Yandere Professor x you
Rated 18 + — mature short content !
Includes: sweet talking, breath play, age gap, fucking in his classroom, pretty gender neutral, manipulation, abuse of power, obsessed professor.
*Everyone is of age, and older than eighteen. He is referred to as “your professor” his only existence is to be obsessed with the reader, and without you, he ceases to exist. This is purely fictional writing!*
Synopsis: He’s your strict professor, and you’re trying to get a better grade. You’ve never seen him be swayed by a student before, perhaps you would be the first.
Your grade has tanked by a lot. You had an unreasonable professor, the man was picky, and on your last test it was covered in corrections by that damn red pen of his.
You began to wonder what it would take for him to give you an A.
You wouldn’t consider yourself to be a bad student. In fact, this is the first time you have been close to failing. It was honestly your fault, you’ve read the reviews on this teacher and still chose to take the class anyways. You just wanted to challenge yourself.
You gawk at the paper he hands back to you. Your eye twitched at the big fat zero out of a hundred, and that might’ve been impressive just in itself. Not even one question right. You narrow your eyes at the professor who was still handing out the quiz back to the students.
When class ended, you slowly packed up your things, and you kept tabs on how many students were still left in the classroom. When the last student left, you got up from your seat, and stormed your way over to the professor.
Any sliver of dignity you had was gone. Your cheeks still flushed when he announced the lowest score to the whole class. You pushed that memory aside, and you crossed your arms as you stood in front of his desk.
“I don’t have time for this.” Your professor sighed, and his brows furrowed as he loosened up his tie.
He knew why you were coming over to talk to him. This was the worst grade you have gotten in his class. And really, he’s not surprised. In his opinion you have been slacking off. Your body bristles at his words, his eyes are cold and unforgiving.
Maybe if you weren’t a rash individual, you would’ve seen that his comments on your test was totally fake. Every circle and outline with a tiny scribble on the side? That was his way of professing his love for you, and about fifty “I love you’s.” were on the paper, but he knew you wouldn’t read them.
He did know that the grade would haunt you. He did know that it would make you desperate enough to come to him during office hours.
Your professor watched you with amusement as you crawled onto his lap, and you guiding his hands onto your body. He could already feel his dick stirring in his pants.
“This is hardly appropriate.” He said in a disapproving tone, though his hands do cup at your chest.
His thumb circles around your nipple, and the rest of his fingers gently squeeze at opportunity you have given to him. His other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly in his lap.
It felt like you were trying to chip away at his resolve, his face was stern, and he listens to you rant on about the grade he gave you. Though, him letting you sit on his lap, let you subtly grind on his growing erection. With every whine and pout, you tried to play with his heart strings.
Your professor sighed, shook his head, and tried to pretend that there was no way you could make up for it. His hand slowly, and quietly, opening his drawer to grab for a condom.
It didn’t take long for him to agree when you took off his glasses, your lips capturing his in a searing kiss. He followed your lead, letting you feel like you were in control.
His hands groping at your ass and he puts you onto his desk, his body moving his way in between your legs. You wore something easy to slip off, your shorts and underwear now down to your ankles. He caressed your inner thighs, his lips now trailing down to your neck.
Your professor licked and sucked at your skin, his teeth gently nibbling at you, and he made sure to leave marks.
“You can be quite cute like this…” The older man mumbles, “…so pretty, so perfect.” he took a deep inhale as his nose was buried into your neck.
“Oh shit.” Your professor growled, his belt falling to the floor and his pants were pulled down roughly.
Before you knew it, he ripped open the condom wrapper and he slid it on his cock. He spit on his hand for lube, and gave his member a few pumps. He aligned his tip against your warmth.
His hands wrapped around your throat, squeezing the side of it, as his hips began to rock itself. His dick hit the deepest part of you, he went slow, and he was determined to find your sweet spot.
“Don’t be upset…” He cooed, and he kissed you in between his words. “I had to give you a zero.”
“You weren’t understanding my hints.”
He needed you. He wanted to be with you the moment you stepped inside his room, or maybe it was when he found out you signed up for his class. Your name was interesting to him, your looks, and the way you carried yourself got him hooked.
He took a couple points off on your first test, just to see what you would do. You certainly didn’t deserve it, and he thought you would’ve challenged him on it, or come talk to him. Or even offer your body to him sooner.
He did it over and over again, until you were on the verge of receiving an F. He was getting frustrated, and you were a damn tease.
He was never like this before, and if you exposed him, he could lose his job. But maybe then he could be with you in public? He let out a deep groan, his eyes rolling back as he was fucking you for his release.
Your professor didn’t realize that your face was turning pink, your nails scratching at his hands that were on your throat, and you were on the verge of cumming. You gasp as he finally let you breathe, his hands now on the desk behind you.
The room was filled with his vocalizations, his whimpers, his mumbles of how good you feel, and how much he needed this.
He even called you his baby, his good student, love, and when you finally came— his eyes were glued to the white substance dripping out of you.
That was when he knew you were going to be his. He was going to be the only one that could make you feel this way.
That day, you received the A you have been wanting. But you also indulged the man that’s been pining after you, and he never stopped.
Allure: Idk why, but i’ve been really active lately omg.
