥵🥵!!!!

I KNOW! I STILL REMEMBER THE DAY MY FRIEND ASKED ME TO WRITE THE FIRST BRAHMS!KÖNIG. And I still remember how musky and broad Brahms looked like in the movie….

Brahms!König pt.3 Cw: DARKFIC, kidnapping, imprisonment, possessiveness, tell me if I missed any.

You could hear their voices, the confused and worried tones of your coworkers through the thick, sound-insulating walls of his little cave. He’d taken you to his home, within the walls of the dilapidated mansion, tying you to his bed and leaving you vulnerable to him and anyone who’d stumble into your restrained figure. You writhed on his bed, the sheet-covered mattress smelling musky and thick, it smelled of sweat and blood and earth, something too masculine, fitting of his stature and being. Your gag was stinky and crusted, a salty and tangy taste lingering on your tongue that told you enough of the cloth’s original use. You would’ve retched if you weren’t gagged so tightly.

Your eyes scoured his room, the dark and dingy basement lit up by a single light of his lamp, left on the small workbench beside every kind of artistic materials, glue, saws, scissors, needles, wool and string organised in their own corner of the wall. Despite the bright light, the rest of the room remained shrouded in darkness, shadows dancing across the walls like demons and monsters coming to haunt you in weakness, coming to join your captor in his fun.

You dreaded the moment he comes back, the silence of your cage a striking contrast to the bustling house you were hidden in. You feared what he’d do to you now that he had you, knowing that he was grinding up against you and rutting your thigh, panting loudly and grabbing at you like a man starved for attention —perhaps he was one. All your training and instincts failed you, stripped from any weapons and your gear, boots unlaced and toes curling in your socks, you’d been left in your undershirt and pants.

In your whimpering and fright, you almost missed the loud, telltale steps of your giant protector, walking down the narrow path to his room. Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. You glanced at him, and caught him staring back at you, your sweat-coated skin and flushed skin, naked to his cool eyes. He smiled through them, roving over your panicked expression, pinched brows and tense shoulders, down the slope of your abdomen and the curve of your hips before he moved, stepping closer and closer to you with a bright and needy gleam.

The bed creaked under his weight, slumping to the side as he sat down, his calloused hands cradling your face and coaxing you to look at him when you glanced away, his thumb rubbing the bags under your eyes. He cooed soft words and praises, as if he was calming down a cornered animal, waiting to hand you treats and praises, little caresses and adoring kisses.

“Look at you, Maus,” he sighed lowly, his auburn hair curled around his porcelain mask, tickling the edge of his ears, “You’ll be good for me, ja? If you behave, I’ll untie you, let you walk around our room.”

If you wanted a chance at freedom, you’d have to play into his hand, eat and drink from his big hand until he trusted you to leave you alone for an undetermined amount of time, hunting and scavenging the area he lived in. Gulping down you fear, you gave him a hesitant nod, eyes closed to accept the life you’d live for a while.

“Gute Maus.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny

[prettyundeadgirl]

Love Like Ghosts

│Track One of Strange Trails

Summary: Within the night, an inebriated Arthur returns. You take care of him, and when morning arrives, he realizes how in love he really is.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Wordcount: 1.0k

Tags: Fluff

AO3 Link

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated! :)

The silver moon, curved like a bear’s sharp claw, shone a hazy glow through the lattice of leaves in the caliginous night. Branches swayed peacefully in the breeze, and amid the grassy land, water coalesced atop the mire earth. Hidden in the wavering stalks, a small orchestra of katydids performed their stridulations.

Everyone had scattered to greet their awaiting slumber, and you remained awake, sitting on the stairs and leaning against the firm wooden pillar with nature’s veins strangling it. You were engrossed in a book Mary-Beth had lent to you—one she had owned the longest and must’ve been a personal favorite, you figured from the frayed edges of the spine and the worn pages. It had been your solace for the time being, distracting you from your ceaseless worrying about Arthur’s absence and staving off the encroaching drowsiness. The lantern beside you illuminated enough light for you to read the tiny printed letters.

Time flowed like a river, and you grew inevitably weary, eyelids beginning to close until you heard steady hooves clomping in the muddy grounds near the entrance. The sound resonated throughout the area as it came closer and closer. Arthur returned, almost falling as he tried to dismount his horse. He hitched the reins to the hitching post, all the while holding a bottle devoid of whiskey in his other hand. You closed the tattered book in haste and doused the lantern, rushing toward him.

“Oh, Arthur, I’ve been worried sick.” You admitted.

“Why?” He asked, practically tripping over his own steps.

“What do you mean ‘why?’ I care about you. More than you know.” Your voice was laced with much sincerity, and you stated your words in confidence, realizing he wouldn’t remember anything by morning. He looked into your soft gaze for a moment, his befuddled state along with the lack of light dulling your worried expression. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.” He let himself acquiesce to your words, and you placed his arm across your shoulders to give him as much support as you could offer.

“You look pretty tonight.” He slurred, and although you smiled and blushed at the compliment, you still rolled your eyes, knowing he was drunk and those words possibly held no truth.

Entering the once charming and grandiose manor that is now timeworn, veiled in the overgrowth of untouched green and merely a tomb contained with memories of the ones who inhabited it before, you guided him through the dark. Strangely, it provided a sense of comfort and safety, though not as much as Arthur did during your time with the gang.

The old stairs creaked in protest as you went up, and there was the occasional trip or two from Arthur, with a small chuckle following after. Pushing open the door revealed his cozy room, which was bathed in the soft gleam of moonlight filtered through the begrimed windowpanes and casting shadows on the walls. You removed his hat, placing it on the table nearby, and then, with careful and tender hands, you unbuckled his gun belt. It clinked as it came in contact with the wooden table. You laid him down and removed his boots, and when his eyes closed, you slowly pressed a small kiss on his forehead.

As you turned to make your way downstairs, a weak grip on your hand prevented you from doing so.

“Stay.” He murmured. “Please.”

“Why?” You repeated it in the same tone he had given you before.

“‘Cause I…” He didn’t need to finish the sentence for his half-mast eyes had spoken beyond what he could not, and deep within the beating chambers of your heart you knew what it was and felt the same.

You let out a sigh, “Move over.”

He provided as much room as the tight-fitted bed allowed, and as you lay side by side, he pulled you closer into him, arm twined around your waist, the space once between now nonexistent. There was a strong musk that was woven into the linen of his clothes, amalgamated with the scent of heady whiskey, and it wrapped around you with familiarity. You rested against his chest, feeling the slow rise and fall and hearing the drum of his heart against your ear, its rhythm growing faster as you placed your knee on his hip. 

His love for you was a quiet thing; it’s unrelenting and inevitable, yet everyone knew and talked about it. He harbored so much of it for you that it seemed to overflow in his drunken state, though it could only be expressed through actions such as placing the gentlest of kisses on your head, taking in the freshly washed scent of your hair, and holding you as close as he could. In your arms, there was a sense of comfort and peace that he hadn’t felt in a long time and never knew he had been missing in his life, and he was lulled into a calming sleep.

In the early wake of dawn, he hadn’t remembered much from the night as it was, for the most part, a disoriented blur, but he did recall your benevolent disposition, and he didn’t understand why you were so kind to him and always made an effort to look after his well-being. He always appreciated it nonetheless.

He had also recalled the vibrant color of your eyes in your gaze—irises deep and atlantic. He felt as though he could fall through them, following their course and soon getting lost in the darkness that lay beneath. They were endless and almost confusing, and he’d spend an eternity figuring out the mystery of them. A simple glance into your eyes, whether inebriated or not, would make the relentless, gloomy ruminations that sat in his mind scatter away.

He felt your warm presence alongside him, turning his head to your beautiful slumbering visage—peaceful and in bliss—that began his matutinal admiration. It was mesmerizing; you were mesmerizing to him. Every inch of you was, and he longed to live in this moment forever.

He wondered what he had said or done last night for you to end up in his bed and how he wished he could remember that part of the night. He relished the moment for a bit longer, tucking the wisps of hair behind your ear before reluctantly leaving.

[chesirecatsmile]

daniel groans in pain from the bathroom, trying to hold his hand open for more than five seconds without feeling like his bones are breaking on him again.

"you okay?" max says, opening the door to pop his head in the bathroom, he locks eyes with daniel, lowering to daniel’s hands, frowning as his hand flexes again, "stop that.”

he reaches a hand forward to hold daniel’s wrist, running it over daniel’s knuckles, wanting to put them close to his lips and kiss them.

“it hurts, max.”

“i know, i know.” max pouts, his blue eyes full of compassion and love, something daniel has been seeing a lot of recently, “is there anything i can do?”

max asks in that tone daniel likes so much, the one that makes his stomach (and jeans) tighten most days. he licks his lips and tilts his head, seeing himself in the mirror for a split second before he moves his gaze to max’s lips. and then they’re kissing, max is holding daniel’s forearm as if that will do anything to heal daniel’s bones.

“were you going to shower?” max says tracing the lines of daniel’s abs with his free hand when they pull away.

daniel nods, letting max take his sweatpants off, carefully as if he’s going to break, then his underwear and his socks. he stands there as he watches max take his own clothes off, reaching forward and holding his waist with his hands, squeezing him.

he winces, wanting to pull max closer but not really able to use his entire strength. max looks into his eyes, and it’s that look again, the one that makes daniel feel like he’s a lost puppy.

“stop that,” he says, leaning forward to bite max’s chin because he wants to, because he can, “get in the shower with me.”

he turns the shower on and hops in, not even waiting for it to get warm, max follows, his hand reaching to hold daniel’s forearm again like he is fragile and going to fall on his ass and break something again. he lets him, this time.

max lets go eventually and puts both of his hands on daniel’s shoulders to knead his muscles, lowering down his spine and the curve of his ass, doing a not so good job of ignoring their erections pressing together. daniel closes his eyes and lets max massage his arms and his hands, avoiding the scar altogether and back down to his shoulders, pulling him up to stand up straight.

daniel wishes max’s hands were lower, way lower, cradling his balls and making him come, but he settles for being turned around and his ribs being massaged.

max squeezes a bottle of shampoo and puts it to daniel’s hair, daniel isn't strong enough to ask who’s shampoo that is, but he doesn't hate the idea of smelling like max for the day all that much.

max finally, finally, touches daniel where he wants to after at least ten minutes of agonisingly washing his hair. he presses him forward a bit, still threading carefully like daniel is made of glass.

glass or not, max is finally pressing his fingers inside of daniel, his erection hot and twitching pressed against his back.

“okay?” he says, two fingers deep, like daniel isn't fucking himself on them. “does it hurt?”

“what?” daniel says, trying to come back to earth, “no, nothing hurts.”

max crooks his fingers, making daniel cry out, “good.” daniel shivers when max starts fucking him with his fingers properly, stretching him out, grabbing his waist to pull him closer, his hot dick pressing against daniel.

daniel can't do anything but take it, one hand on the wall and the other hanging off, useless, pain long forgotten now.

max kisses his earlobe, the back of his neck, puts his head in between his shoulders and groans, watching as his fingers disappear inside of daniel.

“you take it so well,” he says, “fuck, you look so good.”

daniel shivers again, pushing back against max, “put it in.” he says, squeezing around max’s fingers to get his point across.

“hm,” max makes a noise, stops his fingers and lets daniel fuck himself for a short minute before he retreats. “is that what you want?”

“yeah,” daniel says, turning his head around so he can see max’s arm moving, his muscles flexing as he grabs daniel’s hips, rubbing himself on his ass. “i thought you wanted to take care of me?”

max bites his bottom lip and laughs, stroking himself and watching as the tip of his dick rubs against daniel’s rim. daniel feels his knees give out as max pushes in finally, a strong arm around his waist helping him up.

“god,” daniel lets out, his right hand gripping on the tiles like they're gonna stop him from slipping and falling if max lets go.

luckily, max shows no signs of letting go and he just holds daniel closer as he moves his hips, fucking daniel slow and deep, making him groan.

“give it to me.” daniel says, tired of the slow sex, of being treated like he’s made of glass. he squeezes around max.

“daniel-”

“please.”

max sighs and positions himself, strong legs braced against daniel body, his arms holding him up. he slides out and then slams home, hard, forcing daniel to close his eyes and throw his head back.

“like that?” max says, his voice deep and teasing as he grinds the tip of his dick on daniel’s prostate.

daniel doesn't know if it's because he hasn't come in weeks or if it's the heat of the shower making it unbearable, but he feels like he’s gonna explode if max doesn't make him come soon.

luckily, max begins to seat a rhythm, fucking daniel hard and deep, making him twitch and groan.

“max—” daniel cries out as his release takes him. he shoots ropes of come onto the shower wall, tightening around max and making him come with a long moan.

“fucking hell,” max cries out, driving into daniel over and over as daniel does his best with little energy he has to shove his ass backwards into him.

when he comes back to himself, max is resting his chin on daniel’s shoulders, whispering, “i love you.”

daniel smiles and wiggles his hips, “love you.”

they stay like that for a while, max buried deep, his dick softening and making his come dribble down.

daniel lets out a small, “ouch,” when he puts both of his hands on the shower wall to straighten himself up, his knees finally working and supporting his weight.

max stands there for a second, pulling out slowly and letting the water take away the mess they have made, he doesn't even care about the amount of water they have wasted.

daniel turns around and their eyes meet.

daniel clears his throat, and max can see his legs are shaking from the effort. “thank you,” he says, a small smile on his face.

max smiles back, grabs the showerhead and sprays it on daniel’s front and himself to clean them off, daniel smiles happily and lets max do it.

max turns the water off once he’s done, reaches for a bathrobe for daniel and gestures at him to get out, draping it over his shoulders.

“feel better?” max says, his hands making a tie of the robe belt over daniel’s stomach.

daniel smiles, pulls max closer, “yeah.”

max smiles back, sighs deeply as his naked body is met with the softness of the robe, he wraps his arms around daniel, “let’s go to bed.”

they do, and daniel shuffles into his shirt and boxers, lying down with the same pain in his hand but a full heart.

max gets in bed next to him in silence, doesn't touch daniel until he does. daniel puts an arm around max’s waist and pulls him close until his chest meets his back.

max sighs, shuffles closer and daniel can smell his shampoo mixed with max’s soft skin and it’s so perfect he almost forgets about his pain all together.

“thank you.” he says again, this time right on max’s ear so max is forced to answer.

“i love you,” max says back, puts his back right on daniel’s chest and closes his eyes.

[teenwolf-theoriginals]

evening shelby chaos

pairing: tommy shelby x reader + dad!tommy

warnings: mild swearing, violence, sex, over-protective/controlling tommy

summary: adjusting to a new dynamic after a new baby is the easy part. the hard part, dealing with tommy when his over-protectiveness explodes when he catches ava and rob’s romantic bond reach new levels

side note: another fic inspired by the shelby family from this fic

side note #2: other fics in the afternoon shelby chaos series: dad!tommy, mr giraffe, the boys, and her name is

"Frances will tend to her". Tommy whispered as he saw your eyes shift towards the door. In the next room over, Eleanor resided, almost five months old, and already showcasing her Shelby personality; feisty, full of energy and charisma that shined in every room she graced. To help distract you, Tommy kissed down your neck. Your body arched closer to his touch, impatient to feel your husband. But Ella had other plans, her fussing getting louder and harder to ignore.

"Tommy".

"I'll get her".

Entering the nursery, it had gone through several changes to highlight each newborn. Ava's nursery had been subtle. Earth tones throughout, colour coming from the pink flower printed wallpaper. Charlie and Theo's only differed in the crib - Charlie's dark brown and Theo's navy blue. While Flo's had been bright, colours representing Mr Giraffe; cream crib, dark blue rug to match his bow tie and a splash of orange in the art that hung on the walls. And lastly, Eleanor's was a mix of reds and pinks, matching her strong Shelby allure. But the one item that remained a constant throughout was the grey chair nestled in the corner. The one where you sat during night-time feedings, the one where Tommy cradled Ava when he couldn’t sleep, watching her drift in and out of daydreams. And where the boys snuggled, carefully holding Florence as they met her for the first time.

"Charlie, Theo, the two of you should be in bed".

"Frances helped us with some warm milk and we heard her fussing". Theo whispered as Charlie made silly faces at Ella. Her tiny fist reached upward to grasp the air.

"And we wanted to make sure there were no monsters in her room". Charlie added.

"They are no monsters".

"What if they are invisible?". Theo gasped, startling Ella as he looked around the room, peering behind the curtain and under the crib.

"Invisible or otherwise, there are no monsters". Tommy replied, tapping each of them on the shoulder. "Go on, go to bed".

Making sure the boys did as they were told, Tommy stood by the door and watched them enter their rooms before meeting Eleanor's curious, bright blue eyes. "Mama and I need some time alone. Can you help me out, eh?".

She cooed in response, letting out a soft yawn. Tommy smiled and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. He left the door ajar and returned to you. The sight of you naked in bed never grew old. He stood by the dresser, admiring the body that had given him five children. Your curves, full breasts, those fucking thighs that he loved to run his hands over.

"I can feel you staring".

He chuckled, licking his lips as he spread you across the bed sheets, resuming where the two of you had left off as if no interruption occurred. Tommy slid into you, gasping in unison when your bodies instantly welcomed each other. He moved slowly, allowing you time to adjust to his thickness.

"Tommy, don't stop". You breathlessly demanded, gripping his ass to keep him close.

However, the echoes of Ava's voice and another shifted Tommy's focus. He yearned for you, needed to feel you in such an imitate way again. But his mind coupled with his over-protectiveness took control. You could see it itched in his frowned brow and pursed lips. His concentration depleting, and not even a kiss brought him back to the moment.

"It's probably Ava coming home".

"I thought she was home". Tommy grunted, slowing his movements right when your body needed him most. Much to your exhale, Tommy slipped on a pair of loose pants, peering out the window. "She went to Johnny's camp again, didn't she?. Did you tell her she could go?".

Slipping on your white nightgown, you massaged his shoulders. Like the kiss, it had no effect. He licked his bottom lip, marching with a mission across the room.

"Tommy, don't".

"I told her not to see that fucking Rob guy". He retorted, throwing over a white linen shirt and leaving you frustrated in more ways than one.

The front door swung open causing Ava and Rob to pull away from their goodnight kiss. Rob backed a few more steps when he met Tommy’s murderous gaze.

"Ava, get inside".

"Mr Shelby, I was only making sure Ava got home alright". Rob reassured, hoping it would defuse the situation.

"I know what you're intentions are, you and I will have a word later. But first, Ava get inside".

"I'm 10 minutes away from curfew".

"Your curfew has now changed, get inside".

She exhaled, her spirited side inherited from Tommy clashing with his. Two bulls stomping at the ground, fury at the other for not listening and for growing up too fast.

"You and Mum said that when I turn 16 I can have a later curfew. It's 8 minutes away from 9 pm, I didn't do anything wrong!"

