#let's give her some grace in this particular thing!

[graceisinthelibrary]

Can I ask for the situation prompts. 9) Your favourite song is playing. (Maybe a slow dance 🥺)

Hello there,

I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but here we go...

“And the roses will die with the summertime, And our roads may be far apart, But there's one rose that dies not in Picardy, 'Tis the rose that I keep in my heart!” 

It was the saddest part of the song Audrey had ever heard, but there was so much truth in it. As the gramophone played on she blinked a tear away and did her best to focus on her knitting. She really should have put on another record for her little afternoon break, but it was one of favourites. So sad and yet so precious. 

“Roses of Picardy” reminded her of the Great War. Her war. The war she had served in as a Wren, when she had been of more use than today. These days she was only knitting socks for the boys at the front, hoping they would keep their feet warm. After all it was still January and the snow on the continent was deep. 

Rueful she remembered the time when she had done more than knitting to support her country. Her time in the Wrens had been an eye opening experience for her. She had learnt to shoot, had served on a minesweeper or had been taught how to use a telegraph. She still knew the Morse alphabet by heart and how to read a navigation map… She couldn’t believe there was nothing but knitting for her to do, but maybe she just hadn’t found the right occupation to do her bit yet.  

As she hummed along to the song, she also remembered the dancing. The singing. The comradery. The fun she had had with Dorothy. The sense of not knowing what lay ahead, the adventure of it…but most of all the dancing. The soldiers, mainly officers, who had asked her to dance. Most of the time it had been nothing but innocent fun. There had been wandering hands, of course, but she could deal with them. The dancing had been a way to pass the time. As long as they had danced, they had been alive. 

She remembered one particular officer who had stolen her heart just by dancing with her. Back then she had already been married, but he had allowed her to dream of another life than the one ahead of her. For one night she had envisioned another future than the one society had been expecting of her. 

“You’re in a jolly good mood.” 

She startled and almost dropped her knitting needles along with the two thirds of the sock she had been working on. 

“Mr Farnon!” She complained as she picked up her gear. As she looked over her shoulder she saw him standing in the doorway to the dining room, his arms crossed over his chest, a bright smile plastered all over his handsome face. 

He chuckled as approached her and kneeled down to help her. “I remember the song,” he said. 

“It ain’t Gilbert & Sullivan,” she joked. 

“I used to dance to it during the war,” he said, the fond memory now visible in his eyes. 

“Me too,” she confessed with a chuckle. “Those were the days.” 

“I guess we did have some fun after all,” he assumed as he handed her the sock, trying not to prick himself at the needles. Her fingers brushed against hers and she felt a little tingle where he touched her. 

He pushed himself up and sank on the sofa. 

“I seem to remember having encountered a couple of Wrens on my way back from Ypres. They served on our ship and I remember how marvellous they were - on the dance floor and in every other regard.” He gave a glance that made her blush. Did he try to flirt with her? 

“Well, the officers certainly knew how to get in our good graces.” 

“Did they succeed? With you I mean?” His brown rested on her, inquiringly and with a certain sense of mischief sparkling in them. 

“What do you think?” She returned the question, unwilling to give away too much. The former Captain Farnon had certainly been a notorious flirt in his day and age. 

“I think Principle Hall probably knows more than she lets on,” he replied. He looked down at his fingernails and added, “I got married on leave, so the last thing on my mind was overdoing it. But I enjoyed the dancing.” 

“Well, many did…” she mused. 

“Although once…” He paused when her eyes shot up. “I met a Wren who made me reconsider my vows in an instant.” 

“I reckon she were special,” Audrey said, trying to keep the mood light. Mr Farnon had loved his wife very much and she had a hard time imagining him straying from his promises to her. He wasn’t the kind of man who took vows lightly. 

“Dark hair, clear eyes, soft smile,” he summed up. “And wicked sense of humour. She was lucky I was taken.” 

“Were she?” Audrey wondered. 

“I remember dancing the night away with her…” He rose and put on the record again. 

“She is watching by the poplars, Colinette with the sea-blue eyes, She is watching and longing and waiting, Where the long white roadway lies…” 

“May I ask for this dance…” 

“Mr Farnon!” She giggled and looked down on her pinny. “We can’t… what if someone comes in…” 

“Then I’ll be willing to swear you’re teaching me how to move my rusty old bones!” He stretched out his hand. “Come on now, Mrs H! We haven’t got all afternoon!” 

With her knees consisting of pudding and her heart racing in her chest, she rose and followed him into the middle of the room. As he pulled her a little closer than necessary, her cheeks began to burn, and she wanted to hiccup with excitement. Their bodies fitted so well… he moved so exquisitely elegant that she felt clumsy and worried to stumble over her own feet. But she didn’t. The longer he guided her across the room, becoming more and more bold with her, she felt lighter. She picked up on his pace, relaxed her hand that was resting on his shoulder and started to giggle when he finally whirled her around. 

When she ended up back in his arms, she felt his lips brushing over her ear. His whisper was a bit husky and his hot breath made her dizzy, “I’ve always known it was you…” 

[thesaurus]

// my ed senses just tingled

// and I still inhaled a few pieces of a mint chocolate aero bar so fast I could barely taste them

// but I !! acknowledged what I was doing and I still wanted the treat so

// progress of a sort, kinda

[littlemissshoei]

KENYU YUKIMIYA

⤷ headcanons. sfw & nsfw.

some headcanons for an underrated king 🙏 dedicated to my beloved Bel for no specific reason other than her being the biggest Yukimiya fan ever and ever, heh.

CONTENT WARNING: suggestive / nsfw content, minor mentions of kinks, lots of fluff, Yuki being an absolute sweetheart, established relationships, habits

— ★ YUKIMIYA seems like the type of guy that would softlaunch his loved one until you're comfortable with being shown to the public eye. He'd post you holding hands, small bits of your hair peeking from a picture's corner or holding the beautifully crafted boquet he got for you. Once he's sure you don't mind being in the spotlight, he shows you off at any possibility given, wanting the whole world to know about you.

— ★ YUKIMIYA enjoys physical touch. Be it holding hands, brushing strands of hair from your face or tucking it behind your ear, it brings him a lot of joy. He loves watching your cheeks turn pink, your eyes nervously looking away when he gets too close and the soft smiles gracing your lips whenever he kisses your forehead.

— ★ YUKIMIYA'S has a few particular spots he likes to kiss, such as your knuckles, your temple, under the corners of your lip, your inner thighs, above your belly button and on your nose.

— ★ YUKIMIYA favourite way to spend time with you is at your shared apartment, where the both of you take turns reading out loud. You have a shared collection of books you enjoy, and every weekend the two of you get all cozy in your livingroom, the soft light decorating the room illuminating everything as you take advantage of the little quietness you get. You consider his voice very soothing, and your reading sessions usually end up with you falling asleep with your head on his chest as he lovingly rubs your back.

— ★ YUKIMIYA likes telling you about his day, since that gives him the chance to lay his head on your lap and feel the way your nails comb through his hair. The boy admires the way you listen to him, focusing all your attention on him, humming every once in a while with the sweetest smile on your face

— ★ YUKIMIYA is the type of guy that prefers your comfort over his own. He would do anything in his power to make sure you feel good FIRST. this also counts when it comes to the sexual part of your relationship.

— ★ YUKIMIYA is a switch. While he enjoys taking control and seeing you becoming a whiny mess under him, he can't deny how much it turns him on when you take the lead, feeling him up, making him feel good, hell, he gets hard whenever you call him your good boy, and he feels no shame about it in the slightest! He's the type of guy that's into slight bondage, public / semi public sex (especially if it's in the dressing room, before or after one of his modelling shoots) and risky situations overall. He also likes marking (doesn't matter if it's you marking him or the other way around) and he's a champion at aftercare.

— ★ YUKIMIYA loves taking you everywhere with him. No matter what, he makes sure you're present at his modelling shoots, and even goes as far as (politely) arguing with people whenever they try to send you away. He might have some slight attachment issues when it comes to you, but whenever you let him know about needing some time to yourself or a breather he is quick to understand.

— ★ YUKIMIYA loves you so much, he wouldn't let a miscommunication or issue lead to your breakup. He does whatever he can to talk things out with you, make you feel better and keep you close. He has never had such strong feelings for anyone, and even though it is a little scary to depend so much on someone, he wouldn't want to be with anyone else, just you.

[justwinginglife]

I've been deepdiving the hoshina tag and you are definitely one of my favourites to read from with the way you portray him 😭😭😭 so I'm wondering how it'd be with him and a reader that's always portrayed as the elegant and forward type... (kind of like shinobu kocho? if you're familiar with her) and on a rough mission he finds her like... heavily injured and he's thinking that it's the first time he's seen her so different from how she usually acts

this is my first time requesting ever.... so if there's some kind or etiquette I'm missing please don't hesitate to tell...........

THANK YOU SO MUCH! This means a lot to me! And, my dude, I just portray what I think of him- that he's the biggest freaking green flag EVER lol. And don't even worry about requesting etiquette, I just joined tumblr a couple weeks ago so you're totally fine, I wouldn't even know either. I'm just glad I could be your first request! Hope I do it justice, thanks again for your support. Also sorry for the wait. Also there were so many different ways I could've gone with this prompt so I hope the one I chose turns out okay.

Honest

There was always a line out the door of officers looking to train with you and today was no different.

Besides the fact that your technique was utterly flawless and you made combat look as graceful as ballet, you were also just stunningly gorgeous. Any man would die just to get a glimpse of you, let alone spar with you. Taking a punch to the face or a kick to the abdomen was an honor if it was from you.

And you were always the same with every man, you never showed any favoritism. You'd give them the same small smile, giving your honest advice when asked, but nothing more than that. You never even blinked at someone longer than you usually did with anyone else.

But even though it seemed like no one had caught (or could catch) your particular attention, there was in fact one man that you had to actively try to subdue your feelings for. You were thankful that no one had noticed that every time a certain Vice Captain walked into the room, your eyes always somehow wandered in the opposite direction of him. And when you'd hear him laugh or even just give out orders, your teeth would clench together to keep from smiling at his voice.

You weren't one to give away parts of yourself easily, having lost all of your family, but one day you'd suddenly found that it was much harder for you to not want to just give everything to him. Especially when you had realized that he was into you too. No matter where you were on campus, he'd make it his mission to find you, to be near you. He'd tell you his best jokes, trying to get you to crack more than just your usual small smile. He'd fight all out with you during training sessions, trying to get you to break a sweat for once, claiming that it did something to him watching you all worked up. It had become quite the strain on you, trying to treat him the same as everyone else when you were dying to just push him up against a wall and kiss him. You'd settle for even just holding his hand or brushing your shoulder up against his. But this wasn't like you- to want such immature, naive things.

You were someone who was wanted, you did not want. You were someone who was needed, you did not need. In fact, you were so hesitant to rely on anything, that if you could've figured out a way to live without oxygen you would've so as to not be indebted to the air filling your lungs.

Your skill and your independence were your swords and you wielded them with grace, distancing yourself from the crowds, but making yourself into a pretty show for them to watch. You were fine if they watched you, as long as that was all that they did. You couldn't imagine someone actually courting you, touching you, loving you.

But you did imagine Hoshina- it was more often than you'd like to admit and it irked you. You thought about just flat out ignoring him, turning down his requests to spar with you. But then he'd be different than everyone else. He'd be someone who spurred enough emotion in you to warrant unnatural behavior. And you refused to give in to emotion, especially emotion so childish and needy as something like love.

So you spent the day the way you always did, giving every officer a proper amount of time to train with you, and ending each session with a curt smile and a nod, gesturing for the next combatant to approach.

But then the alarm went off, signaling a kaiju attack. You thought you'd handle this the way you always did, no mess, no fuss, just efficient and effortless. But this was no ordinary kaiju and tonight was no ordinary night.

You had let all the lower ranking officers handle yoju duty and you had gone straight for the daikaiju. That was not abnormal behavior, you were always confident in your skills and they always served you well. But not tonight.

Tonight, you were humbled in the most brutal way possible.

Your fight had drawn you away from the rest of the squad, and now you were glad it had because you were ashamed to be in such a sorry, gruesome state. You had sustained heavy damage and for the first time in your life, you genuinely considered you might die here.

You thought of all the friends and family that you'd lost to war, kaiju, sickness. You wondered if you were ready to join them. It would be easier to let go.

"But I'm not done yet... I haven't..." You spit up blood, and shakily rise to your feet, groaning at the effort. I haven't even told him how I felt yet, damnit, you think to yourself, unable to speak the words aloud. Without meaning to, you being to cry. You don't have a free hand to wipe the tears away, as one clutches your dripping abdomen trying to stop the flow of blood, and one clings to your gun, aching as you attempt to raise it again. You fire a weak shot but your combat power is high enough that it distracts the kaiju for a moment.

And a moment is all that you need.

"Hey there, princess. You look like you could use a little saving. Don't worry, I won't tell the guys."

Right before your eyes, the beast suddenly splits into little dissected pieces and they rain down on the pavement, pelting the ground.

For the first time in years, you smile a real genuine smile as the Vice Captain holds his hand out to you. You're relieved to be alive to make it to another day, and you're shocked at how relieved you are. You don't remember when life began to feel so precious to you.

Maybe it was when you'd accidentally overheard a conversation where Hoshina was telling another officer that you'd be the one to bring hope to future generations.

Maybe it was when you'd forgotten your lunch one day and he'd sacrificed his lunch to leave it in your locker for you to find when your growling stomach had sent you hungrily ravaging through it for any snack you might've left behind.

Or maybe... maybe it was when your last living relative died and everyone whispered to each other about how cold you were for not shedding a tear and keeping your chin up when all you wanted to do was curl up and cry, but he alone told you in passing (not wanting to make a scene) that it was okay to grieve in whichever way you pleased.

And now he was holding a hand out to you. And you thought if you took it you might never let go. You might want to know where this led, what your feelings felt like when you let them roam wild, what he felt like in your arms.

Before you can decide if you truly want to take that terrifying step, his hand clasps yours and he pulls you in for a hug.

"You did good." He whispers in your ear.

You shake your head but you don't pull away from him. "I didn't. I almost died. You had to save me. I wasn't good enough."

"You're enough. You did well." He repeats, firmer this time.

You sigh against him, exhaling every pent up feeling you'd been holding on to. "Th-thank you, Vice Captain."

He pulls back a little and grins at you. "It's Soshiro, actually."

You bite your lip, trying to force down the warmth that's started to flood into your cheeks.

"You know I've never seen you like this before. It's a good look on you." He teases.

"Shut up, Soshiro."

He grins even wider at you using his first name so soon. "You get your butt kicked for the first time, you actually blush, and then you raise your voice at me? What is going on with you today?" He chuckles, nudging you playfully.

"I think... I think I might want to try something. Something different." You say finally.

