#he'd shout at me and I'd say thank you
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The Harleen comics knew the fuck what was up when they made Harvey Dent/Two-face
Raw, next question
#its a two in one deal so where do I sign up#also I am a BIG FAN of the idea of Harvey having a lisp or a speech impediment after the incident#he'd shout at me and I'd say thank you#actually I'd probably cry#Harleen two-face#this is just turning into a blog about me getting all giddy over DC villains#maybe they shouldn't have made them so pretty#harvey dent#dc two face#two face#dc harvey dent#dc#dc comic#harleen comic#batman
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pre-relationship bullshit haikyuu teams probably had to put up with before various ships managed to get their shit together
daisuga probably was really annoying with like small/petty jealousy, like a girl would hit on one of them and the other would be standing behind their back making faces about it and mocking it and everyone else on the team just has to put up with it. and then theyre all overly sweet to each other to make up for the petty jealousy or some odd version of "winning them back" after the flirting event and the team is rolling their eyes *so hard*
i think asanoya is so annoying bc nobody can convince Asahi that Noya likes him. Like full stop. Eventually someone pulls him aside and is point blank like "Noya said he has a crush on you ask him out" and Asahi is just like: "Haha he was probably joking" and just leaves the scene. Like the absolute refusal to believe it from Asahi combined with Noya's classic teen boy inability to be sincere means that even after theyve both been told they somehow still havent gotten together??? how long is this going to take???
tsukkiyama probably ruins everyone's week the week before they get together bc one of them *saw* a confession letter stuck into the other's bag and absolutely went (emotionally) off the rails for the days leading up to them discovering it was for them.
I am fully of the camp that iwaoi start dating before they label it/make it official so the whole team is screaming like "PLEASE HAVE A CONVERSATION ABOUT IT" meanwhile Oikawa is saying "we just went on a few dates and kissed a few times it doesnt mean anything" and Iwa is in the background shouting "yeah I dont wanna be anyone's boyfriend that's lame" and then they wander off to go eat dinner together holding hands and the team is left in frustration because ALL they talk about is how theyre *not* in a relationship.
for bokuaka its mostly just Bokuto pestering every goddamn person he knows for like 4 months asking "do you think Akaashi likes me?" or "do you think he'd say yes if I asked him out?" and then one day making Konoha *snap* when he says "I need to tell you a secret" and the secret is that he has a crush on Akaashi as if nobody had known that
with ushiten I imagine Tendou was probably really obvious with his crush/interest but in like a very casual "not taking myself too seriously" kind of way so he's comfortable openly flirting, and Ushijima, against everyone's expectations, doesnt seem to mind the attention but is still who he is, so the whole team just has to put up with the most INSANE interactions. Like Tendou walks into the locker room and cat calls him and Ushijima just replies with a formal "thank you" and Semi is contemplating slamming his head in a locker. There's like 12 months of this.
okay okay but I think arankita is *very classic* in that Aran compensates for his crush by over-supporting Kita. so like the whole team gets super annoyed bc Aran wont risk disagreeing with him, is always offering to do extra work, is generally just sucking-up really badly and the twins suffer the most for this bc Aran used to just ignore their antics but now he's super annoyingly on them all the time to try and impress Kita
kuroken is a little different. Yaku asks Kuroo every single day if he's asked Kenma out yet. Lev asks Kenma if he has a crush on Kuroo every chance he gets. Fukunaga gives them a wink when they leave practice to walk home together. This is the only pairing in which the team is the irritant pre-relationship and then post-relationship everyone loses interest and moves on.
I'd include kagehina but once again the entire goddamn show is everyone putting up with them flirting so whats the point.
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Girl Next Door
Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader
Word count: 1.8k
Summary: Simon is a simple man who doesn't ask for much. Just a bit of peace to come home to. When suddenly you pop in to interrupt his tranquility. Maybe he doesn't completely hate it...
A/N: This is fluff if you squint. Slow burn?? This will probably just be part one if y'all dig the concept. Let me know what you think.
━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━
Simon loves sitting on his balcony in the evening. He loved it before his new neighbor moved in. He wasn't the type to be overly concerned about the actions of other tenants. If someone was too loud, he'd just turn up the television. Banging from upstairs, he'd play some music. Smoking pot outside, that's fine he smokes cigarettes. And he was never one to meddle in others personal lives. He sought sanctuary in his alone time.
While unlocking his front door one day he couldn't ignore the soft grunting coming from down the hallway behind him. He turns to see someone coming out of the stairwell with a box so big he can only make out a pair of hands on the sides and little legs coming out the bottom. He watched as you waddled all the way to the door right next to his own. You drop the box with a huff, leaning forward on the cardboard to catch your breath.
"Hi neighbor," you greet between pants. You're wearing some baggy clothes and a beat up baseball cap, wide eyes staring up at him from under its brim. Just a hint of sweat speckling your temples. "Sorry for the noise, I promise I'm not a normally noisy person." you smile.
"Hope not," he grunts and enters his own residence. Closing the door firmly without a second look.
𝜗𝜚
The next day while he's drinking his morning coffee and going through his emails he is disturbed by a politely quiet knock on the door. When he looks through the peephole he sees you again. This time with your hair down, wearing a sundress. Looking a lot more put together. You're holding a tray in your hands. He opens the door but does not release the door chain, leaving only a crack in the door to reveal himself.
"Can I help you," he grumbles in a flat tone.
"Hey neighbor!" You don't let the small allowance of space dampen your spirit or at least you don't show it. "I made some cookies. I'd like to think it's good luck to christen a new place by making something sweet in it. The recipe ended up making way more than I planned for so I figured it would be the neighborly thing to do to offer you some." You give your brightest smile hoping to win him over.
"I don't like sweets," he states.
"Oh, really? I thought everyone liked sweets..." Your shoulders slump the smallest bit as you pause for a moment in thought. "Well, I've got a baked ziti in the oven. It should be ready in about thirty minutes. I could pop by and drop off some when it's done, if you'd like?"
"Yeah, no thanks." He doesn't allow you to respond when he closes the door in your face. Simon is a distrustful man by nature and he won't let a sweet girl with a tray of goodies change that. They did smell really good though. He can't help himself when he looks through his peephole to watch you leave. You let out a defeated sigh and shuffle back to your apartment next door.
𝜗𝜚
A few days later he runs into you again. He steps into the elevator, presses the button for the lobby, when he hears a familiar voice calling.
"Wait, hold the elevator please!" You shout down the hallway. You jog towards the lift, trying to get your purse on your shoulder with one hand while balancing your phone, keys, and a travel mug in the other. Your jacket is only half on and the straps on your shoes are undone. Simon groans under his breath but, out of a second of sympathy, he holds his arm out to block the doors from closing.
"Thank you," you say breathlessly and duck underneath his outstretched arm. "I'm a running little behind this morning."
"No problem." His eyes remain forward, watching the doors slide shut as the two of you start descending. You finish putting on your jacket and run your fingers to settle your frazzled hair.
"Can you hold this for a second?"
"Uh.." He doesn't get a chance to answer when you're thrusting your warm cup into his hands. He watches as you shove your phone and keys into your purse then bend down to finish buckling the straps on your shoes. Unbothered when your skirt rides up your leg exposing your upper thigh.
You stand back up, straightening your blouse. "Thanks again" You take the cup back allowing him to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Hey, I'm sorry if I came off as strong the other day."
"It's fine"
"I'm not the best with first impressions." He doesn't respond so you continue. "I didn't mean to intrude either. I'm sure you're a very busy man. Me too, I'm pretty busy with work and stuff. I write for the paper. Well, I am writing the cooking column right now but I'm hoping to get bumped up soon. Maybe something like crime would be cool. What about you? What do you do for work?"
The elevator's ding signals you've arrived at the lobby. As the doors open Simon turns to his head slowly to look at you and nods towards the open doors.
"Ladies first"
He wasn't fooled by your clumsy persona, he could feel an ulterior motive in you. He watched as you sauntered off. You are much more professional now, as you pull out a pair of sunglasses and slide them on. He watched the way your hips swayed in your tight skirt. You looked over your shoulder and smiled sweetly at him. Simon waits until you're pushing open the glass paneled double doors before he heads out of the lift himself.
As you make it onto the city sidewalk, a man runs right into you, causing your coffee to spill down the front of your shirt. You gasp as the hot liquid splashes onto your freshly ironed blouse and down your chest. The man hardly pauses before redirecting around you looking irritated. You spin back around with a huff and shove back into the lobby, pacing to the elevator.
"Hold the door, please" you groan, marching back while Simon blocks the doors again, containing his laugh into a tight smirk.
𝜗𝜚
Whenever you caught a glimpse of Simon you were quick to skip over and start a conversation. Which was quite a bit. It seemed he was always running into you. The elevator, the apartment gym, while taking out trash, in the parking garage, as he unlocks his door. Most of the conversation being one sided. He was starting to learn more about your life, all the information against his will, of course.
You were a recipe columnist, also a great cook. You liked dogs but really wanted a cat. You were a single child. You moved here to get a fresh start after a bad relationship. You don't have many friends, that one is pretty obvious.
Then one night, while Simon is trying to enjoy a smoke outside on his balcony he's disturbed by loud shouting in your apartment. Not in your usual bubbly tone, no you sounded angry. He couldn't understand the words you were saying through the glass of your patio door. Then a deep voice is shouting back at you. After a few minutes of listening to the back and forth, your front door slams and then there is stillness. The moment is interrupted when you storm onto your own balcony, slamming the glass door shut behind you.
You brace yourself on the railing edge. He watches your shoulders heave with a few heavy breaths then start to shutter. Your head falls weakly into your hands and you begin to cry. Cry hard at that, sobbing that shakes your whole body. You cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet but your pathetic whimpers still slip though.
For a moment Simon actually feels bad for you. In fact he feels angry, angry at whoever could have made you feel that way. Sure, you could be annoying at times. Okay annoying all the time but he has never heard you say a harsh word about anyone before. He can't fathom what you could have possibly done to deserve such harshness. You are a sweet girl. He considers saying something to comfort you in some way but after another minute of watching you cry meekly into your hands he thinks maybe not. It would be better to let you be alone. His own patio door is still open, perhaps and can slip back inside with you noticing...
Then he drops his lighter.
Your head turns sharply to the direction of the clattering plastic against the floor. You lock your watery eyes with Simon and he feels an unexpected pang in his heart. You swiftly wipe your eyes and brush your ruffled hair in place the best you can. Even in the dim lighting illuminating from the city below he can still see how flushed your cheeks have become.
You draw in a shaky inhale before speaking. "How long have you been out here?"
"Not long," He sees your eyes flick down to the half smoked cigarette between his fingers, giving away his lie. "You want one?" He asks, unsure how to comfort you.
"I don't smoke," then a pause. "Can I just have a bit of yours?" Your voice is so feeble it's almost a whisper. As you look at him with big round eyes and pouty lips, he can't deny your request.
He passes the half burnt cigarette over the small stone wall separating your balconies. You're shaky fingers brush against his, careful not to drop it. You bring it to your lips to pull a slow drag. Your eyes flutter shut before you release the puff of smoke, carefully not to blow it in his direction. Simon watches the cloud drift out of your mouth, disappearing into the chilled night air. You lean on the wall connecting your balcony to Simon's. You stare down at the glowing red ember emitting a thin plume of smoke.
"You alright?" It's him this time who breaks the silence.
"Yeah," you mumble, not lifting your gaze.
"You sure?"
"No," you release a tired sigh.
He waits a beat before speaking. "You told me you weren't gonna be a noisy neighbor."
A smile begins to creep onto your face. "I'm sorry, I broke my promise. How can I make it up to you?" When you look at him now, he sees a shimmer return back to your eyes.
You pass the cigarette back over to him. It's basically down to the filter when he brings it to his own lips and takes a final drag, blowing the smoke between the two of you. It disperses around your features while you watch him. He stubs it out in an ashtray on his little patio table. The cool night dries his chapped mouth. He licks his lips and tastes an unfamiliar cherry flavoring. He looks down at the butt in his ashtray and observes the faintest red ring of lipgloss on the smushed filter.
"You know, I could go for some baked ziti."
━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━
Part II
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#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#call of duty#cod#cod x reader#ghost mw2#simon riley fic
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A Brush With...Kindness?
This idea came up in a discussion with @bigblissandlove1, so credit to you, my dear friend!! Thank you for being okay with me writing it! ILYSM! Thank you for screaming over both versions of Adar with meeee 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 Also holy shit, this was supposed to be like...2000 words and ended up as almost 12000. 💀
Cross-posted to AO3 here.
~*~
Adar (RoP) x Reader
[A/N: This has smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]
Warnings: Mentions of violence (not discussed in detail), blood, bloodplay, threats, knives, swords, Adar in the winter, both soft!Adar and stabby!Adar, interspecies sex, Uruk/Human sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), angst, much yearning, nudity, I feel like I'm forgetting something but I have no idea what because holy fuck this is almost 12000 words.
~*~
I knew his face from the moment he and his Uruks flooded into our village. Pillaging and looting where they could, murdering those who fought, the Uruks caused havoc. He strode in with them, looking as serene as the Elf I'd mistaken him for when I was a child.
How lucky I'd been that he'd chosen peace all those years ago. My father was a trader who traveled between Lindon, Eregion, and several villages inhabited by Men. Between the last of those villages and the borders of Eregion, we'd stopped to make camp for the night.
While my father set up our tent and tended to the horse, he asked me to gather some small sticks for the fire. I set off to do so, but in my quest for kindling, I ended up farther away from him than I'd intended with an armload of sticks large enough to make me stagger. Just as I'd begun to turn back, there was a small rustling from behind a bush a few feet away. I turned just in time to see a figure rising to his feet.
Tall, intimidating, covered in dark, aging armor, with scars on his face stood an Ellon. I let out a small, childish sigh of relief. I'd been afraid it might be a bear or an Orc or something fearsome, but it occurred to me that the presence of an Elf must mean that we were close to Eregion.
"You should not wander alone, little one. There are Uruks lurking in this forest," he said, and I noted that he sounded strange. Most Elves had voices that flowed like silvery musical notes, but his was raspy and low, as if he'd screamed for so long that he'd hurt his throat. Maybe he was a soldier, I'd thought. After all, they shout orders all the time.
"I'm not alone," I said lifting my chin as proudly as only a child could. "My father is not far from here."
He did not look convinced, yet still he offered me a smile.
"Perhaps, then, my lady, I could help you with your load?" He asked, and as I'd never been called 'my lady' before, I was not eager to disabuse him of the notion. He relieved me of my bundle of sticks, and together we began to walk back toward the camp my father had set up. After a few moments of comfortable quiet, I posed a question.
"What is an Uruk? I've never heard of one before. The word sounds sort of like 'Orc' if you say it too quickly..." I mused, and a small smile tugged at his lips. Vaguely, I wondered if his scars hurt him, but I did not think it polite to ask. At ten years old, my father had taught me manners enough to know that if a person wanted to talk about something like that, they should be the ones to bring it up.
"An Uruk is the correct name for an Orc," the Ellon said. "The words became...confused long ago. Not many remember their real name."
Oh. Well, that made sense.
"There are two people who know, now," I said smiling up at him, and he looked at me with raised eyebrows.
"That is kind of you, my lady, but you must not use that name around the Elves. They do not take kindly to having their mistakes paraded before them," he said, and that confused me.
"But...you are–"
The crunching steps of heavy boots in the underbrush startled me, but instead of an Uruk appearing from the trees, it was just my father.
"There you are! I told you not to go too far," he said striding up to me and wrapping me in his arms. He placed a kiss atop my head and only then did he turn his gaze upon my companion. Straightening, he glared suspiciously at my new friend. "Who are you? I've never seen Elvish armor quite like that."
His tone was less than kind, and, remembering my manners, I spoke up on my friend's behalf.
"Be nice, papa! He was helping me," I said. My new friend shifted the bundle of sticks to one arm, and placed his hand over his heart, inclining his head in a respectful bow.
"I intended her no harm, sir. There are many perils in this part of the forest and I wished to ensure she would not encounter danger," he explained. "Besides, a bundle this large was certainly more than a lady of her status should have to bear."
He offered me an exaggerated, deferential bow that drew a giggle from my lips. After a mere moment's hesitation, my father invited him to our camp to keep warm, since the woods grew quite cold at night. Looking back, it was obvious that he was incredibly patient with my childish questions as the three of us settled in to pass the night. Our evening meal stretched easily between three mouths, even though our new friend said that he did not wish to diminish our supply of food. We could not simply let him starve.
I woke in the middle of the night to low, whispered voices at the treeline. Carefully, I peeked through the flaps of my tent and saw two shadowed figures around the flickers of a small lamp. One stood tall, and the other hunched over.
With my father still slumbering soundly in his bedroll, I made a decision of which he surely would have disapproved. As quietly as I could, I slipped out, sneaking through the shadows of the trees until I could just make out the face of the taller person in the lamplight.
Our Ellon friend? What was he doing out here? Shifting slightly, I caught sight of the second person and–
I nearly tripped over myself to get back to my tent. He'd been speaking in a strange rasping, mean-sounding language to an Orc - or, an Uruk, as he'd called them.
I wasn't frightened of him, despite what I'd seen. Curiosity still reigned in my mind, but I still did not relish the thought of being caught eavesdropping. The next morning, I rose quite early, only to find that our guest was already gone.
"Don't look so distressed, love," my father called from his seat beside the fire. "He left this for you along with his apologies for leaving before you woke. He said his children needed him."
He held out a small piece of dark metal. It had clearly come from his armor. Carved within it was a set of stars, inlaid with some other tarnished metal.
"He said it was the symbol of the Noldorin Kings. He thought you might appreciate it and that it might serve to remind you of the conversation the two of you had," my father explained, though he looked a bit puzzled. "What conversation did he mean, if I may ask?"
As I looked at the small metal piece, it occurred to me that if he had not told my father, then perhaps there was a reason. My father might react poorly to the word 'Uruk' like our friend said the Elves would, simply because he worked so closely with them.
"He said it was dangerous to walk alone," I said, and though it wasn't a lie, it was not the whole truth, either. I'd never had reason to lie to my father before, and I hoped I would never need to again.