Tommy pointed a stern finger her way, lowering his voice to a chilling tone. "Get inside the fucking house". By now, Ava was all too familiar with her father’s temperament, knowing how to let it roll off her skin. Rob, however, was not. He swallowed the lump in his throat, wiping the sweat from his palms.

As you joined the tense scene unfolding, you wished you had taking few extra seconds to put on a warmer layer of clothing. A thin nightgown and matching robe did very little to protect against the bitter air. "Rob, thank you for walking Ava home. But I think you should leave".

"He’s not going anywhere until he and I have a word".

"Tommy, enough".

"Why do you have to ruin everything!". Ava shouted, Rob looked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of Ava marching inside with you right behind, leaving Tommy standing alone under the starry night.

When he stepped back into the bedroom Tommy’s hands roamed over your body. Slipping out of his embrace, you looked towards your husband who displayed little sense of guilt for ruining the evening. "Are you really trying to get me back into bed after what you just did?".

"I didn't do anything wrong".

"You did several things wrong, Tommy".

He sighed, lighting a cigarette as he took a seat on the bed. You by the vanity, waiting until he inhaled a few puffs of nicotine.

"Ava's found a nice guy. One that should be running far away from this family, but isn’t. Because that is how much he likes our daughter. Why are you so hell bent on taking a good thing away from her? Tommy, this is her first love".

"Ava's 16, what does she know about love, eh?".

"She won't know anything if her overprotective father keeps getting in the way".

"I will not apologize for looking out for her".

"Rob's not going to hurt her".

"You don't fucking know that!" He shouted. "Our daughter's safety comes first, before teenage love, do you understand?"

"He’s Johnny's cousin, what danger do you think he possibly possesses?".

"I don't know. But until I find out, they are not to spend any more time together".

Kneeling in front of Tommy, you rubbed his knee. "I am begging you to stop. You can't keep controlling her every move".

"Everyone will follow whatever rules I make. And it will be the same for the rest of the children when they grow up".

You stood, shaking your head at Tommy's stubbornness. Once more, he tried his luck. Hands scrunching your nightgown, lips connecting to your shoulder, lightly grazing his teeth over your skin. "No, the window closed for that 20 minutes ago". You sternly replied taking his hand and placing it over his semi-hard crotch. "You're smarter enough to figure out the rest".

"I rather you stroke me, love".

"And I rather you didn't interrupt us to go yell at our daughter".

"I gave her an order, and she disobeyed. And why did she disobey? Because you told her it was alright to go see him".

"So your idea to get me back into bed is to blame me for your misguided behaviour?".

He drew the smoke inward, releasing it within a few glorious seconds of having it warm his lungs. "I say no, and Ava runs to you".

"Like how I say no and Flo runs to you".

"Ava's situation is about her safety, Flo just wants new toys".

"Tommy, we have two more daughters. I am not going through the same ordeal with Flo and Eleanor. I know your first instinct is to protect. But your tendency to protect often crosses lines".

"That's never bothered you before".

"I spent years learning and adapting to your methods, the children have not". You responded, handing Tommy the tray to extinguish his half-smoked cigarette.

"And like you did, they will learn".

"Before or after you ruin your relationship with your children?"

"Tomorrow, I will fix things with Ava, alright?”. Placing the tray on the small table by his side of the bed, Tommy kissed you, once again sowing the seeds of arousal. ”This is the first time in five months that I am able to touch you. So please, can we get back into bed and enjoy the rest of our evening?”.

"You can go to bed. I'm going to check in on Ella and then Ava".

"Come on, love, Eleanor’s asleep and Ava will most likely tell you to leave her be”.

“Goodnight, Thomas”.

The next evening, Tommy came home to the dining table decorated with the pristine white cloth you only brought out for special occasions, and two candles positioned beside a small vase of daisies picked by Florence. You hadn’t noticed his arrival, too busy walking around the table straightening the crooked cutlery, wearing a knee-length, 3/4 sleeve navy blue dress. It wrapped around your body beautifully, Tommy’s eyes roaming over your curves. The urge to undo the belt holding the dress together prompted him to take a step forward, stopping when he noticed there were four plates instead of two. His mind telling him this wasn’t going to be a romantic dinner between husband and wife, making Tommy’s stomach churn.

"What's all this?".

You smiled his way, lighting the candles. "We are having a dinner guest".

"Who's coming?".

"Rob".

Tommy blinked, pressing his lips together. "Why the hell did you invite him to dinner, eh?".

"You want to get to know more about him, this is how you do it".

"And have him lie to me? Not a chance".

"Here's the deal”. You instructed, turning him toward the direction of the stairs. “You are going to get cleaned up for dinner. And for the sake of your daughter, Tommy, you going to sit down and behave".

"And if I don't?".

"You really don't want me to answer that, my love".

"You can't withhold sex forever. You enjoy it as much as I do". He teased, reaching for your bow belt.

You smacked his hand away, pushing him up the stairs. "Not getting sex is the least of your worries right now. Go wash up, I laid out a new suit for you".

Half an hour later, Tommy descended the stairs watching you warmly greet Rob. Ava beside him, holding his hand, providing emotional support. Tommy placed a soft kiss on the side of your forehead, and made sure your attention was secured on Ava before tightly squeezing Rob’s hand.

"Welcome to our home, Robert".

"Thank you, Mr Shelby". He said, grimacing through the pain, determined to hold his own, even if that meant a broken hand.

Much to Rob’s delight, you approached before bones broke. Tommy clapped Rob on the back inviting him to take a seat. Dinner moved at a snail’s pace. Tommy rather stare down the barrel of a gun than have to endure another minute of watching Rob’s puppy eyes linger on Ava, while her hand lingered on his knee.

“How about some tea and cake?”.

“That’s a great idea, love. Ava why don’t you go help your mother”.

Everyone knew the inevitable would come. Tommy wanting a private word with Rob was a father’s prerogative. Fire the hard questions, and make the boyfriend squeal like a pig heading to slaughter. In Rob’s case, they would be no squealing, just a Shelby-wielding axe falling hard and fast.

Reaching for his cigarette case, Tommy firmly kept an eye on Rob. “Do you smoke, Robert?”.

“Sometimes, yes”.

“Would you like one?”.

He shook his head, quenching his dry, blistered throat. “No, thank you, Mr Shelby”.

Tommy smiled to himself, sipping on his whiskey, more than ready to swing the axe. "How much?"

"Excuse me?"

"How much for you to walk away, go back to Johnny's camp and find yourself someone that isn't my daughter?".

"You must be joking?".

"I rarely joke, Robert. So tell me, what I have to do to get you away from Ava?".

"Why do you hate me so much? I treat your daughter well. I respect her. And despite many telling me that getting involved with a Shelby is a death sentence, I can see a future with your daughter".

Tommy chuckled at the naivety of the young. "You're 17, she just turned 16 a few months ago. The two of you don't know a single thing about love".

"No offence, but I don't think you're the right person to lecture us on love".

Tommy narrowed his gaze, lowering his voice. "My wife and I have built a beautiful family together. Made this house a home. Even when she had every reason to leave me, she stayed. She is the only woman I want laying beside me, and the only woman I want carrying the name Shelby. I would die for her. So don't you dare fucking lecture me about whether I know what love is".

"Then wouldn't you want the same for Ava? A love as timeless as yours?"

"I want Ava to be happy, above all I want her to be safe. To choose a man that can protect her. And I don't think you can do that".

"Because I'm not wealthy?". Rob retorted.

"No. Because to survive in this family, you can’t be weak or afraid of getting dirty and wiping blood from your cheek. You need to know how to step up like a man to protect your family, no matter what”.

“I can step up for Ava”.

“You’re a boy who thinks he is a man. You believe you can step up, and maybe one day, you can. But people like you are the ones who want to play at the big table too soon, who always have something to prove. But every time, every fucking time, those men end up pissing themselves. Even now, you can’t handle sitting at my table”.

“No disrespect, Mr Shelby, but I don’t appreciate having my character attacked. You only want to see me as a bad guy. But I’m worthy of your daughter".

You and Ava returned, breathing a sigh of relief to see Rob at the table, unharmed. Tommy stood in the foyer, adjusting his black coat. Frances mouthed one word as she wandered past with his peaky cap in hand - business.

“Please tell me you didn’t have someone call so you could have a reason to leave?”.

“No, I did not”.

You placed a finger under his chin, Tommy having no choice but to look at you. “Did you say anything to Rob to scare him away?”. 

“I behaved, like you told me to”. He smiled, kissing you. “I love you. I won’t be long”.

“I love you too“.

When Tommy returned an hour later, an empty house awaited. Dinner had been cleared, no echo of Charlie and Theo pretending to be pirates, or the sight of Florence’s chestnut brunette locks and bright smile racing to say hello.

“Love?”. Tommy called out, noticing a note on the small round table in the middle of the foyer, reading: “Frances, the boys, Flo and I have gone for a walk around the estate. Be back soon”.

Removing his coat, a strong wave of protectiveness kicked in when Tommy’s eyes fell onto Rob’s sage green coat. Logic and reason disappeared as he marched upstairs, heart hammering in his chest when he stood in front of Ava’s closed bedroom door.

“Ava!”

Misty blue turned to blood red. Rob’s hand under Ava’s shirt, hair tousled, lips red. The intention was clear. And there was no angel sitting upon Tommy’s shoulder telling him to calm himself. Just two devils repeating “Kill him”. All the colour drained from Rob’s face as Tommy yanked him by the shirt, ignoring the cries from Ava to listen, to calm down.

"Dad, stop!" She begged, frantically rushing down the stairs. “Dad, please!”

Slamming Rob to the wall, Tommy’s hands would have to suffice, his gun locked away in his office. Rob struggling under Tommy’s deadly grip, struggling to collect air, to try and make amends.

"Mum, please make him stop!". Ava pleaded, rushing to you.

"Boys, take Flo outside. Now!".

They quickly ushered a terrified Flo back to the garden, Charlie covering her eyes to prevent her from witnessing the dark side of their father.

"Tommy, let him go!". You demanded, trying to loosen his hold on Rob.

He leaned in, ensuring Rob would never forget what he was capable of. "If you ever touch my daughter again. If you ever go near her. I will take a gun with a bullet craved with your name, and I will fucking kill you".

"Thomas!".

Letting Rob go, Tommy marched into his office, slamming the door. Ava rushed to Rob’s side. Her tear-stained cheeks would fade in a few hours, unlike the red mark across Rob’s neck, which would remain for days, weeks even. And when it did eventually fade, it would become an unforgettable warning, a reminder that he had only survived because Tommy had granted it.

"What the hell were you thinking, Tommy?". You barged in, right when he swallowed a glass of whiskey at his desk.

"His fucking hands were under her shirt". He clenched his already tense jaw, the sound of his teeth grinding as he growled. "Our daughter was about to have sex in our fucking house. And where were you, eh? Out for a fucking walk".

"I have four other children to look after, Tommy. Don't you dare blame me for this".

“Your priority should have been Ava. Frances could have handled the boys and Flo, and you could have been inside keeping an eye on him”.

“Keeping an eye? You found nothing of concern about Rob. He isn’t a criminal or a part of anything suspicious. He is an ordinary young man who likes our daughter. Our daughter, Tommy, who is smart and cautious. If she had a bad feeling about Rob she would never have continued a relationship with him”.

“What fucking relationship, eh?”. He remarked. “They’re fucking kids, who don’t know a damn thing about love”.

“We didn’t know a damn thing about love either, but we figured it out. They will too”.

Tommy sunk into his chair, glancing at the several photos nearby. The wedding photo stood in the centre, to the left a family photo, and to the right a picture of Eleanor three days after she was born. Beside that, a small frame housing a photo of Florence, no more than two years old, sitting in his office chair, smiling wide with Mr Giraffe on her lap.

“From the moment you rolled your eyes at me, and laughed when I called you beautiful, I knew you weren’t like any of the other women”. He recalled, softly smiling. “You weren’t desperate to fuck me. You didn’t care about my power or influence, you still don’t. You even had me waiting in the rain for 20 minutes on our fourth date. And when you finally arrived, you didn’t apologize, just told me good things were always worth waiting for”.

"I was surprised to find you still waiting”. You commented, leaning against his desk.

"I would wait in any storm for you”. Rising to his feet, Tommy rested one hand on your thigh, rubbing his thumb across the cotton material of your dress. “Before we slept together for the first time, I asked you if you were ready to give yourself to me. To belong only to me. And you did so, only when you were sure about us. You knew what laying in my bed would mean. But Ava is too young to decide whether to give away her body”.

“I hear you, I do. And it was my choice to give myself to you, Tommy. And I don’t regret that for a second. And it’s also Ava’s choice when and how, even with who, she decides to give her body too. Not yours. I know you hate it. I know you want to protect her innocence. But as parents, our job is to make sure our children are equipped with the knowledge to make safe and smart choices. We have to trust Ava”. Stroking his cheek, you softly added. “I don’t like the idea of her fooling around any more than you do. But how you handled it, wasn’t okay”.

“I know”.

“You frightened her. Not to mention the boys and Florence”.

At the mention of Flo, Tommy’s eyes softened completely. “How are they?”.

“Confused and scared. Especially, Flo. For fuck sake, Tommy, they saw you nearly choke Rob to death”.

"I never wanted Flo or the boys to see me like that”.

“Daddy?”. At the sound of Florence’s fragile voice, Tommy wiped his cheek, squatting to her level. “Why did you hurt Rob? Did he make you mad?”.

“He did, sweetheart”.

“What did he do wrong?”.

“He put his hands where he shouldn’t have”.

“Like you did?”. She asked, clutching Mr Giraffe.

“Like me, yes”.

“You have to say sorry, Daddy. When we hurt someone, we say sorry”.

“Florence, sweetheart, why don’t you go upstairs. Frances will help you pack a small bag”.

Nodding, Flo ran out.

“Bag? Where are you going, eh?”.

"To Linda's, where me and the children will stay for the night. And you will stay here and calm down”.

“I am calm”.

“No, you’re not, Tommy”. You replied, placing a hand over his chest. “You’re heart is racing. And you have that look in your eyes that tells me you still want to teach Rob a lesson. Which is why I will call Polly, and she will stay with you and make sure you don’t-”.

“Don’t what? Kill Robert?. I don’t need a fucking babysitter”.

“I’ll be back tomorrow to check in”.

“I love you. I need you to know that”. He whispered.

“Take a bath, shoot cans in the field to blow off steam if you have to. But make sure that tomorrow, that look in your eyes is gone”.

He counted your steps from his desk to the door, holding his breath when you reached the threshold and didn’t turn back. For the first time in the marriage, you hadn’t said those three words back.

Tommy hadn’t slept all night, not even after Polly came to deliver her “Fucking men and thinking they always know best” lecture. Keeping her watchful eye on him until an hour ago. Once Polly left, the house became far too silent for his liking. He needed noise. Needed to hear the sounds of Charlie and Theo stomping around. Needed to hear Florence tell him about the adventures she and Mr Giraffe had taken that day. Needed to hear you say that you loved him. He needed his family.

Wandering into the nursery, Tommy drummed his fingers over the crib. Four children had grown up in this very room, the fifth on her way to becoming a grown Shelby. He thought about the challenges Eleanor would bring. Would she be defiant? To spontaneous? A rule breaker, following her own set of rules like her father? Or would she be a lover of knowledge? A restless soul craving new adventurers? Whichever version Ella grew into, Tommy knew she would inherit your goodness, your beauty. All the children had. They held love in their hands, savoured the laughter in their throats, and chased what their hearts desired - even if it only lasted a few hours. They were better than he was because they had you as their mother.

“Ava and I spoke last night”. You softly said. Tommy turned, hesitant but willing to listen. “She told me that hands under shirts is as far as it went. And I explained to her the responsibility that is attached to something as intense as sex. And she reassured me that when she is ready for that step, she’ll come to me first”.

“I don’t like the fact that this is even a topic of conversation”.

“We have two more daughters and two young boys. This conversation will happen again, Tommy”.

“Ava’s different, love. She’s our firstborn”. Putting his hands on the crib, he half-smiled remembering how tiny Ava looked inside. “That first month, you didn't step out of the house, too scared to leave her alone. And I sat in this nursery watching her sleep, making sure she was breathing. Now, she hates me".

"Ava loves you, and she will forgive you".

"I fucked up. I never should of...I fucked up and I don't know how to fix it".

Rubbing his shoulders, you kissed the back of his neck, whispering. “By taking baby steps. We’ll get through this. We’ll be okay”.

He sighed, holding onto you. Hoping that he hadn’t destroyed his relationship with Ava.

By late afternoon, you brought the children home. Tommy waited in the driveway, Florence rushing to tightly hug him hello, using her Shelby innocence to make Tommy promise to play tea parties sometime in the week. She happily bounced inside, Charlie and Theo rushing towards the kitchen to fill their bellies with the newest dessert Frances had whipped up. While Ava avoided eye contact with Tommy while they headed across the fields.

“Why are we here, Dad?”. She asked, noticing the familiar surroundings of Johnny’s camp and catching the smell of firewood.

“We're here so I can do the right thing". Tommy replied, nodding across the camp to Johnny who ventured off. “Ava, it’s not easy for me to watch you grow up. Sometimes, I see demons where there aren’t any. I lose my temper, and I do bad things because my priority is to protect our family. But I need to let you grow up. To let you become a beautiful, smart, extraordinary woman, just like your mother”.

Ava smiled, tucking her dark locks behind her ear. To her left, Rob cautiously walked over. Her eyes fell to his neck, bearing the red mark of Tommy’s violent temper.

Tommy cleared his throat. “Robert, I would like to apologize for putting my hands on you. It was not the way to handle the situation. And I should have trusted Ava's judgement. She wouldn't have you in her life if she didn't believe you were a good man”.

Extending his hand, it took a full minute before Rob did the same. This time, Tommy’s grip was firm but not deadly. Like men, they shook heads, nodded and signed a silent agreement never to speak of the incident again.

“It went well then?”. You asked, stepping out of the barn as you saw them approach.

Ava nodded, sheepishly smiling. “Now that Dad doesn’t want to hurt Rob anymore, does that mean I can see him again?”.

Glancing at Tommy, he starched his cheek. “Your father and I discussed it, and until we say otherwise, you can only see Rob under our supervision. No closed doors, no fooling around”.

“Can I see him tonight?”.

“Baby steps, Ava”. Tommy warned, flicking his cigarette and squashing it under his boot.

“Baby steps”. She repeated, leaving a kiss on his cheek.

You smiled, pulling Tommy to you. “I kind of love you, Tommy Shelby”.

“Kind of, eh?”.

“Alright, fine. I fucking love you”.

“I fucking love you, too”. He whispered, sealing such a feeling in a lasting kiss that left you breathless. “How quiet do you think you can be?”.