He raises a curious eyebrow at you. "And what's that, princess?"

"Being honest with myself for once."

And with that, you pull him in and kiss him.

[daisyblog]

Juno

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN loves Sabrina Carpenter’s album…in particular the lyric “One of me is cute, but two though?”.

Based on this request.

TikTok:

Sabrina Carpenters album Short n’ Sweet had been playing on repeat in the Styles household, thanks to YN. Harry didn’t mind, he quite enjoyed coming downstairs and seeing YN singing and dancing in the kitchen.

YN often records videos of the mundane things through out the day, some she posts whilst others stay in her drafts.

With Juno playing in the background, YN and Grace gently danced around their open plan kitchen, YN singing along and smiling as she spotted Harry walking towards them.

I know you want my touch for life…If you love me right, then who knows?…I might let you make me Juno

Harry leant against the doorframe of the kitchen, a light smile on his lips as he watch his wife and baby daughter happily move around the kitchen.

You know I just might…Let you lock me down tonight

He couldn’t help but think that he had saw a glimpse into his future of watching the special bond YN and Grace have, both looking at each other in awe.

One of me is cute, but two though?

YN pointed to both her and Grace as their identical faces walked closer to Harry, making his smile only grow bigger.

Give it to me, baby…You make me wanna make you fall in love

The famous smirk grew on Harry’s face as his cheekiness set in. “Isn’t that what you said the night at the festival? Give it to me baby”. Harry playfully mocked YN’s voice in teasing.

YN’s jaw dropped as her dancing came to a stop as she was taken back by Harry’s boldness. “Bubs!”.

“It was…plus we had a great time…baby dancing”.

Instagram:

ynstyles

liked by harrystyles, annetwist and 3,677,239 others

ynstyles one of me is cute, but two though?💕 View all 7,523 comments

lottietomlinson the cutest🤍

annetwist Absolutely precious💞We definitely need more than two of you xx ⌞ynstyles You heard your mother😌 harrystyles ⌞harrystyles You know I love baby dancing, and I know you do too😉 ⌞annetwist Harry! ⌞ynharryupdates Baby Styles no2???

louist91 Missing my Gracie-Lou!! X ⌞ynstyles She misses her uncle Louis more🤍

gemmastyles Aw my heart just melted🥹

louisfan5 The Tomlinson genes are strong!

harryfan7 Grace looks exactly like YN🥰🥰

niallhoran Grace is definitely cuter❤️ ⌞ynstyles Obviously🥹🥰

sabrinacarpenter two cuties 💋

Tag List:

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats@harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r  @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour@bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl@buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream@treehouse-mouse @mrs-anna-styles211994 @macy-tpwk

[morganas-pendragons]

ease | celebrimbor

honest to god, I got this concept in the shower and it would not leave me alone. the prompt was found in the depths of the celebrimbor x reader tag (disclaimer: I am not a Tolkien reader, but I did grow up watching the movies and have done some research into the Silmarillion as I've been watching ROP) and this was born.

I've just found out some of the fates of these characters and I kid you not... I have a full fledged idea for a Celebrimbor/OC fic if my brain keeps this up

set during s2 of ROP, light spoilers ahead

prompt is here / this reader is a half-elven female who is gifted with magic. like I said, I am new to writing for this verse, so please be gentle.

***

You don't remember much about how you ended up in Middle Earth. There are glimpses, sweet fragments of memories that surface every now and again, but that is simply all they are. Glimpses of a time that has long come and gone.

Glimpses of who you were gone with it, like the receding tides of the ocean drifting further and further away.

The one thing you do remember with astounding clarity is your arrival to Eregion. You remember the front gates and how tired you were, and more importantly, you remember Celebrimbor. His complete and utter astonishment at your arrival was puzzling.

You didn't figure out why until later.

"Forgive me, but my healer tells me you have difficulties with remembering where you came from," He's standing in front of you where you sit in the healer's chambers of Eregion. You're surprised that they even let you in. Maybe he took pity on you. "Your injuries are minimal given how long he believes you were out in such conditions. Given your physical attributes, I would say you are at least Elvish. That would explain some of this. Do you remember your name?"

You didn't. The only things you had to remind you of who you were was the cloak around your shoulders and the circlet in your hair. A fine thing, crafted from what Celebrimbor later told you was pure silver.

"No...." You shake your head and wrap your arms tightly around yourself. He can't help but soften. You seem very lost. Celebrimbor is not one to take in lost souls, but there is something about you that draws in rapt fascination, and he is not willing to turn you away.

"You are no threat upon us. Now come. Let me introduce you to the great kingdom of the Elven smiths."

He extended his arm to you hesitantly. You found yourself taking it, staring up at him through a curious gaze as he dove into the histories of Eregion.

Weeks passed. You noticed the longer you were present in Eregion and in the forges that Celebrimbor was very particular about who was allowed to remain in his presence for long. There were his smiths, and his servants, but there were very few who were truly allowed to know him on a more intimate and vulnerable level.

You found yourself wondering why.

On a quieter day in Eregion's forges, you venture out of your room in search of Celebrimbor. Most of the staff is familiar with your presence by now. You've heard the whispers. They wonder how a forsaken Elf has managed to find her way into their King's good graces after such a short amount of time.

"Ah, I was wondering when you'd arrive. Come. I have something to show you." Celebrimbor greeted. You followed him around the edge of the forge to a table in the center of the room where a familiar silver circlet sat. Your eyes widened. You had been wondering where it went. "I was given enough moonstone from a recent discovery to restore your circlet and add a singular gem to the center. What do you think?"

Again the eyes and ears are drawn to the pair of you. You can feel their questions burning through the air: Why her? Why is she in his good graces? What does a forsaken elf have to give to the Lord of Eregion and the Master Smith?

"Might we have a moment in private?" You ask. There is no hesitation in his response. Celebrimbor dismisses his smiths, and in mere minutes, the two of you are alone. He seems perfectly content to be with you where no other eyes can see. "I don't understand. We've only just met, and I don't even know who I am, but here you are reforging and creating something so beautiful for a stranger," You pick up the circlet with delicate fingers, turning it over to gaze at the gem in the center. It's a very delicate design that incorporates much of the Elvish culture within it. "Why?"

There's a beat of silence that you interpret as apprehension. Answering this question requires a certain sense of vulnerability that he so often shies away from.

What he does instead surprises you.

''Because," Celebrimbor's voice drops to a whisper as he settles the delicate circlet in your hair, and you can't help but smile at how gentle it is. "You are.. different."

That's all he leaves you with. You're left to wonder what about you is different. What about you puts him so at ease.

***

Celebrimbor had not told anyone outside of Galadriel, Elrond and The High King what was known of your origins. What little the two of you could come up with about them. All the five of you are aware of is that you hold a great power with magic that brings the skill of healing and persuasion of any life form, and that you fell to Middle Earth within its vast oceans and found yourself destitute mere miles away from Eregion.

"It's almost like your coming was a sign."

Your visions turn out to be correct, much to your horror.

After Gil-Galad and Elrond’s departure, you find yourself lingering in your chambers with your circlet poised in your hands as you internally fight through all the evidence you have lingering in your head. Celebrimbor doesn't know what to make of it, and neither do you.

That turns out not to be your concern once you see him trudging past your bedroom, muttering to himself in Sindarin as he attempts to massage his shoulder with his hand.

"Celebrimbor?" You call, mindful to call quietly so that his smiths and the staff do not hear you. He always hears you. Always has, always will. "Are you alright?"

His aspect says one thing, but his eyes say another. "There is always tension that builds within the muscles and tendons of the body after working vigorously in the forge. I am just stiff. It is not a concern you need to bother yourself with-"

You raise a brow at his veiled attempt to console you. It doesn't work. Glancing over your shoulder, you quickly follow on his heels to his chambers where you slip inside just before he can shut the door.

He freezes. The two of you are alone. Properly alone.

"This is quite.." You falter in search of the right word. "If anyone knew I was in here, it would arouse suspicion. I can tell you're in pain. We both know that you cannot alleviate that on your own." You pause to interject, "Only if you truly want the help. I would be happy to serve."

Realization dawns in his eyes. Neither of you are properly aware of how close you really are to each other, much less the fact that your hand is pressed against his heart. It flutters under your touch.

He's nervous.

Your creased brow softens when Celebrimbor winces again at the turn of his head, and your eyes focus on his neck. "I am in a great amount of pain," He confesses quietly. It's quite a feat for him to be so willing to be vulnerable with you. Especially when you have yet to see him ask for help from anyone else, including Galadriel or Gil-Galad. "And I would be much appreciative of the help."

Celebrimbor would never admit it out loud, but something swelled within him at the sight of your smile as you rushed back to your chambers to gather the oils you had stored there. He had come to care for you a great deal. That was dangerous. There was too much at stake with his House and his past... A past that he would rather never speak aloud for fear of having to truly relive it.

"You'd be more at least if you lie down," You remark softly, laughing as his eyes snap open in alarm. "The oils only work with skin contact. Are you okay with that?"

It takes him a moment to realize what you're doing: You're both asking for his consent, and you're giving him the opportunity to say no. It's just another thing that draws him to you.

You turn away to grant Celebrimbor a modicum of privacy while you prepare yourself and the oils you brought. By the time you turn around, you nearly drop the vials. You should have assumed he'd have scars. That there would be old burns and far more muscle that he could hide under those robes.

The only piece of clothing he was wearing covered very little.

"Celebrimbor," You whisper. He cannot help the shiver that runs down his body when your fingers come into contact with his spine. It has been centuries since he had last allowed himself to be touched, and to be touched in such an intimate and positive way was foreign. "Are you in pain?"

You already know the answer to this question. He lays down on the bed and tucks his hands under his forehead. There's several moments of silence that pass before you hear him murmur, "I have been in pain for quite a long time, nin tinu. There has only been one thing that alleviates it."

The Sindarin that rolls off his tongue rings clear in your head. My star.

"What eases your pain, My Lord?"

Your oiled fingertips, doused in lavender oil, have just made contact with his shoulders when he answers: "You. It has been you from the moment you entered my gates, and it will be you for however long you remain here, if you wish to remain here in Eregion with me. You are not obligated to do so. I know you want to regain your memories.”

You mull over his words as your fingers travel his skin. You mark your touch with firm yet gentle presses against the valleys of his back, dragging your fingers across raised scars that arouse much curiosity within you. Celebrimbor melts into the bed beneath you as he allows himself to absorb a touch he had not realized he craved so deeply for an entire lifetime.

"You have introduced me to such a peace since I have been here. A peace that comes from being in the presence of people who truly care about you, of people who truly want the best for you. That's why you have not told anyone of my heritage. That is why you keep me so close to your side. To protect me.” Your ministrations have had their desired effect, because the moment you dig your fingers into where he'd been trying to massage earlier, it elicits a low groan from his chest. "Never has this destitute elf felt such peace as I have learning and living with and from you. I would be honored and privileged to remain in Eregion."

He's thankful in that moment that his face is hidden. Celebrimbor grimaces as tears prick the back of his eyes, blurring the sight of the blankets beneath him. He'd never experienced something as trivial as being loved in such a gentle, genuine manner.

"Dorth... nev na nin."

Again it rang clear as day. You were realizing the longer that Celebrimbor spoke in the Sindarin tongue that you were most definitely familiar with it.

He's asking you to stay with him. Permanently.

"Roll onto your back," You whisper. He complies with ease, showing you a stunning shade of hazel in the eyes that look back at you. "I-"

It's right there on the tip of your tongue as fingers stained with lavender oil linger right at the hair on his temples. You know you have been drawn to him since you arrived. It's not the hesitation in confession, it's in his response.

His lips part of their own accord as you bend your head to press your forehead against his own. You both want to kiss the other, and badly, but this act alone is intimate enough. It is too soon.

Celebrimbor’s breath fans over your face as he shudders, eyes flickering upward to meet yours through the hair that veils your face. "Just let me..."

Celebrimbor parts your hair to tuck it behind your ear and lifts his head just enough to graze his lips against your cheek. It's barely a kiss, more the ghost of a kiss then anything, but the way it puts your body at such ease speaks more then a real kiss could've.

His heart is pounding when he meets your eyes.

You're laughing when you part. He doesn't know why. What Celebrimbor does know is that the stiffness in his muscles is gone, replaced by an inexplicable warmth he's never quite felt before.

The shade of your eyes has been illuminated by a silver the same color of the jewel in your circlet, which is now glowing from where it sits upon your head.

He'll have to question that later.

"Why are you laughing? It's quite inappropriate to laugh in such a circumstance-"

You press your fingers to his lips. Celebrimbor is blushing so hard you're sure that his cheeks will stay that color for the rest of the night.

"If you wanted to get unclothed in front of me to have me touch you, all you had to do was ask."

[blingblong55]

Little black dress- Simon 'Ghost' Riley NSFW

Photo credits: @ave661

Based on a request:

hey! just binge read all ur fics and I love them so much😭 saw that your taking requests rn and I had one, reader and ghost had gotten into an argument right before a party and so reader puts on her shortest dress and purposely tries her hardest to make ghost jealous, then gets fucked senseless by ghost when they get back😋 (Dom!ghost, consensual ofc) love your writing ur so creative with it! (just a request you don't have to do it^^)

---- F!Reader, established!relationship, smut, 18+, MDNI, unprotected!sex, dom!Ghost, rough!sex, slapping, choking, jealous!Ghost? ----

It was possibly the worst argument in your relationship so far, he and you saying horrible stuff towards each other and worst of it all is that you both had to attend some stupid party. The drive there was silent and awkward, especially when you wore that tight little black dress. The same one that showed him every beautiful curve of yours, he adjusted himself in the seat, an annoyed sigh as he tried to focus on the road ahead. You, applying that red lipstick and fuck did he need to have your marked lips on him. 

The party was shit, he didn't expect more from it but when one song in particular came up, he had to adjust his trousers as he watched you move. That body was graced by the gods, moving your hips, hypnotising him like a siren. His bulge grows bigger by the second, and your cat's eye on him is like prey. He shook his head, Simon knew you well, knew the tricks you did to mess with his head. And fuck you because it was working. There is one thing he loves when in public settings. That being that every guy in the room looks at you, wanting to fuck that cunt of yours but when you sit on Simons's lap, let him kiss your neck or you kiss his neck, he knows every man in that room envies him. 

No other man in that crowded space can fuck you, touch you but all they can afford is to imagine you, imagine how tight that cunt of yours is, how your pretty tits bounce when riding, how your moans sound. Simon Riley, a man who knows his pretty toy is for his use, who knows he eats you out, makes you come, scream, whimper and beg to come all over again. "Mate, y'alright?" And suddenly, he is back in that party. He nods, your stare still on him as your body keeps moving, he becomes frustrated, how can a pretty thing like you make him this way? Why can't you just bend over his lap, let his calloused fingers in your cunt, and make every man in that space know you are his slut, no one else's. 

