#tender smut

[saurongorthaur9]

The Truth That Binds

Rating: M

Summary: As Halbrand heals from his wound, he and Galadriel grow closer, and Galadriel makes a confession of hope that turns into one of love. But Halbrand insists that Galadriel make him a promise: a promise to remember a truth that will bind her for all time. My first Haladriel/Saurondriel fic!

Also available to read on AO3

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

The light that danced on the Glanduin that morning was a silver brighter than burnished elven steel, the trees across the river were a display of every shade of green, and the lupins that grew along the path were the most beautiful purples and blues, an ocean of color that wrapped around Galadriel from every side. The air from the west was wholesome and fresh, and despite the new whispers of war from the south, Galadriel felt a deeper peace than she had known for a thousand years. And her heart told her that she owed that newfound peace to the man walking companionably by her side.

Halbrand had been instructed by his healers to take a daily walk along the banks of the Glanduin to regain his strength after his close brush with death. Already, the deathly pallor that had clung to his cheeks during their ride to Eregion had retreated, the red-brown luster of his hair had returned, and he stood straight and tall once again. Galadriel attested his swift recovery from the terrible wound to the strength and nobility of his will, yet more proof that he truly was a king of Men.

She glanced at him, her eyes fondly tracing the profile that she had grown to know so well in these past months since their chance meeting upon the sea. Most mornings she accompanied him on his walk, having little else to do while awaiting the High King's arrival, and though she and Halbrand rarely spoke on those occasions, it did not seem to Galadriel that they needed to. Never before had she met another being whose very soul seemed to be so attuned to hers. Ever since the battle and that quiet moment afterwards beside him in the forest, she felt somehow bound to him in a way she could not yet name, and new thoughts and feelings stirred deep inside her every time their eyes met, filling all her being – body and soul – with licking flames. Yet, even so, she could not help but notice that for the last several days, Halbrand's thoughts seemed to be turned elsewhere, to concerns veiled from her mind, yet she could guess that his thoughts strayed to his people in the south, homeless and adrift, and the orcs filling the land that he should be ruling.

They reached a point in the trail where the path wove into a shaded glen. It was quiet and isolated, hidden by the ring of linden and beech trees from the tall towers of the city. In the middle of the grove was an elegant wooden bench, surrounded by the sweet-smelling lupins. It had become a wordless custom between them to linger a while here, watching the river flow lazily by as they basked in one another's company.

For a while they became lost in the companionable silence, surrounded by the murmur of wind in the trees all around and the soft lap of water along the bank. But then Halbrand breathed a deep sigh. "It truly is beautiful here," he murmured.

Galadriel looked at him. There was awe in his gaze, but also a longing, and beneath that, something akin to hunger that flickered deep in his green eyes. She looked around at the aestival loveliness of their surroundings, and her mouth twisted slightly. "You should see Lindon," she replied in the same quiet tone that he had used.

He shot her a look, eyebrow raised. "Is that an invitation, Galadriel?" he asked, and there was a note of a familiar teasing tone in his voice that made warmth rise in Galadriel's chest.

Her own gaze was steady and serious. "No," she said. "But with the new threat of Adar and the orcs in the south, it may be that my High King will wish to ally himself with the King of the Southlands. In that case, you may very well see the heart of elvendom in Middle-earth."

"I think I should like that," he answered, his voice distant.

"To see my family's home or to ally your people to mine?" she asked.

He didn't answer, but he gazed across the river silently, his body strangely still.

Galadriel followed his gaze out across the water. "You worry for your people, do you not?" she said softly. "Now that your wound is healing and your body grows strong again, you will leave Eregion and return to them soon." As she said the words, she felt the heaviness of them and the shortness of time sink into her heart. She had known that such must come to pass and that the day that their paths finally diverged could not be staved off forever. Her soul felt full of a thousand thoughts and emotions that she could not bring herself to admit. Yet, the silence between them screamed at her to say something.

"Halbrand," she said quietly.

He turned his eyes to her, the intensity of his full gaze settling on her face.

"Halbrand," she said again, and his name on her lips felt like a prayer. "I do not truly think you know all that you have done for me."

His lips twisted into that familiar wry smile. "I'm the one with a crown and a people again because of you," he said.

"Yes," she acknowledged solemnly, "but you have given me just as much." Her eyes wandered across the river once again, to the swaying trees on the distant bank. "For a thousand years, I had been driven by naught but by a desire for vengeance and a creeping dread that freezes the very heart. But hope? Hope was something I believed had died inside me with my brother and my cousins and all else whom I lost in the War." Her fingers wound around the dagger hilt at her belt, the touch of it more familiar than anything else in her world. "Deep down, I do not know if I truly wished to find Sauron and finally end his evil, for if I did, what else would I have to live for? My vengeance would be put to rest, and then there would be nothing."

She could feel his gaze on her, and she turned back to him. "I cannot explain it, but your presence has filled a gaping hole in my soul that I did not know could ever be mended." She stuttered, aware of how vulnerable and intimate were the words she spoke, but it was as if a fire were lit now in her heart and she could not let it burn out or a part of her would wither. "Halbrand, when I leapt from that ship, I do not know what it was I sought. But I found in you that which I did not think to seek: purpose, and with it again…hope."

Her fingers sought his and grasped his hand. The burning inside her was growing, and she needed him to understand. "For a millennia, all that my heart sought was death and destruction – of evil, yes, but death and destruction still. I needed to know that I had more left to me than seeking to destroy, that I could also seek to build and to grow and to mend." She felt tears forming upon her lashes, threatening to spill down her narrow cheeks. "I needed to know that I could seek life beyond my endless quest for death." She squeezed his hand. "You gave me that, Halbrand, and it shall ever be in my heart, whether you are at my side or on a distant shore of Middle-earth."

She felt as if she were sinking into his eyes, and through his eyes into the depths of his being. She brought up her hand and gently stroked her fingertips over the rough stubble of his cheeks and let them brush through the edges of his brown locks. Her other hand trembled in his.

He lifted his own hand, mirroring her, and she felt his calloused blacksmith fingers brushing along her cheekbones and slipping deep into her hair. His gaze remained locked with hers, the intensity of their stares perfectly matched.