That night after we rode into Eregion and settled into our chambers, by candlelight I found the second symbol. Carved onto the back of the item he'd given me, there was what looked like a three-pronged shape. A tool perhaps? A maker's mark?
I wouldn't see that shape again until many years later when Lord Adar took our village. The armor piece which I'd turned into a necklace years before hung around my neck, almost burning beneath the bodice of my dress even as I averted my eyes from our new lord's.
When the morning came, we were all herded into a line leading to the steps of the tavern from which Adar was currently ruling over us. Those who refused to swear loyalty to him were summarily killed by the Uruks guarding us. When my own turn came, I dropped to my knees as all those before me had done.
Strangely, though, even as I looked up at him, I still couldn't find it within me to be afraid of him. Of death? Naturally, I was frightened, but I could not muster the same feeling regarding the Uruk lord. His eyes met mine, and his lips parted as if he recognized me.
An old man grasped my hair roughly, forcing my head down into a more subservient position.
"Do you swear allegiance to Adar, Lord Father of the Uruks?" He asked, but before I could answer either way, his tight grasp on my hair was suddenly released. "M-My lord?"
"She has already sworn for me," Adar rasped above me, and I tried not to look confused as he urged me to my feet. He reached toward me, and to my astonishment, his fingertips brushed against the pendant that had come loose from beneath the top of my dress. The one he'd given me years ago. The back with the three-pronged carving was visible because the chain had twisted. "She already wears my mark. You will not brand her, is that understood?"
"Yes, my lord," the grumpy old man said, but I could look nowhere save into the same green eyes I'd seen all those years before. I couldn't help but think about how beautiful they were.
"I shall see to the rest tomorrow, Waldreg. See that they're fed and have a place to sleep," Adar ordered. Grasping my elbow, the Lord Father of the Uruks led me away from the crowd. Once we were safely inside one of the ruined buildings, he clasped my upper arms and looked into my eyes. "I thought I told you it was dangerous to wander alone, my lady."
His voice was infinitely gentler than it had been before.
"I'm not alone," I whispered, "not when I have you."
Looking at me with a mixture of disbelief and something far too soft to be on an Uruk Lord's face, he stepped closer and carefully rested his forehead against mine. The scent of smoke and metal, earth and wood oils surrounded me, and I recognized the scent, faint though it had been, from that day in the woods.
He muttered something in the low, guttural language that the Uruks used, and though I had no idea what he'd said, the sound of it sent my heart racing in my chest.
"I thought I'd never see you again," I admitted in a whisper, and he let out a slow, almost sad sigh.
"I had hoped that you would never have need to," Adar murmured in return. When he spoke again, he sounded almost resigned. "If you wish to leave, I can arrange safe passage for you."
I considered the possibility for a moment. My mother and father were living peacefully in Eregion, thanks to the kindness bestowed upon them by Lord Celebrimbor. I could certainly go there, but...was that what I wanted?
"And...if I wanted to stay?"
Pulling his head back just far enough to look into my eyes, Adar seemed as though he both was and was not surprised at my question.
"You would be allowed to do so, of course, but you must understand that this would be a hard life," he stated. "I cannot offer you any luxuries, not like those found in Elven territory. Mordor is new. We have very little. We have not even completed the construction of our own homes yet. Is that truly the life you want? Barely getting by on scraps of food, sleeping in the ruins of an old building?"
"I can bear it," I reassured him, and he seemed to consider my words as his fingertips once again traced the chain of my necklace.
"I will not make you swear your loyalty, my lady, but I would like your word that if at any point you feel as though this life is intolerable or overwhelming, you will tell me," he murmured as his eyes met mine again. "I would not see your light dimmed by such a place as this."
Gently, I laid my hands over his.
"You have my word, my lord," I murmured, and he nodded his head slowly.
"Then, welcome to Mordor, híril vuin."
--
She'd been different since the day they met. Oh, she was likely an average member of her species, but Adar had little personal experience with Humans beyond the occasional interaction. Her openness when she was a child had been endearing, especially since she hadn't thought him frightening or hideous. She'd accepted him as he was without question - even going so far as to protect him from her father's suspicion.
After she'd caught him speaking with Glûg in the middle of the night, ordering his children to leave her and her father be in Black Speech, however, Adar had thought that she'd have told her father what she'd seen...that he would be met with an arrow to the chest upon his return to their camp. Instead, she'd managed to sneak back unnoticed, and he'd taken his leave before she awakened.
Never did he think that one day as a grown woman - a lady - she would be forced to kneel at his feet. Not even with the threat of death looming over her was she afraid of him.
He'd never wanted her fear. When she was a child, he'd savored her curiosity, and now, as an adult, he found that he relished her gentleness and her acceptance. She'd been courteous to all of his children whom she'd encountered, even if such behavior earned scorn from the other Humans in their encampment. She never cowered. She never diminished herself to fit into the dull little boxes that the others of her species so consistently tried to force upon her. She was unique.
And Adar found himself growing ever more intrigued by her.
The winter wind whipped clothing, biting the skin and sinking bone-deep. Like most discomfort, Adar was used to it. He knew every survival method - one did not live for thousands of years without picking up a few helpful practices. His children had followed his example, but it was a bit harder for the Humans among them to find comfort.
Truly, though, the only one he cared about was his lady...his brave, determined lady. He remembered her looking up at him the better part of a year ago when she was forced to the ground before him. Curiosity and recognition was as obvious in her expression as the points on an Elf's ears.
Even after he'd taken their village, she hadn't hated him. She hadn't denied having sworn for him, even though that had been a lie he concocted to keep her safe and unblemished.
Seeing that remnant of his armor hanging from a chain around her neck had inspired more pride and awe in him than he'd felt in an Age. Adar had assumed that even if her father had given it to her, it was so small and insignificant that she wouldn't have bothered to keep track of it. But for her to have turned it into a necklace... The thought still sparked a wave of warmth in the Uruk's heart.
Had their encounter truly been that memorable to her?
As the bitter winter held the camp in its grip, residents and all, Adar walked amongst his children and sworn Human villagers alike, noting those things which were needed most. He turned a corner between rows of tents and half-built houses and paused at the sight of his lady and Glûg discussing the babe in the Uruk's arms. After a few moments, his lady let out a small laugh, and Glûg let out a rasping chuckle before departing with a small bow.
Before he could behave as if he'd been doing anything - anything at all - besides watching them, she turned and Adar's eyes met hers. Approaching without hesitation, she curtsied and greeted him with her customary 'good day, my lord.'
Dropping into his own low bow, Adar offered her his arm.
"Walk with me, if you would, my lady," he murmured, and she looped her arm with his. "How would you characterize the mood amongst your people here?"
They walked a few steps, she considering her answer, and he marveling at how easily they fit together. Having her at his side felt natural, as if that was where she was always meant to be.
"They are under strain, because of the winter temperatures. Perhaps they are a bit more frightened than usual, but nothing too serious," she replied. "They seem to have settled into their new routine along with your children quite well, considering the circumstances."
"And what of your own circumstances? What can I do to ease your burden?" He asked as they reached the door of her shelter.
"I can think of nothing, my lord." Adar did not believe that, but he did not contradict her, choosing instead to accept her invitation inside.
"Allow me, at least," he said as he stepped inside, "to check your supplies. Firewood and the like."
"Of course," she murmured, waving him inside. One of the other ladies who shared her living space had already lit a fire in grate, and as soon as they saw Lord Adar walk inside, they quickly found other places to be.
Pretending to take a cursory view around the room, Adar slyly watched his lady move around, tidying up, even though the messes had clearly been created by the others. That he did not like, but that was a problem for a later date.
"Are you certain there is nothing I can do to improve your situation?" He asked, and she flashed him a smile bright enough to make his heart skip a beat.
"Nothing, whatsoever. I'm quite comfortable here," she said walking to stand with him beside the fire. He took a long, selfish moment to indulge his desire to study her face. When his desire to reach out and touch her grew so strong that he felt he might snap, he drew and released a deep breath.
"Thank you for your indulgence, my lady. I shall leave you in peace."
Adar gave her a small bow before making his way toward the door.
"Oh, wait! Please, my lord," she called, and he turned to face her. She pulled a length of cloth from a bundle, hurrying over to him.
A familiar sense of dread curled in his abdomen. He'd been betrayed before in moments of weakness - seeing her this evening was certainly a weakness. The cloth would make a suitable garrote for a person of her size to use. Steeling himself as she approached, he realized that, though he wouldn't be surprised, her betrayal would hurt more than any other had.
He met her eyes with his as she stood on the tips of her toes to wrap the cloth around his neck...but the constriction he'd been expecting never came. Instead, she tied it carefully, tucking the ends into his armor so they wouldn't flap around in the wind.
Adar's gauntlet-covered fist relaxed as his defensiveness was replaced with confusion. He was certain that he must look as utterly befuddled as he felt, but the little smile that settled upon her lips as she examined her handiwork stole his breath.
"There. That should keep you a little warmer, at least. We cannot have the Lord of Mordor freezing, now can we?" She asked when her fingers finally fell away from the chestplate of his armor. Adar found speech difficult for a long moment. She cared for his comfort?
How was one supposed to tell someone that they'd expected death's shadow only to find kindness instead? How could he possibly explain to someone like her that at the sight of a simple makeshift scarf, he'd coiled himself as tightly as a warrior preparing to be struck without a shield or sword to defend himself? She was so considerate that she would blame herself for unsettling him, he had no doubt.
No, to say nothing would be better. Perhaps...perhaps later.
Lifting her hands gently in his own, he laid soft kisses upon her knuckles. He dared not look away. Not now. This moment was crucial - whether for just him or for them both, he knew not.
"Thank you, dear lady," he breathed, and as his eyes searched hers, he saw what he normally did in her: warmth. However, this time he saw more. There was warmth, yes, but there was also gentleness, protectiveness, and a sort of satisfaction about him not tearing the scarf from his throat - he would never do such a thing. Not when it was from her.
When he finally stepped outside once more, the wind was unable to sink its frozen teeth into his neck. The fabric, worn and discolored with age, was soft, caressing his scarred skin just as he imagined her fingers would if she ever deigned to lower herself and take him as her lover.
Her generosity made him only that much more determined to find some way to make life easier for her. For nearly a week, he was kept too busy to give the matter any serious consideration, but he did have an idea.
While she was occupied, Adar slipped into her shelter. He wished to find a way to repay her for her kindness, thus his goal was to find one of her unfulfilled needs and provide for her. He was already able to ensure that she received enough food and water, and she deserved more than he could ever give her, but he was willing to try.
After a few moments of searching, he noticed the blanket in her little sleeping area. It was thin, full of holes, and practically falling apart. It was the only one he could see.
His heart clenched in his chest. She must be nearly frozen during the night, yet she had still seen fit to give him her scarf? The growing dampness of tears blurred his vision, but he blinked them away. How had she made it through the winter?
At least he could fix this for her.
Picking up the tattered blanket, he strode across the camp to find a replacement. Laying it atop a pile with other bits of cloth that needed to be repurposed, he found a stack of extra blankets. He'd already ensured that all of his children had enough to keep them warm, so one extra would not be missed.
He hastened back to her shelter, closing the door nearly silently behind him, but he quickly realized that he was not alone.
"My lord?" She called from her place beside the cold hearth. She was trying to light a fire with trembling hands. Walking over to her, Adar tucked the blanket beneath his arm and gently coaxed the flint and steel from her cold fingers.
Kneeling briefly, he struck the flint and steel once, twice, and carefully encouraged the flame to grow until a warm glow illuminated the room. When he stood again, he grasped her hands and rubbed them between his palms. He would not be content to leave her until he was certain that she would not freeze in the night.
She looked up at him in wordless wonder, and he knew for certain that his own expression had to be similar.
"Thank you, my lord," she said in barely a whisper, and in reply, he unfolded the blanket he'd brought. Though it was not nearly as soft as someone like her deserved, he knew it would hold the heat much better than her old one. Adar draped it around her shoulders, and, sweet, trusting thing that she was, she made no protest about his proximity, nor did she flinch when the backs of his knuckles caressed her cheek.
She looked from him, to the blanket, and back again. Without warning, she sprang forward, wrapping her arms around his middle, but where he usually expected the bite of a dagger after such an impact, he found only comfort. He realized that she...was embracing him.
He looked down at her, only to find his nose buried in her hair. Her scent! He'd smelled it before, but to have her this close...it was intoxicating. Carefully bracing his hands on her waist, he leaned down a little farther. The tip of his nose brushed against her warm neck, and he could almost smell her pulse racing beneath her skin.
His nose must've been cold, for that small movement was enough to startle her into leaping back. His fëa, dark and fractured as it was, wept at the loss of her, even though she'd only been in contact with him for a moment.
It had been so long since he'd been held like that.
Alarm settled into her expression and she began stammering apologies. Her new blanket slipped from one shoulder, and without a word, Adar stepped toward her and pulled it back into place.
Her voice dropped away as she realized what he was doing. His hands laid lightly upon her shoulders, sliding slowly upward until he was able to cup her cheeks carefully between his scarred fingers. Her eyes, now wide with wonder rather than fear, looked up at him.
"You have done nothing which warrants an apology, my lady," Adar murmured giving her small smile. She was so beautiful, so fragile compared to him. He would risk no injury coming to her. Not even the discomfort of the abating cold; slowly, their breaths became less visible as the fire grew in the hearth. "Why did you not tell me about the state of your blanket?"
"I did not wish to trouble you, my lord," she answered sheepishly. "I had already requested a replacement from the head of the Men in our section, but I was told I'd have to speak with Waldreg. Given my previous encounters with him, I...decided that the cold was preferable."
Disquiet twisted within him. Waldreg was distasteful enough without having caused his lady trouble. He was quite certain he'd tear the little worm of a Man limb from limb with a grin on his lips if he dared harm his lady.
Adar would have to speak with him about that.
"Has he mistreated you?" He tried to keep his tone as steady as possible, but a slight edge still managed to creep in.
"He expressed a few less than polite sentiments, but no more. It is not a crime for him to dislike me, my lord," she said, but her attempt to calm his ire only made him angrier on her behalf. Would she not express her anger even at someone as wretched and cruel as Waldreg?
"In future, come directly to me. You need not be afraid. I would be pleased to assist you, my lady," he promised, and his heart stuttered as she nodded her head.
As soon as he left her shelter, he sought Waldreg. The miserable little rat had much to answer for.
--
As the winter winds began to wane, I found myself increasingly glad of Lord Adar's kindness. Not shivering through the night was a pleasant change. I'd thought that after our conversation he seemed rather tense, but thus far I had seen no results.
However, as I returned from harvesting a small bunch of mushrooms for the soup that night, a vicelike grip clamped around my arm, tugging me off balance and dragging me into the small, dark alleyway between two repurposed buildings.
A hand covered my mouth just as a knifepoint pressed cold and unyielding against my racing pulse.
"You vicious little bitch," a familiar voice snarled against my ear. "What lies did you tell him? How did you make him hate me?"
I whimpered but dared not move for fear of the sharp steel at my throat.
"'You will not treat my children or those pledged to me with disrespect,' he said. He's had me shoveling shit in the kennels for weeks, and word around camp is that he only came to me after speaking with you!" Waldreg sounded furious, and, indeed, I could detect the lingering scent of the wargs' leavings clinging to my attacker and his clothing. The more agitated he grew, the more his hands shook. Pain pricked my skin, and a hot red tear trickled down my throat staining the neckline of my dress. "What'd you do? Lift your skirt for him? Whisper in those ragged little ears of his? Give me one good reason I shouldn't gut you here and feed you to the wargs."
I began struggling in earnest, but his anger kept his grip tight. Still his hand covered my mouth, preventing any attempts at speech. A cruel laugh trickled across my ears, and he dragged his knife downwards until it rested directly above my heart.
"I thought not." I tried to cringe away, but that accomplished nothing save fueling the cruel old bastard's amusement as tears rolled down my cheeks. "Say goodnight!"
Instead of the bite of a blade, however, I was abruptly released. A gurgling sound came from behind me, and when I turned, I saw Lord Adar's gauntlet-covered hand lifting Waldreg off the ground by his throat. The cold glare on the Uruk's face revealed not a single mite of mercy for the Man thrashing in his grasp.
"My lady, go inside. I will join you in a moment," Adar called, and after a single shocked blink, I rushed off to do as he'd ordered. My basket lay in the mud, entirely forgotten amongst the chaos. A small crowd of Uruks had gathered around to witness Waldreg's demise and jeer at him, but I couldn't stay.
As terrible as he was, I didn't want to. Trembling, I closed the door after myself and stumbled toward my sleeping space. Quickly wrapping the blanket Adar had given me around my shoulders, I tried to steady my breathing instead of listening to the commotion outside.
I had no idea how long I'd been sitting there when the crowd fell silent and the door finally opened. Terrified that Waldreg had somehow survived and was coming to seek his revenge, I backed into the corner beside the hearth and tried to stay as small as possible.
I had no weapons with which to fight. Hiding would be my only chance to survive, especially if Adar had not been able to stop him.
--
"My lady?" Adar's voice called gently into the space, though he saw no sign of her. He spotted a small movement from the far side of the hearth. Why was she hiding? Her eyes were wide and fearful, even as he approached.
Suddenly, her assertion about Waldreg expressing 'a few less than polite sentiments, but no more' felt grossly incorrect. If she was this frightened, he must've threatened her.
Adar hoped that she heard him screaming his apologies before his death.
Or...could it be that he'd finally managed to frighten her with his cruelty? That thought sent a bolt of icy dread through him.
Dropping silently to his knees beside her, he unclipped his gauntlet and dropped it beside him. He wouldn't dare touch her while wearing it after it had touched that scum, not without cleaning it first. He offered her his hand, afterwards, and she accepted it without hesitation.
She needed no coaxing to come to him, shuffling over and resting before him on her knees with her blanket still around her shoulders.
"You need not fear, my lady. He will haunt your steps no more," he murmured, and the relieved little sniffle that escaped her had Adar moving closer and gently brushing her tears away with the pads of his thumbs.