And then he saw it, another guy trying to flirt with you. He isn't insecure of himself, very much the opposite but to even think of a man as pathetic and not as strong as he dares to flirt with you? Yeah, not happening on his watch. Simon knows you are loyal, he is secure in your love and knows you don't have eyes for anyone else but him, but it's time Simon shows once and for all that just because you aren't grinding on him at this party doesn't mean you two ended. He gives you that look, motions with one nod for you to come over and with some hesitation you do, "Simon, don't start-" His lips cut you off as he kisses you, his hand possessively on your waist as the other holds you by the back of your neck. 

"You're my-..fucking...girl," he reminds you between kisses. Of course, this reminder wasn't really for you, but for those around who think they have any chance with you. As stated before, he isn't insecure, he adores when you wear small dresses, when your curves are for all to view but to not touch, he loves to know that at the end of the day, you go home to him and that no man can change that. Simon encourages you to wear those outfits, he can fight and he can certainly kill for you, so wear that dress, be a slut and wear it because in the end, he belongs to you and you to him. Blood-covered knuckles won't stop the romance you two have. 

He grabs your hand, takes you back to the car and drives home. "I didn't get to finish talking with my friends, Si," you look at him and he shakes his head. "Doesn't matter, you can see them tomorrow, if you can walk that is." His hand is on your thigh as he drives. Fingers caressing the softness of your thigh. "I'm sure you can tell them all about how you got a proper fuck, right darling? Since you love to gossip and they too, so, tell them, tell them your boyfriend fucked you and covered your pretty body in his cum."

Once home, he carries you to the bedroom, tearing the dress apart as he nibbles on your neck. His cock was hard, swollen and needy for some attention. You look at him but all he does is turn you around, push you to the bed, and slowly rip your panties, his tongue lapping at your wet cunt. Your eyes shut as moans escaped your lips, you look back and he shakes his head, and slaps your ass. "No no, you don't get the privilege to look at me," he sits up and pushes your face to the mattress. His heavy cock slapping at your cunt before he pushes his tip between your thighs, your cunt already aching for him. 

Your hands behind your back, his strong hands holding your wrists as he begins to slowly push himself inside of you. "Oh fuck, lovie, s'tight," he moans and begins to increase his speed. Your cunt spreading for his size, your eyes leaking mascara-stained tears. You begin to moan louder the harder he pounds your sore ass. "Shut the fuck up," he slaps your ass once more, making you let out a whiny moan. One of his hands wraps around your neck, making sure to choke you just hard enough. Your voice is hoarse as you continue to get your tight cunt pounded. 

"C'mon, lovie, just take it." He whispers into your ear and begins to leave love bites on your neck. "Si," you cry. His marks beginning to hurt just right. "It's okay, pretty baby, let me just fuck you raw and then let me take care of you, yeah?" Simon whispers. His cock is buried in your sweet pussy, and your back begins to arch the second his hand travels down and slowly rubs your clit. Your moans are loud, and you begin to moan his name, cursing him as you begin to get closer to your orgasm. "Come for me, I know you want to, lovie," Simon taunts, his fingers slow, letting the build-up increase and the second you grew quiet, your cunt clenching around him, he knew you had cummed. 

Your whimpers get low as he pulls out, begins to stroke himself and grunts, his cum painting your back. "Oh, that's my girl," he moans, fingertips spreading his seed all over your soft skin, you squirm and he lifts your chin. "Open your mouth," he says and lets you clean his fingers, your tempting stare and the way you make subtle moans what a way to ask him for more. He picks you up and snuggles you under the sheets. "You did such a good job, darling," he smiles, Simon's warm lips meeting your forehead. Your legs still shaking, trying to calm down, ass is so red you wince when he massages your ass. "You'll be okay, I'll take care of you," he whispers and wraps his strong arms around you. 

A/N: my brain melted mid way through this so I'm sorry if its shit

Tags:

@liyanahelena @ghostslillady @unicorngirly1 @under-the-dirt @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @goldenmclaren @moonsua1 @rvivienner @krinoid24 @iruzias @frizzseaberries @frazie99 @idklols @katybaby00 @night-mare-owl-79 @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @Juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @defnotlpuluvyou @enarien @simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @nellsbobells @willowaftxn83-87 @greatstormcat

[cobaltperun]

Eternal Flame (13) - Black Friday

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

Spotify playlist

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next Part

Word Count: 5.7k

-I wanna be happy, could you show me how it's done?-

When Hugh took you to Ethiopia you didn't think you would be spending half the day raking leaves with him. “I thought we were on a vacation,” you said roughly four hours into the manual labor he's been putting you through. Granted, he was right there with you, doing the same thing, so at least that made it fair to an extent. His kids and wife smartly avoided this activity and were in a warm house, drinking coffee and getting to know the locals.

“No harm in some work,” Hugh figured, getting up and wincing as he straightened his back. Oh yeah, he was several decades older than, you frankly you were almost sorry for him right now. “We'll sleep a lot better tonight.”

You did have troubles sleeping, so maybe that’s what he was trying to do.

“Yeah, that's right. Keep finding the positive in everything. I’ll ask you what you think tomorrow, when it turns out that your back is hurting, because you couldn't let a twenty-year-old do a better job than you,” and stupidly you got competitive as well. At least you did things a lot faster since you both wanted to see which one of you could do the job faster and better. As it turns out, being young did have advantages in this particular situation.

“I let you win,” he said as he leaned on the rake, but not too hard though, as you were both afraid that leaning on them properly might make them snap, and that would be an embarrassing way to fall to the ground.

You rolled your eyes, amused by his refusal to accept loss with grace. “So, what's really the point of all this? You've had me working, had me meditating, hell, nearly roped me into doing yoga with you. Come on, spill it,” you said once you began making your way back to the shed to leave the raked before going back to where Deb and Hugh’s kids were.

“You really should try yoga though,” he was trying to change the subject, to avoid answering your question and you just turned to face him, meeting his eyes and just studying him for a moment. And then he slumped slightly, giving in to your silent demand. “I'm trying to keep you occupied, I guess, not sure if that will do any good, but we might as well start somewhere.”

The expression on your face softened as Hugh said that. You could have figured as much. “You're being ridiculous, but I appreciate it,” the truth was that you probably didn't have any idea how to approach what you were feeling and going through either, and he was just scrambling to try and do something. He was making an effort while hoping that maybe one of those things would work for you, and some were actually working.

The first few days he had to pull you to sit down and meditate with him, but this morning you sat down next to him all on your own. For what it was worth you did appreciate spending ten minutes purely on yourself, being in no rush to do anything, feeling no pressure, having no deep thoughts plaguing your mind. It was just ten minutes, and in that brief period of time you could take a moment and relax. Somehow, starting the day like that was good for you, it was making you feel calm at the start of the day instead of tense as you usually were.

And despite the occasional joking complaints you made about the vacation turning into a glorified test of your stamina, you enjoyed yourself. You were gaining a new perspective on life in general, something to help you look at things from a different point of view. And throughout all of that the ring hanging from your neck brushed against your skin and reminded you that at the end of the day this all had to be worth it.

~X~

There has never been a January this miserable in Jenna's life, filled with so much despair and sorrow and exhausting conversations with her family. All of them, mostly her parents, but also her siblings, aside from Aliyah who saw how she was at the airport, were repeating that you weren't good for her. Repeating that she was like this because of you, that she was difficult to talk to, that she was miserable, that she had a short temper and wasn't pleasant to be around, all because of you.

Eventually she just packed her bag and went back to LA, cutting her family time short, because she could no longer take constantly hearing that. The worst thing about it was that it was getting to her head, and she feared that when, and if, she ever got the chance to see you again, that all those words her family kept repeating would end up reaching her. That the moment she saw you that she would start thinking whatever she had with you wasn't worth losing the support of her family.

And yet, as conflicted as she felt, she still often found herself with your shirt close to her and with your jacket around her shoulders as she went and did some small tasks all around her house. She couldn't quite wear it, the sleeves were too long for her, so she just tied the sleeves around her neck and went about her day. She was all alone so who cared if she looked a bit ridiculous.

From what Barbara told her, and she knew Barbara was only giving her the bare bones as far as the information went, you finished filming in Italy and went on a vacation with Hugh and his family. And despite everything Jenna almost felt bitter, thinking you moved on, that you decided to keep living your life with or without her in it, while she was here, having her world falling apart. If it turned out this between you couldn’t be fixed, then yeah, both of you had every right to move on. She just felt, in despair, that you did it way too quickly.

Her doorbell rang just as she finished washing the few dishes she used for her lunch, and she took your jacket off and hung it on the chair before going to her front door. Enrique said he would drop by, and this had to be him, and sure enough when she looked through the camera in front of her apartment building's front door she found him standing there. Jenna quickly opened the door and the front door of her apartment for him, and he came inside, meeting her in the hallway and she just hugged him soon as he was close enough.

“There, there, it's OK, you can cry,” he told her. By now he knew more or less what happened. He didn't know why you began fighting in the first place but he knew everything else. And while she could allow herself to cry in front of him Jenna honestly didn't have any tears left to shed, she spent so many nights crying herself to sleep that she was just tired of crying.

She let go of him and smiled a bit. “Let's just sit down. Do you want something to eat or drink? Anything?” Enrique just brushed her off, showing her he brought hot chocolate to go along, and Jenna was thankful for the a bit of thoughtfulness from someone who cared about her.

“Y/N’s jacket?” Enrique pointed at the jacket hanging from her chair as Jenna sat down.

She nodded. “I miss her,” she confessed softly. You weren’t talking and that was only making things worse right now. “But I don’t think my parents will ever accept her.”

Enrique leaned back in his chair. “Well, I'm here to fix that,” Enrique promised her, and somehow, she believed him. “So, how about you fill me in on the things I don't know,” he asked, and Jenna began. She told him everything she knew, that your parents were in an accident, were left in a coma and that you needed money. That you sold your apartment and that it still wasn't enough, so you went and got involved in a fight club. She told him all of that, and that it wasn't enough, that your parents couldn't be saved, and that you then, despite no longer having to fight, went and fought again, and Enrique just sat there listening taking it all in.

“You know, and this might just be me, but I think it's beautiful. You know, what she did,” his words took her by surprise, she had no idea how he could even come to that conclusion. You went and you hurt people, and you let others hurt you for money. How could that have been beautiful in any way? “Now, hear me out, I know how it sounds. But think about it. Y/N loved her parents so much that she didn't care what she had to endure to try and save them, she didn't get involved in that out of greed or a desire to hurt people, she went and fought because that was her only hope.”

Jenna just sat there, taking his words in. She hadn’t even thought about it that way, in her mind and in her entire family's opinion there was no excuse for what you did, there was nothing but violence in it, even if they understood the circumstances. Well, at least for the period while your parents were in a coma, and you were fighting for them.

“Just think about how much you would have to love someone to be sixteen and willingly go through so much pain, just for a slim chance that you could save that someone you love. Jenna, I've seen the way she looks at you, and you've seen it too. Your parents worry she would end up hurting you one day, but the way I see it there is a good chance she's the person you'll be safest with,” it felt like everything she thought she knew and everything she thought she felt was thrown on its head and changed in an instant. Like there was suddenly some kind of light shining through the clouds and making her see things differently.

“She went back, Enrique,” she fell back on repeating the arguments her parents kept making, afraid that if he convinced her, that she would only break. That she would ignore everything her parents wanted and do everything in her power to rebuild what the two of you had.

“Jenna, she was broken by grief. Y/N just lost her entire family, you said she fought for months to try and keep them alive, and she failed. So, she went and chose an unhealthy coping mechanism,” a lot like plenty of other people, and finally it all just made sense to Jenna, she understood what Enrique was trying to say. Yet it came too late, now it only made her feel worse that she didn't even consider these options, that she didn't even try to understand you and that she just pushed you away.

“I'm too late. I doubt she would ever want to see me again and I can't even blame her,” clearly not all of her tears were dried up, because here she was, crying once again. Enrique just pulled her into a hug, trying to console her and help her through this.

“You don't know that. Hey, we've both seen how she looks at you! I've spent just a couple of hours with her and even I can tell that girl unconditionally loves you!” and yet she went and risked it all over an impulsive reaction and her need to not go against her parents in that very moment.

The phone buzzed next to her, and her and Enrique saw it was from Barbara. “See what she sent,” Enrique encouraged her and Jenna unlocked her phone, and while making sure that Enrique could see it as well, she opened the message. Her eyes widened; Barbara had sent her a photo. It was you, in a place she couldn't recognize, drinking coffee it seemed, and just sitting by the fire with a small smile on your face, but what caught her eye wasn't your expression nor anything else about you, it was her ring clearly on display, hanging from the necklace around your neck.

“See, I told you,” Enrique patted her on the back and Jenna smiled as she spent who knows how long just silently staring at the picture. She stared, taking in the way the fire was reflected in your eyes, the smile on your face was honest, but there was a sense of sorrow in it, like you were constantly missing something. It wasn't the full smile you had when you were with her, and she studied every single detail about you, your hair, your clothes, the way light from the flames and shadows made your skin look, the way you held the coffee cup, firmly grasping it. She noticed the way you were slightly hunched forward, maybe leaning in to listen to whoever was talking to you, and she remembered how you leaned in to listen to her, you always leaned in closer than this. Your attention was always completely on her, and while you were paying attention to whoever you were talking to in this picture as well, she figured at least 10 to 15% of your attention was somewhere else.

And then she got another message from Barbara, and this time it was a video, perhaps taken only moments after the photo. You were silent, just listening and then it happened, you reached up and your thumb and finger brushed along her ring. You glanced down, the longing clear in your eyes, too lost in thoughts to notice you were being filmed.

“See, she loves you! She misses you, she wants you back in her life!” Enrique messed with her hair for a bit and the remark would have seemed like teasing to her a month ago, but now it was more than welcome.

“I still don't know what to do with my parents,” while she could probably convince her siblings that she would be fine, her parents were a whole other story.

“I'll handle them,” Enrique promised her and she trusted him, maybe he wouldn't be able to completely change their minds, but she believed that he would be able to at least make them willing to give the two of you a chance.

“Thanks,” Jenna said, not sure what else to say to show her gratitude. Then Barbara sent one last message for the day. ‘Just figured you should know that Y/N is trying her best. She’s trying to get better, and you are the biggest reason why she's doing that. As you can see by that ring that she refuses to take off unless she absolutely has to.’

And Jenna smiled, a sense of hope, from the conversation she had with Enrique, the video of you she got, and the message Barbara sent, filling her heart for the first time in roughly a month.