The heat had settled deep in Galadriel's stomach, burning, burning. As if of their own accord, her eyes darted momentarily down to the curve of his lips then back up to his eyes. As brief as the moment was, however, Halbrand saw. "Galadriel," he said softly, and there was something like a quiet warning in his voice.

Somehow, their bodies had drawn closer, she did not know how. But now they sat so close together that her leg was all but brushing his and their still-joined hands rested in the minute gap between their hips.

For a moment, doubt seized her, thoughts of duties and her place among elvenkind and the distance that would soon separate her and the King of the Southlands. But she was Galadriel, daughter of the golden house of Finarfin, and it was not for others to decide how she wove her own fate. She leaned forward.

To her surprise, Halbrand stopped her.

"Galadriel," he said again, her name both a reverence and a warning. "Are you sure you want this?"

She tilted her chin proudly, her voice strong again. "I have walked Middle-earth since the first sunrise," she said, "and in that time, I have pursued that which I desired and let no Man or Elf stop me."

There it was again: that wry smile that danced at the corners of his lips and formed soft crow's feet at the corners of his eyes. "That is something to which I can readily attest," he answered. "Even when I first saw you upon that raft, I knew you were someone who chose her own path." His eyes grew briefly distant, lost to either thought or memory, but when they focused on her again, they burned with a new intensity. His fingers tightened in her hand.

"Galadriel," he said. "Tell me, do you love me?"

Her gaze did not waver and her chin remained tilted, confident and strong. "Yes," she answered simply.

His lips tightened, but she could not tell what emotion it was that danced behind the light of his eyes. "Do you love me, Galadriel? Not the King of the Southlands. Not the blacksmith of Númenor. Not the man who saved your life? But me? Do you truly love who I am?"

She could tell the question was intensely important to him, that it touched something that gnawed at the very core of his soul. She cupped his cheek, re-teaching her fingers how to be tender after fighting for so long. "Yes, Halbrand, I love you," she answered. "Not for your armies and your kingdoms, not for any debt owed, but for you."

He reached up and took her hand from his face and held both her hands tightly in his lap. His stare seemed to be boring a hole straight through her to her soul. "Can you promise me something, Galadriel?" he asked. "I need you to make me a promise."

For a moment, Galadriel hesitated, knowing with intimate pain the price that could come with an oath. Yet her resolve hardened at the strange agony she saw on his face as he waited for her answer. "What is it that you would have me promise?"

He kept hold of her hands tightly. "I ask only that you promise to remember this moment and what I am about to tell you." He adjusted himself on the bench to face her entirely, his leg pressing flush against hers. "There may come a day when you doubt what I am about to say, when you wonder if I told you the truth. And I tell you, Galadriel, this is the truth. Whatever else you may come to believe, remember that in this moment, I told you the truth."

His fingers seemed to burn against her skin, even as his eyes seemed to burn against her face. "Galadriel, whatever else you may ever believe about me, whatever else about me you may someday learn, I need you to know that I have not been false with you. This, Galadriel, this…" He lifted her hand and placed it against his chest over his heart. "…this is real. This is who I am, truly me. I have worn no mask in your presence. I need you to promise me that you will always remember that I told you this and that it was the truth."

She did not understand, but she understood that this promise was more important to him than anything he had ever asked of her before. She spread her fingers over his heart. "I promise," she said steadily. "I promise to remember for all time, Halbrand."

Finally, he relaxed, and his fingers around her hand were gentle once again. His shoulders eased, as if a great weight had suddenly fallen from them. For a moment, Galadriel thought she felt something brush against her mind, like a fellow powerful will, but she dismissed it as a part of her own complicated thoughts, for only her people and powers higher than they could touch minds in such a manner.

"Are you content?" she asked.

"Yes," he sighed. "Yes, I am content."

"Then shall I pursue what I desire?"

The smirk that crossed his lips this time was playful and mischievous, and his eyes glimmered.

Galadriel reach up and twined her fingers through his hair, and then she pressed her lips to his.

It was as if colors that she had never before conceived of burst into being and sensations of which she had never dreamed were birthed inside of her, light and time and darkness across eons converging upon one another in this one moment and place. Galadriel kissed him with the fire of the Noldor and the pain of the last three thousand years and the hope that he had brought back into her life. Inside her and all around her, a Song seemed to rise and reverberate, as if the Great Music at the heart of all existence was blossoming into life.

For a moment, Halbrand's lips were still against hers, almost as though he couldn't believe the kiss was real, but then with a surge of passion and fierce hunger, he lifted his hands to bury them deep in her hair on either side of her face, and at the same time kissed her back with ravening desire. He kissed her as if he were lost in the shadows of the deepest caves in the heart of the Hithaeglir and she was the only light that could guide him back home. He kissed her as if he were a starving man and she the only feast that could sate him. He kissed her as if this were his one and only chance and he might never touch her again.

His stubble tickled pleasantly against her cheeks, but his lips were soft and clever against hers. His fingers carded deeply through her hair, and she shivered with involuntary pleasure as they stroked along the sensitive curve and taper of her pointed ears. At the same time, his lips parted, needing more than a superficial touch, and she felt the silky glide of his tongue over her lower lip as a reverberation that trembled all the way down to her core.

Her own response was immediate. She seized a handful of his hair and pulled him flush against her, parting her own lips in both an invitation and a claim, twining her tongue around his. Momentarily, he seemed caught off guard by her boldness, but then she felt his lips twist against hers into a smirk and he was kissing her back with the exact same abandon, refusing to let her throw him off.

There was too much distance between them, still too much. They were turned towards each other on the bench, their legs brushing together, but it was not enough. Skillful and graceful as any move she might have made on the battlefield, she kept her lips crushed against his as she pushed herself up and pivoted in a single movement, landing squarely in his lap, with her knees pressed against his hips on either side. He grunted in brief surprise, which made her smile, but then he was back to ravaging her with his mouth. His right hand remained buried in her long golden hair, cupping her cheek, but his other hand began to explore down her lithe form, gliding over her shoulders, then down her back, and finally over the swell of her hips and backside, where it settled, warm and firm, holding her body to himself.