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Shadows of the Past
prompt: the High King recruits you personally for the expedition headed by your intended, Herald Elrond. your company encounters the darkness and Galadriel portrays an apology to her friend.
pairing: Elrond x betrothed!female!reader
fandom: The Rings of Power
-> no masterlist
word count: 5.1k+
note: wonky brain can think of nothing but this show right now i'm so sorry
warnings: cursing, spoilers, another reader insert for the haters, depiction of character injury, emotions are hard, small canon complicit angst, literal hurt and comfort, established relationship.
"Tell me again," your brother-in-law asked, "why you're not leading this company?"
You smirked, stepping over a fallen branch, "Because the High King has bestowed the honor to Herald Elrond, Daenor."
"Then why enlist you, too?"
"I am a mere emissary of the King. Besides, skills are required for this quest, Daenor, why would I not be employed?"
"Right, of course. I guess my question should be, what skills do you possess?" He teased, laughing when you shoved his shoulder playfully. "But truly," he asked, "why would the King send you both, so close to your wedding day? Why send you, too, if not to lead this company?" However, before you could answer, the air turned serious when the procession you followed came to a rather disturbing discovery upon the laid path.
You leaned on the intact stone while listening to Camnir discuss with Elrond possible paths forward after intending to cross a bridge over the gorge, only to find it in ruins and rubble. Elrond originally questioned the force that could've brought the ancient stone down in such a harsh and violent manner, thinking perhaps lightning, but another voice refuted this idea by claiming it was the Dark Lord, Sauron.
This familiar voice was that of Lady Galadriel - and while you've known her to be a fellow Commander, you were unsure of her title now. Yes, she was technically lieutenant of this company, and that was what she was addressed as, but you knew how stubborn the Elleth was and that she would not be so easily demoted.
You said nothing. You just listened as Camnir told Elrond they could take one of two paths: one so out of the way, it would add two weeks to their journey, and the other, down the same darkened path the Dark Lord laid.
Upon mentioning the path before them through the Hills of Tyrn Gorthad, Lady Galadriel twitched. She had been daintily ghosting her fingertips over the charred and mangled metal of the lanterns set on the imploded bridge, seemingly stuck in thought, then freezing. You couldn't see her face, only taking note of the brisk tension mounting in the Elleth's shoulders.
She spoke, "There is evil in those hills." The group shared silent looks, each with varying degrees of mistrust or caution. "Ancient, and full with malice," Galadriel glared at the landscape before her. "Sauron means for us to go that way. We must go another," She informed the group as if she were in a position to give orders.
From the crouch he took to observe the damage done to the stone, Elrond rose while speaking in a firm tone that overpowered the Lady's, "The Enemy is doubtless watching both roads." His eyes flickered over yours last as jetting over each of his soldiers, clocking the way you nodded in agreement. To you, it seemed common sense: of course, the bad guy was watching the paths that would lead the good guys to him! He was evil, not stupid! Elrond reminded his people, "This collapse makes it more critical than ever to reach Celebrimbor at speed."
"We won't reach anywhere with speed if we walk into a trap," Galadriel argued; the two friends (and distant cousins) held each other's even stare for several moments.
"What say you, Commander?" You asked, hoping to break the tension and little trance they were locked in. No, no, not out of jealousy, but out of protectiveness; wanting to break the ice for the sake of Elrond's authority.
"We go South," Elrond decided, turning from the fragmented bridge stump, ready to lead his company on, when Galadriel spoke again - from the same spot she had yet to move from.
"Commander, I must protest."
You did not move when the others did, you waited when Elrond paused and replied, "Your opinion on the matter has been heard."
He went to walk away again when Galadriel growled with a rolling tongue, "Elrond!"
You flinched to a halt in blinding irritation, upset by your peer's very audacity. Everyone halted around you, Camnir even shifting in his stance out of nervousness from the heat of your glare not on him. Your fiancé turned back to glare at his friend, ending with finality, "Opinion heard, lieutenant. We go South." He gave an encouraging command in Sindarin, leading only a few strides before pausing. When you automatically halted yourself at his side, he nodded and spoke softly while seemingly mindlessly grabbing your hand to give an affectionate and reassuring squeeze, "Lead them on, love, stay on the trail."
You glanced back at Galadriel, who was finally moving to keep up, and whispered for only his ears, "You sure?"
"I'm sure, go on," he confirmed, nodding again and offering a soft sort of half-smirk. His eyes, though, were squinted; indicating he was genuine in his displayed gentleness. With a squeeze to his hand, you offered one last stale look at Galadriel, who expertly avoided your eyes, then let go and walked forward to lead the way.
Behind you, Elrond snarled his scolding of Galadriel, insisting she shape up, forgo trust in the Ring of Power she wore, and if that wasn't possible, she needed to excuse herself. The Commander of the Northern Armies rebutdtaled that she did not desire to see any member of the company slain - a veiled response to her stubbornness to not abandon their quest and refusal to ignore her ring.
Forward, you marched.
Though you seldom showed it, you felt fearfully nervous when the night fell and your company crept further into what felt like infected wood. The ground turned spongey, a particular stench permeated the air, the darkness shadowed most all you saw. The trees loomed tall, the moon casted a bright silver light, and dead leaves crunched under booted, lithe steps. Elrond shared a nervous look with you, his hand only briefly brushing yours; a way to say he was there with you without being overly affectionate in front of his soldiers.
