#that touch me really deep and I don't really know what it is or what to do with it

[peppermintquartz]

Buck volunteers for the Thanksgiving shift. When Maddie asks, he apologizes, saying, "I don't really feel festive right now. But keep some leftovers for me?"

On the day, firehouses around the country all have similar calls to deal with: kitchen grease fires from frying turkeys, sprains in backyard games of football, people injuring one another because "did you hear what she said about our Emma/Francis/Kailey?". Buck is kept too busy to think, and it's nice having the time to catch up with Ravi, who's thinking of going to school to study law.

Their brothers and sisters in uniform also drop off dishes at the station, so between calls, they get pretty good food. Captain Graham gives them an hour offline after four consecutive calls. Buck collapses into a chair and serves himself pasta salad and a delicious honey baked ham, while his dinner rolls warm up in the oven.

He's scrolling through his phone, diligently avoiding the messaging apps, when a message preview pops up.

Tommy.

Buck almost drops his fork. He scrambles away from the dinner table, even though no one on C shift will try to take his phone from him, and finds a spot in the stairwell to read it.

Tommy: hope you have a good & safe Thanksgiving

As he's reading, another bubble appears and Buck's heart skips several beats, but this time it doesn't disappear. A second message arrives, followed by a third.

Tommy: don't know why I texted that

Tommy: guess I just wanted to say something to you

Tommy: you don't have to reply

Tommy: anyway. Happy holidays

Buck feels a slight loosening of the vice around his heart that has been there since that night. With a smile on his face, he types, deletes, types again.

Buck: happy Thanksgiving to you too

Buck: how many kitchen grease fires you got this year? We had 3

Tommy: you're working today?

Tommy: 4, but one of it was in the backyard

They're having a conversation. They're having an actual casual conversation, as easy as they used to on calmer shifts. Buck wants to cry. But he has to answer Tommy's question or have this conversation end too soon. Thinking about his options, he decides that he has nothing to lose anyway.

Buck: I didn't wanna sit around and smile and pretend I'm thankful for everything

Buck: it's better to keep busy

Tommy: I know that feeling

Tommy: I'm sorry

Buck: I'm sorry too

Buck: I wish we could've celebrated together

Buck: I would've said that I'm thankful for you

Tommy: I would have said that too

Tommy: I'm still thankful for you jsyk. I'll always be grateful to have got to know you

Does Tommy think he can't stay in Buck's life just because they broke up?

Buck: I don't think you know me well enough

Tommy: sorry

Buck wishes he'd run after Tommy that night, or done something since to show that he wants Tommy. Well, here's your chance, his brain reminds him. Do something.

He takes a deep breath. Then he types.

Buck: I want to meet. If I come over after Thanksgiving shift, will you please be home?

Tommy: is that a good idea

Buck: idk. But I can't stop thinking about you, and I miss you, and I wanna know what I did wrong. I wanna meet.

Tommy: I miss you too. You didn't do anything wrong, I just didn't want to... Idk. I didn't want to get my hopes up too much.

Buck: we need to talk in person. Texting is not good enough.

It isn't. He needs to see Tommy again. Tommy with his storm blue eyes and tender smile and broad shoulders and soft clothes. Tommy whose crinkly smile drives Buck a little (a lot) insane. Tommy whose lips he now knows the shape of by touch alone, whose body he has mapped out in detail, who knows how it feels to be inside Buck in the most intimate of ways.

He waits for a response. Hopes there will be one. It comes several minutes after, like Tommy had to really think about it.

Tommy: maybe not immediately after Thanksgiving shift

Tommy: are you off on Monday

The relief that crashes into Buck feels almost as overwhelming as the tsunami he was caught in years ago.

Buck: yes

Buck: your place this time

Buck: I'll bring cake

Tommy: you don't have to bribe me to open the door

Buck: no I just baked too much stuff is all. I'll explain when we meet

Buck: I'm really thankful you texted

Tommy: I'm thankful you replied

Tommy: have a good rest of the shift, Evan

It's Evan again. Buck can't hide his smile at all. Tucking his phone into his pocket, he goes back to dinner. Monday can't be here fast enough.

[italiangirlcoresblog]

main masterlist \\ f1 masterlist

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𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 (𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐨𝐧)

✩ : the aftermath of the las vegas grand prix with max

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : max verstappen

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : fluff, fluff, and more fluff

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 775

✍︎ : SO SO SO EXCITED FOR MAX, I HAD TO POST SOMETHING (i don't know if i like it tho, let me know what you think!)

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You couldn't remember the exact moment when the tears prickling your eyes had started streaming down your face, but right then it didn't matter. Nothing really did.

The only thing you could focus on was the roaring of the engines right across the pit lane, matching the loud thumping of your heart.

One more lap.

Just one lap, and Max would've been crowned World Champion for the fourth time in a row.

You brought your hands up to your mouth, squeezing them together in a silent prayer as your eyes remained glued to the little screen in the Red Bull box. The crowd cheered as George Russell was declared winner of the Grand Prix, their screams seeming miles away from you as you still held your breath. The race wasn't over yet.

The next few minutes were a confused swirl of people shouting, hugs, and congratulating pats on the back—a river of blue suits that dragged you outside into the crisp night breeze. You ran alongside the rest of the crew, vision blurred with tears, until you reached the barrier and let out something between a sob and a laugh.

There he was.

Standing tall on top of the car with both arms thrown in the air, taking in the thousands of people yelling his name and chanting him with a deafening applause, Max had never looked so genuinely happy and excited about his own achievement.

Suddenly, his gaze caught yours through the visor of his helmet, and you could swear you'd seen his eyes light up. In less than one second, he jumped off the vehicle and ran up to where you were standing, his large hands immediately finding your waist as you secured yours around his neck, letting him effortlessly lift you off the ground and spin you in the air while just screaming with pure, raw joy.

Once he was done, he didn't let you go, wrapping your legs around his torso and placing his hands on the back of your thighs to keep you up. His chest rose with every heavy pant he let out. You closed your eyes, tears still spilling from them, before resting your forehead against the cold glass of the visor and taking a deep breath of relief: finally.

Pulling away, you gently helped him take the helmet off, one of his hands quickly leaving your side to rip the balaclava off his head. All you could see was a glimpse of his icy blue eyes before his fingers firmly cupped your jaw and drew you into him, your lips crashing together. The suddenness of the kiss made you drop the helmet to the ground.

You ran your fingers through his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer, your lips chasing each other in their own perfect race, breaths intertwined in a flawless melody.

Even with your eyes closed, you could feel the blinding flashes of the paparazzi's cameras surrounding you. You could hear the amused whistles coming from both fans and the other drivers, but you couldn’t care less. This moment was yours and yours only, and it felt so right: just you and Max, melting in each other's arms.

When you moved back, breathless from the intense kiss, you brought your still trembling hands up to his face and traced every inch of it with your fingertips, your touch feathery, almost as if to draw a map on his glistening skin: thick, pensive eyebrows, always so focused eyes, and full lips.

"You did it, Max," you managed to whisper, voice hoarse from staying silent for too long. "Four-times World Champion."

"Actually, this is the first World Championship I've really won." You could hear the laugh in his voice, his smug expression making your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"Because it's the first one my world came to see," he explained softly, his fingers running up to your forehead to brush a lock of hair out of your face before grazing your silky skin, his gaze lovingly locked onto yours.

You felt your eyes well up with hot tears once again, but as soon as one of them started rolling down your cheek, he was quick to catch it with his thumb and tenderly wipe it away.

"Nice reflexes, Verstappen," you muttered against his lips, a faint smirk plastered on your face.

"Not bad for a four-time World Champion, huh?" He grinned back before closing the gap between the two of you, drunk on the feeling of your mouths dancing together.

The world around him was long forgotten. For now, the only world he seemed to care about was the one wrapped tight into his arms.

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©italiangirlcoresblog // do not copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work on any platforms

[starryal1na]

—❀ ‧₊˚. 𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒔 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅

genre: fluff, sfw

word count: 850

characters: aventurine, boothill, sunday, dr ratio

notes: this is just soft random thoughts i have about them and needed to write down, no theme in particular, dr ratio wearing glasses does things to me (*≧ω≦*), special thank to my irl friend charlotte (<3) for proofreading this ! divider credit to @/cafekitsune ♡

─ ⊹ ⊱ Aventurine ⊰ ⊹ ─

Owning himself plenty of jewelry, such as rings or expensive watches, it makes sense that Aventurine would want to gift his lover all kind of sumptuous pieces. Over the years, he has had you displayed with pearly necklaces, the shiniest earrings and even rings with precious gemstones. Undoubtedly you loved every single one of them. Each gift Aventurine has given you were meaningful to you, as a symbol of his deep affection for you. However, you must admit you have a favorite one. A gift from one of your anniversary that you adore more than anything. It might be the most classic piece of jewelry you own in term of appearance, but it holds a special place in your heart.

The gift is a bracelet, a thin gold chain gold with a small aventurine stone at its center. Beyond the fact that it is his stone, what's making this gift even more significant is that Aventurine has one as well. While you wear yours on your left, he wears his on his right wrist below his watch. He intented for the two of you to share matching bracelets you could wear daily and that was subtle enough only the two of you could really notice it through your other extravagant jewels. Since then, one glance at the aventurine bracelet on your wrist and your heart skips a beat ♡

─ ⊹ ⊱ Boothill ⊰ ⊹ ─

Every other day, Boothill finds himself mesmerized by the way you take care of your hair. Whether you brush it, braid it, decore it with accessories, he watches from afar with the softest glare. The one reserved for you, and you only.

Today is one of those where you've decided to use the cute ribbons you have recently purchased. Sitting confortably in front of your mirror, you feel Boothill's eyes on you as you display the cute accessories on the floor. "Which color do you think I should wear today ?" "Don't know, sugar. They'd all look fudgin' nice in your pretty hair" "That's very helpful thank you, baby". Boothill snickers, his attention splits between his gun he's been checking for a few mintues, and watch you clip a white and pink ribbon to the side of your head, securing a little braid. Fork, she looks so cute like this, he thinks to himself. Oblivious to your overheating cyborg boyfriend next to you, you finish your hairstyle and spin around with a "tadaaa !" only to find him dumbfounded and an adorable flush spreading on his cheeks. "Forkin' hell ! Got myself the prettiest gurl ain't I ?" Naturally, it ended with you pampering his face with kisses and he even lets you tie ribbons in his hair as well ♡

─ ⊹ ⊱ Sunday ⊰ ⊹ ─

Dearest Sunday was always a bit of a control freak, until he met you. Well he still is one but ever since you've become a couple, his controlling demeanour has somewhat softened. Your presence clearly helped him feel loved and needed, satisfying the yearn to be someone's special one. In the intimacy of your relationship, he has grown more laid-back, to the point of allowing you to touch his precious wings.

This has become one of your favorite ways to demonstrate your love, carefully and tenderly caressing his feathers. They're so delicate you often worry you'll hurt him, but it actually helps Sunday relax. "Do not worry, my angel. Think of it as a hug. It is warm and very comforting for me" he once reassured you. Afterwards, it became a routine for the two of you. Sunday coming home from an exhausting day, you helping him rest by gently stroking his pretty wings. You even make sure to rub the base, where the tiniest feathers are, and the contented sighs he releases reassure you that you’re doing a really good job ♡

─ ⊹ ⊱ Dr Ratio ⊰ ⊹ ─

Usually, when you look at Veritas, the words circulating in your mind are often along the lines of handsome, gorgeous, sexy, serious..... angry. However in the evening, it's different. Sitting in his favorite comfy chair, he pulls you onto his his lap and puts on his glasses to read. You're aware you should focus on your own book but those glasses perched on top of his nose are seriously distracting you. This time, your mind fills with nothing but cute cute cute cute cuuuute. Obviously, he feels your stare on him –of course he does– it's not like you're being subtle anyway. Still, he pretends to act oblivious until you're the one bringing it up.

As he turns a page of his book, you shift on his lap. "Come on. Say it." His tone is serious, yet playful. "You... Cute." You blurt out, immediatly covering your face to cover the prominent blush on your face. "Darling, have you lost your ability to form full sentences ?" His cocky smirk making your blush worsen, nuzzling your head on his neck to hide it. Smiling down at your pouting and flushed face, he returns his attention back to his book. Although you go back to reading as well, he knows you’re sneaking glances at him every so often ♡

/!\ don't steal, translate or repost this and claim it as you own /!\

[bluecookies02]

Viktor x Reader

tags: nsfw, suggestive but on a spiritual lvl 🤌 hurt/comfort. robo viktor and intimacy basically.

[established relationship]

Viktor's new body doesn't feel physical pleasure. Doesn't feel friction or warmth to any extensive degree.

But you'll often find yourself placed on his lap, with him guiding your hips to grind against his own. His arms guiding yours around his shoulder, neck, back...wherever your heart desires to leave a ghost of an imprint. He traces your skin with fingertips that don't really feel any pressure whatsoever, but his soul yearns to touch you like he used to.

And he does. It makes him desperate at first...lost and heartbroken. He has to learn to calculate better, in fear of not giving you a good enough illusion that he is still as human as he was, still an attentive lover that he used to be.

The kind that would spend hours making you feel good, loved and precious. He used to push himself to exhaustion just because he needed to show you his affections thoroughly.

He still would. He still does. Every little speck of him that is left within this new vessel, he selflessly gives to you. The shudders that he lets out when you whine and moan are raw and real, the adoration in his eyes when he does something right and you gasp...it's for you only.

He can feel your emotions and hear your thoughts when the connection between you is at its peak. Once you place your forehead against his and you fall apart under his skilled hands, he can experience the ecstasy similar to the one he used to when he was mortal.

It's yours. It's borrowed. But it gets him high. The fraction of your pleasure that he can feel through your bond makes him addicted, insatiable. It can be considered selfish when he thinks about it more in depth, however it isn't.

Because he would do it all just for you...even if he couldn't feel a single thing, he knows he would always feel utter love and devotion towards everything that makes you. Your plump lips, your eager hands, your honey coated words, your mind and intelligence, your familiarity.

He'd rip himself apart and turn to nothing if it made you happy.

So he's quick to learn. He learns how to press his cold lips against yours just right...all over again. Relearns how to touch you in ways he used to know by heart. The instincts that seemed to die with his body, he has to fabricate.

