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satorusugurugurl · 5 months ago

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JJK Men: Accidentally Finding Your Private Photos

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, AFAB!Reader

Warnings: language, smut, unprotected, sex, cream, pies, oral sex, photography,, consensual photography, minions of nudes

Word Count: 4,861

A/N: I finally finished one of the pool from so long ago! I have to be at work in the next six hours so I’m only gonna get about two hours of sleep, but it was well worth getting this written. Geto’s nearly took me out but Nanami’s MGBBGHBJNCRGHG yummy

Gojo Satoru:

“Oh wait! Wait until you see these pictures of Megumi!” Gojo laughed out loud, smacking his thigh as you both sat in your living room. “The kid got messed up!”

“You're such an ass sometimes.” you laughed, glancing over at his phone. “It was a grade two curse.” Gojo waved a hand before you as he flipped through his photo gallery. You grimaced, feeling nothing but pure sympathy for the young boy, while your best friend snickered. “Yikes, poor kid.”

Gojo put his phone down with a content sigh. “Shoko fixed him up; he's sleeping it off.”

“Maybe he wouldn't have needed to sleep it off if you weren't too busy grabbing kikufuku.”

You felt the couch shift as Gojo dropped one of his long arms around you. “Someone's just upset she didn't get any!” He pursed his lips together, bringing his other hand up to poke you in the cheek. “I ate them all on the bullet train home~!”

You could feel your cheeks flush as you shut your eyes tight, trying to make it seem as though you were pissed off by his childish teasing when in reality, you were resisting the urge to rub your thighs together as the smell of his cologne overwhelmed you. Gojo Satoru might be your best friend and boyfriend, but he was annoying and overly confident, which left most people with a sour taste when forced to be around him. But you liked that about him.

He was an egotistical little shit, but he was your egotistical shit.

“Hey, I'm sorry; I promise to get you a bag next time.” Gojo squeezed you against his side, allowing you to feel the warmth of his body.

“Whatever, I don't care, not when I went to that new sweet shop without you when you were gone.”

The gasp that left Gojo’s mouth was soap opera-worthy—as if you had just told him his twin brother, who had fallen down an elevator shaft, was still alive. There was something almost satisfying in how he reeled back, his eyebrows furrowing underneath his blindfold.

“You promised me that we would go together!”

“Yeah? Well, I promised the second year that if they could successfully make a talisman that could prevent me from crossing a line, I would take them out for ice cream. And I was promised kikufuku! So it looks like we both broke our word!”

“You Little shit! I can’t believe you went without me!”

“Yeah, I did, and guess what?”

Gojo leaned down, his eyebrows twitching under his blindfold. “What?”

“It was fucking delicious!” you watched with satisfaction as your boyfriend slumped forward, dropping his head down.

“You’re so cruel.”

“I wouldn’t have had to brag if some gluttonous idiot didn’t forget to bring me kikufuku to share as he promised!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Oh, you’re sorry?”

“No, not really?”

You scoffed as you scrolled through your photos. “Oh, you’re going to be sorry.” Before your boyfriend could question what you were doing, you turned your camera to him and showed him the photos of the different desserts you had ordered in the second year.

“Stop!” he slowly licked his lips. “What is that, and why can I taste it?!”

You zoomed in on the banana pudding Maki had ordered. “Southern banana pudding with vanilla wafer and whipped cream topping..” before you could flip through the rest of the photos, your phone was plucked out of your hands.

“I hate you.” snarled them, moving through your photos in your gallery. “ I hate you so much that I’m taking you back to that same café after work, and I’m not gonna buy you anything, and I’m gonna make you watch me eat the banana—” his words were abruptly cut off as he scrolled to another photo—one that wasn’t of pastries and cake but if you.

You were nothing but a sheer black Lacey bra and matching thong. The camera was pointed above you, getting a great shot of your beautiful body. The curves and dips were so gorgeous that the swells of your breasts caught his attention. He could see your nipples through the fabric, making his mouth and anticipation of a different kind of treat.

“Toru?” the snapping fingers drew his attention away from your phone screen. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m starving.” His voice was deeper than normal, and a certain tone behind it caused heat to pool between his legs.

“W-Well,” you cleared your throat. Do you know what you’re hungry for? Did you see anything else you liked from the café besides the banana pudding?”

“Oh, I saw something I liked but wasn’t from the café.”

He doesn’t even give you a chance to ask him what he wants. Instead, he turns the phone to you, much to your shock. There are no pastries on the screen. It is the photo you took the night before and the new set you bought at the store for tonight. You gasped, reaching for your phone only to have your boyfriend hold it up above his freakishly tall head.

“Oh my God! Why did you scroll that far!?”

“Why didn’t you send these to me last night?”

“I just wanted to see what it looks like on me!” hands grabbed your hips, pulling you back against your boyfriend's sturdy form.

His lips slowly trailed over your neck as he pulled you down one of the dark alleyways of the school, somewhere away from fellow sorcerers or students. “Do you want to know what I think of that pretty little set?” Gojo listened to you. I think you look delicious in it, and I just so happen to be starving.” His head tilted slightly, grinning so wide the dimple in his cheek deepened. So are you going to let me devour you?”

Both of you breathe heavily, your eyes roaming over his face breath, brushing over your bottom lip. The tension was so thick before you snapped, grabbing his face and both your hands smashing your lips against his as he growled, kissing you back with as much passion. That kiss shifted into something that most people would write as NC-17. Gojo was able to control him himself, but when he found out you were wearing the same set from the picture, he suddenly wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the ground, pinning you against the wall. Your skirt was pushed up to your hips while your pretty panties were pulled to the side. His mouth pressed against your neck, muffling his moans. Your moans muffled as his right hand pressed firmly against your mouth.

“Shit baby, you’re so fucking wet for me, sweetheart.” his left hand massaged your thigh, easing the ache that accompanied the burning sensation of you trying to keep your legs wrapped firmly around his waist as he pushed himself deeper inside of you, slamming you against the concrete wall.

“Mm~!! Mmm~!”

Your sweet, muffled moans against your boyfriend’s palm only had him moving faster to draw more out. “God, I’m so lucky to have a girlfriend is fucking sexy and stunning as you. Anything you wear looks fucking fantastic on you.” he snarled against your neck. “I want you constantly so fucking bad.” your legs tightened around him, giving him a gentle squeeze as your walls constricted around him, drawing out a louder groan from Gojo. “Oooh fuck, fuck, fuck~!!” you could feel him twitching inside of you. His little grunts and whines against your skin had your walls, stomach, and heart fluttering at the sound of his voice. “Fucck~ baby—haaah fuck yeah, keep squeezing me like that! Just like that!”

The head of his cock presses perfectly against your g-spot, making your eyes roll back, a telling sign that you are close. Gojo was thankful for this because he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to last any longer. He sped up his movements, slamming into you, making you scream into the palm of his hand. That erotic sound pushed him further, making him move faster, harder, fucking you with all of his strength, and being the strongest allowed him to lose all his control. He was fucking you so good. The literal wall behind you shook under the force of his thrusts.

The combination of his monstrous thrusts had cock you squirting as you cried out against his hand. Your orgasm had soaked his uniform shirt and boxers with your release. Feeling you cum so hard left Gojo growling as he bucked even harder. Thick ropes of cum filled you, and he didn’t stop there. He kept going, fucking his cum further into you, pushing it as deep as it would go until he finally stopped. His breath tingled over your skin as he slowly pulled away, smiling drunkenly at you.

“Fuck sweetheart that— sweetie? Babe?” he chuckled as your head fell forward, hitting his shoulder. “You good there?”

“I-If I knew you finding my nudes would lead to you fucking me like that, I would’ve shown them to you sooner.”

“Them—?” his voice was very soft, but his cock twitched hard inside of you. “You have more of them?” the instant Gojo found out about the whole hidden album that was on your phone full of your nudes and private videos. He dropped the veil and teleported you back to the apartment. Seeing all your pictures and videos would be worth the lecture he’d be getting from Yaga the following day.

Geto Suguru:

The days that Geto got home early from a mission or some of his favorite days. These were the days he got to take a hot shower, sleep in his bed, and see you again. Whenever he was away from you from your home, he felt like a part of him was missing

When he walked into your shared apartment, he felt all the tension in his shoulders melt away. The familiar smell of homemade aches and pains vanished as if Shoko had healed him. God, he’d love getting home early. What would have made coming home even better would have been if you had been here with him. But from the side of your slippers by the door, it was apparent that you were still stuck at work.

Suguru had about three hours before you gave him more than enough time to shower, take a nap, and do the laundry. That way, whenever you did get home tonight, all you would need to worry about was cuddling with him on the couch. Geto did everything in that exact order, and by the time the last load had been folded, you texted him that you were on your way home with dinner.

Knowing that you would be coming home soon, I encouraged Suguru to move faster, hang up the laundry, and throw his boxers in his drawer before opening yours to put your folded panties inside. He was putting away your bras when an envelope underneath the lacy fabric caught his gaze. He had put your clothes away multiple times, but he had never seen that shoved there before.

Was it wrong to look at the contents hidden at the bottom of your underwear drawer? Maybe. Was it going to stop him from looking? No way in hell.

When he freed the trap envelope from under your flimsy sets, he was pleased to see his name written over it in your handwriting. It seems as though you wanted him to find this. Plop down on the edge of the bed, open it, seeing photos inside. They were Polaroids from small squares with black backs, white frames, and a glossy finish. Flipping them over, Suguru tried to think if you both owned the Polaroid, but all those thoughts went tumbling out the window as he stared at the pictures in his hand. Whether you owned the Polaroid camera or not didn’t matter to him.

All he cared about was the nude photos of you; he held his hands.

You were in different positions in the show, sprawled out on the bed, the blanket doing nothing to cover you. Well, other photos are arranged from you sitting on your knees, back slightly arched, pushing your breasts out to you facing down on the bed, the camera pointing at your face. Seeing you so naked, looking at the camera with a sultry expression, had all of the blood from Geto’s head went rushing to the head of his cock.

Why the hell were you hiding this from him? Was this a little treat for him after a mission, or did you want to get him all riled up?

Suguru didn’t have to wait for the answer because the front door opened as soon as he put the pictures down on the bed. “Sugu, I’m home!” You barely managed to put your keys in the bowl near the front door when your boyfriend rushed out of the room, his dark hair flowing behind him. “Welcome back; I picked up your favorite Zaru Soba good—aggh!!” Suguru scooped you up, putting you over his shoulder before rushing back to the bedroom.

Your boyfriend didn’t say anything as he threw you onto the mattress. You swallowed hard, sitting up on your elbows, only to have him reach down, ripping open your uniform jacket. Buttons went flying across the room as you fell back against the mattress. Your perfect breasts bounced the confines of your shirt, making your horny boyfriend feral.

“S-Sugu!”

“Found your pictures—”

Was all he said before tugging your shirt over your head, his hands frantically pushing down your pants as he worked at his gray sweatpants. “Fuck you look so pretty in them.” Pictures? Oh God, you found the images you had taken for your anniversary with him?! You found yourself wishing that the mattress would open up and swallow you whole so you could avoid the embarrassment that was itching at the back of your skull.

“T-Th—ahh~” his lips moved expertly over your collarbone while his hands gently squeezed your breasts, pushing your shirt up enough that allowed him to tag your bra down, freeing them. “S-Sugu—those—w-were—”

“Exactly what I needed.”

Your photos may have been what he needed to get his motors going. Or maybe you were the stress relief he needed after a very annoying mission. Your pictures were the fuel that he needed to destroy you.

Drool seeped out of the corner of your mouth as Suguru grabbed a handful of your hair, forcing your face down into the mattress as he fucked you from behind. Your back was arched, ass sticking up, allowing him to slide in deep. You loved this position; it felt so good to be manhandled like this.

His long, thick fingers dug into your hair, pulling you up just an inch and allowing you to take a deep breath before your face shoved back into the comforter. You cried your hips against his cock, forcing him deeper inside of you. As you did, the other sounds besides the slapping of skin, your moans and his, the clicking of the Polaroid camera he held in his hands.

“Fuuck~ yeah~ fuck yourself. Rock your hips back against my cock Princess.” Suguru watched as your weekly whimpered, rocking your hips back pathetically slow and allowing him to snap a few pictures. “Ooh fuck.” he hissed through his teeth, grabbing the developing film, shaking it before his hips picked up his pace again, slamming into you, forcing your face back into the bedding. “Gonna keep that one in my wallet.”

“S-Sugu~! Haaah fuck!”

“Yeah, do you like the idea of that? Me having a nasty photo of you in my wallet?” He pulled back an inch, taking another photo of his cock wet with your arousal, the tip still buried inside of your wet cunt. “ only you know that was in there. And you would be the only one to know that when I’m on a mission and at a hotel alone. You’re pretty pictures are what I’m stroking my cock to at night.”

“Hnngh!” You sobbed, fingers digging into the sheets, as you tried your best to rock back against him, chasing your orgasm that was coiling deep in your abdomen. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum!”

“Yeah, do it~ cum all over this fat fucking cock, baby~ make a mess.”

The orgasm snapped like a rubber band deep in your tummy. Your toes curled as you screamed as loud as your lungs would allow into your pillow. Suguru sucked in a breath, Following your body that collapsed on the bed, his hips still frantically moving against the fat of your ass, chasing his release that came just as fast and hard.

“Fuck~ oooh fuck yes baby! Cumming~ cummin’!”

Geto continued fucking you, not once slowing down, until he fully pulled out of you, loud pop echoing off the walls. You weakly protested as he repositioned your back arched ass out, you already knew what he was doing, but your body just wanted to slump back onto the mattress and fall asleep. But this was what your boyfriend wanted to do, and seeing that your pictures were the reason for his horny desires, let him do what he wanted if you listen to several clicks from the Polaroid behind you.

“Fuck—” Suguru whispered, shaking the photo as he set the camera aside, pulling you onto his chest. “This is Playboy material, babes.” he had the picture between his pointer and middle finger, turning it for you to see the photo he had captured of his cum running out of your pussy.

Seeing such an intimate photo of yourself like that didn’t leave you feeling dirty or embarrassed in any way, shape, or form. Instead, it had you feeling the returning burning desire in your stomach. And while your boyfriend, the pictures he had taken, adding to your collection. Suguru was so entranced he nearly missed the sensation of your soft kisses trailing down his stomach.

“Excuse me,” he scoffed, setting the pictures to the side. Just what do you think you’re doing there, princess?”

“Cleaning up my mess~ get the camera ready. I want you to take a lot of pictures. That way, I can reference what I have to do to improve my technique.” Suguru wanted to chuckle, but when you dragged your tongue over the underside of his cock, his eyes rolled back as he weakly searched for the camera that was on the side of his bed. He loved coming home early.

Nanami Kento

“Ken! Baby, I think something is wrong with my laptop!” you say before dramatically hitting the keyboard.“It’s banging for me to put it out of its misery. I think it’s finally time that I retire this guy.”

“Huh, it’s not that old model.” You pouted as your husband took your laptop from before you and plopped it down on his lap as he began typing at the computer. He looked as though he was some hacker from one of those cheesy nineties movies. “If you would keep it up-to-date like I’ve told you to do multiple times, you wouldn’t have this issue every time you opened it.”

“I hate waiting—”

“You need patience in your life; it can make things go a lot smoother for you in the long run.”

You puffed out your cheeks, knowing very well that your husband had always been right. You needed to take more time to find solace in your life. Maybe one of these days you would be able to do that. Today was not one of those days, though. You need to get on your laptop and finish the report, or your boss will surely give you an earful the following day.

“Yaga will kill me if I don’t get this report to him by the end of the day. Kento baby, what am I going to do? I’m too fragile to go up against, Yaga!”

Kento laughs, looking at you over the bridge of his glasses. “You and I both know you are more than capable of taking them out. Give yourself more credit, Love.” You appreciated your husband's honesty, but that didn’t help you with your current situation.

“Kento, that’s not gonna help me with my report.”

“Love of my life, it’s an easy fix. Just use my laptop while I try to get this up-to-date for you.”

Nanami rolled his eyes as you smothered kisses alongside his cheek. “Oh my god, thank you! I love you so much!” You grabbed your husband’s laptop and went to work on your report. Well, he clicked and tapped more gently at your keyboard than you had before.

He was able to update your system. The wheel constantly turned on your screen while he sipped on his wine. Nanami made a mental note to show you how to do this yourself once your report was submitted to Yaga; as your screen returned to life, it didn’t open on your lock screen, which was usually a picture of the two of you on your wedding day. Your laptop had decided to open up right where you had left it two nights before.

It was still a picture of you, but it was from your boudoir photo shoot for your wedding. Nanami choked on his wine as he stared at the screen, his cheeks flushing, and all the tips of his ears burned as he stared at the most intimate pictures he had ever seen. Pictures you had yet to show him after three months of being married.

The intimate photos of you are done so tastefully. Most range from different positions, like lying on a couch in your robe with your veil on. While the other was of you slipping your wedding dress on the backs, nagging against the fat of your ass, showing off the pretty lacy white underwear you had been wearing. But the photo that had Nanami choking was of you on your knees, your wedding veil falling over the swells of your bare breasts as your hands covered your nipples. Your eyes narrowed, staring at the camera while your lips parted slightly. Seeing you like that made him try to inhale his wine, which ended poorly for him.

“Oh! Did it go down the wrong pipe?” You asked, putting his laptop down. “At least it's white wine and not red. Red wine stains are bitch to get out of the carpet.” You stood up from your spot, stretching your arms above your head. “I'll go get you rag quick.”

You barely moved two steps before your husband was following after you. “Why didn’t you show me the pictures from your boudoir photo shoot?”

“Oh! Well, I didn’t care for how some of them came out, so I decided to pick through my favorites before I showed you. Why do you ask?”

Nanami didn’t need to answer your question because you got your answer the second your eyes darted toward your laptop. And, of course, he was looking at one of the pictures you even had a chance to look through. You just stared at the photo of yourself before running a hand down your face.

“They’re terrible, I know. I should’ve never let Shoko convince me to do it.”

Nanami gently took your hand, leading to the front of his pants. He placed your fingers over the hard bulge that was throbbing. You swallowed hard, glancing up at your husband, who was blushing just as much as you, and his very physical reaction twitched, letting you know that your husband liked the photos from your sexy photo shoot.

“I like them; I like them a lot.”

“I can tell,” you whispered, brushing your fingers over his erection through his pants. “Ken, you're so hard.”

“T-Th-hhngh photo.” he jerked his head toward your laptop, “really caught my attention.”

“Oh, it did?”

“Yes.”

Looking back at your screen, you truly took in the side of your photo. Your photographer had shot the picture in black-and-white, giving it a certain elegance despite the horny look in your eyes. You remembered asking for that specific pose for your husband. But in reality, it was for you.

You pushed Nanami back against the bed with a smirk. “Is there a reason why that picture cut your attention?” He huffed a sigh, blushing a darker shade as he watched you rub your cheek over the bulge.

“I like it because I love it when you’re on your knees for me, sucking my cock.”

Your fingers wrapped around his buckle, unfastening it. “Can I let you in on a little secret?” Nanami nodded, growling as you tucked his pants down. “That’s why I asked for her to take that specific picture. Because I know how much you love me on my knees for you.” You pressed kisses along his shaft from the base to the tip, your tongue ding over the pre-cum that was seeping through the fabric

“O-Oh—”

“Let me demonstrate.”

Your demonstration continued for what seemed like an eternity in heaven. Nanami gently stroked your hair as you slid your lips up and down, taking his cock further into your mouth. "Ohh fuck yes, those photos of you looked so good, baby girl. Makes me wanna devour you~" Kento gently grabbed the top of your head, pulling you forward until his cock slid across your tongue, hitting the back of your throat.

You hummed around him, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock before bobbing your head slowly up and down over him. Staring into the sea of lust, your eyes looked like how they had at done with the camera during your photo shoot. That submissive pose, the faux innocence in your eyes, was precisely what Nanami loved about this position.

"Ohh fuck. Perfect little mouth just for me, huh?”