From the corner of his eye, Elrond saw your head tilt back in wonder before a fell voice hissed on the wind, "I am waiting for you." But in truth, nobody was sure about what they heard or did not hear. Perhaps they did not want to know, but still, the voice made the area further darken in suspicion, and once in a small clearing, all came to a halt to survey the surrounding area. There was a threat somewhere, but where exactly was yet to be determined.
Daenor questioned sharply, "What is this place?"
"Tyrn Gorthad," Camnir answered. "Known to men as the Barrow-downs."
You chimed in softly, "In ancient days, this was where they laid their lords and kings to rest."
"I feel no rest here," Daenor grumbled. "Even the trees seem ill at ease."
"Fear not," Vorohil chimed in, sounding amused while stepping up to (and through) your group's observation deck. "Dead men are no threat."
"Well, we've lived very different lives," you scoffed under your breath.
However, after Vorohil, Elrond followed; casting a look at the lot of you and reminding, "Keep moving."
You let the others pass ahead of you, trying to shake off your nerves and mentally prepare yourself for the hell you were walking into. Something anchored your feet, refusing to let go; every nerve in your body on fire and begging you not to wade into the dark. Your name was spoken gently, Galadriel's hand on your shoulder startling you.
"What is it?" She asked quietly.
"We shouldn't be here," you whispered, Elrond doubling back when he noted your delay. Not wanting a confrontation, Galadriel sighed and patted your shoulder before slipping away as your lover approached you.
"Are you alright?" He asked softly but urgently.
"There's something sinister here," you told him stiffly, stepping half a step closer, "watching us."
He took a breath, "If Galadriel's ring - "
"It's not that!" You insisted. "I feel it, Elrond, not the ring, not anything Galadriel said. I feel it."
Elrond's brows furrowed at the tips, like something hooked them to yank towards his nose. "Then stay close to me," he decided.
"We should move on, quickly," you snatched his hand to prevent him from parting; his gaze turning worried. "Please, listen to me."
"My love," he spoke softly, squeezing your hand, "it is a gravesite, nothing more. The dead cannot harm us."
"It is the living's influence I fear."
He sighed and nodded, "We will not linger." His forehead found yours to rest, "But do not stray from my side, it is of great comfort."
"To us both," you agreed, letting him pull back. Yet he did not relinquish hold of your hand, keeping it tight in his and leading you into the clearing the others were surveying.
"Commanders," Rían called, standing over the corpses of two horses... Attacked seemingly a time ago, and upon inspection, discovered the pairing bodily remains of an Elvish party.
Elrond questioned your name when you squatted, brushing aside debris. "Their barding is from Lindon," you told him, gently ghosting the leather with your touch. You looked up to meet his eyes, glancing over to see Galadriel, predicting, "The King sent a dispatch to warn Celebrimbor."
Galadriel nodded in confirmation as Rían discovered the encased message from the King in a decorative tube, asking, "This dispatch?"
Slowly, you stood from your position and held a silent hand out, being given the tube for inspection; all eyes on you, waiting for whatever your overly keen (even for an Elf) eyes would see. After confirming the contents, your eyes locked with Galadriel's, and she spoke what you both were thinking: "We must go from this place."
Elrond appeared ready to agree, tension mounting as your company seemingly felt the blanket of panic being thrown over them all. From the dark, a set of rotting chains shot out to coil around Daemor, yanking him into the toxic, spongey earth and across the clearing.
"Y/N!" He shouted in shock, and without thinking, your hands slapped into his as if in an effort to anchor him... But you were both yanked off your feet. "Commander!"
"Daenor! NO!"
"Help me! Y/N, Y/N, please!"
"Hold onto me!" You begged, being drug on your belly.
"Sister! Sister, please, help me! Help me!" He sobbed in fear, a vice grip on your wrists and hands surely to leave blemishes. "Don't let go! Pl-eeeeeaaaaaase!"
"Daenor!" You whimpered, struggling as the force that held you both hostage was too strong to maintain a safe, secure hold permanently - meaning, saving him was futile.
Your name was bellowed, being drug towards one of the opened tombs; but at the last moment, the tether that kept you and Daenor together was broken and he was pulled into the abyss of the grave. You whimpered in fear, slowly lifting from your belly and to your knees as Daenor's screams were silenced... In fact, the entire area turned eerily quiet.
Behind you, the others rushed to the scene and Elrond immediately dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around you. "Are you hurt? Hey, hey, look at me, are you hurt?" He demanded, fearful that the chains might shoot out again to finish the job to swallow you in the dark. He checked for any physical injury, but the tension was too great to ignore; the mouth of the tomb glaring at you, forcing Elrond to silence himself.
You flinched back into his hold when the gruesome sounds of crunching bone and squelching flesh was heard; indicating whatever was inside, whatever claimed Daenor, had disposed of his living body.
Elrond took advantage of your flinch to rock you back onto your feet, standing as a group as a voice hissed, "Cold old be hand and heart and bone, And cold be sleep under stone, Never more to wake on stony bed, Never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead." Galadriel brandished her sword as the wights first emerged, revealing their zombified forms. You encouraged the group to form together in a circle as the demons emerged. The Voice continued, "In the black wind, the stars shall die."