His skin was rough, but he was careful. He didn't want to hurt her, or for her to fear him. She had every right to after she'd seen him lifting Waldreg off the ground in the midst of his rage. He certainly would not blame her, but he did not want that. If ever she shrank away from him as she'd tried to do from that contemptible worm earlier, he thought his heart may shatter irreparably.
So, with the most soothing tone he could muster - one he'd not used in over an Age - he placed a gentle kiss upon her brow and spoke.
"You are safe with me, híril vuin. None shall raise a hand to you again." Carefully, he pulled the edge of the blanket away just far enough to see the small trail of dried blood from where she'd been cut. Regret was as foul upon his tongue as bile.
He should have found them sooner. Moving away only long enough to fetch a pitcher of water and a cloth, Adar sat close to her upon his return. He began to wipe her skin clean in slow, careful strokes, murmuring quiet, earnest praise for how brave she'd been and for trusting him to help her.
She rested her cheek upon his shoulder as he set the cloth aside, prompting him instinctively to wrap his arms around her and brace his chin atop her head.
"Thank you, my lord," she breathed, and he was acutely aware of his own heart racing in his chest. Could she hear its rhythm even with the chestplate of his armor in the way?
As he began to tell her that he'd done no more than his duty, the door to her shelter opened, revealing the three other ladies who shared the small space with her. Adar grated at the interruption, despite their low curtsies as soon as they caught sight of him holding his lady in his arms.
"Sleep elsewhere tonight," he ordered them, and once they'd departed, he let out a tense breath. Speaking then to his lady, he softened his tone once more. "Tomorrow, I shall have you moved to chambers befitting one of your station."
She blinked beautifully up at him, dampness clinging to her lashes like dewdrops in the early morn.
"'My station,' my lord?"
A slow smile stretched his lips.
"Indeed. If you are to serve at the right hand of the Lord of Mordor, you cannot be seen huddling in the corner of a ruined shack."
Her eyes went wide, and her lips parted in a near-silent gasp.
"A-At your right hand?"
He nodded his head in confirmation.
"Assuming that such a thought appeals to you, of course," he said, but the smile that lit up her face told him all that he needed to know about her enthusiasm.
--
The next morning, I awoke wrapped in Lord Adar's arms and the blanket he'd given me. I should've felt embarrassment, but I could muster no more than a groggy sense that I was exactly where I was meant to be.
As soon as we managed to peel ourselves from the ground, we gathered my meager possessions, and Adar led me to the tavern. He had ruled from there since day one, but I hadn't been aware until that moment that he'd been living there as well. I supposed that his choice made sense. The upper level was where the owner used to live, having the benefit of a bedroom and a small bathing room complete with a claw-foot tub.
"Unless you object, we shall be sharing the bedroom," he explained as we climbed the creaky wooden staircase. "I'm afraid that there was little more than a musty mattress here to begin with, so I'll have a second bedroll brought up today. If there is anything you require once you have settled in, please do not hesitate to tell me."
"Thank you, my lord," I replied, and as I set myself up on one side of the room directly across from his own sleeping area, one of his children called him away to handle a conflict on the other side of the camp.
Late that night, I walked into the small communal area where Lord Adar sat by the fire, gazing into its depths as if it held the answers to all of his questions. Not wishing to disturb his thoughts, I began to move away, but a quiet call of my name in that deliciously raspy voice of his froze me in place.
"Is everything to your satisfaction, my lady?" He called, and I turned to find his gaze already fixed on me.
"Yes, my lord," I murmured, "thank you for allowing me to stay here."
"The pleasure is mine. Come, warm yourself by the fire," he offered, and I dropped to my knees on the furs beside him. We sat in companionable silence for a while with only the crackling of the fire in the grate reaching our ears. "Something troubles you, does it not?"
I nodded my head and he tilted his own beside me.
"Tell me." Despite his soft tone, the command made me bite my lip.
"I...My lord, given the new position with which you have honored me, I believe it..." I stumbled over the words, eventually taking a deep breath to compose myself. "Would it not be inappropriate for me to continue in this particular role without having sworn my loyalty to you?"
The question came out in a breathless rush, but Adar either did not notice over the hissing of the fire or he was too polite to comment upon it.
"So far as all the others are concerned, you did so before we ever took your village." His eyes skimmed the length of my face as he spoke. "As you will recall, I promised you that I would not force you to do so."
"And you have kept to your word," I began. "I have not felt coerced. I offer my loyalty to you freely."
Adar sat up straighter and drew in a sharp breath.
"You only need do so if you truly wish for us to be bound," he said placing his hand softly atop mine where it rested amongst the furs. His eyes searched mine as if trying to determine whether I was serious.
"I'm certain, my lord," I said, and he, apparently finding what he was looking for, gave a solemn nod of his head.
"Very well. As with your kin, Black Speech is not a language known to you, thus I will not require your vow in that tongue," he murmured, and I couldn't stop the question that fell from my lips.
"Would it be possible to learn at some point?"
Adar smiled, a mix of pride and surprise playing across his features in the glowing, flickering light of the fire.
"I shall teach you personally, híril vuin," he promised, and his expression became more serious. "Have you ever sworn loyalty to another?"
"No, my lord."
"Do you recall the words being spoken during the oaths of fealty given by your people?"
"Yes, my lord." I bowed my head, intending to show my respect in that manner, but warm, gentle fingers grasped my chin and lifted my head back up. Adar's gaze met my own, and unless the firelight was deceiving me, I saw a soft sort of affection swimming in his eyes as he looked at me.
"Before all else, I wish you to swear that you will never bow to me unless I explicitly give you the order to do so," he rasped as his thumb brushed over my lower lip.
"I swear it, my lord. I will not bow to you unless you give me the order to do so." Having extracted that promise, he seemed satisfied to allow me to continue as I had been. His fingers fell away from my chin only to grasp my own and lay them atop his chest where beneath his heart lay beating. "I hereby swear my allegiance to you, Adar, Lord-Father of the Uruks, founder of the land of Mordor...and protector of mortal children silly enough to wander the forest alone. This I pledge from now until the last breath leaves my body."
Adar listened with something akin to wonder in his eyes, and when I finished, his gaze strayed down to my lips. But...something seemed off.
"Is...something amiss, my lord? I could always use different words, if you prefer...?"
He shook his head quietly.
"There was no fault in your diction."
"Then...what troubles you?" I asked, unconsciously repeating his own words from earlier. He shifted before me, as if he was bothered by what he was about to say. Regretful, perhaps?
"An oath means little on its own," Adar murmured unsheathing a small knife that he'd apparently concealed upon his person. "Only blood can bind."
Whose blood did he mean? Did he want me to use it on myself? Did he wish to use it on me? Or did he want me to use it on us both?
An idea struck me, and I grasped my necklace in the palm of my left hand. Carefully, I set his knife aside, guiding his gauntlet-covered hand over mine. Looking into his eyes, I felt the unyielding metal dig into the soft skin of my hand. Without warning, I squeezed his hand, which in turn forced the sharp, ancient metal deep enough into my skin to draw blood. As comprehension dawned in his eyes, his pupils dilated, and something resembling hunger turned his gaze into a blazing flame boring into me.
His hand released mine long enough for the pendant to fall from my grasp, and when he turned my palm upwards, twin gashes welled with blood. Swallowing heavily, Adar lifted my hand, and as his lips met crimson, his eyes sought mine.
A gasp tumbled from my throat as his tongue lapped slowly at my skin, just barely grazing the inner edges of the two weeping cuts. It stung, of course, but the pain combined with such a ravenous stare from the Uruk lord sent a wave of heat rushing between my legs.
A breathy, wanton whimper escaped me, and in a blink, I found myself on my back atop the furs with my lord straddling my hips. He pressed my bleeding palm against his cheek, and, bracing his free hand on the floor beside my head, Adar placed a line of fiery kisses along the column of my throat from hollow to chin with his blood-drenched lips.
I'd wanted him to look at me like this, to touch me and desire me like this, from the moment we were reunited, and now that he was, it was as though my very soul had been lit aflame. I wanted everything he wished to give me, and then some.
Before his mouth had the chance to claim mine, however, there was a rough knock on the door. Adar pulled back a few inches, and we stared into each other's eyes, panting together as reality sank back in and a second knock sounded.
"I think you ought to retire for the night, my lady," he rasped laying a final kiss upon my palm before getting to his feet. My blood was a dark red streak upon his face, but he seemed not to care. He called for whoever was at the door to wait a moment, taking the time to help me to my feet and bidding me goodnight before seeing to our caller. His lips were still the deep red shade of the life flowing through my mortal veins.
I hurried up the stairs to our shared sleeping space before I could see who'd interrupted us. With a quick glance into the cracked fragment of a mirror stowed in the corner of the room, I saw a sloppy, red trail where Adar's lips had been.
I didn't bother to clean it off before I crawled into my bedroll, choosing instead to slip my fingers beneath my smallclothes as I recalled the feeling of him doing as he wished with me. With a broken, muffled whine of his name against my blanket, I found completion, but a part of me wondered how much more satisfying it would have been had his fingers been in place of mine.
--
The next fortnight felt as though it was a specialized form of torture. Adar seemed to be called away by a never-ending series of problems that required solutions. Often his day began earlier than I awoke and ended long after I'd retired to bed. Ensuring I'd completed every task he'd left for me was the least I could do considering how busy his own position kept him.
Occasionally, we did still manage to sneak a meal or a short conversation with one another, but we had yet to discuss what had happened the night I pledged myself to him. Almost every night, the memory of the hunger in his eyes drove me to desperation, haunting my dreams and forcing me to muffle my cries as I tended to my own burning desire.
One of the few times he returned before I fell asleep, I'd just whimpered his name into my pillow. As he ascended the staircase, I heard his footsteps, and I tried to muffle my shame as it was too late to stop entirely. The fear of discovery lanced through me as I heard him approach the door. I tried to steady my breathing, and hoped that in the low lighting, he would not notice how disheveled I looked.
Either I was successful, or he was in a sadistic mood, because he sidled over to his own bedroll and began stripping down. I'd seen him without the armor before, but when he shucked off his upper garments, the sight of his scarred, toned torso was enough to make me bite my tongue to stifle a gasp.
The outline of his masculinity in his trousers as he laid his clothing in a neat pile sent a fresh wave of wetness soaking my inner thighs. Oh, how was I meant to sleep after seeing...that?
Adar laid down, and just when I thought he'd fallen asleep, his voice broke through the silence.
"Sweet dreams, my lady." I could hear the teasing smile in his voice.
Oh. My cheeks burned at the realization that he'd likely heard me.
"...Good night, my lord," I murmured, hating how shaky I sounded.
--
Spring changed very few things in Mordor, save the temperatures, yet with each passing day, Adar's lady seemed to smile just a little wider.
He wanted to give her more reasons to do so, however. It was not enough that they had been living in close quarters since that night in her shelter. It was not enough that he'd made her smile and laugh before. Adar needed to do it again.
But more than that, he needed to hear those things which it was not at all civilized to consider. It was not enough that he had tasted her blood and her skin and her racing pulse. He'd heard her make beautiful, pleasure-filled sounds when she thought he was out of earshot or asleep. But it was never enough. He needed to hear her moan his name, to see her arch her back beneath him in the throes of ecstasy. He needed her.
Teasing her had been as much a torture for him as it likely was for her. Adar had become addicted to pain in one form or another over the millennia, and the mental strain of denying himself the pleasure of her touch was not unfamiliar, but it was forcing him to a breaking point, nonetheless. He knew that he would likely snap as he had when she'd sworn him her loyalty. That rush had been like a dam releasing an unstoppable flood, his hunger turning him into a ravenous beast.
She hadn't minded, as he thought she might. She'd enjoyed it. The sight of her lying beneath him panting as her blood practically dripped from his lips made him achingly hard each time he dwelled upon the memory for too long.
Still, she deserved better. Better than him, better than a moment of animalistic need. He found himself wondering about how best to give her all of himself.
Adar supposed that was how he'd ended up in the doorway of the small bathing room. The claw-footed tub was filled with steaming water as he'd ordered, and relaxing within it was his lady. She'd deserved a moment of peace after having completed every single task he'd given her with such dedication. It was a small reward, hardly as much as she deserved, but at the moment, it was all he could give.
He tried not to allow his gaze to drop beneath the water's surface, but his restraint was weak after the last two weeks of self-imposed denial. Truly, he intended merely to check that she was well, but the temptation of seeing her soft skin dripping with hot water was too great. The Lord of Mordor lingered in the doorway just long enough to feel his lower garments grow tight, and for her eyes to meet his as his lust clawed at his restraint.
As a moth drawn to a flame, he found himself walking slowly into the room, summoned by her curious gaze. The hot water reached her collarbones, and Adar felt the urge rising within him to claim her.
He knelt beside the tub, his face mere inches from her own, and removed his armor, gauntlet and all. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and dipped a washcloth into the hot water. The back of his hand brushed against the swell of her breast, and they both let out quiet gasps.
Still, Adar refused to look down into the depths of the sage blossom oil scented water. Wringing the washcloth out until it was just wet enough for him to clean his face, he began to do so, only for his lady to take it from his hands. With her breasts pressed up against the side of the tub, her soft, gentle fingers held his head in place as she carefully wiped away the grime.
Without a word, he turned his head and kissed her palm where twin scars were already forming. Adar would've preferred that she spill his own blood - that was what he'd originally intended - but since she'd chosen that pain, the least he could do was show the proper amount of reverence for her actions.
"Is there anything you need, Adar?" Her voice was shaky and breathless as it so often was when he caught her off-guard.
"No. This night is for you. Relax as long as you wish," he murmured, but as he stood to leave her in peace, he noted that she tried valiantly to hide her disappointment. Without turning back - if he did, he might do something impulsive - he called over his shoulder, "Patience, my lady, and you shall have all that you desire."
His hardness did not abate until long after they'd settled into their bedrolls and her breathing had evened out in the serenity of sleep.
Adar could not wait much longer. Her sweetness was as a siren's call to him.
Thus, his plan began to form. Once the spring was fully upon them, he approached her as he often did for conversation.
"My lady, I wonder if you might spare me a moment of your time?" He asked, and she smiled joyfully up at him - truly, that should not have made his heart stutter the way it did.
"Of course, my lord. You may have as much of my time as you desire," she replied, and oh, she had no idea what she was offering!
"Do you enjoy riding horses?"
She tilted her head curiously, but the way her smile widened had him mentally congratulating himself for selecting this particular tactic.
"I do, though, it has been quite some time since I've had the opportunity."
"Come," he urged offering her his hand. She didn't hesitate to take it. The feeling of her touch would be seared into his mind for as long as he lived. Drawing her close, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "I intend to steal you away."
Her lips parted in surprise, and just as he was about to apologize for his forthrightness, she squeezed his fingers in hers.
"I could not hope to be stolen by any more worthy." His breath hitched in his chest, and he tamped down the temptation to skip his plan entirely and take her atop his own sleeping furs. No. He'd been alive since before the waking of the world. He could wait a little longer.
"Then, maybe I should play the part...?" Adar suggested with a mischievous smirk. Before she could ask what he meant, he lifted her by the waist, tossed her over his shoulder - an action which tugged a surprised shriek from her lips - and carried her to his horse that way.
"My lord!"
"My lady!" He called back in answer as he felt her gentle, mortal hands lay across the back of his armor. Surely she knew he would never drop her?
Soon, he placed her atop his mount, and she giggled breathlessly at the situation. Her mussed hair and bright eyes lit a spark within his heart, and lower, not that he would admit it to any, save her. Swinging up easily, he settled in behind her, grasping the horse's reins in one hand and bracing the other over the softness of her diaphragm. As close as they were, he was in the perfect position to whisper in her ear.
"Fear not, my lady," he breathed, "you shan't fall."
One of her hands covered his, and he urged their horse forward. For nearly two hours they rode, crossing from ashen, desolate terrain into the gentle rolling grasses of the land beyond Mordor's fiery shadow.
The rhythmic roll of her hips against his became almost hypnotic. The Lord of Mordor he might be, but his restraint was still utterly devastated by her. They dismounted when they reached a meadow peppered with small saplings.
Tying their horse's reins to a sturdy one, Adar offered his lady his hand. The sun was just beginning to glow a gentle orange. It would set soon, and he greatly desired to see his lady bathed in starlight.
"It is no secret that I favor you, my lady," Adar began as they wandered leisurely amongst the blooming flowers, and that was the closest he'd ever come to an admission...to a confession of that nature. "Even the Uruks farthest from the center of our camp know that I...that you are under my protection."
"Indeed. I would say that is true," she agreed, clearly not certain at what point he was driving with his rambling. "I am honored beyond words to have your favor and protection, my lord–"
"Adar. Here - anywhere away from prying eyes and unwelcome ears - you may call me Adar," he corrected gently, and her fingers squeezed his in gratitude. "I brought you here today, because I wish to ask for your counsel."
"You shall always have it, Adar," she assured, "though, I am not certain what advice I could provide that would be wiser than your own. I have very little experience with war and strategy."
He stopped walking and turned to face her - a mistake, because she was almost ethereally encompassed by the warmth of the sunset. He swallowed heavily to recover his voice.
"It is not war about which I require your thoughts," he began, bringing her hand to his ruined lips. "I have lived in shadow for so long, yet recently I have found myself prey to a feeling which I have not experienced in many Ages."
She tilted her head curiously.
"What might that be?"
Adar reached gently toward her with his free hand, cupping her cheek.
"Love," he rasped, looking into her eyes, hoping she would catch the meaning within his words. Admitting that a horrid creature like him had fallen head over heels for a beautiful being like her was tantamount to sacrilege. Yet...in several instances, he believed that he'd seen his own affection reflected in her eyes. Indeed, the moans he'd heard from her would seem to indicate that she desired him.
But it was too much to hope that she could love him. He was certain she desired him, but...love? Could a Human woman truly love an Uruk when the rest of her kind looked down on them in scorn and disgust? Had he been a fool to bring her here?
She stepped closer to him, looking up into his eyes–
Her expression stole his breath. He had not hung the stars in the sky, nor had he wrought treasures like the Silmarils. He had not created even a single thing of beauty. All he'd done was try to give his children a home.