You moaned in approval as you bobbed your head. Nanami was the perfect husband. If he was going to praise the photo of you, he felt like you didn’t look good, and he would get a treat. He was so kind, sweet, and considerate to you, so if you were able to spoil him once in a while as a thank you for all of his sweet words and for providing for you, you would not hesitate at the chance to do so.

Kento pushed you back by your forehead, groaning softly. "Fuck, you look so pretty~" He growled before thrusting into your mouth, his balls slapping against your chin. You whined around him, looking up at him into his eyes as he fucked your mouth. You could feel yourself getting wet on every ball of your head. He moaned low in his chest, looking back into your eyes. "Oh. I know that look~ You want me to make love to don't you honey?” Your eyes snapped wide as you blushed deeply. “Good girl~ Once I use your throat, then I'll fuck you like you need, darling~" Kento groaned, speeding up his hips.

Your eyes watered, streams of black trailing down your cheeks as he fucked your throat slowly. Watching him slowly lose control made your finger twitch as you slowly reached down, rubbing yourself. God, you loved him, and you loved how he made you feel!

"Ah-ah. What did I just say, Love. let me cum down your throat firat, then your pussy can feel good. I want to spoil you for being—ah—such a good girl.” He purred, speeding up slightly before stiffening as your tongue wrapped expertly around him, massaging his shaft in time with the bobbing of your head. “F-Fuck! Yes, j-just l-like t-th-hhngh! Haa! Fuck!” Kento snarled before cumming in your mouths, face fucking you through it.

With each spurt that filled your mouth, you eagerly swallowed it, only pulling off of him when Kemto was whimpering from the overstimulation. As you sat on your knees, licking your lips, Nanami watched you through half-lidded eyes. His lips slightly parted as he did something he had never done before. He pulled his cell phone out and held it directly in front of your face.

“Ken?”

“Stick your tongue out. Show me how you swallowed it all.” without arguing, you did as your husband asked, sticking your tongue out. As you did, he snapped a few pictures before growling and zooming in on each. “Fuck you're so beautiful.” He sighed, admiring his photos for one other second before he placed his phone down on the couch before yanking you up onto the sofa and flinging your panties off.

“Ah! K-Kento, what are you doing??!”

“You being on your knees in front of me might be one of your favorite positions.” He growled as he nipped and sucked on your inner thighs. “Well, one of my favorite positions is right here, between your thighs so sit back and relax, my love. I’ll take very good care of you.” You squealed as his tongue ran over your sensitive clit, before arching you back, eagerly bucking across his mouth.

Note to self: Get Shoko a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of wine for booking the boudoir photographer for you!

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

1K notes · View notes

landopoet · 25 days ago

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crave.

pairing teammate!lando x sainz!reader

warnings smut, mentions of alcohol

playlist obsessive - chase atlantic / is there someone else? - the weeknd / 2 hands - tate mcrae / sex money feelings die - lykke li / favourite - isabel larosa

synopsis what happens when the person you hate stays over for the weekend?

part one of a two part series

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Y/N, come down. Lando’s here.”

Your home in Monaco has always been your comfort place. It’s always quiet, always peaceful, it helps you detach from the harsh reality of having a bitchy teammate who, despite being your brother's best friend, hates you.

So, when you hear Carlos call for you from the hallway, you’re rolling your eyes at the feeling of peace being torn from you by the mere mention of your rival’s name.

You jog down the stairs and watch as Lando glances at you from the kitchen, the tiniest look of irritation on his face. Carlos is making him a cup of tea and you sit down on the island beside the sink.

“You didn’t tell me Lando would be coming over.” You watch as your brother’s eyes lock onto yours.

“I didn’t.” He shrugs. “But it’s my home, so who I invite shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Our home.”You roll your eyes. “It’s not, unless you’re inviting Lando.”

Lando clears his throat from right behind you, finding a seat at the other side of the island. “I’m right here, by the way.”

“I wish you weren’t.” You mumble, hopping off the island and getting ready to go back to your room. Carlos calls your name before you can make it up the first step of the staircase. “What?” You ask, annoyed.

“The season starts next week, I assume you’ve been informed about the celebratory party tomorrow evening?”

“I have.” You lean against the railing of the stairs. “Why?”

“Lando’s joining us.” Carlos states, placing the warm cup of tea in front of Lando. Your eyes examine the look on his face and you can’t help to notice that your brother is completely serious. Lando seems to have that same conclusion when his mouth parts to retaliate.

“No, I’m not.”

A sigh slips past Carlos’ lips, his head tilting back and eyes closed, irritation painting every single one of his sharp features. “Yes, you are.”

“That’s unfair. I’m not going.” You declare, arms crossed over your chest. Lando’s eyes glanced at you for a moment, gaze lingering on the way your tits looked cute pushed up like that. He shakes his head, as if to rid it of that thought. Nice attempt, considering it didn’t work.

“Me neither.” Lando says, agreeing with you for once.

Carlos pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly irritated. “Both of you are so childish. It’s a work party, not something random you can skip.”

“But-“ You sigh, not getting into more arguments. The parties are usually hosted at clubs big enough to get lost in, so even if you did go, there’s a low chance you’d interact with Lando throughout the night. That thought alone calms you down, distracting you from the fact that the man in question will be staying at your home for a few days. “Fine.”

Carlos smiles at you with a pleasant look on his face and you roll your eyes at both of the men before jogging back up the stairs. You can hear their voices fading into the background as you shut your bedroom door behind yourself, going back to whatever you were doing earlier.

There’s at least another three hours of uninterrupted peace, before you hear footsteps making their way up the stairs. It wouldn’t make sense for Carlos to be up here, since his bedroom is on the first floor, which means that the loud footsteps you’re hearing belong to none other than Lando himself. You can’t help but roll your eyes at that. He can’t seem to do anything peacefully, in race or not.

You peel your eyes away from the book in your lap and focus your attention on Lando’s noises in the hallway. He steps closer and closer to your bedroom door, and you can tell he’s about to barge in, but he notices the light coming from under the door and steps away.

Lando runs a hand down his face as he tries his best to navigate his way through your house. He opens the door that’s right beside your room and finds out that it’s the bathroom. The next door he opens is a walk-in closet and he groans in frustration. “The fuck do they need so many rooms for.” He mumbles under his breath.

His home back in England isn’t anything short of fancy, but it’s surely not a maze. He opens the next door and, to his surprise, it’s yet another bathroom.

“It’s the door in front of my room.” Your head poked out through your bedroom door and Lando turned around to face you, his eyes turning darker with a coldness to them.

Lando walks to the door you were aiming your finger at. His fingers grip the handle and when the door swings open, he sees that it is, in fact, his room. He notices the small smirk on your lips. “I knew that.”

You can’t help but laugh at him trying to play it off cool. “Of course you did.”

⟡

The kitchen tiles are cold beneath your bare feet.

You’re rummaging your fridge for something to eat. Having Lando in the house means you’re locked away in your own room, avoiding him at all costs. Which also meant that you denied dinner, saying you weren’t hungry even when your brother persisted.

There was no way in hell you’d eat dinner at the same table as Lando Norris. Not in your own home, at least.

You grabbed an armful of ingredients and set them down on the cupboard beside the stove. Bowls and utensils messily scatter the kitchen island and you’re close to finished with your dinner when a creak of the stairs pulls you out of your peacefulness. Once again, Lando’s the culprit.

“What’re you doing?” He cocks his head to the side at the sight of messy dishes and the sound of jazz quietly playing through the kitchen.

You roll your eyes as you plate your food. “Making dinner.”

“At eleven p.m.?” He slips his phone back in his pocket after checking the time.

“Are you judging me, Norris?”

Lando shrugs. “No, just curious. Carlos made food a few hours ago, but you were too stuck up to join us. And I bet it’s because of me.”

You hate how right he is and you curse yourself for your surprised face, giving away that he was right. His lips curl up at the sides and form into a small smirk. “And? I think it’s obvious I don’t like having you here.”

“I’d say I don’t like being here, but Carlos has been nice to me, so I’m actually enjoying my stay.” Lando’s eyes follow you as you take a seat at the dining table, him choosing to sit opposite of you. After a moment of silence— which you wished would last for as long as Lando’s staying with you— he spoke. “Y’know, I never understood you.”

You can tell he’s taunting you, yet still you choose to look up from your plate with a raised brow. The shape of his toned biceps bulging as his arms cross over his chest and he sits back in the chair distracts you from the small smirk on his face.

“You’ve always had something against me. Ever since karting days.” He muses, eyes interrogating and narrowed on your confused face. “Carlos never told me anything about it, so I assumed it must’ve been a family secret. Maybe the Sainz just hated my family name.”

You snort at the conclusion. “My dad barely knows who you are, don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m not.” He’s quick to defend himself, his voice monochrome and calm. “I think the only reason you hate me is because you feel inferior to me. Which, if I must say, is completely understandable, given that I am better than you in any way, shape or form.”

You stare at him with disbelief. Was he being serious or was this his way of trying to befriend you? He’s making a complete fool of himself with that little rant of his, and you weren’t even sure what it was about. Half of that was complete nonsense, considering you are the one winning races left, right and centre. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He sneers, leaning closer to you across the table. You feel his gaze on your face, studying and focused, as if he was trying to get under your skin. But to no avail.

You finish up your food and pick your plate up, getting ready to walk away. “You’re delusional, Norris. Last time I checked, you hated me first and for no reason, so there’s no need for you to try and study my behaviour. Maybe you should reflect on yours.”

And with that, you walk back to the kitchen, leaving Lando sitting alone in the dining room, a small smirk plastered on his face.

⟡

The blasting music of the club, paired with the luminescent lights and LEDs lining the ceiling made you that much more excited to get drunk.

The atmosphere of the building was unlike any other place you had attended F1 parties at. It was less formal, therefore more crowded and cosy. The bar caught your eye immediately upon arrival, and you made a beeline to it.

You had every intention to swallow more alcohol than you know can handle, to feel the aching bitterness in the back of your throat from the shots you know you’ll do, to feel your brain get dizzy with your drunkenness.

Ordering a round of shots for you and some other drivers, you made your way to the table your brother chose to occupy. You gently placed the tray with twelve shot glasses on the table, before placing yourself between Max and Daniel.

Each man picks up a shot glass, raising it up in the air with a small salute, before downing it all without a chaser. You put your glass back and noticed one of them untouched.

“Lando, mate.” Charles calls for him, seemingly able to pull the Brit out of his focus on his phone. “You didn’t do a shot.”

Lando shook his brown head of curls. “Don’t wanna.”

Your brother simply shrugged when you made brief eye contact, raising your eyebrows in surprise. Then, you grabbed Lando's shot glass and downed it, bringing it to your lips in a "cheers."

Daniel grinned widely as you placed the glass back, his arm around the back of the sofa as he told you how Lando stopped drinking alcohol a few months ago, after some epiphany about drinking.

You knew that was wrong, because Lando downed each bottle of champagne he had after winning second place to you, especially the race he nearly won in Abu Dhabi right before the break. It felt silly whenever he’d be on the podium with you, because that’s the only time you could really feel his deep hatred for you.

With spurts of champagne escaping his bottle, Lando would spray anyone but you.

It’s not that big of a deal, honestly. You prefer it that way, as your suit doesn’t soak in as much of the smell as it would if Lando contributed to drowning you as a celebration.

Your eyes scan the room, watching all the other drivers having a fun time on the dance floor. Daniel sprung to his feet upon hearing his name fall from your lips, watching as you extended a hand and he took it almost instantly. You turn around and down your third shot before dragging Daniel into the crowd of strangers and drivers, limbs in the air as they dance to the music.

The lack of space on the dance floor forced you to dance a little closer to Daniel. You were intoxicated but not enough to ignore the way his fingers snaked around your waist. Daniel's hands wrapping around you melted your insides to mush, blood pouring to your cheeks and staining them crimson.

The view of you two made Lando’s blood boil.

He hated it. Hated every bit of watching you dance against his ex-teammate, as if it’s some sort of tactic to make Lando pissed. He notices the glimmer in your eye when you look at Daniel and briefly look back at Lando, some feeling of jealousy planting itself in the pit of his stomach. Whatever you’re doing, it’s working.

Lando’s eyebrows sit low on his forehead, crease in the middle of them as he tries his best not to look at you two. He can’t help it, though. You’re in his peripheral vision and his eyes seem to follow you everywhere, seeming to have a mind of their own.

“Oh, fuck no.” Carlos’s Spanish accent rings in Lando’s ears as he watches his best friend stand up and make his way to the dance floor. A small smirk paints itself across Lando’s features, seeing Carlos practically pull Daniel away from you.

Daniel comes back to the table with his tail between his legs, shoulders slumped and head hung low in faux guilt. He downs his second shot before sitting down beside Max.

“Didn’t work?” Max asks, accepting Daniel’s offering of going outside for some air. “I told you he wouldn’t let you.”

Lando hears their conversation as they walk away. Daniel says he’s still got the whole night to convince Carlos that he’s good enough for you, and that thought alone pierces Lando’s chest, for whatever reason.

You notice the absence of Daniel and Max at the table, finally left alone by your older brother. Carlos is protective of you and it’s sweet, but it gets too much. There was no chance you were sleeping with Daniel, but having a little fun doesn’t hurt, right?

Carlos is convinced it does hurt, he’s convinced every guy you’ve ever spoken to wants to hurt you by being so sweet. Maybe that’s why he’s not so adamant you stay away from Lando. He knows Lando seems like he’d do anything to hurt you, but through the eight years of their friendship, Lando hasn’t laid a single hand on you.

Not since karting days, anyway.

You and Lando were wild as children. Evil grins decorating your lips as you got ready to tease each other by pushing one another into the barricades of the track. Karting was fun and took little effort, now that you look back on it, but you were small and it took a toll on you every time Lando would get in your way.

It got so annoying that, one time, you got out of your kart and jumped onto his, strangling him in the process as you tried to sabotage whatever he would have achieved that day.

You learnt not to do that if you wanted to keep your seat in the team. That’s when Lando began having his fun, knowing you couldn’t do anything physically to him anymore. He started poking fun at you, making sure to really get under your skin to the point where your fists were held so tightly your knuckles turned white, but you wouldn’t lunge at him like you used to.

Everyone thought it was something you’ll grow out of, but Lando kept having his fun even after both of you got into Formula One.

You thought he’d mature, but as he once told your brother, he’s happy where he is and seems to have no intention of changing his behaviour with you.

Recently, he’s been reconsidering it.

He thinks about you more than he’d like to admit. Hell, he could never admit it out loud, even if he wanted to. Lando feels as though he’s ruined any chance of you seeing him as anything other than a rival. He doubts you’d want to know him beyond what’s said on his Wikipedia page, anyway.

Not that he’s read yours, or anything. He doesn’t need to. Lando’s known you for enough time to remember the small details. And your brother rambling about you surely added onto the mental notes Lando kept of you.

All it took was to observe you to fall in love.

Lando shakes that thought out of his head, watching as his two friends come back from getting fresh air. Carlos has been talking to Charles, and to Lando, about something to do with the new car for Ferrari, but Lando was far too busy watching the way the skirt of your dress caressed your thighs as your fingers slowly lifted it up in sync to the lyrics of whatever song was playing.

There was no reason for Lando to get up as fast as he did. The other guys at the table looked unamused as Lando made his way to the DJs table, asking if he could play around for a bit. The DJ, clearly shocked that Lando Norris was speaking to him, immediately agreed and let him take over.

First thing Lando did? Change the fucking song.

He couldn’t bear seeing you reveal the tender skin of your thighs to every stranger in this god damned room. He felt as if he deserved to be the only one to see it, even though he wasn’t. Let a boy dream.

Your eyes scanned the room to find the DJs table, confused as to why the song was changed, and when you found it, they rolled to the back of your head. Of course Lando would be behind your ruined fun. When your eyes meet his, you get even more irritated by the dumb smirk on his face. You have half a mind to go wipe it off his face, either with your fist or with your lips. Both would work.

Lando’s eyes follow your figure as he messes around with the songs, his only focus being you and the glimpse of the back of your legs as you sit at the bar. He watches as you order a drink, the bartender winking at you as he places the glass in front of you. Lando rolls his eyes, going back to entertaining the people on the dance floor.

You feel a chill run down your spine, feeling uncomfortable with the conversation going on between you and the bartender. Carlos, as if he had a feeling, comes up from behind you and pulls you away by your arm. This was one of the rare moments you were thankful for his interruption.

He brings you back to the table and you sit between Max and Daniel again, watching as they down another round of shots they ordered. You quickly finished your margarita, joining the men and taking a shot glass into your hands.

“Slow down,” Carlos warns, a hint of worry tainting his stern voice. You look right at him as you press the glass to your lips before throwing your head back and downing it. Carlos rolls his eyes before doing the same.

It's another hour of you sitting by the table and talking to them about whatever topics you decided to dissect. It started off with Daniel asking about your last season, Max continuing and somehow talking about his cats, Charles started rambling about his interest in piano and you rambled about Carlos’ inability to cook pasta without leaving it rock solid (to which Charles could relate.)

“You wanna get some fresh air?” Daniel nudges you with his elbow, your eyes following Max and him as they get up. You rise to your feet and Carlos is too drunk to mind you leaving with his two friends, so you quickly swivel between the drunk strangers and outside through the backdoor. You’re sure that’s not allowed, but Max opened it for you and you couldn’t resist.

Daniel leans back against the brick wall of the neighbouring building while Max stands by the door, his foot keeping it open so you’re not locked out. You squat down and copy Danny, leaning back against the wall with your head raised high.

Max is the first to break the silence. “Why’s Carlos so protective of you?”

“Dunno.” You shrug, the too-many shots finally getting to your head. “He’s just… I don’t know. I guess it’s what a big brother does.”

“Right.” Daniel nods, yet his head still cocks to the side. “Why doesn’t he do that with Lando?”

You snort at the question. “Does Lando dance with me or wrap his arms around my waist in a crowd of strangers?”

“Well, no. But he looks at you like he’s in love, or something.” Max points out. You can’t tell if it’s his drunken state that’s causing him to speak such nonsense, so once again, you can’t help but giggle at that.

“Right.”

A new silence settles in and you’re enjoying the fresh air, feeling how the coldness of winter is slowly creeping away and the warmth of spring replaces it.

The door is pushed open and Max nearly falls on you when Lando bursts outside. He looks at Daniel, then Max, and when his frantic eyes finally land on you, his gaze softens. “Get up.”

Your mouth opens to reply with denial, but the look on Lando’s face as he holds the door open for you makes you immediately rise to your feet. When you approach him, he softly grabs your arm and pulls you inside, while Daniel and Max give each other a knowing look.

“Where are we going?” You yell for Lando to hear over the loud music. He leads you both to the table where he hands you your purse and continues to pull you with him. “Lando!”

“Home.” Is all he says, and he’s dragging you outside through the front entrance, making his way to his car. You don’t protest, intrigued with the igniting feeling of his touch on your skin. It sends sparks through your body, making you more dizzy than the alcohol did.

He opens the passenger seat door for you and helps you in. You’re about to reach for the seatbelt when you feel Lando reach over and buckle you up, his chest at eye-level and you can’t help but catch a peek of his bare chest through his unbuttoned shirt. Lando notices your eyes soak in the view of him, your eyebrows raising just a tad before you look away.

When Lando gets into the driver's seat, he turns to you as if he wanted to say anything, but when he notices you looking out the window, seemingly upset, he drops it and starts the car.

The car ride is quiet for the first five minutes, before he breaks the silence. “You shouldn’t have drank so much.”

Your already annoyed self turns to face him. “You dragged me home early and now you’re parenting me?”

Lando sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not parenting you. I’m just… looking out for you.” The look on his face wants to seem like he’s kidding or teasing, but shades of his genuine feelings shine through.

“Why the fuck would you do that?” You ask, trying your best to hold back a laugh. “You’re so set on ruining any fun I have, yet you’re looking out for me.”

Lando feels his chest tighten, so he makes up an excuse. “Your brother asked me to.”

“Of course he did.”

That wasn’t entirely a lie. Carlos did ask Lando to drive you home before you even got to the club, that’s why Lando wasn’t drinking. He bullshitted some excuse to Daniel about how he realised drinking is not his thing, knowing damn well he wanted to get wasted the second he saw you carrying back those shots with a little sway in your hips. But he figured getting drunk by looking at your body was better than alcohol, anyway.

