#elwing x reader

[elficially-done-with-life]

I won't write about Galadriel. Listen, I think Galadriel's actress from RoP is absolutely stunning, but firstly I still haven't watched the show, and secondly, when I first watched LotR as a child I always saw Galadriel as this wise grandmotherly figure. So writing for her would feel a bit strange, I am very sorry.

[goatcheesecak3]

Morning routine headcanons

Lawrence Gordon x gn!reader

Lawrence is most definitely a morning person, he loves to get up bright and early and make a nice breakfast.

Most days he makes two fried eggs, and some toast with avocados, and he does NOT skimp on the seasoning. He's really into fancy food and he considers himself a bit of a whiz in the kitchen.

He loves to wake you up with breakfast in bed, he knows you're not a morning person so he does his best to help get your day off to a good start.

Sometimes you'll get up to find him at at the kitchen table, sipping a mug of incredibly milky coffee, a dressing gown on and a morning paper in his hand. He loves to start his day off by reading the comics- he really loves garfield.

While you're frantically rushing around getting ready for work, Lawrence is usually glued to the bathroom mirror fixing his hair so it looks just right.

He's more than capable of tying his own tie, but insists that you do it for him. There's just something about watching you straighten his collar that just makes him melt.

On weekends when neither of you have to work, he tries to get out of bed early to help maintain his routine, but if you give him the puppy dog eyes he'll gladly stay in bed and cuddle with you

He showers in the morning, and there is no better sight than Larry stepping out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, messy wet hair and his tummy chub right there in front of you. Sometimes you think he does it just to be a tease.

He's a big tea drinker, he has an entire shelf in his kitchen dedicated to different herbal teas that all treat different ailments. - "let me make you a cup of green tea, sweetheart, it'll boost your energy for the day!"

He loves to grow his own herbs, and on the kitchen windowsill he has a little row of herbs which he waters every morning, marvelling at how well his "little babies" are growing

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Unwinding

Dr. Lawrence Gordon x Apprentice!Reader NSFW

Prompt: Lawrence wants to keep reader safe after tagging along on one of their missions. Giving her a hotel card for them to meet up after everything is done.