And yet...she looked at him as though he was more worthy of praise than the most virtuous of kings, the most honorable of knights, and the most devoted of husbands. Could it be possible?
Could she...?
"I am afraid that I have little experience with love, Adar, but I will help if I can." As afraid as he might be of losing her, he must speak now or lose her forever.
"In your opinion, who is worthy of love?" He asked, and she let out a small huff of laughter, as if the question was a foolish one. "Have I said something amusing?"
"A bit," she admitted, but she was quick to place her free hand over his heart, "but not in the way you might think. Everyone is worthy of love, even - and, perhaps, most especially - the Lord-Father of the Uruks."
Was he truly so transparent that she could see his fears so easily? Or had she managed to worm her way so far into his heart without his knowledge that it was already a bosom companion to her own?
"...And you have it." His eyes snapped back up to hers - when had he looked away? His hunger and adoration for her rose up in a great wave, consuming him from the inside as he wove his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and drew her into a passionate kiss.
He'd dreamed of having her pressed up against him, of drinking her pleasure from her lips.
She moaned into Adar's mouth, and he was struck by the realization that she was so much better than any phantom images that his imagination could conjure. He dragged his lips and teeth to the corner of her jaw, and spoke in a hoarse, rasping whisper.
"I need you as I need air, meleth-nin." He grasped her waist as her arms drew him ever closer. "You steal my breath, yet without you I cannot breathe. Have mercy...Have mercy upon your most devoted servant..."
As the orange sky bled pink, his lips trailed down her neck, savoring those places which had driven him to the edge of madness when he sampled her before the fire. His name escaped her lips on the back of a desperate whine.
"What do you need? Tell me," Adar breathed, and she tilted her head to offer him more of her neck.
"Take me, touch me, please! I'll be good, so good, only for you," she begged, and the sound went straight to the stiffening length between his legs. He would love nothing more than to have her beg for him all night, but this time she would have no need to. Tonight, the beginning of their time as one, he would fulfill her every desire with a minimum of teasing. He'd done too much of that of late.
Her fingers dove into his hair, and a moan poured from his throat, rumbling against her pretty skin.
"Is that what you want? Do you wish to be a good girl for me?" She released a varied stream of yeses and pleas for him to do as he wished with her, and he acceded to her request with a kiss, quelling any doubt she may have had that he would do this for her. He would do anything for her, even unto the destruction of Middle Earth. "Do you wish to be mine?"
"Yes!" Her answer was akin to a desperate sob, and he wasted no time, immediately indulging her.
Tugging his cloak from his armor, Adar spread it over the grass. He would not have her dress covered in stains, nor grass blades stuck to her skin. The cloth created a sharp contrast - an onyx patch amidst a sea of pinks, purples, reds, and yellows - the dark to the meadow's light, just as she was the light to his darkness. She completed him, enthralled him, drove him mad, and tonight he would show her just how much.
She went for the ties fastening her dress, but he caught her hands in his and took over. She was a gift more precious than anything which the Valar could bestow upon their servants, and he would unwrap her accordingly.
As the laces binding the back of her dress fell away one at a time, Adar explored his lover's mouth with all the tenderness and gentleness that his cruel, twisted body could muster. He hadn't even realized that her tricky little fingers had begun to fiddle with his armor until his breastplate fell away.
In a flurry of discarded garments, they were each revealed to the other in all their beauty and all their flaws. Their shared vulnerability stilled their hands for an anxious moment, but only for a moment.
Adar's breath hitched in his chest when the soft lips he'd tasted mere seconds before connected with the scarred flesh over his heart. He'd expected pity, fear, regret - not reverence. Instead, as she looked up at him, he saw nothing but sincerity in her expression.
"You are gorgeous," she said, as though she could not tell that he had but one part of his body which was untouched by scars.
...As though she meant it. He realized with a sharp intake of breath that she did. She grasped his hands and they sank onto his cloak together, she on her back and he kneeling between her legs. His interest jutted toward her, but he could not find it within himself to be ashamed, not when he was with her. Not when a piece of his armor hung on a chain around her neck, resting comfortably above her breast.
"There is no beauty finer in this world than yours."
Spread nude before him over his cloak, Adar's lady looked up at him with an adoration he had not believed possible. Not when directed at an Uruk such as he. His lips met hers once more, but this time, he forced himself to be much more controlled. He wanted her, yes, but he also wanted her to know that she had his love.
Kissing his way steadily down her body, the Lord-Father of the Uruks had no doubt that he must look as hungry for her as he felt. Practically feral with pent-up desire, he needed her writhing on his tongue. His hands trembled with the effort it took to slow his movements, to take his time.
Abruptly, as his eyes met hers from between her legs, he realized that she very much had the capacity to destroy him. With a single declaration of hatred or a look of disgust, she could easily take his stone heart and pulverize it into powder.
How easily could she shred beyond repair what little remained of his soul!
Not even Morgoth had been able to do that. This mortal woman, this sweet, brave lady had no idea of the power that she possessed. The smart thing to do - the strategically wise path - would have been to kill her then and there while she lay vulnerable and trusting before him, begging for one more touch, one more kiss, one more moan, one more scrap of his attention.
Instead, he picked up his discarded gauntlet and slid her much smaller hand inside it. The clasps were quick work, and though she looked confused at first, once he lifted her thighs over his shoulders and guided her hand to his hair, understanding dawned in her eyes. She understood. He wanted her to feel powerful. She was his equal and she deserved to know it.
Even with sharp, unyielding metal covering her fingertips, they scraped so gently over his scalp as he lost himself in the flood between her thighs. She moaned and whimpered, squirming in his hold, but through it all, she never once hurt him.
Adar knew that she wouldn't. Even as she cried out his name for all the world to hear, drenching his tongue and chin, her grip in his hair was careful. Her thighs tensed in his grasp, squeezing his head in an intoxicating vice. Groaning and snarling against her sensitive folds, he couldn't bring himself to pull away until she was shaking in the midst of over-sensitivity.
"Adar, please," she breathed as he moved up her body. Hunger raged and burned in his eyes - he could deny himself no longer. Grasping her wrists, he pinned them easily above her head as he claimed her lips. His tongue delved into the softness of her mouth, taking with it the lingering taste of her.
Her legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him close enough for his tip to catch on her entrance. With synchronized groans, he pressed inside of her, joining their bodies together as one.
Profane language not meant for the ears of such a creature as her spilled from his throat in a guttural stream of Black Speech. Dipping his head, Adar moaned against her breast and surged forward, drawing a sinful mewl from deep within her throat.
"You have me. You take me so well," he praised in a raspy whisper, nibbling at her earlobe as he thrust into her slowly. Gradually, she stripped him of his sense and control, tugging from within him a steady flow of praise and filth in Elvish and Black Speech - promises to treasure her for the rest of his days, to protect her, and to draw from her so many screams each night that all of Mordor would be unable to deny his claim over her.
When she managed to roll her hips beneath him to meet his thrusts, begging him to use her, to ruin her, what could he do but grant his lady's wish?
In a quick movement, he'd repositioned them both so that she was astride his hips. Pulling her arms behind her back and tugging slightly so that her chest was pushed toward him, Adar looked into her eyes.
"If you wish your lord to use you, then move those hips," he ordered. Leaning in, he brushed a few strands of her hair behind her ear and whispered a bit more gently to her. "Ride me, meleth. Show me that I have you."
She obeyed him instantly, finding a steady rhythm which, aided by his fingers toying with her clit, would have her tipping over the edge in mere moments. Indeed, her hips soon stuttered, and he gripped the back of her neck, forcing her eyes to meet his.
"Do not look away. Look at the pleasure I can give you," he commanded, and as she nodded frantically, beginning to fall apart, he felt his heart stutter in his chest. "Yes, look upon the Uruk who loves you."
At that, she sobbed and collided firmly with her orgasm. She fluttered around his length, calling his name in lovelorn whimpers and gasps.
Who needed Valinor when she was its very embodiment?
He released her wrists, and she threw her arms around his neck, claiming his lips with her own. His hands slid down her back, landing squarely on her hips. Holding her steady, Adar thrust up into her, making her yelp in surprise. He needed very little now; he was close.
"Where do you wish me?" Adar breathed against her lips, and he could feel the heat burning her cheeks.
"Inside," she answered hiding her face against his neck, and he moaned against her shoulder. Her name tore from him in an almost pained whine as he spilled within her. He clutched her to him so tightly that he'd undoubtedly left bruises in his wake, but he would kiss them all in apology when they'd caught their breath.
Neither seemed eager to release the other, so in their embrace they remained exploring one another with gentle fingers and loving lips until long after the moon had risen and stars had winked their way into the sky. When he dared to lean back far enough to look into her eyes, Adar was met with love bathed in glittering starlight.
He wondered if he'd hurt her, but the smile stretching her lips said otherwise. The armor piece that she'd made into a necklace still rested upon the smooth expanse of her chest - a perfect accompaniment to his gauntlet upon her arm.
The ride back to camp seemed too short by far, but their bedrolls - which would soon be joined into one - called out to them so sweetly. Adar was used to the bows and deference he received from his children, but he knew in his heart that his decision had been right when upon their return he heard the Uruks repeating a particular phrase as they passed.
His lover had heard part of it before, but now there were a few more words to it.
"What is that they keep saying?" She whispered the question to him, and he couldn't keep himself from smiling proudly. "It sounds familiar, but different."
"'Tis Black Speech. They are saying 'make way for the Lord and Lady of Mordor,'" he answered kissing her temple as they approached their home.
~*~*~
Taglist:
@bigblissandlove1 @horta-in-charge @gandalfthepimp
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I love bombshell!reader omg they’re so cutie. Im in an angst mood so imagine reader finally being hit emotionally hard on a case and asking spencer to stay with her in the hotel?? The rest of the team tries so hard to help but only Spencer can help her omg 🥹
thank you for your request ♡ fem!reader
Morgan has an arm around you. It's the first thing Spencer notices, and he thinks, Thank fuck. Thank fuck someone's holding you together. And then he thinks, Maybe I should be that someone.
He's never seen you shaking that hard. Your usual easy air, not unlike Penelope's, has shrunk to nought. There's no flirty smile sent his way as he approaches, no dramatic throw of Moran's arm. I'd never cheat on my baby, you'd say, though you and Spencer aren't really dating.
"You okay?" he asks.
Spencer feels powerless in the face of your despair. You're obviously not fine. Kids always hit you the worst, and so many? Your reaction is warranted if uncharacteristic.
You don't answer him. Morgan squeezes your arm and stands with a kiss to the top of your head. "I'll leave you in the best hands," he says in way of farewell.
Spencer sits in the space Morgan vacates, hand behind your shoulder, his fingers curling between your side and your upper arm. You've had blood wiped out of your eyes haphazard, crusting of crimson on your lashes like a morbid mascara. He feels like crying for you.
"Hey," he says, giving your back a slow, heavy handed rub, "Sorry I wasn't here."
"That's okay." Your voice is all shudders like a trapped moth. "I'm okay."
He steers your face to his with a cautious hand to look at you properly. With want of a better method, he takes your untouched water bottle and holds it to his sleeve, pulling it over his fingers while the fabric is still saturated to wipe away the missed blood.
You follow his touch, eyes closing with a quick, pained sigh. Like he's pricked you with a knifepoint.
"I know you think you have to be perfect," Spencer says, sleeve turning a dirty orange, "but this is enough to affect anybody."
"I am perfect," you say quietly. It falls flat.
Spencer cups both sides of your face. Your eyes flutter open at the feeling. "You're perfect. And a perfect person would handle this badly."
His hands look rigid compared to the soft slopes of your cheeks, but they're gentle.
Tears like silver line your eyes. You wear grief like everything else until suddenly you don't, a crack, a sniffle and you're turning your face into one of his hands desperately. Spencer knows what you need before you're moving, pulling you into his chest with a hand braced behind your neck.
"It's okay," he says, hoping that if he says it with enough conviction it'll be true. "It's not your fault. There was nothing else we could do."
You shake your head from side to side against his shoulder. "I should've been quicker. I knew what was going to happen, I knew. And I couldn't do anything about it, I couldn't–" Your sob is pulled from you on a hook, hard and sudden enough to end in a wheeze.
Spencer doesn't know what else to do but hug you and hope it calms you down. He's not used to being the most composed of the two of you, a disconnect between the salacious woman who hounds him relentlessly and the one who's falling apart in the circle of his arms.
You shake. Spencer rubs your back, shielding you from the cold weather until Hotch shouts for the BAU to fall in and get ready to leave.
"Will you stay with me?" you ask, pulling away from his chest reluctantly. "I don't want to be alone. The hotel's too…"
Spencer frowns, eyes closed, his face crushed to the side of your head. "Of course I will."
He knows what you were going to say. It's too quiet after all of tonight's noise. And alone, blaming yourself, he knows you'll scare yourself. Tear yourself to pieces. So Spencer sticks to you like glue from the SUV to the hotel to the jet the next morning. He'd do anything you asked him to do no matter how hard.
When you're ready, you'll fall back into your flirtatious routines. For now, Spencer takes your twitching hands under the table and holds them.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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❝𝙏𝙃𝙍𝙀𝙀 𝙒𝙊𝙍𝘿𝙎.ᐟ❞
K. BAKUGOU, S. TODOROKI, & I. MIDORIYA + SHY!GN. READER
𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; the main three when their shy/anxious s/o finally says 'i love you'<3
𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 ; fluff, hcs + scenarios, new relationships, literally that's it and skin color not mentioned
IZUKU MIDORIYA
izu just can't with this.
he understands how you're shy and all of that so it might take you some time to get comfortable saying those things
hell he even was scared to say it too but this long??? really?
izu has begun to think that you'd never say it at this rate...
he got so scared that you didn't love him at all and was just too scared to tell him the truth because you didn't wanna hurt his feelings!
or maybe he's just overthinking again...
that doesn't matter because izu never tells you his concerns. he wants you to take your time
he doesn't wanna rush you and make it forced!
that being said...when you finally do say it on your own, he thinks he just might lose his mind.
izuku's anxious sitting at his desk with you right beside him almost breaking the pencil in half and it was a mechanical pencil. he was holding back because he didn't want to frighten you but he just couldn't sit here while you're looking so cute.
he wanted to say he loved how cute you looked so bad but he was worried that maybe it'd make you uncomfortable since you weren't saying i love you to him yet.
that had been getting to him a lot lately and he didn't know how to handle it without talking to you. he knew how you were and didn't want to make it worse. see izuku himself was a fairly shy person, well not so much as he was in middle school but he understood you and your feelings but not enough for it to not bother him!
"ohhh! i get it now!" you exclaimed leaning back in your chair. your sudden loud speech snapped izuku out of his thoughts and he smiled at you sweetly with a hum escaping him.
you gave him a grin "thanks izu! i love you, i don't know what i'd do without you." you spoke without thinking and immediately closed your eyes out of embarrassment at what he'd say in response. you didn't think about what you were saying, you just said the first thing that came to mind...when you heard a loud bang, you opened your eyes and looked at your boyfriend with wide eyes.
izu's face was planted on the desk and he was letting out a hum that didn't seem positive or anything; more like he was a kettle on the stove. "oh uhm...are you okay?" you hesitantly asked going to reach for him but he snapped up before you could touch him. izuku's face was bright red and it looked like he was burning up "i love you too!" he shouted with a smile on his face clearly happy that you finally said that. you were a bit weirded out but at least he was happy.
KATSUKI BAKUGOU
oh please don't even get me started on katsuki...
like izu, he was really upset about you not saying you love him especially when he said it to you first and you didn't say it back
but unlike izuku, he could give less than a fuck about not wanting to talk to you about it
the only thing that stopped him from doing that was that denki told him that he'd probably hurt your feelings like that and that was the last thing he wanted to do so for once, he shut up
but his aggression was fairly obvious because every time he said he loved you with that frown on his face, it'd get deeper when you didn't say it back and just smiled at him
katsuki felt like he'd actually blow up a building if you took longer to say it.
"what the hell are you doing up there!?" katsuki shouted from down below in the training area while you stood on one of the buildings looking for denki who was supposed to be your other partner.
you looked down at the masked boy very cautiously i might add and just nervously gave him an 'uh' showing you didn't know. katsuki grunted in frustration as he looked around to see if there was any one from the other team around to make sure that you guys didn't lose. he was already beginning to sweat just from pure anger.
when the class was splitting up to go to the locker rooms for costume changes, katsuki had told you he loved you and that he'd see you on the grounds but...you didn't say it back. you just laughed a bit showing that you were growing embarrassed and gave him a very small peck on his cheek.
see katsuki did appreciate that but he wanted an 'i love you' back not a kiss especially not a little baby kiss to the cheek that one of his cousins would give him but again, he stayed silent and just grumbled under his breath in the lockerroom. he was already pissed off from that but now denki was nowhere to be found? that dumb fucker was probably lost.
little did the both of you know, he was behind you planning on surprising you which was not the best idea considering you were almost dangling over the edge of a building right now. "boo!" denki shouted in your ear making you jump and lose your footing. you slipped and fell off the edge of the building with a yelp drawing your boyfriend's attention.
he was quick to blast up into the air and catch you in his arms before you even slightly neared the ground "oh my god! i love you so much 'suki!" you said in desperation as you wrapped your arms around him and clutched onto him in fear that you'd fall. katsuki would never drop you but he almost did when he heard you finally say it back to him.
"ha! i thought you'd never say it!" katsuki shouted with a grin on his face as he landed on the ground, your face still stuffed in his shoulder. you hadn't even realized what you said until he just pointed it out "oh..." you muttered feeling embarrassment creep up on you as your boyfriend put you on the ground. you put your palms to your face to cover you hot face but the blonde grabbed your hands and forcefully pulled them away from your face "stop that shit! if you think i don't love you back, i do." katsuki said muttering the last part a little lower because denki was shouting apologies from the top of the building and could probably hear a few things.
katsuki had a bit to learn about embarrassment when saying that kind of stuff too.