You pondered his question, giving a mischievous smile. “We haven’t visited our spot in a while”.

“By the lake? Under the oak tree where we conceived Theo?”.

“Where we think we conceived Theo. But, why not? The children are playing inside and anything they need Frances can help with. The weather is nice. And-”. You tugged on his shirt, suggestively biting his lower lip. “And I don’t feel like being quiet”.

He smirked, sparking a shiver down your spine. Intertwining your hand in his, Tommy grabbed the checkered blanket from atop the hay bale, leading you across the dirt road and beyond fields.

[mmgwritings]

BEST REGARDS

Characters: Annatar / Númenor!Ambassador

Prompts: With Middle-Earth at war and the potential repercussions for Númenor, Ar-Pharazôn sends one of his best advisors to negotiate with the Lord of Eregion.

Warnings: NSFW; Smut; Canon Divergence; My poorly writing.

We weren't even welcomed, and that should have been my first sign that the initiative was doomed to fail.

When the Númenórean delegation arrived in Eregion, all that awaited us in the courtyard of Celebrimbor's fortress was a group of minor advisors, mere overseers of the lord's household workers.

They did their best; being elves, it was in their nature to be accommodating, polite, always eager to please. But as the days went by, with the dinners they hosted and the tours of the city, their once affable smiles now seemed like mockery to me.

Now, not even those low-ranking advisors would communicate with us. My delegation was relegated to one of the most isolated wings of the fortress, and every day a poor messenger was sent with a missive.

"What do you mean we can't speak with him? All I’ve asked for since I arrived is an audience with Lord Celebrimbor, and now even that is being denied?"

The messenger, visibly uncomfortable, hesitated before responding, "I'm afraid the lord is preoccupied with matters of great importance. He regrets that he cannot meet with you at this time."

I clenched my fists, struggling to maintain my composure, but the frustration bubbled up. "Preoccupied with what exactly? What could be more important than ensuring the stability of these lands?"

The messenger flinched at my sharp tone but remained composed, his elven grace unshaken. "I am not privy to the lord’s affairs," he said softly, "but rest assured, all is being done to safeguard Eregion. Your patience is appreciated."

Patience. I had been patient for days, and it had gotten me nowhere. Each passing hour felt like a calculated delay, as if they were stalling us for reasons I couldn’t yet comprehend. "Tell him," I said, voice steady but cold, "that my patience has its limits."

The messenger bowed slightly, acknowledging my words without a hint of defiance, and quickly exited the room. I watched him leave, my thoughts racing. What were they hiding? From the moment we arrived, it felt like a well-rehearsed charade — cordial smiles, empty gestures, and evasions at every turn.

I paced the room, the echo of my boots filling the silence. Something was wrong. Celebrimbor was too strategic to ignore a delegation from Númenor. Was he deliberately avoiding us? And if so, why?

Determined not to waste any more time, I stormed out of my chambers and headed toward Celebrimbor’s private quarters. If the lord would not grant me an audience, I would demand one. The halls were quiet, the only sound being the swift rhythm of my footsteps echoing against the stone walls.

But as I approached the entrance to Celebrimbor’s wing, a figure emerged from the shadows, blocking my path. His presence was unmistakable, a mix of elegance and something darker that I couldn’t quite place. It was Lord Annatar. He is not a true lord, just a mere counselor to Celebrimbor

"Going somewhere, ambassador?" he asked, his voice smooth and laced with amusement. His hazel eyes gleamed, and though his expression was polite, I felt an undeniable tension in the air.

I froze. I had only seen Lord Annatar once before, just a fleeting glimpse of him giving orders to the guards. Yet here he stood, as if he had been waiting for me. His aura was unmistakable, commanding yet unsettling in a way I couldn’t quite define.

"Lord Annatar," I said, forcing a calmness into my voice that I didn’t feel. "I need to speak with Lord Celebrimbor. It’s urgent."

His lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. "I’m afraid the Lord of Eregion is... unavailable at the moment," he replied smoothly. "But perhaps I can be of assistance. After all, we wouldn’t want you wandering these halls alone, would we?"

I couldn’t shake the feeling that Lord Annatar was different from the other elves I had encountered — there was something otherworldly about him. His beauty was striking, almost mesmerizing, with an elegance that made my heart quicken against my will. I was a human, and while I was well aware of the allure of elven grace, Annatar possessed a depth that both fascinated and unnerved me.

Yet, I pushed my feelings aside, reminding myself of the urgency of my mission. "I must insist," I said, my voice steady despite the flutter in my chest. "This is a matter of great importance for Númenor and Eregion alike. I cannot be delayed any longer."

He stepped closer, and the air between us shifted, thickening. "Your determination is admirable," he said, his tone both soothing and compelling. "But sometimes, the best course of action is to wait for the right moment. Patience can be a virtue, after all."

“Patience? All I have been is patient,” I snapped, frustration spilling over. “Every moment I wait only serves to deepen my concern. I need to speak with Celebrimbor now, not later.”

Annatar's expression remained calm, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes —perhaps amusement or interest. “And yet, patience has its rewards, does it not? Consider what you might learn in the meantime.”

I clenched my fists, hating being treated like a bratty little child. “I am not here to learn or be entertained. I am here to ensure the safety of my people. The longer I am kept in the dark, the more perilous our situation becomes.”

He studied me for a moment, and I could feel the weight of his gaze as if he were unraveling my thoughts. “You have a fire within you, a passion that is admirable,” he said finally. “But perhaps the flames of impatience will only burn you in the end.”

“Lorde Annatar, what exactly do you mean?” I asked, my voice steady despite the unease swirling in my gut. I wasn’t sure if he was offering insight or simply playing with my frustration.

He took a step closer, the warmth of his presence almost intoxicating. “You are caught in a web of politics, my dear ambassador. Your eagerness to confront Celebrimbor may lead you into a trap. There are forces at play that you may not yet understand.”

I narrowed my eyes, searching for sincerity in his tone. “And you think I should simply wait and let those forces dictate my fate? I refuse to be a pawn in someone else’s game.”

His smile widened, a blend of admiration and something darker that sent a shiver down my spine. “Ah, but you are no pawn, my dear. You have the potential to be so much more. The key is to choose your battles wisely.”

My heart began to beat faster as I considered his words. Did he know about my plans? Did he have any inkling of my idea to take Ar-Pharazôn from the throne and restore the alliance with the elves?

“Are you saying you have insight into my intentions, Lord Annatar?” I pressed, trying to keep my voice steady. “Because I assure you, my goals are not so easily discerned.”

He regarded me with a penetrating gaze, as if he were peering into the very depths of my soul. “Your aspirations are noble, but not without peril. The political landscape of Númenor is fraught with danger, and those who seek change often find themselves in the crosshairs of power.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. I fought the urge to reveal more, to gauge his true motives. “You speak as if you understand my plight, yet you remain cryptic. If you truly wish to assist, then tell me: how can I achieve my aims without falling victim to those very dangers you warn me about?”

Annatar leaned closer, a playful smile dancing on his lips. “Ah, but where would be the fun in giving you all the answers?” His hazel eyes sparkled with mischief, as if he enjoyed the tension between us. “After all, a little intrigue keeps life interesting, does it not?”

I felt a rush of irritation mixed with an undeniable pull toward him. “I’m not looking for games, Lord Annatar. I need guidance, not riddles.”

He chuckled softly, the sound smooth as silk. “And yet, it is the very game of politics that you must master to achieve your noble goals. Perhaps I could help you navigate these treacherous waters, but you must be willing to embrace the art of subtlety.”

“What do you suggest?” I asked, my curiosity piqued despite my better judgment.

“First, let us not be adversaries,” he said, his tone turning serious, yet still laced with flirtation. “You may find that your greatest ally lies in understanding your enemies. After all, the more you know, the more power you wield. And I daresay, you are far more capable than you realize.”

His words wrapped around me like a warm cloak, and I hesitated, torn between my instinct to distrust him and the allure of his charm. “And what do you gain from this?” I pressed. “Why would you want to help me?”

“Perhaps I simply enjoy the company of a determined woman,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “Or perhaps I see potential in you that is worth cultivating. The future is uncertain, and alliances can be the key to shaping it.”

“Why should I trust you in anything?” I challenged, crossing my arms defensively. “You don’t have more power than I do, mere counselor.”

Annatar raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to one of mild amusement. “Ah, but you underestimate the influence that knowledge can wield. Power is not solely about titles or positions; it can also be found in the secrets and strategies that lie beneath the surface.”

I held his gaze, searching for any hint of deception. “So you think I should simply take your word at face value, then? You may have the charm, but charm alone does not inspire trust.”

“True,” he admitted, his tone suddenly serious. “Trust is earned, not given freely. But consider this: you are standing at a crossroads, and the decisions you make now will shape your future and that of your people. I may not hold a lord’s title, but I possess knowledge of the intricacies of Eregion and its politics that could prove invaluable to your cause.”

“Yet, you haven’t shown me any reason to believe you,” I replied, my heart still racing. “Your motives are shrouded in mystery, and I cannot afford to align myself with someone I cannot trust.”

Annatar stepped back slightly, his expression softening. “Very well, I respect your caution. But perhaps in time, you’ll see that our paths are more aligned than you think. Let me prove my worth to you, and then you may decide if you wish to trust me.”

I hesitated, grappling with the allure of his proposition. Despite my better judgment, there was a part of me that was intrigued — perhaps even tempted — to explore what he had to offer.

“How would you prove that I can trust you?” I asked, my skepticism still evident. “What assurances do you have that your intentions are genuine?”

Annatar smiled, an enigmatic glint in his eyes. “Trust, like any valuable treasure, requires demonstration. Allow me to show you the power of knowledge.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I have eyes and ears throughout Eregion. I can gather information about Celebrimbor’s inner circle, the potential threats you face, and even the whispers of dissent among your Númenórean allies.”

I considered his offer, intrigued despite myself. “And in exchange for this information, what do you seek? What’s the catch?”

“Only a partnership,” he replied smoothly. “I do not seek to manipulate you; rather, I wish to work alongside you. Together, we can forge a stronger path forward for both Númenor and Eregion. You want to restore the alliance with the elves, and I can help you navigate the complexities of elven politics. In return, I ask only for your openness and trust.”

“That seems quite a lot to ask for,” I said, my heart racing as I weighed my options. “How do I know you won’t turn on me when it suits your purposes?”

“Because, my dear ambassador,” he said, a hint of flirtation returning to his tone, “I see potential in you that others do not.”

The air between us thickened with an electric tension, the kind that sent shivers down my spine. Annatar’s presence was intoxicating, and I could feel the magnetic pull drawing me closer despite my instincts urging caution.

“You speak of partnership,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “but you make it sound so enticing. Yet I can't help but wonder what your true intentions are.”

He took another step closer, our eyes locked, and I could see the depth of his allure reflected in those hazel irises. “My true intentions,” he mused, his tone low, “are to create a future where we both thrive. But I must admit, it is also the challenge of engaging with a spirited human like you that captivates me.”

A warmth spread through me, and I fought to maintain my composure. “You are skilled with your words, Lord Annatar. But I refuse to be charmed into naivety.”

“Charm can be a powerful tool,” he replied, his voice smooth as silk, “but I offer more than mere words. I offer you the chance to change the course of history, to reclaim the alliance with the elves. And I will be by your side, guiding you through the intricacies of this new world.”

My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, I was torn between desire and wariness. “And if I choose to trust you? What will that mean for us?”

His smile deepened, a knowing glimmer in his eyes. “It would mean we forge a bond stronger than mere politics. A partnership rooted in ambition and, perhaps, something more. Imagine the power we could wield together.”

As his words hung in the air, the tension between us crackled like fire, and I realized that I was teetering on the edge of a choice that could change everything.

As if sensing the tumult of emotions swirling within me, Annatar reached out and gently brushed his fingers against my hand. The touch sent a jolt of warmth through me that made my heart race even faster.

“Imagine what we could accomplish together,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. The contact felt intimate, almost possessive, and it stirred something deep within me.

I looked down at our hands, the contrast between his ethereal grace and my own human warmth. Because deep down the truth was right there: he could survive anything, and I was just human. The risks were bigger to me.

“You make it sound so simple,” I replied, my voice trembling slightly. “But the stakes are too high. I can’t afford to be reckless.”

Annatar’s gaze softened, and he leaned in slightly, closing the distance between us. “Sometimes, taking a risk is the only way to find true strength. Allow yourself to feel, to trust in this moment. We are both drawn to something greater than ourselves.”

His fingers lingered on mine, and I could feel the tension between us shifting, intensifying. The world around us faded, leaving only the two of us in that charged moment. My mind raced with uncertainty, but a part of me yearned to surrender.

“But I built my life being cunning,” I said, my voice steady as I pulled my hand away, creating space between us. “I know how to read people, to see through their games. I know I’m being led on.”

Annatar’s expression shifted slightly, the playful glint in his eyes fading to something more serious. “You are wise to be cautious, especially in a world filled with deception,” he replied, his voice losing its flirtatious edge. “But not all gestures are manipulations. Sometimes, they are simply invitations to explore the possibilities.”

I narrowed my eyes, unwilling to let his charm disarm me completely. “You may speak of possibilities, but I cannot afford to be swayed by mere words. My life has taught me that beauty often hides darkness, and I won’t fall for it again.”

He stepped back, respecting the distance I had created. “I admire your strength,” he said, his tone earnest. “But know this: the greatest alliances are forged through understanding and trust, not fear. You may believe you are the one leading, but there are forces at play far beyond our control.”

“Then prove it,” I challenged, my heart still racing. “Show me that you are more than just a pretty face with a silver tongue. If you truly believe we can achieve something greater together, then earn my trust. I won’t follow blindly, no matter how tempting the offer.”

Annatar studied me for a moment, and I could see the wheels turning in his mind. “Very well,” he said slowly, a hint of respect in his eyes. “Let us start with transparency. Share your ambitions, your plans for Númenor and the alliance with the elves. And I will do the same. Perhaps then we can determine if our goals truly align.”

I straightened my shoulders, feeling the weight of authority settle over me. “If we are to forge any kind of partnership, it starts with honesty and control, Lord Annatar,” I said, my tone firm. “I won’t allow myself to be dazzled by your charm without understanding what you truly bring to the table.”

Annatar raised an eyebrow, surprise flickering across his features. “You have fire in you, don’t you?” he remarked, his admiration palpable.

“Absolutely,” I replied, my voice unwavering. “My aim is clear: I plan to dethrone Ar-Pharazôn and restore the alliance with the elves. We face a growing darkness, and I refuse to stand by while it threatens us all.”

“Ambitious,” he mused, a hint of admiration in his voice. “But you must realize the dangers of such a pursuit. Ar-Pharazôn is not an easy foe to overcome.”

“That’s where you come in,” I countered, locking my gaze with his. “I need someone who can navigate these treacherous waters, someone who understands the intricacies of elven politics and can help me strategize, just as you said. But this alliance has to be mutual; I can’t afford to trust someone who is merely playing a part.”

Annatar's smile softened, as if he found my assertiveness refreshing. “And what makes you think I would want to play a part? Perhaps I’m genuinely interested in your cause,” he replied, his voice taking on a more earnest tone.

“Prove it,” I challenged, stepping closer, reveling in the power shift. “Show me that you’re willing to stand beside me, not just as an advisor but as a partner who believes in our mission. I need someone who can think on their feet, someone who isn’t afraid to act decisively.”

He regarded me, the playful glint in his eye replaced by genuine interest. “You’re asking a lot. Loyalty in this game is hard to come by.”

“Then earn it,” I said, undeterred. “Be the ally I need, and in return, you’ll find that I’m not just a mere human. I’m cunning, resourceful, and not easily swayed. I can be a formidable force.”

The air between us crackled with tension, and I could see the wheels turning in his mind. “You have a way of making things sound… irresistible,” he admitted, his tone shifting to one of vulnerability.

“Then let’s make this irresistible,” I said, my voice lowering as I leaned in closer, capturing his full attention. “You provide the knowledge and insight, and I’ll bring the ambition and will. Together, we can not only reclaim what is ours but reshape the future of both Númenor and the elves of Middle-Earth.”

In that moment, I could see the flicker of something deeper in his eyes — an appreciation for my boldness, perhaps even a hint of admiration. He nodded slowly, entranced. “I’ll follow your lead, then. You have my loyalty, númenórean, but know that you’ve captured my interest in more ways than one.”

As I spoke, I felt the air between us thicken with a tension that was both exhilarating and dangerous. “If we’re going to make this work, we need to consider every angle. I have ideas about how to approach the elves, but I need your insights to navigate their intricacies,” I said, my voice steady as I maintained eye contact.

Annatar’s gaze was intense, a spark of something deeper flickering in those hazel depths. “You’re right to think strategically,” he replied, his tone smooth and inviting. “But it’s not just about words. Sometimes, the best plans are forged in action.”

“Forged?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow, but I found myself drawn in by the way he spoke, his voice low and rich.

“Yes,” he said, a slight smile playing on his lips as he gestured for me to follow him. “Let me show you something. There’s a place where ideas take shape, where metal bends to the will of the creator.”

I fell into step beside him, my heart racing, though I hadn’t quite realized where he was leading me. “You think I’m just going to follow you without question?” I challenged lightly, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

“Not without question,” he replied, his voice laced with an alluring confidence. “But with curiosity. Trust me; you’ll see.”

As we walked through the winding halls of the fortress, I couldn’t help but admire the way he moved — graceful and commanding, every step calculated yet fluid. His presence seemed to draw me in, and I found myself leaning closer, watching his hair sway gently, smelling his strangely earthy scent.

“Think of it this way,” he continued, his voice a murmur. “The forge is not just about shaping metal; it’s about creating something powerful together. Just like our plans. We can take the raw materials of our ambitions and mold them into something formidable.”

I nodded, my mind racing with the possibilities. “You make it sound so simple,” I said, my voice softer now, barely above a whisper. “But it’s a complex game we’re playing.”

“True, but complexity can be beautiful,” he replied, his gaze lingering on me as if he were studying the very essence of my ambition. “Sometimes, all it takes is a spark to ignite the fire.”

As we reached the entrance to the forge, the heat radiated from within, wrapping around us like a warm embrace. The rhythmic clang of metal against metal resonated through the air, and I felt an unexpected thrill at the thought of what was to come.

Annatar paused, turning to face me, his expression serious yet charged with something else. I took a deep breath, feeling the energy pulsing around us.

He stepped closer, guiding me through the space filled with flickering flames and the scent of heated metal. “Look at this,” he said, gesturing toward a glowing piece of wrought iron, still malleable in the heat.

His proximity sent my heart racing, the heat of the forge mirrored in the heat of his gaze. I met his eyes, feeling the pull between us intensifying as we discussed our plans.