~X~

Even with all the energy you've been spending throughout the days, you still struggled to fall asleep, and you really shouldn't be, your days were packed. If it wasn't actually working and volunteering to help people out with Hugh, then it was sightseeing and long walks, and yet as tired as you were by the time you would say goodnight to Hugh and his family, that exhaustion would just vanish the moment you would lay down in your bed. You found yourself struggling to fall asleep each and every night.

You should have known long days of work or walking or some physically demanding activities wouldn't be enough to get you to easily fall asleep. After all, if there was one thing those fights gave you it was almost ridiculous stamina, and you had to admit you were hating that right now. Because no matter how tired or how calm you would be, you just couldn't fall asleep. You've tried meditating, you've tried doing a quick workout, you tried drinking chamomile tea, and yet none of that helped.

You knew exactly what was wrong, you glanced at your bedside table, at the ring Jenna gave you. You only took it off either when you were taking a shower or a bath, and when you were sleeping. You were afraid you could somehow grab the necklace and break it, and then lose the ring somewhere, so you would take it off. And it wasn't that you were missing the ring in particular, it was just that when you were on your own, your thoughts would just wander to the different places, and you had no control over them. You've been thinking about Jenna damn near constantly when you were alone.

Even when you were with other people you knew there was a sense of longing in everything you did, in every laugh, in every smile. You were there and you were happy. You really were doing better, but you just missed her. and you thought it would get better with time, but it didn't. It was just getting worse day by day. You turned in your bed once again for what felt like the hundredth time tonight alone, unable to quiet your mind.

The only thing you wanted was to just call her and see how she was doing, to just know that she was fine. Deep down you knew you left her at potentially the worst possible moment. You saw the desire to reach out to you, and to touch you in her eyes, back when you last saw her. You knew you were leaving her with the family that despised you right now, and you couldn't even begin to imagine just how hard it would be for her to go through all of that on her own. Living alone was in your mind one of the worst ways one could live, but constantly being surrounded by people who disapproved of something you cared about and put you through emotional pain while saying it was for your sake, was way worse than that.

And you despised yourself for leaving Jenna like that, because in the worst-case scenario she wanted to talk to you, but her family wouldn't agree with it no matter what she said. Yet you couldn't do anything about it, you hurt her, you betrayed her trust and you no longer had the right to reach out first. It had to be her, you couldn't force your way into her life, no matter how desperate you were to just know that she was fine.

And deep down maybe you were afraid of what you would do if she wasn’t fine.

And those thoughts plagued your mind. You constantly worried about how she was, how she slept, if she ate enough. Being alone made those thoughts a dozen time louder, and it was almost unbearable.

You glanced at your phone to check the time and tried to figure out what time it would be in Denver, eventually, you figured Barbara would be off work right now, so you went and called her, hoping her voice could calm down your nerves a bit. Besides, you missed your best friend, as much as this vacation helped you, you still wished she could have experienced some of this as well.

As you waited for her to pick up you promised yourself that when you finally come back and when you finished filming with Hugh that you would go and reconcile with her family.

“Babe?” of course she greeted you like that, that dumbass.

“Sure, sure, Babe,” you rolled your eyes. You found it somewhat funny how different things were the last time you called Barbara ‘babe’ back then Jenna heard it, and you had to explain yourself. Now it was much different, and those were just good old times before you went and fucked up.

“I can hear you rolling your eyes,” Barbara laughed, and you were going to take that, because she needed a laugh after helping you pull through those first couple of days after Jenna left. Barbara deserved every chance to laugh and if anyone were to hurt her you would raise hell until she was fine again, which was also part of the reason why you were adamant on sooner rather than later reconciling with her family.

It would also be very strange to suddenly, for example, appear at a celebration of something important happening in Barbara's life and surprise her parents by showing them you were still in Barbara's life. “Yeah, because eyerolls make sounds,” still, it was a bit strange, it sounded like Barbara had you on speaker. “How was your day?”

“Uh, just the usual, you know. Went to work and now I'm just lying around, bored. About to turn on the cheesiest love songs in history,” that was not good news, that meant only one thing, another heartbreak, well sort of, Barbara never took it too close to heart when something like this happened. Especially since she hasn’t really been serious with anyone over the past year.

“Which guy who asked you out ended up being in the closet now?” you would still humor her.

“James,” and that meant nothing to you. You didn't even know the guy existed; this was the first time you were hearing about him.

“How long ago was this again?” you asked, maybe you just forgot since your mind was damn near always on Jenna these days.

“A few months ago, you were filming Scream, meeting the love of your life while I was at the store, meeting James, who, as it turns out, only wanted a girlfriend so his mom would be happy,” she jokingly ranted. “Didn't even get to the first date point, so no harm done,” she may have been complaining, but you were well aware that Barbara didn’t care one bit about it. When someone right shows up he’ll show up, she used to say, and she still believed that. And she was still twenty, she mostly just dated to meet people and if it ended up becoming serious than so be it.

As for you, despite everything you still smiled at the love of your life comment, almost welcoming the teasing.

“I guess that will keep happening, minus finding the love of my life again, doubt that's happening, but you meeting guys while I’m somewhere filming,” considering you were serious about acting now that scenario was fairly plausible. How many things in Barbara and Hugh’s life would you miss with this job? How many times would you only be able to comfort Barbara over the phone? That was the sad reality of your work.

“About that, I think you won't need to find another one,” she said and you sat up abruptly, your heart beating rapidly in your chest at those words.

“What do you mean?” but she just laughed and for a moment you naively thought that she wasn't laughing at you, that maybe there was another reason she laughed. “Barbara, what do you mean?!”

“Oh, nothing, nothing! Don't worry about it! Oh, by the way, I need to go and get,” she paused as if she was thinking of an excuse. “A pizza, yeah, a pizza. I ordered a pizza and it's just about to arrive!” what the hell was going on over there?

“Barbara, you know I know when you are lying!” but she was already saying ‘bye!’ “You come back here and explain yourself, Barbara!” but she just hung up and you stared at your phone, baffled by what just happened. What did you miss?

~X~

Barbara was laughing her ass off and she just sank into the sofa. Your sofa by the way, because of course Barbara would take her to your apartment.

“See, you've got nothing to worry about. You're the love of her life,” Barbara told her with the almost infuriatingly wide grin on her face and Jenna just looked down, her face about as red as a tomato, and she couldn't stop the smile on her face.

For the first time since the end of last year she was actually at peace, and it was almost ironic that it was in your apartment. It was like deep down she could feel your presence around her, even if the apartment was fairly barren from anything personal in it. She could still feel like you were almost right there with her.

“She sounded,” she began, but she couldn't even find the correct word to describe what she noticed. But there was a change in your voice that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

“Like she was struggling, for the lack of a better word,” Barbara offered, and Jenna supposed that would be the most fitting description, though it wasn't quite the word she would use. It was more like you were on the precipice of finally reaching something that she couldn't define, yet she knew it would be important for you.

“I guess,” but she accepted the description Barbara offered.

Barbara gave her a small smile “So, you are going away for filming, right? That's why you wanted to talk.”

This time next week she would already be in New Zealand, about to start filming X, so that would mean she couldn't see you anytime soon. It was a harsh blow to know that she wouldn’t be able to see you for at least a month and a half from now. She didn't think she would be hearing your voice, and while it felt so good while it lasted, it just reopened that wound on her heart, caused by all the longing within her. She missed you so much, but she still wanted your first contact again to be face to face, and in a way she was afraid of your reaction; even if Barbara and Enrique have been telling her that it would be fine, that you still loved her.

“Well at least you’ll both be free after that and then you can figure out when and how to meet up,” that was a comforting thought, that after the filming was done for both of you, you would have the time and space and could actually talk things through. Maybe even find a way to get back to the way things were before because she desperately needed you back in her life.

“How should I approach it?” Jenna asked timidly.

Barbara put a finger on her chin, seemingly thinking about it. “Well, first of all you need to book an entire restaurant, and you have to arrange for a car to come and pick her up, and make sure there are flowers and cookies, and a good movie and some music. Y/N just adores heartbreaking love songs, they need to have soul crushingly depressing lyrics, by the way,” and then she burst out laughing because Jenna was seriously listening to her. “I'm messing with you, Jenna. Just show up. Just like you told me: ‘Hey, can we meet up, I want to talk,’ do the same thing with her. Or if you really don't want to send that message and you want the first thing you tell her to be face to face, then you tell me and I'll bring her somewhere so you can do that. That’s all Y/N wants, just you.”

And that comforted her a lot, that at the end of the day it didn't matter how she would show up, in front of you as long as she did come to talk. “Can we actually fix this?” Jenna asked because Barbara was the only one who knew you enough to give her that answer.

“12 hours,” Barbara said and then just completely stopped. Jenna just raised an eyebrow, not getting what that mean, so Barbara sighed and continued. “That's how long it'll take the two of you to end up in her bed naked, and very thankful the walls of this apartment are thick, not that you'll notice, because you'll be in the throes of passion. I'm telling you right now, that's gonna happen,” she said it with a completely blank face and somehow Jenna got even redder than before, unable to actually respond to that claim in any way.

~X~

With the vacation over, it was time to go back to work, and that meant going straight from Japan to New York to start filming The Daughter, and the first thing you did would perhaps make or break the rest of the process. Everything in the movie rested on the chemistry between you and Hugh, and the first scene had to start building that.

“Action!” you heard from behind the doors. You relaxed your posture, hung your head a bit and made it seem like you had the weight of the world on top of your shoulders, and you were just tired of it. And it wasn't difficult to get into that mental state. You opened the doors with an unscripted sigh, giving away how tired your character must be feeling as you tossed the bag onto the floor and just kicked your sneakers off, not even bothering to put them away properly. Your character was supposed to think she would come back home to an empty apartment, and you already made your way to your character's bedroom instead of at least glancing in the kitchen and the living room.

“Nicole!” you heard Laura's voice from the living room and froze momentarily, almost stumbling over your feet as you scrambled back to put your sneakers away properly and grab your bag. You let the panic in your eyes show well enough without overplaying it.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath, and then took a deep breath as if pumping yourself up to put on a façade. “Hey mom, shouldn't you be at work?” you asked as you leaned into the living room, showcasing the distance between the characters with a wide shot of the living room, with just your head and fingers of your left hand visible, as well as the hint of your bag hanging from your shoulder.

“I came early,” Laura smiled at you, and the smile was perfect, the pain and uneasiness hidden behind the unconditional love of a parent, it was all there in that quick moment that she would be in the focus.

“You arrived,” you tightened your grip on to the doorframe and flinched as if you were about to fall, and then you looked back to see Hugh coming out of the bathroom. You looked back at the hall, where his shoes were and then just looked at him again, as if trying to make sure he was actually there. “Dad?” you said in disbelief, and Hugh looked like he was stuck between being happy to see you and unsure what to expect from you. You leaned away from the doorframe, guarder, tense as you studied him, just as unsure of what to expect as he was.

“Your mom told me you've been skipping school, and I figured we could talk,” he said, and your entire demeanor changed as you glared at him. “Nicole,” Hugh called your character's name, and you tighten your jaw, starting to open your mouth to speak several times, before just giving up and relaxing.

“Sure, come on in,” you said motioning toward your room, there was no bounce to your steps and just for a moment you met Laura's eyes, and she just looked away as if silently saying sorry to you. You just closed your eyes for a moment, briefly letting the pain show on your face while neither Hugh nor Laura could see. As you let Hugh into the room you went and tossed the bag on your bed, not caring when you slightly missed, and it fell to the floor. You didn’t even wince at the slight mess in the room.

Hugh turned on the lights and walked by you, then he just picked your bag up, placing it on the bed with care, while you slumped into your chair. “You should keep your room tidy, when I was your age everything had to be spotless,” Hugh said and picked up an empty bottle of juice your character left lying there at some point.

“You should remember you have a daughter a bit more often, and yet here we are,” you fired back and Hugh’s eyes immediately met yours, only for you to look away and mumble a ‘Sorry’ under your breath.

Hugh sat down on your bed, and you just leaned back, not even looking at him. “I know we haven't spent a lot of time together lately, and I've been thinking that maybe you would like to spend some time with me, meet your baby brother. We can catch up and see how it works out?” he suggested and you looked at him for a moment.

“What about school?” you asked, sure your character didn't go to school for the past month, but it was still the middle of the year.

“We'll figure something out, enroll you in another school. Have you start over,” Hugh said and you nodded not really caring either way.

“Cut!” the director yelled and you and Hugh visibly relaxed. “That's what I wanted! Great job you two! You as well Laura!” he approached you and Hugh. “Hugh, you were right, Y/N can pull this off!” Florian patted you and Hugh on the shoulders and called you over to go over the next scene because the approach he took was to talk to both of you, or the actors involved in the scene, through it and try to explain all the emotions involved in it, as well as let you give him any input you might have as well.

Overall, even though the subject of the movie would be rather heavy, you wouldn't want to do this with anyone else. And from the look in Hugh’s eyes, you figured he felt the same.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths

@niqmandu @justspance @mirage018 @godamnityess

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next Part

[thewistlingbadger]

I hate the way the show frames Jinx. Having this "Powder vs Jinx" thing is so weird and unrealistic and the fact that they kept reiterating the idea that Jinx and Powder were sperate people? It is the strangest thing I've every seen, because THEY ARE NOT SEPERATE PEOPLE! THEY ARE THE EXACT SAME PERSON, TWO OPPOSITES THAT ARE INEXTRICIABLY BOUND.

"Powder is dead, powder killed Silco," "Jinx is dead, Jinx was Silco's daughter, Powder was Vander's," THIS DOESN'T EXIST. "Powder" grew up to be "Jinx". You can't get rid of the "Jinx" in "Powder" and you can't get rid of the "Powder" in "Jinx." They are the same person. Jinx grew up but she still had the softness that she had as a child and also the brutality she had as a child. In life, we will change all the time. Change is an element of nature, there is no such thing as staying the same forever. You are always going to change, and in some ways you are always going to stay the same. That's just how life is. You can't only love one version of a person, because one day that version won't be there! They won't exist anymore because they changed, and in a way they were always like that. This is the exact issue that Ekko and Vi have with Jinx. They are obsessed with one particular version of Jinx, and version that no longer exists. And instead of realizing that yes, she has changed, and she is still the same person- they come to the conclusion that the person they love is gone. That isn't true. The person they love is alive, but they have changed and they're never going to be the exact same again.

And THIS is what Silco was talking about on the river. When he said "you have to let Powder die so the fear of pain can no longer control you," he DIDN'T MEAN "Powder" is bad. Him saying "Jinx is perfect" does NOT mean he hates "Powder" or that he only loves "Jinx". He meant that who she is in the moment is perfect. She doesn't need to make a "choice," she is both. Silco very obviously doesn't hate the soft, vulnerable parts of Jinx that are classified as elements of "Powder." We see Silco love Jinx in her entirety. He loves the girl who scribbles with crayons on her destructive bombs. He loves the girl who feels like she's weak despite how rough her exterior has become. "You're strong now, just like you were always meant to be." She isn't an indestructible and cold weapon; She's a person who's harshness of her reality has given her the power to take charge of her own life. If Silco hated "Powder" then he wouldn't let Jinx invade his personal space and he wouldn't give her so much grace. For fucks sake, his dying words were him LITERALLY telling her she was perfect in every single possible way. His final breath was spent enforcing the fact that she didn't need to change at all, she never had to split herself into pieces trying to fit for anyone.