SHOTO TODOROKI
pls dont ever talk to him about this
he'll actually just sit there silent probably dying inside
shoto has had his fair share of not getting told i love you or getting a sort of warped kind of love so you not saying i love you isn't something relatively new to him
but he still hates it.
he can't even begin to explain the ache in his chest when ou don't say it back to him, not like he'd ever explain it to anyone
unlike both of the other boys, he's extremely patient and no matter how he feels, he won't throw small tantrums over you not saying it and will just wait
but as he waited, he got more needy for hearing those three words
"sho..." you whined dragging out the o in your boyfriend's name while you tried to get up from under the many blankets shoto had you bundled under. he had the whole work for you.
thermometer on the bedside desk and cold medicine right next to it while you continuously sneezed and coughed in bed. you had gotten sick recently and your darling two-toned-haired boyfriend had been there for every step! making you food, running your baths, just being a complete sweetheart.
shoto, by default, was a sweet boyfriend but he had been a little extra kind lately in hopes that you'd tell him that you loved him for all of his efforts of going out of his way for you. he didn't know what was going on in your brain but he clearly knew you well because that was what you were planning to do.
telling the boy that you loved him would be the perfect way to express your gratitude to him for all he's done throughout your sickness that was caused by your stupidity of going to the market in the cold night after getting out of the shower "coming, my love." shoto said waddling into the room with a bowl of steaming ramen on the small wooden table he had in his hands to make it easier for you to eat in bed. he was really playing the house husband role.
"here, the broth will make you feel better. i promise." the boy said setting the table on the bed just above your legs while kneeling to the ground, you smiled at the todoroki boy deciding that this was the perfect time to tell him that you loved him.
with a blow toward the scalding bowl, you uttered the words quietly "i love you sho." you grew shy after saying that not knowing how he'd respond and his silence ate you alive. you grabbed your chopsticks as you kept your head down to avoid eye contact "sorry, just ignore it–" "no." he interrupted your excuse almost making you knock the bowl over with now fast your body turned to look at him again.
sho's cheeks were flushed a light pink "i love you too. just didn't expect you to say that." he said chuckling lightly with a smile on his face. it might've been true that he wished for you to say it now but it still surprised him.
in a good way though... "can i have a kiss?" you asked smiling back at your boyfriend who still gave you a close-eyed grin, sho stood to his feet "no. you will get me sick." he replied in a monotone before beginning to walk away muttering how he was going to get you something to drink.
you whined loudly throwing your head back. "sho....!"
©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!
#torasplanet.ᐟ#marls-fics.ᐟ#mha x reader#mha#bnha x reader#shoto todoroki x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#bakugou x reader#todoroki x reader#izuku midoriya x reader#deku x reader#izuku x reader#bnha fluff#◛⑅·˚♡sho-sho!!#◛⑅·˚izu~#◛⑅·˚katsuki>3<
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My gosh, this is has been a fun blog to find!
If you are still taking requests for Astarion, what about him exploring non-sexual but romantic touch? It seems like he enjoys kissing, even after asserting his boundaries around sex in game so I've been wondering what he would do if Tav or Durge kissed wrist or the tip of his ears or fingers l, etc. Basically gentle, exploring love.
(G/n reader if you could!)
Hi, hi, thanks for being patient with me. I hope you like.
Soft as Starlight - Astarion x GN!Reader
Reader and Astarion share a moment of intimacy that explores what love without sex is like.
"Can I kiss you?" You ask, cuddled up to Astarion in the tent you share.
For a second, his eyes widen, and you worry it was maybe too much, too soon. "I'd like that very much, my Love." He seems giddy and shy about it, like the two of you have never done such a thing.
You plant your lips on his and he returns it, arm looping around your waist to bring you closer. There's a hunger there for your touch that you can sense. Not the type of amorous passion he'd once claimed to enjoy, but the physical show of your love, the kind affection of your touch. Gently, you pull your fingers through his hair, glorying in the silken texture beneath your fingers. In response he hums happily.
"Hmm." You hesitate voicing your next thought until he pulls back to look at you expectantly. "Can I keep going? Not like that," you add when he tenses beneath your fingers.
"You may," he says, not yet relaxing completely.
"Stop me if you're uncomfortable," you reassure, kissing him lightly on the tip of the nose. He nods and you kiss his forehead, leaving him immediately sighing.
Lips find his temple, his cheek, and finally the tip of his ear. A short giggle escapes him. "Watch it," he warns playfully.
"Ticklish, good to know," you tease, but leave it be. You can always come back to that when he's more comfortable.
Fingers have been gently tracing their way down his back and you turn to his arm, caressing it until you come to his hand. Grasping it with both of yours, you rub it gently, and bring his wrist to your lips. Then his palm, his fingers, and the back of his hand, lavishing your love on him.
"Darling," he breathes and his other hand covers his face, lost for words.
"Do I need to stop?" You release his hand, giving him space to make a boundary.
"No, maybe, I don’t know. I'm not used to this."
"It's alright Astarion, I don't want you to be uncomfortable." You settle back down next to him and he takes your hand, taking a turn to squeeze it softly.
"Can I kiss you?" He asks and your heart soars.
"Absolutely," you say instead of shouting giddily like you want.
He surprises you by starting with your cheek, your temple, and then hesitantly grazing your neck. A hand rests gently on your waist, playing with the fabric of your shirt. He nuzzles against the spot on your neck where he kissed. "You're wonderful."
"You're pretty wonderful yourself, Love." You loop your arms around his shoulders and shift so he's laying on your chest. "Can I keep touching you?"
Silently he nods, eyes closed, seeming lost in the moment. With the lightest touches, you rub his back, working your way to his neck and hair. Then you start your way back down. "Never stop," you hear him breathe like a prayer against your skin.
"Never," you promise, kissing his forehead once more bringing, a soft smile to his lips.
#astarion#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#bg3#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate 3 fanfic#my writing#my fanfic#x reader#gn reader#astarion x gn reader
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Sneaking Away
Based off this request.
Pairing: Azriel x Vanserra!Reader
Summary: Reader sneaks from the forest house and goes to her mates for Starfall.
Warnings: Smut | 18+ only | p in v | cream pie | dirty talk | nipple play | wing play | slight bondage | exactly 2 uses of (Y/n)
A/N: so I kind of totally strayed from the original request but it was giving me writers block so I completely changed it— the element of sneaking out is still there, hope you guys still enjoy 💙
Starfall was just about to begin and I was horribly late to the party Rhysand had graciously invited me to.
My father had caught me in my most expensive dress and asked where I was going before I got the chance to sneak from the Forest house. I had to conjure up some lie he'd be happy to hear, which was harder than it seemed. I ended up telling him I was going out with a noble named Antony, a made-up male who wasn't Illyrian and definitely not one of the most dangerous men in Prythian, nowhere near someone like the Shadow Singer, who I was going to see in reality.
The High Lord of Autumn had practically demanded he met this male first but I managed to convince him that I was meeting him at a party that I was already late to.
Needless to say, it took me an hour to get out of the overbearing household, then another half hour to escape from my father's spies and maids constantly whispering in his ears.
Once I arrived at the House of Wind I felt the weight on my shoulders lift, and I was actually able to breathe. It was all so much simpler here, high in the sky with people who cared more about my wellbeing than how maidenly I was.
I had noticed the Shadow Singer across the room before he saw me, a rare occurrence that meant his mind was elsewhere. His back was turned to me but those wings were unmistakable. I approached him as silently as I could, my heels betraying me because as soon as I was only a yard away shadows curled around his ears and he whirled around, eyes immediately locking with mine.
I grinned wildly as he took in my appearance, my deep green dress with bedazzling emeralds cascading down the skirt, the fanned-out bottom of the gown morphing into a waterfall of jewels. The fit was tight around all the right places and the slit in the side revealed high up my bare thigh, his gaze not missing a fraction of the skin I exposed.
He didn't take a long time analyzing my dress before his gaze snapped back to my face, my smile, my eyes lined with kohl.
"You done staring?" I tease with a tilt of my head.
"No," He said and I giggled, closing the distance between us with a few strides and wrapping my arms around his torso, my head leaning against his chest as I hugged him tightly.
"I missed you," I murmur and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of my head.
"It's only been a few days," He reminds and I lift my head, looking up at him with a hurt expression. His smile turned soft. "I missed you too," He whispered and I leaned up, interlocking our lips for the first time in what felt like a year. My hold around him tightened and his hands came to my face, one on the nape of my neck and the other on my jaw, holding me so delicately like if he let me go I'd shatter.
"Y/n!" Cassian shouts from the distance and I pull away from Azriel, he's hesitant about letting me slip away but reluctantly he gives in and lets me turn to face the other Illyrian who was coming in from the deck with a bright grin on his face. "It's been years," He groans, approaching the two of us.
"It's been a month," I correct.
"Same thing," He grumbles, before wrapping his arms around my torso and hugging me tightly, I grin as he stands to his full height, my feet dangling off the ground as he squeezes me tight.
"Don't you look beautiful," He places me down and I do a small twirl, Azriel scowls at Cassian as if the male might steal me away, so silently I gravitate closer towards my mate and intertwine our hands.
"Why, thank you, my lord," I curtsy teasingly and he clicks his tongue, annoyed.
"You know I hate it when you call me that," He grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest and I only grin.
"Cass, come back—" A familiar voice shouts from outside and I perk up.
"Rhys!" I leave Azriel's side and rush towards the High Lord. His eyes lock on mine and a smile immediately comes across his features. I practically jump into his arms and he catches me with ease, spinning us around before placing me back down onto the ground.
"I missed you so much," I tighten my hold around him. It's been fifty years since I've seen the male, fifty long tortuous years while he was stuck with that witch Under The Mountain.
"It's been too long," He sighs, hugging me back with the same tightness.
"When Az told me you were back I nearly grew a pair of wings and flew here myself," I confess and he chuckles, setting me down with a soft smile.
"You look ravishing, all this for me? I'm flattered" He smirks playfully and Azriel's hands come down onto my shoulders possessively.
"Fifty years really hasn't changed you," I sigh with a childlike smile.
"Careful Rhys, they're mated now. I already had a go at her and Az nearly bit my head off," Cassian intones from my side and Azriel all but growls at the red-siphoned male.
"Don't be ridiculous, she wouldn't come all the way from the Autumn Court for you, Cassian," A familiar voice chimes in and Morrigan appears at my other side. I squeal and wrap my arms around her shoulders as she hugs me back tightly. "I love this dress," She gasps as I back away, allowing her to take in my full outfit. "Mind if I take it off you later?" She winks and I flush.
"Gods, does everybody want you?" Azriel grumbled and I looked back at him with a sly smirk.
"Don't hate the player," I wink and he shakes his head in disbelief.
A giggle sounded and I had only just now realized there was someone I didn't recognize standing beside Rhys. My brows rose a fraction as I laid my eyes upon the female, she had light brown hair and eyes so blue they almost seemed lined with starlight. Her dress was gorgeous, and she was even prettier. But it wasn't her beauty that shocked me, it was the obvious thread between her and Rhysand, a golden tether intertwining their very souls. It seemed so clear they were mates, but the way she looked at him made it apparent she had no idea.
"You must be Feyre, Az mentioned a new female joining our male-centric group," I tease and the High Lord grumbles a curse beneath his breath, she smiles softly and takes my outstretched hand, shaking it. "I've heard plenty about you," I flash a polite smile and she returns it.
"Good things I hope," She says and my eyes flick to Rhys, then back to her.
"There's only good things to talk about," Morrigan intones and Feyre tosses her a grin.
"I'm Y/n, the High Lord of Autumn's daughter," I explain and her brows shoot up.
"You're Lucien's sister," She gasped and I nodded with a grin.
"You know Lu?" I tilt my head.
"He, he's my friend," She says her gaze flicking between me and Azriel, his hands on my shoulders, the invisible tether between us that I see between her and Rhysand.
"You guys are, connected," She murmurs and I chuckle.
"Mates, but yes," I correct and her eyes widened further.
"Azriel didn't mention anything," She mutters in apology and I wave her off.
"It's quite alright, he likes his secrets, and I'm technically not allowed to date outside of my court," I explain. "My father wants to keep the lineage, pristine," I huff and her brows twitch together, clearly concerned.
"But you're mates, isn't that an unbreakable bond?" She asked, the curiosity evident in her eyes.
"That's enough questions for now Feyre," Rhysand's hand tightens on her shoulder.
"But," She looked to me curiously then back to him.
"C'mon, Starfall's starting," He gestures her towards the balcony.
"It was nice meeting you," She gives me a small wave and I return it.
"You too," I grin.
Once she was gone I whirl around to face Azriel. "You didn't tell her about me?" I frown up at him. He shrugs.
"I figured the ring on my finger was enough to prove I'm yours," He said, leaning down and pecking my forehead. I melt into his touch, throwing my arms around his neck. "How long can you stay?" He murmurs and I sigh at the idea of leaving.
"Probably a few hours, Eris is covering for me until I get back," I explain and he scowls at the mention of my eldest brother.
"Tell him you're not coming back, just stay here forever," He groans into my shoulder and I smile at the idea, but my grin falters when I remember my mother and my brothers. They didn't deserve to suffer so greatly alone. When Amarantha had come to take over the Autumn Court, Azriel risked his life by showing up at the forest house and taking me to Velaris where she'd never find us. I hated myself for not thinking to warn Eris or at least my own mom. I felt as if I owed them for it because they endured tortures I could only imagine while I stayed safe with my mate for forty-nine long years.
"You know I can't," I sigh. "I love them, no matter how twisted my brothers are they're my family," I say, backing away and looking up at him.
"I'm your family too," He argues and a smirk graces my features.
"Whatever you say, Azriel Vanserra," I tease and his gaze hardens.
"If you call me that again I'm leaving you," He warns and I gasp dramatically before that expression of shock turns into a grin.
"You couldn't if you tried, connected for life remember?" I say, pulling at the bond between us and he groans as if it's a newfound sore on his heart. "I can't believe you fell in love with a Vanserra," I taunt, lifting up and pressing a kiss to his lips which he eagerly returns.
"You never shut up do you?" He grumbles. "You only have a few hours, do you want to watch the stars or find a better way to use that mouth of yours?" He asks and by the look in my eyes, he already knows the answer.
My dress falls to the ground with the clacking of jewels. I step out of the pool of silk now around my feet and look up at him with a smile. I watch as his throat bobs up and down with a thick swallow, his eyes taking in every bare inch of my skin that wasn't covered up by my lingerie the color of midnight. I rarely wore Night Court colors, so this, only for him to see, was a dream come true. "Like what you see?" I tease.
"Yes, I like it very much," He confesses in all seriousness, then, as if he can’t control himself any longer, he surges forward, crashing his lips onto mine. His lips were hungry, his hands coming to my jaw, his thumb pulling at my lower lip and forcing my mouth open for his tongue. I take everything he gives me greedily, my own tongue meeting his in a dance as his hands travel down my waist, my hips, all the way to the backs of my thighs where he finds purchase to hoist me up into his arms.
"You have no idea what you do to me," He confesses into my mouth while walking us towards his bed. I bring my hand down his chest to his hardened length straining against the fabric of his pants and I smile teasingly.
"I think I have some idea," I hum, rubbing down the budge and he grunts, I continue the movement, pressing harder each time until he got frustrated with how much I was teasing, practically throwing me down onto the bed and quickly mounting over me, his hand coming to the hem of my bra.
"As much as I love seeing you in this color, I need to rip it off you," He confesses and I smirk, looking up at him with wide innocent eyes. He mirrored it, then pressed his lips back to mine.
I was already unbuttoning his shirt while he settled between my open thighs. He had unclasped my bra and pulled it off, the lace being thrown onto the other side of the room. I free him from his button-up, pulling it off his muscular arms, his chest left bare.
I grin wildly into our kiss as rough, scarred hands stoke over every expanse of bare skin, my arms, my back, my waist, and finally my breasts. I sighed at the sensation, his callouses brushing over sensitive nipples. I moan as he rolls them between his fingers, flicking over them causing me to whimper into his mouth. He smiles at the discovery of my sensitivity and moves away from my lips and down my neck, my collarbone, then to my breast, taking it into his mouth while his other hand continues its work.
I arch into the intense pleasure as he swirls his tongue around the peaked bud, and when he lightly nips at it my breath hitches, arousal flooding my panties as he continues his sweet torture. "Az, it's too much," I murmur, my hands coming to his hair and attempting to pull him away but he only grabs my wrists and pins them above my head, rendering me tied down.
His tongue continues its wicked movements making me writhe beneath him pitifully, but he doesn't relent. "Az," I whimper, my words slowly turning into incoherent mumbles and moans. He softly bites at my nipple, pulling at it as he backs away and I'm forced to suppress a scream.
So slowly, he takes off my panties, pulling them down my thighs and off my ankles. I tug at my wrists but shadows cluster and tie them tight to the bed. He frees himself from his pants as well, wasting no time as he aligns his impressive member with my entrance.
"You're making such a mess baby." He swipes two fingers through my folds, gathering an embarrassing amount of arousal before smearing it down onto my clit, my breath hitching at the stimulation. A smirk curves his lips as he watches me lose myself after he's barely even touched me. He gathers more of my fluids and lathers his length with it, lubing his cock for an easy entrance. I clenched around nothing, the apex of my thighs pulsating with a need to be filled.
"Az, inside," I murmur, those are the only words I can manage, I was already too stimulated to form full sentences.
"Yeah? You want me to fill you up?" He asks and I nod helplessly.
"Please," I whine. His smirk turns predatory, his tip prodding at my entrance and my cunt twitched, aching to be driven into.
"This okay?" He looks down at me and I nod with a soft mumble. "Words, use your words," He encouraged but I was a mess of whines and tears.
"Yes, please, yes," I manage to get out and his eyes swap love with lust and suddenly he's pushing into me, stretching me out around him and hitting every spot, filling every crevice, pushing me to that edge.
"Az," I nearly scream, my nails digging hard into my palms as I arch, without the use of my hands, I'm left writhing and jolting like an injured animal, prey about to be consumed by its predator.
"Fuck you're so tight around my cock baby," He gritted out, going deeper and deeper while noises slip from my lips involuntarily the farther he goes.