CW: nipple play, p in v, creampie,

a/n: I CRAVE more Lawrence in the new Saw movie, I need him back. I need MORE apprentice Larry!!! PLEASE TWISTED PICTURES HEAR MY PLEES!!!!!!!!! anywho- I dont hype him up often on here, but when I originally watched the movies as a preteen I loved Larry so much he was one of my favorite characters but it made me mad he cheated on his wife. now I'm a chainshipper, weird how we change

~~~

Long day. What an understatement.

You had been instructed by John to scout out another victim he had hand picked. Tagging along with Amanda to discreetly kidnap them from their job. Lawrence had warned you about the security of the building. Offering to be the one driving the two of you to the site. Amanda wanted no part of Lawrence's involvement, but you did not mind it.

Lawrence had been a pivotal part of your adaptation and healing post game. Mending the injuries you had taken during your game. Calming you down from the persistent panic attack over taking your nerves as your hands were covered in blood. Body having some deep gashes and hair stained dark with blood that you were not even sure was yours. Gloved hands flattening along your hair as he gently cleaned you up. Washing off your revealed body to make sure he could tend to all your wounds. Something rather intimate for someone you did not even know.

You had no idea surviving something so horrific would lead you into a new line of work. Being scouted in by the Jigsaw killer you heard about on the news. Finding some form of stability in your previously hectic life. Butting heads with some of your new colleagues, but never Lawrence. He had a soft spot for you. Taking care of you in anyway he could. Always agreeing with your ideas. Sending Mark and Amanda off to some of the more dangerous situations as to not put you in danger.

"I'm going with you, that's final," Lawrence put his foot down to Amanda. The three of you dressed in your black robes. Mark stood off in the distance tinkering with some gadget for a game that would occur later this week. Audibly rolling his eyes at the fight going on amongst you. John sat in the corner of the room taking in breath from his oxygen tank. Silently watching the two of them argue.

"What are you even going to be able to help with? Not like you can provide any muscle, cripple," Amanda hissed at him. Angry at him questioning her competence.

"Amanda, that'e enough," John finally intervened. His weak voice still powerful in pulling all your attention to him. Amanda's face contorted in confusion and frustration, "But-"

"I'm instructing the three of you to go together. You and Y/N can handle getting them, then Dr. Gordon can set the trap up," John coughed with his words. His statement being final say in what was going to happen. Lawrence had to fight the grin begging to creep upon his face. Amanda was speechless, storming off. Lawrence gave you a secret look with a smile. You blushed at his blue eyes.

You and Lawrence followed a distance behind Amanda towards the car. Silent in the long hallways other than the click of Dr. Gordon’s cane against the floor. You had a grueling night ahead of you. Amanda slammed the double doors open, Larry put his cane in front of you to stop you. Allowing the doors to shut before he spoke.

“I want you to be safe. You can handle getting them, I have no doubt about that. But I want you to go here while you wait for the trap to be set up,” he slipped you a room card for a nearby hotel, “You know just as well as I do, Amanda won’t let me do this alone. It’s dangerous for three of us to try and leave the location. I’ll meet you there when everything is done so we can get you out of there.”

You shyly nodded, stowing the card away in your tight back pocket. Blushing at the thought of sharing a hotel room with the doctor. Knowing you would not be staying there long. Fantasizes filled your mind.

…

The night has went accordingly. Capturing the person you were sent for, making sure to fill them with enough narcotic that they would not fight back. Departing from Amanda and Lawrence hesitantly after you got them shoved in the trunk.

You paced around the room of the dingy hotel. Somewhere you could stay without a trace. Leaving your robes and mask behind in the car. You worried for the two of them. They were not exactly the best team together. No where near as bad as Amanda and Mark, but still a lack of respect between them.

The knock he had told you would signal it was him made you jump out of your skin. Walking over and looking through the peephole, seeing Lawrence with disheveled hair from the mask he wore behind removed.

You unlocked the deadbolt. Allowing him to open the door on his own. His defeated figure painted the doorway. Limping inside the room. No words being spoken between you. He was clearly distressed. His cane clanked louder than before.

Larry sighed harshly as he sat on the edge of the bed. Laying back onto the old mattress. Cane propped against the edge of the mattress. Black cloak draping off his sides revealing his shirt underneath. Noticing how it was ever so slightly untucked. Your eyes fixated on the bit of bare tummy showing. Swirling around in your stomach with your infatuation for him.

"Did you get it all set up?" You broke the stiff silence in the room.

The doctor sighed again. Head tilting to look at you, "Not without Amanda telling me a million different ways to do it."

You smiled softly at him. Amanda believed she was John's favorite, often making her cocky. You knew better than anyone that Lawrence was John's true favorite. He was the one who made most of the traps and games possible. Having connections and abilities that far surpassed all of yours. You admired how he overcame so much.

"This was one of the most stressful weeks I've had since... well, you know," he gestured towards his amputated leg. A defeated chuckled escaped his lungs. Body sore and tired. Amanda forcing him to do most of the heavy lifting out of spite for him taking over the mission.

Your mind wandered. Eyes dancing down from his exposed skin to his groin. Imaging what he was hiding under his slacks. Thinking of taking a chance with him.

You walked over, standing directly in front of his flattened body. Watching his chest rise and fall with the breaths filling his lungs. Crawling onto his lap and straddling his hips. Lawrence's hands instinctively ran up your thighs, resting on your hips. Deep blue eyes meeting your lust blown ones.

"What is it, Y/N?"

Your hands ghosted up his body, resting against his shoulders. "I can help you relieve some stress, Doctor," you batted your lashes at him.

Lawrence's jaw tensed as he chuckled softly to himself. "And how exactly are you gonna do that, darling?"

He was agging you on. Clearly enjoying the closeness of your bodies. Your fingers traveled to his buttons, undoing them slowly down his chest. Once complete, your hands grazed up his torso kneading his soft flesh. Lips falling against his clavicle, kissing along his neck. Deep moans formed inside him. One of his hands tangled in your hair, forcing you to look up at him. Forcing your lips against his. Feverish kisses were exchanged between you. Lawrence’s tongue darting between your lips as he lapped into your mouth.

You began grinding your hips down on his groin. Feeling his semi-hard cock against your core. His sounds of enjoyment vibrated your lips. You ran your nails down his exposed torso. His hands tugged at your shirt, urging you to pull it over your head. You undressed your upper half for him. Throwing your shirt somewhere in the floor behind you. Hands reaching around to awkwardly undo the clasp of your bra. Exposing your bare breasts to him. His eyes fixated on your chest. Leaning forward and taking one of your nipples between his lips. Tongue flicking and sucking at the tender bulb. Pulling quick and squeaky moans from you. Jaw hanging open as you locked eyes with him. His mouth shifting over to the other to give them the same attention.

You sat straight up, scooting so that you could reach his belt and zipper. Staring at how his erection pressed firmly against the seem. Begging to be freed from its confides. Your nails clanged against the metal belt buckle. Slowly and sensually pulling down his zipper. Lawrence had himself propped up on his elbows making sure he could watch as you crawled back down into the floor, pulling his trousers down his legs with you. Tent pitched up in his boxer-briefs. The tip of his cock leaking precum darkening the soft fabric.

You removed your own bottoms, fully taking off your pants and underwear. Soaked core tingling against the cold air of the room. You rested your hands on his thighs, towering over him on the bed. Hand wrapping around his member through his underwear. Lawrence’s face contorted in pleasure as your hand wrapped and twisted around his shaft. “Yes— God— yes,” he chanted to you. You took your lip between your teeth, adoring all the grunts and moans coming from the man below you.

Deciding to mount him once more. Bare pussy resting against his thighs framing his cock. Deep blue eyes met yours as his jaw hung open.

“Can I fuck you, Doctor Gordon?”

“Fuck— please,” his soft eyes pleaded with you. Fingertips pulling the elastic down his legs, cock springing free. Bouncing slightly as is curved towards his stomach. Thick and swollen. Aching for some attention from you. You pumped it in your hand for a moment, thumb swirling around the leaking head. Moving to be grinding him between your slick folds. Moaning each time the head rubbed against your clit. Thick fingers dug into your hips as he moved along with your body. Chest harshly rising and falling with each hard breath he took in.

Your fingers wrapped around his base, lining him up with your entrance. Sinking down onto his girth. Stretching your walls and needing to adjust to his size. You squinted your eyes shut at the feeling of him, silently morphing your mouth into an O. Slowly hopping up and down to get yourself adjusted, finally feeling him slide all the way inside. Your hands gripped at his chest to balance.

“You’re so tight, dear,” Lawrence praised as his head fell back onto the mattress. Finding a rhythm that fit you. Lewd and sloppy sounds filled the room. Lost in the feeling of his thick cock filling you to the hilt. Tits bouncing around your chest as your smacked together.

Lawrence’s finger outlined your hips, sliding down to your sensitive nub. Circling it gentle but firm. Causing you to arch your back and call out to him. Panting his name as you grinded down quicker against him. “‘M gonna make you cum around my cock,” he panted. Your nails dug into the soft flesh of his torso, grazing down to his plush stomach. Soft hair dancing along the pads of your fingers.

One of his hands curved under your thigh, urging you to go higher. Lawrence’s eyes fixated on where the two of you met. How his cock was covered in your juices and how you looked taking him inside you. Helping you bounce up and down on him, fingers never ceasing their pace on your clit. A sexual coil wound up. Feeling your legs begin shaking when he would hit that perfect spot. The head of his cock pressing against that spongy place that had you seeing stars.

“You have the perfect cock, Doctor,” you whined. Throat tightening as you continued closer to your finish line. Lawrence smiled below you, tongue coming out to glaze his teeth.

“I could fuck you forever. Keep you all to myself. Make sure no one ever hurts you again,” Lawrence’s fingers danced along the scars on your stomach from your trap. Swearing with gritted teeth at the memory. Hands praised your figure. Promising to keep you close to him.

“I’m so close,” you huffed.

“I know, dear. I can feel you,” Lawrence smiled up at you. Eyes immediately falling back down to where he penetrated you. You were a few more swirls of fingers away from your end. Chest tingling with arousal.

“Can I cum inside you?” Lawrence asked, locking sincere blue eyes with yours. You nodded silently unable to form words. Lawrence began snapping his hips up into yours. Ruthlessly fucking you to your orgasm. Heat washed down your skin as you screamed a moan. Rutting your hips forward against his ever moving fingers. Cock nestled as deeply as possible, feeling your walls constrict around him. Loving the warmth of your climax coating his cock. Shortly starting fucking up into you again.

Your body spasmed as he thrusted into your sensitive core. Lawrence sputtered as he held you flush against his groin. Cock twitching and shooting sticky hot white all over your insides. Your pussy still in aftershock, practically milking every drop out of him. “You take it so well,” Lawrence mewled. Stretching his neck back as his fingers dug into your skin, begging to break it.

Both of you panting heavily. Savoring the afterglow. Large hands petted your skin. You rest forward keeping his softening length inside you. Your fronts completely pressed together. Lawrence kissed your head tenderly. Adoring the way you perfectly melted to his fronts. Both your bodies covered in sweat.

“You’ve definitely relieved some stress for me, love,” Lawrence joked. You smiled leaning up to kiss his lips.

“I owe you my life, Lawrence. I’d do anything to make you happy,” you softly spoke against his body.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading!! I love Larry and look forward to writing more for him. If you have any requests, please shoot them my way! //

{tags}

@iwmflbb ~ @toastnpretzels ~

[ilovebuthatemen]

Please feel free to roll the requests in! I wanna do as much writing as I can before I head back to school!!

Reminder that I take: Austin butler (& characters), Jacob Elordi (& characters), Costas Mandylor (& characters), Tom Blyth (& characters), Cary Elwes (& characters).

[captainsophiestark]

The Reunion Scene

Westley x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: The Princess Bride

Day 10 Prompt: "It's alright, I'm here now."

Summary: Westley and his love reunite after she shoves him off a cliff, before realizing who he was of course.

Word Count: 1,070

Category: Fluff

A/N: I'm reading the Princess Bride novel and apparently "The Reunion Scene" in the book between Westley and Buttercup is a bit of a running gag (the wikipedia article can give a quick walk through for anyone curious), so I decided to write it! In the book, it's described as a three page scene, which is about the length of this. For anyone unaware of the wild lore behind the novel, I highly recommend a Wikipedia deep dive, it's very entertaining

Tagging @auroracalisto as my fellow Princess Bride fan :) Hope you're having an amazing first semester teaching!!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I planted both hands against the chest of the man before me and shoved with all my strength, sending him careening over the cliff's edge. He'd killed my dearest love, and now returned to mock me, to dare imply I hadn't loved Westley. Whatever happened to me, I couldn't stand this man a minute longer. I shoved him of the cliff, listening to whatever he screamed as he tumbled to the ground below.

"As... you... wish..."

My heart stopped in my chest at the words of my love coming from the mouth of the Dread Pirate Roberts, tumbling down from the cliff I'd just shoved him off of. My Westley, alive, and falling. It couldn't be possible, but it was.

"Westley!" I cried, immediately rushing to follow him down the cliff. I tried to keep my feet under me, and I made it some of the way before gravity caught up to me and sent me tumbling, head over heels. I landed at the bottom, right next to Westley, who still wore his mask. Our eyes locked, and despite the lingering pain from my fall, I surged forward and ripped the mask from his face.

Staring back at me, by some miracle, was Westley. My farm boy. He looked different, older, stronger, and a little of the soft innocence had gone, but he was here. Not dead, like I'd thought him to be for the last three years. Alive, and now, with me.

"Oh, Westley!" My heart sang as I flung my arms around his neck. Without a second's hesitation, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me to him. I moved to kiss him, but to my surprise, he pulled back.

"Won't your betrothed take issue with you kissing another man?"

"Humperdinck? Westley, I've already told you, I don't love him-"

"And yet you agreed to marry him. There was not a moment these past years I didn't think of you. But you agreed to give up on me, on love."

Now it was my turn to pull back a little. My brow furrowed, but Westley's expression didn't soften as his piercing blue-gray eyes surveyed me.

"Westley, I thought you dead," I said plainly, still a little shocked at his reaction. "Not a day has gone by that I didn't think of you, to mourn you. My heart was ripped out of my chest the day news came of your death, and I've had to live every day since dealing with the loss of my love.

"And besides that, Westley, I didn't seek the prince out. He found me, and proposed, since he was looking for a wife and found me beautiful. He knows and accepts that there's no love in our union, and he made it very clear that refusing a request from the crown prince would result in death. Death I would gladly accept, if I had ever thought there was any chance of you returning to me from the dead."

A cold fire lit behind Westley's eyes at my words, and when he spoke again, his voice was dangerously low and quiet.

"He's forcing you to marry him?"

I shrugged. "There are worse fates than being Queen, Westley. But none of that matters, not now that I know you live. Nothing matters at all anymore, Westley, so long as we are together."

He sighed, pulling me to him again, resting his forehead against mine. I brought my hand up to his chest, resting it there so I could feel his heartbeat and reassure myself that this was real. Westley was truly here.

"It's alright, I'm here now," he said, reading my mind as his hand came up to gently stroke my cheek. "My ship waits for us not far from here. It's not going to be easy for us... we'll have to go through the fire swamp..."

"We'll make it through," I said, running my hand through the hair at the base of his neck now. I smiled at him, all the love in my heart glowing through. "We'll make it through anything together."

"Then we haven't any time to waste. We must move quickly."

"Wait!"

Westley froze, halfway up from our position on the hill, but he sank back down at my outburst. His eyes never left mine once. His eyebrow quirked slightly in silent question, and I didn't wait to give him his answer.

I rushed forward, kissing Westley hard, like I'd wished for a chance to do every day for the past three years. He immediately returned the kiss, pulling me into his arms and holding me so close to his chest I could feel our hearts beating in sync.