There's beauty in those calculations. It comforts him. Because those seemingly "robotic" efforts are naked proof that his love for you will never falter, no matter the form he takes on.

He knows that you see his struggles, notice the smaller errors he makes in rhythm, in the gentleness or the roughness of his movements. But as always, you understand him and his body, the state of it, the "faults" as he used to call them, which you always said you'd love, no matter what they were.

This stayed constant in your relationship from before and now. Your stubbornness to love him through everything , even this, and he'd be a fool to not repay you.

So he makes love to you, under the glossy, shiny stars and then under the morning sunrise, on the wet grass or the cloudy floor of his hidden universe. You'll feel him molding his body for you and pouring his soul into you until you're crying, panting and shaking underneath him.

He'll swallow the screams from your lips as you crumble for him, and he'll engrave them so deep within himself so that nothing could rip them away.

Noone can ever love me like the fictional men in my head and I'll have to accept that eventually . Anyways I hope you enjoyed this blurb, if you did, stay tuned bc this blog is slowly turning into a Viktor shrine.

requests are set to open while this season's high fuels me, so feel free to drop by🩵

[mekakitsune]

"you don't want me here? then why does your body say other wise?" jinx x fem piltover!reader - nsfw - minors dni

(requested by anon)

for as long as you can remember, your family did everything in their power to keep you from venturing into the undercity. topside was where you belonged, no doubts about it. you were polite, kindhearted and far too soft for that kind of lifestyle– or so you thought.

it wasnt until you met her, that your views changed. she showed you so much, taught things you never had the chance to know, all while being so incredibly...human?

did jinx use your piltover status against you? absolutely. when you first met, you could tell she hated you, just by seeing how you presented yourself. she made it her own personal mission to get as far under your skin as she possibly could.

"you really shouldn't be here jinx, my parents are sleeping downstairs..." you mutter as she pressed kisses along your neck, making sure she left bruises as she went. she ignored your plea, hands roaming under your shirt, making you shiver.

"then i guess you'll have to be quiet then, yeah?" she smiled deviously, hands tracing the underside of your breasts.

"jinx...im serious" you whined, voice low and slightly trembling. your parents would have both of your heads on a spike if they knew what was happening right now.

she slides herself off your hips and moves to dip her fingers into your pants, making you suck in a harsh breath of air. she smirks as her fingers trace over your underwear, relishing in the way you react to her touch.

"youre cute yknow? so sensitive..." she whispers, circling her finger around your clit through the fabric. you moan lowly, hips shifting as a silent plea for more, despite your better judgment. she seems to get the hint, and moves to slide your pants and underwear down– her eyes fixated on your now soaking cunt. feeling rather exposed, you attempt to close your legs, but shes inbetween them, and her hands grip the soft flesh as soon as she feels you hesitate.

"s'funny baby...you don't want me here? then why does your body say otherwise?"

she smirks as she runs her finger through your folds, bottom lip slipping between her teeth as she feels you soak her fingers. "practically dripping f'me" she purrs.

you whine as her fingers find your clit again, rubbing precisely where she knew would make you cry out.

"jinx.." you sigh, looking at her face to see a sinister smirk. she locks her eyes onto yours as she lowers her hand, easily slipping two fingers into you. you moan out, and before you can curse yourself her hand slaps over your mouth.

"shhh, youll wake em up, doll." she giggles, almost as if she didnt have her fingers deep inside of you. you whine against her hand as she thrusts her fingers in and out, curling them into that spot that makes your brain fuzzy. she can feel you getting close, with the way your practically dripping into her palm, and she decided she needed to make you cum, right here, right now.

her thrusts continue, the slick sound making your cheeks heat up as she works you closer to the edge. her chest is heaving softly, the sight of your like this always worked her up, not that she'd ever admit it.

"you close?" she whispers again, hand still over your mouth. you nod desperately, your sounds muffled by her palm. she picks up her pace, practically slamming her fingers into as you writhe beneath her. she groans quietly as she feels you tighten around her fingers like a vice grip, body stilling as you cum, hard.

she lets you ride it out, not stopping until your whine against her palm once more and your thighs are shaking. she removes her hand from your mouth and slams her lips onto yours, biting at your lower lip. your hands find her hips, and without warning, you flip her over so you are hovering over her form. her eyes widen at the sudden movement, a smirk growing on her lips.

"i think its only fair i get you back for that, yeah?" you lean down, face close to hers and you swear you feel her breath hitch in her lungs.

it was only fair, after all, she wanted you to cum? now its her turn.

"keep quiet, or i'll stop" you smirk as your fingers find the waist of her pants.

thank u for the req anon! more to come & feel free to leave me a prompt ;)

[archiveofvirtue]

doll!reader wants to take control during sex but rafe isn’t gonna submit that easily, so she has to find another way

cw ⎯⎯ nsfw, established relationship, making out, turning dom!rafe sub, forced submission (?) kinda, handcuffs, praise, overstimulation, oral (m. receiving)

“hngh..feels so good rafey.” you hummed, your hips continuing to roll against his still clothed cock, feeling him getting harder the more seconds pass. His lips were still attached to the sensitive skin on your neck as he sucked and licked on your sweet spot.

Rafe was leaning against the headboard, his fingers digging into your hips, pulling you closer, unable to get enough of you. Just as his lips began to trail down to your collarbone you pulled back slightly, a mischievous smile on your pink and glossy lips. He gazed up at you, his ocean blue eyes filled with lust and complete adoration.

“You’re driving me crazy, doll.”

he murmured, hands still clinging to your body.

“Good.” you whispered, leaning back down to nip at his jawline, his stubble slightly rough against your soft lips. As your kisses trailed down his neck, something in you shifted. You hadn’t planned for it to unfold like this, feeling kinda strange. Usually, Rafe was the one in charge, his dominant nature pulling you into submission so effortlessly that you never questioned it. You loved the way he took control, how he made you feel small and cared for. But what if you, just once, took the lead?

You weren’t sure where it all came from, but you also weren’t scared to find out. Maybe deep down you’d always wanted to see how far you could push him, to make him yours like he did to you. As your heart began to race you realized that the idea really turned you on, the wet spot on your panties only growing bigger.

Your fingers slid up his chest, brushing over his collarbone before settling at his neck. Your grip tightened slightly, feeling a bit nervous and just adding a playful pressure to start things off. Rafe tensed beneath you almost immediately, his hands shooting up to catch your wrists.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, his tone sharp as his blue eyes locked on yours. You froze, and for a second you thought about chickening out, to just leave it to him, but then a new found courage came rushing through you. “Just trying something new..”

Rafe let out a frustrated sigh, loosening his hold on your wrists but keeping them steady. "Doll, that's not really my thing. You know I'm not into—"

"Please," you interrupted, your voice a mixture of pleading and determination. Your hands moved to cup his face instead, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. "Rafe, I promise l'll make you feel good.“

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he seemed to weigh your words. Rafe wasn't used to giving up control—not to anyone, and most of the time not even to you. But the way you looked at him, your big, hopeful eyes and your sweet pout, made it impossible for him to say no. You were his doll, his everything, and despite his doubts, he didn't want to disappoint you.

"Fine," he finally gave in. "But don't push it."

Your face lit up with excitement, not thinking that he’d actually agree. "You won't regret it," you promised, lips brushing against his again as your hands adjusted their grip, softer this time, testing his limits. You could feel the tension in his body as Rafe fought the instinct to pull away, his breathing uneven under your touch.

"Relax," you murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth, then his neck, your lips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm. "Let me take care of you." A playful smirk was plastered on your lips as you placed your hands on Rafe's broad chest, gently pushing him back against the pillows. "Just trust me, okay?" You whispered, your tone dripping with sweetness, though your eyes sparkled with something malicious.

Rafe let you guide him, his hands resting loosely on your bare thighs. "Why do I feel like you're up to something?" he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion, though he couldn't help but smirk back at you.

"Close your eyes," you instructed, voice soft but firm. The blonde boy raised an eyebrow, clearly hesitant. "y/n-"

"Just do it," you interrupted, leaning down to kiss him again, silencing his protests. It was a kiss that left him momentarily dazed, and when you pulled back, he complied with a small groan, letting his eyes flutter closed.

Reaching over to your nightstand you slid the drawer open carefully, trying not to give yourself away as you pulled out the fluffy pink handcuffs you’d stashed there, finally finding an opportunity to use them. The rattling and soft clicking sounds as you adjusted them immediately made Rafe's brow furrow, even with his eyes shut.

"What's that?" he asked, his voice sharp, the hint of suspicion growing stronger.

"Shh," you cooed, leaning down to kiss him again, but this time he didn't fall for the distraction. His eyes snapped open just as you had clasped one of the cuffs around his wrist and secured it to the headboard.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Rafe protested, tugging his arm instinctively, but you were quicker. You grabbed his other wrist and clicked the second cuff into place before he could stop you. His eyes widened as he pulled at the restraints, the fluffy pink cuffs holding him securely against the headboard.

"Doll, what the fuck is this? Get ‘em off."

You sat back on his hips, earning a low grunt from him while twirling the tiny key between your fingers with a smug grin. "Mmm, I don't think so," you said, voice dripping with confidence. "You're not in charge here, Rafey. I am."

Rafe's breath hitched slightly, his jaw clenching as he looked up at you. There was a flicker of something in his expression— frustration, maybe even a little fear, but also an undeniable heat in his blue eyes as he registered your words. He was done for.

“y/n, I swear to God-" he began, but you cut him off.

"Swear all you want," you giggled sadistically, leaning down until your lips were just a breath away from his ear. "You're mine now, Cameron. And you're gonna sit there and take whatever I decide to give you." Your voice was unusually low, commanding, and laced with a sultry edge that made Rafe’s body react before his brain could catch up.

He squirmed beneath you, his face flushing as he realized just how much your words affected him. "Baby, come on," he said, his tone wavering between irritation and something softer, almost vulnerable. "This isn't funny."

"Oh, I'm not laughing," you replied, grin widening as you watched him tug at the cuffs, the muscles in his arms flexing uselessly. Your pussy clenching at the sight, he was so unbelievably hot like this. You reached out, brushing your fingers along his jawline.

"Baby.." he muttered, his voice strained as he tried to muster up some semblance of control. But the way you looked at him, the power you held—it made him feel small in a way that was both frustrating and oddly thriling, feeling the buldge in his boxers grow. The way you were acting drove him crazy, thoughts running wild with all possible scenarios. It was all so new to him and seeing you in control definitely flipped a switch inside of Rafe.

You fully ignored his complaints, the outline of his erection definitely was enough for you to keep going, your fingers dipped below the waistline of his boxers, pulling them down as his erection sprang free. you held his already leaking cock in your hand, running your thumb along the tip before licking a stripe all the way to up his base. you repeated this action a few more times, then fully taking him in your mouth as far as you could go.

“fuck, baby..” rafe groaned, helplessly pulling at the handcuffs. you began to swirl your tongue around his cock, your hand wrapping around the inches that you couldn't get in your mouth. you continued to suck him off, pulling all the way off and then taking him back in. his grunts became louder, hips buckling up into you, while his tip hit the back of your throat.

Gagging and slurping sounds filled the four walls of your room, your saliva mixed with Rafe’s precum making your mouth move smoothly around him. You could tell he was close by the way he squirmed underneath you, tugging on the cuffs with all of his strength, complete trapped.

“You’re gonna cum for me pretty boy?” You chuckled up at him, hands replacing your mouth for a second as he watched you with hazy eyes, fully emerging into submission, nodding hastily. “Y-yes..fuck.”

You began jerking him off at a fast and rough pace, your hand gliding along his thick shaft with ease as you watched him twitch, quickly wrapping your lips back around his tip. Just as your tongue tasted him again you felt Rafe release, white ropes of cum pouring down your throat as you moaned, your own arousal running down the insides of your thighs.

Pulling yourself off him with a plopping sound you smirked satisfied, licking the corner of your swollen lips while Rafes chest was raising heavily up and down, trying to catch his breath. You leaned over Rafe, your fingers working quickly to unlock the fluffy pink handcuffs that had kept him restrained for far longer than he'd anticipated—or admitted he'd tolerate. The click of the cuffs releasing was followed by a deep exhale from your boyfriend as he brought his arms down, rubbing his sore wrists briefly, his lips curving into a slow, devilish smile.

"Enjoy yourself, Doll?" he asked, his tone low and teasing, but there was a dangerous edge beneath it that sent a shiver through your body.

You were unable stop grinning triumphantly as you sat back on your heels. “Maybe I did," you teased, brushing your hair out of your face. "And maybe I'll do it again."

Rafe chuckled, sitting up slightly, his movements deliberate and slow, like a predator sizing up his prey. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice silky smooth, though his eyes burned with intensity. "You did a good job, I'll give you that. Might even let you take control more often... if you're lucky."

Your confidence flared at his words, lips parting to say something smug, but before you could get a word out, Rafe’s hands shot out, grabbing your waist and flipping you effortlessly onto your back. A surprised squeal escaped your lips as he hovered over you, his body pinning yours to the mattress in one swift motion.

"Rafe!" You gasped, your cheeks flushing as you squirmed beneath him, your earlier dominance quickly turning into nervous laughter. "What are you-"

"Shh," he interrupted, pressing a finger gently to your lips before leaning in closer, his nose brushing against yours.

“You really thought that you could just tie me up and have your way with me without consequences..?”

my first time writing for doll!reader and im already obsessed with her and rafe’s relationship 🎀

feedback and requests are greatly appreciated !!

tags 🏷️ @gibson-g1rl @starkeysprincess @drewspinkbunny @drewsarms @rafescokewhore @rafeslacy @rafesangelita @rafey-baby @nativegirltapes @maybanksbaby @httpsdrewstarkey @dolcekissy @moremaybank @cherrygirlfriend @beausling @cosmicanakin

[karaeilishh]

Hii this is so random but do you think you could write vampire!billie? Any plot is fine!

this gave me goosebumps UGHH, sorry for making you wait so long baby 💞

your blood b. eilish

warnings: smut, blood. BLOOD, mean!vampire!billie, blood drinkin (kinda a lot), billie has large and sharp fangs, oral, strap, crazy a lil

w/c - 3,4k

you were waiting for her so much. weeks in an empty bed seemed torturous while your girlfriend was on her music tour. and not only that. billie was an adored person all over the world. everyone thought she was so gentle, kind and cloyingly sweet, incapable of doing bad things. they were partly right, but only you knew what she was really capable of. 

you cleaned the whole house before her arrival, cooked dinner, tidied yourself up so that your girlfriend would need nothing. you even put on her favorite underwear under a shirt and home shorts. everything was perfect for her arrival. you were waiting so much. 

she promised to come in the evening, but it was already deep into the night, you couldn’t close your eyes because of the worries when she didn’t answer your calls. the lights in the whole house were on so that you wouldn’t be tempted to close your eyes. you curled up on the couch in the living room, spending there for what seemed like an eternity before the front door opened. you jump off the couch in relief.