As the conversation flowed, Annatar’s intensity seemed to fill the forge, and he glanced toward the smiths working diligently at their tasks. “You’ll want to see this without distractions,” he said, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed them, and the clang of hammers faded as they exited, leaving just the two of us in the warm, flickering glow of the forge.

I watched them leave, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension settling over me. “What exactly do you have planned?” I asked, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my chest.

Annatar stepped closer, his presence enveloping me as he reached into a small, intricately carved chest nearby. “Something that represents our potential,” he replied, his voice low and inviting. He opened the chest and revealed a stunning ring, glinting with a deep, mysterious light.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed, captivated by the way the light danced across its surface, catching hints of color as if it held secrets of its own. As if it were alive. The band was intricately designed, adorned with delicate patterns that seemed to shift and shimmer in the dim light.

“This ring was crafted for a purpose,” he said, lifting it from the chest with a reverence that made my heart skip a beat. “It symbolizes the bond we can forge — an alliance that can withstand the tests of time and adversity.”

I studied him, feeling the weight of his gaze upon me as he continued. “But it’s more than just a ring; it’s a reminder of the power we can wield together. Imagine the possibilities if we combined our strengths.”

“And what do you expect me to do with it?” I asked, my voice steady but tinged with intrigue. “Wear it like a promise? An oath of loyalty?”

Annatar stepped even closer, the heat radiating from him mingling with the warmth of the forge. “It can be all of that,” he replied, his voice dropping to a whisper as he held the ring up between us. “But more importantly, it signifies trust. Trust in each other, trust in our goals.”

His proximity was intoxicating, and I felt the urge to lean in, to close the distance that remained between us. “Trust is earned, not given,” I reminded him, my heart racing as I locked eyes with him. “You must prove that you are not just a fleeting ally.”

Annatar smiled, a hint of playfulness returning to his expression. “Then let me prove it to you. Allow me to place this ring on your finger, and let it be a testament to what we can achieve together.”

I hesitated for a moment, my mind racing with the implications of such an act. But the allure of the ring and the man before me was too strong to resist.

“Very well,” I said, holding my breath as I extended my hand toward him. “Show me what this alliance means.”

As he gently slipped the ring onto my finger, I felt a rush of energy, a binding connection that intertwined our fates. Annatar’s fingers brushed against my skin, sending a spark through me that ignited a sense of both anticipation and dread. I realized then that this was more than just a promise — it was a pivotal moment that could change everything.

The air crackled with tension as the ring settled on my finger, the weight of it both exhilarating and daunting. I glanced up at Annatar, my heart racing, only to find his gaze locked onto mine, filled with an intensity that made the world around us fade.

He whispered my name, his voice so smooth that seemed to resonate deep within me. “This is just the beginning of what we can create together.”

His proximity felt intoxicating, and as I met his eyes, I could see a flicker of something more than just ambition — something that hinted at desire. The forge, with its flickering flames and the remnants of heated metal, seemed to fade into the background as he stepped even closer, the heat from the fire echoed in the warmth of his presence.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned in, closing the distance between us.

My breath caught in my throat, and I felt a rush of vulnerability.

In that moment, the tension reached a breaking point. Annatar’s eyes flickered with a mixture of mischief and sincerity, and before I could process what was happening, he leaned down and captured my lips with his.

The kiss was rushed — soft yet urgent, a mingling of fire and ice that sent shivers down my spine. I felt his hand cup the back of my neck, drawing me closer, deepening the kiss as I instinctively responded. My heart raced, and I was consumed by the moment, the world around us fading into nothingness.

As our lips moved together, I tasted the warmth of his mouth, caressing your tongue with mine. Then I felt his nails sliding down my neck, the promise of something untamed.

Just as I began to melt into the moment, he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine. “You see?” he said, his breath warm and heavy against my skin. “This is what we can achieve when we trust each other.”

I blinked, still reeling from the kiss, the intensity of it coursing through me. “You know this complicates things,” I replied, trying to regain my composure, though I could feel my cheeks flush.

“Complication can be a catalyst for greatness,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “Embrace it. Together, we can harness this power, both politically and... personally.”

I took a deep breath, the gravity of our connection settling over me like a cloak. “Perhaps you’re right,” I admitted, my heart still racing. “But know this, Annatar: I won’t be just another pawn in your game. I will play my part, but I will do so on my terms.”

His eyes gleamed with admiration and something darker, a challenge that hung in the air between us. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied, his voice smooth as silk.

His lips pressed against mine again, this time with more urgency. My hands touched his face and slid down to his hair, gripping the strands tightly as if I needed to anchor myself to him.

Annatar's hands slid down my neck, reaching around my back and pulling me closer as if we could have even more contact. I don't know how, but somehow we moved far enough apart to enter an adjoining room with a set of sofas.

Gently sliding his fingers up my silk dress, Annatar pulled me onto his lap as he sat on the couch. My legs spread to trap his body beneath mine. The feeling of a few layers of clothing separating my pussy from his hard cock was delirious.

As I imagine it was for him. A tiny involuntary movement of my hips made Annatar close his eyes with a longing sigh. "Is it one of your plans to end me?" he whispered, his voice hoarse.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," I said, this time intentionally pressing myself against his cock, feeling the heat radiate through the fabric. His breath caught, and a soft groan escaped his lips as he tilted his head back, momentarily lost in the sensation.

I watched him, reveling in the way his features shifted between pleasure and restraint. With a smirk, I leaned closer, letting my lips brush against his pointed ear, teasing him further. “You know, I could be very persuasive if you allow me to be.”

His hands tightened around my waist, fingers digging into the silk of my dress as he pulled me even closer. “Oh, I have no doubt about that,” he replied, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down my spine. “But the question is, how far are you willing to go to achieve your goals?”

“Further than you can imagine,” I breathed, feeling bold as I began to grind against him, the friction igniting a fire within me. Annatar’s breath quickened, and I could feel his body responding to every movement.

His hands roamed up my back, fingers tangling in my hair as he tilted my head back, forcing me to meet his gaze. “And what if I want to distract you from those goals?” he asked, his tone playful yet serious. “What if I want to keep you right here, under my control?”

The challenge in his words only fueled my desire. “You think you can keep me distracted?” I replied, a sly smile on my lips. “You underestimate my determination. But…” I leaned in, letting my lips brush against his once more, lingering just enough to feel he leaning over to seek my lips “I could be persuaded to enjoy this moment a little longer.”

With that, I pressed my lips against his, a slow, deliberate kiss. I felt his tongue entering my mouth, he is a skilled lover, it seems. I responded with equal fervor, deepening the kiss as our mouths moved together.

“Fuck", he whispered against my lips, his hands sliding down to grip my thighs, pulling me even closer, as his other hand caressed my breast, his skilled fingers finding my nipple beneath the silk. “If we continue like this, I won’t be able to focus on anything but you.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what I want,” I teased, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, my eyes sparkling with mischief. I quickly untied the ties that held the dress together, pulling the garment over my head and leaving myself dressed only in my underwear made of a transparent purple fabric. My nipples show through the fabric, hard with anticipation.

Annatar’s eyes darkened with lust, and he leaned in, capturing my right nipple between his lips. A moan tore from my throat, I didn't know I was so desperate for his touch.

Without much haste, he gave all his attention to my nipples. Nibbling gently, sucking them hard. I was already very wet and trying to satisfy myself with involuntary movements on his lap when he stopped. I opened my eyes and saw the result of his attention: my breasts marked by purple hickeys, my nipples red and hard and sensitive to the slightest touch.

My breath was already coming in short pants when Annatar took me off his lap, laying me down on the couch without much delicacy. "I've never been with a human, it's interesting how you respond so quickly"

"I've never been with an elve, and I hope you're not that quick." I retorted with a mischievous smile.

Gently pining me back against the plush cushion of the sofa, Annatar’s eyes glinted with mischief and desire. "Of all the things you could say, you just pick the most dangerous one?” he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he sank to his knees before me.

My heart raced as I felt the cool air of the room against my skin, the anticipation sending a thrill through me. He looked up at me, his gaze filled with a mix of reverence and hunger, and I could feel my pulse quickening as he slowly began to push my underwear.

“Let me taste you,” he whispered, his breath warm against my thighs, making me shiver with anticipation as he left soft kisses on my thighs. I could hardly contain myself, the heat pooling low in my stomach as he leaned closer, moving my left leg over his shoulder while one of his hands was busy tracing my poor nipple.

With deliberate slowness, one of his hand He reached between my legs, his thumb easily finding a good place to make gentle circles.

At that moment I felt enormous pleasure not in his movements, nor even in the indecent position, but in his eyes fixed on mine. This act of observing me was more filth than any other.

My bare skin was exposed to his eager mouth. But first, he said "Please", with shining eyes, full of eagerness. How could I deny him?

"Yes", my voice sounded like a wanton whore. It was horrible, it was so fucked up, it was so good.

The sensation of his warm breath against my pussy made me gasp, and I arched my back, craving more.

Annatar looked up at me once more, his expression one of pure devotion. “You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice a low growl that sent a thrill through me. Then, without another word, he dove in, his mouth capturing me in a way that made my entire body quiver.

I gasped as his tongue flicked against my clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. He was skilled, and he knew exactly how to drive me wild.

“Oh, Annatar,” I moaned, my fingers tangling in his hair as I instinctively pushed my hips forward, wanting more of him. “Don’t stop.”

He responded with a growl of his own, his mouth working me with fervor, each motion sending jolts of ecstasy through my body.

When I moved too much I felt a pinch on my nipple as a reprimand, if I behaved I was pleased with a brief pulse of his fingers inside me. It was a game I never lost.

I felt my legs begin to tremble, the pressure building as I was teetering on the edge of bliss. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me in place as he focused entirely on my pleasure.

“Just like that,” I gasped, my breath hitching as he applied just the right amount of pressure. He knew my body as if he had memorized every curve and contour, every sensitive spot that would send me spiraling into bliss.

I could hardly think, lost in a haze of pleasure as he devoured me, his tongue swirling and teasing with expert precision. The world around me faded.

“Please, I’m so close,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper as the tension within me built to a nearly unbearable peak. Annatar responded by intensifying his efforts, his tongue moving faster, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

He didn’t stop, continuing to lap at me gently, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from my body until I was left breathless, panting.

Then Annatar pulled back, his mouth shining with my arousal, with a satisfied grin. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he looked up at me, two fingers entering me slowly.

I could hardly respond, the intensity of what he done. All I could manage was a breathless smile, my eyes closing to the feeling.

How can someone be so close and yet so far?

Picking me up like a feather, Annatar lifted my hips, adjusting my body into a favorable position for his observation. He was still wearing his tunic and had his pants on underneath, so I took advantage of the moment to remove his clothes. In the middle of removing the ties on his tunic, he kissed me. I felt my taste on his lips more than anything.

"I want to do something," I said, pushing him to sit on the couch. He was still wearing his pants when I sat on his lap.

"Anything" he says.

Motivated, I kissed them as my fingers slid down his abdomen, feeling his muscles and following the path to his groin. He was extremely hard and when I slid my hand inside his pants, I felt that he was much bigger than I expected.

Annatar moaned into the kiss as I pulled his cock and adjusted myself over it, sliding my wet pussy down the length of his member. It was, in fact, much larger than I had expected. It filled me completely and for a moment I stood there waiting to adjust.

Sensing my slight discomfort, Annatar pressed her thumb to my clit. "You're perfect, you take me so good." he whispered.

Beneath his appreciative words and his skillful fingers I moaned. A wave of pleasure overtook me as I moved, riding his cock, feeling Annatar's lips on my neck, my nipples.

It didn't take long for my movements to become erratic, in fact, it happened the moment I felt his pre-cum slip down my pussy and he squeezed my ass against him, forcing his cock even further so he could fit.

Any composure Lord Annatar had was gone. The elve was losing himself in his own pleasure, his hair, which had once been perfectly arranged in a bow, was a mess, with some strands sticking to the sweat on his temple or even to the sweat on my breasts, his mouth red from our kisses, his eyes bright and dilated. He was a vision.

""Make me cum," he demanded, that husky tone not a plea at all. "I want to see my cum dripping out of your pussy."

I opened my mouth, in surprise and also from the sudden thrust he gave his hips so that his upward movement met my downward movement. Reaching behind me, my fingers groped his balls. Caressing them as best I could while my pussy squeezed his cock intermittently.

That was probably the beginning of the end for him.

I watched as he closed his eyes and threw his head back, his lips parted in a gasp. I got even more excited and rode his cock with more determination. "Did you like that?" I murmured, sucking on his exposed neck.

My own orgasm was close, seeing him a mess made something in me tighten. I was in my own world as I shivered and held myself tighter to him, just as he did as he held my body in his arms, his lips on mine, hearing me moan in torture. I felt more than anything his hot cum, his cock throbbing in my pussy.

When it was over, we didn’t do much. He held me and let us both fall sideways onto the couch, holding me close. When our breathing had evened out, Annatar brought my hand, the one with the ring on it, to his lips.

"I think we are equally persistent in our persuasion," he said, an exhausted smile on his face.

[merbear25]

Can I get some face sitting with Shinji Hirako? 🙏🏻

He's thought about it so often since he first saw it in some *media*, but now that he has a girlfriend he just needs her to sit on his face 😩

Ohhhhhh my goodness. Okay... so you, my dear anon, got me thinking more and more about this man, so I hope I did it justice. 💜🧡

Being fairly adventurous in bed, he was no stranger to scouring the internet for inspiration. Coming across a certain video made his mind race, flooding him with fantasies of you and him. With those desires growing more intense, he just had to bring it up to you. He needed to act out those images with you.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), cum shot

Living out a fantasy (Shinji)

Curiosity got the better of him; scrolling the homepage of one of the most popular adult sites, there was a thumbnail that drew his attention.

Eyes glued to the video, his heart raced as his imagination crafted the image of you and him performing such an errotic act. He scanned through the recommendations, and then the tag soon after. Facesitting was forming into a borderline obsession, one which was becoming increasingly more difficult not to satisfy.

The itch to feel you trembling on top of his face, being forced into the submissive role between your legs: it was becoming too much. He had to bring it up, but without having been dating for too long, just blurting it out would be the most tactful and would leave him more open to rejection. No, he needed to get you in the right frame of mind for what he had a craving for.

Finding that right moment crept up on him. While you were in bed, wrapped up in each other's arms, there felt like no better time than the present. The steamy exchange of kisses when coupled with the feverish touches lured it out of him.

“Want ya to sit on my face,” he breathed, tracing his tongue along your bottom lip as his hands roamed your body.

“Oh? You want to drown in my pussy?” You added with the tone of a temptress.

His breath caught in his throat from how willing you were to explore his fantasies. Tasting your neck, he groaned against your sensitive skin. His hands gripped your hips and his fingers slid under the waistband of your underwear.

“Fuck, yeah.” His lust was becoming more and more unbearable. “Wanna feel ya cum on my tongue, shakin’ and beggin’ fer me.”

Ripping your bottoms down, your panties already had a pool of your need forming.

Growling at how much you wanted him, he couldn’t resist licking at it. “Already so wet fer me.” His hot breath bathed your pussy lips through the fabric.

You nodded slowly, adding a flirtatious smile. “It’s not hard to get so hot and bothered when the thought of you between my legs is at the forefront of my mind.”

Swiftly, he moved back up towards you and crashed his lips into yours. The hunger for you was immeasurable.

“Come ‘ere, baby,” his voice showed a tinge of pleading. He tugged at you to get into position as he laid down.

You hovered your dripping core over his face, teasing him with the sweet scent of your nectar that was just out of reach. Your hands caressed your hips as his did the same to your inner thighs.

His fingers traced the outer parts of your folds, already getting lost in the moments that were soon to come.

“Yer so goddamn gorgeous.”

You reveled in the praise he gave you so willingly. “Show me what else that silver tongue can do.”

Easing yourself down, your hands rested on the bed while his embraced your curves. Kissing up and down your slit, he slipped his tongue between it. You tasted delectable—a flavor that was his and his alone to indulge in.

Your velvety folds wrapping around his lips, the slickness of your walls, and the way they felt when you quaked around his tongue: it was heaven on Earth. His tongue slid against your clit, flicking it as you arched your back. Hot breath spread over your overstimulated bundle of nerves, causing sweet moans to trail past your quivering lips. 

He sucked at your sweet spot, nibbling at it in an attempt to hear every one of your choked cries of ecstasy. You clamped your hands at his chest. Clawing at his skin, that slight pain you were giving him heightened the frenzied lust.

While lapping at your fiery wanton, a long trail of his saliva coated your needy cunt. He kept his tongue flat but the tip hooked—each part of you savored on his taste buds.

Your craving for him was yearning to be sated. Sitting back on your personal seat, you shook your hips gently against his face.

“Gimme more, Shinji.” Your voice cracked from the rising desperation.

His hands roamed over your luscious thighs and ass. Every part of you felt like a dream, and the lustful sounds of your moans and his relentless lapping filling the room were enough to make him never want to wake up; this was the elixir from which he would gladly drown in.

Gripping at the fat around your hips, he pushed you down on his face. His tongue swirled with strong and determined motions—vertigo quickly found you.

You cried out for him as his thumb made small circles on your clit. The spark of desire you had was now spreading like wildfire: bounces becoming more enthusiastic, your nails digging more roughly into him, and choked gasps. 

Looking down at his hips through your half-lidded eyes, the wet beads of precum were dripping onto his stomach. His shaft was twitching more and more as the head darkened in color, alluding to his approaching climax.

The image of him shooting his cum all over his own body, solely getting off from pleasuring you, fueled those flames within.

“Fuck, it’s so good,” you gasped without thinking. Arching your body, your hair cascaded down your back. You were a goddess, and he was lucky enough to bask in your beauty—all of it.

With your eyes fluttering shut, you turned your face up towards the sky as if daring whichever god that was above to bear witness to your sin.

Your hand tangled in your hair and your other raked up his chest. A subtle smile appeared on your face, while you huffed and panted. 

“Just like that, yes, like that!” You cried. 

The sound of you reaching your peak flooded the room. Such an intoxicating performance was too much for him to hold back any longer. With a muffled groan, his neglected cock shot streams of cum across his abdomen. 

The uncharacteristically pathetic display: a cocky grin pulled at your lips. Lifting yourself off of him, the sight of his flushed face being drenched in your arousal was all too enticing. You cupped his face, admiring the way his gaze found yours for a moment before placing a tender yet passionate kiss upon his lips.

You trailed a few soft pecks up the bridge of his nose and on his forehead. Smirking against his skin you couldn’t help yourself, “I can’t wait to see what other ideas you come to me with.”

Your fingertips danced upon the droplets of cum still hanging onto his length, making him gasp slightly. You brought the cum to your mouth and sucked each morsel of it off of your fingers. He tossed his head back and groaned.