Carlos didn’t ask Lando to look out for you. His request was to drive you home, so Lando’s not sure why he’s helping you out of the car or opening the front door for you, or why he’s following you into your room.

“You can tell Carlos I’m capable of getting into bed myself, he didn’t need to ask you to tuck me in.” You roll your eyes, pulling off your jacket and dropping it on the armchair. Lando stands in the doorway watching you get into bed.

“He cares about you.” Lando points out, slowly making his way into your room and leaning back against your desk, standing right in front of your bed. “Maybe start to appreciate that.”

“Oh, please.” You plop back against your pillows. “Did Carlos also ask you to lecture me?”

“No,” Lando shrugs, your eyes following his rising shoulders and gazing lower to the unbuttoned shirt. “I’m just saying.”

“You could try shutting up once in a while.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head. If he keeps talking, you’re sure you’ll either punch him or yourself. Being in the same room with the person you hate yet crave is so unbearable. Especially when the person in question is Lando.

“Don’t wanna.”

Lando’s gaze burned into you as he stood there, his eyes challenging and lips pulled into a teasing smirk. Your eyes held contact with his, the pit in your stomach growing with each second. The air felt like it suddenly disappeared from your room and you could tell Lando felt it, too.

“You should.” You finally say. “You’d look smarter.”

Lando’s mouth opens with a quiet chuckle, his Adam’s apple rising and falling, and hypnotising you. The pit in your stomach grows as your eyes continue exploring his facial features. His jaw is so sharp, yet so delicate, and the way it pairs with his fierce eyes makes you weak in the knees.

Your eyes are focused on his lips when they part. “If it bothers you so much, why don’t you come over here and shut me up yourself?”

Lando finds it amusing how your pretty little lips part in surprise after the words leave his mouth. It’s interesting to him how much you want him, despite making it so clear that he’s the last person you wanna be talking to.

Lando’s enjoying this, meanwhile you have no idea how to feel.

There’s a weird feeling in your chest, apart from your rapidly beating heart. The sudden change in Lando’s eyes after he says those words makes you that much more nervous. You’re not even sure why you’re nervous. Maybe it’s the piercing gaze of his that burns into your skin, or maybe it’s the fact that your legs seem to have a mind of their own, as you stand up.

His eyes follow your figure as you approach him, mainly focused on that sway in your hips that he’s been addicted to since the start of the night. He thinks it should be criminal to look that good in your little black dress, only so he could be the one to punish you for it.

When you’ve stopped two steps in front of Lando, his calloused hands find your waist and he pulls you against him. You feel the warmth seeping in through his button-up and it clashes so perfectly with the chills he’s sent down your spine.

Lando watches as you lean in, closer and closer, your faces mere inches apart. And when he expects you to kiss him, you look him dead in the eyes and say, “get out of my room.”

The shocked look on his face sends satisfaction through your body and the way it slowly falls into disappointment makes you wonder what he expected of you.

His hands slowly slip away from your waist and he pulls himself away from you, not sparing a glance your way as he closes the door behind himself.

⟡

The next morning is everything you expected it to be— awkward, silent, uncomfortable.

Your place in the kitchen and Lando’s place in the living room seem to be so separate, yet it feels like all your thoughts are floating around in a bubble above your heads. You keep stealing glances of Lando, hiding your gaze from him, and he keeps watching you shamelessly.

He doesn’t care anymore about your rivalry. It bothers him that he had you right there, practically in his hands, yet he managed to somehow lose that. And he’ll do whatever it takes to make you his.

“When is Carlos coming back?” He yells from the couch in front of the TV. Your eyes rise from your cereal bowl and lock onto his.

Both your shoulders rise with a shrug. “Dunno. I think he went to Charles’ for the weekend.”

Lando turns back to the TV, a new thought brewing in his mind and his hypothetical bubble pops with the idea. He has a whole weekend with you and that’s enough time, he reckons.

Lando turns his head back to you when you speak. “When are you leaving?”

It comes out an awful lot more rude than you intended it to be, but it’s just the way you’re used to talking to Lando.

He repeats your action and shrugs. “Sunday, maybe.”

“Cool.”

His green eyes watch as you get up off of the dining chair and make your way to the kitchen sink, that addicting sway of your hips turning his mind into mush. His legs work faster than his mind and next thing he knows, he’s in the kitchen with you.

You see from the corner of your eye him opening the fridge and taking a can of diet coke out, and when he walks past you, he makes sure to gently touch your waist as if he was softly guiding you out of his way. “Sorry.”

Lando wished he could’ve seen the look on your face when his hips softly brushed past your behind, his fingers barely gripping your waist, yet the feeling of his warm touch managed to send a million bolts of heat through your body.

You stand there, wide eyed, your slightly panicked gaze following Lando’s figure as he walks away and back to his spot on the couch. He doesn't seem affected by that at all and you choose to ignore the flutter in your chest when he looks back at you again.

⟡

The sky had changed colours by the time you got out of the shower. The subtle shades of pink and orange turned into black, slowly disrupting the peace of turquoise that you loved to watch.

Lando noticed the change too, beginning to miss your anxious presence in the living room. He shuts off the television and places the remote on the coffee table, leaving all of his other stuff scattered along the glass surface.

His heavy footsteps weigh on the stairs, but you’re far too focused on your skincare to hear anything other than the soft music playing from your phone.

You’re trying your best to focus on anything but Lando.

He’s the only thing on your mind ever since he came here. You’d like to say that you’ve only thought of him romantically since the thing that happened in your bedroom last night, but you’d be lying to yourself. Lando has been on your mind in the romantic way since you both were sixteen, the one time you both got a podium and he gave you a toothy smile, the look on his face enough to make you forget about your rivalry.

And his stay here, as much as you can tolerate it, is slowly making you lose your sanity.

He’s been touching you gently all day, playing it off as if you were in his way, when there was clearly enough room for him to step by. And not to mention the use of petnames. Hearing ‘darling’ fall from his lips made your knees buckle each time.

You decided to shower after he scooted closer to you on the couch, his thigh brushing up against yours, the fabric of your satin shorts riding up just enough to make Lando’s mind reel.

The shower was good enough of a distraction, as you began to focus more on yourself than the man in the house.

And just as you settle in with the fact that this is your new life for the next few days, the bathroom door swings open and Lando peeps in. The sound of a slap echoes through the room as his palm finds his eyes. “I am so sorry.”

“Lando, what the fuck! Get out!” You throw a random towel at him, the white fabric perfectly landing to cover his head.

The curly haired man quickly scrambles to close the door, yelling sincere apologies because, despite seeming like it, this wasn’t another one of his teases. He’s still so lost around your house and he thought this was his bathroom, but turns out that’s far from it.

Despite that being horribly embarrassing for the both of you, Lando couldn’t rid his mind of the image— your hair falling so beautifully on your shoulders, your back dripping with the last few drops of water, the white towel hugging your body so nicely, leaving little to the imagination as it tightly wrapped around your ass.

And the image of your breasts, once again pushed up and so visible in the reflection of the mirror, suddenly made all the blood in his body target one specific location.

It takes Lando two doors to find his bedroom, and he locks the door the second he steps inside. He doesn’t waste time unbuttoning his shorts, his hands quickly pushing them down to his thighs. Lando’s back rests against the pillows on his bed, eyes squinting shut to try and preserve the vibrant image of your body as his hand tugs down his pre-cum soaked boxers.

His slender fingers wrap around his length as his mind completely warps the whole event that just happened.

Lando imagines himself stumbling into the bathroom, you standing there and looking at yourself in the mirror. Instead of you rushing him to leave, you grabbed his hand and pulled him into the bathroom. Instinctively, his hands wrapped around your waist, but you softly guided his left hand down to your entrance.

Lando can’t help but whimper as he imagines how wet you’d be for him. His hand slowly pumps his cock, applying pressure from time to time, eyes still glued shut.

He imagines you peeling the towel off— agonisingly slow just like the tease you are— to reveal those beautiful breasts he’s been dreaming of seeing. He feels a shock go through his body as his hand speeds up, an orgasm soon to flood his mind.

So he makes the most of it.

Lando imagines himself pulling you in and kissing your lips, fingers still softly touching you down there. Multiple moans and whimpers leave his mouth as he imagines all he’d do to you, and everything he’d let you do to him. He doesn’t hold back at all, your name falling from his lips without any fear of you hearing him.

And you do.

You hear every single moan and whimper, and the sounds of him masturbating to the image of you. For the past eight minutes, your ear has been pressed to the surface of your wooden door, trying to hear every sound he makes, no matter how loud or quiet.

With the final pump of his hand, Lando comes undone, strings of his cum coating the surface of his abdomen and hands.

You hear a deep, throaty groan leave his mouth and the deep breaths that follow after, and you can only imagine how pretty he must look with his curls stuck to his forehead, eyes closed shut and mouth parted in pleasure.

That image alone was enough to make your knees buckle and a certain warmth fill your belly.

It takes you another twenty minutes to gather the courage and walk downstairs. You decide to distract yourself and go grab a bottle of water from the fridge, in an attempt to calm yourself.

The clock on the wall shows 2:43am.

You didn’t realise you spent nearly four hours in the shower, going to such drastic lengths to avoid being in the same room as Lando. And even that didn't work.

Somehow, whether on purpose or by accident, Lando is always where you are.

As you grab yourself a cold bottle of water, you remember when, back in your karting days, Lando got incredibly upset about his DNF. He was stomping around in his racer room and you heard all of it through the thin drywall separating you.

Next thing you knew, Lando had swung your door open, entered your room and slammed the door shut. All he did for the following twenty minutes was sit in your chair, staring at the floor with his eyebrows halfway down his face. You had never seen him so upset, so naturally that made you worry.

He ignored you asking if he was okay and simply sat there, looking at one spot as if it had been at fault for his crash into turn six.

That moment felt like it was a change.

After that, you spent more time together. Just in silence. And it reminded you of earlier today, Lando sitting on the couch when you sat down next to him and both of you watched the TV, just in silence.

Heavy footsteps cut you off from your train of thought, a gulp of water getting caught in your throat when you feel Lando walk through the kitchen.

“Can’t sleep?”

You’re not sure what this new feeling is, but there’s a warmth that fills your body at the sound of his low and raspy voice. You turn towards him, your eyes slightly wider than usual. It doesn’t help that he’s shirtless.

You watch his bare chest flex as he leans on the kitchen island, watching you with piercing green eyes. Quickly blinking, you turn your gaze to anywhere but him. “Yeah. You?”

His burning eyes watch you standing there, the bottle of water still in your hands. You feel yourself growing more nervous at the intense stare he holds on you, your hand slightly trembling.

Lando nods, his thick neck constricting in some parts, making your mouth run dry with how badly you want to kiss it. “Same.”

“Do you want a drink?” You ask, motioning to the water bottle in your hand. Lando briefly nods, his amused eyes still focused on the crimson shade that’s infiltrating your cheeks.

You turn around, your back facing him so you don’t show how red you got from his green eyes boring into you. You grab a glass from the highest cupboard, your shirt lifting enough to reveal your black, silk sleeping shorts that are a bit too short, causing Lando’s eyes to wander, as if he hadn’t already checked you out multiple times today.

With a trembling hand, you give him the glass and he smirks at your nervousness. He takes it from you, his fingers lingering for an extra moment before letting go. His eyes stayed on you as he took a few gulps of the water before finally looking away. You caught yourself watching the way the muscles on his arms swelled as he moved, almost hypnotising you.

Lando catches your fixated gaze again, but you’re too busy ogling at his biceps to notice how intensely he looks at you. Not that you hadn’t noticed it before.

“Thank you.” He says, handing you the glass and watching your fingers wrap around it, his mind travelling back to what he was thinking of upstairs.

You nod as if to say ‘no problem’, a tight-lipped smile on your lips. You stand there for an extra few seconds, your eyes stuck on Lando’s as you bite the inside of your cheek. After realising how weird that was, you turn around and place the glass in the sink. Lando expects you turn back around, but his eyebrows knit together when you stand with your back to him for a bit too long.

You just can’t bring yourself to turn back around, knowing you’d break under the weight of only his gaze. It’s already been too long of a moment with him in the kitchen, and you should have gone upstairs the second you heard him come downstairs, because whatever he came here for isn’t the only thing he’ll be leaving with.

Lando watches you, so still and so nervous. He can practically feel the anxiety bouncing off your skin and that excites him. He feels his voice rumbling in his throat before he even thinks to say anything. “Turn around.”

The stern tone to his unusually deep voice made you shiver, so you almost immediately turned around, eyes on the ground. Lando makes his way around the kitchen island to stand in front of you. You see his black Nike socks come into view and the flutter in your chest multiplies by a million.

Lando places his pointer finger under your chin, slowly raising your face to look at him. When your eyes finally lock onto his, you feel the palm of his hand cup your cheek and his thumb softly caresses it. His other hand softly wraps around your waist and pulls you in closer, your arms subconsciously wrapping around his neck.

You don’t notice how both of you start leaning in, little by little, the distance between your faces growing smaller. There’s an uncertainty in your chest, but Lando makes it go away when his lips part and he stops moving closer.

“Why haven’t you told me to stop?”

You look up at him, noticing the genuine look on his face. You lean in closer, your breath warming Lando’s lips as he anticipates your next move. He feels the soft pressure of your lips on his and then you pull away.

“Maybe I want you to kiss me.”

“I won’t be able to stop if I do, baby.”

You push back a few of the curls that are sticking to his forehead. “Then don’t.”

Lando only needed to hear the confirmation of what he already knew, and his lips immediately clashed with yours again. He feels your fingers softly tangle in his hair, your mouth parting enough for his tongue to slip in.

His fingers dig into your hips, his head moving to the side and deepening the kiss. His teeth softly pull on your bottom lip, earning a quiet whimper to escape your mouth.

“Feel me,” he mumbles against your lips, still sloppily making out with you in the kitchen of you and your brother’s shared home. Fuck. Carlos would kill Lando if he knew what was happening right now.

When you don’t touch him, he grabs one of your hands and slowly traces it down his chest. “Feel how hard I am.”

You bring your hand down, gentle fingers wrapping around his clothed dick. He’s practically throbbing in your hand. When you softly add pressure, he moans.

“Don’t do that, baby.”

You smirk against his lips. “And what if I do?”

When you palm him again, Lando grabs your wrist and tears it away from himself. “Don’t.”

The tone of his voice was enough to make your insides turn to mush. So aggressive, so mean, so hungry. Hunger, that’s what it was.

Lando was hungry for you, for the taste of you, feel of you. Ever since he saw you in that little dress, hips swaying and all. He felt himself twitch again just at the memory of it.

“What if I want to?” You push him further, your hand now resting on his abs, slowly tracing the faint happy trail down to his waistband. “What if I want to touch you?”

Lando’s hand came to cup your face while the other stayed on your hip. He softly snaked his hand around your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back. Softly enough as to not hurt you, aggressively enough to make your knees buckle.

A mischievous smile painted itself across your lips. Lando kissed you harshly again. “Are you really this eager for my dick?”

The only answer you gave was your lips on his neck. The skin was warm under your mouth, tongue swirling on the tan before softly sucking on it. You kissed your way down his chest, earning approval from Lando just by the sounds he made. He was so vocal and so loud.

When you reach the waistband of his boxers, the Calvin Klein sticking out above his sweatpants, Lando thinks you’ll stop. But you prove him so wrong when you pull down his sweatpants, fingers tucking themselves behind the waistband of his boxers. You look at him from beneath your lashes, the look alone making him drip pre-cum before you’ve even properly touched him.

“Don’t tease me, baby.” He orders and you follow. You tug down his boxers, his erection flinging up and hitting his happy trail. He groans at the feeling when your fingers wrap around him, stroking his shaft a bit before you start kissing back down his stomach.

You look up at the heaving mess of a man above you, his hands braced on the kitchen island as he tries his best not to show how desperately he needs you, but failing miserably.

“Is this okay?” You ask, hand still softly pumping his throbbing dick.

The curly haired man rapidly nods. “That’s perfect, baby, go ahead.”

Lando swears he’s never felt so fucking turned on as the moment when you started licking up from the base of his cock, ending at the tip and taking him into your mouth.

You start moving your head, taking as much of him as you can into your mouth and pumping the rest of his length with your hand. Lando feels his tip hitting the back of your throat, adding a tinge of extra pleasure to your warm and wet mouth’s feel.

You felt him twitch in your mouth as your tongue and lips worked their magic in making the dominant man squirm at the touch of you. “Ah, fuck.” He moans, his hand coming down to wrap around your hair. “Just like that, darling.”

The nickname makes you let out a soft moan of your own, the vibration sending a sort of shock down Lando’s dick. You felt yourself getting wetter, your thighs trying to rub together and ease the tension between your legs.

“I’ll take care of you,” Lando heaved, tightening his grip on your hair as he subconsciously started thrusting into your mouth. You feel tears prick your eyes as you gag at the feeling of his dick deep-throating you. “You’re being so fucking good for me, baby– fuck.”

Your whimpers vibrate through his dick and you feel his hips hitching, telling you that he’s close. But you don’t pull away and Lando notices. A smirk grows on his face when you let him continue to face-fuck you, his high soon to paint your throat.

A loud and strained moan leaves Lando’s lips, you felt a warmth fill your mouth. Lando looks down at you as he pulls out and you bat your eyelashes at him, mouth full of the sweetest man you’ve ever tasted.

“Swallow,” he orders, his fingers harshly hooking under your chin. You swallow and he intensely looks at you, his eyes holding a strict glare at you. “All of it.”

Fuck. If you said that’s not one of the hottest things you’ve heard him say, you’d be lying.

When you do as told, he cups your face and pulls you up with his other arm. He doesn’t hesitate closing the gap between your mouths, feeling the taste of himself mixed with your saliva makes his head reel.

The moment is spoiled by a ringing phone in the living room. Lando groans against your mouth when he realises that it’s his.

“Go to my room and wait for me,” he mumbles. A whine leaves your lips as he pulls you away and you watch as Lando tucks himself back into his boxers before picking up the phone call.

You make your way up the stairs as quietly as possible and when you enter Lando’s room, it’s not exactly what you had imagined it to be— you expected it to be messy, clothes scattered on the floor and bed unmade. It shocked you to see his clothes nicely folded on his chair and his bed neat.

The duvet is soft against your thighs as you plop down and lean back against the pillows. The same pillows he was sat against when you heard him earlier, the same pillows your face will be nuzzled into as he–

The door opens as soon as you think of him. Lando walks in, his curls messily sticking to his forehead as a reminder of how hot and bothered you had him downstairs.

“Who was that?” You tilt your head to the side when Lando walks closer to you, putting his phone down onto the nightstand.

He lays down next to you and pulls you to sit on his thighs. “Doesn’t matter.”

You had begun to miss the taste of his lips against yours. You watched as Lando’s eyes trace your features, lingering on your lips, green eyes following the dip in your cupid's bow before he kisses you again.

Lando’s lips taste better the second time you kiss him, and the third, and the fourth, and the many more times that make you end up with your back against the mattress and Lando’s face between your thighs.

You closed your eyes shut when Lando’s lips made contact with your clit, softly sucking on it and nipping at it with his teeth. His tongue swirled around it, sending shocks through your body.

Stars twinkle on the inside of your eyelids and you arch your back when Lando teases your hole with his finger, before pushing it in agonisingly slow. He fingers you with a pace that brings you closer to your high, and when you’re about to fall apart under his touch, Lando pulls away.

All that pleasant feeling is suddenly gone from your body and you lean up on your elbows to look at Lando. “What the fuck?”

Lando laughs at your disappointment as he licks his fingers clean. “You didn’t think I’d let you cum not on my cock?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Thought you’re nicer than that.”

Lando helps you put your clothes back on before plopping down to lay beside you and pull you into a tight cuddle. “Then you must not know me at all.”

⟡

Early morning sunshine beamed through the gap of the closed curtain and it blinded you the second you opened your eyes.