There have been five kisses in the history of the world deemed so passionate, so perfect and full of love, above and beyond anything else that's ever happened. I was no expert on it, but in that moment, I knew this one blew every other kiss before it away.

Neither one of us wanted to pull away, but finally, Westley did. He kept staring into my eyes, gravity trying to pull us back to each other, but with a grimace of regret he leaned further back.

"We really need to keep moving. If we're to stay ahead of your pig fiancé, we have no time to waste."

"Just promise me a million more moments like this, for the rest of our lives."

Westley smiled. "As you wish."

I beamed as Westley pulled me to my feet, and the two of us began heading through the ravine we'd tumbled into and towards the Fire Swamp, hand in hand.

No doubt, the challenges ahead would be dire and terrible beyond imagining. But I knew confidently that we would survive them. My Westley was still in the world, and even better, he was with me. There was no other ending but for the two of us to be happily together.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Lawrence Gordon - In a relationship

Warning : fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, implied smut, chance of mind, loss of a foot

Info : So back at it again with another Saw fic and this time our favorite doctor Lawrence Gordon Ladies and Gentleman. Have fun reading ;)

masterlist

--------------------------

°Loving and Obsessive

°You would meet in medical school, he on his way to becoming a doctor and you a nurse. You would study together in the big library and meet from time to time outside the university. What were initially coffee dates soon became restaurant visits and more romantic gestures from Lawrence. He loved to give you the flirt and tease you until you could finally see each other again.

°The late night learning led to you waking up together in a bed with books and papers spread out and you felt his arm around you as he murmured ,,Good morning" to you. The time between you was full of love and you even thought for a while that you would move in together and get married so lovingly he treated you. So often he had given you gifts, adored you and loved you.

°But when you both finished your studies, it was he who showed up with another woman by his side. A doctor not a nurse like you, it was she he took with him and left you behind. An incident that saw and even took you some time to start working in a hospital always with the fear that you would meet him.

°But with time the pain passed and you seemed to be over it, much to your delight. Until you took a new job in a new hospital and ran into a certain doctor on your ward. ,,Lawrence?" she said in confusion, seeing the man she had once loved as older, handsomer and prettier. But she saw the gold ring on his finger and how he looked at her in surprise and didn't seem to believe that she was here with him.

°But she walked past him, left him standing there and felt him looking after her. But she quickly had to admit to herself that her heart had never stopped beating for him, that she still loved him and that his advances to woo her were becoming more and more obvious. At first it was apologies and gestures, but when he reached for her in the medicine room and she let the door fall shut, it was silent between them.

°His bright eyes went to hers and she saw him watching her again with that loving expression before they kissed and found each other again in the darkness of the room. Knowing that he was married, the relationship between them was stronger than ever. But she noticed that he was becoming more cunning, perhaps even a little arrogant in his work and loved it when she praised him.

°She still loved it when he could give her presents and she was his pretty jewel. Until the incident when he suddenly disappeared and was gone for months he had disappeared during which time you searched for him not giving him up and found out through a couple of relationships how his wife had not been seen either. Had he disappeared?

°No, after months of pain and crying because you thought he had left you after all, someone rang your doorbell at night. Standing at the door in the rain was a frail, aged Lawrence Gordon. There was pain and apology in his gaze before tears came to your eyes and you fell into his arms before calling him in.

°But the biggest shock was when you watched him as his eyes fled from the light that seemed too bright, his different gait and you saw the prosthetic on his foot. How you made him soup and gave him blankets and towels and held him while he stifled his tears and reached for the painkiller instead.

°Since then he had changed and didn't want to tell you what had happened, you helped him to get better as best you could and had long since become so devoted to him that he was your everything and vice versa. But in his new way he had a goal, a goal which he took more seriously than anything else. But at some point you found out yourself what had happened when you met Lawrence with John in your house at night.

°You knew the older man, you had seen him in the hospital and the fact that he was the Jigsaw killer would have almost pulled the rug out from under you if Lawrence hadn't supported you. But since then you've been another piece of the puzzle in the game, you've been the eyes and ears in the hospital, and like Lawrence, you've become more and more absorbed in his new role, his new purpose.

He still loved you and took you, but the ropes with which he tied you up, looked at you and let you hang from the ceiling seemed to get tighter and tighter. His gestures more demanding and more demanding but his voice every time made you lose your mind while you took your role and he gave you everything you wanted. You were his darling.

°You came with him to the meeting of the victims, standing by his side with your hand on his shoulder. How he saw there his walking stick in the hand that you had chosen with him. It only made him more handsome for you and you both pulled the strings like spiders in the background during the games.

°It was you who stood at the end, carrying on the legacy and yet giving yourselves to each other. You took the heart he had and he gave you the love you needed. You were the king and queen in the game.

---------

@a-writer-on-elm-street

[umnitsa]

Out of the frying pan, into the fire

Summary: Your lover (the asshole mayor of Hawkins) surprises you by granting your wishes (intimate time with the town's broody pill-popping drunk womanizer, the chief of police). <3

A/N: I was just trying to please myself and I hope it will please some fellow freaks out there XD This could be read as the start of a series, and I can't promise myself I won't write anymore. I just love them too much. Written with reckless abandon and no proofreading

Pairing: Larry Kline x fem!Reader x Hopper

CW: everybody is an asshole in a playful way, oral, PIV (no condoms, but really, this is a fantasy. Be responsible etc), size kink (hopper is big), some degradation, me trying to write dirty talk should be a CW for itself.

You had to admit you didn’t make the best choices. This one was bad, but god, if it wasn’t fun.

Larry was adjusting his cuffs and tie right before going on the little stage for his speech. He looked at you over his sunglasses and smiled brightly, raising his eyebrows. You smiled back, and nodded. His smile turned into a smirk, and he licked his lips.

You could feel yourself getting wet. That was a promise.

He winked and marched to the center of the stage, leaving you to think.

Larry Kline, the mayor, was an asshole. You worked for him, and you were fucking him. There was no other word for what the two of you were doing.

You sighed. Here is the thing: he can be very seductive. And he is gorgeous. The first time you gave in to your desire (and curiosity), you didn’t have a lot of expectations. You thought he was too much of a peacock to be any good in bed, too arrogant.

Somehow into that selfish head of his, Larry understood that sexual power, being good in bed, meant focusing on giving pleasure. It was easy to get addicted. You did. Sometimes you thought of his wife and of any other women he was probably fucking around (and with the amount of time he spent with you, you were his favorite, or he didn’t need to sleep), but you always fell when he licked his lips at you, the intense, focused look. As if he was going to devour you right then and there. It was as if it was taking all of his control not to pounce on you.

You just gave in. Happily.

And as he took you to distant motels, restaurants, and even bars (he wanted to dance with you; that was a whole other story), Larry used his charm to pull your deepest, darkest desires from you. He listened to your dirty confessions, smiling attentively, making small playful comments.

He remembered them. All of them.

Larry was always delighted to fulfill your fantasies.

Sometimes you wondered if it was a kind of love.

You sighed as Larry spoke, wondering how it would be to have a real, normal relationship with someone good for you.

You had to admit your taste for men didn't help. The only other man you found attractive in the town was the broody pill-popping drunk womanizer, the chief of police.

You scanned the crowd, and there he was, towering over everybody, looking annoyed, as always. Hopper rarely smiled; even when he did, it didn’t look natural. He was the talk of the town. He had fucked half the community, and they did TALK.

Hopper was all big. And the word in the town was that he knew how to use his body.

You were always waiting for new stories in the gossip mill, more dirty details; with the way Larry occupied your time, it was all you could do.

Hopper moved slightly, and you realized you got caught staring. He smirked, looking surprised. Then he looked to your right. A bit up.

You followed his line of vision and found Larry looking at you with that damned smirk of his. He looked at Hopper, then back at you, eyebrows raised in surprise. He had just finished the speech and was walking back to your side.

“Really?” Larry chuckled amusedly as he stood before you, legs apart and hands on his hips. “Him?”

You blushed and looked down awkwardly.

“Okay, then.” Larry laughed, cocking his head, as he touched your arm and led you to a more private area, away from the crowd. “I’m just surprised, sweetheart. I have seen your wandering eyes, and I didn’t think that was your type.”

“C’mon, Larry,” You blushed. “You don’t need to make fun of me.”

“Aw, darling. I’m not making fun of you. I’m just surprised.” He licked his lips and grinned.

He did need to create a relationship with Hopper, at least get on good terms with the chief. Maybe you could help him. Larry saw his sneaky glances and he was sure Hopper would have already put his moves on you if you didn’t work for him. At least the man was respectful of boundaries.

You awkwardly looked up at Larry, and he smiled, almost sweetly.

“It’s ok, darling.” He held your hand discreetly, caressing your hand with his thumb. He had that impish smile of his, and you know he was already scheming something.

You couldn’t help but feel somewhat excited.

You had already forgotten the conversation when it finally happened…

You were on your knees, half tucked into Larry's desk, his cock sliding gently through your lips. Larry was leaning back, cupping your cheek with one of his hands, his thick fingers sliding against your cheek as he looked down at you, his expression almost loving.

“You know your safeword, don’t you, darling?” His fingertips slid gently over your skin, then buried themselves in your hair, as he sighed. Larry was leaning back, looking down at you with a gentle smile as he played with your hair. You nodded. “Darling… I want to hear you.”

“Red.” You mumbled around his cock and he laughed, tugging on your hair. You sighed and pulled back, sitting on your heels. “Red.”

“Good.” He shifted on the chair and leaned forward, smirking. “We are going to play today.” He caressed your cheek, his eyes softening, as he looked into yours. “I’m going to have a meeting now. And you’re going to keep sucking me. If you want to stop, you can pat my leg. Whatever happens, if you want to stop, just say your safeword, don’t worry about us getting caught. I can deal with it.”

“Don’t worry.” You nodded, smiling. “I know.”

”Good.” Larry said, still smirking, and he had the audacity to wink. You chuckled, shaking your head, his hand gently caressing your hair. He looked into your eyes for a moment, then tugged your hair, directing you back to his cock. “Be a good girl for me.”

You went back to sucking him, slowly, gently sliding your tongue over and around the head. Larry moaned, back to playing with your hair.

After a while, you heard a knock on the door, the sound of it opening, and then the secretary’s voice: “Chief is here”.

You whimpered, Larry covering your noise with his voice.

“Good, let him in. And you can take your lunch.” He said, smiling brightly.

The door closed, and after a while it opened again, heavy steps following. Larry combed your hair with his fingers; he leaned forward, legs apart, pulling your head, sliding his whole cock into your mouth, and keeping you in place. You exhaled a shaky breath, eyes fluttering close. His hand moved soothingly over the back of your head.

“What do you want?” Hopper gruffed, followed by a thump.

“I want to bury the hatchet, Jim.” Larry said, very matter of fact. “We both have our differences, but we can at least be civil in public.”

“You’re just worried about your image,” Hopper scoffed.

“Yes, I am! And you should be too, you’re the chief of police.” Larry tugged on your hair, letting you breathe. He let you pull away a bit, but kept your head still, his cock resting against your tongue. You breathed through your nose, slowly, calmly. “And to seal this I have a gift for you!”

“What the fuck, Larry.” Hopper chuckled low.

“I saw the way you look at my assistant,” Larry said, softly. Then he added, quickly, probably to placate the giant in front of him. “Hey, I understand. She’s adorable, funny, smart… But there is something even better about her.” His cock hardened even more in your mouth, oozing precome in pulses over your tongue. “She’s a dirty little thing, lovely. Such a delightful little slut… You turn her on and she’ll do practically anything… And happily.”

“Kline…” Hopper warned him, but Larry just didn’t care.

“You look at her face, you can’t tell it, but she is a dirty little thing. She just… never lets go. For as long as you wanna fuck her, she’ll take it. Anywhere. I just love having my cock inside her... Hell, I wish I could stake claim to her publicly, she makes me so happy.” You felt his hand on your hair, caressing gently, as he pulsed in your mouth, forcing you to swallow around him. “She begs, Hopper… So beautifully… Anyway, that is my gift for you; I’ll let you play with my favorite little whore.”

The soft scruffle of feet made you wonder what was happening in the room. Larry pulled you forward a bit, his cock still in your mouth; so you open your eyes, looking up. You were already wet, but the sight made you gasp.

Hopper was standing beside Larry, one hand on the back of his chair, towering over the both of you; he looked surprised, his eyebrows arching high, but you could see desire on his face. And his cock slowly hardening in his pants.

“Look at that! Such a good girl.” Larry softly said, before pulling the cock from your mouth and pushing the chair back. He offered you his hand; his other hand gently massaging his own cock. You took his hand and he pulled you from under his desk, making you stand up. “Perfect, look at her.”

You just stood there, with big wide eyes, looking from Hopper to Larry, a bit anxious. Larry winked at you, petting your hand gently. Hopper grabbed his belt with both hands and looked you over, slowly, a small smile on his face.

“I like the idea, but I need to hear it from her.” Hopper cocked his head, eyes focused on yours. “I can see you’re enjoying yourself, with the way you’re squirming, but I need to ask. Are you on board with this, young lady? Can I touch you?” He chuckled as you nodded eagerly. “Words.”

“Yes, please.” You whined, holding Larry’s hand, but leaning towards Hopper. You heard Larry chuckling beside you as if saying ‘I told you so’. “My safeword is red.”

Larry laughed at how eager you looked, squeezing your hand. You looked at him and he nodded to you, leaning to give you a gentle, but passionate kiss. With a wink, he moved away, to the other side of the desk.

You heard the sound of Hopper’s belt clinking as he pulled it open and dropped it on the chair. With a warm smile, he held your hand and placed it on the bulge on his pants.

“Your man made good points,” Hopper said, as you unbuttoned his pants. “And you looked so good with his cock in your mouth….”

You got on your knees so quickly it pulled a chuckle from Larry, and that made Hopper shoot an irritated look at the mayor. Larry just shrugged with a crooked smirk on his face, his hand lazily working his cock.

“So you’re gonna watch,” Hopper growled.

“Yeah, I’m gonna watch,” Larry said, amusedly. “I know for a fact you’re not always careful with the toys, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Fair enough.” Hopper chuckled darkly, playing with your hair. You opened his pants, tugging his underwear down; you couldn’t stop from gasping.

The gossip was accurate. Hopper was huge. it wasn't the length that scared you, but the girth; his cock was thick, and you were suddenly shocked by the realization that he wasn't completely hard.

“I know the women all talk. Is it like you imagined?” Hopper pushed his hips forward; his heavy cock bobbed toward you.

“I wish I…” You said, distractedly, your voice soft. “I mean… I don't have much time to think of these things.” You chuckled softly and sneaked a look at Kline, who just laughed.

Hopper grunted, annoyed, then pushed the head of his cock between your lips. You moaned, feeling him slide his length over your tongue. Your eyes fluttered close and he sighed, leaning and cupping the back of your head.

You felt his thick fingers caressing your hair gently, as he pushed your head to him, slowly. The moment the tip of his cock touched your throat, he grunted; after a gentle prod, he pulled back again, sighing.

You suckled on his cock, gently but eagerly. His hand kept playing with your hair guiding your head; he was fucking your face ever so gently and the realization made you whine.

Your eyes rolled back, and you heard some noise from Larry. He was standing up and moving in the room. It didn't take long for you to hear his voice, his lips close to your ear.

“Thank you, darling,” Larry whispered into your ear. “For being a good girl, for me.”