She pressed her chest to him, leaning fully against him, and wrapped one arm about his broad shoulders. Her other hand explored every texture and feature of the face she had come to know so well by sight, seeking to memorize every line and angle. His tangled hair tickled against the back of her knuckles. He smelled of blacksmith iron and sweet wood smoke and the herbal ointments that the healers had used on his broken body. She remembered sitting next to him during those harrowing first few nights in Eregion, when it had been unclear if the souring of his wound ran too deep even for elvish medicine. She remembered further back to the days spent riding from the ruined Southlands and those long dark nights when she had forced both herself and the two steeds past the point normal endurance, terrified that if she stopped for even the briefest respite that Halbrand's life would be the cost, a price for which she would never forgive herself. She remembered how each stride of her horse's gallop had reverberated with the pounding of her heart when she had looked back on the final stretch of the ride to see Halbrand slumped motionless over his saddle and her devastating fear that she had lost this man with his charming smirk and his enigmatic eyes just when she was beginning to realize how much he meant to her.

But she had not lost him. They had survived, both of them, through the storm on the raft and through the battle against the orcs and through the torment of the fire mountain and through the fear and pain of their long ride to Eregion. He was safe, and he was hers at last.

As if his mind were at one with hers, he rose suddenly, lips still passionately pressed to hers, holding her slender body easily in his arms. She felt him stepping forward then bending, and the next thing she knew, he was laying her down in the fragrant grass and he himself was bent over her, his arms planted on either side of her head and his knees at her hips. Finally, he pulled his lips from hers in a slow, tantalizing caress and stared down at her, awe and lust mingling in his green eyes at the sight of her laid out beneath him with her shining golden hair pooled about her in the lush green grass. She stared up at him, undaunted but utterly mesmerized by the rugged, handsome king blocking out the sunlight from her view and casting her in shadows upon the ground.

"Galadriel," he whispered, as one might say the names of the Valar.

She cupped his cheek tenderly. "My king," she whispered back. "Oh, Halbrand."

He dipped forward to pull a long, lingering kiss from her lips, which sent shivers of liquid pleasure dancing down Galadriel's body. But now his hands were busy about her waist, loosening her belt and the elven silks in which she was draped. Heat steadily rose in Galadriel's chest, her breathing quickening rapidly. Her own fingers darted to his waist, undoing the leather belt clasped about his trim middle. She tugged at the bothersome fabric of his tunic, fingers desperate for skin, and he shrugged fluidly, helping her to free himself of the garment which he discarded on the grass beside them, leaving his broad chest bare.

Galadriel gazed up at him in ardent fascination then reached out a hand to place her palm flat against his chest. Thick coarse hair scratched against her skin. His breathing was quick, and she could feel his heart pulsing wildly.

But then he was bending over her again, and she felt her belt slip free under his fingers. In a moment of pure instinct, her hand darted out to stop him, and they froze, both their hands resting over the hilt of her brother's dagger.

She stared up wide-eyed into his face, frozen with sudden dread, and he stared down at her, still and quiet while he waited for her to face that dread. Her lips trembled. But then she slowly drew her hand away, giving him silent permission to continue.

Softly and almost reverently, he slipped the belt off her body and laid it, with the dagger, gently on top of his tunic. Just as gently, he ran his fingertips down her arm in a soft reassurance that made her heart tremble. But then his lips parted and just like that his passion was back, and he was tugging at the dress encasing her body. Eagerly, he pulled it off of her, allowing it to join his tunic in the grass, and leaving her utterly unclothed to his gaze.

The touch of the grass and wind and the sunlight felt strange against her naked flesh, but a sense of calm and peace wrapped all around her. Everything about this moment – both the laying aside of her dagger and her nakedness in that serene glen – felt so right, pieces of a puzzle coming together that she had waited years to find. She felt no fear or shame, only the intense burning in her core of how right this moment felt, of how right he felt.

His gaze said it all. He stared at her as if he could devour her with his eyes, his gaze sweeping down her entire body with reverence and hunger, from her white shoulders and breasts down to the bare curve of her hips and thighs and the golden curls between her legs. There was no need for him to speak, for his eyes said everything, and Galadriel reveled in the glory of her king's worshipful gaze.

With a quick, almost desperate movement, he freed himself of his trousers then stretched his own lean naked body over hers.

She gasped heavily at the sudden sensation of all of him, his heat and his weight, pressed down upon her own body. But he gave her no time to consider everything that was happening, for his lips descended upon her again, this time pressing everywhere he could reach. She arched her back, baring her throat, as his mouth found her pulse, first sucking with his lips, then scraping gently with his teeth, then laving with the flat of his tongue, drawing soft keening sounds from her lips. Her core pulsed and burned. Every inch of her yearned for him.

Down his lips strayed, and she wrapped her arm tight around his shoulder, caressing the lines of his muscles on his powerful back. Her other hand tangled in his hair, keeping his face pressed to her skin and silently encouraging his worshipful attention. He kissed along her shoulder, then along her collarbone, his hands dancing as skillfully along her body as she had seen him handle steel in the Númenorean forge. He shaped her pleasure just as expertly as he had shaped the armor she wore into battle. Her heart was pounding so hard that she knew he must be able to feel it.

He hand glided back up to her ribs where he cupped her breast easily, squeezing gently. His palm felt so large over her soft flesh, and she trembled all over, another soft sound escaping her that turned into a helpless whine as his clever fingers began to toy with her hardened nipple. He rolled the sensitive rosy nub between his thumb and forefingers, drawing out sensations that spiked all the way through Galadriel's body. Her back instinctively arched further, pressing herself into his hand, and his other palm slipped beneath her, resting against the exposed small of her back to support her frame.

Without warning, he lowered his mouth to her other breast, sucking her nipple in between his lips suddenly and causing her to gasp and squirm beneath him. His tongue played with her, causing her to whine and rub her thighs together with the building need. And then, curse his impudence, she felt the smirk of his lips against her breast and she knew he was pleased at the reaction he was dragging out of her. Well, if that was the way her roguish king was going to play…

He nearly choked as her own slender fingers grasped him firmly between his legs, and now it was her turn to smirk at the truly delightful whimper that he released into the world. His head fell back, his eyelids drooping languidly, his mouth hanging open, the long line of his throat exposed. As she began to stroke him, his fingers knotted tightly in the grass at her side and his body convulsed beautifully above her with pleasure.