The first thing you remember feeling was warm. Overwhelmingly warm. You never sleep with thick sheets or anything that could make you wake up uncomfortably hot, so this was unusual.

The second thing you noticed was a curly head of hair on your chest.

You were annoyed at first, him being the source of the annoying heat. But then, as your fingers softly played with his curls, you grew a smile on your face.

His hair was soft. It felt like the softest thing in the world.

Lando still seemed fast asleep, so you decided to try and sleep some more, too. The second you closed your eyes, Lando switched positions and ended up spooning you again.

His lips pressed up against the back of your neck as he said, “morning, baby.”

You put your arms on his, him tightly hugging your waist, and smile a bit. “Morning, Lan.” You feel him nuzzle his head into your neck and hold you tight, planning to stay in this bed all day.

That is, until you hear the front door open and Carlos shuffling around in the kitchen. Lando freezes when Carlos’ spanish accent echoes through the room. “Y/N?”

You turn around and pull your lips into a tight line with an apologetic look on your face, before kissing him on the lips. Lando chases after you when you pull away and brings you in for a few more kisses. His arms still wrap around you and he pulls you into his chest. “Don’t go.”

“I have to.” You kiss one of the moles on his bare chest, softly tracing his side with your fingers. “I’d stay if I could.”

“I know.” He kisses the top of your head. It’s such a gentle action that it makes your stomach twist with the notion that this is probably the last moment you’ll have with him like this, before going back to hating each other.

Lando’s arms pull away from your back, yet his biceps still hold you caged in his embrace. You feel him fumbling with the bracelets he likes to wear. He takes one off— a McLaren one he got gifted by a fan, with his racer number neatly carved into the brown, wooden bead that’s in the middle of the orange beads— and flips you to your side.

You turn around to watch as he loosens the bracelet before softly slipping it around your wrist and tightening it, his fingers gripping your wrist in a way that makes your insides turn.

“So you remember me. And this.” He explains.

You smile. “I could never forget this. Or you.”

Lando laughs. His chest vibrates with a laughter that you feel in your spine. “Sappy, much?”

You roll your eyes, playfully. “Fuck you.”

And you’re back to normal— the banter, the eye-rolls, the annoying presence of Lando. It all comes rushing back.

When you go downstairs, you greet Carlos with a tight hug and pray he can’t smell the lingering scent of Lando’s cologne that’s managed to soak into your clothes.

“Morning.” You say. Carlos nods his head before turning back around to make himself some food. “How was it at Charles’?”

“Boring,” he rolled his eyes playfully, obviously joking. “I’m surprised you didn’t wreck the house by being alone with Lando for a day.”

You shrug, seated on the island in the very same spot Lando was leaning against in the early hours of the morning. “I didn’t even notice he was here, honestly.”

You couldn’t be more of a liar in that moment. And Carlos knew that. He noticed the bracelet on your wrist, but more importantly — the faint hickeys halfway hiding behind the collar of your shirt.

Your brother’s lucky his back was to you, so you didn’t notice the slight smirk on his face. “Is that so?”

“Yeah.” You look down at your feet, trying to come up with literally anything else to talk about.

Carlos shrugs. “That’s nice.”

Lando’s footsteps echo through the kitchen as he makes his way through the room. He doesn’t spare a glance at you, but gently squeezes your knee as he walks past and when Carlos isn’t watching.

“Are we leaving tonight?” He asks, plopping himself on one of the dining room chairs.

Carlos plates the scrambled eggs and toast he just made. “Yeah. I assume you’ve already packed your bags?”

Lando gives you a look and you look at him, a small smirk on your face. Lando can’t help but bite his lip to hide the smile creeping up on his face. “Yeah, of course.”

“I have a few more things to pack up, but I’m mostly done.” You lie, watching as Carlos brings his breakfast to the living room.

The rest of the day is spent frantically packing, Lando sneaking in a few small kisses when Carlos isn’t looking, and trying to hide it as best as possible from him.

Little did you two know, Carlos was in on the secret.

#f1 fanfic #lando norris #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #daniel ricciardo #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #carlos sainz #ln4 #cs55 #ln4 x reader #ln4 mcl #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 x y/n #f1 x y/n

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croquis-el · 1 month ago

Text

Self-addressing of the main female characters of Ace Attorney (Gyakuten Saiban)

I promised you, I remember

First we will analyze our mentor Chihiro Ayasato (Mia Fey)

She uses the universal polite pronoun "watashi" and it is written with kanji 私 (which is used to show an adult character)

This pronoun can be used by both women and men (watashi is also used, for example, by Mitsurugi / Edgeworth)

(これ以上、私にハジをかかせないで････)

(koreijō, watashi ni haji o kaka senaide)

(Don't make me do this anymore...)

___________________________________________

Next, of course, is the younger sister - Mayoi Ayasato (Maya Fey)

Mayoi uses the feminine pronoun "atashi", however it is written in hiragana, which indicates her "youth", compared to her older sister, giving it a less formal feel.

Atashi (あたし)

It is an altered word from わたし(watashi). It is an informal personal pronoun used by the younger generation mostly young females.

It’s also important to note that the kanji for "atashi" is exactly the same as "watashi" (私).

"Atashi" is most commonly written in hiragana as あたし.

あたしやっぱり、御剣検事がよかったよ。

atashi yappari, Mitsurugi kenji ga yokatta yo.

I think Prosecutor Mitsurugi was the best.

___________________________________________

The next equally important character is Harumi Ayasato (Pearl Fey)

The miracle child uses "watakushi" to address herself

だってわたくし、もうシンパイで････。

datte watakushi, mō shin paide.

I'm so worried...

Watakushi (私 / わたくし) is an ultra-formal term, often used by who are profusely polite, very sophisticated, or somewhat old-fashioned. Same kanji as "watashi".

___________________________________________

Then, Naruhodo's beloved daughter (our daughter) - Minuki Naruhodo (Trucy Wright)

And here it gets interesting. The girl addresses herself in the third person, i.e. instead of "I" she calls herself "Minuki".

それが、みぬきの夢なんです!

sore ga, minuki no yumena ndesu!

That's Minuki's dream!

ホント、パパはみぬきがいないとなんにもできないんだから!

honto, papa wa minuki ga inaito nan'nimo dekinai ndakara!

Really, Daddy can't do anything without Minuki!

弁護士さんが、みぬきの家族になってくれる、ってコトですか?

bengoshi-san ga, minuki no kazoku ni natte kureru, tte kotodesu ka?

Does this mean that the lawyer will become part of Minuki's family?

This kind of address is considered "childish" and is acceptable up to a certain age. The fact that Minuki does not use any pronoun "I" even at 15 years old can mean different things. Using a pronoun in the third person, your name instead of "I" - allows the brain to process information more easily and impartially in a stressful situation.

And considering that she called herself "Minuki" from the age of 8 (known to us), this is the most likely scenario.

The exact reason is unknown to us, but we can assume about it, and we know that everything here is not just like that.

___________________________________________

Next, our younger colleague - Kizuki Kokone (Athena Cykes)

The master of analytical psychology uses the pronoun "watashi", but it is written in hiragana, which, as in the case of Mayoi, indicates to us that Kokone is still a very young girl who had to enter the adult world too quickly

(わたしは、希月心音《きづきここね》)

(watashi wa, 《kizuki kokone》).

(I'm Kizuki Kokone)

___________________________________________

The lady prosecutor Karma Mei (Franziska von Karma) also uses "watashi" to refer to herself, but it is written in kanji (like the adult characters).

私の名は狩魔冥(かるまめい)。････天才検事よ。

watashi no na wa karuma mei (karuma mei). Tensai kenji yo.

My name is Karma Mei. ...I'm a genius prosecutor.

Considering that Mei grew up in the USA, this even gives her more severity and shows her desire for the ideal. In comparison with Mayoi (with whom she is the same age), Mei "formally" looks older, standing out among her peers, in an effort to catch up and overtake her brother.

___________________________________________

The forensic lady Akane Hozuki (Ema Skye) uses the feminine version of the pronoun watashi in her speech - her pronoun is "atashi" (like Mayoi)

あたし････カガク捜査官の宝月茜(ほうづきあかね)です!

Atashi kagaku sōsa-kan no hōdzuki akane (hō dzuki Akane)desu!

I'm Akane Hozuki, a science investigator!

___________________________________________

And last but not least, Mikumo Ichijou (Kay Faraday)

The crow girl uses the classical formal pronoun "watashi", which at first seems out of place with her appearance, but fits the image of a noble thief. It is also written in hiragana (young character).

わたしは正真正銘の “ヤタガラス”ですよ。

Watashi wa Shōshinshōmei No “Yatagarasu” desu yo .

I am a genuine Yatagarasu.

___________________________________________

I hope you enjoyed it and learned something new about the characters!

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elronds-meleth-nin · 3 months ago

Text

A Brush With...Kindness?

This idea came up in a discussion with @bigblissandlove1, so credit to you, my dear friend!! Thank you for being okay with me writing it! ILYSM! Thank you for screaming over both versions of Adar with meeee 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 Also holy shit, this was supposed to be like...2000 words and ended up as almost 12000. 💀

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Adar (RoP) x Reader

[A/N: This has smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Mentions of violence (not discussed in detail), blood, bloodplay, threats, knives, swords, Adar in the winter, both soft!Adar and stabby!Adar, interspecies sex, Uruk/Human sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), angst, much yearning, nudity, I feel like I'm forgetting something but I have no idea what because holy fuck this is almost 12000 words.

~*~

I knew his face from the moment he and his Uruks flooded into our village. Pillaging and looting where they could, murdering those who fought, the Uruks caused havoc. He strode in with them, looking as serene as the Elf I'd mistaken him for when I was a child.

How lucky I'd been that he'd chosen peace all those years ago. My father was a trader who traveled between Lindon, Eregion, and several villages inhabited by Men. Between the last of those villages and the borders of Eregion, we'd stopped to make camp for the night.

While my father set up our tent and tended to the horse, he asked me to gather some small sticks for the fire. I set off to do so, but in my quest for kindling, I ended up farther away from him than I'd intended with an armload of sticks large enough to make me stagger. Just as I'd begun to turn back, there was a small rustling from behind a bush a few feet away. I turned just in time to see a figure rising to his feet.

Tall, intimidating, covered in dark, aging armor, with scars on his face stood an Ellon. I let out a small, childish sigh of relief. I'd been afraid it might be a bear or an Orc or something fearsome, but it occurred to me that the presence of an Elf must mean that we were close to Eregion.

"You should not wander alone, little one. There are Uruks lurking in this forest," he said, and I noted that he sounded strange. Most Elves had voices that flowed like silvery musical notes, but his was raspy and low, as if he'd screamed for so long that he'd hurt his throat. Maybe he was a soldier, I'd thought. After all, they shout orders all the time.

"I'm not alone," I said lifting my chin as proudly as only a child could. "My father is not far from here."

He did not look convinced, yet still he offered me a smile.

"Perhaps, then, my lady, I could help you with your load?" He asked, and as I'd never been called 'my lady' before, I was not eager to disabuse him of the notion. He relieved me of my bundle of sticks, and together we began to walk back toward the camp my father had set up. After a few moments of comfortable quiet, I posed a question.

"What is an Uruk? I've never heard of one before. The word sounds sort of like 'Orc' if you say it too quickly..." I mused, and a small smile tugged at his lips. Vaguely, I wondered if his scars hurt him, but I did not think it polite to ask. At ten years old, my father had taught me manners enough to know that if a person wanted to talk about something like that, they should be the ones to bring it up.

"An Uruk is the correct name for an Orc," the Ellon said. "The words became...confused long ago. Not many remember their real name."

Oh. Well, that made sense.

"There are two people who know, now," I said smiling up at him, and he looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"That is kind of you, my lady, but you must not use that name around the Elves. They do not take kindly to having their mistakes paraded before them," he said, and that confused me.

"But...you are–"

The crunching steps of heavy boots in the underbrush startled me, but instead of an Uruk appearing from the trees, it was just my father.

"There you are! I told you not to go too far," he said striding up to me and wrapping me in his arms. He placed a kiss atop my head and only then did he turn his gaze upon my companion. Straightening, he glared suspiciously at my new friend. "Who are you? I've never seen Elvish armor quite like that."

His tone was less than kind, and, remembering my manners, I spoke up on my friend's behalf.

"Be nice, papa! He was helping me," I said. My new friend shifted the bundle of sticks to one arm, and placed his hand over his heart, inclining his head in a respectful bow.

"I intended her no harm, sir. There are many perils in this part of the forest and I wished to ensure she would not encounter danger," he explained. "Besides, a bundle this large was certainly more than a lady of her status should have to bear."

He offered me an exaggerated, deferential bow that drew a giggle from my lips. After a mere moment's hesitation, my father invited him to our camp to keep warm, since the woods grew quite cold at night. Looking back, it was obvious that he was incredibly patient with my childish questions as the three of us settled in to pass the night. Our evening meal stretched easily between three mouths, even though our new friend said that he did not wish to diminish our supply of food. We could not simply let him starve.

I woke in the middle of the night to low, whispered voices at the treeline. Carefully, I peeked through the flaps of my tent and saw two shadowed figures around the flickers of a small lamp. One stood tall, and the other hunched over.

With my father still slumbering soundly in his bedroll, I made a decision of which he surely would have disapproved. As quietly as I could, I slipped out, sneaking through the shadows of the trees until I could just make out the face of the taller person in the lamplight.

Our Ellon friend? What was he doing out here? Shifting slightly, I caught sight of the second person and–

I nearly tripped over myself to get back to my tent. He'd been speaking in a strange rasping, mean-sounding language to an Orc - or, an Uruk, as he'd called them.

I wasn't frightened of him, despite what I'd seen. Curiosity still reigned in my mind, but I still did not relish the thought of being caught eavesdropping. The next morning, I rose quite early, only to find that our guest was already gone.

"Don't look so distressed, love," my father called from his seat beside the fire. "He left this for you along with his apologies for leaving before you woke. He said his children needed him."

He held out a small piece of dark metal. It had clearly come from his armor. Carved within it was a set of stars, inlaid with some other tarnished metal.

"He said it was the symbol of the Noldorin Kings. He thought you might appreciate it and that it might serve to remind you of the conversation the two of you had," my father explained, though he looked a bit puzzled. "What conversation did he mean, if I may ask?"

As I looked at the small metal piece, it occurred to me that if he had not told my father, then perhaps there was a reason. My father might react poorly to the word 'Uruk' like our friend said the Elves would, simply because he worked so closely with them.

"He said it was dangerous to walk alone," I said, and though it wasn't a lie, it was not the whole truth, either. I'd never had reason to lie to my father before, and I hoped I would never need to again.

That night after we rode into Eregion and settled into our chambers, by candlelight I found the second symbol. Carved onto the back of the item he'd given me, there was what looked like a three-pronged shape. A tool perhaps? A maker's mark?

I wouldn't see that shape again until many years later when Lord Adar took our village. The armor piece which I'd turned into a necklace years before hung around my neck, almost burning beneath the bodice of my dress even as I averted my eyes from our new lord's.

When the morning came, we were all herded into a line leading to the steps of the tavern from which Adar was currently ruling over us. Those who refused to swear loyalty to him were summarily killed by the Uruks guarding us. When my own turn came, I dropped to my knees as all those before me had done.

Strangely, though, even as I looked up at him, I still couldn't find it within me to be afraid of him. Of death? Naturally, I was frightened, but I could not muster the same feeling regarding the Uruk lord. His eyes met mine, and his lips parted as if he recognized me.

An old man grasped my hair roughly, forcing my head down into a more subservient position.

"Do you swear allegiance to Adar, Lord Father of the Uruks?" He asked, but before I could answer either way, his tight grasp on my hair was suddenly released. "M-My lord?"

"She has already sworn for me," Adar rasped above me, and I tried not to look confused as he urged me to my feet. He reached toward me, and to my astonishment, his fingertips brushed against the pendant that had come loose from beneath the top of my dress. The one he'd given me years ago. The back with the three-pronged carving was visible because the chain had twisted. "She already wears my mark. You will not brand her, is that understood?"

"Yes, my lord," the grumpy old man said, but I could look nowhere save into the same green eyes I'd seen all those years before. I couldn't help but think about how beautiful they were.

"I shall see to the rest tomorrow, Waldreg. See that they're fed and have a place to sleep," Adar ordered. Grasping my elbow, the Lord Father of the Uruks led me away from the crowd. Once we were safely inside one of the ruined buildings, he clasped my upper arms and looked into my eyes. "I thought I told you it was dangerous to wander alone, my lady."

His voice was infinitely gentler than it had been before.

"I'm not alone," I whispered, "not when I have you."

Looking at me with a mixture of disbelief and something far too soft to be on an Uruk Lord's face, he stepped closer and carefully rested his forehead against mine. The scent of smoke and metal, earth and wood oils surrounded me, and I recognized the scent, faint though it had been, from that day in the woods.

He muttered something in the low, guttural language that the Uruks used, and though I had no idea what he'd said, the sound of it sent my heart racing in my chest.

"I thought I'd never see you again," I admitted in a whisper, and he let out a slow, almost sad sigh.

"I had hoped that you would never have need to," Adar murmured in return. When he spoke again, he sounded almost resigned. "If you wish to leave, I can arrange safe passage for you."

I considered the possibility for a moment. My mother and father were living peacefully in Eregion, thanks to the kindness bestowed upon them by Lord Celebrimbor. I could certainly go there, but...was that what I wanted?

"And...if I wanted to stay?"

Pulling his head back just far enough to look into my eyes, Adar seemed as though he both was and was not surprised at my question.

"You would be allowed to do so, of course, but you must understand that this would be a hard life," he stated. "I cannot offer you any luxuries, not like those found in Elven territory. Mordor is new. We have very little. We have not even completed the construction of our own homes yet. Is that truly the life you want? Barely getting by on scraps of food, sleeping in the ruins of an old building?"

"I can bear it," I reassured him, and he seemed to consider my words as his fingertips once again traced the chain of my necklace.

"I will not make you swear your loyalty, my lady, but I would like your word that if at any point you feel as though this life is intolerable or overwhelming, you will tell me," he murmured as his eyes met mine again. "I would not see your light dimmed by such a place as this."

Gently, I laid my hands over his.

"You have my word, my lord," I murmured, and he nodded his head slowly.

"Then, welcome to Mordor, híril vuin."

She'd been different since the day they met. Oh, she was likely an average member of her species, but Adar had little personal experience with Humans beyond the occasional interaction. Her openness when she was a child had been endearing, especially since she hadn't thought him frightening or hideous. She'd accepted him as he was without question - even going so far as to protect him from her father's suspicion.

After she'd caught him speaking with Glûg in the middle of the night, ordering his children to leave her and her father be in Black Speech, however, Adar had thought that she'd have told her father what she'd seen...that he would be met with an arrow to the chest upon his return to their camp. Instead, she'd managed to sneak back unnoticed, and he'd taken his leave before she awakened.

Never did he think that one day as a grown woman - a lady - she would be forced to kneel at his feet. Not even with the threat of death looming over her was she afraid of him.

He'd never wanted her fear. When she was a child, he'd savored her curiosity, and now, as an adult, he found that he relished her gentleness and her acceptance. She'd been courteous to all of his children whom she'd encountered, even if such behavior earned scorn from the other Humans in their encampment. She never cowered. She never diminished herself to fit into the dull little boxes that the others of her species so consistently tried to force upon her. She was unique.

And Adar found himself growing ever more intrigued by her.

The winter wind whipped clothing, biting the skin and sinking bone-deep. Like most discomfort, Adar was used to it. He knew every survival method - one did not live for thousands of years without picking up a few helpful practices. His children had followed his example, but it was a bit harder for the Humans among them to find comfort.

Truly, though, the only one he cared about was his lady...his brave, determined lady. He remembered her looking up at him the better part of a year ago when she was forced to the ground before him. Curiosity and recognition was as obvious in her expression as the points on an Elf's ears.

Even after he'd taken their village, she hadn't hated him. She hadn't denied having sworn for him, even though that had been a lie he concocted to keep her safe and unblemished.