Jinx can't "choose" between "Powder" and "Jinx" because they're both her. I don't know why the show chooses to frame her like she has two different personalities, but she doesn't. She is a person that grew up and was influenced by the events she witnessed throughout her lifetime, just like any other person.

[taniahylian]

Ms. Grace: a Foundation spy

Okay, buckle up because this is a wild theory, which was sparked by just a single word, but it's backed up by a lot of facts, so let's dive into it, shall we?

First of, left's look at the description of an event that will become available next patch: Phototaxis in study.

You see it, don't you? Now, let's first remember that we, as the player, see everything through Vertin's eyes. As such, if someone named "Moth" sent intel to us, they're likely affiliated with the Foundation in one way or another.

Moth is likely a codename, however, and not the character's actual name. Why? Because we have already seen a character associated with moths, and her name is Ms. Grace, and she's a spy.

Quite a lot of moths in her design, right? Seems rather intentional. Not to mention that, when she's disguised as Kayla, the only difference between them, aside from the eye color, is that Grace has a moth pattern on her bandana.

Not to mention that, when Vertin encounters Grace for the first time, an odd detail is mentioned; a white moth landing on the flowers Grace was holding.

Okay, so we've stablished that Grace is heavily associated with moths, but how do we know she's a Foundation spy that infiltrated Manus Vindictae? Very simple; a trail found in this event.

First we see this report from Andreas Sylvester who, if you remember, is a low-ranking Zeno soldier that was left behind at the abandoned Texas facility. As such, he is unlikely to be privy to classified information and, although he does in fact seem to know that Grace is a spy, he came to the rather logical conclusion that she's a Manus Vindictae spy that was sent to report to them about Zeno's activity in Texas. However, Constantine's response is very suspicious.

She recommends him to not interfere with Ms. Grace's work, likely because she knows Grace is actually a Foundation spy, carrying out her orders, rather than an actual Manus member.

Also, if Ms. Grace is a spy, that would explain why she was using transformation rituals; she needed to change her appearence into someone the Manus would have no knowledge of (since she's likely a high-ranking Investigator, the Manus probably already knew her original appearence), so she picked a random country girl (Kayla) to change into her, and ended up accidentally trapping her in a mirror in the process... or perhaps it wasn't accidental at all; after all, it'd be very bad if the Manus ever met the real Kayla.

Let's also not forget that, according to Vertin, the Foundation teaches this particular transformation array to their SPDM students, which furthers the connection even more.

There's also what happens at the end of Anjo Nala's trailer. If you need a refresher, after the Manus members give Anjo order after order, she snaps and kills them... but here's the thing: Anjo physically can't disobey the commands given to her by the seal, and she also can't even touch her master, much less harm them. So how could she kill the Manus members? ... Unless she was ordered to.

And who was holding Anjo's seal during that scene?

Ms. Grace, of course. She's also the one who says the final line in the trailer, in the format of some sort of report: "Towards the end of 1990, the succubus left for Sao Paulo". And we know for a fact that, indeed, Anjo followed their orders and ended up going to Sao Paulo.

So, Ms. Grace isn't dead; she's the only survivor of that massacre and, if my theory is correct, she's also the orchestrator. She used Kimberly to kill these high-ranking manus, while at the same time not blowing her cover, and making Kimberly seem unstable/unreliable, so the Manus would probably want to get rid of the seal. Quite a smart move, if you ask me.

But what do you think? Too crazy? Honestly I can't wait for the big reveal that Grace was working for the Foundation all along, if it happens at any point in the future.

[arcane-ish]

Embracing the Monster: Why CaitVi kind of felt left out compared to Zaundads/Timebomb/JayVik

Let me start with some disclaimers: I have have wrestled with the way CaitVi was written in season 2 and tried to make sense of it in this post. And I have wrestled with myself and my tastes and why I actually feel very ill equipped to really say whether CaitVi is shippishly having issues or just being written for a different taste/target audience.

I have my very subjective often very oddball tastes of what I consider a good ship that often goes aggressively what either the general public or the popular fandom public considers good. In the end I can only report on what I saw.

IMO: looking at Arcane season 2 act 3 specifically there is just a really natural thematic flow.

Have you seen the meme: "Arcane was about love? Always has been"?

To me the overall message of Act 3 in particular (but that you can go back to and see traces of it in plenty of other act) is about Embracing the Monster.

And to me, despite the choppiness of much of Act 3, there's just a certain grace to how this is done.

It starts with Silco and Vander formulating the concept. They tease the promise, whether you see Silco or Vander as "the bad one" in this constellation, if you embrace, if you forgive, something great can come out of it.

This flows directly to Ekko who actively listens to it and tries applies it to himself

And it ends with JayVik symbolizing the concept. and ending the cosmic threat with it. Viktor expecting bad treatment due to his actions, Jayce embracing him anyway.

A lot can be said about the pros and cons of that theme (and I will do that), but there's just to me pure power in repetition and thematic congruency that just gives power and makes it hit more even for couples I don't actually like or ship all that much.

The problem is that even though CaitVi is the primary romantic couple of the show, they don't feel like they are part of this thematic trifecta of s2Act3.

CaitVi is too different to fit in, but not different enough to act as a counterpoint

From a story point of view, CaitVi could have been part of this general theme of big hearted understanding and forgiveness. I've seen a lot of discussion about has Cait apologized, has she apologized enough. I think that's besides the point.

We don't see whether Vander apologized to Silco. Jinx probably didn't apologize to Ekko and Viktor didn't in so many words apologize to Jayce. The point of this theme isn't about apologizing.

Considering the bad or misguided things Caitlyn did, she could have been part of that theme. But it would have required Vi to be a lot more horrified by her. To gulf between them would have to have been much larger so it can feel like a big deal for Vi to jump that gulf and embrace Caitlyn despite everything that has happened.

The show plays a little bit with "could Caitlyn become a monster", but in the end it doesn't go there in the way people react to her and how she carries herself. Because the show is hesitant to portray her as monster, for Vi to see Caitlyn as monster, they do not fit into the "embracing the monster*" theme that the other stories have going on. Again I speculate that that might have been intentional and that it might be their way of portraying CaitVi ultimately as a more functional couple.

There's catharsis in CaitVi's big payoff scene. But it's a different catharsis than what the other stories have going on.

Again, the theme of the other pairs is embracing the monster.

The theme of CaitVi is choosing happiness/being liberated from responsibility.

Picture a world where the themes of the other couples had echoed CaitVi? If let's say Ekko had actually felt burdened by his responsibility as a Firelight when he really wants to be with Jinx and him choosing her is about throwing away the shackles of that responsibility? If JayVik had been about Jayce's responsibility on the council and to Mel. If Vander's letter to Silco had been about "I thought I needed to expel you because people told me to, because of my responsibility to the Lanes, but I was wrong and I hate myself for it".

Can you see how if all stories, all relationships had been about choosing love over responsibility (whether it's Vi's responsibility to take care of Jinx or Caitlyn's feeling like she's supposed to live like her mother would have wanted her too), how that would have strengthened CaitVi's story. If the other stories had established a baseline how different characters deal with love and responsibility and set the baseline that this is an important topic that many people struggle with?

Or imagine the reverse, if rather than everybody joining CaitVi's theme, what if let's say rather than the relatively breezy/jokey/flirty/soft mood of the CaitVi scene pre sex had been about Cait having a full on ugly crying scene to the tune of "I'm a monster, I treated you badly, I went the wrong path, I don't deserve you" and Vi had embraced her anyway. If CaitVi had actually spelled out the implied confrontation that maybe went down or should went down between Zaundads, Timebomb, JayVik?

I'm not saying that it would have made a better show or made CaitVi a better couple. What I'm trying to explain what would have been required for CaitVi to feel like "part of the gang". And why right now they feel like the odd ones out, because the theme of three other storylines roughly match each other and CaitVi has a different theme compared to everybody else.

(MelJay is a different case for a couple of reasons)

In the end, it's not a crime that CaitVi doesn't follow everybody else's theme. I have speculated that it might have been intentional, that their theme is in the end maybe healthier/less dysfunctional from a future relationship perspective. Or maybe it's supposed to make them more special that their have their own unique theme.

IMO there's potential logic to going against the grain. But imo for my personal tastes, CaitVi not sharing the same theme would have worked better if they had actively contrasted the other stories by being completely different.

That's the problem of CaitVi being different, but not different enough. Because Cait does physically hurt Vi just not as aggressively as Vander hurting Silco or Timebomb trying to kill each other. And Cait did go down a dark path and lost herself in darkness the way Jinx or Viktor likely did. But it is not treated the same way.

The potential is there, but because the involved people react so differently to the situation it doesn't feel like it's the same theme, not "part of the gang". But it shares too many elements to feel like counterprogramming.

Again imagine a show where CaitVi are the one couple who feel full on differently. Who manage to stay sane and loving and supportive all the way through. If rather than Cait going all "Zaunites are animals!!!" and hitting Vi with the butt of a gun they had a sane and supportive breakup where Cait just tells her "I'm sorry, I can feel like I'm losing myself and I know I cannot be in a relationship now. Just go away, you probably have your own issues to handle first", And the rough corners of the plot had stayed the same of CaitVi being apart in Act 2, Vi doing her Jinx and Vanderwick arc and Cait losing herself in police work and responsibilities, but they always stay respectful and communicative with each other while all the other people around them are way more dysfunctional and hurt by poor communication.

IMO, for my taste (again as somebody who if firmly not a wlw shippers, just an occasional shipper of wlw couples), CaitVi would have resonated more powerfully if the show had gone for either option: join the same theme as the other characters (at the risk of making them more dysfunctional as a couple) or be a more aggressive contrast/the haven of difference and sanity and health in a chaotic world (at the risk of making them more boring/less melodramatic/less meatily shippy).

ETA: I hope it's okay that I tag CaitVi rather than anti. Because this is written from a place of affection, of "what could the show have done differently to make them pop more" (with the stipulation of "for a general audience" with the understanding that that might never have been the goal in the first place)

*I should probably add the "monster" here is naturally metaphorical most of the time and it's not about portraying Jinx, Viktor, Vander&Silco as monsters and more about whether you are missing out by seeing them as monsters, whether monsters like Vanderwick are actually a lot less monstrous than they might seem, that you can come back from anything etc

[aegoniiwifey]

Anon who requested the chubbydaddy!aegon and his daughter <3 you did my request justice and way more I'm obsessed- I literally reread it like ten times I love it. Also another chubbydaddy!aegon request: Aegon getting requests to court/ wed his precious girl, and he ignores them all, ignores what the Small Council wants, etc and goes to her after a long day, letting her ride his belly, then breeding, then cumplay, and whatever your genius mind comes up with <3

Wanna Be Yours

PAIRING: King!Aegon ii Targaryen x daughter!fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,944.

WARNINGS: incest, swearing, angst, breeding kink, praise kink, stomach riding, cum play, titty sucking, p in v sexual intercourse. indented parts are previous scenes.

A/N - I am so so sorry for responding so late, I took a little hiatus with tumblr and am starting to find my rhythm again. I absolutely adore this trope and your ideas. so happy you enjoyed the first piece, it was an absolute privilege to write! hope this is just what you imagined also xx

Apologies I have not reread this as I finished work and my eyes are about to shut! will proof read tomorrow ♥️

credit to my beloved BOOBIE @bnb-atnite for making this godly image of my man CHUBBY! ilysm!

"Your Grace, it is highly frowned upon by the Seven that you wed your daughter! We have given many exceptions to your ancestors for upholding their queer customs, but this- This arrangement we do not condone!"

Aegon's deep exhale as his eyes darkly snapped towards the elderly maester, was enough to silence the room with his palpable vehemence. He was beyond tired and irritated by the constant nagging of his esteemed Council, of their blatant disapproval of their King's intentions to wed his beloved... His only surviving blood, his daughter.

Throughout the war, Aegon had grown insatiably protective of you: in addition to having a special place in his heart as his eldest born, you remained the last remaining figure in his previous life, despite his mother and himself. As your grandmother silently fell into madness, in the privacy of her chambers, where she preferred to seclude herself, Aegon had no other person he soulfully cherished than you. And as he was to you, the feelings had become reciprocated. Your father loved you dearly: since becoming of age, a young, matured woman, his advances had grown more intimate and lubricious. You owed him your life, and wished nothing more than to devote yourself to him. No man could have done what he did for you...

"It is done, Maester Orwyle... I will wed my daughter in the ancient traditions of our House, if it be the last damned thing I do. I am the fucking King!" Aegon loudly asserted, slamming his pudgy hand against the solid, wooden tabletop, as his words simmered the Council into a fright.

Aegon was known for his temper, although it took a great deal for him to raise his voice: he was a stubborn man at that, also...

"My dearest, what is it? What have they done now that troubles you so, hmm?"

Aegon defeatedly relinquishes in the wooden rocking chair by the stoking fire: it’s orange-red tinged flames being the only source of light emitting in the room.

You walk up behind your father, his face stern and unmoving besides his closed eyes as his hand rubbed at his temples. Your hands find their way to his broad, thick shoulders, giving them a gentle massage as you knead the tension.

“So-So tense, my beloved. Tell me what is wrong, so that I may be of some help. Let me ease your mind, Daddy.”

Aegon’s shrugging shoulders said plentiful, as he opened his eyes once more, head turning slightly to its side so that you were in his peripheral vision.

“There is nothing to be sorted, my love. I am to wed you, and as their rightful King, it is my final word above all else. Those elderly cunts can yap all they want. I will have you.”

With his final word, a yearning flare brews between your thighs, aching for one particular thing. Your father always had a way with words, especially with you.

“Is that so?” You teasingly utter, as you straddle yourself comfortably on his lap. Your arms grip the overarching wooden frame of the chair as you swiftly lift yourself up, before plopping back down, although this time elevated by your father’s overgrown, rotund belly.

Your earliest, core memories of your father had always been admiring him at feasts and family dinners. He never denied himself a hearty meal, and his grand appetite never ceased during the war. Inevitably, as the years went by and his youth disappeared the weight remained and latched on with each mouthful. The intimate moments your attention would linger onto him, as he savoured each bite, the way he'd unashamedly lick the grease and crumbs off his chubby fingers, even off the rings that had fit him a time before... Now that he had sized up immensely, most treasures and clothes that he had worn, he had rapidly outgrown. None of his rings could go beyond the tips of his fingers, and he was in great denial about it, refusing to resize until you had convinced him otherwise. The way he had often rubbed his aching, bloated belly: swollen beneath the restricting fabric, a somewhat elevated and satisfied look strewed across his handsome, fat face as he would pat himself proudly.