You whimpered, grabbing Hopper’s thighs. Your eyes closed, focused on Larry’s voice, Hopper’s taste on your tongue. Larry always praised you when you were doing something that felt dirty. He was absolutely shameless, but he knew you were not. So he always gave you what you wanted, and made sure you had to admit to yourself you enjoyed yourself thoroughly. You loved being his ‘little whore’ as he lovingly called you.

“I thought you were just going to watch,” Hopper grunted, but in too much pleasure to sound annoyed.

“I’m helping.” Larry stood up. “We don’t have much time, she needs to be prepared for that monster of yours.”

“Let me do it,” Hopper said, looking into your eyes and smiling, his hands around your face, gently. He pulled from your mouth, sighing. “I wish I had more time to play with you, sweetheart; and I really want to fuck you. Stand up.”

“This is just an introduction. If she likes you, we can set something up.”

“We? So you’re going to watch every time?” Hopper asked Larry, as you stood up. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around you, then his lips were over yours.

“She wants me to watch. She knows I like seeing her enjoying herself.” Larry said, very matter of fact. He was right, you wanted him to watch, to take care of you as you had your fun. “Besides, maybe you get used to me, and we can fuck her together. I’m pretty sure she would love to have you up her ass, while I fuck her lovely pussy.”

Larry knew dirty talk was a weakness of yours and he played the part to perfection. You looked at him, mouth half open, eyes wide, and nodded.

“She really likes dirty talk,” He shrugged, talking to Hopper. “You should try telling her what you want to do.”

Hopper growled, grabbed the hair on the back of your head, and kissed you again, one hand sliding over your back and squeezing your ass.

“Take your panties off and lay on the desk, face up.” He said, softly against your lips.

You did as you were told, as Hopper took his pants off and opened his shirt. You could see he wanted so much more of this encounter. Larry could see it too, and it made him feel proud of you. His beautiful little slut.

Larry fondly looked at you, squeezing his cock, his eyes soft and gentle.

“Look at that.” Hopper muttered to himself, rubbing his thumb up and down your pussy, “Pretty.” He leaned and licked you gently, his pleasure evident in his moans. “So wet.”

You moaned, his voice vibrating against your skin. Larry chuckled, which made Hopper grunt and stand up.

“I really hope you stay quiet next time, Larry.” Hopper almost growled, sneering.

“Next time?” You asked, softly, surprised.

“Of course, sweetheart.” You could feel Hopper’s cock, the head thick and hard, pressed against your hole. “If this hole feels half as good as your mouth, there will be several next times.”

He thrusted, pressing the tip of his cock lightly into your hole repeatedly. You relaxed, moaned and he inched forward, then pulled back, going back to his gentle thrusting. You whimpered at his size. There was no pain, just an exquisite burning as he kept moving, teasing.

“That’s just the tip, baby.” Hopper grabbed your hips, tense. You were so warm, so tight, his whole body screamed for him to just bully his cock into your cunt in one thrust. You grabbed his hands, as he kept moving, inching inside you every few thrusts. “Gonna make it fit, don’t worry, sweetheart.”

Larry watched, from the side, smiling. You were beautiful, wide eyed, your eyes blinking back tears, your mouth half open in sweet agony. Hopper growled, trying to control himself. Larry understood perfectly how Hopper felt that moment; he had been in that situation many times with you. He actually appreciated Hopper’s restraint.

“Fuck!” Hopper growled, frustrated, squeezing your hips.

“Right?” Larry moaned softly, Hopper’s growls and grunts making him think of how good you felt around him, how tight and warm you were. “She’s perfect.”

Larry’s smile was warm, his eyes kind. He was proud of you, as you bit back your moans and gave yourself into pleasure. The more debauched your behavior, the sweetest he became. His hand moved so slowly. Hopper pushed more of his cock inside you, and your eyes rolled back.

“Yeah.” Hopper pushed, and you felt his balls, resting against your ass. Your body went slack from the sensation; you felt deliciously full, and it was too much, but you felt so delighted that you could take it all. “You’re lucky he found you first. This way you can have both of us. I would never share. You should thank Larry.”

Hopper grabbed your face and turned you to the blonde man, as he started to thrust, now his whole length sliding into you. You were filled to the brim, stretched beyond belief, the feeling so powerful it overcame all your senses, short-circuiting your brain. He had just started and you were already too close, your body slack on his hands.

“Thank Larry.” Hopper growled, grabbing your throat and squeezing gently. “Be the good little slut I know you are and thank him.”

“Thank you, Lawrence.” You gasped, and your words came out almost as a moan. Larry watched you closely, his pleased smile even wider now.

“You know your pleasure is my pleasure, darling.” Larry said; his honeyed voice, so filled with awe and joy, sent you into your orgasm. You felt yourself tighten impossibly, Hopper’s thrusts got harder as you came around him, and he just lasted a few more thrusts.

You panted, eyes closed, your body still trembling in the aftershocks of your pleasure. Hopper slid from you, gently thumbing your clit.

“Thank you.” Hopper said, for no one in particular. He pulled his pants up, and Larry, king of self control and delayed gratification, tucked himself into his pants. He quickly buttoned his shirt and soon the only evidence of what happened was your body, sprawled on Larry’s desk, come trickling from your hole. You felt gloriously dirty and the whole situation just made you want it to start all over again.

Hopper moved to the door, but hesitated. He turned back, hands on his hips.

“Look…” He said, gently. “I’d love to have dinner sometime. Talk about turning this into a more permanent arrangement.”

“Are you trying to bully yourself into my relationship, Jim? That’s low.” Larry laughed, and you chuckled, sitting up, watching both men.

“Had to try, pussy’s that good.” Hopper winked at you and quickly left the office.

“The audacity, for fuck’s sake!” Larry laughed, turning to you and pushing you to cuddle in his sofa. He arranged your body over his, and just caressed you, moving his hands all over your body. “Did you have fun? Was it as good as your fantasy, darling?” He teased.

“He’s impressive. It’s way too much, but man… It’s impressive.” You chuckled, nuzzling his neck, kissing his chin.

“Ooooh, but you like when it’s too much, don’t you? My sweet slut…” Larry tilted your chin up and kissed your lips. You blushed, your pleasure evident.

“I keep thinking of you talking about him fucking my ass.” You confessed softly.

“Would you like that?” Larry asked, brushing his lips against your ear. “He would be overjoyed, I bet. I don’t think there are too many brave little sluts out there who would want that challenge.”

“Fuck, Larry.” You shivered. “I’m getting wet again.”

“Good.”

[cherrynwinehorror]

🍒:Ok i'm an idiot, i accidentally deleted the request, but here is a soft!Dom Lawrence D:

Let me do it sweetie ~ Lawrence Gordon

Story g: soft!nsfw

⚠️: little dominant sex but sweet and soft, no specific mention of female or male anatomy

Character: Lawrence Gordon/Dr. Gordon from Saw

Reader g: Neutral reader

📝: All the content is fictitious and an attempt is made to adapt the personality of the character

🍒: Hello, writing requests are always open, if you want something in particular, ask without fear. I clarify that English is not my main language, I apologize for any error and accept corrections to improve the quality of the content

Master List

You were moving those vegetables so that they would cook when you felt large hands take you by the waist, you shouted your head to meet Lawrence and he immediately kissed the side of your head.

"Hey baby, I missed you"

You hadn't even heard him enter the house, you looked at the clock and it was just the time he was already back from his work at the hospital.

"How was the hospital today?" You spoke as Lawrence began to kiss the side of your face still hugging you from behind.

"Very tired and stressful"

"I'll give u your dinner in a moment love, you must be hungry"

Knowing that Lawrence could see how busy you were cooking and moving around to look for ingredients nearby, he never left your side.

"Lawrence, are you okay? I feel you very warm today."

"I just missed you so much today."

He reached for the stove to turn it off, he turned you around and looked at your confused face, yet without saying anything he brought you closer to his body and began to kiss you sweetly. Not even a minute passed before he already had you sitting on the island in the middle of the kitchen.

Taking you by the waist and positioning himself between your legs, he continued kissing you, moving down your jaw to your neck. Lawrence was hungry for you. You didn't do anything to stop him, he always ended up making you drunk with his touches and kisses, you just didn't object to anything he wanted to do.

Lawrence was special, he didn't like to have sex anywhere in the house, for him the bed you shared together was exclusive for sleeping in each other's arms or staying awake touching each other. So the moment he saw that you agreed to his touch, he picked you up and took you straight to the room you shared.

He laid you on the bed and untied his tie, when you saw that he began to take off his clothes you wanted to do the same and took your hands stopping your actions.

"Let me do it sweetheart."

Lawrence began touching your body under your shirt while returning to kiss your lips and then up your arms until you were topless, going down to kiss your collarbones and shoulders. You tried to unbutton his white dress shirt but he stopped your hands again by pinning them to the bed above your head.

"You don't play today, do you understand?"

And his tone of voice made your stomach tickle. He let go of your hands for a moment and took the untied tie that was still hanging from his neck, took your hands and tied them together, tight enough not to move them but never enough to hurt you.

Lawrence began to remove his clothes in front of your eyes, his movements were slow and calm, but his breathing communicated desperation to continue touching you.

When he was done with his clothes, he continued with yours clothes, leaving you completely naked. Returning to kiss you desperately, your hands tied across your chest, the only thing you could do was wrap your legs over his hips and touch his chest with your motionless hands. One of his hands grabbed your waist tightly, leaving the mark of his fingers on your cushioned skin.

Tired of just kissing you, he got up from his place, took another tie from his closet and approached you, this time the tie went straight to your eyes.

"I don't want you to know where I'm going to touch you, and just feel it, don't take off any of ties or I stopped, you hear me?"

You just nodded and he tied the tie gently behind your head, everything was dark now. The first touch you felt was your hands held together above your head.

"Don't put your hands down or stop, if you feel uncomfortable say the safe word, remember it?"

"Wine"

"Yes baby"

Now that they were both ready to continue, Lawrence began. At first you only saw darkness, your hands tied above your head and your naked body a little cold from lack of clothing and contact.

A few long seconds later you felt his hands touch your waist, this time it wasn't kisses that ran down your neck, but rather Lawrence's tongue, he knew exactly where to touch, he knew the exact points that made you feel chills and warmed your stomach so his tongue made small sounds of pleasure escape your throat.

Everything was so predictable at first, kissing your pulse on your neck, biting your collarbones a little, caressing your chest. Until he began to make a path of wet kisses from below your navel to your V zone, that's when your skin got chills and a louder moan came from your throat. Lawrence reached your intimate part and began to pass his tongue all over it, making your stomach spasm. He spent some time with his face between your legs, just licking and sucking carefully while one of his hands played with your nipples to increase the stimulation. .

His chin was wet from your fluids, your legs squeezing the sides of his head with each stimulation.

Suddenly there was an absence of his touch for a few moments and you felt desperate to feel him again. Lawrence lowered your hands, raised your hips and turned your entire body, arranging your chest touching the bed, on your knees and separating your legs, leaving your butt completely free for him.

Lawrence began to kiss your entire back, he squeezed the flesh of your hips. He look on the nightstand for the strawberry lube that you both loved to use because of the smell of it, he also grab a condom. Although extra lubrication was never necessary, Lawrence liked to use it as a precaution, so that when he entered you he wouldn't hurt you in any way. And even though you told him so many times that it wasn't necessary and that you were wet enough for him to enter without problems. He wasn't worried about having trouble getting in, but about hurting your insides.

He put the condom on his length, his dick was thick and it was perfect for you as it filled you perfectly and reached every spot you liked.

Lawrence stood behind you, grabbed you by the neck and pulled your head back to reach your ear.

"Beautiful, I want to listen to you, I order you not to silence those beautiful moans that drive me crazy"

He began to enter your hole slowly, still at the height of your ear and as his length was lost inside you, u could hear the guttural sounds of pleasure coming out of him. And you couldn't hide them either, even though out of shame you tried to silence them, Lawrence got upset when he noticed that you were trying to control yourself, he squeezed your neck a little.

"I told you I want to listen to you love"

The way his length stretched your walls had made you forget that it was the first thing he ordered before entering. So now you released the pressure from your throat to avoid moaning.

Lawrence crumpled the sheets under his hand, waiting for you to get used to the sensation but you squeezed him so well that he couldn't bear not being able to move.

After a few seconds he began to move his hips, pushing his length forward and still holding your neck, he pushed you to make a deeper thrust. Your moans came out carelessly, almost screaming his name and asking him not to stop.

You could also hear Lawrence moaning under his breath, and mumbling words that sometimes you didn't understand.

"Shit, sweetheart, you're so tight" "I love the shape of your body" "you're perfect for me" "I never get tired of feeling you around me" "I love you so much" "I can' t live without you"

You continued looking into the darkness, your head raised back, your elbows leaning on the bed, your hands tied together, your back was arched and your butt lifted by Lawrence's hand, the corner of your mouth covered with a little saliva and your moans almost screams did not stop

A few more thrusts and you came, letting some of your fluids fall directly onto the sheets and running down your legs. Lawrence ended up with the condom inside you, feeling how it throbbed and how the latex became hot.

Lawrence let go of your neck and got out of you, he removed the tie from your eyes and laid you on your back, you could finally see him; with his hair messy, sweat on his face and neck and his heavy breathing. He untied your hands and went to get a towel to clean you, clean inside your thighs and you reacted from overstimulation. He leaned back and pulled you to lie on his chest.

"Larry, I love you."

"I love you too, you can't imagine how in love I am with you, I don't know what my life would be without you"

He planted a fleeting kiss on your lips and then returned to kiss you lovingly. As the seconds passed, Lawrence was already on top of you again.

"We should have dinner first" you said pushing him away a little, Lawrence just smiled and moved away from you before he got a new erection.

[moregaythanyourealized]

YEAH I’LL SAY IT

…

I don’t think there’s enough fanfiction for the princess bride, if you haven’t seen it, go watch. If you like action/romance/adventure/comedy movies go watch. You like hot actors in period clothing? Go watch.

[doodle-pops]

Let Me Indulge In Your Fantasies

Thingol x reader

Kinktober 2023: Fingering

A/N: This turned out to be a fetish for Thingol’s hands instead lol. Also, I know you wanted the settings to be in the gardens, however, I originally used this fic as a template to set a scene for a Turgon fic and ended up using this for Thingol instead.

Warnings: fem!reader, power dynamics, fingering, semi–public, nudity, a slight asphyxiation, titty sucking

Words: 4.9k

Synopsis: Dressed resplendently as always, Thingol’s affinity for lavish decor becomes your motivation for being enticed by the beauty of his finest creations. What better way to display your devotedness towards his instruments than by enchanting him to use them upon you.

List of Requests

Your gaze was unwavering and fixated on its target without hesitation, revealing an intensity that bordered on the erotic. A slight lick of your lips accompanied your unabashed focus, disregarding any potential oppositions that might arise. Your determination remained steadfast. You allowed your eyes to explore every contour, every rise and fall, as they delighted in the intricate accompaniments bestowed upon your target. The King, in his generosity, had adorned your view with luxurious decorations and indulgent treats, a kaleidoscope of visual pleasure that soothed and excited your senses.

However, mere observation no longer sufficed; your fingers ached to close the gap between sight and touch. Every fissure and hollow, every curve and turn, captured your attention. The strengths on his biceps, prominent as he shifted upon his throne, conveyed his superiority. Yet, it was not these components that captivated you. Instead, it was the finale of his arms, extending gracefully into the long and strong fingers adorned with silver, gold, and gemstones. They wrapped themselves elegantly around the throne’s armrests or tightly grasped his staff during moments of boredom.