"Prepare yourselves," Galadriel warned, the group arming themselves.
"What are they?" Rían trembled.
From perfectly between Galadriel and Elrond, you answered, "They are those who laid in the tombs, the Lords and Kings of old... Lore calls them Barrow-wights."
The creatures surrounded your company, leering, growling, sizing you up. In Sindarin, Elrond commanded, "Attack!"
In tandem, the group lunged; weapons striking the ghoulish foes but they merely disintegrated in air... Then reformed. It seemed that fighting only served to irritate the enemies, their collective hissing and screeching making stomachs curl and skin to prickle in fear. Galadriel clocked this first, warning Rían, "Still your arrow!"
But the Elleth was already locked and loaded, the string slipping from her grip to fire at a distant wight. But it only soared through the zombie's face, not stopping, directing towards Camnir - but Elrond intercepted, swiping his sword to cut its path and save his soldier. The creature rejuvenated.
"They're impervious to our weapons," Camnir voiced, fear inking his tone.
Elrond's eyes found yours, seemingly connected by a string of similar thought; remembering the old wives tales you once read a lifetime ago, ancient lore about Barrow-wights dating back to the time of Melkor. So, he sheathed his sword and told his soldiers, "Hold fast." To Camnir, the closest to him, he demanded, "Come with me!"
"Where are you going?"
"Help me open it," Elrond told him, trying to pry open the sealed tomb as you swiped at another wight's skeletal hand reaching for you.
"What?"
"Hurry!" Elrond barked in Sandarin.
Back in your group, Rían muttered nervously, "Commander?"
"Ease yourself, remain calm..."
"What do we do?"
"Make no sudden movements. Stay together, fend them off but don't engage a fight," you advised, "hold strong - "
A gasp cut off your words when chains coiled around your ankle; securing in a tight zip that knocked you off balance and back into the toxic dirt. You scrambled for purchase on anything, finding only wet leaves; and suddenly, the chain turned taunt with tension before you were being sucked back into another tomb.
"Commander!" Vorohil shouted, trying to reach for you, but just missing as you were reeled back over the dirt.
"Y/N!" Rían cried, alerting Elrond and Camnir of your situation. You whimpered in fear, sobbing as you couldn't fight the force; couldn't save yourself; only able to helplessly submit to your approaching doom after clawing unsuccessfully for salvation.
"No! No!" You yelped, trying to remove the chains, but another tightened around the first chain in a horribly tight, vice grip that strangled breath from your lungs from the pure burning sting. With the last of your air, you screamed, "Elrond! Please!"
You heard Vorohil sprinting after you, freezing in your escape attempt when a grisly, decayed hand extended from the ebony shadow of the tomb towards you. There was a panicked finality to your blood, fear clogging rational thought; never seeing Elrond, only focused on the threat pulling you in. But the half-Elf you meant to marry in only a few weeks time came surging onto the scene, sliding on his knees at the mouth of the tomb and swinging a sword to sever both hand and chains.
"Y/N - "
"Fuck's sake!" You snarled, unintentionally cutting Elrond off; shoving the chains from your leg, scrambling to your feet.
You were just about to thank Elrond when he instead encouraged, "Here, take this." He held out one of the ancient weapons excavated from the tomb, nodding with increased vigor before turning away when it was in your grip. You hacked and stabbed the wight that came after you, Elrond and Camnir tossing the rest of the company weapons to cast down the surrounding enemies.
"How?" Rían asked in shock, seeing the wisps of the last wights waft into the wind.
"According to lore, only the blades with which they were buried with will return such creatures to rest," Elrond explained.
"But the men buried here have been entombed for over a thousand years," Camnir trembled, turning to his companion.
Vorohil seethed, "I think it is safe to say that something has awoken them."
"No," Galadriel argued, glaring down at the wight's decaying body. "Someone... Awakening evil. Across all Middle-earth."
You ignored the conversation and slowly took a seat; leaving your weapon in the dirt while focusing on hiking up your trouser leg after discarding your boot. With a clenched jaw, you revealed the wight's chains left sizzling lacerations; the metal seemingly enchanted to burn damn near to the bone, creating craters, indentations, dimples to your otherwise pure and unblemished flesh.
You winced when fabric stuck to the wound, bearing your teeth while hissing through them; breathing turning staggered as the pain became biting. "Commander?" You heard Camnir question softly with concern, others turning to set their attention on you.
"It's nothing," you insisted, observing the wound and deciding a tourniquet was required.
"You're hurt," Elrond growled, surging forward and unintentionally knocking Galadriel's shoulder - but the Elleth didn't take offense. The others wanted to close in around you, but Galadriel held them back after witnessing you before. As Commander of the Southern Armies, you had seen many battles with Galadriel, and sometimes, you sustained injury; she's witnessed how you turned akin to a panicked animal when accosted with attention - no matter how genuine the concern.
"It's nothing," you repeated, reaching for one of your belts, "I'm fine."
"You're not - "
"It's a burn, Elrond, nothing more," you sniffled, feeling how far up the chain had gone; deciding to tie the tourniquet above your knee.