“billie…” your expression changes when instead of a gentle smile on her face, you see her tired and desperate look. bags under her eyes, dirty disheveled hair and dirty clothes. her lipstick is slightly smudged, her whole appearance is pure chaos. She places her suitcase next to the door and walks inside, still wearing her sneakers. you watch her every move with concern.

“baby, what’s wrong?” you dare to break the silence when she sits down on the couch, covering her face with her hands. you slowly walk towards her and sit next to her. your hand gently touches her thigh as you look at her. your face is etched with worry. “i screwed up.”

she lets out a ragged breath, yanking her leg away from your touch. she was so nervous and tense that you felt uneasy. her whole body was dripping with discontent and innuendo. “billie, please explain to me. what happened?” your voice takes on a more serious and cold tone, but your eyes are still soft as you try to catch her gaze.

“fucked” she jumps up from the couch, burying her hands in her hair. she paces back and forth across the room, sighing loudly every now and then. you tried to give her time to explain to you what was going on. you lean back on the couch and cross your arms over your chest, seemingly forgetting to breathe.

“h-he ran away. he saw me, i think he saw me.” billie finally stops and looks at you with crystal empty eyes, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. you don’t immediately understand what she’s talking about, tilting your head. “who is ‘he’, baby? please tell me" 

billie exhales heavily, like it's so hard to talk about this, like it's so hard to do anything, her body is breaking. "i'm hungry, i'm so fucking hungry. and i'm weak, and that's why i was so distracted, and he just... he fucking ran away. i couldn't catch him" billie sinks back onto the couch, her face twisted in hunger, revealing her fangs. they seemed to have gotten heavier and bigger, more dangerous, more attractive. 

It all came together in your head as she explained to you what had happened. she was like this because she hadn't fed in a long time. she needed blood, she needed it to survive. literally. her skin was even paler, her veins showing on her tired face. how had you not noticed it before? "how long have you not fed?" 

question hangs in the air for a few seconds before billie finds the strength to answer. "i don't know. a long time. a long time ago"

you bite your bottom lip, thinking about what to do next. idea in your head was just crazy and unrealistic, and you knew that billie would never agree to this. but you had to try. "baby..."

you slowly move towards her and straddle her hips. billie instinctively wants to put her hands on your hips, but you take her hands and intertwine your fingers. she gives you an ambiguous look, but remains silent, waiting for you to say something. "i know this might be dangerous for me, but maybe..."

"do you hear yourself?!" billie abruptly pulls her hands away, almost pushing you off her lap. Her face distorts with anger instantly, fire burning in her eyes. anyone would say that she is mad as hell, but you see something else behind this mask. fear, desire, hunger. "oh god, don't even dare say that out loud!"

her tone leaves no room for argument, but you know how much she needs it. to drink blood. your blood. you're a little afraid, but you touch her again. your fingertips graze over her shoulders. you tug at the fabric of her shirt, revealing her muscular arms. "but why? you need this, billie! i don't think you get offered-"

she interrupts with a nervous grin, this time allowing you to touch her, but her eyes and voice are still as cold. "listen to me carefully. i will never allow myself to drink a drop of your blood, never."

her gaze grows more furious as she looks at your neck, your pale skin practically begging her to leave the bite, but she continues. "if i taste you i don't know if i'll be able to stop. i can't put you at risk like that"

she carefully lifts you off her lap and heads towards the kitchen. you silently follow her. billie tries to convince herself that she can at least somehow cope with her hunger if she eats proper food. the homemade pasta you made. she brings the fork to her mouth, but hesitates as soon as she smells the food. "bilie... don't"

"i'm fine!" she cuts you and puts the fork in her mouth, chewing on the pasta for a few seconds before the urge to vomit attacks her throat. she runs to the trash can, and spits out everything she tried so desperately to swallow. the problem wasn't that you made her a bad dinner. she needed blood, lots of fresh blood. her body couldn't function properly without it. there was desperation in her eyes

"please, bils. just do it." you walked up to your girlfriend and gently placed your hands on her cheeks. she couldn't keep eye contact with you because she knew she would give in if she looked into your loving eyes. you wanted the best for her. always. so much so that you offered her to drink your own blood, putting yourself in danger. "i can't, baby. i just can't do this to you..."

she gave in and looked into your eyes. almost crying. from hunger, from desire, from fear. it was all affecting her so much that she thought she would fall apart under the pressure. "ill never forgive myself if i can't stop."

you left a soft kiss on her lips, urging her to be quiet. you wanted so much to help her in any way possible. you caress her face for a few more seconds before slowly moving her head to the side of your neck. the enticing warmth radiating from your skin made billie whine. “please, don’t do this…”

she licks her lips. her nose grazes over your soft skin, her arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to her. she looks at the pulsing vein in your neck as you tilt your head, giving her more access. her hot breath hits you as you both realize there’s no turning back. she won’t stop. your body temperature drops a few degrees, your fingertips shaking as you close your eyes. you were scared, but also so excited at that moment that it was driving you crazy

“i’m sorry,” she whispers before abruptly sinking her fangs into your pulsating flesh. A sharp pain shoots through your body like an electric shock, your eyes wide open as is your mouth. a few strangled moans choke in your throat. you're afraid to make the slightest sound or move your body even a millimeter. after a few seconds you feel your warm sticky blood running down your skin, staining your light shirt. it runs down your collarbones, your chest, your stomach. billie drank it so greedily and sloppily, not caring at all how much blood flows out. she'll wring out every drop. with each sip she became more and more uncontrollable.

adrenaline speeds up the circulation of your blood, only increasing the pleasure of billie as she continues to scratch your neck with her fangs. your soft skin ached from the pain. there were stars in your eyes, your body temperature changing seemingly every few seconds, while you heard your girlfriend swallow your blood. she jerks away from you, breathing heavily. you whine from another sharp prick of pain. 

"god, i’m sorry... i got carried away, i shouldn't..." her eyes run over your face, she mumbles while you just stand there and silently stare at her. her lips, chin, nose are all covered in your scarlet blood. her fangs sparkle in the moonlight. it was so strange, but she looked so damn sexy. she was confused, but her gaze was so wild from how she instantly became addicted to your taste. 

"you feeling better?" when you come to, you press your hand to your neck, feeling the warm blood beneath your fingertips. billie relaxes a little when she sees your reassuring gaze. you let her know youre okay. “yeah, yeah, i’m better. so much better. im sorry you had to go through that…” she drops her hands to your waist, pressing her forehead to yours.

“actually… i liked it” the tone of your voice makes billie smile and look you in the eyes. she was surprised. her eyebrows raised slightly as she studied your face. “what did you say?” she heard you perfectly well, but it was like she needed confirmation that she wasn’t delirious and that you actually liked it. she needed to know that she didn’t hurt you.

“i said i liked the feeling” you whisper, standing on your toes to whisper in her ear. you knew she was about to lose control. "your teeth in my flesh, my warm blood running down my skin. it's so strange, but so exciting..."

billie's mouth dropped open, breathing raggedly. her earlier worry disappeared when she saw you were okay. maybe too much. "i can't believe it. i just drank your blood and you like it?"

she pulls back and looks you in the eyes. she only needed one word to break completely. you could feel her desire in the warming air. or is it that you're still so agitated after she drank about half a liter of your blood in one go. "yes..."

your whisper turns billie on with a snap of her finger. she lights up. the hunger in her eyes is still there, only now she's not hungry for blood, she's hungry for you. for your body, soft as play dough in her hands. "you're such a slut if you really liked it"

the next moment she's dragging you to the bedroom on the second floor. her teeth are grinding as she throws you on the bed. now some of her life force has returned and she remembered how much she missed you. her head could finally work properly to realize how long it's been since you felt each other's warmth. fucking weeks spent hundreds of miles apart.

"god, i missed you so much" her body is hovering over yours. the tips of her long hair tickle your skin as she takes off your bloody shirt, revealing your lacy bra. your upper body is covered in your blood. a smile spreads across her face as she looks up at your face. "you were waiting for me"

"of course i was. you have no idea how" you giggle. she looked so sexy with that look and your frozen blood on her face. billie leaves a kiss on your lips, letting you taste the salty taste of your blood on your lips. crazy feeling. you squirm slightly under her. "please, bills…"

"please, what?" she is amused by your whining. it's amazing how much her mood has improved after she drank your blood. maybe there was something special about it. you whisper softly about how much you need her, and it clearly affects her. billie leaves kisses on your body, caressing your collarbone with her tongue. "i wasn't kidding when i said i couldn't stop"

you don't have time to ask her, as you feel another painful bite on your body. her teeth are clamped around your collarbone, making you feel the pressure on your bone. she didn't even sink her teeth all the way in, but a pool of blood still formed on your body, which billie drank up, greedily swallowing every drop. the pain wasn't as noticeable now, causing your brain to continue to drift to the warmth between your legs. the contrast of pain and desire was driving you crazy.

bilie waits until a pool of blood forms above your collarbone again, before dipping her fingertips into it. you look at her questioningly, but remain silent, waiting for what she will do. billie runs her fingers over your stomach, drawing something on your skin. the dark, thick blood contrasted with your milky skin, as billie mindlessly smeared your blood over your body.

"baby, please..." you remind her not to get too carried away. she giggles in response and licks the last of your blood off her fingers. she found it funny. “sorry, princess.”

billie peels off your shorts, throwing them to the other corner of the bedroom. she greedily examines every inch of your exposed skin, like she’s seeing it for the first time. “god, you’re gorgeous.” she can’t help but comment when such a beautiful, obedient girl lies beneath her, letting her do whatever she wants to her.

she pulls you to the edge of the bed, kneeling between your legs. you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better view of her face. god, you wanna take a picture. you thought you were dreaming right now, that this wasn’t real.

ripping the thin piece of fabric off your body, billie swallows hard. you hear it. something new flashes in her eyes as she practically growls. She places your legs on her shoulders, her hands squeezing your hips painfully. She leaves wet kisses on the inside of your thighs, looking into your eyes. "billie…"

you’re literally dripping. you wanted her so badly, inside you. you needed her to fuck you so badly, but billie had something else in mind. She lowers your legs, wrapping both hands around your left thigh. She massages it for a few seconds before running her tongue over your warm skin. "what are you-"

she doesn't let you finish. her fangs sink into your flesh again. all the way. she clenches her jaws so hard you want to scream. She moans loudly and obscenely as the taste of your blood imprints on her tongue. She takes big greedy gulps, but you still feel your blood dripping down your leg. right onto the white carpet. “billie…”

you throw your head back against the sheets, trying to get used to the feeling. after a few seconds, the pain faded, leaving only a slight discomfort. but that seemed to go away too when she looked at you. Her eyes were wild, animalistic, sending shivers down your spine. her dark eyeliner highlighted her light eyes, and oh god, you were just aching. you needed her.

as soon as her fangs emerge from your skin, you feel a strange emptiness inside. it was mutual dependence. aching, but so strong. you just need to feel her mouth on you. it doesn’t matter how. billie licks a trickle of blood from your skin before finally placing her tongue where you need her most. “fuck, yes…”

your hand immediately flies to her hair, pulling her head down to your needy pussy. she literally growls into your flesh, telling you what a dirty slut you are. all the events of the night were forgotten as soon as her tongue wrapped around your clit, making you moan in pleasure. electric.

the dirtiest sounds came out of her mouth as she devoured you. the taste of your blood still clinging to her tongue, mixing with your juices. it was driving her crazy. her hands traced their way to your  breasts, squeezing hard. she lightly scratched your skin, making you arch your back. every atom of your body wanted to feel her.

"i'm close...i’m..." you whine, thinking that billie will make you wait, but she just buries her face deeper into your pussy. she wanted to reward you, to worship you, because you literally brought her back to life. once she tasted you, she would never want anyone else's blood again. only you. 

your body disintegrates into a million pieces as an electric orgasm shoots through your body, leaving you shaking for a while. you breathe heavily, looking up at the ceiling. billie crawls towards you, looking into your eyes with a playful glint in hers. you reach your hand up to her face, trying to wipe away at least a few drops of your blood, but she doesn't let you. "i like the feeling of your blood" 

"but you have it all over your face!" you giggle and intertwine your fingers. your body calmed down a bit, but billie still wanted to do one thing. you see the glint of something unsaid in her eyes and you whisper softly, "what do you want?"

there’s a look of relief on her face, like she's been waiting for you to ask. "i want you to ride me. my cock." Your heart skips a beat when she mentions her strap. you’ve been hungry for that. you nod softly and she pulls away from you, taking off her jeans as she does so. "sit on the edge."

she instructs you as she quickly fastens the strap to her thighs. She does it so casually, like if she doesn't have you on her body for another minute she'll die. billie sits down on the bed and roughly pulls you onto her lap.

"lower yourself." Her voice drips with dominance, making you weak in the knees. you slowly lower yourself onto her strap, holding onto her shoulders. you’ve missed this feeling so much. you moan, lowering your body completely onto hers. you give yourself a few seconds to adjust, but billie squeezes your hips tightly. “come on, bunny, bounce on me.”

her words leave your brain in a mess as you start bouncing on her cock like a fucking bunny. billie’s hands wander over your body as she finally finds her way to the clasps of your bra to push it off your body. your breasts bounce with every movement you make. her cock is buried deep inside your pussy, hitting all the right spots.

“go faster.” billie grabs your breasts with both hands, making your pace only sloppier. you couldn’t go on your own anymore with her teasing you like that. your whole body was a bloody dull mess underneath her. your legs were weak as you fell against her. "i...i can't..."