Then his eyes snapped back open, piercing down upon her suddenly and fiercely. For a moment, it seemed that a light came on behind the veneer of his eyes, a flame as bright and consuming as the fire mountain that had devastated his Southlands. His hands grasped her hips and their eyes locked. The very air around them seemed to take a deep, shuddering breath of anticipation.

Galadriel's head fell back, hair spilling wildly around her, as Halbrand joined their bodies together as one. All around, it seemed there was a rainbow of light, more brilliant and beautiful than anything she had ever seen. Time and the expanse of Eä itself wheeled around them, but they were untouched by it, lost in their own universe where two bodies moved together in perfect harmony and two souls clung to each other for understanding that only the other could give. Their lips met again, and they kissed and wept crystal tears that mingled on each other's cheeks, and when Galadriel's pleasure crested and crashed about her, she grasped wildly at his shoulders and cried out his name, and when he followed her shortly after, he buried his face in the golden pool of her hair and panted raggedly as their heartbeats gradually slowed against one another's breasts.

Afterwards, he wrapped her in his arms and tugged her gently to his own body, and she rested her head on his chest as soft warmth and contentment and a peace like nothing she had ever known settled all around her like a blanket woven of down. The circle of blue sky above them and the ring of trees sang with the Music of which the world was made. Halbrand hummed deep in his throat, a strange tune that Galadriel assumed must be some song of the Southlands but at the same time, it was oddly familiar to her, as if she had heard it sometime in her distant past. Her hand gently stroked the ragged red scar on his side, and she thanked whatever fate it had been that brought them together on that raft all those months ago.

~o~o~o~

Less than a month later, Galadriel confronted Halbrand with a scroll of lineage in her hand, only a little ways down the bank from the place where they had joined body and soul, and she saw his familiar warm eyes turn cold and ancient and terrible. There, he offered to make her his queen for all time, and she had placed her dagger against his throat and refused him, even as it tore her soul in half to do so.

And there, on the bank of the Glanduin, only a few days later, she came across the glade of fragrant lupins where her abhorred enemy had laid her down so tenderly in the grass and given all of himself to her, even as he had also taken everything from her. She fell to her knees there in the grass, wrapping her arms about herself, and sobbed until her throat was ragged and no more tears would come.

She wept from the pain of betrayal and horror, she wept for the loss of her dear friend and companion, she wept for the knowledge that never again would she feel the peace and the understanding that she had only known in his presence, and she wept from the part of her that now yearned for him with an aching need that could never again be sated. All around her, the sunlight on the water and the shadowing trees and the lupins seemed to have lost all their luster, plunging her into a world wrapped only in hues of grey.

And there, in the grey and the silence, she remembered his voice and his fingers in her hair and the promise he had made her swear to him: that she would remember the truth he had told her, that the man she had loved had been real. It was that knowledge that pained her more than anything else and dragged from her the most bitter tears. It was the truth that would bind her in sorrow and shame and pain until the last days of her elven years were finally spent.

It was the truth that she had looked directly into the soul of her greatest Enemy and desperately loved what she found there.

[sitp-recs]

Hi sweet Liv, any recs for rough sex turning into tender love making ❤️?

Yesss love me some tender rough smut 👌🏼

Five Years by @shiftylinguini (M, 4.6k)

For Draco, December means finding somewhere he can lose himself in the thrum of a crowd and the throb of music ― and Potter. It always means Potter now, too.

A Pain of Our Choosing by @lqtraintracks (E, 6k)

It’s 8th year and everyone’s still a bit messed up. Harry and Draco fall into being messed up together.

Teeth by Amelior8or (6k)

Potter’s been practically begging for it, for months, constantly staring until the air crackles with the intensity of it. Draco always stares back, until all it takes is a brush, a spark, before they go up like flash paper. The crash into each other is inevitable.

The Things They Never Say by @bixgirl1 (9k)

Harry and Draco don't know how to talk. So they do other things instead.

In Your Arms, Rests My World by @l0vegl0wsinthedark (24k)

Harry presses his mouth to Malfoy's forehead; he wants to tell him that he’ll never leave, that he wouldn’t dream of it. “You make me feel safe, Potter” Malfoy whispers. “You keep me safe.”

The Boy Who Only Lived Twice by lettered (E, 54k)

Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks.

That Old Black Magic by @bixgirl1 (77k)

Centuries ago, marriage contracts were the norm — ready-made alliances between families, expected and complied with, without complaint. But norms have a way of changing, and when a long-dormant contract flares to life, Harry has to navigate an unexpected splintering of the path he'd thought would be easy after the war... with Draco Malfoy.

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels.

Who we are in the shadows by @quicksilvermaid (100k)

What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life.

Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

He Comes Like a Thunderstorm by @korlaena (140k)

Draco is doing his best to balance the life he wants to live and the life he’s forced to live. He’s nearing the tail-end of a long, post-war probation when Harry Potter crashes back into his life with all the grace of a charging Erumpent, breaking through his carefully constructed rules and routine.

Lost In Your Arms by Femme (E, 257k)

Three months after their brief encounter, Draco has almost forgotten about Potter--or so he tells himself. Then a Dark wizard shows up on the Auror radar and all hell breaks loose.

[elentarial]

Kinktober Day 2: Maedhros/Maeglin

using the @silmsmutweek day 2 prompt: pregnant sex +rarepair

Silmarillion Kinktober Prompts 2023 (1055 words) by BaccaratBlack Chapters: 2/? Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Elenwë/Turgon of Gondolin, Maedhros | Maitimo/Maeglin | Lómion Characters: Turgon of Gondolin, Elenwë (Tolkien), Maeglin | Lómion, Maedhros | Maitimo Additional Tags: kinktober 2023, silmsmutweek, Pegging, sex from female viewpoint, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dominatrix, Unplanned Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Trans Male Character, Trans Maeglin, Cunnilingus, Strangers to Lovers, Rarepair Summary: Collection of ficlets, drabbles, double drabbles, and one shots featuring a variety of pairings and all the kink.

[hippolotamus]

you spoke to me so sweetly [Alexis/Twyla | E | 2.6k]

Alexis hums her appreciation, letting her eyes fall closed while Twyla repeats the circuitous route, and breathing in the blend of lavender and lemon oil her wife insisted upon for “calm and good luck”. The temporary serenity only lasts for three or four passes until a light knock at the door interrupts. She doesn’t try to hide her instant pout when the gentle pressure disappears and she’s forced to open her eyes again.