"Let me," Elrond whispered, laying his hands over yours that shook and trembled without abandon.
"Elrond - "
"Just," he snipped, needing to pause and take a breath, "please, let me help you."
Behind him, Galadriel ushered the others away to a short distance; deciding to gather whatever belongings of Daenor they could to honor his lost life. You met Elrond's worried gaze and nodded, sniffling, "Okay. J-Just above the knee, here," you showed him.
"I know, love, I've got yah," he breathed, shuffling closer and kneeling beside you while taking the belt. You pulled the material of your trousers straight, grimacing when Elrond first wrapped the leather around your thigh. "All right?" He checked, seeing you nod rapidly; no words used because you were holding your breath to prevent yourself from crying out. When Elrond first tied the leather, you whimpered and his eyes turned teary. "It's gonna get worse, love, just hang on f'me - " He warned you before suddenly tightening the tourniquet, making you yelp painfully. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I know it hurts, I know, I know, I'm so sorry," he repeated, your hands latching onto his forearms out of subconscious need to feel him for comfort while he secured the leather belt. When done, he reached for your cheeks and pet hair that escaped your braids behind your ears, encouraging, "Breathe for me, just breathe, love. You're all right, there you go. Breathe. Good, good, I've got you, I'm so sorry, just breathe, just breathe... Oh, I, uh..."
"What's wrong?" You worried when he trailed off; eyes full of tears and his mouth half opening while retracting his hands that you held by his wrists still.
"I've blood on my hands..." He splayed them in display between you two.
"It's okay - "
"Got it on your face," he frowned.
"It's fine," you insisted, sniffling sadly, "it's my blood, anyway. We should be moving - "
"You're hurt."
"I know, but it's not life threatening, I don't need coddled."
"I'm not coddling you - "
"You are," you half smirked, "because you're worried."
"Of course, I am," he scoffed, using his sleeve to wipe your cheeks and temples free of blood. "How can I not be? You..." His voice quaked with emotion, "You are my starlight, my fairest friend, my sweetest love. Seeing you hurt..."
"I know," you whispered, bringing him close so your foreheads met, "but I'm okay."
"For now."
You sighed, pulling back to respond, "Don't say that, don't even think it. Optimism is our only friend in this situation, else, what is the point of going after Sauron?"
He needed to take a breath, sniffling his own emotion. "Fine. We should rest until morning... Regroup, give you time off this leg for now."
You nodded, "You sure?"
"I think we could all use the reprieve," he admitted.
"Does that include you?" You asked while caressing the coils of chestnut off his forehead.
"I'm fine - "
"As I am?"
Elrond paused, then scoffed a small laugh and nodded. "I'm managing..." He trailed off, shaking his head.
"Hey," you whispered, bringing him back to your forehead, "you're doing an excellent job of leading this company. But we all have limits and tonight was a lot, you deserve the time to breathe."
"Time is something we don't have."
"We have enough for now," you insisted, more or less forcing Elrond to relent.
As Daenor's belongings were pulled from the tomb and buried in the scorched earth his killers had rose from, the company each offered you hollowed words of condolences for your loss. Beside Elrond, it was known, you and your brother-in-law were great friends - being the reason he met and eventually married your sister. His sword was embedded in the ground as a marker, the company gathered to silently pay their respects while their commander stood at the riverbed's edge in deep, solemn contemplation.
You held one of his daggers, intending to keep it in reminder; pocketing a few pieces of jewelry, intending to give it to his wife. However, all was interrupted when from a distance, you heard the booming rumble of drums. Not just any drums, but the beating sounds of a marching procession; something ominous and daunting. You perked up, standing to your feet as something dark and familiar started in your chest before sinking to your gut. By looks of your company, they, too, heard the drums and shared your worried thoughts; sheathing Daenor's dagger to your belt and surging for where Elrond stood speaking to Galadriel.
"Forgive my intrusion," you bid the pair, Elrond turning instantly.
"Are you all right?" His hand reached for your hip instantly, trying to help stabilize you - if you had been off balance.
Your hand laid to his cheek, answering swiftly, "I'm fine," before dropping your hand to rest on his bicep, "but we've heard drums - in the deep. Sounds like there's a host on the march."
This sent the company into action, tracking the sound of the enemy over leagues of wooded area. By the end of the day, at dusk, you all gathered slowly on a darkened clifftop; watching in horror as legions of orcs marched down the beaten path to the sounds of their war drums. "Orc treachery," Rían cursed upon sight.
"That trail...?" Elrond questioned, letting go of his secure hold on you to lower in a squat, "I gather it leads to - "
"Eregion, my liege," Camnir confirmed.
"We came in search of Sauron," Vorohil narrated everyone's thought and question, "And instead, we find Adar?"
"Could they be in league with each other or... Perhaps at war," Elrond thought aloud, you shifting on your bad leg for a moment to readjust your stance among the trees.
"A legion of Orcs have marched into Elvish lands," Galadriel spat in anger, glaring at Elrond. "We are all of us at war."
Elrond agreed, "Word of this must reach the High King before our host sails for Mordor."