"that's pathetic, baby," she chuckles, running her tongue over your tits before biting you again. your hands tighten on her shoulders as she only sinks her teeth halfway in, but it's enough to draw blood again. it runs down your nipple and billie swirls it around with her tongue with a satisfied groan, letting go with pop-sound.

finished torturing your breasts, she finally changes your position, pressing your face into the mattress. your ass is hanging in the air as she finally thrusts into you. her nails scratching your back, her cock is buried in your pussy, all the sheets are crumpled from your grip and stained with your blood. "harder, billie, right there..."

this was probably the craziest night of your life, because your head was no longer working. her cock was fucking you so stupidly, a liter of your blood was pumped out of your body. perfect conditions so the only thing on your mind is billie. the angle she fucks you at, making your pussy clench around her cock as she makes you cum over and over.

your blood pushed her into it.

tags: @dandelions4us

requests open !!

a/n - UGH i love it

[phyrestartr]

Deal With It | Gojo Satoru x M!Reader (TEASER)

CW: Arranged marriage, SELF-HARM (on and off-screen), hurt/comfort, angst, drama, self-loathing, blood and gore, implied depression, suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation #NSFW, probably top Gojo, probably bottom reader, maybe switch idk, idek if they'll bang it out tbh lol, angst with a happy ending, reader is a sorcerer, time skips, time progression, relationship development, student era into teacher era Note: I got this request to make a story revolving around Gojo and an arranged marriage to the reader (but bro is in love with Getou sob.gif), and I've been RUMINATING on it for forever. I think I finally have a good idea of who the reader is/what their chemistry is like with Gojo, so I'm happy to post a wee bit of a teaser to motivate myself! Let me know your thoughts---I'm finding that I absolutely love writing for Gojo, so I'm down to write more LOL. He's a very fun, complex character.

Deal With It

“So, you really don’t care what he thinks?” Shoko asked as you lit her cigarette. “Even I think he was kinda harsh.”

You pocketed your lighter and leaned back against the cold stone of the college walls. “He’s got a thing for that black-haired guy.”

“Getou.” 

“Sure.” You shrugged and tried to rub the ache out of your neck as you stared up at the bleak, grey skies. The air reeked of petrichor. Thankfully you’d brought an umbrella that day. 

“And you’re not bothered he’s in love with Getou?” Your friend continued, her cute bobbed haircut swaying with the tilt of her head. She always looked so charming like that, when she was being a mischievous brat while pretending to be anything but. 

“Dunno.” And that was the truth. “He’s not even my type. I’d rather hitch up with someone like you or Nanami. Someone less annoying. Less loud-mouthed.” 

“Ooh, that'll hurt his ego.” Shoko smiled. “Well, guess you'll have to learn to deal with it.”

You took a deep breath and rubbed your face as you nodded. “Yeah.”

–

“Forever is a long time,” You mumbled, leaning your forehead against the cool touch of the window. Rain pittered and pattered, exploding off the glass like trillions of kamikaze planes. It almost birthed some sort of hurt in your chest. Best not to dwell on it, you decided.

“Hah? Are you talking to yourself again like a weirdo?” The one and only Gojo Satoru yowled before kicking you in the rear like a petulant child. “Pft! Figures. Knowing my luck, I would have to get married to a creeper.” 

“Even if you married Getou, you'd still be marrying a creep,” you grumbled, dusting the dirt off your behind. “You need something? Or did you harass me just for the fun of it.” 

You heard Gojo, your fiancé, scoff and shuffle behind you. “I just wanted to remind you to humble yourself! Just because I'm forced to marry you doesn't mean you're accomplished or cool or anything, got it?” 

Being in his presence had you craving a cigarette. “Yeah, got it.” 

“And Suguru's better than you,” he added, aloof voice bowing down beneath hardened, steeled words. “Don't forget that either.” 

You bit down on your cheek to ward away the heat building under your skin, the magma sinking deep into your eyesockets and threatening to pour down your esophagus. The taste of iron washed against your tongue, and you released your flesh from between your molars. Sometimes, you wanted to keep boring down on yourself to see how much you could really take, but a fear of the answer too often made you think twice. 

“This is starting to bore me,” you said, tilting your head as you caught a flicker of red in your rain-muddied reflection. You touched your fingers to your tongue and found translucent red coating the tips. 

“Pah. I was gonna say the same!” You watched his reflection turn away. “Good luck trying to impress me.” 

I'm not interested. You watched him walk away, slouching and with his hands in his pockets like he was emulating some kind of yankii character. He might have fit the bill, if he hadn't had such a ridiculous, brat side to him. Just deal with it. You wiped the red on your uniform with a sigh. Tomorrow's a new day.

--

Feel free to comment on this post if you want to be tagged for the full version!

@kamote-kuneho @tr4nnie @silvern1006

[brbsoulnomming]

Heart On Your Sleeve Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

written for steddiebigbang2024 and belatedly posting here!

-----

Dustin shows up at his house the next morning.

"You have a concussion," Dustin says when Steve answers the door.

Steve squints at him. "Did you get your medical license when I wasn't looking?"

Dustin rolls his eyes. "Haha, very funny. Are you going to let me in?"

Steve doesn't really have a reason not to.

All right, well, he's got several reasons not to, starting with the fact that Steve isn't actually feeling so great and ending with Dustin being like thirteen and somehow always around when the world is ending.

But Steve is lonely, and feeling kind of pathetic, and none of them seem like good enough reasons, so he opens the door and lets Dustin in.

"From my mom," Dustin says, setting down a Tupperware of brownies on the coffee table.

Steve immediately knows he's made the right decision, taking a massive bite of chocolate, fudgy heaven. It's only after he's devoured one and he turns to Dustin to ask him to tell his mom thanks that he sees that Dustin's plopped his heart onto the coffee table, too.

"Hearts out, Steve," Dustin says matter-of-factly.

"Why?" Steve bitches. "What do you even need to look at it for?"

"You're in the Party now! Party rules, you have to show your heart before you can get your walkie," Dustin says.

Steve pulls a face, and immediately regrets it as it makes his eye and nose burst with pain. "Who says I even want to be in your party?"

Dustin's face falls. "Don't you?" he asks, sounding hesitant and uncertain.

It makes Steve's resolve crumble immediately.

"How about we start with friends?" Steve offers.

The kid's face lights up at that, giving him a gap toothed smile, but then he nudges his heart closer to Steve and looks at him expectantly.

Steve sighs and takes his own heart out, wincing a little as the motion twinges his bruised ribs. He sets it on the table next to Dustin's.

"There you go," Steve mutters.

Now that the light's better, he can see a hole right in the middle of Dustin's heart. It's small, but it goes all the way through, and it makes Steve's own heart give a soft pulse in empathy.

Dustin catches it, looks up to follow Steve's gaze, and drops his eyes. "My dad," Dustin mutters.

"Hey," Steve says softly, reaching out without even thinking about it to turn his heart a little.

There's two overlapping holes in the same place on his own heart, and Steve rubs his thumb over them, biting the inside of his cheek at the way it still prompts a soft echo of longing. "My parents," he tells Dustin.

Dustin looks around, like he's only just now realizing that there's been no sign of them since he rang the doorbell. "Oh," he says, soft and full of understanding.

It's honestly the most understanding he's ever received about his parents choosing to be mostly absent from his life, which makes him feel kind of pathetic, but also makes his heart warm in a way he's not sure it ever has before.

Dustin reaches out, stopping just short of touching Steve's heart as he gestures to the jagged line cutting through it.

"Nancy?" Dustin asks.

Steve's jaw sets.

He doesn't want to talk about it.

Dustin seems to take that as answer enough, though, because he just goes back to eagerly examining both of their hearts. Steve's is bigger than his - of course it is, because Dustin is thirteen, but they're both the same deep, vibrant red, and they both beat strong and steady.

It's barely any time before they're beating in unison.

Dustin looks back up at him, beaming that wide, goofy smile of his. "Cool," he proclaims.

—

Every time Dustin comes over after that - and it's a lot, honestly, Steve still doesn't know what to make of it - he plops his heart onto the coffee table and waits expectantly until Steve takes his out and puts it next to Dustin's.

They never touch each other's hearts, they never even talk about it, but at least twice a week Steve's able to breathe a little easier, able to actually relax.

—

He waits at the picnic table in the woods after school on his first day back.

Munson looks bored at first when he gets there, but then he does a double take, like Steve's injuries are worse now than they were at lunch.

Or maybe it's just that he's up close now, instead of on the other side of the cafeteria, or maybe it's just that Steve's tired and in pain and he doesn't give a shit about pretending like he isn't.

“Jesus Christ, Harrington,” Munson mutters, dropping his lunchbox on the table.

Steve shrugs. “I'd say you should see the other guy, but everyone did already.”

Munson is looking at him with suspicion, eyes narrowed as he takes him in. Steve wonders if he doesn't buy the story that's been floating around, if it's too easy to see that he and Hargrove both look pretty fucking bad for just blowing off steam and getting carried away.

Wonders if he'll call him on it.

Munson's expression smooths out, though, and he flips the lunchbox lid open. “How much do you want?”

Steve's eyes flick down to the chains on Munson's leather jacket, but no heart there today. Not that he could see anything if it was - Munson's been wearing his heart pinned to his jacket off and on since the last half of Steve's freshman year, but it's always wrapped up tight in chains or leather so that no one could get more than a glimpse of it.

Everyone said it was a flaunt of defiance against tradition and a way he could cheat people in his deals while maintaining the appearance of a fair exchange, but Steve always kind of figured it was just because he was tired of people demanding to see it whenever he sold to them while being reluctant to show theirs.

That, and it was like everything else Eddie Munson did - loud and in your face and purposefully drawing attention to what he wanted you to see, while guarding what he didn't close to his chest.

Steve's never bothered with attempting a mutual show of hearts the handful of times he's bought from Munson before - they aren't exactly new business partners, not even the first time he actually bought from Munson himself, and frankly Steve's never needed to see Munson's heart to know he's trustworthy enough that he's not going to give him bad shit, even if he does overcharge him.

But today's different.

He gently pops open his own chest, ignoring the faint twinge of his ribs, and takes his heart out, setting it on the table next to Munson's lunchbox.

Munson's eyes widen for a moment before his jaw sets, lips thinning out in a flat line as he looks down at Steve's heart and then back up to his face. “What the hell is this?”

“My heart,” Steve replies evenly.

Munson looks unimpressed. “I'm not showing you mine.”

“I didn't ask you to,” Steve says, unable to stop himself even though he knows he's being kind of a dick.

Munson looks at him for a moment. Then, “Whatever. How much do you want?”

Steve opens his mouth to say he isn't here to buy today, but - actually, no, he could probably use some weed to dull the pain and help him sleep. It's routine for a moment, both of them ignoring Steve's heart beating on the table next to them as they make the trade, until Steve's baggie is tucked inside his jacket and Munson's shoving cash into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Your Majesty,” Munson says, doing a little bow.

“Munson, wait,” Steve says.

Munson straightens, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Hargrove tried to blame this on you.” Steve gestures at his face. “Told me you sold him some bad shit.”

Munson goes very, very still. His eyes flick down to Steve's heart, so quick that Steve's not sure he would have noticed it if he wasn't watching Munson so closely.

“That so?” Munson asks. There isn't an edge in his voice - if anything, there's such a quiet neutrality to those two words that it almost feels more dangerous than if he'd tried to put a warning in them.

Eddie Munson's never scared Steve the way he does half the school - honestly, shitty as it is, Steve doesn't exactly think of him all that much - but there's no denying that Munson is no pushover. He can't tell if Munson is afraid, or angry, or just itching for a fight, but Steve didn't come here to freak him out.

He holds his hands up, palm out, and purposefully drags his gaze down to where his heart is beating calm and steady. “I don't believe him.”

Munson looks down at Steve's heart, lingering for a moment before darting back up. His expression is still unreadable. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he said he was going to spread it around, that you were lacing your stuff with something,” Steve says. “I'm pretty sure I convinced him it was a bad idea, but just in case.”

“You convinced him it was a bad idea,” Munson repeats flatly.

Steve shrugs. “I told him he should be nicer to you, that you always sell me the good shit.”

That gets a little snort out of Munson, startled and almost amused, and Steve grins at him.

“It won't be hard to tack that onto the rumor if he tries to spread it,” Steve says. “So you should be safe.”

Just like that, the amusement in Munson's expression is gone. “Yeah?” he asks, disdain clear in his voice. “And why does King Steve give a shit if I'm safe?”

It's an obvious challenge, and for just a moment - for just a moment, Steve wants to tell him.

To tell him how the King Steve shit first came about because Carol loved fairy tales when they were little and his parents were gone so much that Tommy called him king of the castle, that he has tons of people who call him their friend but the only people who come close to understanding him are his ex, her new boyfriend, and a gaggle of middle schoolers who're waiting for him to come pick them up.

That he's more tired than any seventeen year old should ever be.

“What kind of king would I be if I didn't protect my people?” he says instead of any of that, refusing to look at whatever his heart is doing.

It's high school, it's politics, it's bullshit, but it's still a game he has to play for a little longer.

Munson is watching his heart, now, and whatever he sees makes something complicated cross his face. For a moment, Steve picks up a hint of longing, but it's gone by the time he looks back up.

“Well then,” he says, wide grin back in place as he bows again. “Consider this court jester protected, Your Majesty.”

—

The phone rings at one am a few days later.

He isn't asleep - had been, earlier, but a nightmare had tipped him quickly into wakefulness, and he hadn't gone back - so he answers it almost immediately.

Nothing good comes from one am phone calls.

“How many teeth do you think those things have?” Max demands without so much as a hello.

“I don't know,” Steve bitches before he's thought better of it. “You want to come over and count the bite marks on my leg?”

There's silence for a moment.

“Yeah,” Max says, and Steve's gut twists.

“It's one in the morning, Mayfield,” he says. “What are you going to do, skate over? It's dark and cold as shit out there.”

“Didn't stop us at the junkyard,” she shoots back.

He's quiet for a moment. Then, “I'll pick you up.”

She snorts. “You're going to show up at my house at one am and pick me up? Yeah, that'll be a great look for you.”

“Then it looks like you're out of luck, and you'll have to pick out the teeth marks on my leg tomorrow.”

She doesn't say anything for a while. He doesn't rush her, just settles back with the phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear.

“Why'd you do it?” she asks eventually.

“I ask myself that about a lot of things,” he replies. “Which one?”

He half expects another snappy retort, but her voice just goes even quieter.

“Put yourself in front of me. Stand up to him.”

Oh.

“I don't need protecting,” she adds, and yeah, there's the attitude.