For an eternity, your eyes were fixated on his hands, drawn irresistibly to his fingers, their beauty captivating and entrancing you. His hands, the object of your yearning, were not the ultimate destination; not until they embraced the purpose you envisioned for them. Those long digits were meant to explore the places they were destined to touch, to hold, to treasure. Such was the purpose of your King’s hands, dedicated to that single mission. Until they fulfilled this calling, his hands remained an incomplete instrument, incapable of realising their rightful potential since their creation. If only he would grant you that chance, you could reveal to him the possibilities his hands were capable of and the power they wielded.

All it required was for him to relinquish that mantle of authority and entrust it to you.

The resplendent robes of silver that enveloped him, crowned by a matching circlet, veiled his beauty while accentuating it. You alone were privileged to witness both the marvellous and the wicked façades concealed within those robes. The King was not just a benevolent visage with a charming smile; in concert with his fingers, he emanated a sinister appeal that defied comprehension. Powers beyond immortal perception left you entranced and yearning for more, dancing on the brink of sanity, addicted to the intoxication he provided. He was an imperishable flame, uncontrollable yet subduable, and you found pleasure in the searing burn he delivered.

But had he not initiated this? A three–hour court meeting, an unconventional form of togetherness, orchestrated by the King himself. Did he not realize the impact of his actions? Perhaps he revelled in the monotony, relishing the shared boredom. This was his version of bonding, though it seemed an unessential venture compared to the unholy activities you both engaged in privately. Or perhaps he feigned innocence, knowingly toying with your emotions, leveraging the power his hands held over you. His palms, always adorned in gold and silver, were instruments of seduction, tantalizingly displayed for your longing eyes on a diamond platter.

He must have sensed your unwavering gaze, the intensity that escalated with every heartbeat. Your feminine prowess had surged, and it was a matter of time before he realized the depth of your scrutiny. Your eyes betrayed your secret intentions; anyone glancing your way would perceive the unrestrained desire in their depths.

Perhaps, though, his intentions were unconscious, and his actions arose naturally. Regardless, you teetered on the edge, every moment inching closer to an abyss of desire.

Impatience coursed through you; a desire too potent to be ignored. The weight of his court’s trivial matters seemed to grate on him, a sharp glance around the room driving a spike of frustration through his demeanour. Fingers curling around his staff and throne’s armrest, a pained smirk crossed his lips. A command, sharp and concise, emptied the court with an efficiency that spoke of his authority. His advisors and attendants retreated without protest, leaving only him and you.

You remained nestled in the shadows, the room’s architecture interweaving with your concealment. His crystalline blue eyes are fixed on your smaller form, positioned near the pillar. Gracefully, he rose from his throne, setting aside his staff with deliberate care. Descending the three steps, he stood before his table, his stance relaxed yet commanding. A subtle tilt of his chin, and a curl of his fingers, beckoned you to meet his position.

“Step out of the shadows, my rose,” Thingol’s voice, rich and dripping with honey, requested. “Do not conceal your desires from your King. I can see them swimming in the depths of your eyes. Indulge with me, meleth–nîn.”

Emerging from the shadows where you had lingered, your body surged forward with a composed blend of precision and power, harnessed from the unfathomable depths of the unknown. The yearning to materialize your long-held fantasy summoned a latent goddess, whispering tales of how to wield your seductive prowess to claim both desire and fulfilment. With this newfound confidence, you were a force unyielding, ready to harness any resource required to transform your visions into reality. His hands, the embodiment of your cravings, were the centrepiece of your desire.

Your King would inevitably yield to your demands; resistance would crumble before your pursuit of happiness and pleasure. In matters concerning your own satisfaction, you stood predominant; there was no compromise.

Approaching the ageless figure that stood before his imposing throne, a coy smirk played upon your lips while your hands remained discreetly clasped behind your back. The room itself seemed to hold its breath; every sound was stifled, and the profound tension between us hung thick in the air. And yet, your actions were limited to a gaze of deep respect, mingled with an unmistakable undercurrent of longing. The irony of it all struck you, a silent chuckle echoing through your thoughts.

Before him, you stood, still compelled to tilt your head upward to meet the gaze of his majestic and towering nine-foot presence. With an air of deference, you extended your greetings, your voice laced with polite courtesy. “Your Majesty, you summoned me. How may I be of service in these desperate times?”

In the depths of your mind, you sensed a chuckle resonates, an acknowledgement of the intricate dance we were engaged in. He recognized your game, just as you were aware of his awareness. It was a delicate balance, a matter of coaxing him to acquiesce for the promise of greater, boundless gains.

“Cease your playful charades, little one; your tricks are laid bare before me,” he declared with an aura of dominance, his voice carrying an air of command. “Tell what lurks in your heart, or rather, your thoughts.”

His left hand ascended, cradling your chin in a firm yet oddly tender grip, tilting your head to align our gazes. The chill in his crystalline irises bore into your very being, sending a delightful shiver down your spine. The paradox of his actions was a symphony of allure; a soul of unholy flame juxtaposed with a gaze of icy resolve. These exquisite contrasts held an enchantment unbeknownst to him.

Drawing a laboured breath, you peered intently into those arresting eyes, determined to keep your façade intact; victory in this game was essential. Concealing any trace of being affected, you offered a subtle smile, your eyelids lowering in a measured blink that concluded in a sly, knowing smirk. Your lips curled upward, eliciting a sinful glint within your eyes, a deadly allure dancing in their depths. In a hushed, almost innocent tone, you began, “Your Majesty, is it not my entitlement as your devoted courtesan to stand in devoutness before you? Am I not permitted the privilege to gaze upon your majestic form, to marvel at its grandeur perfection?”

“Gaze upon my magnificence, you say?” His lips curved upward in an enigmatic smile, his head tilting intriguingly to the side. “Tell me, has there ever been a moment when your eyes weren’t fixed upon my splendour?”

His fingers gracefully withdrew from beneath your chin, their languid path tracing along your throat with an almost hypnotic touch, pausing at its base. As they curled inwards, a subtle tremor seemed to quiver through them, an unmistakable desire radiating from his touch. A yearning lingered, aching to encircle your throat, to savour the comparison of his rings’ icy chill against the warmth of your skin. In that imagined moment, he would watch, a silent observer of your shiver-induced delight. The supremacy he wielded in this instance was a perilous dance, though intriguingly, he remained unaware of how masterfully you had drawn him into your web.

A dark chuckle spilt from your lips, the passage of time morphing seconds into elongated minutes as his fingers retained their poised stance, aching to close around your neck and explore its textures. With every passing moment, the inevitability of his surrender became clearer. A spark was needed, the catalyst to ignite the blaze that would consume him, rendering his resistance futile. All that remained was for your King to succumb to your intricate trap, fulfilling your desires as you will.

“My unwavering gaze is consistently drawn to your splendour, Your Majesty,” you whispered, your voice a seductive murmur that didn’t fail to elicit a shiver in response to the address. “Yet, amid the equivalence of appealing qualities, some hold a special appeal. We all possess our favourites, do we not? I found myself unable to resist the enchantment of your...hands. Such a wondrous creation, capable of such myriad marvels. And yet, their display is often held back...”

You had him ensnared.

The realization hit him, and you could see the satisfaction ripple across his features as if your words had stolen the very breath from his lungs. His eyes flitted, a momentary dance between your gaze and the hands poised against your clavicle. A fleeting smirk curved his lips, vanishing as curiosity overtook his expression. It was as though you held knowledge about his hands’ capabilities that he himself was unaware of. What enigmatic power did you possess, concealed within your understanding of his hands?

A slow exhalation filled the air as thoughts swirled within his mind. His fingers, once frozen at your neck, embarked on their intended path, gracefully encircling your throat with a cautious embrace. Giving a tender squeeze to your elongated neck at first, careful to maintain the flow of air, he then tightened his grip and marvelled in the lull of your eyes. The inhaling and parting of your lips as he stole your air had his knees buckling. The sight of his pale hand adorned with an array of silver, gold, and gemstones, against the canvas of your skin, was a mesmerizing contrast that elevated the allure of your flesh. A low, distinct groan escaped his lips, its clarity and intent sending a ripple of awareness through you, laying bare the ramifications of your declaration.

“What secrets have you uncovered about my hands? Pray, enlighten me on the true purpose they serve, meleth–nîn,” he breathed into your ear, a sinful whisper laden with promises of discovery. With a deliberate shift in his stance, he descended to meet your height, his proximity a compelling intoxicant, a heady blend of power and allure that was impossible to ignore. Though, his hand, not once moved or shifted its grip around your throat as it squeezed your throat delightfully.

“Your hands are meant to fulfil exactly what they are presently doing and even more,” you provocatively lured him deeper into the enticement. “Have you not recognized their formidable structure? Their length, their size, their shape? What do you suppose they are exquisitely crafted for, my King? Is it not to cater to your future Queen’s desires?”

Wetting your lips in an inviting gesture, you extended your hand to capture his, enveloping it within your grasp. His hand, large enough to almost cover your face, sprawled before you, its fingers extending like an elegant tapestry, adorned with rings capable of providing heightened pleasures. Raising his hand to your lips, you bestowed a kiss upon each finger, mirroring the passion of a courtesan greeting her beloved monarch. Each gesture showered his hands in an unspoken devotion, an explicit invitation for him to heed my call, to yield to your desires.

When you finished, you turned away from him without the slightest hint of bashfulness or hesitation, and strolled to his throne, a seat reserved for none but him. A swift glance to the side confirmed his silent, parted-lip gaze fixed upon you, anticipating your next move. With purposeful intent, you reached for the laces that held your intricately designed dress in place—his gift to you—and skilfully undid them, allowing the material to cascade gracefully to the floor.

Perhaps it was your imagination, but you could almost hear his jaw figuratively drop, in symphony with the dress. Now fully exposed, you held no pretence of modesty, no intention of conforming to propriety when in the presence of the King who had a predisposition for cornering you out of his uncontrollable desires whenever it pleased him.

With an assertive stride, you ascended the three steps, coming to rest before the polished marble throne, an artful representation of nature’s complexity elegantly interwoven into the seat’s design. Your bare skin met the cool touch of the marble, a stark juxtaposition against the warmth you radiated. If the audacious act did not secure a cascade of verbal praises from your lover, it succeeded in evoking a symphony of inhales and stolen breaths. His response, akin to someone witnessing a new, profound revelation, betrayed a captivating mix of awe and desire. It was as though the sheer audacity you had displayed momentarily robbed him of his breath, rendering him wordless in the face of your boldness.

A Cheshire cat grin adorned his lips, his eyes tracing every contour of your exquisite, nude form as you lounged upon his throne. Your chest rose and fell with heightened arousal, compelling you to subtly part your legs, granting him an unobstructed view of the hidden treasures nestled between. Thingol found himself torn between the attraction of your perky breasts and the sight of your cunt, a shred of glistening evidence of your arousal, moistening his throne. Both scenes ignited a primal hunger within him, a longing he couldn’t deny. A delicate lick of his lips signalled your triumph; your calculated plan had succeeded, pleasing him immensely. If only he had known that this meeting would culminate in such an outcome, he would have kept you secluded, forsaking other affairs to spend the entire day ensnared by your allure.

His focus, now firmly fixated on your glistening core, compelled his feet to carry him forward, drawn by an irresistible external force. The three steps were traversed in a single, purposeful stride, bringing him to kneel before your throne, his hands resting tenderly upon your knees as he subtly widened your legs, granting him a more enticing view. Words and rational thought seemed to desert him, replaced by an unquenchable hunger to satisfy, a determination to demonstrate the boundless wonders his hands could orchestrate. His resolve was unyielding—to mould your insides, having them yearning for his touch, your return a foregone conclusion.

“Allow me to unveil the intricate craftsmanship of my hands, my Queen,” his stance was rigid, yet his words flowed like silk, brushing against your skin like a lover’s caress. His hands embarked on an exploration, ascending your legs with a deliberate purpose, moving inward toward your dripping entrance. The honey-like nectar oozed out your core enticing his fingers to twitch in anticipation.

You remained silent as his hands drew nearer to your core, a shiver coursing through you as the frigid touch of his rings brushed against your heated skin. His silver hair was all that filled your view, cascading like a shimmering waterfall as he leaned closer, mirroring the path of his hands. His expression conveyed a blend of awe and anticipation, lips parted in readiness to showcase his skills, to pleasure you as you moaned his name, singing praises of his masterful craftsmanship. Swiftly, he grasped your thighs with firm determination, leaving his mark as he pulled you toward him, your body almost dangling off the seat.

Kneeling before you, he stood as tall as you were seated, his face aligning with yours, and he seized the opportunity to close the gap, capturing your lips in a fervent kiss. The initial tenderness escalated swiftly into an aggressive clash, a primal contest of tongues and teeth, a battle for dominance. His fingers inched ever closer to your entrance, the sensation of keenness coiling in your belly. A low groan resonated from him, merging with the kiss, as his fingers brushed against your slickness. He withdrew his left hand from your thigh, allowing his right to roam freely, exploring your folds and persuading you closer as if to consume you whole.

The instant his finger trailed over your lips, parting them to expose your honey-dripping entrance, you tore your mouth away from his, determined to observe his every move. His middle finger sought out your moist heat, collecting your essence on its journey, swirling around your clit in sensual circles—a first touch that left you quivering. The rumble in his chest accompanied each motion, his lips descending to your neck, marking it with fervent bites and nibbles. Focus wavered, torn between the sensations coursing through your body and the torturous spectacle before your eyes.

“Thingol—”

The cry of his name parted from your lips, a breathy mewl that trailed off when he intervened, his tone holding a warning. “Not so fast, meleth–nîn. To you, it’s ‘My King’,” he corrected, his voice laced with authority. “Remember who holds control. Use the title or I’ll withdraw.”

Opening your mouth to protest his demand, your words were stifled as his middle finger breached your entrance, its chill contrasting starkly with the warmth enveloping it. The sensation trembled through you as his finger embarked on a deliberate, unhurried exploration of your inner walls, relishing the contractions and tugs of your muscles. The girth of his finger was perfect, a consequence of his elven heritage, enhanced further by the presence of his thick rings, polished gemstones adding an intriguing texture. Each languid movement sent waves of pleasure rippling through you, your senses reeling as his lips found your neck once more, a plethora of nibbles and bites that marked you as his. The choice between closing your eyes and losing yourself in the sensations or fixating on his tantalizing actions left you torn, suspended in a haze of torment and ecstasy.

Thingol had no intention of hastening the rhythm of his finger’s thrusts within your core; he relished every moment, savouring the sensation of your velvety walls clamping down around his finger, fighting to retain the connection. Each pulse of heat your arousal radiated with every plunge made him smile into the curve of your neck, leaving his mark in a series of hickey-laden imprints along your collarbones.

Your body trembled under the onslaught of his single finger accompanied by the cool touch of his rings, a testament to the potency of his touch. He contemplated the impact of introducing another finger into the mix, curious about the effect it would have on your quivering form. Without the slightest hesitation, he slipped in a second finger, immediately curving it upwards in a “come here” motion that elicited an arched response from your body. The gasp that escaped your lips echoed through the halls, your vocalization of pleasure a proclamation he had no qualms about.

“Oh fuck!” you wailed into the chilled air.

Loudness was encouraged; he wanted to hear your pleasure, to know that his exquisitely crafted fingers were performing their artistry to perfection. Moans, cries, screams, and shouts—all were welcomed, as long as they emanated from your pleasure-soaked lips. In the face of his expertise, he urged you to release any inhibition, urging your desire to be vocal and unrestrained. Even the obscene sounds of his fingers thrusting in and out of your cunt echoed and sung throughout the courthouse. Its lewd melody harmonised with your breathy and high-pitched moans.