Seeing that remnant of his armor hanging from a chain around her neck had inspired more pride and awe in him than he'd felt in an Age. Adar had assumed that even if her father had given it to her, it was so small and insignificant that she wouldn't have bothered to keep track of it. But for her to have turned it into a necklace... The thought still sparked a wave of warmth in the Uruk's heart.

Had their encounter truly been that memorable to her?

As the bitter winter held the camp in its grip, residents and all, Adar walked amongst his children and sworn Human villagers alike, noting those things which were needed most. He turned a corner between rows of tents and half-built houses and paused at the sight of his lady and Glûg discussing the babe in the Uruk's arms. After a few moments, his lady let out a small laugh, and Glûg let out a rasping chuckle before departing with a small bow.

Before he could behave as if he'd been doing anything - anything at all - besides watching them, she turned and Adar's eyes met hers. Approaching without hesitation, she curtsied and greeted him with her customary 'good day, my lord.'

Dropping into his own low bow, Adar offered her his arm.

"Walk with me, if you would, my lady," he murmured, and she looped her arm with his. "How would you characterize the mood amongst your people here?"

They walked a few steps, she considering her answer, and he marveling at how easily they fit together. Having her at his side felt natural, as if that was where she was always meant to be.

"They are under strain, because of the winter temperatures. Perhaps they are a bit more frightened than usual, but nothing too serious," she replied. "They seem to have settled into their new routine along with your children quite well, considering the circumstances."

"And what of your own circumstances? What can I do to ease your burden?" He asked as they reached the door of her shelter.

"I can think of nothing, my lord." Adar did not believe that, but he did not contradict her, choosing instead to accept her invitation inside.

"Allow me, at least," he said as he stepped inside, "to check your supplies. Firewood and the like."

"Of course," she murmured, waving him inside. One of the other ladies who shared her living space had already lit a fire in grate, and as soon as they saw Lord Adar walk inside, they quickly found other places to be.

Pretending to take a cursory view around the room, Adar slyly watched his lady move around, tidying up, even though the messes had clearly been created by the others. That he did not like, but that was a problem for a later date.

"Are you certain there is nothing I can do to improve your situation?" He asked, and she flashed him a smile bright enough to make his heart skip a beat.

"Nothing, whatsoever. I'm quite comfortable here," she said walking to stand with him beside the fire. He took a long, selfish moment to indulge his desire to study her face. When his desire to reach out and touch her grew so strong that he felt he might snap, he drew and released a deep breath.

"Thank you for your indulgence, my lady. I shall leave you in peace."

Adar gave her a small bow before making his way toward the door.

"Oh, wait! Please, my lord," she called, and he turned to face her. She pulled a length of cloth from a bundle, hurrying over to him.

A familiar sense of dread curled in his abdomen. He'd been betrayed before in moments of weakness - seeing her this evening was certainly a weakness. The cloth would make a suitable garrote for a person of her size to use. Steeling himself as she approached, he realized that, though he wouldn't be surprised, her betrayal would hurt more than any other had.

He met her eyes with his as she stood on the tips of her toes to wrap the cloth around his neck...but the constriction he'd been expecting never came. Instead, she tied it carefully, tucking the ends into his armor so they wouldn't flap around in the wind.

Adar's gauntlet-covered fist relaxed as his defensiveness was replaced with confusion. He was certain that he must look as utterly befuddled as he felt, but the little smile that settled upon her lips as she examined her handiwork stole his breath.

"There. That should keep you a little warmer, at least. We cannot have the Lord of Mordor freezing, now can we?" She asked when her fingers finally fell away from the chestplate of his armor. Adar found speech difficult for a long moment. She cared for his comfort?

How was one supposed to tell someone that they'd expected death's shadow only to find kindness instead? How could he possibly explain to someone like her that at the sight of a simple makeshift scarf, he'd coiled himself as tightly as a warrior preparing to be struck without a shield or sword to defend himself? She was so considerate that she would blame herself for unsettling him, he had no doubt.

No, to say nothing would be better. Perhaps...perhaps later.

Lifting her hands gently in his own, he laid soft kisses upon her knuckles. He dared not look away. Not now. This moment was crucial - whether for just him or for them both, he knew not.

"Thank you, dear lady," he breathed, and as his eyes searched hers, he saw what he normally did in her: warmth. However, this time he saw more. There was warmth, yes, but there was also gentleness, protectiveness, and a sort of satisfaction about him not tearing the scarf from his throat - he would never do such a thing. Not when it was from her.

When he finally stepped outside once more, the wind was unable to sink its frozen teeth into his neck. The fabric, worn and discolored with age, was soft, caressing his scarred skin just as he imagined her fingers would if she ever deigned to lower herself and take him as her lover.

Her generosity made him only that much more determined to find some way to make life easier for her. For nearly a week, he was kept too busy to give the matter any serious consideration, but he did have an idea.

While she was occupied, Adar slipped into her shelter. He wished to find a way to repay her for her kindness, thus his goal was to find one of her unfulfilled needs and provide for her. He was already able to ensure that she received enough food and water, and she deserved more than he could ever give her, but he was willing to try.

After a few moments of searching, he noticed the blanket in her little sleeping area. It was thin, full of holes, and practically falling apart. It was the only one he could see.

His heart clenched in his chest. She must be nearly frozen during the night, yet she had still seen fit to give him her scarf? The growing dampness of tears blurred his vision, but he blinked them away. How had she made it through the winter?

At least he could fix this for her.

Picking up the tattered blanket, he strode across the camp to find a replacement. Laying it atop a pile with other bits of cloth that needed to be repurposed, he found a stack of extra blankets. He'd already ensured that all of his children had enough to keep them warm, so one extra would not be missed.

He hastened back to her shelter, closing the door nearly silently behind him, but he quickly realized that he was not alone.

"My lord?" She called from her place beside the cold hearth. She was trying to light a fire with trembling hands. Walking over to her, Adar tucked the blanket beneath his arm and gently coaxed the flint and steel from her cold fingers.

Kneeling briefly, he struck the flint and steel once, twice, and carefully encouraged the flame to grow until a warm glow illuminated the room. When he stood again, he grasped her hands and rubbed them between his palms. He would not be content to leave her until he was certain that she would not freeze in the night.

She looked up at him in wordless wonder, and he knew for certain that his own expression had to be similar.

"Thank you, my lord," she said in barely a whisper, and in reply, he unfolded the blanket he'd brought. Though it was not nearly as soft as someone like her deserved, he knew it would hold the heat much better than her old one. Adar draped it around her shoulders, and, sweet, trusting thing that she was, she made no protest about his proximity, nor did she flinch when the backs of his knuckles caressed her cheek.

She looked from him, to the blanket, and back again. Without warning, she sprang forward, wrapping her arms around his middle, but where he usually expected the bite of a dagger after such an impact, he found only comfort. He realized that she...was embracing him.

He looked down at her, only to find his nose buried in her hair. Her scent! He'd smelled it before, but to have her this close...it was intoxicating. Carefully bracing his hands on her waist, he leaned down a little farther. The tip of his nose brushed against her warm neck, and he could almost smell her pulse racing beneath her skin.

His nose must've been cold, for that small movement was enough to startle her into leaping back. His fëa, dark and fractured as it was, wept at the loss of her, even though she'd only been in contact with him for a moment.

It had been so long since he'd been held like that.

Alarm settled into her expression and she began stammering apologies. Her new blanket slipped from one shoulder, and without a word, Adar stepped toward her and pulled it back into place.

Her voice dropped away as she realized what he was doing. His hands laid lightly upon her shoulders, sliding slowly upward until he was able to cup her cheeks carefully between his scarred fingers. Her eyes, now wide with wonder rather than fear, looked up at him.

"You have done nothing which warrants an apology, my lady," Adar murmured giving her small smile. She was so beautiful, so fragile compared to him. He would risk no injury coming to her. Not even the discomfort of the abating cold; slowly, their breaths became less visible as the fire grew in the hearth. "Why did you not tell me about the state of your blanket?"

"I did not wish to trouble you, my lord," she answered sheepishly. "I had already requested a replacement from the head of the Men in our section, but I was told I'd have to speak with Waldreg. Given my previous encounters with him, I...decided that the cold was preferable."

Disquiet twisted within him. Waldreg was distasteful enough without having caused his lady trouble. He was quite certain he'd tear the little worm of a Man limb from limb with a grin on his lips if he dared harm his lady.

Adar would have to speak with him about that.

"Has he mistreated you?" He tried to keep his tone as steady as possible, but a slight edge still managed to creep in.

"He expressed a few less than polite sentiments, but no more. It is not a crime for him to dislike me, my lord," she said, but her attempt to calm his ire only made him angrier on her behalf. Would she not express her anger even at someone as wretched and cruel as Waldreg?

"In future, come directly to me. You need not be afraid. I would be pleased to assist you, my lady," he promised, and his heart stuttered as she nodded her head.

As soon as he left her shelter, he sought Waldreg. The miserable little rat had much to answer for.

As the winter winds began to wane, I found myself increasingly glad of Lord Adar's kindness. Not shivering through the night was a pleasant change. I'd thought that after our conversation he seemed rather tense, but thus far I had seen no results.

However, as I returned from harvesting a small bunch of mushrooms for the soup that night, a vicelike grip clamped around my arm, tugging me off balance and dragging me into the small, dark alleyway between two repurposed buildings.

A hand covered my mouth just as a knifepoint pressed cold and unyielding against my racing pulse.

"You vicious little bitch," a familiar voice snarled against my ear. "What lies did you tell him? How did you make him hate me?"

I whimpered but dared not move for fear of the sharp steel at my throat.

"'You will not treat my children or those pledged to me with disrespect,' he said. He's had me shoveling shit in the kennels for weeks, and word around camp is that he only came to me after speaking with you!" Waldreg sounded furious, and, indeed, I could detect the lingering scent of the wargs' leavings clinging to my attacker and his clothing. The more agitated he grew, the more his hands shook. Pain pricked my skin, and a hot red tear trickled down my throat staining the neckline of my dress. "What'd you do? Lift your skirt for him? Whisper in those ragged little ears of his? Give me one good reason I shouldn't gut you here and feed you to the wargs."

I began struggling in earnest, but his anger kept his grip tight. Still his hand covered my mouth, preventing any attempts at speech. A cruel laugh trickled across my ears, and he dragged his knife downwards until it rested directly above my heart.

"I thought not." I tried to cringe away, but that accomplished nothing save fueling the cruel old bastard's amusement as tears rolled down my cheeks. "Say goodnight!"

Instead of the bite of a blade, however, I was abruptly released. A gurgling sound came from behind me, and when I turned, I saw Lord Adar's gauntlet-covered hand lifting Waldreg off the ground by his throat. The cold glare on the Uruk's face revealed not a single mite of mercy for the Man thrashing in his grasp.

"My lady, go inside. I will join you in a moment," Adar called, and after a single shocked blink, I rushed off to do as he'd ordered. My basket lay in the mud, entirely forgotten amongst the chaos. A small crowd of Uruks had gathered around to witness Waldreg's demise and jeer at him, but I couldn't stay.

As terrible as he was, I didn't want to. Trembling, I closed the door after myself and stumbled toward my sleeping space. Quickly wrapping the blanket Adar had given me around my shoulders, I tried to steady my breathing instead of listening to the commotion outside.

I had no idea how long I'd been sitting there when the crowd fell silent and the door finally opened. Terrified that Waldreg had somehow survived and was coming to seek his revenge, I backed into the corner beside the hearth and tried to stay as small as possible.

I had no weapons with which to fight. Hiding would be my only chance to survive, especially if Adar had not been able to stop him.

"My lady?" Adar's voice called gently into the space, though he saw no sign of her. He spotted a small movement from the far side of the hearth. Why was she hiding? Her eyes were wide and fearful, even as he approached.

Suddenly, her assertion about Waldreg expressing 'a few less than polite sentiments, but no more' felt grossly incorrect. If she was this frightened, he must've threatened her.

Adar hoped that she heard him screaming his apologies before his death.

Or...could it be that he'd finally managed to frighten her with his cruelty? That thought sent a bolt of icy dread through him.

Dropping silently to his knees beside her, he unclipped his gauntlet and dropped it beside him. He wouldn't dare touch her while wearing it after it had touched that scum, not without cleaning it first. He offered her his hand, afterwards, and she accepted it without hesitation.

She needed no coaxing to come to him, shuffling over and resting before him on her knees with her blanket still around her shoulders.

"You need not fear, my lady. He will haunt your steps no more," he murmured, and the relieved little sniffle that escaped her had Adar moving closer and gently brushing her tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

His skin was rough, but he was careful. He didn't want to hurt her, or for her to fear him. She had every right to after she'd seen him lifting Waldreg off the ground in the midst of his rage. He certainly would not blame her, but he did not want that. If ever she shrank away from him as she'd tried to do from that contemptible worm earlier, he thought his heart may shatter irreparably.

So, with the most soothing tone he could muster - one he'd not used in over an Age - he placed a gentle kiss upon her brow and spoke.

"You are safe with me, híril vuin. None shall raise a hand to you again." Carefully, he pulled the edge of the blanket away just far enough to see the small trail of dried blood from where she'd been cut. Regret was as foul upon his tongue as bile.

He should have found them sooner. Moving away only long enough to fetch a pitcher of water and a cloth, Adar sat close to her upon his return. He began to wipe her skin clean in slow, careful strokes, murmuring quiet, earnest praise for how brave she'd been and for trusting him to help her.

She rested her cheek upon his shoulder as he set the cloth aside, prompting him instinctively to wrap his arms around her and brace his chin atop her head.

"Thank you, my lord," she breathed, and he was acutely aware of his own heart racing in his chest. Could she hear its rhythm even with the chestplate of his armor in the way?

As he began to tell her that he'd done no more than his duty, the door to her shelter opened, revealing the three other ladies who shared the small space with her. Adar grated at the interruption, despite their low curtsies as soon as they caught sight of him holding his lady in his arms.

"Sleep elsewhere tonight," he ordered them, and once they'd departed, he let out a tense breath. Speaking then to his lady, he softened his tone once more. "Tomorrow, I shall have you moved to chambers befitting one of your station."

She blinked beautifully up at him, dampness clinging to her lashes like dewdrops in the early morn.

"'My station,' my lord?"

A slow smile stretched his lips.

"Indeed. If you are to serve at the right hand of the Lord of Mordor, you cannot be seen huddling in the corner of a ruined shack."

Her eyes went wide, and her lips parted in a near-silent gasp.

"A-At your right hand?"

He nodded his head in confirmation.

"Assuming that such a thought appeals to you, of course," he said, but the smile that lit up her face told him all that he needed to know about her enthusiasm.

The next morning, I awoke wrapped in Lord Adar's arms and the blanket he'd given me. I should've felt embarrassment, but I could muster no more than a groggy sense that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

As soon as we managed to peel ourselves from the ground, we gathered my meager possessions, and Adar led me to the tavern. He had ruled from there since day one, but I hadn't been aware until that moment that he'd been living there as well. I supposed that his choice made sense. The upper level was where the owner used to live, having the benefit of a bedroom and a small bathing room complete with a claw-foot tub.

"Unless you object, we shall be sharing the bedroom," he explained as we climbed the creaky wooden staircase. "I'm afraid that there was little more than a musty mattress here to begin with, so I'll have a second bedroll brought up today. If there is anything you require once you have settled in, please do not hesitate to tell me."

"Thank you, my lord," I replied, and as I set myself up on one side of the room directly across from his own sleeping area, one of his children called him away to handle a conflict on the other side of the camp.

Late that night, I walked into the small communal area where Lord Adar sat by the fire, gazing into its depths as if it held the answers to all of his questions. Not wishing to disturb his thoughts, I began to move away, but a quiet call of my name in that deliciously raspy voice of his froze me in place.

"Is everything to your satisfaction, my lady?" He called, and I turned to find his gaze already fixed on me.

"Yes, my lord," I murmured, "thank you for allowing me to stay here."

"The pleasure is mine. Come, warm yourself by the fire," he offered, and I dropped to my knees on the furs beside him. We sat in companionable silence for a while with only the crackling of the fire in the grate reaching our ears. "Something troubles you, does it not?"

I nodded my head and he tilted his own beside me.

"Tell me." Despite his soft tone, the command made me bite my lip.

"I...My lord, given the new position with which you have honored me, I believe it..." I stumbled over the words, eventually taking a deep breath to compose myself. "Would it not be inappropriate for me to continue in this particular role without having sworn my loyalty to you?"

The question came out in a breathless rush, but Adar either did not notice over the hissing of the fire or he was too polite to comment upon it.

"So far as all the others are concerned, you did so before we ever took your village." His eyes skimmed the length of my face as he spoke. "As you will recall, I promised you that I would not force you to do so."

"And you have kept to your word," I began. "I have not felt coerced. I offer my loyalty to you freely."

Adar sat up straighter and drew in a sharp breath.

"You only need do so if you truly wish for us to be bound," he said placing his hand softly atop mine where it rested amongst the furs. His eyes searched mine as if trying to determine whether I was serious.

"I'm certain, my lord," I said, and he, apparently finding what he was looking for, gave a solemn nod of his head.

"Very well. As with your kin, Black Speech is not a language known to you, thus I will not require your vow in that tongue," he murmured, and I couldn't stop the question that fell from my lips.

"Would it be possible to learn at some point?"

Adar smiled, a mix of pride and surprise playing across his features in the glowing, flickering light of the fire.

"I shall teach you personally, híril vuin," he promised, and his expression became more serious. "Have you ever sworn loyalty to another?"

"No, my lord."

"Do you recall the words being spoken during the oaths of fealty given by your people?"

"Yes, my lord." I bowed my head, intending to show my respect in that manner, but warm, gentle fingers grasped my chin and lifted my head back up. Adar's gaze met my own, and unless the firelight was deceiving me, I saw a soft sort of affection swimming in his eyes as he looked at me.

"Before all else, I wish you to swear that you will never bow to me unless I explicitly give you the order to do so," he rasped as his thumb brushed over my lower lip.

"I swear it, my lord. I will not bow to you unless you give me the order to do so." Having extracted that promise, he seemed satisfied to allow me to continue as I had been. His fingers fell away from my chin only to grasp my own and lay them atop his chest where beneath his heart lay beating. "I hereby swear my allegiance to you, Adar, Lord-Father of the Uruks, founder of the land of Mordor...and protector of mortal children silly enough to wander the forest alone. This I pledge from now until the last breath leaves my body."

Adar listened with something akin to wonder in his eyes, and when I finished, his gaze strayed down to my lips. But...something seemed off.

"Is...something amiss, my lord? I could always use different words, if you prefer...?"

He shook his head quietly.

"There was no fault in your diction."

"Then...what troubles you?" I asked, unconsciously repeating his own words from earlier. He shifted before me, as if he was bothered by what he was about to say. Regretful, perhaps?

"An oath means little on its own," Adar murmured unsheathing a small knife that he'd apparently concealed upon his person. "Only blood can bind."

Whose blood did he mean? Did he want me to use it on myself? Did he wish to use it on me? Or did he want me to use it on us both?

An idea struck me, and I grasped my necklace in the palm of my left hand. Carefully, I set his knife aside, guiding his gauntlet-covered hand over mine. Looking into his eyes, I felt the unyielding metal dig into the soft skin of my hand. Without warning, I squeezed his hand, which in turn forced the sharp, ancient metal deep enough into my skin to draw blood. As comprehension dawned in his eyes, his pupils dilated, and something resembling hunger turned his gaze into a blazing flame boring into me.

His hand released mine long enough for the pendant to fall from my grasp, and when he turned my palm upwards, twin gashes welled with blood. Swallowing heavily, Adar lifted my hand, and as his lips met crimson, his eyes sought mine.

A gasp tumbled from my throat as his tongue lapped slowly at my skin, just barely grazing the inner edges of the two weeping cuts. It stung, of course, but the pain combined with such a ravenous stare from the Uruk lord sent a wave of heat rushing between my legs.

A breathy, wanton whimper escaped me, and in a blink, I found myself on my back atop the furs with my lord straddling my hips. He pressed my bleeding palm against his cheek, and, bracing his free hand on the floor beside my head, Adar placed a line of fiery kisses along the column of my throat from hollow to chin with his blood-drenched lips.