“I know you don't need it,” he says, even though that's a lie. She does need it, they all do. “I know you can look out for yourself.”

That's not a lie.

“But you shouldn't have to. You should have someone who'll look out for you.”

She scoffs. “And that's going to be you?”

He shrugs, even though she can't see it, and it hurts a little. “Why not?”

She's quiet again. “You don't even know me.”

He does, is the thing. He knows the way her eyes looked when she said Billy was going to kill her, he knows not being able to rely on the people you should count on most, even if it's not the same.

He knows how he felt the summer before high school, when his father finally grew too frustrated with waiting for Steve's heart to change, how he picked it up and nearly threw it across the room. He knows the sound of his mother yelling, how viciously they fought. How his father never touched him or his heart again, but Steve now knew what lurked behind his eyes when he smiled too big.

He knows how his mother has looked at him with disappointment more times than anything else, after that.

But he doesn't say any of that. Instead, he says, “So let's change that. Skate park or arcade tomorrow?”

“What?” she asks, clearly thrown.

“After you're done staring at my leg wound and counting teeth like a creep,” he clarifies. “Am I taking you to the skate park or the arcade?”

“Hawkins doesn't have a skate park,” she says dismissively. “It has abandoned parking lots and dirt holes.”

He waits.

“Arcade,” she says. “And I want popcorn.”

—

His walkie flares to life at night, sometimes.

After the first time, he leaves it on a different channel than their usual one - makes sure the kids know which one it is, if they need to use it - and sometimes, they do.

Okay, more than sometimes. It's not like Steve's sleeping all that well, though, so he doesn't mind when it happens almost every night for a few weeks.

“Steve, you awake? Over,” Lucas says one night.

“Yeah, I'm up,” he mutters into the walkie. Then, after a moment's pause, “Over.”

There's silence, and that wakes him up more than the walkie itself had.

“Lucas?” he asks.

“What if you weren't there?” Lucas says.

“What?” Steve asks.

“At the junkyard. With Billy. What if you weren't there?”

“But I was,” Steve says, frowning.

“I know, but what if you weren't?”

Steve sits up, rubs at his eyes a little. “I'll always be there when you guys need me, okay?”

“You can't promise that!” If it was Dustin or Mike it might have been an angry bite, but Lucas just sounds frustrated. Maybe even a little scared.

“Sure I can,” Steve argues, even though he kind of knows Lucas is right. “I have the walkie, right? You guys call me, and bada bing bada boom, I'm there.”

Lucas is quiet for a moment. “Are you still trying to get Nancy back?”

“What? No, of course not. Why?”

“Dustin said you were bringing flowers to Nancy when he made you help him look for Dart.”

Right, of course he did. Do these kids keep any secrets from each other?

“This isn't about Nancy, okay? This is about you guys. I showed my heart to Dustin and I have my walkie and everything, doesn't that mean I'm in your party?”

“You actually want to be in the Party?” Lucas asks, sounding skeptical. “But you're Steve Harrington.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Steve asks.

“Aren't you way too cool to hang out with us?” Lucas retorts.

This is - quickly becoming a conversation that Steve doesn't really want to have over a walkie talkie at past midnight on a school night. He huffs out a frustrated breath of air, then pushes the talk button on the walkie again.

“This weekend. Arcade or shooting hoops?”

There's a pause. Then, “Really?”

Steve swallows down his urge to be a dick. “Yeah. Really.”

“Basketball. The park?” Lucas asks.

“Nah, we can use the hoop in my driveway. Come on by whenever.”

—

Lucas is good. Unpracticed, especially at any kind of teamwork, but good. Steve has to be careful, with his injuries, but they still get some good work in, and it's fun.

It's not until they're finished and raiding the kitchen for some snacks that he asks, “So what was that about, a few days ago?”

Lucas noisily pops open his can of New Coke, and takes such a long drink that Steve's pretty sure he's doing it to avoid answering. Steve just raises an eyebrow.

“Nancy used to hang out with us,” Lucas says, almost reluctantly. “She even played D&D with us a couple of times. Then she went to high school, and then she started dating you, and suddenly she's too cool to hang out with us. Then - then everything with Will, the first time, and she promised Mike they'd spend more time together, but she didn't. Just kept dating you.”

That's - a lot. He hadn't known that about Nancy, except that she wasn't as close with Mike as she wanted to be, that she didn't know how to talk to him about everything that happened. He thinks about protesting that hey, he's the one who got Nancy to talk to Mike about Will - and had to be a part of it, ugh - but again, he's trying not to be a dick.

“So you're, what, worried that I goaded Nancy into not hanging with you guys?”

Lucas makes a face at him. “No, Nancy doesn't do anything she doesn't want to do. I believe you that you'll be here if we need you for Upside Down stuff again, but why would you hang out with us for the in between?”

That's a fair question. He wants to be flippant, wants to deflect with something like because Dustin keeps showing up at my house and won't leave me alone, but -

He remembers how terrified Lucas looked with Billy pinning him against the cabinet. He kind of wonders if anyone's talked to him about it, or if it got lumped in with all the other weird terrifying shit going on.

“Because it isn't always Upside Down stuff,” Steve says softly.

Lucas goes quiet. “El says Hopper told her you guys fixed it so Billy would leave us alone.”

“I think Max did that well enough, but yeah, Hop and I had a plan.”

“How?” Lucas asks.

Bullshit, is how, Steve wants to say, but he doesn't. “Billy's on the basketball team, and he wants to stay on the basketball team.”

Lucas frowns. “So?”

“So I've been on the team longer than him. Coach knows me better, the guys are used to looking to me. Well - some of them.” In all fairness, the basketball team's been kind of split - some of them gravitating to him, some to Billy, some trickling back and forth like kids with divorced parents.

“So… you're one of the cool kids, and you like us, so the more douchebag ones stay away from us?” Lucas asks.

Steve's nose scrunches a little as he considers that, but it's… not wrong. “Yeah, I guess so. Most of them are good guys, they don't like bullying anymore than I do. It doesn't stop the ones who are assholes from doing it where we can't see it, but it helps.”

Lucas looks like he's considering that for a long moment, until finally he nods.

Steve thinks that's the end of it, but later, as Lucas is heading out to leave, he asks, “So what happens if you're not there, and you can't see it?”

Steve resists the temptation to pinch the bridge of his nose - mostly because he knows it'll hurt like hell.

“The Y is offering self defense classes,” he says, when he's gotten himself under control. “I was thinking about taking one. You in?”

Lucas is in.

-----

This is already written, and my plan is to post one part a day until it's all up here!

Taglist (always happy to add more to this if anyone wants): @fairytalesreality @lostonceandneverfound @wheneverfeasible @awkwardgravity1 @theintrovertedintrovert @ravenfrog @scarlet-malfoy

[rosenclaws]

Congratulations on 600 followers!!! 🥳🥳

“We’re really going to fuck here? What if someone sees us?”

“Don’t make a mess, baby.”

With Leopold 🥰

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, fem!reader, switch!leopold, kinda exhibitionism, cowgirl, missionary, creampie, praise kink (leo).

600 follower drabble masterlist

wc: 791

a/n: okay hear me out. touch starved Leopold who can't get enough of you now that he's had you once.

He really should feel ashamed. Leopold was raised to respect and care for his partner. To not hold such, filthy thoughts in his head and to feel this desperate. But something about you has changed everything. You first time together was nothing short of magical and now...Well it's all he can think about.

He really does feel bad for constantly wanting to take you in such a vulgar way but he can't seem to help the images that pop into his head. You're at work and all Leopold can think about is how badly he craves your touch.

The feeling of your nails in his hair and scratching down his back. The sweet sounds of your moans and the breathy, desperate praises. He's getting hard just thinking about it. The sound of keys catches is attention as you open the door and walk through.

"Leo the craziest thing happened I-" You don't get another word out as Leopold practically jumps on you. His hands sit on your waist as he pulls you to the couch.

"Forgive me my love." He mumbles against your lips. Only taking a moment to breathe before latching himself back onto you. You drop your bag and curl your fingers into his hair. He shoves off his coat and moves his lips down to your neck.

"Leo," You gasp as he bites into your neck.

"What's gotten into you?" He looks up at you with lust clouding his eyes.

He needs you, desperately. You should feel a little bad for corrupting the once sweet gentleman that Leo was but if you're being honest, you like this a little better.

Clothes are shed and tossed to who knows where. Leaving the two of you naked on the couch. He's sitting down watching you with wide eyes. He doesn't even have the patience to make it to the bedroom.

"We’re really going to fuck here? What if someone sees us?” You tease, tilting his head up to see the blush that's creeping up his neck. Kate, Stuart, and Charlie all know where your spare key is which means any of them could walk in at any moment.

"Oh you like that don't you?" You whisper in his ear as you lower yourself onto his hard cock. Leopold's eyes squeeze shut as he tilts his head back. His breaths coming out in short puffs.

"Feel so good Leo." You whine as you move your hips up and down.

He can't help himself as he bucks his hips up to meet your thrusts. You moan loudly as his cock hits deep inside of you every time. His thrusts becoming erratic as he loses himself in pleasure.

He can feel himself snapping, he needs more. Needs to pummel his cock into you until you're screaming his name. He needs you to tell him what a good boy he's being. He wants to ruin you.

You let out a yelp as he switches positions. He's got you pinned down on the couch, legs up on his shoulders as he's pounding his dick into you. His face is twisted in pleasure as he fucks you hard and fast.

"Leo!" You chant his name over and over.

One hand claws at the back of the couch as your other hand sneaks below and rubs your clit roughly. Leopold sees and smacks your hand away, replacing it with his own big fingers. It doesn't take long for him to send you over the edge. You pull him down and hold onto him tightly as you come hard. Your nails dig into his back and the pain makes him come with you. He's quietly whimpering as he thrusts his hips lazily. His cum filling you up nice and full.

"Shit, I didn't know you had that in you." You hum happily as you cup his face in your hands. His hair is sticking to his forehead and his face is flushed red but he still looks as handsome as ever. He groans as he pulls out and you sees his cum drip out of you.

"Don't make a mess, baby." You coo as you swipe your fingers down and pick up the spilling cum. Leopold watches in awe as you stick your fingers in your mouth, swirling your tongue with an evil glint in your eyes.

"This isn't fair darling," He whines as he falls back onto the couch.

"You're far too tempting for me to resist." He mumbles as you crawl over him. You lay your head on his chest as he wraps his arms around you. He sighs as you snuggle against his chest.

"Maybe I like tempting you over to the dark side." You tease. He looks down at you and smiles.

"Perhaps I enjoy it here, especially with you guiding the way my love."

[buckgasms]

Umm so random thought if you'd care to join...

Naive princess!reader (hey what's new with me? Um nothing?) and I'm kinda thinking an a/b/o thing but let's see... And prince!Bucky.

Maybe you are visiting his palace as part of a relationship building thing between your parents? I reckon there would be other princesses there? It's probably like a 'find him a bride' type scenario, but you, being your naive self aren't really aware of that, you just think it's a beautiful place and you want to explore the beautiful gardens as soon as you can.

Ok let's make it a/b/o

So you are there for a few days and you've been dragged to various events and dinners and the best you've gotten is a glimpse of the prince and a peak outside. You aren't feeling very happy about any of it.

Your mother is constantly moaning about how you are all being ignored and the royal family should be treating you better. Better seats, nicer rooms all that jazz. It's suffocating.

But finally one morning you are free of obligations so you throw on a pretty gown and dash from the room before you can be held back and head to the gardens.

On your way you bump into him. Prince James. He's actually gorgeous up close and you feel your tummy burst into a million butterflies when he smiles at you and makes a slight bow.

"Not running away are you princess?"

You giggle and shake your head.

"Only from my mother. I wanted to look around the gardens."

His eyes light up. "Can I be your guide? My mother will be thrilled to know someone is enjoying them."

You chuckle and take his arm, which he kindly offers, feeling electricity where your body meets his.

He guides you along, pointing out various features and areas, whilst casually probing you for information about you. Things you like, your family, your kingdom.

You spend ages among the flowers, flitting to each one like a bumblebee, sighing at the perfect scents. You don't notice him watching you with a soft smile on his face. You do notice his scent though, sandalwood and sea salt. You blush when you think about how it would smell close up.

The sun keeps you warm and dances across your skin as the morning wears on, until you find yourselves at the entrance of a maze.

You feel like you should probably go back. In fact you definitely should. But his boyish grin pushes that from your mind.

"Race you to the middle?"

Before you can really answer he dashes off and you blindly follow, almost immediately losing track of him. You follow the path, going this way and that until you realise that you are a bit lost.

You stop at a fork in the path and nibble on your finger. What now?

"James?"

You call out and for a moment you don't hear anything.

"James! Are you there?"

Suddenly his voice drifts from a few paths over.

"I'm here princess. You can find me..."

Panic sets in a little. How are you supposed to do that?

"Come on, you can find me, just use your nose."

You shut your eyes and try and find that sandalwood scent, you think about his golden skin, the way his hair looked so fluffy and soft and suddenly your feet where carrying you along the path.

"That's it... Don't worry, I'm here..."

You drift along, your fingers itching to touch him, even though you don't really understand why. It's just an urgent, deep need within you.

You reach another fork in the road and you don't know where to go because he's everywhere. You close your eyes again waiting when suddenly you hear his footsteps and he's behind you, gently wrapping his arms around your body and pressing his lips to your shoulder.

"There you are" he mumbles, pressing a chaste kiss to your skin.

You turn in his arms and stare wide eyed at him, your hands gripping his shirt.

"James, we can't... You shouldn't..."

Your words falter as his lips run along your jaw and press butterfly kisses to your cheek and nose, failing completely when he presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

You whine when he pulls away, making him chuckle. He leans back down to kiss you again, taking a little more time and you let your arms wrap around his neck, unable to control the ache in your body, desperate to feel his body tight against yours. But your mother's scandalised voice rings in your ear and you pull away.

"No, James we can't. It's not proper! You're a prince, you're the prince."

He laughs, pressing his forehead against yours and squeezing your waist.

"And you are my princess. I want you. I've been waiting for a chance to be with you all week. And now I know for sure... I want you..."

🏵️

The rest of the visit, your family is top table, and you are seated next to James the entire time. You occasionally catch glances from sour faced girls who seem to really hate you, but he just whispers something in your ear and you're back in your happy bubble.