“Do you feel how gifted my fingers are, meleth–nîn?” he whispered, his voice carrying a devilish edge as he pressed against your collarbones. His lips curled back in a grin, a dark chuckle reverberating within his chest. “My little Queen, you revel in the prowess of my fingers, craving more at every plunge. Do you desire more?”

His voice held a dangerous appeal, drawing you further into his tempting web, a stark contrast to the reign of power you initially summoned. The lure of his tone proved irresistible, subtly undoing your initial resolve. The game had already shifted, your plans thwarted by his mesmeric authority. Despite your inclination to assert yourself, you found yourself succumbing to the magnetic pull he exerted, an acknowledgement of his innate dominance. Frustration mingled with desire, a complex blend of emotions you struggled to navigate. His words compelled you to consider yielding, a temptation to relinquish control and embrace the power he offered. You longed for your guidance to lead him, for your desires to be catered to, yet he had adeptly reversed the roles, offering to assume responsibility.

“I can see your struggle, my Queen. Surrender to the moment, let me guide you. Allow me to demonstrate the extent of your King’s mastery, the influence I wield in the palm of my hand,” he murmured as his actions quickened, his fingers curling and twisting with each plunge. The rings adorning his fingers tugged against your yielding walls, their coolness contrasting with the warmth that enveloped them. The rhythmic clenching of your muscles in a futile attempt to imprison his fingers was met with his unyielding control.

Your arousal drenched his wrist as he intensified the rhythm, the lewd sounds of your slickness meeting his intrusion filled the air. Your fluids squirted with every thrust, a display that might have embarrassed you, but that Thingol found intoxicating. Unable to resist, his thumb found its way to your clit, circling it with practised expertise that left you gasping for air, your legs instinctively clamping shut. His left hand slid from your neck, encircling your waist to anchor you in place, preventing your body from escaping the throne’s embrace. A glance at his face would have revealed a devilish grin, a haunting expression that hinted at his sadistic pleasure in this potent moment. You felt your lung's capacity to withhold air decreasing with each languid stroke of his fingers and thumb.

Gliding his lips down from your collarbones to your chest, Thingol’s plump lips found your nipples, and he suckled on them as though he were savouring ambrosial nectar, an otherworldly delight. Each moan that resonated deep within his chest was a testament to the intoxicating pleasure he derived from the taste of your essence, your body’s response fuelling his growing ardour. The sensations coursing through him were intense, pushing his own desires to the background—your pleasure was his utmost goal. His erection strained within his leggings, an indication of the effectiveness of the moment, yet he resisted the urge to satisfy his own needs prematurely. In this instance, his focus was unwaveringly on your satisfaction, a tribute to the mastery of his exquisitely designed fingers.

Sucking and nibbling at your nipples, alternating between them, his fingers maintained their rhythm, thrusting faster and deeper into your core. Sinful circles were drawn around your clit with practised precision, igniting a whirlwind of sensations that sent your head spinning. Goosebumps adorned your skin as his cold rings ventured deeper, the temperature contrast heightening the experience. It was as though he were delving for a hidden treasure, sculpting your inner walls to perfectly accommodate his fingers, weaving a spell of enthrallment with each deliberate movement.

“M–More, p–…please. Ngghh, oh Eru, more please…” you breathily demanded as his fingers curled off the bat to strike expertly at your sweet spot. And your King’s insatiable appetite for control and pleasure humbled itself to accept your request. A third finger stealthily joined the others, slipping in alongside them and wriggling its way into your depths to curl alongside its companions, each digit finding its place at your sweet spot.

“Humph! Oh fuck! Yes, right there!” you screamed into the open air, adding your chorus of pleasure and satisfaction into the mix of lewd sounds.

The pleasure surging through your body was becoming almost overwhelming. With his lips drawing exquisite sensations from your nipples and his fingers deftly moulding your innermost reaches, you were on the brink of sensory overload. The rhythm of his fingers didn’t waver; they pursued your impending orgasm with relentless determination, seeking the climax that would leave you utterly undone. His fingers drove you toward the precipice, his name and pleas for more spilling from your lips in high-pitched, desperate cries that sent shivers of ecstasy down his spine.

His manipulation of your clit became a hypnotic dance, every movement coaxing quivers from the sensitive nub and causing your walls to contract around his fingers. The sensation of his three fingers stretching you was a delightful burn, his size always pushing you beyond your limits. No matter how many times you had taken him—his girthier cock than his fingers—you still struggled to fully accommodate the digits he wielded. Your pleas for more were met with his benevolence, a testament to his deep affection for you.

“You’re doing remarkably well, my rose. See how beautifully your sweet cunt takes me in, hungry for more,” he purred, a taunting tone lacing his words. His chuckle danced along your skin like a tantalizing caress. “Don’t worry, I have something else in mind for her after I’m done here.”

Breaking his oral embrace from your nipples, a glistening string of saliva connected his lips to your bud before he leaned down to pepper your thigh with soft kisses. Your body quivered at the touch of his wet lips against your skin, the sensation jolting through you. Returning to your breasts, his arms coiled around your waist, arching your back to meet his lips in an electrifying kiss. His lips moved over your flesh, suckling your breast with fervour, while his thumb persisted in its skilful caresses around your clit. The rhythmic motion of his thumb mirrored the swirls and flicks of his tongue around your nipple, intensifying the symphony of pleasure that engulfed your senses.

A torrent of moans and whimpers tumbled from your lips as your body quivered in the throes of ecstasy. “Oh, fuck! I’m close, I–I’m close…c-close…” Your voice trembled with the impending release as your body teetered on the edge. Yet, Thingol showed no signs of relenting, maintaining the intensity of his ministrations. Your arousal surged, your wetness dripping unabated onto his wrist and sleeves, your scent filling the air. Your essence pooled on the floor beneath the throne, a testament to the unrivalled pleasure he was drawing from you. Unperturbed by the mess, Thingol was driven by the allure of your arousal, the desire to see you completely consumed by pleasure. He would continue until every last drop was wrung from you.

Muttering unintelligible words against your breast, Thingol continued to twirl his tongue skilfully, feeling your walls spasming around his fingers and the crescendo of heat building within you. Just in time, he withdrew his mouth, his senses heightened to witness the spectacle unfolding before him. Your body convulsed in the throes of your orgasm, an ungodly wave of pleasure washing over you and leaving you momentarily breathless.

Thingol had no intention of withdrawing his fingers as your orgasm claimed you, his digits maintained their relentless thrusting, driving you deeper into the abyss of oversensitivity. Your arousal surged in greater volume, drenching his hand and wrist as your body slumped against the throne. Your legs twitched and tightened around his hand, your silent plea for respite evident in the clamping of your muscles. The intensity of the moment left you trembling, your body exquisitely sensitive to even the slightest touch, each sensation amplified to dizzying heights.

You whimpered, pleading with him to ease the stimulation that bordered on overwhelming. “My King, please…too much, too much,” you managed to protest, your attempts to push his hand away driven by a desperate need for relief. Curled into the seat, every inch of your being vibrated with the aftermath of your climax, even the gentlest breeze causing your skin to tingle.

Remaining on his knees at the base of the throne, Thingol’s lips were swollen from his intense ministrations. He lifted his right hand to his mouth, slipping his fingers inside to taste the remnants of your essence. The gleam in his eyes as your flavour danced on his taste buds sent a shiver down his spine, a predator basking in his successful hunt. His gaze held a possessive hunger as he caged you with his predatory grin.

“You have a divine taste, my rose. Our little session has been truly delightful, but I suggest we continue in a more private setting,” he declared with a hint of compassion in his gaze. “Come with me. I have much more to show you, to explore with my skilled hands.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @eunoiaastralwings @lilmelily @koyunsoncizeri @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @aconstructofamind @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @the-phantom-of-arda @wandererindreams @singleteapot @silverose365 @ilu-stripes @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @bunson-burner

[goatcheesecak3]

Chainshipping x gn!reader hcs

Fic type: fluff

Warnings: nsfw at number 9

A/n: absolutely no one asked for this but I want more chainshipping x reader to exist!! Let me know if this is something you want more of

You met Lawrence and Adam at survivors meetings. Lawrence had approached you first, noticing that you seemed frightened, and had introduced you to his boyfriend, Adam.

You found it quite amusing that they'd found love from one of jigsaws tests, and often joked that you were still waiting for the silver lining of your trap to show itself to you.

You became super close to Lawrence and Adam, the pair of them seemed to care about you a great deal, and loved spending time with you. So much, in fact, that they invited you out with them to bars, fancy dinners, gigs (which were more Adam's thing than Larry's), until you were basically present for every date night.

Often times the three of you would stay out late and return back to Lawrence and Adam's shared apartment. You'd all sleep together in the same bed, you'd usually be in the middle, snuggled up and resting your head on one of the boys' chests, with the other spooning you from behind.

After casually going on dates and cuddling at night for a while, the three of you became aware of your feelings for eachother. Lawrence had very gingerly attempted to bring it up one day, when you were all having a movie night. He didn't want to assume and then make the friendship awkward. Adam, however, did not share his caution. "Look, what Larry's tryna say, is that we think you're hot, you think we're hot, do you wanna be in a throuple, yes or no?" "Adam, you can't just-"

So you became part of their relationship, and it was wonderful, the dynamic just seemed to work. Adam and Lawrence are both very doting partners, they love taking care of you and spoiling you, and you love doing the same for them.

You and Adam like the same type of music, so you go with him to gigs while Larry stays home- he's very grateful for that, since basement shows aren't really his scene.

In a similar vein, you go with Larry to his fancy work dinners, while Adam stays home, which Adam is unbelievably thankful for. He absolutely loathes having to wear a suit and act fancy in front of Lawrence's rich friends.

You and Adam like to get quite mischievous together and wind up Lawrence, particularly when he's at work. If you and Adam ever get it on while Larry's away, you'll take photos and text them to him with captions like "we miss you...". It drives him CRAZY.

Sometimes you come home from work to find Adam and Lawrence fast asleep on the sofa, all snuggled up together. Your favourite thing is to squeeze in between them and go to sleep too, enjoying their warmth

[sexy-monster-fucker]

LAWRENCE GORDON X APPRENTICE!F!READER OUT TONIGHT ITS A GOOD SMUTTY ONE I LOVE IT RAHHHHHH TELL ME IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED

[ilovebuthatemen]

WHO I WRITE FOR!

(ongoing list)

Austin butler + characters

Jacob Elordi + characters

Tom Blyth + characters

Cary Elwes + characters

Costas Mandylor + characters

Evan Peters + characters

Request anyone through inbox or messages!

[captainsophiestark]

The Dread Pirate Roberts

Westley x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023​ which features a ton of awesome creators and runs all year! Go check it out if you haven’t already!

Also, this fic wasn’t a request, but I’m dedicating it to @auroracalisto​ who is my fellow Princess Bride fangirl searching desperately for fic with me

Fandom: The Princess Bride

Prompt: Poseidon; Sea, Water, Storms

Summary: Prince Humperdinck has set his sights on Y/N to marry, but she can't simply forget the love of her life, Westley, and give that up for a life with the prince. So, she decides to run, taking a boat and setting sail for new horizons like her farm boy did so long ago.

Word Count: 3,192

Category: Angst and fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I glanced back over my shoulder one last time as I undid the last of the lines holding my boat to the dock. In the dead of night, I couldn't see much, but in the far distance the lights of the capital city of Florin stared back at me. This would likely be the last time I saw this place.

A few weeks ago, I'd been in town to do some shopping for my family, taking a bit of a rare adventure away from our farm. While I'd been walking through the market, a procession had ridden through on horseback. Among the group of young soldiers and officials was none other than Prince Humperdinck, apparently in the city to visit his subjects before going back behind the walls of his massive palace. By some strange stroke of luck, he'd seen me, and apparently decided I was someone he wanted to get to know.

We'd spent the rest of the day walking around the market, surrounded by his guards, talking and taking in the day. At first, I hadn't minded. What other opportunity would I get to speak with a prince, after all? I told him of the troubles I faced in the countryside, and about things I thought might help or fix them. He listened closely, and I thought I might actually be making a difference. He even invited me to return to the capital city and the palace in a few days' time to continue our conversations. Of course I'd said yes, excited that the prince had listened to me and wanted to hear more of what I had to say.

And then, when I arrived at the castle, he proposed to me. To make matters worse, it was clear from the minute I set foot in that place his proposal came out of a place of attraction to me physically, and absolutely nothing else.

I immediately knew I wanted nothing to do with him, especially not in that way. I'd already met the love of my life, and although I'd lost him when he went off to sea and left my family farm, my love for him had never faded. Perhaps, someday, I'd be willing to love someone else, but that day was not today, and no matter what I knew it wouldn't be love for Prince Humperdinck. However, there was no saying no to the Crown Prince. So, to escape the fate of the loveless life I surely faced if I agreed to marry him, I'd decided to leave this land once and for all.

I'd had very little time to make plans or preparations, since my window to escape Humperdinck was incredibly small. I'd managed to pull together some provisions and to secure a small boat, that hopefully I'd be able to sail on my own. I was no expert sailor, but I could get by well enough to leave the country. I'd had no time to tell my family or anyone else I cared about, but eventually, I'd decided that might be for the best. This way, they'd have deniability when people eventually came asking about where I'd gone or why I'd left.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself, then chucked the final tether ashore and away from me. I ran around, adjusting the rigging and sails on my small boat as I drifted out of the harbor. There was a light wind tonight, perfect for helping me make my escape. The gods of the sea were watching out for me, or else my darling Westley, the love I'd lost to the sea, now acting as my guardian angel.

It was fitting, I supposed, that I'd eventually follow him out here. I hoped to find a new place to call home, somewhere no one knew me or my connections to the Prince of Florin, but nothing was guaranteed. This may well be the place I perished, to finally join Westley after he lost his life to the Dread Pirate Roberts.

I sat up all night, manning the lines and making sure my sails were always adjusted to catch the winds. I made good progress, leaving Florin in my wake, and eventually got comfortable enough that I could sleep for short periods of time in between making sure everything went smoothly. I'd actually managed to gather a decent amount of provisions, and I started to feel more hopeful about my prospects on this ship to find a new land.

At least, until a storm hit.

I woke up just after twilight on the third night since I'd left, being almost rocked out of my seat by the waves tossing my boat about. I shook my head, trying to clear it of the remaining sleep fog as the waves continued to grow around me. I swore as I looked to the horizon, only to find darker clouds and bigger waves. I was headed straight into the center of what appeared to be a very big storm.

I ran to the rigging, trying to change course. I wrestled the ship into a sharp right turn, thinking I could run along the edge of the storm until, hopefully, I past it. I'd never be able to outrun it by going back the way I came, and the odds of me finding the eye of the storm before I capsized were fairly low. I had no other way out.

I wrestled the rigging until my arms burned, and then found a way to keep going. Despite my best efforts, however, the storm only got worse around me. I clung to the ship, praying for a miracle or some way out of this, and then suddenly, I was underwater.

A massive wave must've finally managed to swamp my boat. I floated for a moment, letting my natural buoyancy show me which way was up so I didn't accidently swim further from the surface before I at last made my push upwards. I gasped once my head broke the surface, searching frantically for something to help keep me afloat.