"But I want Daddy all to myself. I want Daddy to fight the whole realm for me, if he has to. Can Daddy do that for me?" You utter closely into his hear, your hot breath dense against his earlobe: after hastily hiking your skirt up [wearing nothing below, as you instinctively anticipated this precise moment], you unbuttoned his top garment, only to expose his rotund, plush belly. The handful of rolls engulfing his sides, the grip-able hips that accentuated his width, streaked with raw, red stretch marks all across his love handles and lower belly. His tits were double your size, nipples sensitive under your gentle touch, even a flick of his nipple was enough to make him moan. It made you flustered, the sheer sight in evidence of your father's blatant growth... And he had no shame in admitting it.

"Of course, baby. Anything for my sweet, little princess. Daddy would burn the entire realm if he has to for you... I'll repopulate the world with my princess, if needs be."

With each of his longing words, you pressed yourself down deeper, sinking your bare cunt further against his naked belly, causing him to whimper. His pudgy hands found their way beneath your layered gown, each palm rested atop your cheeks, firmly cupping and squeezing at your flesh.

"My princess knows just what to do, to make her Daddy happy, huh? My only joy in life, is you."

Your grinding rhythmic, the pace begins to quicken with excitement, as your throbbing cunt becomes moist, the wetness stirring and oozing beneath, against the warm friction. As your cum coats his smooth fat, slowly it becomes more tolerable.

"I-I just wanna make m-my Daddy proud- D-Daddy can s-say whatever, a-and I'll do as I'm t-told-"

"Is that so?" His mimicking voice, a deep growl wretched from his throat, as his hands find their strength, shoving you deeper against his swallowing frame. He always admired how tiny you appeared in comparison to him, how fragile it made you look. He rejoiced it was a symbol of how he could protect you, that he was your shelter.

"Daddy wants to fuck Princess senseless, all night long. Fill my Princess up with my hot, hot seed until I'm certain she takes. Daddy wants Princess to swell with his child, and show her off to the realm. That the babe kicking in her belly, is all his undoing, hmm."

"A-Anything for Daddy- Just f-fuck me, Aeg-"

Although it drove Aegon wild to hear you mindlessly moan and whisper Daddy, something in particular, whenever you called him by his name, would often trigger something more insatiable in him. He could devour you in the spot, like some afternoon tea honey cake, whenever you spoke of his true name.

"Undo my pants-" Immediately without sparing a thought more, you obeyed. As Aegon's plump belly expanded over his thick, wide lap, his portly fat pad beneath had somewhat engulfed his cock. It made it difficult for him to even try to locate or masturbate himself. For now, you had both learnt tricks to overcome the obstacle, having your father lean in a certain angle, as you put in the effort to locate his fat, hard cock, plunging it deep between your walls.

As he tried to reposition himself with great difficulty, in the faint space left remaining in the seat with you atop: breathless by the end of all the moving, you managed to pluck out his cock. The sheer sight and tension beneath your gentle stroking grip, its reddened, blush tip oozing with a sheer-white, translucent reside, palpating with excitement.

"Don't keep Daddy waiting, Princess. I need to feel your walls take my cock. Make you so fucking full of me, I'll make you a human waterfall."

The raw feeling of his cock between your inner walls, clenching to adjust to its girthy, solid size: although it could no longer delve as deep as it used to, the friction of his fat pad against your clit, and the pressure of his mass against your lower stomach, made it invigorating nonetheless.

"Th-That's it, Princess. S-So tight for me. All fucking mine, and the w-whole world will know it-"

"Y-Yes, Daddy-"

"If I need to fuck you with the eyes of the Court watching, I will."

As means to muffle your moans and loud pleas for Aegon, bashfully mindful of the servants and Kingsguard stationed beyond the inches of the door outside, your mouth latched onto Aegon's porky tits.

Suckling at his tender flesh, as your tongue licked at his nipple, causing him to wince and growl in eager approval, one hand left your ass cheek, gripping close your bucking hips, and found its way snaking behind your back, before pulling at your loose hair.

Tightly tugging at the free strands, mottling between his pudgy fingers, he once more, gave gentle encouragement, shoving your face down deeper against his tubby chest.

"F-Fuck Y/N. S-So impressed by Daddy, huh, Princess? You keep going at this rate, I'll be making my own damn milk for you and the babes."

Noticing the glistening residue of your cum spilled across his rolls and paunchy stomach, his other hand cleaned the mess up over with his bare hand. Before hungrily licking off your wetness with his tongue, licking his hand clean free.

"Delicious."

With his heavy, dense weight keeping him pinned down against the chair, he made no effort to thrust himself inside as he once jovially could. Alternatively, the chair swayed with his potent motions, as he would subtly buck his ample hips forward into your frame.

"My sweet, beautiful girl is gonna cum already. I can feel you swallow my cock whole, your walls suffocating my cock. Take me, princess, take it all-"

With the finish of his words, signalling his epitome, Aegon shot his hot, fresh seed into you: warmly coating your inner walls, as your own wetness gushed over his eager, hard cock. Catching a minute to regain your breaths and thoughtless mind, you lifted yourself off, and instantly the mess began to pool across your inner thighs.

Almost on cue or from impressive instinct, Aegon began to scoop at your inner thighs, sensitive from his touch, its abrupt presence startled you.

"Did I not teach you about letting things go to waste, baby? Never let this out. This is as precious as Valyrian steel. I ought to keep you plugged up with my cock..."

The tips of his fat fingers tease at the entrance of your folds, softly tracing over your stained, painful walls: impressed with your sudden shiver and moan, his deep chuckle left you feeling reminiscent of your first time. How nervous you felt, inexperienced against your father's wit.

"I-I want this to take. I want to have as many babes as the Gods see fit with you, Aeg... I want to swell healthily with child, and give you the heir you want... As many as you desire-"

As one fo your hands remained nestled against his chest, tracing soft, random lines against the crevices of his rolls: the other travelled its way to his face, pushing aside a random strand of hair, away from his handsome, fuller face.

"I want our sons to be the spitting image of their father, and our daughter's kind like their grandmother... Will Daddy fuck me day and night, to make my wish come true, hmm?"

"Of course..."

credit for dividers - @/valeskafics

[ninaslittlewickedplace]

I’ve been seeing some people talk (saw a comment somewhere by @feldspursfiyero ) about Fiyero’s behavior and choices, in particular how his depression and love for animals tie into one another and what his potential backstory is. I have a few things in mind that I’ll jot down here since I haven’t seen too many posts out there about Fiyero’s life before Wicked.

To start, it is obvious that Fiyero is a prince and the heir to the throne. From what we know in real life, being the Crown Prince was never an easy role. Though, I do find it interesting that Fiyero’s choice to act out is more along the lines of the behavior of a modern spare (Margaret, Harry etc) whose life feels directionless in the shadow of their older sibling’s glory. Historically and realistically, the heirs have been relatively good at containing their feelings and attitudes towards their position, but for Fiyero I think there are more layers to why he, the eldest child and the heir, has the personality traits that he has.

More under the cut because I don’t wanna clog the feed. This became longer than I thought 🙃

I do believe there was a time where Fiyero was able to be himself and allow himself to be loved and seen. Being a Prince, his life was dictated by strict protocol and rules by default, but there was once a time where he could breathe and let loose. That’s why he still has the innate ability to know and feel himself deep down, but events in his life have taught him to hide them.

From the Shiz Gazette online (and the books), we know his parents are Baxiana of Upper Fanarra and Marilott, Chieftan of the Arjikis. In my headcanon, his mother is the queen regent, the royal one and his father is the Ozian equivalent of a nobleman. He has a younger sister four years his junior named Arrietta with whom he is very close (she’s my OC).

Having not been raised in the rigid royal structure, Marilott taught his children that there was more to life than rules and appearances. Even if he couldn’t shelter them from their position, he made sure that they got to experience a taste of more “normal” things. Even if Baxiana saw them as her successors, Marilott saw them as his children. Most, if not all, of Fiyero’s happiest memories involved his father.

His death hit Fiyero very hard and is the main catalyst to his evolution into the man we see in Wicked. With him died the carefree boy Fiyero once was. Being fourteen, it came right around the time where he was expected to formally begin to prepare for royal duties and his mother was very strict with him. She had no patience with his slower progression in his studies (which I headcanon to be a combo of dyslexia and adhd) and implemented a stricter study regime, which inadvertently made it worse. He began to develop feelings of inadequacy and low self esteem about his abilities to be a ruler and began to yearn for his mother’s approval. Even if there were times where she was satisfied, she didn’t outwardly show it. Why would she, when royals weren’t expected to show emotion? Every social interaction was a transaction, one where nobody cared about anything but a satisfying end result.

Feeling trapped by his mother, his destiny, and his internal turmoil, Fiyero began to act out. Having partaken in an increasing amount of public events, he became aware that his people were enamored by him. Everytime he ventured beyond the castle walls, he would find crowds of people his age following his every step, listening to his every word. If he could garner attention simply by existing, maybe he could gain their respect by giving something to admire. After all, who could resist being royalty AND being cool?

The Winkie Prince was seen at almost every night club in Winkie Country and Oz, dancing the night away in the middle of the dance floor, winning the heart of every lucky Ozian to be graced by his presence. Every time he was expelled from university, angry students would petition the board to revoke their decision. When they didn’t, his classmates would gather and bide him tearful farewells. The expulsions didn’t both him one bit because wherever he went and wherever he would end up next, he would have an admiring crowd that he could entertain with abandon. That is, until he meets a special girl at Shiz…

Now here is where the real Fiyero fits in as well as the Animals. Yes, things may have been bleak for him, but there were only two places he felt the most safe: Arrietta and the Animal staff at the castle.

Despite his facade being so convincing that even Fiyero himself forgot it wasn’t real, there were times where his old emotions would bubble to the surface. When he was younger, he would burst into tears and as he grew, he would sulk in his hiding spots throughout the castle. Of course, his sister would find him and the two would often sit together, some times in silence and other times, listening to eachother’s woes. She was the only human after their father’s death who loved him for who he was and she was the only person he could be himself with. She had similar worries, but instead of acting out, she turned inward and grew to be an intelligent but shy young woman. She never told him this to make Fiyero more worried than he already was, but she secretly wanted her “old” brother back. The carefree boy who would tease her until she cried, joked until she laughed, and tell stories until she fell asleep.

His other source of comfort, the Animals, are the reason many years later, Fiyero stands up to the injustice against them. The Winkies were known for their deeper connection with nature and Animals, which is why they are so prominent in culture, politics, and trade in their country. The royal family was no different and many of the staff at the castle were Animals, including Fiyero’s governess, tutors, and personal guard. He was most fond of his governess, a kind panda named Palina who stayed with the royal children until Fiyero left for his first university. Even in retirement, she would write letters to her former charges, who never failed to write back. While he was away, she was his safe space, her warm and fuzzy hugs replaced with warm and encouraging words of ink. His tutors, despite instructions from Baxiana to be more strict with his curriculum, had empathy for the prince’s learning struggles and would try various methods to help him learn. They also understood the importance and value of encouragement and would give him small praises and rewards for completing tasks on time or correctly. Fiyero never understood why humans couldn’t be as good teachers as animals and attributed the former’s lack of empathy for their spartan methods.

Finally, Fiyero met Feldspur completely by accident! He had been hiding in one of his hiding spots in the royal stables (which were more like suites for the Horses) when one of the mares found him in the corner of her suite. She knew him and he knew her, so it hadn’t been awkward but she thought she would cheer the teen up by introducing her colt Feldspur to him. At first, the two didn’t see eye to eye, as Feldspur didn’t know why a prince would be unhappy and Fiyero didn’t know why the young horse asked so many questions, but the two eventually warmed to eachother when Fiyero realized that Feldspur actually listened to him. Even if he wasn’t human and wasn’t Fiyero’s age (in animal years haha), he listened intently and the questions that bothered him were asked with curiosity and care, not mocking or ignorance. Fiyero had eventually forgotten why he had been in the stables in the first place, having made a new friend that was on the same level as him. The two quite literally grew up together (and ate grass together in the process) and share a deep friendship that goes beyond a prince and his noble steed.

Phew, that was a lot IM SO SORRY HAHAHA. At that I’m gonna log out and explore this more in fics and drabbles in the future. If you made it this far, THANK YOU and I promise future posts will be shorter 🤗

[its-echo-song]

Plague AU Ch. 1

This is a fanfic au of @tuna-jsgross oc, Donny :) @yellowsticky-notes made an amazing piece for this fic!!! (Thank you so much!!!) The art below belongs to them ^_^

(I told them I'd like to use it as the "cover" as it were) No matter how many rigid, pale, glossy-eyed corpses I toss into a pit- I never get used to it. The smell clings to you, not just physically, but in a way that you can recall it at any given moment and it’ll be precisely correct every time. Your mind locks on to it, a cruel fate when you’d only ever wish the memory away upon recalling it.

But we do what we have to do, those of us who are healthy enough to carry on must bear the burden of the souls that leave us behind. Hundreds of them. 

Things have been bleak, lately, the population dwindling, the doctors working tirelessly at all hours, the keepers doing our best to support their efforts.

Despite the curse that’s seemed to land upon us all, the cold grip of death that drifts as fog through the town, I do my best to remain the optimist. I try, through the sweat, vomit, and exhaustion, to be the smiling face that others may need to see. I want to grant the damned one last comfort before their walk to the other side, if nothing else.

I’ve been told that I’m going to fall victim, myself, if I don’t learn to keep my distance. I try -I swear I do- but what is humanity if I allow myself the coldness of turning a blind eye to the tears of a widow in her last moments? I hold their hand through it, I think I always will. If that’s what brings me to the end, I will take that journey with pride. 

In some way, I believe this trait is what saves me. I’ve far outlasted friends, those who have worked beside me, and other members of town- the clergyman in our parish says my soul has been granted divine graces for my actions. The plague doctor tells me that his spiritualism is nonsense, there must be another reason.

Though, admittedly, he’s never been able to provide any sort of reason for it.

I suppose it would be hard to believe in divinity after seeing so many people’s lives extinguished, as he has. There’s no sense to it, I confess, it’s hard to believe in anything caring for us when so many have succumbed to the sickness. I’d glanced at the book they keep in the church, records- weekly death tolls growing larger and larger as time moves forward.

I’m on rounds today, moving through the makeshift hospital, trying to keep patients cool despite their fevers, dabbing a rag into a bowl of water and passing it over their foreheads. I try not to look at the blackening flesh, rotting while they’re still alive- everyone knows once this happens, death follows. We’re told to skip these patients, there’s nothing we can do.