“Fuckin’ hell. If I’d known you were gonna take to it this easy, I’d ‘ve mentioned it sooner.” He leaned up on his forearm to get a bit closer to you. “But don’t ya worry that pretty little head of yers. I’ll leave ye beggin’ for more.”

[sopebubbles]

Five

Master list

Synopsis: in a world where alphas, betas, and omegas live along side modern humans as second class citizens, you've fallen through the cracks of a society that wants to take everything wonderful from you. Luckily a timely encounter with the boys just might save your life.

Chapter summary: You think you can take care of yourself, but you'd be wrong. There's an alpha more than willing to step in to do the job.

Warnings: that evil little voice in your head, Yoongi pushing your boundaries to save your damn life, but does that mean he can't enjoy it a little?

You could hear the pack move around the house. The sounds of pots and pans and laughter floated into your room just as easily as their scents did. The unfamiliarity of it made your inner voice whine. Not the unfamiliarity of them. Their scents had already become lodged in your brain. You were sure you'd be able to smell them weeks from now, just by memory. You'd think of that beta every time you washed your sheets, if you ever owned a bed again. 

Should have asked the beta to stay.

Why on earth would he want to stay with you?

No, the combination of such joy that could be known to the senses even a room away, even to a stranger, was something that you couldn't have imagined. It brought to mind no memories, for you had never known something like that.

They forgot you were here. Otherwise how could they be so happy? No one has ever been happy with your presence.

Your previous pack never sounded like that. They never laughed, not happily. They only ever bickered and yelled. And if they laughed it was only at one another's expense, especially yours. This pack smelled like laughter. Their scents were bubbly and bright as they moved around the downstairs just beyond the walls that enclosed you, protecting their joy from your bitter, poisonous presence. You laid and listened, your apple scent rotting more and more, so that no one would confuse you for being part of them, especially not yourself. 

Their bliss seemed to carry on for hours, although your perception of time was tenuous. It seemed hours later when Hoseok finally came to your room again. He knocked gently before letting himself in. 

"Good morning, pup. I brought you something to eat. You must be starving." He set down a plate on the bedside table before looking down at you. "I thought you could take a bath and I could change your sheets," he added, gesturing with the towel draped over his arm. 

"I'm fine," you grumbled, rolling over to avoid his gaze. You were vaguely aware of the physical ache of hunger in your empty stomach, but it merely ranked with the other urges you refused to indulge. Hunger, just another animal instinct you must overcome by sheer force of will. 

"You're a wreck," he chuckled.

"Just leave me alone."

Hoseok sighed. "I know you're upset, and you probably feel like shit, but you'll feel a lot better when you've had a bath and something to eat," he pushed, his tone letting you know that he was barely holding onto his patience. 

"I don't need you to take care of me," you snarled, turning back to face him. You took in the other omega and softened. His dark chocolate eyes were heavy, but you couldn't tell if the pinched set of his lips was sadness or annoyance. His throat was covered in deep purple bruises, a particularly large one placed at the curve of his shoulder to his neck. Your eyebrows furrowed. "Did they do that to you?"

"What?" Confusion did not displace annoyance in his voice. You lightly touched your fingertips to your own throat. "Oh, that," he laughed airily, as if it didn't matter, but a bit of pink dusted his cheeks. "They got a little carried away. You've got them all riled up."

You frowned. "I'm sorry they hurt you because of me."

"What? No. Believe me, they've done worse," he chuckled. But his voice wavered as you curled in on yourself. "They just get a little pushy and possessive sometimes."

"I know how alphas are." Hoseok cocked his head at your declaration. "The bastards only want to breed you."

Hoseok bristled. "I don't know what kind of alphas you've had but mine are good men. They just can't help themselves sometimes."

You've heard all the excuses before, made plenty of them yourself. You looked up at him with wide eyes and kept your voice low so the alphas outside wouldn't hear you. "You don't have to put up with it, you know? You can leave. It's not easy, living like this. But it's better than being used by them."

Hoseok wrinkled his nose at you. "I'd never leave my pack." The clear disgust in his tone, aimed at you, turned your stomach. 

Just like Jimin, you knew he'd never understand. Maybe they were right. Maybe it wasn't the pack that was wrong. Maybe packs were good, and it was only you that was wrong. So wrong. A sweet little omega like Hoseok who knew the right things to do and always took care of everyone, even a useless little wretch like you, who wouldn't want him? Who wouldn't treat him well? For him, an alpha could be everything they were supposed to be. Not you. Worthless omega. 

You rolled onto your side, away from Hoseok and the vicious voice in your head. He hovered for a moment, seemingly unsure of himself. Then he walked to the end of the bed and picked up the blanket from the floor where you had banished it after Jungkook left last night. With a flourish, he fluffed it out over your curled form, only for you to kick it off you and fling it into the corner of the room. 

"Get out!" You snapped at him. "Leave and don't come back. I'll take care of myself." You knew you couldn't leave. Jimin probably wouldn't let you even if you tried. But you didn't have to be around Hoseok. And if you pissed him off with your petulence, all the better. He could just leave you to rot.

"Y/N–"

"Hobi," a gentle voice called from the hallway. "I think it's best if you give her some space." 

Hoseok had never met an omega like you. He'd never met anyone like you. Someone who didn't accept comfort or company, much less seek it out. Someone whose moods could turn on a dime. Someone who didn't nest and wouldn't eat! You were an enigma to him. 

Hoseok had grown up in a large and well connected pack, with multiple alphas and omegas and plenty of children. His parents had taught him that while an alpha's role was to provide and protect, an omega's role was to ensure the health and harmony of the pack. His own omega might have implied that an omega was more necessary to the pack than an alpha, but that was just between them. What they emphasized above all else was that the pack meant power and protection, and for Hoseok having a good pack of his very own became a sole ambition. 

It wasn't very hard to achieve either. He has known Jin since they were both in grade school. Their families were of similar status, higher than most Lykos ever reached, both of them descending from early diplomats in Lykos-Sapiens relations who reaped the benefits several generations down the line. Jin's family boasted political leaders while Hobi's had their hands in business, but both the alpha and omega had been born near the tail end of rather large families. As a result, their ambitions didn't have to reach quite so high as the others. There's only so much spotlight after all, and Seokjin and Hoseok had found each other in the shadows of rooms full of much more important people. 

Jin had loved Hobi's sharp tongue, while he admired the alpha's integrity. They had the same expectations from life, which largely consisted of a comfortable home and each other's company. So they married when they were barely eighteen and twenty years old and started a life together. 

They were content for several years until Jungkook came along and contentedness gave way to a feeling of completion. An alpha, a beta, and an omega. A perfect little pack. Hoseok had never wanted a pack quite as large as the one he came from and he thought the three of them would be plenty until they decided to have pups. He thought if he did have a larger pack then certainly he would have at least one other omega to help out, but his boys only ever seemed to bring home alphas, at least until Jimin. After that, things had settled until another omega was nothing more than a secret wish that he kept to himself, only expressed in moments of frustration as an off-hand comment. His alphas were more than enough, he assured them, especially Tae and Jimin who were particularly afraid of becoming a burden. 

And now an omega without a pack had fallen right into his lap, but it was you and everything about you was wrong. It wasn't your fault, the others had been extremely clear about that. But he knew very little about Sapiens, if he were being completely honest. He'd not spent a lot of time around them nor had any close friends who were sap. For him, their bigotry and cruelty was merely an idea with which he had no experience. He'd heard of it, but never seen it first hand. He'd gone to a private school for Lykos. He'd moved from his family pack's house to an apartment with Jin, and he had never encountered the likes of you. Even Yoongi and Jimin, troubled as their families were, had at least one parent to teach them about who they were. You were an apple trying your hardest to be a peach and seeking not to even know how impossible that was.

Your rejection had been difficult for all of the pack. Jungkook and Yoongi went to the gym on Sunday afternoon to escape the house for a few hours. Jimin took Taehyung to the art store for supplies and for dinner because it had been too long since they'd spent time alone together. Namjoon, for better or worse, had papers to grade, so he spent most of the day at the kitchen table with scent blockers in his nose so he could focus. Jin searched the internet for the pack's dream house and tried to show his mate his best finds, which the omega normally would have actively participated in. But instead, Hobi stewed.

Come night time, Jungkook was in his proper place between Hobi and Tae, and it was Yoongi's turn to work a night shift. Jimin waited on the couch for him, eager to avoid another accident, and the two went up to join their packmates in the early hours of the morning. 

By 9 am, only Hoseok, Yoongi and Taehyung were left in the house, and the latter two were sleeping the morning away. It was difficult, but the omega managed to respect your request that he leave you be. With the small exception that he left snacks and water outside of your door. But you never opened up to take them. 

"I guess I can understand why she would be nervous about all the alphas in the house, but why me? Why does she hate me?" He asked Yoongi in the afternoon.  His response to you the day before hadn't been what he'd wanted. His first thought had been to defend his pack, not to listen to your concerns. In his estimation, based on his admittedly sheltered experience, any alpha you had encountered so far had clearly not been worthy of the name. He, by contrast, had collected several of the very best, so who were you to judge and criticize? As time went on though he began to take your behavior more personally tough. His comfort was the best thing he had to offer, but you refused it. 

"It has nothing to do with you, or us," Yoongi reasoned.

"But can't she see we aren't like other people? We've been nothing but kind to her since she got here!" Hoseok pouted.  

Yoongi smiled regretfully. "Babe, she didn't ask to come here or for our kindness. And while I hope she's grateful and more importantly, feels safe, from everything I know about her, I'd be surprised if she did trust us. Just because we're good people doesn't mean she has a reason to trust us if she's never met good people before." 

Hoseok pouted harder. 

By dinner time he thought he was going to lose his mind. When his pack came home from a hard day of work, Hobi went into full omega mode, making sure that everyone had everything they needed to rest and relax. And you were throwing a major wrench in his plans. Maybe you weren't his pup but you were a pup, and he could not stop worrying about you no matter how hard he tried. Now matter how ungrateful and impolite you were, you still needed to be taken care of and you clearly were not going to do it yourself. 

All the alphas felt on edge too, as Hoseok banged utensils on pans anxiously while he cooked, not in the gentle manner he usually had. Yoongi helped to chop fruit, doing so more carefully than usual as he kept his senses alert to the omega tje easy he had all day. Namjoon set the table, putting extra focus into not breaking anything in case that might set his mate off. Jin hovered just as anxiously as he flipped pancakes beside Hoseok. They often had dinner for breakfast on Monday nights as a treat for having made it through a hard day. 

"Do you want me to take care of those eggs?" Jungkook asked cautiously as Hobi's split attention led them to burn. 

"Yes," he replied, shoving the spatula against Tae's chest as he pushed past him toward your door.

"Love, I thought you were giving her space," Jin called over his shoulder. 

"To hell with her space! This is my house, and I need to know what's going on inside of it!" Hoseok marched to your room, Namjoon following close behind after a look from Jin. 

He knocked firmly on the door, but even the four quick beats sounded anxious as they reverberated through the house. No sound came from the other side of the door. Maybe you were sleeping. If that was the case then there would be no harm in Hoseok seeing you for himself. He gripped the nob, half expecting to find it locked, but it wasn't. Cracking the door open just enough to get a view of the bed, he found you were missing. Panic raced through him at the thought that you might have left, so he pushed the door open. And there you were, halfway to the bathroom, sprawled facedown on the floor.

Yoongi set the knife down with a dangerous clatter at the sound of Hoseok shouting his name. His heavy footsteps were followed by those of the other alphas toward your room. He pushed past Namjoon, who took up most of the doorway, in order to crouch beside you and Hoseok. 

"What happened?"

Hoseok felt dizzy as he looked around the room. "I don't know! She was laying here when I came in. She hasn't eaten any of the food I brought or drank any water." Yoongi's hands touched lightly over your body, checking for any obvious injury. "Is she-?"

"No, sweetheart," Yoongi assured him. "Look, see her back rising and falling. She's breathing. She might have passed out from dehydration."

"I'll go get her some water," Taehyung offered. 

"There's plenty of water here. Just-" he was going to tell the crowding alphas to go back to the kitchen and give them some space but he was cut off by the smoke alarm. Luckily that was enough to get their feet moving. Nothing motivated them quite like an imminent threat to their home. 

"What can I do?" Hoseok asked as Yoongi gently rolled you over. 

Yoongi shook his head. "I'm going to try to get her awake first. You go keep them settled." Hoseok hesitated, but Yoongi made eye contact and gave him a reassuring smile. "She's going to be okay. But the three of them might not be without you." The omega nodded and stood to do as he was told. "And set another place at the table," he added. 

Hoseok stopped in his tracks to question him, but the alpha was in full medic mode, checking your pulse with a concentrated look, so he left. 

Yoongi spoke your name loudly and firmly to keep any panic from his voice as she shook your shoulders. He was only five percent panicking, or so he told himself. He'd seen people in this state hundreds of times before and it was almost never life threatening. You had neglected eating and drinking for too long, but that was easy to remedy. He just needed you to wake up. He spoke your name again, and this time he saw your features morph into a grimace, which was better than no response at all. "C'mon, Y/N. You're alright," he assured himself as he moved closer to you. Gently he took hold of your ankles and lifted them to his shoulders in an attempt to get the blood flowing back to your head. Seconds ticked by as he rubbed your soft calves, waiting for you to open your eyes. When your eyelids finally fluttered open, he released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. 

"There you are, princess," he sighed. 

When your eyes had fully adjusted, he could see that your pupils were still dilated, and you weren't completely lucid. You began to squirm away from him, but your tired body made very little progress. 

"Take it easy. You passed out. I'm just here to make sure you're alright. Do you know what happened?"

Yoongi reluctantly let your legs slip from his hands as you carefully extricated your legs from his shoulders. You struggled to lift yourself up to your elbows, but he was there with sure hands gripping you around your rib cage. He maneuvered you to the side so you could lean against the bed, and then he unscrewed the top of a bottle of water from the bedside table before handing it to you. 

"Just sip it," he instructed as you took the bottle weakly, needing two hands to hold it steady. "Do you know why you passed out?" You shook your head just barely.

Yoongi's face took on a stern expression that matched his tone when he spoke again. "You haven't eaten or drinken anything for the last day. Do you realize that?"

You shrugged. Yoongi shook his head. "That's why little pups like you need looking after. If you can't take care of yourself, alpha will have to do it for you." You visibly flinched at his words, and Yoongi sighed. Of course he knew he wasn't your alpha. And maybe your past alphas hadn't given you a good impression. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to try his hardest. "Look, princess. You can choose not to nest, to stop your heat, or not to take a knot. No one here is going to force you. But you do have to eat and drink. No dead pups in this house. Even if an IV is the one thing I will force on you."

You took in a sharp breath and exhaled in a huff, but at least you didn't look like you were going to put up a fight. A trickle of water slipped over your cracked lips and down your chin. Yoongi swiped it away with the pad of his thumb and felt another pang when you flinched, but he didn't pull away. Rather gently, so gently, touching his fingers to your chin, he made you face him. Being this close to you, where he could look into your eyes and you looked back at him, a thought locked into place that he had been dodging since the boys had brought you home. It was a feeling he hadn't had since he met Jimin, or before Jimin, either. It was a knowledge that you were his, and he would do anything to protect you. The hard part would be not frightening you when you were skittish as a bunny rabbit. 

"Y/N, I will never hurt you. And I know you may have heard that before. And I know you may have been lied to. I know that you have no reason to trust me or anyone else. But time is the only way to earn trust. For now, just listen to me, and I will take care of you. For the next hour all you need to do is eat dinner with us. Can you trust me that long?" 

You didn't respond, but merely lowered your gaze from his and handed him the water bottle. Based on what he had witnessed and heard from the others, this was a good sign. If you didn't want something you were more than capable of voicing your disagreement. Silence was rather an acquiescence, or at least as close as he could hope to get. While he had the chance he decided to press his luck. Your eyes grew big when he took a step closer to you. He placed one arm under yours, reaching around your back while the other went under your legs. You let out a whiny protest, kicking your feet. 

"Oh, I'd love to let you walk to the table on your own, princess, but you've let yourself get so weak that I don't believe you would make it. So just be a good pup for me."

Try as you might to hide, Yoongi didn't miss the rush of blood to your cheeks as you buried your face in his neck. Nor did he miss the small sniff you took of him. His steps halted for a moment, and he adjusted his hold on you, bringing you closer. 

"Go on, pup. It might make you feel a little better," he whispered. Again, you didn't respond except to tighten your arms around his shoulders and bury yourself deeper. 

Permanent taglist: @halesandy @burningupp-replies @lilacdreams-00 @minclangyyy @yonkimint @wholockian1 @cbgdoll @babycoffeefire @theatren3rd @bri-mal @armytwist @hwayne2294 @crish-mac @hey-itsmina @jikooksgirl19 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @lxvelyjiminie @marvelfamily3000 @borahae-reads @shadowyjellyfishfest @yoongiigolden  @staerryminimini @valhallawhispers @m4gg13-g

Taglist: @ellesalazar @rinkud @osakis-gf @scuzmunkie @queen-in-the-shadowss @toughbook @zariaskz @chansbaybygirl @cryingpages @coralmusicblaze @alex--awesome--22 @singukieee @welcometomyworld13 @juju-227592 @bangtanflirt @wittyreader @nyrovieeie @welcome418 @guinhosletters @lifeistooshorttowasteyourtime @moon-cupcakes @passionandsuga @zvrjkb @m0v3m3ntsblog @kykyxstandler @writingwithmai @moocow778 @ladyalicesbookstore @yoonseokerist @deejay08 @momoasenthusiasticreader @littlestarstinyseven @bittersweetbaylee @irtiqa

[princessleechan]

"You're the man!" Chapter 44.5 (18+ written scene)

Masterlist

⚽Chapter tags: MDNI, she’s the man au, revenge au???, cross dressing!reader, reader identifies anything but male, sports au, queer themes, university au, love-whatever the fuck kind of shape, w.c. 1.8k, stairwell sex, hair pulling, brief oral, unprotected sex, yearning, might edit later

⚽Tag list: @90s-belladonna @the-boy-meets-evil @lirtha97 @hipsdofangirl @justineasian @kwanisms @multi-kpop-fanfics @pantumin @wooahaeproductions @mayashu @shuasdraftsalt @lone-lone-ranger @headlockimnida @horanghaezone @haolistic @porridgesblog @jeonjungkaka @luchiet @ujimatchaaa @skzdesi @cheoliehansolie @vlbii @myghobi @sisterofsomeone @joonsytip @gyublues @alltheshineofthestars-blog @randomworker @isabellah29 @savgogh @too-many-kpop-hubands @kamabokogonpachro @skittlez-area512 @seccdlurv @chisskaa @mochiteez @theyluvfrankocean @lllucere @thomawifey @middle-of-the-earth @okiedokrie-main @itsokaytobedumb00 @humankimbap @zezedoesshit @teenyfinds @jeonghansshitester @aaa-sia @heyitz00 @silvsie

“Soonyoung!” you exclaim, a burst of laughter escaping you as you follow his lead. Your giggles, light and carefree, echoes through the quiet hallway as he gently tugs on your hand.