I found a piece of my now-smashed ship not too far from me and swam towards it wildly, clinging onto it for dear life once I reached it. I frantically tried to come up with an idea to save myself, but I kept drawing a blank.

I was going to die here, tossed among the waves, resigned to a similar fate as my dear Westley. There was a certain poetry to that, I supposed, even as I fought back tears at the hopeless feeling now welling in my stomach.

Then, out of a break in the waves, I saw the mast of a ship coming closer to me. My heart leapt, and I started shouting and waving, doing my best to catch its attention. It was a far bigger ship than mine had been, meaning it hadn't lost its struggle with the massive waves around us. Maybe I had a hope of making it out of this after all.

That hope immediately died when I caught sight of the flag flying over the mast as the ship got closer to me and the wind changed. They were flying the Jolly Roger.

I stopped waving, debating mentally whether it was better to stay in the water or be caught by pirates, but apparently a decision had been made for me. They'd already seen me, and I could hear shouting and see people pointing to me as the ship came even closer. I braced myself, trying to be as ready as possible for whatever this new challenge brought. I had been the one who'd decided to run, after all, and I knew in my heart I didn't regret that decision one bit, no matter what this new hell might bring me.

Before I knew it, I'd been fished out of the water and hauled on deck. I quickly backed away from the men who'd gotten me on board, and although most of them didn't pay me any attention in the chaos of trying to keep the boat afloat, two followed me as my back came up against the main mast, halting me in my tracks.

The men stared at me as they stalked closer, and every muscle in my body went into fight or flight mode. The man a bit further back from me seemed to be taking cues from the other man, his eyes darting between me and who I assumed must be the leader. The leader, the one closest to me, was dressed in all black with a mask on his face, his ice blue eyes tracking my every movement. My heart stopped dead in my chest. I'd never seen him before, but I'd heard enough legends and stories to know beyond a shadow of a doubt who this man was.

Before me stood the Dread Pirate Roberts.

A fury like none I'd ever felt raged through me, replacing the panic and fear that came before. This man was responsible for the death of my Westley. I glared at him, putting the full force of my hate into the look, then glanced around for a sword or something else to attack him with. I'd most likely die on this ship anyway, so I might as well go out attempting to get some justice for my lost love.

"You! What were you doing out in this storm?" yelled the pirate over the waves. I glared back at him and ignored his question.

He waited a few long moments for my response, then huffed in irritation. He looked around at his crew and the storm still raging on all sides, then back at his first mate.

"Keep us from sinking! I'll be back!" he roared at the man behind him before turning back to me. The man rushed off to fulfill his orders, leaving me more or less alone with Westley's murderer.

Before I could even attempt to make a move for revenge, the pirate surged forward and grabbed me by the arm. His grip was like iron, and although I fought against him, I couldn't break away. He dragged me across the deck of the ship with surprising strength, up the stairs to the ship's wheel where a navigator wrestled against the wind and waves, and then through a door to what I assumed must be his private quarters. He shoved me into a chair as soon as we were through the door, slamming it behind us before turning back to me.

I moved to stand from the chair, but before I could, he had his sword at my throat. I glowered up at him as he spoke again, a deadly calm to his voice.

"Now, I'll ask you again–and I expect an answer this time. What were you doing out in that storm?"

I clenched and unclenched my fists, debating whether it would be worth it to answer or if I should just let him slit my throat. After a moment's hesitation, however, I decided I didn't really want to die if I could avoid it, especially not before I found some way to get even the slightest justice for Westley.

"I was escaping the hell of being married to a man I don't love, a monster second only to yourself," I hissed. The pirate stared back at me for a few moments, seemingly considering my words, then spoke.

"Explain."

I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, trying to get my temper under some kind of control.

"I caught the eye of Prince Humperdinck," I finally managed. "I had no desire to marry him, but he's not a prince who takes well to the word 'no'. Running was my only option, so I secured a boat and set sail as soon as possible."

"On your own?"

I nodded once, not bothering with a verbal answer.

"And being a princess was such a horrifying fate that you risked death in its stead?"

I sneered. "Being wed to someone I don't love after knowing what true love feels like is a fate worse than death, yes. And thanks to you I will never have my happy ending with my love, for he died at your sword while he was out attempting to gain enough fortunes for us to finally marry."

"...And what was this man's name?"

"Westley," I replied without hesitation. Up until now I'd been staring back at the Dread Pirate in rage, but my tone softened and my focus shifted to the distance as I got lost in memories of my beloved farm boy. "He was good and kind, something you'd know nothing about. He loved me, and despite the simple life we led together, we were happy. We could've lived long, wonderful lives together, but now that will never happen. So threaten me with your sword and whatever else you want. Nothing you say or do will ever match what I've already had to endure."

I faced the pirate again as I delivered the end of my speech, only to find him staring back at me with slightly wide eyes. When I'd finished speaking, he stared at me for a moment longer, before finally dropping his sword to his side. Another beat, and then he'd dropped to his knees before me, staring up at me like I was the sun. I leaned back a bit, confused, until he tore off the black mask covering so much of his face and looked up at me again.

Westley. Somehow, by some miracle, I was staring into the face of Westley, the love of my life.

"I... How... What kind of trick is this?" I demanded, trying to get my head straight. Had I been drugged somehow?

"No trick, my love," he replied, staring at me dreamily. He scooted a bit closer to me, but didn't touch me, instead letting me work through my thoughts.

"Tell me what's going on," I demanded, sounding a bit more desperate than I wanted to.

"As you wish."

He opened his mouth to continue speaking, but I didn't bother listening. That was enough to satisfy any lingering doubts I had. I didn't understand it, but I could also say with complete certainty that this was, in fact, my Westley.

I slid out of my seat, joining him on the floor on my knees. We were face to face, and he smiled softly at me, but I didn't give him a chance to do much more before I pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss.

After a few seconds of shock, he kissed me back, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me tighter to him. I ran my hands through his hair, over his arms, across his shoulders–anywhere I could reach. I'd gone years without Westley, my darling farm boy, the love of my life, and I needed every bit of confirmation I could get that he was here, and this was real.

We stayed like that for long minutes, only pausing our kiss once or twice to come up for air. When we finally broke apart, I laid my head on his shoulder, holding him tight to me as he likewise held onto me, a few tears finally starting to fall.

"Westley..." I breathed, relief flooding through my system as I felt his strong arms around me and heard the steady beat of his heart. "How is this possible?"

"When the Dread Pirate Roberts raided my ship, he didn't kill me," Westley breathed, speaking softly against my ear as he ran his hands up and down my back. "I begged him for my life, and I told him about you. My love, who I needed to return to. I told him I couldn't die because I couldn't leave you.

"He ended up sparing me that day. He kept me prisoner, and told me each day he'd most likely kill me in the morning. Over the course of time, he trained me, and I learned everything to do with being the Dread Pirate Roberts. Eventually, he told me his secret. He was not the Dread Pirate Roberts. He was a man called Ryan, who had inherited the position from someone else who was not the Dread Pirate Roberts. The title carries more weight than anything else, and so the name has been passed down every few years, the previous Dread Pirate Roberts retiring with their fortune after choosing and training their successor. He'd chosen me to be his, and a few days after he told me as much, we docked at a small island port. We hired a completely new crew, and then he left. I've been the Dread Pirate Roberts ever since."

"I... I can hardly believe it."

"Imagine how I felt when I found you bobbing in the water just as I was finally on my way back to you," he chuckled. I huffed a laugh with him, then at last pulled back to look him in the eyes again.

"So... what now? What do we do next?"

"Well, we can't stay on the ship. It's not the best place to start a life together, to say nothing of the questions it would raise that I left you alive."

"Of course."

"And you can't return to Florin or, truly, any country near it, lest the 'prince' find you and throw a wrench into our newfound happiness."

"Agreed."

"Then that really only leaves one option, doesn't it?"

"And what might that be?" I asked, smiling and leaning into Westley as he stared at me, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

"To find a completely new place and start over, of course. I've already picked my successor–I was planning to promote him once I reached the shores of Florin, but now I'll wait until we find our new home."

"My love, I can't think of a plan I'd more like to initiate," I said, beaming happily back at him. He leaned down and kissed me again, then pulled away to stare at me with love in his eyes.

"So, where shall we go?"

"I'd say you know the lands far from Florin's reach far better than I. You choose. But... pick someplace with green fields, and perhaps a gorgeous lake we can swim in on hot days. With land enough for us and any future children to roam and have adventures, and room for a home for us to curl up in on cold winter nights."

"Well, that's not much to ask for," he teased, leaning into me a bit. "Anything else you'd like to add to the list, my love?"

"Yes. I want our new home to be some place we can live happily together, without anything to ever separate us again so long as we both shall live. I want it to be a place where we can be by each other's sides for the rest of time, where we finally get our happy ever after."

He smiled at me warmly, leaning down to place a soft kiss on my lips before pulling back just enough to look me in the eyes.

"As you wish."

[xqnqx]

Breaking Glass

Description: She wasn't given a choice. Instead, it was made for her.

A/N: This is a Lawrence Gordon (kind of) imagine/fanfiction I wrote for my friend! @urfavsuh @thinkingoflawrence

And this being my first post is kind of random and new to me, but enjoy it as much as you can!

TW: Mentions of blood, trauma.

Word Count: 4.619

The old TV flashed with a static sound. A bright light flashed, followed by waves of gray lines that rushed across the screen before merging into a complete image. However, Nia still seemed to be unconscious, as she didn't catch the odd-looking puppet appearing on the flickering screen. For most trap survivors, this was a very obvious start to what soon became their nightmares—the famous Jigsaw puppet. It was an odd way of introducing someone to a torturous device from which you would most likely not get out alive, but if you did, it would be the trauma that kept the torture going. Either way, you were about to experience the most terrifying pain of your life. And Nia didn't know. Nia didn't know what it was all about. Besides not knowing where she was and how she got there, Nia had no idea who this 'Jigsaw-Killer-Guy' was. Because for the last few months, Nia had been busy trying to escape the shithole she was forced to call 'home'. She was looking for quick, easy jobs left and right that would give her just enough money to pass the month. She never had the chance to take a break. She never had the chance to watch TV. Whenever she heard a mention of Jigsaw's name leaving customer's mouths or in the news that played in the background of the few cafés she worked at, it was brushed off. Why would she care? Nia had only herself to care about.

Perhaps that was the mistake.

"Hello, Nia. You don't know me, but I know you."

A dark voice, difficult to follow from the old speaker, rang out each time the odd-looking puppet's jaw dropped. This was when Nia finally jerked her head towards the TV, still having a hard time keeping her head up. Her eyelids kept dropping, but her ears were open to listen as the voice continued, "You may now feel confused or frightened." There's a pause. "Angered." Nia began to make muffled noises, confused at that. She tasted metal, rust, and something pressed on her tongue that she couldn't push out of her mouth. Her head dropped again, and her eyes widened as she noticed the straps around her wrists and, when she looked further down, around her ankles too. Nia made another muffled whimper. Her heart started to race. She tried to struggle herself out of the tight restraints, but to no avail. No matter what she did or how she tried, she couldn't get off of that metal chair.

Before Nia tried to struggle again, she heard the voice explain, "But you should know not to lose. Here, I'll show you what happens if you do."

The white puppet disappeared in delay before there was something presented and instructed to her; she couldn't remember. The images and her memories were now only blurred into a few sections of that trauma. And Nia remembered the sudden explosive sound coming out of the television. She remembered the muffled scream she let out, which would have sounded much louder if the device around her head hadn't been hooked into her upper and lower jaws. "Permanently ripped open," the voice said, and Nia cried out. There was nothing to remember anymore, only parts.

...

"Oh, I know how it feels to let out that rage you're building up inside. Maybe this time not onto another person, but yourself," he said so simply, so understanding.

...

"Listen, Nia. There's only one key to open the device."

...

A bright light sprung out before her eyes from the ceiling. This light, resembling that of a spotlight, seemed to present a glass box not far from her feet. The glass walls of the box were too dirty to reveal any of the contents. Even from where she was sitting, she couldn't see anything. "Look in front of you. There's a glass box you're going to have to break in order to retrieve what's at fault for your sensitive heart."

...

Nia put the small invitation card back into her pocket after she took a look at the name again. "Bobby Dagen, survivor of the great Jigsaw killer," as the writing said. The name belonged to the man standing next to the group circle of other Jigsaw survivors. He's considered an author, or whatever—just some ordinary-looking guy with a pretty wife who's not over his traumatic experience yet. This 'Bobby', who was talking to his PR team at the time, organized this whole group meeting. But of course, with lots of cameras—more than enough so that the whole world was able to see what a truly amazing person he was, empathizing with survivors like him. Though Nia couldn't bother to remember his name again. She couldn't bother to join the group of people either. She preferred to sit somewhere near the exit, next to this one doctor, she couldn't remember the name of either. And Nia told herself that she was not like them. Not like those bunch of traumatized people who couldn't stop clinging to what made them eventually form this meeting. She saw tears rolling down faces and quivering lips that formed words she couldn't hear from where she was sitting. But it's not that talking about your experiences is necessarily a bad thing, Nia thought to herself. But in front of cameras? In front of everyone? Alternatively, if her mother hadn't convinced her that this would be the first step towards 'self-healing', and if she hadn't threatened to force therapists on her if she didn't agree, Nia would've still be rotting in her apartment.

Nia glanced over at the man next to her, who seemed to wear the same uninterested expression on his face as her. She couldn't help but slightly smile at that. The thought of having some sort of company with this was reassuring. Still, Nia had to sigh once more, looking impatiently around the room. She was waiting for the camera crew to finally send signals. And she carefully placed her hands on her shaking leg when she was about to switch her gaze to the author again. That's when she heard the chair next to her squeaking and the doctor in it asking her, "Does it still hurt?" He hesitantly pointed at her bandaged arms as Nia replied with a raised eyebrow. Without even realizing it, her arms shifted a little in his direction. "May I take a closer look?" the man asked, making sure. After a moment, she nodded.

His hands barely touched her arms. Instead, he gently turned her palms back and forth and lightly tapped a few spots, which she had no suspicion of. Nia attempted to read his face, and she hesitated at first. There was no way Nia would've told him the actual truth—that she didn't know what actually happened. What a stupid thing to believe, too, Nia thought. So Nia tried to come up with words to explain what had happened while he examined her arms. However, for some reason, she was unable to find those right words—or any words, for that matter. Only Uhh's and Yeah, well's formed her sentences before she started them all over again. The doctor offered her a small smile after he looked back up at her and assured her that there was nothing she should be concerned about. But his eyes lingered a little too long on her cheeks, causing Nia to switch her gaze. 