I'd wanted him to look at me like this, to touch me and desire me like this, from the moment we were reunited, and now that he was, it was as though my very soul had been lit aflame. I wanted everything he wished to give me, and then some.

Before his mouth had the chance to claim mine, however, there was a rough knock on the door. Adar pulled back a few inches, and we stared into each other's eyes, panting together as reality sank back in and a second knock sounded.

"I think you ought to retire for the night, my lady," he rasped laying a final kiss upon my palm before getting to his feet. My blood was a dark red streak upon his face, but he seemed not to care. He called for whoever was at the door to wait a moment, taking the time to help me to my feet and bidding me goodnight before seeing to our caller. His lips were still the deep red shade of the life flowing through my mortal veins.

I hurried up the stairs to our shared sleeping space before I could see who'd interrupted us. With a quick glance into the cracked fragment of a mirror stowed in the corner of the room, I saw a sloppy, red trail where Adar's lips had been.

I didn't bother to clean it off before I crawled into my bedroll, choosing instead to slip my fingers beneath my smallclothes as I recalled the feeling of him doing as he wished with me. With a broken, muffled whine of his name against my blanket, I found completion, but a part of me wondered how much more satisfying it would have been had his fingers been in place of mine.

The next fortnight felt as though it was a specialized form of torture. Adar seemed to be called away by a never-ending series of problems that required solutions. Often his day began earlier than I awoke and ended long after I'd retired to bed. Ensuring I'd completed every task he'd left for me was the least I could do considering how busy his own position kept him.

Occasionally, we did still manage to sneak a meal or a short conversation with one another, but we had yet to discuss what had happened the night I pledged myself to him. Almost every night, the memory of the hunger in his eyes drove me to desperation, haunting my dreams and forcing me to muffle my cries as I tended to my own burning desire.

One of the few times he returned before I fell asleep, I'd just whimpered his name into my pillow. As he ascended the staircase, I heard his footsteps, and I tried to muffle my shame as it was too late to stop entirely. The fear of discovery lanced through me as I heard him approach the door. I tried to steady my breathing, and hoped that in the low lighting, he would not notice how disheveled I looked.

Either I was successful, or he was in a sadistic mood, because he sidled over to his own bedroll and began stripping down. I'd seen him without the armor before, but when he shucked off his upper garments, the sight of his scarred, toned torso was enough to make me bite my tongue to stifle a gasp.

The outline of his masculinity in his trousers as he laid his clothing in a neat pile sent a fresh wave of wetness soaking my inner thighs. Oh, how was I meant to sleep after seeing...that?

Adar laid down, and just when I thought he'd fallen asleep, his voice broke through the silence.

"Sweet dreams, my lady." I could hear the teasing smile in his voice.

Oh. My cheeks burned at the realization that he'd likely heard me.

"...Good night, my lord," I murmured, hating how shaky I sounded.

Spring changed very few things in Mordor, save the temperatures, yet with each passing day, Adar's lady seemed to smile just a little wider.

He wanted to give her more reasons to do so, however. It was not enough that they had been living in close quarters since that night in her shelter. It was not enough that he'd made her smile and laugh before. Adar needed to do it again.

But more than that, he needed to hear those things which it was not at all civilized to consider. It was not enough that he had tasted her blood and her skin and her racing pulse. He'd heard her make beautiful, pleasure-filled sounds when she thought he was out of earshot or asleep. But it was never enough. He needed to hear her moan his name, to see her arch her back beneath him in the throes of ecstasy. He needed her.

Teasing her had been as much a torture for him as it likely was for her. Adar had become addicted to pain in one form or another over the millennia, and the mental strain of denying himself the pleasure of her touch was not unfamiliar, but it was forcing him to a breaking point, nonetheless. He knew that he would likely snap as he had when she'd sworn him her loyalty. That rush had been like a dam releasing an unstoppable flood, his hunger turning him into a ravenous beast.

She hadn't minded, as he thought she might. She'd enjoyed it. The sight of her lying beneath him panting as her blood practically dripped from his lips made him achingly hard each time he dwelled upon the memory for too long.

Still, she deserved better. Better than him, better than a moment of animalistic need. He found himself wondering about how best to give her all of himself.

Adar supposed that was how he'd ended up in the doorway of the small bathing room. The claw-footed tub was filled with steaming water as he'd ordered, and relaxing within it was his lady. She'd deserved a moment of peace after having completed every single task he'd given her with such dedication. It was a small reward, hardly as much as she deserved, but at the moment, it was all he could give.

He tried not to allow his gaze to drop beneath the water's surface, but his restraint was weak after the last two weeks of self-imposed denial. Truly, he intended merely to check that she was well, but the temptation of seeing her soft skin dripping with hot water was too great. The Lord of Mordor lingered in the doorway just long enough to feel his lower garments grow tight, and for her eyes to meet his as his lust clawed at his restraint.

As a moth drawn to a flame, he found himself walking slowly into the room, summoned by her curious gaze. The hot water reached her collarbones, and Adar felt the urge rising within him to claim her.

He knelt beside the tub, his face mere inches from her own, and removed his armor, gauntlet and all. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and dipped a washcloth into the hot water. The back of his hand brushed against the swell of her breast, and they both let out quiet gasps.

Still, Adar refused to look down into the depths of the sage blossom oil scented water. Wringing the washcloth out until it was just wet enough for him to clean his face, he began to do so, only for his lady to take it from his hands. With her breasts pressed up against the side of the tub, her soft, gentle fingers held his head in place as she carefully wiped away the grime.

Without a word, he turned his head and kissed her palm where twin scars were already forming. Adar would've preferred that she spill his own blood - that was what he'd originally intended - but since she'd chosen that pain, the least he could do was show the proper amount of reverence for her actions.

"Is there anything you need, Adar?" Her voice was shaky and breathless as it so often was when he caught her off-guard.

"No. This night is for you. Relax as long as you wish," he murmured, but as he stood to leave her in peace, he noted that she tried valiantly to hide her disappointment. Without turning back - if he did, he might do something impulsive - he called over his shoulder, "Patience, my lady, and you shall have all that you desire."

His hardness did not abate until long after they'd settled into their bedrolls and her breathing had evened out in the serenity of sleep.

Adar could not wait much longer. Her sweetness was as a siren's call to him.

Thus, his plan began to form. Once the spring was fully upon them, he approached her as he often did for conversation.

"My lady, I wonder if you might spare me a moment of your time?" He asked, and she smiled joyfully up at him - truly, that should not have made his heart stutter the way it did.

"Of course, my lord. You may have as much of my time as you desire," she replied, and oh, she had no idea what she was offering!

"Do you enjoy riding horses?"

She tilted her head curiously, but the way her smile widened had him mentally congratulating himself for selecting this particular tactic.

"I do, though, it has been quite some time since I've had the opportunity."

"Come," he urged offering her his hand. She didn't hesitate to take it. The feeling of her touch would be seared into his mind for as long as he lived. Drawing her close, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "I intend to steal you away."

Her lips parted in surprise, and just as he was about to apologize for his forthrightness, she squeezed his fingers in hers.

"I could not hope to be stolen by any more worthy." His breath hitched in his chest, and he tamped down the temptation to skip his plan entirely and take her atop his own sleeping furs. No. He'd been alive since before the waking of the world. He could wait a little longer.

"Then, maybe I should play the part...?" Adar suggested with a mischievous smirk. Before she could ask what he meant, he lifted her by the waist, tossed her over his shoulder - an action which tugged a surprised shriek from her lips - and carried her to his horse that way.

"My lord!"

"My lady!" He called back in answer as he felt her gentle, mortal hands lay across the back of his armor. Surely she knew he would never drop her?

Soon, he placed her atop his mount, and she giggled breathlessly at the situation. Her mussed hair and bright eyes lit a spark within his heart, and lower, not that he would admit it to any, save her. Swinging up easily, he settled in behind her, grasping the horse's reins in one hand and bracing the other over the softness of her diaphragm. As close as they were, he was in the perfect position to whisper in her ear.

"Fear not, my lady," he breathed, "you shan't fall."

One of her hands covered his, and he urged their horse forward. For nearly two hours they rode, crossing from ashen, desolate terrain into the gentle rolling grasses of the land beyond Mordor's fiery shadow.

The rhythmic roll of her hips against his became almost hypnotic. The Lord of Mordor he might be, but his restraint was still utterly devastated by her. They dismounted when they reached a meadow peppered with small saplings.

Tying their horse's reins to a sturdy one, Adar offered his lady his hand. The sun was just beginning to glow a gentle orange. It would set soon, and he greatly desired to see his lady bathed in starlight.

"It is no secret that I favor you, my lady," Adar began as they wandered leisurely amongst the blooming flowers, and that was the closest he'd ever come to an admission...to a confession of that nature. "Even the Uruks farthest from the center of our camp know that I...that you are under my protection."

"Indeed. I would say that is true," she agreed, clearly not certain at what point he was driving with his rambling. "I am honored beyond words to have your favor and protection, my lord–"

"Adar. Here - anywhere away from prying eyes and unwelcome ears - you may call me Adar," he corrected gently, and her fingers squeezed his in gratitude. "I brought you here today, because I wish to ask for your counsel."

"You shall always have it, Adar," she assured, "though, I am not certain what advice I could provide that would be wiser than your own. I have very little experience with war and strategy."

He stopped walking and turned to face her - a mistake, because she was almost ethereally encompassed by the warmth of the sunset. He swallowed heavily to recover his voice.

"It is not war about which I require your thoughts," he began, bringing her hand to his ruined lips. "I have lived in shadow for so long, yet recently I have found myself prey to a feeling which I have not experienced in many Ages."

She tilted her head curiously.

"What might that be?"

Adar reached gently toward her with his free hand, cupping her cheek.

"Love," he rasped, looking into her eyes, hoping she would catch the meaning within his words. Admitting that a horrid creature like him had fallen head over heels for a beautiful being like her was tantamount to sacrilege. Yet...in several instances, he believed that he'd seen his own affection reflected in her eyes. Indeed, the moans he'd heard from her would seem to indicate that she desired him.

But it was too much to hope that she could love him. He was certain she desired him, but...love? Could a Human woman truly love an Uruk when the rest of her kind looked down on them in scorn and disgust? Had he been a fool to bring her here?

She stepped closer to him, looking up into his eyes–

Her expression stole his breath. He had not hung the stars in the sky, nor had he wrought treasures like the Silmarils. He had not created even a single thing of beauty. All he'd done was try to give his children a home.

And yet...she looked at him as though he was more worthy of praise than the most virtuous of kings, the most honorable of knights, and the most devoted of husbands. Could it be possible?

Could she...?

"I am afraid that I have little experience with love, Adar, but I will help if I can." As afraid as he might be of losing her, he must speak now or lose her forever.

"In your opinion, who is worthy of love?" He asked, and she let out a small huff of laughter, as if the question was a foolish one. "Have I said something amusing?"

"A bit," she admitted, but she was quick to place her free hand over his heart, "but not in the way you might think. Everyone is worthy of love, even - and, perhaps, most especially - the Lord-Father of the Uruks."

Was he truly so transparent that she could see his fears so easily? Or had she managed to worm her way so far into his heart without his knowledge that it was already a bosom companion to her own?

"...And you have it." His eyes snapped back up to hers - when had he looked away? His hunger and adoration for her rose up in a great wave, consuming him from the inside as he wove his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and drew her into a passionate kiss.

He'd dreamed of having her pressed up against him, of drinking her pleasure from her lips.

She moaned into Adar's mouth, and he was struck by the realization that she was so much better than any phantom images that his imagination could conjure. He dragged his lips and teeth to the corner of her jaw, and spoke in a hoarse, rasping whisper.

"I need you as I need air, meleth-nin." He grasped her waist as her arms drew him ever closer. "You steal my breath, yet without you I cannot breathe. Have mercy...Have mercy upon your most devoted servant..."

As the orange sky bled pink, his lips trailed down her neck, savoring those places which had driven him to the edge of madness when he sampled her before the fire. His name escaped her lips on the back of a desperate whine.

"What do you need? Tell me," Adar breathed, and she tilted her head to offer him more of her neck.

"Take me, touch me, please! I'll be good, so good, only for you," she begged, and the sound went straight to the stiffening length between his legs. He would love nothing more than to have her beg for him all night, but this time she would have no need to. Tonight, the beginning of their time as one, he would fulfill her every desire with a minimum of teasing. He'd done too much of that of late.

Her fingers dove into his hair, and a moan poured from his throat, rumbling against her pretty skin.

"Is that what you want? Do you wish to be a good girl for me?" She released a varied stream of yeses and pleas for him to do as he wished with her, and he acceded to her request with a kiss, quelling any doubt she may have had that he would do this for her. He would do anything for her, even unto the destruction of Middle Earth. "Do you wish to be mine?"

"Yes!" Her answer was akin to a desperate sob, and he wasted no time, immediately indulging her.

Tugging his cloak from his armor, Adar spread it over the grass. He would not have her dress covered in stains, nor grass blades stuck to her skin. The cloth created a sharp contrast - an onyx patch amidst a sea of pinks, purples, reds, and yellows - the dark to the meadow's light, just as she was the light to his darkness. She completed him, enthralled him, drove him mad, and tonight he would show her just how much.

She went for the ties fastening her dress, but he caught her hands in his and took over. She was a gift more precious than anything which the Valar could bestow upon their servants, and he would unwrap her accordingly.

As the laces binding the back of her dress fell away one at a time, Adar explored his lover's mouth with all the tenderness and gentleness that his cruel, twisted body could muster. He hadn't even realized that her tricky little fingers had begun to fiddle with his armor until his breastplate fell away.

In a flurry of discarded garments, they were each revealed to the other in all their beauty and all their flaws. Their shared vulnerability stilled their hands for an anxious moment, but only for a moment.

Adar's breath hitched in his chest when the soft lips he'd tasted mere seconds before connected with the scarred flesh over his heart. He'd expected pity, fear, regret - not reverence. Instead, as she looked up at him, he saw nothing but sincerity in her expression.

"You are gorgeous," she said, as though she could not tell that he had but one part of his body which was untouched by scars.

...As though she meant it. He realized with a sharp intake of breath that she did. She grasped his hands and they sank onto his cloak together, she on her back and he kneeling between her legs. His interest jutted toward her, but he could not find it within himself to be ashamed, not when he was with her. Not when a piece of his armor hung on a chain around her neck, resting comfortably above her breast.

"There is no beauty finer in this world than yours."

Spread nude before him over his cloak, Adar's lady looked up at him with an adoration he had not believed possible. Not when directed at an Uruk such as he. His lips met hers once more, but this time, he forced himself to be much more controlled. He wanted her, yes, but he also wanted her to know that she had his love.

Kissing his way steadily down her body, the Lord-Father of the Uruks had no doubt that he must look as hungry for her as he felt. Practically feral with pent-up desire, he needed her writhing on his tongue. His hands trembled with the effort it took to slow his movements, to take his time.

Abruptly, as his eyes met hers from between her legs, he realized that she very much had the capacity to destroy him. With a single declaration of hatred or a look of disgust, she could easily take his stone heart and pulverize it into powder.

How easily could she shred beyond repair what little remained of his soul!

Not even Morgoth had been able to do that. This mortal woman, this sweet, brave lady had no idea of the power that she possessed. The smart thing to do - the strategically wise path - would have been to kill her then and there while she lay vulnerable and trusting before him, begging for one more touch, one more kiss, one more moan, one more scrap of his attention.

Instead, he picked up his discarded gauntlet and slid her much smaller hand inside it. The clasps were quick work, and though she looked confused at first, once he lifted her thighs over his shoulders and guided her hand to his hair, understanding dawned in her eyes. She understood. He wanted her to feel powerful. She was his equal and she deserved to know it.

Even with sharp, unyielding metal covering her fingertips, they scraped so gently over his scalp as he lost himself in the flood between her thighs. She moaned and whimpered, squirming in his hold, but through it all, she never once hurt him.

Adar knew that she wouldn't. Even as she cried out his name for all the world to hear, drenching his tongue and chin, her grip in his hair was careful. Her thighs tensed in his grasp, squeezing his head in an intoxicating vice. Groaning and snarling against her sensitive folds, he couldn't bring himself to pull away until she was shaking in the midst of over-sensitivity.

"Adar, please," she breathed as he moved up her body. Hunger raged and burned in his eyes - he could deny himself no longer. Grasping her wrists, he pinned them easily above her head as he claimed her lips. His tongue delved into the softness of her mouth, taking with it the lingering taste of her.

Her legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him close enough for his tip to catch on her entrance. With synchronized groans, he pressed inside of her, joining their bodies together as one.

Profane language not meant for the ears of such a creature as her spilled from his throat in a guttural stream of Black Speech. Dipping his head, Adar moaned against her breast and surged forward, drawing a sinful mewl from deep within her throat.

"You have me. You take me so well," he praised in a raspy whisper, nibbling at her earlobe as he thrust into her slowly. Gradually, she stripped him of his sense and control, tugging from within him a steady flow of praise and filth in Elvish and Black Speech - promises to treasure her for the rest of his days, to protect her, and to draw from her so many screams each night that all of Mordor would be unable to deny his claim over her.

When she managed to roll her hips beneath him to meet his thrusts, begging him to use her, to ruin her, what could he do but grant his lady's wish?

In a quick movement, he'd repositioned them both so that she was astride his hips. Pulling her arms behind her back and tugging slightly so that her chest was pushed toward him, Adar looked into her eyes.

"If you wish your lord to use you, then move those hips," he ordered. Leaning in, he brushed a few strands of her hair behind her ear and whispered a bit more gently to her. "Ride me, meleth. Show me that I have you."

She obeyed him instantly, finding a steady rhythm which, aided by his fingers toying with her clit, would have her tipping over the edge in mere moments. Indeed, her hips soon stuttered, and he gripped the back of her neck, forcing her eyes to meet his.

"Do not look away. Look at the pleasure I can give you," he commanded, and as she nodded frantically, beginning to fall apart, he felt his heart stutter in his chest. "Yes, look upon the Uruk who loves you."

At that, she sobbed and collided firmly with her orgasm. She fluttered around his length, calling his name in lovelorn whimpers and gasps.

Who needed Valinor when she was its very embodiment?

He released her wrists, and she threw her arms around his neck, claiming his lips with her own. His hands slid down her back, landing squarely on her hips. Holding her steady, Adar thrust up into her, making her yelp in surprise. He needed very little now; he was close.

"Where do you wish me?" Adar breathed against her lips, and he could feel the heat burning her cheeks.

"Inside," she answered hiding her face against his neck, and he moaned against her shoulder. Her name tore from him in an almost pained whine as he spilled within her. He clutched her to him so tightly that he'd undoubtedly left bruises in his wake, but he would kiss them all in apology when they'd caught their breath.

Neither seemed eager to release the other, so in their embrace they remained exploring one another with gentle fingers and loving lips until long after the moon had risen and stars had winked their way into the sky. When he dared to lean back far enough to look into her eyes, Adar was met with love bathed in glittering starlight.

He wondered if he'd hurt her, but the smile stretching her lips said otherwise. The armor piece that she'd made into a necklace still rested upon the smooth expanse of her chest - a perfect accompaniment to his gauntlet upon her arm.

The ride back to camp seemed too short by far, but their bedrolls - which would soon be joined into one - called out to them so sweetly. Adar was used to the bows and deference he received from his children, but he knew in his heart that his decision had been right when upon their return he heard the Uruks repeating a particular phrase as they passed.

His lover had heard part of it before, but now there were a few more words to it.

"What is that they keep saying?" She whispered the question to him, and he couldn't keep himself from smiling proudly. "It sounds familiar, but different."

"'Tis Black Speech. They are saying 'make way for the Lord and Lady of Mordor,'" he answered kissing her temple as they approached their home.

~*~*~

Taglist:

@bigblissandlove1 @horta-in-charge @gandalfthepimp

#elronds-meleth-nin fic #adar x reader #my brain is now soup #no thoughts only Adar

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mochikofi · 1 year ago

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Twilight Personal Favorites!