As you both navigate the ornate hallway, the clamor of the event gradually fades into a muted echo. Soonyoung leads you toward a quieter, more secluded area. You descend a grand staircase, its steps bathed in the soft, golden light of the chandeliers above. The rich scent of polished wood and the faint hum of the building’s old architecture is only what follows

At the bottom of the stairs, Soonyoung guides you to a narrow, dimly lit stairwell. The walls avoidant of historical portraits and antique fixtures, only its old paint and dust and peace of knowledge of its vacant being. It’s intimate with just a few flickering lights casting gentle shadows on the steps and walls, now falling on Soonyoung’s features and painting him a vision both mischief and beauty

Finally, you’re away from prying eyes. The sounds of the bustling event are now a distant murmur, replaced by the soft rhythm of each other’s breathing and the gentle rustling of your dress in your trail. As you both stand there, the shared closeness make the world outside feel like a distant memory, eveloped in teh warmth of each other’s presence.

“I still can’t believe you’re here,” You voice out, grasping on the lapels of his jacket. “I was really preparing for myself to be stood up.”

His fingertips ghost over the curve of your cheek before it hugs you in his grasp, cradling you in his hand. “I had a lot of time to myself and there were a few things that couldn’t help but replaying my head.”

He steps closer, closing the distance between you until you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. “How hurt I was you lied to me,” he admits, his voice tinged with vulnerability as he observes the quiet fall of your smile.

His hand, open and gentle, rests on your lower torso, drawing you closer to him. The contact is tender yet firm, anchoring you both in the moment. “And how I wanted nothing more than to be with you again,” he adds, his words laden with earnest emotion, leaving no doubt about the depth of his feelings.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words catch in your throat as a remorseful breath escapes you. “I am truly sorry for lying to you,” you begin, your voice heavy with sincerity. “I allowed our relationship to develop to the point where I felt like I could finally be myself again. You made—make me incredibly happy whenever I’m with you. I was terrified of everything changing and losing what we had. I was scared of what ‘Yeonam’ might do to us, worried you might think that none of it was real. But it was real—just not the whole truth.”

“In a way, I get it,” he reassures, his tone soft and understanding. “You were doing something you believed in. I just wish I hadn’t been caught in the crossfire like that.”

You bury your face against his chest, finding solace in the coolness of his suit as you try to calm your flustered cheeks. “And I should’ve made things right,” you confess, your voice muffled against his fabric. “I should’ve told you the whole truth the moment I realized how deeply I was falling for you, not game day in front of hundreds of other people.”

He gently lifts your face to meet his gaze, his smile radiating warmth and tenderness. It feels as though your heart is drawn to him, completely captivated by the moment.

“I found out that night you stayed over,” he continues, his voice steady and sincere. “Not on game day.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, taken aback by his truth bomb.

“I saw some of your messages on your phone when you left it behind. I was being nosy, trying to figure out if these feelings I had were just in my head. I was waiting for you to tell me the truth yourself. Then, when that moment happened between you and Mingyu at the soccer game, like a fucking scene out of a movie…Got me thinking. What position was I supposed to play? Striker? Point guard? Goalie? Defense? I was fucking spiraling.”

You clench his suit firmer. “Soonyoung…”

He shakes his head, hair covering his eyes and his inner turmoil spilled like ink on paper, ignoring his eradiacting heartbeat “I didn’t want to be a player in your life who was only ever on the sidelines. If you and Mingyu were meant to be together, I wasn’t going to settle for just being ‘let’s stay friends.’ I wanted to be with you or not at all… but I didn’t really have a choice, did I? Not when I fell in love with you.”

“You fell in love with me?” 

“Right?” he confirms with a scoff of disbelief, his gaze lifing and steady on you. “I haven’t even kissed you yet there’s nothing else telling that I’m not truly, deeply in love with you.”

“I love you too, Soonyoung.” You film hold on to him, fear of him unlatching himself at any moment, clinging on to this moment of mutual desire, truly feeling like you were being swept up something imaginary but was reassured the moment his forehead kisses yours and the tip of his nose traces over the bridge of yours.

“You don’t know how much of a relief it is to hear that.”

Soonyoung’s head lower, gaze dropping down to the shape of your lips and finally take them a residual of urgency he once felt back at his apartment. Your lips, plush and soft, taste of sweetness and longing, quickly consuming him as you clutch him in your grasp, seamlessly following his pace. Swiftly he shifts position, pressing against you as your back meets that was once behind him, and cornering you until there was not and inch of distance between you both.

You moans pried your mouth open and Soonyoung’s hand creep around for your leg before the fabric fo the dress spills down by its, and exposes your thigh layered in panty hose now pressed against his side.

“You look incredible in this by the way.” He says in a rushed breath.

You softly laugh. “I was hoping you’d get to see me in it.”

“And I was hoping to do more than see you in it.”

“Soonyoung,” You chide, before he slams himself against you back to the wall, replaying the sultry moans leaving your lips.

“I needed the moment I laid eyes on you. I’m not letting anything else take you from me.” His hand travel past your dress and feeling the warmth of your dress, feeling how your arousal seeps past your panties and through your underwear in a damp stain. “How can I when you feel this good against me?”

Leveraging against the wall, Soonyoung tears the fraile fabric of your tights, leaving only your underwear as his remaining obstacle. “Soonyoung,” you admonish, quickly muffled under the palm of your hand, swept up in a concoction of hunger and fear of being caught

“No one will know under this thing, but I will. And that’s good enough for me.”

His kisses cascade from your flushed face, down to your cheeks and chest, and finally to the heat between your legs, sucking against the wet spot of your panties. Your jaw drops slack open, finding yourself being held up off the ground by the sheer force of Soonyoung’s strength and ambition of his jaw. Your hand fall to his hair, gripping it for dear life as he pushes your panties aside and his tongue swirls around your entrance. He starts alternating it with thick stripes being licked from bottom to top, indulging on your heat, before his lips wrap around your clit and sucks

You’re shaking in his clutches, vulnerable to his attention, ad you give soonyoung your whole body. Tired and helpless breaths escape you, following the pure conviction of Soonyoung’s mouth that guides him to its high before he finally parts form you, and lets you taste the pure efforts on your own tongue.

“I needed that so much,” he whines and you nod back in agreement, not having enough.

Soonyoung begins unbuckling his pants, taking out  the cock burning a hole in his pants and gently he guides himself over your slit through your panties, wetting its head with remnants of his earlier feast.

“Soon, give it to me,” you softly plead.

He takes both of your legs to his sides, hilting his cock to your entrance but only brushing the tip gently around your arousal. “Fuck, I want you. I want you so fucking bad.”

“Please, right here. I miss you so much. I can’t wait anymore”

“Fuck.” His length strokes a long caress against your slit before it stretches out your fluttering walls. His hand braces your behind, claiming your ass in full palms beneath the heavily material of your debutante dress and he takes sharp, gradual thrusts, experimenting with your sensation. Your hands grip his shoulders, fingers digging into his linen suit jacket and bracing for impact.

You take him in a liplock, gathering him by the hair on the back of his head and cling around him, savoring every thrust as it plummets deep in you. He’s careful, but needy and by the sounds of his voice, he aches to go deeper and faster. You softly caress him, staring back in those eyes glistening in awe of the you and how your pussy swallows him whole just serendipitously. 

“Why are you perfect in every way?” He whines, into your hair.

In desperate pleas, he drags your body back and forth towards him, bouncing your flesh and being to him like nothing and feeling your walls contract around him deliciously. Soon, your hand claws through his clothes, nails piercing through his flushed skin and you braced the wall behind you as you detected a familiar feeling. Your legs anchor around him, hot with every thrust and your voice finally gives out, not caring how the sound of either of your voices echos like a cave. “I’m coming…”

“Fuck that sounds so much more better than I ever imagined.”

“Soonyoung…” you whimper through your kiss swollen lips. 

His hands reach for your hair–using it as support– while the sharp thrusts taking a harsher form and he is essentially slamming you against the wall. Your mouth forced open, echoing incoherent music as you’re overwhelmed with your undoing. Soonyoung takes your lips, dulling your moans and swallowing them down his throat, riding out the final minutes of your climax and patiently sailing through the journey to inevitably his. Your smiles are restless, but nothing but nothing  short of happiness and relief is left in your bodies as you linger in this moment, hoping it lasts for an eternity.

[shizuturnspages]

do you think yandere itto is secretly very smart when disposing of his rivals, kidnapping his S/O and stuff but acts like a dumb himbo as an act? if so i bet it’d be scary to wake up in his room all tied up with him all serious and shii🧍🏾‍♀️

or he really is just a lovestruck himbo but that’d be soooooo boring, right? riiiiiiight?

Oh my god, that actually sounds like something he'd do as a yandere. Here's a little scenario to satisfy your need <3

Yandere Arataki Itto

You blinked awake, your head feeling heavy, disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. The room around you was dimly lit, with the faint smell of incense and earth. Soft moonlight filtered through a small, high window, casting pale, silvery shadows across the walls.

Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, and that’s when you realized: you were bound. Thick, coarse ropes kept your arms and legs secured, not painfully tight but immovable all the same. You struggled, and it was only then that you heard it—a low, familiar chuckle.

“Well, well, look who’s finally awake.”

There, in the shadows by the wall, sat a figure you recognized all too well. Itto, the loud-mouthed, supposed “simpleton” of an oni. But in the pale light, he didn’t wear his usual mischievous grin. His red eyes glowed with an unsettling intensity, and his usually carefree posture was rigid, focused. It wasn’t the Itto who bragged and bumbled through the streets, challenging kids to beetle battles and getting chased out of towns. No, this Itto was something else entirely.

“W-Where am I? What’s going on?” you managed to stammer, your voice cracking as you stared up at him.

“You’re safe,” he replied smoothly, his tone lower than usual. He stepped closer, and you felt the tension in his body—like a hunter who had finally cornered its prey. “Or, I should say, safer than you were. After all, it wasn’t easy keeping all those pests away from you.”

You froze. The meaning of his words began to sink in, dread settling in the pit of your stomach. “Itto, I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Oh, come on,” he replied, his tone almost playful, but there was a darkness in his voice that made you shiver. “I’ve been watching you for a long time, you know. And I don’t mean the fun, carefree kind of watching like, ‘Oh hey, what’s my buddy up to?’ No, no, this is… different.”

He crouched down, his face level with yours. His eyes were focused and sharp, a contrast to the usually carefree glint that danced there. He wasn’t giving you the playful Itto who barged in and made a mess of everything. This was something much darker.

“You see,” he continued, “everyone thinks I’m just a big, dumb oni who charges in without thinking. And, honestly? I’ve let ‘em think that.” His smile curved wider, and for the first time, you saw the teeth of a predator. “Because when people think you’re stupid, they don’t pay attention to what you’re really doing. They underestimate you.”

He leaned in, his face close to yours, the smell of smoke and iron clinging to him. “But I’m not stupid, sweetheart. I’ve been planning this for a while.”

You pulled back, your heart pounding as you processed his words. “You’re lying… this isn’t you. You’re just… you’re just acting. Right?”

His eyes narrowed. “Acting? You think I’m acting?” His hand shot out, grabbing your chin, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. “I’m not acting, I’m just… showing you the side no one else gets to see. The side I saved just for you.”

As he released your chin, he moved to sit beside you, and you could feel his presence, large and unyielding, like a wall trapping you in. His expression softened, though, almost wistful as he traced patterns in the dirt on the floor.

“You remember all those times people came sniffing around you, trying to get close?” he said casually, not looking at you. “I didn’t like that. They didn’t belong. They didn’t deserve you, but they thought they did. So, I made sure they… understood otherwise.”

You swallowed hard, remembering each person who had tried to get close, only to suddenly stop talking to you or disappear from your life altogether. At the time, you’d brushed it off as coincidence, but now it was all starting to add up.

“But… how? Why would you…?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Itto shrugged, still not looking at you. “Like I said, people think I’m dumb, but they don’t know me like you do. I can be real subtle when I want to be. Maybe a few words here and there, maybe a little nudge in the right direction. Just enough to keep them from stepping where they didn’t belong.”

He finally turned to look at you, his face eerily calm. “And you belong here, with me. I know it; I’ve known it for a long time. So I made sure that nothing got in the way. I made sure that no one else would try to take you from me.”

Your breathing grew shallow as his words sank in. There was a chilling logic in what he said, an almost calculated precision that belied the cheerful, boisterous persona he usually wore like armour.

“What are you going to do with me?” you asked, your voice shaking.

Itto’s expression softened for a moment, and he reached out to brush a lock of hair from your face, his fingers surprisingly gentle. “Don’t be afraid. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to… keep you safe. And now, finally, you’re here. No more people trying to take you away, no more… interruptions.”

He smiled, but there was an edge to it that sent a chill down your spine. “I’ll take care of you. You’ll see. I’ll be everything you need, and you won’t have to worry about anyone else getting in the way.”

You fought against the ropes, panic setting in. “Itto, this isn’t love. This is obsession. You… you don’t own me.”

His eyes darkened at that, his smile fading as he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “You think I don’t know that? I know what I feel. This isn’t some crush, or passing fancy, or whatever people want to call it.” His voice dropped lower, and you could feel the tension in his words. “This is me wanting you in a way that no one else ever will. I don’t care what they say or what you think; I know you belong with me.”

He pulled back, giving you a look that was half-amused, half-possessive. “And believe me, sweetheart, I’ve got all the time in the world to make you see that.”

With that, he rose to his feet, stretching his arms as if he hadn’t just confessed to manipulating your life for who knows how long. “So, here’s how it’s gonna go. You’ll stay here until you come around. I’ve got everything you need—food, blankets, whatever. Just relax. No one else knows you’re here, and no one else can find you.”

He grinned, his boisterous attitude slipping back into place, though it now felt like a thin veneer over something much darker. “And hey, if you try to run, I’ll just find you again. I’m a hell of a tracker, you know.”

The casual threat sent a shiver through you, and he laughed, clearly relishing in your reaction. He started humming, almost nonchalantly, as he moved about the room, tidying up small things with a lazy, practised ease. But every so often, his eyes would flicker back to you, a possessive gleam in them that left no doubt about his intentions.

As you sat there, bound and helpless, it hit you: Itto wasn’t the clueless, happy-go-lucky oni everyone thought he was. This was a man who knew exactly what he wanted and would stop at nothing to get it. His cheerful demeanour had been a mask, hiding the calculating mind of someone who was always three steps ahead, someone who had orchestrated every detail to bring you to this very moment.

He returned to your side, crouching down and resting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Now,” he murmured, his voice softer but no less intense, “you’ll have all the time you need to fall for me, like I fell for you. And don’t worry—I’m very patient.”

He pressed a light kiss to your forehead, lingering for just a moment before pulling back. His face was still that familiar smile, the goofy grin, but now it held a darker meaning. In that quiet, dimly lit room, with his presence looming over you, you finally understood: this was Arataki Itto, the oni who would move heaven and earth to keep you by his side.

[dira333]

Bakugo x Reader, 6 parts, Timeskip AU

Not everyone is born with a Soulmark. But even if you are, it doesn't make things easier.

Warnings: None, Angst to Fluff.

Chapters are going to be posted daily - Masterlist

Part 3

Martini Extra Dry is not the drink he’d pick to go with Extra Spicy Wings. Doesn’t matter though because you’re slurping down the Cocktail like it’s the Nectar of the Gods, grinning as you bite into your food. 

Whatever has happened today, you haven’t yet spilled the beans.

Not that he needs you to. Not that he wants to know.

He does. He does want to know. 

Katsuki would never call himself curious. He doesn’t care what his friends are doing with their life.

He just hates when they do things wrong.

Like Kaminari, who almost ruined his life by getting married to that… person. Or Kirishima, who convinced himself to be not enough for the one person he’d always be enough for. He still feels like he owes Mina his life for the way she handled that. 

Or Izuku… but no, he’s not going to think about Izuku now.

“How was your childhood like?” You ask, eyes on All Might poster that’s framed by the large windows on the far wall.

“Huh?”

“Your childhood.” You put the gnawed-off wing into the bowl with the others, your hand hovering over your plate, picking out the next one. “How was it like?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Just…” You shrug, but it feels forced. “Just wanted to know.”

“How was yours like?”

“Ah…” You wave your head from side to side. “Boring, I guess. I wasn’t that social as a kid.”

“You? Can’t believe it.”

You grin. “Better believe it. I didn’t need friends. I had my Quirk and my imagination to keep me company.”

“Did your Quirk keep you company because you had no friends or did you push them away in favor of being alone?” 

You sober up quickly at his words, setting your drink down with a thunderous look on your face.

“Shit.” He grinds out. “I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“Yeah,” you stare into your glass. “You did. Give me a moment.”

So he does. Katsuki learned to sit in the uncomfortableness of his feelings in his youth. Doesn’t mean he likes doing it.

“I grew up outside of Musutafu. My Quirk’s nice, but pretty useless in the countryside. I think… I think I always dreamt of something bigger than me. And no one there even tried to understand me.”

“That sucks,” he says and you laugh, the tone high and free.

“Yeah.” You agree. “That sucks.”

Silence settles again, like the first real blanket of snow. He moves, picks up his empty glass and gets up from the Couch.

“Where are you going?”

“Getting another drink.”

“Oh, me too.” You down the rest and hand the glass over with a grin. “Can you do anything other than Martini?”

He scoffs. “Can a dog pee at a tree? Course. What do you want?”

You name something ridiculously fancy. Katsuki doesn’t have to check to know he’s missing at least one ingredient.

“Get down to earth, you pimp. I’ll make you an Espresso Martini.”

“So… just another Martini then.” Your grin is teasing now, and he reaches out, dragging his sweaty hand over your hair. 

“Be nice.” He grumbles, stomach clenching as the air shifts around him. He can see in your eyes that you’ve noticed it too.

If he’d be anyone else, Katsuki might have acted upon it. The attraction. The need to touch you, even when it’s just to tease. 

But he’s him. So he does what he does best. 

“So, my childhood…” He starts, turning toward the kitchen. “My childhood was great.” If he sounds like he’s boasting, he is. 

“Really?”

“You’re second-guessing me?” He turns to glare and you laugh, draped over the curve of the Couch. Damn you for looking so cozy.

“My parents loved me. I got an amazing Quirk and early on too. I barely had enough time for my two hobbies, being awesome and collecting All Might memorabilia.”

“What about Izuku?”

The question shoots up his spine like electricity, paralyzing him for a solid second before he can breathe again. Yet, he’s unable to turn, to look at you.

“What about him?” He asks, watching the lights on the coffee machine flicker to life. 