Dr. Rist breezes inside, far too perky in Alexis’s opinion. Perhaps it’s a good sign. Despite her nerves, Alexis plasters her PR smile on, and clasps Twyla’s hand – the only tell she’ll allow to indicate she’s worried while they wait to find out what kind of life changing the appointment will be. Sitting here, in the highly impersonal room with its speckled tile floor and wallpaper with tiny, faded flowers is one of the few times Alexis has doubted her self-proclaimed ability to girl boss her way out of something.

“Well,” Dr. Rist says. “Alexis. Twyla. Sorry to keep you waiting. Let’s begin, shall we?”

Read on AO3

[black-reader-inserts-please]

I don't even watch demon slayer but girl I-

Alright y’all, I already talked about Tengen’s big dick, so I feel it’s only fair to talk about Kyojuro’s big breeder balls.

They’re smooth, the shade a bit darker than his skin tone and they’re heavy. The weight harsh when they hit your chin as you suck him off. They get taught and throb as he cums.

He can’t help himself though, it’s just in the nature of Rengokus to breed. To watch the creamy milkiness of their seed drip out of your spent cunt. To fuck it back inside and fill you up all over again.

It’s your fault, really. You know how Kyojuro is about you. He’s insatiable, can never have enough and you enable him. You tell him how good it feels, how much you need it, and he can never say no to you.

So he ravishes you, splits you open on his glistening cock, drenched in your wetness as his heavy balls smack against your ass. You’re creaming around his dick, he already pulled 3 orgasms out of you and filled you up twice, but he has to do it again. It’s a must!

It’s overwhelming, the pulsing head twitching against your cervix as he pumps you full of him. It’s always so much that it leaves your belly bulging, your plump tummy filling up. It has you feeling warm and fuzzy, your cunt clenching around him to keep him from moving.

He’s always so sweet after, kissing along your body to distract you from his balls filling up again, ready to spill inside you.

It’s your fault, really.

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

I spend such an unhealthy amount of time thinking about being so comfortable with Lucifer while you two are making love that you are both laughing and smiling the entire time, refusing to be shy or feel embarrassed at all. Like imagine him looking at you like this while he’s buried so deep inside you…

I need to be sedated fr…

[ode-to-fury]

Other Plans for the Evening

Pairing: Lucanis x Rook

Summary: Scene after the Illario fight, but the way I would have written it. It's not that deep or different, but I think it's better. My Rook but mostly I wasn't specific.

Disclaimer: Whoo first Lucanis fic! I'm still trying to find the DA companions' voices so you might have to bear with me a little bit. This has been in my brain since the MOMENT he said "I have other plans for the evening". I tried to make him that weird mix of awkward and smooth so lmk if I did that or if I need to work on it. Might come back and edit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You came back here just for coffee?"

Rook's voice startled him out of his thoughts.

When he looked up at her, his heart gave a lurch, the same lurch it had given every other time he'd laid eyes on her.

Her hair was damp and sligtly wavy from her bath, still, and she wore leather trousers and a shirt. It was difficult to see in the dim firelight, but he knew the blue of the shirt would be reflected in her eyes, twinkling above the bemused grin she was giving him.

"What, the stuff in that gigantic villa wasn't good enough for you?"

She folded her arms across her chest, eyebrows raised and dimples clearly visible as she grinned down at him. Mercifully, Spite was being quiet for once. He idly wondered if demons ever got tired, or overwhelmed after a long day. Something to ask Emmrich about, perhaps.

"It's better if I make it myself," he said, not quite managing to smile back at her, despite the lightness that smile brought to his chest.

"And besides, I wanted some quiet."

He hated that her smile melted slightly, her shoulders tightening ever so slightly. He doubted anyone else would have noticed, but he did.

"So," she said, "First Talon?"

"First Talon," he said, and if he was honest with himself, it did not fit right in his mouth.

"I still cannot believe Caterina did that."

Lucanis is the new First Talon. His decision stands.

The corner of her mouth lifted slightly, but her fingers tensed where they rested on her arm.

"Does that mean you're leaving?"

Ah.

He almost grinned.

"No," he said simply. "We have a contract. Besides, Caterina might have named me First Talon, but there's no stopping her from giving all the orders."

This time her smile was wider, and she tilted her head to the side so her hair shifted, glinting golden in the firelight. He ached to run his fingers through it.

"You know," she said, her eyes twinkling with laughter again, "You could have said, 'Of course not. I would never leave with you still here.'

Her Antivan accent was good. Too good. It made his chest feel tight whenever she pretended to be him. He grinned back at her despite himself.

"I would never leave with you still here," he said. "You'll have me for as long as I can put off the Crows."

He saw her brow furrow slightly, but she hid it quickly.

Before he could let his nerves interfere, he stood up, setting his half empty cup down on the table as he did.

"I may have had another reason for leaving the party early," he said, letting his voice drop slightly. He saw her eyes narrow, but then she gave him a crooked grin.

"Besides coffee, you mean?"

He walked past her, to the open space between the dining table and the door, and held out his hand to her.

"Dance with me," he said softly.

It was the first time he'd seen her truly taken aback. To his delight, her mouth even dropped slightly open.

"Dance with you?" She asked, as if he'd just asked her to jump into the Fade.

"What?" He asked.

"There's no music. Also, I told you," she said, shoulders tensing again, "I'm a terrible dancer."

She had. Technically she'd told all of them.

You'd have to get me drunk first, I'm afraid, it's mortifying otherwise. I got told I have about four left feet.

"You did," he said, still holding out his hand. "But you also said you loved to dance."

She tilted her head to the side, almost pleading.

"It's only me," he said softly.

"That's what's worrying me," she said, almost too quiet for him to hear, and he remembered that this was as new to her as it was to him.

What would a first kiss taste like?

Like hope.

She held back for a moment longer, then hesitantly, she placed her fingers in his hand.

They were warm, and her callouses scraped against his own as she allowed him to pull her close to him. His heart thumped in his chest, as if it was trying to get to her.