The plague doctor is here, letting blood from patients, examining wounds, and swearing roundly at the losses as bodies are dragged out to the street to be disposed of later. I watch him work between my tasks, methodically, moving from person to person with the confidence of a man who seems not to fear death at all. As far as doctors go, when the death started spreading, many of them fled. The plague doctors are mostly new doctors, some not even doctors at all. The instructions they give vary from person to person, but this one in particular has been the most consistent- showing up day after day, always seeming to be around in one way or another. 

After a while, it seems that he’s grown familiar with me as well, calling me by name when asking for assistance, sending me on errands for him. I’m happy to help in any way I can, and just like that I’ve found myself becoming a close assistant. 

When he shows up in the morning the first thing he does is summon me. He hands me supplies, asks if I’m ready, and we make our way inside. 

Despite the time I’ve spent around him, I know very little of him. He doesn’t tell me his name, doesn’t disclose where he’s from, but his accent speaks of France- some things cannot be so easily hidden.

As it turns out, nobody knows much about him. The other plague doctors have names, previous jobs, we know where they were hired from, but this one? It seems he refuses to discuss anything other than business. 

This has led to a web of rumors surrounding him. Some of them are run of the mill- he’d run away from some rich family to lay down roots, he’d left his wife when he couldn’t stand her anymore, he’d had so much debt he couldn’t dream of paying it back. Some of the rumors are a little more scandalous. His wife caught him with a mistress, he’d never married due to his affinity towards the same sex, he had a drinking habit and got kicked out of his old town when he performed medicine drunk and killed a man.

Whatever may or may not be true, I find myself becoming more and more curious with each passing day. One evening, on a particularly grueling day, the doctor pauses on our usual walk out from the ward. I’m carrying supplies, a bit of a habit from working with him for so long even though he hasn’t actually asked me to in a while. “Donald- have you noticed anything peculiar?” I run through a mental list of the day's goings-ons, turning up only the usual. “No?” “Hm. I’ve noticed things.” This is the most conversation I’ve managed to get from him at evening time, so I take the bait. “Care to share, or are these things going to live and die with you?” “See, that’s just it. You live. The others- they die.” “Oh- we’ve talked about this, I’m blessed-” “-but the others who shared the same disposition? Divinity found it fit to turn his back on them?” “Well… I guess.” “No. I don’t believe it to be so.” “What do you suggest? You’ve found no answers previously, are things any different tonight?” “Not yet- but I want to propose something.” This piques my interest, I move the supplies to one hip, shifting my weight into a comfortable lean. “I’m listening.” “I’d like to do research on you. Nothing terribly invasive, nothing painful. Mostly just observation.” “Observation? Don’t you watch me work all day?” “I confess, I do. Quite closely.” There's a stillness in the air after he says this, a moment where the chirping of crickets and the distant sound of wind through brush is all my ears catch. He sets in again, shifting and grabbing the supplies off my hip. “Apologies, I just want to understand. There must be a reason for it- I’m hellbent on finding an explanation.” “Well- I suppose there’s no harm in it. What would you like me to do?” “Come to my quarters in the evenings. Let me observe, let me perform a physical- probably once a day. I’d like to note any variables or changes.” “A real life science experiment.” I mean it as more of a joke but with a singular bob of his head he agrees. “Right. If I can figure out why you’re immune- maybe we could use it for the others.”

“A worthy cause.” “Quite.” “Alright. You’ve got a deal.” “Wonderful! Let’s head over then-” “Tonight? Right now?” He freezes mid stride, turning to peer back at me. The movement would’ve been bird-like even without the plague doctor costume. “Is that alright? I’m sorry, I didn’t ask if you had plans.” “I don’t I just- it’s somewhat late and I’ve not had a bite to eat all day. I’d like to get supper first.” “I’ll supply food if you’d like. You can eat while I go over the death records.”

“Oh- okay, sure.” I shuffle along beside him, awkwardly. After a few strides it’s evident that the supplies are heavy to him. “You sure you don’t want me to carry that? It’s no problem.” “I’ve got it.” We march along a few more yards before I can hear him huffing as we go, trying to keep up the pace despite restricted airflow due to the mask. “Seriously, boss, I can carry it. Let me help-” “If I accept your help now, I’m admitting defeat. I’m not letting three stone of glass do me in.” “It seems the doctor has a stubborn streak.” I’m mostly musing to myself, slightly amused at this new tidbit of information. He looks up at me, and I swear I can feel the glare behind the mask. “Damn right I do.” He marches forward with determination. “The only way to get anything done around here.”

“Hey! I seem to recall doing a lot of stuff!” He sighs. “Yes, with you being the one exception.”

“So don’t give up on the task. Just… delegate it so you can save your energy for more important stuff like research.” He stops so abruptly that I nearly trample him, the question of who’s carrying what nearly becomes completely invalid as the box almost fully topples out of his hands. “You’re right. Here.” He holds the box out to me with weary arms and I take it easily. It doesn’t feel like much weight to me, though I suppose a lifetime of heavy lifting far better suits me for the job.

We finish making our way back to his quarters. It’s mostly temporary, but he’s been housed far outside the city, quite the walk. When I comment on this he lets out a low hum of agreement. “I can’t be near anyone in good health. I’ve agreed to isolation.” “What about- I’m in good health. Will you get in trouble?” “Well, you’ve been exposed first-hand plenty. If you were to fall to the sickness I’d imagine it would’ve happened far sooner. Besides… I’m my own master, here. Who is going to chastise me for it? Do you see anyone around? Nobody knows or cares what happens in my quarters.” I glance around at the hollow houses surrounding his, empty and dark, somehow cold as if they suffer from the disease as well. I can almost hear them moaning in the same kind of pain, feel them longing for the life that once graced their walls. “I-I guess that’s true.”

“You’re coming in or you’re dropping the box off and leaving, this much is up to you. If you choose to stay I will be grateful.” “I’ve committed, I’m not going to abandon my word.” “Very well, step inside.” He opens the door for me and lets me in, upon entering I see he’s set up a comfortable living space for himself. There’s a stew still warmed on the cinders of the fire, a bed set off to the side, a desk laden with parchments, several lamps and plenty of oil to go with them.

Upon closer inspection, his desk has more than work notes. There’s a few sketches of flowers, each with the scientific name scrawled underneath them. Viola odorata, or commonly, the wood violet. 

It seems he has both a knack for artistry and a fondness for botany. “Violets?” I hold up a drawing and he nods without looking over at me, stoking up a fire. 

“Yes, they’re used in my mask.” “Oh, so… not because you like them?”

“Well- I find the scent pleasing. As it should be, for a plague doctor’s mask, such is the point of it.”

“What else do you put in there?”

“Lavender, if I can find any. Tea, maybe mint if it’s not too scarce. Mint and lavender work the best, in my experience.”

“The smell keeps the illness at bay, right?”

“It’s the theory- the scent is what makes you sick. But then you have others who… don’t seem to obey that rule. So now I’m trying to figure out what else it could be. I thought perhaps contact, but that doesn’t seem to bother you whatsoever. I have to wonder to myself how someone could be in such close contact, breathing in the same air, and still be left standing a month later? It’s phenomenal… it’s maddening.”

I chuckle, cocking my head at him. “I’ve kept you up at night thinking about me, then?”

There’s a long silence before he shakes his head. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose.”

“Well, I’d hate to disappoint. What do you want me to do first?”

He stands and collects a bowl, filling it with stew before handing it to me. “Eat. Keep your strength up. I’d hate to lose the subject of my interests so early.”

I take it and make a ‘cheers’ motion. “Yes sir.”

[thyras]

→ climax

PAIRING → annatar (sauron) x f!oc!sabina

WORD COUNT → 3.4k words

WARNINGS → 18+ mdni - smut, semi-public sex, mild exhibitionism, dom & sub dynamics, degradation, voyeurism, masturbation, unprotected p in v, oral (f & m recieving), rough sex, praise kink, body worship

SUMMARY → in which sabina tries to test her shadows resolve, she wants one thing and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t get it.

AUTHORS NOTE → this is purely self-indulgent smut tbh i honestly had very little plans to put smut in the main fic due to girlie having feels about it. i'm jumping on the sub!sauron train. this can be read by itself as it is adjacent to the series and doesn’t reveal too much.

The moonlight scattered across the forest floor, bathing her form in a soft glow. She could feel the eyes on her as she turned the page in her book, not even trying to hide his presence. If she could not sleep, she would always end up just outside Eregion, reading or drawing. It took her mind off the nightmares she would have. 

On this particular night, her mind was full of something else, and it drove her mad to chase the high in which she wished to lose herself. Sabina had never been allowed to indulge in womanly desire; it just was not something Olavi had concerned himself with. She had been pushed to contain it and never released it from her body. It kept wanting more, so if she did a good job, he would let her have that toe-curling release she had always dreamed of. 

But that never happened.

An idea popped into her head, and she smiled devilishly as she closed her book and set it next to her on the forest floor. She gripped the front of her skirt and pushed it up, eyes closing as she ran her fingers up her inner thighs, tracing circles around the skin. She pushed her back into the tree she was leaning against.

Her mind went to how this would feel if he was tracing the circles on her sensitive inner thighs like she had dreamed about for so many nights. A whimper left her lips at the dirty thought as her fingers moved up her inner thigh towards her undergarments. Sabina arched her back as she traced her finger across the material, still thinking about those hands moving in the motions. A light whimper left her lips as her dreams drove her mad with lust for the figure that stood off watching her from a distance.  A smile crossed her lips as she felt his restraint breaking as she continued the motions. Her mind got even more impure thoughts of him buried between her thighs, lapping up her desire as his tongue drove her hips up to meet the motions.

Sabina pushed aside her undergarments as the aching and throbbing of her aroused core was becoming too much to handle. She swiped her fingers through, collecting some of her arousal on her fingers, and brought them to her mouth, licking the substance off. 

That was it for him.

She heard a crunching of leaves, causing her eyes to open. She turned to see him in all his dark glory. Eyes dark with lust and a burning animalistic desire to dominate her. 

But that’s not what she wanted.

Sabina wanted him to beg her to stop this torment, beg her to grace him with entrance between her thighs, kneel before her, and beg for her to ride his pretty little elven face.

She wanted control. 

And she was not going to give up without a fight.

“Uh—uh,” she said, sticking her foot out to stop him from approaching her further. She met the dark edge of his robe. The sole of her foot felt the delicate stitchings before pushing it up, and her foot trailed against his boot-covered ankle. “It’s not that easy, love,” she licked her fingers again, still keeping her eyes locked on him. Those dark eyes darkened even more, and she could see the snarl hiding behind those lips. “You want a taste; you must work for it,” Sabina smiled devilishly. “It won’t be hard to follow the rules now, will it?” She pouted her lips as those lashes lowered, taunting him even more.

Sabina watched as he swallowed hard, but she could see the tenting in his robes as the filthy words left her lips. He was struggling with this, and she knew by the way he was watching her he was going to put up a fight to submit to her willingly.

“How about you be a doll and take off those clothes,” She bit her bottom lip. He did not move even to acknowledge her request; only the straining in his neck muscles told her he was fighting an inner battle. She was about to say something, but his fingers unclasped his belt, tossing it on the ground. “Good boy,” she breathed as she watched his fingers unclasp more of his garments until they fell to the ground in a heap of material before tossing his boots to the side.

Underneath all that material was something carved out by the Valar themselves. Sabina licked her lips. She had taken a fondness for his rugged, dirty, manly form, but this was otherworldly. Her eyes traveled down his sculpted shoulders towards the spattering of light hair on his chest. Eyes traveling across the pristine outline of his muscles and the line of light hair from his navel to the jutting appendage that was eagerly awaiting to be worshiped like she so desperately wanted to, but that would come later. “See, now, was that so hard,” she slid her fingers underneath the top of her gown. “That earns you a little reward,” she said as he stepped a little closer when she pushed the garment down to her waist, revealing her round, perky breasts, nipples pebbling in the cool night air. Both gazes still locked on each other, not daring to waver for fear of losing the chance to enjoy each other.

Sabina moved her foot to his knee and held him in place. She tsked and shook her head. “You want a taste; you have to follow my rules, hun,” she reminded him, surprised he had not even uttered a word since coming over. His balled-up fists were all but a tell of how hard he was trying not to. Sabina wished to prolong this teasing as long as he would play fair, and that was growing thin, she saw in his eyes.

Her fingers moved down her mounded flesh as his gaze followed those delicate fingers. She pinched and pulled against one of her nipples, eliciting a moan from her soft lips as she watched the dark lines appear around his eyes. “You want to touch these, pull that very same moan out of my lips, huh?” He nodded. “I’m sorry, love, I didn’t catch that.” Her foot moved up to trace against the solid muscle of his inner thigh.

“Yes,” he growled.

“Uh—uh, be nice,” She continued to massage her breasts and lowered her lashes again.

“Yes,” he repeated, less harsh this time.

“Good boy,” she breathed. “That deserves a reward; touch yourself.” She breathed as she moved to sit up, his appendage just a few centimeters from her face now. He moved to grip himself and lightly started pumping his hand against the flesh, their gazes locked. However, hers were sparkling with mischief as she got exactly what she wanted. “Mmm,” she hummed. “You want my pretty little mouth around that, right?” His hand moved to pump faster, but she grabbed his wrist, slowing the motion. “Did I say you could go faster?” He shook his head. “Light and slow, love,” 

She knew it was torture for her mouth to be so close to where he ached to seat his cock. Sabina smiled and moved so her breath tickled the tip, causing him to twitch slightly. She smiled and watched as his eyes closed. “Eyes open,” he groaned as his strokes started becoming labored. “I want to watch those eyes of yours.” She looked down at the precum dripping off the head of his tip, and her tongue ran across her bottom lip. “Good boy,” she repeated, only this time she ran her tongue across the tip, taking in his salty, sweet taste. 

He growled again as his cock twitched in anticipation. Sabina looked up and shook her head. “That was not nice,” those dark eyes bore into hers. She grabbed his wrist again, though this time stopping his motions. Sabina shook her head and took his hand off. “Only boys that follow the rules get rewards,” A smile touched her lips as he fought back another growl. “Right?” 

“Yes,” he fought out through his teeth.

“I’m sorry, hun, you’re going to have to repeat that.” She smirked.

“Yes,”

“Good boy,” Sabina could tell how agitating it was for her to keep calling him that, but it was powerful enough to her that it was causing her to get drunk on the ability to quiet the man who always had some smart-ass thing to say. “You want to fill my pretty little mouth,” she paused, eyes darkening as she placed his hand in her hair. “Fuck my face until I’m a mess?” she licked her lips as that straining in his neck returned when she ran her tongue across his tip again.