“Your dad talked about him today,” you add. “Not… Nothing much, we were having a meeting and he’s got this picture of the two of you on his desk.”

“Let me guess, he’s missing a tooth in it?” God, he remembers that picture. He’d hated standing still for it, Aunt Inko standing just out of frame, waving at him with her broad smile and soft features while his mother had taken the picture, griping about his scowl.

“I’m not sure, I didn’t look at it that closely.” It doesn’t sound like a lie. 

Katsuki buys himself some time with making the coffee, the machine too loud to talk.

Then he has to shake, brows furrowed as he forces himself not to turn and look at you.

But then he has to, the drinks in his hands as he walks back.

Your face is open, your eyes warm. Just looking at you twists his insides uncomfortably.

-

“I used to be a bully,” he confesses, staring into the depths of his glass. “I’m not proud of it.”

You don’t say anything, but he can feel your eyes on him.

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know why… No, that’s a lie. I know why. I just…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” You say, hand reaching out to touch him. But he can’t take that right now, neither the softness nor the warmth. He moves away, swallowing harshly.

“I apologized to him.” He explains. “And while I didn’t deserve his forgiveness, it’s Izuku. He’s just like that.”

“And now?”

“Now?” He laughs. “We’re best friends. Still want to deck him sometimes, especially when he does stupid shit, like flinging himself off a skyscraper, but… I’d die for him.”

“Wow,” you breathe out. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend like that.”

His head snaps over. Your eyes are twinkling, your smile soft and a little teasing. You’re offering him an out, a different topic, away from all this heaviness. 

Why did he open up like that anyway? He’s known you for a month and it’s not like you had to fight side by side like the rest of his friends.

“It’s not my fault you’re shit at picking friends.”

“Hey!” You laugh. “You don’t even know them. Ami… Well, Ami’s got the big brain. She once told me that if she has the time to jump in front of a bullet for me, I have the time to jump away from it.”

“True.” He grins, finally taking a sip of his drink. “You should listen to her more often.”

“She’s also into RealSteel.”

“Nevermind, she’s got no taste.”

-

“Hey,” Kirishima pats the doorframe as a way of knocking, waving a bottle of water at him. “Time for a drink?”

Katsuki snorts, catching the bottle with ease. “At this time of day? You disgust me.”

Kirishima snickers, lounging into one of the comfier seats at Katsuki’s office.

“Are you coming by this Friday?”

“What’s up this Friday?” Katsuki rips the cap of his bottle and downs half of the bottle. “Wait, is it that Mario Kart Tournament Kaminari has been raving about?”

“Wow, you remembered. Are you coming? Mina’s going crazy over the food options, despite Sato agreeing to bring all the sweet snacks.”

“No one wants to eat sweets during a Mario Kart Tournament. You need something salty with the beer.”

Kirishima grins. Katsuki huffs. “Fine, I’ll make something.” He hesitates for a second.

“Would it be okay if I brought my roommate? Depends if she’s free.”

Red eyes widen. The grin following is enormous. 

“It’s not like that,” Katsuki defends himself. “She’s nice and I think she’d get along well with you guys.”

“I mean, I don’t disagree, but are you sure? About it not being like that? You’re an attractive guy, I’m sure.”

“It’s not like that!” Katsuki repeats. “I have a Soulmate, remember?”

Kirishima frowns. “I know, but… she could be it, right?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why? Because you’re attracted to her?”

He scoffs. “No!”

“So you are attracted to her?”

“It doesn’t matter, okay?”

Kirishima laughs. “It does, you know. You know you can date someone even if they’re not your Soulmate. I mean, be honest about it, that’s for sure, but it can take you ages to find your mate, if even. Why wait if love is right in front of you?”

“Easy for you to say. You found them in Junior High.”

The redhead sobers up. “Sorry. But still…”

Katsuki waves him off. “I don’t want to talk about it. Are you just here to ask for my cooking expertise or do you plan on working too? Because I have this case I need to get to.”

“Is that an invitation to help you?” Kirishima grins, taking the switch of topics in stride. “Because I’m all for it.”

- x -

“Fantastic.” Masaru nods approvingly, flicking through your designs. “Oh… is that… does that look like the blouse you’re wearing right now?”

“Yeah,” you nod along. “It’s one of my favorite designs, I made quite a few of them, actually. I like the sleeves so much.”

“Amazing. Would it be okay- well, no, I can’t ask you to-”

“Should I take it off?” You ask, guessing where this is going. “It’s no problem, I’m wearing a camisole underneath.”

“Well, if it’s really no problem. Oh, Mitsuki, come in.” He waves at his wife and you stop unbuttoning your blouse.

“What do you think of this design for Creati? It’s pretty similar to the blouse she’s wearing right now, so we could do a try-on right now.”

Mitsuki examines you, her gaze critical. “Yeah, it’s okay.” She finally agrees. “The color needs to be changed tough,” she insists with another look at your design. “We need to bring out her eyes more. Are you wearing something under that?”

“Err, yes.” You take the blouse off, gingerly handing it to Mitsuki. “I know she’s usually dressed in dark red or light green, but I think we could switch it up a little with a deep, vibrant blue. We don’t want her to become too one-dimensional.”

Masaru lights up at your words, tough Mitsuki just purses her lips in thought.

“It’s an idea.” She agrees finally before turning to Masaru. “Creati’s Katsuki’s age, right? You think she’d go out with him if I asked nicely?”

Your blood runs cold. Luckily, she’s got her back turned to you, your reaction going unnoticed.

“I don’t think he’d take it lightly if you interfered.”

“Aww, he’d be fine.” She sniffs. “He’s old enough to bring home a girl. If he can’t do that by himself, I have to help him out.”

Masaru smiles softly at that, catching your gaze over his wife’s shoulder.

“You can go. I’ll get the blouse back to you today.”

“Okay,” you nod, turning for the door only to whirl around at the shocked gasp from behind you.

“What?” You ask, panic cutting through the haze in your head. “What?!”

“Your Soulmark!” Mitsuki’s reaching out her hand, grabbing your shoulder rather harshly. “I know this mark!”

“Mitsuki,” Masaru pleads, but she’s not listening, pulling at your shoulder until you turn around.

“No doubt. I know this mark. Girl, you are so lucky!” 

That, finally, gets through to you. Her eyes, as red as Katsukis, are clouded with an almost feral excitement. Her mouth opens, no doubt to tell you the name of your Soulmate. You react on instinct, reaching and pressing both hands on her mouth.

“I don’t want to know,” you gasp out, panic still running up and down your spine, ice-cold, burning-hot. “I don’t want to know!”

“Mitsuki,” Masaru’s hand is on his wife’s shoulder now, pulling her back. “You have to respect her wishes.”

“I don’t!” She argues hotly. “This is about-!” But Masaru interrupts her, keeps the name from getting out yet again.

He pulls her close, not an easy feat, you think, whispering something urgently into her ear as you try to catch your bearings, get out of this room, this situation, this… whatever this mess is.

“We’re talking about your son!” Is the last you hear as the door closes behind you. If only you’d been a little faster. If only you had thought of pressing your hands against your ears as you left.

-

Masaru finds you at your desk, shivering a little under the AC.

“Here,” he hands you your blouse. “Can we talk for a second?”

“I really don’t want to know,” you tell him as sincerely as you can and he smiles. “I know. That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

You follow him down the hallway into an empty meeting room, watch with a hammering heart as he closes the door behind him.

“I respect your wishes,” he starts, hands folded in front of him. “And I don’t know how much you heard of my conversation with Mitsuki, but be assured… we don’t really know if the marks are matching. I didn’t see it clearly and it has been quite some time since Mitsuki’s seen the mark she’s referring to. I’m sorry this had to happen. I hope you can…” He sighs. “I hope you can forgive us.” Masaru bows a little awkwardly and you can’t help but join in.

“No, I’m sorry. I… I didn’t want to make such a fuss about it. I just freaked out and-”

“You don’t have to explain. If Mitsuki tries to talk to you about this again, feel free to tell her no. But I’ve talked to her and I’m convinced she understood the importance of it.”

You laugh a little hesitantly. “Okay. I… What did Creati think of the blouse?”

“Oh,” Masaru lights up again. “She loved it. We’re definitely going with that design. And the deep blue? Excellent choice.”

-

The apartment is empty when you arrive, still frazzled, still… You’re not even sure how to call that feeling that’s pressing onto your chest, leaving you unable to breathe.

What if Katsuki’s your Soulmate? The thought of it burns hot under your skin. But then again, did he say that he’s got a Soulmark? You can’t remember him ever mentioning it.

You resort to the internet instead, unable to research this topic out in the open of public transport. Even now your heart’s beating a mile a minute, expecting someone to burst into the room to call you out on it, the absolute audacity to think that Katsuki could be- or Izuku?

But while there are a ton of theories no one can prove anything. Bakugo Katsuki could very well not have a Soulmark at all.

With shaking hands, you change your question. Just the name though.

Izuku Midoriya has a private Instagram account and quite a few articles that hint at him being Deku, so you search for that next.

Deku, Number One Pro Hero and most likely Bakugo’s Half-Brother has a Soulmark. On his shoulder blade too, just like you. That’s a sign, right? You’re not sure if the placement is important too. 

You swipe through article after article, hoping for a picture of any kind or any other confirmation that he’s maybe, just maybe, already found his Soulmate.

What you find, however, is a close-up of his shoulder, the scar tissue still pink and new.

His Soulmark’s lost, just the faintest outline left to be seen. 

If you’d have to guess, though, you’d say it’s roughly the same size as yours.

“Hey, I’m home!” Katsuki’s voice cuts through the whirlwind of your thoughts and emotions and you squeak in panic, throwing your phone through the room. It lands with a thud at the doorstep and you’re just a little too slow to pick it up before him.

“Everything okay?” He asks, grabbing the little device as you shriek like a Banshee.

“Don’t look at it!” You order. “I…” You grasp for a reason that’s not you trying to get a look at his half-brother’s Soulmark. “I got Nudes.”

Katsuki stills, his face turning into void of emotions. “What?!” He asks, voice raspy.

“Yeah,” you nod, deciding to run with this story. “Some… Some guy sent me Nudes. I opened them on accident, that’s why I reacted like this.”

He hands you your phone like it’s burning now, his brows almost vibrating as they furrow and relax, furrow and relax.

“I can handle this, Katsuki,” you remind him, despite the fact that you’re not sure if you can.

-

Your heartbeat has slowed down a little by the time you’re ready to leave, though Katsuki’s brows are still furrowed to the point you worry about him getting a headache.

“You need to fix this,” you tell him, pressing a thumb to the raised skin. “Relax your eyebrows.”

“Why?!” He asks, moving as if to slap your hand away. In the end, he just grabs it softly, holding it almost in place.

“Your friends are going to be scared of you, that’s why.”

He snorts. “They know me already. They better be scared.”

As it turns out, they’re not.

Kirishima, who you already know as his former roommate, pounces on him the moment he steps through the door.

“Almost thought you wouldn’t come,” he teases, skillfully avoiding the sparkles coming off Katsuki’s hands.

“Hey!” He waves at you, grinning from one ear to the other, “Nice to see you again. Come right in.”

“Ooooh, it’s you!” A blond whines from the Couch. “Comfort me, Shinsou!”

“Leave me out of this,” the guy next to him grunts, violent purple hair standing in every direction. “Hey!” He waves.

“Be nice!” A woman chides loudly from the kitchen. Her skin and hair are pink, her eyes mesmerizingly dark. “Hey! Nice to meet you, I’m Mina. These idiots here are Kaminari and Shinsou and you’ll soon meet the rest of the Gang! Bakugo, can you help me with the Snacks?”

“Already on it,” Katsuki grunts next to you, finally managing to push Kirishima away. 

“What do you want to drink?” He asks, leaving for the kitchen as Kirishima leads you over to the Couch.

“Sooo!” Kaminari leans into your space the minute you’re sitting. “Do you just want to watch the tournament or participate?”

“Participate, of course.” You tell him. “Do you think I’m passing a chance to smoke Katsuki?”

Kaminari’s surprised, but only for a second, before he grins just as wide as Kirishima.

“Good luck,” Shinsou tells you in his smokey, deep voice. “They’re all competitive.”

“That’s the thing,” you joke as Kirishima pushes a controller in your hands for a first warm-up round of Mario Kart. “You make more mistakes when you can’t afford to lose.”

[quarterlifekitty]

Something Lacking

Note: uhhh this is just something for the Haunting Ground!AU where you take the role of Fiona and Simon is taking the role of Daniela. I just love comparing Simon and Daniela. If this seems like it’s kind in the middle of a narrative— it is, but I wanted to share!

For slight context: in this, Ghost is a homunculus who does not have the essence of life. As a descendent of alchemists, you have a lot of it!

cw: very slight unsanitary, non-consensual touching, slut shaming

“Captain said he made me the perfect man… But I can’t taste. Can’t feel any pleasure. Can’t even feel any pain…” his dark eyes idly pass over his hands, scarred and callous— his fingertips bloody. Without pain he cannot tell when the heat has reached the handle, when the knife has gone too far past the carrot.

“I ain’t complete.” He speaks in a cool, even tone. A suffocating silence settles over the room.

“I… Please excuse me,” you say as politely as you can manage with your quivering, opening the door at your back so you can watch him as you slip through it. He seems less than a degree from giving chase. You have enough of that to deal with.

You once saw Ghost through a keyhole. That man, Graves, slapping him across the face. Blood snearing from the corner of his mouth, but he made no move to retaliate.

“You gonna tell me where your fuckin’ Captain is, Ghost? We can keep at this all day, y’know. Better yet… tell me where she is.” Simon just stared ahead, ambivalent. He turned towards the door slowly.

Towards you. But how could he have known?

He smiles. It was a smile that betrayed no joy whatsoever. There was nothing behind the eyes but…

Well, it’s the closest thing Ghost has to joy. To pleasure.

Anticipation.

You laid down in bed— feeling sick to your stomach. Soap went off, looking for medicine. A castle full of alchemical equipment should have some, shouldn’t it? Besides— more lavender would do that racing heart of yours some good, too.

You’re completely unconscious when Ghost enters the room, silent as his namesake. His scarred fingertips run across your cheeks. There’s a brightness to your skin that he’s never seen— you’re a creature that’s known the sun well. He travels down, dry blood flaking from his skin as his hand as it smooths over the fabric of your blouse.

You’re the first real woman he’s seen. And from what Price has to say— you’re regarded as an exemplary specimen. He can see why.

His hand pauses at your abdomen. He can smell it. Any creature that lacks it can. Your azoth. The essence of your life. What makes you so… vivacious. Soap has a very trace amount, being a natural born creature of the earth like you, but what’s in you is like a font. An overflowing well, cultivated over generations of alchemical discoveries.

It fills Simon with something unknown to him. To see you in restful sleep. So soft, so whole, able to dream. The roiling in his gut must be hatred.

Your beauty. The curves of your form. He would bet you’d had plenty of pleasure in your life. Frolicking in the world outside… in the sun. The smile that graced your face when you were with that dog of a man that followed you at the heel. You must have welcomed— lured him into this filthy body.

And yet the captain wanted you. Graves wanted you too. Even König, in his own deluded way. It burned him inside, the deep black pit beneath his lungs being overtaken and licked with climbing flames. What a precious little princess you were. Desired, pleasured, joyful. Even your tears, your cries of fear… It all amounted to an infuriating humanity. To know even a fraction of those sensations… had you any idea what lengths to which he would go?

Of course not. A princess doesn’t concern herself with such things.

You awake to the feel of his fingers dug into the flesh of your abdomen, as if he could rip the azoth out from you through there. You gasp, rolling over until your back is against the wall. That smile once again plays on his face as he allows you to retreat. He grips you chin with a viper’s strike, forcing you to look at him.

“You can tell, can’t you, darlin’? I’m not complete. ‘S somethin’ you have that I don’t…”

“I d-don’t… I don’t understand— y-you seem…” your eyes flick over him. He’s scarred to hell, but by no means maimed. “…fine.”

Ghost’s eyes search yours. For what, he doesn’t know.

The opposite of love is not hate. It’s apathy. And the apathy he’s felt for his entire life is draining from him the more he observes you. His hand shakes as the deep, dark pit inside of him grows wider.

[kidasthings]

Echoes of Eden by Kida

Noa x Mae - #mommaknowsbest

Chapter 3: https://www.tumblr.com/kidasthings/751031002718240768/echoes-of-eden-by-kida?source=share

Next Chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/kidasthings/751482584388829184/echoes-of-eden-by-kida?source=share

Chapter 4

They made it back to the Eagle Clan village at daybreak, just as the first rays of early light touched the earth and migrated through the trees above. It painted the ground cover with a dappling effect, shifting penumbras and warming daisies.

Mae walked among the apes wisely sticking close to Noa. Anaya gave her a wide berth all the while, nervous eyes flicking her way when she strayed too close. Soona was much the same, save for the steady eye contact when they did trade looks. The rest of the small contingent remained at a respectful if suspicious distance; only Noa seemed moderately comfortable with her in his immediate vicinity.

The welcome party at the village consisted of a few curious ape children and Dar, Noa’s mother. She threw her arms around her son, gave Mae a curious look, and then patted Noa on the back before speaking in hushed tones with Anaya and Soona. Mae stood awkwardly, highly aware of being the only human amongst sentient animals. There was still the chance one or more of them might try to assume issue with her for the flood she set upon them, and for this her guard remained up. The village, despite her paranoia, buzzed about her without fail. Apes were climbing half-built structures, connecting beams, and the young ran amongst a small herd of horses at pasture in a clearing dotted with wildflowers. Their shouts and hoots of joy reached beyond the treetops, unmarred by the fact their clan had barely survived the year.

Because of her.

Eventually Noa returned to her side, gesturing for her to follow him with that world-weary look he usually sported. Relieved, Mae followed and found him leading her off to a crude shack that resembled the one in which they had first met; it seemed these were used primarily to store fish. This one, however, had a different purpose.

Inside the raw-wood walls was a cache of human weapons and supplies. An ape of stature stood posted at the door, nodding at Noa but glaring balefully at Mae as they simultaneously ducked inside.

Everything was abandoned on the floor in a haphazard pile: a few rucksacks, dented weapons, sharp hunting knives, a canteen or two, rope, and other random oddities. There was not much, admittedly, but what Mae sought wasn’t exactly of size.

Mae drifted down to her knees, alighting on the packed dirt floor. “Is this everything?” she asked Noa without losing focus on the heap before her.

“Yes,” Noa confirmed.

“I see.” She floated her palm over the pile, mimicking a scanning device. Her hand hovered over the first brown knapsack, travel-worn and rusted at the buckles. Gingerly, she touched it and ran her fingers over the flap. It was secured by a simple button from the top, zippers being an exotic novelty rarely seen anymore. Carefully, she opened the bag and rifled through the contents.