The silence was calm in a resolute sort of way, everyone just pausing to bask in their shock and awe. This was shattered when a distant Orc shouted, "There!" An arrow thunked into the trunk of the tree behind you, a horse neighing shrilly as it galloped through the forrest towards freedom and away from its pursuers.
Just as the company turned to face the enemy, another arrow flew through the air almost inconspicuously, finding its mark in the soft part of your chest just beneath your sternum.
You grunted when the arrow landed, taking half a step back and wanting to cry out. Instead, you just held where the arrow embedded itself in your flesh. You felt dizzy suddenly, clothes and hand saturating with blood as the arrow had pierced through the aorta artery to cause major damage. Irreparable damage. Fatal damage...
In a whisper, Elrond told his soldiers in Sindarin, "Hold!"
In the distance, the Orcs were heard complaining about the horse escaping while a few random arrows were fired off again in a last ditch effort to wound the animal. If you did not move, the mangey creatures did not notice, smell, or sense you. But you couldn't form a full coherent thought, just understanding your injury, the looming grace of Death soon to kiss you, that breath was becoming increasingly harder to come by, and the pain - the pain was aching, soon spiking.
You did not mean to, but your fear was too great to ignore, and you stuttered in a whimpered gasp, "El-Elrond?"
His head snapped over, seeing the arrow protruding from your chest and feeling himself crumble inside. You were choking on blood, trying to remain silent - and they all saw that effort. How blood came splattering from your nose as you tried to subdue your noise, but that only made it harder to breathe; inadvertently choking, a groan strangled from your lungs just as Elrond reached you. He held you to him with his chest and single arm anchoring your waist, the other lifting to lay his hand over your mouth as Galadriel glued to your other side for added support.
The company moved back several yards, covering ground swiftly before laying you down behind a natural outcropping of protective rock. You were struggling, unable to fight it any longer; hacking a cough, blood spewing, splattering, streaking down your neck, the pain insurmountable. Elrond's one hand cushioned under your head, tears in his eyes as he could only hold you as the Orcs were heard closing in, other hand once more clasping over your mouth.
Still, Galadriel was sandwiching you, wincing when Elrond's hand stifled your groans of pain as he strained himself to peak over the top of the rocks. When he lowered himself, your lover leaned his forehead on your temple and hushed in your ear, "I'm so sorry." Upon lifting, he met Galadriel's eyes, who had been examining your wound, only to find her's full of sadness. Her head shook with muted words - telling him whatever she saw wasn't good.
You whimpered lightly. The Orcs could smell an Elf.
You wrangled Elrond's hand from your mouth, "Lis-Listen to me - "
"Hush, do not - "
"Shut up and listen!" You hissed, keeping hold of his hand, "'M not makin' it outta this, love, you've gotta go. L-Leave me - "
"No!"
"Elrond. Leave me," you insisted, "and they'll k-know 's m-me they smell. Y-You have t'warn the H-High King."
"I'm not leaving you," Elrond grit.
You smiled sadly, "And I love y-you for that. B-But you h-have t-t-to."
"Not in this lifetime," he begged, a few tears falling. "Just give me time to think, I'll figure something out."
"Time... Is something we don't have," you repeated his words from earlier. Suddenly, Galadriel just knew something without words; a feeling; a sort of understanding that she could help in this moment. She heard you whisper, "I'm so sorry, this wasn't supposed to happen. W-We should've had so much more time - "
"Please, don't say that," Elrond begged quietly.
Galadriel took a sobering breath and moved her hands to the base of the arrow; pressing enough to make you wince and breath in sharply. Elrond went to tell her to back off, but paused when The Ring of Power she wore twinkled in the dark night - seemingly pulling you out of that fatal twilight. Your breathing turned slow... Eyes clearing of hazy pain... Life breathing back into your flesh...
The arrow fell out, making all three of you gasp. Galadriel's hands fell away as your own shot to where your wound had been - finding it healed between the fabric the arrow tore. You looked at the Elleth in shock, breathing, "You healed me...?"
She just nodded, Vorohil speaking in astonished Sindarin, "Amazing."
"You're - You're, you are - ?" Elrond stuttered in shock.
"I'm okay," you confirmed, caressing his cheek as he beamed down at you in pure glee. "I'm okay, love, I'm okay; Galadriel, she healed me," you sniffled, looking to your friend. "Thank you, my friend."
"Of course," she breathed, the Orcs heard shouting in the distance to overturn every rock. With a look of shared understanding, Galadriel told Elrond over your body while you tried to mop up some blood, "Get to Lindon. I will occupy them as long as I am able. Get her up."
Elrond huffed through his nose, but did as bid - not like he needed to even be told in the first place. He gathered you into himself and stood, making sure you were stable before looking back at Galadriel; slowly squatting again as she wriggled the ring from her finger. "Take it," she breathed, presenting Elrond with the band of jewelry. When he made no move, she snatched his hand and folded the ring into his grasp, "Take it, Elrond!"
"What will you do?" He asked begrudgingly, storing the ring in a leather pouch for safety.
"Something foolish, probably," she smirked, nodding in meaning. "Now, go. Go!"
"Elrond, love," you whispered, holding your hand out for his and heaving him to his feet. "With me, c'mon, quickly," you advised the others, beginning the trek down a new path in the woods. As you moved, you realized that Galadriel's ring hadn't just healed the arrow wound, but the Barrow-wight's chain, as well, which helps remedy your limp.