“Yes,” his breath was labored this time as he anticipated what she was about to allow him to do.

“Beg for it, Shadow,” She hissed out. His lips tightened together as he fought the urge to give in. Sabina moved to push him flesh with his stomach, her tongue trailing the underside of his shaft to the tip. He fought back the groan in his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Beg for this little mouth to suck you dry,” 

“I need—“ he started, but Sabina twirled her tongue around his tip.

“You need what, love,” she taunted, eyes not leaving him.

“I need that pretty little mouth around me,” He breathed out in a groan. Sabina smiled and trailed her fingers up his shaft. “I need to fuck that warm wet mouth of yours,”

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” She opened her mouth wide, tongue dropping out as her lust-filled eyes gazed up at him. The open invitation for him to seat himself inside her mouth. He hesitated momentarily, but when she did not stop him, he filled her mouth. She closed around it and gripped the base. Sabina picked up a slow pace as her free hand went up his leg and around to grip the taut skin of his ass, steadying herself.

He moaned over top of her, eyes watching as she bobbed up and down his length, taking him to the hilt. He could not help but grip her scalp as she picked up the pace and hummed around his cock. The noise made his cock twitch in her mouth, he was close, and she knew that. 

This game needed to keep going. 

She moved to try and pull off, but his grip on her scalp held her in place. Sabina pinched his flesh, and he released her quickly with a hiss.

“Not yet,” she breathed as saliva dribbled down her chin. The sight was almost to erotic for him. “I want that inside me, filling me full.” She smiled at him as she gave him one last teasing lick. Her fingers pushed the rest of her garments off so she was now bare to him. 

The hunger in his eyes returned as he could see the arousal dripping down her thigh; she noticed his gaze and moved to run her fingers through it before holding the fingers up. She hovered them towards her lips, “Mmm, you want this?” She hummed as he struggled to keep standing there as she leaned back against the tree again. His eyes glued to her fingers. “You want to have my taste on your pretty plump lips? Taking in my sweetness?” He nodded.

“Kneel and beg for it then,” she repeated. He closed his eyes, and the straining of his body was evident. She knew he kneeled to no one, and that was what was so thrilling about this. She wanted him at her mercy and to have complete and utter control over one of the most powerful beings that walked this earth. 

He knelt, and she opened her legs towards him in invitation. “I need to taste every inch of you, little viper; I crave it like I crave power.” Her heart thumped in her chest, and for a brief moment, she lost control as her face heated up. A knowing smile reached his lips, but he remained where he was sitting, not daring to move even though he knew he had broken her control.

“Then come taste me, Shadow,” she said, collecting herself back up. He leaned forward and took her fingers into his mouth, tongue tracing up and down, licking her clean. There was something completely erotic about him between her thighs, tasting her arousal and doing it without question. The power she held over him currently made her drunk with her arousal and her body screaming for more.

When he popped off her fingers, she smiled and pushed him back against the forest floor, sitting astride him as she had one hand on his chest and the other trailing across his lips.

“I want you to show me just how starved you are for my taste,” she paused, moving to lift her hips over his face. “I’m gonna ride that pretty elven face of yours; how does that sound?” He nodded, but she gripped his chin. “Answer,” she hissed.

“Yes,” he moaned, and she smiled. 

“Good boy,” she lowered her cunt onto his face and leaned her arms behind her on his chest as she rolled her hips against his face. Arms snaking underneath her thighs to support her movements more. He ate her like a man starved for water. The way his tongue darted in and out before he sucked on her clit sent her hips surging forward against his face. He repeated the motions, sending whimpers and moans out of her mouth. Eyes closed as his name fell from her lips like a maiden praying to the Valar for forgiveness. “You are so pretty when you beg for me, Shadow,” she breathed through the rising heat of her orgasm in her belly. It built like it always did. “So good, letting me make a mess of your pretty godly face.” She felt his chest rumble from a moan. “You want me to come on that face of yours, want to make your Queen happy?” 

She lifted off his ministrations for a moment so he could give her an answer. “Yes, I crave to make my queen happy,” he breathed, breathless, before she lowered herself back onto him. He continued, but this time, a finger snuck in and rubbed her bud as he lapped at her entrance. 

Sabina threw her head back as the fire burned, and for the first time in her life, she climaxed in ecstasy. A call of his name echoed through the night as she chased her high until overstimulation took over. Her motions slowed as her legs shook, and her fingernails clawed that soft skin of his chest. She let out a breath and smiled, soaking in the feeling denied to her for so long.

It was intoxicating, and she wanted more, so drunk off the power she held right now and on her first orgasm that she did not register for a split second that he almost had her on her back. She hooked her leg around his waist and had him on his back again. He groaned as his back hit the forest floor. “You’re playing dirty,” she breathed, leaning over his lips that glistened with her orgasm. Sabina leaned in to lick her taste off his lips and chin before her tongue traced against his jaw. “You want my cunt now, don’t you?” She breathed against his neck. 

“Yes,” 

“You want to fill me and take pleasure in how I strangle that cock of yours?” She bit at his jaw. “To feel what makes even Maiar quake underneath its gasp?” He moaned as her hand moved to grip his taut skin and pump it lightly.

“I crave to rid you of his touch and show you what true worship is.” Sabina giggled and kissed his neck. “Fuck you so deep, you won’t remember who you were before me.”

“Good boy,” she moaned, her grip tightening as she pumped the skin harder. Lips traveled down his chest, tongue running circles around his nipple as her hand slowed. “What else?” She breathed, looking up to see his flustered face as his eyes were nothing but blissed slits.

“I want them to envy us. Envy you taking your fill of me.” He breathed hoarsely. “Envy me for getting to worship the goddess that walks among us. I need them to see me fuck you senseless, knowing that I am the only one who can pull those sinful words from your lips.” His breath hitched when she sunk her hips onto him, taking him to the hilt.

The stretch of her walls accommodating him sent a shiver down her spine. “Continue,” she hissed. “I love it when you beg for me. Bow to me and submit yourself to me.” She rolled her hips against him, the feeling sending her toes curling as her fingers gripped at the splattering of hair on his chest. “Tell me how much you want me for eternity,” He groaned and moaned against her rolls, eyes locked as he struggled for words.

“I want you like the power that runs through my veins; I need you like some starved animal—“ he trailed off as her hips moved faster against him; the force would have sent any mortal aching in pain, but she just felt him get harder and call out her name against the crisp night air. “Gods, you feel so fucking good.” He whimpered. Sabina smiled and watched as his hands moved to grip the flesh of her hips. 

She was too far gone to care about this little game anymore, riding so high on her pleasure that she just wanted to keep this going for as long as she could. “I want to worship the woman that holds my dark heart in her grasp. I want her—“ He pushed her on her back now.

She yelped in surprise as he continued to thrust in her, caging her underneath him. “I want her by my side each and every day for eternity. I want to fuck her each and every second I have.” Sabina smiled as he moved to grip her wrists above her head, holding her into the ground.

“Harder,” she whispered. A growl escaped his lips, and his hips jutted into her harder, fingers tightening against her wrists. Sabina’s eyes closed, and her hips arched to meet those pelvis-shattering thrusts. Her toes curled into the leaves as he rubbed every nerve and ridge just right like he was made for her.

“Eyes open, little viper,” he hissed. “I want to see you. I want to know what Varda crafted only for me, know what those stars do when she falls around my cock,” She whimpered again as her eyes opened and she looked into the feral gaze of her lover.

“Good girl,” he said with a sickly sweet smile as her orgasm pooled in her belly. The notion of him praising her ignited the fire as he quickened his pace, reaching that deep spot in her as she struggled to hold back the orgasm. “So good for me,” he chanted as her walls squeezed around him in climax as a cry of his name left her sinful lips. She pulsed against him until he painted her womb with his seed as a satisfied groan left his lips. Eyes never leaving their locked gazes as they took in just how each other looked when they felt their love reach its climax. “Taking all of me like the good little maiden you are,” Sabina blushed and moved to grip his face as they kissed deeply for a moment, tongues clashing as fingers greedily ran through each other's hair, tousling their already unmade strands.

Sabina pulled away and gazed up at him with those sapphire eyes of hers. “I couldn’t wait to have you like this,” A smile touched his lips as he pushed some of her white hair out her face.

“Like what, divine?” His eyes searched hers for the answer. Her thumb moved to trace his bottom lip as her lashes lowered in a blissful, satisfied look of contentment.

“Kneeling before me and begging for me,” He chuckled and shook his head.

“I will always kneel to my Queen,” he licked his lips and ran his finger across the delicate skin of her cheek. “And submit to her every order,”

[karlachismylife]

Flutter Into the Skies

CW: fem!reader, girly reader (dresses, makeup, all that jazz), flirty banter, mentions of alcohol, Ghost is a menace as always, toothrotting fluff.

(Title from "Butterfly, Butterly" by a-ha)

You're excited.

That bubbly feeling of sincere happiness for someone else is filling your chest with lightweight foam, rising as if you're the most perfect, airy meringue that has ever graced anyone's kitchen - and it's soft too, not choking or overwhelming like any strong sensations tend to be.

You're literally beaming on someone else's wedding day. It's good.

Even Ghost and his ever so heavy, even unintentionally, presence seem to have nothing on you and your metaphorical butterfly wings of a flowing dress, fluttering behind you as you're running around to finish getting ready to head out. He considers himself already good to go, a sharp suit matching colour with your dress, grown out hair styled neatly, keeping the subtle waves it naturally has whenever he lets it go. You even got him a half-face mask that matches his tie and pocket square, no black allowed to your sweet friend's celebration. He's wearing it already, getting used to the feeling of unfamilar fabric on his face, as he stands in the hallway, leaning on the wall in a lazy manner, hooded eyes watching you with a deep satisfaction and a crooked smirk of a predator in its den lurking somewhere behind the satin mask.

You hear a distinct chuckle as you zoom past him in your festive frenzy, looking for a particular eyeshadow palette in your impressive collection - so, naturally, you turn on your heels and give Simon a mockingly stern look.

"What's so funny, huh?" You demand, pointng your eyeshadow brush at him, right between his dark, magnetic eyes. Sparkly glitter smeared on the soft hairs makes it look like you're about to zap him with some pixie dust magic. "I wanna look good, it's her special day, can't ruin it by being a mess! You could put some effort in too, Mr Riley."

That's when you get him - light eyebrows sliding upwards in a quizzical look, eyes dipping down to give himself a quick one-over before coming back up to stare at you. Daring you to tell him he doesn't look exquisitely and magnificently. He would go meet the Queen of England herself looking like this, not to mention a friend of his own little queen.

"Your tie, dummy," you giggle and put your formiddable weapon of artistry and glitter on the nearest surface, dancing up to Simon and gripping his unevenly tied accessory.

"Could've fixed it meself before headin' out," he grumbles in response, standing upright for you to adjust the tie into a straight line and tighen it up just the right way. Sure, he could, but that's what he gets for being a menace and teasing you for fussing over every detail of your appearance today.

You lift your gaze to retort with some smartass quip, but Ghost is already two steps ahead, staring at you with a heavy, sultry look he knows you can't resist - eyelids half-closed and lazy, white lashes fluttering slightly as he assesses your expression, notices the way your half-done makeup blends together into a colourful picture, bright, sparkly, not subtle at all and screaming "this is a happy day for me too!"

You must be a fairy or some other mythical creature to posess this wonderous ability to dissolve seamlessly into other people when they need your support and then emerge unscathed; complete, full and whole on our own - and yet always there to be a part of a bigger thing.

He knows, because you've seeped under his skin every time his own shell crumbled, and held the fortress for him, mending every crack with your pink pixie dust and golden unicorn fur. They are still there, still visible, still hurting - but not threatening to collapse on top of him, crushing whatever soft and alive still is kept inside.

If there is a pang of guilt prickling him for never supplying you with something this good to melt into, sharing happiness instead of a deadly burden, it disappears too quickly once Simon sees the simmering adoration in your glitter-eyeliner emphasized eyes.

Sliding the knot of his tie up and adjusting it around his collar, you don't let go of it immediately, instead opting to tug on it - an indication of your intent clear enough, you think. But of course, the mountain that is Ghost, doesn't move.

"Come on, I wanna kiss you," you murmur, yet to realize that Simon didn't misread your gesture as a part of fixing his tie.

The bastard ignored it on purpose.

"Oh, I can tell," his smugness rains down on you through the slyly narrowed eyes of his and the undeniably satisfied smirk unable to be contained discreetly with the mask alone.

It takes you a few seconds to go from charmed and adoring to scandalized and outraged.

"Fuck you, Simon Riley," in sincere wrath, you jerk your fist up, choking him with the tie, and yank the asshole's face towards you, pressing a loud, mocking smooch directly over the light fabric of his mask. It's his fault he didn't want to remove it and give you a proper kiss.

"We'll be late if ya do," unfased by the silky hanging noose around his neck, Ghost hammers in the last nail.

You're pouting at him the whole way to your friend's wedding, his poorly muffled chuckles only digging his grave deeper as you glare at him, no threat in your butterfly princess appearance whatsoever. The only thing that keeps you from elbowing the self-assured dog or telling him what a bastard he is, is the sweet revenge you're gonna get once everyone at the wedding sees him with a stupid, bright-pink, sparkly kiss print on his mask that he still hasn't noticed is there.

That's what he gets for being an ass: mighty image completely ruined, reputation of a scary, battle-worn beast shattered. Everyone will see just how wrapped around your finger and domesticated he is (as if it wasn't obvious already - or as if he didn't have you wrapped around his himself).

It's only at the afterparty, when everyone's letting loose and your cheeks are definitely tingling from the sweet alcohol you drank in the name of your friend's union with her sweetheart, when you suddenly get jumped by Ghost on your way to the bathroom. He's just leaving it himself, and you know from the look in his eyes that he finally had a chance to look in the mirror and see what a pretty sight he had been the whole day.

"Were ya even planning to tell me, ya little minx?" Somehow he growls right into your ear, already caging you against the wall. Good thing he does - your head is spinning, you're tipsy, charged with the best mood, buzzing from hearing good music at the dancefloor, full of sugar and sweet, sweet aftertaste of someone else's love wafting through the air.

"Took you long enough," you giggle, resting your palms on his shoulders - even through the blurriness of your lightweight happiness you clearly see that he's smiling, little lines crinkling in the corners of his eyes and warmth in his voice as he nuzzles into your temple. "Not so sharp-eyed anymore, Lieutenant?"

"Jus' didn't expect blatant betrayal in me own home." You roll your eyes and that's enough to miss him sliding his marked mask down. "Ya will pay for this, lovie."

"I'm shaking in my- mmph!"

Whatever you were shaking in, gets cut off by a whole tornado of smooches, light alcohol taste on Ghost's lips and tongue too. Should've known he'll get like this after a couple of glasses.

But then again, do you really mind?