Other hopeful families start departing as they all see the writing on the wall. The prince has chosen his princess, and there's nothing they can do to capture his interest.

🏵️

Every morning he brings you a different flower from the garden.

Every lunchtime he brings you a sweet treat from the kitchen, and you eat it together on the steps of the palace.

And every evening he knocks on your door and you give him a kiss. Gentle and full of promise of a long love to follow.

*sigh*

[rutlancecf]

"Slow dance"

- I can teach you to dance, Jona.- And they all stared at Damian.

- Really?- The girl asked surprised.

- Yes, right now if you wish.- He raised a fist to his mouth.- I have already arranged with the orchestra so that they play a slow and simple song to dance to.-

- Huh?- And she blushed up to her ears.- Right now?- Seeing her teammate nod, she swallowed a little before answering.- Su-sure.-

Damian, like a true gentleman, extended his arm as an invitation for her to accompany him, which little Jonatha did, feeling all eyes on them.

- Ignore them.- The 13 years old boy told her in a low voice.- Just look at my face and try to follow my movements.-

Hold me, hold me.

Never let me go

until you've told me,

told me,

what I want to know

and then just hold me, hold me.

Make me tell you I'm in love with you.

Almost without thinking, Supergirl followed Robin's directions, both vocal and physical, stepping on him a few times, earning the other's frowns, who said nothing and continued to direct her onto the dance floor, where other couples had joined them.

-The two look so adorable.-

- Gross.-

- Jason! Tim!-

Already when he felt that Jona had managed to master the famous "1-2-3", Damian released the girl's hands to put them on his shoulders, while he adjusted his hands above her waist, to avoid touching anything that he shouldn't.

- Dami!- Jona's cheeks turned red like tiny little strawberries at the other boy's action.- What are you doing?-

- It's the next part of the slow dance.- He assured her.- Don't say anything and keep dancing.-

- Okay, okay.- And instinctively she put her head on his shoulder.- Thank you, Damian.-

- You don't have to, I offered to help you learn.-

- Anyway, thanks.- Smiling, she continued to scoot to the tune, her head still on Damian's shoulder.

- I think I should separate them, Lois.- Clark was undecided whether to intervene or sit watching his eldest daughter dance intimately with Batman's son.

- Leave them, Smallville.- His wife scolded him, amused to see him jealous.- They're just dancing, it's not like they're doing something bad.-

- But, but... Jona.-

- Shut up and leave them alone. Go get me something to drink.- She ordered.- She's growing up.-

- Okay.- He let out a deep sigh.

He didn't like to see that his girl would soon stop being one to become a young lady. The horror. So, like any self-respecting father, he set himself the goal of taking care of his little girl not only from villains, but also from the evil intentions of other boys, especially Damian Wayne.

(Kiss me) Kiss me, (Kiss me) kiss me. When you do, I'll know that you will miss me. (Miss me) Miss me. (Miss me) If we ever say "Adieu" So kiss me, kiss me. (Ah) Make me tell you I'm in love with you. (Hold me, thrill me) Never, never, never let me go. (Hold me, thrill me) Never, never, never let me go. (Hold me, thrill me) Never, never, never let me go.

- For the next gala, Master Bruce, you should talk to the boys first, before tonight's show is repeated again.- Alfred advised him as he passed by him.

- Thanks for the advice, Alfred. I'll take it into consideration.- Why were his children always giving him headaches?

- Much appreciated of me, sir. Now, how do you intend to handle the situation with Mr. Clark?-

And for any answer, he slapped himself on the face.

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

In this chapter, I used the female version of the name "Jonathan", just to make it clear. And yes, it is "Jonatha"

To give you an idea of what's going on, Damian made and lost a bet against Jason, Tim and Dick, so at the next gala organized by the Wayne's, He had to ask three people to dance, however, they allowed him to choose the songs and the people he would dance with.

Jonatha was not part of these three people.

[igglemouse]

My day starts with my paper delivery job. Oh, yes, I guess I never mentioned that I do have a new job? Just something to supplement my jewelry thing as a little extra income never hurts and the job is easy enough. Drop papers at doorsteps and move on, that's it!

When I do make it home I find a surprising little bowl of stew sitting right on my counter. This must be the work of Niklas, who else would randomly do me a kindness like this? My only question is, did he make it with magic or cook it by hand?

And hey, whether it was made with a dash of magic or pure culinary skill it was pretty good all the same! Seriously, what doesn't he do? Maybe he's just showing off at this point.

In the middle of my meal Niklas strolls out of my restroom, as if he lives here, mind you, and asks if I'm enjoying the food. Honestly, yes, I am. Okay, alright, it's about a 6 out of 10 but it gets 2 bonus points simply because I didn't make it.

"So did you sprinkle a bit of magic in it?" I can't help but ask, it's a harmless question, but I imagine if I could make my dishes better with magic, I would.

"No? I mean I guess I could but-"

"Could you make the perfect meal with a touch of magic?"

"I guess you could? Never tried it though," he admits and from the look on his i can tell he's never really thought about it. He really doesn't like using his magic, huh?

"You really don't like using your watcher given abilities, do you?" I can't help but shake my head as he's made that very clear. It's a little frustrating. Having so much power at the tips of your fingertips and denying it all.

"Honestly, Grace, the whole bit is overrated."

"You keep saying that and yet just last night you waved your hands around and poof, clean tub. Just that alone is amazing."

But he's not convinced, he's shaking his head as if I don't get it at all and takes a deep breath before continuing. "The Realm and all it deals with is not only overrated but dangerous. The regular person lives a nice and safe calm life while we? Well, we could be called upon to face horrors you could never imagine."

"Well..." I falter behind his gaze just a bit because who wouldn't when facing unimaginable horrors? "I umm, yeah, I guess it's that whole great power great responsibility thing then."

"It's exactly like that."

"Alright then...but still, I don't see anything wrong with a little sprinkle of magic to make a pasta just a pinch better."

"I could try, mess up, and accidentally poison your food and you'd be in the hospital right now instead of just eating an average bowl of soup."

Ok, I guess I get his point.

So the man wants the normal life. I can't blame him for that. It sounds like he wants to just move to Henford and live out the rest of his days there or something, I don't know. Again, I can't blame him for that but personally...I'd like to be able to do something magical. I guess it is true, you always want what you can't have, unlesssss you want to soak in milk I guess and relax. You can absolutely have that.

Magic or no magic I am handling my bills pretty well. Thankfully, this place isn't too pricey so I can manage. It always feels good to have things under control financially.

Especially when I can sell a piece of jewelry for 1k. It's not a fortune in the grand scheme of things but it's enough to cover rent and still have simoleons left over. A little breathing room helps!

Hopefully this little ring will sell!

With the rain pouring down outside I can only decide to settle at my computer for the evening and dive into video games. There really isn't much else to do in my little place especially with Niklas off doing whatever he does. So it should be a quiet and peaceful night. Just me, the rain, and my laptop.

At least that was the plan but it looks like I'll be having a late night visitor.

Standing at my doorstep in the middle of a storm is none other than Lilja, the vampire I met earlier in the spring. Our first meeting was strange and now I can't help but wonder what brings her here on this rainy night. It's hard to tell from her expression as it is completely neutral and her eyes, cold and seemingly lifeless, stare right through me.

"So, may I?"

"Come in, you mean?" I ask, stupidly. Of course she needs an invitation. She's a vampire. "Y-yes, I guess so."

"Thank you."

"So, you're not going to like abuse my invitation, are you?"

Lilja chuckles softly at my question, amused in that delicate way of hers. "No, if I wanted to take you then you would have been taken," she says with precision. Perhaps she's right. I have been a little casual with my night time activities but she has made it clear that she's not out to harm me.

"So, then," I take a steady breath and gather my courage. "What brings you here? Despite the fact that I don't remember giving you my address or anything." But I'm sure she's been stalking me. Vampires are natural born stalkers, I might not know much about them but I do know that.

"Did you know that there was a ward put up around your house?" she asks that question with a tilt to her head, as if she is testing me.

"What? Yeah, a magician friend put one up, I'm not sure why-"

"Friend huh?" She gives me a knowing look. Does she know about Niklas? "It was a very weak ward but it did tingle just a little bit, it seems your wards are...weakening."

"Yeah, he's..." I trail off but then stop myself. Why am I explaining this? "Are you stalking me?"

"Watching you, did you forget our deal?"

"I..." guess I have. "Can you remind me again?"

"The blood magic," she says, watching me, her eyes intent and focused upon my expressions. "Do you remember?" and so it comes back to me, the deal, the offer of her maker willing to teach me blood magic. It felt theoretical at the time but now it feels much more concrete.

"I-, yes, I do remember now. Is it difficult to learn?"

"No, just costly."

"Costly? May I ask why you're willing to do this? What is in it for you and your umm...maker?"

"Everything," the weight of that word brings silence and for a moment I'm not sure what else to say. "The Realm have hunted our kind to near extinction and only the help of a blood witch can save us now."

"Oh," so am I the chosen one? "You can't just find someone else?"

"It is in your blood, your mother-"

"Yes, yes, she was a blood witch, I know."

"I am inviting you back to the castle," she says, and I'm reminded me that she had warned me against coming back because her maker might attack me again and she sees that concern and memory in my eyes. "He rests still, he is still weak. He needs...blood."

"Umm, yeah, sure, since you are inviting me I guess, does Saturday work."

"Yes, sounds perfect."

I'm not sure what the time is but I am getting a little uncomfortable with her here. "Umm, now, it's getting kind of late for me so if you don't mind..."

Episode List - Next Episode 3.4

[jananabananawithnopeel]

The CBS mornings Extended interview and the Harper's Bazaar UK interview from Nicola Coughlan are really getting me feral. Listening to her, talking about her struggles, the things she likes and how she prepare for roles, fills me with joy and admiration.

Her attention to details and her need to go through the characters she plays in an almost macro level is inspiring.

She is so passionate about her work and the people she works with ! I watched a lot of interview from her and it's baffling how nice and kind she is. She is always talking about someone else, praising their work, congratulating them, hyping and pushing them up. And it's not only co-stars, it's people she admires, it's crew member, it's the people fitting her, it's the way she talks to her fans when she meet them and acknowledging the ones from the internet (and the content they create).

Always very gracious and funny. And witty. A storyteller too. People seem so much at ease and relaxed around her. I wait to see an interview where I don't see a smile from her or the person in front (or beside her).

She is also incredibly talented ! (Big Mood is a fucking huge slap on the face. Try it if you can.) And a fashion icon.

It's refreshing and stimulating to see someone being so proud about themselves and their work unapologetically.

She has me in a chokehold so powerful it's ridiculous. The way she stands, how confidence and comfortable with herself. How utterly beautiful she is. It goes way beyond just her pleasing face, her eyes or how she looks. She is just a gorgeous being with a deep mind. She is smart and wise.

I mean just look at her. She is shining !

There is a sense of belonging when I watch her. Maybe it's because she doesn't realise that she is that famous and appreciated but stays down to earth. She feels so real.

The woman is a force of nature. And I aspire to be more like Nicola Coughlan.

[notreallythatlost]

AAAAAA THIS WAS AMAZING

JUST FREAKING AMAZING I CAN’T

i have so much to say so here we go…

You had pulled him close to your breast and sank down into the petaled carpet of the forest floor, stroking his hair and listening as he raged on about the war in the north.

You love him like this; no cares, no worries of war. You can soothe him like no one else, a great source of pride whenever he mentions it.

LITERALLY A BABY

"You're staring, love." He smiles, snapping open his eyes and fixing you with an affectionate expression that makes your heart melt.

STARING AT YOU??? ALWAYS

"Love, we have to go, come now," he holds you firmly by the arms, shaking you a little to clear your mind of the dust and debris and blood on the streets of Gondolin.

the whole scene has me in pieces, she had to leave everything behind (for that i would curse morgoth too)

The crushing weight of the love in his hole of a heart moves his hand before he can stop himself. With gnawing doubt in his stomach, he wordlessly takes the knife from you, mixing his pitch black blood with your own on the page.

he really loves her, that‘s the proof 😭😭

"Forever and a day, a lonely fate will be yours. You shall not know the word of a friend, the loyalty of a follower, or the touch of a lover. I curse you to wander the Seen and Unseen world alone, craving the connection you sought to sunder here."

THAT IS WHAT HE DESERVES AND NOTHING LESS

"The Valar will never look upon me favourably, beloved. I could present them Melkor in chains and they would only bind me to him."

AHH STOP THESE LINES I‘M CRYING

"I don't need to. Love, you will join me." His desperation becomes honeyed, dripping with the devotion you so crave from him.

devotion? sounds more like obsession 🧐

"Who do you think you are?" He hisses, venom in every word; you don't recognise him, cold terror in your heart at the sudden switch, as if someone had doused the candle burning for you in his heart with oil, engulfing him with wildfire.

HOW DARE YOU ASKING THAT QUESTION???

"I know exactly who I am. I'm the woman who leaves you."

my heart just broke

"And where will you go? Your people are scattered and displaced, and who would take you in if they knew?" His sweetly honeyed words still bite at your heart, settling in the pit of your stomach.

i would‘ve killed him for this words

He pushes his thigh between your legs, letting you grind yourself against him instinctively, and he groans, deep and low in his chest.

what… what did i say?

His clever fingers usually make light work of the laces of your corset, but his impatience defeats him, and he pulls a dagger from the lining of his robes, slicing cleanly through the fabric.

Twin crowns, wrought in black iron, twisted and wicked, emanating a dark power that made you nauseous; ready for the heads of Middle Earth's new King and Queen. (…) He falls to his knees, his head in line with your mound. He looks up at you, locking his gaze with yours, and delves into your folds with his tongue, seeking your pleasure. (…) He worships at your altar, an acolyte to your pleasure, drawing unearthly sounds from deep within you, willing you to just stay and be his.

screaming, crying, throwing up

"If you were to leave me," he moans against your heated skin, stroking his cock against your thigh, "there would be no rest for any bird, beast, or being in this land, no sleep, no sustenance, these lands would burn until you were returned to me."

A chorus of "mine" and "please" fill the air, and you're unsure whose voice is the louder, who is more desperate in their claiming of the other.

i’m always forgetting about breathing oml

It is only when you finally see daylight, pushing open the great black doors to the fortress, that you can breathe a sigh of relief. If you can just get a headstart, perhaps you'll be able to outrun him.

noo stoop 😭

As he lay in a pool of thick black blood, his last thought was of you; how could you betray him? And thank the Valar you did.