"It's too much," I cry but he doesn't stop, no, he goes faster.
"You begged for this, remember?" He purrs into the shell of my ear. I release a lewd moan as he hits that familiar bundle of nerves that makes me feral. "There?" He hummed and I nodded eagerly. He took his chance and began to abuse that spot nestled so deep inside of me, his thrusts making my puffy, pink folds throb for more, craving that gratification.
He lifted one of my legs up, over his shoulder and met my silent wish, the new position creating an entirely new intense angle.
He continued to pound into my leaking pussy, fluids dripping down my thighs, transferring onto his cock, the wet slap of his balls against my ass making me mewl. "You're so, fuck, so big," I gripe and he smiles against my jaw, continuing his forceful injections as he says, "Poor girl, can only think about my cock, isn't that right?" His hand gropes at my breast before I can even reply, resulting in a guttural moan. He knocks into me deeper, father, harder and it felt so damned good, he was rewriting my definition of pleasure.
"Yeah? Just a mess for me aren’t you my good girl," He crooned, his lips so close to my ear I could feel his breath against it, his teeth lightly nipping at my earlobe.
His hand leaves my breast and travels the expanse of my stomach until eventually reaching my neglected clit, his thumb flicking over it and making gasps of both relief and pain. His thumb switched to tight, torturous circles and I lost all cognitive abilities, he left me defenseless.
"M'close," I warn with teary eyes, looking up at him with helpless devotion.
"Already?" He taunts as experienced hands continue their cruel work, my arousal drenching his fingers but he doesn't seem to care.
"Mhm," I nod with a pout.
"It's okay, come all over my cock," He impels and I was not going to disobey such an appealing demand. He leans down and his mouth returns to my breast, flicking his tongue over it in a similar way he's doing with my clit, creating an explosive feeling of passion.
I reach my climax with his name on my lips, white-hot ecstasy searing through me like a wave crashing, starting at my core and blooming through the rest of me with an unexplainable euphoria that ripped me into a haze of pleasure.
Once I came down from my high he didn't stop, he didn't even slow down. I bit into my lower lip at the intense pain, the overstimulation pushing me over my limit and he delighted in it, loved to see the way I squirmed beneath him. I pulsed around him, walls fluttering against his width as he moved past my perfect spot and bottomed out, his base pressing against mine. He groaned as I contracted around him, reveling in the way my tight cunt hugged his length like a perfect little sleeve.
"Fuck, love," He panted in a wolfish tone, losing himself in the pleasure of it all. "Touch my wings," He whispered and I regained a conscious at that, I had been wanting to forever but he never let me, always pinned down my wrists instead. Shadows slipped from my hands, showing he was serious.
I waste no time before brushing the back of my fingers against the thin membrane of his right wing, my other hand going into his hair. His cock twitches inside of me and his head falls onto my shoulder. I smile at my newfound power, trailing a feather-light touch over a long scar and he whimpers my name into my ear. I clench around him tightly at the sound, his thrusts turning slow and lazy as he approaches release.
I map my fingers closer to his back, finding a central vein that pulsed with life near where his wing began. I pressed my thumbpad to it and he groaned, his cock twitching. "Fuck, baby, let me come inside of you," He pleads.
"Please, fill me up Az," I whine and he meets my request quickly, his warm seed spurting into me, painting my walls white. He came for what felt like forever until he finally pulled out, laying down beside me with a huff. I curled into his side, clenching my legs together in order to keep his release inside of me, mixing with my own.
He turns on his side to look at me, gathering the blankets and throwing them over the both of us.
"I have to go soon," I whisper and he sadly smiles tiredly down at me.
“No, no let me live in denial until it’s time,” He pulls me closer to him, my chest pressing to his. I melt into him, leaning my head on his chest to hear his heart beating so softly against his ribs, a steady beat that oddly brought me comfort.
"I love you." His confession patches over whatever was broken before. I lean upward and press my lips to his, his arm slithering up my bare back and pushing me into him.
"I love you too, Az."
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#suriels tea#acotar#fanfic#a court of thorns and roses#sarah j maas#x reader#azriel#request#acomaf#bat boys#azriel smut#azriel x you#azriel fluff#azriel x reader#azriel spymaster#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#x reader acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar smut#x you smut#x reader smut#smut#acotar x reader#acotar x you#x you fluff#acotar fluff#x reader fluff#fluff#acotar fic
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Drunk on You - Scott Miller
Summary: Scott is drunk and doesn't have the patience to wait until you two are home to have his way with you.
Pairing: Scott Miller x F!Reader
Word Count: 2.1k
Warnings: Smut (18+ Only), spanking, semi-public/public sex, breeding kink, pregnancy talk, rough sex, Scott is a bit of a brat tamer, not beta'd, basically porn with no plot
A/N: Everyone say thank you to @hederasgarden for inspiring this with her ask. Shoutout to the Corenswet server for encouraging me in my times of need. Sorry if there are mistakes, I didn't get a beta reader for this one.
You should have known better than to let Javi talk you into going out. He'd begged you and Scott to come out with the team for once, promising to choose a spot that would be calmer for you. Instead, you had walked into a bar where the bass vibrated your teeth and the patrons were packed in so tightly you had to push people out of the way to breathe.
Shouting a thank you to the bartender, you fought your way back to Scott's perch at a high-top table. Sliding his beer to him, you admired your own skill at how little you had spilled during the journey. You saw his mouth move in what you presumed was a thank you, but the thumping in your ears prevented you from hearing any of it.
You really were going to kill Javi when you found him. He had abandoned you for the floor long ago, leaving Scott to deal with your moodiness on his own.
Seeming to notice you slipping into your own head, one of Scott's large hands slipped under your shirt to graze the small of your back. The soft warmth of his touch brought you back to him, pulling you into his body so he could lean into your ear.
"We can leave if you really want to." His words tickle your ear, still having to raise his voice for you to hear him. Melting into his deep voice, you rested your head on his shoulder before looking up at him.
"I told Javi I'd be his DD. I can't leave him." Scott groaned, rolling his glassy eyes. You knew he wanted to go home as badly as you did, but you refused to leave Javi and Scott refused to leave you.
"I wanna get you home and in bed so I can have my way with you," he whined, hand tightening on your back. "Gonna make sure both of us are stumbling."
You snorted at his joke, tiptoeing to kiss his lips. "You can have me later, lots of time for a round before we sleep."
Scott's lips quirked up into a smirk as he shook his head at you, eyes roving over your outfit. "I need more time for what I have planned for you." He said, tongue licking over his bottom lip as he leaned in to talk into your ear again. "I want to put a baby in you."
Your body flushed at his words, wetness gathering at your core. Scott nipped at your ear, moving your hand to palm the bulge in his jeans as he pinched your nipple through the fabric of your top. "You want that, sweetheart? Do you want me to make your stomach nice and big with my baby?"
"This is cruel punishment," you whined, "making me soak through my panties while I can't fuck you."
"Bars have restrooms for a reason." He smiled at your unimpressed face before leaning back down to mouth at your neck. "Unless you'd rather have me bend you over right here, in front of everyone, and show them how cock drunk I can make you."
"Scott," you warned, your core clenching in response to his words. His hand gripped your breast harder, the friction between the lace of your bra and your skin making your entire body move towards him in want.
His boyish grin told you that Scott would not stop, too far gone in his alcohol to filter his thoughts anymore. "Or I could make you cockwarm me," he said, hand reaching down to tease your core. "Have you sat in my lap with my cock buried in you until I lose it and make you bounce on it? Then I'd get to fill your pretty little cunt and keep you plugged to make sure you're bred."
Suddenly his hands left your body, leaving you cold and aching where he had been. "But if you'd rather just sit here waiting for Javi..." He trailed off, smirking as he saw his effect on you.
This man was going to be the death of you.
Your lips thinned as you weighed the consequences of your choices: either being fucked in a bar restroom, where anyone could find you, or waiting hours for Scott to satisfy the need dripping from you.
"Finish your beer. Then you can fuck me." A victorious grin took over his face as he raised the amber liquid to his lips and gulped it down as quickly as he could.
Jumping up from his stool he grabbed your hand, pushing ahead of you in the crowd as he bee-lined to the neon restrooms sign. You were relieved when he pulled you into the men's room and saw that it was empty, grinning as Scott pushed you backward into a stall. His hand landed on your throat as he kissed you, spinning to pin you to the door as he turned the lock.
"That's my good girl," he groaned, hands cupping your breasts before pulling your bra down to set them free. "Knew you're too fucking desperate to deny me."
You rolled your eyes at his words, his ego being one of the things that became even more apparent when he was drunk. "Shut up and breed me."
Scott pulled away from your kiss to grip your jaw, making you look at him. "Don't be a fucking brat," he warned, grip tightening as he held your gaze. "Now fucking turn around for me."
You didn't even have time to follow his directions before he grabbed your hips and forced your front against the cool metal door himself. His grip was rough as he made quick work of your pants, pooling them around your knees as he knelt to have his face level with your core.
"Already so fucking wet for me," he practically moaned, licking one wide stripe up you. You didn't have time to react before he spat on your pussy, quickly pushing two thick fingers into you.
"Fuck, Scott," you cried out, pushing back into his hand. He steeled his grip on your hip, locking you in place. Agonizingly, he pumped his fingers into you, barely dragging them out of you before pushing back in. "Please fuck me, I need it. Please."
Scott didn't respond as he continued his slow movements, seeming to take it as a challenge to tease you even further. The only indication he had even heard you was a nip to the top of your thigh, one that you knew meant for you to find patience.
"Scott, come on," you pleaded, fighting to push your hips back further into him. His grip on you tightened in a warning, making you groan in frustration. "Come and fucking breed me before I get someone else to do it."
Four thunderous smacks rung throughout the room, lighting your ass on fire. Scott stood up behind you, ripping his fingers from you before forcing them into your mouth. You choked briefly from the roughness, his other hand tightening around your throat as you began to suck your juices off of him.
"I should make you fucking choke for that," he spat, pressing you completely into the stall door. You could feel how hard he was against you, forming an image of his leaking cock in your mind. "Should fucking force you on your knees and make you sob around my cock as an apology. Then you'd be begging for me to fuck a baby into you just so you can breathe."
Your arousal was practically dripping down your thighs at his words, desperately pushing back against him for any sort of friction. Scott took his fingers out of your mouth briefly, allowing you to respond to him. "Please, Scott, I'm sorry," you whined. "Just please fuck me, I need you. I need you to fill me, please."
Scott's grip on your throat tightened, pushing his fingers further into your mouth to make you gag as tears sprung into your eyes. "Oh, you want mercy, sweetheart?" He questioned, a satisfied smirk appearing when you nodded around his hand as a tear ran down your cheek. "Lucky for you, I'm in a forgiving mood."
He removed his fingers from your mouth, pressing on the back of your neck to force you into a bent-over position before you heard the clinking of his belt unbuckling. "I am going to fuck your cunt until I've filled you. Then, when we get home, I am going to tie your knees to your chest. I am going to fuck and fill you so many times you're going to be begging for a break. Understood?" You quickly nodded, agreement slipping from your mouth as the image filled your mind. You were clenching around nothing in desperation, his words alone bringing you to the edge.
Satisfied, Scott finished pulling his cock out before slowly sinking into you without pretense. The cold metal of the door hardening your nipples, combined with his words and the delicious stretch of his cock, threw you over the edge before he had even finished pushing into you. A throaty groan rumbled in your ear as Scott leaned in, a sudden jolt of his hips burying the rest of him inside of you.
Scott wasted no time, setting a brutal pace that had your brain foggy from pleasure in seconds. Every thrust crowded you further into the door, your core slowly, agonizingly slowly, adjusting to his size. Nonsensical pleas dripped from your lips, interspersed with shouts of his name as you lost yourself in your pleasure.
"Fucking hell," he grunted as another orgasm rippled through you. "You sound so fucking pretty begging for me to fuck you. It's gonna make me overflow your pussy with my cum, then I'll keep fucking it deeper into you just to make sure it works." You clenched around him again, a strangled moan overtaking him as his hands shifted to grab the frame of the stall. The sound of the metal moving with the two of you rang throughout the room, highlighting how brutal he was with his movements.
"Fuck yes," he groaned, a quick slap being delivered to your ass. "I'm going to keep you bred all the fucking time, tie you up and fill you for days. God, you're going to look so beautiful when you're pregnant with my children. With your big round belly and tits overflowing."
The last of your sanity fractured at his words, a third orgasm overtaking your full body as you went over the edge. Scott swore behind you, his moans becoming animalistic as he squeezed a hand around your throat. His thrusts became impossibly harder, chasing his orgasm in full primal instincts. Even when you felt him twitch and fill you, he didn't stop his rhythm - intent on fulfilling his promise of fucking it deeper.
With one last shudder, he pulled out, a hand shoving between your shoulder blades. "Stay there," he barked, leaning down to be level with your dripping core once again. Scott groaned at the sight of his cum leaking out, taking two fingers to fuck it back into you and smirking at the overwhelmed noises that escaped you.
Finally satisfied with his work, Scott placed a chaste kiss on your hip before standing back up to tuck himself back into his jeans. He helped you redress, getting lost in the physical aftercare that you knew was, secretly, his favourite part of having sex with you.
You moved to unlock the stall before he pulled you back into him with an arm around your shoulder. With a hand under your chin, he turned your face to place a quick kiss on your lips. "I love you," he said, "but you do look like you just got the life fucked out of you."
You rolled your eyes at him, walking out of the stall on shaky legs to fix your hair in the mirror. "I don't know how you expect me to be normal in there after that."
"That was the goal," he chuckled as he leaned on the sink beside you.
Your phone buzzed at that moment, lighting up with a text from Javi.
Javi: Andy challenged me to more shots. Peter agreed to drive. Go do weird nerd shit with Scott.
The text was followed by an image of an unimpressed-looking Peter with Andy and Javi throwing their arms over him like this was the best night of their lives. Your shoulders sagged with relief at the thought of being able to go home, thighs clenching at the reminder of Scott's promises.
After sending a quick text to Peter to confirm the change, you turned your phone screen to Scott so he could read the message. His entire body lit up as he finished, instantly grabbing your hand and tugging you out of the bathroom in excitement. "Let's go home. You've got a long night ahead of you."
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wish it on your worst enemy
A/N: if you see me butchering british slang 🤨 it never happened 🤫
Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!Reader
Summary: Your worst nighmare takes a nasty spill during a scrimmage because he was distracted by you. It’s only right you go and check on him. 1.9k words
Warnings: violence by bludger, description of injury, cursing, lovesick losers, enemies to lovers???? ‘enemies’ to lovers but really idiots to lovers
George taking a bludger to the face was not the kind of news you would have liked to wake up to. Something had gone wrong during an emergency weekend scrimmage. He was laughing at something Fred said or shouting at Ron or maybe he was just distracted by his own thoughts and hadn't noticed the pesky bugger barreling towards him with every intent to bludgeon him unconscious. So he took a nasty spill from a considerable height and has been passed out in the hospital wing since six forty-five.
You rush down the hallway in your pajamas, cursing under your breath, face scrunched into a scowl, dead set on your target. Bloody quidditch. A few first years watched you nearly trample a group of girls in the hall. They were traumatized. It was bad.
"He's gone daft! This is absolutely mental—nothing is that distracting!" you shout at Ron who is actively trying to defend himself against you. He stopped you at the door because he heard you storming down the hall a full minute before you arrived.
"Calm down! He’s still alive isn't he?" he says.
"Not for long if I have anything to say about it—"
"Oi," Fred shouts, lounging in a rickety chair beside George's cot, "would you wait 'till he's at least cognizant to threaten him?"
"You!" you fume, "why didn't you warn him!" Ron has given up trying to stop you at this point. You push past him, headed straight for Fred.
"I did! I shouted for him three times. The git was proper distracted. Must've been dreaming of something really special." He winks at you, and you think you could ring his neck right about now.
"I think you mean someone," Ron teases.
Both of them. You'll ring both of their necks.
"What the hell are you two chittering about?" you hiss.
"Oh, nothing at all, your graciousness. We'll leave you two lovebirds"—Fred clears his throat, standing and nodding to his youngest brother—"I mean friends... to it."
You grumble and flip them both off as they leave. You plop down into the chair just in time for Madam Pomfrey to come fluff the pillow propped beneath his left leg. She catches your weary glance over his limp body.
"I wouldn't worry too much, dearie. Nasty spills are what young men are made for. He just needs a little rest. Time to recover," she coos, smiling up at you from the base of the cot. You briefly worry the back of your neck before managing a nod.
"Thank you, madam. I appreciate it."
She grabs a quilt from the stack she had brought to his bedside and flattens it across his torso. You tug the side to even it out, a hitch in your breath when your fingers brush his cold knuckles.
"You know, when I attended Hogwarts, the quidditch boys were all the rage. My boyfriend was a Beater as well—"
"Oh, George—! He's not my..."
"He was wonderful. But of course, he was always getting into spills. It drove me mad to see the boy I loved in so much pain. In the end, I told him he'd have to be more careful or I'd call it quits. He told me he had to focus on his career anyway." She stands silently for a moment. Solemnly.
"That's terrible. I'm so sorry."
"You live and you learn. Boys will be boys, I suppose." Out of her trance, she shrugs and gestures to the clipboard sat on the desk. You hand it to her.
"May I ask... what became of him?"
"He retired from Quidditch very young. Only a few years in and, bam: traumatic brain injury. Some people can't be helped!"
You can't help but snicker at her frankness. She smiles, pats your shoulder, and sighs.
"You just have to love ‘em while you can."
"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."
"Of course, dear. You let me know when he wakes up." She scuttles away.
You take the silence of the moment to look at him. While you can. You prop your elbows on the edge of the cot and rest your head in your hands.
"Not sure how I feel about all of that information. Not sure how much I trust that advice." You tell him like it’s a secret, nose scrunched like there’s anyone else within earshot.
How fragile he seems laid flat atop this plastic wrapped bed. How rich the watercolor purples and yellows of his bruise. Down his neck, out across his jaw. The subtle swoop of his lashes, the rosy bridge of his nose. Then down to his bird bone fingers, your heart skips at the thought of tracing over the delicate skin.