"I don't know how to do this," she said, and he knew she wasn't only talking about the dancing.

"Like this," he said, curling his left hand around her right, and placing the other one on his shoulder.

"Your elbow has to stay up," he said seriously, lifting said elbow so it was almost in line with her shoulder before dropping his hand to her waist. "Caterina would smack me with a cane if I got it wrong."

"If you try and smack me with a cane..." she started, leaving the threat unfinished.

"I couldn't find one," he said. She tried to hide a grin, but her dimples gave her away, and suddenly those hours with Caterina and her cane seemed worth it to him.

"Now," he said, "step back with your right foot."

She did, looking at her feet, and he followed, relishing the warmth of her hand on his shoulder, the way his hand fit perfectly on her waist.

"Back and to the left with the other."

She did so, and he followed.

"Now bring your feet together, and do the same with the other foot."

They went slowly, and he enjoyed watching the crease between her eyebrows as she concentrated.

Gently, he let go of her waist so he could tilt her face up to his own.

"You should look your partner in the eyes," he said, aware that his voice had dropped lower, but not really caring, "Not where you are going to step."

"And if I step wrong?" She asked, her voice slightly breathy. It felt like soft fingers tracing their way down his spine.

"Trust me to guide you," he replied, his hand going back to her waist.

The corner of her mouth curled up ever so slightly.

"Alright," she said. "I trust you."

As they moved slowly through the room, the firelight caught her eyes and hair, gilding her in gold and taking his breath from him. In fact, breathing felt suddenly like a very big effort.

"What is it?" She asked quietly, almost as if she was scared he would run if she spoke too loudly. He wasn't too certain he wouldn't.

"You are so beautiful," he said, before he could think about it too much, though his voice was markedly less smooth than it had been.

Her eyes, her beautiful, sparkling eyes, widened slightly.

"Really?" She asked.

"Would I ever lie to you?"

She smiled. It was small and soft this time.

"No one's ever called me that before," she whispered.

"Good," he managed to whisper back. "I would have to kill them."

And she laughed. By the blood of the Maker, she laughed and every terrible moment up until just then seemed as though it had a purpose.

"There's that smile," he said, when her laughter died down.

"Yours too," she replied, still grinning happily at him.

"Thank you, Rook," he found himself saying.

"You don't need to thank me."

She leaned in slightly, mischief in her eyes.

"For you, it's on the house."

His stomach tightened slightly when she did the accent, but he tried his best to ignore it.

"Did Illario hurt you?" He asked. "I'll skin him if he did."

She touched the scratch on her neck from Illario's, thankfully unpoisoned, blade.

"A scratch," she said dissmissively. "He hurt my pride more than anything else."

They moved for a few seconds in silence while he waited for her to ask the obvious next question.

"Do you regret..."

"Giving him a chance?"

He'd been thinking about it since they had left Villa Dellamorte.

Didn't you tell me he was basically your brother and your closest childhood friend?

"No," he said. "You were right. He's family."

Family. The word tasted sour in his mouth.

"I didn't even suspect him," he said. "When the Venatori caught me on the boat in Tevinter, it never even crossed my mind."

Almost without meaning to, he brought her right hand to his heart, his fingers tightening over hers. She lay her head on his shoulder as he pulled her closer, a solid weight against him. A comfort, for the first time in his life.

"He's better than I thought," he said, absently resting his cheek against her head. Her hair smelled of lightning, and a faint, almost unnoticeable trace of honey. "Maybe there is hope for him yet."

She snorted a soft laugh through her nose, making him grin. It vanished quickly, though.

"But this wasn't a mercy. Being watched by all the Crows, with their knives out? He will never live down being the Traitor Crow, brought down in front of everyone. There is nowhere he can run."

"I was surprised you listened to me," she said. He felt her breath tickle his neck, involuntarily clutched her closer against him.

"So was I," he said. "But... I don't have a lot to lose. What there is... Caterina, this team... you, even my idiot cousin. I'm not giving that up."

She stopped moving, lifting her head up to look at him. She wore the softest smile he'd ever seen on her face.

"What's that look?"

"You have a big heart," she said softly, "For an assassin."

He tried to look away at the tone of her voice, at the emotion in it, but she gently turned his face toward her again.

"That's not a bad thing," she said.

"If it brought me here," he said, taking her hand again and kissing it on a whim, "To this moment with you, then it cannot be a bad thing. I just... I cannot believe he would do all of this, only to be First Talon."

She frowned up at him.

"He said you didn't want to be First Talon."

"I don't. But how am I supposed to trust him with it now? How is anyone? The funny thing is, he might have finally proven he has the abillity for it."

"Right before getting humilliated in front of everyone," she said, grinning slightly.

"Exactly."

He sighed, though it came out as more of a frustrated growl.

"Fucking Illario."

"Hey," she said, gently reaching up and smoothing out the crease between his brows. The gesture made his chest ache.

"We'll work it out," she said softly. "Together. But for now... "

He took her hand again, holding it to his chest so she could feel his heartbeat.

"Just be here with me," she said. "Just for a little while."

"I can do that," he said. "For a little while."

She smiled, and he could see the day was starting to get to her, the tiredness starting to reach her eyes.

"Rook..." he started, not sure what he was going to say, but needing to say something before his chest caved in on itsself. She cut him off before he could.

"Shhhh," she said gently, kissing him for a long moment before laying her head back on his shoulder. He forgot, sometimes, that he could kiss her. Usually, Spite was there to remind him, with enthusiasm. It scared him, how much he ached to feel her lips against his own.

"Don't ruin it."

So he held her close, and kissed her forehead, and later he let her fall asleep on his lap in the chair, savouring the way she held on to his hand even in sleep, and finally letting his fingers run through her hair, softer than silk against his skin.

[paradimeshifts7]

⚔️ 𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 ⚔️

Epilogue: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓

Link here

The final installment for our heroes.

[suzypfonne]

🥰

aaaaah i wanted to rotoscope a kiss for the smut war but abandoned my first attempt when the reference proved a little too difficult to animate. i completely forgot i drew the first frame tho!!!! opening this wip was like a delightful lil surprise from past!me

[sluttywonwoo]

i think junhui would look so pretty all fucked out and covered in hickeys

HE WOULD

“do you need a break?”

your boyfriend shakes his head, breathless but grinning. he’s covered in a sheen of sweat, he can barely keep his eyes open, and when he speaks his voice comes out hoarse and shaky.