𑁍 masterlists

Twilight masterlist - @americancowgirl19

Twilight masterlist - @cherryglossie

Twilight masterlist - (ineedmorefanfics2)

Twilight masterlist - (kimi240302)

𑁍 series

Daylight - Demetri Voltur - (kimi240302)

Wildest Dreams - Paul Lahote - (atlas-of-a-human-soul)

𑁍 Oneshots/headcannons

Period - Volturi's - Oneshot - (loveswrites)

Uno - Volturi's - Oneshot - (loveswrites)

Time - Volturi's - Oneshot - (loveswrites)

Child. - Volturi's - Headcannon - (volturissideslut)

Spills and corset. - Volturi's - Oneshot - (

The tracker, the fighter, the witch - Volturis - headcannon - (averagewriter-inthedark)

Volturi Kings/Poly - headcannon - (volturissideslut)

Sister - Queen - Volturi Kings - twoshot(?) - (americancowgirl19)

Who's the dad? - Volturi Kings - Oneshot - (the-dawn-star)

All the glitters. - Volturi Kings - Headcannon - (the-volturi-diaries)

Mate - Volturi Kings - headcannon - (twilightfansofcolor)

Bunny - Volturi Kings - Oneshot - (grampstaxidermy87)

Foursome - Volturi Kings - Oneshot - (cherryglossie)

Headcannon - Volturi Kings - (imaginingmanyfandoms)

Wooing - Volturi Kings - Oneshot - (mx-pastelwriting)

First time in bed - Volturi Kings - Headcannon - (mx-pastelwriting)

Worm - Volturi Kings - Oneshot - (demetris-cocksleeve)

Morning - Volturi Kings - Headcannon - (mx-pastelwriting)

Bisexual - Volturi Kings - Headcannon - (the-dawn-star)

Wives - Volturi Kings - Headcannon - (the-dawn-star)

Childish - Volturi Kings - Headcannons - (the-dawn-star)

Childish - Volturi Kings - Headcannons - (twilightt-fantasy)

Hit-On - Volturi Kings - Oneshot - (twilightt-fantasy)

Poly - Volturi Kings - Headcannons - (twilightt-fantasy)

Burn - Volturi Kings - Oneshot - (twilightt-fantasy)

Midnight snacks - Volturi Kings - Headcannons - (Twilightt-fantasy)

Big boobies - Volturi Kings - Headcannon - (cherryglossie)

Size - Volturi Kings - Headcannon - (cherryglossie)

The princess & the king - Aro Volturi - Headcannon - (averagewriter-inthedark)

Human mate - Caius Volturi - headcannon - (carlisles-girl)

Love of a cruel king - Caius Volturi - Oneshot - (kimi240302)

Similar - Marcus Volturi - Headcannon - (volturissideslut)

Naked - Volturi Guards - Headcannon - (imaginingmanyfandoms)

Our forever - Alec Volturi - Oneshot - (kimi240302)

Little things - Cullen Family - Oneshot - (the-twilight-diaries)

Period - Cullen Family - Headcannon - (creelmalfoylaufeyson69)

Flirt - Cullen Family - Headcannon - (charliedawn)

Nails - Cullen men - headcannons - (long-lost-cullen)

Coven mate - Cullen Family - Oneshot - (Congratzams)

Tomorrow - Cullen Family - Oneshot - (loveswrites)

Chaotic - Cullen Family - Headcannon - (carlisles-girl)

Okay and? - Cullen Family - Headcannon - (carlisles-girl)

Sick - Cullen Family - Oneshot - (loveswrites)

Too much - Carlisle cullen - Oneshot - (zmxchs)

Ludicrous - Carlisle Cullen - Oneshot - (velvetcloxds)

Sir - Carlisle Cullen - oneshot - (little-diable)

Shy - Carlisle Cullen - headcannon - (witchthewriter)

Clumsy - Carlisle Cullen - Oneshot - (homeofthelonelywriter)

Art history - Carlisle Cullen - Oneshot - (highwayorgantrade)

Perfection - Carlisle Cullen - Oneshot (specialagentlokitty)

I've got you - Carlisle Cullen - Oneshot - (marvelouswriter)

Hush now - Carlisle Cullen - oneshot - (little-diable)

Nsfw alphabet - Carlisle Cullen - (heyyyitsgrey)

Lies washed away by the pouring rain - Carslisle Cullen/Jasper Hale - oneshot - (little-diable)

Yandere cullen brothers - headcannon - (angelsworks)

Birthday! - alice cullen - Oneshot - (another-fantasy-world)

Sub - Alice Cullen - headcannon - (fairydxll)

Dating jasper - Headcannon - (kaylawritesfics)

Regrets - Jasper Hale - Oneshot - (undercoveravenger)

Crush - Jasper Hale - Headcannon - (slytherbun)

Honesty hours - Jasper Hale - Oneshot - (highwayorgantrade)

Exchange Student - Jasper Hale - headcannon - (nymphastoriasblog)

Texas - Jasper Hale - Oneshot - (little-diable)

Texas 2.0 - Jasper Hale - Oneshot - (little-diable)

Drops of water - Jasper Hale - Oneshot - (little-diable)

Consequences - Jasper Hale - oneshot - (little-diable)

Primal instinct - Jasper Hale - oneshot - (little-diable)

Break my baby - Jasper Hale - oneshot - (little-diable)

Another one - Jasper Hale - Oneshot - (little-diable)

Trust and lust - Jasper Hale - Oneshot - (joelsgeetar)

Figure it out - Jasper Hale - Oneshot - (k1nd4g4y)

Darlin, i adore you. - Jasper Hale - Oneshot - (joelsgeetar)

Cold. - Jasper Hale - Oneshot - (joelsgeetar)

Tell me all the ways to stay away - Jasper Hale - Oneshot - (joelsgeetar)

Insomnia - Jasper Hale - Oneshot - (junkdrawerfics)

Simple moments - Jasper Hale - Oneshot - (junkdrawerfics)

Crushing - Jasper Hale - Headcannon - (wintervalewriter)

Accident - Jasper Hale - Oneshot - (joelsgeetar)

Headcannon - Jasper Hale - (buckybarnesb-tch)

Awkward - Jasper Hale - Oneshot - (the-twilight-diaries)

Stand up challenge - Jasper Hale - Oneshot - (mychemicalimagines)

Polar opposites - Jasper Hale - Headcannon (americancowgirl19)

Innocent - Jasper Hale/Edward Cullen - oneshot - (ameliora-j)

Sharing a mate - Jasper Hale/Emmett - (little-diable)

NSFW alphabet - Jasper Hale - (ineedmorefanfics)

Dream - Edward cullen - Oneshot - (sage-exe)

Chaotic imprint - Wolf Pack - Headcannon - (fatiguing-thoughts)

Being paul lahote's imprint - headcannon - (nymphastoriasblog)

Just leave it to bella - Paul Lahote - Oneshot- (bangtanmix73)

Wolf form - Jacob Black - Headcannon - (qdbs-writes)

Wet clothes - Jacob Black - Oneshot - (t-h-i-n-g)

Secret - Jacob Black - Oneshot - (maladaptive---daydreamer)

Notes! All of these are not mine, the users of the author is in the "()".

Navigation.

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ayaahh00 · 6 months ago

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Social media has really shown me that men are the ones abusing the platform with mass reporting. They mass report more than anyone, always to silence women. Since I joined social media in 2012, I never had my accounts or comments reported or removed until I got into radical feminism online, especially on Twitter.

That's when I witnessed how men, with their egotistical, narcissistic nature and fragile egos, desire to live in a dictatorship. They believe they are entitled to mass report and silence women, getting our accounts suspended and our posts removed, even when we're simply stating facts supported by data. Men coordinate and work together to mass report women’s specifically feminists posts. Men are genuinely by far the most childish hypersensitive creatures, with egos more sensitive than a clitoris, which has 8,000 nerve endings.

#radical feminism #radblr #terfblr #radical feminist safe #men are the problem #feminism #social media hates women

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petew21-blog · 2 months ago

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Live to the fullest

Ethan and his dad, Cooper, got along quite nicely. Cooper had to take care of Ethan as a single father, since his wife left them and never came back. Ethan didn't mind to be brutally honest. He was always confused about his feelings towards men and women. He figured that out many years after that, but he realized he felt too old for dating now. On the other hand Ethan was raised to be an independent man. Because of the absence of his mother, he sometimes had to help out his father with the chores etc. making him feel more responsible then other adults. Maybe that was the reason, why he felt as if he didn't fit in with others. Everything felt too childish to him.

Ethan:"Dad, I don't wanna leave for some stupid party. All the guys wanna just drink and talk about sex with others. I'm sure I could use my time more effectively than that."

Cooper:"I know you were never really into this, but it's important to engage in these activities. Look at me and mum. We got together way too soon, having you in our teen years and we didn't do anything besides taking care of you and working"

Ethan:"Yeah and mom was too busy running away"

Cooper:"My point is. You should enjoy it while you can and not waste it like me"

Ethan:"I think you should go instead of me, dad"

Cooper:"Honestly. If I could, I would."

Ethan:"I would kill to swap lives with you, dad"

The following morning. After the initial shock, the two of them found out that they indeed swapped bodies. Ethan got his wish to be the responsible adult and Cooper could enjoy his newfound youth.

Ethan wasn't freaked out by the lack of hair on his head, or by the abundance of hairs all over his body, especially the private parts.

No, Ethan felt like home. He had a feeling tha he was finally the man he was raised to be and the man he had become

He enjoyed the view of his flexed dad body in the full length mirror

But more than that, he enjoyed his own bathroom and especially the shower that he now had for himself

And for himself only to enjoy... Or atleast until he would find someone to enjoy it with him

Cooper in Ethan's body couldn't be happier. He felt as if the weight of the world on his shoulders had been lifted by his son. He now could fully enjoy being a teenager as if he hadn't met Ethan's mother before.

He decied that he deffinitely should go to the party with Ethan's friends. They even came over to help him pack for the weekend

They talked about enjoying the weekend, the girls, the booze and Cooper showed off in his "new" clothes that his "father" bought him.

The boys made some jokes about seducing women wearing these shorts, but Cooper knew, that he wouldn't do any of that. He was about to enjoy the weekend as a young man once again

And Ethan? Well he had a date planned already. So it seems that it will be a funny weekend for both of them. Or maybe longer than a weekend?

#body swap #body switch #male body swap #straight to gay #gay to straight #family body swap #family swap #family switch #father and son #father and son body swap #son and father body swap

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theoldsports · 1 year ago

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married.

Coriolanus Snow x reader | 5.5k words

alcohol makes consent messy, substance abuse, manipulation, arranged marriage, public humiliation, two-way abusive relationship <3

Coriolanus may well replace Lupin as my favorite guy to write for. he’s fucked up. i can’t fix him, but i could certainly make him worse.

As quietly as possible, [Y/N] closed the door to Coriolanus’s lavish new apartment behind her. She didn’t particularly want him to know that she had left the apartment in the first place. There were always too many questions.

[Y/N] had recently moved in with Coriolanus since their engagement. Her parents had arranged their marriage with his grandmother, affectionately called the Grandma’am not long before she passed. Coriolanus was about the most desirable bachelor in the Capitol. Not only was he an excessively handsome twenty-three year old, but he was also growing increasingly wealthy and had recently received his first assignment as a Gamemaker working on creating a new arena structure for the Hunger Games. Everyone who was anyone in polite society knew of Coriolanus Snow.

And [Y/N] hated him with everything she had. She had to see his defiant smirk in school every day for years since they were twelve or so. She hid from him every chance she got at home. [Y/N] slept in another room away from him. The only advantage of their marriage were the politics and name recognition for the both of them.

“I didn’t realize you were going out.” Coriolanus said flatly, snapping [Y/N] from her thoughts. She hadn’t even realized he had been in the apartment’s common area. He was sitting calmly in an putrid-looking armchair, alarmingly still.

[Y/N] gasped and clutched her chest in surprise. “Is there a problem with my leaving?” She said quickly.

“No problem.”

[Y/N] looked at him curiously. “Okay.” She said and moved passed him to her bedroom.

After a moment of pause, Coriolanus appeared in her doorway. He leaned against her doorframe with a hand in his pocket. “Where were you, by the way?” He asked plainly.

“I don’t see how that’s your business.”

“It was beginning to get late. Our engagement party’s in two hours. I cannot very well attend an engagement event without my fiancée. So. Where were you?”

“Dry cleaner’s.”

Coriolanus let out a scoff. [Y/N] could see him get hot under the collar. “You expect me to believe you were—Where’s the laundry?” Coriolanus questioned.

[Y/N] reached into her coat pocket for the stub of her laundry receipt. “Dropping off, not picking up. You’re on Lucky Flickerman’s next week. Dropping off my dress ahead of time. Anything left you would like to accuse me of?” [Y/N] sighed, leaned against her desk chair.

“Do not speak to me like that,” Coriolanus begun, sighing. It was obvious that he felt undue humiliation from her response. “It’s childish and unbecoming.”

“So is your being a hypocrite.” [Y/N] snapped back instantly.

The pair fought daily. Never had Snow laid a hand on her, but it wouldn’t be surprising if he did one day. [Y/N] didn’t recall any particular fights he had been involved in at the Academy, but it doesn’t mean they didn’t happen.

“Stop acting like a child!” Coriolanus repeated. “Are we not allowed one remotely pleasant moment together? You know I don’t want this just as much as you, but here we are. Can’t we be civil?”

“I am capable of civility, yes. You, on the other hand…”

“You’re disgusting. You don’t know how to listen. It blows me away. I asked you a simple question that a married couple should ask the other when one is gone. Now you’re screaming at me like a little girl. Grow up.”

“Grow up? You wanna talk about childish; you’re selfish, demanding, and cold. I’m scared to death of you. You make me feel like a toy, not a person, Coriolanus. I was always pretty fucking certain children had toys, not grownups.”

“Good gracious… Fine! Be that way. Cause a fucking scene!” Coriolanus screamed. His temper flared. He got that look in his eye that only men can get when they lose something they wanted. “My coat and tie are black. I’m assuming you’re not intending to clash or something, so just letting you know. Y’know. Communication. The polite thing to do.” He reported and stormed out of her room to his own. Her door slammed so hard behind him that she feared in may splinter off its hinges. What must the neighbors think of them?

[Y/N] resisted the urge to shout for Coriolanus to drop dead.

She was left to ready herself alone. As she pulled out her dress (that wouldn’t look foul against Coriolanus’s coat and tie) from the closet, she caught a glimpse of the engagement ring on her finger. White gold with a moderately sized ruby set in the middle. She was told both the gold and the stone were real, but she had her doubts to some extent. She found it was difficult to believe anything Coriolanus said. The ring made it clear that Coriolanus didn’t truly know [Y/N] because she had always worn silver jewelry. She felt isolated from all her prior jewelry pieces as now, none of them matched.

Then, [Y/N] stepped into her dress. A flowing black ballgown with a full petticoat and a glittery exterior over the fine satin it was made from. She couldn’t quite complete the buttons running up the dress’s back. She sat down at a small vanity Coriolanus had purchased her to do her hair and makeup. She assumed he would be hard pressed by the fact she couldn’t button the back of her own ballgown; that she was incapable or needy.

After dragging kohl and shadows over her eyelids, among other things, she set out to find the correct pair of shoes to match the dress.

The problem with dressing to match Coriolanus is that he was excessively tall. This meant every dress had to be accompanied by the tallest heels one could find. [Y/N]’s ankles ached just thinking about a night in shoes like that again. With her makeup done and her dress unbuttoned down the back, [Y/N] set out to find the red heels Coriolanus had purchased for her. She sat unceremoniously on the floor with her large skirt fluffed out around her to dig in her closet for the shoes.

Coriolanus was fastening his white gold and ruby cufflinks that matched [Y/N]’s engagement ring when he knocked at her door.

“Yes, what?” She shouted from the floor.

Coriolanus pulled the door open without asking if she was decent. “I was going to ask if you were ready, but I can see that you aren’t.” He sighed. Coriolanus never apologized after a fight, instead he tried to placate in whatever way possible. He was incapable of an apology, [Y/N] thought. Whether it was buying her something, taking her out, helping her find something she had lost, that’s what he would do to ease his own guilt. If he could feel guilt.

[Y/N] sighed as well. She was unwilling to engage in verbal sparring with him now. She lowered her head in a visual show of defeat. “I can’t find my other shoe,” She said weakly. “The red ones you got me.”

“The red heels?” He asked quietly. Coriolanus perceived she was not much in the mood for his attitude, and felt his residual anger cool off several degrees.

[Y/N] nodded hopelessly. She didn’t want to go to the engagement party. She didn’t want to be marrying Coriolanus under terms such as these. [Y/N] felt like property and everything hurt.

“Let me look,” Coriolanus said. What he meant to say was ‘I’m sorry for everything,’ but what he said was: “I’ll help you look. Don’t wrinkle your dress, alright?”

[Y/N] stood up awkwardly, holding the falling bodice of her dress up. She felt uncomfortable being so vulnerable in front of him like this. “Sorry, I couldn’t button the back.” She said. With her free hand, she reached around the back of the dress in an attempt to close it.

“Don’t apologize. I’ll get it. Turn,” Coriolanus commanded plainly. [Y/N] did as he said. He notched the buttons down her back with ease. “You should’ve called for help. I didn’t realize you were struggling.” He said. He patted her shoulder to signify he was done with the back of her dress. Coriolanus moved in front of her closet and bent down to find the missing left red shoe.

It was silent for a moment. “Of course you weren’t aware I was struggling.”

Coriolanus offered no reply. He understood what she meant.

“Aha!” He said after a few moments, holding up a matching set of shoes. Coriolanus placed them on the floor in front of her so she could step into them. He offered [Y/N] a hand for stability as she did so.

“Thank you,” she said. “Hey, Coriolanus?”

“Hm?”

“Are you nervous?”

“No,” he replied, standing up from the carpeted floor. “Are you?” Coriolanus’s blue eyes were piercingly inquisitive. Eyes that didn’t want to know you, but to consume you.

“Yes.”

“Really? Why?” Coriolanus asked. It didn’t feel rude or hot-tempered. It was merely a plain question. It made [Y/N] feel safe to answer, even though she remained guarded.

“I’m presenting myself as the soon-to-be wife of the most important thirty-under-thirty in the Capitol in an arranged marriage. And you hate me. You have hated me since we were children. My life is over, Coriolanus. This is for you and for my family’s honor, evidently. What do I have left?”

“You think I hate you?” Coriolanus asked, bending his neck to look at [Y/N]. “I don’t hate you.” [Y/N] wasn’t sure how truthful the statement was.

“Well, at least, you don’t like me.”

Curiously, Coriolanus placed a hand on her neck and dragged his thumb across [Y/N]’s jawline. “That’s such shit, [Y/N]. I didn’t realize you thought that of me. That you… Felt that way at all,” he started carefully. “Rather, and this sounds silly, I enjoy arguing with you. I sort of thought you did as well. You’re ruthless, I admire that,” He smirked and paused for a breath. “I do like you. Believe it, or not. I’ll just have to figure out a way to show you better,” Coriolanus’ hand slid from [Y/N]’s throat, down her side and back to eventually rest at her waist. She blinked up at him, surprised at the luxury of such unexpected contact from him. “Your life is not over. You wanna work, work. You want to not work, stay home. Please, allow me to do what I can for you. I can open doors. Whatever you want, name it. Things, opportunity,” [Y/N] nodded at the word ‘opportunity.’ “You’re meant to be my wife and I’m… really, I’m one of the best resources there is around here. Let me use that advantage. Had I known sooner, I wouldn’t have wasted all that time and money buying you things you hate.” He attempted a casual joke, holding her too close to him.

They were closer physically than they had ever been. Due to their proximity, [Y/N] had to rest her hands on Coriolanus’ chest as she stared up at him. She didn’t know what to say, so she nodded and straightened the red rose at his lapel. “You just might get yourself that unified front with me if you bring home your work…”

“You’re interested in Gamemaking? Since when?”

[Y/N] rolled her eyes. “We’re going to be late. We can speak about this later.”

“By all means.” Coriolanus leaned down awkwardly and kissed her. Maybe it was out of duty, maybe out of desire. Neither of them knew. They had shared the occasional peck on the lips for social reasons before, but this felt a bit different. It was charged somehow. A promise.