It is as you contemplate your frozen breath in the air, that you realise you can't feel him. A vacuum in your mind, a void in your heart that you haven't experienced in more than a thousand years, and you can barely recognise that it is his absence that has left such a hole.

this whole fic left a hole in my heart too

i have to go… doing things… crying

Haunted (Sauron/F!Reader)

...by the kiss you should never have given me

Lots of mini-chapters add up to an omnibus of angst, as we follow Sauron through the centuries and discover exactly what happened before his coronation.

Sequel to To Have and To Hold // Prequel to In the Dark of the Night // AO3 Link

Soundtrack: Kiss Me Harder by Jordan Fiction, Judas by Lady Gaga, Angels by Within Temptation, Heaven's A Lie by Lacuna Coil, NFWMB by Hozier

Warnings: 18+! Angst, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, manipulation, toxic relationship (more overt towards the end), obsessive!Sauron, soft!Sauron (yes the two can coincide), knifeplay (just a tiny bit), blood magic, Sauron is a bit of a dick towards the end, sorry, accidental prey/predator kink, knifeplay (again, tiny bit), grinding, slightly dubious consent (you do want it, but I'll tag anyway), oral sex (female receiving), P in V sex, more blood.

A/N: little bit of jumping around in this one, sorry, we start just after the wedding, then we jump to the fall of Gondolin, a little magic ritual in the middle, then the fallout from the sinking of Beleriand (why do you keep getting caught up in this??), then we close out the First Age with a little argument before someone's coronation! Little slices of their romance in quick succession! I went a little experimental in the form of this one, with a bunch of flashbacks informing the main plot at the end. I hope it works 🤞

Special thanks to @olchr-1 for the idea for our revenge on Morgoth!!

Translation note: Amartherui translates in Sindarin to "lonely fate" [Fate (amarth) Alone (erui)]

Word Count: 6k!

Fingers entwined with his, head on his chest, you were enthralled by him, by every pretty word and sweet gesture. Every time he came to visit, you would spend days on end in your secluded glade, to make up for his inexplicably long periods of absence. Sometimes he would come to you with dizzying tales of his latest triumphs, preening under your undivided attention. But lately he had taken to returning under black clouds, tetchy where he was usually playful, and rough where gentleness once reigned.

You had pulled him close to your breast and sank down into the petaled carpet of the forest floor, stroking his hair and listening as he raged on about the war in the north. You had kin fighting the armies of Morgoth, and knew his sorrows all too well, but something behind his eyes told you it was more than he was letting on.

You weave strands of his hair into elaborate braids in your lap, before undoing them and creating something greater in their stead. He eventually quiets under your idle fiddling, eyes drifting shut with a contented smile gracing his face, like a cat napping in the afternoon sun. You love him like this; no cares, no worries of war. You can soothe him like no one else, a great source of pride whenever he mentions it.

You gaze down at his unearthly smooth features and trace each contour with your eyes; your fingers slow in their busy work, moving gently across his scalp, lazily twisting his hair around your finger, making a ring to match the one he'd gifted you, ornate and bejeweled, glittering with an impossible inner light, to replace the woven band of purple iris that he'd improvised on the night of your wedding.

"You're staring, love." He smiles, snapping open his eyes and fixing you with an affectionate expression that makes your heart melt.

"Is a wife not allowed to stare at her husband? Are there no privileges to marriage at all?" Your voice is soft but your tone is mischievous, and he smirks.

"I can think of a few, ah, privileges, dearest, in fact we have exercised a few already today." He raises his eyebrows, before pulling you down to meet his lips. "But if you need reminding, you need only ask."

-

You had agreed to meet in the same secluded glade at the next new moon, but he never showed. The hours you wasted awaiting his return were at first exciting, full of electric anticipation that only love's first bloom can give. As the moon slowly passed overhead, and twinkling stars gave way to blazing sun, you shed many a tear at your folly. Perhaps he had been some mirage, an illusion to tempt you? Or perhaps the depth of his feeling did not match yours, a fleeting thought you had to bury deep in case it irrevocably shattered your heart.

You frequent the glade every so often, convincing yourself that it was a perfectly fine place to pass your time, and that you were not reminded of his warm hands or even warmer smile, every time you visit. Deceiving yourself that it meant much less to you than it did, that if he returned now after so much time with no word or warning, you would not jump into his open arms without a second thought.

Your heartache is apparent to your friends and kin, who assume you're suffering the grief they all feel, having lost so many of their kind to Morgoth's rampage in the north. How little they knew; how little you knew.

It is only when one good friend mentions the siege at Angband, that you are struck with the terrible notion that the man you cursed for abandoning you, might not have done it willingly after all. That perhaps, Valar forbid, he had perished in the siege. He had mentioned fighting in the war after all, but you had not connected that with his absence. After all, he had promised to return to you, on the morning after you had met, having shared a blissful slumber in each other's arms. He held your hands to his lips and swore he would see you again, and now it makes sense. Now you have a real reason to grieve, you realise, and the anger roiling within you turns cold, an icy pit in your stomach as tears fall freely and your heart wrenches and cracks. You were to only have one night with him, and you might never even discover his true fate.

You reason with yourself that surely you would feel if the other half of you had flown this mortal plain. But the alternative was much crueler, and to believe him dead was somehow a less hopeless fate.

Centuries later when you look back, you curse yourself for not seeing who he was, and what he'd done, but how could you? He'd taken you as his own and that was such a strong spell to break, Eru himself would have had to step in.

-

To see your city fall at the hands of your husband’s master, you had no words, only wet hot tears as you watch your people die.

"Love, we have to go, come now," he holds you firmly by the arms, shaking you a little to clear your mind of the dust and debris and blood on the streets of Gondolin.

"I can't, I can't leave them, I have to find-"

"No, we're evacuating, you're not staying a minute longer. I should not have let you linger here when He appeared on the horizon, we should have-"

You tug your arm from his vice-like grip. "Should have what? Should have left my people to wrack and ruin? We have to..." Your mind is so murky, filled with thoughts of leaving, running as far as you can with him, despite your overwhelming urge to stay and help where you can.

"We have to leave. You know there is nothing we can do for them, He will leave none alive, and I won't have you-" he can't say it, he can't even entertain the notion of you coming to harm; his fingers tighten their grip, almost painful in their desperation.

He should have foreseen this, he should have gotten you to safety when he first had an inkling that his master finally knew where the Hidden City was.

"We have to go back, I need to go back, I can't leave-"

After a thousand years, his magic had kept your tiny wedding band of iris in full bloom, untouched by the passage of time, kept safe in an ornate gilded chest, made by his own fair hands. And it was sitting in your apartments on the other side of the city, where your kin doubtless waited for you to leave with them. The sentiment in your heart held you steadfast against his shaking and pleading.

"Love, we can't stay here-" he is interrupted by explosions overhead, as the enemy host draw closer.

"You don't understand-"

"Whatever it is, it doesn't matter, you're the only thing that matters. We have to go!" He never raises his voice to you, so you're a little dumbstruck when he growls at you.

"But we have to save them!" You stop in your tracks, feet rooted to the ground, indignant at the idea of abandoning your friends and neighbours to their doom.

"Amarië," his voice is suddenly so soft, it disquiets you, brings you back to the present. "Love, they're gone. There is no saving to be done."

Sauron is a stranger to remorse, to sorrow, but at the effect of his words, a pang of guilt sweeps through him when he tells you that in all the world, he is all you have now. He tries to ignore the warm thrill he feels in the pit of his stomach, that this great cataclysm has brought about the fate he always wanted for the two of you: just you and he, no one else to rob him of your attention.

You wanted to feel deeply all the grief and pain that one would expect at being told their life was over.

Instead you just felt numb, haunted by the consequences of his actions.

-

"I curse him." Your husband's eyes grow wide at your words, grasping your hands as if to quiet you, but you press on.

"I curse Melkor, Morgoth Bauglir, to roam this earth alone. To never know peace, to never know that which he so jealously craves."

You feel you're taking Morgoth's curse rather well, all things considered. Sauron had to beg you not to storm Angband yourself after he had told you of his master's new name for you, cursing you to a forsaken existence, sundering you from your husband in all but spirit.

You had fought your way back to him countless times, and he to you; you had both vowed to continue to do so, but the rage and grief had not lessened with time, stoked to a towering inferno of wrath that threatened to break you any time you were reminded of it.

And after the fall of Gondolin, your rage at the Enemy was insatiable.

So you had your revenge.

"Enemy. Tyrant. Now I name you again."

In the dead of night, flickering candlelight casting ominous shadows over your face, Sauron cannot help but admire you, crave you, as you corrupt his master's fate.

You slice open your hand, squeezing your palm over the parchment before you, watching as crimson splashes through the stark black lettering.

Amartherui.

"Help me." You look him in the eye, your simple plea making his chest ache; he has never said no to you, his sweet wife, but this is the first time he has been tempted.

"Amarië..." his soft sigh almost convinces you to abandon your plan, but the fury bubbling in your veins is too great.

"Beloved, will you help me or not? Your power would bring this curse to fruition, but if you will have no part in it, you should leave." You stand taller, drawing yourself up to match his gaze, impossible as that may seem.

"I have never asked you for anything. Please do this for me."

The crushing weight of the love in his hole of a heart moves his hand before he can stop himself. With gnawing doubt in his stomach, he wordlessly takes the knife from you, mixing his pitch black blood with your own on the page.

You smile, a weight lifting from your shoulders instantly, and you pull him down to kiss him hard, leaving a red streak on his neck.

"I name you, Morgoth, as my people have long titled you, Amartherui." His new name falls off your tongue like a dream, and you cannot help but smile, your wicked deed complete, as you set the parchment alight, the flames glowing a sickly grey-green as the candles flicker and the room darkens, long shadows growing where the light had tentatively reigned.

"Forever and a day, a lonely fate will be yours. You shall not know the word of a friend, the loyalty of a follower, or the touch of a lover. I curse you to wander the Seen and Unseen world alone, craving the connection you sought to sunder here."

In the back of your mind, there is some semblance of guilt. There is nothing good in the act you just performed, nothing virtuous or pure in your revenge; it's cold and calculated, vicious and spiteful.

Transcending the bounds of time and space, you can feel your curse has taken effect, something shifting in the air between you and your husband.

Sauron has never loved you more, and he shows you many times that night the depth of his feelings.

-

You watch as more refugees stagger into your haven with naught more than the clothes on their backs, waiting to help and heal and offer your comfort where you can. The war has left such a dreadful path of destruction in its wake; thousands of your kin are displaced as the host of the Valar battle their way to Angband, and your people had chosen where the river Sirion meets the sea as their secret haven.

It has been decades since the armies of Valinor first arrived on the shores of Middle Earth, and the end was drawing near, according to your husband, who was waiting with you in the safety of the havens and watching closely.

"I'll see you when I'm finished here," you whisper as you reach up to plant a kiss on your husband's lips. "It'll probably be late, don't wait up for me."

He gives you an affectionate smile; how could he not wait for you? Even if he did partake in sleep, he would not be able to rest without you at his side.

"I'll be up, return to me soon." He is reluctant to let you go, but your skills are in such dire need while the city is inundated with the sick and injured.

Before the War, it was uncommon for Elves to suffer such fates, being hardy in soul and body, but Morgoth's darkness had infiltrated much of the land and infected so many of your kin. Soldiers, innocent bystanders, there were hardly any who were unaffected, and fighting the darkness was a constant effort on your part, and the team of healers you had trained in the magics of your people.

"My lady, they are calling for you." The herald's voice shakes you from Sauron's gaze, and he huffs impatiently.

"I must go." You reluctantly begin to pull away, but he draws you back, pulling you close and wrapping you up in an embrace you could cling to for an age.

"I love you," he murmurs in your ear. "When this is all over, we shall establish the greatest kingdom this land has ever seen."

"If there is a land left." You try to remain hopeful but the news of the siege at Angband is never good, never hopeful, and you fear your home will never be free of Morgoth's influence.

"I am your home," your husband, your Mairon, reminds you, tracing your cheek softly, and you cannot help but return his radiant smile.

"I know, love, as I am yours." You press a soft kiss to his knuckles, taking the strength he offers, before departing to disperse your light where you can.

The darkness infects everything it touches, and it takes all of your energy and more to renew your broken and weary kin, who have travelled so far and fought so hard to reach the havens. Healing words and ancient spells woven into soft songs, settling over the city in a melodic shield, rejuvenating the minds and bodies of your people. You work late into the night, spreading the light where you can, easing the pitch black horror in the hearts of those who had seen the worst of Morgoth's endeavours.

The night is all-encompassing when you finally crawl into bed, nestling into Mairon's firm warmth, trying not to disturb him but feeling sweet relief when his hands trace your sides in greeting.

"I was going to come look for you," his deep voice rumbles in your chest as he presses himself against you.

"No need," you try to smile, but your voice cracks as his tenderness breaks your defences, and all the heartache of the day pours out of you like blood from a wound.

His heart wrenches. He has no business feeling such emotions as remorse, but once again you have him feeling in ways that he dislikes intensely.

"I'm sorry, my love." And he is. He is actually sorry for causing you pain, the rest of Middle Earth be damned.

You sigh and take his hand, holding it over your heart.

"I know, love." You ponder your next question, whether it is a good idea to ask, but you ask anyway.

"You cannot assist in the efforts against Him? I'm sure the Valar would be grateful for your help, might even look favourably upon you-"

He interrupts you with a sigh and a kiss to your neck.

"The Valar will never look upon me favourably, beloved. I could present them Melkor in chains and they would only bind me to him."

Of course, he has thought about begging clemency, thought about fleeing with you to the edges of the world, even thought of taking you back to his master. But in the end, it was more prudent to keep you safe, and to watch and wait for the triumphant side to reveal themselves. Better to beg forgiveness from the victor than choose the wrong side.

-

"Tell me I'm wrong." You dare him to speak against you, your voice shaking in anger as your fists clench.

"My love, I-"

"No, I don't want falsehoods, I don't want games or lies or deceit, just tell me. Did you go to Eönwë as you promised?"