A semi-safe distance away, there came a decently loud and abrupt boom behind you, and upon looking, saw the trees up in flames. It was where Galadriel must've been battling the Orcs alone.
In earnest impression, Camnir narrated, "She scarified herself to save us all."
Elrond came to a halt when he realized his company members were captivated by the sight of heroics in action. So he interrupted their dreamy thoughts by calling, "No, you are mistaken, Camnir." He stalked forward through his delegates, telling them in their native tongue, "She did not do it to save us."
Tension simmered over each member.
"What?" Camnir questioned.
Elrond turned away from the spectacle with Galadriel's fire, consulting the dark again, speaking with ramped distain in Sandarin, "She did it to save the ring." His hand reached for yours again, the two of you leading the company forward with him calling over his shoulder in the Common Tongue, "Hurry!"
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Yandere Head Canons:
The Distance Between
Yandere Ex Bully x Caretaker Fem Reader
TW: Bullying (trauma mentioned), smut, dubcon (convincing you to have sex after breakup), baby trapping, power imbalance, unhealthy relationships, yandere behavior, delusional behavior, gross, obsession, male masturbation (mentioned), etc.
When you were assigned a new patient, you had no idea it would be the Emiliano Villan, your childhood bully. The boy who tormented you from primary school up until your graduation. The boy who relented teased your looks and weight, the one who dumped cold water or bugs on you from the windows above, the one who sabotaged your lunch, and the one who made you cry yourself to sleep every night… yet you never showed him a reaction for all those years.
And now here he was in a wheelchair from getting into a head on collision after a night of partying. Perhaps karma had finally hit him? Emiliano looked so pathetic to you as he remained curled up on his bed. He was even more humiliated that someone like you had to care for him. The one who had gotten away… his dolly.
His temper was still as volatile as it was when you were younger. Emiliano often threw things at you and called you every insult known to man. His green eyes frequently checked your face for tears or anger, yet you never reacted much to him. It only angered him more. Yet there was a part of him that adored the way your eyes stayed on him.
Emiliano got a kick out of you. No matter what he did, you never reacted to his outbursts. You never cursed him out when he knocked over the meal you’d make him or when he dumped his drinks on you. It was just like the good old days of middle and high school!! When it was just you and him… you and your doll like face. Emiliano wanted to break you. Not physically like he was at the moment, but mentally. Taking out his anger on you made him feel better… and he didn’t realize just how awful he was until it was too late
“I don’t even know why you bother, I’m not going to eat any of the slop you make.” Emiliano chuckled as you swept up the meal off the floor. Your hour of cooking completely wasted. “You’re pathetic.”
It was a struggle everyday to wash him up and try to get him to take his medication. Emiliano would use his muscular arms to push against you and flail. It was when he landed a harsh punch to the side of your face that you gave up.
You quickly dropped him on his mattress as you clutched your swollen cheek. He gave you a smirk but it fell quickly when he noticed the tears gathered in your eyes. Why did it upset him to see you cry?
“You’re the same monster you’ve always been…” Hot tears streamed down your cheeks as you rose to stand up. Your eyes filled with hatred. “To think I sympathized with you.”
Emiliano could only watch you walk away and gently shut the door behind you. His hand still outstretched to you while fear sunk into him. You weren’t going to leave him, right?
You didn’t come to work the next day. Emiliano laid in his bed in hopes that you would come but you didn’t… he began to struggle for get himself up and into his wheelchair. The young man cursed when he nearly crashed to the floor, but he was able to pick himself back up to get into his mobility device and roll towards his window in hopes you’d come.
“She called off.” His butler informed him which made Emiliano frown. “You really need to be nicer to her. She’s the only one who accepted being your caretaker since you’re such an ill mannered man.”
Emiliano frowned and glanced at his lap in shame. His butler was right… he didn’t like the way she cried. It upset him to see her like that… she’d look so much prettier with a smile.
The next day you came back to work, except you didn’t try to make him anything to eat. Emiliano felt frustrated that you didn’t initiate any small talk with him or offer him any of your meals. He’d eat them this time! He would be better…
“I’m sorry.” Emiliano apologized to you, his head hung low. “I was cruel and I… I don’t deserve your pity.”
You gave him a nod of acknowledgment but you simply went about your day. It only made Emiliano feel even worse. He missed your voice already…
Emiliano began to study you more as you worked. He’d sit in his wheelchair and watch you clean up his room or prepare his medications. You had always been so pretty, but god you were breathtaking up close.
You noticed a shift in Emiliano, the young man now stared at you whenever he thought you weren’t looking. His eyes studied you like a scientists studied a specimen. Emiliano no longer insulted you, but now he complimented you for the smallest of tasks you’d complete. It was so strange… he even upped your pay .
He seemed enamored with you which only made your job more difficult since it’s been harder and harder to go home at a decent time to your boyfriend.
“Can you please stay a bit later? I have a hard time sleeping.” Emiliano softly asked you, his long lashes fluttered up at you.
“Okay, I can see if you can take anything for sleep.” Emiliano frowned when you began to check your bag for anything to give him. He didn’t want them… he wanted you to lay with him…
“Can’t you just sit beside me until I sleep?” Emiliano softly asked. “I won’t do anything, I promise.”