“i want more.”

if the pretty boy wants more, more is what he’ll get.

you take another moment to admire jun in this state… his bangs are pressed to his forehead, slick with perspiration, the rest of his hair a mess on the mattress beneath him. fresh scratches and hickeys are blooming all over his neck and chest, impossible to hide… you really did a number on him.

this time, you take it slow. you kiss the marks you’d left behind instead of making new ones, making your way down his body like you’re connecting the stars of a constellation.

jun moans softly. his hand moves about the sheets in search of yours. you give it to him and let him squeeze as hard as he needs to in order to ground himself.

when you take him in your mouth again, your name falls from his lips like a prayer, whispered into the space between you.

he squeezes your hand harder as you sink all the way down, letting him hit the back of your throat. you’re not in a rush to make him cum again, you just want him to enjoy this, to allow himself to succumb to the pleasure.

“wait, baby,” he says suddenly, fingers untwining from yours.

“what is it?”

“will you ride me?” he asks shyly. “want you to feel good too.”

“but-”

“please? i need to feel you cumming around me, need to fill you up— god, please…”

you sigh and climb on top of him. whatever the pretty boy wants.

[brewed-pangolin]

Imagine you and Soap relaxing on the couch after a particularly hard day.

Your eyes glazed, barely paying any attention to the moving pictures flashing on the television screen. And the volume down low enough to be nothing more than a stuttering hum.

You catch him lightly bob his head in the periphery of your vision. His eyes heavy, lips parted just enough to expell a series of slow rhythmic breaths.

He hasn't slept well since coming home from his last deployment. Mind tormented by unspeakable horrors. Voice hushed and muffled by an objective that violently tore your energetic Scotsman from within your grasp.

And his eyes. Usually, bright with cerulean vigor and a lust for life have been pulled behind a smoky curtain of uncertainty and dereliction.

You crave to console him. Wrap him in the emotional blanket of your affection to null the pain and remorse extruding from his motionless form.

Yet you hold back. Aware of the classified nature of his career and inability to discuss the happenings that eat away at him.

You resort then to the one concept you can give him.

Comfort.

-

"C'mere, honey." You urge on a hushed whisper. Extending your hand to him, wrapping your fingers around the back of his neck to guide him down into the comfort of your lap.

Soap responds with only action. Following your gentle command as he lays himself onto the couch and places his head into the makeshift pillow of your thighs.

"Lay on your side, baby. Let me take care of you."

He again follows your instruction without question. The ever obedient soldier taking orders from the one he loves as he loses himself in the encompassing mantle of your affection.

And you oblige him to the fullest extent. Soothing his troubled mind with the gentlest of touches along his crested scalp. Continually running your fingers through his hair as you feel the heaviness of his exhaustion fall graciously into your lap.

You remain like this for the remainder of the evening. Letting the muffled sounds of scripted chaos wash over your molded spirits as the unabashed devotion to your plagued Scotsman ever heals his broken soul.

Drabbles Masterlist

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

Sunday morning Bunny hybrid!reader x owner!Gojo

MDNI 18+

Gojo x reader | 500 something words. | Smut, soft, comfort, fluffy fluffyyyy fluffyyyy, gojo is soft.fuck it's 12:53 I should sleep I have work tomorrow. Umm what else. Established relationship| bunny reader, hybrid. Etc. ok read the story now. Not edited point out typos thx.

Lazy. Lazing. Laze. That's all your morning could be described as. Gojo had only just returned from a mission and having to leave you behind made him extra clingy.

Not that you were any better. Your bed was covered in his clothes. A pile of expensive sweaters and shirts. All which smelled faintly of laundry detergent and of your owner. The same man who returned home the night before and picked you up, crawling into the bed with you in tow – entirely unfazed by the moat you'd created in his absence.

In your sleep, the two of you had managed to push off a good amount of the structure onto the floor, but it didn't matter now. Gojo was here.

You’d met him at one of his missions. You say met but he'd actually rescued you. Being a large bunny breed, your previous owner hadn't expected you to grow to the size you had, and had abandoned you, dropping you off at an abandoned building. An abandoned building haunted by a particularly nasty curse. It was here that you were found by Gojo. He'd picked you up, not minding at all how large you may have been, and taken you home with him. He nursed you back to health, making sure to treat any and all wounds left on you by the curse, and looked after you. After this, you were inseparable. You hated when he'd leave for missions because it meant you couldn't go along. Apart from work, you'd follow him everywhere.

The weak winter sun filtered through the curtains in your bedroom and you felt Gojo nuzzle against your fluffy ear. “Good morning, Bunnie.”

“Good morning, Toru!”

“Did you miss me?”

You nodded your head vigorously in response. “So, so much.” Gojo placed a little kiss on your nose, you couldn't help but blush.

“Look how much I missed you, Bunnie” His eyes moved downwards and yours followed. A large bulge had formed in his boxers and he grinned at you when you looked back up at him. “Think you can take it, bun?”

You nodded again, barely containing your excitement. You ached for him. Even though you had plenty of toys to use, nothing felt as good as Gojo.

He lifted your leg over his waist and carefully prodded at your entrance. Just the thought of having him in you had you feeling ready. But to be safe, he reached over and took out a bottle of lube from the bedside table, generously squirting it over his cock. Then slowly, he pushed in, an inch at a time. He pulled you close and gently kissed your lips.

“Is that alright?” He asked, voice heavy and sleep laden.

“Mmm. More please!” You whispered to him.

He pushed in further, the lube cold for a second on your skin but soon earned by the heat of your bodies. All while Gojo kissed and pecked at your lips. With his free hand, he reached up and cupped a large breast, lightly brushing his thumb against your hardening nipple.

“Feel good, Bunnie?”

“Yes Toru!”

“I'm gonna start moving then, cutie.”

Gojo gently rocked into you. A slow and steady pace. Almost like he was half asleep. His lips found yours again and he sucked on your lower lip nibbling it into a plump red. Then he moved to your neck, nuzzling, kissing, licking.