He twitches, and you startle and sit pin straight. His muscles relax, though yours refuse to. You notice a rip at the hem of his folded quidditch robes and perk up.
Eight minutes later, you’re tugging just the edge of his robe into your lap while the rest is feathered out across the linoleum floor. Your emergency sewing kit is perched on your other thigh as you thread your needle and begin stitching.
George blinks the ache from his eyes, finally awake just to find you with a thin string caught between your teeth, your brow furrowed, and your fingers pinching fabric together. He reaches up and presses the heel of his palm to his forehead.
"Thank Merlin I wore something under my uniform today—"
"George!"
The sewing kit clatters to the floor along with the robe and thread. Hopefully that needle will be easy to find. But you smile for now, and it’s one of the sweetest things he’s ever seen. No wonder he took a bludger’s hit. You’re bloody distracting. Even when you’re not around.
“I’ll go get Madam Pomfrey, she said—"
"Were you... stitching up my quidditch robes?” he says, just a hint of teasing in his hoarse voice.
You look down and gape at the mess.
"There was a tear in—when you fell, the bottom—there was a rip! I had a sewing kit on me, I was just... helping a friend."
He blinks. If he wasn’t completely crushing on you before, it’s safe to say that was the nail in the coffin.
"That's adorable," he warbles.
You look cross and put your hands on your hips and scoff.
“Well, you can’t very well play with a rip in your uniform!"
"No. No, of course not,” he mumbles, “Silly me.”
Usually, you’d mock him. You’d call him names and tease him for getting knocked on his ass by and inanimate object. But that smirk has you incapacitated. He's making this very difficult for you.
"Well!” he chirps, “Don’t let me bother you, I’ll just be lying here."
"But Pomfrey—"
"I'll live. My mind is alive, the neurons are firing. All is well, it can wait,” he says, “Please.”
Goddamn you, George Weasley. You muster up a pathetic sigh and sit back on the stool, getting back to work on his robe.
But he’s back to grinning like a fool, admiring the way your tongue pokes the corner of your mouth when you focus. It’s incredibly endearing.
"You're very beautiful."
Daggers. “Shut up.”
He chuckles. "What? I find you to be very agreeable, poppet."
"Gee, thanks, Weasley,” you huff, “Do you want this stitch fixed or not—"
"Don’t get your dear panties in a twist, I’m only trying to compliment you. Would you just take it while I’m too ill to make fun of you properly?"
But he finds you very agreeable. And now you know that out loud. More than an inkling. More than friends. Oh, he’s awful.
"Quit staring."
"Sincerest apologies."
You roll your eyes and glare at him while the needle punctures the thick fabric.
"Why don’t I just tell Madam Pomfrey—"
"And ruin a moment? Come on, let me get a good look at you, you're the reason I’m in this mess,” George mumbles.
"Me?"
"Yes, you! Your stupid face won't get out of my head."
"Be serious, Weasley—"
"I am! You’ve cursed me, poppet, can't think straight unless I’m thinking of you."
"That's not fair!" you say.
"No, it’s not," he huffs, "I love you."
Shock. From both of you. More than friends, and more than a simple crush, now. But love. Love, for Merlin’s sake! Do you love him?
"You're being idiotic—”
"No. I'm not. I've thought long and hard about it, and I love you, and you can't change my mind—"
"George, quit it,” you say.
"Everyone knows it, poppet, I adore you, and—"
"I love you, too, George, now would you shut up!"
Well, then. Secrets out, no holds barred.
And he’s smiling all smug to himself, even though his left side is a bit swollen. And you’re back to fiddling with the stitched up tear in his robe. You’ve got crazy eyes. He thinks you might murder the stitched up tear in his robe. Or confess your love to it.
You groan.
"Stop smiling like that. You look crazy."
He shrugs. "I am crazy…"
"Do not—"
"… Crazy in love."
"I hate you"
"I know."
You look at him. And he’s looking back at you terribly fondly. As fragile as he seems now, he feels invincible. You fold up his fixed uniform and set it on the desk.
"George,” you sigh, “you have to stop getting hurt."
He nods curtly. "Okay. I’m sorry."
You squint at him, suspicious and expecting just a little pushback.
"... It's... okay, I just worry about you. I don't like seeing you like this." The stool scrapes against the floor, and George reaches for your hand.
"I know you don't, poppet. It won't happen again,” he says.
"Good. And if it does, then—"
"Then I’ll quit the team.”
"What!"
"I’ll do it. I’ll quit for you. I’ve got other things to worry about anyway. More important things than some silly sport where balls fly at your face."
Your eyes sparkle. For him, and it makes him absolutely giddy. He presses his thumb to the back of your hand and cocks a brow.
"Now,” he sighs, “would you come here and give me my hard won kiss?"
"Oh, so you won a kiss.”
"Nobly so. Dutifully and honorably. Nothing less than the best for your highness."
"Fine, whatever, only because you think I’m beautiful.”
You lean over his arm, trying not to nudge any of his tender injuries. While you’re being so careful, he’s straining for your kiss, jutting his neck out and shuffling under the quilt. He grunts at the overexertion, and you sit back before he gets his kiss.
"Nope! I’m getting Pomfrey!"
"One peck! Swear, I won’t move an inch!"
"Madam, he's awake!”
"Wonderful news, darling!" she calls from the other side of the wing, preparing a jug of water and a two glasses.
"You're horrible, and you torture me. You don’t love me at all, witch!" he whines, voice low
"On the contrary, I love you a good deal too much, which is why I’m so horrible."
He grumbles something under his breath.
Then chirps: "Be my girlfriend.”
You fold your hands in your lap. "If I must"
"And let me be your boyfriend,” he pleads.
"Well, what else would you be?"
"Your servant, your house pet. A footstool if you needed it.”
“George Weasley, you’re a fool,” you tease, reaching over to fix a strand of hair behind his ear.
"Yes, I am. A fool who loves you very much.”
“Sap.”
masterlist
#george weasley#george weasley fanfic#george wealsey x reader#george weasley x fem!reader#george weasley imagine#george weasley fluff#fluff#fanfic#x reader#x fem!reader#fanfiction#hp universe#enemies to lovers
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hey I love your writing. I’d love if you could do like a James potter x reader where James is smoking and reader finds it really hot and has maybe there in public so she’s just sitting there really turned on and can’t do anything about it ??
hello, love! do you mind if i take a piece of your mind because this idea had me reeling. hehe, thank you for sending in the request!
can't you see, you're meant for me?
pairing- bsfdad!james potter x reader warning(s)-suggestive content, cigarettes. a/n- i'm a sucker for dilf james...sorry not sorry.
ps- this is very short :p. lmk if ya'll would like a part two hehe.
little train
you shouldn't be thinking about his biceps. not when you're out and about in public. but still, your mind doesn't stop reeling. you watch the sun rays reflect on his brown skin, reflecting the stretch marks he's got on his arms. they're beautiful, you think, as the veins pop from within his skin. he inhales another puff from the cigarette, watching as the smoke ascends into the sky.
'want one, love?' he asks.
'no mr. potter,' he huffs.
'i've asked you so many times to not call me that. you know you can call me james,'
'ah-okay, james, i don't want a cigarette.' he laughs.
'i don't think i'd be able to handle two stoners either ways.'
you're listening to him intently. at least that's what he thinks.
your mind however in occupied in the idea of having his hand wrap around your throat, as he'd push you to the wall, kissing you harsh. you imagine his fingers exploring every bit of your bare skin, with his rough calloused hands. you'd let him, happily. and even if deep down you know it was wrong to be fantasizing about your best friend's dad.
god, you couldn't help yourself.
'love, are you listening?' he asked, apparently caught up on the way you'd zoned out. you'd been practically zoned out, mesmerized by his biceps. he threw the cigarette on the ground, crushing it with the sole of his shoe.
you'd been caught. fuck.
'you seem lost, are you okay?' he said, moving towards you. he was wearing a compression sleeveless shirt paired with gray sweatpants. the ultimate outfit to get you reeling and drooling over him.
'i-ah- i zoned out, james. i'm okay,'
he didn't buy your lie. instead, he offered you a wicked smile.
'you are?'
'totally,' you answered, overly cheerful.
'and i totally believe you.' you blushed, cursing yourself internally.
'now tell me, what is your pretty mind thinking about?' he said, moving closer. you stammered, taking a few steps back.
'i-i'm just thinking about-'
'about?' he knew what you'd been thinking about. you could see it in his eyes. in his soft hazel eyes there was a twinge of malice, a twinge of mischief which you could recognize so well. and god forbid it made you so weak in the knees. you closed your eyes, trying to let your heart stop before you spoke the next words,
'you know what i'm thinking about, james.' he smiled lopsidedly, as if greatly amused, running his tongue over this upper row of teeth.
'do i now, love?'
'i think so, yes.' even if you're faking your confidence, he can right see through your act. he can see you crumbling from within as he towers over you, asking you mundane questions. and god does he love the effect he has on you.
he tests the waters, his palm coming closer to your face. you lean towards it, but just as your face is about to touch the crevice of his palm, your best friend shouts,
'oi! papa! i'm coming,' you jump away from him as harry comes running towards james. in your head, you hate how harry came in and ruined the moment. but you're also grateful because you didn't think you'd be able to control yourself if he held your face. however, it was safe to say the ride back home was more torturous than ever.
he kept tapping his fingers on the passenger's seat while he drove, seemingly nonchalant. but boy both of you knew it drove you fucking crazy.
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taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510
(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)
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#james potter x reader#james potter imagine#james potter smut#james potter fic#james potter fanfiction#marauders#harry potter fanfiction#the marauders#james potter#james#james potter x y/n#marauders era#james potter x you#dead gay wizards#the marauders era
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Could you pls do nsfw headcanons for toman division captain & vice captain with a short curvy reader.
💦
Toman Captains + VCs x Short!Curvy!Reader
♡ NSFW, Fem reader, reader is around 5'4 for reference, reader is busty, reader has hips wider than her waist, reader has thick thighs, biting, size kink, breeding, ass slapping, just average smut ♡
Captains: Baji, Mitsuya, Pah-Chin, Nahoya, Mucho
Vice Captains: Chifuyu, Hakkai, Peh-yan, Souya, Sanzu
note: thank you for requesting anon 🩷 I wasn't sure if you wanted Takemichi or Baji as the first division captain, so I just chose Baji. If you want some headcanons for Takemichi just let me know 🫶
note 2: shout-out to all my short followers, I'd grab stuff from the highest shelf for y'all 😚
❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀
Baji
🔥 Bites you all day everyday (he calls it love biting)
🔥 Especially likes to bite your thighs
🔥 He can take your bra off with his teeth
🔥 Grips your thighs when he eats you so you can't squirm away from him
Chifuyu
🩵 Your body is a temple and his preferred place of worship is in between your legs
🩵 Gets hard when he sees you wearing a form fitting dress for the first time, it's like a life changing experience for him
🩵 Takes photos of you just so he can jerk off to them later
🩵 Always grabbing on your tits when he fucks you
Mitsuya
🪻 He bases designs he makes on your figure
🪻 Asks you to model clothes for him and he always ends up taking them off of you as soon as you walk through the door
🪻 Soft and sweet during sex, praises and compliments you every five seconds
🪻 Kisses your tummy and hips when he eats you out
Hakkai
🫐 Likes to eat you out because he doesn't have to make eye contact with you (poor nervous baby)
🫐 He'd be really unsure of himself during sex, but as soon as you start whining for him to go faster he's on cloud nine
🫐 Likes when you ride his thigh and when you're on top of him in general
🫐 He's absolutely submissive and prefers to let you take the lead
Pah-Chin
☁️ Always has his hands on your hips, especially during sex
☁️ Likes when you wear his jacket while you fuck, it fits you perfectly and he just thinks you look so cute in it
☁️ He loves fingering you, he gets a great view of your body
☁️ Kisses you on your thighs and clit while he's fingering you
Peh-yan
🤍 He has crazy stamina and always tires you out
🤍 Asks you to wear tight clothing when you go out on dates (he always ends up taking you to a secluded spot to fuck)
🤍 Let's you ride him but he'll be gripping your hips and controlling your pace the whole time
🤍 Has his face buried in your tits the whole time you're riding him
Nahoya
🪷 He's a pro ass slapper and makes sure to slap your ass every time you walk pass him (leaves handprints on your ass too)
🪷 69 (no rapper) is his favorite position, he gets to eat you out, your ass is in his face, and he gets his dick sucked. It's a win-win-win
🪷 Likes your ass tooted up and your face down (y'all know what song I'm referencing?)
🪷 Moans when you grab his hair during sex
Souya
💠 Likes to lay his head on your thighs (preferably while you're jerking him off)
💠 Prefers to be on top because he'll cum quick if you're riding him
💠 Gets overstimulated really easily but he won't say anything because he doesn't want to stop fucking you
💠 Loves when you sit on his face and run your fingers through his hair while he eats you out
Mucho
🎀 Enjoys the height difference between you two and uses it to his advantage
🎀 He'll hold you and fuck you while he's standing
🎀 Loves fucking you against walls
🎀 Knows you can barely handle his dick and loves seeing you whine about how big he is
Sanzu
🌸 Teases you about your height during sex (he'll call you short-stack while he's balls deep inside you)
🌸 Likes when you ride him because he gets to hold you close to him
🌸 Loves to cum inside you, always tells you he's gonna get you pregnant while you're fucking
🌸 Lays on your chest and kisses your tits after sex
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Taglist
@arlerts-angel , @i-literally-cant-with-this , @trevengersprincess , @happy-trenchcoated-impala , @giugiette , @katkitkats
#tokyo revengers headcanons#tokyo revengers smut#baji smut#chifuyu smut#mitsuya smut#hakkai smut#pah chin smut#peh yan smut#nahoya smut#souya smut#sanzu smut#mucho smut#I need these men IMMEDIATELY!!!
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2 ladies
simon 'ghost' riley x reader
based off this video i watched on facebook; when you move in with your gf and her cat and now there's 2 women to yell at you for coming home late...
wc: 474
tw: none, pure fluff.
a/n: here's a cute lil blurb, it's kinda shit. requests are open so if you have any feel free to send some in!!
keys jangle annoyingly as simon fishes them from his pocket, a soft huff leaving his lips as he raises them to the lock, trying to determine which key unlocked the front door to his apartment. he'd just gotten off work for the day, somehow the 9-5's on base were harder than actual deployments, exhuasted from paperwork and lousy recruits. a long day with even longer hours, he didn't even get to leave until 7.
as the key wiggled in and the door finally popped open, simon was immediately greated by a loud barrage of sassy 'meows.'
his girlfriend's cat, juniper, was all but shouting at him, walking around his legs.
"what? what's wrong?" simon asks gruffly, looking at the small white cat that encircled his ankles, effectively trapping him in his spot.
meow.
"sorry ma'am, got held up at work." simon apologizes to the feline as she tells him off. another loud, sassy meow coming from the white fluff ball.
the small cat stands in front of simon with a swishing tail and shouts another little 'mew' at him, telling him off for being late. they had dinner plans damnit!
"i know, i'm sorry. i'm home now." the gruff soldier replies, looking down at the cotton ball with eyes staring back up at him. simon bends down to scoop her up in his arms, holding the soft animal close to his chest as he entered the apartment. juniper has no protest, happily letting the muscular man scoop her up off the floor, purring against his chest.
"better now? accept my apology?" simon questions as he closes the apartment door behind him with his boot, both hands occupied by the feline in his arms
"you're home late." a soft voice drifts from around the corner, (name).
"i know, i'm sorry. got held up at work. this one already gave me an earful." simon apologizes sincerely, offering a small, apologetic smile as he scratched under juniper's chin.
"i'd say. she's been waiting for you to come home for 3 hours. wouldn't even eat her dinner." (name) replies with a soft chuckle. "you're home now. that's what matters. i made us your favourite too. i kept it warm in the oven."
simon nods as he places juniper down on the floor and discards his boots, placing them on the shoe rack beside the door.
"thanks, luv." he replies, standing back up straight and making his way over to (name), wrapping an arm around her waist. with his arm around her, simon began making his way towards the kitchen, excited to devour the meal his lovely girlfriend had made. juniper on their heels as they both sat at the table.
simon truly couldn't ask for anything more than his 2 ladies.
#ghostedéabha#éabha writes#ghostedéabha: ghost#ghostedéabha: simon 'ghost' riley#simon ghost riley imagine#simon riley x reader#ghostedéabha: simon ghost riley#ghostedéabha: simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader
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The Fate of the Furious
ALIVE: Deckard Shaw x fem!reader
Summary: She thought Deckard Shaw died - yet luckily he didn't. After joining the crew on the rooftop, he had some explaining to do.
Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I may have made while I wrote this short story.
A quiet thank you for my friend who watched these movies with me during a movie night. I love you <3
Warnings: swearing, mentioned violence and death
•••
"Oh, this will be good." Roman said to Tej as he poked - or rather punched - his arm. Both of them looked at the scenario in front of them, suddenly forgetting about their bickering over Ramsey.
Perhaps if things went differently, they'd stop arguing to quietly laugh at Shaw carrying a baby - only silently, because they perefer living over dying. Shaw with a baby was something they couldn't imagine at all, yet the thing Roman pointed out wasn't the baby. No, it was Shaw himself, who clearly overestimated his self-worth if he showed up there after the stunt he pulled.
And just in time, the girl whose feelings were very obviously hurt because of the said stunt noticed Shaw's arrival - and she looked like she's seen a ghost.
"No way, man. I really don't want to see this." Tej answered unsurely, leaning back in his seat.
"You won't want to miss it either. She'll kick his ass, that's for sure." In no other scenario would Roman dare to say that - the guy might have super hearing or something.
And just like that, the show started.
"You dick!" the shouting was so loud everyone's gaze was on her, but then - after understanding the situation - they decided to look away, not wanting to become a target of her wrath. "You absolute fucking asshole!"
"Come on, sweetheart, don't curse in front of the-"
"Don't you act like you suddenly give a shit about someone!"
"Oh, he fucked up!" Roman laughed in his seat.