Nothing caught her eye at first. There were three small knives, a few canned rations, a water flask made of animal bladder, and something that looked like –

Mae pulled out a crinkled piece of faded paper and held it up before her face. Dust motes floated lazily across an old illustration made by the hand of a child. Pastel paints depicted two stick figures, one larger than the other, holding hands. The taller one sported short blonde streaks, likely a representation for hair, and the shorter one had longer hair of the same hue. Both were smiling; simple lines curved their two-dimensional mouths upward to their dots-for-eyes.

Sucking in her cheeks until they were hollow, Mae refolded the paper and placed it back into the bag. She continued, patting down the sides and coming up empty save for a small silver key on a thin ring. She could hear Noa shuffle his weight from one foot to the other, indicating he was growing impatient. Utilizing the soft sound to her advantage, she surreptitiously used a sleight of hand technique to slip the dented key into the inner pocket of her short jacket.

Mae hazarded a quick look behind her; Noa was still staring at her back, arms folded, but there was no recognition on his face that anything was amiss.

The next bag proved more interesting. This one, black and made of canvas, contained an array of pistols with silencers. Pushing past those, the brunette located a dark metal container at the bottom of the bag. It turned out to be a lockbox secured by a small gold padlock looped through a latch on the side.

The word MASTER was emblazoned on the front.

Mae ran her thumb over the worn word in the metal, realizing it was a remnant of the world before.

Reinvigorated, she turned the box this way and that, examining the angles. Inside, something rolled back and forth in a reassuring, cylindrical way. Mae pitched her chin inward towards her collarbone and a few errant wisps of hair disconnected from her braid and swept forward, brushing the sides of her face.

Her pupils rapidly dilated behind the curtain of her hair.

Silence.

Without fanfare, Mae returned the box back to the bag and made a small show of picking up other various artifacts in the human-made heap. She stood and turned around when Noa made a small sound.

“Thank you,” she told him quietly, shoving her hands in her pockets. “I’m done.” Her voice, quick and clipped, followed the path of her footsteps as she carried herself outside of the ape-made hut.

Noa’s green eyes tracked her as she swept past him, the lower lids tensing at the edges. Finally, he nodded and removed himself from the structure to follow her out.

“Are you leaving to … follow them?” he called after her.

Mae stopped in mid-step, now well within the village proper. The ape posted outside the door traded curious looks with Noa as both watched the long line of Mae’s rigid back.

“I should,” she told him, voice muffled while she remained turned away, “but if you would allow me to remain a few more days, I can rest before returning.”

This caused the villager standing watch near Noa to silently reveal long canines, but Noa just shook his head at him before approaching Mae.

“I will … speak to the council … about it,” he told her, that stilted way in which he spoke comfortingly familiar. “For now … stay at the edge of the … village.”

“I can do that. I left my horse tied up over there.” Mae pointed off to a stand of trees to the south. “Hopefully, she isn’t too thirsty by now. I need to check on her.” Her expression remained stony and shuttered.

“Something … wrong?” Noa asked, tone too low for the other villagers to catch.

Mae’s head made a small adjustment in his direction. “No, I am just tired. Thank you for letting me look. What do you intend to do with all of it?” She was not settled with the idea of leaving human weaponry with the Eagle Clan. Her body turned halfway, her profile perfectly in view.

“We will … look through it,” Noa stated grimly. “It is ours.” He looked off to the woods, where both could hear the distant whinny of a frustrated equine. The breeze picked up, stirring the fur along his low forehead. “She sounds … hungry.”

“She had plenty of grass around. Water is more important. Do you have any nearby? I saw a lake to the north…”

Noa nodded, finding comfort in the discussion of logistics. Logistics were emotionless, effortless. He rolled his gaze over to hers, holding it. “We have a … pond in the meadow … she can drink from.” He pointed east, where the villagers’ horses were at pasture.

“Better yet.” Mae flashed him a too-tight grin, and then startled when an ape woman in a new blue shawl approached them.

“Noa, a word,” the ape said, her tenor deep and calm.

“Yes, mother.” Noa turned to Mae once more. “I will return later.”

Mae smiled then, a short spread of her lips with a quick nod. “Right.” She spared a second to and gave a once-over of the ape Noa had addressed as “mother”, and the object of her focus did the same. No words were exchanged, save for a small incline of the head on Dar’s part.

Mae spun on her heel and made off for the woods before slipping between the trees. Once the human was out of sight, both mother and son turned back to their conversation.

“Are the echoes gone … from here?” Dar inquired, now that they were passably alone.

She received a firm affirmative in the form of a grunt.

The older ape’s eyes slipped over to the ape standing next to the weapons hut, and then she motioned with her hand for Noa to follow. “Come.”

Noa trailed obediently and without objection. The pair winded their way through a gaggle of giggling ape children watching two older apes practicing fish retrieval with their newly hatched eaglets. Noa thought he spotted Soona’s long stare as she tended to a nest of eagle eggs nearby, but he could not be sure.

Eventually, they ended up at the entrance to one of the two rebuilt sky towers. Dar passed through a beaded partition, beckoning her son inside.

Within the structure a wooden ramp led to higher levels, spiraling well above their heads, but Dar paid it no mind. “Let’s speak of … the echo,” she said firmly, taking a seat on a woven mat near the back of the main floor. She patted to a place next to her, offering Noa a shallow cup of water made from a hollowed oyster shell. “Drink?”

Noa had no issue understanding who she was referring to. His thoughts would not detach from that echo. Dar’s son sighed, and accepted the shell gingerly with two hands, palms up. He took a small sip and set it aside on an overturned basket. Dar gave him a reassuring smile and placed her long forelimbs before her in a pleasant mien. “Tell me what ails you, son?”

“I do not … know what to … do,” Noa admitted, lost.

“About the echo?”

“Yes,” he replied haltingly, expecting immediate censure.

To Noa’s surprise, Dar did none of that.

She signed, “I can imagine.” Her smallest finger glanced off her forehead, shooting up with her left hand. Then, switching to words, she added, “Do you … think she is dangerous to … us?”

“Not right … now,” Noa returned, although he cast his gaze over and down, indicating doubt. “I believe … she feels bad … for flood.”

“This is good,” Dar told him, nodding in apparent acceptance.

“She wants to … stay, rest,” Noa said quickly. “Could you ask … the elders if she can … stay a few … days?”

Dar thought about that for a moment or two. Her warm toffee-colored eyes scanned Noa’s face, seeking a truth he would not voice. At last, she nodded and leaned over to place a hand over the ball of his shoulder. “She saved … Soona, yes?”

Noa nodded, “She put us all … in danger, but she saved … Soona’s life first.”

Dar considered this information, an internal debate roiling about in her head as a distant expression took up residence on her face.

Finally, she gave a short nod. “I will speak to them.”

For that, she was awarded with a small smile. “Thank you, mother.” he signed.

She signed back, “Of course. For now … keep an eye … on her.” The ape matron lifted a gray-brown index finger to one eye, illustrating her words. “Could be … trouble yet.”

Noa blew out a quick exhale before his mouth made a moue of distaste. “I fear this.”

Dar nodded, mollified by her son’s suspicions. It would do him well to have them. She gave his shoulder a good-natured shake before releasing it. “Go, you have much … to do.”

“Thank you, mother,” Noa replied.

Dar nodded. “Before you see her … call on Sun. He may … help.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

They took their leave, Noa standing slowly before exiting the tower. He looked to the south, where he imagined Mae to be, and pondered over her loyalties before calling to his eagle in the way of his clan.

A cry sounded from above, his winged companion never too far away. As the bird alighted on his wrapped forearm, Noa snorted and welcomed the pain of the talons as they dug into his hide. The bird’s watchful, amber eye flicked towards him, head snapping this way and that, wings partially extended and at the ready.

“Sun,” he began, as if there were some secret between them that only they knew, “keep watch over Mae.” The bird, somehow understanding although it was impossible to believe it so, gave his handler a look of avian scorn. Its razored beak parted, clicked shut, and a shrill cry emanated from its trachea.

“Calm,” Noa told the bird, giving his bonded’s back one pat with his long fingers. The bird fluffed its feathers, appearing momentarily larger, and then dropped into a temporary crouch before launching himself from Noa’s arm. The heavy weight of the raptor now released, Noa watched it circle once overhead and wished it could also do the same for the weight on his chest. He rubbed his clavicle with his hand, trying to distill the phantom pain he felt there.

He might have a chance to rectify that when he spoke with her later that night. For now, Sun would keep watch. Noa watched until his eagle disappeared over the tops of the trees, momentarily wishing for the gift of flight.

How easy it would be, to fly away, he mused.

[1starqi]

Better

genre: fluff, established relationship

warnings: barely proofread

pairing: mark x reader

word count: ~500

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Now Playing: Like We Just Met (seriously it's better with the soundtrack)

Your mind is fuzzy as you’re rudely awoken by the beaming sunlight that lights the walls of your shared bedroom. You instinctively call for your boyfriend, the one you share your bedroom and life with. “Mark?” You rub your eyes and feel the sleep that you slowly brush out of your eyes. The window lets in a slight summer breeze softly through the curtains. “Hm?” He sounds just as sleepy as you feel, his voice is low and slow from waking up. “Did I wake you up?” The whole world looks blurry as you recite your morning greeting. The texture of your shirt is soft against your skin as you shift trying to keep yourself awake. He responds with the typical, “No, no.” despite the fact that there’s no way he would dare to sleep through you calling for him. He ruffles the blankets when he turns over to get a better look at you. His finger pad is calloused and rough from all the time he spends with his guitar, but they feel like the softest thing on earth as he reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you wearing my shirt?” He asks, and you look down to remember that, yes, you are wearing his shirt. Last night, you found all of your comfortable shirts for sleep were cast after wearing to the laundry basket on the side of your closet. This is the first time you’ve taken one of his shirts, and you hoped it wasn’t a big deal. “Did you not want me to?” You ask and tilt your head to see him. “Sorry.” You mumble at him while he lies there, looking stunned. His eyes are wide and jaw drops just enough for his lips to part. You wonder what he’s thinking about, that is, until you see his mouth start to curve—he’s smiling. The look in his eyes can only tell you one thing, he loves you. “No, no.” He echoes his response from earlier. The difference this time is his tone. Earlier, his tone was that of weak and tired. This one is full of admiration. Your own smile forms, and he just grows even more flustered. He blinks slowly—you recall that that’s how cats show their love. He fits the role. The shirt isn’t anything of wonder—it’s soft, yes—but at the end of the day, it’s an old, plain shirt. “You’re wearing it.” A blush slowly reveals itself on his ears. “You’re wearing my shirt.” He affirms. You look at him in adoration. You knew you always had this effect on him but it’s a whole nother level when you get to see it. He blinks again and his smile grows bigger. “How did you sleep?” His voice is warm. “Well.” He reaches out and lightly traces a path along your arm with his finger. “You?” “Good.” He answered. His eyes map the features on your face. “I might like being awake better, though.” 

[fauxdette]

The Procurist pt. 9

Azriel x Elain

Summary: Elain ventures into the Winter Court to find Azriel.

Warnings: Kissing, a little gore

Word count: 1.5K

•••

She ran.

Cape streaming behind her, breath sawing in and out, Elain followed the passage of rock as it curved deeper beneath the chill landscape of the Winter Court.

It had taken a while for them to find the right entrance; Nuala and Cerridwen winnowing her without complaint until her power sensed the dagger. It wasn’t the same tug she had with the mating bond, it was a song—a gentle lullaby that beckoned her closer. The wards parted as she slipped into the cave entrance and started to creep forward in the darkness, following that call until flickering torchlight guided her inside a larger cavern.

Her eyes were drawn to a vast pile of gold against one side of the room; gleaming coins that spread across the floor like molten lava. Surrounding the rest of the space were intricately crafted artifacts, rested on stone pedestals; and atop one of those pedestals sat Truth-Teller. Elain’s fingers had just curled around the hilt when she heard the scream, a cry of pain that shattered the silence around her. Then she was moving. Running . The connection that had summoned her to the room now urged her forward; down and down into the earth.

Only the sound of approaching footsteps and hushed voices made her stop. She pressed her back against the cave wall and listened.

“I think we should go back and get him.”

“He told us not to.”

“It’s too risky.”

“He would come back for us .”

”He said not to!”

“Plus he’s said going to find us once his wings are healed.”

“He only said that so you’d stop asking, Hana.”

“Azriel wouldn’t lie to us, Suri.”

”Azriel?” Elain pulled her hood back and stepped into the middle of the passageway, just as a group of young fae rounded the corner.

The two females who had been leading the group threw their arms out to protect the others, baring their teeth at her; their faces smeared with sweat and dirt. Even hidden behind layers of grime they looked young. Too young.

She held her palms up, thumb still curled around Truth-Teller as she slowly lowered it to her thigh and slid it into its sheath. “It’s okay. I’m here to help. My name is Elain, I’m from the Night Court.”

“Like Azriel?” Someone from the back, asked.

She nodded eagerly, clamping down the tears that sprang to her eyes at hearing his name again.

“Azriel is a friend of mine, yes. Is he here?”

The group parted as one of them stepped forward. She was a little taller than the others, late teens if Elain had to guess, with bright green eyes and tanned skin.

“He told us to leave him behind,” she said, annoyance lacing her tone. “He said it was too risky to try and undo his chains.”

“That sounds like Azriel. What’s your name?”

“Suri.”

“That was the right thing to do, Suri. Is Jeth—The Procurist. Is he here? Did he hurt you?”

“We locked him in our cell,” another voice exclaimed proudly. “But we don’t know how long it will hold him for. That’s why Azriel told us to run.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek, shifting her gaze from the twelve pairs of eyes before her and the tunnel they had come from.

“The way out is clear.” Elain gestured to the way back with a dip of her chin. “Two of my friends are waiting outside, you’ll be safe with them. They can take you to the Winter Court Palace and contact your families—“

“—what are you gonna you do?” Suri asked.

Elain lifted her chin, “I’m getting Azriel back.”

•••

His world shifted, dropping off its axis. There were no arrows to keep him pinned upright so he had slumped forward, the shredded remains of his wings a heavy weight against his back.

Blood pooled around him, too much blood.

He felt it in the strain of his muscles, smelt its iron tang in his nostrils, its effects creating moving figures in his already blurred vision—

“Azriel?”

Add ‘hearing things’, to that list as well.

“Azriel!”

He tried to move his head, but everything felt slow, like he was moving underwater.

“Azriel, can you hear me?”

Shifting metal clanged around him before he felt two hands cup his face, forcing it upwards. Brown eyes searched his own, warm and kind; so, so kind. Eyes surrounded by a handful of freckles, darkened from hours in the sun. She looked familiar and yet…

“You cut your hair.”

He felt more than saw, the figure pause.

“Your eyes still work then,” there was faint amusement in her tone.

“Elain.” He jerked upright as a wave of consciousness woke him. “Elain! Why are you here? You can’t be here.”

He knew he sounded desperate, he didn’t care. He reached for her, wrists no longer shackled.

“Are you real?” He tucked her golden hair behind her ears, hands hovering over the ends which were considerably shorter since he had seen her last.

Elain laughed softly and Azriel’s heart leapt at the beauty of the sound.

“You can’t be here,” he repeated.

“It’s okay,” she soothed, stroking down his forearms and resting her forehead on his.

Exhaustion threatened to pull him into sleep but he forced himself to keep looking at her.

“You came for me.”

“Of course I did.”

The way she looked at him, open and trusting and full of relief… he stared and stared, commiting the perfection of it to memory. He traced the fullness of her bottom lip with his thumb, felt her warm breath against it as her mouth parted slightly. Her eyes shuttered close and he didn’t hesitate as he pulled her towards him.

The kiss was soft, slow, tender. The pressure of her mouth a comfort against his own. His hand moved to the back of her head, her hair like silk against his fingers as she melted into him. It was unlike any kiss he had ever had; familiar and yet electric, like he knew exactly how they should fit together even though they had never done this. Because it was Elain. His Elain.

“You should have done that sooner,” she whispered as they parted and Azriel winced at the bark of laughter that escaped from him. “Careful there,” she giggled, wrapping her arm around his side. “Can you stand?”

He leant against her as he pushed himself up, slinging an arm across her shoulders, and nodded.

“Nice leathers by the way.”

She rolled her eyes as they hobbled to the now open cell door. “I assume you’re the one to thank for these?”

“It’s kind of the spy uniform.”

They were shuffling down the hallway now, passing the rooms the others had been contained to. As if reading his thoughts, Elain squeezed him gently against her.

“They got out, they should be with Nuala and Cerridwen now.”

They were reaching the end of the passage and he instinctively tightened his grip around her shoulders.

“I passed him on the way in,” she said quietly.

Good, that was good she’d gotten past.

“He’s still in there then?”

She didn’t reply, and he didn’t notice that she had slowed. Only when he took a shaky step forward and her warmth suddenly dropped away from him, did he stop to look back at her. She had paused outside Agnes and Mairi’s cell, staring through the bars.

“Don’t look at him, Elain.”

“Can you make it out?” She breathed. “On your own?”

“Why would I need to…”

She was holding a set of keys in her hand, knuckles white as she gripped them, still fixed on the room.

“Elain?”

When she finally looked back at him there were tears in her eyes.

He took a tentative step towards her.

“Don’t hate me.” Her voice was so small.

“I don’t understand.”

But she was moving again, faster than he could. She ripped open the cell door and closed it tightly behind her. The click of a lock telling him she had sealed it from the inside.

“Elain!”

Finally, he took in the room.

The Procurist was awake, leaned against the back wall with one leg propping himself up. There were spots of blood on his clothes but no arrows in him. He smiled as he looked at Elain, then back at Azriel.

“Do we have an understanding?” She asked.

“I take you, I leave him.”

“I think the fuck not,” Azriel gritted out.

What was happening? He felt like he was floating outside of his body. Unable to make sense of what he was seeing before him.

“Go, Azriel,” Elain pleaded. “The others are waiting for you.”

“Elain.” He shut out the fact his captor was hearing him beg.

The Procurist moved forward so him and Elain were almost chest to chest.

“Whatever you’re doing, please, don’t.”

They ignored him.

“Are you ready, fawn?”

Elain met Azriel’s wide-eyed gaze, a tear sliding down her cheek. “I’ll be okay,” she whispered. “Trust me.”

Then she looked back at The Procurist but he wasn’t looking at her, no, his eyes locked with Azriel’s as he snaked an arm around Elain’s waist and kissed her, hard.

And there was nothing but a roar in the Shadowsinger’s head as he helplessly watched them winnow away.

Read part 10

•••

Tags: @lavenderbloomsinthegarden @greenleaf777 @sakurakittypeach @diabookmama @downingg2001 @teapagesandpetals @nxs98 @merakimoonglade @fanged-beast33