His slow thrusts gradually grew faster and the room filled with only the wet squelches of your pussy and breathy moans. Gojo turned over on his back, lifting you on with him. His pace didn't once falter as he thrust into you with a new force. Born of desperation and longing his hips moved with minimal spurring; pushing his cock deep into you ready to spill at any moment. He came with a strained groan, empting in you. You could feel it filling you up.

Panting, Gojo asked, “Can we just lay here for five minutes before I clean you up, Bunnie?”

You cuddled into his chest like a giant living blanket. “Mmhmm. Not letting go, Toru.”

The sun had already risen quite high, but Satoru Gojo couldn't deny his sweet little bunny. He cuddled you and felt his eyelids getting heavier. Breakfast could wait…

AN: yeah, sorry this was late. I'm depresso af. Still needed something soft and comforting ok bye.

[tenderfxck]

al haitham is dreaming. he's- he's sure of it.

why else would that secretary he's been harboring some not-so-pure feelings for be bending over right in front of him, her little skirt riding up and over the swell of her ass just enough to see a full show of what cute panties might lay hidden beneath.

except there was nothing under that tight skirt. she. . .

she wasn't wearing anything.

al haitham had the perfect view of two full pussy lips squished so beautifully between the seam of her plush thighs from his desk.

thoughts of planting himself behind her and sliding his cock right into that pretty little cunt almost immediately barged their way into his mind, evicting any other logical thought that may have resided there until this moment. he couldn't possibly look away, liquid heat rushing to his gut at the idea of fucking her doggy-style against the bookshelf she was sorting through right now.

he wasn't sure whether to promote or fire whoever requested those research articles she was now gathering from the large cabinet right in front of his desk. she seems oblivious to al haitham's current ordeal, however. and he was uncertain if she was aware of the revealing position she put herself in. maybe it was just laundry day.

or perhaps, haitham thought, feeling his cock twitch to life even more, she never wears panties. . .

oh, archons.

so now al haitham just has to be patient. he'll sit there, heart hammering away, staring at that tight-looking pussy taunting him from across the room until she's finished her business and takes leave of his office.

he won't breathe a word to her except for a simple request. just for her to close the door on her way out, so as soon as it clicks shut he can pull his cock out and relieve himself of this burning need currently laid weeping against his thigh and straining tight in his pants.

but for now she still sorts through documents, and al haitham will continue burning this sight in his memory to use for many, many lonely nights to come.

[crystalflygeo]

Sleepy n Drowsy Zhongli + fem!reader

cw/tags: somno, half-dragon zhongli, wet dream, humping, a bit of nipple play , touching over clothes, pet names.

notes: Dedicated to/Inspired by @moraxsthrone . Honestly at this point we're just going back and forth sharing the horny zl braincell inspiring each other to write stuff and I love it lmao. Thank you hun for being such a precious friend and feeding me geo daddy content ehe. This one is very soft and loving aaaaaaaa

You stir a little in bed, pulling tighter at the thick dragon tail you’re clinging to. Your breathing still soft and paused, still asleep despite your squirming. Zhongli shuffles a bit as well and pulls you close, pressing your back flush against his chest. You sigh.

“…li…” A mumble.

Zhongli nuzzles his face against your neck, purring softly as a hand smooths across your hip. Much to his surprise you buck forward only slightly, your little nightgown riding up leaving only the soft cotton of your panties to brush against his scales. Even in your sleep, you shiver.

His long tail curls around you both, going over his leg but right between yours, straddled by your soft thighs. You let out a little sound that has Zhongli blinking away any remaining sleep, before you start to move again a little, slowly back and forth, rubbing your core against his tail.

His eyes narrow and he lets out a small amused smile. Oh? Is his little mate humping his tail?

“…hah…”

As moments go by it becomes more and more obvious, you’re searching for that delicious friction, breathy sighs and little groans escaping your parted lips as your lower body twitches, subconsciously chasing pleasure though barely brushing your clothed pussy on his scales.

He takes notice of a subtle dampness and the faint scent of your arousal invades his senses.

What kind of husband would he be if he doesn’t help you out, right?

Your breath hitches as one of his hands lovingly cups your breast, massaging it softly before his thumb rolls at your nipple over the fabric of your nightgown. His tail presses a little more insistently between your legs, rocking softly in languid and slow strokes.

“Mmmngh…”  

“Shhh darling, I’m right here.” He whispers against your skin, placing a kiss at you shoulder, a gentle calm to his touch and voice.

Another sigh and little whine from you as the dragon simply holds you there in his arms, nosing at the back of your neck and the top of your spine, his tail shivering slightly against you. His hand snakes under the silky fabric of your sleepwear and touches warm skin instead, rolling the perky nipple between thumb and index.

“Ahh..” Your brow furrows and you twitch and squirm. “…mmngh… m-more…” You murmur quietly, and Zhongli’s cock twitches in his pants.

Zhongli’s hand brushes past your stomach and your navel, fingers barely ghosting across your pussy as he pulls his tail away. Your head tips back and hips stutter forward when her circles your entrance through the cotton barrier, seeking out the warmth of his palm in a sleepy daze.

“Hmm… my love, so good to me.” He chuckles, the bleary sound permeating the thick air around you both. He nips at your neck, fangs barely brazing the skin as he teases you a little. The wet spot in your underwear growing noticeably larger and a soft keen leaves you when he brushes against your clit.

“Zhong… hnng”

He sighs deeply, rolling his hips to grind his bulge against your soft round ass. He groans at the feeling, deep and appreciative and your eyelids begin to flutter.

“Li…?”

“Hm? Finally awake my love?”

You tilt your head over your shoulder, drowsy, eyes half-lidded. “Mmhm… I was having a most delightful dream though...”

“I could tell.” He smiles back, effortlessly attractive in his disheveled dark locks, molten golden eyes, handsome features and deep hoarse voice. “Want to make it a reality?” His hand dips down your panties, barely brushing your slick folds.

A long low moan comes out before you can even register it, raw in it’s sheer need as your body shudders with desire. “Yes please Zhongli… breed me.”  

Oh, his grip tightens and his pupils widen to serpentine slits. “As you wish…” His warm breath caresses your ear.

[newtsnaturethings]

Vashmeryl smut comic below the cut.

[lustnhim]

save a horse ride a cowboy 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