"He fucked up big time." Tej agreed, and it was very rare that they did.
"No way I'd be him right now..."
Her expression was a mixture of anger and hurt, and she very clearly didn't want anyone else there to intervene - no man would dare to either way and they wouldn't succeed in doing so without getting a punch to the face.
But Letty, understanding her feelings because she was the only one she had talked to about them, did her best to diffuse the situation - in front of the child at least.
"I'll take him, don't you worry." she took the infant seat from Shaw, who had the expression of betrayal on his face.
"Thanks for your help, now why don't you go and talk this out?" if Dom's voice was anything to go by, he secretly very much enjoyed seeing Shaw's face as his son, the safety blanket he could hide behind was taken from him.
"Yeah, why don't we go and talk this out, Shaw?"
Ramsey gasped behind them and Dom patted Shaw on the back, sending him the luck he'll need. Roman poked Tej on the arm again, Hobbs chuckled from not so far away.
Deckard Shaw must have fucked up big time - he himself knew that too. It's been months since she called him Shaw. He was never Shaw, only Deckard or maybe if he was lucky enough, Deck. But he was never ever Shaw.
"All right, let's talk this out, sweetheart."
She hugged herself with her arms, not giving him the opportunity to hold onto her hand. Deckard didn't try to do so though, he understood where the line was and he didn't want to overstep it.
They walked to the other side of the roof, away from their gazes and voices, and only then did her eyes start to water.
Deckard wasn't good at apologies, but even he knew that's the time for one. She's hurt and rightfully so, but he didn't mean to hurt her at all. God, he'd go to Hell and back for her and he knew she'd do the same - they knew more than a few things about the other and they liked the other even if they don't like many people.
But now she's sad and hurt - and angry, because of Deckard and he didn't know what he should do to make it better.
"Sweetheart, I-"
"No, don't you fucking sweetheart me." Sweetheart was the petname Deckard saved for her and didn't use it on anybody else. "I thought you died, do you know how that feels? I thought you fucking died!" she grabbed onto the railing to try and regain her strength. "Do you know that I cried for you? I fucking cried for you. I almost went after Dom by myself to hurt him like he hurt me and Dom is my friend!"
He put his hand on her shoulder and she let him, but she didn't look at him at all.
"And then you just call me to tell me everything is okay, I- I don't know what hurt more: that you didn't tell me or that you don't trust me enough to tell me stuff like that."
"I trust you. I trust you and I don't trust anybody else." Deckard touched both of her shoulders to turn her towards him.
He expected her to be angry or sad, he even expected a punch to the face, like when she playfully hit him after a way too bad one liner on a mission. But she didn't do any of that.
No, she was crying. And if Deckard was bad at apologies, then he was even worse at comforting crying women - especially someone he genuinely cares about.
"Why didn't you tell me not to worry?" her voice was high pitched, the kind Deckard hadn't heard before. She never cried. He hadn't seen her cry.
He made her cry.
"Because I needed her to believe it."
It was a poor excuse. He knew it - she knew it.
Yet it was still better than not saying anything or him just saying a 'fuck you'.
"So you're okay? Not even a small cut?" she asked looking at his face, trying to find some scars.
"You know me, sweetheart." he smiled and she was the only one who has ever seen him smile. "And I know you too, so if you'll punch me please tell me so I can get ready."
She chuckled. "Because?"
"Because your punches are really fucking strong."
That was the kind of compliment Deckard Shaw gave her, the kind only she recieved and no one else. And she smiled at that too, even if her eyes were still teary and the pain and fear didn't fully go away.
"I don't want to punch you."
"Really?" he had a suspicion that she really wanted to.
"Really. I just got you back and you want me to hurt you straight away?"
"I'd let you and I'd deserve it too."
He really meant that, she thought as she examined his face, trying to find some dishonesty. She couldn't find any - but to her surprise, his eyes were soft. There was some softness in there, the kind no one's ever seen, because they didn't deserve to see it.
"No, just..." she wiped away the tears and pushed his hands off her shoulders as she leaned against the railing. "I just want you to promise me that you'll tell me- the next time, because in a job like ours there will be a next time for sure."
"Yeah, I promise."
She smiled softly, her wrath slowly disappearing and tiredness took its place. She looked tired.
"You know, we never really talk about it, but just so you know, you mean a lot to me." she said quietly, as if she's confessing something she's not ready for yet. "And I mean it. I really do. No joke or anything."
"I know." he really knew, and he also knew that not many people would do that for him. "And I'd kill for you."
"I know, you already did." she chuckled. "And not even once."
"They deserved it."
"In your eyes everyone deserves to die who looks at us the wrong way." she said remembering all the times Deckard decided to pull out a gun to shoot someone who was unfriendly. "Actually, I'm surprised Hobbs is still with us."
"I promised to fight him one day."
"Yeah, I'm not surprised about that at all." she looked at the others who sat around the table talking. "You'd win."
"I know I would."
"But he'd kick your ass too. He asked me if I want him to do that after the stunt you pulled. I said I'd think about it."
"And what do you think?"
"You'd deserve it, but I'm leaning towards a no."
Deckard laughed and so did she. It was good to laugh with him again.
They stayed quiet after that. She didn't know what else to say or rather how she should talk about the things she should definitely talk about. She thought of the last few hours and days, how Letty was there for her after Deck's fake death - and what they talked about. How she regretted not telling him the things she wanted to.
"I didn't mean it like that." she spoke up after a while. "When I said you mean a lot to me." she had his full attention, she knew it and felt it in his gaze. "I meant that I think about you as more than a friend."
She continued to look at her friends again, watched as they laughed and talked. Dom had his son in his arms and Roman and Tej were arguing again. She focused on every small detail instead of looking Deck in the eyes.
"I know what you meant sweetheart. That's what I meant when I said I'd kill for you." she had to look at him when his hand was on hers. "I just can't let them see me as a softie, can I?"
He was teasing her and he was grinning, and in that moment for her he was the most lovable, playful asshole in the whole world.
"You dick!" she shouted with a laugh as she hit his arm and she felt the others' eyes on herself. "You come back from the dead and you act like this? I should let Hobbs kick your ass. Being soft with me is the least you can do to apologize."
"I knew you wanted to hit me."
She hit him on the arm again - this time the both of them were grinning like idiots and she wouldn't have it any other way.
"Of course I do. This is the worst love confession I've ever seen."
"But you wouldn't have me any other way."
"That's right, I wouldn't. I'd be way too bored without you in my life."
This time he caught her arm before it could land and his hold on her wrist was gentle. That hand could kill and punch - and he looked damn good when he did that -, but it would never ever hurt her. Not intentionally.
They both leaned in to kiss the other - and they most likely argued about who had the balls to initiate the first kiss later. It was a great kiss, a damn good one. The one what's full of passion and emotion, the one that made her stomach tighten.
"I love you, you idiot, but if you act like you're dead in front of me ever again I--" he kissed her again to shut her up.
"I love you too."
"So much for not being a softie." she giggled as she hugged him, hiding her face from everyone - because she was grinning like an idiot in love.
"You won't let this one go, will you?"
"Not at all." she answered. "By the way, just so you know, Dom wasn't the only one who called your mother."
"You did not call my mother."
"I didn't want to punch you, but she'll definitely scold you for me."
She smirked as she saw his expression. "You're one evil woman."
"But you wouldn't have me any other way." she quoted.
On the other side of the roof the table was set a long time ago and everyone was waiting for the two of them to join in so they can start to eat. Although watching the drama before eating wasn't too bad either.
"You know, as much as I dislike him, I'm happy she's happy." Ramsey said after the pair kissed.
"I was right man, I really didn't want to see that." it was Tej's turn to poke Roman, who only stared at Deckard and her in disbelief.
"I expected more drama." Rome said with clear disappointment in his voice. "And why is she in love with the guy? What does he have that I don't?"
"Why don't you go ahead and tell that to him yourself. I'm sure he'd happily answer you with a punch." Tej teased him with a grin. "Go ahead boss, ask him."
"I hate you all..."
#fast and furious#the fate of the furious#deckard shaw#deckard shaw x reader#deckard shaw x fem!reader#fast and furious x reader
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You are so talented I can’t even fathom it Jade! I seriously don’t know how you do it.
Idk if you’re taking requests rn for Spencer still bc I know you write him a lot but I love shy reader and post prison Spencer it’s so cute. I would love to see their relationship growing, maybe her realizing the feelings aren’t one sided by little things he says or does for her or how he reacts if she gets hurt.
No worries if not! Anything you write is a gift honestly. Happy New Year!
thank you sm angel, you're too kind<3 hny! ♡ fem!reader, 1.2k
cw violence and injury
You'll be fine, Spencer had said, patting you on the shoulder. Just trust me.
This is decidedly not fine.
You crouch low behind a raspberry chaise turned blood red in the poor lighting. When you entered the building moments ago, it was light. But now the lights are out and you can't tell your friend from foe; footsteps to your left could be Spencer where he'd followed you in, or they could be the UnSub.
I'm right behind you, he'd said with a borderline rogue smile. You think I'd let you get hurt?
Breath warms your ear. “Boo.”
The air gets stuck in your lungs as brutish arms grab you. Your gun points toward your own jaw and your pulse hammers so hard you freeze, a split second, the amygdala overwhelmed. Then the UnSub tries to grab your weapon, and everything you've been taught kicks in. You twist in his arms, throwing your head back out of the line of fire as multiple agents call to you to sound off, and kicking hard at the UnSub's legs, the subsequent soft spot between them.
You fall hard onto the floor, screaming as a weight lands on top of you.
Spencer shouts your name. “Where are you?!”
A hard palm hits you in the throat. Light bounces off of the UnSub's face as a teammate aims their torch in your direction, but you're wheezing and aching, your throat on fire and too overwhelmed to think. The hand that hurt you leaps for your gun. You hold onto it for dear life, even as he forces it once, twice into the soft of your face, leaving rings of flame behind your eye. You pull it hard from his hands and fling it across the floor out of reach, squirming under his weight, needing to be away, away—
You pull your knee up and kick wildly, a well timed blow hitting the UnSub in the face with a damp-sounding crunch.
“I don't have eyes on her!” Emily shouts.
“I do,” Spencer says. His torchlight floods your area as he shouts, “Stand down!”
You don't squeal, but it's not a very professional sound as you crawl backwards out of the way. The ring of fire behind your eyes feels ever so slightly above it now. The room is half gone. You wipe your eye and look down at your hand, dark staining your palm in a heavy smear.
“Oh,” you mumble queasily.
The power never comes back on, but you don't notice until after, when Spencer's dragged you outside to the front yard and lowered you to a soft patch of grass, an EMT beside him dressing your wound. “Did they get him?” you ask.
Spencer's brow wrinkles with his frown.
“Remember what we said?” The EMT asks.
“No?” You wince and hiss as he pulls the wings of a butterfly stitch closed over your eyebrow.
“You have a concussion. I'm trying to work out how bad it is.”
You honestly still feel like you're in the dark room. You reach out for Spencer's hand instinctively, needing comfort, a tether to the ground, and he clasps your fingers tightly. “You're okay,” he says steadily.
“You're smiling at me weird.” You glance over your shoulder at the cop cars and the flashing red-blue lights. “Did you get him?”
“Emily got him. Just after he got you.” Spencer looks like he might stand from his crouch, but he brings your hand to his chin instead, leaning on it showfully. “It's my fault, I'm sorry. I told you I'd have your back and I didn't.”
Your chest stirs with the memory of your panic. One moment you'd been underneath him, and aching, and now you're on the grass as the forensics bring in the floodlights, so bright it's like mini suns have come out on either side of the yard. You hang your head to hide from the light. The EMT tells you off.
“Does your throat still hurt?” Spencer asks you, pulling on your hand gently. “Answer me.”
“My head is swimming.”
Your memories fuzz over. When you look up again the EMT is gone. Spencer sits on the grass now beside you unhurried, your hand still clamped between both of his. His thumb rubs at your knuckles and the smooth stretch of skin beside them, apparently content to wait with you.
“She's okay?” Tara asks, seemingly having appeared from nowhere.
“Not enough medical. They're gonna look at Agent Walker and circle back. She might have to be admitted.”
Tara bends at the waist to look you in the eye. “You okay?”
“I'm fine. Are you okay?” you ask.
“I'm doing better than you. That's gonna be a terrific bruise.” She smiles at Spencer reassuringly. “Emily wants you. I can sit with her, she'll be in good hands.”
“She'd be in great hands,” Spencer says simply, “but I don't care. I'm staying here. Please tell Emily she can come here if she needs to talk to me. I'm not going anywhere until they've finished looking at Y/N.”
Tara grins. “Your funeral.”
You're slowly starting to feel like yourself again, or more aware of yourself at the very least. Spencer's touch is melding from comforting to heart-rending, his nearness a heat. He looks stupidly good-looking considering what you've just been through, the FBI vest tight on his chest, his sweet brown curls falling into his eyes as he plays with your fingers.
“I must look awful,” you realise suddenly, a stone's throw from tearful.
Spencer doesn't glance up at first. “You look beautiful, but the bruise is…” He looks at you through dark lashes. “It's a tragedy.”
“What?”
His small smile fades. “How are you feeling? Are things clear, or would you say that I'm out of focus? You're having moderate to severe concussive symptoms.” He shakes his head. “And the bruise is mottling already.”
“I'm sorry.”
Spencer laughs softly. After a pensive moment, he brings your hand to his mouth. Maybe he kisses it, maybe he doesn't, but the touch brings a sacredness to his promise, “I won't let that happen again. You trusted me to keep you safe.”
“I trusted you to tell me if I was ready, and I was. I remembered how to get out of it. I'm still here.” You fluster after you've spoken, feeling brash.
You can feel his gaze on the side of your face. “You are. You did amazing.” He removes one hand from yours. A featherlight touch coasts down your cheek, brief and encouraging nonetheless. “It's going to be a really bad bruise.”
“Oh, well,” you say tiredly.
Spencer's turn to go quiet. He holds your hand on his thigh. “I could kiss it better?” he offers in a murmur.
You laugh and steal your hand back, unable to take all his attention at once. “Funny, Spencer.”
He gives you a warm smile. You can't tell if he's kidding or not about the kiss, but his devotion to you while you're hurting is real. You're not sure where that leaves you.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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"Evan?"
"Yes, babe?"
"Were you ever interested in Eddie?"
Buck nearly chokes on his juice. Coughing, he waves aside Tommy's startled concern. "Uh, I kinda need to. Okay. Are we talking in general or, like, specifically romantic attraction? Sexual attraction?"
Tommy shrugs. He's still shirtless at the moment, which means the morning light gilds his chest (and chest hair) in gold and bronze. Buck has seen this sight for months now, and he still utters a silent thanks to God for making Tommy's nipples ultra sensitive.
"Evan?" The older man tilts his head quizzically.
Oh, right. Buck sits back in his chair. "I guess I did kinda feel some way about him when he first showed up? I mean, he's good-looking. And he has very pretty eyes."
Tommy is chewing on a bite of sausage. "So how come you never made a move on him?"
"I don't know. Never thought about it, really. I mean, once he showed me Christopher, I just wanted to know more about the kid." Buck takes another careful sip of his guava juice. "And after that, either I was dating someone or he was dating. We were just punks trying to get through our own stuff. I never even considered it." He frowns at Tommy. "Why? What's got you asking?"
Tommy glances at his scrambled eggs and shifts in his seat. "Last night, when I was out with Hen and Chimney, they talked about you two being best buds. And Hen said that she'd thought you two would've made a cute couple." His cheeks flush a dark pink. "That was after several rounds of drinks, but, uh, it stuck in my head."
Feeling annoyed at Hen, Buck reaches under the table to pat Tommy's knee, knowing that it will be restlessly bouncing. His boyfriend, Mr Tommy "So Cool" Kinard, needing Buck's reassurance before he can once again be at ease in his skin. It makes Buck feel warm and protective.
"Maybe only in appearance," says Buck, thinking through the issue. "But our personalities would clash if we dated, I think. I mean, I'm not good at giving people space. I'd have smothered him by week two. You don't mind telling me if you need to be alone for a bit, and I like that you always let me know when you're ready to be us again. I don't think Eddie would ever say that until he's fed up, and then he'd shout it or give me the cold shoulder."
"You two seem to do well together as a unit though. And you love Christopher."
"Christopher is lovable because of who he is, not because I know his dad," Buck says, a little sharply. He squeezes Tommy's knee. It stops moving. "Eddie and I are best friends, and we love each other. But... I've seen him almost die, twice, and I would think that if I felt romantic love for him, that would have been the moment, you know? Buried in mud. Almost losing him to a bullet. But all I felt was terror of losing a friend I trust, and having to tell Chris about it if the worst happened."
Buck can't hide the tremor in his voice, and now it's Tommy's turn to hold his hand.
"I'm sorry you both had to go through that," Tommy says sincerely, his gaze soft.
Taking a deep breath, Buck exhales and smiles at his boyfriend. "With you, I just wanted to, I don't know, I was curious about you, about everything that had to do with you. I thought I only wanted to be your friend, and yet I was so upset after Eddie and you took off to watch the fight in Vegas, I kinda... Well, I was actually angry at Eddie, looking back on it. Irrationally so. I've never felt that sort of jealousy. And, yes, I did think it was because of Eddie that I was jealous, but the moment I saw you on the basketball court I wasn't angry at you at all. I was... Well, I was happy to see you."
Tommy chuckles. "I was trying not to show how happy I was to see you there too."
"So, yeah," says Buck. "Long roundabout way to say that yes, I did think Eddie is attractive, because I have eyes, but I've never felt giddy and light the way I do when you smile at me. Both of you make me happy, in different ways." He leans over to peck a kiss on Tommy's stubbled cheek. "I'm the luckiest man in the world."
Tommy relaxes. "No, I am." He takes Buck by the chin, exactly how he did it that first time, and draws Buck in for a proper kiss. "Thank you. Didn't know I needed to hear that until I did."
"I'm glad you asked," says Buck, "instead of stewing over it until it drives you mad. And I'll always be honest with you, okay? I promise."
"Ditto," replies Tommy, kissing Buck again, just because.
--
edited on AO3
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