You sighed and rolled your eyes. You obediently sat beside Emiliano who guided your hand to rest on top of his head. “This is nice… can you call me Milo?”
“Alright… Milo.” You quirked a brow at him. What was with this sudden burst of affection? Emiliano smiled brightly when you ran your fingers through his chocolate hair. Your fingers were like magic…
Once Emiliano was asleep, you left for the day. Unaware that ‘Milo’ dreamt about you for the entire night… of the beautiful life you could have together.
Emiliano took his therapy more seriously when he noticed you in a more chipper mood as of late (you were leaving at a decent time to see your boyfriend). Were you happy to finally be able to call him by his pet name? He remembered someone telling him in middle school that you had a crush on him… he liked you too. He had always liked you, but he didn’t want anyone else to… it’s why he bullied you relentlessly. Why he made sure no one else wanted to have you… so you could be his. So your mind would only ever think of him and your eyes would always look at him, Emiliano hadn’t realized how twisted that way of thinking was until he was older… he had only followed what his father had done for his mother.
“I was thinking we could have dinner together.” Emiliano smiled up at you as he fidgeted with his sleeves. “Won’t that be lovely?”
You tried not to show your distaste, but decided to politely let him down. “I’m sorry Emil- Milo.” You corrected yourself before you continued to speak, “But I have to leave at my usual time, my boyfriend will be worried sick-“
You gasped when Milo threw himself on the floor. You quickly rushed to him to help him up. “Oh my god! Are you okay?”
Emiliano pulled you down to the floor with him in a hug, his arms desperately clutched onto you as his body shook with rage. “Boyfriend? You don’t… you can’t…”
Emiliano felt his breathing become ragged at the thought of you with another man… a man that wasn’t in a wheelchair. A man that was completely functional. This entire ordeal filled him with a new determination. He would walk again… and he’d show you that he was a much more suitable man for you.
Emiliano just holds you close as you helped him back into his wheelchair. His promise rung in his head. He wouldn’t let you be with another man… and he was willing to go to the extreme to make it happen.
Emiliano offered you more money to be his live in caretaker, which you were hesitant to accept but your boyfriend said the money would be good for both of you… a huge mistake on both of your parts.
You were a bit shocked when Emiliano moved you into the room beside him. “I just want you to be close… in case I need you.”
You didn’t have too much of a problem with it until you’d hear the whimpers late in the night. Soft gasps and whispers of your name escaped Emiliano’s lips whenever he thought you were asleep. It made you sick.
It was even worse when you’d have to help him clean up in the morning and his boxers would be covered in remnants of his semen. Emiliano’s cheeks would be flushed whenever you’d give him a bed bath, his well endowed member fully erect and weeping with precum. He never failed to make the experience awful for you… but the money was too damn good to pass up.
It was another month when you received a message from your boyfriend wanting to breakup since you spent too much time away… you were distraught, a fact that Emiliano took advantage of.
Emiliano pulled you into his wheelchair with his as he presses hot kisses up and down your neck as you cry. His hands eagerly grasp at your hips in desperation.
“You can… you can stay in my room. I’ll keep you company.” And you’re whisked into Emiliano’s bed as he locked his wheel chair to climb in with you. His lips all over yours in hungry kisses. “Take off your clothes, I promise I’ll satisfy you.”
And you, not even in your right mind, obey him. Your bare end is practically dragged to his mouth as he suckled on your slit like a starved man. His tongue eagerly wriggled in and out of your hole until you’re a whimpering mess.
“I want to fuck you… please let me fuck you.” Emiliano pulled away from you to lay back in the bed. “I’m still working on my legs, but I can still thrust from below. Please?”
You give in and help him shove his waistband down to his thighs. His cock easily slides in as he gasped and moaned from under you.
“Ah! Fuck!” Emiliano cursed at you tight you were before he gave an experimental thrust. You whine at the feeling. You hated to admit it, but Emiliano was much bigger than your ex-boyfriend ever was.
Emiliano just smiled up at you before he began to slam his hips into yours like a madman. He didn’t care that you were gripping onto his shoulders as if your life depended on it or that your eyes filled with tears from pleasure. You were finally his woman and he’d be damned if he didn’t bruise your cervix up properly.
“Milo! Milo!” You chanted his name like a mantra as his cock bullied your poor, neglected pussy. How long has it been since you’ve been fucked? Months? Nearly a year? It didn’t matter because this was the best sex you’ve had in a long time.
Emiliano pressed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss when he felt your walls flutter around him. Did you like being fucked like a whore? How about he fill you up like one too?
It’s a few more rough thrusts that made you see stars until you felt something molten hot fill you.
You’re a sobbing, soaking wet mess by the time he’s done. Your pussy swollen and your womb filled with Emiliano’s semen, your ex bully holding you close to his body in an inescapable hold.
“You can just stay here with me…” Emiliano kissed away your tears before he scooped his cum back up with two fingers to shove back inside of you. There was no more waste in this house, especially when it came to you.
From now on, there would be no more distance between the two of you. You’d be his, just like you were always meant to be… even if he had to get you pregnant with his child to do that. You were never getting away again.
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