When they separated, [Y/N] stared at Coriolanus. He was all eyes - blue, blue, blue. He blinked at her. She blinked back. “Come on, we’ll be late to our own party.”

—

The whole ride to the event venue, Coriolanus had kept his hand on [Y/N]’s thigh. This was an unusual gesture. Normally, he didn’t chance touching her, even by accident. It was an unspoken agreement to keep their distance.

“I’m gonna be sick.” [Y/N] groaned into her palm as she exited the vehicle, led by Coriolanus toward the door of the event hall. The building had been destroyed when they were children in the war and had been recently restored to its former glory.

“Same thing as earlier, or did you decide I’m the worst person on earth?”

“Same as before. Haven’t decided about the second thing. My parents are going to be here too. You remember them?”

“Yes. I’ve met them… Twice, I believe—”

“Tread carefully.” [Y/N] said, offering no additional support.

Coriolanus nodded in solemn understanding. His eyebrows knitted together, knowing one more nasty, exhausting troublespot would be in his way tonight. He hated social gatherings as much as [Y/N]. With all the gentleness he could muster, Coriolanus took her hand. “Heading inside… Unified front?”

“If I must.” [Y/N] said.

With that, the night took off. Bright flashing cameras reflected off the black and white marble of the building, and applause rang off the large, cavernous walls. Everyone was shaking their hands, greeting and congratulating them, and stopping them for overly pictures at every turn. For a moment, [Y/N] truly believed that everything in her life was perfect, because everyone around her seemed to assume that it was. It made the pill of her future easier to swallow.

Coriolanus led her around the room with ease. He introduced her to many individuals whose names she would not remember tomorrow. She was beginning to develop a stunning routine of artifice with him as Coriolanus puppeted her around the room. Each interaction functioned with a greeting from Coriolanus to the stranger, he would remove his arm from [Y/N]’s waist and drag it down her arm into her hand in order for her to showcase her striking gown. Then he would say “isn’t my fiancée beautiful?” or “isn’t she just divine?” or “what a lucky man am I?” [Y/N] would chuckle and compliment him back with “my Coriolanus, ever the charmer!” or “isn’t he just divine?” or “what a lucky woman am I?” accordingly. They would smile sickeningly and pretend they were in love, he would lean in and kiss [Y/N] on the cheek, and she laugh warmly at his ‘spontaneity’ and place a hand on his chest, or straighten his tie.

After that, they would move on to greet the next poor sucker and repeat the process.

Eventually, [Y/N] dragged Coriolanus off to the side so she could relax her artificial grin. “Sorry, I need a moment. My face hurts. And that last man and his wife, was that his wife? They stunk. They smelled so foul it is unreal.”

Coriolanus smirked. “Those were my next door neighbors growing up. Vile. They’re very heavy morphling users, if you couldn’t tell with the glazed over look and twitchy eyebrow.” Coriolanus mocked.

[Y/N] laughed, hard. “Oh, you’re terrible!” She jeered. “Damn, what I wouldn’t give for morphling tonight…”

“Don’t tell me you’re a junkie, now.” Coriolanus pressed.

“Junkie is such a strong word…”

“Well, since I can’t get you high out of your mind at the moment, best I can offer is posca. I can grab you a glass and you can hide from the onslaught for a moment.” Coriolanus offered.

“Please. A particularly stiff glass if you can swing it. Or whiskey!” [Y/N] said. She watched Coriolanus turn to leave for the bar. [Y/N] tucked herself in a corner behind a noble Corinthian column for a moment of peace. A few people came and went that she greeted with that 1000-watt fake smile of hers, but she was mostly left unbothered. [Y/N] caught sight of a clock and realized Coriolanus had been gone for several minutes longer than he should have. She excused herself from talking to some old woman that claimed to be some distant great aunt or something of Coriolanus’ and set off to locate him and her posca.

Cutting through the crowd, [Y/N] spotted tall Coriolanus over most everyone’s heads, holding two glasses of posca, and speaking to her parents.

Fuck.

Her parents.

[Y/N] rushed sharply towards Coriolanus. She stopped short of approaching. She wanted to listen in for a moment to what they might be saying. [Y/N] knew her parents were of the socially treacherous sort. She turned her back to them and stood, pretending she didn’t know they were there.

“…Hasn’t given you too much trouble.” She heard her mother laugh.

Coriolanus laughed uncomfortably back. “Ha, not too much, no,” He said. “She’s quite fiery, for lack of a better word, though. Tough. She’s a tough woman.”

“You’re a strong young man, Coriolanus. I’m sure you’ll find a way to put her in her place. You can’t have her compromise your image and all that, you know. She can just be so destructive.” Her father said.

[Y/N] felt her heart sink. The positive interactions she had with Coriolanus were slipping out of her mind by the second in overhearing the conversation.

“Ah, yes sir,” Coriolanus said. “We’ve got a whole lifetime for—“

[Y/N] turned around and stomped over to Coriolanus. “There you are!” She said, returning that winning smile to her lips. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, dear,” [Y/N] the pet name coming from her mouth made her nauseous. She grasped Coriolanus’ arm firmly. “And you got me a drink? You really are a dear, aren’t you?” She smiled and turned to her parents. Coriolanus felt tense beside her; she could feel it in the muscles in his arm.

Both her mother and father embraced her lovingly. “Oh, [Y/N], you look beautiful as ever.” Her mother said.

“Thank you,” [Y/N] said flatly, not returning the compliment. “If you’ll excuse us, there was someone else I wanted Coriolanus to meet. We’ll be back around soon. Love you!” She muttered, pulling Coriolanus away from her parents.

“Give me that.” She said, as soon as they were out of earshot, taking the glass of posca from Coriolanus.

“They’re…” he started in reference to her parents.

“Dreadful. I know,” [Y/N] heart felt broken. She didn’t even have a chance with Coriolanus without their humiliating influence. She didn’t want to dive into rationalizing his overheard conversation. So she just morosely stared down at the floor.

“They’re cruel to you,” he remarked as [Y/N] drank. “They told me I should work on breaking your spirit.”

[Y/N] took a long drink from her glass. “Are you going to? Break my spirit, I mean.”

“Haven’t decided,” Coriolanus replied. “Is tonight terrible so far for you?”

“Absolutely and unendingly.”

“Shame, since it’s supposed to be for us,” Coriolanus frowned. “Here’s what we’ll do. Drink up and we’ll dance. You told me you liked to dance once. Still true?”

“Uh, yes. You remember that?” The truth was that Coriolanus forgot very little.

“Too much talking, not enough drinking.” He replied, reaching out to tip the stem of her posca glass up, forcing the drink towards her lips.

“You’re a dick.” [Y/N] snapped. Her voice echoed from the round glass at her mouth.

“Never heard that one before.” Coriolanus said sarcastically.

A total of five empty posca glasses were settled on a cocktail table between them after about forty-five minutes of chatter and drinking. Coriolanus seemed looser than before, but focused as ever. The third glass, and the last half of Coriolanus’ second, had sent [Y/N] over the edge into drunkness, however.

“Dance with me now?” [Y/N] slurred slightly.

Coriolanus held his hand out as an affirmative response. She took it and he led her towards the dance floor. “FYI, I’m going to lead. You’re falling apart.” He leaned in to whisper teasingly as they approached the shiny wooden floor.

“If you’re shit at this, I reserve the right to take over as lead.”

“You have zero faith in me,” Coriolanus said, grabbing her too firmly in a waltz hold. She placed her hand on his broad shoulder. “Don’t think, just follow. I’ve got you.” He said, staring at her. Blue, blue, blue eyes, completely unreadable. Coriolanus sloppily led her around the dance floor, keeping the spins to a minimum. Sober, he was probably a fairly decent dancer. [Y/N] was reflexively a fine dancer as well, but a bit sloppier than normal. The thing that was actually holding back her dancing abilities, were the damn red heels. Her feet ached and she didn’t think she would be able to keep up with much more than a waltz in them.

The next song began after only half the length she had expected from a waltz, [Y/N]. It was a brisk foxtrot; all reliant on footwork. As Coriolanus led her into the first sidestep, [Y/N] kicked off her heels without missing a step. She harshly kicked them aside, sliding them to the edge of the dance floor. [Y/N] found she felt tiny now in front of Coriolanus. His smirk doubled at the sight as well. “Better?”

“Much. How about you shrink six inches next time so I don’t have to grow six inches. Seems fair to me.”

Coriolanus laughed cordially. His laugh turned into a sigh when he noticed [Y/N]’s lack of reply. “Are you angry with me?” He was aware that she usually was angry with him, he was asking specifically she to the conversation with her parents.

“Yes, why?”

“Because you’re being extremely rude.” Coriolanus said sharply.

“And?”

“No reason, just making conversation.”

Coriolanus couldn’t figure out what [Y/N] was looking at over his shoulder, but he didn’t care enough to ask. “Wanna make it up to me?” [Y/N] asked. “Posca wasn’t enough.”

“I’ll consider it. The terms?” He replied, spinning her through a tempo change.

“I want to make my parents hurt. I don’t live under their roof anymore. She’s been staring at me since I took my shoes off. See? I’m embarrassing her. And you know how big you owe me.”

This gave Coriolanus pause. Really, he didn’t owe her anything worth a damn. She was as bad to him as he was to her. “Why?”

“You said you could grant me opportunity. Grant me the opportunity of making her feel a fool for making me marry you, Coriolanus. I’m drunk. This offer is only going to work right now.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Blowjob.”

“I have an idea,” Coriolanus said immediately. [Y/N] grinned. His job was having wicked, awful ideas, so it was nice when he delivered. “Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“By the end of tonight, you will,” Coriolanus grimaced. He rotated the pair of them on the dance floor so [Y/N]’s back was to them and he could keep eyes on her parents. “I’m going to touch you.” He whispered in her ear when the music shifted to something more akin to a rumba.

“What?”

In seconds, [Y/N] felt Coriolanus’ nose slide from where he had whispered in her ear and down her neck to above her pulse point. He planted one kiss to her throat. Coriolanus waited before kissing her again to make sure she didn’t throw him halfway across the event hall in rage first. After that, he felt he had the go-ahead to work more forcefully. Coriolanus sensually kissed hard up and down the right side of [Y/N]’s throat, while both of them tried to keep their fuzzy brains clear enough to keep dancing. He kept kissing and sucking at her neck until she let out a nice loud sound of pleasure. That was when he pulled away. He was happy to see a nice purple bruise starting to form on her exposed neck.

“How was that?” He asked dryly, trying to hold off a pending erection.

“You’re out of your mind. Do it again.”

“I’m pretty sure my boss is here, [Y/N]. That was… great, but unless there’s—“

“We got lectured our entire growing up at the Academy to make sure we were to be winners by any means necessary, Coriolanus. Push the envelope. It’s our night. We can do whatever we want. Let’s make it count, at least. With all these cameras here? You keep this up, and your face will be on every periodical in Panem.”

“Yeah, for terrible reasons!”

“Any press is good press and you know that. ‘TROUBLE IN THE ARENA?: GAMEMAKER’S FIANCÉE BREAKS DOWN AT PARTY,’” she said, showing a fictional headline example. “Below it, a nice picture of me crying and you dusting me off like a dutiful husband. Have your way with me and eventually I’ll snap and cry and accuse you of something you didn’t do, then you can ‘put me in place,’ so to speak. Control the fucking news cycle til everyone knows your name.”

[Y/N] could tell that Coriolanus had in fact agreed to gamble with his image when his hand slid down her back and grabbed her ass. His mouth ducked back into her neck as well, biting harder than [Y/N] expected. [Y/N] let out a painfully loud moan without meaning to.

“You want a show, let’s give ‘em a show.” He muttered against her skin. Coriolanus pulled his hips flush against his. The fabric of her ballgown being the only meaningful barrier between them. After a few moments, they had given up any chance at a rumba. Coriolanus stood over her, kissing her bruisingly hard anywhere we could reach.

“Coriolanus,” [Y/N] muttered. She gripped his shoulder tightly to steady herself. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Coriolanus took his hand out of the one that was clutching hers and slid it up to grab her face harshly between thumb and forefinger. “Can you shut up for a minute? I’ve let you run your mouth all day. It’s getting annoying,” He said, the mask of kindness slipping from his eyes. “You have had a complaint about everything. I put up with it, too. It’s getting… really,” Coriolanus’ hand gripped her ass harder over the ballgown. “Fucking annoying. You’re already making me do all this because I’m a dick. Stop being a brat. Please keep your mouth closed until I want it open, okay?”

He was holding her face so tightly that she couldn’t even nod. That’s when she saw the cameras start flashing, as Coriolanus gripped her by the face like a spoiled child and rubbed her ass in front of everyone she knew. “Yes.” She tried to mumble, but it came out squished.

“Great, then, we’re clear. Don’t think, just follow.” Coriolanus leaned forward and kissed her blazingly. That’s around the time [Y/N] could hear her mother in hysterics stomping to the bathroom. She sighed with relief, but also burned with humiliation. It felt like Coriolanus was practically trying to fuck her with her clothes on.

[Y/N] couldn’t believe this. This wasn’t brutally argumentative Snow, this wasn’t pseudo-gentle Snow. Who was this? What the fuck was he doing? Why did it feel good? [Y/N] felt a shiver tingle down her spine as he kissed her. Aggressively, she kissed back in an attempt at delivering that ruthlessness Coriolanus said he prized. He squashed that quickly and leaned her back, almost knocking her off her feet. She pulled back breathlessly.

[Y/N]’s eyes were darting around the room, watching everyone watching her. She was the show tonight. For the first time in her life, someone had made her the real center of attention that she always craved to me. Coriolanus granted her opportunity. It fucking worked. Her gaze shot back to Coriolanus, looking down at her possessively. He was mouthing something to her, but her intoxicated brain couldn’t signal her eyes to focus enough to piece together his words.

“What?” She whispered, leaning away from him.

More clearly this time, Coriolanus mouthed. “Hit. Me,” He leaned in close to her ear and whispered. “I told you. I’m leading; I have an idea.”

[Y/N] started to shake her head ‘no’ at her insane exhibitionist fiancé, but she remembered she was the one that had asked for a show. Without asking why, [Y/N] feigned disgust and stepped away from Coriolanus. She raised her hand and sharply slapped him across the face. This elicited gasps of shock from their guests. She could see a red mark beginning to develop on Coriolanus’ fair cheek.

Violence like this is what people in the Districts did. This was not what well-bred, promising youth from the Capitol did. The chatter in the room grew in the form of prying hushed whispers. The band stopped playing. This was not how beautiful young girls behaved at their engagement parties. [Y/N]’s stomach dropped. She looked angrily between her vile hand and the mark on Coriolanus’ face. Both of their expressions showed that she had hit him harder than they expected.

“How many men, [Y/N]?” Coriolanus asked, forcefully.

“What?” [Y/N] asked, shocked. She had no idea what he was talking about.

“How many men have had you behind my back?”

It was a fucking act. No truth to it at all. He wanted a rise out of her and so did the cameras. This was exactly what she had asked him, she didn’t realize how seriously he would take her.

[Y/N] sighed. She understood her role and she was going to play it perfectly. “One. Only one, I swear. None since you caught us in bed.” Lie. “Stop. We’re…” she glanced around, playing ashamed of the cameras. “We’re in public, Coriolanus. Please. Don’t cause a scene.” She said, parroting what he had said to her that morning.

That line did the trick. She saw the vein in his forehead pop out. “Don’t cause a scene? You struck me!” Coriolanus roared. “That’s unfair, and you know it.” The ghost of a smirk played on his lips while he clutched his face.

“You wouldn’t hear reason! The accusations you made of me, Coriolanus. You—You—“

Coriolanus surged forward and grabbed her by her forearms. “Accusations that are warranted. I don’t know how you expect me to trust you after something like that! Do you think I’m made of stone?”

“Yes!” [Y/N] yelled truthfully.

Coriolanus paused. “[Y/N], I hurt just as much as you do. You’re drunk. You’re not thinking straight,” He placated. “I just can’t stand to see how these men look at you like that, knowing you would trade me for them in a heartbeat.” He brought the tempo of their fight down with his false melancholy.

“Coriolanus…” [Y/N] said tentatively. “I wouldn’t… Not now. We’ve put that behind us. I-I’m yours and—“

“I made this whole night about you. I…” Coriolanus swallowed dramatically. “I love you.” Lie? “I love you, I spend all night trying to show you that I don’t want anyone but you. I try to make you feel special so you won’t stray again. And you, you hit me… I can’t do anything right enough for you.” He turned his face away, feigning hiding tears and released her arms.

Without the stabilizing touch of Coriolanus, [Y/N] was starting to feel uncertain on her feet from the alcohol. Far from gracefully, [Y/N] sank to the floor, her skirt fanning out around her as it had when she was searching for her shoe earlier that evening. From the drink, the tension and the state of her shambling life, [Y/N] let out an unexpected sob. Coriolanus turned his head in genuine surprise at the sound. “I’m sorry, my love,” she started through sniffles. “I’m sorry. Forgive me,” She looked up at him as her mascara began to drip down her cheeks. “Please forgive me. You have every right to leave, but please, Coriolanus, you’re all I have left.” That part was true. It was all gone. Her childhood home, the security of her parents, university and the Academy were behind her, taxing relationships with friends she had outgrown. Coriolanus was all that remained. [Y/N] cried harder. “I made a mistake.” She howled.

Coriolanus was impressed, to say the least. Cautiously, he knelt down in front of [Y/N]. He would remember this image of her for his whole life. With her mascara running, her stockings ripped, her shoes long missing, the top of her extravagant dress sliding too low for public consumption, she was divine, truthfully. That was her. That was how he would always want to remember her. “Darling?” He said quietly.

Now, the bastard was left open to play the dutiful savior, just as she had teased earlier.

[Y/N] started to twist the engagement ring off of her finger, theatrically. Coriolanus took her obvious bait and took her hand to stop her. He slid the ruby ring back down her finger calmly. “Darling, I’m not going anywhere. You’re drunk. You just need a little help, right? You mustn’t drink so much. It breaks my heart to see you like this,” Coriolanus squeezed her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. “You need me. I’m not going anywhere. What kind of husband would that make me if I did?”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “You’re a good man, Coriolanus,” LIE. “You’re too good to me.”

“Come on,” Coriolanus rose from the floor and extended a hand to her. “Let’s get you home, huh?” He said condescendingly.

[Y/N] took his hand carefully. He pulled her up and she stumbled to her feet. Coriolanus wrapped an arm tightly around her waist and pulled her closer. He glanced around in surprise to address the crowd that had gathered in front of them. “I’m sorry for everything you just had to see. Please be kind to my fiancée; she’s had a lot to drink. Posca, right?” Coriolanus darkly attempted a somber joke. “I should’ve kept a closer eye on her. We’ll be getting home. Thank you all for coming out to celebrate us tonight.” Sorry to call it a night with so much night left.” He said softly.

Coriolanus led her to the edge of the dance floor where he had spotted her shoes. He grabbed the red shoes from the floor and carried them dangling from his free hand as he walked her to the door and down the stairs to the sidewalk. [Y/N] had a vague memory of Coriolanus summoning their driver via the valet at the door. She was too busy noticing how her stockings caught on the sidewalk with every step.

“Darling?” Coriolanus whispered, leaning down to whisper to her. “You were brilliant.”

“Really?” She sniffled hesitantly. “Because I’m fairly certain that everyone in that room hates me.”

“Any press is good press.” Coriolanus reminded her with a gentle kiss to the forehead.

“For you, maybe. I made a mistake asking for that…” she kicked at a stray stone on the sidewalk. “I am probably the biggest villain in Panem right now.” [Y/N] said, shaking her head a little with a sad laugh.

“Not a villain,” Coriolanus scoffed. “A star.”

PART II HERE

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @ndycrls @arminsarlerts @catlover420sstuff @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @watermelonharry @ohantonia @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @nananarwhal @taykorsyogurt

sorry - some of them would not process and actually tag! i tried!!!!! non functional tags indicated with strikethru

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #hunger games #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #coryo snow

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