"I did. And I found their response wanting." In truth he had tried to make amends, tried to do penance for the ages he'd spent in Morgoth's service, but when it came to approaching Manwë for his pardon, his fear overtook him and he fled back to Angband, but he couldn't tell you that, couldn't tell you he'd been weak, pitiful, his courage failing him at the final steps to absolution.

And he definitely couldn't tell you that in order for his pardon to be granted, he would have to give you up, to avoid blackening your soul any further.

He'd rather suffer your eternal wrath than be sundered from you for even a moment.

"So you traded forgiveness for more lies." You clench your jaw, your head beginning to pound, the subtle throb becoming a stabbing pain in your temple.

"I did it for you."

"How? How is this for me?" You mock him, incensed now that he would deflect his deceit onto you.

He stands to comfort you but you rip your hands from his grasp before he can claim you.

"I do not know what to say. I thought I knew you, I thought you would do the right thing." You shake your head and laugh, your scorn stinging him as if it were a poisoned blade.

"Love, please-"

"No! No more lies. I've had it with trickery and deception, I want out." You whirl around to face him. "Shadow of Morgoth, they call you. You gather his armies to you once more, you refired his crown! So is that what you want? Do you want to be his second coming?"

In all honesty, no. His master's plans were beneath him; Morgoth wanted to break the world, Sauron wanted to reshape it, to balance and perfect it, by any means necessary.

"Please, listen to me, I need you by my side, now more than ever." He clutches your hands, heart pounding, looking deeply into your eyes, willing you to fall for his pretty words once more.

"You didn't answer me." Tears begin to prick your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall in front of him, stepping back to take a deep breath, to steady your nerves to face the man you thought you loved.

"I don't need to. Love, you will join me." His desperation becomes honeyed, dripping with the devotion you so crave from him.

"Don't. Don't do that." You whisper, as he stalks toward you slowly, his deception burning a hole in your heart that you're sure will never be filled.

"Don't you want to be with me? For all eternity, that is what we always said." He circles you, hands on your shoulders, in your hair, overwhelming you with his lover's touch, just a mite too rough.

"Not if this is your plan. I didn't marry Morgoth, I married Mairon." Sauron, your mind reminds you, and for a second you feel a wave of nausea overwhelm you.

His face twists and he pulls away.

"That is not my name." He growls, an ugly grimace taking over his lovely features.

"I've told you before, don't look inside my head!" You retort, his presence in your mind suddenly overwhelmingly obvious.

You throw him out of your mind, slamming the door shut, refusing him access to that which would be so freely given if he deserved it.

The tic in his jaw is back with a vengeance and his eyes are ablaze with a fury the like of which you have never seen.

"Who do you think you are?" He hisses, venom in every word; you don't recognise him, cold terror in your heart at the sudden switch, as if someone had doused the candle burning for you in his heart with oil, engulfing him with wildfire.

"I chose you, of all your people, as my wife; I could have had anyone, but I chose you. Aulë’s greatest smith, Melkor's most trusted lieutenant, lord of all the dark things that creep and crawl in this world. And who are you? My beloved wife." His tone is like poison in your veins, burning and spitting fire in your heart.

Who are you? He's right; who the hell do you think you are?

"I know exactly who I am. I'm the woman who leaves you."

You shall not be forsaken this time, not that doing the forsaking feels any sweeter. It wrenches every fibre of your being, your heart pounding in your chest, but you make it to the door of his chambers, hand on the doorknob, before he breaks from his stunned daze, crosses the room and clasps his hand over yours on the cool metal.

"And where will you go? Your people are scattered and displaced, and who would take you in if they knew?" His sweetly honeyed words still bite at your heart, settling in the pit of your stomach.

"I cannot stay here, not now that I know exactly what you are." You look up at him, holding his gaze, somehow fighting the urge to scratch and claw and bite your way free like a feral animal, suddenly overwhelmed with the sense that you should run as hard and fast as you can.

His eyes betray nothing, his lips curving into a condescending smirk, as he runs a finger down your cheek, gathering the tears you'd fought not to shed. He examines them as if he'd never seen their like, as if they were precious stones from the depths of the earth, mined just for him; he licks his fingers clean, turning his attention back to you, trembling under him as he cages you against the door.

"Please... please let me go." The look in his eye says begging will be useless, but you try anyway.

"You are my Queen. You're free to do as you please." He replies, voice smooth, with a pretty smirk and that predatory glint in his eye that would usually thrill you so, that still sends hot arousal pooling between your thighs, mixed with icy cold terror.

"It would please me to leave," you try to appeal to him, softening your voice, lowering your gaze.

"I'm sure it would..." he utters breathlessly as he takes you in, leaning over you, watching the artery in your throat jump in time to his own racing heartbeat.

"Mairon... please..." His lips are on yours before you can finish your plea, his hands tangled in your hair.

He pushes his thigh between your legs, letting you grind yourself against him instinctively, and he groans, deep and low in his chest.

"Even now, your body betrays you, my love."

You sigh against him, fingers raking his hair roughly, letting him caress your neck, your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he tries to expose you to his gaze. His clever fingers usually make light work of the laces of your corset, but his impatience defeats him, and he pulls a dagger from the lining of his robes, slicing cleanly through the fabric.

"That was my favourite," you admonish him, still angry with him; even as he takes you apart with his fingers and his tongue, you can't forget his plans, and you certainly can't ignore his gift to you, sitting by the window in all their glory.

Twin crowns, wrought in black iron, twisted and wicked, emanating a dark power that made you nauseous; ready for the heads of Middle Earth's new King and Queen. When you'd seen them, your blood ran cold, as you realised that once again, you'd been victim to Sauron’s deception.

"You will have a thousand more, dearest wife, whatever your heart desires," he promises breathlessly as he shucks off your dress, sliding it down your body, worshipping you with the lightest touch, soft kisses peppering your skin as he disrobes you. He falls to his knees, his head in line with your mound. He looks up at you, locking his gaze with yours, and delves into your folds with his tongue, seeking your pleasure.

You gasp, throwing your head back, as he spreads your legs to access your entrance, splitting you open with two fingers, still drawing every moan and whimper from your throat as he circles your clit, licking long strokes, tiny laps at your skin, letting you ride his face in your lustful haze. You grip his hair more roughly than you normally would, your wrath seeping into your lust, until you can't detect the distinction between the two.

He takes one of your legs and places it on his shoulder, letting you rest against him, both of you totally at the other's mercy. Such trust, such devotion, would you throw that away? Would you truly abandon him?

He worships at your altar, an acolyte to your pleasure, drawing unearthly sounds from deep within you, willing you to just stay and be his.

Your mind is racing as tendrils of his power cling to your lips, fighting for entrance to quiet your thoughts, and replace them with his sweet music. Wouldn't it just be easier? To let the darkness in?

You might as well, you muse in the back of your head, thoughts displaced by pleasure as the darkness feasts upon you.

He's solely focused on you; there is nowhere he would rather be in all of Arda. The unblemished shores of Valinor, the white trees that used to light the world, he can finally understand why his master was so hellbent on their destruction. For there is no beauty that should merit a comparison to you, and he would raze these lands to the ground to prove it.

You're drawing close, he realises, and briefly wonders whether to allow you your release on his lips.

You feel him pull away and moan, a tiny pitiful sound that makes him chuckle; of course you need him, of course you can't be without him, even in anger. Victory is nigh, and he pulls himself out of his robes to claim you once again.

He pushes you back, your name on the tip of his tongue, as he takes you in, breathes your air.

"You're mine," he growls, nuzzling your neck to better scent you. "Say it, say you'll always be mine."

"I will," you murmur softly, tears pricking your eyes as you hold him close.

"If you were to leave me," he moans against your heated skin, stroking his cock against your thigh, "there would be no rest for any bird, beast, or being in this land, no sleep, no sustenance, these lands would burn until you were returned to me."

He claims you in one thrust, filling you so completely, so sweetly, that you see stars, your breath stolen from your lungs as if it were the first time you'd ever laid eyes on him.

Your heart wrenches, pulling towards his, despite your entire being screaming at you.

You kiss him harder, your mind quietened as he bites your lip, droplets of blood wetting his tongue, quickening his insatiable need to be inside you in every way that is possible; mind, body, soul, all inextricably entwined.

The tears in your eyes threaten to fall, but you blink them back as he rocks into you, the chorus of your lovemaking drowning out all other notions. He plays you so well, a master in the art of drawing sweet melody from your lips; the harmony you both create together is unmatched to his ears, a Maia who helped sing the world into being.

A chorus of "mine" and "please" fill the air, and you're unsure whose voice is the louder, who is more desperate in their claiming of the other.

You feel him stiffen against you, his melody reaching a crescendo before yours, as he fills you with his pleasure, low groans in your ear bringing you to your peak as well. He wrings every last moan out of you, drawing out the coda of your song until there are no more notes to be played, no more pleasure to be taken.

Sweat-slicked and exhausted, you hold each other close, entwined so perfectly. You let him carry you to his bed, laying you down reverently, climbing in beside you and nestling you close, arms wrapping you tightly, refusing to let you move from his grasp.

You'd usually find such comfort in his embrace, but tonight there is an itch under your skin that his touch only amplifies, making you fight not to squirm beside him.

You cannot sleep for fear of letting him inside your head again, so when a knock at the door comes, you welcome it.

He sighs, long and loud in your ear, as evidence of his displeasure.

"I'll be back, love, there are matters I must attend to."

"Of course," you smile, fighting to make it meet your eyes.

He regards you carefully, brow furrowed.

"Do not fear, my love," he says softly as he leans down to kiss you once more. "I won't be long."

As he departs, he gives you one final look of longing, which you hasten to return with all the eagerness you can muster.

The door clicks shut, your expression falls, and you immediately disentangle yourself from the sheets,

Finding obscene amounts of your clothing and jewellery, and books beyond measure in his room was no surprise. He must have been preparing for this for years, if not longer.

Now that Morgoth was gone, the next phase of his plan could move forward, and that involved you, his Queen, taking up her rightful residence.

You dress as quickly as you're able, taking only what you can carry, and go to leave. But you notice a small ornate chest you thought you'd lost when Gondolin fell, sitting on the dresser by his bed as if it had always belonged there.

You feel as if you've been stabbed, a gut-wrenching heartache overwhelming you as you can do nothing but stand and stare.

He went back for it. He kept it all this time.

Your feet move of their own accord, and before you can blink, you've opened the chest, staring at the impossible artefact of your love for each other.

Unfurled purple petals, revealing a stark white centre, the woven band appearing as fresh as it did on the day he married you.

You hold it up, comparing it to the ring you currently wear. He really had somehow captured its likeness in a jewel, deep purple revealing a bright light in its centre, framed by ornate silver details.

You cannot bring yourself to slip it on, after all that has happened, his lies and broken promises, but you are loath to leave it.

Movement outside his chambers sends a shiver of panic through you, and you quickly move to hide behind the door. The subsequent banging has you quaking but you stand your ground, waiting for whomever it is to leave.

The door abruptly swings open, and you hear two gravelly voices discussing... you?

"Mistress?" The first call is softer, but their annoyance quickly becomes apparent as the other chimes in.

"Where is she then? They said to fetch her, but I'm not traipsing all over to find some she-Elf-"

"He won't even notice, Adar says he's too caught up in all his planning and his speeches, who cares about one missing Elf?"

"He wants them at least, over there. He'll have your head if we forget-"

"Why my head? You're the one he told-"

"Shut it and take 'em, careful now, there's magic in it still..."

Their voices fade as they shuffle back the way they came. As the door slams shut again, you realise that your husband already has an army of orcs at his disposal, and you reconsider what you're about to do, but only briefly.

Escaping the fortress is more of a task than you thought, requiring all the skills of subterfuge and swordplay that your husband has ever taught you; which is no small feat, considering the centuries you've had to learn.

Quietly slipping through the fortress mostly unnoticed, leaving the odd corpse in your wake as your husband's servants cross your path, unfortunately for them.

Thankfully the halls are mostly deserted, and you hear a clamour coming from deeper within, but you try to pay it no mind, focusing on your exit and nothing more.

It is only when you finally see daylight, pushing open the great black doors to the fortress, that you can breathe a sigh of relief. If you can just get a headstart, perhaps you'll be able to outrun him.

-

It is in the middle of his speech, appealing to his army for their continued support, that Sauron notices you are absent.

He'd sent for you when his moment of victory seemed nigh at hand, and had assumed you were readying yourself for your ascent, but now that he had persuaded Adar and his children to his cause, the sight of your face was all he wanted to see.

As he knelt before Adar, awaiting his rightful crown, he searched for you in his mind's eye. He did not expect to find you outside the black gates, breathing a sigh of relief in the watery sunlight.

A surge of rage overtook him as he clenched his jaw, settling on his knees. The mere thought of your abandonment had always made his heart twist and shatter, and at that moment, he had no heart. Just a void where it used to be.

Distracted by your torment, he barely noticed the first blow, as Adar struck him again and again with the crown that was meant to define your future together.

As he lay in a pool of thick black blood, his last thought was of you; how could you betray him? And thank the Valar you did.

-

A great blast of freezing cold air knocks you off your feet, and for a second you thought you heard his voice on the wind. It's all you can do to just lie there, covered in frost and shaking, trying to assess if you're at least physically intact, your emotional state another matter entirely.

Clutching your head as blood trickles down your face, you shakily get to your feet. It is as if someone has emptied the heavens of all its snow where before there was nothing but arid plains. The air is suddenly glacial, the ground frozen and cracking underfoot.

It is as you contemplate your frozen breath in the air, that you realise you can't feel him. A vacuum in your mind, a void in your heart that you haven't experienced in more than a thousand years, and you can barely recognise that it is his absence that has left such a hole.

You thought you might feel free when you were rid of him, but all you feel is empty, yearning for a presence that has haunted you for millennia.

[moe-broey]

Got inspired to revisit this FEH comic redraw I did when it first dropped! Specifically these panels:

Ended up freestyling that second Xane though LMFAOO he is just so impish to me...

If you wanna get Old Art Jumpscared I'll also include the original sketch under cut!

AAAAAAAAA JUMPSACRE AAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!

In a way though, I'm glad that I dropped it and picked it up again later... like I feel like this isn't even from that long ago (guy who has no sense of the passage of time voice), but the characterization and even design of Moe is so different. The Scrunch and :< face were game changers for it LMFAOOO (also just making it autisticer 👍)

Beyond that I think everyone looks a lot better and closer to how I envision them, esp Loki!