Unsure why she did, Nia tilted her head slightly, asking the doctor almost in a whisper, "Do you believe Bobby?" Nia didn't know why she asked him that. She guessed that it might have been an attempt at starting up a conversation, which was already difficult and awkward enough for her in this situation. She saw a change in his expression that she couldn't quite pick up on. Nevertheless, there was no time for that when she heard Bobby's loud shout, "Welcome!" interrupting her from across the room. He opened the introduction with the same speech that is printed on the back cover of the book he published. It was the same choice of words that had the fancy-dressed PR team grinning with excitement behind the cameras. Nia, on the other hand, took his speech as an insult. The man next to her seemed to agree, as she huffed at Bobby's words. Bobby Dagen did not continue to speak for long before he sat back down in his chair and, with a bow, invited the survivors to share their stories as well. Or, as he put it, 'finding trust in him'.

But at first, there was silence. At first, the people's eyes in the group wandered around, unsure of where to begin. Some glances paused at the cameras until Bobby held up his palms to give in. "All right," he admitted, opening his eyes again. With one short exhale, he gestured to the random survivor he selected with an extended palm. "You made a decision, right?" he asked. The woman he was aiming this question at raised her head to reveal the dejected expression on her face. "A decision that saved your life," Bobby added. "How did that make you feel?" Her arms were folded tightly together, and she faltered before she answered with one single word, "Free." After a moment of silent crying, she continued, saying, "He was abusive. I tried to stop it before, but it wasn't until that moment that I really did something. It was him or me, and I chose to live. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. He gave me a choice." The woman seemed a little proud in her glassy eyes as Bobby gave her an understanding nod. But Nia simply shook her head, looking away before commenting, "Bullshit."

Nia's comment caught the attention of all the many eyes in the circle at once. Between the heads, she noticed Bobby staring at her, and as if by instinct, the cameras followed his gaze as they automatically shifted to her as well. As she went on, Nia made an effort to ignore the unexpected attention, even from the man beside her. "You chose to live? Is that what you're all talking about—having a choice?" The question was directed at every single survivor in the group. With that, she stretched out her arms in front of her to present the thick bandages wrapped around her skin. "Look at my arms!" she shouted. "I had to break a glass box, using my bare hands, for a key that didn't even fit the fucking lock. I had no damn choice. I was supposed to die."

...

"Live or die; make your choice."

This sentence still echoed inside Nia's head. Like a switch being flicked, it made her instantly think back to what had happened. How her knees collided with the freezing, stony ground and how her face was just inches from the glass box as she slowly lifted her head. She remembered her shaking hands groping the surface of the box, whispering little hopes for something as simple as a button that would open it. Hopefully, some answer would've saved her from this hell. But that hadn't been the case; she was forced to realize that as she began to pound her fists on the hard glass. She could barely hold herself upright, but the pain in her bones and the pain in her arms urged her to keep going. And with every swing and every hit, she heard the ticking of the timer at the back of her head getting louder. Her muffled screams grew louder until Nia was finally able to stick her arm through the broken, bloody opening with the sound of her skin ripping, which nearly made her vomit. The key tied to the thread sank deeper into the dirty glass shards, causing Nia to widen her eyes in terror. Like a crazed animal, she tried to dig and shovel the key out of the broken glass, and it took a while before she finally pulled it out. Without taking a single glance at the key, she quickly pressed it against the small lock at the back of her head.

But it didn't fit.

Nia still remembered the way her heart was pounding against her chest as she tried again and again and again, but the key just wouldn't fit into the lock. Nia yanked the key back into her sights again, struggling to calm her frantic gaze.

On the key were words engraved, "no second choices."

...

Nia carefully blinked back up at the crowd of people still staring at her. Despite her mouth being open, she didn't say a word. Instead, she pressed her lips together before spitting out a nasty, "That's bullshit. Jigsaw is bullshit." If only Nia could've caught the face the doctor made. Bobby, on the other hand, twitched his eyebrow as he clasped his hands together. "Well, you still decided to agree to the invitation, seeing you here. You survived," he said, speaking as if he were doing this as a profession.

Yet he didn't know anything. Her eyebrows shot up in fury, but Nia bit her tongue, preferring to lean back in her chair and find a way to somehow calm the anger that was boiling inside her. "There's no reason to be glad about surviving if you're wanted dead," Nia said. Bobby seemed a bit taken aback by her words. He did anything but answer, going through many facial expressions. And his last irritated look faded into relief when the cameras switched in his direction again. With that, his personality changed again in the blink of an eye. "But that's exactly what defines each one of us. We were forced to endure a traumatic experience," he concluded. "And I don't necessarily think that there can't be any positive outcome to that."

"Like what?" a woman in the circle asked. Bobby smiled, getting up from his chair again to deliver yet another speech.

"Fucking prick," Nia whispered in a snarl.

"Liar too," she kept going, feeling something tickling down her cheek. "Shit-" Red drops fell down her chin to sink into her white bandages. It was after another drop fell that Nia realized that the blood was coming from her cheeks. She carefully placed her fingers to touch the wounds that had undoubtedly reopened. Beside her, she could hear the doctor say something, but she didn't listen to what he exactly said. Instead, she continued to quickly rub her cheeks with her bandaged hands, but this only resulted in the blood smearing. "Are you alright, miss?" Nia felt herself becoming more nervous, and she leaned down to her bag before explaining, in short, "Wounds opened." Without giving him time to react, Nia rose from her seat to rush out of the room in hopes of finding the nearest bathroom. While she did, she was rummaging through her bag, seeking out any plasters, bandages, or even tissues that she knew she had thrown in earlier. For some reason, though, Nia found nothing, repeating the process over and over again. Stumbling, she eventually found the ladies' bathroom and pushed down the door handle with her elbow. "Where did I..." She pushed the door open with a swing of her hips.

Nia threw the bag into the sink and picked it up again from the bottom, shaking it like crazy. While she listened to the contents falling against the white ceramic, she kept asking herself, "Where?! Where?!" And as she searched through the dumped items like a madwoman, thankful that there appeared to be no one in those bathroom stalls, her eyes dared a few glances into the mirror. Her forehead creased. Nia carefully touched her right cheek with her tied fingers, nearing her reflection. The cuts weren't particularly huge, but they still hurt like hell, mostly on the right side. Nia turned on the faucet after taking far too many paper towels from the dispenser once the drips started hitting the sink. "Jesus," she murmured as she dabbed layers of paper towels on the corner of her lips.

"Jesus!" she yelled out this time as she heard a knock on the bathroom door behind her before it opened. With her eyebrows pressed together, she exhaled in relief when she recognized the person in the mirror's reflection. "It's you."

"I'm sorry, I just couldn't help but make sure," the doctor from before paused from where he was standing, noticing her startled reaction. His hand was still placed on the door as she asked him, "Make sure? Well, why? I..." Nia turned to the mirror once again, raising her hands from the sink's edge and bringing them to her lips. She started wiping again. "I don't think there's much you need to make sure of," she snorted under the paper. The man offered a small, hesitant smile before moving to the red first aid box, which was hanging on the wall next to him. Nia heard the little door of the box creak, sighing again. "I was about to head home anyway." And as the words left her mouth, Nia felt a hand on her cheek, followed by the feeling of a damp cloth being rubbed against her skin. She felt fingers carefully gripping her chin, and their faces being far too close to each other for strangers. He's a doctor, Nia assured herself, trying to avoid any attempt at making eye contact. Although she was a little embarrassed by the warmth in her cheeks, she let him continue. "There's really no need. It's just a bleeding, it'll close up again," Nia mumbled while he adhered plasters to her skin. His fingers left her face, and she looked back in the mirror. "I understand your feelings towards Jigsaw," Nia heard him say, which caused her to turn to face him again. The doctor didn't look at her; instead, he put her stuff back in her bag and washed the water over the basin to remove the blood drips. He discarded the rags in the trash can. "Having to saw off my own foot was more than just a challenge. He put me through hell." Nia nodded slowly. Now that he mentioned it, her eyes wandered to look at the cane the man was carrying close to him. He continued speaking, "But then again, I survived because he wanted me to."

"It definitely isn't the same with you."

Their gazes met in the mirror.

"What is it that you want to tell me, doctor?"

He smiled at the nickname she gave him before leaning against the sink, shifting his gaze from her reflection to her actual face. "Jigsaw wants people to cherish life again, so he gives his victims a second choice to achieve that. Seeing that you did not get a second choice but more of a death wish makes it hard to believe that it was actually Jigsaw."

Nia felt her heart sink at that very moment.

His little theorizing didn't line up with what she had convinced herself to believe. Or was it what she was convinced to believe? Nia didn't know it herself, and the thought made her shake her head. All she knew was what her wounds and the remaining memories allowed to reveal to her. But never did she try to theorize. "So, you're saying that Jigsaw has nothing to do with..." Her voice fell silent as she was unable to continue her sentence. Nia's eyes shut for a moment, trying to compose herself. The man hesitated until speaking again, "Well, not that he particularly has nothing to do with it, but who knows? Maybe Jigsaw was only an inspiration."

The disbelief in her expression was evident to him. And this caused him to close his mouth again. Nia remained silent, still in thought, and she stared around. She placed her hand on her bag, ready to grab it and storm out of the bathroom. But she didn't dare take a step towards the exit. Instead, she turned back to the man, facing him without actually looking at him. "Would you..."

"...bring me home?"

"Sure," he responded after a nod.

...

...

Nia muttered another thank you before opening her small mailbox to take out the stuffed stacks of letters. It took her a stronger push to close the mailbox door, keeping the letters in her arms. The lights flickered as Nia took her first step on the stairs, which caused her to blink up at the ceiling. Her gaze switched when she heard the man who had walked her home call her name. "Yeah?" Despite the distance between them, her soft voice still reached his ears. When he opened his mouth again, he was still standing by the exit, not having taken another step in her direction. "Don't worry so much, alright?" he assured her.

"Even though you may not believe it, it will get better. You will get better." Nia shrugged, snorting, "Sure." Yet she didn't take another step. "Thanks again for accompanying me home. I..." However, she quickly silenced herself as she remembered what the man had just told her. So she instead brought a smile to her lips, waving a small goodbye before walking up the rest of the steps. That's when she heard the exit door close. And when she got to her front door, she went through the various papers. Nothing particularly caught her eye. Nothing except this little card that didn't appear to be wrapped in any kind of envelope. As if it had just been thrown in. As Nia leaned in to read the little words inscribed on the card, her eyebrows wrinkled before she flipped it over a few more times again.

"Are there choices?"

...

"What do they mean by 'choices', Lawrence? This is getting absurd." Nia folded her arms back together after shoving the card towards his plate. She received a puzzled glance from the man seated across from her before he picked up the paper. He seemed to be merely thinking for a while. Meanwhile, her eyes scanned the restaurant they were at, fiddeling with her necklace. She made nervous attempts to avoid looking suspicious. His mouth began to form words when his gaze slowly returned to her. His expression seemed to remain the same. "This..." He waved the card a little. "Where did you get this?" he asked. "From my mailbox. The day you brought me home, remember?" she replied. "I don't know when this got there. No envelope, nothing. They know where I live." Nia leaned forward to keep their conversation as private as possible. "Lawrence," she whispered his name. "I'm sca..." Her voice broke, only leaving a desperate expression on her face. Lawrence, the man she was talking to, changed his expression. "You're safe," he assured her right away as he placed his hand on hers. Nia pursed her lips, not knowing what to believe. "This won't happen again. I promise." Nia's eyes wandered around the room again before she whispered to him once more, "How can you be so sure?" She continued, "They know where I live. I don't even know how I got kidnapped in the first place and now... Fuck, if it'll happen again, I-"

"-Nia." There was a pause in which Lawrence simply looked into her brown eyes. "I promise. I'll be there." The way Lawrence spoke those words, no matter how ridiculous it may seem, they made Nia feel some sort of surety. It made her nod and exhale this pressure she was feeling deep inside. "Alright. Okay." Her gaze turned away from him as she went on, "I just... I don't know what they would mean by that." Nia rested a palm on her forehead and used the table as support for her elbow. "What choices do I have? I mean, they, whoever it was, wanted me dead." Lawrence shook his head. "There weren't any choices given," he muttered almost to himself. "Exactly!" Nia's voice got a little louder than she intended to. She huffed, "And I still survived. Fuck knows why."

"I feel like I'm keeping secrets from myself." She picked up her fork, only to set it back down. Her appetite was long gone. And it didn't help staring at her food, falling into thought again. It was unclear to her why they had decided to have this conversation in a fine restaurant like this. Neither did she know why she picked out her favourite dress for this. "Hey, don't try to put so much pressure on yourself now. You've already endured enough." Lawrence's stern look somehow caused Nia to smirk. She somehow agreed.

"You know, either way, it's nice to finally talk to someone." The smirk stayed on her lips as she added, "It's been some time." He, on the other hand, looked a little surprised at first, but then quickly felt relief at the quick change in atmosphere. He smirked as well.

"Yes, I can't help but agree."

Quietly giggling, Nia heard him join in.

"I just hope you're right about me being safe."

...

In the end, Nia's memories summarized the entirety of her relationship with Lawrence. They remembered him as someone special. Someone who appeared ordinary to others but not to her. Because to her, he was everything for her. There were so many moments with him—so many that she longed to relive them again. There were so many words he said with such kindness that Nia initially believed she didn't deserve. And maybe it was like that. Whatever the case, Nia's memories of him always ended with their final conversation.

...

"No, you're right. I need to find some kind of new beginning in my life." Lawrence glanced up from his cup of coffee without lifting his head. He had his eyebrow raised as Nia kept speaking, "Like breaking glass. Trying to let go of the past, y'know?" Nia laughed at herself for her poor choice of metaphor. "Nevermind." The flush warming up her cheeks was obvious to notice. But Lawrence knew what she was trying to imply, nodding before asking, "A new beginning, you say?" with enough comprehension in his voice. "And what would you consider your start to be like?" Nia didn't expect him to ask a question like that; he could tell by her face. "Well, you see..." She exhaled. "I have no idea." And Nia giggled again, seeming unsure whether to tell him or not. "Anything to pull myself out of this mess I feel like I'm living in. No yoga or anything silly like that," she tried, but she couldn't think of anything. Instead, she continued to stir her tea, waiting for some genius idea to finally form. So she spoke again, "Maybe I'll finally decide on a new job? I've been to a few different places now. I got enough experience, I guess."

"What do you say?" Lawrence stopped sipping, listening carefully.

"Maybe even switching states, too? Saying my final goodbyes to this shithole New Jersey is? I heard San Francisco is nice." Nia kept on wondering, murmuring to herself, "Expensive but nice..." The way she talked about her dreams made it seem as if that's all they were —simple dreams. It sounded meaningless, no more than a joke for her to even consider, based on the way Lawrence could hear it in her voice. He let out a soft sigh. "Oh, Nia, you're doing it again." She seemed a little surprised by his words. "What?" Lawrence put his coffee back on the table. "This." His hand gestured to her face. "You talk as if you don't trust yourself."

"What do you mean, I..."

"Nia, I know you'll do it," he said. Nia shut her mouth. "You're doing good. Better even. But if you keep on wondering and never dare to take the first step, those dreams will eat you up. Nia, it's okay."

"I know you'll do it."

She didn't know what else to do but thank him. And he told her, "Not for this," with a smile so warm.

She never would have imagined kissing it like she did.

[silver-itallics]

writing blurb :p I can't tell if it's good or not. I just love Lawrence Gordon I want him 2 dissect me <3